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Subject: A broad abroad
Date: 05/19/2005 08:53 AM
Off I go!
The bags are packed (okay, overpacked) and my cell
phone service is set to "vacation." Email is the best
way to get a hold of me from now on. The phone card I
purchased comes with a voicemail kind of thing. In a
pinch, you can dial 1-888-###-####, press #, enter:
NNNNNNNNN# and leave me a message, but I don't know
how often I'll be checking that.
And, hey... if I'm not back in five months, just wait
longer. 
Happy Summer 
Michele |
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Subject: London Calling
Date: 05/23/2005 02:54 AM
There's nothing like having The Clash stuck in your
head constantly. And when I'm not hearing that, I'm
humming "King of the Road" as a result of all the
signs for "rooms to let" around town. It's an
interesting mix.
After a long flight (I love Virgin-Atlantic, by the
way), a long tube ride, and a short nap, Joey and I
headed into town and walked along the Thames on Friday
night. We passed by the Tower of London, crossed the
Tower bridge, went by the Globe Theater, saw the
London Eye (the ginormous ferris wheel), heard Big Ben
strike eight o'clock, snuck a quick peek at
Westminster Abbey, Parliament, No. 10 Downing Street
(the equivalent of 1600 Pennsylvania Ave.), and
Trafaglar Square. Eventually, we made it back to
Joey's house where I promptly collapsed and slept for
12 hours.
On Saturday, we took a train ride south to Brighton
where I experienced England's version of "If you don't
like the weather, just wait five minutes." We left
London in the cold and rain, arrived to bright
sunshine and clear skies in Brighton, then watched an
amazing front roll in while we ate fish and chips by
Brighton Pier (imagine Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk
extending out over the water). It rained sideways for
a while, and we loitered in the restaurant way longer
than we should have. Eventually, the rain let up, and
we began a foot tour of Brighton's narrow alleyways
which were cluttered with tons of shops and even more
people. By 5 p.m. the clouds were gone again, and we
were treated to a great evening sky. (We celebrated by
heading into a pub for a couple of hours where I
consumed an unknown English favorite--Coronas with
lime.) 
I'm anxious to get a bit more removed from globalized
society, though I'm not sure if that will ever happen.
It's hard to feel "away from it all" with Starbucks
and McDonald's at every turn. Maybe in Greece...
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Subject: michele called
Date: 05/26/2005 08:15 AM
mini update on Michele
She called at 730 am from Rome airport. Said London was cold and rainy
but she had fun with her friends and went to Paris for the day
yesterday with a friend from mills college. She has a cold/cough and
is tired but she will be in Greece for 3 weeks so she plans to rest up
and get better.
take care
love Joanne |
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Subject: Greece is the word
Date: 05/27/2005 03:53 AM
Well, I'm either having some weird fraternity/sorority
dream, or I've finally made it to Greece!
But first: London and Paris:
(It's been a busy couple of days.)
Monday was spent recovering from a bug I picked up
along the way. Of course, it was also the sunniest
day of the week. But I was content to just hang out
with Joey while she worked. (Joey and I worked
together at the camp in NY for those who have asked.
She's currently living in London, working as a nanny.)
Anyway, so Monday was a quiet day. On Tuesday, we
woke up super early, caught a 6:30 bus into the city
where we met Becky (one of Mills' dozen or so good
eggs--she's at the tail end of her semester in
Scotland and getting ready to head to NY to work at
the camp with Joey). After getting Becky back to the
house and settled with a short nap, she and I headed
back into town and almost repeated the same circuit
Joey and I had done on Friday. Only this time we
walked to Buckingham Palace (saw the guards with the
fun, furry hats) and around Notting Hill.
Wednesday was another early morning. I caught the
same bus into town with all of my stuff and took my
first bus ride with BusAbout. We drove to Dover and
hopped a ferry across the English Channel and into
France (waving at the white cliffs as we left the
harbor). We arrived in Paris right on time (5:30
p.m.) and I dumped my stuff on my hostel bed and
headed down the block to find Becky (who had caught a
train to Paris and was going to stay for a few days).
We spent the evening fighting off a scam-artist at the
train (I wasn't sure how to tell her "I don't want
your over-priced ticket, I'll buy mine from the
machine, thanks" in French, but I managed to convey
the meaning with body and sign language.) After
that we got onto the Metro and came up at the Arc de
Triumph which is HUGE. I was thinking it would be the
size of the arch in Washington Square, but no. This
thing is a monster. A beautiful monster, though.
From the arc, we strolled down the Champs Elysse (I
think I'm spelling that wrong) for a while, then
crossed over the river (Siene, I think) and walked
back up toward the Eiffel Tower. Since it was nearly
sunset time, we splurged and bought the ticket to the
very top. Amazing. Took lots of photos and video and
found all the landmarks and monuments we cared to see
without having to walk to them. And the sunset was
beautiful from that perch. Interesting side note:
there's a restroom at the top of the tower.
By the time we got back down, the tower was all lit up
and beautiful against the night sky. As we crossed
the street to walk back towards the Arc, the crowd
walking towards us gasped and shreiked in a way that
made me think the tower was falling over behind me. I
turned around and was happy to see that it was just
"twinkling." It's been outfitted with tons of strobe
lights and every hour they go off and make the thing
all sparkly for 15 minutes. I don't know if that's
Paris' attempt at making the city more desirable to
the IOC or what. (Paris, like London, is bidding for
the 2012 summer games.)
A(nother) long walk later, and I was saying goodbye to
Becky at her hostel, and heading back to mine for a
short night's sleep. You know how it is when you have
to wake up early and you're super tired and all you
can think is that you're going to sleep through your
alarm? Yeah, that was me on Wednesday night. So I
probably only got about 3 hours of erratic sleep
before getting up at 4:45, hauling my stuff to the
hostel lobby and repacking (so as not to annoy the
other three people in my room). Then at 5:30 I was
back on the metro, heading towards a shuttle bus that
would take me to one of the Paris airports. I was
told by the BusAbout guide that it would be about a 30
minute ride on the metro and that the bus would leave
promptly at 6:10. "Oh, and it's really confusing to
find once you come up out of the Metro station."
(Maybe that had something to do with the restlessness,
too.) But I found it. Had a little "Amazing Race"
moment when I realized that I'd come up from the metro
at the farthest possible exit from where the shuttles
were, and I ran. For about 10 steps. Then opted for
power walking. But I made it, and we got to the
airport about an hour later, boarded the flight to
Rome and was soon flying the friendly European skies
of RyanAir.
RyanAir is a budget airline that makes Southwest seem
fancy. No frills, for sure. But it was a great
flight over Paris, the Alps, and northern Rome. We
got a bird's eye view of the Vatican as we made our
final approach, and *poof* I was in Rome. (Originally,
I had a direct flight from Paris to Athens, but the
airline went out of business a few weeks ago, so I had
to make other plans.)
I got the grand tour of the city (outskirts) by
landing in one airport and traveling to the other.
This meant another shuttle bus ride, a long, LONG walk
through Rome's train station, and then a train ride to
Fiumicino (the main airport). I considered leaving my
luggage at the train station and exploring the city (I
had 6 hours to kill) but the line for luggage storage
seemed to start in Florence, so I just decided to
catch the train and hang out at the other airport. I
whiled away the time at an airport cafe, eating cheap
(but yummy) airport food, watching planes take off,
and reading an abandoned copy of the Herald (the NY
Times "Global" issue). It was in English, that was
all I needed.
Hours later, I finally checked my luggage and headed
toward the gate for my flight from Rome to Athens.
That was pretty uneventful. I'm not sure what the
in-flight meal was, but it tasted good. We landed in
Athens at 11:30, hopped another bus to the city center
where my directions said to then take the Metro for
two stops. In Athens, the metro stops running at
midnight. So I went to a bus stop and checked its
map against mine to see if another bus ride would work
(the bus system runs 24/7). While I was looking, an
off-duty cab driver came up to me and asked (well,
mimed) where I was going. That led to a conference of
him, me, and two other cab drivers, my maps, a lot of
broken English (them), and pointing/sign language
(me). Finally, the first guy put his hands up in the
international sign for "I give up" and offered to
drive me there since it would be quicker than walking
and/or explaining. And it was. He was a super-nice
guy, and I spoke my one word of Greek "Effaristo"
(Thanks) as he dropped me off. I think it was about 2
when I finally climbed up into my bunk at the hostel.
Today, I'm lying low. I might head out towards the
Hard Rock Cafe for a t-shirt. I'm definitely going to
find a Greek-English dictionary (it's confusing
here... "yes" sounds like "no" and "no" sounds like
"okay"). But otherwise, I'm roaming around with just
my wallet. No bags, no cameras, no nothing.
And I think it's time to head out now.
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Subject: The Euro is falling! The Euro is falling!
Date: 05/31/2005 06:24 AM
We're all loving France right now.
So, it feels like about a hundred years ago, but I
know it's only been a few days since I wrote from
Athens. I spent much of Friday wandering around,
trying to get lost. I wasn't too successful with
that, though, as I kept finding my way back to the
same part of town. But it was fun. My first quest
was a belt because I've already grown tired of hiking
my pants back up after every ten steps (budget
dining...). That was easy enough. Finding a
bookstore was a bit more of a challenge. I finally
ducked into a hotel and asked someone at the desk
where to go, and he walked me to the end of the block,
pointed to the next block and I thought my problem was
solved. Not so. That place was under construction,
wide open, but no people in sight. The hotel guy
offered an alternative location in a different
direction, so I tried that, but when I got there, a
sign on the door read "Closed until we open again."
It was going to be one of THOSE kinds of challenges, I
could tell. But it turned out that both shops were
the same, just in the process of moving from one
location to the other. Closed until they open. It
makes perfect sense.
Someone there sent me a little bit further down the
block to another open bookshop, and I found a
phrasebook. Unfortunately, the phrase I wanted most
of all ("No, excuse ME for thinking I should be
walking on the sidewalk, Mr. Motorbike Driver.") was
no where to be found. But the book does have two
pages of choice curses and insults, and luckily they
don't sound close to anything that I'd need to use
regularly.
While walking, a guy came up to me, smiling hugely and
saying "I like tattoos." Novelty, I guess? Who
knows? But we chatted for a minute and he wound up
giving me a business card for his father's restaurant
which was near my hostel. It stayed in my pocket all
day, but I eventually got hungry and decided to check
it out. Finding it was a challenge. I definitely
made up for all my attempts at getting lost earlier.
There are lots of little streets and side alleys
throughout Athens, all with very similar looking
sidewalk cafes and tavernas. I took one major wrong
turn and wound up in a little residential dead end
section right below the Acropolis. It was beautiful,
but not really where I wanted to be, so I doubled
back, stopping to play with one of the 100 or so
kittens running around Athens (it was playing with a
leaf and was too cute to pass by).
Eventually, I found the restaurant, and Stefano, who
put me at a table in (on?) the rooftop garden. Two
guys were playing music, there was a tiny dance floor,
and probably 50 people up there dining. When I
walked, I hadn't realized the nature of the ambiance.
But then I sat down and looked up to see the Acropolis
all lit up just beyond the "stage." It was pretty
damn amazing. And the music and food were great. A
large group of people kept getting up, dancing some
traditional Greek circle-dances, shouting Opa! and
having a blast. I got tired of sitting alone, though,
so I joined an American couple sitting next to me who
were at the end of their vacation.
It was probably 1:30 am by the time we left, and not
because we were living it up, just because Stefano and
the other waiter both disappeared for a long, long
time. We never got our checks, the couple never got
their second round of drinks or their dessert, but as
long as the music and dancing kept going, we didn't
really care. And so ended Friday.
Saturday was pretty uneventful. I checked out of
hostel #1 and headed across town to hostel #2. I had
to switch b/c our departure time for the islands was
ridiculously early and I knew there was no way I'd
make it for the 5:45am departure. I got another good
dose of getting lost, mostly because I thought it
would be okay to keep asking people for directions.
Not sure how many blocks I covered before finally
getting the brainstorm to head into a Dominos and ask
one of the delivery guys for directions. That got me
most of the way there, the rest I managed on my own.
I splurged on a private room ($25 Euros) and dumped
all of my dirty laundry into the bathtub. Soon, the
bathroom looked like a laundrette, but it never got
hot/dry enough for the clothes to dry. SO after I got
back from my lunch excursion, the man at the desk told
me about the American Laundry Service place down the
road. This is the business to go into in major
tourist areas. I paid $3 Euros to dry a load of
clothes! But it was better than carrying damp clothes
around. He sent me out with a "Make sure you find it
this time" after I'd confessed to not finding the
place he suggested I try for lunch.
By the time I finished with the laundry, it was almost
time for our info meeting for the Islands trip. After
that, a group of us went out for a cheap Greek dinner
at a nearby restaurant. I'd say that our group is
about 90% Australian, and the rest of us are a combo
of Canadian, American, and I think we've got one New
Zealander. Nice folks. We had a good dinner and
watched a group of boys play soccer in the churchyard
across the street the whole time.
On Sunday we had a super long ferry ride to the island
of Mykonos. It was about 6 hours of just sitting.
There wasn't much to see. Every now and then a little
island would pop out of the sea, and tons of people
would run to the side of the boat (the size of a small
cruise ship) for a photo opp. We finally got off the
boat just after 1:00 pm and were met by AJ, a little
Australian guy from the Contiki resort where we'd be
staying. I asked him if there were any Australians
actually IN Australia right now, but I don't think he
appreciated the joke. Maybe he was just cranky
because he was so short... spiking his hair made him
look about 5'3".
We loaded up into a bus and made our way to the
resort. Yeah, the resort. I'm not sure if this was
the highlight or the lowlight of the trip. It's
definitely not anything any of signed up for. It was
like Lifestyles of the Young, Drunk, and Australian.
The place was gorgeous, and right on a beach, but it
was also a "cashless" place. Sure, we'll take down
your credit card info and give you this nice, little
card that you can just use for the bar or cafe, etc.
Cha-ching, cha-ching. Smart folks, those Contiki
critters. Drinks averaged about $6-8Eu and several of
my co-travelers didn't seem to think about how quickly
that would add up. Luckily, our group had arranged to
head into Thira (the main town) for the evening. We
were given a little tour of teeny tiny streets, some
cool windmills, and a waterfront section of town
called Little Venice becasue of the way the buildings
just end right at the water's edge. We also got to
meet one of the town's 3 resident pelicans. The one
we saw stood about 3.5 feet tall and was very aloof
(kind of reminded me of a certain Tibetan Mastiff I
know). If I ever get to a place where I can upload
some photos, I'll send one of him.
Anyhoo, we finished the walking tour, had dinner in
town (cheaper than our cashless meal at the resort
would have been) and then headed back for the evening
entertainment (Greek dancing). The demo we got was
pretty neat, but I was much more impressed by the
people dancing at Stefano's place back in Athens.
Probably because it felt less contrived, and
definitely because there wasn't an Australian Emcee
trying to get the crowd into it by pushing $1Eu Ouzo
shots. (Ouzo is the anise-flavored liquor that Ian's
parents got snookered on in My Big, Fat Greek
Wedding.) After the Greek dancing, the bar opened up
to "regular" dancing, and about 10 of us stayed up to
boogie woogie oogie some more. The most surreal
moment had to be when the DJ played Sweet Home
Alabama. It just felt a little weird to be on an
island in Greece singing and dancing to Skynard. (But
I didn't let it stop me.)
On Monday, me and two other girls hopped the public
bus (which only runs about 5 times each day and is
always PACKED) back into town and walked around a
little bit more. On the island, all of the buildings
are bright, bright white, but the doors and window
shutters are painted different colors depending on
what the occupants wish to pay homage to. Some were
green (trees), terra cotta (earth), yellow (sun), blue
(sky), and aquamarine (sea). It's gorgeous,
especially on a bright sunny day like Monday was.
After our short tour of town, we headed back to
Contiki, and took a little kayak trip across our bay,
around a bluff or two, and to a quiet little beach far
from the throbbing bass of the constant-music at
Contiki. It was fabulous. The water was so clear and
blue and calm. We considered tying up at a rock-dock
to jump in, but didn't even though the water was
plenty deep for us to do so. We saw some cool birds
that I couldn't identify, and one that I'd swear was a
great blue heron. He sort of flew ahead of us as we
skirted the coast, then would stop and wait for us to
get closer before taking off again.
After a few hours, we paddled back in and found a spot
by the pool to waste a few hours until dinner which
was pretty uneventful. We found a little taverna
nearby with a great "Contiki" deal. I was protien
starved after the previous night's pasta and Moussaka
(a potato-y, eggplant-y lasagna kind of dish) so I
went for a pork steak (chop). It was deeee-lish, as
was the sampling of greek appetizers that came with
the deal. I couldn't tell you the names of what we
had (except for the potato salad), but it was all
really good. Our server took great care of us as
well. He looked a lot like Eugene Levy which we all
got a kick out of. After that, we went back to the
resort for a little music trivia night, and then an
early bedtime (staying out until 1 the night before
kind of did me in).
Today (Tuesday) we left Mykonos for Paros. Our hotel
is great. Much quieter, not overrun with 19
year-olds, and run by this cool guy named Leo. In
fact, we're the only group here, which means I'll be
the only one hear after Thursday when the rest of the
group moves onto the next island. I'm sticking around
for 5 nights until the next group arrives. Just
because. I heard it was one of the quieter islands,
and tomorrow we're getting a bus tour. I'm going to
take some notes, then rent a scooter from Leo's cousin
and do some exploring. Right now, a few of the girls
in our group are getting a little massage from someone
else Leo knows, and then we're going to head into town
together for dinner and drinks at the harbor. A girl
could get used to this.
~Michele
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Subject: Worth about 7,000 words
Date: 06/01/2005 08:16 AM
Hey again,
Here are some photos of the Greek adventure thus far.
Lefkes is a little inland town that we walked through
today, and Punda Beach is another stop we made for a
few hours of fun and R&R in the sun. A Corona (or
two) would have completed that picture. I took a few
dips in the Aegean today. Nice and salty. Just
floated around without using an ounce of energy (which
is good since that's about all I've got left these
days). The pics from Mykonos are from a few days ago.
The one from Contiki shows the view from my room.
Decided to stick with the group and go to Ios tomorrow
instead of hanging out here on Paros with Leo. We get
a deal on scuba lessons and other beach activities
(more kayaking, I'm sure), and the bungalow I'll get
to stay in is half the price we're paying here (only 8
euros!). Plus, I love our group. We're having too
much fun to say goodbye just yet, but lots of us will
scatter from Ios. From Ios it's onto Santorini for a
week or so, and then onto Naxos before returning to
Athens.
Michele
Click Here for More Pictures
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Subject: Santorini--Greek for "buns of steel"
Date: 06/11/2005 01:25 AM
Forget Austria because the hills are truly alive on
Santorini. Holy cow. And I haven't even done the
volcano hike organized by our tour guides yet. That's
tomorrow (Sunday) and it starts with a casual walk
down 582 steps. We have the option of walking back up
(yeah, right), taking a donkey (too mean... the ass I
save could be my own), or riding in a little
gondola/skyride thing. I have a feeling I'll have to
put aside my growing fear of ascending over sheer
cliffs otherwise live at the port and beg someone to
bring my luggage to the boat the day after. But why
am I spending so much time writing about something I
haven't even done yet?? I don't know either.
Last you heard, I was on Paros, and I had made the
choice to stay with my group instead of hanging back.
So far (and I know I haven't been traveling THAT long)
it's been the best decision I've made. We got to Ios
after another long ferry ride, and checked into our
campsite around 5 p.m. We were supposed to spend the
afternoon on the water (our guides had arranged for us
to rent kayaks and be pulled around on tubes behind
ski boats), but we were all too wiped out for that.
My little 8euro bungalow was great. Three of us
shared it, and it was kind of like living in a sugar
bowl. Pure white on the inside (it's the Greek
island-way it seems) and completely round. We rested
up, took "disco naps" and then headed over to the
restaurant next door for our group dinner. We stayed
at a place called Far Out camping, which is basically
a daytime crash pad for all the people who go out and
live it up at night. Ios has earned its reputation as
a party island, that's for sure.
Our first night out was a blast. We started out at a
place called The Fun Pub (appropriate) and then
migrated up to the square for a little barhopping and
(for some) bar dancing. The rest of us were content
to keep our feet on the totally packed dancefloor. I
can't imagine Ios at the peak of the travel season.
It was hard enough to walk through the narrow streets
(two people walking side by side would struggle) at
this point. Matty, one of the doormen I met told me
that sometimes it takes over half an hour to walk
across the square (which is probably about 50 yards).
It was nuts, but so incredibly fun. Night #1 ended at
5 a.m., which I didn't think I could possibly top, but
I managed when I got home at 6 a.m. the next morning.
Time stops on Ios, and (as one of the older, wiser
travelers in our group) I knew enough to make the fun
out of dancing, not drinking. I'm not getting
preachy, but let's just say that on the second night,
one of the guys spent 150Eu on drinks, while I managed
to have as much fun (and remember it) with a 2Eu beer
and a few free shots. Still, it was fun to tell
that 6'5" aussie guy what a dork he'd been.
The days on Ios were spent belly up at the pool or on
the beach (except for the second day when we finally
got our tube ride). That afternoon was spent hanging
on for dear life. I crashed and burned a few times,
and had to bail out intentionally at one point when I
felt the bottom of my swim suit somewhere down by my
knees. Whoops.
Our happy group finally disbanded on the third day in
Ios. Some had only signed on for the three island
tour (a three island tour... thank you, I'll be here
all week) and so we lost a few who were heading back
to Athens that morning. A bit later, all but six of
us headed for the ferry to Santorini. I think that
was my favorite day, not because we lost the people,
but because about 85% of our group just spent the day
sitting around talking to each other, grazing on meals
at times, reliving some memories (and being reminded
of others better left unremembered). At that point,
after too much singing and dancing, I had no voice,
but I wasn't the only one. Our guide Renee lost hers
as well (natch, we were the only ones to last until 6
a.m.). We were quite a pair.
But they left, and I think I went to bed at 10 that
night and slept straight through until 10 the next
morning. The next group arrived that day, and it was
time to start all over again. But I only lasted until
3. My lost voice evolved into a sore throat which got
pretty cozy with my already bad cough, and by the time
I got here to Santorini four days ago, I was in pretty
bad shape. So while the new group went on their
volcano hike, I went to a pharmacy to get another
bottle of the syrup I'd gotten on Mykonos (even though
it didn't do the trick). But the pharmacist heard me
cough and sent me to the doctor. Bronchitis. Yippe.
Greek drugs and a day in bed with a really good book
helped.
Santorini. I don't even really know where to begin.
When I stepped off the boat, I thought I was going to
get vertigo from looking up at the cliff wall
(rememeber the donkey option from earlier?). At the
port, it feels like being at the bottom of the grand
canyon. And all along the cliffs, almost like snow
caps, are these tiny little villages. It's beautiful.
On our second night, we set out for Oia on the
western tip of the island and watched a pretty amazing
sunset. We all stocked up on picnic supplies, and
just sat there eating and watching the sun go down and
the moon come up. It was great, but we spent a little
too much time hanging out afterwards and literally had
to do a 100-yard dash to catch the bus back. (Thanks
to our new guide, Belinda, who chased the bus down and
got the driver to stop while the rest of us raced to
catch up.) I opted for a quiet night (way too into
the book at that point) while the others went out for
a much tamer night on the town than Ios offered.
The next day (Thursday), the four of us from the
original group moved hotels when the second group
departed for their fifth island. (The group thing:
every Sunday and Thursday a tour group leaves Athens
for 2 nights on each of the 3 or 5 islands. When you
opt to stay longer, as I did on both Santorini and
Ios, you can wait for the next group to come through
or catch the ferry on your own.) Anyhoo, our
"organized" hotel was a bit pricey, so we moved into
the center of town to a place that was half the price
of the other. Location, location, location... a few
less hills to climb. Our now-foursome set out in
different directions, exploring on our own. Lots of
cool jewelry, crafts, leather, and other random art
shops. We gathered back again in time for dinner, but
it wound up being a quiet night as the rest of them
were still trying to recover from the night before.
Yesterday, we all kicked in 7Eu and rented a car for
the day and went all over the place. But not before a
hearty breakfast at Mama's Place. Whoa, Mama. Mama's
a little 70-something grandmother who actually used to
live in San Jose and work at SFO. But she's here now
and she is a kick in the pants. She's a spitfire with
a potty mouth and greeted us with a very loud "Hey you
Sexy Buns!" as we walked into her restaurant. She
cursed a blue streak in the kitchen, but cooked and
served us a huge, American-style breakfast.
From there we covered every bit of Santorini. We saw
ancient cities that were in the process of being
excavated. We went to red sand beaches and black sand
beaches, saw the island from its highest point
(willing our little car to make it up there). It was
great. Pictures will come eventually. After a day of
driving around and soaking up even more sunshine, we
landed at a little pub that served the coldest and
cheapest beer I've had so far. 1.50 for half a liter
of frrrrrrrosty Amstel. It was pretty close to
heaven. Eventually, we got back to the hotel, and
cleaned up for another night out. That was pretty
uneventful, and as I write this, my cohorts are
sleeping off the effects and probably quite hungover.
I'm about to catch a bus back to the west end of the
island to check it out and have a day to myself.
Togetherness is wearing me out. The next group
arrives tonight, and I'm looking forward to getting
some new people to spend time with.
After Santorini, it's onto Naxos for 2 nights, and
then Athens for a few days before I fly to Rome to
spend a few weeks with various family members. Time
to learn a new language.
Before I go (the counter is ticking down) a few
statistics:
Books read - 5 (The Dirt--Motley Crue, Citizen
Girl--Emma Kaufmann, The Butterfly House--Someone
Sucky, Valhalla Rising--that was the one I couldn't
put down--Clive Cussler, and Paradise House--Someone
Schmaltzy)
Gyros eaten - 4
Olives eaten - 64 (that's just a guess, but it's
probably not far off)
Donkey bombs successfully avoided - countless
Donkey bomb failures - NONE! (that jinxes me for the
day)
Time's about up. Love to you all!
Michele
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Subject: A myth of Shaquillian proportions
Date: 06/16/2005 03:40 AM
As the legend goes:
Greek Reporter covering the 2004 Games:
Have you been to the Acropolis yet?
Shaq:
We've been to a lot of clubs, but I can't remember the
name of all of them.
***
My Greek island adventure ended as calmly as it began.
We did our volcano hike on Santorini, and I took lots
of photos from the middle of the caldera. We survived
the walk down the donkey trail, easily breaking my
streak of avoiding donkey-doo (it's hard to avoid when
it covers the entire sidewalk). I was wrong with the
number of steps. I said 582, but it was 588... I only
know this becuase they're labeled on the way back up.
Not that I even considered walking back up, but at one
point I did turn to look back and saw little white
numbers on each of the steps.
As volcanos go, Santorini's was neat. Lots of rocks,
big and little, up hill trails and down hill trails.
It only took about 30 minutes to reach the top, then
we had a look around before returning to our boat.
From there, we circled around the volcano island and
dropped anchor near one of Santorini's other islands
for a quick swim to a thermal spring. Nothing quite
like diving off of a boat into blue-green water and
swimming until it warmed to the temperature of a balmy
bath. We sloshed around in the mud, exfoliating with
the little chunks of volcanic rock, and trying to
one-up each other with the amount of mud we could
slather onto ourselves. The swim back to the boat was
enough to remove the mud, and it was also enough to
shock our bodies with the colder water (what goes up
must come down). After the adventure, it was a crepe
lunch and then a rest by the pool before returning to
Oia for another sunset picnic.
The next day (Monday, I think) we caught the ferry to
Naxos which is the one "real" island we went to. It's
far less touristy than the others and is the only
Greek island with a stop light. We spent one of our
days walking around the shops, and both nights
enjoying good food and cheap drinks (one place we went
to had a nine-hour happy hour, but we only stayed for 2).
On Wednesday, we returned to Athens after a sweltering
5-hour ferry ride (we should have sat elsewhere on the
boat). Our group scattered a bit, but decided to meet
up for dinner. From dinner, we took an evening stroll
around Plaka, the district of Athens that sits at the
base of the Acropolis. Some of the crew had flights
today, and wanted one more chance for photos of the
Acropolis at night, so we wandered back up towards it.
To our surprise, the roads just below the site were
packed with cars, and really nice ones at that. The
closer we got, the more we could hear singing and
clapping coming from behind the walls of the Greek
theater (where Yanni did his "Live at the Acropolis"
thing a few years back). Lots of people were milling
about outside the gates, listening to the opera, so we
joined them for a bit, imagining the costumes and
performances that were just on the other side of the
wall. Tash (our new guide) laughed and said,
"Wouldn't it be funny if it was Pavoratti singing, and
we were just sitting here listening for free." That
got me wondering, so I took a wander around the
grounds until I found a sign listing all of the summer
performances. It wasn't Pavoratti, but it was Placido
Domingo. And it was fantastic.
We stayed through intermission, and had a blast
watching all of Greek stars (most with surgically
altered bodies) walk outside for a smoke and a smile
for the paparazzi. Of course we had no idea who any
of them were, but they were glammed up enough for us
to have lots of fun a la Joan and Melissa Rivers at
the Oscars.
Today I finally hauled my cookies to the top of the
Acropolis and had a look around. Absolutely amazing.
Unfortunately, and fortunately, it's in the process of
being restored, so scaffolding was as prominent as the
marble. And it was packed... PACKED... with tour
groups. The people watching was as entertaining as
the sights were interesting.
Not sure how I'm going to spend the rest of my two
days here. I'm sure I'll resume my quest for getting
lost again.
I sent a bunch of pictures home, and they will soon be
posted at www.michelesumma.com. (We knew it was only
a matter of time, right?) Thanks heaps to my Uncle
Frank for posting each of my "reports" as well as
photos from the trip and some graduation photos as
well. Peruse at your leisure.
Love to all,
Michele
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Subject: Athens to Italy, part I
Date: 06/24/2005 01:54 PM
I've written this so many times in my head that I'm no
longer sure where to begin now that I've finally sat
down at a computer.
The basics:
I'm in Italy. And it's hot. But, as they say, it's
not the heat that gets you....
Since I'm such a fan of backtracking, I should pick up
where I left off: Athens. The previous night was that
great, impromptu concert with Mr. Domingo. The next
day I finally hauled myself up to the Acropolis. I'd
seen it from every angle and figured I should break
down and make the hike. Thursday was insanely hot,
but I just slathered on the Coppertone and made tracks
for the ruins. I was as amazed by the site itself as
I was by the number of people milling about. I hadn't
encountered that big a crowd on the trip, and the
combination of the numbers and the less-than-stable
terrain made the experience a bit of an effort. The
tour groups had it good. The guides explained
everything on the top, their purpose, their history,
etc. For all the groups, I couldn't find one with an
English speaking guide (because I had no qualms about
pretending to be part of a group for the free trivia).
So I kind of milled about and went 'ooh. pretty!'
every now and again.
Later that night I managed to run into a few folks
from the islands group and we decdided to continue our
anti-greek food trend and went out for sushi. It was
great on its own, but it was REALLY great because
there were no olives, feta cheese, or moussaka to be
found. After dinner, we decided to try and find an
movie theater. Hahh.. That proved to be an adventure
and a half. And a totally fruitless one at that. We
gave up after a few hours (we found one place showing
Batman Begins, but that didn't interest any of us) and
decided to meet again the next evening and head
directly for a theater that we knew of that had a sign
advertising Mr and Mrs Smith.
I woke up on Friday thinking that it would be just our
luck to show up for the movie only to find that it
wasn't showing, so I headed to the theater, found out
that, in fact, it wasn't showing for another week, and
then started a quest to find a theater that I could a)
find and b) find again when I got back with our
shrinking group. It took most of the day, but I did
it. The place was a tiny little outdoor theater in
the shadow of the Acropolis (I learned to be less
impressed by this as my time in Athens went
by...everything seems to be in the shadow of the
Acropolis). We found a happy hour before the show and
were in prime form by the time it started. When ice
cold beer is as cheap as ice cold water....
I said goodbye to Athens on Saturday, and made the
quick hop over to Rome. I had arranged to meet up
with my cousin at the airport, and I found her without
any difficulty. What surprised me, however, was that
a different cousin was standing right next to her,
both of them holding 'Michele Summa' signs. Whooops.
They talked amongst themselves for a short bit and it
was decided that I would head off to the country
first. Fine by me. I felt bad for the city-cousin,
mostly becuase her 5 year old was staring at me from
behind some big brown eyes and I couldn't explain to
her that I would be back. And so, I was off with
Gianfranco... a 75-80ish yearold, tiny man with bright
white hair. He was accompanied by his two
grandchildren Edoardo and Viola. (Viola I remembered
hearing about from my grandmother when she had visited
Italy back in 1992. Viola was probaby 3 or 4 at the
time, and my jaw dropped when I realized that the 17
year old in front of me was the chubby bambino from
Grandma's photos.) We made our way to the train
station (already familiar to me from my trip to Athens
from Paris) and left for Forano.
Forano is large by comparison to some of the other
villages in the area, but when compared to any other
city on a map, it's tiny. It's the town of origin for
the (I'm going to butcher this spelling... sorry Dad)
Pazzaglia family. Among the 11-12 Pazzaglia children
was my great grandmother (as well as her famous
sister--the woman who played the dying Italian mother
in Moonstruck). Gianfranco is one of many first
cousins in my grandmother's ginormous generation. So.
Suffice it to say (yeah, why start now?) there's a
lot of people to meet in Forano. And Gianfranco
paraded me around proudly, introducing me as 'the
niece of Billy.' A title that sort of irked me. My
uncle visits there frequently, but my parents have
been there as well. So I just made sure to follow the
introduction with the clarification that I was (more
importantly) the daughter of Donny and Joanne and the
grand daughter of Jeanette. Good enough. I can't say
how many people I was introduced to, and I couldn't
say much to them either. The language barrier threw
me for a loop. Even though I had some key phrases
memorized, and even though I did pretty good at
understanding questions and nodding or shaking my head
in response, I couldn't say much. Call it performance
anxiety.
This is still day one of the adventure, but I must
give the keyboard a break. More will follow in a few
days. Stay tuned.
In the meantime, photos from London, Paris, and Greece
have been posted at the website. Check them out.
Love,
Michele
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Subject: the rest (settle in, this one's pretty long)
Date: 06/30/2005 09:27 AM
When we last left our heroine, she was negotiating the
hills of Forano with very little linguistical help...
That first day in Forano was a challenge, but the
reward was the wonderful welcome meal concocted by
Gianfranco's wife. It was pretty simple, really...
pasta, beef chunks, and meatballs along with fresh
bread and Gianfranco's homemade moonshine... I mean,
wine. The stuff is potent, but good in small doses.
The rest of the evening was pretty uneventful, and I
should have learned to get used to that.
Sunday (the 19th) was a very long, quiet day. We
didn't do a whole lot, and I quickly found myself
itching for some kind of activity. Unfortunately, all
I got was a day of watching Italian TV. Greece scores
a point for choosing to use subtitles instead of
dubbing over TV shows. Not that I watched a lot of TV
in Greece, but since it was the only thing to do in
Forano, I got bored pretty darn quick. In stride, I
took the day as an opportunity to learn about Italy's
viewing audience. From the commercials I could tell
that the most important things out there are cell
phones, bottled water, and Nivea skin care products.
And that was all before lunch. By the end of Sunday,
I was succombing to cabin fever, but Viola finally
eased my mind and told me that Gianfranco had a plan
for us to go around to some of the other villages in
the area on Monday.
Forano sits in a region called Sebina, and in Sebina
there are a good 20 or so tiny little towns, most of
which are built around either a castle or a large
church. On Monday, we traveled to about 7 of these
places, each one as quaint as the next. The drive was
an adventure in and of itself. As we left the house,
I went to buckle up only to be told by Gianfranco that
it °is not necessary to use now.° If you say so, man.
We were riding around in his tiny Fiat, so I figured
that if we did have an accident, the seatbelt simply
keep me from meeting the engine halfway. So I
practiced inconspicuously clenching my jaw and my
fists at each turn. I did okay, and thought that I
had my nerves under control until Gianfranco said,
°okay, now is a good time to put on the belt.° Gulp.
We took a good 3 hours to go around Sebina, stopping
at each little village for a quick looky-loo (which
always included some sort of hike up very steep and
narrow cobblestone paths). One of our stops was at a
small chapel built right into the side of the
mountain. The whole thing was carved out of the
granite and was no more than 20 feet long by 5 or so
wide. To get to it we had to climb a fair amount of
steps, naturally. We stopped for a quick lunch at
Gianfranco's (from here on out, he's going to be
referred to as GF) brother's home. This man, Luciano,
is a gourmet. He made the simplest meal (pasta and a
small steak) but it was so incredibly delicious. My
stomach and taste buds have definitely fallen in love
with Italy.
We finally returned home in the early part of the
afternoon after a visit to one last church that was
built (if memory serves...) around 1300. The coolest
part of it, literally and figuratively, was an area
underneath the altar. I'm not sure of its purpose,
but some of the original frescoes were still well
preserved.
Tuesday was our big travel day. The trip around Sebina
was just a warm up for a big road trip to Orvieto, a
medeival town about an hour north of Forano on the way
to Florence. Like the villages in Sebina, Orvieto is
built around a church. However, this was no little
church, but a huge cathedral with an amazing facade
complete with frescoes and relief images of ... I
don't really know... biblical stuff. The cathedral
itself is striped, like the Duomo in Siena (more about
that in a bit), and inside were even more frescoes,
reliefs, and beautiful stained glass. We wandered
around the inside for a while, in large part because
it was nice and cool in there and we were in the midst
of a heat wave. After a few minutes, my jaw dropped
to the rust-colored marble floor when I spotted
someone from my original Greek Islands tour. She made
the same °what the heck are you doing here?° face at
me. After all, it's a small, small world. We caught
up briefly, but she had to go as the bus was leaving
for Siena and this was only a bonus stop for them.
The entire time in Orvieto, GF kept talking about a
well, and I really wasn't sure what he meant. He
tried explaining to me that the donkeys would go down,
pick up the water and come back up. Without changing
directions. I just smiled and nodded figuring that if
it didn't make sense now, it might not ever. But
after an easy stroll around Orvieto, we came to St.
Pozzo's Well. Even as we paid admission (there's a
good racket...) I still wasn't sure where we were or
what we were doing, only that Viola and I would be the
only participants since GF brought his newspaper and
found himself a bench. But we paid, went through the
turnstile, and then began our descent. Viola pointed
through a window at the center and when I looked down,
I realized that we were walking down to the bottom of
the well. Good fun... and they make money off of
this! We walked, and walked, and walked, stopping
every so often to look up to see how far we'd come and
down to see how far we had to go. At the bottom was a
small bridge crossing over the water, which itself was
amazingly clear (once you looked past all of the
litter floating on the top). And instead of turning
around to go back up, we kept moving forward where
another tightly wrapped spiral brought us back up to
the top. The donkeys go down, pick up the water, and
come back up... all without changing directions.
Finally it made some sense. For kicks (?) I decided
to count the steps up. Only 248. The official blurb
about the well (which could have been useful before we
entered) was that it was built around 1500, is 53
meters deep and 7 meters wide, and has 248 steps in
each direction. The water, thanks to tourists, is no
longer drinkable. Although, I think that's probably a
good thing otherwise we would have shared those close
quarters with the donkeys. So ended our day in
Orvieto, and after a slightly terrifying drive on the
Autostrada (main highway) we were back to the safety
of GF's home.
Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday were very lazy days.
Viola and I attended a potluck at her church one
evening where we got to listen to the various choirs
(including the kiddie one) before sampling the
desserts of Forano. We also spent part of a day
roaming around another random village while GF took
his wife to a doctor's appointment. And we whiled
away Friday watching a few movies with the twins (who
stayed home from school for some reason). Finally...
FINALLY it was time for me to catch my (blessedly
airconditioned) train to Rome.
The main difference (besides gender) between the city
cousin and country cousin is the city cousin's command
of English. If I had the time between school, yard
work, heartache, two part time jobs and an internship,
I would have squeezed in some Italian lessons. But I
didn't, and I was grateful that Lilly could understand
and speak English way better than GF, Viola, and (at
times) me. She met me at the train station and
brought me across Rome to the building where her
mother and brother live (conveniently next door to
each other). The other main difference which had the
biggest affect on how I felt during this part of the
trip, was the fact that I'd met these people before.
And even though it had been at least 10 years since we
last saw each other, I was greeted with open arms,
many kisses, and (again) a big meal. I loved it and
felt better than I had during the whole week in
Forano. Plus, I was in a city, where we could go and
do stuff.
Then: Surprise... we're going to the mountains.
Great. Why not? So about 15 hours after getting to
the Eternal City, we were packed up and on our way to
Tuscany for 6 days. But it turned out okay. Lilly
made sure that we did something out of the house every
day, and even though that always resulted in a strain
on my patience courtesy of her (devil) child, it was
wonderful. We spent a couple of days wandering around
Santa Fiora (where we stayed) and the next °big° town,
Arcidosso. On another day, we went to the hotsprings
of Bagno San Fillipe (don't quote me on that name).
Even though it was way too warm to take a dip, I loved
seeing the cascading water pool in ... uh... pools of
light light blue before continuing their way down the
mountain. Of course, it didn't smell so good, but it
was pretty.
Our big adventure was a day trip to Siena, where I
came close to strangling the young Federica. Several
times, Lilly gave her the option of staying at the
house with her grandmother, but the little booger
insisted on coming with us even though Lilly told her
that it would be hot, hilly, and very exhausting. I
kid you not, we took fifteen steps from the car and
she began whining about how tired she was. The day
went kind of downhill from there. This was when
Lilly's knowledge of English was unfortunate, as all I
wanted to do was tell the child off (it was hot, and I
was cranky too) but couldn't. Let me tell you about
this kid. I said in the last email that she was 5.
She looks about 6, but is, in fact, 4 and a half.
She's huge. Tall and pretty stocky. She would
out-eat me at most of our meals, plus she would snack
all day. She's rarely told °no° and consequently she
knows exactly how to get her way, and doesn't stop
until she gets it. Usually it doesn't take too long.
She. Drove. Me. Crazy. (Can you tell I only recently
parted company with the reincarnate of Veruca Salt??)
But, I digress. Siena was another amazing medeival
town, built around the Duomo (another striped
cathedral) and the Piazza del Campo. From what I
understand (granted, limited knowledge at this point
in the day, heat, and humidity), twice each year in
the piazza, there's a kind of medeival festival.
Siena itself is divided into different sections, each
one represented by a different animal. (Think Harry
Potter and Griffindor, Ravenswhatever, Slytherin,
etc.) At the festival, there is a horse race where
each section of town is represented. I'm not sure if
the winner gets anything more than bragging rights,
but it's a huge event nonetheless. The center of the
piazza gets jam packed with spectators for the
day-long affair. Federica said she wanted to come
back for it (it takes place this Saturday). We spent
as much time as Federica would allow walking around
Siena. And shortly after her second fall of the day,
we called it quits and headed back to Santa Fiora. I
don't know about Lilly, but I had Excedrin headache
No. 34.
Whew.
Today, we came back to Rome where I got my first real
opportunity to experience city traffic at rush hour.
Holy cow. Bats can fly around in large groups because
their echolocation prevents them from crashing into
each other. I think drivers in Rome operate in the
same fashion. I don't know why I haven't seen more
accidents. Maybe I just need to spend a bit more time
in the city. And, I truly believe that the kamikaze
fighter pilots from WWII were reincarnated and all
live in Rome and drive scooters. They're nuts. And I
thought the country roads would give me an ulcer.
So, tomorrow I will finally get a chance to explore
part of Rome. I'm starting with the Vatican, only
because I managed to talk Lilly out of worrying about
me for a day. Yes, that means I can go all by my
lonesome, and we'll catch up later for a balloon ride
(a touristy, scenic vista kind of thing) in Villa
Borghese (Rome's version of Central Park from what I
understand).
Thanks for making it through this volume. Hopefully
my internet access comes a bit more frequently. I'm
going to send more pictures off soon.
All the best to everyone!
Love,
Michele
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Subject: Sinners and Saints (but not in that order)
Date: 07/03/2005 01:16 AM
It's been a busy two days in Rome.
My first quest was to have a day apart from the child,
so even though Lilly offered to take me anywhere I
wished to go, I said, "Hey... it's your last day of
vacation, why don't you just do what you need to do,
and we'll meet up later. I'm probably going to go to
the Vatican Museum, and Federica will probably find
that boring." (I'm shifty...)
But the idea was well-received and after a quick
breakfast next door, I headed off to catch the No. 81
bus. I didn't think to ask Lilly where I was supposed
to get off. Nor did I enquire about how to go about
buying a bus ticket. I ass'u'me'd that I would just
pay on the bus. Just like I assumed that one of the
stops would be clearly marked "Vatican" or "St.
Peter's" but neither were meant to be.
I did see a stop for San Giovanni's and for some
reason I thought that was familiar, so I got off the
bus (that I hadn't paid for) and started walking
around. Immediately, I found I was suffering from the
Italian version of IBM (Ishoulda broughta mappa). So
I went around a block, changed directions a few times,
and then saw a sign for a Metro entrance and decided
to give that a shot (buying a map would have been too
easy). Ahh, much better. Stops for both St. Peter's
AND the Vatican Museum.
I opted for St. Peter's first, but not for any
particular reason. As I walked toward the piazza
several different people were offering free
english-language tours of the cathedral. I'm a little
skeptical of anything "free" because it just doesn't
happen usually, so I kept walking, had a wander around
the obelisk at the center of the piazza and people
watched for a bit while trying to decide what to do
next. While I thought about it, a motorcade went by.
I had my camera at the ready, but nope... not the
pope. Just some people who seemed to get a kick out
of everyone watching them go by. At that point, it
was noon, and every single bell in town started
ringing and ringing and ringing. And I thought I
heard an explosion, which Lilly later told me was
actually a cannon that gets fired every day at noon
(not sure why).
Before I left Forano, Gianfranco gave me some advice
on Rome and the piazza at St. Peter's. He said to
find the footprints and look at the columns. Like the
donkeys-in-the-well story, I had no clue what he
meant, but I discovered that there are two spots in
the piazza where you can stand so that the columns on
the outside of the piazza line up with each other.
That's a crappy explanation, but trust me. It was
pretty cool.
At one point I realized that the circular piazza with
the obelisk in the middle made a pretty nifty sundial.
Kind of. So I started looking for the shadow. After
a couple of seconds, I remembered that it was high
noon, swatted my forhead, and moved out of the sun and
into the cathedral.
On my way in, I casually latched onto one of the free
tour groups and got a good amount of trivia about the
cathedral and some of the stuff inside. For example,
the cathedral itself is gigantic, and on the floor
leading up to the altar are markings of how other
cathedrals measure up. St. Peter's is 193 meters
long. However, according to our smiley guide, the
builders wanted to be sure that everyone felt welcome
at the church, regardless of their status of the
community. So they decorated by keeping all of the
statues and lettering/details to scale, so the stuff
at the top wouldn't seem so far away. (For instance,
in one section there are three statues from floor to
ceiling. At the floor, the cherubs are about 6 feet
tall, the next statue is about 12 feet tall, and the
one at the top is 18 feet tall.)
Our guide told us that another thing that sets St.
Peter's apart is that visitors are allowed to use
flash photography. Other places don't allow it
becuase of the potential for damaging frescoes,
tapestries, and oil paintings. At St. Peter's, the
oil paintings have all been replaced with replicas
made from mosaic tiles. Yes. Mosaic. Little tiles, no
bigger than the tip of my pinky are used to recreate
huge and very detailed paintings. I have a picture of
one on the website for your viewing pleasure.
Anyway, I took a fair amount of trivia from our
too-cheerful guide, but left the group to wander
around on my own. In doing so, I spotted a short line
for something and (as you do) I stood in it. Turned
out to be the line that would pass where Pope John
XXIII lies in state. (Up until a minute ago, I
thought it was the recently deceased pope, but nope.
I guess that's why the line wasn't so long.)
After another 15-20 minutes of looking around, I
headed back outside and made my way to the Vatican
museum and Sistine Chapel. Getting to the chapel from
inside the museum is a lot like being in a line at
Disneyland. You sort of snake around through
different rooms, think you're almost finally there,
and then find out that you've still got a few more
loops to go. But at least there was lots of good
stuff to see along the way. I became a ceiling fan.
The details and the amount of artwork in the various
rooms boggled my mind. But then, if I can draw a
decent stick figure, I'm a happy camper. Various
photos are online. Cameras aren't allowed in the
Sistine chapel itself, so people just kind of stop
moving and gape upward until their necks give out or
they can no longer bear the silence (or the docents
going Ssshhhhh! when the din starts to rise).
Gianfranco advised me to bring binoculars, and they
would have been useful had I remembered.
From the chapel, I set out to another section of the
museum where to see some fine art, and then remembered
that I don't really like fine art. But the one
Caravaggio painting was well worth the walk.
Then it was back out into the humidity. Friday
actually wasn't so bad, there was even a nice breeze
to help keep the heat down. When I left, the line to
get into the museum went almost around the block and I
was happy to see that I had timed my visit just right
(everyone else must pay attention to the advice not to
go in the middle of the day).
Soon, I was back at the apartment, resting my tired
feet and listening for sounds of life next door since
we were all meeting back up at 7 for dinner and a trip
to Villa Borghese (Rome's Central Park). Dinner was
over near the Vatican at Lilly's apartment and
following the meal, she took us (me, Fed, Marisa-the
grandmother, and the grandmother's neighbor) on a tour
of Rome at night. Lilly had planned for us to go to
the park for a balloon ride, but it was closed down
for some reason. Anyway, she took us past a bunch of
sights (St. Angel's Castle, The Coloseum, etc.) and to
the top of two hills for views of the city at night.
One thing I've come to like about Rome is that even
though it's a giant city, the stars are still visible.
We went past a fountain that's been featured in a
cell phone ad (whose jingle likes to stay in my head
for hours at a time) and then went and had a gelato
before returning home.
Saturday was independence day. The family planned to
leave again for a weekend at the beach, but I had
other things in mind (namely, not spending another
cozy weekend together). It was July 2, Live 8 day and
Rome was hosting a concert. That was my excuse to get
out of the beach weekend, and I really wanted to see
what it would be like. The event was held at Circo
Massimo and had about 30 people/bands scheduled to
appear. Of them, 27 were Italian artists. The other
three were Tim McGraw, Faith Hill, and Duran Duran.
Imagining the crowds, I wanted to get there early, get
a good spot and settle in. I assumed Duran Duran
would be the last act and planned to stay through
until the end. I had promised Lilly that I would stay
until they left for the beach so that I could say
goodbye to Federica and Marisa (who were staying for a
full week instead of returning to Rome on Sunday), but
by 10:45 they still hadn't arrived. Concert starts at
2:30... eek. Finally, the phone rings and it's Lilly
(who overslept). She lets me off the hook with saying
goodbye to the kid over the phone (sniff sniff) and I
race out the door for the bus (which I now have a
ticket for). I got to the Circus expecting a circus,
but it was kind of a ghost town. I must have walked
past 200 portopotties before I saw any kind of crowd.
They were there, but very small in numbers. It was
only about noon, and the sound check was still going
on. The place itself looked like it could hold
500,000 people, but I'd say less than 1/16th of it was
full. Maybe if they'd put a few more "globally known"
stars on the bill they'd get a bigger crowd.
Whatever, though. As people slowly trickled in, I
parked myself in the shade (on a hill) and people
watched while a few other bands did their sound check.
The highlight of the pre-game show was when a water
truck hooked up a hose and doused the (crazy) crowd at
the center of the stage. This happened over and over
again and was just as funny each time. Another
highlight was an absolutely spastic black lab who kept
bounding around the hillside, chasing butterflies. It
was a slow day.
Finally, 2:30 rolled around and the first band started
to play. Don't know what he sang about, but he was
good. Kind of sounded like Neil Diamond. Then it was
time for the Live part of Live 8 when we received a
feed from London and saw Sir Paul (soon-to-be Sir)
Bono, and the rest of U2 kick off the show with Sgt.
Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band (which has been stuck
in my head ever since). It was great. Our small
crowd went wild when it was our turn to be seen on the
big screen, and then it was U2's turn to take the
stage. I think we heard 4 measures of Beautiful Day
before the feed was cut and we were stuck watching the
roadies set up for the next act. I thought that the
least they could do was entertain us with other shows
during the inbetween times, but I guess I'll just have
to buy the DVD when it comes out.
To my joy (because at this point my back/tailbone were
killing me), Duran Duran was the 3rd group up. They
only did 4 songs, but they sounded fantastic (except
when Simon LeBon tried to hit a high note at the very
end of one song). But still, they (mostly) looked
great and sounded as good as ever. They were happy to
be reprising their role from the Live Aid concert in
1987.
And then it got boring.
I wasn't sure how long it would be before Tim and/or
Faith would show up, and I was really uncomfortable.
Still in the shade, but slowly sliding down the hill
and not really enjoying the cloud of second hand smoke
that I sat in. So I got up, stood on the sidewalk
looking down on the crowd for a while, and then gave
up entirely at 5 and headed for the Hard Rock Cafe
where I watched the London show and had a burger. So
Italian!
A couple of hours later, I headed back to the
apartment. Lilly's brother has super duper cable, so
I settled in with some other coverage of the concert,
did a load of laundry, sent some photos, and had a
quiet night. It was great.
Today... who knows? I'll figure something out.
Happy (almost) 4th of July (and a belated Happy Canada
Day to Roxane)
Best always,
Michele
Trouble finding me?
http://www.michelesumma.com
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Subject: Roman Holiday
Date: 07/07/2005 06:32 AM
Despite having a full week to take in the sights,
sounds, smells, and tastes of Rome, I kind of crammed
most of it into one day.
On Sunday, I was happy to catch up with Caitlin, my
cousin from Livermore who is at the start of a year
abroad in Italy. We set out to explore Rome together
and I'd say we did a good job of checking everything
out. As you can see from the photos online, we made
it to the Spanish Steps at the Piazza di Spagna, the
Trevi Fountain (who's top sort of reminded me of the
outside of Grand Central Station, only cleaner), the
Coliseum, the Piazza di Venizia, and another trip
around Circo Massimo, where we watched workers tearing
down the Live 8 stage. From there, we checked out the
piazza di boca verita (I can almost guarantee that
I've misspelled or misstated the name). Basically,
it's the mouth of truth, and if you're brave enough,
you can stick your hand in the mouth and, if you're
honest enough, your hand will still be attached when
you pull it back out. We were both brave enough to
attempt it, but we were also smart enough to avoid the
huge line. So instead, we sort of snuck up to the
front and took a photo in between customers.
From there, we took a short bus ride to Rome's Termini
station and then took a long, long walk (after a
gelato break) hoping to find the district of San
Lorenzo, which I'm told is sort of fun and quirky.
It's also very well-hidden. I don't think we found
it, but with everything closed up during the Sunday
afternoon siesta hour, it was hard to tell for sure.
On Monday, I put my bus pass to use and gave myself a
good tour of the city. I just hopped from bus to tram
to bus and kept working my way around the city. If I
saw something interesting or worth a closer look, I'd
go check it out. Otherwise I enjoyed the views of
Rome from my airconditioned and (at times) crowded
spot on the bus. For lunch, I had the Roman Gyro... a
slice of pizza. Cheap eats for sure, but like the
Gyro, something I quickly grew tired of, but kept
eating because it was so cheap. After lunch, I
tracked down the Piazza di Navona, Campo dei Fiori,
and the Pantheon. Dinner that night came from the
pizzeria downstairs from Umberto's apartment, but
instead of yet another slice, I had a stuffed tomato
and a calzone.
Tuesday was another day wandering around the city,
people watching, and learning more about the various
bus lines. I went back to St. Peter's to see if it
looked any different. I was somewhat surprised to see
about 5 times the number of people milling about than
had been there on Friday. Even though I was there at
the same time of day--noon--the crowd was much bigger.
Maybe 'tourist season' had finally opened. Anyway, I
wandered, I roamed, I window shopped, I took a stroll
past the Castelo d' St. Angelo and was as impressed by
the round fortress as I was by the sheer numbers of
street vendors all selling the same knock-off purses,
belts and sunglasses. That little excursion took me
back to the area near the Pantheon, which was good
because I had researched a cheap and good restaurant
in that area that I wanted to check out. Even with my
map, I struggled to find Osteria d'Mario, and when I
finally did, it was closed. Growls from my throat and
my stomach at that point. I doubled back to a tiny
little restaurant that came complete with
red-checkered tablecloths and bottles of chianti on
display. They also had a cheap menu, so for 6€ I had
a huge bowl of spaghetti with basil and tomato sauce,
a drink, and some bread. I love the low carb diet! I
could have gone belly up after that, but knew that I
needed to walk off what I had just consumed, so I
headed back outside and took the long way (okay, I
didn't really know where I was going) back to a bus
stop. It was close to 5 when I finally got home, and
I had only just sat down when Umberto came home and
asked me if I wanted to go to the grocery store with
him.
Food? In the house? What a great idea. (When I
arrived I found a bottle of water and the rind of some
kind of cheese in the fridge.) Maybe it's a sign of
the fact that I'm missing some of the comforts of
home, but when we entered the "grocery store" (which
was actually more like a Super Target) and I realized
it was attached to, of all things, a mall, I was close
to jubuliant. Anyone who knows me, knows that I'm not
a huge fan of shopping. But I was so happy to be in a
mall. Maybe it was just the air conditioning?
Regardless, it was great.
We did some grocery shopping, which was a kick in and
of itself as I tried to explain to Umberto that just
because I liked some kind of food, didn't necessarily
mean I needed him to buy it. I would only be in Rome
for another two days, after all. We came, we saw, we
shopped, and we left and Umberto "cooked" me a
wonderful dinner of prosciutto, fresh mozzarella, and
tomatoes. And a somewhat cold beer. It was great.
The next day, you bet your bippy, I was on my way back
to the mall on my own. I've already grown somewhat
tired of my wardrobe, and wanted a few more options.
Plus, I had a pair of sunglasses that broke back in
Greece and I hadn't found anyone who could fix them.
So, off to the supertarget for me. I got my sunnies
fixed, a new shirt, and a pair of pants for 10€. And
I didn't stop there. In a matter of a couple of
hours, I managed to acquire a few more articles of
clothing. Just enough to mix and match to make me
feel like I had a million more choices when it came
time to get dressed (even though today I've been
content to sit in my PJ's all day).
After my little shopping spree, I came back to the
apartment and wrote what I'm sure was a grammatically
poor excuse for a note to Umberto telling him that I
wouldn't be home for dinner. I was heading back out
to meet Caitlin for another meal. We had a cheap, but
decent dinner near the Trevi Fountain, then went for a
long walk stopping again at the Piazza Navona
(currently being set up for some other kind of
concert) and continuing across the Tiber, towards the
Vatican and ending up, conveniently, outside of the
Old Bridge Gelateria. Caitlin had been tipped off
about this place and how it is a local favorite. We
could have guessed it was a favorite of some kind as
the line extended out the door and across the
sidewalk. Feeling the need to see (and taste) for
ourselves, we joined the line and each had two huge
scoops of gelato. And, except for the tip of
Caitlin's shoe, we managed to not get it all over
ourselves. It was heaven on a cone.
Today I've been lying low. I've known that it would
be my last full day in Rome, and received word from
Gianfranco that, in fact, we would not be able to go
to Pisa this weekend. So, I've spent the morning
coming up with an alternative plan. With the
exception of some fun adventures with Caitlin, I've
spent the week on my own, and I'm ready to mix and
mingle with more new people. Busabout has an Italian
Explorer tour that I had planned to join in September,
but with my weekend suddenly free, I had the option of
either heading to Florence early or doing this other
trip and leaving for Florence on Monday as originally
scheduled.
So, tomorrow morning I'm off to Sorrento for two
nights. From there, the tour visits Naples, Capri and
the Amalfi coast, the Blue Grotto, and Pompeii. I
can't wait! I'll return to Rome for the night on
Sunday and then take off again for Florence Monday
morning.
Michele
Every step of the journey is the journey.
-Anonymous
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Subject: Baaaaaaaaaarthelona where the rain falls mainly on the plain
Date: 07/15/2005 04:48 PM
I'm in love.
And I've only been here for a few hours.
Fear not, friends and family, the love is only with
the city itself, but I'm sure it's just an
at-first-sight kind of thing that will fade with the
daylight. But right now (roughly 1:00 a.m.) I'm
loving this town.
But first... Southern Italy.
I packed up last weekend and took off with Busabout
for a 3 day adventure to the southern part of Italy.
The adventure actually began before leaving Rome when
Vincenzo (Lilly's husband) picked me up on his little
Honda scooter to bring me to the place to meet my bus.
Hah. A scooter. In Rome. In the morning rush hour.
Who needs coffee? I followed the sage advice my
friend Kerrin (Hi, Kerrin!) once gave me on a
motorcycle ride across the Bay Bridge (she drove): If
you're going to be scared, shut your eyes. Worked for
me then, worked even better for me in Rome.
Once we made it to Camping Roma, I hopped off the
scooter and boarded the bus. After a few hours we
pulled into Pompei and had a good tour of the city.
Or what's left of the city. It was an amazing sight,
all of the ruins rescued from the ashes of Mt.
Vesuvius (which our guide happily told us could blow
again at any minute). It was unreal, especially
having a look at some of the artifacts and bodies on
display (photos on the website).
From Pompei, we headed into Sorrento and had a short
siesta at our campsite before heading into town for a
yummy 3 course dinner. More pasta, fish, bread,
dessert, and a shot of Limoncello, a digestive/liquor
that is oh-so-yummy. On Saturday, we took a bus to
the port in Sorrento and hopped a ferry to Capri. The
tour price included a full day on the tiny island, and
even though the weather was the worst I've seen on the
trip (outside of London, anyway) all of us opted to
get on an even smaller boat and do a tour around the
island. The first fifteen minutes were wild. The
swells were huge; it felt like The Perfect Storm every
now and again. I was too nervous to be seasick, and
instead giggled my way around half of the island,
contemplating whether or not I could swim to shore if
our boat went the way of the SS Minnow. We didn't.
And we made it safely around Capri to its star
attraction, the Blue Grotto. This is a tiny little
cave, accessibly only by rowboat. For a small fare,
we got off of our medium sized boat and into the tiny
one, laid ourselves down flat, and entered the grotto
itself. In the pictures you can see the amazingly
blue water. It truly was like nothing I'd ever seen
before, and the experience was made complete by the
row boat rowers singing happy little Italian tunes
(like Volare, whoa whoa) throughout. From there, some
of us ventured into the main part of Capri, a Rodeo
Drive kind of place where the price tags alone were
enough to make my eyes bug out. No shopping spree
here. Instead, I took a nap on the beach.
On Sunday, we left Sorrento and arrived in Amalfi with
enough time for a quick peek around the town and a
nice morning swim in the bay. It was a perfect way to
spend a Sunday morning. One of the guys on our trip
invested in a mask, and three of us took turns
swimming down as far as we could and checking out the
sea life. On our way to Amalfi, we passed a tiny
fishing town called Positano, and after Amalfi we
spent an hour or so in another small town called
Ravello, which overlooked the bay and town of Salerno.
(Pictures of all of these places are online.)
We arrived back in Rome on Sunday, and Vincenzo met me
at the campsite with the scooter, ready to take me
home with enough time to do a load of laundry and have
a good sleep before heading to Florence the next
morning.
Now, when he picked me up on Friday, I only had my
small daypack with me. Riding on the scooter with
that was easy because Vincenzo actually balanced that
bag between his feet while I simply held on for dear
life. On Monday, however, I had to leave with
everything. So the small backpack went to its usual
spot, but I had to wear the big one. The big one
weighs about 14 kilos. I can't tell you what that is
in pounds, but it's damn heavy. And it was about a 40
minute ride. Abs of steel? Not quite, but if I had
to do that over and over again, I'd be well on my way
to a six pack. Instead, I only had sore muscles for
the rest of the day.
I bid ciao to Roma and got on the bus to Florence.
Before getting there, though, we had a few quick stops
in Orvieto (the donkey-well place) and Siena. I only
stayed one night in Florence, but it was great because
our guide brought us all into the town center and gave
us a quick, but unofficial tour of the town (the
Italian tourism department will fine you something
wicked if you get caught giving a tour without a
permit). We got to see the Ponte Vecchio, the Duomo,
and a few other sights. That night, we enjoyed a
4-course meal of bruschetta, pasta, steak, and ice
cream before hanging out and watching a group of
Contiki folks make absolute fools of themselves doing
Karaoke. Good thing they were there, otherwise we
would have been the fools.
For me, one night in Florence seemed like plenty, but
I'm sure I'll try to get back there at the end of the
bus trip in early September. The next morning, the
bus took off bound for Nice. We made a brief stop in
Pisa, where I took about 50 pictures of the leaning
tower (deleting about 46 of them after the fact).
It's quite a sight, that tower. After Pisa, we
dropped a group of people off in La Spezia (for Cinque
Terra) and I decided that a trip there in September
would also be worth my while. But for the time being,
I stayed on the bus and made it into Nice.
Nice is nice. I opted not to stay at Busabout's
drop-off accommodation, but headed to a place closer
to the beach. The hotel itself was nothing to write
home about (and yet, I am) but the location was
fabulous. I had two full days there, and spent the
majority of both sunning myself on the beach. The
downside of the beach is that it's rocky. But the
hotel had free mats for us to use, so that helped (a
little). I took a break from sunbathing on the first
day and wandered over towards the historical district
where there were all sorts of little markets,
restaurants, and tourist traps. It was very cute, and
I sat and enjoyed a salad lunch on my first day (I was
tired of pizza and pasta). I was close enough to
Monaco and Cannes to go visit, but just didn't have it
in me to head to either place. I'm sure they would
have been beautiful, but I was content to just hang
out at the beach and enjoy the immediate area around
my hostel.
On the first night, my 8-bed room was full of
20-something travelers (two Aussies, two from
Allentown, PA, one from Phoenix, and two from Santa
Barbara--one of whom attends Berkeley), all bound for
different parts of France the next morning. That
afternoon, when I returned, I was more than a little
bit shocked to see that the Brady Bunch had replaced
them.
"Bet this isn't what you expected," the dad told me
when I walked in the room.
"Not quite," I said, counting the children (5) and
adults (2). But they were great, actually. They're a
blended family (never did figure out which kids
originally belonged to which parent) and were just
having themselves a little holiday from the middle
part of England. The kids were all under 14 and
incredibly polite and considerate. And after spending
one day at the beach, they were all purple. "Look,
Chloe´s still got her swimming costume on!" one of the
boys said as his younger sister took off her t-shirt.
No suit, of course, but some major tan/burn lines.
Not sure why the parents were slathering the kids with
sunscreen, but not my problem either. The kids didn't
complain, just came home and went straight to sleep.
That was yesterday, which was also Bastille Day. When
I planned my trip, I hadn't even considered that I
would be in France for Bastille Day, but I was glad it
worked out that way. Last night we were treated to a
fantastic fireworks show right over the water. I made
a quick call to the home office before that got
started, and in the middle of my conversation with my
mom, some guy came up and asked if he could take a
photo of my tattoo. Sure, why not? We had a good
laugh about that. And a bit later, I got more proof
of my belief that you can't swing a cat and not hit
someone affiliated with Mills. I was doing some good
people-watching while waiting for the fireworks to
start, and my jaw about hit the floor when I saw
another alum strolling down the boardwalk (Kat Love,
for those who'd know). Small world!
This morning, we left Nice and had a short stop in
Avignon before coming into Barcelona. I've already
collected my Hard Rock Cafe t-shirt, and spent more
than a few hours wandering around the city. But I'm
pushing it staying out this late. Technically, things
are just getting started, but I can't stay out this
late without a major intake of caffeine. Tomorrow I
plan to do a bicycle tour of the city, take a good
long nap, and then head out with a group for a pub
crawl that I think doesn't depart until about 11 or
midnight. Why not be nocturnal? What I have seen of
Barcelona is beautiful. And I can actually hold a
somewhat illiterate conversation! At the HRC I talked
to two guys who are from Milan but live here, and I
was slip-sliding around in French, Spanish, Italian,
and English. Somehow they could keep up even when
they´d ask me something in Spanish and I´d answer
with a combination of all four languages. Kudos to
them.
I think that´s about all for now. On Sunday, I´m
hoping to make it to a concert at one of the local
clubs after doing a Gaudi tour, and then on Monday
morning the bus leaves for Madrid. It's becoming a
bit of a whirlwind, but I prefer this to staying in
one place for too long.
Happy trails!
Love,
Michele
Laughter has no foreign accent.
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Subject: Feeling hot, hot, hot
Date: 07/25/2005 09:22 AM
I'm happy to report that my love affair with Barcelona
continued throughout the weekend, and it was only
increased by my indifference towards the cities that
followed. I could easily go back to Barcelona for
another vacation. The city itself is pretty quirky,
with lots of random sculptures and even more random
people roaming about. Tiny little barrios play host
to tons of tapas bars, cafes, and at least one
gagillion shops. Yeah, I counted. I spent a good
amount of time on my feet, walking to and from my
hostel (which was on the beach and a fair distance
away from anything worth seeing). I'd heard from a
few other travelers about pick pocketing and purse
snatching, but I lucked out. I also lucked out with
the bed bug phenomenon which got the better of a few
Canadians. Gross.
On my second night in Barcelona, a group of us went
out for tapas and dancing. At the suggestion of Julie
McCoy at the hostel (not her real name, but you get
the idea) we set out for La Paloma, an apparently
popular club for good house/techno/allnight dancing.
So not my thing, but I thought I'd give it a whirl.
We had passes for free entry as long as we arrived
before 2 am. We found the place and as we walked in
we were transported back about 40-50 years. The place
was huge. Surrounding the roller rink size dance
floor were two levels of schwanky, crushed velvet
couches and very glitzy gold trim. On the stage was a
10-piece swing band (complete with white jackets) and
they were going to town with hits from the 50's. I
loved it. The folks who were looking for thumping
bass and whoop whoop noise were most disappointed. A
few of us forgot about our two left feet and just
acted like we knew what we were doing on the dance
floor and that we looked great doing it. The band
stopped after 45 minutes or so, and then the DJ took
over, and then it became the cruddy
house/techno/thumping bass crap that the others had
wanted. I took it as a good time to make the long
walk back to the house of bed bugs.
On Sunday, my last full day in Barcelona, I caught the
double decker tourist bus and got a full tour of the
city. We went by the Olympic park, the soccer
stadium, lots of different churches, and Gaudi´s
still-unfinished cathedral, La Sagrada Familia. This
thing has been under construction for well-over 100
years and still isn't expected to be completed until
2025. After the bus tour, I treated myself to a quiet
night and a yummy burrito at a Mexican restaurant.
(It was the first burrito I'd had in almost 2 months!)
The next day, we were off to Madrid. Talk about hot.
Madrid, so far, has been the hottest part of the trip.
When we arrived it was still in the high 30´s, and
that was at 7:30 p.m. The next two days saw temps
climb up into the low 40´s and the importance of a
siesta became very obvious even though a stuffy hostel
room provided little relief from the heat. The cold
shower, however, was fantastic!
I've learned that so much of my impression of a city
is based on initial impressions (not unlike most
things in life). And the initial impression usually
comes on our walk from the bus to the hostel.
Busabout has a knack for choosing hostels in less-than
desirable neighborhoods. In Madrid, for example, we
passed about 13 tattoo/piercing parlors and at least
30 prostitutes on our short (one block) walk. (We
also passed about 6 cops patrolling the street, so it
was safely smutty.) What was my point? Oh, just that
the hostel kind of makes the city, so obviously the
girls who got attacked by bed bugs in Barcelona
probably weren't so impressed.
Anyway, off of that tangent. Madrid is a very real
city. It doesn't have a lot of Barcelona´s tourist
charm. The buildings are beautiful, and the food was
relatively good and inexpensive, but I didn't find
anything especially spectacular about the city itself.
The city has many museums--even a few dedicated to
pork. (Yeah, a ham museum or, as we called them, pig
palaces!) I did spend a good portion of one day
wandering through a huge park, and on my last night I
sought some culture and went to the theater to see
Cabaret. La vie es un cabaret! Why did I think it
would be in English? I don´t know either. But it was
great. I bought a 20€ ticket to sit at the bar and as
soon as the lights went down, I got moved to a 65€
seat at a table within spitting distance of the stage.
From Madrid, we headed south to Seville. I found it
hard to believe that it could be hotter than Madrid
anywhere outside of hell (or Rancho Mirage), but
Seville did a good job of proving me wrong. Tiny,
narrow streets are covered with sun shades to keep the
people shopping during the hotter parts of the morning
and early evening. And siesta is taken very seriously
here. Seville sort of turns into Tombstone around 1
p.m. and I think it would be hard to find many people
before 6 p.m. (I wouldn't know, though. I enjoyed
the siestas, too.)
Our hostel in Seville was a cute little B&B, but the
cuteness wore off as soon as we discovered that we
were on the top floor (of 3) and that there was no
elevator. Three floors ordinarily wouldn't bother me.
I've gotten used to taking the stairs, even with my
big old backpack. But these were steep, STEEP,
stairs. Fifty-seven of them if I counted right. So,
suffice it to say, once I'd leave, I gave myself
little reason to return until it was way too hot
outside. And then, once I was back, I stretched my
siesta out as long as possible. Harry Potter helped
with that endeavor. One of the girls in my room had
purchased the latest book back in Barcelona, and let
me read it. Talk about power reading. I finished the
thing in two and a half siestas. It wasn't that I
couldn't put it down (okay, part of it was). It was
more that I didn't want to lug the thing around (I was
told I could borrow it until Lisbon).
In Seville, I did even more walking. Calves of steel,
baby. I toured the big cathedral, checked out the
Plaza de Espana, saw the bullfighting ring (the
outside--I refused to watch), and a few other sights
around the city. Seville, like everywhere else it
seems, is under major construction. They're in the
process of building a metro, and it's impossible to go
very far without running into a street that's torn up,
or hearing the sound of jackhammers and other heavy
equipment. Personally, I think they should invest
some time and money and smooth over some of the
cobblestone streets. Yeah, yeah, yeah, quaint
schmaint. They're beautiful, sure. But my knees and
ankles are tired of them.
Never did see the barber of Seville. But I did meet
the Bubba of Seville. He was a cute, 8-month old
boxer pup who was nice enough to pose for a picture
with me. In Spanish, Bubba means drool. All these
great things I'm learning! On my last night, a few of
us found our way to a Flamenco bar and watched a
performance. It was really simple. Not the dance,
the setup. Just a guitarist, a singer, and a dancer.
All were unplugged, and it was unreal. Her feet were
moving so fast it was like watching hummingbird wings.
And the singer and guitarist were just as talented.
I didn't stay for too long because, like everywhere
else in Spain, things didn't get going until 11:30,
and I was exhausted by about 11:45. But I lasted
until 12:30 when a few of us left so we could get a
few hours of shuteye before our 8 am departure for
Lisbon.
I'm not sure about Lisbon yet. My first impression
wasn't great. Again, our hostel isn't in a great
area. No hookers or tattoo places, but not really
near anything touristy either. It's a good ride on
the metro to get to the center of town, and I'm
finding that 2 days is plenty. So today I took that
metro ride and explored the heart of Lisbon's tourist
district. Lots of shops and cafes and a pretty cool
waterfront with all kinds of statues and monuments
dedicated to various explorers. Lisbon is uber-hilly,
so after a walk around the flatlands, I hopped a bus
and headed uphill to the Castello Sao George. This
castle sits on the highest point in the city and,
consequently, has commanding views of Lisbon. From
the top, I had a great view of Lisbon's version of the
Golden Gate Bridge and all of the red tile roofs a
girl could ask for. This week at the castle, they're
holding a beer festival. Someone didn't plan this
right. The setting itself is beautiful what with the
views and all. But one of the fun things about the
castle itself is that you can climb up and walk all
around the turrets and walls and peek through the
little slats in the stone where armies once defended
the city. Narrow, slippery staircases, high walkways,
very few railings, and a whole lot of beer. To me,
that's just asking for trouble. But I managed to stay
on my feet (probably because I avoided the beer).
From the castle, I took a long walk back down to the
square, and then a longer walk along the waterfront to
check out some of the "real" parts of the city. These
parts of Lisbon reminded me of the twisting, narrow
streets in the Greek Islands and in some parts of
Italy.
That pretty much wraps up today. I'm at an Internet
cafe now, and had hoped to upload a bunch of photos,
but they wanted to charge me .30€ per and I've got
well over 100, so I think I'll wait on the photos for
a bit. Tomorrow, I'm going to take a day trip out to
Sintra, a nearby town that apparently has lots more
castles and other cool stuff to see. Rick Steves
highly recommends it, so I'm sure it's worth checking
out.
I leave Lisbon on Wednesday and go to Salamanca, Spain
for one night. From there, I'll catch a train to San
Sebastian (this is to avoid spending another 2 nights
in Madrid as the bus schedule dictates) where I'll
stay for a night before heading back into France and
Bordeaux (on the bus) for 3 nights. By then, it will
be August. How'd that happen already?
Happy trails
Michele
Same goes
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Subject: New Photos
Date: 07/31/2005 04:14 AM
Howdy!
I'm in Bordeaux at the moment, taxing my brain with
the French keyboard. It's all kinds of different from
what I'm used to. So, to keep this short and sweet,
photos from Italy, France, and Spain are at
http://www.michelesumma.com.
On to Paris tomorrow, then Amsterdam and Berlin.
Love,
Michele
PS The unlabeled photo is of the Ponte Vecchio in Florence.
(FRANKNOTE: I updated the label on this one)
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Subject: More photos
Date: 08/08/2005 02:22 PM
Hey everyone,
Pictures from France, Belgium, and Holland are online.
Details will follow (eventually).
Ciao!
Michele
(http://www.michelesumma.com)
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Subject: It's been so long, I can't even come up with a subject line
Date: 08/11/2005 09:47 AM
Here goes, folks. A whirlwind catch up on as much as
I can remember from the past couple of weeks.
After a few days of Chinese food in Lisbon (it was
cheap, nearby, and had an english menu) and one
delicious meal of bbq'd chicken, I left Portugal and
made my way back into Spain. The bus rides are only
getting longer at this point, and it took us several
hours to get to Salamanca, Spain. Salamanca is known
as the golden city. Most of the buildings are sandy
colored, and this gives the town a really clean,
bright, and airy feel to it.
Typing time out: I'm writing this from Berlin, where
the keyboard is almost identical to ours in the US.
The only difference is the location of the z and the
y. So, from here on out, I'm just tzping as if I'm on
a "regular" kezboard.
Anzhoo... Salamanca. Beautiful. Home to a huge
universitz and, consequentlz, a lot of American
students doing their studz abroad thing. I onlz
stazed in Salamanca for one night, to avoid a return
trip to Madrid, and to allow mzself a night in San
Sebastian on the coast of Spain, near the French
Border. The train ride took about six hours and was
prettz uneventful. That is, until Jill, mz travel
buddz du jour realiyed that she'd left her passport
behind in Salamanca. Whoops. So I spent a bit of
time talking her down, telling her that it would be
okaz, that the hostel where we were going in San Seb
would not leave her high and drz. She was a bit of a
worrz wart, but calmed down considerablz when we
checked in and found that not onlz could she staz, but
that the new hostel staff would call the other place
and organiye a courier to bring her passport to San
Seb the next daz. (Which is exactlz what happened, as
she told me when we caught up with each other in Paris
a few dazs later.)
San Seb. Beautiful, coastal Spain. Small town, big
cathedral, great beaches. I was there for about 20
hours, 8 of which I was asleep. During the daz, I
stood on a promenade overlooking the Atlantic and
realiyed that I#ve stood on the edge of three
continents. Not too shabbz. When can I go to
Antarctica?? (Just kidding, mom.)
Then we were off to Bordeaux. Or as I liked to call
it, Bored-Doh! Here is where I hit mz slump. I was
tired of buses, trains, and traveling in general. I
didn't want to do anz of the tourist stuff Bordeaux
had to offer (mostlz expensive wine tours anzwaz), and
I had managed to land in a single room at mz hostel
for no extra charge (this is when it pazs to be a solo
traveler). I had mz own room, a tv, and mz verz own
hot-water heater shower. Seriouslz. Ever showered in
an aluminum can before? Quite fun, actuallz. I meant
to take a picture of it, but forgot. I did spend a
lot of time walking around Bordeaux itself. It's a
good, flat citz with (zou guessed it) a big cathedral
at the center of town, and lots of quaint cobblestone
streets with posh, overpriced shops. People were
friendlz, especiallz the guz who ran the hotel. And
thez had a book swap, which alwazs makes me happz.
And since I'd devoured two Sidnez Sheldon books while
I was there (In a daz and a half!), I needed some new
material.
We left Bordeaux bound for Paris on Mondaz morning
with Judz at the helm of the bus. As if in a movie, I
heard the voice of Aussie Chris from the Greek Islands
trip sazing, "If zou get Judz, look out!" Dulz noted.
She was a peach, and a rotten, crankz one at that.
I'm not sure how it is that she was hired to be a
cheerful, chirpz guide, but she's in the wrong
business. After surviving her abrupt, negative
attitude, combined with the absolute worst
nasal-monotone Australian accent I have EVER heard
(and I've heard a lot), we finallz arrived in Paris
and made a mad dash across the street (think Frogger
with a giant backpack) to the lovelz Hotel Avenir.
It's kind of fun to saz the following:
Everztime I'm in Paris, I staz at the Hotel Avenir.
But it's true. This was where I stazed for a
night back in Maz between London and Athens (Or, for
those who are pazing close attention, London and
Rome). Last time I spent less than 12 hours in the
place, so imagine mz surprise when I walked in and the
guz said, "Michele! Zou're back!" Whoa... who's got
anzthing bad to saz about French hospitalitz? Not me
anzmore! Pierre (not his real name, but it will do)
was great, he set me up in the best 4-bed room thez
had to offer: the one with the wrap around balconz
overlooking the street that is no longer completelz
ripped up as it was in Maz. No jackhammers and a view
of the Sacre Coer cathedral. Fantastic! As in Maz, I
dumped mz stuff and headed out to find Karen (from
Greece and the small world run-in in Orvieto, Italz)
who had also been on the bus. Together, we gathered
up a small armz of people from the bus, headed for the
supermarket, grabbed a couple of bottles of wine, some
cheese, chocolate, and other treats and made our waz
up to the Sacre Coer for a sunset picnic. Jill, of
the train in Spain, was also there and we basicallz
sat on our bums for 6 hours, watching the lights come
on in Paris. It was great. Super relaxing, and verz
fun. We swapped stories of other travelers. (Like
Troz, a Canadian who was stupid enough to put his
camera in one of those suction trash cans in Seville,
just to film what would happen. What happened? He
got to spend an extra couple of dazs in Seville,
looking through the dump for his camera that got
sucked right off of the string he'd tied it to.)
Daz two in Paris was spent walking, walking, walking.
I walked from the hotel to the the big cemeterz where
Jim Morrison (and, unbeknownst to me, Gertrude Stein)
is buried. As cemeteries go, it was prettz spiffz.
Verz cool, shaded, and cobbled. And packed! (People
are dzing to get in! Har, har, ahem...) In some
sections, I couldn't walk between the graves because
thez were so close together. Of the headstones I saw,
the oldest person buried there was born in 1756.
Jim's itself was prettz bland. And I didn't know the
thing about Gertrude Stein until later that daz, while
reading a new book (Around the World in 80 Dates)
where the author has one of her dates with, zou got
it, Jim Morrison.
That daz in Paris was probablz one of mz best dazs on
the trip. In France, no less! I wouldn't have guessed
it. But the weather was perfect, the people were
friendlz (or at least weren't rude) and I had the best
picnic ever on the grass in front of the Eiffel tower.
All I did was stop at a supermarket for a can of tuna
salad, an avacado, and a baguette, and let me tell zou
that simple pleasures trulz are the best. It was
fantastic.
The next daz I wandered around to Notre Dame, walked
around the outside of the Louvre (I don't like art
enough to deal with the inside of it), and made mz waz
(surprise) to the Hard Rock Cafe for lunch. From
there I took a long walk (in the wrong direction) to
the hotel. When I finallz got there, all I wanted to
do was take a nap. I had the room to mzself, and was
ready for some R&R&R(eading). Great timing for the
Avenir to have a construction worker in the room,
redoing the bathroom. I went downstairs to ask Pierre
what, if anzthing, could be done, and he simplz gave
me a kez to the room next door, told me that those
people weren't checking in until later, and said to
enjoz mz nap. I love that guz! (Even though I wasn't
too sure about the whole, "sleep in their bed before
thez arrive" thing.) After the siesta, I made mz waz
back to the Eiffel Tower (or "Awful" tower as I
overheard a little girl call it the daz before) to
meet up with the Fat Tire bike tour people.
The evening bike tour of Paris is, rightfullz so, the
most popular excursion with Busabout travelers.
Tickets are sold on the bus before we arrive, and of
the people I've talked to, no one has regretted
shelling out the €22 for the tour. We met around 7,
got going around 7:30 and rode around Paris for a few
hours before hopping on a boat that would take us
along the Seine, past the tower, past Notre Dame, past
the Louvre and everz other cool touristz sight along
the river (including Paris's "beach" and a replica of
the Statue of Libertz). The tour was great, and our
guide was hilarious. We raced around the courtzard of
the Louvre, had skid contests on the Champs de Elzsee,
and all in all wreaked havoc on the citz streets for
the night. It was great!
Finallz, though, it was time to bid Adieu to Paris,
and hop the bus for Amsterdam. We made a quick stop
in Brugge, Belgium, long enough to get a few pictures
and some indigestion from a burger eaten waz too
quicklz (no hot, smellz food allowed on the bus).
Around 6, we made it into Amsterdam, and I immediatelz
headed out of the citz to a little town called
Hoofddorp. Whz? Long-lost friends and free
accommodation!
Zup, I caught up with Mo, a good friend of mine and
best friend of mz brother, Dan. Mo moved to Holland a
few zears ago, settled down and in Februarz welcomed a
son. So, not onlz do I get good, home cooked meals,
laundrz, friendlz faces, I get a babz/nephew fix.
Loved it, needed it, and relished it. The weather was
tzpical Amsterdam summer (according to Mo) which I
guess is okaz since I'm sure mz rain jacket and
umbrella were feeling prettz left out all this time.
And I was happz to put that Universitz of Salamanca
hooded sweatshirt to good use. I spent two full dazs
getting absolutelz lost around Amsterdam, one daz
lounging at the house and watching a little bit of
baseball (Mo is a coach for one of the local teams),
and a daz wandering around Rotterdam and The Hague.
Minus the getting lost part, I loved it all. Even the
cold weather was a welcome change. Amsterdam is all
bridges, canals, and biczcles (with legaliyed drugs
and prostitution thrown in). The red light district
was an adventure in itself, the true challenge easilz
being avoiding ezecontact with both the women behind
the windows, and men walking out of the "salons." I
was also happz to find mzself back in bagel-land. Zou
never realiye how much zou miss a bagel until zou
can't find one anzwhere. Mz first return to this
gastronomical delight came in the form of a toasted
sesame bagel with chive cream cheese, and fresh
avocado and tomato. I could have (and should have)
taken a picture of it. I had everz intention of
checking out the Anne Frank museum, but so did
everzone else in the citz (a lot of people considering
that during this one weekend, the area was plazing
host to a Formula 1 race, a huge dance festival, and
Amsterdam's Gaz Pride) who wanted to get out of the
rain for a while. The line went around the block, so
I did the same and kept walking until I reached the
flower market where roughlz 5,342,645,845 tulip bulbs
are available for sale.
The meter here is ticking. If I keep going on with
the highs and lows of Amsterdam, I won't have time for
Berlin!
Berlin! A cold, graz, concrete jungle, but still
beautiful in it's own waz. I covered a lot of the
same ground on both dazs, except todaz I did it on a
bike (another Fat Tire tour) whereas zesterdaz I
walked. The first major sight was the Brandenburg
Gate and Pariesen Platy. The gate itself has several
places in the historz books, but is most recentlz seen
as the backdrop from all of the people celebrating the
fall of the wall back in 89. (And, incidentallz, on
the other side of the gate is the schwankz hotel where
wacko-Jacko dangled his babz a few zears ago!) From
Brandenburg, I headed over to the uber-controversial
Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe. Super
controversion for a few reasons:
1) Some think that there are more than enough
memorials to the murdered Jews, and not enough to
others who lost their lives during the holocaust
(gzpsies, gazs, disabled, and those who were killed
for harboring anz of the above),
2) The siye of the memorial. It's about the siye of a
citz block,
3) Location, location, location. Some think that
building a memorial to murdered jews atop a former
Nayi bunker is poor planning. And finallz, the corker
4) To protect the memorial from grafitti (which is
legal) thez coated it with a chemical that would allow
for easz removal of the paint. The problem? It
wasn't until after the contract was signed that
someone realiyed that the companz supplzing the
chemical was a subsidiarz of the companz that supplied
the Nayi partz with the gas used at the different
death camps.
Still, all of those things in mind, the memorial
itself is prettz impressive.
Both the bike tour and mz foot tour took me through
Potsdamer Platy (more emptz office space than anzwhere
in Europe), along parts of the Berlin wall (humming
Pink Flozd all the waz), past Checkpoint Charlie, and
bz several different cathedrals, government buildings,
and monuments to Soviets, Germans, Allied Forces, etc.
Berlin is a concrete citz. I even saw a mixer with an
orange rhombus! Go RMC/Cemex!
Wow. Mz time is up! I'm off to Prague tomorrow and
then Austria for about a week. It's getting harder
and harder to pack up everz three dazs, but it's
almost over. Amaying!
Best alwazs!
Michele
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Subject: Another funny sign
Date: 08/27/2005 11:21 AM
This one made me throw my head back and laugh
hysterically. It read:
Back to School Sale
Hahahaaaaaaaaa
The first day of school was a couple of days ago and
for the first time in FOREVER I didn't have to be
there! Reality is finally sinking in (sometimes like
lead).
Anyway, I saw that sign in Berlin after typing my last
novel. And I think many of you will be happy to note
that I'm at a "standard" keyboard, so no games with
the z/y switcheroo.
From Berlin we arrived in Prague, home of affordable
dining and drinking, and more church spires than you
could shake a stick at. (I tried. Got a cramp in my
elbow.)
In Prague, I caught up with a friend of a friend from
the SF Softball circle. It was great walking through
the city with Pam. She pointed out a whole bunch of
sights for me to explore later on in the weekend (some
of my cohorts on the bus paid 9eu for a similar tour).
It was all fun in games until we crossed the river
and faced about a million steps up to a park. "Sure,
I can do steps!" I said cheerfully. It helped knowing
that we were on our way to a beer garden with cheap
cheap Budvar (Bud Weis Er) and sweeping views of
Prague. To our delight and surprise, we were also
treated to a pretty cool fireworks show. Just another
Friday night, I suppose.
On Saturday, I finally got to show some skin again, as
the rain that followed me in Amsterdam and Berlin
seemed to finally take off. I soaked up a few rays of
sunshine in Town Hall Square, listening to, of all
things, a dixieland jazz band busking. After every
three songs, they'd stop for a whiskey/cigarette
break. Consequently, each of the guys who sang
sounded like Louis Prima crossed with Harvey
Firestein. And because of that (or inspite of that) I
couldn't tell if they were singing actual Czech words
or just skatting like Louis Armstrong liked to do.
But they were great!
I also took a minute to watch Prague's Astronomical
Clock. That was sort of like the facade of It's A
Small World meets the penny arcade that used to be
under the Cliff House. Only crappy. One minute of my
life sacrificed to the vacation gods, but I DID get a
great picture of all the people around me gawking up
at the thing.
Day two in Prague was less sunny. Our hotel was way
out of the city center, so I took my time in heading
back to town, and met up with Mr. and Mrs. Doubtfire.
As cute, older couples go, these two were top notch.
They were traveling around with another tour group,
and needed to know how to get into the city. Me,
always happy to speak English with people, told them
I'd lead the way (I was heading to the same place
afterall). Anyhoo, they were really cute, and very
sweet. They were all sorts of amazed about a young
woman traveling alone. "We'd never do that in our
day," she said. "Couldn't have afforded it," he
added. "We're supposed to be able to afford it?" I
asked. We parted company with kisses and hugs as
though we'd known each other for 20 years instead of
just 20 minutes.
On my second wander through Prague, I crossed the
jam-packed St. Charles Bridge (think of John Voight
hitting the water in the beginnnig of Mission
Impossible) and cruised around the shadow of Prague's
castle (the biggest in Europe?). And, oddly enough, I
had another really good Mexican lunch.
We left Prauge in the rain and got to Vienna in the
rain. And the rain lingered for ages. I had an extra
day in Vienna, so I killed it by doing laundry and
reading 2 books. When I finally did head out into the
city, I walked around the Schonberg palace, past the
Opera House, and the home of the Vienna Boys Choir.
Unfortunately, the boys get July and August off, as do
the opera singers and just about anyone else you'd
want to see in Vienna. So I did what any other person
woud do and spent much of the next day at a cemetery.
(At least I knew that people would be there!)
This place was gi-gantic. Over 2.5 million people are
buried here. (I can't recall the name of the place, as
if you hadn't noticed.) There are plenty of average
joes and janes, huge sections of graves marked only
with Stars of Davids, and a very stately, groomed area
that is the final resting place of some famous guys
named Beethoven, Strauss, Brahms, and Bach. The new
sections of the cemetery were really nice and gave me
no creepy feelings whatsoever. But what fun is that?
I felt inspired to head over to the very old and
overgrown section for a wander around. Some of the
graves were marked with dates back in the 1700s.
Other graves weren't legible at all. And still others
had fallen over, crumbled or, been removed completely.
Ivy grew over most of it, and if it weren't
daylight...well, let's face it, if it weren't
daylight, I sure as hell wouldn't have been there!...I
wouldn't have been surprised to be reliving the night
of the living dead or something like that.
Imaginations are dangerous in places like that!
And that was Vienna. No sausages.
From Vienna we went to Salzburg for two nights. Along
the way I met up with a guy (Ian) who became my travel
buddy for the rest of the week. Together we did the
Sound of Music tour of Salzburg (entertaining EVERYONE
with our (horrible) renditions of the songs). This
was such a great tour. We got to see all of the great
sights from the movie: the Mirabell Gardens, the
abbey, the churches, the gazebo, and the beautiful
house on the lake. The only thing we didn't get to do
(to my and Ian's chagrin) was twirl around on a
hillside....something we were very willing to do
because, amazingly, the sun was out! But that wasn't
part of the tour.
We had dinner that night at what we thought was
Salzburg's famous Augustine beer hall. Actually, it
was Augustine's less-famous and slightly higher-priced
neighbor. But we had a great spread of Austrian food
(schnitzel, hams, cheeses, potato salads) and
monk-made beer.
The next day, Ian and I set out on yet another
organized tour (after spending the morning walking
through Salzburg's old town) to an ice cave in the
Austrian Alps. Can I say that it was cool? It was
cool. It was 0 degrees cool. And this time I was
happy that it was rainy and foggy because I wouldn't
have wanted the view from the cable car ride that went
about 1700 meters straight up. The cave, well, it's
an ice cave. In its entirety, the cave goes about
72Ks back into the mountain, but only the first
kilometer is icy, so that's where we stayed. One k
in, one k out. 700 steps in (50 of which were at a 45
degree climb) and 700 steps out (luging ...luge-ing...
was not an option). It was fun, well worth the money,
and as promised by our guide, we got to keep our
souveniers (sore muscles) for several days after. At
this point, 1400 steps and 2ks is nothing, but it was
the 45 minutes of hiking up to the cave that gave me
calves of steel. Santorini's got nothing on the Alps!
Okay, so we finally got out of Salzburg's rain and
made our way to Munich's rain. At this point, none of
us were aware of exactly how much rain was falling in
the region. So, rather than being concerned, we were
still feeling mostly inconvenienced.
Bavaria! Beer, pretzels, cream. (Who needs brown
paper packages wrapped up in string?) We headed to
the Hofbrauhaus almost immediately for a glimpse at
the original beer hall. Bavarians are experts at
denial. Unless you lookup at the ceiling and study it
closely (or read a history book) you'd never know that
this was where the Nazis got their start. There are a
few painted-over swastikas on the ceiling, but
otherwise no mention of Munich's past. In a way, this
is a good thing, so I was told, because it lessens the
number of people who still support the Nazi party from
coming in and protesting and/or celebrating. So
instead they fill the HBHaus with oompapa music, men
in leiderhosen (had a dance with one), and beer
drinking merry makers. Good fun, even though we were
being laughed at by the locals for trying to slog
through the language to chat with the guy who "owned"
our table (same guy I danced with, actually).
From the Hofbrau we went to a more authentic and less
touristy beer hall where Ian and I split meat loaf and
mac and cheeese. Very much a German specialty! For a
twist, they served the cheeseymac with crispy fried
onions on top. Yummy!
I must confess that I am back on a German keyboard and
the urge to do the z/y thing again is overwhelming. I
started writing this from Nice, but now I find myself
in Switzerland. Today was my second 3-country-day out
of the last 5 days. I don't know which end is up
anymore.
I'm going to give this thing a break for a while, but
will continue soon with the rest of my time in Munich
(complete with a trip to the Magic Kingdom), a quick
stop in Venice, and a very short night in Nice. Plus
I'm sure I'll have some good Swiss tales to tell.
Until then, happy whatever day it is. I personally
have no idea.
Love,
Michele
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Subject: to clarify the thing about the guy in leiderhosen
Date: 08/27/2005 11:29 AM
I should add that he was old enough to be my
grandfather. Wouldn't want anyone to get the wrong
idea!
xoxo
Michele
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Subject: Bye-bye, Busabout!
Date: 09/02/2005 06:10 AM
Well!
After 12 countries, 21 cities, 7 islands, 34(!) beds,
about 6,130 miles worth of overland bus travel, and
one free fall from 11,000 feet, Michele has left the
circuit!
Woohoo!
I'm back in Rome, enjoying a day of absolutely nothing
but laundry and the logistical plotting and planning
of the inevitable "next adventure." (More about that
later.)
The last email, though started in Nice and sent from
Switzerland, only got me to Munich. Ian and I spent
our last day "in" Munich visiting King Ludwig's
massive (and massively over-the-top) Neuschwanstein
Castle, which is about a 2-hour train ride out of
Munich in the Bavarian Alps.
Neuschwanstein has a very familiar feel to it, thanks
to Disney using it as the inspiration for the magic
kingdom. Ludwig only lived in the castle for 140 days
before his mysterious death. Parts of the castle are
still incomplete, but the parts that have been
finished were decorated with tapestries,
ornamentations, and frescoes inspired by the operas of
Richard Wagner. "Mad" King Ludwig was apparently his
No. 1 fan. Swan Lake is right behind the castle, as
is Marien bridge (named after Ludwig's mother). Our
weather wasn't so great, but the rain and fog sort of
added to the ambiance of this truly, truly amazing
place. This castle was at the TOP of my "things to
see" list, and I'm glad it came towards the end of my
trip. A great way to start wrapping things up!
From Munich we cruised back into Austria, stopping for
breakfast in a cute, but flooded town of St. Johann,
and finally arrived in Venice after a very, very long
day on the bus (one of the longest yet).
I only opted for one full day in Venice, thinking it
would be enough for me. It was and it wasn't. I saw
the places I wanted to see (St. Mark's Square, the
bridges, the canals, the gondolas), but found the city
cute, quaint, and very quiet (minus the gajillion
tourists, of course). I just liked the fact that
there were no cars. Yep! No buzzing scooter motors,
no trucks, no ambulances. I could have wandered
around Venice for days and days.
From Venice, I had to take an extra trip to Nice in
order to get to Switzerland. I only stayed overnight,
and didn't really do much. This time, however, the
bus took us in via Monaco, so pictures will soon be
posted of the French Riviera, Monaco, the Monte Carlo
casino, etc. etc. [Link to PICTURES]
Because of the floods that affected Switzerland, we
got to blaze a new Busabout trail on the day we left
Nice. We headed back to Italy and traveled north to
Torino (host city of the 2006 Winter Games). After 10
hours on the bus, we finally made it to the tiny
Alpine village, Lauterbrunnen.
LB sits in a small valley, surrounded by sheer cliff
walls, a few green hills, 70 or so waterfalls (and
that's just in the summer, even more in the spring)
and looming behind them all, the Jungfrau region of
the Alps. Jungfrau is called the Top of Europe at
13,000+ feet and for an arm and a leg, you can take a
train up to the top. Me? I opted for a different
view.
Our first day in LB started out sort of gray, but the
sky eventually cleared and made this little part of
the world even more beautiful than I would have
thought possible. LB is a haven for extreme sports
enthusiasts, and at any given time you could look to
the sky and see a few parachuters (or paragliders)
making their way back down to earth. It looked pretty
cool and, if I remembered correctly, skydiving was
featured on my Things to Do Someday list. As I
learned later, the skydiving world considers the
Interlaken area of Switzerland among the top 3 jump
locations in the world (ranked with Hawaii and the
Great Barrier Reef).
Somehow I scraped up the required nerve and joined
another busabouter for this adventure. Our little
plane was packed with 8 jumpers (the two of us, our
"tandems," our photographers, and two "tandems in
training") and a pilot, but we easily climbed to
11,000 feet before opening the door. I don't know
who, if anyone, reading this has jumped from a plane.
If you did, and you were cool and graceful about it, I
admire you. Me? No way. No grace, no cool. I was
absolutely scared out of my mind. The first step's a
doozy, especially when you open your eyes and all you
can see is the ground getting closer and closer and
phenomenal speed. Oh, and by the way, there's a guy
who wants you to smile pretty for the camera. My DVD
and photos were sent directly home, so I have no idea
what they look like. Maybe I'll share them someday.
Would I do it again? Probably not. Do I regret it?
Absolutely not. And that's what matters. Once the
parachute was open, we floated around and had
spectacular views of Interlaken, the tips of the Alps,
and the little valley where we took off from. So
incredibly cool.
I couldn't think of a better way to end this trip, and
even though it wasn't really THE END, it was a great
way to lead into it.
So what's next?
I'm in Rome until Wednesday when I fly back to London.
Originally I was going to spend some time in London
and then head to Ireland for 15 days before flying
home to California in early October. But then I got
tired of the constant travel (okay, I've exhausted my
funds as well), and decided to cut Ireland out of the
trip and change my flight to get me home in
mid-September. I was mildly bummed out about not
going to Ireland. I didn't like knowing that I was
this close to it and was still going to miss it. But
I figured I could get there some other time and stopped
dwelling on it.
So, I was all set to head to London for another week
at Joey's before flying home on 9/13. Unfortunately,
Joey had a family emergency and has returned to
Australia. So, since I still had this easily
changeable flight to Dublin and nowhere to stay in a
city I've already investigated, I changed plans yet
again! Being this flexible almost qualifies me for a
job in the circus! (And if the job market is as bad as
what I hear.....)
In a nutshell, here's the rest of my trip:
9/3 Hot date with Elton John in Rome
9/7 Fly to London
9/8 Fly to Dublin, rent car, explore, explore, explore
9/11 Return to London
9/13 California, here I come!
(SoCal for a while, NorCal eventually)
I hope everyone's enjoyed reading my (sometimes too)
long accounts of these adventures. I owe a HUGE
amount of thanks to my Uncle Frank for posting my
photos. (Even more were sent his way today, so Czech
them out soon!) [Link to PICTURES]
Thanks for reading, and especially thanks for writing!
It's always great to hear what's going on with YOU
(and you, and you, and, yeah... you too!)
Happy Labor Day weekend! I'll see some of you soon
and others later.
Love,
Michele
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Subject: I used to be a rolling stone you know
Date: 09/04/2005 03:51 AM
Just wanted to let you all know that pictures from
Germany, Austria, and Switzerland are posted at
www.michelesumma.com
And attached to this email is a glimpse of the
highlight of my trip. For the last three years, the
city of Rome has ended their summer season with a free
concert at the Coliseum. Two years ago it was Paul
McCartney, last year Simon and Garfunkel. This year
it was Sir Elton's turn. I dedicated 11 hours to the
cause (not including the concert itself or the hour+
it took to get home) and had a spectacular view of the
man who truly is a living legend. Between the
backdrop of Ancient Rome, the music, and the 500,000
or so singing every word to every song (and every "la
la la la la" during "Crocodile Rock") it was an
absolutely amazing night.
Ciao!
Michele
Sir Elton - Click for Full Size Image
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"...if I'm not back in five months, just wait longer. " |
