Last one, everyone! Thanks for reading, or at least for skimming through or clicking "mark as read". This one is partly about Stockholm, and partly about everywhere else, including the internet, specifically where travel photographs are located. Well, where they will be. They're 70% uploaded at present.
Journalliness!
7/28/07 (oh, goody! sixteen years and one month!) Stockholm
We spent the day at Skansen, a lovely open air museum with building types from all over Sweden and some from Norway and Finland, including the Sami sod tepees and Northern houses on stilts. In some of the buildings, actors in historical costume spun wool, and answered touristy questions, and posed for pictures. I, as usual, looked costumey, so some guy took a picture of me, which I found amusing, especially his confused expression as I rejoined my Ryan and Eileen and walked off. (No, I don't believe that was quite grammatical, but I'm laughing inside, and therefore will overlook it.)
Further along in Skansen was a zoo, where we watched young bears wrestle in and out of the water, pet a moose's horn as it lay by the fence (it's fuzzy! Also, it was warm and felt alive, all the way to the tip. Ryan says that if you squeezed, it was nasty and oily. I didn't.), watched a peacock escape and be followed by children (and, okay, us), longed to stroke the elusive mink, and stared at an owl, which stared back when Ryan made crow sounds (owls don't like crows. Crows mob them.). My favorite part was the red squirrel that approached and walked over Eileen's foot, nosed under my hand, and jumped onto Ryan's pants.
Dinner was traditional Swedish meatballs, potatoes, and lingomberry jam (how do you spell that?).
7/29/07 Stockholm
A metro (I have a very high opinion of this metro- we've always been able to find seats, together even, and they are clean and efficient) brought us to the Historiskamuseet (translation: you could probably guess that this was a history museum), where we learned all about Vikings (pretty gold... pretty silver...), Sweden in the Middle Ages (it was religious. blah.), and strangely, an ethical dilemma (for those of you who don't speak Montessori, that's a problem that comes up in reality that doesn't really have a right answer) relating to the Mayas (some kind of murder mystery set up as some sort of an RPG (for those of you who don't speak geek, that's Role Playing Game) through which you could walk and understand different sides of the issue).
Back out in the streets, we saw a parade line up, and went to watch it. It turned out to be the Tall Ships Races opening ceremonies, with several countries represented (though it was hard to tell which). Across the street, we watched an elderly band perform oldies songs. One of the ladies did a strangely accurate Marilyn Monroe impression, at least vocally. Following a sign, we found a Wooden Horse Museum and perused the history of these toys. They had a collection, in the museum's one room, of horses from the 1800s to the present. Originally, they were used as religious votives, then became children's toys, carved from carpenters' leftovers. It wasn't until the NYC World's Fair (late 1800s) that they became representative of Sweden. So there you go. Now you know more than you will ever need to about Dala horses.
Across the square from the little museum, Ryan went into the Nobel Prize Museum. Did you know that Alfred Nobel invented dynamite and then spent the rest of his life trying to make people forget that? Did you know that someone declined the prize by personal choice, because he felt that awards were fetters to freedom? Do you care? It was a bit pricey,and I wasn't interested enough to actually want to go in, so Eileen and I sat on the steps, facing the square, in which a father and daughter were playing music on violin and accordion. I juggled (well, of course. It's not like I didn't carry them around with me every day), which attracted the attention of some elementary-age kids, with whom I then played catch. One little girl, maybe two and a half years old, wandered over, fascinated, and sat almost on my lap, reaching for a ball. When I handed it to her, she took it and walked away across the square. Her mother had to make her give it back. She kept watching and reaching her hand out for a ball for a while. It rained briefly, and I had to stop juggling, because it's really frustrating to juggle when you keep hitting the domed roof of an umbrella. When the sun came back out, some costumed actors entered the square to rehearse what appeared to be Mercutio and Tybalt's duel scene (Romeo and Juliet, if you didn't catch on). They weren't very convincing at first, but they got better. I particularly enjoyed when the man costumed as the friar took one of the rapiers and demonstrated a more dramatic lunge.
Finally, Ryan came out of the museum and we returned to the hostel for the night.
7/30/07 Stockholm - U.S.A
Thanks to modern transportation (and no thanks to several-hour stopovers and delays), one can travel nearly halfway around the world in twenty-five or so hours. Afoot to Zinkensdamm metro station, metro (or T-bana, as one might actually say here) to the bus station (T-centralen), and from there we took a bus to the airport. We had a seven-or-so-hour layover in the Philadelphia airport, but now, at after 3 AM tomorrow in Stockholm but only 6 PM Seattle time (I'm going to be so jet-lagged) we fly home into the sunset, where shall be chauffered by car from Sea-Tac (yes, of course I mean we'll be chauffered into the sunset. Ambiguity in language is never present).
So, yeah. We got home. For a whole three and a half days. No wait, actually two and mostly. Just enough time to unpack, shower, run a laundry, repack, pet the cats, make caviar (of salmon eggs! On the first day back!), and get sick of smoked salmon (we now have our very own smokehouse, and came home to find the fridge's lower half and vegetable drawers (no, there were no vegetables in them- that's Eileen who puts them there) full of freshly smoked Alaskan salmon from Rick's sisters). Oh yeah, and catch up on email. And download and edit pictures. :P
So, after all that relaxation, I here present photos. They can be found at http://picasaweb.google.com/ifoundthemeaningoflife/Europe2007ItalyFranceDenmarkSweden but first read the Handy Dandy Guide to Photographs.
Handy Dandy Guide to Photographs
-The photographs may contain Art, which means we did go to Italy, where they have lots of famous statues of naked people. Also, disclaimer: When they're pictures of mushy sculptures or of buildings, it's usually Eileen who had the camera. I take pictures of people and weird stuff. (All right, Eileen, you can have a little credit for cultural photos. Everyone, she took pictures of the lady making crepes.)
-So, to view a slideshow, click on the little button that says "slideshow". I know you can find it. It's up near the top (sorta). You probably want to view them for one second each, as there is one heck of a lot of them (seriously, one full heck. I checked.).
-There are pictures of people some of you probably don't know and don't care about. You can gloss right over them. They're there for the people who do know them and may or may not care.
-You will notice a little yellow thing in some of the pictures, or in some of them, a larger yellow thing where it's closer to the camera and you can tell that it's a stuffed duck. His name is Peeps. He travels. He was lent to Ryan for this trip by his third grade teacher. Deal with the fact that there is a stuffed duck in the picture. It will be okay. I particularly like his picture with Rodin's Thinker. It's almost as good as the one I put as the (digital) album cover.
-Before viewing the slideshow, check out the map. It shows where we went. I put the first picture (and occasionally a few more) from each new place in its correct position on the map.
-If you're lost, look at the title, if you can figure out how to get it to display those. I may or may not have named it. If you're still lost, look back at my emails. Maybe you just won't get it, though, and that's a risk we'll have to take. Just remember this basic itinerary: Stockholm (briefly), Florence, Venice, Folgaria (orienteering), Paris (briefly- Eiffel and such as we passed through), French coast by Bordeaux (orienteering), Paris (for real), Copenhagen, Mjolby (orienteering), Stockholm. Semi-basic itinerary.
Okay, go forth and view. Fly free, my fledglings. I'm off to Colorado in 45 mins, and no, I won't write.
PS look at the website in my signature. It's ever so exciting.
--
Kelsey BresemanñÑ¿?¡!ªº
http://northwestforestfrenzy.googlepages.com/
Friday, August 3, 2007
O-Ringen is special. Although I don't believe it to provide much insight on Sweden and Swedes in general, given the multinational nature of the people competing, I do think it says something about Scandinavians and about orienteers. See the Remarkable and Interesting Facts and Observations.
In the meantime...
7/21/07 Copenhagen-Mjolby
Around one in the morning, Ryan and I arose as quietly as possible (which was not very, given the creaky beds made of broken particle board with a thin foam slice atop) and walked downtown past the many very loud nightclubs to the bookstore, where we purchased the new Harry Potter book (not because we were planning to read it at that hour, but because in the morning, when the store reopened, we would be on a train to small-town Sweden, where we were dubious of our English-language books options (this turned out to be unnecessary; we found the book in Mjolby's one bookstore on the first day as we walked by)). Upon our return to the hostel, we discovered Eileen, waiting at the foot of the stairs for us. She hadn't gotten any more sleep than we had. As she led us downstairs to our newly assigned room, to which she had moved all of our belongings, she told us about the people who came into our dorm room, turned the lights on, and tried to convince one of our roommates to come out clubbing. The roommate in question promptly threw up as Eileen left the room to see if we couldn't be assigned to someplace more likely to be somnolent. Our new room was a windowless non-bed room, with extra mattresses on the floor and some rather creepy murals on the walls. It was much more comfortable than our previous rooms, and we fell asleep immediately.
Our train left at ten in the morning, and we crossed the bridge from Denmark to Sweden and then passed through a few cities, marveling at the flatness of the terrain.
Upon arrival in Mjolby's train station, we walked (without the benefit of a map- they had mailed us a packet of very useful information (to our house) around the time we were in Italy) into town, eventually locating the O-Ringen Event Center, which was really big and covered in official white tents and surrounded by camping tents and RVs. We checked in, a process involving far too much standing around with packs on, received our packets, and were informed of our accommodations, which we had apparently walked past on our way in. These, when we arrived, were army cots in an empty elementary school classroom, to be shared with seven or so other orienteers, two of whom were giggly twenty-something-year-old girls, two more their same-aged male friends, and the other three, old men from either Sweden, Norway, or Finland.
7/22/07
After a cold night on the uncomfortable cots, we went and bought training maps to the only training event close enough to walk to (as this was the only mode of travel available to us). The bushes were thick, but well-perforated with elephant tracks (for those of you who are unfamiliar with such a term, you can probably imagine its origin: it means a brand-new trail caused by a lot of people crossing the terrain in the same path). For the night, we moved into the room next door, which had no other people, only soft (though short) couches on which we slept. The only issue was the lack of door, which let in all the giggles from the group of young Finnish girls in the third room. Ryan says the shortness of the couches was also an issue, but I guess that's the problem with height.
7/23/07
The first day of competition- it rained. You know that sort of rain that looks wimpy, but if you actually go out in it, it soaks you rather thoroughly? It was that sort of rain. As we have no mode of transportation here other than our feet, we walked (without umbrellas or rain gear or anything sensible like that) the lovely long (3-4km) walk (which will be the same tomorrow and the next day) to the finish area, then followed the signs relating to our categories' start (these are named for sponsors, so we got to follow the smiling orange gumby and matching spiral to the Östcraft start) for 2.4 km, the second shortest of our walks to the start. By the time I arrived, every fiber of clothing and hair were saturated by the rain, and every pore of skin infiltrated as well. The wind picked up about the time I arrived at the start, so I had a good half hour of warm-up in order to prevent hypothermia. On the (wet, swamp-filled) course, I fell only twice (all the way under) in the water that was already over my waist. The mud was also just delightfully sticky. After running, finishing, and walking the long walk back to our lodgings, I couldn't stop my teeth chattering until after a very hot communal shower and bowl of soup.
7/24/07
A much drier race, but all the swamps are nice and full, and there's still plenty of mud to go around, so no worries there. Also, the finish chute was the same as yesterday, and therefore almost as muddy as the walk to the start. I anticipate what the very same churned up ground will look like tomorrow with ever-increasing alacrity. I do love mud, especially the kind you can't even get off with your fingernails, and especially here, where we have no way to wash our clothes (same race clothes every day, and the shoes are the best part, putting them on wet and slimy in the morning!).
7/25/07
One might call it hot today, but one would nevertheless be soaked and muddy from running.
7/26/07
We had a different meet site today, closer by about a kilometer to our lodgings. An earlier start meant I got on the list of results (they only post the first 56 in my category of 205) for a while, but it didn't mean that the walk to the start or the finish chute were fresh and clean, so of course I was grateful for the sticky, heavy, oozing mud.
7/27/07
Last race, a chase start. I was awful. After running, we cleaned up, packed, and took a train to Stockholm. We're now staying in a very nice youth hostel.
Remarkable and Interesting Experiences, Facts, and Observations from O-Ringen
-Rain+several thousand people+grassy field or finish chute or walk to start=absolute mudpit!
-O-Ringen is big- more than 11,000 people here (though the biggest ever meet was O-Ringen a few years ago, with more than 25,000. Just look it up in the Guiness book.)
-Because this many people tears up the woods more than a little, spikes on O shoes are not permitted. Also, this map won't be used again for about ten years, by which time it might have healed.
-They don't want blood on the bushes, either. Minimum dress code is a short sleeved shirt and full leg coverage. No ripped clothing allowed, either.
-On the (2.4-3.5 km- just about as long as some of the courses) walk to the start, there are several stations, always in this order: the Duct Tape Station, where they tape anything that defies the dress code into submission. Ryan says he saw an old lady get chased down and taped for showing two inches of leg. I saw a guy, as soon as he was out of sight of them, rip the duct tape right back off again. Next is the Sport Ident Clear Station. Those of you who orienteer will find it interesting that they don't have you check the SI's until you start, just clear. The rest of you don't know what I'm talking about, and probably don't care. Next are the improvised toilets, which is to say the area of the woods with a big piece of paper in front and between the women's and men's side. Inside are buckets with seats on them. Not for the squeamish, not for the modest- I really pity the lady who hauls the full buckets. Definitely an Experience, and apologies to those of you who are Delicate of Composition. Finally, the Water Station, where meet officials with watering cans are constantly filling little plastic yogurt cups with water. The used ones go on top of stakes put out just for that purpose so the officials can pick them up all stacked, nice and neat, without having to dredge garbage from the mud. Then, the usual graduated start where you pick up control descriptions, maps, and go off, as is generally done.
-The finish is sorted just like the start, separate chutes by sponsor; find the slightly creepy smiling orange gumby thing and run towards it. It's really long, and also muddy, though not as much as might be expected. A large video screen presides over the finish, with a stage for the announcer beneath and various cameramen on stands by the finish chute. The announcer gets very excited about things and starts yelling. Sometimes it's even in English, so we can figure out what he's yelling about. Other times, not so much. Winners are presented with wreaths as they run in (unless they're, like, actually racing someone at the time, at which point that would be a little awkward).
-The event center (which is not the same as a meet site) is a large barn surrounded by tents. There are vendors from different countries, people selling food; a grocery store in near entirety (I hear it's sub-par in the bread department) relocated and set up for the use of orienteers under a really big tent canopy; a sporting goods store, much like the grocery; live music; a five-day Catching Features (if you don't know what it is, look it up on Google and download and play the free demo. Yay virtual orienteering! It's like reality, only the thorns don't hurt and you don't end up covered in mud!) on-site tournament, with an elite class and a standard division playing different courses; one of those bungee jump things like at the fair.... the list goes on.
-Surrounding the barn and official-type tents, there's a ton of camping tents (actually, in a more literal sense, probably a couple of tons), organized by club, each with their club banner, symbol, or suit flying above. One we passed had its own plasticized board outside displaying members' start times and daily results.
-Mud is sticky, wet, and everywhere.
-Showers are rather- by which I mean very- communal. All modesty save gender separation is obliterated in the face of the twenty or so people per gender who need to get clean in the one small room provided (there are three spigots in this one room) at any one time. Those of you Delicate in Constitution probably ought to be over yourselves at this point, as this would also have to be called an Experience.
See? O-Ringen is special.
I'm going to try to write the final email and send out pictures in the two and partly hours before I leave for Colorado. More orienteering. Yeah, life is tough, isn't it? Wish me luck. If I don't get to it, I'll do it when I get back in two weeks.
--
Kelsey BresemanñÑ¿?¡!ªº
www.northwestforestfrenzy.googlepages.com
PS You all know that I'm kidding about how much I love mud, right? It's delightful in that I'll-never-be-really-clean-again way...
In the meantime...
7/21/07 Copenhagen-Mjolby
Around one in the morning, Ryan and I arose as quietly as possible (which was not very, given the creaky beds made of broken particle board with a thin foam slice atop) and walked downtown past the many very loud nightclubs to the bookstore, where we purchased the new Harry Potter book (not because we were planning to read it at that hour, but because in the morning, when the store reopened, we would be on a train to small-town Sweden, where we were dubious of our English-language books options (this turned out to be unnecessary; we found the book in Mjolby's one bookstore on the first day as we walked by)). Upon our return to the hostel, we discovered Eileen, waiting at the foot of the stairs for us. She hadn't gotten any more sleep than we had. As she led us downstairs to our newly assigned room, to which she had moved all of our belongings, she told us about the people who came into our dorm room, turned the lights on, and tried to convince one of our roommates to come out clubbing. The roommate in question promptly threw up as Eileen left the room to see if we couldn't be assigned to someplace more likely to be somnolent. Our new room was a windowless non-bed room, with extra mattresses on the floor and some rather creepy murals on the walls. It was much more comfortable than our previous rooms, and we fell asleep immediately.
Our train left at ten in the morning, and we crossed the bridge from Denmark to Sweden and then passed through a few cities, marveling at the flatness of the terrain.
Upon arrival in Mjolby's train station, we walked (without the benefit of a map- they had mailed us a packet of very useful information (to our house) around the time we were in Italy) into town, eventually locating the O-Ringen Event Center, which was really big and covered in official white tents and surrounded by camping tents and RVs. We checked in, a process involving far too much standing around with packs on, received our packets, and were informed of our accommodations, which we had apparently walked past on our way in. These, when we arrived, were army cots in an empty elementary school classroom, to be shared with seven or so other orienteers, two of whom were giggly twenty-something-year-old girls, two more their same-aged male friends, and the other three, old men from either Sweden, Norway, or Finland.
7/22/07
After a cold night on the uncomfortable cots, we went and bought training maps to the only training event close enough to walk to (as this was the only mode of travel available to us). The bushes were thick, but well-perforated with elephant tracks (for those of you who are unfamiliar with such a term, you can probably imagine its origin: it means a brand-new trail caused by a lot of people crossing the terrain in the same path). For the night, we moved into the room next door, which had no other people, only soft (though short) couches on which we slept. The only issue was the lack of door, which let in all the giggles from the group of young Finnish girls in the third room. Ryan says the shortness of the couches was also an issue, but I guess that's the problem with height.
7/23/07
The first day of competition- it rained. You know that sort of rain that looks wimpy, but if you actually go out in it, it soaks you rather thoroughly? It was that sort of rain. As we have no mode of transportation here other than our feet, we walked (without umbrellas or rain gear or anything sensible like that) the lovely long (3-4km) walk (which will be the same tomorrow and the next day) to the finish area, then followed the signs relating to our categories' start (these are named for sponsors, so we got to follow the smiling orange gumby and matching spiral to the Östcraft start) for 2.4 km, the second shortest of our walks to the start. By the time I arrived, every fiber of clothing and hair were saturated by the rain, and every pore of skin infiltrated as well. The wind picked up about the time I arrived at the start, so I had a good half hour of warm-up in order to prevent hypothermia. On the (wet, swamp-filled) course, I fell only twice (all the way under) in the water that was already over my waist. The mud was also just delightfully sticky. After running, finishing, and walking the long walk back to our lodgings, I couldn't stop my teeth chattering until after a very hot communal shower and bowl of soup.
7/24/07
A much drier race, but all the swamps are nice and full, and there's still plenty of mud to go around, so no worries there. Also, the finish chute was the same as yesterday, and therefore almost as muddy as the walk to the start. I anticipate what the very same churned up ground will look like tomorrow with ever-increasing alacrity. I do love mud, especially the kind you can't even get off with your fingernails, and especially here, where we have no way to wash our clothes (same race clothes every day, and the shoes are the best part, putting them on wet and slimy in the morning!).
7/25/07
One might call it hot today, but one would nevertheless be soaked and muddy from running.
7/26/07
We had a different meet site today, closer by about a kilometer to our lodgings. An earlier start meant I got on the list of results (they only post the first 56 in my category of 205) for a while, but it didn't mean that the walk to the start or the finish chute were fresh and clean, so of course I was grateful for the sticky, heavy, oozing mud.
7/27/07
Last race, a chase start. I was awful. After running, we cleaned up, packed, and took a train to Stockholm. We're now staying in a very nice youth hostel.
Remarkable and Interesting Experiences, Facts, and Observations from O-Ringen
-Rain+several thousand people+grassy field or finish chute or walk to start=absolute mudpit!
-O-Ringen is big- more than 11,000 people here (though the biggest ever meet was O-Ringen a few years ago, with more than 25,000. Just look it up in the Guiness book.)
-Because this many people tears up the woods more than a little, spikes on O shoes are not permitted. Also, this map won't be used again for about ten years, by which time it might have healed.
-They don't want blood on the bushes, either. Minimum dress code is a short sleeved shirt and full leg coverage. No ripped clothing allowed, either.
-On the (2.4-3.5 km- just about as long as some of the courses) walk to the start, there are several stations, always in this order: the Duct Tape Station, where they tape anything that defies the dress code into submission. Ryan says he saw an old lady get chased down and taped for showing two inches of leg. I saw a guy, as soon as he was out of sight of them, rip the duct tape right back off again. Next is the Sport Ident Clear Station. Those of you who orienteer will find it interesting that they don't have you check the SI's until you start, just clear. The rest of you don't know what I'm talking about, and probably don't care. Next are the improvised toilets, which is to say the area of the woods with a big piece of paper in front and between the women's and men's side. Inside are buckets with seats on them. Not for the squeamish, not for the modest- I really pity the lady who hauls the full buckets. Definitely an Experience, and apologies to those of you who are Delicate of Composition. Finally, the Water Station, where meet officials with watering cans are constantly filling little plastic yogurt cups with water. The used ones go on top of stakes put out just for that purpose so the officials can pick them up all stacked, nice and neat, without having to dredge garbage from the mud. Then, the usual graduated start where you pick up control descriptions, maps, and go off, as is generally done.
-The finish is sorted just like the start, separate chutes by sponsor; find the slightly creepy smiling orange gumby thing and run towards it. It's really long, and also muddy, though not as much as might be expected. A large video screen presides over the finish, with a stage for the announcer beneath and various cameramen on stands by the finish chute. The announcer gets very excited about things and starts yelling. Sometimes it's even in English, so we can figure out what he's yelling about. Other times, not so much. Winners are presented with wreaths as they run in (unless they're, like, actually racing someone at the time, at which point that would be a little awkward).
-The event center (which is not the same as a meet site) is a large barn surrounded by tents. There are vendors from different countries, people selling food; a grocery store in near entirety (I hear it's sub-par in the bread department) relocated and set up for the use of orienteers under a really big tent canopy; a sporting goods store, much like the grocery; live music; a five-day Catching Features (if you don't know what it is, look it up on Google and download and play the free demo. Yay virtual orienteering! It's like reality, only the thorns don't hurt and you don't end up covered in mud!) on-site tournament, with an elite class and a standard division playing different courses; one of those bungee jump things like at the fair.... the list goes on.
-Surrounding the barn and official-type tents, there's a ton of camping tents (actually, in a more literal sense, probably a couple of tons), organized by club, each with their club banner, symbol, or suit flying above. One we passed had its own plasticized board outside displaying members' start times and daily results.
-Mud is sticky, wet, and everywhere.
-Showers are rather- by which I mean very- communal. All modesty save gender separation is obliterated in the face of the twenty or so people per gender who need to get clean in the one small room provided (there are three spigots in this one room) at any one time. Those of you Delicate in Constitution probably ought to be over yourselves at this point, as this would also have to be called an Experience.
See? O-Ringen is special.
I'm going to try to write the final email and send out pictures in the two and partly hours before I leave for Colorado. More orienteering. Yeah, life is tough, isn't it? Wish me luck. If I don't get to it, I'll do it when I get back in two weeks.
--
Kelsey BresemanñÑ¿?¡!ªº
www.northwestforestfrenzy.googlepages.com
PS You all know that I'm kidding about how much I love mud, right? It's delightful in that I'll-never-be-really-clean-again way...
Thursday, August 2, 2007
Now I'm in Sweden (Mjölby) writing about Copenhagen. No, that's not confusing. I've by now developed lovely gigantic blisters on the backs of both of my heels (which popped as they rubbed against my wet socks and shoes while I ran through the swamps) and have a slight limp on rather general principles.
Anyhow, Copenhagen: our stay was short, and so likewise will be this email, though not lacking in oddities to include at the end.
7/18/07
In the morning, we took a cheap Sterling Air flight to Copenhagen. The plane was about an hour late, though displayed as on time, which caused some panic by certain adults traveling in our party of three. The plane was only half an hour late when it landed, which was a source of great displeasure in the area of my Eustacian tubes (you know, those ones in your ears that hurt a lot on planes).
We took a bus downtown from the airport to the train station, and walked the few blocks from there to our homely hostel to drop our packs. Lunch was at a Turkish buffet we'd passed on the way in. It was deicious, and allowed us to observe the very Interesting people on the street (for examples, see the section at the end of this email)
In the evening, we met a man to whom I am apparently related (second cousin once removed, I believe) and his Asian-Danish wife. We all went to Tivoli (a rather cozy, well-gardened version of an amusement park, only with nice restaurants, and a pleasant atmosphere), where we takled, walked, and were treated to dinner at a Japanese fast-food place (which I am told was a British idea, but was nevertheless delicious, even though they put wasabi in their chocolate cake) called Wagamama (I hear this means "selfish").
7/19/07
Today was a nice (long) walking tour of the city, in which we explored the pedestrian streets (the longest in the world, the guidebook said), saw the Opera from across the water, got close the the Little Mermaid statue in the harbor, despite the crowd of tourists (she is, by the way, actually little, smaller than postcards or iconic significance suggests), and crossed a fortification on a man-made (abstractly) star-shaped island.
Most illustrative of native Copenhagener reality was the park we passed through, with sculpture and a playground for the many children to climb and yell and play on and very large lawns for everyone else and the kids not playing to picnic on.
7/20/07
After a late start, we set out to see the areas of Chistianshaven. After crossing a little canal and walking along it, we found a delightful, large, very busy bakery. Ryan and Eileen ordered fruit tarts and I, curious to see what was inside what appeared to be a mound of coconut-covered chocolate, ordered that. Unfortunately, it was filled with marshmallow cream, but with enough unsweetened strong tea, even that was tasty. As we sat and ate our treats, a small parade passed by, largely unnoticed but fully costumed and replete with jugglers. Shortly after, a small boat of three relaxing pirates floated down the canal, also largely unremarked upon (this was, after all, Christianshaven, the most unique part of unique Copenhagen)
In from the canal was a very pretty, very tall tower on a church, which we climbed. About halfway up, there was an outside viewing platform, then there were stairs that spiraled all the way up around the outside. I climbed all the way to the top and was rewarded by the cheap thrill of being a very long way up (if I spit, which of course I would never do, it might hypothetically take 27 seconds to reach the ground) and by a beautiful view of Copenhagen.
Back on the ground, we located and entered Christiania, a hippie commune declared a Free City and legally outside of the European Union. No photographs were allowed, but much there was photo-worthy in how different it was.
In the afternoon, we walked back to the hostel and boiled our remaining food (an onion and a head of broccoli- delicious, ne?) for dinner.
Remarkable and Interesting Facts and Observations
-Bicycles are never seen with bike shorts and rarely with helmets. It is much more common to see a fashion-conscious lady bicyclist biking in a skirt and heels, or people carrying packs or musical instruments on their backs, or many with child seats, or other interesting things which one is unlikely to find in the States.
-On most roads, there is a separate level of sidewalk for bicycles, about the width of a car lane.
-I definitely saw a balding man walk by in a frilly yellow dress and bright purple tights on the street.
-We noticed a pea vendor by the side of the road, with their little cart like a hot dog stand.
-Boys' fashionable hairstyle: gelled and styled into an extreme case of bedhead.
-In the youth hostel courtyard, a group of guys sits down at a table to drink and talk from around 5 pm until after bedtime. The bottles accumulate on the table.
Oh, what adventures!
By the way, I'm home now, typing from my laptop. I just have a bit of this to catch up, like a week and a half's worth.
Anyhow, Copenhagen: our stay was short, and so likewise will be this email, though not lacking in oddities to include at the end.
7/18/07
In the morning, we took a cheap Sterling Air flight to Copenhagen. The plane was about an hour late, though displayed as on time, which caused some panic by certain adults traveling in our party of three. The plane was only half an hour late when it landed, which was a source of great displeasure in the area of my Eustacian tubes (you know, those ones in your ears that hurt a lot on planes).
We took a bus downtown from the airport to the train station, and walked the few blocks from there to our homely hostel to drop our packs. Lunch was at a Turkish buffet we'd passed on the way in. It was deicious, and allowed us to observe the very Interesting people on the street (for examples, see the section at the end of this email)
In the evening, we met a man to whom I am apparently related (second cousin once removed, I believe) and his Asian-Danish wife. We all went to Tivoli (a rather cozy, well-gardened version of an amusement park, only with nice restaurants, and a pleasant atmosphere), where we takled, walked, and were treated to dinner at a Japanese fast-food place (which I am told was a British idea, but was nevertheless delicious, even though they put wasabi in their chocolate cake) called Wagamama (I hear this means "selfish").
7/19/07
Today was a nice (long) walking tour of the city, in which we explored the pedestrian streets (the longest in the world, the guidebook said), saw the Opera from across the water, got close the the Little Mermaid statue in the harbor, despite the crowd of tourists (she is, by the way, actually little, smaller than postcards or iconic significance suggests), and crossed a fortification on a man-made (abstractly) star-shaped island.
Most illustrative of native Copenhagener reality was the park we passed through, with sculpture and a playground for the many children to climb and yell and play on and very large lawns for everyone else and the kids not playing to picnic on.
7/20/07
After a late start, we set out to see the areas of Chistianshaven. After crossing a little canal and walking along it, we found a delightful, large, very busy bakery. Ryan and Eileen ordered fruit tarts and I, curious to see what was inside what appeared to be a mound of coconut-covered chocolate, ordered that. Unfortunately, it was filled with marshmallow cream, but with enough unsweetened strong tea, even that was tasty. As we sat and ate our treats, a small parade passed by, largely unnoticed but fully costumed and replete with jugglers. Shortly after, a small boat of three relaxing pirates floated down the canal, also largely unremarked upon (this was, after all, Christianshaven, the most unique part of unique Copenhagen)
In from the canal was a very pretty, very tall tower on a church, which we climbed. About halfway up, there was an outside viewing platform, then there were stairs that spiraled all the way up around the outside. I climbed all the way to the top and was rewarded by the cheap thrill of being a very long way up (if I spit, which of course I would never do, it might hypothetically take 27 seconds to reach the ground) and by a beautiful view of Copenhagen.
Back on the ground, we located and entered Christiania, a hippie commune declared a Free City and legally outside of the European Union. No photographs were allowed, but much there was photo-worthy in how different it was.
In the afternoon, we walked back to the hostel and boiled our remaining food (an onion and a head of broccoli- delicious, ne?) for dinner.
Remarkable and Interesting Facts and Observations
-Bicycles are never seen with bike shorts and rarely with helmets. It is much more common to see a fashion-conscious lady bicyclist biking in a skirt and heels, or people carrying packs or musical instruments on their backs, or many with child seats, or other interesting things which one is unlikely to find in the States.
-On most roads, there is a separate level of sidewalk for bicycles, about the width of a car lane.
-I definitely saw a balding man walk by in a frilly yellow dress and bright purple tights on the street.
-We noticed a pea vendor by the side of the road, with their little cart like a hot dog stand.
-Boys' fashionable hairstyle: gelled and styled into an extreme case of bedhead.
-In the youth hostel courtyard, a group of guys sits down at a table to drink and talk from around 5 pm until after bedtime. The bottles accumulate on the table.
Oh, what adventures!
By the way, I'm home now, typing from my laptop. I just have a bit of this to catch up, like a week and a half's worth.
Monday, July 23, 2007
Miss me yet?
Paris was such an adventure that I´m giving it its own email. Bastille
day and everthing!
The Danish keyboard is mostly the same as home, but not quite... I
expect typos. May they be delightful.
7/14/07 Paris (Bastille Day)
After a race and a quick dip in the lake to clean off yesterday, we
took the three hour train from Bordeaux to Paris. Ryan and I
entertained the family (lots of little kids) in front of us by
creating origami from a free train sation magazine.
Upon arrive in Paris, we took the metro to the hostel, where the three
of us have our own room.
In the morning, we partook of the large hotel breakfast, then set out
for the Louvre, which was free today (though free all the time for sum
of us, who are as yet under eighteen). We saw just about everything,
from Etruscan art to the Mona Lisa.
Outside, it was very hot. We walked down the Tuliaries gardens, in
which there were all sorts of costumed French protestors. They were
against, I believe, French military involvement in Palestine (sound
familiar at all?) by playing and singing music and wearing very
interesting, colorful, symbolic outfits.
We walked on, up Champs Elysees, and learned that earlier in the day,
there had been a military parade. The armed forces were, at that
point, conducting demostrations in font of Les Invalides, such as
archery and parachuting from helicopters to land on a target.
Next was the Rodin Museum, featuring many sculputres by him, including
the Thinker and the Gates of Hell, which he spent 30 years on and
never finished. What was interesting about Rodin is that he would make
many sculptures of the same thing, but larger, smaller, slightly
different until he believed it to e perfect (or got bored, I guess).
In the evening, we ate a delightful dinner in a guidebook-reccommended
restaurant. While there, a man paralell parked a car in a spot so
tight that when he managed (with nearly an inch on either end)
everyone in the restaurant clapped.
We climbed Notre Dame at sunset, and saw the lighting of the Eiffel
Tower and, of course, the gargoyles, which overlooked a terrific view.
Below, we watched fire juggling, firecracker poi, and a magic show on
the street.
7/15/07 Paris
After a late start, we toured the Musee dÓrsay (cant find the
apostrophe-Swedish keyboard- but look, I kan type ö and ä! They have
their own keys.), which featured impressionist artists such as Motet,
Manet, Degas, Renoir, Van Gogh, Picasso, etc. There was a very long
line to get in. The museum, as many here are, was much too large,
although it was interesting to see the texture on the originals.
After the museum, the metro brought us to an interesting
neighboorhood, in which we searched out a tiny, barely advertised
Museé de Magique, located in the basement of the former residence of
the Marquis de Sade. It was set up so that things would jump out at
you when you set of their sensors, but it would have ben creepy enough
with bare walls- the fire escape was the most frightening, of cracked
stone, spiraling upwards into darkness. On display were magical
artifacts, such as the door from Houdiniś house, by which he could
tell who was at his door before they knocked, and the box which he
used to saw people in half. There were also mirror tricks, and later,
a magic show, for which I was volunteered and made to look a fool, as
intended. He was very good with sleight of hand.
Another metro ride took us to see the Pompidou, which is built inside
out, with pipes and stairs on the outside instead of within. We didnt
enter the museum, but remained content to watch street performers
outside of the building.
7/16/10 Paris
We walked throught the cemetery today. It was full of gravestones and
monuments, old and crumbling beside new ones. With the aid of a mostly
accurate map, we found the tombs of Henri de Balzac and that of Oscar
Wilde, the latter inexilicably covered with lipstick kisses.
Next we found a park, Les VIlletes, and traveresed its
futuristically-themed length, which included a large, geodesic
mirrored sphere, called the Geode. It was a lovely park, so we ate our
packed lunches there and read books (we found books in English! Hooray
for Terry Pratchett).
After a few false trails, we found a cinema that was playing the new
Harry Potter movie in English. After watching, we sat down at a Pizza
Hut, which, interestingly enough, was a sit-down, knife-and-fork
establishment. Yes, even pizza is eaten with a knife and fork. It¤s a
European thing.
7/17/07 Paris
In the morning, we (at Ryans and my insistence and to Eileens
reluctance) visited the Catacombs. In times past this underground
labyrinth had been a mine for Paris' (hey- found the apostrophe!)
building materials. Many years later, when the mine was closed down
and Paris' cemeteries had grown overfull with the long-dead, it was
decided that the remains of those takingup undue space should be
exhumed and relocated the the mine shafts. In a several-year process,
black-covered carts crossed the city by night, surrounded by priests,
who spoke again the rites of the dead, to the catacombs, where the
bones were stacked and the skulls placed in careful patterns in the
new bone walls. The mine shafts are now tight corridors, through
which, for 1.7 kilometers (the section not closed off) tourists such
as we could gaze, as the dimly lit skulls returned sepulchral stares.
Some of the bones, ona historical note, belonged to Maximilien
Robespierre, orchestrator of the French Revolution and head of the
Reign of Terror. When he fell from favor, he was buried with hi
supporters. Which were their bones is unknown.
Upon returning to the light, we took a train to Chateau Versailles,
home of Prerevolutionary monarchy since Louis XIV. We breezed throught
the sumptuous rooms (as much as one can breeze through jam-packed
rooms filled wth tour groups), quickly growing numb to the lavish and
gold-covered everything. Outside in the heat, an expanse of carefully
trimmed hedges bordered gardens filled with blooming flowers, in
cloying pinks and purples, puncuated by concrete ponds. I might have
enjoyed it more if there were people in costume, for a somewhat
historic effect, instead of only colorful t-shirt tourists, but to be
fair, it was quite nice to lay in the grass in the shade behind the
'keep off the grass' sign.
My favorite part of Versailles was Marie Antoinette's garden, a bit of
a walk from the main ones. Instead of man-made order, there were
rambling paths and even hills and wild plants, with trees and an
(admittedly manmade) waterfall. The signs reassured visitors that they
shouldn't worry, it would soon be restored. I also liked the Hamlet,
where the queen went occasionally to pretend she was a peasant, with
beautifully mown grass, a willow over a clear pond of birds and fish,
and wooden, thatched-roof houses, one with an outdoor spiral stair.
Remarkable and Interesting Facts and Observations
-Everyone in Paris, or at the very least all the women, seems to be
dressed up. Maybe this is a city life phenomenon?
-Men in all-green janitorial uniforms, with green carts full o bright
green cleaning equipment roam the streets picking up garbage.
-Metro stations are diversely and interestingly decorated, one with
alcoes and statues, another with La Concorde written out in tiles
across the curved ceiling.
-There are few Parisians here this time of year. They're on the coast,
escaping the heat and tourists and going swimming instead.
-Paris is HOT. When it rained one evening, I ran out and danced in it.
The next day, it was marginally cooler, but everything had dried
already.
-Young men dance on the street with hats and canes in groups of four
or so. I think it's for fun, not for money.
-There are many excellent street performers, especially be Notre Dame
and Pompidou.
Bonjour, aur revoir, off to Copenhagen, where most people speak English!
Paris was such an adventure that I´m giving it its own email. Bastille
day and everthing!
The Danish keyboard is mostly the same as home, but not quite... I
expect typos. May they be delightful.
7/14/07 Paris (Bastille Day)
After a race and a quick dip in the lake to clean off yesterday, we
took the three hour train from Bordeaux to Paris. Ryan and I
entertained the family (lots of little kids) in front of us by
creating origami from a free train sation magazine.
Upon arrive in Paris, we took the metro to the hostel, where the three
of us have our own room.
In the morning, we partook of the large hotel breakfast, then set out
for the Louvre, which was free today (though free all the time for sum
of us, who are as yet under eighteen). We saw just about everything,
from Etruscan art to the Mona Lisa.
Outside, it was very hot. We walked down the Tuliaries gardens, in
which there were all sorts of costumed French protestors. They were
against, I believe, French military involvement in Palestine (sound
familiar at all?) by playing and singing music and wearing very
interesting, colorful, symbolic outfits.
We walked on, up Champs Elysees, and learned that earlier in the day,
there had been a military parade. The armed forces were, at that
point, conducting demostrations in font of Les Invalides, such as
archery and parachuting from helicopters to land on a target.
Next was the Rodin Museum, featuring many sculputres by him, including
the Thinker and the Gates of Hell, which he spent 30 years on and
never finished. What was interesting about Rodin is that he would make
many sculptures of the same thing, but larger, smaller, slightly
different until he believed it to e perfect (or got bored, I guess).
In the evening, we ate a delightful dinner in a guidebook-reccommended
restaurant. While there, a man paralell parked a car in a spot so
tight that when he managed (with nearly an inch on either end)
everyone in the restaurant clapped.
We climbed Notre Dame at sunset, and saw the lighting of the Eiffel
Tower and, of course, the gargoyles, which overlooked a terrific view.
Below, we watched fire juggling, firecracker poi, and a magic show on
the street.
7/15/07 Paris
After a late start, we toured the Musee dÓrsay (cant find the
apostrophe-Swedish keyboard- but look, I kan type ö and ä! They have
their own keys.), which featured impressionist artists such as Motet,
Manet, Degas, Renoir, Van Gogh, Picasso, etc. There was a very long
line to get in. The museum, as many here are, was much too large,
although it was interesting to see the texture on the originals.
After the museum, the metro brought us to an interesting
neighboorhood, in which we searched out a tiny, barely advertised
Museé de Magique, located in the basement of the former residence of
the Marquis de Sade. It was set up so that things would jump out at
you when you set of their sensors, but it would have ben creepy enough
with bare walls- the fire escape was the most frightening, of cracked
stone, spiraling upwards into darkness. On display were magical
artifacts, such as the door from Houdiniś house, by which he could
tell who was at his door before they knocked, and the box which he
used to saw people in half. There were also mirror tricks, and later,
a magic show, for which I was volunteered and made to look a fool, as
intended. He was very good with sleight of hand.
Another metro ride took us to see the Pompidou, which is built inside
out, with pipes and stairs on the outside instead of within. We didnt
enter the museum, but remained content to watch street performers
outside of the building.
7/16/10 Paris
We walked throught the cemetery today. It was full of gravestones and
monuments, old and crumbling beside new ones. With the aid of a mostly
accurate map, we found the tombs of Henri de Balzac and that of Oscar
Wilde, the latter inexilicably covered with lipstick kisses.
Next we found a park, Les VIlletes, and traveresed its
futuristically-themed length, which included a large, geodesic
mirrored sphere, called the Geode. It was a lovely park, so we ate our
packed lunches there and read books (we found books in English! Hooray
for Terry Pratchett).
After a few false trails, we found a cinema that was playing the new
Harry Potter movie in English. After watching, we sat down at a Pizza
Hut, which, interestingly enough, was a sit-down, knife-and-fork
establishment. Yes, even pizza is eaten with a knife and fork. It¤s a
European thing.
7/17/07 Paris
In the morning, we (at Ryans and my insistence and to Eileens
reluctance) visited the Catacombs. In times past this underground
labyrinth had been a mine for Paris' (hey- found the apostrophe!)
building materials. Many years later, when the mine was closed down
and Paris' cemeteries had grown overfull with the long-dead, it was
decided that the remains of those takingup undue space should be
exhumed and relocated the the mine shafts. In a several-year process,
black-covered carts crossed the city by night, surrounded by priests,
who spoke again the rites of the dead, to the catacombs, where the
bones were stacked and the skulls placed in careful patterns in the
new bone walls. The mine shafts are now tight corridors, through
which, for 1.7 kilometers (the section not closed off) tourists such
as we could gaze, as the dimly lit skulls returned sepulchral stares.
Some of the bones, ona historical note, belonged to Maximilien
Robespierre, orchestrator of the French Revolution and head of the
Reign of Terror. When he fell from favor, he was buried with hi
supporters. Which were their bones is unknown.
Upon returning to the light, we took a train to Chateau Versailles,
home of Prerevolutionary monarchy since Louis XIV. We breezed throught
the sumptuous rooms (as much as one can breeze through jam-packed
rooms filled wth tour groups), quickly growing numb to the lavish and
gold-covered everything. Outside in the heat, an expanse of carefully
trimmed hedges bordered gardens filled with blooming flowers, in
cloying pinks and purples, puncuated by concrete ponds. I might have
enjoyed it more if there were people in costume, for a somewhat
historic effect, instead of only colorful t-shirt tourists, but to be
fair, it was quite nice to lay in the grass in the shade behind the
'keep off the grass' sign.
My favorite part of Versailles was Marie Antoinette's garden, a bit of
a walk from the main ones. Instead of man-made order, there were
rambling paths and even hills and wild plants, with trees and an
(admittedly manmade) waterfall. The signs reassured visitors that they
shouldn't worry, it would soon be restored. I also liked the Hamlet,
where the queen went occasionally to pretend she was a peasant, with
beautifully mown grass, a willow over a clear pond of birds and fish,
and wooden, thatched-roof houses, one with an outdoor spiral stair.
Remarkable and Interesting Facts and Observations
-Everyone in Paris, or at the very least all the women, seems to be
dressed up. Maybe this is a city life phenomenon?
-Men in all-green janitorial uniforms, with green carts full o bright
green cleaning equipment roam the streets picking up garbage.
-Metro stations are diversely and interestingly decorated, one with
alcoes and statues, another with La Concorde written out in tiles
across the curved ceiling.
-There are few Parisians here this time of year. They're on the coast,
escaping the heat and tourists and going swimming instead.
-Paris is HOT. When it rained one evening, I ran out and danced in it.
The next day, it was marginally cooler, but everything had dried
already.
-Young men dance on the street with hats and canes in groups of four
or so. I think it's for fun, not for money.
-There are many excellent street performers, especially be Notre Dame
and Pompidou.
Bonjour, aur revoir, off to Copenhagen, where most people speak English!
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Below are the thrilling- and chilling- events which unfolded on the
coast of France, near Bordeaux.
Or, you know, just some stuff we did, your choice, really.
Anyhow, as they actually do say here, rather often, voila!
7/7/07 Rovereto to Verona (train)
This morning, I went out earlyand bought bread, finally having located
the bakery.
We raced today again, but didn't understand the start times, so we all
got an extra twenty minutes or so added to our times- not such a good
ending, but I wasn't winning anyway.
20:34
Following a couple of bored, unenthusiastic games of double solitaire
(it's far too hot to be enthusiastic), we continue to await our
overnight train to Paris, the lonely whirrs of the
poster-advertisement machines scrolling, accompannied by the station
announcer's voice over the speakeres, which summarrizes each train's
route and amenities and punctuated only by the occasional train
clattering through and the mumbles of a beggar woman from Bosnia.
7/8/07 17:00 Paris to Bordeaux
Last night's train came, and we slept in our train compartment's
seats, which folded down into beds. Plastic-sealed sheets and pillows
were provided. Comfort levels were acceptablee, but not optimal, as we
shared the compartment with a mother and daughter from Mexico (I
think) and a man in bunk arrangement.
Upon arrival in Paris, we had a few hours before boarding this train,
so we walked about and saw the Eiffel Tower, acrobatic policemen (nine
or so in arrangement on one motorcycle), the Arc de Triumph, and the
tourists. Lunch was onion soup and a chicken dish.
I have read all of my books (Feed, You Don't Know Me, A Certain Slant
of Light, The Foretelling); Ryan's (Finding Lubchenko); Eileen's
(Saving Fish From Drownig, High Tide in Tuscon), qnd the entire legal
text, in French and English, of my Eurail pass. I brought the Qu'ran,
deciding thqat if I was sufficiently bored, I would read it, but I
find it, while interesting, about as interesting as the aforementioned
pass.
7/10/07 7:37 Lacanau Sud (meet site)
I am glad to see that today there are port-a-potties. Yesterday, the
toilets were holes in teh ground, with spots upon which to put feet
(to be fair, there was a building, though not much else).
My race went well, but for one small mistake, which moved me down
about fifteen places because of the speed of the course.
In the evening, we walked along the beach, wind blowing shivering
jelly icebergs of sea foam across the wet sand. We picked up rocks,
explored others' sand structures, and walked back to the car with
blown rain from the sunset on our backs.
7/12/07 11:54 Bannes (meet site)
Yesterday´s race was great- I disregarded all mapped features and
spiked every control using nothing but compass and pacing- which means
two things: everything is runnable, aided by the lack of hills, and
the map here, if trusted, tends to add confusion. This was a problem
for other people. I had a near perfect race and came in 51st...
In the afternoon, the sun finally came out (it´s been raining daily)
and we went out to the beach, which was very crowded.
13:14
I braided a crown of the wild heather that grows rampantly here and
put it on the head of a little Scottish girl who was watching me from
nearby. She ducked back shyly behind her father, but then gave it a
thorough inspection and shoved it down over her head to be a necklace.
23:17
We walked Lacanau after showers, discovering a geological exposition,
an art gallery, a beach, and lots of French (and other) tourists.
In the evening, after a delicious paella dinner with a Canadian man
who´s staying downstairs from us, we went downtown for a last
internet. There´s a kitten there, Pitzu, which I lured out from under
a parked car the first day using my hair. Today when we came in, the
owner saw us, smiled, and fetched the kitten from the back for us.
In the square, there is music and polka dancing, which I can hear from
here. We particularly enjoyed watching the mixer dance for its
confusion-due to a mishap in steps, a couple of younger teenage boys
ended up paired for a turn. At first, they stood there looking
awkward, then one shrugged and they danced the turn.
Remarkable and Interesting Facts and Observations!
-Our shower has no curtain, only a half-wall (vertically) and a tub. I
believe the intent is that we sit to bathe.
-On a quest for books to read, we've been asking around to other
English speakers at the O meets. We've noticed a disturbing trend.
Books appear to be outmoded. Some girls in my age division, British,
informed me, "oh, we don't read." A man from the Netherlands
explained, "the kids have their mp3 players." A man living in Belgium
told us, "I don't read. My girlfriend does, but I just got to the
movies, where I can get the story in two hours." Well, I was
flabbergasted. What a lovely word.
-Running in sand is Not Fun.
-"chantilly" is whipped cream. And I´d always thought i was a type of lace...
-nutella is incredibly popular here. Meanwhile, one must search the
top shelf in the grocery store very carefully to locate the peanut
butter.
-every morning, you can see people walking down the street with long
loaves of French bread,
-"pain", the French word for bread, will get you a baguette. If you
want anything else, you have to know the words for it.
-Crepes are their idea of pancakes. Delicious!
-There are many pine forests on France´s west coast.
-American music, like McDonalds and Starbucks, are ubiquitous.
-There´s a really sweet kitten at the internet cafe, named Pitzu, It
is, as Ryan says, "a ball of 100% pure squirm".
I´m quite behind, aren´t I? Typing from Copenhagen...
coast of France, near Bordeaux.
Or, you know, just some stuff we did, your choice, really.
Anyhow, as they actually do say here, rather often, voila!
7/7/07 Rovereto to Verona (train)
This morning, I went out earlyand bought bread, finally having located
the bakery.
We raced today again, but didn't understand the start times, so we all
got an extra twenty minutes or so added to our times- not such a good
ending, but I wasn't winning anyway.
20:34
Following a couple of bored, unenthusiastic games of double solitaire
(it's far too hot to be enthusiastic), we continue to await our
overnight train to Paris, the lonely whirrs of the
poster-advertisement machines scrolling, accompannied by the station
announcer's voice over the speakeres, which summarrizes each train's
route and amenities and punctuated only by the occasional train
clattering through and the mumbles of a beggar woman from Bosnia.
7/8/07 17:00 Paris to Bordeaux
Last night's train came, and we slept in our train compartment's
seats, which folded down into beds. Plastic-sealed sheets and pillows
were provided. Comfort levels were acceptablee, but not optimal, as we
shared the compartment with a mother and daughter from Mexico (I
think) and a man in bunk arrangement.
Upon arrival in Paris, we had a few hours before boarding this train,
so we walked about and saw the Eiffel Tower, acrobatic policemen (nine
or so in arrangement on one motorcycle), the Arc de Triumph, and the
tourists. Lunch was onion soup and a chicken dish.
I have read all of my books (Feed, You Don't Know Me, A Certain Slant
of Light, The Foretelling); Ryan's (Finding Lubchenko); Eileen's
(Saving Fish From Drownig, High Tide in Tuscon), qnd the entire legal
text, in French and English, of my Eurail pass. I brought the Qu'ran,
deciding thqat if I was sufficiently bored, I would read it, but I
find it, while interesting, about as interesting as the aforementioned
pass.
7/10/07 7:37 Lacanau Sud (meet site)
I am glad to see that today there are port-a-potties. Yesterday, the
toilets were holes in teh ground, with spots upon which to put feet
(to be fair, there was a building, though not much else).
My race went well, but for one small mistake, which moved me down
about fifteen places because of the speed of the course.
In the evening, we walked along the beach, wind blowing shivering
jelly icebergs of sea foam across the wet sand. We picked up rocks,
explored others' sand structures, and walked back to the car with
blown rain from the sunset on our backs.
7/12/07 11:54 Bannes (meet site)
Yesterday´s race was great- I disregarded all mapped features and
spiked every control using nothing but compass and pacing- which means
two things: everything is runnable, aided by the lack of hills, and
the map here, if trusted, tends to add confusion. This was a problem
for other people. I had a near perfect race and came in 51st...
In the afternoon, the sun finally came out (it´s been raining daily)
and we went out to the beach, which was very crowded.
13:14
I braided a crown of the wild heather that grows rampantly here and
put it on the head of a little Scottish girl who was watching me from
nearby. She ducked back shyly behind her father, but then gave it a
thorough inspection and shoved it down over her head to be a necklace.
23:17
We walked Lacanau after showers, discovering a geological exposition,
an art gallery, a beach, and lots of French (and other) tourists.
In the evening, after a delicious paella dinner with a Canadian man
who´s staying downstairs from us, we went downtown for a last
internet. There´s a kitten there, Pitzu, which I lured out from under
a parked car the first day using my hair. Today when we came in, the
owner saw us, smiled, and fetched the kitten from the back for us.
In the square, there is music and polka dancing, which I can hear from
here. We particularly enjoyed watching the mixer dance for its
confusion-due to a mishap in steps, a couple of younger teenage boys
ended up paired for a turn. At first, they stood there looking
awkward, then one shrugged and they danced the turn.
Remarkable and Interesting Facts and Observations!
-Our shower has no curtain, only a half-wall (vertically) and a tub. I
believe the intent is that we sit to bathe.
-On a quest for books to read, we've been asking around to other
English speakers at the O meets. We've noticed a disturbing trend.
Books appear to be outmoded. Some girls in my age division, British,
informed me, "oh, we don't read." A man from the Netherlands
explained, "the kids have their mp3 players." A man living in Belgium
told us, "I don't read. My girlfriend does, but I just got to the
movies, where I can get the story in two hours." Well, I was
flabbergasted. What a lovely word.
-Running in sand is Not Fun.
-"chantilly" is whipped cream. And I´d always thought i was a type of lace...
-nutella is incredibly popular here. Meanwhile, one must search the
top shelf in the grocery store very carefully to locate the peanut
butter.
-every morning, you can see people walking down the street with long
loaves of French bread,
-"pain", the French word for bread, will get you a baguette. If you
want anything else, you have to know the words for it.
-Crepes are their idea of pancakes. Delicious!
-There are many pine forests on France´s west coast.
-American music, like McDonalds and Starbucks, are ubiquitous.
-There´s a really sweet kitten at the internet cafe, named Pitzu, It
is, as Ryan says, "a ball of 100% pure squirm".
I´m quite behind, aren´t I? Typing from Copenhagen...
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Hi again! This is the Folgarìa, Italy installment.
7/1/07 12:45 Verona (Canada Day)
I'm sitting on a bench in the train station, between platforms three and
four, awaiting a train to Rovereto. Lunch is Coca-Cola and dry sandwhiches
from the main station downstairs. Oh, the train is here!
13:54 Rovereto
Train station. As it turns out, the bus to Folgarìa doesn't come until
18:00, so we've got a wait. It's 33C here, which translates to 93F. That's
about normal for our trip so far. And to think I packed a windbreaker and
polar fleece...
7/2/07 8:45 Folgarìa
I'm sitting in the grass near the finish of Day 1. A couple of minutes ago,
a cow got loose and precipitated a chase up and down the hill, cowbell
ringing, as some of men tried to chase it away from the throngs of people
surrounding the finish.
This morning, we went grocery shopping in the singular, small grocery (and
more) store across town. At the meat, bread, and cheese counter, I asked for
two of the largest loaves of bread, and a half kilo (I couldn't recall the
words for any less, but this is about a pound) of Swiss cheese (Swiss
because it was the only one I recognized). We walked with our loot (these
and other groceries) back across town to the residence, Derby, at which
we're staying.
Our residence (apparently, the difference between a residence and a hotel is
that a residence dosn't provide linens, towels, soap, or housekeeping) has a
small bathroom with the usual European amenities, a bedroom for Eileen and
I, a kitchenette, which has a stove and tiny refrigerator but no oven, and a
living/dining room in which Ryan sleeps, on the fold-out bed.
We walked to the traffic circle that is our bus stop to wait for the
orienteering bus, and rode it twenty or so minutes farther into the Italian
Alps to the meet site. Upon arrival, we asked registration for pins for our
race numbers, believing that they had committed an oversight in not
including these in our race packets. It seems we were supposed to bring our
own; the nice woman went to her purse and managed to scrounge two small,
bent safety pins to complement the one Eileen had found, allowing us one
each (I later lost my number, but someone found it, so it was okay). We
thanked the registration woman and wished we had thought to brigh some of
the many safety pins we have at home.
There's still a while before my start, so I'm off to juggle and catch
grashoppers (it's almost akin to a locust plague, there are so many- they
sound like lawn sprinklers).
15:15
It's raining here. Good thing we're not camping; the streets are rivers. It
appears that weather is a touch more temperamental here in the mountains; it
was quite hot while we were running.
I had a very fun race, although at last look I was number twenty-one of
twenty-three in my category (Women 15-16). I blame this partly on my first
control (fifteen minute error just across the start line) and partly on my
overall lack of speed, particularly in comparison to my ridiculously fast
Swedish competitors. During my run, I befriended one of my competitors- from
the second control onward, we took separate route choices and met at the
control. I was sooner to the finish, but she had started much later. She
hails from Trieste, which is on the very edge of italy, almost in Slovenia
(I think that's the right country name).
7/4/07 (U.S. Independence Day)
Yesterday, we raced again, in a hillier area. I had no major mistakes, so I
got to move up in the rankings to 27 of 40 (some of whom had already
disqualified for mispunches or DNF'ing).
Back in town, I sat on the steps by the square and juggled for a while,
watching people set up for a concert. The concert toook place after the
daily award ceremony, and was by local celebrity Stefano Zarfati. The crowd
appeared sedentary, although I'm sure they enjoyed it. Ryan and I juggled on
the edges of the crowd.
Today is the designated rest day, so no race today. We were going to check
out a nearby town, bt we missed the only bus when Eileen decided we should
sleep in, so nothing really to do today.
[French keyboqard6 v. difficult to use° - ,=m qnd q=a
7/5/07 13:43
Great race todqy. I rqn hqrd; qnd hqd only minor mistqkes. For q
greenish level course, I took qn hour qnd 4 minutes. It was q lot of
fun, topped bythe fqt thqat the qnnouncercqlled out my nqme qs I rqn
in the finish. Still waiting for Ryqn qnd Eileen to finish.
Remarkable and Interesting Facts and Observqtions
-In thestore window of arond hqlf of the shops in Folgqriq 5(grqnted,
Folgariq is smqll) hqngs q smqll orienteering control.
- This event warrants use of q room in the town's centerand of its
solitqry square every evening.
-At the finish, there is q blow-up banner over the finish line and
several large speakers through which blqst loud musicqnd the
announcer's voice, cqlling out nqmes of key runners. All around,
people in their respective club uniforms sit with their other club
members in their club tents, under their club's or country's flqg.
_On our dqily walks to the start, we recieve q small warm_up mapto
show us where to go qnd to get us thinking on the map
-As Americans, our delegation here is small (I am the youngest) and
our representqtion on the winners' podium is nonexistent.
-W15-16 (mycategory) would be qn orange course in the states, but here
is more like a green (W20)
-Interesting rock feqtures are all over the map, such as cliffed-in
passages and what appear to be mine shqftsare leftovers from WWI; rock
walls and ditches were once trenches
-Rounding the back of a hill plagued with cows, bells ringing
variously; a runner can hear the drone of the announcer's voice in the
distance. These combine for a churchy effect
-Everyevening; groups of old men sit at outdoor tables, talking
animatedly. Each looks like a chqrqcter.
I'm in France now, so a bit behind on updates, but here's this!
7/1/07 12:45 Verona (Canada Day)
I'm sitting on a bench in the train station, between platforms three and
four, awaiting a train to Rovereto. Lunch is Coca-Cola and dry sandwhiches
from the main station downstairs. Oh, the train is here!
13:54 Rovereto
Train station. As it turns out, the bus to Folgarìa doesn't come until
18:00, so we've got a wait. It's 33C here, which translates to 93F. That's
about normal for our trip so far. And to think I packed a windbreaker and
polar fleece...
7/2/07 8:45 Folgarìa
I'm sitting in the grass near the finish of Day 1. A couple of minutes ago,
a cow got loose and precipitated a chase up and down the hill, cowbell
ringing, as some of men tried to chase it away from the throngs of people
surrounding the finish.
This morning, we went grocery shopping in the singular, small grocery (and
more) store across town. At the meat, bread, and cheese counter, I asked for
two of the largest loaves of bread, and a half kilo (I couldn't recall the
words for any less, but this is about a pound) of Swiss cheese (Swiss
because it was the only one I recognized). We walked with our loot (these
and other groceries) back across town to the residence, Derby, at which
we're staying.
Our residence (apparently, the difference between a residence and a hotel is
that a residence dosn't provide linens, towels, soap, or housekeeping) has a
small bathroom with the usual European amenities, a bedroom for Eileen and
I, a kitchenette, which has a stove and tiny refrigerator but no oven, and a
living/dining room in which Ryan sleeps, on the fold-out bed.
We walked to the traffic circle that is our bus stop to wait for the
orienteering bus, and rode it twenty or so minutes farther into the Italian
Alps to the meet site. Upon arrival, we asked registration for pins for our
race numbers, believing that they had committed an oversight in not
including these in our race packets. It seems we were supposed to bring our
own; the nice woman went to her purse and managed to scrounge two small,
bent safety pins to complement the one Eileen had found, allowing us one
each (I later lost my number, but someone found it, so it was okay). We
thanked the registration woman and wished we had thought to brigh some of
the many safety pins we have at home.
There's still a while before my start, so I'm off to juggle and catch
grashoppers (it's almost akin to a locust plague, there are so many- they
sound like lawn sprinklers).
15:15
It's raining here. Good thing we're not camping; the streets are rivers. It
appears that weather is a touch more temperamental here in the mountains; it
was quite hot while we were running.
I had a very fun race, although at last look I was number twenty-one of
twenty-three in my category (Women 15-16). I blame this partly on my first
control (fifteen minute error just across the start line) and partly on my
overall lack of speed, particularly in comparison to my ridiculously fast
Swedish competitors. During my run, I befriended one of my competitors- from
the second control onward, we took separate route choices and met at the
control. I was sooner to the finish, but she had started much later. She
hails from Trieste, which is on the very edge of italy, almost in Slovenia
(I think that's the right country name).
7/4/07 (U.S. Independence Day)
Yesterday, we raced again, in a hillier area. I had no major mistakes, so I
got to move up in the rankings to 27 of 40 (some of whom had already
disqualified for mispunches or DNF'ing).
Back in town, I sat on the steps by the square and juggled for a while,
watching people set up for a concert. The concert toook place after the
daily award ceremony, and was by local celebrity Stefano Zarfati. The crowd
appeared sedentary, although I'm sure they enjoyed it. Ryan and I juggled on
the edges of the crowd.
Today is the designated rest day, so no race today. We were going to check
out a nearby town, bt we missed the only bus when Eileen decided we should
sleep in, so nothing really to do today.
[French keyboqard6 v. difficult to use° - ,=m qnd q=a
7/5/07 13:43
Great race todqy. I rqn hqrd; qnd hqd only minor mistqkes. For q
greenish level course, I took qn hour qnd 4 minutes. It was q lot of
fun, topped bythe fqt thqat the qnnouncercqlled out my nqme qs I rqn
in the finish. Still waiting for Ryqn qnd Eileen to finish.
Remarkable and Interesting Facts and Observqtions
-In thestore window of arond hqlf of the shops in Folgqriq 5(grqnted,
Folgariq is smqll) hqngs q smqll orienteering control.
- This event warrants use of q room in the town's centerand of its
solitqry square every evening.
-At the finish, there is q blow-up banner over the finish line and
several large speakers through which blqst loud musicqnd the
announcer's voice, cqlling out nqmes of key runners. All around,
people in their respective club uniforms sit with their other club
members in their club tents, under their club's or country's flqg.
_On our dqily walks to the start, we recieve q small warm_up mapto
show us where to go qnd to get us thinking on the map
-As Americans, our delegation here is small (I am the youngest) and
our representqtion on the winners' podium is nonexistent.
-W15-16 (mycategory) would be qn orange course in the states, but here
is more like a green (W20)
-Interesting rock feqtures are all over the map, such as cliffed-in
passages and what appear to be mine shqftsare leftovers from WWI; rock
walls and ditches were once trenches
-Rounding the back of a hill plagued with cows, bells ringing
variously; a runner can hear the drone of the announcer's voice in the
distance. These combine for a churchy effect
-Everyevening; groups of old men sit at outdoor tables, talking
animatedly. Each looks like a chqrqcter.
I'm in France now, so a bit behind on updates, but here's this!
Wednesday, July 4, 2007
Europe
Hello again,
I'm writing (at the moment) from the orienteering event center in Folgarìa, about 50 minutes' bus ride from Verona, in the mountains. As Eileen checked us in, I noticed the computers with big signs saying FREE INTERNET, so this is good. I probably won't finish this email today, though.
The nice thing about this computer is that the keyboard types exactly what it says it will, unlike most foreign computers I've had experience. Howerver, I'm still prone to typing 'à' instead of ', and this is not the only character that's been moved from our American settrings, although I'm happt to report that most of the essential ones remain the smae or similar.
Journal time!
6/28/07 (Sweet sixteen..)
We toured galleries today. After a hostel breakfast (this hostel, by the way, tries to cater to a variety of foreign tastes, so we got eggs and toast, as well as the European bread roll and hot drink), we set out to claim our reserved tickets at the Uffizzi Gallery. After some confusing lines, we entered to view famous works, mostly depicting Christian religious figures, including Botticcellis (or however that's spelled), da Vincis, works of El Greco, etc. The halls, too, were lined with lovely sculpture of Classic gods. After many, many rooms, we grew numb, but did traverse the entire gallery. Upon our exit, we elected to try a different sort of museum, this one focused on science, particularly Galileo, with famous scientists' tools, old globes, and really interesting machines. Unfiortunately, the machines all had signs on them saying, 'no tocare,' meaning, as I'm sure you can discern, 'don't touch'. Really. There was a miniature pendulum, which I blew on, and a woman came into the room, gave me a stern look, and halted its swinging progress. It was almost depressing, to see the beautiful mechanics of the machines, and inclined planes with bells to show acceleration of motion, and the mechanically implausible object that rolled up a ramp and not be allowed to see how they worked. Fortunately, later on, we stumbled across a tiny da Vinci machines museum, advertising its hands-on exhibits of the constructions from da Vinci's journal, so that particular urge was eventually sated.
That night, we ate in a little restaurant, and ordered deserts with interesting names in honor of my birthday.
6/29/07
13:13
In the morning, after breakfast, we caught the train to Venice. We had been required to reserve seats on the EuroStar train, but the woman at the counter had crossed out the seat numbers on the ticket, telling Eileen that it was open seating. Unfortunately, it was open seating only for us, and everyone else's seats were reserved. After moving a few times, we found ourselves in the space between cars, where the train doors opened and closed and people left their excess luggage. While there, we met two girls, one going into her senior year and the other just graduated, traveling from Miami to all over Europe. They were good company for the several-hour trip.
21:57 Venizia
I float in a trance
Through a labyrinth of beauty
And drift on the breeze,
My shawl a sail:
Music and romance-
A Venice night.
I know it's cliched to get all romantic about Venice, and I was dubious as the hot sun struck the cobblestones when we disembarked from the train, but we walked out this afternoon to explore and lay on the steps of a church for half an hour, lulled into calm by the breeze and lapping water (also, our feet hurt from walking).
Later, we made pilgrimage to Saint Marc's Square, where we tried to catch pigeons, with little to no success. On our way there, we came across hordes of people (well, a number of them) in very fancy dress and followed them to the Doge's palace, to what appeared to be a fancy dress party. There were reporters and people who were probably famous, but none of us quite had the courage (or words) to ask what it was, so we carried on.
We walked home in the dark, over lit canals, through winding cobbled streets, and all around us, couples smiled, talked, and held hands (thus my poem).
6/29/07 21:59 Venice
We bought a 24-hour water subway pass and went out to neighboring islands. First we went to Murano, of the Venitian glas, saw a glassblowing demonstration, and poked through gaudy, pricey glass shops. Turning into backroads, we saw picnickers in a park (we saw ginkgo, pomegranates, and chestnuts growing) and sat on swings, then got up and walked a small road to the other, residential side of the island, where we sat with our feet in the water, caught crabs, and watched garbage thrown from a boat, picked apart by seagulls, and left to float by us in the time we were there.
Walking back to the peopled (touristy) area of the island, we caught a boat to San Michele, Venice's cemetery island. It was made up of nwested courtyards, centered around a church, with sections portioned off for nuns an mausoleums in the walls for old Venetian families.
Riding back to Venice mainland, we fed pigeons in Saint Mark's Square, holding our arms out, sometimes with breadcrumbs (but not always) for the trusting birds to land on. My record was sixon my arms at one time, some on my head, and some on each others' backs. Ryan caught a dove.
Remarkable and Interesting Facts and Observations
-Somehow, they managed to fit a heater, bidet, stool, trash can, and shower into our tiny hotel bathroom along with the usual toilet, sink, and mirror.
-The shower (very European) is a handheld, on a sliding holder. Also in the shower is an inexplicable cord hanging on the wall. There was one in the Florenine hostel, too. I pulled it, but nothing happened. I was somewhat disappointed.
-I had always been under the impression that all of Venice's streets were canals. This is not the case. Venice is more like several small islands, separated by canals, which are, in turn, bridged. The land is covered in buildings, between which wind labyrinthine, narrow, cobblestone streets and alleys. The canals are used mostly as a tourist attraction (expensive gondola rides) and in the larger ones, in a system similar to a subway, with little ferries as trains, and docks as stations.
-Doorknobs are generally located in the center of the door. I have no idea why, but I'd like to imagine some historical reason.
-The cheaper food is often tastier. The expense of food is sometimes deterined by whether you get to sit down or not to eat, and the places Venitians eat are smaller, efficient places. I had an excellent spinach-cheese sandwich on foccacia at one such location.
-Courtyards and churches are everywhere.
-Each restaurant hass its own oorchestra or musicians, especially after sundown.
-People dress up here for everyday wear. I almost fit in!
-Tides rise and lower the canals.
-Door open onto water. Along streets, stairs lead down into the dirty canal depths.
-Breakfast: little rolls, butter, jam, and choice of hot drink.
-Saint Marc's Square floods 250 times a year through drains in the bricks.
Well, there's all sorts of adventures to recount, and we're no longer in Venice, but someone's waiting for the computer, so I'll just leave it at that. Buono?
I'm writing (at the moment) from the orienteering event center in Folgarìa, about 50 minutes' bus ride from Verona, in the mountains. As Eileen checked us in, I noticed the computers with big signs saying FREE INTERNET, so this is good. I probably won't finish this email today, though.
The nice thing about this computer is that the keyboard types exactly what it says it will, unlike most foreign computers I've had experience. Howerver, I'm still prone to typing 'à' instead of ', and this is not the only character that's been moved from our American settrings, although I'm happt to report that most of the essential ones remain the smae or similar.
Journal time!
6/28/07 (Sweet sixteen..)
We toured galleries today. After a hostel breakfast (this hostel, by the way, tries to cater to a variety of foreign tastes, so we got eggs and toast, as well as the European bread roll and hot drink), we set out to claim our reserved tickets at the Uffizzi Gallery. After some confusing lines, we entered to view famous works, mostly depicting Christian religious figures, including Botticcellis (or however that's spelled), da Vincis, works of El Greco, etc. The halls, too, were lined with lovely sculpture of Classic gods. After many, many rooms, we grew numb, but did traverse the entire gallery. Upon our exit, we elected to try a different sort of museum, this one focused on science, particularly Galileo, with famous scientists' tools, old globes, and really interesting machines. Unfiortunately, the machines all had signs on them saying, 'no tocare,' meaning, as I'm sure you can discern, 'don't touch'. Really. There was a miniature pendulum, which I blew on, and a woman came into the room, gave me a stern look, and halted its swinging progress. It was almost depressing, to see the beautiful mechanics of the machines, and inclined planes with bells to show acceleration of motion, and the mechanically implausible object that rolled up a ramp and not be allowed to see how they worked. Fortunately, later on, we stumbled across a tiny da Vinci machines museum, advertising its hands-on exhibits of the constructions from da Vinci's journal, so that particular urge was eventually sated.
That night, we ate in a little restaurant, and ordered deserts with interesting names in honor of my birthday.
6/29/07
13:13
In the morning, after breakfast, we caught the train to Venice. We had been required to reserve seats on the EuroStar train, but the woman at the counter had crossed out the seat numbers on the ticket, telling Eileen that it was open seating. Unfortunately, it was open seating only for us, and everyone else's seats were reserved. After moving a few times, we found ourselves in the space between cars, where the train doors opened and closed and people left their excess luggage. While there, we met two girls, one going into her senior year and the other just graduated, traveling from Miami to all over Europe. They were good company for the several-hour trip.
21:57 Venizia
I float in a trance
Through a labyrinth of beauty
And drift on the breeze,
My shawl a sail:
Music and romance-
A Venice night.
I know it's cliched to get all romantic about Venice, and I was dubious as the hot sun struck the cobblestones when we disembarked from the train, but we walked out this afternoon to explore and lay on the steps of a church for half an hour, lulled into calm by the breeze and lapping water (also, our feet hurt from walking).
Later, we made pilgrimage to Saint Marc's Square, where we tried to catch pigeons, with little to no success. On our way there, we came across hordes of people (well, a number of them) in very fancy dress and followed them to the Doge's palace, to what appeared to be a fancy dress party. There were reporters and people who were probably famous, but none of us quite had the courage (or words) to ask what it was, so we carried on.
We walked home in the dark, over lit canals, through winding cobbled streets, and all around us, couples smiled, talked, and held hands (thus my poem).
6/29/07 21:59 Venice
We bought a 24-hour water subway pass and went out to neighboring islands. First we went to Murano, of the Venitian glas, saw a glassblowing demonstration, and poked through gaudy, pricey glass shops. Turning into backroads, we saw picnickers in a park (we saw ginkgo, pomegranates, and chestnuts growing) and sat on swings, then got up and walked a small road to the other, residential side of the island, where we sat with our feet in the water, caught crabs, and watched garbage thrown from a boat, picked apart by seagulls, and left to float by us in the time we were there.
Walking back to the peopled (touristy) area of the island, we caught a boat to San Michele, Venice's cemetery island. It was made up of nwested courtyards, centered around a church, with sections portioned off for nuns an mausoleums in the walls for old Venetian families.
Riding back to Venice mainland, we fed pigeons in Saint Mark's Square, holding our arms out, sometimes with breadcrumbs (but not always) for the trusting birds to land on. My record was sixon my arms at one time, some on my head, and some on each others' backs. Ryan caught a dove.
Remarkable and Interesting Facts and Observations
-Somehow, they managed to fit a heater, bidet, stool, trash can, and shower into our tiny hotel bathroom along with the usual toilet, sink, and mirror.
-The shower (very European) is a handheld, on a sliding holder. Also in the shower is an inexplicable cord hanging on the wall. There was one in the Florenine hostel, too. I pulled it, but nothing happened. I was somewhat disappointed.
-I had always been under the impression that all of Venice's streets were canals. This is not the case. Venice is more like several small islands, separated by canals, which are, in turn, bridged. The land is covered in buildings, between which wind labyrinthine, narrow, cobblestone streets and alleys. The canals are used mostly as a tourist attraction (expensive gondola rides) and in the larger ones, in a system similar to a subway, with little ferries as trains, and docks as stations.
-Doorknobs are generally located in the center of the door. I have no idea why, but I'd like to imagine some historical reason.
-The cheaper food is often tastier. The expense of food is sometimes deterined by whether you get to sit down or not to eat, and the places Venitians eat are smaller, efficient places. I had an excellent spinach-cheese sandwich on foccacia at one such location.
-Courtyards and churches are everywhere.
-Each restaurant hass its own oorchestra or musicians, especially after sundown.
-People dress up here for everyday wear. I almost fit in!
-Tides rise and lower the canals.
-Door open onto water. Along streets, stairs lead down into the dirty canal depths.
-Breakfast: little rolls, butter, jam, and choice of hot drink.
-Saint Marc's Square floods 250 times a year through drains in the bricks.
Well, there's all sorts of adventures to recount, and we're no longer in Venice, but someone's waiting for the computer, so I'll just leave it at that. Buono?
Thursday, June 28, 2007
Europe
As at least most of you know, Eileen, Ryan, and I are going on a trip to Europe this summer! As per my usual, I'll be sending "postcards" in the shape of these emails- a sort of travel journal/letters home/account thingy.
I may or may not write often, depending on where we are and how severely internet withdrawal symptoms manifest in myself or certain family members (resulting, perhaps necessarily, in a fix from an internet cafe). At any rate, I'll write in my (physical, non-digital- gasp!) journal and then rewrite and edit on-screen later if I can't just write this, so you'll be getting letters sooner or later, and then photos in an online album (yay digital cameras) once we get home and I shift myself to upload them.
You do, of course, have some choice in the matter. If you don't really want to read these you could either go to the trouble of deleting them, or respond and ask me to take you off my list. Alternately, if you know of someone who I forgot to put on this list (or whose email I don't have), you can tell me to add them to the list, too- I know how annoying it gets to have to forward messages.
We're going to Italy, France, and Sweden, following a series of major European orienteering events. However, I will try to keep my emails culture-oriented because (1) some of you don't even orienteer, and so would be thoroughly lost (do forgive the pun) (2) even I don't care enough about my races to record all of their times, splits, my place, the names of the winners, etc. and (3) culture is more fun to read and write about... or rather, cultural differences tend to yield interesting stories. Notably, the language barrier, a phenomenon heretofore only mildly expressed (in my case, at least- I can speak Spanish, and English and Canadian, too) should be prevalent, a further cause for overseas entertainment. I do love to jest at such errors (calling to mind the Spanish word 'embarazada,' which sounds so much like 'embarrassed' that people embarrassed by their language errors sometimes accidentally tell people, 'estoy embarazada,' which, of course, translates to 'I'm pregnant') and hope that such errors come about just frequently enough to precipitate comedic effect, and not overmuch.
Right, then. That constituted far too much drivel in introduction. As I'm writing this on Friday the 22nd, and we don't leave until Monday, I haven't even gone yet. I'm going to save this as a draft (a lovely feature, I assure you) and then, when I actually have something to say (and, presumably, have access to a computer), I'll reopen this from wherever I happen to be and tell you something real. If all goes according to plan, when you read this, it'll be right there in the next paragraph. Isn't that thrilling?
Here follow my journal entries. If you read it, notice how my writing's voice changes as I grow more and more sleep deprived. If you'd rather just skim, I reccommend the section entitled "Remarkable and Interesting Facts and Observations" at the end.
6\25\07 (I can't find the regular slash, so this will have to suffice) 11:07 AM PST
Last night, it hailed. My rooms's skylights were battered so cacaphonously that I led a forced retreat from my room to sleep on the couch, which was marginally quieter, despite Ryan's last-minute packing, which took place up and down the stairs.
In the morning, we arose at 5:40 to catch an 8:30 flight to the Philadelphia airport. After passing our bags through security (my bags, it is interesting to note, packed for a five-week trip, is much lighter than the backpack I take to school every day), we found our gate, and after the usual wait, boarded. The odd one out, I got the seat apart from Ryan and Eileen. I lucked out on seat partners, meeting and talking with a young Spanish teacher whose name may or may not have been Kristy. We discussed topics ranging from genetics, to travel, to philosophy and psychology.
6\26\07 7:40 AM (6\25 10:40 PM PST)
Guten morger, I supppose. Perhaps those our the right words- none of us speaks Swedish. Last plane trip (Seattle to Philly), we watched Bridge to Terabithia. This plane trip, we watched Wild Hogs, which was terrible, and Freedom Writers, which was good. Both were painful to listen to, however, due to a steady degeneration in sound quality, English in one ear and Spanish in the other when the channels mixed up, and frequent, loud beeps from both earphones at frequent but inconstant intervals. We were served a dinner of chicken giblets in salty gravy, carrots which I hoped were canned, a white paste which was, presumably, mashed potatoes, limp and prepackaged rye bread, cole slaw with not expiration date, and flavorless(TM) crackers. I was hungry, so I ate it all- except the strangely spicy cole slaw, of which I could only stomach half. I read, and then we all pretended to sleep until "morning," at which point the lights were turned on and the attendants passed out something like compresses, slightly stale doughnuts. A tip to travelers: British Air PWNS U.S. Ariways. The international flight on US Airways is mostly just a bigger plane than their crappy domestic flights. Not to complain too much, though- they don't have Continental's delays, at least, even though this particular plane smells of urine, and now I'll truly appreciate my hostle bed tonight, and the delightful European foods I'll later consume.
6\26\07 18:44 Sweden to Italy
After landing in a Stockholm airport whose name began with an A and which was actually located 45 kilometers north of Stockholm, we took a bus into Stockholm itself. Although none of us knows much more Swedish than 'tak' for 'thank you,'everyone we approached spoke English, albeit with impressive British accents. We wandered Stockholm by foot, having stashed our luggage in a bus station locker. We first found the building where the Nobel Prizes are awarded. Fraught with archways and gardens and with a view of water sparkling in the sun, over which was visible the city in all ots glory. We had lunch at a little place overrun with businesspeople on lunch break, selling sushi and Lebanese food. It was wonderful to watch the man behind the counter mold sushi at lightning speed, creating piece after piece of beautiful, fresh food. Our next stop was a music museum, similar in purpose to the EMP, but more culturally oriented. Ryan and I got in free for being under 19 (we had a free bus ride for that, earlier, too!). It let us play, among other things, the hammered dulcimer, the harp, the two-stringed bass, and some we didn't know the names of.
It was time to catch the bus to the airport, south of Stockholm, but Eileen got us lost, making us run down the peopled streets and turn the wrong corners. She panicked too soon; Eileen keeps her watch set five minutes ahead. Eventually, we pled the help of a passerby, who showed us a shortcut through the World Trade Center (which we were not technically supposed to enter, but he worked there), going as far as walking us to the station so we wouldn't get turned around. At the station, our ticket had no gate number, so we walked down the row of buses, asking until we found the right one.
The bus took us to the RyanAir airport. RyanAir is excellent: it's efficient, clean, and much cheaper than the usual due to lack of frills (magazine, drinks, seat pockets...).
6\27\07 15:02
We're in Italy, on a train from Milan to Firenze. Last night, after our plane landed, we took a bus to Bergamo. When we arrived, it was fast-darkening dusk. We didn't have a map, but htat didn't even give us pause as we set out in the wrong direction to find our hostel. After a while, we elected to return to the station, where we asked a bus driver how to get there. He didn't speak much English and I didn't speak much Italian, so we miscommunicated for a while, then he had one of the people on his bus translate for us. Of course, she was Belgian, and spoke Dutch, but we made progress. Our translator and her four friends, it turned out, were our hostel room members that night.
Remarkable and Interesting Facts and Observations
-In Sweden, bikes are everywhere, parked and ridden on the road.
-Mopeds and motorcycles are to Italy as bicycles are to Sweden.
The fastest way to get a local to speak to you in your language is to try to talk to them in theirs. They will very quickly use any words they know in your language to make you stop murdering theirs.
-Cigarette smoke has a different stench here.
-Beggars on the street are normal-looking, and don't wear frayed or ripped clothing as they might to evoke pity in other places.
-It's a lot of fun to try to pronounce Swedish words. For example, I think 'kn' could be pronounced 'tch' in the word 'bevakning,' as written on a sign with a picture of a security camera.
-Apparently, there is no possible way for Swedish children to not be cute. Especially adorable is listening to them try to pronounce all of the consonants in Swedish when they speak.
-We saw the word 'kv' on a sign in Sweden. I wonder how you pronounce that?
-Trains are so much better than airplanes. They aren't so noisy, they don't make your ears hurt when taking off and landing (because they don't...), and it would take some doing to obscure the view with clouds.
-I can't usually tell on sight who is a tourist and who is an Italian or a Swede (in their respective countries). They can't figure out which I am, either, though, and approach me speaking quickly in these languages which I don't understand.
Well, I haven't caught you up, but it's time to go tour the Uffizi Gallery. Ciao!
I may or may not write often, depending on where we are and how severely internet withdrawal symptoms manifest in myself or certain family members (resulting, perhaps necessarily, in a fix from an internet cafe). At any rate, I'll write in my (physical, non-digital- gasp!) journal and then rewrite and edit on-screen later if I can't just write this, so you'll be getting letters sooner or later, and then photos in an online album (yay digital cameras) once we get home and I shift myself to upload them.
You do, of course, have some choice in the matter. If you don't really want to read these you could either go to the trouble of deleting them, or respond and ask me to take you off my list. Alternately, if you know of someone who I forgot to put on this list (or whose email I don't have), you can tell me to add them to the list, too- I know how annoying it gets to have to forward messages.
We're going to Italy, France, and Sweden, following a series of major European orienteering events. However, I will try to keep my emails culture-oriented because (1) some of you don't even orienteer, and so would be thoroughly lost (do forgive the pun) (2) even I don't care enough about my races to record all of their times, splits, my place, the names of the winners, etc. and (3) culture is more fun to read and write about... or rather, cultural differences tend to yield interesting stories. Notably, the language barrier, a phenomenon heretofore only mildly expressed (in my case, at least- I can speak Spanish, and English and Canadian, too) should be prevalent, a further cause for overseas entertainment. I do love to jest at such errors (calling to mind the Spanish word 'embarazada,' which sounds so much like 'embarrassed' that people embarrassed by their language errors sometimes accidentally tell people, 'estoy embarazada,' which, of course, translates to 'I'm pregnant') and hope that such errors come about just frequently enough to precipitate comedic effect, and not overmuch.
Right, then. That constituted far too much drivel in introduction. As I'm writing this on Friday the 22nd, and we don't leave until Monday, I haven't even gone yet. I'm going to save this as a draft (a lovely feature, I assure you) and then, when I actually have something to say (and, presumably, have access to a computer), I'll reopen this from wherever I happen to be and tell you something real. If all goes according to plan, when you read this, it'll be right there in the next paragraph. Isn't that thrilling?
Here follow my journal entries. If you read it, notice how my writing's voice changes as I grow more and more sleep deprived. If you'd rather just skim, I reccommend the section entitled "Remarkable and Interesting Facts and Observations" at the end.
6\25\07 (I can't find the regular slash, so this will have to suffice) 11:07 AM PST
Last night, it hailed. My rooms's skylights were battered so cacaphonously that I led a forced retreat from my room to sleep on the couch, which was marginally quieter, despite Ryan's last-minute packing, which took place up and down the stairs.
In the morning, we arose at 5:40 to catch an 8:30 flight to the Philadelphia airport. After passing our bags through security (my bags, it is interesting to note, packed for a five-week trip, is much lighter than the backpack I take to school every day), we found our gate, and after the usual wait, boarded. The odd one out, I got the seat apart from Ryan and Eileen. I lucked out on seat partners, meeting and talking with a young Spanish teacher whose name may or may not have been Kristy. We discussed topics ranging from genetics, to travel, to philosophy and psychology.
6\26\07 7:40 AM (6\25 10:40 PM PST)
Guten morger, I supppose. Perhaps those our the right words- none of us speaks Swedish. Last plane trip (Seattle to Philly), we watched Bridge to Terabithia. This plane trip, we watched Wild Hogs, which was terrible, and Freedom Writers, which was good. Both were painful to listen to, however, due to a steady degeneration in sound quality, English in one ear and Spanish in the other when the channels mixed up, and frequent, loud beeps from both earphones at frequent but inconstant intervals. We were served a dinner of chicken giblets in salty gravy, carrots which I hoped were canned, a white paste which was, presumably, mashed potatoes, limp and prepackaged rye bread, cole slaw with not expiration date, and flavorless(TM) crackers. I was hungry, so I ate it all- except the strangely spicy cole slaw, of which I could only stomach half. I read, and then we all pretended to sleep until "morning," at which point the lights were turned on and the attendants passed out something like compresses, slightly stale doughnuts. A tip to travelers: British Air PWNS U.S. Ariways. The international flight on US Airways is mostly just a bigger plane than their crappy domestic flights. Not to complain too much, though- they don't have Continental's delays, at least, even though this particular plane smells of urine, and now I'll truly appreciate my hostle bed tonight, and the delightful European foods I'll later consume.
6\26\07 18:44 Sweden to Italy
After landing in a Stockholm airport whose name began with an A and which was actually located 45 kilometers north of Stockholm, we took a bus into Stockholm itself. Although none of us knows much more Swedish than 'tak' for 'thank you,'everyone we approached spoke English, albeit with impressive British accents. We wandered Stockholm by foot, having stashed our luggage in a bus station locker. We first found the building where the Nobel Prizes are awarded. Fraught with archways and gardens and with a view of water sparkling in the sun, over which was visible the city in all ots glory. We had lunch at a little place overrun with businesspeople on lunch break, selling sushi and Lebanese food. It was wonderful to watch the man behind the counter mold sushi at lightning speed, creating piece after piece of beautiful, fresh food. Our next stop was a music museum, similar in purpose to the EMP, but more culturally oriented. Ryan and I got in free for being under 19 (we had a free bus ride for that, earlier, too!). It let us play, among other things, the hammered dulcimer, the harp, the two-stringed bass, and some we didn't know the names of.
It was time to catch the bus to the airport, south of Stockholm, but Eileen got us lost, making us run down the peopled streets and turn the wrong corners. She panicked too soon; Eileen keeps her watch set five minutes ahead. Eventually, we pled the help of a passerby, who showed us a shortcut through the World Trade Center (which we were not technically supposed to enter, but he worked there), going as far as walking us to the station so we wouldn't get turned around. At the station, our ticket had no gate number, so we walked down the row of buses, asking until we found the right one.
The bus took us to the RyanAir airport. RyanAir is excellent: it's efficient, clean, and much cheaper than the usual due to lack of frills (magazine, drinks, seat pockets...).
6\27\07 15:02
We're in Italy, on a train from Milan to Firenze. Last night, after our plane landed, we took a bus to Bergamo. When we arrived, it was fast-darkening dusk. We didn't have a map, but htat didn't even give us pause as we set out in the wrong direction to find our hostel. After a while, we elected to return to the station, where we asked a bus driver how to get there. He didn't speak much English and I didn't speak much Italian, so we miscommunicated for a while, then he had one of the people on his bus translate for us. Of course, she was Belgian, and spoke Dutch, but we made progress. Our translator and her four friends, it turned out, were our hostel room members that night.
Remarkable and Interesting Facts and Observations
-In Sweden, bikes are everywhere, parked and ridden on the road.
-Mopeds and motorcycles are to Italy as bicycles are to Sweden.
The fastest way to get a local to speak to you in your language is to try to talk to them in theirs. They will very quickly use any words they know in your language to make you stop murdering theirs.
-Cigarette smoke has a different stench here.
-Beggars on the street are normal-looking, and don't wear frayed or ripped clothing as they might to evoke pity in other places.
-It's a lot of fun to try to pronounce Swedish words. For example, I think 'kn' could be pronounced 'tch' in the word 'bevakning,' as written on a sign with a picture of a security camera.
-Apparently, there is no possible way for Swedish children to not be cute. Especially adorable is listening to them try to pronounce all of the consonants in Swedish when they speak.
-We saw the word 'kv' on a sign in Sweden. I wonder how you pronounce that?
-Trains are so much better than airplanes. They aren't so noisy, they don't make your ears hurt when taking off and landing (because they don't...), and it would take some doing to obscure the view with clouds.
-I can't usually tell on sight who is a tourist and who is an Italian or a Swede (in their respective countries). They can't figure out which I am, either, though, and approach me speaking quickly in these languages which I don't understand.
Well, I haven't caught you up, but it's time to go tour the Uffizi Gallery. Ciao!
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
