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The connection isn't so great, but at least it exists and that's a big step up from what I was working with yesterday in Rome. So Rome did redeem itself a bit, mainly thanks to my sister and her Rick Steve's Guide to Rome tour book. Also we stumbled across a restaurant with pretty good service and even better food and the best Moscato D'Asti ever, so that made me happy. We managed to hit all the big attractions in Rome...Coliseum, the hill behind it, Capitol Hill Museum, the Roman Forum, the Vatican, Trevi Fountain, Spanish Steps, dead body...oh wait that's not really an attraction is it? We just managed to come across one as we sat and watched the sunset in the Piazza Venezia on our last night there. Yup, awesome. I admit that it's something that can happen in any big city, but I saw it in Rome and it was just another negative experience to add to the many negative experiences I had this time in Rome. Also, the Vatican ticket people were really mean and sent us back and forth between booths for no apparent reason. After meeting some nicer Italians who I could tell were being nice but still kind of came off as brusque and snappy, I'm well aware of the fact that it's just a cultural difference, but it was one I didn't expect. From the French, I expected it and yet I found them to be very polite and congenial, if not friendly. Happily, I'm finding the Greek to be much more agreeable. They are talkative and smiley and definitely know how to make a foreigner feel welcomed and loved. The older gentlemen who work the front desk are very chatty and helpful and have taught us a lot about etymology. They make me think of the dad in My Big Fat Greek Wedding who was always telling people how cool it is to be Greek. We tried our very first bottle of ouza tonight and though it wasn't bad, neither of us are huge fans of black licorice so I think we'll be sticking to the local wines from now on. Also, fyi Athens is WAY cheaper than Rome/Venice and you get a LOT of bang for your buck! If it weren't for the ruins in Rome and the canals in Venice I would almost suggest to Paul that we skip Italy altogether during our next trip to Europe...even so we'll probably spend the bulk of our time in either Spain or Greece and breeze through Italy only to hit the spots that absolutely must be visited. Tomorrow's agenda: Conquering the Acropolis. Labels: Europe wingless was still breathing at 2:31 PM - 0 comments Tuesday, May 08, 2007 Barcelona > Italy Warning: The following post may contain some profane language. Such is my hatred for the country of Italy. Je suis deteste Italie. I’m having a really hard time figuring out why it is the French who have the label “rude” when clearly Italians are the rudest and most obnoxious of all Europeans. I realize that I am generalizing and blah blah blah but seriously, I’ve come in contact with more rude Italians in two days than I have in four months in Paris. I have never been more insulted by people allegedly in the service industry than I have here in Italy. I’m fairly certain “customer service” is not part of the Italian vocabulary. Maybe I should begin at the beginning. After we missed our flight to Venice (long story to be told at a later date) we ended up with only one evening in the beautiful city of canals. But before we could head out to the island we had to check in at our hotel, which was unfortunately on the mainland. Our very first impression of Italy was the surly old hotel reception man and the very first thing out of his mouth was, “put that down,” as he pointed to the duffel bag my sister had just lugged from the train station and placed on a couch. Then he basically commanded us to give him our passports and sit down. My sister was so sketched out by the place that she ended up sleeping with her passport and money in her travel pouch. The man redeemed himself by being semi-friendly and chatty the next morning as we checked out but it was still in a very, uh, brusque tone. What else has happened in the 36 hours since then? • On the island we ordered sandwiches and tiramisu from a complete fucking bitch of a woman who was working the counter. That is actually the only appropriate description for her. First she yelled at the nice English-speaking couple ahead of us who were simply trying to order a slice of tiramisu to eat while standing (it costs more to sit at the tables because of the cover charge for the orchestra). She kept telling them that they had to take it to go and they were saying that was fine they just wanted to stand and eat it but she kept thinking they wanted to sit down, eventually she called over the man working the café booth and he was the asshole to her bitchiness and didn’t get it either. The English-speaking husband ended up finally getting through to them and then even apologized profusely for the confusion while I fumed silently in the background because if anything it was the jerks at the counter who should have been apologizing, not the freaking customer. She then asked us three separate times if we were getting it to go even though I very clearly told her we wanted it to go. She also served someone behind us while we were in the middle of ordering. Um…okay! • We arrived in Rome Termini the next morning and with all our bags in tow set off in search of an information kiosk where we could purchase a Roma Pass (it allows you to visit two attractions of your choice, discounts on attractions beyond the first two, and a three-day metro card). After asking a whole slew of official looking people where to go and being pointed in eight different directions we were fairly certain that these elusive information kiosks did not really exist…until we realized they were actually the cigarette stands and did not actually say information on them anywhere. Of course, none of those police officer/train station people bothered to give us this crucial piece of information. • Finally bought our Roma Passes and made our way into the metro system. Um, ew? Seriously, ew! Packed trains completely covered on the outside with graffiti and although there were video screens running ads both inside the trains and on the platform not a single one gave any useful information, like where the hell is this train headed? So far only the platforms at the Spagna station seems to have signs which provide this crucial piece of information for travelers unfamiliar with the Roma metro system. • Okay, so we make it out of the metro in one piece and find our “hotel.” I only use the word “hotel” to describe it because that is what I booked. A hotel. This place however, looked like a dungeon from the outside and is at best a hostel. Whatever, though, it was cheap so what did I expect right? • After we settle in we head out and have lunch nearby. The service was much, much better than our service in Venice the previous night but even though the restaurant workers are obviously very nice, they are still quite a bit brusquer than Americans would generally be used to. Coming from France I understand that it’s mainly a cultural difference, but at least in my opinion, the divide between Italians and Americans is much wider than between Americans and French in terms of what does and does not constitute being polite. • Towards the end of our lunch it starts raining. We buy an umbrella from one of the many umbrella vendors who have appeared out of nowhere and he tries to make us buy two by shorting us change and leaving us with an extra umbrella but we manage to get our money back and send him away with the unwanted umbrella. • Since St. Peter in Chains is nearby we stop in and when we get back out the rain has stopped so we decide to take the metro over to the Spanish Steps to check if the American Express is still open so we can exchange our traveler’s checks (they don’t seem to accept them anywhere in Rome). It’s not. Even though it’s starting to rain harder we decide to walk down a busy side street and when we ask one of the umbrella vendors to move to the right side of the sidewalk he tells us to just get off the sidewalk and go around him. I want to tell him he is a bastardoh but my sister was afraid we might get accosted by the gang of umbrella vendors propositioning tourists nearby. • It’s raining too hard to keep going so we duck into the “most lavish McDonald’s in the world” and get some Cokes and use the toilet. For the most lavish McDonald’s in the world it’s got some filthy, disgusting toilets. The downstairs area was nice though. In McDonald’s we see a baby drop some cookies on the floor and his mother (who is obviously Italian since when the rest of the group joins her at the table they speak Italian with each other) sees this but does not bother to pick them up and throw them away. Instead she leaves them on the floor. Her baby walks by again and smashes one into the ground with his tiny foot. I flip through Candace’s phrase book to try to find the word rude, but unfortunately it’s not in there. Asshole and bitch are though. Hm… • Finally the rain stops and we go for the Dolce Vita walk described in Candace’s tour book. We pass by a Zara and decide to go in, quickly discover it’s much more expensive than in Barcelona or Paris and head back out. For some reason the alarm goes off when we walks by and we are manhandled by an incredibly rude security guard who does not even apologize after we walk through the sensors again and they don’t go off. He quickly becomes bored of us and looks away. There are a lot of security guards in France too, but usually they are very polite about asking you to step through the sensors again or looking in your bag. Especially if you don’t look like a hoodlum or a bum or something. I was seriously miffed and tempted to use the new Italian words I learned in McDonald’s. • We keep walking down this street which is supposedly Rome’s version of the Champs Elysee/5th Avenue/Rodeo Drive and while many of the stores are the same (Dior, LV, D&G, Prada, etc.) there is garbage everywhere. Big, overflowing heaps of garbage bags litter the street, one particularly big pile just to the right of the entrance to Dior. So. Not. Impressed. • Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that before heading to the Spanish Steps we popped by our dungeon…er…hotel to change our shoes and going back to the metro I slipped on some moss going down the hill and twisted my knee and my wrist (from trying to catch myself). I also managed to pull Candace mostly down onto the ground with me since our arms were linked to make it easier to huddle under the umbrella together. • This morning as we are on the train headed once again to the American Express at the Spanish Steps (they were already closed by the time we got there the night before) this weird Italian guy in a rainbow skin tight tee squeezes behind my sister and myself even though there is a lot of room just to the left of us. We both have our sweatshirts wrapped around our purses which we are wearing across our shoulders and in front of us, so if he is a pickpocket he surely should have noticed we wouldn’t make easy targets. He gets off at the next step and I hear him mutter something that sounds like swearing under his breath because I don’t move out of his way. I don’t move because just to my left there is a TON of empty space and I figured he would do the normal thing (or at least normal in Paris, New York and Barcelona, the only three cities in which I’ve used metros) and go around me since it was easy to do so. By now I am barely even fazed. Another Italian jerk. Big whoop. Seriously, the nicest and most helpful people we’ve met here in Italy so far have been other Americans on vacation. While I would definitely go back to Barcelona again in a heartbeat (I don’t think I planned enough time for us there even though we did end up with an extra day) I’d only come back to Italy if Paul really wanted to visit. It’s expensive, definitely comparable to Paris. It’s much dirtier than Paris or Barcelona. The public transportation is much scarier in terms of its appearance and the fact that we’ve been warned so many times by other travelers to beware of pickpockets here in Italy. My sister’s OCD is out of control, I see her constantly turning around to make sure I’m clutching my purse as tightly as she is clutching hers. She didn’t bust out the travel pouch until the day we left Barcelona for Venice. Barcelona made me kind of wish I had been able to study there instead of in Paris, and Rome (Italy in general, really) is making so thankful that I was in Paris and not here. I know there are things to love about Rome, the history for one, but I guess it’s just not my cup of tea. I can’t wait to move onto Athens. I will try to enjoy it though since I’m stuck here for another day and a half. Will let you know how it goes. Labels: Europe wingless was still breathing at 10:57 AM - 1 comments Thursday, May 03, 2007 Bonj...er..hola Greetings from Barcelona. After a long day of traveling I've concluded that Europeans couldn't stand in a proper line if their lives depended on it. My feet hurt, my butt hurts from where I landed on it as I attempted to walk down some slippery steps in the wine/tapas bar but it's all good. I promised myself that I would not let myself see every day of this trip as merely one day closer to going home and I intend to stick by that. Labels: Europe, Homesick wingless was still breathing at 4:22 PM - 0 comments Sunday, April 01, 2007 Jet-set I forgot to mention that I booked flights for the trip my sister and I will be taking around Europe in May. Schedule as follows (for anyone who might want to meet up with as at any point along the way, you know who you are!): Spain May 3, 2007 - Fly from Paris to Barcelona Italy May 5, 2007 - Fly from Barcelona to Venice May 7, 2007 - Train from Venice to Roma Greece May 10, 2007 - Fly from Roma to Athens We fly back to Paris on May 14th. Anyone with suggestions on things to see or do, please share in the comments! I have a feeling Barcelona is going to be a sun & fun drinkfest (if I can corrupt my sister enough for her to agree to this), Venice will probably mainly be sightseeing, Rome sightseeing (and gorging ourselves on delicious Italian food) and then Greece...more drunken debauchery and sightseeing? But I have no specifics so any tips you might have would be great. Labels: Europe, Sisterly love wingless was still breathing at 9:52 AM - 2 comments Sunday, March 04, 2007 Amsterdam Day 3 Amsterdam Day 1 Amsterdam Day 2 We woke up (around noon again) and since our rooms were kind of across from each other, decided to take pictures across the air shaft. As we were walking to the Anne Frank museum Joe saw this sign and tried to convince everyone to try some absinth. Since it was only about three in the afternoon, only Selma bit. On our way to the Anne Frank museum again. Realized we had no pictures of the canals so we decided to take some. So which side is rational? In Europe it seems like the word "rational" has lost all meaning. Post-Anne Frank museum. Joe bought a book for his mommy and for some reason we all thought it would be fun to pose next to the AF statue pretending to read it. Labels: Europe wingless was still breathing at 12:19 PM - 0 comments Monday, February 26, 2007 Amsterdam Day 2 So Day 2 in Amsterdam was dubbed Heineken Museum Day by our resident frat-boy Joe. Therefore I have the most pictures from Day 2, because apparently you get picture happy when you are drunk and in a museum. Or maybe just drunk with a camera. Whatever. Woke up bright and early (aka noon) and wandered through the streets by our hotel in search of sustenance. As you can see, weed (found in "coffee shops") was plentiful although a meal we could all agree on was a bit more elusive. We finally settled on a Tibetan restaurant which made Poon and I, "the asians," quite happy. Also, look Brad Pitt was there! After lunch we decided it would be a good idea to walk to the Heineken Museum because Kim was sure it "wasn't so far." Nevermind that it was sprinkling and probably right around zero degrees Celsius. At one point we thought we were there but it was just another building labeled Heineken. We finally arrived eight gazillion hours later only to be told the line was 45 minutes long and the museum was closing in two hours and "you'll never finish in time so you should just leave and come back tomorrow!" But we had just walked nine thousand miles in the rain and wanted our three free beers with 10 euro admission so we were not to be deterred and luckily a lot of other people (suckers!) got out of line and we ended up getting inside after only about twenty minutes of waiting. Joe pondering the finer points of the beer making process. The Poon and I happy that the silly museum-y part was almost over and the beer was just around the corner! Cheers! We saw another group take this same picture and took our own but huddled away from them so they wouldn't think we were a bunch of copycat losers...which okay...maybe we were but at least they didn't see. Group picture while we were all still relatively sober. After the first bar the museum resumes, but this time more fun and exciting because you've already had one pint of beer. In the second bar (which is at the end of the tour) you get not one but TWO free beers. So you'll understand why the pictures that follow are so...uh...interesting. My Amsterdam souvenir which could probably get me a lot of boys. Beer-loving boys anyway. Flashbacks of Halloween except this time Joe looks a little less scared and a little more into it. And also, Kim isn't wearing lipstick. After the museum we decided to walk home, because well, we were drunk and didn't mind that it was cold and damp. Originally this was a group shot but all the group pictures came out blurry so finally Joe just took one of me. Because I'm mellow. And yellow. We stopped at a Mexican restaurant. We found the Buddhist paraphernalia next to the wine glasses to be quite entertaining because Buddhism is all about eliminating desire and Amsterdam (and wine! and beer!) is all about feeding them. All of them. The Virgin Mary in the same restaurant about 10 feet away from those buddhist things. Back to the area right around our hotel, sweet hotel. End of Day 2. Bedtime. And no comment. I was tired okay! Labels: Europe wingless was still breathing at 1:20 PM - 0 comments Sunday, February 25, 2007 Amsterdam Day 1 I finally quit being so lazy and resized all the pictures from Amsterdam. Between Joe, Poontastic and myself we have about a zillion pictures so I'm going day by day. Sucks for you that there are only four from day one. After a few mishaps (i.e. Poon left his passport at his uncle's an hour outside of Paris and realized it 2 hours before our train left) we all made it to the train just before it was time to board. I wore my sweatpants and Joe said he expected nothing less (or rather, more). Joe and Poon fake sleeping. Originally this was supposed to be a picture of Poon with his head on Joe's shoulder but he chickened out at the last minute. Our (cozy) room, complete with its own hair-dryer! And the bed is actually two twins pushed together but only one sheet and comforter. Um...yeah...this was taken towards the end of the night when we finally settled down to dinner. We were giggling too hard to be photographed. No comment on why. Labels: Europe wingless was still breathing at 4:57 PM - 0 comments Thursday, February 08, 2007 See y'all suckers later Gone fishin' (in Amsterdam for the weekend). 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