Four Weeks, Four Backpackers, One Monkey
(Jon’s Perspective)
Europe 2002
6-9-02 à 7-9-02
Hampton Inn (NYC) à Backpackers’ Citihostel (Dublin) à Astor Hyde Park (London) à Blueplanet Hostel (Paris) à Tourist Hotel (Lucerne) à Balmer’s Village (Interlaken) à Backpackers’ Villa (Interlaken) à Hotel Casanova (Rome) à Casa Chiumento (Venice) à CVJM (Munich) à Haus International (Munich) à Pension Central (Munich) à Wombat’s (Vienna)
The following represents the author’s take on our European adventures. This is, of course, not a final draft, for the entries are somewhat incomplete and need to be expanded in some places. References to inside jokes or non-famous people will be explained in footnote form, of course.
(Inscriptions)
7200 feet
5600 climbed
4 hours
Summit 13:46 (Lucerne time)
NOTE TO SELF:
DON’T MAKE ENTRIES
IN JOUNAL WHILE
INEBRIATED. YOU SOUND
LIKE A MORON*
* REFERENCE:
PURCELL IN DUBLIN
So that about wraps it up. I’m sitting in on Aer (cunni)Lingus plane, having been informed roughly 7 or 8 hours ago (maybe 10, I can’t figure out the time changes right now) that we, in fact, are going to Dublin.
Reverse to last night – Sunday night. After the customary good-byes, which followed a hurried day of packing, which came swift on the heels of our graduation part; before that cigars and disgusting cleaning-fluid whiskey and graduation and the last day of school…after all of these things, we drove (with my dad) four hours to a Hampton Inn outside of JFK, through the congested radioactive wasteland that is New Jersey. Keller, Purcell, Ben + I spent the night in one room, with Alex still in York due to his separate travel plans.
Whoops, taking off… fifty minutes to Dublin.
Anyway, after waking at 4:30 and barely catching the 5:30 shuttle, we arrived at JFK to discover that, if we were to not take the flight to Dublin, our return itinerary would be cancelled (after they were unable to tell us for two weeks whether or not our flight actually existed). Absolutely ridiculous. Eventually, we got reservations at a Dublin comfort Inn, where we’re headed after this.
Security was tighter, but not overbearing. This being AP’s first time flying, everything was a little wondrous – the X-ray machines, being served food and drink on the plane, etc. The 747-400 had little personal LCD TV-screens, which contributed to quite a nice flight – in sharp contrast to the British Airways mess that we’d encountered on the ground.
Heathrow was rainy (imagine, rain in London) while the moving sidewalks and terminal transfer bus (driving on the left) provided much interest and amusement for us all. We made our flight connection to Aer Lingus quite easily, and now we’re winging our way to Ireland, where much revelry awaits us. Tomorrow, however, priority number one is a hostel and priority number two is finding a way to get ourselves to London on the 13th.
I’m terribly excited, ready for an amazing trip, but also feeling the nostalgia a bit for the Ambassadors trip. I’m sure that in the future, I’ll recall both fondly on their own merits, but I also hope that the memories from last year aren’t too overbearing on this trip. Nothing is worse than expecting one year’s trip to be another trip altogether, and that’s a trap I hope to avoid. Right now, however, it’s all anxiety and amazement and anticipation and excitement.
2:45 AM
So we got into Dublin, found out that Purcell’s bag was lost, took a cab to a Comfort Inn, found out that our reservations (made by Travelocity) were conveniently in London, then headed over to the hostel district where we located the Backpackers’ CitiHostel after being rejected from two others. At 1:30 AM, we finally gained entry into our sleeping accommodations – dead bugs in Purcell’s bunk, down two flights of stairs with a bathroom that defies explanation. The toilet flushes (explodes), there is no seat, and a gigantic hole in the wall leads to a tunnel and probably to the land of the Irish Mole-People.
On the upside, the people here are still awake at 3 AM, singing upstairs. The man behind the desk was South African, and there’s a 6-month-pregnant girl too, along with a British guy who’s been drinking like an Irishman and a guy from Texas who just ran out of money and is going to the embassy tomorrow to see if they’ll ship him back. We went out for a bite to eat at a place called Super Mac’s (run by Asian girls who speak at barely audible whisper-levels) and got some food (bringing back a 4.95 € chicken-in-a-box for the British guy, who thanked us profusely).
Dublin seems like a pretty incredible place, but maybe that’s just my gladness to be in a foreign culture talking. It should be even better when there’s light outside and things are open. We returned and there was an irate Irishman and his wife – the Irishman was apparently upset that he couldn’t beat up the pregnant girl. In all, Ireland seems like a pretty interesting place. The conditions are bearable – I’ve seen worse – and everybody seems drunk.
Tomorrow – transport back to London, see World Cup game in an Irish pub, join everybody in being drunk.
17:33
After at least 4 or 4 ½ hours of sleep, we woke up this morning at about 8:00, showered, and checked our bags upstairs. Priority #1 was Purcell’s bag, which we called about and which has since arrived. Priority #2 was the tickets to London, which we bought later for 59€ (a ferry ride, then train passage) – a little expensive, but what the hey. We save money that night by not having a hostel (we leave at 9:30 tomorrow night and get in at 7:00 AM on 6-13-02). Our morning was spent walking around, performing these various tasks and eating three pastry-bread things for breakfast. Finances haven’t been a problem – about $30-40/day seems to be fine for all expenses.
At 12:00, we headed into O’Shea’s – a local pub – to watch the Ireland-Saudi Arabia game, drink some Guinness, and eat soda bread to get the cough-syrup flavor of the pints out of our mouths. The stout was thick as molasses and the Irishmen won, 3-nil. Each goal was received with cheers, claps, drunken singing, and other forms of intoxicated exuberance. Afterwards, we headed down to the National Gallery, a free art museum with plenty of Irish paintings and several works of other famous painters (Monet, Picasso, etc).
Trinity College was the next stop – we walked around the campus for a good bit, a beautiful old place, and then returned to the hostel. The area is very easily walkable, and really a pretty neat and amazing city.
What struck me most was the Irish national pride, especially in the form of football fanaticism. All kinds of people were dressed for the game, faces painted and cars decorated in green, orange, and white, and every pub was brimming with fans (believe me, this represents quite a few people. There’s a pub on every corner and two or three in between corners). After the game (Ireland qualified for the final 16), the atmosphere was pure celebration – cars honking, people shouting and playing drums – amazing. Super Bowl meets Olympics meets insane drunken partying.
23:07
We had a bit to drink (Bacardi) (a bottle) and Purcell is a bit more gone than the rest of us.
Purcell: “I’m walking in the street because it’s bigger”
“way to go, Keller, that’s God fucking with your head”
(check the journal entry for Purcell’s journal)
Anyway, we bought the bottle at an unlicensed liquor store (18.75 €), came back to the hostel and drank it, then went out walking – it was a good time, a good time. Then we came back and Ben, Andy, and Andrew country-line danced in the hostel room, and Purcell is quite confused. For instance, Purcell and Ben are now arguing about why, since they are both 17, Purcell is a year ahead in school. It’s quite the interesting discussion, and I’m rambling.
By the way, we ate fish and chips for dinner. This is quite the good time. We’ve been knocking on doors and confusing the hell out of Purcell.
Ben and AP are doing the Macarena.
Purcell:
“If somebody watched you in the shower, that’d be gay”
“Gotta wrap that up because…wait…what?” (loosing track of his thoughts)
“Your notes are going to make sense because… they’re going to make sense”
“More drinking and more speaking…Lefoe said that, didn’t she?”
“If you got everybody in the audience drunk and you were 7/10 of a second behind because you were drunk, it would all match up”
“That’s a truth because…It’s true. Ever hear the Dan Bern song ‘Profound Truths’? That’s…true”
“I got a bottle of water and I’ll pour it on you… and then I’ll puke on you, and you’ll be wet and smelly, and that would suck… except for Ben, and he’s going to take a shower.”
“That’s not a pun or a synonym – that’s a pun-o-nym”
“That’s not homosexual – that’s homo-side”
Enough of my drunken ramblings…
Wednesday 6-12-02
19:01
Today was a fun day of touring, our first real day as such. We awoke at about 9 (at about 4 AM, some guy walked into our room to stay overnight) but other than that, the sleep was excellent, uninterrupted, and followed by no headaches or hangovers. It was a great time, though.
Currently we’re in the Dublin Ferryport, about a 3 mile, hour-long walk from our hostel – on the heels of a full day of walking Dublin and now with full packs and through a very heavy, industrialized dockyard area. We arrived about four hours early – the ferry’s going to be overnight, 9:30 departure by boat in Dublin and a 2 AM train to catch in Holyhead for London. It’ll be quite the experience, I’m sure.
Today’s touring was a blast –first we ate at the bakery again, then walked to Dublin Castle, then to Christ Church, which was a beautiful 12th century cathedral but not immensely amazing. Highlights included the burial place of Strongbow, the invader of Dublin, a mummified cat-and-mouse combo from the organ pipes and a crypt that afforded Andy excellent opportunities for taking some artistic ‘ghost’ pictures.
Onward then we went to St Patrick’s Cathedral, which we didn’t enter because of the 2.50 € entrance charge. Beautiful, though, from the outside, with a garden that allowed us to get off of our feet and lay down for a while.
Forgot one bit – at 11:15, we went to Oscar Wilde’s house. The ‘tour’ turned out to be a video and then a non-guided walk around a somewhat-refurbished house. The video was long-winded and boring, but the walk was somewhat interesting. We were actually in Oscar Wilde’s house, and that’s always a neat feeling. Across the street, we visited a statue of Wilde reclining like the imp he was on a large rock. It proved a site for great photos.
Anyway, that was the first event of the day – we went after that to the Castle. After we left St. Patrick’s we headed to the famed Temple Bar area, where indecision forced us to eat at a Mexican restaurant in Ireland where the waiter was French. Interesting, but the food wasn’t terribly good.
After eating, we headed back to the hostel area, picked up a loaf of bread and a baguette, a hunk of brie and mozzarella, and some Nutella imitation – we’ve consumed about half of that in the ferryport. After that, we picked up our bags and tried to get directions to the ferryport area, to no avail – they give horrible directions around here, and their speech is difficult to understand as well. The lady at the bus station, however, told us finally to “go to the river and turn left – it’s about a 20 minute walk”. An hour and several hard turns later, we arrived at the Ferryport Terminal - which, thankfully, somehow turned out to be the correct place. And, as I said before, now we’re just killing time,
Last night, before we drank a bottle of rum in 10 minutes, we went to check our email. Nothing. I’m listening now to Oasis – Morning Glory – and it’s making me nostalgic again. I’m back at the great Escape in 6th grade - independence then, self-definition, discovering individuality, reading Dune and hanging out with Brandon Harmer. Same deal again, with the independence – we’re on our own – and the same music. Music works in odd ways like that.
Even the book I’m reading – “One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich”, by Alexander Solzhenitsyn – makes me nostalgic a bit, for high school and social studies class. It’s impossible for me to understand that all of that’s over, and that we’re moving on with the rest of our lives from this day onward. Enough nostalgia.
I suppose that, as we’re leaving Dublin, I ought to talk about Dublin and Ireland in general for a bit. Aside from the strong national pride, Ireland impressed me as being a fun place to be, despite the relative lack of tourist destinations. We had a blast, and everyone (almost) seems to be happy and eager to accept foreigners. The Gaelic was also impressive – I hadn’t expected the sheer volume of Gaelic on signs and in speech and such.
Ireland is definitely a place to re-visit for me – more money, more time, a plan to go the countryside.
In general, the trip is going well, but I can’t wait for London. We’re enjoying ourselves, but we’re also realizing that we’ve been separated from our lives in a way, first by graduation and now by travel. Alex meets up with us tomorrow, and I hope that we’ll be able to adjust to him. It shouldn’t be an issue – I hope.
I saw something interesting in the National Gallery – in the 18th-19th centuries, nobility in Europe would, as young men, take trips to Rome and all the sites of the continent to see first-hand the things that they had studied and to form their independence. They called the ‘The Grand Tour’, and it struck that we have some link with the young nobility of two- and three-hundred years past. History and its echoes. Odd.
00:05
This ferry turned out to be quite the pleasant surprise. After a long walk, the 59€ charge, and all associated issues with this ferry trip, we needed something good, and we got it. The HMS Ulysses towers above everything else – it’s about 100 feet tall, has three floors of entertainment, observation decks, places to sit, and all kinds of other niceties such as movie theaters and children’s playgrounds. We stood on the open deck and watched the coastline and docks of Dublin float away, and now we’re down in a lounge of chairs and tables, playing cards and talking. Currently, we’re sitting on the top deck, an enclosed lounge/observation area, enjoying a fabulous ride except for the Bee Gees blaring over the music system.
Irish Ferries[2] aren’t so bad after all.
Unfortunately, the mighty Ulysses (named for Joyce’s great work and the largest passenger ferry in the world) was having a bit of engine trouble during our journey, delaying our arrival here in Holyhead until 2:20, 20 minutes after the train to London departed. Until the next train arrives, we’re biding our time, dining on triangular sandwiches (purchased with British pounds), beef and onion crisps, and water. For company, we have a reasonably attractive young lady who resembles someone quite familiar whose name I can’t quite put my finger on at the moment, and a black-and-white border-collie type dog. The dog is ravenous, looking everywhere for handouts. As for me, the sandwich more than appeased my hunger, and I think I’ll go to sleep for a bit…
6:59
So we woke up after a solid three hours of sleep (we missed the train, if you do the math) and instead caught the 6:30 to London: Euston with a changeover in Crewe. No worries – we still get in at about 11:20, and there’s only one stop. Our 59 € pass is quite handy – we used it to get the ferry ticket and now it has become our rail ticket for the next two legs. I guess they figure that anybody that already paid that kind of cash for a ticket wouldn’t be trying to pull some financial trickery over the railway system.
An unexpected but pleasant benefit of this delay is the opportunity that we now have to see the Welsh countryside (I’m taking advantage of this opportunity; however, the others are still asleep while I watch for the Crewe sign out the window). The land is stunningly beautiful – low, flat fields with water, lakes and streams feeding the lush green grasslands. Rocks and fences dot the land occasionally, but the main inhabitants are sheep, cows, and horses. The rolling, soft hills and intertwined water, coupled with the prostrate livestock (just waking up from the night) form an indescribably picturesque scene through the blur of our train window.
18:43
Astor-Hyde Park –
London
I’m out on the balcony right now of a beautiful multi-storied hostel, talking to Andre, a law student from the University of San Francisco and also an inhabitant of our room for the next few days. We finally arrived at about 11:20 and checked into our hostel. Andrews P + K slept off our 18 hour trip while Ben and I headed off to the Bella Pasta restaurant for a quick lunch. Surprisingly, our hostel is only about a block from the Ambassadors hotel of last year – lots of great memories surround this area. The shell station, the proximity to Hyde Park, the phone booths and pictures, the Queensway and Bywater stations – I love this city. It is undoubtedly my favorite major metropolis in the world.
At about 3:45, we picked up Brooket. All is well so far; we picked him up at Buckingham Palace, took some photos, and returned to the British Museum.
Ah, yes, the British Museum – another unbelievable offering of London. Egyptian, Roman, Greek, African, all kinds of art and artifacts of immeasurable worth and spectacular beauty. Now we’re back here, all five of us, just sitting on the balcony and writing. (Mr. Blotch writes using a twig and leaves that he pulled out of his bags, scratching his head and stroking his manicured goatee occasionally and thinking for several minutes in between words).
Note by AK, I think – all girls in Ireland have babies. Condoms are 4€ each. Here, condoms are 1£ each. Not as many girls here have babies.
I can easily see myself being drawn back to this city. The allure is unbelievable – unhesitatingly the greatest city in the world. The memories I have of this place are also among the most vivid in my mind. First, the week here with family – my first time overseas, our flat, the touring and Internet cafes, both grandmothers being sick. Then the PA ambassadors – Brian and Josh and Alex and Jimmy Troxell and Amelia and Laura and Ashley. The Tower of London, playing in the park – amazing times. I’m really fortunate, and I’m aware of the fact. At the age of 18, I’ve been to London for three consecutive years, and hopefully three more to come. Unbelievable.
Tomorrow : – Paris transport
– Touring
Thursday 6-13-02
19:08
Forgot one thing – Ben and I went to the internet café – mail awaited from Amelia and Dad. Good to be back in touch with good old York. Apparently Jess and Amelia have just been hanging out, what with all of us being gone.
That ferry last night was amazing – 2 cinemas, all sorts of entertainment, flat screen TVs – the largest car ferry in the world. We went up to the deck to watch the Dublin Harbor slip away against the sunset, then again to welcome ourselves to Wales. Ben, in his flip-flops, ran around and slid on the deck as the rest of us admired the growing lights and spinning lighthouses. London is great – the people are healthier and the city cleaner and more reserved – it seems to assume the best demeanor that a huge city can have. We seem to have hit our stride as a group = we’re relaxed from the trip, enjoying ourselves, and cooperating and conversing. It’s a good time… wish you were here.[3]
Friday 6-14-02
7:50
Astor Hyde Park –
London
Last night was not a good night. We ate at a £5 Pizza bar that wasn’t too bad, and I got to talk to Amelia for about an hour via the internet café, so I suppose that was good as well. Alex bought a bottle of tequila, which was too small for any effect (we discovered afterwards). Still, the taking of tequila shots with coarse sea salt and limes was a lot of fun, out on our balcony. We made a second run later for a bottle of 90 proof Smirnoff – that stuff tasted and smelled like rubbing alcohol, but it certainly did the trick. Ben took 10-12 shots, Keller about 8, me about 7, Purcell about 8, and Alex was an idiot. At some point in time, he went back up to the room and drank a good deal more, almost killing the bottle.
We went out to walk it off for a bit after having sat down in the bar for a while. We played a bit of 21 in the bar, then the word came down that two or three attractive girls were staying in our room. Ben, Andy K and I decided that it would be best to keep the inebriated Alex away. At some point in the walk, I think, I lost my watch. Major pain – now I’ll have to go look for another one sometime today. I just can’t figure out how I lost it – that’s the first bad thing that’s happened.
Next, Alex became extremely obnoxiously intoxicated, bragging about sex and so forth. When we finally headed back up, Alex got sick and vomited, first into the trash can and later in the bathroom. I’m embarrassed for our group – it reflects on all of us when one idiot can’t control himself.
We have two nights more reserved here right now. I’m sitting down in the TV room, inhaling smoke from the guy next to me, listening to two people who obviously speak English as a first language converse in Spanish, and watching Japan and Tunisia in the World Cup. Hopefully when the others wake up, the day will improve.
Friday 6-14-02
18:20
The Tate Modern –
Floor 5– London
The day progressed quite nicely since this morning – we finally got out and about, packed our stuff and put it in the luggage room, bought tickets to Paris (bus, ferry, bus – 9 hours leaving at 14:00 on Sunday), and got breakfast downstairs (cereal and bread – I suppose that constitutes a filling but bland breakfast).
The first stop of the day was Westminster Abbey – every bit as spectacular as I had remembered. Kings, poets, monuments, graves, memorials – incredible history in an beautiful Gothic setting. Things like the burial places of kings dating from Edward I, for instance – the history stretches back almost one thousand years in that place. Purcell, Keller, and Brooket, having not seen it before, were awed, and the majesty of the Abbey still struck Ben and I.
We headed back to a pub near our hostel to try to catch the Poland-USA game, but by the time we got back via the tube the first half was over with the US down 2-0 (en route to a 3-1 loss). Because the pub was full, we returned to the hostel’s TV room and saw the last 15 minutes of the Portugal - South Korea game. (South Korea won, 1-0, ensuring the US a spot in the 2nd round - beautiful).
Lunch was purchased at a Kebab shop near the Queensway station. We took the food (lamb and rice for me, with a small salad and a can of Fanta for a mere £4.10) over to Hyde Park to eat in the bucolic shadows of Kensington Palace.
The tube took us back to the Bank station, from which we walked across to the reconstructed Globe (and decided that, since the evening show was not Shakespeare, a look at the outside would suffice). From there, the Tate Modern Museum of Contemporary Art was right next door, facing the Millennium Bridge and bordered by the beautiful Thames-walk area.
The Tate is free, like everything else, amazingly, and contains an awe-inspiring collection of artistic genius and uninspired crap. Highlights included “Chicken Knickers” – a picture of a woman with a raw whole chicken hung at the crotch, some claymation movies involving garbage-heads devouring each other and toothpaste-covered pencils, and a Dali surrealist film including a man who cuts open a woman’s eye. Interesting work, but it’s placed side-by-side with large blue squares and old boots passing as art.
Mark Wellington’s “Angel” was interesting, especially to AK, AP, and BB. He walked the wrong way on an escalator and said the first lines of John backwards repeatedly, then reversed the tape so that his speech was forward. It was interesting and definitely Ben’s favorite.
It’s great to be here with first-time people – when we walked out of Westminster Station, the Thames roaring behind us and the Parliament building and Big Ben in front of us, all of our eyes were the size of silver dollars – AK, AP, and AB especially. Life is good.
Saturday 6-15-02
00:25
Astor Hyde Park –
London
Currently, I’m sitting on a windowsill in the game/internet access room here in the hostel. Took my shoes off because the boot/sneakers and low socks are giving me some problems with my heals. Things are looking up, though – a sober and fun night tonight. I’m still in love with this city. Just checked my email – sent a message off to the folks.
It was a good evening. After we left the Tate Modern, we walked to Covent Gardens (the shopping/eating place that I remembered slightly from the Ambassadors trip). The atmosphere was beautiful – we took a seat in a bistro-type eatery, got some pizza margherita and bruschetta, and watched some street performer balance himself on blocks. As a word of elaboration, Covent Gardens is an indoor market ringed by café-style eateries. The first Punch-and-Judy show took place in those streets, although today we saw instead a man playing a well-polished version of a Marley tune on his electric guitar and midi kit. The history of this city is so much different from anywhere in the states – it permeates every building, every sight, every person that lives or visits, like a constant part of life rather than an obscure footnote.
That’s why I love London – whether I’m riding in the tube and thinking about how the underground was used in WWI or if I’m on my way to the Tate modern and seeing a 2-year-old Millennium bridge set against a centuries-old Tower bridge, the history seems to be everywhere and anywhere. It’s an intellectually and emotionally stimulating environment – because of the people, because of the history, because of the huge old parks like Hyde and St. James’ and because of the architecture of Westminster and St. Paul’s; the events and the culture; the new and the old. It’s a fabulous place to be.
After our dinner, we walked to Trafalgar Square, with the beautifully lit National Gallery, Nelson’s Pillar, and distinctive view of the illuminated Big Ben. The oncoming twilight offered us both time for the requisite pictures seated atop the huge bronze lions and some tricky time-lapse style photography involving Big Ben and the fountains all around.
My poor sense of direction led us on a circuitous route to Piccadilly Circus – we walked down by the beautifully lit Parliament and Westminster once again, so there were no real complaints. We eventually made it to the hustle and crowded streets of Piccadilly, from which we took the tube back to Queensway. I love every minute (unless I’m getting us lost).
I was talking to Andy Purcell (we had just gone back up to 42, where he and I were again tonight - and my watch may be found) and we both realized that now, this is life. The adaptability of humanity is amazing – we have been on the road for five days and now this is easy – it’s our lives and we love it. For the first time in my life, I feel like I could live independently. I know that I could get a job here for at least £50/day, and that’s all I need now to survive, what with long-term hostelling possibilities and such. It’s a new feeling of independence – to be able to exist and fend for oneself. There’s the historical connection again – a sort of modern-era survival instinct – the rush of self-preservation and independence.
I’m sure I’ll be drawn back here again. Three summers in a row will just prove to be too addicting. Part of me is here now.
Saturday 6-15-02
00:25
Astor Hyde Park –
London
Up on the balcony outside our room now – Purcell’s taking a shower. I’d write about trip dynamics, but I think I can sum it up. It’s only slightly awkward with Alex, but it’s still awkward. I hope we can reconcile some of the differences in our goals for the trip, and keep him from getting too drunk and embarrassing us again.
Anyway, the reason that I picked up this journal was to do something creative. Maybe some prose would be appropriate. Anywhoo, I’ll give it a go:
_____________________
The
sun comes up over Inverness Terrace. It
slips quietly through he leaves of Hyde Park after making its way across the
dew-softened stretches of Kensington Gardens and the Palace’s majestic lengths
of brick and stone.
The
sun climbs the wall, the length and breadth of red brick that separates the
concrete islands, mountains, and rivers from the untouched green within. The trees shake and stretch; the sun hits
them; they bristle in the early morning-breezes, shake out pigeons and
squirrels.
Light
spills through the black posts of the wrought-iron gate to the park – defying
the mighty fire and hands that twisted metal into ornate designs, bent iron
towards exclusion. No lock holds in the
sun, and it spills forward, touching the top of the hill, across the concrete
and paint of the road and up to the barrier in the center. Pausing briefly, as if waiting for the
right-of-way, the sun continues and steps up onto the far side of the
street. More trees come to life as the
warmth touches their trunks, and the sun starts down the street.
Row by
row, the sun touches the porches and doors of Inverness Terrace. The shops, hostels, hotels, flats all feel
the warmth, and it enters inside as the dawn breaks. Doors open and balcony windows swing ajar, as fresh air bathes
the first to venture out into the warm light.
The
sun continues, clothing motorcycles and stoplights, sedans and smart-cars and
sports-cars without prejudice. The
streets come alive. Buses, two levels
tall, roar through the streets, hissing and whistling. Taxis honk and moan, cars purr and growl
from street-end to street-end. The sun
continues on; its job with the terrace is finished.
The
street awakens. Pedestrians stream here
and there, ford the rivers of pavement with caution or abandon, returning with
food or leaving for work. Cars leave
and arrive; the noise increases to a buzz, a vital whir; the city-blood
streaming through its veins.
The London day begins.
_____________________
So there’s my brief attempt at prose for the trip. I think I like it for now; I’ll read it again in the morning and see if it’ll stand up to an objective look. [4]
Saturday 6-15-02
1:20
Astor Hyde Park –
London
I’m really going to have to type this up when I get home. I suppose that writing about writing is pretty idiotic – hopefully not as moronic as talking about drinking while drinking, which Alex seems to find quite enjoyable. Acceptable: “I had a good rum & coke in Lucerne.” Unacceptable: “Wow, I just had three shots,” especially when you actually didn’t and when the next word out of your mouth is “BLEARGGGGH!!!” into a trashcan.
In any case, I guess that disintegrated into something other than writing about writing.
Anyway, I will definitely type this up. At 7+ pages/day, this is expanding into something almost novella-length. If I could type it up in the four days before the mission trip, it would be a great thing to read and share.
Oh yeah… wish you were here.
Saturday 6-15-02
19:17
The Brookford
Laundrettes – Queensway, London
Ben and I made the trek down here to the first coin-operated Laundrettes in the U.K. to do our first load of laundry for the trip. The place may be historical, but the prices aren’t - £3.50 for a load, £1 for a 20 minute dry. We were able to jam everything into two loads – one light, one dark – and we’re waiting for the washing to finish now.
Our night was uneventful last evening – after heading up to the room, we just fell asleep. The next morning, we woke up at about 9:30 and missed 10:00 breakfast (all except for Purcell who managed to grab a roll before the doors shut). We bought some cheap food for breakfast (a Danish and a croissant, neither of which were very good) and headed off to St. Paul’s for our daily historical site-seeing visit.
The cathedral was, of course, beautiful. The Romanesque style is unique from Westminster – Sir Christopher Wren rebuilt it from 1660 or so after the great London fire. It only took 35 years, but the result is impeccable – grand domes, gold-laced mosaics, memorials to modern martyrs and WWII veterans. Again, the history is overwhelming.
One moment –
- had to get the wash and terribly overload a dryer. Andre, Aistaire, and some others from room 42 are here as well. We probably screwed up the laundry – dirt stains, etc. aren’t gone – but things smell fine, and nobody will notice. It’s clean enough for us.
Anyway, the thing about St. Paul’s is that it, like everything else in London, is layered in history – not just rooted in one time period or event. It was originally constructed in the 600s in a different form, burned down and was rebuilt after the Great Fire, and was a beacon of hope in World War II, even surviving two direct bomb hits. Even more recently, Mary Poppins and the wedding of Charles and Diana introduced it to billions of people worldwide. It’s a part of culture and full of all kinds of history, which makes even the shortest walk through it wonderful.
We climbed the stairs, which I missed last year. First up to the sonic wonders of the Whispering Gallery and the magnificence of the decorated and painted dome, then up to the Stone Gallery and its beautiful vistas. Nothing, however, tops the climb through the spiraling catwalks to the Golden Gallery – the smallest, highest observation ring. The wind, unblocked by buildings that loomed far below, whistled through our hair as we indulged our photographic natures and appetites for neat panoramic views. The sensation, on the way up, of standing at the peak of the whispering gallery’s dome and staring down at an intricate marble floor hundreds of feet below is also unforgettably dizzying.
After St. Paul’s, we headed back to the hostel to watch England trample Denmark 3-nil. The party was less widespread here – probably both a cultural difference and a difference based upon the fact that England’s game didn’t have the heavy qualification implications of Ireland’s
Afterwards, we went to the Taza Kebab restaurant and repeated our lunch in Hyde Park. To live in this city, do dine on Shawaras of lamb and rice dishes in the sedate yet bustling park, would be heaven. I could do that for all the days of my life, but twice will suffice for now.
Our visit to the Tower of London, delayed by A.K.’s successful tripod search, was postponed until tomorrow by the lack of time (only 1:45 until closing and 45 until buildings closed) and financial burden (£8.50 or so, which represents a large amount of money for less than an hour of sightseeing). We’ll do that tomorrow, from 10:00 (opening) until about 12:00 or so. We’ll try to beat the crowds and be completely packed and fed as well, which may mean an earlier night tonight. We then returned to the hostel – Alex and I went out to get some pens, such as this fine Uniball that I’m using right now, and then returned.
We settled finances in our 6-bunk room, which involved a ledger system and cross-canceling debts to make payment easier. It was a complicated system but eventually great mathematical minds prevailed and the process was successful (and will need to be repeated about once every week).
After that, we headed down to the Laundromat, and here we are now. Tonight looks like we’re going to be living cheap but having fun – Trafalgar square for more time-lapse photography and relaxation/reflection as Keller uses his new tripod, after perhaps the £4.50 Chinese buffet that Andre recommended in the Laundromat. Tomorrow we leave – it’s a bittersweet farewell to London for another year, at least, and hello (bonjour) to Paris, which I think will be both memorable and mercifully brief.[5]
Then, we’re on our own – making decisions, arranging travel, and living our own lives completely by the seat of our collective pants. It’s going to be a blast – I can tell already.
It’ll be nice to get back to York and see certain people, eventually. Can’t wait to get back and catch up a bit, hopefully before the mission trip if possible.
Got to go get clothes out of the dryer.
Sunday 6-16-02
00:30?
I’m down here in the internet room again. To the right of the lobby, it’s a room consisting of four video games against one wall, a Guns & Roses pinball game in the middle of the room, and four computers on the other wall. It’s a decent place to do internet access, even if the prices is a bit high. I’m going to see if Amelia’s online (or anyone else) and check hostels in Lucerne and Zermatt. Looks like we’re going there after all… but it’s a long story and I’ll get around to that part.
After returning from the Laundromat, we sorted clothes while AP went out to get some bread and wine. After further discussion, all except for Alex and I went out to get some more food – garlic, olive oil, and more bread. I went down to dry more clothes; when I returned, they were back and talking about cutting some time from Paris and Switzerland and going instead to Greece. A quick look at the map convinced Alex and I that such an endeavor would be next to impossible, both in time and geography. We ate dinner first, however, so we could discuss civilly on a full stomach. Dinner was made by us – olive oil and garlic in one bowl, nutella in a jar, blue cheese and a disappointing mozzarella in another bowl, and large amounts of baguette bread. The accompanying drink was a 2000 chardonnay – this is the way to live and eat. All was delicious, eaten down in the public eating area of the hostel.
The food was good. We cleaned up, then pulled out the map and a sketched calendar, and eventually decided that our original itinerary was the closest to perfect that we could get, with the substitution of Zermatt for Zurich (not a bad switch, but we’ll need to find hostel listings online and soon). The itinerary, however, seems to be fixed and agreed upon, and that is indeed a wonderful thing.
We went over to Trafalgar Square, but the lights were off. England’s 3-0 victory equaled partying around the pillar. By the time we got there, the entire thing was covered in broken glass and trash and smelled of spilled beer. Nonetheless, we saw plenty of girls in bizarre early-90s outfits singing odd songs and acting quite intoxicated. AK also got to take some time-lapse photos with the tripod – hopefully they’ll turn out well.
Upon returning, we prepared to leave tomorrow by packing. A fellow hosteller – from Canada, around Charles – stumbled into our room. By his own accounts, he had been drinking all night and popping codine. He was talking like Jay from the Kevin Smith movies – all about hoes and so forth and how they gave him boners while he was drinking. Canada-boy promptly passed out on his bunk after providing us with a good deal of amusement.
Down here at the café, a drunk man and his girlfriend just walked in with a beer in each hand. The following conversation ensued, more or less (man speaks first)
- Fuck.
- What? Why are you angry?
- Nothing. I’m just sitting here in a fucking internet café, and we can’t fuck because we’re in a fucking internet café, and I’m not angry
(both laugh)
- Let’s go out in the bushes and fuck.
- What? (laughs)
- I said… let’s go out for a look at he bushes. (She then picked him up by the head and said,)
- Let’s go
Purcell: “My faith in humanity ebbs and flows.”
Sunday 6-16-02
01:30
In other news, I got a chance to talk to Amelia for 10 minutes or so on AIM – she and Jess were on their way out to buy Father’s Day presents. I should send a card or something. We talked about how the trip’s going, what I’m seeing, how we’re doing. I unloaded the Alex - drinking thing on her – had to tell somebody – and she seemed relieved that we had stopped for a while. I’m sitting outside because the lights in our room are out for now – need to wake up early tomorrow.
Paris, then Lucerne.
Zermatt, then Italy.
I’m excited again.
We’re on the move.
Sleep…
Sunday 6-16-02
15:45
“You have to travel. You have to see the world with your own eyes – not through the
eyes of someone else, or a television or a magazine. When you go home, you’ll see a difference between yourselves and
people who don’t travel. If you don’t
travel, your mind gets closed”
- the tall French guy who is sitting next to us on the bus, a font of appropriate wisdom.
We woke up at 9AM instead of 8, leaving us very little time for our visit to the tower – a 40 minute tube ride didn’t help, and in all we took about a 45 minute whirlwind visit to the white tower – with the bulging Henry VII armor and armory – and the always spectacular Crown Jewels. Afterwards, Ben and I headed over to the coach station to try to get things under way there while the other three went to get our bags. I went back to the tube station to direct AP, AK, and BB to the coach station – about three blocks away. At about 13:30 (our bus left at 14:00) we made it back, but trouble with check-in – people were scattered and passports weren’t together – forced Ben to go to the back of the line. We all made it, however, and now we’re just arriving at the famed White Cliffs of Dover, bordering the turquoise English Channel and ready to take a packet to Calais. [6] Then it’s on to Paris, the City of Lights and Annoying French People, then Switzerland and all points beyond.
* * *
- Dover -
This is another memory from one year ago – on a coach, seeing the White Cliffs, the sea, the ferry. This is straightforward unapologetic nostalgia, and it’s the only thing tying me back to York. It’s not confining me though – instead I feel reassured that there’s somewhere else waiting for me.
Sunday 6-16-02
17:56 (Paris Time)
Ferry – Dover to Calais
We drove onto the ferry here and disembarked, heading straight up to the open deck. This ferry is still quite nice – lots of food places with ridiculously expensive comestibles, of course. We’ll rely on our five baguettes, nutella, and cheese, as well as on some candy bars and other things that we got at Victoria Coach Station.
Up here, the day is beautiful – warm and sunny, with a brisk ocean breeze to keep things comfortable. We sat up on the deck as the ferry pulled away, watching England and the White Cliffs recede. France was barely visible from the English Coast – the two are really quite close together. The beauty of the scene required some photographs – bright sunlight twinkling from the crests of the rich blue sea, the shining white cliffs and old buildings of Dover, the seagulls floating in the draft of the boat, lazily accompanying us to France.
The fellow passengers are varied. We saw our coach driver admiring the view (Even the eye of someone who must have seen these cliffs disappear countless times couldn’t resist the clearness of the day). Two others have telescopes – a mid-30s man and woman – that, as AK observed, bear a striking resemblance to gatling guns.
Two unattractive French people were making out on the bow – nobody wants to watch that. AK was going to take a picture at BB’s suggestion, but unfortunately he forgot his ugly filter.
The cliffs are lower now – smaller – maybe only an inch or two high; a bright white band is all that’s left of England.
Monday 6-17-02
1:02
Paris – Blueplanet Hostel
***
Why Paree is Gay
We disembarked in Paris at a bus station called Gallieri. Fine
We changed metro trains twice and got off at our station – Gare de Lyon. Fine.
We found out that our hostel directions simply said “Five minutes from the train station.” Not fine.
We wandered around for an hour and a half trying to find the hostel, asking all kinds of hotels for directions (no one knew). Not fine.
We finally found out that our hostel was in the other direction and arrived. Fine.
We discovered that we had no reservations – apparently they don’t take reservations. Fine, because now we can leave quickly from this godforsaken place. Excellent, even.
We discovered that the hostel doesn’t take ATM cards and that the man in the lobby was a wanker. Not fine.
We walked to the ATM, got some €, and got rooms without bedsheets. Fine.
We’re going to see everything tomorrow, then leave early tomorrow morning. Great!.
Lucerne will be better, I’m sure.
***
A young Asian lady just walked into our room and asked how to charge her mobile phone – we said, regretfully, that we had had the same problem and couldn’t help – but maybe the man at the desk could help.
The girl, who had been yelling at the man, said “No…ooooooh…that man….the most LOUSY man!”
***
1:35 AM
Day 7: Food is low and time is running out. The first thing to go were our grammar skills. Bizarre subject-verb constructions, disagreements, and unusual constructions with “there is” and “there are” are running roughshod over our conversations.
Our situation is bleak. We are trapped in the third story of a small hovel, with only a sole window facing a rather industrial courtyard. Our exits seem to terminate in a small bathroom with a door that is too small for the opening and an exit to a hallway. Neither seem to provide means of escape – the latter leads to a stairway which brings us to a hostile frog-man, bent on destroying the hope of all trapped within.
Our only solace lies in the hope of an early escape to Switzerland and neutrality
Monday 6-17-02
20:15
Paris – A Café outside of Gare de Lyon
After awakening at 8:40 and leaving at 10:20, we discovered that our hostel had a baggage check room. About 1.20 € apiece, however, got us lockers at the more conveniently located room in the Gare de Lyon train station.
After much indecision and hesitation, we were able to discern that a train leaves bound for Lucerne at 00:20 tomorrow morning – perfect. We just have to validate our Eurailpasses and then hop on the train. Excellent.
At about noon, we headed out. Frist was Notre Dame – a beautiful cathedral, with unparalleled gargoyles, wonderful rose windows, and amazing creative architecture. We walked in the sun to get there along the Seine, and it was pretty hot.
Food just came – a chicken salad that was filling and delicious, accompanied by tap water from the bathroom.
Anyway, the sun was quite hot, and soon we were all overheated – drinking lots of water but sweating it all out. Our next walk was to the Louvre, where the art was, of course, amazing.
Upon closer inspection, the Mona Lisa was still disappointing. Winged Victory was astounding, as were the millions of other pieces of art that we saw. The building was immense but cooler temperature-wise than outside. Suffering from art overload, we sat by a cooling vent in the Greek and roman wing.
Next was the Eiffel Tower – we slept in the park for about an hour and a half. Apparently, by this time, the walking had made even our fearless XC runners too tired, so we decided against climbing to the top (their loss). Apparently 3€ and two flights of stairs was too demanding after a trip of thousands of miles and a thousand dollars to get here. Then again, it was pretty hot.
Then it was down to the Arc de Triomphe – we looked at it and the crazy traffic patterns –then off down the Champs-Elysee, with trees and buildings and creperies. We spent some time in the Virgin Megastore, enjoying the air conditioning, then went back via metro to Gare de Lyon.
The food was good, but we couldn’t get the money figured out. Our waitress nice, so we ended up giving her a 15€ tip on a 55€ bill.
Now we’re on our way, and I’m going to head off to the train station.
Monday 6-17-02
21:49
Gare de Lyon – Train Station
Altogether, our stay in Paris was decent. We saw what we wanted to see, but are all tired and disgusted/-ing. I hope that the use of our Eurailpass will turn out to be easy, that the train ride will go well, and that Switzerland will go well.
Tuesday 6-18-02
00:10
Train to Strasbourg
(1611 departing at 00:21 from Paris Est)
I’m sitting on a train.
A train to Strasburg, then Bale, then Lucerne
A train out of Paris, where we spent a rather action-packed 26 hours, more or less
Since arriving at 10:20 yesterday, we’ve
o stayed up until 4 in the morning
o seen 6 of Paris’s most famous attractions (Notre Dame, the Louvre, The Eiffel Tower, the Arc de Triomphe, the Champs Elysee, and the Place Concorde with Cleopatra’s Needle)
o Become quite hot, sweaty, and tired
o Discovered that our train left from Paris Est (the Gare L’EST station), not Gare de Lyon, although they had previously neglected to tell us such a thing
o Run through the Metro, arrived one how early for our train, and been able to catch a breather at a decent station
Ah yes, the times have been a bit hectic in the last two hours. After waiting in line to get our passes validated at Gare de Lyon, we were told that our train would leave from Paris Est, not Gare de Lyon.
Immediately following that news, we ran to our baggage locker (downstairs and through a maze of corridors), then back upstairs to the information desk to find out exactly where said station was located. After many language difficulties and confusion, we established that Gare L’est was the correct station – a journey of 10 stops across 2 metro lines – and received a more detailed itinerary for our trip – a copy of which can be found in the back of this journal for reference. We ran helter-skelter through the metro, and the trains – the only efficient thing about the city – didn’t fail us. We made it to Gare L’Est in plenty of time, got our Eurailpasses validated, and went to get some water from a bathroom after circling up our bags near a signboard (which, coincidentally, didn’t yet show our train). Having about an hour or forty minutes until the track number appeared (20 minutes before departure), we headed off to use the bathrooms.
Our attendant was a large black woman who collected the 0.40€ charge and then asked us, in accented English, “do you want to urinate?” Being the wise travelers that we are, Ben and I (obviously both carrying several water bottles) said yes, of course, we wanted to urinate.
**The train just moved!** Hallelujah! We’re leaving Paris.
Anyway, Ben and I went in – I went first, and we urinated, realizing that we were in full view of a large black French woman. The situation was immensely hilarious. We then filled our water bottles and left before she could complain.
Alex and Andy P. tried the same trick five minutes later. AP had to use the more extensive facilities, which caused the French woman (apparently) a large amount of trouble. She rolled her eyes, sighed, and muttered at the inconvenience of some foreigner needing to use the facilities. Typical.
Later AP and AB were able to decipher one of the few signs and found a faucet-type apparatus with the aid of a janitor. Hydrated and ready to leave Paris, we found that our train was on Track 5 and boarded the last non-smoking car.
After some shifts outside to get some fresh air (the car was extremely stuffy), we all boarded the hot train to depart (once the train began to move, the temperature and air flow became much more pleasant).
Some anti-perspirant stopped our odor problems and no one (except for the five of us) seems to reek too terribly on this train, thankfully.
Our compartment is an odd mélange of travelers. We have a Mesiannic Jew toward the front, several random travelers interspersed throughout, and 6 or 7 French army men (so we expect no trouble with thieves). In any case, my day-pack (with all of my valuables) is on my right, making theft extremely difficult. In five hours, Strasbourg; in 10, Lucerne. Fabulous – an early-morning ride through the Alps and Rhineland. Should be beautiful.
I get the feeling that a few days in Switzerland will do us good. Arriving at 10:00 AM in Lucerne is fabulous; if we can’t make all of our connections, later will do. We’ll check into the hostel (after calling first), then shower, sleep for a bit, and have a night out in the town. I really want to revisit the rooftop hotel bar that I remember so well – is it the Astoria, maybe?
Relaxing now is our first order of business – recovering from a crazy 48 hours or so, and a rather strenuous time in the UK as well. A boat ride on Lake Lucerne, however, will clear all of that up in an instant. Then we’ll be ready for Italy and a great end to our trip.
Now it’s Paris reflection time. We had a lot of trouble with things like hostels, trains, languages, and cultural differences, but that’s all to be expected in France. We had some group conflict, but that’s all resolved as well.
We saw a lot, as I said, in 28 hours or so. Our turnaround time was exhausting but incredible. We couldn’t do the whole trip like this; for Paris, however, it doesn’t hurt.
Paris is definitely an interesting place. The things to see and experience definitely make it a need-to-stop locale, as does its convenient geographic location and myriad travel opportunities both to and from the city. The culture is unique, but having a French-speaker along would definitely be an enormous advantage. As a group of solo Americans with only English, German, and Spanish, however, we were quite lost for a good deal of time. Things like getting directions, finding hostels, and even figuring out how to get a table at a restaurant were turned into major chores by our lack of French skills.
We survived, however, and I think we treated it the best way that we could. We saved a night of hostelling, two days of trip time, saw what we needed to see (more time could have been great, but the negatives would have outnumbered the positives). Cooler weather would have been nice, but we can’t control that. Despite being tired, sweaty, and dirty, I think we did the best that we could with Paris. I’m well satisfied – enough time in Frenchyland.
Tuesday 6-18-02
6:51
Platform 4 – Strasbourg Train Station
We’re here for an hour and a half layover in between trains – the next one goes to Bale, then we switch after half an hour in the Bale station to a train for Lucerne.
The ride was uneventful – we slept, more or less, and made it to our destination sore, tired, sweaty, and disgusting – but alive.
The station in Strasbourg is beautiful – an old building with huge stained-glass windows. Nothing too ornate, just simplistic beauty. Seeing the streets of the city makes me think about last year and what a simple and lovely place this is, with the use of the river, the buildings in the Rhine style with flowers and gabled roofs and wood-and-plaster construction. It’s a pity that we can’t see every place that we pass through.
Tuesday 6-18-02
11:25
Tourist Hotel – Lucerne – on a BALCONY!
Amazing. Unbelievable. What I’ve been waiting eleven months for , and now it’s come true, and it’s every bit as good as every memory I have of this place.
I’m sitting on a balcony. A balcony. Facing a panoramic view. Below me is a river, glacier-fed, wide and fast and clear, running between two tree-and-flower-lined streets. Slithgly above the river are houses, hotels, all picturesque. Then, above the city roofs, the Alps: snow-covered, soaring above anything and everything around us.
Behind me is what cannot accurately be described as a hostel room – the dorm was only available for night 2, so we’re in a five-person room that rivals most hotels – a private shower, no bunk beds, a table, chairs, glasses, our own sink, an actual carpet, a few paintings on the wall, bookshelves, and so forth.
We arrived at about 10:20 in Lucerne, the greatest place on earth (especially after Paris). First, after a brief detour through the train station to the site of last year’s concert, we found the tourist information desk. The lady – a Moser – spoke impeccable British English and helped us select the Tourist Hotel as our lodging. The price she gave us – 38 CHF (or $23 US) wasn’t bad, the location was perfect (only five minutes away from the old city on the opposite side from the lake) and the facilities, she promised glowingly, would be outstanding.
We walked past the hotel Schiller – last year’s residence – along the river, past open-air cafes, through the winding shop-lined streets of the old city. We saw a road biker, ready for the Tour de Suisse, which begins here today. After a brief stroll, we arrived at the Hotel. The directions, for the first time all trip, were clear and accurate. We arrived at the desk, where the lady (again in precise English) told us that the dorm was only available for our second night, and that she could put us up in a 50 CHF 5-person room. We said that that was too much, and started to leave. She then dropped the first night’s cost to 45 CHF and the second night’s to 35 CHF each. Our difference turned out to be about $2 over our expected costs overall, and we get breakfast. And a balcony.
Memories, memories, memories. This is such a memorable place for me – joy now at being here, sadness that we’ll ever have to leave, nostalgia for last year – for the drinks and boat rides, the choral concert in the church and the band in the train station – for all of the good, amazing times that we have. And it makes me think of Amelia. I’ve got to send some post cards – with her included in the list.
We have so much to look forward to in the next few days – the relaxing, the boat rides, the meals by the river and tours and long walks, maybe a trip up a mountain for a day – the possibilities are endless now that we’re here and comfortable.
This and London, these are the places to which I’ll always return. They draw me back, historical and beautiful, majestic and atmospheric. I’m sure I’ll be back, again and again, because here I feel content and satisfied.
I’ll have to use the internet café downstairs – 5 CHF for 30 minutes – and send out some emails. We need to gloat about this place for a bit.
In unrelated news, we’ve been traveling for 8 days.
***
I just took a shower – an amazing feeling, being clean and not in Paris.
Anyway, we’ve been traveling for 8 days. We’ve already seen 3 cities across 3 countries, and are on our fourth city and country. The day we left, while only a little over a week ago, seems so far away. Even more distant are graduation (only 12 days ago), finals (only 15 days ago), and the last day of school (only 19 days ago). They all seem far away – several months must have passed in the interim – and it’s all just beginning to set in now. In only two and a half months (even less!), we’ll all be off to college (except for Ben, who’ll be starting his senior year). There’s not much time left, and the way time’s been acting recently, I have no idea whether these two and a half months will be an instant or an eternity.
I’m averaging 9-10 pages/day, still. We’re thinking of combining our journals with pictures to make a sort of book, then printing the book on quality printers and paper as a permanent reminder of the trip.
I’m sitting at the table now – it’s past 12:00 and this is the most enjoyable thing I’ve ever experienced. Fatigued but elated, happy and thoughtful, the sounds of the street mixing with the wind and water, alps to my right and a table (a table!) to write on in my room. Everything is soothing, very calming and relaxing.
Ben is soothed relaxed, calmed, and relaxed to the point of being comatose – when the maids (maids! Who speak ENGLISH!) came in and took the extra bed from underneath Ben’s, he didn’t even twitch.
We’re trying to settle finances across exchange rates right now – a scene of hilarity. Keller is running everything, as the self-proclaimed math retard, and working off of a wrinkled ledger sheet. We cross-cancel debts, convert to whatever currency – we can do it all through the Bank of Keller. Now we’re about to send off Ben and Andy to get some sandwich materials. More to come later.
Wednesday 6-19-02
1:02
Tourist Hotel – Lucerne – Balcony
We took a nice three hour siesta that left us all refreshed and ready to do a bit of walking. Upon awakening, we wandered one by one out onto the balcony.
A rainstorm had started, but the roof over the balcony kept us dry. As the sun set (around 9:30 or so), we watched as lightning flashed behind the nearby hill. The Gutsch, a Disneylandish castle-type hotel sits high up on that hill across the river. The lightning danced behind the hotel in bolts and flashes and was recorded by AK with his tripod and camera using 30 second exposures. Perhaps that’ll lead to some good pictures.
The rain began to increase to a torrent, and the lightning moved off out of our view. Having spent nearly an hour with this light display, we put on our rain jackets and headed off to the strip of cafes by the river for dinner.
Our selection was a small café – we sat inside because the riverfront was both full and being drizzled upon. Our waitress spoke American English, starting the conversation with “do you wanna eat or something?” The food was delicious – chicken for AK, bratwurst for AP + AB, and cheese fondue for BB and me. Ben got half of a liter of German beer, which he approved heartily. The rest of us had some apfelwine – an apple wine and almost sparkling-ciderish. Everything was wonderful and offered us a chance to eat well in a relaxing setting for once.
Afterwards, we walked across the famous Lucerne bridge, admiring the paintings on each triangular set of rafters. I pulled some money from an ATM, then we walked through the streets of the new city to the Astoria hotel.
Again, memories, memories, everywhere. We walked through the familiar loby, up the tiny little elevator, and out into the Penthouse bar. Our table was the same as last year, next to the statue of Winged Victory, with candles on the table and heavy jazz-dance music playing in the background. We sank into the leather sofas and admired the view of the illuminated towers and city lights through the huge windows. For old times’ sake, I bought a round for everyone.
We walked down the stairs, saw the black couches that we put into the elevators last year and the grand golden dragons that Alex Krebs tried to steal on the previous trip. The memories were strong – even the Heineken machine remained. I’m glad to be back.
We walked back through the city, across a bridge, admired the flow of the crystalline river (Ben most of all, steering his imaginary kayak through the rapids).
Now we’re up on the balcony of the room, watching the river pass by and examining everything in our conversation from IQ tests to what we miss about home to memories of middle school (Mr. Trayer, Mr. Thompson, and the host of hilarious teachers).
Reflection, relaxation, contemplation.
Wednesday 6-19-02
10:40
Tourist Hotel – Lucerne – Balcony, room 204
I’m out on our balcony, enjoying our last minutes in this amazing room. We’re about to go check out and then stow our baggage and go to the boat rental place.
Breakfast was delicious – Frosted Flakes, apples, bread and jam, etc. We sat next to an odd group – two Native Americans, one Swiss woman who spoke broken English, and one man with a hairstyle like this:
who is currently standing underneath the balcony. WE also just reserved an extra day at Wombat’s in Vienna and reserved in Rome a 15€/night hostel (only 18 person occupancy) with free internet access. Now our plans are crystallizing, and we’re off to the lake.
Wednesday 6-19-02
17:35
Tourist Hotel – Lucerne – TV Room/Bar
I’m down in the bar/TV room of the Tourist Hotel, waiting for some internet access and about to write some postcards.
After leaving this morning, we changed into a dorm room – perfectly adequate, but it seems as if it may have been overbooked. We then headed down to the lake and rented a pontoon boat from the same, old, pot-bellied, white-haired, grizzled sea captain as last year. We headed out after paying for a 3-hour trip, enjoyed the scenery, and took a quick dip in the cool water of Lake Lucerne. The day was clear and beautiful, from the mist-shrouded mountains to the clear green-blue water. We cruised through the middle of the lake, across the wakes and waves in our little pontoon boat.
Along the left-hand shore, we saw a figure of Christ – a statue, arms outstretched. On the far side, we found a Swiss Flag floating in the water (Ben spotted it first). The right side of the lake was dominated by enormous moss-covered rocks and cliffs.
The way back led to a brief swim – the water was cold but not intolerable – and a host of naked guys fishing, sunbathing, and swimming. All of this was set to a soundtrack of 80’s pop blared through the American-made pontoon boat’s aging speakers.
We returned to the harbor with half an hour left on our time, so we chased a few swans, angling for pictures, then headed back in.
Next, we stopped at Brucherer’s – the famed Swiss shop for watches and knives. Alex picked up a Swatch; the rest of us browsed the enormously expansive collection from Rolex, Brucherer, Tag Heuer, and, of course, Swatch.
Lunch, for AP, AB, and me, was a café called Emilio’s – nice chicken curry sandwich for only 9.80 CHF. We next walked to the train station (everyone complained that they’d rather go back and sleep than see the Lion, so maybe tomorrow). We investigated the possibilities of climbing Mt. Pilatus, a local towering mountain of only about 7,000 feet, and discovered that we could do it for free (take the train to the base) with the Eurailpass. Perhaps tomorrow.
We also found out that the train to Zermatt would cost 60 CHF round-trip. Rather than spend that expense and gamble on hostels, we picked a place in Interlaken for the day after tomorrow. We’ll arrive around 11:00 AM, drop our stuff off, see Interlaken, spend the night, then see the rest the next day. Hopefully a late-night train combo, similar to Paris’s leaving arrangements, can get us to Rome by 20:00 PM the next day. If not, we’ll take another night in Interlaken (it’s cheap and breakfast is free) and arrive in Rome by 4:30, checking into the hostel around 5.[7] Our Rome hostel is already reserved – the one with free internet access, a kitchen, and 15 € / night.
Tomorrow, we’ll try to climb Pilatus during the day and relax more at night. Perhaps we’ll see the Lion tonight, perhaps tomorrow. In any case, Lucerene is a beautiful place.
All is well. I’m going to check my email now and see if addresses were sent to me, per my instructions. More to come soon.
Wednesday 6-19-02
19:20
Tourist Hotel – Lucerne – Room 401
We just switched rooms again – this time, to a 6 bed dorm room. It’s smaller, with no private shower, but has a view of the river and mountains through a window, as well as a carpet, table, and chairs. It’s most definitely better than the overbooked 12-bunk dorm room and well worth the hassle of switching and the climb up 4 flights of stairs.
I got email – from my parents and Amelia – and wrote some postcards to Brian, Josh, and Amelia to send out later. I’ll do that when we go down to eat.
It’s good to stay in touch – unlike years past, I’ve maintained a little contact with family (and with Amelia) and it’s almost as much fun to tell them what’s happening as it is to experience it. Off now to dinner.
Wednesday 6-19-02
23:10
Tourist Hotel – Lucerne – Room 401
Dinner was excellent – another wonderful meal in Lucerne along the river. This time, it was chicken (poulet) cordon bleu, with a 5 dL bottle of Löwenbräu.[8] Afterwards, we walked up to see the Lion.
I was able to find the way, even after all this time and only having walked the route back once. The dying lion memorial, carved directly into the side of a sheer rock face, is incredible. It depicts an enormous lion with a Swiss shield in a pose of pitiful sorrow, mortally wounded by a spear to the back, the end of which is broken off. The statue is separated from the observers by a large pool of water, which, if one throws a coin into it, is said to guarantee a return to Lucerne (perhaps if the money is not enough, you have to go through France, says AK).
The scene was serene until several groups of tourists wandered in (probably similar to the good old PA Ambassadors) and broke the solemnity of the moment. After several pictures and a time of observance, we walked back through the old city to our hostel, laughing at Ben’s French accent (he offered, in a French accent, to take one of the American groups’ picture for them).
Speaking of Frenchmen, the most bizarre Frenchmen are staying in the room formerly next to ours (202 or something). They parade around in brightly colored Speedos, out on the balcony, and spend inordinate amounts of time in the shower and their beds. The former is especially strange, seeing as they are French. The blasting of J-Lo and pink bunny towels add to their dubious orientation.
We watched some CNN – Palestine and Israel are fighting, European airlines are on strike, blah blah blah. It all seems remote here in Switzerland. We also just discovered that the trains to Pilatus are insane – starting late and ending at 5:30. Alex and Ben are going to try to make an ascent tomorrow. I wish that I could go, but there’s no way we’ll all make it up there. Ben’s planning the climb right now, running around and making time estimates. Don’t know what the rest of us’ll be doing tomorrow… not climbing a mountain, probably.
AP and AK want to stay. AB wants to go with Ben. I’d like to go, but I’ll probably end up staying. Oh well.
Thursday 6-20-02
7:55
Lucerne - Train Station
We all decided to ascend after all – the trains run more often than we thought. More later, hopefully from the top.
Thursday 6-20-02
13:46
Mt. Pilatus – Summit
As clichéd as it sounds, I’m on top of the world, sky all around, the lakes and countryside a full mile below. We made it up the mountain – even me – a 5600 foot climb. We’re 7200 feet above sea level, with thunderstorms forming below us and around us. We can see glimpses of Lucerne through the clouds, the lake, the Alps – everything looks tiny and flat.
We left this morning after waking at 6:30 and took a train that arrived in Alpenacht, the train station that begins the trail up to the summit. After about 10 minutes, I realized that I couldn’t keep up and told the guys to go on without me. I stopped, turned around, and debated not going up. Eventually, I decided to try at my own pace.
The trail was beautiful but about a 20-30% grade the entire way. First, switchbacks across pastures and then steep switches through the forest. The view increased in magnificence until I hit the top of the first ridge. Then, I realized by the sun that I had walked for maybe an hour and was actually making some progress. Another hour took me to the halfway point – a sign that said “2 std” – 2 hours to the summit. By this time, I was taking pictures and resting every 100 meters, drinking lots of water, and feeling kind of hot and tired.
The sign to continue pointed through a cow pasture, so through the pasture I went, talking softly and wondering how cows could survive on hills so steep. I progressed into more open country, and finally the peak came into view.
By now I was walking even more slowly, along the cog railway, which passed me infuriatingly every 10 minutes or so. The path was more open, and I got a lot of sun and was running out of water. Then, I looked up and saw four Americans in front of me – Ben, Andy, Andrew, and Alex. I yelled to them – the echoes carried my voice – and I eventually met them on the trail after scrambling for a bit.
We moved on – they had scrambled up to some snow up about a 40-50 degree incline of loose rocks to get some snow pictures, which was why I had been able to catch up. I continued behind them, across a ridge, and saw the switchback up to the top – the final ascent.
Two runners passed us – they were running up. It took me a long time to get up the last climb – it was steep and loose, and I was pretty tired. After about 45 minutes, however, I made it – AP was hanging back with me. They had taken a much faster pace with longer rests, I had been going much more deliberately with pretty constant 2 minute breaks. They made it in 3:30, I in 4 hours.
We lounged around at the top in some red easy chairs by the hotel atop the mountain, feeding the birds and insulting the wankers that took the train up and stayed in the hotel (said wankers being mostly of Japanese origin). At the summit, we all made cell-phone calls to our parents (despite the poor reception and switching services). We took pictures, made journal entries, and enjoyed the view.
Currently, BB + AK are down on about a 3,000 foot ledge, angling for a picture. I refuse to watch and disavow any responsibility for their well-being as of this moment.
This is unbelievable. I climbed a mountain in the Alps today. We’ll celebrate tonight, for sure, if we can still move.
Thursday 6-20-02
21:55
Tourist Hotel – Lucerne – Restaurant Area
We can’t figure out how to get food at what we think is a restaurant here. There’s a guy in the kitchen making food, and he’s an employee, but there’s no apparent way to order. We’ll probably wait for Keller and go out to eat – try to pick up some cheap food.
The descent was much quicker. We dropped 5600 feet in 1:30, compared to the 3:30-4:00 that it took to go to the top. On the way down, we made almost no stops – at the cattle farm, we tried to buy cheese, but nothing was open.
Finally, we arrived at the bottom, rested for a few minutes, then hopped on a train. A man who looked very much like Mr. McFerren was on the train with us. On the way out, he told us that we had to change trains to get to Lucerne, speaking in the same short, clipped voice but with a Swiss accent. We changed trains, and he was there again – a virtual doppelganger only with a slightly larger mustache at the edges of his mouth and slightly darker hair. He came to the front, gave a clipped “Merci” when we opened the door for him, then smiled out of the corner of his mouth at Ben.[9]
We disembarked at Lucerne and walked back to the hotel. We then discovered that Ben’s credit card didn’t work – he later called home to try to rectify the situation. We all showered, then crashed until 21:30, except for Ben, who did some laundry in an inefficient machine and used the internet/wrote in his journal.
After awakening, I am sore. All over. Blisters on my toes and aches in my back, shoulders, torso, arms, calves, and thighs, as well as my knees, ankles, and hips. At least I went up and back down, but now I’m paying for it.
Friday 6-21-02
10:15
Tourist Hotel – Lucerne – Room 204 – Balcony
After sleeping, Purcell, Brooket, and I went over to McDonald’s for a bite to eat. (Yeah, so we ate at McDonalds while in Europe. It was cheap and fast. So sue us.) I got a milkshake and coke, while the other two got superpreis menus (super-value meals) without ketchup, of course. Even McDonalds is different over here – the meals are smaller, the restaurant had paintings of Lucerne on the walls and was nicer, the food is slightly different, etc. We observed that this was the place to find Americans[10], especially young Americans and female Americans.
McDonalds had some kind of promotion going on – McFu and McWong sandwiches in typical pseudo-Asian script – to celebrate the World Cup. McFu and McWong – that would go over well in America.
Afterwards, we returned and paid for the room. The night lady was probably the senior receptionist at the place – the morning woman, who had caused so much confusion but was still nice, had only worked there for five days. AB and AP paid in cash for our night in 401 (the hadn’t paid yet, Ben paid for mine to cover an earlier meal debt) and I paid by Visa for the night (2nd night) in 204 – we decided, once we discovered that 401 was now populated by a group of girls from France, that we should get 204 again for 46 CHF/night. So we had the balcony again, where I am right now, and a great place to sleep.
The receptionist was very amiable – when she learned that we had climbed Pilatus Kulm, she gave us all free Snickers bars. She also made sure to remind us that at 11:00 on Friday (now today) the USA-Germany game would be on. That’s where I’m going now.
Friday 6-21-02
10:15
Tourist Hotel – Lucerne – Room 204 – Balcony
We waited for a while – from 11:00 on – and then finally discovered that the game wasn’t on until 13:30. We killed some time reading, writing, and listening to music over in the restaurant room as well as watching Germany’s march to the World Cup championship in ’90 (a series of highlights).
When we returned to the TV room at 13:20 to watch the game, we discovered that three American tools had taken the best seats. One had a pony tail (a guy), one was wearing a “One Tequila, Two Tequila, Three Tequila, Floor” shirt,[11] and the other just looked like a blooming wanker. They sat around, sipping Bacardi Breezers, and became the butts of our jokes during the game.
USA 0, Germany 1. Should have been 1-1: USA’s header was disallowed despite an obvious handball at the goal’s mouth. Oh well – at least we can watch more World Cup in Germany and experience the fans of the home team, like in Ireland, etc. England also lost, 2-1, to Brazil.
After the game, we headed to the train station. We had to first retrieve our luggage from the restaurant room, in which a large Thai family had apparently set up residence. At the train station, we saw that our next train left in 40 minutes – 16:35, although Ben thought that it was two hours later – 3:55-6:35. Apparently he wasn’t thinking in 24-hour time.
Ben and Andy headed down to get groceries, and AP and AB went to get sandwiches while I guarded our bags. When Brooket and AP returned, I got a sandwich, then a McShake across the street at McDonalds. When I returned, all were back and, after looking at a very scary and hideous woman, we boarded the train.
Across the way, on another train, a group of girls smiled at us and laughed among themselves. Alex, who’s sitting across from me, made a “Meet us in Interlaken” sign, but their train pulled away before he could display his hornitude.
And now we’re speeding out of Lucerne, snaking our way through mountains and tunnels, and glimpsing Pilatus through the trees and clouds. Nothing more can be said about Lucerne – it is wonderful, beautiful, and the most relaxing and enjoyable place on Earth. We spent a good time there, eating well and living well – on the lake, on our balcony, on the top of the hotel Astoria at the bar. And we climbed a mountain.
I need to find some way to go from London to Lucerne without Paris. In any case, I’m sure I’ll be back.
Friday 6-21-02
23:12
Interlaken – Balmer’s Village – Tent 1, Bunk 1
We arrived in Interlaken after a beautifully scenic train ride through the Alps and along rich blue lakes. Waterfalls cascaded hundreds of feet of off the sheer faces of rock opposite the lake, and small houses, towns, and railway stations flew by. In two hours, we were in Interlaken.
The town is small – probably much smaller than Lucerne – and more of a tourist spot. After walking through the town, we discovered that the Backpacker’s Villa was booked. It looked beautiful, however – lace wooden balconies, views of the huge mountains, etc. We headed down the road instead, to a huge 380 person called Balmer’s.
Alex’s “Let’s Go!” [12] guidebook described Balmer’s as reminiscent of the American college fraternity scene, and that is exactly true - everyone here is American, 22 or 23, still in college, and drinking a lot. They’re all bronzed, shaped, and seem mostly like 6th year students at 3rd-tier colleges.
We chose a tent to avoid the fraternity-ish post-drinking throwing-up scene. The tent is really nice – mountains and moons, a bar that closed at 10:00 – too late.
Anyway, we checked in and watched CNN cycle through while Ben and Andy cooked dinner – a very good pasta in wine-tomato sauce. We washed up, then went to the tent area after a small bit of drinking. Now Alex and I are going to head down to the open bar and pick up some Coronas, if possible…
… No luck. Missed the shuttle.
Saturday 6-22-02
9:30
Interlaken – Balmer’s – outside the kitchen
We woke up at about 8 today and took showers in the coin-op showerhouse (1CHF for 5 minutes). My towel smelled like mildew from having wet clothes wrapped in it yesterday, so now I have a tinge of mildew smell on me. I really need to do some laundry – I think AK, AB, and I’ll do that after we get the shuttle (which comes around 10:00).
Breakfast was two pieces of bread – a roll and a slice – with jelly. Drinks were either water or… hot water. Still, it was a free breakfast, I guess, but we’re eager to get to Rome.
We’ll probably hang around here until late tonight and then try to catch a train at about 00:00 - 01:00 to Rome, where we have the cheap hostel with kitchen and free internet access.
13:05
Interlaken – Balmer’s – the relaxing room.
We killed the morning doing laundry - a necessary evil with the very good result that we now have clean and fresh clothing, which is a good feeling. Now we’re just sitting around a huge wooden table, talking and writing, reading and listening to music.
The laundry was about 9 CHF/load, wash and dry. I did two loads, so all my clothing is sparkly clean. We spoke with some other guests – one going to Munich, one to Barcelona – who had been out and about in Europe for several months. Some of the people here are reasonably intelligent, despite earlier perceptions – reading “On the Road,” the typical backpacking book, but also “Crime and Punishment” – and realize that this place is an “acultural” experience – too American, too much like a frathouse in the middle of Switzerland, with lots of adventure expeditions all led by English-speaking guides. Not too many cross-cultural interactions here.
I can’t really imagine looking at a trip to Europe like a tour of American hotspots, fratmospheres, and bars. Every country to them is judged in the price of beer and quality of the dance clubs. I’m sure they see things during the day, but somehow the focus seems wrong. I get the feeling that our historical forebearers wouldn’t have considered this Cancun-in-the-Alps as part of any Great Tour.
Interlaken seems like a decent place to gather ourselves, buy some patches (for some), do some laundry, and head off to Rome – which is exactly what we’re doing. Now we’re just waiting for Aleix to finish his clothes, then we’ll head off and buy food, then kill 10 hours until the first train leaves on 6-22.
Rome – coliseums, pantheons, and old, old history – tomorrow.
Saturday 6-22-02
13:15
Interlaken – Balmer’s – same
place as earlier
A short reading list update, ‘cause I’m bored.
Finished One Day in the life of Ivan Denisovich by Alexander Solzhenitsyn. An excellent book, much better than his Russian Question. His works of prose are much better as fiction than as expository speech converted to essay. Very moving but not pathetic or sappy, a view of prison existence – more concerned with the adaptability of man and triumph of the human sprit than I would have expected, but he still showed the horrific conditions of the gulag.
Working on Franny & Zooey by J.D. Salinger. Started that today – excellent so far; vintage Salinger, getting very religious, very Zen, very concerned with the sensitivity of the Glass family living among an unbalanced society.
Saturday 6-22-02
20:01
Interlaken – Backpacker’s Villa – Room 21
AP and I sat in the area of Balmer’s in which we’d been staked out as a group for the entire morning, listened to people play the piano, talked to surfer dude backpackers, and generally just killed time.
After several hours, BB, AB, and AK returned from finding out what time the trains run to Rome and buying food for dinner. They fed us some fake story about the trains in Italy being on strike and renting three smart-cars for the trip. Instead, they had booked us a room at the Backpacker’s Villa – breakfast included, a beautiful balcony and view, etc. for 37 CHF/night (there actually is a strike).
We’re stuck in Interlaken now for probably another two nights. Not too good of a situation.
We walked from Balmer’s to the Backpacker’s Villa (unfortunately the music store that rented guitars was closed, but we looked into renting scooters for killing time tomorrow). The kitchen was beautiful, and Ben and Andy K soon went to work making a sumptuous stir-fry with fried rice. The food was the envy of all the others in the kitchen, and now we’ve all retired to our rooms, sated and ready to relax.
This is a UNC hostel, so it seems to be much tamer than the frat-house Balmer’s.
AP + AK are really pining for home sometimes. The talk turns more heavily now to missing people, which we all do, I guess. We’re enjoying ourselves still, even despite our delay in getting to Rome.
Saturday 6-22-02
23:07
Backpacker’s Villa – Balcony
In a fit of high irony, the Fates sent a group of girls next door to smoke up. This proved to be ironic because:
1) We are staying in a Methodist hostel
2) Purcell had just left to go walking to an ATM
3) Brooket thought that they were hitting on him
The third one probably isn’t ironic, but it was pretty funny.
AP, AB, and I went down to try to get something to drink. No luck – everything closes down at 22:00 here – BB + AB are out right now on a search.
“Where’s my watch? Maybe I should look at it – for long periods of time – so I can make sure that time is, in fact, still moving (except for my hour hand).” [13]
17:40
Interlaken – Backpacker’s Villa - Room 15 Balcony
Alex and Ben returned last night with some really cheap vodka. They searched high and low, only to find what appeared to be some Polish rubbing alcohol-type substance at Mr. Grill’s – a little burger stand tucked away in a corner.
The bottle made it around twice, with AB screwdriving and AP abstaining (after his London experience and craving the leaf more heavily than the bottle). This consumption – almost a whole bottle for AK, BB, and I, because AB’s screwdriver accounted for very little actual alcohol – should indicate why I made no late-night entry last night.
The feeling was excellent – we spent a while talking with a girl from next door, during which Ben had a Colorado-gasm (she mentioned Colorado, he started bending over and repeating “Colorado…oh…OH! I love it there! OH!” We had to explain that this was just an extension of the normal mountain-gasm, and that he’d be doing this even if he hadn’t partaken of this cheapo vodka).
Afterwards, we all retired, feeling pretty good… except for Ben, who proceeded to try to make himself throw up for a while, went back to bed, and then vomited forcefully as the alcohol did the job himself. Looks like Smirnoff from now on and not Gorbachev or whatever we had tonight, and looks like BB won’t be trying to drink AB’s share for him.
Speaking of AB, he apparently was downstairs for a while talking to some girl who was waiting for the phone. More detail was apparently offered to me, but I don’t remember much else.
We woke up this morning at 8:15 or so, went downstairs, and had a decent breakfast – muesli, rolls, jelly, orange juice, hot chocolate – and found out that there was a room available on the other side of the hostel – room 15 – so we jumped at the opportunity and reserved another night.
We went back to our room and promptly fell asleep until noon. Killing time is lots of fun in sleepy Switzerland. After showers, AP, AK, and I went to the Co-op – not open – and the train station, where we booked reservations to Rome tomorrow at 9:39 AM…the reservations were needed for the high-speed leg from Milan to Rome. We arrive at 17:30 tomorrow night.
We saw Alex, who had just purchased 5 cigars (for consumption on the balcony tonight in lieu of alcohol), and we headed down to the Co-op on the other side of town.
There is no doubt in my mind that this is a more tourist-oriented town than Lucerne. Balmer’s college house, the thousands of American whitewater rafting and canyoning, the trains to the tops of mountains, the huge casino, with hundreds of Japanese tourists, and the Hooters all combine to form this impression. It’s very little like Switzerland – more like America in the middle of Europe. The road down which we walked definitely reflected this – casinos, watch shops, huge hotels, and – of course – Hooter’s.
The other Co-op was tiny – no fresh veggies. We bought pasta and tomato sauce for tonight and grilled cheese materials for lunch.
We returned, cooked lunch, and ate happily at about 3:00. The grilled cheese was excellent and plentiful. Towards the end of our meal, a large college-age kid opened the door, turned the corner, and stated, eloquently:
- “Shit.”
- Here followed a longish pause as we tried not to laugh.
- “Shit – I mean, not you guys, but I just got done rafting and the other guys aren’t back yet. I beat them back. Shit.”
After checking his food and saying “shit” about a dozen times, he left. Humorous.
We went upstairs. I used the internet, then went outside, where I beat BB, AB, and AP in ping-pong and we threw rocks at AP in the hammock – while some woman glared at us. Definitely killing time now.
And now we’re upstairs, on our balcony, reading (AP- Cannery Row, AK- Dorian Gray), writing (me, Ben, and Alex) and such, as usual. Just killing time until dinner, then tonight when we smoke Cubans and watch the moon move across the mountains (or vice versa)
No word from Amelia in a while. Wonder how she’s been doing. I’m going to try to go online tonight, despite the fact that I have no money in CHF left whatsoever. Need to talk, though, to someone back home – to see how things are going (preferably from her). Rome will have free internet, I guess.
Internet, kitchen, maybe guitars.
Coliseum, pantheon, Vatican – all in Rome
Tomorrow at 7:30 PM – finally.
[1] (Note: the following entry came under the slight influence of alcohol; therefore, the author’s sober self takes no responsibility for all of the drunken rambling that is about to overwhelm the reader. Essentially, it’s just a collection of things that people said, translated from journal to keyboard in as accurate a format as possible. Be warned)
[2] Here the author intends a very unfunny and not at all inventive pun on the word Fairy.
[4] The author now thinks that this mediocre prose deserves a spot in the journal simply for accuracy’s sake.
[5] Just call me Nostradamus.
[6] The author appears to be attempting to reference the early sections of Charles Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities.
[7] The best-laid plans of mice and men often die at the hands of Italian transport strikes. Remember that.
[8] Lowenbrau, 5.2 per cent alcohol by volume.
Lowenbrau is German for "Lion's Brew". The beer has its origins back in 1383 when an innkeeper brewed his own beer at the "Zum Lцwen" or Lion's Inn in Munich, Germany. Lowenbrau has long been associated with Oktoberfest and has been sold at every Oktoberfest since it's start in 1810 as a five-day festival to celebrate the wedding of Bavarian Crown Prince Ludwig. Lowenbrau is one of only six Munich breweries allowed to sell beer at Oktoberfest.
Lowenbrau is golden yellow topped by a bright white average size head with a delicate slight sweet floral hop aroma. The flavour is clean and the malt and hops are well balanced. Relatively low hop flavour still allows for a noticeable bitterness. The soft texture is well matched with the sharpness of the carbonation. The finish is clean but lingers with a pleasant aftertaste that has a bit of a hop tang to it. It's easy to picture this beer being drunk by the stein in Munich at Oktoberfest.
From “the Ale File” by Luke Nicholas. http://www.realbeer.co.nz/library/alefile/lowenbrau.html
[9] Creepy stuff.
[10] As if anyone would want to find them.
[11] The fact that anyone would want to wear a shirt that demonstrates the wearer’s inability to hold his liquor still baffles this author.
[12] Of all the things that this individual did on our trip, bringing the “Let’s Go!” book was definitely the most not-obnoxious. This author recommends the book to any European budget traveler.
[13] And it begins in force. This is Alex, speaking about his Swatch, as he did approximately every 0.0029 seconds.
