Greece : Paradise Found

Originally posted March 11, 2004

To those of you fortunate enough to have not been in contact with me from about 8pm Thursday March 4 to Friday afternoon at about 4pm, I will fill you in. Just to set the scene, I had been planning on going to Greece for the spring break week between classes and the internship since the middle of last semester when I received the schedule for this semester. I had thought I would have some others to accompany me, but in the end, people couldn’t get out of class or had friends coming, et cetera. I was disappointed, but as it became clear I would be going by myself, I started to like the idea of a self-propelled vacation, on my own time. So I went through with my planning and designed an itinerary for myself and was genuinely looking forward to my week in Greece. Then I received an e-mail from my internship coordinator that suggested I come home 4 days early on Thursday because she would be on vacation the week I was supposed to start. I didn’t like this idea at all at first, but then it grew on me. Split up my week between Greece (which I will surely come back to and do a more thorough tour of), and hanging out in Paris, which is pretty interesting as far as cities go, so I agreed to come back early in exchange for two days off whenever I want to take them. I bought my airline ticket based on these parameters and rearranged my itinerary so I would have two full days in Athens and two days in Mykonos in the Aegean Sea to relax and be out of the city atmosphere.

After Prague, I studied hard in preparation for finals and managed to find time to pack as well. Thursday morning I took my last two exams and then I hung out at the center until it was time to go. I left two full hours for me to get to the airport, but traffic was completely stopped on Paris’ version of the beltway, the “périphérique”, and I ended up getting to the airport 5 minutes before my flight was scheduled to leave. I was already freaking out at this point so I ran over to the ticket window, they gave me a “you’ll never make it but here ya go” look and I went to check-in window which was about to close and shoved my ticket in their face. She asked me if I had baggage and I said no, then she gave me my ticket and told me to run to the gate. I did, all the way across the airport to Satellite 6, and found to my relief that they were still boarding. (I learned throughout the trip that Olympic Airlines is NEVER on time, count on at least a 20 minute delay.) I went over to the window at the gate and she was in the process of checking me in when she called the window downstairs and they told me that I couldn’t get on the flight because my name wasn’t in the system. Heartbroken, I stood there saying that was impossible because my ticket which I had in my hand said “confirmed” on it and that there must be a mistake. They searched around a little more but ended up sending me back to the window downstairs dejected.

I tried to find out what the problem was but no one had any answers and I went home totally disappointed, exhausted, and confused. My host mom was really great when I came back. She got really mad and sided with me and told me how the French get mad and that I shouldn’t have left the airport until I was on a flight to Greece. Her irate reaction to the way I was treated made me feel a little better, but I was still pretty sure my vacation was over before it started. The next morning I woke up around 8am to my host mom telling me to get up and start calling people and demanding answers. No one gets to their office until at the earliest 9:15 in France, even though the official start is 9am. I had three calls in to the company I purchased my ticket through by 9:30. No one responded to me so I had to keep calling back. I got nowhere. Finally, at noon, my host mom comes back and sees that I’m still there. She gets her sister, who works for Air France, on the phone and starts telling her what the situation is, seeing if there’s anything she can do. That gets me nowhere but still, it’s nice to know she’s on my side and doing what she can. Finally I decide just to go to the airport with all my stuff and hope that they find a solution while I’m there.

I do this and on the way I find that I have 7 messages on my phone which it had failed to notify me about during the last two weeks. Sometimes it does that, and it couldn’t have picked a worse time to hide my messages from me. There was a message that explained that Olympic had changed my flight because the one I was originally on was full and they cut me because I paid a reduced fare. I was beginning to think that maybe I was not supposed to go to Greece. All these factors and bad events in a row, people dropping out, flights cancelled and changed, no one calling me back… am I not taking the hint? So I get in touch with this guy and he goes to work on my situation. I get a call back in a half hour telling me I’m on the flight to Athens at 7:15 that night. Well, good. One day less in Athens won’t kill me but I was still rather peeved with the lack of effort and bad communication on the part of the company. I made a note to write a letter when I returned. I switched from stress and business mode to vacation mode.

Athens and Mt. Lycavittos in the distance

So I finally get on my flight and head off to Athens. It leaves about a half hour late, I was convinced it wasn’t going to take off and then I was just going to give up completely. I got to Athens around midnight with the time change. I went immediately to my hostel in the center of Plaka which is right at the foot of the Acropolis and two blocks from Hadrian’s Arch, prime location. The guy was nice and set me up in a room at a slightly reduced price. I met some of the people in the room and then drifted to sleep with Van Morrison playing to drown out the worst snoring I have EVER heard in my life. I can’t do it justice with words but it would be one long, earth-shaking intake then he sort of choked on it, stayed silent for a full minute, then let it out in a long drawn-out sigh. Fortunately, I was tired enough that I fell asleep with the help of Van’s smooth sounds after about 2 tracks, I think. I I woke up the next morning early and took a run in the national gardens which are under renovation, but still made me feel like I was in a tropical paradise and the sprawling metropolis of Athens wasn’t less than 10 meters away. Then I headed out for a day of hardcore sightseeing. I had to make sure I saw everything in one day because this was my only full day in the city. I started with the Acropolis. I hiked up sort of a back way which the hostel guy told me about and it was definitely off the beaten path and a more difficult climb but I got to go through a seldom-seen portion of the town and see some old Greek architecture on my way up. Halfway up, I got a good vantage point on Athens in its entirety. It’s so much bigger than I imagined. It seems like it never ends. There are just endless apartment complexes, as far as the eye can see. Only the Acropolis, Mt. Lycavittos, and the mountains off in the distance give relief from the suburban landscape. So Athens, I decided, is not beautiful. But then I don’t ever recall it having a reputation as being so.

The Acropolis

Odeon (theater) at the Acropolis

The Acropolis was impressive, and it was free much to my surprise. Due to the hugely important national elections the next day, everything would be closed so they made it free on Saturday. I walked around on stones that have been trodden on by feet for thousands of years, looked at the Parthenon and Athena’s temple which I recalled from my 5th grade textbook and the unit on classical civilization. There’s also an ancient amphitheater, an Odeon rather, whose mosaic floor and incredible acoustics are still very much in tact. It was impressive to say the least.

I will take a moment now to explain Greece’s political situation because it directly affected my trip numerous times. Greece is a democracy in which the vote is compulsory and you are fined if you do not vote on Election Day. The next day, Sunday, the national elections for Prime Minister were to take place and they were so important because the conservatives were slated to win, thus ending the 25 year reign of the socialist party. I’m sure you all heard about this, but it was interesting to be there in the midst of it. Walking around the city there were news crews and police guards everywhere. They were preparing for riots and celebrations the next day. One of the main concerns of the new Prime Minister is to be obviously, the Olympic Games to be held in their birthplace this summer. The whole world has its eyes on Greece because they don’t think it will be ready in time. Having seen the state of the city and heard the plans to be realized between now and August, I have to agree. The Parthenon is half missing and half under scaffolding. The Temple of Athena is about the same with many of its stones removed for restoration.

I made my way over to the Agora which is in pretty good shape. I saw the Hephaesteion which is a temple that overlooks the ancient market places that boasts the most intact friezes of the ancient world. They depict the feats of Hercules. They are so detailed and to actually see something so ancient that people back then created makes you wonder about the great myths, were they real? The rest of the Agora is lovely green spaces and ancient ruins of columns and cobblestone paths. It was again incredible to walk around and imagine life as it might have been 2500 years ago.

Hephaesteion Temple

After the Agora, I left to walk up through the center of town to the National Archeological Museum which is said to be the glue for all the historical sites. I walked up through the town, through the flea market, then encountered another marker of a different type, a wholesale meat market. The floor had fresh blood on it and some of the cuts I walked past had not been fully skinned yet. Some of the animals still had heads, eyes and teeth. Basically, if you ever needed a reason to be a vegetarian, this is it and then some. I was creeped out but also intrigued *. All the vendors, while hacking away at their victims with large knives, were telling me in Greek how good the produce was and yelling prices. At least, I think they were. I exited after I felt I had had all I could stomach then made my way up to the museum. It is closed for renovations until May. I started to curse the Olympic Games.

Olympic Stadium

After that disappointing turn of events, I walked back across town to see the ancient Olympic Stadium and shake my fist at it. When I did see it and imagined it full of people in the August heat watching the marathon runners enter and cross the finish line at the height of exhaustion and also at the height of their athletic existence, I stopped cursing the Olympic Games. I decided to rest at the hostel for a half hour, then go explore Plaka. I felt refreshed after my little break and wound my way through the maze of marble streets past shop vendors and people selling Olympic merchandise. Never too early to make a buck I guess. I bought a cheap, ultra-touristy t-shirt as has become my custom and then decided I would walk to the Academy to see where Socrates and Plato professed their genius, then climb Mt. Lycavittos to watch the sun set. The Academy is right smack in the center of the city and you’d take it for a municipal building in neo-classical style if you didn’t see it on the map marked as a historical landmark. There are statues of the great thinkers that started the school and continued it and I thought of Raphael’s “School of Athens” that I saw in Rome in November. I found myself in the canvas, instead of staring at it.

The Academy

Then I started the climb to the top of the mountain. It took me about a half hour to get up the many switchbacks (they are paved, it’s not rugged) which are at perilous inclines. I got to the top and was about knocked over by the wind. I took shelter in St. George’s church at the top, then at the café that overlooks the eastern half of Athens. I had a tea to warm up then decided to go out and brave the cold wind and try to see the sun set. It was too cloudy to get a good view but it reconfirmed the great expanse of the city. I looked towards the port where I would catch my ferry at 7:40 am the next day to Mykonos. I then climbed back down the mountain, accompanied by a stray dog who I was more annoying than endearing and I was crossing streets at rather daring points in time hoping he would either be dumb and follow or be deterred. He was pretty sneaky and managed to stay with me halfway to the hostel, but finally I walked past a cat and while he was distracted with his growling, I managed to slip away. In retrospect, it was a pretty fun game.

I went back to the hostel and met that night’s roommates. The snorer was still there but he turned but to be an archeologist so when he’s awake he’s probably the most interesting person you could find to talk to in Athens. He told us all about what they’re doing and the projects for the Acropolis and how he doesn’t think they will finish either. Basically, the Olympics gave Athens the chance to start all the restoration work that it has badly needed, but the jobs it has to complete are 20 year long projects if they are to be done properly and thoroughly. The other two roommates were girls, one an American studying in Florence, the other an Australian who is teaching English as a Second Language in England. I ended up going out to dinner with the two girls and we got along quite well. The Australian was a riot, as I have found most of them to be, and the American was smart with a dry sense of humor. I had a Greek salad which lived up to expectations. I lived on Greek yoghurt, honey, tea, and Greek salad the entire trip. The yoghurt completely blew me away. Better than I have found in France, much to my dismay. I thought I had the best of the best here. After dinner, we got some fresh baklava and was that

The Parthenon (under construction)

good! The pastry melts away quickly and lets the nutty, warm, cinnamon gooey sweetness invade much to the taster’s delight. After dessert, we all went back to the hostel, chatted some more with the archeologist/snorer and then went to bed. I had to be up at 5:30 to be at the ferry in time.

I have to say that Athens impressed me, but I was glad to leave. I felt like I had done all there was to do and the city was so big and noisy and pushy, I wanted to get out. I felt crowded all the time, even in low season. I don’t want to imagine around the Olympics.

Mykonos windmills

I caught the metro out to the Pireaus Port the next morning at about 6am and the youth of Athens still had not gone to bed. They were hanging out in the streets having a great time while I was lugging my bag out to the metro. I boarded my gigantic ferry, sat in a comfortable armchair by the window, and then went to sleep. I woke back up at around 11am. The ferry was completely full because everyone in Greece has to return to the town of their birth to vote. Most people got off at the first port of call, I enjoyed looking out the window at the islands passing by. We arrived at the Mykonos port just before 1pm and the owner of the hostel I was staying at was there waiting to pick me up. I was so grateful to see her. She took me back to the hostel which was on the other side of the island, about a 20 minute walk from the town where all the touristy stuff is. It was all closed anyway, being election day, so I just chilled out in my room enjoying the view of the beach. I went on a run which was tough because of all the steep hills but definitely beautiful, each turn giving on to a new vantage point of rocky cliffs, rolling green pastures, or the electric blue Aegean Sea. I watched CNN in English and got caught up on the election polls and the significance of the election. The rest of the channels were in Greek. I met the girls staying in the room next door and we went to the Taverna next door for dinner. I again had Greek Salad and it was just as good as the night before. I had tea with honey to finish the meal and the honey was delicious. I didn’t know it was so good in Greece but I ate it for the next few meals with plain yoghurt which my hostess at the hotel told me to do. I was happy I took her advice.

White stucco buildings lining Mykonos streets

The next morning I got up, went running in the cool morning air and then went into town with one quest in mind: rent a scooter. I successfully found a place open and rented a little one for 24 hours. If the tour of Dublin was the best 8 euros I ever spent, then this was definitely the best 10 I’ve ever spent**. I spent the next two hours tearing around the island winding through the hills, climbing high to edge of cliffs, then plunging down the steep hills to drive along the beach roads. It was so FUN to jet along in the sun with the wind in my face. I was having the time of my life stopping off and taking pictures whenever I wanted, exploring the far reaches of the island, going on the narrow roads where cars can’t. I decided to take a break and go explore the touristy part of town. I walked through the streets amidst blindingly white stucco structures of two or three stories, with shutters and trim to match the sea that they look out on. I climbed a hill and found the famous windmills and “little Venice”. I walked through the heart of the business district and chatted with some shop owners who were making final touches to their boutiques before they open for tourist season just before Easter. Most everything was closed and I felt like the only tourist on the island. It was perfect for the relaxation and the escape I was looking for. That night I rode my scooter back to the hotel and watched the sunset from my balcony which, in and of itself, was worth the entire trip, Charles de Gaulle hell and all. I watched some more CNN, the results and recap of the elections (conservatives took the vote, much to the delight of most of the population) then went to bed.

Me and my scooter

The next morning, my last morning in Mykonos, I soaked up the scenery in the early morning, read a little bit while listening to the sounds of the ocean from my window and feeling the breeze blow in through the open windows, then took off for one last go on the mo-ped. I went everywhere I hadn’t been the day before, had a few encounters with scary hills and cars, but made it through unscathed. I then visited all the beaches on my side of the island, walked along them, waded in them (the water was like ice), and then returned to the hotel to pack up. I followed my host mom in her car down to the port, she carried my bags and I rode the mo-ped in to return it. I really hated to let it go. I probably shouldn’t admit this, but I took my picture with it. I boarded the ferry around 1:45pm and settled in for the 5 hour ride back to Athens. It passed pretty quickly. I disembarked and headed back to Plaka. I settled back into the hostel I was in before and then walked around for a little bit before everything closed. The shop owners wait outside and try to get you to come in. Anything I bought I was able to bargain down at least a few bucks, except food.

Aegean Sea from the hills of Mykonos

Mykonos Port

I spent the night at the hostel and woke up early for one last foray into the National Gardens before heading to the airport. I got there in plenty of time, caught my flight and headed back to Paris, where I am now. It is snowing, it is cold, and I want to go back to Mykonos. When (not if) I go back to Greece, I am looking forward to spending very little time in Athens and seeing more countryside and hopefully more islands. I would also probably go in September so it was still warm but with less tourists. I have to say that the trip was certainly a mix of ups and downs but it was all worth it for the time I had in Mykonos and for the opportunity to see all the ancient wonder that is housed in Athens. I also like the fact of seeing pre-Olympics Athens, rather raw, but real. I didn’t get bored or too lonely by myself. I really enjoyed making my own agenda and stopping whenever I wanted. It was also pretty lucky that no one else had to be subjected to the horrors of the flight there. All in all, I’m a little tanner, little wiser about internet ticket buying, and a devoted fan of scooters and the Aegean Sea.

I start the internship officially on Monday though tomorrow is my first day to “learn the ropes” so to speak. I am looking forward to it. Then I have three days to do some stuff in Paris in which I am hoping to get the Chinese art exhibit at the Grand Palais and maybe a play or movie or two. Hope everyone’s doing well. Talk to you again soon!

*That message about having a deeper connection with your food and where it comes from now has a much greater meaning to me and I realize how silly it is that my meat consumption was so desensitized. Then, I didn't think anything about where it came from or what I was even eating.

** I guess even then a motorcycle license was in the cards for me.

Prague: Finding the Soul in an Ancient City

Originally posted March 2, 2004

The month of travel continues. I have a list of places that I wanted to visit this semester. At the beginning it seemed just a little ambitious with 10 destinations to hit and only 16 weekends in the program. I have now successfully visited 4 of the places on my list. I will be leaving for Greece on Thursday night after my last final for my first-ever solo vacation. I am a little worn out from constant travel, a few days to get caught up with school work and get ahead, and then leaving again, but all that will end pretty soon. I have my finals this week and then after spring break we start our internships. Mine will be at the American Chamber of Commerce which is located just off the Champs-Elysées. Bad experiences at the other end of the Atlantic aside, I think the internship will be a profitable experience for me.

Republic Square

This weekend was Prague. When I was young, I saw this Levi jeans commercial that said “In Prague, you can trade them for a car…” Ever since that time, the city has held this mystery for me. I also vividly remember the car from the commercial driving along the cobblestone streets.* My friend Marshall from W&M, participant in our weekend in Brussels, mentioned he was thinking about going to Prague the next weekend. That's about all it takes for me these days to agree to a trip, so I booked a flight for Friday morning returning home in time for class today, Monday. He invited some of his other friends but it ended up only being us who went through with it. I booked a hostel that used to be an old mansion right in the center of Prague on Republic Square, the place of many an uprising and rebellion.

On my flight over, we stopped in Munich to change planes, and the Munich airport seriously impressed me. It is by far the best airport I have ever been to. First of all, it was so filled with light and so sparklingly clean, I felt like I was in an ice palace. And it was quiet. No, it was borderline silent. Zero beeping, no loud conversations, no yelling at ticket agents, just the gentle whisper of changing departure boards and a soft murmur of voices near cafés. The design of the airport exudes German sleekness and efficiency. Everyone was wearing cool-looking eyeglasses and I strolled passed Bulgari, Prada, Cartier and other designer stores while I was going to my gate. Clear glass surrounded me and I could see 360 degrees of snow-covered countryside and airport happenings. The weather was getting bad in Munich and our plane had to be de-iced which caused a bit of a delay, but I finally got to Prague.

I arrived Friday afternoon around 4:30, got to the hotel and found that for a little over 10 dollars a night we got to stay in a quirky yet charming old art-deco mansion that had a perfect location. Prague, as we were pleased to discover throughout the weekend, is incredibly cheap. Getting there is not, at least if you fly, but once you do, it’s all downhill. Our room had high ceilings with chipped and cracked walls but it was clean and warm. The bathrooms were freezing cold but the water was hot. The mosaic tiling on the ceiling of the breakfast room offset the heavy red velvet curtains and dark wood walls. The building was old but so lovely. Every night they have live New Orleans style jazz and there’s a popular café attached to it as well.

City view from Prague Castle

So after I had gotten settled Marshall and I went for a walk into town to see the city under the cover of night and all lit up. Crystal boutiques line every corner and they have very beautifully engineered lighting on all the famous landmarks of the city, so walking at night is like walking through a postcard. We took our time and wandered through the maze of streets. Then we went back to the hotel where Marshall listened to the jazz band and I went to sleep.

The next morning Marshall and I had breakfast in the hotel, then went out to Prague castle, bundled up complete with long underwear so you would only see our eyes. The castle and the church there were amazing. The big cathedral within the castle walls was built in 1344 by Charles IV. The sun poured in through the stained glass windows, recently restored, and splashed a thousand colorful refractions into the cavernous vaults. We went through the old Royal Palace whose main hall was so big they used to have jousting matches in it. We walked around to the city gate and down the narrow street where Franz Kafka lived. We ducked into tiny houses with low doors and bright paint jobs that sold traditional Czech crafts and musical instruments. Then we crossed back over the Vlatava river into our part of town and went to a bakery café for lunch. After we had warmed up we went to look at the old Jewish quarter, but because it was Saturday everything was closed.

Charles Bridge and the Vlatava River

Undaunted, we walked south of the city to go see the state theater and possibly get tickets for a show that night. We succeeded in both respects. The state theater towers over the rest of the buildings on the right bank of the river showing off its roof that resembles a night sky with intricate brass terraces and golden star accents on the cobalt blue roof. We found the box office and bought tickets to see The Marriage of Figaro that night. Then we went back to the hotel to rest before a night at the opera.

State Theater of Prague

We got to the opera just as it began and had little time to take in the beautiful blue theater where Mozart had his first showing of Don Giovanni and wrote the Symphony of Prague. This city loves Mozart. We heard the opening bars of the overture and settled into our seats for a night of quality vocal performances in a beautiful historic venue. At intermission we had the time to admire the baroque embellished balconies and galleries, as well as the gigantic crystal chandelier in the center. The opera was funny and well acted. We again had the cheap seats but we could see more of the stage this time than at the Ballet in Paris.

After the performance we walked home at a brisk pace to stay warm and Marshall again hung out to hear the band downstairs while I went to bed. The next day we crossed back over the river first thing in the morning on the historic Charles Bridge which is marked by two huge towers on either end and has sculptures of Christ and the saints at intervals on either side of wide cobblestone path. It leads directly into St. Nicholas’ Cathedral which is a stunning example of Baroque architecture and one of its centerpieces. I have never been much of a fan of the ornate style, but I kept thinking of all music that I love from that time. The Brandenburg concerto kept playing in my head over and over. Walking around Prague, you feel like you should be accompanied by a string quartet all the time. After we had explored St. Nick’s and a park by the river, we went back across to try to see the Jewish quarter again. It was definitely open.

St. Nicholas Church - Republic Square, Prague

In 1180 the citizen’s of Prague built a 12 foot wall around a small area of town which was henceforth the Jewish section or “Josefov” in the Czech tongue. It remained densely populated until WWII when the Nazis cleared everyone out and sent them to concentration camps. One of the legends is that Rabbi Loew created something called a golem, a mud creature which he brought to life to protect the city. My first question was whether or not that has any relation to Gollum, from Lord of the Rings. Sadly, I don't think it does.

Josefov cemetary

The biggest attraction to the quarter is a cemetery with well over 12,000 graves in just under 1 sq. kilometer of space. The result is a fascinating array of tombstones jutting out at any and every angle, shifted by time, the Hebrew inscribed on them half-worn away by the weather. It was established in the first half of the 15th century and was the final resting place of every Jewish inhabitant of Prague until the end of the 18th century. After almost 400 years of burials, it’s no wonder it’s so crowded. They had to start stacking cemeteries one on top of the other. The morbidly beautiful place, with headstones jutting out at uncomfortable and unintended angles, gives off a feeling that there are souls trying to break free from down below.

Cathedral in the Baroque style

We then toured an old synagogue and then headed to a café to warm up again. After the café we walked to the grocery store to buy dinner and get tickets to an organ concert going on at 5 that night. We again passed a lot of streets and fun little shops. So we got our food, rested at the hotel a while, bundled back up, then went out to the concert which was held in a church just outside of the center of town. It was a little hole in the wall and it was barely heated but the music was wonderful. There was a strong soprano who sang some famous arias and a phenomenal organist who I wished had had a more inviting venue and a more impressive instrument to complement his talent. We heard Schubert, Mozart, Haydn, Handel, Beethoven, Bach, Vivaldi and Verdi to name a few. Even though it was cold we enjoyed ourselves. Then we left to go to a bar we had heard was pretty cool so we found it and got some famous Prague beer. It was alright, but Guinness and Straffe Hendrick taste better to me. We sat there for quite some time avoiding the cold and killing time until the jazz band we wanted to hear started playing at 9. Marshall educated me about comic books, Indiana Jones, Batman and Spider Man and their cultural significance, and gave me his treatise on why Harold Blume should not disregard movies and comic books as part of the western canon. Marshall is a pretty smart dude.

After we had finished our beers and then tried some absinthe, a local specialty, we walked over to the jazz club where a former band-member of B.B. King's was playing. I’ve never seen anyone play guitar like that guy did. The rest of the band was pretty strong too and stuck to an all blues set list. I had a really good time, but true to form, I got tired and ended up back at the hotel long before Marshall. As I walked back with the snow swirling around me looking up at the astronomical clock and the old buildings in the square I was content (not warm, but content).**  Marshall and I had had a snowball fight earlier and I was thinking to myself, I had a snowball fight in Prague…

Astronomical Clock

It’s still hard to imagine that I have actually seen some of the things I have; the paradise of Capri to the green fields of Dublin to the chocolate and waffles of Brussels to the snow covered domes and castles of Prague. Instead of a staid textbook telling me about everything, there is a living energy to the story of this continent now. All these names and places and dates that I had to learn are right there in front of me and I’m seeing what places were conquered by this ruler and who built this famous church and how it all fits together.

I am looking forward to the end of classes and the beginning of an internship though I’ll have to kiss my leisurely Monday and Wednesday mornings, and my free Fridays goodbye. I hope Paris warms up soon. Prague would have been even more stunning had all the gardens been in bloom, but I was thankful for the snow. Hope everyone has awesome spring breaks. Maybe some of you can send ME some postcards this time?? Until next time.



*This car, the Trabant, a sort of symbol of East Germany and the now-dissolved communist bloc, was also featured in the music video for U2's song "One" and in the artwork for the album on which the song appears, Achtung, Baby. The Zoo TV tour featured three brightly colored Trabants as part of the stage set up, and those cars are now present in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, where I have seen them hanging.

**That night, walking home alone from that jazz show, is an enduring memento from my time abroad. It was so cold, so quiet and the snow on all the old buildings was so beautiful. I hope I never forget that.

Brussels: You never know when you'll get hit.

Originally posted February 23, 2004

The third foray of the semester was a success. Destination: Brussels, Belgium, with a day trip to Bruges on Saturday. I had surprising interest from other members of the cohort, but I guess when its the chocolate capital of the world and the round trip is 40€, it’s not hard to get people to come. So we headed off on Friday morning, 5 of us, on a Eurolines bus going direct to Brussels. We arrived in Brussels around 1pm and went to our hostel which turned out to be a really cool communal hang out spot. We met a lot of people there, including a Canadian guy and his two friends from Holland who happened to be taking a weekend in Brussels. They were in our dorm room and we struck up a conversation while we were getting settled. Once again, the hostel atmosphere delivers.

We went off sightseeing in downtown Brussels. We walked through the streets finding a juxtaposition of modern, glass surfaced high rise office buildings, ancient churches and gigantic palaces. We got to the heart of the old city and were charmed. I had a non-negotiable eating list, consisting of waffles (gaufres in French), moules frites (a Belgian specialty consisting of steamed mussels, French fries which were invented in Brussels, topped with your choice of over 20 different sauces), and chocolate. We started off with some fries from a famous “friterie” downtown exclusively devoted to the fried potato sticks. They had an entire wall of different sauces to choose from and before we decided on one, we pulled the “oh can we taste a few first?” trick. It reminded me of the time in seventh grade that my friend Carissa and I were bored one summer day and walked up to Baskin Robbins and asked to try all 31 flavors, and they let us. It was really fun and in the end we decided on the “Brésilienne” and good ol’ fashioned ketchup. The guy at the store was very amused and happy to indulge our testing binge. The fries were delicious, thick-sliced, really crispy on the outside, hot, and perfectly textured on the inside. It didn’t take us long to finish off the two cones we bought to share between us.

After our fries we walked around the city some more and found the Grand Place which held gothic churches and gilded town halls that give on to a large cobblestone square in the center. It was mostly gray but livened up with fire-engine red door and window frames and generous gold embellishments over every façade. We walked through the shopping districts and in front of the monstrous Palais de Justice where they have court proceedings. Its 75 foot high dome overshadows the small square before it, and the stone darkened with age and pollution gives a foreboding, but also impressive feeling, quite appropriate to strike fear into the hearts of Brussels’ criminals.

Grand Place, Brussels

Then we walked through the town past the most famous chocolatier in Brussels: Wittamer. We had to stop in. They had little bits of their dark chocolate out to taste and behind 12 feet of glass display cases, every sort of chocolate treat you can think of. Then they had some more in the back of the store. They had everything from champagne truffles to raspberry-dark chocolate pyramids, to coffee ganache and beyond. We all bought stuff one or two for our friends and host families…and for ourselves. We walked in and the whole places smelled like warm melted butter and chocolate which is the smell of the cocoa butter which they use to make the chocolates on premise. Closest thing to heaven on earth I’ve encountered in a while. After we all walked out with our beautifully bundled up chocolates in pretty bags and boxes with ribbons, we walked to the statue/fountain of the little boy peeing which is one of the most famous landmarks in Brussels. Entitled “Mannekin Pis”, the story goes that a little boy, Julien, got separated from his father upon their arrival to Brussels and was lost for three days. When his father finally found him, he was literally caught with his pants down in the middle of the street. His father erected this statue to commemorate their joyful reunion and to teach his son a lesson about lewd behavior.

With our Wittamer Chocolates

Mannekin Pis

After we saw the statue we walked back to the hostel to take a break before going out to dinner. We met up with our Dutch and Canadian friends and asked them if they wanted to come out with us. They agreed and we all met in the bar of the hostel to grab a drink and get better acquainted before heading out into the cold night. We walked again to the center of Brussels, this time there were nine of us, and we found a good Thai restaurant that was the only place that had room for us all. The food was great and so was the wine we ordered. We just sat around and talked and traded traveling stories and cultural differences. After dinner we went to a bar across the street to hang out a little more. It was crowded and really lively. They were playing great music and we all got taught how to salsa by our new friends. It was a fantastic night and we got home around 2am exhausted and looking forward to our trip to Bruges the next day. We got up the next day not as early as we had planned and managed to catch the free breakfast at the hostel. I had gone running in the Parc de Bruxelles that morning and through the botanical garden and was ready to go. We finally got out the door around 10:30, walked to the train station and caught the train out west of Brussels to Bruges near the northern coast, a medieval city and reportedly one of the most romantic and most visited in all of Europe. It is known as the “Venice of the north” because it features many canals and small walkways. While not as colorful, it remains just as charming, if not more so than Venice.

Bruges

It was bitterly cold and windy, no sun, but it fit the city well, even if it did make walking around uncomfortable. I loved the picturesque bridges and flower boxes, the medieval churches, the windmill lined road on the outskirts of town, the small houses in the Dutch style, and almost everything that had to do with the city. Michelangelo’s Madonna and Child managed to find its way into the Notre Dame cathedral there. After finishing the Agony and the Ecstasy, seeing it held much greater import. I could place it in the context of Michelangelo’s life and why he sculpted it. I almost want to redo the Italy trip so I can have the same context for the works I saw there. I would also like to know how the sculpture ended up in Bruges.

We took our time walking through the streets, we took a boat tour that gave a historical background of Bruges. Then we ducked into a little café on the corner near where we got off the boat to warm up. We stumbled upon the most famous waffle house in Belgium and, not wanting to pass up the opportunity, ordered waffles. When they arrived we were totally speechless. They were works of art: perfect steaming golden bricks piled high with chocolate or strawberries (or both) with whipped cream and all with a snowy layer of powdered sugar. We almost didn’t want to eat them they were so perfect, but who am I kidding. We ate them with gusto. They were just like the fries: cooked to crispy perfection on the outside and light, soft and bready on the inside. We were sent into orbit. Some of us got hot chocolate to go with them and it was like having a dark chocolate bar melted in your cup. Not ever wanting to leave the café, we started discussing plans to move to Belgium.

After the café it was getting to be around 4pm so we walked to a celebrated brewery in town and waited to take a tour. It is the home of Straffe Hendrick beer which is only sold in Bruges and London. It is guarded with pride by the locals and they don’t like to share. As we learned on the tour of the old factory, it actually contains extract of cannabis plant, one of the only legal drugs in Belgium and was used in the middle ages to alleviate depression and pain. No wonder Belgian people are so much nicer than Parisians. We got to see all the brewing tanks and taken through the process of making the beer step by step. We also got led up to the top of the factory where we got a great view of the whole town. Our tour guide spoke English with interesting and quirky translations that always drew a laugh. We went down to the bar after the tour and all got our free half-pints of the beer. It was pretty strong with 6% alcohol content but it had a natural, crisp flavor that was enjoyably bitter. After the brewery, it was getting dark so we decided to go back to the train station and catch a train back to Brussels. We boarded at 7:30pm and began the short ride home. It felt wonderful to sit after a long day of walking back and forth all over the town.

Things took a turn for the worse about 20 minutes into the ride though. Three of us had seats together in one little section and the rest were seated in the one right before us. We were chatting and recounting the events of the day when I see a teenage guy walking back through the car rather quickly, but erratically then suddenly he projectile vomits all over Emily right behind us and also manages to hit Catherine’s shoulder sitting in front of her and a few other seats in the immediate area. Emily has a reaction not unlike that of Carrie when the blood gets dumped on her, and starts freaking out. The kid mumbles “sorry” and keeps walking like nothing happened. Meanwhile, there is a huge pool of upchuck on the floor right by our seats and one of our companions is losing it. Emily and Catherine high tail it to the lavatory to do what they can to get it off them. Rachel and I gather up all our stuff and theirs and seriously run out of the car because the smell was so bad I was starting to gag. We moved to the car behind us, put the stuff down, and Rachel went to go see how our friends were doing while I stayed with the stuff. Emily’s jacket was ruined and she was thoroughly disgusted. It didn’t get all over her, but it did get in her hair and on her face. Rachel and I did the best we could to calm them down. We left them to their scrubbing and went to go sit down. The train conductors did not help them at all, did not say sorry, DID NOT EVEN CLEAN UP THE MESS for the duration of the train ride. It just stayed there. One French gentleman was completely incensed and he hunted down the culprit and chewed him out. The older man came back into the car cursing and yelling “Dégolasse! Incroyable! Ce n’est pas possible, ça!” We didn’t see the teenage guy for a long time but then he comes into the car we were in and sits down with his friend in the seat behind us. He chuckles a bit, covers his face embarrassedly and goes to sleep. His friend commiserated with him and meanwhile Rachel and I are getting up to move further away for fear of a repeat incident. Catherine and Emily come back with disgusted and disheveled looks on their faces. We all want to be off the train as soon as possible. They were also thoroughly angry the train conductors did nothing to the guy, didn’t clean it up, and were not sympathetic in the least to Emily or Catherine. The guy himself didn’t even bother to say sorry. I regret now not going and yelling at him. He was right there and I never said a word. We got off the train and “Pukey” as we named him, got off at our station. It had started to become comical to Catherine, who had reacted with disgusted laughter and disbelief when she got hit, but she hadn’t gotten it near as bad as poor Emily. We got Emily back as soon as possible and offered to take her out to dinner but at that point she just wanted to go to bed. So Catherine changed, we all sat down, looked at each other, and started to laugh about what had happened. It was so outrageous. We laughed about it all the way into town for dinner.

We went to a place that the owner of the hostel had recommended called Fin de Siècle. Down a small sidestreet, the restaurant was narrow but very long and high-ceilinged. It was really busy and we had to wait for a table but it was WELL worth the wait. Catherine got a chicken tandoori that was grilled with amazing spices like paprika and curry and was moist and tender, Meredith got lamb and pasta with a tomato sauce of cheese and vegetables, I got smoked salmon and Rachel got sausages with spinach and garlic mashed potatoes which were the most incredible mashed potatoes I’ve ever tasted. So dinner itself was a success then we all got desert to reward ourselves for getting through that disaster of a train ride. I got coffee ice- cream with caramel sauce, whipped cream, cinnamon and hazelnut shavings which blew me away, Catherine got chocolate ice cream with melted dark-chocolate, chocolate shavings and whipped cream, Meredith got mousse au chocolate and Rachel got tarte-tatin which is baked apples with vanilla ice cream in a pie shell with lots of cinnamon in a sauce that is like crème anglaise. The others decided mine won the prize for best dessert. I couldn’t decide between that and the tarte-tatin. It was a good way to finish off a day of ups and downs. The owner was really nice too and when I told him our story he gave us all a free glass of wine. We went back to the hostel exhausted but totally satisfied and with a good taste in our mouths to combat the remnants of the odors from the train ride. The next morning we got up, ate breakfast and headed out to the art museum. It had a gigantic collection, over 12 levels of galleries in a spread out complex. Among its more famous works are a few Seurats, Courbets, and most notably, Death of Marat by David. We also ventured into the contemporary art section to see some of the artists we had been learning about and it was vindication to go through and not be totally turned off to the canvases of broken violins, or pictures of dead people that were only assembled, not taken, by the artist, or stripes on a wall that are supposed to be art. I walked through being able to tell myself why this is displayed in a museum and citing the different ideologies. Normally if I even go into the wing its just because its on the way to the exit, and what I see I react to with anger because it seems to wrong to call a blue square of plastic on a wall, or a simple date on a canvas art. The class is helping me combat this, even though most of it I won’t ever really like.

After the art museum we took one last walk through town and then went back to get our bags and go to the train station. We boarded the bus no problems and sat back to relax on the ride back to Paris. We couldn’t help but bring up the misadventures of Pukey and Bruges. We will all miss the waffles, but we have enough chocolate to last us for a while.

Belgium was a win. The people were, in general, more kind and more helpful than Parisians (excluding our train conductor). The cities were smaller and totally accessible on foot. The architecture was different, older, and the centers had a certain charm to them. It was an enjoyable mix of modern commerce and old- world Europe. It’s hard to believe from the Grand Place in Brussels that its also the capital of the EU. Had it not been so cold I think we would have had an even better time. It’d be nice to be able to put off all travel until warmer weather but there is NO TIME! I have been in communication with a friend from William and Mary in London this semester and have the opportunity to go to Prague with him next weekend. It goes into the booking stages tomorrow and I’m hoping it all works out.

I have two weeks left of classes. Finals are next week, then there’s Greece which is still in planning stages. Looks like I’ll be taking my first solo trip. I’m kind of looking forward to it, even though it's difficult seeing all the amazing stuff and not having anyone to share it with. I’ll just write extra long journal entries and pretend it’s my dialogue with you all, my cyber traveling companions. In closing, special shout out to my little bro who has his first real gig with his band this Friday night. Good luck lil’ guy! Love, Big sis. Until next time!

When Oirish Oiyes ar' Smoiling

Originally posted February 19, 2004

It’s been a while since I updated but I haven’t had the chance to sit down and recount. But now is the time!  I have finished a commentary on the contemporary artist Arman who, among other things, displays the contents of trashcans, smashed musical instruments, and hundreds of women’s high heeled shoes as his art. It took a lot of convincing, but I actually have found a point to it, and that’s what my paper was about. It’s not just a guy dumping out his wastepaper basket, putting it on a wall and calling it art.  Now that that is off my plate, I can concentrate on recalling my most recent adventures.

So now that the bulk of my work is done, I can take the time to sit back and recollect all that has happened in the past two weeks. It started with my weekend with Jamie. She arrived late on a Thursday night and feared for her life on her Ryanair flight over. That sort of dampened her weekend because I tried to show her the REAL Paris, not exactly what you would see on postcards all over the place. Part of that adventure is riding the metro late at night. We caught a late train back to my side of town from where I picked up Jamie from the Ryanair bus. We encountered the usual number of people talking to themselves, bums preaching about the idiocies of the government, drunk teenagers being obnoxious, etc. These are common sites for my eyes, but, it seems, not for Jamie who I think was looking forward to being safe on the ground and was only met with more crazy people. We checked her in to her hostel, and it didn't seem like that was a very good choice either. Then we met some of the girls from the program at a bar, but we had to leave at 12:30 before the metro stopped running. It wasn’t a very successful evening but I don’t think much could have been after a near-death experience on a flight over.

The next morning Jamie and another girl from W&M went to some museums. We met up later that night and went to a cool restaurant right off of one of the main shopping thoroughfares, Rue de Rivoli, and then walked along the Seine at night. This I do as much as I can and is a must with visitors. Then we walked up Avenue de l’Opéra so I could show her some more famous sites, and we stopped at the Starbucks that just opened here. I think it’s the only one in France. I hope, anyway. Then we went to the Lapin Agile which is a tiny little inn in the red-light district near Montmartre and the Moulin Rouge where Renoir, Picasso, Baudelaire and other famous personages used to frequent. You sit on narrow wooden benches that line the walls of a small, dimly lit room and listen to traditional French entertainment, songs, poems, stories, jokes, accordion playing, anything and everything really. It was all in French and perhaps was not as enjoyable for Jamie. I seemed to be striking out on being a good Parisian hostess. For me, just sitting in the room at the same benches as the artists and poets and looking at the art and poems they left hanging around is enough to make it interesting. The performers were making a lot of jokes about the number of people there who didn’t understand French and how they could say whatever they wanted and no one would know. I had a great time at the place but felt inconsiderate that we had not done something more open to non-French speakers.

After we went to the Lapin Agile, I took Jamie to my favorite bar which is in the Bastille area and we had a drink and talked a little while. This place has the most inventive and reasonably priced cocktails I have encountered in Paris. It also has a great ambiance and humorous owners. We had a good time, then I got Jamie in a cab to get home and I took a deep breath and headed for the night bus stop. The last time I tried this, I got stuck out in the rain for three hours and ended up taking a cab home. I was determined to win this time. I looked at my map, looked at the bus stop, and was there 10 minutes early. I got a little scared when two buses went by that weren’t mine, but finally the H rolled up and I boarded feeling very proud of myself. It was an interesting mix of people and I was on guard, but I think this would be common in most cities on the late night buses. The bus took me practically to my door and I was glad I had conquered the system, but also glad to be off the bus.

The next day Jamie and I met and transferred her to her new hotel, a nice single chamber near the Ryanair bus stop that she was enormously happy to be in. After we dropped off her stuff, we went to the flea market at St. Ouen, the most famous in Paris. It’s gigantic and goes for upwards of 8 square city blocks. After the market we went to the Rodin Museum and Sculpture Garden where we walked around in the beautiful sunny weather. I got us a little lost in the St. Germain quarter, but after a little extra exploration we arrived. I really enjoyed both the gallery, which has Van Gogh’s and Monet’s as well as other less well known sculptures, and the garden. After the museum we separated for a little break before heading to the Opera Garnier to see Giselle that night. We met again at 6pm in front of the opera and waited in line for last-minute cheap seats.

We got them but they were AWFUL seats. We could hardly see 30% of the stage. I ended up hurting my neck from straining to see for so long and then spent the second act standing, but we only paid 6 euros to see a fantastic ballet as performed by incomparable dancers in a beautiful building, so it was worth it in my opinion.

After the ballet we got the mandatory goodbye crêpe and walked to the metro, bid each other au revoir, and went our separate ways. Jamie got back to Spain ok and hopefully with at least some good memories. I spend Sunday at the outdoor market across the street from my apartment and studying. My host mom was unexpectedly called away because her house in the country was robbed. She said it’s not the first time it’s happened either. We have been talking a lot more. I am much more at ease with our relationship than I was before.

The following week I was at home working every night trying to get caught up and prepare for the two presentations and two papers that were due, not to mention plan spring break and post-semester excursions. I was up to my ears in work, but I was (too easily) convinced to go to Dublin on Thursday night to visit some friends of a girl, Patrice, in my program who has become one of my better friends. The thought of drinking Guinness at the actual brewery on Valentine’s day made my decision kind of a no-brainer, so I bought my ticket (on Ryanair which I was a little scared of after Jamie’s horror stories) and worked even harder to be on top of things before the departure.

Guinness Brewery Gate

I am so glad I decided to go. The Ryanair airport is 1.5 hours outside of Paris, and you have to take a bus that leaves three hours before your flight to get out there. I left at 4pm on Thursday right after class and caught the bus out to Beauvais airport, a tiny operation consisting of a few shelters and some heated tents. My flight to Dublin was quick and very smooth. I arrived in Dublin and was met with overwhelming kindness and helpfulness. I found Patrice’s friend (Patrice was coming the next day because she had class) and we went straight to a pub so I could have my first-ever pint of Guinness. I could not finish it, but I really liked it. What we receive stateside is "tainted" with preservatives and jostled in shipping so the true taste is "ruined". The head is an acquired taste which, though creamy and smooth in texture, left an unpleasant and bitter taste in my mouth. It has to be poured a certain way, it has to stand for a full minute to “settle” before the bartender will allow you to drink it. When I stopped for the moment of reverence, waiting for the bartender's go-ahead, and thought it's good to remember that these things should be enjoyed slowly and with a bit of ceremony.

We walked down through a main pedestrian road and a street performer was singing U2. I was on HIGH ALERT, hoping, praying, that somehow I would encounter U2 in their native city. The group has a god-like status here. Clearly it was more than just those kind irish smiles and musical accents that made me feel right at home from the second I stepped off the plane. Also, the stories about Irish green and it being the Emerald Isle are true. I've never seen a green like it before. We got back to the University College of Dublin campus where Melanie lives, planned our weekend, then went to sleep. The next morning I received a hysterical call from Patrice, at Beauvais, who was denied boarding to the airplane because of passport issues, so she had to go home, get some papers, and then return on the flight later that evening. She was so sad and discouraged. Luckily, she didn't give up. I headed out into center city Dublin alone. I took a walking tour that started from Trinity College at noon and it was the best 8 euros I spent in Dublin. The guide was a doctor of history from the college and is the editor of a quarterly history digest about Ireland. He was knowledgeable, funny and interesting. I got a two-hour crash course in Irish history and got to see all the famous sites in the city.

Ha'Penny Bridge, Dublin

During the tour I had made friends with a girl from the NoVa area who just happened to be traveling in Europe and we went to get lunch together at this great little unmarked café we stumbled upon. I had tomato lentil and orange soup which was delicious and different. She had a roast lamb sandwich on homemade bread with apricot chutney. That was pretty darn good as well. Then we walked to the Natural History and Archeology museum and saw all the famous treasures there. The Celtic gold work was incredible, not to mention the artifacts found from the Viking conquest. After the museum we parted ways and I went to the National Gallery to see what Ireland had to offer in the way of art. It is true that the Irish are a proud bunch and most of the paintings were grand displays of that pride. I can't say that's all that different from some of the tableaus at the Louvre, but French artists seem a bit more varied in their subject matter.

After the museum I met up with Melanie and we killed time until Patrice arrived. We stopped in a café, we chatted, stopped in another café chatted some more, then we bought some Cadbury’s chocolate for Patrice, a hopeful panacea for her travel woes. We met her at the airport and immediately whisked her to a pub for her first Guinness, in case the chocolate didn't work. That night we experienced Dublin nightlife. We left around 11:30 pm and went to a bar on the Liffey River, running right through the center of Dublin. It was crowded but fun and after a pint of cider I was ready to dance. It started to get a little too smokey and there wasn’t enough room to dance anymore so we left to go to a more chic and modern club just on the other side of the river called Zanzibar. There we danced and danced till we couldn’t feel our feet anymore, and one guy wouldn’t stop touching my hair, so we decided to call it a night. We got back to the apartment around 3am.

I was up the next morning to run and I found a beautiful park farther away from the campus on a hill which overlooks all of Dublin. I had a great morning, the sun was shining, it wasn’t cold, and the fresh green of everything energized me. The rest of the clan, those who had consumed more than a pint of cider, was not on the same page. But after breakfast they were feeling better. So we got out the door and headed off to Phoenix Park, home of Europe’s largest zoo, and had a great morning watching the monkeys and elephants and other fauna held there. There was a big gorilla fight that I managed to miss but the story goes: mom gorilla had to teach a lesson to the older son who was jealous of the attention the baby was receiving and started to take it out on the little guy. She had to save the baby from the edge of a rather steep incline, get him to safety, and then smack big bro around as punishment.

After the zoo, we went to Kilmainhaim Gaol (pronounced like jail) to learn the finer points of the Irish revolution and see the eerie execution courtyard. Then we seriously RAN to the Guinness factory to get there before it closed and we made it just as they were letting the last tour group in. We learned how its made, saw the ad campaigns over the years, but the capper, of course, was the free pint in the bar that has a 360 degree view of Dublin. We got up there around 6:15 pm as the sun was setting, sat by the window and raised our glasses to being single, in Dublin, and drinking manly beer on Valentine’s Day.

Kilmainhaim Gaol

Valentine's Day pints on the roof of Dublin

After the factory we were less pressed for time so we walked at a leisurely pace to St. Patrick’s cathedral and saw it all lit up. Then I tried unsuccessfully to get Patrice and Melanie to come with me to St. Valentine’s tomb which was only a block away. I thought it would be a very symbolic gesture, given the day and our dating status… oh well. We then continued in to town to the Temple Bar area which is the center for nightlife, pubs, and fun. We searched for a place to eat dinner, Melanie wanted us to have traditional Irish fare, i.e. potatoes and corned beef. Patrice is a vegetarian who sometimes eats meat but not that night, so we went to a nice restaurant where I got amazing guacamole and don't really remember the rest. All is afterthought when guacamole leads off.

St. Patrick's Cathedral

After dinner, it was about 9pm and I had been annoyingly clear for hours that all I really wanted to do that night was hear some traditional irish music live. Melanie took us to a place called Gogerty’s, one of the oldest pubs in Dublin, and they were having a live music night. I was in heaven. We sat down very close to the band, and the warmth and good cheer was infectious. Everyone had their pints in hand and was swaying and singing to the tunes that seemed bred into them. The band was funny and consumed about 1 pint per song, which only added to their talent. The fiddler and the guitarist were ragging on each other and kept me in stitches. Australians and Irish, two nationalities that are consistently funny, charming, fun to be around, and have beautiful accents. They sang Molly Malone, Wild Rover, Finnegan’s Wake. They even had a bagpipe! My enjoyment cannot be overstated.

The band at Gogerty's

Coming off such a huge day, the next morning we took it easy. Then we went into town, dropped off our luggage for the return trip later that afternoon, and went to Trinity College to see the Book of Kells. This amazing book is housed in a beautiful old library of dark wood and high rounded ceilings, creaky floors, and first editions. And don't forget that musty, old-book smell. They had an exhibit of some of Keats' manuscripts and unpublished works. The Book of Kells is an ancient illuminated manuscript of the gospels and before you get to it you can see how it was made, bound, how they derived the colors, how the scribes learned to write the calligraphy, why it was so important, et cetera; an altogether fascinating process and the book itself is a marvel.

Trinity College

After I had to restrain myself at the bookstore from buying a version of Peter and the Wolf because Bono illustrated it, we left and walked across the Ha’penny bridge and into the shopping district where I found some fun stuff but didn’t buy any of it. We took our time and went at a nice slow pace. By the time we got back to the other side of the river, it was time to catch the bus back the airport. Patrice and I thanked our gracious host, and then started our journey back to Paris. This was completed with no problems, but I got home very late, around 1am. I was dead tired the next day, but fortunately didn’t have class until 3.

Dublin really surprised me. Sadly, I didn’t get out into the countryside, but cosmopolitan Dublin delivered. When I packed for the trip I didn’t even think to bring “going out” clothes. I brought sweaters and conservative shoes, half imagining to see green hills and shepherds herding their flocks across roads. Not so much. I'd love to delve deeper into Ireland and Scotland but as is ever-so-sadly apparent, there is not enough time for everything. This week the bulk of my work will be completed, and this weekend a group of us are headed to Brussels to eat chocolate and waffles… I mean…to see Waterloo. Hopefully I’ll have more time to update next week. Thanks so much for all the mail and keep it coming! My host mom is so impressed with how much I’m getting, she tells me often “Tu reçois le courrier comme un ministre!” - You get as much mail as an elected official). I miss everyone a ton and love hearing from you. Until next time!

In the Shadow of Vesuvius

Originally posted February 4, 2004

   

Mount Vesuvius

Fresh off the plane from Italy, I can’t help but be torn between feelings of love and hate for the country. There’s so much beauty there: the art, landscape, architecture, sometimes people, etc. That puts it much in my favor. I visited the Island of Capri this weekend and it has to be one of the most beautiful places on earth. But on the other hand, Naples, like everyone warned me, is very dirty, overrun with stray dogs, cats, pick-pockets and pollution, has unbelievable traffic (almost worse than Rome and the drivers are just as willing to kill you if you’re in their way) and seediness as you can hardly believe exists when you’re staring at a Caravaggio in a world famous art gallery or looking out into the crystal blue Tyrrhenian Sea from the top of a white cliff amidst the dense perfume of lemon trees and tropical flora. Keeping my belongings under strict control and never going down any streets that weren’t very well lit and well-populated was hardly enough to ward off the feeling of people lurking waiting to accost you or rob you the minute you let down your guard. I don’t want to give the impression that I had a bad weekend. On the contrary, it was an enjoyable weekend. I just noticed that there really is no middle ground in my feelings for Italy.

We left on Friday morning and it was FREEZING cold in Paris. Everyone had been saying how it was unusually cold and how the three days in a row of snow and freezing rain were unthinkable for Paris, usually one at MOST. None of it ever stuck, just turned the city into a muddy, cold mess. Some friends had been talking about going to Amsterdam for the weekend but I couldn’t fathom going anywhere colder by choice. I was looking online for fun for flights to Sicily and southern Italy when I found one to Naples that was pretty cheap. I bought it on the spot and convinced my friend Nicole to come with me. Our flight over wasn’t too bad. It seemed to take forever as we were itching to get out and explore. Nicole is a purebred Italian and had never been before so she was very excited.

Castle Sant'Elmo, Naples

We disembarked and tried to take the bus to our hostel, only to find that there was a strike that day, so we had to take a cab. The adventure begins. We get to the big central square in Naples after the cab driver takes his sweet time and a roundabout way to get there. He also talked the whole time in Italian and started to scold us for not knowing the language. We got a little lost trying to get to our hostel, but after we got checked in and settled, we set out to see the Archeological museum with all the remains from Pompeii and the Alexander Mosaic. It was very interesting, though everything was in Italian so we didn’t get very much information. We then went to see the Duomo where they have the bones of San Gennaro and two vials of his dried blood that supposedly liquefy every year to signal the continued good fortune of the city. We got a personal tour of the treasury by a guide who spoke only French and Italian, so we got in a little bit of practice while we were away. She was very nice and she told us everything we should see in the city. We then decided to take the metro up the hill to see the Spanish quarter and the castle on the hill which we never made it to because we were famished. It was about 7:30 when we found Pizzeria Gino Sarbillo on Via Tribunali in the center of Naples’ historic district. Gino supposedly invented the calzone, but also had 21 children who continued on in his tradition of pizza-making and still run the shop. Needless to say, the birthplace of pizza is definitely the best place to get it. I had one with mozzarella marinara and artichokes. Nicole had one with sausage and corn. They were phenomenal. Then we had gelato which just added to the success. By this time we had done two full loops around the city and were so tired we couldn’t think. We went back to the hostel and sacked out.

Piazza del Plebiscito

The next morning we began meeting the very international crowd of people staying there. At breakfast alone we met two Australian guys, an American living in Beirut, a Spanish girl and 2 people from Belgium. Some people were headed to Capri as well. We took the ferry with them, but split up with them as soon as we got off. We got a little lost in Capri without a good map and a lot of things were closed, it being low tourist season and a Saturday (Italians like to work even less than the French do and seem to create reasons to avoid it). We were feeling a little helpless when we took a bus to the center of town and managed to find a tourist office that was open. We bought a map and proceeded to get lost again in the backstreets, but that was fun. We ran across designer shops: Gucci, Miu Miu, D&G, Louis Vuitton, all nestled together. They were all closed, presumably because the people who shop there are at their ski villas right now. Then one block over there is a family run bakery, and a closet of a grocery store with fresh produce from the owner’s garden.

We finally found the trail we wanted to hike and had a fantastic afternoon with almost no one else around and in some of the most beautiful natural settings I have ever laid eyes on: transparent blue water against the sharp rise of the cliffs with lush vegetation and birds chirping everywhere. The boat to the famous Blue Grotto was closed due to rough seas. We contemplated swimming out there, but the water was freezing and we weren’t properly equipped. We just walked around enjoying the sun and the breathtaking panoramas around us. We were very fortunate to arrive when we did. It had rained for a week straight in Naples before we got there and then Friday it turned sunny and warm and stayed that was throughout the weekend. It got cold at night, but nothing compared to what we left in Paris.

Just being a chatty people in general, all the natives we met getting directions told us that we needed to come back in the summer. I was so glad to be there when we were. It was warm but not too warm. There were still a few tourists, but I can only imagine what the crowds must be like in the summer. I feel like we got to see the real Capri, stripped of its veneer and we got to meet people because they had nothing better to do than talk to us. This was pretty much the story of the whole weekend. We met very few people outside the hostel who spoke English and there were no lines. granted, a few things are closed, and the schedules are a little different, but it was worth it to experience a little of what native life is like on Capri. *

Anyway, after the hike we spent a little more time taking in the beauty of the island and loving the fact that it was dead low season. Then we caught the ferry back to Naples and went to the castle on the port and looked at some catacombs with bones still being excavated, some Italian medieval art, and some nice panoramas from the ramparts. Then we took a tour of the Teatro San Carlo right next door. We found out from the guide that there was to be a concert held that night. I asked if she knew if there were tickets left and she said the box office opens at eight and I could buy them then if there were. We decided to go back to the hostel and rest for an hour, then go back to see. We returned and met up with our Australian friend Adrian from that morning who decided to accompany us to the theater.

One little anecdote: we were riding the elevator up to the hostel after our visit to the theater when we crossed paths with an Italian woman who lives in the building. She kept talking to us in Italian all I could gather from what she was saying is something about the door being tricky. Then she asked us if we spoke Italian. We said no, we’re American, then she started talking really fast making broad hand gestures and she said “Americano” a bunch of times then she ended with “Capice?” We shook our heads. Then she actually yelled “I LOVE AMERICA, rest of countries no good. Italy and America …molto bene.” Pretty contrasting viewpoint from that jerk we encountered in the bar last weekend. We bought tickets for the symphony at a super reduced price (normally 120 euro tickets in the orchestra section for 15 euros) and sat down to hear Beethoven’s Piano Concerto no. 5, and Gustave Holst’s The Planets” no. 32. The theater is older than the Scala in Milan and rivals it acoustically, it is said. It was as richly decorated and ornate on the inside as I imagined the Scala would be, just smaller. I had a wonderful evening listening to the music and taking in my lovely surroundings. It was a nice change from the dirty streets and the outrageous noise of the traffic and constant sirens that awaited us when we exited.

The next day, we got up early and caught the train to Pompeii where we explored for a few hours. The ruins were incredible and the books that they sell there show what the original constructions used to look like and overlay them on top of what you see right before you. It’s amazing to think of what happened to this city. All life was stopped in two days, frozen in molten rock until its discovery so many years later. The mosaics and the structures still intact are awesome.

We then went to Herculaneum which I enjoyed more. The archeologists have not yet removed everything and it seems more preserved, less stripped and operated on than Pompeii. You can also walk through more of the rooms and little passageways. I love visiting these historical places that I learned about in fifth and ninth grade. It’s making it all come alive and I want to learn it over again because I forgot so much.

After exploring those sites we didn’t have time to take the train up the volcano before we had to go back to Naples to catch our flight. Now I’m back in Paris with all my original possessions and lots of new memories. The weather is warmer in the city now, not so bitterly cold. Just one more month until spring will start to blossom here. That will be something special. I am remembering images of Williamsburg in the spring and getting a little homesick. It’s been too long since I walked those uneven brick paths. However, Paris decided to warm up after I followed through with my threat of leaving if the weather didn't get better. It's been unseasonably warm and sunny since I got back. Let me know how you all are doing. Until next time.