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!