Prologue

The account proceeding is for the most part a straight transcription from a journal I kept while traveling through many countries in Europe during the winter of 1993.

I have filled in details in some passages, where I thought clarification might be necessary or advantageous to the telling of the story. And there are, believe it or not, small sections missing from the story because of the abuse this journal's seen since its inception five years ago.

I must also put in a good word for my tirelessly cheerful and very patient traveling companion, Sage Essick (whose wedding pictures you can see here), without whom this trip would have been almost completely like the last section of the journal (which I plan to omit, on account of its excessive gen-x cynicism and self loathing.)Thanks to Sage, the trip was transformed into a wonderful and thoroughly memorable adventure.

Well then, on with the tale:

Contents:

Prologue

Den Bosch

Nederlands

Paris

Switzerland

Milan

Naples

Rome

Florence

Arrived this morning in Amersfoort station, at about 8:30am, very groggy after a fitful nights sleep atop the luggage rack in our compartment.

[What's amazing about rail travel in Europe is that you can get on the train at night in one country, and wind up two countries away by the next morning. The problem arises however, when you realize that you have to sleep on the train. If we'd been smart and reserved couchettes, which have beds and everything, we might have been fine. As it was, there were three of us in one compartment, designed to house 6 seated adults very comfortably. Which was fine when we were up and talking. But when you tilt the armrests up, you find that there's really only room for two to lay comfortably. The floor was an option, but it got mighty cold down there next to the bottom of the train. The logical solution? One of us should sleep on the luggage rack, which ran nearly the width of the compartment. I think Geoff and I ended up trading off rather frequently, on account of whoever ended up there could only stand it for so long. It made the following morning rather painful. I realized a few weeks later that in those compartments, you could actually pull the seats down and together, creating in essence a queen-sized bed, more than adequate for sleeping three. But perhaps that would have raised different issues.]

Jet was at the station, waiting on the platform. What a great comfort to have someone expecting your arrival, especially if that person speaks the native tongue and knows her way around. Breakfast was pommes frites mit mayonnaise at Utrecht Station. We rode there in comfort on the inter-city 'Front-head' train [literal translation of "Koploper" which is what they are called there.]

We returned to 's-Hertogenbosch and arrived at their apartment in a '60's housing development along one of Holland's many rivers. Some fisherman were engaging in a derby and lined the bank at 50 meter intervals. A couple of hours were spent lounging about the married couples' abode, recuperating from our voyage. At 3:45, we bravely marched to the bus stop and caught #67 to the heart of denBosch, where a farmer's market of mythical proportions was taking place in the town square. I purchased a thick fuzzy scarf for only $5--a fantastic bargain by any standards, and we also hungrily munched on ollebolles--something like aebleskivers only bigger and greasier.

[Brief description of olleboller omitted due to water damage on the journal.]

[There's something I wanted to add to the description of this market. It was a fabulous sensation being in the midst of that crowd in Den Bosch because it felt like being in the middle of a real bazaar in a European city during the medieval times. The town square full of carts and stands lined up in aisles through which the busy populace (it's not really a tourist destination) pick their way through, occasionally stopping to haggle with a seller, or chat with old friends. Of course the stalls were covered with canvas awnings, and the carts were motorized, but the feeling was there. You don't get that sort of thing at most Farmer's Markets.]

Jet then proceeded to create a fabulous Dutch meal of sausages in gravy, mashed potatoes, and chickory (I think they were endives) with Dutch cheese, all of it mouth-wateringly delicious and absolutely satisfying. After dinner, Sage and I took care of K.P. duty and Jet and Geoff flew the coop back to the home nest of Jet's mother. I am now relaxing in the satisfying warmth of a hyggelig home, with a well satiated stomach and tired legs. Ah, what a miserable existence I'm living.

Day 3: Den Bosch- 8:40 pm

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We're still at Jet and Geoff's pad here in the Nederlands, and Sage is going through a fit of boredom. For good reason, I suppose, since we really do anything today. I woke around 12:00 and we had a meal of Ham & Cheese sandwiches (grilled, of course.) The married couple spent the night and today at their mother's. We spent a few hours walking about town once again. Got a good look at the gothic cathedral with its red-brick tower which looks suspiciously incongrous. Then, we sat at the bus stop for a good 45 minutes, waiting for ol bus no. 63 to take us back to Pater von der Elsenstraat. Now, we're lounging about in the apartment, alternately picking up a book, turning on the TV, or listening to a tape. I just don't feel like expending the energy to create any sort of diversion, so I suppose we'll sit here a while longer, waiting for the veil of sleep to overcome us.

Day 4: The Nederlands - 9:45 pm

Today was far more interesting than yesterday's brief foray into downtown Den Bosch. To begin the day, we meet Jet and Geoff in the Utrecht station, on the inter-city train. We then went to A'dam Bijlmer to the ING bank headquarters, the most famous green architecture building in the world.

We managed to get in even though there's normally a two-year waiting list to tour the inside. Once in, a bank employee gave us a brief explanation of the self-guided tour, some pamphlets, and instructions on how the operate the Super Sophisticated coffee/tea/cappucino dispensing machine--for free even! The building though was incredibly cool--organized around seven stacks, which are cooling towers with offices clustered around them, forming little villages which breaks up the organization of the bank.

There were numerous fountains and objects d'art scattered throughout the whole complex, as well as theme gardens and restaurants where they served entire meals for under two dollars. Felling uncontrollable pangs of hunger, we made a fast exit and fled to the nearest bakery to ease our gastronomic pains.

Afterwards, Jet had to return to work, and her brother Hans who was with us, went home. So Geoff, Sage and I navigated ourselves to a couple of really cool train stations, and to the new International Concourse at Schipol Airport, which was amazingly cool and modern. It had very high-tech décor and neo-decon styling.

Afterwards, we took a double-decker Sneltrain into Amsterdam CS, and spent a couple of hours walking about the town. Whilst on one of the walking streets, we couldn't help but notice the presence of dozens and dozens of Mercedes police vans with steel grates on the windows. We politely asked one of the hundreds of polizi standing casually a the scene exactly what was happening, and he informed us that they were evicting squatters from some old buildings in downtown Amsterdam. As he said, when we raised eyebrows at the fact that there were 390 police present, "When we do it, we do it good."

So then we proceeded to the red light district to see the sights, and it did not disappoint--even though it was rather early and not all the wares were on display. While on our way back to Centrum, the most unusual thing happened. Sage thought she heard somebody calling her name and when she turned around, she saw Becky Hickock and Megan McMahon standing there

[To make sure you understand my amazement, pretty much the only two people in this world to whom it would have been significant to meet both Becky and Megan would be Sage and I. Becky was a high school friend of ours, and Megan was a college friend who I played volleyball with, and both of them were in Granada Spain for a year long study program.]

What a totally cool surprise--we sat and spoke with them for a bit, made some tentative plans to meet in Barcelona, and moved on to hurry home to make dinner. We got home two hours late but Geoff made up for it by frying up 2 kilos of frites and some other assorted Dutch goodies. Now we're sitting around, stuffed from dinner, discussing plans for dinner tomorrow.

Day 5: The Nederlands - 11:15 pm

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Today, once again, started out rather slow. We didn't drag ourselves out of bed until about 10:30. After a light meal of fruit and toasties, we struck off for the bus to Den Bosch Station, and hopped a Sneltrain into Amsterdam. The plan for the day was to go visit a couple of museums (Rembrandt, Van Gogh) and the Anne Frank house. Instead, we ended up wandering about on Amsterdam's seemingly endless network of walking streets.

After about half an hour, the sun grudgingly belched up a few moments of sunlight. Almost simultaneously, Geoff rediscovered a courtyard in the heart of Amsterdam that was about as scenic and picturesque as you could hope to find. I went photo crazy in the beautiful weather and snapped off an entire roll of absolutely beautiful shots

[which sounds surprisingly like a fishing tale, given the fact that I was using Sage's camera at the time because my ugly old Mamiya/Sekor 500 was too damn heavy to carry around, and I don't believe I ever did see the slides that I took that day. But they live quite vividly in my mind, and so perhaps there they should stay.]

In the end, we never even made it to one of the museums, and hurried back to the Central station in order to catch a train to Utrecht where Jet would be getting off work. We all then returned home and just missed getting to the market before it closed, so we went to the apartment and made do with what was available. Not soon after, we ordered a pizza.

Day 6: The Nederlands - 11:30 pm

Well, I don't know if we're wearing out our welcome with the Alberts yet. Geoff and Jet are a truly fantastic couple, with a great sense of humor and no pretensions of any sort. They are like good friends to each other, but also as playful as young pups--or as a newlywed couple.

Their apartment is small but cozy, and chock full of brand new kitchen utensils and small appliances--the ill-gotten gains of a wedding reception, of course. They also have a beautiful view of a Dutch canal from their south-facing balcony. I could learn to like living this way. Are you listening, whoever you are?

Today was almost an instant replay of the previous day's escapades, except that this time, we actually made it to the Van Gogh and Rembrandt [the Rijks] museums. As museums go, they were pretty cool--imagine finally seeing the genuine Night Watch--full strength and in living breathing technicolor. And on top of all that, dozens and dozens of original Van Gogh paintings, as well as an exhibition of de Feure paintings and lithographs from the Art Nouveau--totally cool and very inspiring, as you can see in the following page. I don't call it an artful imitation--there's nothing artistic about it. It's just plain old blatant copying. I'm getting a bit annoyed with this pen because it's being a trifle inconsistent.

Anyways, after the museums, we bought some more ollie boller for lunch (health food is great!) Watching Geoff eat is always a subject of never-ending interest and amusement. One can expect him to work himself into a feverish state of giddiness, punctuated with scores of grunts and "hee-hee"'s, as well as an endless flow of satisfied exclamations: "Glorious! Mmmmph, What are you kidding?!? These things are amazing! Man! Just look at this! Look! Mooi!" and so on. It gives you a peculiar sense of self satisfaction to see someone else so pleased.

[Even more astounding is the experience of taking a meal with Geoff and two of his brothers, Dana and Geoff's twin, Bryan. In a way, it's truly frightening, but so far, I come away each time unscathed.]

This scene was replayed tonight at dinner which yours truly had the pleasure of throwing together. Cod (baked w/ lemons) and linguini with mushroom/pepper/cheese sauce. It was all right, and Geoff was beside himself with giddiness. Aaah, life seems okay sometimes.

Day 7: Utrecht- 8:40 pm

Spent the day in Utrecht looking around. Ate our daily ration of frites and Ollie boller.

Day 8: To Paris

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Woke early this morning in order to catch the 8:15 bus to Den Bosch, take a train to Roosendaal, then down to Paris on the Etoile (alas, no TGV for us) and arrived in Paris at 4:30, 1 1/2 hours behind schedule.

After a few switches on the Metro, we managed to finally drag our asses to Sage's relative's house, in the Grenelle district. The first order of business was to take a shower (due to our rather obvious aroma of 'Eau de la route.')

Afterwards, some of the Luttenbacher's friends came over for the traditional Christmas Eve feast--and what a feast it was: A roast goose, chestnuts, salad with real French dressing, baguettes, smoked salmon, shrimp--all served in courses, ending with a plateful of very aromatic cheeses, including brie, camembert, swiss, meunster, fromage de chevre, and so on. I stuffed myself to near fatal levels of gastronomical consumption, and finally collapsed (as it were) on a small padded stool in the living room and propped my bloated midsection against a sturdy section of the wall.

Then, Christmas presents were handed around, and rather unexpectedly, a few were even handed to me. I was extremely embarrassed to be caught emptyhanded in this most cherished of moments in the world of capitalism. Fortunately, Sage, being the thoughtful person that she is, put my name on a few of the tags affixed to various (contents unknown to me) packages being passed out from under the tree. After the obligatory exchanging of gifts, we arranged ourselves around the dining table and settled into a five person game of poker.

I should note that this entire Parisian experience is being written posthumously [sic], since I had the smarts to leave my backpack (containing journal, camera and other notable odds and ends) in the Netherlands. Right now, I'm back at Jet and Geoff's place, further testing the limits of gracious hospitality, the way any traveler with any sense would… At any rate, well after the midnight hour, the poker game broke up and we turned in for the night. One interesting fact about the Parisians, and Europeans in general (though one should never speak in generalities) is that they're awfully keen on discussing politics--something I've never been able to interest myself in in even the most remote way. Which of course makes small talk with Europeans a sometimes excruciating experience--even mind numbing since my mind usually checks out immediately after any political issue is raised. Well, I suppose I ought to move on to day two of our Paris experience.

Day 9: Paris, Christmas Day

This has been a most unusual holiday season for me--at least the least climactic of all since I hardly realized that the holidays are upon us. But at any rate, Christmas arrived, and the first thing we did was to go to a movie--classy, don't you think? Well, at least it wasn't a bad one. Un Monde Parfait, and I rather enjoyed it.

After the movie, Sage and I embarked on a little walk to La Tour Eiffel, down a path in the middle of the Seine. It was another by now typical dreary day, overcast with spurts of drizzle here and there. When we returned to the Luttebacher's apartment, some guests had arrived--no wait, that's not right. Damn my useless memory. That was tomorrow night. Christmas night was far less interesting--just a meal with the family, a quick game of rummy, and off to bed.

Day 10: Paris

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We started this day sort of late--Sage fell ill from the salmon or cheese or something she ate during Christmas dinner. So in general, it was a pretty lazy day. Later in the evening, some friends of our hosts came over for some more gift exchanging and another holiday meal. Unfortunately, Sage was too ill to take part in the festivities, and I was left to my own devices amongst a group of relative strangers speaking in a relatively strange language.

Well, I lasted for as long as I could until Sage finally dragged herself out of bed and came down to join the party. By that time, it had gotten rather late so I promptly excused myself and made for bed which is where I stayed for the rest of the night. For the record, our guests for the day were, Frederick and his wife and some other young lady. On Christmas eve, it was Brigitte, Jean Luc and Phillippe.

Day 11: Paris

Day 11 was meant to be Museum Day. However, our plans were foiled the moment we arrived at Musee D'Orsay and found that it was c-l-o-s-e-d. It turns out that most museums take the day off on Mondays, which put a significant crimp in our plans. Well, we pressed on across the scene to the Louvre, to be greeted by a line of well over a thousand people waiting in line to get in. Well, as much as I like museums (ahem.) I just didn't feel like standing around in the rain for half a day. So we decided to seek out the American Express office near L'Opera, about half an ours walk from the Louvre. Once there, I exchanged $50 into francs at a rate of 5.65. We then spent the rest of the afternoon basically wandering around the north bank of the Seine. We got back to the house in the late afternoon and I spent the evening sick in bed. I don't know if I was sick from any kind of bug, but it passed fairly quickly and fortunately so for it would have been a bit inconvenient to fall ill on a trip like this.

Day 12: Paris

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Today, Annik invited us to La Defense to her office in the Neptune Building to have lunch with her. We first visited L'Institut du Monde Arabie, an infinitely cool building done in a very high-tech style combined with some Mid-eastern stylistic and functional touches.

The coolest part was the south-facing façade, which is covered with an active-solar fenestration composed of hundreds of 1meter by 1 meter panes that have dozens of aperture-like openings that open and close according to the amount of sunlight hitting the façade. In addition, on some facades, there is a curtain wall of thin white marble slates that are semi-translucent and let in a soft earthy glow of light--very beautifully done, I think.

Well, we went on to La Defense to check out another cool Grand Projet, the ultra-modern pre-decon Arche de la Defense. It was done by a Danish architect [Otto von Spreckelsen] and is a very sleek modern building with super-cool details and a great lobby space with stairs and escalators for circulation.

The concept behind La Tetes Defense is that it be a "window to the future" for France, seen through the arch's opening. The arch is aligned on axis with the Arch du Carrousel, Place de la Concorde, the Champs Elysee, and L'arch du Triomphe, extending Baron Hausmann's grand axis through Paris. On the other side of La Defense, another monumental tower is currently under construction which will, I presume, be visible through the opening in the Arche.

Well, after having thoroughly enjoyed the Place de la Defense, we clumsily navigated our way through the sea of modernist high-rise office buildings characterizing la Place de la Defense, until we finally made it to Annik's office in the Neptune. We had a nice lunch and then some coffee in the office cantina. Then she sent us on our way with a couple of tickets to see "Little Buddha" on the Champs Elysees. That was a glorious film cinematagraphically [sic], although the story was a bit sketchy.

At any rate, after the movie was over, we took a promenade down the Champs, and took a right down to the Seine and across to la Place de la Bastille. Then, Sage was feeling a bit fatigue so she took the metro hjem. I took another line to la Place de la Republique. This was the square near the home of the Parnieres, the family I stayed with four years ago when I came to France during my senior year in high school.

It was strange, how familiar it all looked when I emerged from the metro station and looked around the square. I then walked down towards the Canal St. Martin, past countless Indian/Oriental rug wholesalers that seem to proliferate in this neighborhood until I reached Quai de Valmy. I stopped in front of the Parniere's building, 93 Quai de Valmy, and rang their bell.

Miraculously enough, Miren (the mother) was at home and so I announced myself. It took her a moment to realize who it was, and then got very excited and buzzed me in. I went up the three flights to her apartment and there she was, standing at the door, exactly the same as she was four years ago. I went in and we sat around for a while talking about the good old days--no politics, thank God. Unfortunately, Claire had gone off to Germany on her vacation and wouldn't be back until I've already left from Paris. However, Vincent was in town and working at a Futon house only a couple of blocks away, so Miren sent me off with best wishes to go say hi to Vincent. It took only a moment to get to the store where I found him idly sitting at his desk--cold rainy days don't bring people in droves to look at Japanese furniture. We had a pleasant talk for a while, and then I had to get going in order to be back at the Luttenbacher's in time for dinner.

The rest of the day passed rather uneventfully.

Day 13: Brussels

Today is the day we left Paris for Brussels. We caught the Paris-Amsterdam express at 7:40 and arrived in Brussels South shortly before 12. There, we met Geoff in the station. Within 10 minutes, we found ourselves deep in the middle of downtown Brussels munching on frites. Ah, the tradition continues.

We then spent the next three hours wandering around the city streets sightseeing, no particular destination in mind. Lunch was at a Turkish grill and consisted of falafels, shawarmas and, you guessed it, frites. None of us was overwhelmed with the sights or sounds of the city--perhaps because the weather was still dreary and cold. We did find a pretty cool merchant's street with creative displays of fish, vegetables and the like.

Finally, we hopped a train back to the Netherlands at around 3:00 and are now, once again, at Geoff & Jet's lovely home in Den Bosch, enjoying their hospitality.

Day 14: Den Bosch (again)

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Don't quite know how it happened, but somehow I managed to lose a day somewhere in there. No big deal, it's happened before, and there's plenty more where that came from. At least for now.

Well, today was ordinary enough--I basically spent the whole time relaxing at Jet and Geoff's apartment. There was a brief energetic spurt where I helped Geoff knock out some concrete blocks that had been mortared to the bottom of his shower by some moronic imbecile who didn't want to patch up the cracks in the original basin. Anyways, it provided an interesting distraction for half an hour or so.

The rest of the time was spent more or less, at slappe af. It is evening now and we're in a lovely compartment of a train headed towards Switzerland. What new exciting adventures or dangerous perils lie ahead? God only knows. Or does he? Who can tell? At any rate, I can only expect that things will get better because so far, this trip's been a long yawning bore. One has a right to hope, though.

[There's some background to this story so far that I chose not to include in the journal, because I'd hoped to forget about the experience. It's rather embarassing, but I'll go ahead and throw it into the mix. While I was planning for this trip during the last weeks of fall semester at DIS, I decided it would be a definite bonus to have a nice camera during this trip. A quick visit to local Danish camera shop quickly convinced me that I should order from New York, which would be about half the price.

Mark Cabrinha happened to have a B&H Photo/Video catalog handy, so I called them up from Copenhagen, and ordered a Canon EOS 5 with 28-80USM lens to be shipped to Geoff and Jet's house via UPS Blue Label 2nd day air. I was pretty excited, since the camera I was using was such a pain--I managed to trade it in, with two lenses, for a B+W Polarizing filter. I thought it was a pretty good trade. The intent was to have the camera shipped to the Netherlands, where I would pick it up while staying at Geoff and Jet's for a few days.

Well, as luck would have it, there were some shipping problems. What should have been 2-day shipping turned into a 14-day nightmare. After several faxes and phone calls to B&H, not to mention nearly a full week of the trip wasted stuck in Den Bosch, the camera finally arrived at Geoff and Jet's after our return trip from Paris. Looking back on the experience, I admit that I'm a bit thankful for the apparantly poor luck, since we spent a very enjoyable week with Geoff and Jet, who were the most gracious hosts you could find. But the end result was that the trip ended up being delayed in this way by over a week, and here's where it picks up again. Yes, I was livid about the whole experience, but the true hero's of this story were Sage, Geoff and Jet, who had to put up with me through the whole ordeal.]

Day 15: Switzerland - New Year's Day

We managed to pick up a train headed for Switzerland last night and spent the remainder of Christmas Eve in a 2nd class compartment on yet another night train. It pulled into Koln [Cologne] just before midnight, and the city was alive with fireworks.

The entire horizon was lit up with small pyrotechnic displays, evidence of the Germans' enthusiastic celebration of the year to come, 1994. A group of Italians celebrated a couple of compartments down by popping a few bottles of champagne while we looked on. I managed to get off the train for a few minutes to check out the Cologne Cathedral, which was conveniently located right next to the train station. It was lit up with lights and the occasional burst of fireworks, but I didn't have the time to get a real good look at it.

The train pulled out at 11:59, and as we were pulling out, Midnight hit and the new year began. We slept until morning, when the train arrived at Brig, from where we caught a connecting rail to Luzern. I had visions of towering Swiss mountains and glittering lakes reflecting perfect images of the Alps, but was instead greeted with an overcast sky and perpetual drizzle.

We were so disappointed that we almost got back on the train and headed for Milan. Instead, we wandered around Luzern for a while and when we returned to the station, the sun began to peek out from behind the clouds, so we chose to head for a small town called Interlaken, deep in the heart of the Swiss alps.

The train ride to Interlaken was bliss--just gorgeous. Snow was falling in rich white flakes as we swept through a majestic countryside forested with wind-blown trees and minute snow-covered huts on the steep hills. Arriving in Interlaken just before sunset, we struck off for Balmers, a hostel listed in the Let's Go Europe, 15 minutes from the East Station. Upon arriving, we found the place alive with crowds of Americans, Canadians and Australians.

Everybody there seemed mighty friendly and it had the atmosphere of a combined college dorm/summer camp. We met a couple of girls, Sara and Jennifer, who Sage took an immediate liking to, and decided to go explore the town. We made it to the outskirts of town, where buildings met fields, and fields met foothills that would grow into mountains 3000 meters tall. The rivers were alternately clear, and green with the color of iron oxide. As the sun finally hid itself behind the mountaintops, we went back to the hostel where we ate and finally laid down in bed for the night.

Day 16: Switzerland

I woke rather early (for me anyways) and stumbled down to the dining room for the continental breakfast, expecting to meet Sage there to plan the day out. Instead, I found a note from her that she'd gone to explore the mountaintops with some folks she'd met last night when she went out dancing (!) all night long.

That left the day free for me so I took full advantage of it and decided to hit the slopes and do some on Switzerland's infamous mountains. It turned out to be a rather costly excursion, but well worth the expense. After all, how many chances does one get to ski the Swiss Alps?

I elected to go to Murren, one of the three main ski areas in the region of Jungfrau, based on the advice of one of the staff at the hostel. First, I took a train to Lauterbrunnen, then switched to a tram up a 60 degree slope to another train which brought me to Murren, named so because it's situated atop a rather sheer cliff overlooking a valley separating Schilthorn (2,900m) from Jungfrau (3,000m.) First stop of course, was a rental shop where I equipped myself with the necessary paraphernelia for a day on the slopes, then off to attack the mountains of Switzerland.

The sun wasn't showing itself today, but conditions for skiing were great. It was just below freezing--enough to let the snow fall as flakes, but warm enough to be comfortable if you're active. The now was kind of on the heavy side, but who am I to complain? I did find that being on skis for the first time in four years was a rather interesting experience--so much for looking like a hot-shot on the slopes. Who am I trying to kid? I was sporting Levi's, for god's sake! However, once I got my snow legs back, things began to look up. I even found a few slopes with completely untracked powder 3-feet deep! Virgin snow in the Swiss Alps! What more could a vacationing student ask for? Well, maybe some snow pants. . .

At any rate, the day was a complete success as far as I was concerned. I skied for maybe 4 or 5 hours before my feet started crying for mercy, and then packed it in and headed back to Interlaken. At the hostel, I met up with Sage, Jennifer and Sara again, and we had dinner. Afterwards, Sage went to bed (poor kid had stayed out all night, so she deserved no sympathy), Sara went to a bar with some Ozzies, and Jen and I played rummy for two hours. Finally, I picked up Dragon Tears and read myself to sleep.

Day 17: Switzerland

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I looked outside this morning when I woke up and lo and behold, there was sunshine! I got so excited that I went to the train station and got a ticket to Grindewald up in the hills so I could get up there and take advantage of this opportunity.

My dreams of award-winning pictures slowly began to vanish though, as I sat on the train and helplessly watched the clouds roll in and blanket the area with impenetrable gloom. I came off the hill somewhat disappointed, but things began to look better after we decided to try out the ice skating rink a few blocks away. It was fun, save for the dozen bruises that're going to show up on my butt tomorrow morning. This is our last night at Balmers, 'cause we're off to bella Italia

Day 18: Switzerland / Italy

Well, it's been another day on the road. We woke early and hit Central Station at 8:44 for a train to Spiez. There, we switched to one bound for Milan and sat there for hours, entranced by the mountains roaring by on either side of us. You could feel our progress as we headed up one side of the alps away from peaceful and relaxed, down the other side into unknown Italy.

We reached Milan shortly before 1:00 and got out to have a look around. We were once again greeted with gray skies and drizzle as we walked a couple of kilometers to Il Duomo, Milan's famous gothic phantasgamoria of spires and crenellations. We passed through a street covered by a glass and iron barrel-vault mentioned by Kostof in the Architectural History tome. At the other end, the Duomo lorded it over an expansive plaza.

The entire city seemed a bit. . . expensive. Not a place to flop down and kick off your shoes, because nobody's dumb enough to kick off $1,000 Gucci'. Well, we were back on the train moving across the dismal Italian countryside towards Venezia. We'll set up camp in Padua and hopefully cover Venice in a couple of day trips. For some reason, the romance of Italy hasn't hit me yet. Maybe it's the rain.

Day 19: Naples

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When we arrived in Padua last night, things didn't quite work out as planned. We arrived after dark and the Information Office was shut up for the night, leaving us without a map and worse, without a clue as to what to do. We took one look around and said, "move on."

The most convenient train was to Naples via Milan, so we hopped on for yet another journey-by-night to the south of Italy. When we arrived, joy of all joys, the sun was shining at 8 in the morning. We spent the first few hours on an exploratory hike through the historical center in a futile attempt to locate a hostel listed in Let's Go Europe, which turned out to be closed for the winter.

So we returned to the station and sought out the hotel Ginerva, only two blocks from Piazza Garibaldy, in a rather seedy neighborhood. The room was nice enough (shower!) and the price was right so we took it. We also indulged in an Italian-style siesta after long showers.

A few hours later, awake, clean and refreshed, we struck out again and were immediately accosted by the "locals" trying to make an easy buck off the contents of our wallets. The whole expedition was a thoroughly unpleasant experience, and we returned to the room a bit disheartened and rather sick of Italian "hospitality" from the get go. We retired rather early, with the hopes of a better day in the morning.

Day 20: Naples / Amalfi

Today certainly turned out to be an interesting experience. It started out innocently enough; our plan was to check out the coast immediately to the south of Naples, between Salerno and Sorrento, reputed to be the most beautiful stretch of Italian coastline.

It began with a train ride to Salerno, where we hung out until a bus took us to Amalfi. The ride up the coast took one hour and immediately made Italy look much better, at least compared to the evening before. We passed through several hopelessly picturesque hill towns looking out to the sea under an almost balmy blue sky with scattered clouds drifting about.

Amalfi was a slightly larger example of all the towns we passed through, tucked into a cove between two jutting peninsulas, creating a peaceful aquamarine harbor flanked by rocky arms and backed by a hill climbing about 500 meters into the mainland. Buildings, castles and churches were perched all over the hill and seemed to tumble down to the ocean below, where a promenade lined the water, from one end of the bay to the other, with a couple of jetties providing sidewalks into the sea. The sun skirted the southern horizon throughout the day, shining directly on the faces of every building in Amalfi.

We wandered for a bit on the streets leading up the mountain until it came up against the steeper walls where the houses stopped. Returning to town, we stumbled onto the central piazza where a magnificent duomo was squeezed between ancient houses and hotels. It had a broad staircase up to the main entrance where locals and tourists sat basking in the sun. Right next to the staircase, we found a charming trattoria tucked into the corner of a building, where we stopped for lunch. As we sat there, we couldn't help but marvel at how picturesque the whole scene was, sitting in a café on a mild sunny day on the southern coast of Italy with all sorts of people wanderihng about, and even stray cats coming up to our table sniffing at the food. And what marvelous food it was! Linguini with clam sauce, penne pasta in fresh marinara spiced with red chili peppers, fresh bread soaked in olive oil and herbs, a luscious dessert of pastries smothered in rich vanilla cream and espresso to top it all off. It was just too perfect.

Just as we were leaving, we saw some crates being hoisted up from the steps of the duomo to a medieval fortification on the hill with a wire cable spanning at least 400 meters, the boxes dangling 50 meters in the air!

We spent the rest of the day browsing the shops along the waterfront, and finally boarded the bus just before sundown. The drive to Sorrento took 1 hr 15 minutes, and the sun slowly settled behind the arm of the peninsula, taking over an hour to finally disappear below the horizon. [I looked for the green flash on this occasion, and was once again disappointed.] From Sorrento, we took the Circumvesuviana train back to Naples.

It would have been a perfect day, but as luck would have it, Sage and I got separated just as we arrived in Naples. There was some confusion about which stop to get off at, and before we could figure it out, the train doors shut at the platform leaving me staring at Sage from inside the train as it pulled out of the station.

The next stop was at the end of the line, and I got off and went outside, hoping I was close enough to Garibaldi to be able to walk to the hotel. Instead, I walked a big loop around the station, passing through what looked like the worst part of the city, visions of being cut up and tossed into an Italian dumpster being at the front of my head. When I finally got back to the station, I realized that walking back would be a hopeless and altogether stupid maneuver, since I had absolutely no idea where I was.

So I went back down to the train and went back one stop to Piazza Garibaldi, and easily found my way back to the hotel Ginerva, hoping Sage would be waiting there and we could laugh about the mistake. My heart went to my throat when I got in the room and found that Sage was nowhere to be seen.

Suddenly, this became the worst part of my trip.

I rushed back to the station, imagining the worst possible things that might happen to a woman alone on the streets at night in a big and frightening city, hoping all the while that she'd be at the station. After searching for what seemed like eternity in and around the station, I headed back to the hotel, wondering what it would be like to sit I in a wicker chair in my backyard in Ojai, staring blankly at the trees for days on end, thinking about how I lost a friend to the bowels of Naples.

Thank god I didn't have to find out, because when I got back, Sage was in the room waiting for me. It turns out that she'd taken the taxi from the station and it took the driver 15 minutes to find the hotel which was two blocks away. I was a mess for a while, but grateful that we were both safe. We're leaving Naples in the morning, as soon as possible. I can't say Rome is going to be much better, but I hope to god it's not worse.

Day 21: Rome

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Amazingly enough, we made it out of Naples alive, and not too much worse for the wear. Rome greeted us with sunny skies and near California-like temperatures.

Upon our arrival, we caught a cab from Stazioni Termini to the Campo de Fiori somewhere in the historic center of Rome. There, we found the hotel de Campo de Fiori, which Soren had recommended to us from his many excursions into this, the mother of all cities. After getting our room, we unloaded our packs, pulled out our guide to the city, and marched back on the street.

First stop was the Pantheon, a scant 5 blocks from our hotel's doorstep. Being inside this monument is an incredible experience, one that would repeat itself over and over during our wanderings in this city.

It is huge--and seems even larger still when you consider how long it has been standing--how many centuries it has seen come and go, welcoming en the son through its grand oculus by day, the sight of the stars by night. The wonders never cease.

Our next stop was the Fontana Trevi, another three blocks down the line. Here, the huge sculpted figures and jutting rocks dominate the piazza it calls home. At night, it is lit up like a Las Vegas attraction, without the chintz. Tourists from all over the world stop by to throw a coin over their shoulder, and snap a photo in front of the water spraying this way and that. The whole piazza becomes an amusing spectacle of lovers, families, locals, busloads of Japanese and Senior Citizen tourists, and turks trying to force wimpy-looking roses into the arms of unwilling men who don't want to look cheap in front of their dates.

From the fountain, we meandered down the street to the Spanish Steps, another magnet for crowds of locals. It as at first unimaginable to actually be there, mounting those infamous steps to the top, where the Trinity Church sits, chaperoning all the action. Then, it proved a bit disappointing because you cannot see all the steps from any one point on the treads. And the piazza that was once at the foot of the stairs is now just another busy Roman street, with cars and mopeds zooming by scattering pedestrians left and right.

From there, we went to the end of the street to the Piazza del Popolo, former gateway to Rome, then gigantic parking lot, and now, one more monument in a city entirely built of famous spaces. It's funny how some amazing architecture seems to lose its appeal when it's surrounded by even greater buildings.

We made our pilgrimage from Piazza del Popolo to the end of the line for the Roman Catholic religion: the Vatican and Saint Peter's Basilica, the gargantuan testimony to the strength and wealth of Christiandom.

And indeed, it is alarmingly large, beginning with the piazza in front of the Basilica. The story behind this piazza is that it represents "the world" (symbolized by the biggest obelisk in Rome, "donated" by ex-emperor bad boy Caligula who shipped it to Italy on the Spruce Goose of the maritime world,) being embraced by the "arms" of the Catholic Church, which are two giant curving loggias. But these arms had to be built of something stronger than mere stone--something everlasting, which would show the permanence and continuity of the Church. So atop every column perches a statue (some 500 in all) of a martyr who died in the name of Christianity, embracing in his or her arms the weapon of their demise. The memory of these martyrs were to be the real foundation upon which this church was built. [gag]

As if all that weren't enough, they also had to go and build one of the largest churches in the world, designed by a combination of the most brilliant of the Baroque and Mannerist architects. Then there's the Vatican Museum, housing one of the largest permanent exhibitions of art in the world. Let's not then forget the unbelievable Sistine Chapel, testimony both to MichaelAngelo's incredible talent as an artist, and to Pope Julius the whatever's remarkable powers of persuasion.

The whole experience of the Vatican is a complex one, full of contradictions. Were it not for the power of the Catholic Church, none of these artistic masterpieces would exist. But the means through which they were obtained hardly justifies their existence. Oh well, a philosophical debate that will have to be harangued over on other pages.

So after this monumental experience, we'd had enough awe-inspiring encounters and went back to the hotel to eat and recuperate in preparation for another long day ahead.

Day 22: Rome

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Probably the hardest part about being in this city is deciding what it is you want to see next. After all, there's only so much time, yet the list of monuments and artifacts never seems to end. We began the day where we had left off yesterday, at the Vatican, where we perused the halls of the museum and strained our necks to view the ceiling of la Capella Sistina.

From there, we hopped a bus that would tansfer us back a couple of thousand years to the period where soldiers soldiers wore leather skirts and people gathered in great hordes to see a couple of cons duel it out against each other or any of a wide assortment of wild beasties. The place was the Colosseum, and like a bad dream, it won't go away, despite numerous attempts to decimate it by using it as a stone quarry--it stall stands there proud as ever, though dilapidated beyond repair. This is the official center of ancient Rome, by modern standards, anyways.

Just next to the Colosseum are the remains of the forum on the Aventine hill (closed on Sunday so we never got to see it,) and just down the street, the baths of Caracalla. The baths have certainly seen better days and must have been glorious they were in use. Now, they stir a different sort of awe, as hulking ruins now impervious to the effects of time. They exemplify the notion of "ancient ruins" which leave behind more than a trace of their previous existance in the heyday of the Roman Empire.

Well, the day was nearing its end, so we made our way back towards the hotel, fighting off bands of gypsy children. They come up to you with outstretched newspapers held at waist level, while other fingers explore the contents of your pockets. And they're very persistant, attacking in groups of two to ten, and the more there are, the harder it is to shake them off and come away unscathed.

[Several pages of introspective soul-searching have been omitted from this account at this point because, frankly, I don't think it has much relevance to this tale. Unfortunately, it seems that around this point, I decided to take a slightly different approach to the recording in my journal which makes it, for the most part, totally uninteresting. What follows are snippets of descriptive narrative which I've managed to salvage from the rather large amount of drivel that ran amok in my journal.]