Sipping tea in Chicago

Update

2006-09-12T12:11:00.000-07:00

I've been writing and drawing, but not having a computer does shorten how much I can do... and really I shouldn't even be doing this, I should be looking at online ads.

Temp. Roomate situation is fine- she thinks my lentil,split pea,collard and mustard greens, garlic, onion, white wine, stock cube, thyme, olive oil and quinoa soup smells really nasty- so I make it when she's not there and then boil up a toffee flavored teabag. She does not conserve paper towels (which is just a pet peeve I'm dealing with silently as she rips off 8 sheets for who knows what), but that's about as dramatic as it's ever gotten between us.

I have a part time job at Victoria's Secret. To anyone who thinks that doesn't really sound like me... well, I do have work clothes from my period of HR where I decided that maybe I should look like an HR for my own good, and I do wear bras. And as for selling them with enthusiasim- my background in drama (and the bs I'd have to come up with for my commercial art projects) comes in handy. They know I'm going to weekends when I get a FT.

It's very rainy here. Normally that would predjiduce me to a city, but Chicago and I have a foundation, so instead I walk around noting how atmospheric the rain makes certain buildings and streets.

And Mom, you'll be glad to know I'm not loosing my driving skills. They are actively applied on the sidewalk. Approaching slow poke.... No, I can't pass... opposite traffic coming too fast... *slow down*... can I pass?... *check behind me to make sure noone else is trying to get ahead*... proceed past slow poke. (and there are a lot of slow pokes in this town. bloody buckets).

Love, me.

The Air and Water Show

2006-08-18T13:34:00.000-07:00

I was walking down Clark, about to sign my life away to a new bank, when I saw (and heard) a fighter jet zoom over head, seeming be headed for the nearest tall building.
My breath stopped and I paused "Oh great." I thought in a wry and nonchalant voice, least I get embarressed later for freaking out like a silly hayseed "We're being attacked."

When I didn't see a ball of flame decend upon me, seeing as the fighter jet decided to go around the building, I remembered reading in the free "Redeye paper" that the annual air and water show was this weekend, so I would be seeing and hearing fighter jets zooming around for hours with out needing to fun for my life. Or in my case, assume the fetal position and hope it all goes away.

I then signed my life and my returned saftey deposit check over to my new nationwide bank and went back home for fine dining of lentils and (a home made) baguette. My agenda, as it is pretty much every day, was to go to the Downtown library (since you can use Word there and not at the others) and intend to answer help wanted ads online.

I decided to walk to the library since it was only 3-4 miles, and it would save me $1.75. I had intended to walk down parts of Wells (parts of it have a lot of shops). Another fighter plane zoomed above me and while I don't really like loud sounds over my head, I decided I would feel less depressed about the "no spending" orrdanance on the lakefront than on a shopping street.
So I walked over to lake shore drive, and waited to cross with a women and her young daughter.
The daughter was dressed up in a A-line skirt with pink ribbon with a matching halter top. She stood with one of her hands on her hips surveying those across the road. "I like that women's hair." She said. "Isn't it pretty?" she looked up at her mom "It is."
She fluffed her ponytail "I like my hair to." she said "Me too baby." The mom replyed.
The light changed and I was walking ahead of them. "That girl is wearing tennis shoes with her skirt. Isn't that funny!" The girl loudly proclaimed in an exuberant and happy voice only a kid can pull off as they don't know/don't care that the girl in brown sneakers (rather expensive earth shoes that I wouldn't recommend getting) and colorful red spanish skirt ($1.50- thrift store in omaha) down to her calves can totally hear her.
I didn't get to hear the mom's reply because she did care that I could hear her and lowered her voice.
I felt rather cool that my style had just gotten knocked by a 5 year-old. I probably won't be able to ever get my holy grail- being on People's worst dress list (though I feel I would class it up, since most of the women on the list are usually on their for their penchant for hooker wear). So I will take this kindergarden critique with pride.

I threw off my shoes (for the sand, not the pint sized fashonista) and trodded down the beach. Ah beach. I love walking downtown on the beach- you can't go east because there's the lake, and above you is a mountain range to ensure you know what direction you're headed. The fighter planes were putting on their show the whole time I walked down the beach. It was pretty cool, though I'm sure I looked rediculous cringing and silently gasping if a plane suprised be by zooming directly above or flying directly towards eachother, curving off at the last moment, or looking like they were going to take out downtown.

When I made my way off the beach into the River north part of downtown I stopped, there before me, was the main headquarters for: American Girl.

I never had an American Girl Doll. An American girl doll with historical accesories was not in the Thye family budget. I had one book- "Samantha saves the day." and a monthly subscription to the free cataloge.

Every month the magazine was pretty much the same... but every month I poured over it- wishing, hoping, dreaming, and planning.
I poured a victiorian tea forSamantha and sampled a petite four *(sp?). I assured Kristin that she wasn't stupid, just a Swedish immigrant who was going to be ok on the Minnesotan prarie as I helped her with her lesson on her chalkboard. I sometimes ignored Molly, seeing as she was a bit of a dork with her glasses, dumpy clothes and long mousy brown hair... I now feel I may have been projecting on the poor girl. She was spunky. And she did win capture the flag at camp in "Molly saves the day."

What facinated me most was the miniture plastic lunches each girl had. I'd flip back and fourth- which one would I pick, if I could only pick one. Would it be Smanatha's watercress sandwhich (on white bread), deviled egg, peach and gingerbread man cookie in the shiny gold pail with an embroidered napkin? Molly's lunch with a pbj, celery and carrot sticked looked a bit too close to my own sorry lunch- though she also got a pear and an oreo cookie in a snappy red lunchbox. Addy came much later (I think after I was kicked off the subscription for never buying anything), but I knew she had a meat pie pastry, greapes and 4 cookies spelling out love in a tin pail. The lunch I was always drawn to in the end was Kristin's pioneer school lunch. She got a hunk of bread, sausage, cheese and an apple. How european!
I always cherished the stories where the kids (and if they weren't fetching a doctor or saving a pet... they were running away from evil orpahanges with bad conditions.... or Nazis.) would stuff their knapsacks with the same items before a journey.

Mmmm. bread, sausage, cheese and an apple.
But as I'd finalize my decision I'd go back and look at Samantha's watercress sandwich (on white bread) and wonder if perhaps I was being influenced by the carved swedish box Kristin's school lunch came in. I'd go back to the beginning, as if the lunch I picked would magically appear in place of my used and reused crumpled brown bag containing the dry wheat bun of death*

a little more later

* I would like to state that my mom feed us very well in all other meals and I am a very healthy girl for all my lack of lunch time dessert, salty package snacks and white bread... but I still can't eat pbj to this day (I've slowly forgiven carrots and celery). Soup, rice, chicken, satay, nasi kunig (sp?) Of course! Thanks mom.

Average

2006-08-18T13:33:00.000-07:00

More later on this...

Day 9 as a Chicagoan

2006-08-10T16:58:00.000-07:00

I would like to keep this somewhat consistant as to updating it at least every two weeks.

I havn't had any real misadventures yet, though I did smash my big toe into the crosswalk when I tripped crossing the street. I was wearing lime green flip flops that weren't exactly masking the blood pouring out as I dug through my purse for a banddaid know I wouldn't find one. I did, however, find a zip-lock baggie- which I put on my toe.

I looked like a walking tetnus shot on the 2-mile walk home, but at least I wasn't bleeding on the lovely sidewalks of Chicago.

No job yet. But resumes and apps have been filled out and turned in. I have also: made some fabulous challah bread (better than the $5-6 savings drain challah at the dsm farmers market), become a regular at the downtown library (the second largest library in the world), made cookies and biscuits, gone to the green farmers market in lincoln park, had some gazpacho at Kopi (kopi means coffee in Indonesian- the two owners met at a hostel in Indonesia) in Andersonville, gone to the Garfield Park conservatory and got a marriage (or boyfreind, if that was what I was looking for) proposal, mastered the art of making a chive omlet or chive frittata (the challah got a little dry after a few days), read a book with a compelation of stories about women and eating, gotten my room and kitchen supplies unpacked so I can sit on my world rug every morning and have tea and breakfast, found 7 health food stores, walked on the shoreline with my sandals off on North Avenue beach, cooked corn and potatoes, and have taken the L almost every day.

Today it was going to rain... kind of, almost... but the sky was taking it's sweet time so there was a foggy mist all over. Poluted Haze is probably more correct, but it still looked romantic.
Often I would pass to see a lone person walking through the arbor off trees and past the brick and stone houses. They were perfectly framed and the mist made the moment quite picturesque.

Hope all is well with you- M

Chicago: Thursday and Friday

2006-07-21T09:34:00.000-07:00

Hah to everyone in middle Iowa- you don't have a lake breeze. (You can laugh at me during the refreshing winter breeze.)

Thurs:
Got an apartment, for the next couple months anyways.
I will be living and spliting the rent in a big one bedroom with a very nice 27-year old girl.
I was going to just move in some of my stuff- bed, clothes and put the boxes and boxes and boxes of books, mags, cooking supplies, trinkets, papers, papers, papers in a 5 by 5 by 8 storage unit, but Beth told me just to bring it all there was plenty of room. I told her I had a lot. She said that was fine and that I was paying for the apt as well, so it was mine to move into.

She's currently staying in the studio and I want this studio (but not till I get a job) My gosh it's twice the size of all the others I've seen, hard wood floors, top floor, gas stove, walk in closet. I could live with a family of 8 in there. (but they couldn't use the closet) AND it's only $655. It was delicious- I'm glad I didn't grab the studio I could sort of seeing myself living in Wed. It's also right where I want to move, right by Lincoln Park.

I've been reading the paper everyday. I feel special everyday, walking to the L stop and grabbing the free daily Red Eye paper. It's a local paper and grocery store magazine all in one- and it's in color.

Friday:
Checked out of my hostel and took the L downtown and put my bags in storage at the HI hostel. Today will be about doing a little job search on the net and then looking for jobs near the apt.

Then I'm going home to get things together, see some cousins up in South Dakota. August 1st I will be back in Chicago for good. That's exciting.

I've gotten bored with the "I did this, this, and this" daily reports. I'm going to still do them, but in my little day by day book just for myself. I'd like to learn more words, be a better writer.
I'm going to save this for complete, specific stories, personal essays, a thought here and there- not all the time, just sometimes.

Chicago so far...

2006-07-18T16:08:00.000-07:00

Saturday: Wander into the apartmentpeople (free apartment finding service) at 11am and face 30 bored, slightly impatient looking white kids all plastered on the tan sofas... As the waiting room confirmed, they could take no one sat or sun, I'd have to come in Monday.
Perhaps I should have planned this whole move a bit more...

Sunday: Had pancakes with a friend.
Confirmed that while I really like the Wicker park neighborhood* I didn't really want to live there... just yet. (Plus the whole fact that there is a silly mainstream movie with the guy who looks like a big overgrown sad little boy... josh... something... with the same name and set in that area kind of turns me off as well- though there is an amazing song by sterophonics on the soundtrack I like to call the "sassy owl song") I've been thinking a lot about neighborhoods. What I want in them. I used to want to live where there were the most artists so there was a greater chance of me in flannel in a unheated loft feverishly painting to pay the rent (but surrounded by other flannel/colorful rag wearing wanderers). But after getting followed 15 times in 3 months in Europe... My gosh I want a little saftey. I don't want to have to walk by 4 guys glaring out at me from doorways to go home everyday. I just don't. And I want shops, but trees and parks as well. The Loop is very central, but if I am tired, lost, and hungry I start to feel a heavy despair after walking around the large concrete sidewalks for more than 10 minutes. Lincoln Park and Lakeview are where I want to live.

* (a little chicago knowledge that might be wrong) Wicker Park is one of the top 5 "artist" neighborhoods in Chicago- though I think, but since I'm a baby I don't know, a lot of that art community has migrated to the Pilsen neighborhood since the natural progression is artist move in where it's cheap, it gets popular, the yuppies and starry eyed kids move in, rent goes up- repeat somewhere else. But that Pilsen info is a bit outdated- so now it's probably somewhere I don't even know...),

Monday: Looked at apartments with the apartment people (free apartment finding service).
#1 Was dark, but had air conditioning and a gas stove
# 2 smaller than #1, had lovely hard wood floors but was on a first floor and an active imagination and a first floor, I have never felt, are a good combination.
more on this day later. while the apts didn't thrill me- def. know I want to live here.

Tuesday:
Life, I concluded today at 4:30pm, was stomach turning cappachinos with no promised internet in return, spoiled slurge chicken, soy milk and eggs in the hot hostel fridge, and crushed and smashed free spirited plans to find the perfect apartment first before I found a job to pay for said magical apartment. (went by myself and saw one, that while small and not near perfect, I could actually see myself in unlike 1 and 2)
And then my mind requested the positives of today and I my mind drew a blank. I do, like most people, snap on the tragic.
So what was good about today... 2 hours of free internet, a free bagle, a swifty accident free el ride, a windy breeze, remembering to put suncreen on the tip of my nose, having the renewed sense to forget vanity (after 2 days of bleeding crooked toes and blisters) and wear tennis shoes when one walks 5 miles, a cute leasing agent named Collin with curly hair and a caffine haze to make me feel like every word I shakily type is brilliant...

Wed:
On the search for a temporary apartment...
Looking for a job is fine... but I want a room. (even if it's sharing with someone and temporary situation). I want neighborhood I'm free to walk around in and explore.

I want an Chicago address. A chicago library card. I really want a chicago library card. That is when I will feel like a true and honest Chicagoan. When I had a laminated card that says my name and Chicago in the same 2 by 3 inch area. I think I found one (I could stay up to 3 months) in the neighborhood I want to live, but I will need to meet her and the apartment first and make sure everything is legit.

Apartment Hunting in Chicago

2006-07-12T21:05:00.000-07:00

and job hunting to. :)

I leave tommorrow and am staying at a hostel for a little over a week.

I'll keep this a little updated with big news for now (I'm trying to regulate how much time I spend messing around on the internet until I actually find a job and an apt) or what I find...a job, a home, a magical farmer's market, a cheap skirt, a really good loaf of bread...

Back Home

2006-06-25T16:24:00.000-07:00

Arrived in Roland safe and sound.

/end trip

and now: the Chicago blog. Me and Chi. I'll have to think about it. Michelle the Chicagoan. Becoming a Chicagoan. Chicagoan Iowan. Iowa girl moves to the big city (yeck/ but i had to put it in there.)
Moving to Chicago. Chicago gal.

Chicago: Saturday the 24th

2006-06-23T03:37:00.000-07:00

Flew out of London at 12:55 on the 24th, Saturday and flew for 8 hours through the time change and got to Chicago on the same day at 3pm.

I will be available to the central Iowans after the 27th or 28th.

Everyone keeps asking me if I'm sad that the trip is over and I can't say I am. A little overwhelmed that tommorrow (tommorrow!) I will be back in the US and will need to get down to finding a job and will be dealing with interviews, apt searches and leases, moving vans, selling myself... but I liked my trip, I like that I get to start things in Chicago (and bake and be a big city gal and listen to music and have 80 outfits to choose from).

Also, I met someone* in Paris and they are coming home with me and moving with me to Chicago... =)

love,
Michelle

*Her name is Sabine, and she is a grocery shopper. Two big white wheels, a purple satin cloth bag, a black plastic handle- she's lovely. I like her very much. She lost a wheel in Paris and I wasnt very happy with her but it snapped right back on. I have wanted a grocery shopper for a very long time... Grocery shoppers are everywhere in the european cities... they are like the car trunk for the cool city dweller who doesnt drive. Mine isn't quite as sofisticated as the plaid or striped designer numbers/ but she can cart scarves and vegetables and waterbottles... and she is a parisian, so we will find fine food and wine together.

London: wed thur fri sat

2006-06-18T11:16:00.000-07:00

I am really glad I went back to Paris. I think of all the cities it was probably my favorite... even though on tues (day I got on the night bus) I took Min along with me to trek through the big park (big green areas on maps always lure me to them) on the outskirts of paris and after thinking "what a nice big, happy forest" and then we passed two women in tight outfits looking tired. Then we passed a few more. I looked across the street and there were 15 women in a various and colorful array of tight, tiny outfit all crowded around a vehicle.
Great. Min had a cold and didnt see the women and was wandering a bit deliriously.
"Not to alarm you but we need to walk just a little faster Min" "huh?" "we've wandered into a prostitute/pimp area..." "oh?..." I dont know if she quite believed me because she didnt see the huge group of women.... until she started see women in stilletos and black leather micromini skirts and tops strolling down the forest path every few feet.
We ended up walking through the heavily prostituted area of the park for a couple miles with random men coming out of the woods and amid the strolling prostitutes. and then there few typical men who think that because a normal girl(s) is in a bad area that gives him the right to act like a goon even more than he usually does. But the main one was in spandex, had a helmet and his bicycle- so it took down the intimidation quite a bit.

Min thinks hanging out with me is exciting. I wouldnt term mistaking dryed up stream beds as paths down a swiss mountain, getting lost, ending up in bad areas or attracting stalkers as exciting or that you would think fondly of time spent with a friend who seems to attract those kinds of situations, but she did point out it always turns out alright. We walked for hours and finally hopped on a bus with took us back to the love of the city "walls". We both felt a lot better.

Shoot, I havnt written more about my other time in paris so I hope that doesnt mare your view. Well, all cities have prostitutes and parks and bad men. Paris also has pretty, and scarves, and picnics and music, and trees and light and lovely lovely streets. London looks a bit hard compared.

tues night I took the night bus to london.

Got here fine, really short on sleep, so going to bed in a little bit.

Slept 13 hours, feel better, went walking around hyde park, kensington gardens. They are quite different in the summer. A lot of the grass is let to grow wild so you really get a english countryside feel at times. I went to Marks and Spencers, and did NOT buy a giant chocolate cookie. ick. but did buy a lunchbox

While I like Paris more, there is something nice about London, after I get over the general midwest heartattack of every 50p I spend, I am actually spending 1 dollar. and every 1 pound, 2 dollars.

It is somewhat bizzare to be in a place where I understand what everyone is saying and I know the words to respond to them. When I get to the counter to buy something I go through my word folder in my mind/ "What is the word I need to say?" "oh... yes...thankyou."
thank-you. and then I realize I know english quite well and don't need to be searching for it.
Someone asks me a question on the street and I respond, suprised I could communicate completly with words... that's because you are in an english speaking country.

friday
going exploring. might buy a top.

sat
fly out of london at 1pm.

Paris: Wed,Thur, Fri, Sat, Sun, Mon

2006-06-11T09:14:00.000-07:00

Wed: Flight got to Bervais fine; took bus to paris and wound around the metro to the hostel.
I have so much stuff... but when I am in chicago and have striped scarves; turkish scarves and a 18 dollar 3 liter container of qaulity olive oil- it will not have been in vain:

The airport security people were rather suspisious of me when the backpack with the oil jug inside went through the xray. Come here. Open it. What is it! Open it all the way up... but in the end me and my olive oil boarded safely.

Am rather sleep deprived so will just walk around, might go check out the tower since i ignored it last time; or rather I was with boys who didnt want to walk two more miles::::
the rooms open up at 5 and then will sleeep. Transfering hostels tommorrow, hopefully get a room set up for 5 days.

I am thinking about things I am happy to get back to in less than two weeks... ginger candy, buckets of tea, perscription sunglasses, my music, my clothes, my cookbooks, a fridge, a kitchen, the farmers markets, bare feet, bathrooms in supermarkets- bathrooms bathrooms everywhere, free internet, a grass lawn to lay in .. oh and my family and friends =)

Tuesday> overnight at Bergamo airport

2006-06-11T09:12:00.000-07:00

Tuesday/

travel day
took the train to bergamo, transfered at milan.

took the bus to the bergamo airport after about 6 hours of travel.

my flight left at 6am on the 14th so I am just stayed at the airport.
they moved us bums around a couple of times; but was able to sleep a couple hours

Florence> Sunday, Monday

2006-06-11T09:00:00.000-07:00

Monday
got to florence with no reservation. showed up at a hostel at 830 and was able to get a room for 2 nights. perfect. there are a lot of people in florence. I have heard more english spoken than I think I heard the day I left chicago. I have also found where the little 18 yearolds go when they go to europe... but its ok/ there is a bit of florence Im absorbing after intially rejecting and keepng it off my itinerary.

walked to the doumo, the uffitzi, the bobli something gardens/ i plan to go there tommorrow.

walked though streets w stand after stand of purses, clothes, sunglasses, scarves... but a lttle too much for me... and then after I crossed the river I found it/ CHEAP STUFF.

oh it was the flea market of dreams. There was even a tree shaded fountain to take rest in. Michelle was no longer the poor urchin/ she was the 25 yearold who HAD a EURO to buy a handmade jacket that fit her perfectly. She had 4 euro to buy natural oil. She did not buy but looked with love at old black and white photos, shining flowers, hippie clothes, two polyester 3 euro evening gowns (it was very hard to say no/ but I made this (flexible) vow awhile ago upon a survey of my closet that I wasnt really allowed to buy anymore fun clothes, especially fun polyester evening gowns/skirts... or clothes you cant wear at a professional job work... because if I wanted to wear a different nonprofessional work appropriate outfit every day for about 40 days....I totally could.

monday
talked to a girl from korea (but goes to school in nyc) in my room who was leaving for the day.

I was sitting with my notebook trying to be realistic about when I got back and what I could accomplish in what time and I asked her how many days were in june, july...
She showed me how to keep track on calendar days on your hand. hold out a fist. first knuckle, january 31 days, no knuckle feb 28 or 29, knuckle march 31 days, no knuckle april 30 days and then july and august are both 31 and on the pinky knuckle and then you go back. It's like a new land of great power has been opened to me.

went to the boboli gardens and was there for 8 hours. Took a really long seista by the pond. Wasnt too smart and only brought one bottle of water and went to the only cafe in the place after it closed so at the end was wondering around deleriously among the dusty roads, views of florence and 10 feet tall hedges. It was very nice and relaxing though.
Went to a supermarket and bought some watermelon, sandwhich and salad for supper and snacks and tons of water for my train trip the next day.

Sat in the hostels garden and wrote

Lucca: Thursday, Friday, Saturday

2006-06-05T03:11:00.000-07:00

thurs
got here

fri
a little bored, the novelty of getting to walk around a city wall has worn off a little bit. It's 12. I do have to do errands though so its something to do. I think I am mainly bitter than I missed a huge clothes market in Camucia-Cortona getting to the train. I could have taken a later train, but it just didnt feel sensible. I have plenty of clothes. I have too many. I dont need any more. It s just all the clothes shops I pass here as so expensive it hurts my heart, and a cheap clothes market restores it.

sat
Went to Pisa w- a girl from montreal. Took cheesy photos. it was fun. Walked around pisa. saw some tables, went a little crazy eyed in my search for cheap clothes. but madeline was understanding. bought a 3l container of olive oil to take home. found a 1 euro scarf/ felt a little better.

Sun
left lucca super early and to try get a hostel room in florence

tues
will make my way up to the bergamo airport where I will be a bum that night and stay in the airport

wed
will fly to paris at 6am

a little change

2006-06-01T13:00:00.000-07:00

I was in Assisi and had a revelation.

I am going to enjoy tuscany.... and paris. Ryanair was having a sale today so I bought a really cheap flight from bergamo (by milan) for 1 cent (taxes and baggage 19 euros/ still really cheap) on the 14th.

so 2 weeks in tuscany and 1 good full week in paris. The way I saw it, it is costing me aabout 30 euros more than getting back to london via italy. Paris is a little more expensive than Italy and I-ll be doing more expensive things and I know I am wasting a little money zigzagging, but so so so much less if I dont do it while I am here on the continent.

what will 50 to 200 euros mean in a year when I have a job and am a work horse?

I feel good about it because I get the best of everything. Get to see what I wanted to in Tuscany and get to take my pictures, take my walks, and go to the museums in Paris.

michelle

Cortona: monday tues wed

2006-05-31T05:05:00.000-07:00

Monday the 5th
Got to Cortona with no problem. Walked around the square, ate some gelato, took in the view, bed really early.

Tuesday the 6th
Walked around with two american guys for a couple hours. Found the gelato I had been looking for. It made me go "this is really good.", not "I hope I find that gelato everyone talks about." It was melon gelato.

Will go get my camera and go take some pics now that I've gotten a bit of a feel for Cortona.

The paris hostels are all booked up. I managed to book one day for the 14th and am just going to stake my bets on a HI hostel that you just have to show up in the morning for.

wed
took a daytrip with a german women to a wine loving hill town called moltopuchiano (not how itsspelled, how it sounds)

it took about an hourandahalf to get there, so got to see a lot more of tuscany. great veiws at the town. had no wine, but took tons of pics.

Yes, there is one reason why I wanted to go here and I won't be ashamed. Everyone has reasons for going everywhere and it often is because of a book, magazine, movie,picture or guidebook. And maybe it was from someone else, but can you tell me they didn't get it from a book, magazine, movie, picture or guidebook?

So with my copy of "under the tuscan sun" in my pack I will go, probably monday.

Perugia: Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday

2006-05-31T03:35:00.000-07:00

My body officially does not appreciate extreme weather changes. I went from hot Italy to cold Switzerland, to cool Paris and am now back in Italy and not feeling fantastic. I feel a lot like I did the night before I got sick in London. My stomach hurts, my chest is congested, and my head is getting stuffy... but I am happy to be back in Perugia with my fantastic view from my room and my 1 euro an hour internet cafe so I can empty my cards once again.

Last night I stood at the window of my room, my reflection blending in with Perugia and the lights on the surrounding hills...
"Michelle! You get to write in Tuscany(umbria)!"
"Everyone writes in Tuscany(umbria)" I snapped back to myself
*pause* *shakes head* Ok. Forgetting that the place you wish you were is PARIS *cough* You are not writting a guidebook or novel (as much as you like to daydream that you are)- you are journaling- writting in your diary. And don't worry, in 3 to 4 weeks you will be in the uncharted journalistic territory of Roland and can sell millions of copies with your descriptions about the Velkommen sign at sunset.

I had this nightmare vision of me spending all my free time in Chicago searching obsessivly for a cheap flight deal to Paris for my next vacation, so I started journaling, it's been a little while since I have. My room has a wood desk and chair just made for a little before bed reflection.

Wed: Today is a internet day and I'm ok with that because I don't think I'll be having more than this. I was thinking of my bag and camera as having to travel with a child- having to take care of it, watch it, make sure it is ok and safe, people pay more attention to you when you have it... until I was on the night train to Florence on monday night and a french women came in with an actual child (adorable 7 month old baby). My backpack and camera are nothing like a baby. Aww, babies. So lovely. Infants scare the heck out of me, but a 6-8th month baby is fantastic. So little and squirmy. They can't walk so they can't run away, they can't talk so they annoy you a little less. They just sit there all little and precious and bounce and make cute noises. There were three other backpackers, a somewhat weird canadian girl who looked and acted like she was 18 and two guys from oklahoma and we all kind of fell for the baby. The girl and I were always ready to help out and hold him if needed, the guys would let the baby hold their hand or stare at them. Because baby vibes are healing and good. As long as they dont cry- and this baby didn't at all.

The only thing I am doing today other than this is getting some veggies. I've found I like pasta a lot more than I thought I did, and (of course) it's incredibly cheap here- so I eat a lot of it. I am not a huge fan of Italian cuisine- too much cheese and cream. But a small pocket of it I adore. Lamb, Pasta, articokes, pesto, a little cheese, fresh fruit, gelato. I need veggies.

Went out with a french girl to see the night life of Perugia because she feels you havent really seen a city if you havent seen it at night. It was kind of a slow night, but i liked it.

Thursday: Went to Assisi. It was nice.
it is strangely windy and cold here. winter coat weather.

Friday: Rained buckets today.

Most of the shops, including the grocery store was bizzarly shut this morning. No reason. I asked around but havn't the italian and those I talked to either didnt have the english or knowledge as to why. Some shops have opened now, its like threefourths of the town decided to stay in until the rain let up a little. (found out it was a local holiday of some kind)

Was a little vulnerable on the street so I found a caffe and asked for camomile tea- got dargeeling. Caffiene. Stood at the counter because it was cheaper and drank the pot. Walked to the only town hall and pretended to be a part of a torino tour group so I could get out of the rain. Found another open cafe with lots of tables and chairs and journaled for 2 hours. Figured a few things out that I needed to.

I wont go into it now- but in conclusion- I am not a victim. Not a walking target.
Not a dumb, stupid, stuttering klutz. I am a brunette, but will accept that I am a temporary blond in other countries.
I am a beautiful, strong, competent, talented, intellegent woman and I will view myself as such. The end.

Will now go see if the grocery store is open.

It was not. Wandered around up and down main street. Left my unbrella on a bench. Realized I had abandoned it and 45 minutes it was still there. I guess unbrellas are safe here.

There is a movie theater between the street where I use the internet and my hostel. And I had seen a few time the poster for the Da Vinci Code... maybe perhaps it was not dubbed? I practiced and practiced )well 4 times) movie dubbed? in italian. but there were a lot of people and the desk women were impationant. I couldnt get an answer. Parlay englase? no? cinema dubio? no answer, shes helping the next person. I got from the desk girl that it was subtitled. not dubbed? no. subtitled? some of it. excellent.
Turns out it was subtitled for the FRENCH parts. and was very much dubbed.
So I watched all of The Da Vinci Code in Italian.

I had been planning on walking out when I couldnt pick up anything anymore- but thats the thing about action movies and movies based on talked about books... I wasn't too confused... a little annoyed with the poor sad Sophie music and the high pitched Italian they chose to dub Audrey Tatou's voice... and Tom Hanks hair was truly terrible... but I picked up on most of it.

and it was kind of meh. I don't really blame the movie or actors for that- just the material.

When you found out (suprise suprise) Sophie is a decendent of Jesus I just groaned. How many times have I heard that one? sorry for anyone who didn't want to know or hasnt seen it. But the second you get that sad sap parents died when she was 4 story is it really a suprise?
And if it's this huge secret the church will do anything to cover up- why do they put a fat puffy faced priest in charge and have a mental patient do all their dirty work and they all follow a crazed professor? And why would a group of cops and bankers care about covering up the fact that jesus was married and had a kid? What exactly would they loose?
I sat there thinking this, this is what the big hallaballo was over?
Why did everyone waste so much time and energy making this book so controversial and discussing and discussing and discussing it? Much worse things have been said about Jesus and this was, even if it got some stuff from history, a fiction book. Seriously. The writer used the bloodlines card as the big reveal.
"Impossible" Sophie says when Tom Hanks tells her, her "shocking" blood line.
"It's not impossible Sophie. It's actually the most obvious. Every freaking story with some girl or boy with a dead or missing parent story also has the accursed bloodline issue as well."
I'll admit, it is tempting to throw in that whole bloodline thing. The mystery! The big secret! The shocking revelation! "She decends from such and such." "They are brothers!" "She is actually her mom! Oh. who. cares?
How about everyone keep the parents and bloodlines and family situation they have and have to deal with them?
I almost did it in one of my stories (maybe V and M are actually brother and sister so M is actually from royal blood!) then decided it was a horrible, unoriginal idea and vowed to never ever use the bloodlines card.
That poor card has such little life left after all the string of shows and stories with secret evil organizations. M was going to have to stay in her slave bloodline.
I'll have to come up with something else. Like all the nuts all the slave folk eat gives them secret powers! heh heh heh. Oh stupid story.

Saturday: It was still quite cold. I was prepared with my coat and sweater. I used the net (need to get accomadation for next 2 weeks), called turtle for an hour, walked for three hours. Bought a book- Bella Tuscany (the second one to under the tuscan sun) for just 11.30 euros.

Got back at 5 and cooked a lot. Plotted out what I would see in Paris. Read a little, Went to bed early. I don't feel sick anymore.

Sunday: It is sunny today. I read on the church steps, snacked on my pasta, walked around with two girls who are leaving for croatia today.

I decided on Tuscany/Umbria (and missing Paris)

2006-05-31T03:00:00.000-07:00

After an absurd amount of thinking about it, I decided to go back to Tuscany. Going back to Spain had to much "I should" wrapped into it, there will be plenty of things I should and have to do when I get back.

Monday
I checked out of the hostel and walked out with my backpack and a garbage bag I had just thrown everything in. My coat hadnt dried very well so I went to the laundramat and as it dried I got everything out of the garbage bag and organized myself. Checked mail and made sure no wwoofers had written me, nope.

Went to the station and called my family. I was going to spain. No, I was going to Italy. But I like France. But I should start to learn Spanish. But the sun is hot in italy. What if I choose Italy and I loose a leg? The people in Paris are pretty and I like France, but I have a train day left and I really want to use it. Opps the train to Madrid just left, oh I'll get the next one. I want to stay in one place. I want to travel. I really liked the view in Perugia, I wanted to write there. But I could write in Spain and start to learn a little Spanish. back and forth and round and round. I usually make decisions, for the most part, fairly well. Movies, food, where I want to go or do, clothes- all fine. But if I come to a fork in the road for what I feel to be big decisions my brain shorts out. My family was nice to me.

At the end I was going back to Italy, to Tuscany/Umbria. It was the one place I really felt like I was leaving too soon, hadnt seen nearly all I wanted to. I really liked Spain, but I felt like I had said goodbye for now and was good with that. I was going to spend a week in Perugia, see Assisi, spend a few days in Cortona, maybe even go to Florence, Lucca and then get a cheap flight to London after 22 days. It would be relaxed and cheap and all I would worry about was writing in my journal, getting groceries (but not too many- i really am on a budget now), and walking. There were no booked hostels, trains to the next place are less than 5 euros, and the my only deadline was june 21st to fly back to london.

So I went to the Bercy station, looking around me and trying to take more in of Paris and it wasn't happening because part of me wanted to forget the train pass, throw my things in storage and walk around for 4 days. I had one metro pass left, I could run to the eiffel tower- maybe even take a picture. I hadnt taken any pictures of Paris.
I was wanting to just and the travel fairy was good to me, the night train to florence was not full.

Tues-

I am still missing Paris.
Yesterday I was searching to see how easy it would be to get a flight to Paris from Italy and I would have to go to Milan 30 or so euros, the flight would be about 35 euros, and then the bus to london would be 30. So 100 euros to get back to Paris and then to london. As opposed to my original plan to take my sweet time making my way to Pisa or Parma and getting a 20 euro flight back to London.

I had this nightmare vision of me spending all my free time in Chicago searching obsessivly for a cheap flight deal to Paris for my next vacation. I was about to spend all my time in Perugia thinking about Paris. I had done everything there I had planned to do. I ate some bread, walked by the seine- saw the bridges, people watched, walked to the arc de triumph, met up with a friend, met some people, sat in a cafe, saw the park in montmarte where a scene from amelie was filmed, climbed up to the sacre coure, walked through the lourve gardens. It was 5pm and my train to Florence left at 7pm... "I will just jump on the metro, run to the eiffel tower, buy some post cards, take a picture and run back."
Absolutly not. The eiffle tower is on the other side of town. You know the rule, an hour and a half before a night train leaves, you and your flighty always-late self is planted in the station. This is the last day your train pass is valid, if you miss this train you are stuck in Paris for 20 days.
That could be ok...
Yes it could. But you really, really wanted to go back to Tuscany/Umbria because 2 days wasnt enough. You want to go say goodbye to Italy because you feel you havent. You have a great plan, feasible but still relaxed with your current budget. Remember? You already decided that. And you've already reserved your couchette bed for 25 euros.
But I have an unused metro ticket!
Let it be what will get you back to Paris, just like the coin over your shoulder in the Trevi fountain.
Ohhh... that's a good idea. A magic metro ticket. My ticket back to Paris.
my gosh...
.......
I had been looking at a Paris map to get myself into reality and I saw I had only walked through about an 8th of Paris. An 8th, and that was just inside the walled area. It made me incredibly sad. An 8th. I hadn't been too concerned about only being in Paris for 3 full days before. Paris to me had almost been in the same arena as New York and London- hyped to high heavens. I would be fine with never going to New York again. I would be fine with never seeing London again either (though I will be there to get a Marks and Spencers lunchbox and fly back on the fabulous British Airways). If I got offered a free apartment and really sweet job then I'd think about it, but for visiting again, meh. But Paris...
It's not that I want to move to France and learn French or even live in Paris for a few months. It's not that I got there and was swinging a rose around composing poems about the romance and life. The romance of Paris is too hyped to the point of clique... but there is still something about it. I realized there was a reason I like so many movies from Paris- because it is a great city, and I had barely touched it. That was why I was missing it, I hadn't seen EVERY bridge on the siene. Only half of them. I hadn't picked my favorite one like Sabrina did. I didn't skip rocks on Charles bridge. I didn't walk down every street. I hadn't taken a wicker basket and gathered flowers and a baguette. Cripes I had barely walked around.

On sunday I had told Philippe that I was living in Paris. Taking the metro, cooking, doing laundry, running a few errands, researching on the internet, going to a cafe, walking with friends, pretending the eiffel tower doesn't exist like the some of the other Parisians. And I was ok with that because I knew I'd be back. He laughed at my explanation.

And I took no pictures. I just looked at my camera and I just wanted a few camera free days. I just wanted to walk purseless, bagless, free. There are enough pictures of Paris out there in the world. but i could have bought 12 postcards for a 2 euro but didnt because i was with phillipe and we were on a search for a cafe- when you live in paris you don't make the person you are with wait while you patronize a tourist stand. silly goose. should have bought the postcards

I couldn't change the fact that I had to run errands or things to figure out or had a lot of sleep to catch up on. but it was like I had only been there a day and a half. sigh... how clique and common to be yearning after Paris. Even if you are having to watch for pee on the streets, even if it's a modern city with millions of tourists and tons of pickpockets- I walked around and thought "that's a bakery! and that is a cafe! and that's a flower stand! and that's a pretty parisian women wearing a scarve!" You see those things everywhere, but Paris was one of the places where it all started. There is a reason why people love it and miss it.

Paris/ thursday, friday, sat; sun

2006-05-25T11:20:00.000-07:00

Paris_
typing on a parisian keybourd is labourious.
this is how that sentence would look at my normal pace...
typing on q pqrisiqn keybourd is lqbourious:
and 2's are é's and m's are ,'s : so needless to say i wont be typing much: i know i could change it but its been two months so i cant remember where everything is-at least on the crazy keybourd i usually find it eventually.

thursday
left the now sunny alps, just got in, am going to bed: plan to do much needed errands sat and the louve or the orsay museum sunday and then i dont have a clue what im doing:i wish i did kinda; but thats what you get when you put things off. =)

friday
i think my first full day in a city is by far my favorite day: I leave my camera in the hostel; i make no plans; i only put toilet paper; a pen; water bottle and a peice of paper in my thai purse and i just walk around and get a feel for the place; In every city I usually have a image; something i associated with the place before hand running through my head non stop: In Rome it was an old Kodak fast film commercial (two american girls in bright clothes traveling in rome see a car with a cardboard sign advertising a city tour: they laugh- should we do it? yeah they agree: Do you need film, the prettier of the two girls asks the other: No I have film: The pretty smart one however grabs KODAK 400 (or 800; i cant remember) film (that probably cost a fortune): So you see the girls zooming around rome precariously in the crazy red car- having the time of their lives and snapping pictures of the colusseum; the forum; and all the other sights: THEN you see them get their film back and smart prettier girl's pics turned out great, while not as pretty girl looks at her pictures glumly "i should have used your film..."
and every time at the end of this commercial i thought - why doesnt not-as-pretty girl just ask her friend to make doubles (they both took hurried pics of the same thing- neither of them were trying to make art) and then they can split the cost of the 50 dollar film from the tourist kiosk? (heh: ok i didnt think the last part 8 years ago; but the thoughts been updated to add that:)
yeah so that was the hamster wheel image for rome, and after a week i was going a bit mad:

Switzerlands image was an obscure film about Heidi (the heidi of the alps) when she is older. Charlie Sheen was Heidi's nowhot and in military uniform childhood friend: She goes to this girls school during the war and after the school is evacuated this evil man for some reason takes her and five girls over a glacier in the alps so he can push them off and kill them. Which also made little sense to me. That seems like a lot of work- to journey over the alps and over a glacier to find a cliff to push them off. It's the mountains, he couldn't find a closer location. I guess they wanted the drama of 5 girls roped together being drug over a glacier and being feed only bread and water (though i always crave bread and water when i think about that movie. I think i may have watched it a lot. I also owned the book. at the end Heidi prevails and Charlie and Heidi KISS on a dark swiss road and then smile and walk back.)

I have quite a few rolling images for paris and they are all fantastic. Amelie, Sabrina (newer one), love me if you dare, happenstance, he loves me- he loves me not, Red, Blue, ( and NOT white), before sunset. It turns out my hostel is two blocks away from the sacre cour (the scene with the park and the carosel and she has the guy follow the arrows to the top of the stairs so she can sneak his albums in his motor bike and not have to speak to him right away. I am sad to say there is no red phone booth in the park, but everything else is there. I sat and watched everyone for awhile (i'll climb the stairs tommorrow) french children are incredibly beautiful. their eyes are so bright and peircing.

I had to get some things by the opera house so I walked around and looked at the statues-there are these green ones that have size twelve feet. That was cool.
The steps are a seating area for the public (I LOVE that about europe; how everywhere the stairs to a well known builiding just become this public meeting place) so i sat for awhile. I realized I was humming lines from "the phantom of the opera" when this parisian turned and stared at me- it's a problem when your by yourself for a long time, in the cinque terre I had a song on my mind and i thought I was completly alone on the trail for a good distance so I burst into song, singing the whole 4 minutes, only to come around the bend and see a guy sitting there "...Thats... a nice song."
"...Thanks. Sorry. *ran away*"
I also sat in a park that has 30 benches in a half moon and everyone had claimed one each for their lunchtime. I started to watch this fasinating couple having a very painful conversation, but then felt bad for treating their emotional pain like a movie to be watched. But it was facinating, better than watching foriegn soap opera: I first saw them enter the park and didnt know they were together right away. She looked like a student- glasses, casual dress, tied up hair. He was in a very sharp buissness suit. Then I saw him say something and she looked back at him sharply and said something short and kept walking quickly and his shoulders hunched up; She sat in a huff on the very end of the bench and crossed her arms, staring firmly ahead and the suit guy sat on the bench and then put his head in his hands- very distressed (that was when i got totally hooked- before i was just trying to decide how they became a couple because they looked quite different... but he looked older, maybe her father... no, a couple. Her professor at law school and secret lover... naw too clique... Oh! Now he is pleading with her... begging her, trying to hold her. She is talking in short words, pulling her arms away-he has done something very wrong and hurt her deeply, her lips are pursed while she talks in french and tries not to cry but nevertheless she is crying. He is leaning into her and touching her arm... I looked away because I knew I shouldn''t be making entertainment out of it. But some popcorn would have made it perfect.

I walked back to the hostel and met Philip, a parisian I had met in the Lisbon hostel. When I had called him the night before the poor guy was the first to get the firm direct michelle "I've had some people not understand we were just hanging out as friends and is this just as friends because thats is all i am interested in" boundry.
I do not feel bad because I wouldn't even have to do this if guys didn't try to cheat the system and avoid being turned down for a date by using deceptive words like "hang out", "hey fellow traveler, wanna go for a walk around the city", "grab some dinner": if they want a date they should bloody ask for a date so I am at least given the chance to say yes or no instead of being pulled into rediculous hair touching and asking me if i've ever had a boyfriend and why not and I should have a boyfriend and what am i thinking, what is on my mind and trying to hold my hand and touching my back as if I havn't crossed streets on my own for 20 years and thinking a kiss is a sure thing just because i am simply there when I never agreed to go on a date with them in the first place and was led to believe it was just casual hanging out.
I am not putting up with it any more. It is a complete waste of my time and theirs. If they want a girl who gets starry eyed and kissy after knowing eachother for an hour they can go find her. (and i still havn't been able to say "i am not attracted to you, i am not interested and here is why... " but i am getting close to that point. no more niceness. because their pea brains would hopefully compute that (or they could think i was a witch and either way i get them to stop trying to make a walk down the sidewalk to get a freaking kebab romantic). the fact that i like being single right now and if I did agree to have a relationship with someone it certainly wouldn't be with the first schmuck who tells me I am attractive does not compute with those boys. Most of them who have tried havn't even gotten one check on the non negotiable list (and it's only like, 10 things- incredibly attractive being #1 ;0) ). Min told me I was too picky and I told her I was ok with being too picky. I don't have a deadline. I am perfectly happy with how things are and I don't like momentary commitment. "I'm going to test you out for a month or a few years and we'll see where it goes." has never appealed to me. They may not understand or respect it but I do and that is enough.)
/end rant

No. didnt say all that to philip. just made sure it wasn't a date in no shape or form. He was very good natured about it. He thought I should write a book about all the guys who have followed me in europe.
He took me to quite a few of the paris overlooks in the department stores, showed me around, and then we went out for indian food (and paid for our own meals). it was a very nice friendly time.

saturday
did all my laundry-16 euros all together. cooked and then went up to the sacre cour steps with a 19 year old brit boy matthew. He was sitting in the kitchen looking bored and drinking wine and was all for walking (i felt no need to give him the is this just friends speech). Especially when he had heard the"every where is romantic" rome story and just groaned "oh gosh". yes. we walked to the arc de triumph; watched the crazy 14 lanes go around it as the sun went down. took the metro back.

sunday.
Have got to figure out where i will be for three weeks france spain italy.

and walk around river with philip

and get some free wine tonight because i gave matthew a metro ticket.

....................................
I refuse to say that i am homesick. I don't get homesick. I get tired. I start to miss a few comforts and feeling. but I have never gotten homesick.
But if I were to be told I could easily change my flight back to be earlier and not be charged I might think about it. I have had a really good trip. I am ready to get things ready for Chicago and form relationships there. I am ready to listen to my music and wear my clothes and hold my pens.
But I have 3 more weeks in Europe and I truly want to take advantage of that... I would just like a home base. that is what i am wanting right now. I really dont want to go home early- I just want to live somewhere for 3 weeks. I dont want to book any more hostels; look up any more train schedules; lug my stuff to 4 more places. I just want to stay somewhere- to know that one place.
I havnt heard back from any of the 7 wwoofers I wrote and its my own fault since I just wrote them a week ago- last minute. My heart wont break if I dont get to wwoof. I just want to be somewhere and to just think about my journal, cooking, walking, possibly working in exchange for a bed. I do not want to think about where I am going next.

I have 2 days left on my train pass (and 3 days before it runs out) to get somewhere.

Italy: The one country where I feel like i missed out on a lot. And everything is so close, so accessible. I could stay in Perugia for a week, Cortona, Lucca, Florence, Assisi. ALl the hostels here are cheap. I would be more than ok with still traveling around in Italy. Men and all. and flights back to london are cheap.

France: I like listening to them. I get followed a little less here. Fresh Mozzerella cheese is only 84 cents at the supermarket. It is very pretty here. It isn't as hot- a big plus.

Spain: I am determined to get serious about learning spanish when I get back. Being here, "living here" for three weeks might very well help with that. It would be like I was paying to learn spanish. Only it would be on the streets, in the shops. But i dont have a phrase book; I could also possibly do this http://www.vaughanvillage.com/
. as well. Meet people from spain.

ugh. this whole wishy washy cloud head debating is what got me here in the first place.

MON
still dont know i thought and thought and wrote pro cons, am now going to the train station and calling my bank so then i'll decide.
on one hand- i will have think and work and relate more than usual, but it will be a change. and it could be very good for me.
on the other- it will be fun, it will be different places and there wont be dander of me yeqrning after italy when i plan my next vacation.

Might not be able to update for quite a while- at least a few days.
michelle

Grindelwald> Tues, Wed

2006-05-21T12:58:00.000-07:00

Yep I-m goingto switzerland. Hanging out in Rome one more day Monday/ have no idea what ill do but I will be a little more productive than i was sunday. gardens or ostia antiqua (like pompeii but betterpreserved)

take night train to Bern

Tues
Met a girl,Min; from korea who is my age who was also going to grindelwald:which is high in the alps.

Bern, then an hour train to interlaken and then an hour train to Grindelwald,

Wed
Took the cable car up to First with Min. I dragged my feet becquse i didnt want to pay that much: We werent very prepared with winter gear but it was suprisingly warm amid all the snow. then after a half hour it was alll green. incredible views all the way down once we got out of the snow and fog. My hostel is magical . great food. swity very expensive, but i hqvnt noticed too much because my hostel gives free breakfast and a four course meal if you pay 12.50 cfh about 10 US:

Thur Train to paris. grindelwald to interlaken,then int. to bern, then bern to geneve, then geneve to paris.

got to paris without much incident: am pretty tired; havnt slept well the last couple days: still hqvent figured out what im doing the next 3 weeks: i finally contacted some people four days ago but understandbly havnt heard back:

Rome> Wed, Thur, Fri, Sat, Sun

2006-05-17T09:42:00.000-07:00

Rome.
WED
I got to my hostel *the pop inn* and as I unpacked and listened to the traffic outside I realized I am quite excited to get to explore rome.

was traveling to rome till 4. its 7 now. will buy some water for tomorrow and get to bed early.

THUR
Rome truly is a great city. I walked from the coluseum (i didn't go in because I am cheap and have heard dozens of dissapointed accounts. and you can walk all around and look in through the gates and see almost everything and save 11 euro), to the forum, to the trevi fountain, to piazza de poplalo, to a view above the city, to some churches in the square, to the panthean, to another piazza, and the campo de fiori.

Despite the traffic and all the tourists it felt very walkable.. The tourists didnt really bother me, sometimes they were comforting, knowing there would always be people on almost any street I went down (until I was in a small gelato store looking at the flavors to decide and 11 fat americans crowded in behind me so I ran away)
I bought water at the SPAR supermarket and they were giving away a free roses. So I walked home with one and watched the sun set over rome and its ruins. A very nice day.

FRI
will walk through the forum today. Am prepared with water and a snack. Then will probably go to st. pauls *I have on a modest skirt that covers the knees and a sweatshirt so I dont get turned away for being a hussy.

actually jjust went to the forum. sat and read and rested

SAT
went to st. peters (though i did take the metro to st. paul first when I got out and was puzzled as to why i was in a rougher neighborhood with no looming cathedral or touristsin sight)
went to the museum and saw the sistine chapel and then the cathedral.

I knew the sistine chapel was at the very end of the museum and so my grand plan was to run to the chapel, see it and then work my way back. But they've got it worked out- esspecially on busy days like sat was that you only get to go one way- they loop you around and around the museum- it took me 2 hours to get through the museum and to the chapel. I got there at 220 and they shut the doors on everyone behind us at 230 /when the museum closes.

there was all these recorded warnings in 10 different lanuages and signs before you enter the sistine chapel that it is a place of worship, no pictures and silence. when you enter the sistine chapel it looks and sounds like a chaotic train station- packed front to back with people- most of the snapping pictures. SHHHH the gaurds kept saying while clapping their hands. Silence please! it only lasted for a second. though the chapel itself was smaller than i expected- i had always invisioned a 10 football field size ceiling and this was like 1 at the most (mabyer two, all the people threw off the scale a bit for me- but i think its one) the ceiling was still incredibly beautiful. Ive seen so many pictures of it but there was quite a few moments of wow, i didnt know that was there. Everyone kept loudly talking and taking pictures and i had the thought that its quite a privilage that we even get to see this. though they wind you through the museum there is plenty to see- thousands of sculpttures and hangings. my favorite was the map hall- more on that later.

the cathedral- was a really big cathedral. and the popes buried in there or embalmed creep me outmore on that later

went out w- a guy from the hostel who had asked me the night before if i wanted to grab some dinner. sure, why not. and it was fine but the night wasnt very relaxed because he hadnt meant grab some dinner. it was lets have a romantic night in rome even though weve just met eachother. when we got back I thanked him for dinner and rang my hostel areas doorbell, rediculous system
He looks at me incredulously/ so i dont get a kiss.
No. ring bell again- did you expect one? I ring the door buzzer again which is not opening
Well ... Yes. he said like an indignant spoilt child.
well im sorry if you got that impression (though i really shouldnt have said that because i gave no impression. i gave the opposite impression. friends. friends.
bah. half of the night was both of us giving eachother hints as to what we wanted/ it was exhausting, only he didn-t pick up on my hints or even my sentences when I flat out said I thought this was just two travelers grabbing dinner and thats what Id prefer. I think i could have given him a document in bold letters and he still wouldnt have gotten it.
what do you want to do on the spanish steps. wink wink. nudge nudge
*take a step to the side* people watch
what do you feel right now (looking at the trevi fountain at night)
nothing. (I know I was supposed to smile and sigh and lean into his arms but i made sure we were standing side by side because i had already gotten 20 hints and was getting so tired of sending them back)
what are your thoughts on the parthenon (romanically said) what are you thinking right now.
Im thinking you need to pick a resturant because weve been walking around for 4 hours and you keep saying your hungry but then you dont pick a resturant
The next guy at a hostel who asks me to explore a city with him is going to get a clear boundry before we even step foot to leave. and if i make less friends so bloody be it. rediculous. though w/ an aussie all id need to say was as friends? and they would say Yeeah, as maates. because aussies are awesome. and a brit would say. a little offended like Well, yes of course, and then they would say something somewhat loving and jabby and maybe a teeny bit mean but witty. because brit boys are lovely.

I am not being nice anymore. Ill even flat out tell them I am not attracted to them/ guppy fish who cant be firm and pick a resturant, cant enjoy all the amazing sites around him because hes trying to force romance and make every one seem romantic, cant addapt to crossing streets like an italian and we have little in common, and he thinks Im very strange but he still wants to kiss me? bah. american boys. i-ll forgive them as a whole later.

i ve forgiven american boys and i feel better now. water and chicken and bread makes everything better. an actual meal does.

sun
laid around on my bed feeling sick because it is the 21st and that is how I feel on the 21st. Booked an overnight train to Switzerland.

MON
I was sitting in the hostel looking at a map and trying to decide if I had enough time to walk up to this park and I heard some people talking about Bill (the stupid boy I walked around Rome with) and how he annoyed them and this australian said "He just kept complaining about this girl he spent money on." I didn't get to hear any more because the blond girl knew I was "this girl" and she must have given an eye message to the australian guy because they abruptly changed subjects. SPENT MONEY ON! I told him before we walked out the door that I pay for my own food. I gave him money. HE WOULDN'T TAKE IT. We argued. Neither of us would budge. I told him he wasnt my boyfriend, this was just two people grabbing dinner and I was paying. He wouldn't let me have the bill. He forced me to let him pay. and it was 6 EUROS. I was supposed to kiss him for 6 euros? It's not as bad as the guys who think a girl should sleep with them if they pay for dinner but it is still pretty bad. and for 6 euros that I could have paid myself and WANTED to and tried to... this is why some girls DON'T let guys pay for them because there are idiots out there with idiotic delusions and bad mindsets. 6 euros...

Took some pics of the coluseum, Walked through the forum to get some gelato- talked to a couple from california, walked to the trevi fountain and tossed 1 coin in over my shoulder so I could come back to rome.

Naples: Sunday, Monday, Tuesday

2006-05-13T11:09:00.000-07:00

Naples:
Sunday: 11-2 train to rome
3-5 train to naples
6-7 local train. jumped on a fast one that passed the stop I wanted so I got a bit of a naples tour. When I realized this I got off at the next stop, 20 minutes out of my way, I went to buy another ticket since my hour one had expired. When I walked to the ticket window the 40ish yearold teller's face brightened and he opened his arms. "HELLO!" he explained- completly taking away my delusion that I might blend in more since I'm so tan. No, I am very still obviously a north american. I've long ago stopped trying to figure out what gives it away. I am just a "blond" american. "where are you from?" he asked as he sold me the ticket and his younger partner looked at me and smiled and asked if I was from New York
"no, the midwest"
"ah, well you are a very lovely girl"
"grazi." I'm not going to count him on my hit-on list because the way he reacted to me just walking up to the window made me kind of smile

got to my naples hostel, got everything worked out, and was safe and sound in my room by 8

Monday: I had planned to go to Capri today, with the hope that i would meet another lone traveler or couple to go to pompeii with tuesday, since walking around the ruins occasionally by myself with a camera didn't appeal to me. There are 3 ferries from sorrento that go there. 7am, 10:40am, and 2pm. I woke up at 6:30 without an alarm, took a shower, did internet, had breakfast... but then realized it was 9 and it is a 40 min. train ride to sorrento. i would make it if I hurried. but I forgot my shorts in my locker. I forgot this. I forgot that. I kept on having to walk into the room to grab something else. I walked quickly to the station but realized I had no bottled water, so I resigned myself to the fact that there was no way I would mak ethe 10:40 ferry. and just 3 hours at capri seemed a bit of a waster. I would go to Pompeii. there should be enough crowds that I would be fine.

I bought an ugly straw hat for 5 euros. rather extravagant for me to spend so much on a hat I hate. on a hat. but I had read 15 people die in pompeii a year from the heat (pompeii has very little shade or water stations). I also bought a 2 euro yellow unbrella (parasole) just in case. I got fruit and bread and sat at the station when two little blond girls walked past me. I knew them. I knew them because I had been yearning after their pizza in the hostel dining room the night before. I kept casting furtive glances at it, considering walking up to them and giving them a euro for a slice half a slice. you can get a whole pizza here for 3 euro easily. but it was 9pm and i didn't really feel like hightening my adrenaline by going out in the dark in naples. you aren't really encouraged to go out at night in naples.

I went and asked them if they were staying at the fabric hostel. yes they were. it turned out the ferry to capri situation had gotten them as well, so they were going to pompeii.
So after a ride on the train and a little conversation I was gifted with some friends for the day...

They laughed at my ugly straw hat and I realized the heat related deaths probably arent happening in early may... but it would protect my eyes.
.....
I never quite expected to feel this way... Pompeii had been a huge reason for going to Italy. Pompeii *cue grand music and silver sparkles* But after 3 hours of walking past one half house (made of brick with a small band of orange or umber stucco still on the wall, with a carpet of dirt or grass) after the other- i started to get the museum drain. 4 hours. Not. one. more. ruin. but Pompeii was a fairly large city in its day and it did go on. and on. I think I may have gotten more out of it had I been alone. I would have imagined every inhabitant- their furniture, their clothes, their job, their quirks. I could have done it to... but I was with people. One one had I was relaxed, on the other hand I could only let my imagination go so far. I had to keep up and watch the ground so as not to trip. I am glad I was with people though. and I got to go to pompeii. What amazed me the most about it were the frescos. Very faded, but amazing they were painted 2,000 years ago. There are scenes of 2 women sitting on a bench on a green hillside with buildings behind them that I keep thinking about. I could have a house of frescos. I would paint them myself.

tuesday:
I didn't get to capri. got as far as touristy sorrento. I missed the cheaper ferry after a series of getting off at the wrong stop, not being able to find a restroom, tripping and smashing my good knee. Needless to say no guy followed the girl with the straw hat stuffed down on her head so it wouldn't fly off, hiking boots, and hitched up peasant skirt with the bleeding knee. so I walked around sorrento for awhile, saw lots and lots of cheap scarves but my heart wasn't in it so I didn't buy any. I was just looking for one to make the day right (or to make up for my lost scarve) but none of them were that grand. Sorrento has a small dirty beach, but some really nice views. Bought bandaids at the grocery store with little bears on them. the train schedules arent totally updated in napels. the local one I took turned out to not be as the schedule said and it shot me to naples so I took the train back. It was kind of a blah day, but it was alright.

natalie *(one of the aussies i went to pompeii with( came back that night and was telling us *me and tamika, the other aussie) about her trip to capri. When she found out i had been to sorrento she exclaimed how amazing was sorrento!
and I looked at her... and tamika laughed (she had already heard about my day)
when she showed us the pics of sorrento, they were the same things I saw. the view, the gorge with the street below leading to the wharf. I told her I had seen the same things, but had had a bit of a cloud over my head at the time

wed
rome. I got to my hostel *the pop inn* and as I unpacked and listened to the traffic outside I realized I am quite excited to get to explore rome.

Then Rome!

Perugia: Thursday and Friday

2006-05-11T10:45:00.000-07:00

Thursday: trains all day. got in at 4.30. took 2 hours to walk to and find hostel. It has an amazing view of Perugia and the surrounding hills of Umbria.

Friday:
A mother and her kid are walking up a never ending flight of stairs. The kids huffs and stops. The mom tugs on his arm wearily "come on." The kid pulls back "I. can't!" He whines, planting himself into the ground "I'm tired!" The mother is also very tired "You aren't going to spend all night on the stairs. Pick up your feet, we are almost there." The kid slumps a little, still not moving "I don't want to." The mother tugs harder "come on!" The kid flops himself dramatically on the stairs. "NO! I can't!"
"GET UP!"

And you will just have to read more to understand that story =)

I decided to spend the day in Perugia. Yes, Assisi was only 20 minutes away. But I was right here, for just one day- in a hill town. (a hill city, but it has all I wanted in a hill town. Views. hills. gelato. Old buildings. townspeople. Internet cafes.) One thing I really liked about Perugia is noone seemed to care at all that I was there. I was being compelty ignored and it was wonderful. I didn't feel safe at first when I first got there, but then found that every guy that did something that seemed fishy- stopping abruptly, changing direction, standing on the street- had a reason for it. (walking to his car, waiting for someone, opening a door). "What a great town-city Perugia is." I finally thought, relaxing. I sat on the stairs of the town center for awhile just taking in the sun. I love central meeting points. Everyone just sitting on the stairs. Though the cleaning guys come around with their brooms to sweep the stairs and just look at everyone sitting on them, sweep the one available section,and in typical italian fashion- move on. I found a market selling cheap clothes and almost bought a three euro skirt and then remembered I would have to travel with it, and it was one of those skirts that you know if going to fall into a pile of threads after a few outings. It got warm so I took off my sweater and rolled up my pants under my skirt. I was wearing my lovely white top. I knew it was dangerous- but nothing had happened to it yet. Maybe it would make it to Chicago to go flower arrangment shopping on a July day. I would go hiking today. I wanted to anyways. Hiking through the lush green hills I could see from my hostel window seemed perfect. When it got later I would go back to the hostel (the lockout ended at four) , grab my camera and upload my pictures in 2 hours. I went to the tourist office (got a little lost finding it) but found a couple great lookouts over the town on the way). They didn't have any walking or hiking trail maps. The women went through the dusty files and got out a printout in italian of train schedules to the surrounding mountains. I went to the internet cafe and wasted a little time there, looking for hiking trails online. I decided to go to the surrounding parks. But first- the grocery store! I got an apple and orange and took off in the street that looked best to me on the map.
I got out my orange and started to open it as I walked down the hill. And then a guy in a dusty jean jacket with slumped shoulders came around the corner, walking slowly. I was immersed in the joy that is peeling a fresh orange while you explore a new town, but I was watching enough to see him look down at me as I passed, and then he turned and started to slowly follow me down the hill. Little alarm bells went off so I crossed the street and pretended to be immersed in the expensive jewelry case. He had stopped and was standing watching me, but it was a fairly pedestrianized area, so in 20 seconds later a buissness man and a pregnant girl came down the stairs and so I followed after them, 3 normal people walking down the street. I made sure the man wasn't following me. His intent on me seemed to diminish after I turned the corner with the pregnant girl.

I was angry. For one thing the crooks here in europe are so... dissapointing. Don't get me wrong- I'm thrilled. It's for my benefit that the ones I run into are nitwits. But how stupid would a guy think I was to think I wouldn't notice (even if I'm opening an orange) him watching me and changing his direction 2 seconds after I've passed him. You wait till the girl has turned the corner at the very least. These men are starting to really make me angry. I want to turn around and start pumpeling them "YOU DO NOT FOLLOW A WOMEN. UNDERSTAND! THAT IS AN INVASION. IT IS NOT OK. You don't try to indimidate or scare her or blow gross kisses while glaring at her or yell at her to "come here." and then yell more when she understandably does not." With that thought I chomped into half of my orange, juice ran all over my hands. Opps. shouldn't do that. I wouldn't turn around and pummle them- I wouldn't want to get that close, and I don't know how to say what I want to say in italian (or portugese or french or spanish) anyways. But a rage has been building inside of me and I'm trying to take care of it. I came upon a steep staircase that wound around trees and greenry to come out unto the street far below.
Argh! I made myself look at the walkway. 2 months ago this wouldn't have bothered me. Now it does. I realized in Deiva Marina, when I was looking suspiciously at old women hobbeling on canes that my brain was just doing what brains do. If something happens that upsets it, it wants to find a way so that that upsetting thing never happens again. Hence- all people are crooks/muggers and to be avoided. I worked on that, still working on it. But narrow streets and stairways were still getting to me. But instead of walking away, because you are pretty stuck in a hill town if you don't walk down any stairs. Did I feel unsafe? No. Was the man from earlier anywhere around? No. Where the hairs up on the back of my neck? no. So I walked down the stairs. All was well. I got stuck on the side waiting to cross the street and looked down at my shirt. An orange stain was on my top from the earlier chomping.. Argh! oh shirt. poor white shirt. Now it had been demoted to be one of my many stained shirts- set aside for the day I become a painter. I walked a while and couldn't locate where the heck I was on the map. None of the streets worked. After an hour of walking on main streets and not finding where I was I sat down. I can't do this. I don't want to anymore.
Remember about not giving up right away
Bah! I am. sick. of. this.
Ask for directions.
No! I am just going to sit here.
You are not.
I am!
...
It's a tendency I have. If something involves just me, I have a horrible tendency to just give up and shut down right away. and with working on it I feel like a mom dragging her kid up the stairs. all. the. time. But I got up and asked where I was and found I had walked north instead of south. Circular hilltowns are really bad for my already faulty sense of direction.. Even my map reading skills can barely keep afloat.
I walked back to the square with the steps and wrote. I had made the connection earlier that when the guy followed me I had been (unknowingly) walking down to a car park. So the guy probably thought he might see if he could get a free rental car from the soft, pretty, orange-eating american girl. Or at the very least a free purse.

Got my camera and discovered downloading my pics would take 10 hours. But I had wrote, and the kid had shaped up. So I made the plans I needed to (to the best of my ability) and went home.

Sat: train to Naples.
actually not. I found a place to download my photos. I found out it would take about 5 hours per card, so I decided to stay in Perugia just for sat night. I had my naples hostel booked and decided to overcome my adversion to calling people. Only to be hung up on SEVEN times every time I opened my mouth after they said "hello, fabric hostel". I tried everything to get them not to hang up. Bonjorno. Chow. Parlay Englasee. Hello. Ihaveareservation. Please don't hang up. I don't know what was going on. Maybe I sounded like one of their crazy old girlfriends. I wrote them an email to see if being their sunday instead of sat would be alright but they didn't write me back. I checked out of the Perugia hostel with the plan to hop on the train if there was no email, but dang it I tried and if they charge me I'm out... 15 euros... and It will be very nice to get this full card thing DONE WITH. A canadian girl told me she just sets her camera to take less pixels so her card fits a lot of pics. And if I'm taking that grand scenery shot, I can always change it. So that's what I'll do now.

I can not quite express the joy that is enveloping me right now as "California" plays on the radio. California! I think it's my karmic payment for having to hear "S.O.S." every. damn. day. I don't know if it's an american or british song. I'm pretty sure it's american but I didn't hear it till I got to europe, and the worst is I saw the video in Porto about 5 times so every time I hear it I've got the booty moves shaking around in my head It's not a bad song really, it is kind of catchy... in the way that at first you think, oh this song is kinda fun... and then it latches itself to your brain like the evil leach it is- S(booty shake down). O (booty shake up)S (booty shake down) will someonehelpmeblahblahblahgotthebestofmesososososososososososblaharrrgh "shake it shake it. In the cittAYYYYY of L.A. In the cittAYYY city of (something) keep it rocking. keep it rocking.. KEEP IT ROCKIN.." Such a great great song. a song of fun. a song of peace. a song of dance.

Should be on the train to Naples and the fabic hostel of phone problems tomorrow.

ok... I know most don't really care... but the dinner song is playing. oh life is good. it really is. dod ododod do do do do . I am sitting on the corner.... It is a song to bob your head to. Who says you need an ipod in europe. I say you don't. my camera is more than enough for me.

9pm All. Day. in. a. internet. cafe. Don't desire to do that again. I don'tt think I'll ahve to though.

Verona: Wednesday night

2006-05-11T10:09:00.000-07:00

Decided I didnt want to spend the day hopping from one train to the other and kept thinking about Verona so I spent the morning on the Venice train station steps soaking in the sun and took the 1pm train to Verona. and I got to talk to a british boy for a bit. soaked in his british accent as well. It was a lovely one. not stuffy, kind of subtle.

If I havent mentioned it before, most of the radio in Europe seems to be English/American music. I was grocery shopping in Padua and there was a rap song playing (they dont bleep out words) so youve got Bev and Sue housewife shopping for their lettuce and milk amid "you gotta breeeeeeeeeathe oh. breaaaatheee. oh. you b......s gotta ..... f....ng.... and I am looking up at the ceiling going "oh my gosh." that uncensored rap music is playing in a supermarket as everyone else walks around completly oblivious. Luey and Bonnie told me that youll even be in a fancyish resturant and uncensored music will be playing and everyone will just be eating as they looked around somewhat shocked. Its interesting. I guess if mostly spanish music was playing I wouldnt be picking up on all the swear words either.

Got to Verona at 4, hostel was pretty amazing, in a old villa- garden grounds and all.

I didn't go to Verona because of Romeo and Juliet. Frankly I think they both needed serious counseling and if I was an english teacher and had a say in the matter... well I'd still probably teach it so that they kids weren't thought as nitwits when they got to college, but I wouldn't spend too long on it. Certainly wouldn't wax on about how it's about love and it's power. They were both wanting to kill themselves at the drop of a hat when things went bad. and then they ultimently did. Does that not make any teacher pause when they are about to teach it to teenangers?
There should at the very least be a PSA at the end of it in textbooks. "If your boyfriend Ben dies in a car accident, you can be depressed and incredibly sad but do not kill yourself because that would be really stupid. He was going to dump you this summer anyways."

Despite my feelings about Shakespeare, I did go to Juliets courtyard. It was free. In the courtyard is a statue of Juliet. There is this belief (I have no doubt started by a guy) that if you rub her Left breast you'll have good luck in love or something like that. So the poor bronze statue's right breast and arm is completly shiny.. It was rather funny seeing how the different cultures reacted to the customary pose with the statue. I watched a whole group of japenese tourists pose with her one by one as their tourguide took a picture. Most of them were rather embarresed, they mostly just held her arm. A lot of them still wanted luck in love though, so they just quickly and bashfully touched the boob. after the photo and then ran away. It was actually a rather beautiful statue. I stood and looked at it for quite awhile. I didn't think she looked like a Juliet. She looked braver. more independent. more mentally sound. and in a really nice dress. I touched her hand and told her I thought she was cool and I knew she wasn't Juliet. She was the brave and beautiful lady of Verona, withstanding a never ending tourent of sexual harrassment day after day and still having a great sense of who she was. I did not get my luck in love for the year, I wouldn't do that to any female, but especially not a friend.

Everywhere in europe there are people who make themselves look like statues (paint themselves white, bronze, gold, black) and stand in costume with a money jar in front of them. I noticed the notJuliet statue and I had a simularly shaped face. Wow, I could make some money in Verona if I dressed as the Statue. The statue heard my idea and tilted her head to her shiney right side, reminding me why I've never seen any statue person dressed as the Juliet statue in Italy. Oh that would be horrible. Even if you put up a sign.

Hung out in the garden of the villa hostel and wrote.

Venice: Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday

2006-05-08T02:37:00.000-07:00

Since Italian men are infamous for hitting on women I am keeping a tally. So far its up to 6 (2 very very old men, 2 younger men, 1 middle aged men, and 1 old man) 8 if you count the scary men blowing gross kisses). Not bad for 10 days. It really hasnt been bothering me, most of them arent scary, and I have been using them as practice on how to deal with being hit on. As a plus, on occasion I walk away thinking "you know... I am a fox." which makes me start laughing and there is joy in the world.

My fake engagement/marriage ring does absolutly nothing here. A guy asked me if I was "alone" (single) and I flashed the ring with a "i am taken" expression and he started laughing at me, took out his keys- put the key ring on his finger and said "see. I can do that to."
A british guy who is traveling with his girlfriend (he lived here for a year( told me all the ring means to italian men is that they just have to try a little harder.

Monday: Took a long leisurly time to walk to the street by the station.
Will miss padua. Very glad I came. I feel like I have a nice secret. All the covered sidewalks with the pillars, the river walk, all the bike riding locals, the market, the enormous square (2nd largest square in the world, moscows is bigger- though lisbons seemed pretty big to me. The first guy to hit on me in padua told me this but seeing as he was hitting on me I didnt believe him. But then I kept hearing it from people who werent hitting on me. I told him I was from canada (winnipeg) but then he started asking me all these questions and I realized I needed to change my lying location. I am now from Kansas. Kansas City to be exact. I know its silly to lie about where I am from to my new boyfriends on the street seeing as the US is huge. But Iowa and Chicago are mine. They are a part of me and I dont want to just hand them off to just anyone. (the hostel people get to know the truth though)

Am taking a12:30ish train to venice, checking into my hostel and doing more exploring. maybe some of the islands. I feel so pleased with my vaparetto card. 72 hours of hopping on and off the vaparettos. usually ist €25 euros. but because I am under 29, I bought a rolling venice card for €4. which got me a free map (worth 2.5) and the vaparetto pass only cost €15.

Really need to figure out what Im doing next month and where i am staying in tuscany. the next hostel has free net (but only 15min a day) so might get to do very very short updates)

Monday
didnt do much. checking into new hostel, doing internet, train took a great deal of day. walked around till 8

tuesday
not including being able to clean your room with just the snapping of your fingers, the best part by far of Mary Poppins is when they get to choose a drawing to jump into and walk around in. Just the concept of it is wonderful. Thats how I feel, getting to walk around Venice. I am walking around in a painting.

It was driving rain until 4pm today. But since I was in venice I did everything I planned on doing. Sit on a park bench and eat my banana-orange-breadoliveoil for breakfast, Go to the islands of murano and burano, and walk around venice. Looking back on it, since I really truly only had one full day here, I wouldnt waste it going to murano again since it (and burano) took almost half the day. It was nice, but most of it didn-t make me stop like venice does. If you really like bright colors, which I do, burano is really nice because all the houses are painted in a different shade. But again, venice is better. Found another girl in the tiny hostel who wants to see venice at night so thats what we are doing. I dont have my hostel set for tomorrow so Ill really be flying by the seat of my pants, which is nice for a change. just realized i could stay in venice another day if I really wanted to, but i probly will move on.

to my turtle- i hope all went well. breathe.

Padua or Padova: Friday, Saturday, Sunday

2006-05-07T11:10:00.000-07:00

Friday:
At 3 I was sitting in a padua park with all my stuff (since I found out the hostel didnt open till 4), eating chocolate and chips, in a very foul mood and feeling like every choice I had made that day was foolish, wasteful and dumb. Skipped lucca, skipped pisa, jumped on the next padua train in florence (I had already jumped on 3 trains and was in a bit of a groove of catching the soonest train I could) only to get charged €23 when the conductor came around because I had gotten on a fast eurostar train not totally covered by the pass (something I could have easily prevented had I thought a little) but at 8 I was standing on a bridge with a soul restoring canal view, writing in my journal, at peace after stressing and struggleing and finally learning something valuable about myself and life in general. life was good again.

Saturday: A train strike (they are pretty frequent in Italy) started friday at 9pm and lasted till 9pm sat night, so I made it a "enjoy padova" day. And I did. The nice thing about staying in a prison is you dont mind being locked out of it for 8 hours. I walked through a farmers market, bought a couple organice oranges, sat on a church pedestal and journaled, walked to what I thought were roman baths (I had read somewhere on the net that they had them, and so when I saw padua spa on the tourist map I thought, hotdog-there we go, if its not to much maybe Ill have a massage. A long walk, and the spa turned out to just be an events center with a cultural-charity fair going on. The plus side of this was that there was a cafe at the spa that had a salad bar where you could have a HUGE salad in a big bowl made for €3.50. carrots, beans, 8 different greens, tomatoes. It was awesome. (I think using the expression "awesome" is rather american. whenever I use it the other nationalities (esp. the australians) giggle a little, because this is one of the words they use when they are mocking americans"it was awesome man!".)

I saw a bicycle theft. but there were no police around and I didnt see their faces. I walked to a pretty park I had seen friday and who should be there but the bicycle theives, exchanging packages and money with some other men. I looked around for a police officer and again saw none. So I found a populated area of the park and had a nice seista.
Went back to the open hostel, used the bathrooms and washed my clothes.

Walked down the main pedestrian street and there were about 15 police officers showing citizens their helicopter, sedgeway (silly thing with two wheels you ride around standing up. Gob rides one (thats for you Rachel) and if you dont know who Gob is, you are missing out)
Walked through a clothing market with lots of €3, 5, 10 clothes. Am able to control myself a little more.... knowing that whatever I buy goes directly on my back. Didnt buy anything, just enjoyed shopping for cheap clothes. Its a experience I need on occasion to keep my happiness bank full. I bought a banana gelato (are you noticing a theme for italy =) ) and walked under a monument to a square and oh the joys of witnessing a crime in a small city- there sat the bike theives. Im glad they didnt see me when they did it, because no recognition forms. I felt somewhat obligated to at least tell someone. because it was the third time and the police were only 4 blocks away. I told one of the policeman who wasnt busy with the toys (though I had to wait for him to store his sprite in the police car first.) I told him I saw it happen, saw their faces in the park, and they were right over there. I pointed on the map. "Will you show me"
I didnt really want to do that, seeing as I was going to be in padua for 2 more days, and I had seen all their friends, and Im sure their business has more to do than just liking bikes, but him and I were walking and he was explaining to me in somewhat broken english how things worked in Italy. That he needed to catch them in the act. "If you want to press charges against them..."
"they didnt do anything to me... I just wanted you to know"
But it continued to be all about me and if I wanted to go after them. When he clarified that it was four blocks away he stopped. "that is too far. the burglers, they are everywhere. If you saw them, 5 minutes later someone else will see them. I can call someone else, if you would like me to."
"no. thats ok... I just wanted you to know"
" you dont want me to."
"no." I was momentarily worried this would make me an accomplice or something but he shook my hand and then walked back to hang out with his friends. The police here mystify me a bit. I havnt actually seen them be very police-y. Ive seen them smoking, window shopping, hanging out with eachother, riding sedgeways... but thats it. and they are always in packs.
So I was released and sat on a bench listening to music and watching the citizens. I like padova, it feels like a very true, working, living italian city. I think Ive seen 2 other tourists while Ive been here.

went to bed early

Sunday:
had decided before to do a day trip today. verona or venice (I had planned on staying in venice for 3 nights, but it was so pricey, I decided to do a day trip from padua one day and then just stay two nights in venice. But then I was thinking about verona, since its so close and everyone seems to have it on their list. Meant to take a early morning train to verona, walk around a few hours and then take a train to venice and then back. But when I left right on time I realized my camera batteries were happily charging back in the room. crap. Since I knew I was locked out till breakfast, I went to my bridge and ate my oliveoil and bread snack. Got hit on by a garbage guy. He didnt actually collect any garabage. Just looked at the cans and then zoomed in on me. He was fun. He was short and cute and 25 and talked and talked. He asked me what I was doing and when I told him about the verona daytrip he talked about this nearby garden while the garbage truck waited for him. He told me how he loved motorcross in california and how he makes good money with his job and has a house, a car and a motorbike... "and if you like..." he said... I started to laugh "quit laughing." I tried. But as they veer into the punchline of the hitting on session I just get the giggles. So I smirked. " So if you like I get off at 11, and I could take you on a tour." He raised his eyebrows. (at somepoint I was again commanded to quit laughing. Hitting on a women is very serious business. ) "no. I think Ill stick with my daytrip" "are you sure." he raised his eyebrows. "im sure." (he then gave me 3 more chances. but I was sure. "do you think Im a bad guy?" (Italian men seem to love to say this in some shape or form when you reject them. dont you think Im a nice guy? ) If I wanted to hang out in padua another day I would have stuck with the aussies (who I would meet when I got back) who stayed in my room the night before. not an italian who is pitching his home ownership to me."
I ran to the station and a ticket to padua was 3 € more than I thought. €7 one way. The venice was only €2.5. So I decided to stick withthe original plan. and Im glad I did.
I rode a vaparetto all around and almost wanted to cry. I wouldnt have been one bit ashamed if I had. I was in Venice. Venice! Rode all around, walked all around. Excited to be here 2 more days. Did get zoned in on by two pickpockets or somethng at the station. A guy bumped into me and I thought nothing of it for a second seeing as their were hundreds of us from the train shuffeling through the station aisle. But I was feeling an intent, eyes on my back and I glance back to see a younger bald guy behind me who had been looking at me and then looked over at another bald guy who he had a head movement to. The other bald guy then looked directly at me. It felt completly wrong so I walked a tad bit quicker (just enough to not be right by them) and weaved around and stood behind a postcard stand. I wasnt scared. but I was watching them. They came past and I could see them looking around quite a bit. They didnt see me so they zoned in on a blond women. I went out to the steps and sat by a group of backpackers. There were millions of people around. I watched the crooks. They went to the square, consulted with some friends, then broke off and latched on to some tourists. One bent rather obviously by a short women who was carrying a tan purse. I realized just then that I hadnt been shocked or upset that I got targeted. I just acted almost on impulse. I felt a little older.

Tomorrow, Venice.

Riamagorre: Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday

2006-05-02T07:11:00.000-07:00

Internet is so expensive in this area. So donàt expect many updates or posts.
After thursday I.ll be near Venice (Padova-Padua) until Monday, then Venice two days mon tues, then I don-t know for four days, in tuscany somewhere (hopefully perugia). Then the naples area to see capri, pompeii and mabe positano. then rome, then paris, then ???

Monday: GOt to the Riomaggorie at noon. Nice hostel.
Sat on the main fishing-town center area, ate gelato and watched the visitors disperse and the locals venture out onto their balconies. One was watering his plants, another hanging up laundry, One women was just watching people, another smoking, another setting the table to eat by herself. One the square a laughing old man and younger guy were trying to keep their identical dogs from getting to know eachother.
I liuke riagmaggore

tuesday walked to manarola, corneglia 0 trained to vernazza,
went grocery shopping in la spezia. I need a couple veggie days.
went out with 2 australians(rebecca and clair) and a brit (luey) for a glass of wine. a dangerous thing to do, but had fun. ate lots of olives with pits. danced in the small bar with one of the australians and an american to jermericoy (however the heck you spell it) Dancedancedancedance.

wednesday
got myself to walk the rest of the walk. Corniglia to Monterosso. Bonnie (also an aussie) and Luey had told me the last half of the walk was quite hard and I had said "oh well I walk a lot". They just smiled at me. The way you do when you know this poor little foolish soul is actually going to come against and how they will change their tune.
I do walk a lot..... on flat ground. Not 14,000 steps. Not steps really, stones stuck into the mountians. Up and down and up and down. Was still magnificent.
Made some pasta.
Talked to Bonnie and Rebecca and the new aussie. Went to bed.

Thursday
Said goodbye to Rebecca and Bonnie. Enjoyed a gelato by the bay. I am really glad I stayed in riomaggore, really liked the town. Took the train to monterosso and walked around. Booked a hostel in naples. Since I was somewhat dying at the end of the walk the day before, I knew I really hadnt gotten to really enjoy the end, my favorite part visually because I somewhat rushed it. My plan was to walk Monterosso to Vernazza (opposite way), but I stepped up two stairs and my knees creaked just thinking about it, and it was getting later so I just walked 40 minutes of it and then walked back. Took a picture of some of the never ending stairs for my memory collection. Took the train to Manarola (the second town next to riomaggore), because I had just passed through it tuesday. Almost liked it as much as riomaggore. Its a stunning town, where as with the others you can see the mountains, the hills with the vineyards and flowers wraps itself tightly around the town which just makes it different and special. Splurged on a grilled mixed fish platter. It was good. I kept hearing from others that they had "the best pasta they ever had" or "the best fish they ever had" in one of the towns. I cant say it was. I can say it wasnt bad fish. It was good fish. Bread, chicken, dessert- I could tell you if it was the "best ever". I dont think my pallet is that trained for various seafood.
Walked back on the via dell amore to riomaggore and watched the sunset. packed (I take rediculously long to do this for how many times Ive done this and how little I have)

Deiva Marina: Saturday and Sunday

2006-05-02T07:02:00.000-07:00

Sat: rode train from Nice to Genoa to Deiva Marina. Talked to a mother and her daughter from Michigan. I told them it was nice to hear the midwest accent again. They said likewise. (there were some people from wisconsin at the granada hostel... but a wisconsin accent is like a bostonian one to someone else from the east coast... they just took it in a direction they probably shouldnt have.)

Got to Deiva Marina at 5pm. A Italian Lady was sitting by me and when I told her where I was going she said "ah, Deiva Marina- a place for writers"
Wow, I thought, as I walked to the restroom. I choose an out of the way town just because roomms were full. and it-s a place for writers. I wondered why i hadnt read about it in guide books. they are obsessed with stuff like that.

When I got back I asked her why it was a place for writers. Expecting to hear names and their writerly artistic exploits in the hidden creative bubble of deiva marina and she laughed "because thats all there is to do there. Just the ocean and a hill."
"well... I do like to write."
"thats good. you can write a poem."

Sunday
Stayed in a 4 person cabin with a kitchen by myself (and sat). Very nice.
Deiva Marina I think is a place most americans and aussies and canadian and brits dont know about. Lots of italians enjoying their campsites. Hills like the smokys alll around and a nice little beach and lovely ocean view. Did have to walk 40 minutes to town. PLayed dodge the italian cars the first half of it, then got a sidewalk.
had gelato.

Friday: A castle, a backpack, and me

2006-04-29T00:32:00.000-07:00

Friday:
I got to Cacase (sp this right light) at the french border at 8:00. I made the 5:50 train because one of my roomates was kind enough to start snoring at the usual 4am time.
There were lockers in Carcase, but they were all out of commission (with signs all over the place, due to saftey plan. no lockers) and I didn't have time to search out a locker in town, so they came with me. I could store them in Carcassone when I saw the castle.
After the 2 hr train north I got to Carcassone. No lockers at the station either. Snuck into McDonalds to use the restroom. I Love McDonalds. I bet many a backpacker has uttered that very phrase before. Especially in france.

Walked to the tourist office. Surely they'd have luggage storage. No. And there was no luggage storage lockers or places anywhere due to the threat of bombs. So my backpack and three bags would be walking to and seeing the castle as well. So we did, but first a small rant.

Taking lockers away is not going to alleviate a bomb threat. "Oh shoot. This town has no luggage storage. We couldn't possibly use a trash can, a toilet, a hole, a bush, under a seat or bus. Nope. Lets go to spain. They have luggage storage."

I trudged to the castle and made up a story to lift my spirts- I was Learai, a scarf peddler, going to the great castle of Carcassone. *I can't fathom the people who hike with their enourmous bag through mountains for months. * I love hiking. but free and fancy hiking. scramble around and roll down a hill hiking. No 20 pounds or more on my back. THe bags probably made it a little worse.

The castle and cite was really cool. My backpack and bags agreed.

Took train back to cacais. was able to sleep pretty well.

Got to nice, booked seat to genova. then grab train to place by la spezia. love me.

Barcelona: Wednesday and Thursday

2006-04-26T15:02:00.000-07:00

Wednesday:
I just made some friends from estonia and japan and we are drinking wine and eating cheese and bread. more later.

Hahahahahaha
Turtle this is for you- red shoes is currently playing (and lorio to. but you should know with turtle it`s not a good thing because once I did a dance for her to this entire song (in red slippers- I think while she was stuck in bed and forced to watch in horror)- and the upsetting image is always in her mind when she hears this song, so the naughty part of my heart takes deep, glee filled joy in that.). . heh heh (I love you turtle). When I get back- just for you, I`ll do my red shoes dance. *mouth wide open in a sort of smile* move the hands ´ĺets dance!´ *kick up feet!* `put on your red shoes *show red shoes, face gets really excited like a mad person* great fun.

MAIL
"So how much sir, to send this little purse (just 12 by 9 by 4) filled with love, kisses and scarves?"
"40€"

I went and sat on a bench. I would travel with a chicken, no... two live cats before I spent or let anyone else spend 40€ on a little package. Even to send just a tshirt was €9.

I walked past the ocean. There were men selling sunglasses, pirated dvds, and then the scarve sellers. They looked at me. I looked at them. My bag dug into my shoulder. "No, I'm good."

Sat on the beach. nice.

Thursday: Visit Granollers and English School
Went fine. liked the school. Kind of dissopointed in granollers for the only reason I had it in my head it was a quaint safe village and instead its a city like town where you have to be aware. but I wouldn't be going to the school for the town. THey have a great market though.

links and stuff

2006-04-25T22:39:00.000-07:00

Here are some links to some of the things I`ve been talking about. I wont do this again, since you can google just as well as me if you are curious. =)

This is the Alhambra

Some links on the easter week (Semana Santa) procession in Spain

Scroll down, more semana santa hooded people

the sagrada familia
more sagrada-lots of pics

park guell

the lettering and fruit don`t look as bad here... but believe me...

there were fantastic views from up top park guell

Barcelona: Monday and Tuesday

2006-04-24T05:31:00.001-07:00

There is some to right about the night train, but not much. Because I actually slept. Couchettes are really nice. I woke up and 4 and realized I had a stomach! Not a boiling pit of anger. It was just there, laying down, relaxing. I slept 8 hours. The bunk was a little short, you have to be 5`7 to be able to spread out like a sensible person. but it is really nice to not have any sleep or sanity to catch up on.

When I got to the station I forced myself to make the reservation to Italy. Friday/Sat is going to be fun, I can tell.

First, I have to use two train days. That fine, I planned on this. I might do a little siteseeing in france friday. Catch the train at cerebre (right by french border, take the night train to Nice. Simple enough. But then I take the train to Genova. I asked the train guy if I had to make a reservation for the nice-genova 3 hour leg and he shrugged "youll be in Nice for two hours... (you can figure it out when you`re there. i`m done with you *smile*)" I love how you have to reserve at the specific station.

then I have to get to la spezia from genova on another train and according to barcelona train guy I get there at 4. I have to be to the campsite by 7 because the last bus-train leaves for it at 7.
This seems to be ok, I have a lot of padding in between... but it a saturday. the saturday of the May 1st weekend (huge holiday in europe). So we`ll see.
I just reserved a seat. It only cost 2 euro. The couchette was wonderful, it was... but to only spend 2 euro on a reservation is also wonderful.

All the lines and questions kept me at the train station for 2 hours. I walked to the hostel at noon. Barcelona is pretty sunny and warm. Seeing Madrid, Granada, and Barcelona were important to me on the off chance I decide to take classes at any of them someday. Barcelona seems nice enough so far, except for the fact that for the hour I walked an absurd amount of sand/glass/debries kept blowing into my eyes and momentarily blinding me. The people walking with the wind didnt have the same problem. Two buissness men walked past me. "hello!" one of them said, checking me out. His friend stopped, looked me up and down with a big smile"hellloo!"
Now, picture with me if you will. A girl. She has gotten rest and has washed her face but has not brushed her hair which is tied up in a haphazard bun. She is dressed all in black. Black sweater zipped up, black skirt (with a pretty striped scarf tied around her waist), black pants, hiking boots.
Her body covered in bags. A large backpack, a big white canvas bag on one side, a big black purse on the other, a large red string grocery bag and a plastic sack.
You have several sexy women with their matching handbags and high heels clipping down the sidewalk. It is a very interesting choice. I kept walking "hola." I wasn`t about to give the wierdos (I assumed americans by their accents, or swedes, or very well taught spanish men- I don`t know) any satisfaction of answering them in english. "ahh! my eyes!"

I am now going to make a sandwhich and do something a little silly and unplanned. There is this Celta (teaching english as a second language)school a half hour away I want to check out. It a half hour away and my train pass is still valid today. at most I´ll save 4 dollars.
I havn`t called or written, I`m just going to bop into the school and someone will be waiting for me. "why. You are so cute we are going to give you the month long course for free.¨ or at the very least ¨ please come and sit in the classes tomorrow.¨
Awww. thanks.

more about yesterday and today later.

I didnt get to Granollers. I quickly walked the hour to the train station and the only way to get to the train (without annoying someone) was to have a ticket to put in the metro like machine. So I decided to be a good girl and write the school, see if they write me back, and have a good day to explore the town. (and just pay the 3.80 round trip ticket) I walked around a huge, famous pedestrian steet, Las Ramblas.

my gosh my hostel is infested with children. little tittering 18 yearold kids. And if they aren`t. It`s all groups. groups. groups. groups. (or girls with their boyfriends and friends- also known as a group) I made a mistake with this one. But I have been spoiled for a week with fellow independent travelers and this hostel is really clean. That because crazy cleaning people rush around. You don`t ever want to be in their way.

Tuesday.
I`m waiting for the the kitchen to open. Its closed for breakfast. I popped in to grab my olive oil, because I dont eat bread without olive oil and (I didn`t bring it with me from Granada to not use it) got sternly reminded the kitchen was closed. But I got my olive oil. I had nutella on some of my bread just for kicks for breakfast. I maybe shouldnt have. I talk a lot about my body. but it has it`s own personality, and we do spend a lot of time together. We walk, we eat, we sleep, we talk.

After I make a turkey sandwhich, I plan to have a Gaudi day. That`s the main reason I wanted to see Barcelona. See Park Guell, sagrada familia. I dont think I`ll pay to go up it- I`ll hike up the free mountain for a view. I love finding views, but unless you live in the city (or really know it)- views high above the city sort of start to become all the same. Ooo look. It`s the city! and it`s small! Like those above air postcards or pictures that become boring if you see too many.).

¨this is one of the better hostels I`ve stayed at.¨ a guy is saying. That`s because you are in a group bophead and that`s all there is here. Little round faced spawn. Oh bloody hell. Now they are talking about their plans for the day. same as me. Oh I shouldnt judge groups. Groups are fine. Groups are everywhere. But when That`s all there is (and they are all of the age 16-18)... then I feel like I might as well just go back to highschool.
.......
Just got back from my 8 hour walk. I am making two sandwhiches before I go to bed (somehow will need to find a way to grab them out of the fridge and restricted kitchen in the morning). i am actually surrounded by people around my age, though they are all in groups as well. It`s not that I really needed or was pining for a friend in Barcelona. I only have 4 days and a lot to do it those days.
It`s just I went from being completly alone for 8 days (not including the day with Livia) to being surrounded by friends for 5 days and when I saw the 50 german and french students walk in with their rolling suitcases it hit me that I was probably back in for another stretch of quality michelle time.

Last night I saw a girl sitting by herself and she had brown hair so I went and sat beside her. "so are you traveling by yourself?"
I`m starting to get over the fear of possibly feeling like a needy emotional leech (yep. I have a fear of feeling like an emotional leech by simply talking to/introducing myself to people. You know those people who will just latch on to anyone? How they look like they might stop breathing if they don`t have someone around them or with them? I think somewhere along the line due to wanting to be as far away from that possiblity as I could (and to never be thought as that kind of person) I took it to the opposite extreme... It`s not part of the concrete of my isolation, but that`s one of the reasons that kept me in it.).
I am simply saying hello. And if they aren`t interested in saying hello back. Too bad.
She wasn`t (traveling by herself). she wasn`t even staying at the hostel, she was waiting for her friend who was working. We talked a little. I did ask her (since she said she lived in Barcelona) where to find good thrift stores. She didn`t know any (only the expensive ones I had already found). You have to know where good thrift stores are if you live somewhere. That´s a rule. Granted she`s swedish and has only lived here 3 months, but she`hasn`t been working-just hanging out. So it`s like she`s been here 6.

My Barcelona days: One day was getting settled in, the next was a Gaudi day, the next (tommorow) will be a anything day- will walk along the water and the olympic part, and run a few errands (post office (heh heh heh) and I want to get my journal entries printed so I can fill in the blanks and need to find a resonably cheap place to do this... the net places charge .30 a page), and thursday I`m going to go to the Granollers school (they wrote me back and they want me to come at lunchtime so we can talk. eek! But I´m glad I´m doing it. I´ve been thinking about possibly pursuing a (teaching english as a second language) certificate at this very school for a long time (maybe a year, maybe two), and to not even step foot in it when I`m a half hour away is incredibly wasteful. I`m a little more comfortable with just walking in front of the school after I walked through town, running my hands on the wall and getting it`s vibe, but I decided to take a small step towards the land of reality and action by talking to the teachers. Gosh, my email to them... I feel so absurd writing letters to schools or jobs. But it did get the job done.
And day 5 (friday) really isn`t going to be in Barcelona. I am going to get up early and by some miracle get to the train station by 6am or 7am. Probably 8am. The only thing I have to do is be in Cadeces by 9pm and since I have to use a train day to get there, I am going to do a little traintouring of southeast spain and southwest france. I would really like to see Carcassone. I should probably look up that info now.

What I did Tuesday:
Got up at 8,
ate, used net, went upstairs and sat on my bed and stared a little as I got my bag together, took a shower, used net again, made a sandwhich, walked out the door at 1pm. My utter lack in being able to get out the door anytime before 11am is not something I really like about myself.

I walked up the Ramblas to the University in search of a printing place, didn`t find one, went to the Sagrada Familia (oh my) The first thought I had when I saw it was: They took a episcopalian church (I think I`ve got the right denomination there) and an adult movie theater and smashed them together. There is fruit on this church. Fruit. It is too bad I couldn`t have offered my services to Gaudi: "Gaudi dear, I think you are a true original and I really like a lot of your work. But if you really think that having big words (in color) stapled to a cathedral is a good idea... I think maybe you should just... not do that." (you can`t tell an old man he has to retire due to the fact that he`s loosing his mind in the first conversation you have with him.) Fruit!
The main part is almost acceptable if you try (though you really can`t) ignore the adult enterainment ebelishments. Sanclus, Sanclus, Sanclus, Sanclus, Sanclus, HOSANNA, EXCELSIS, Apostles, Apostles, Apostles. I guess Gaudi didn`t think people could possibly guess which apostle was which. Or that they were apostles. There won`t be guidebooks or tourguides in 100 years to tell them this! I must let them know! In 4 foot font! This is TIMOTHY. and he is an APOSTLE. and this is JOHN and he is an APOSTLE. All around the church in windows are huge statues of these apostles, and on one side in huge letters in their name and on the other is the word APOSTLE. It is truly hideous. But not as hideous as the fruit. On the left hand side is a dark nice looking church, but on the right is white stone with 6 pointed triangles. But their points have been split by piles of fruit and various grains. I just kept looking at it. Is that fruit? Glazed, 6 foot piles of fruit on a church?
I was about to run away but decided to look at the other side. This turned out to be the original part of the church. (I had been looking at the new part). I could almost see what Gaudi was doing. Even faded after 100 years the APOSTLES and the HOSANNA was still just a horrible idea. And the garish stars on the tops were also questionable. But on this part was all around the church were well done statues illustrating christ`s life (the ones on the other side were very unfinished) that did make you look and think. But Gaudi... Gaudi... fruit?! Yes, yes, I know, the fruits of the spirit (if that`s where you were going with it, because I can`t possibly think of anything else)... but those verses are actually there for you to live them, not put them in crappy theme park like fashion on a cathedral.

I walked the hour or two to Park Guell.

At about 4:30 a whole bunch of little kids were walking home from school with their parents, eating sandwhiches (on exceptable rustic bread) and drinking from juice boxes. A boy was sitting with his grandma in a bakery eating his pastry as she looked on. It made the long street have a nice feel to it.

Park Guell was great. See, you can go to town with parks, and I`ll go with it. Ugly dragon? Sure! splattered together brown stone? why not? (but. not. on. a. cathedral. that you are trying to make this serious reverent experince.) The incredibly long curvy bench was fabulous.

(people waiting for the net)

Sunday Night Train to Barcelona

2006-04-23T05:08:00.000-07:00

I woke up at 8, took a shower, ate breakfast and packed up my stuff.

Fernando, Mariana and I walked around the Albycin. I felt somewhat powerless, needing to always be people in narrow european streets and neighborhoods (that have warnings), but it is nice to walk with friends. I will especially miss Marianna, wearing her cool clothes as she smokes her ciggarette and drinks her matte.

With my bag and purse, I also have a bag of scarves (didn`t get to the post office yesterday) and a large sack of groceries. And my bottle of olive oil. And a bottle of white wine. I will look lovely walking to the train station.

I`ve been flushed for two days now and I wish I knew why so I could stop avoiding things like icecream cones, chocolate and wine. Either it`s because I am a girl (I love how I still get perplexed every month. Why am I in pain? Why am I craving sweet and salt so much? Why do I feel all strange? Oh yeah...) or I`ve gotten too much sun or my body likes how much tea and vegetables I`ve been eating so that makes my face flushed with a healthy glow. I`ll know in a few days, until then I`ll just have to sort of behave.

Last night I had (fresh) artichokes, vegetable lasanga, lettuce and apple salad, and spicy gazpacho (which made me happy because I have now done everything on my list for granada. 1. see the alhambra 2. see flamenCO 3. Walk around the albycin 4. Have a spanish dish. (gazpacho was high on the list) That`s a big list for 6 days. and I completed it.

Granada: Friday and Saturday

2006-04-21T00:40:00.000-07:00

Friday:
I don`t really have any specific plans today as to what to see.
Probably will just walk for a few hours (and cook/eat all my grocery purchases). I was going to go to Cordoba today with a group, but it would have been a 6 hour total bus ride for €22 and €8 to see the mosque, and I only have two full days left in Granada and have only seen a third or less of the city.

Plus I really need to figure out what I`m doing the last few weeks. Part of me is dreaming up ways to stay in southern spain (grocery stores are very powerful places) for three more months after Italy until my passport entry runs out. In my mind are visions of me floating around with glorious fruits/veggies in hippie clothes while becoming fluent in spanish. But another part of me knows I wouldn`t realstically have funds for those cheap groceries/hippie clothes, while living somewhere does make you learn the language faster- it`s not like I`ve made any big effort up to this point to learn it (I do seriously plan to though). I could find a place to wwoof at for a few months but I would really like to keep my plane trip back (and move) to Chicago (and I wouldn`t want to miss a certain someone´s (whose michelleappointed name ends with lou) big day). Maybe in the next two years.

Today or tommorrow I have to get my memory cards clean. " I won`t take 600 pictures". but I did. I thought they would fit 800 pics each but they`ve only fit 250.
..................
I got up at 8:00 am and everyone was sleeping. I made a tasty ham and mushroom omlete and ate my bread. After I cleaned up all my cooking and took a shower everyone was up about 11. I hung out outside in the sun.
At noon i made a lunch and went walking with Marianna, Fernando from spain, Alexandra (a French-Canadian whose parents are from chile so she`s fluent in spanish as well), a girl from argentina, and a girl from italy who complained everytime we walked up a hill. And since we were walking up hills the whole time, she wasn`t my favorite person. Many things inspired her complaints. She left and we walked through the neighorhood I had been through many times, we had a picnic, walked around the albycin neighborhood.
The talkativeArgentinian girl doesn`t speak english and I don`t speak any spanish and could peacefully entertain myself with a paperclip, so the language of choice was mostly spanish. I was in my own little world for part of the day. The funny thing was, Marianna and Fernando were trying to make sure I was left out, but for the conversations they chose to interprete for me- I already knew what they were saying.
Fernando was teasing the Argentinians by singing ¨don`t cry for me Argentina¨and then they were talking and in the same cords I heard them trying to do it in spanish. He then turned to me ¨We are trying to figure out the words for ¨don`t cry for me argentina¨in spanish. I just smiled öh...¨
I let Marianna in on this fact that night after she turned to me and explained to me that they were asking the sandwhich guy where he was from and he had said he was from morroco. (The donde and the morroco kind of clued me in).
I told her if they gesture a lot and mention a place or a specific word I know, I can usually correctly guess. The other 80% of the time I have no clue. (and if it`s printed I can usually get the general clue to some extent)

We got back at 6 and cooked. Yesshie was sitting on the porch eating bread and olive oil. ¨You`re having bread and olive oil.¨ I said., posed to say ¨I bloody told you so¨ with grand finish.
He looked at me and raised an eyebrow and pointed the bread at me ¨steamed bread and olive oil.¨
¨Hah!¨ but that`s all I got out because I was too pleased about spreading culinary joy and proper bread care around the world.

Fernando, Marianna, and I really need to find out her name, and swedish guy left to what i thought wsa a hike up to the Alhambra, that seeing as I had already done twice, I opted to cook some soup, read, and look at the clouds. But when they got back they had decided on a whim to walk up to the caves. They were really nice clouds though.

Went and saw a flamenco show for €10 with Marianna and other argentinian girl in a "cave" (a basement that had been shallaced to look like a cave.) It was pretty good. Lots of people out on the streets. Got home at 2am.

Saturday:
Woke up at 10. The sun was a bit of a shock.
Told Yesshie about the flamenco show.
¨flaminco?¨he said
¨Yeah, flamingo.¨
I think he`s done this to me before and I answered the same way so he made it obvious because I my pick the first and last letter and make something up was killing him...
¨It`s flamen-CO. Not flamin-GO. that`s a bird you doffus." (I don`t think he employs this method when he teaches, but the communal cooking and commonlove of veggies made it ok.)
I think I`ve been saying flamin-go to everyone in the hostel and I`m recalling more than one person repeating it back some form . hah.

cooked and now im here. Every night the hostel offers dinner for €4 but I had so many groceries I usually decline. But I`m going to eat with them tonight, If I don`t I know I`m going to go shopping and be carrying three bags of vegetables and fruits with me.

Sunday: night train to barcelona. I will be in style in a couchette (a bunk on the train) it cost me €28 (this was my reservation), but it was the only way to get on the sunday night train, and since I only have 4 nights in barcelona, it will be nice to possibly not be dead when I arrive.

Granada: Wednesday and Thursday

2006-04-19T02:37:00.000-07:00

Wednesday:
Today is another walk around/grocery shopping day.
Tomorrow I plan to wake up really early and brave the dark to the Alhambra to wait in line.

Did a reconisence mission to the Alhambra. There are two roads that lead there. The main one and one that is a lot closer to the hostel. I walked up the closer one at noon and decided it wouldn´t be very safe at 6am in the pitch black. It would just be you and the hills, the scheming gypsys, a back way halfhour long staircase that is only used in the day by people. I had been told you could walk around the Alhambra grounds for free, but it didn`t look like that. However, as I was walking down the main path, I saw a door several people were wakling through, I went up to it, expecting to see a guard, I walked further in and still saw noone other than guests exiting. I entered the grounds. Even though I was going on many a fellow travelers word, I felt like I shouldn`t be there and kept expecting to feel a hand on my shoulder. But the guards were more concerned with the entrence to the palace and the tower to bother with someone walking aroud the museum and bathroom/snack area. I walked back down and got a doner kebab and an icecream cone in the arab bazarr, didn`t feel too good.

I found the bakrey with the amazing chabata bread but it was gone, so I bought a bagette there that was hard and crusty, so i bought large round bread, it was the same.
After a long walk, was a little less elated at the market.

I was looking at the soup stock cubes, bullion cubes and was almost run over by 7 very excited asian women. Bullion! they exclaimed as the filled their arms with it. Each had a years worth supply of bullion cubes in their arms. it was about.39 for 15 cubes... but if anyone could explain this excitement over stock cubes... I know about soup and all but it was very interesting...
but still bought 10 pounds worth of stuff and hauled it back the 2 miles. Walked through several enchanting squares.
I found another bakrey with chabata bread for .80 and bought it. way too much bread. But I knew a way to revive the mediocore stuff.
...........
A little story:
I love bread very much. I love to buy bread. But there was a time in my life where I wasn`t very responsible about eating everything on time, so it would be wasted. And quality wasted bread is sad (that or I wouldn`t want to eat anything but the bread and everything else would rot). I tried not buying it but I go a little loopy if there is no bread anywhere near me. It feels like something is missing. So I started freezing the bread after I had enjoyed a resonable amount of it.
A little nuking, a plate of olive oil and salt later and I had the greatest snack on earth. I always had bread. Well then I moved into a microwave-less apartment. What would I do? How would I live? Then it came to me. I could steam it! i could heat water in a small pan and set the bread on top and the steam from the water would heat and soften the bread.
............
Yesshie the australian english teacherwas also in the kitchen when I got in. Every day we ask eachother what we did. ¨I went to the supermarket¨ I`ll say with a smile. ¨I did to¨ he`ll say and then we have a contest of sorts as we cook as to who had the more fufilling trip. ¨I got artichokes!¨ ¨Well I got brown bread!¨
Gosh I love australian boys. Not in a I want to marry them all kind of way (that I thought I had for anyone english until I heard a cockney accent). They are just nice to have around. I`ll feel like a hostel is lacking, all the guys will annoy me in some way at first and then there will be someone laid back, confident, and fun- and australian.
I proudly showed my lovely bottle of olive oil. ¨This is coming with me¨
Yesshie looked at the delicate class bottle and laughed ¨You are going to take so much energy trying to not break that.¨
¨It has a handle to carry it.¨
But before he could laugh at me too much I presented him with something else to be amused by as I put my hunk of bread over the pot of water. I tried to explain to him the (above) story and howwith a good crusty bread it works. It`s not soggy and it gives it back it`s fresh baked texture. but he couldn`t stop looking at the bread waiting to be steamed and laughing.
¨It makes it taste better.¨
¨You like soggy bread.¨
¨It won`t be soggy¨
We cooked and he kept laughing at me but agreed to try it. ¨It`s warm.¨ Yes it is. BAM!

Met a girl from Argentina with a question about the Alhambra and 5 minutes later I had someone to walk there with in the early morning (on the previsited safe path)

Thursday: Alhambra
Maryanna and I got to the Alhambra at 6:50. There was already 304 people in line. I know because I counted them. I also asked what time the start of the line got there, a little before 5. I can`t count descretly, my head bobs and my head points, so I either got looks of "what the heck is she on..", amused smirks, or people asking me in 5 different languages what number they were. 150 I said. "Ahhh..."
At 8am there were about 1,000 or more in line (I just did a guesstamint for that). And this was on a nontourist crazed day.
I had come prepared and consumed a gronaola bar, a ham sandwhich, two eggs with olive oil and salt, and a salad.
At 8:30 they started getting things going. At 9 we bought our tickets. Because the Alhambra is so popular, only 20 percent of the tickets are available for the public on any given day, the rest are all reserved. And of the shmucks who wait in line the day of, only 80 or something are allowed into the tower and place per hour. So, being #305 we couldn`t enter the palace or tower till 12:30. We could see the genralife gardens (the sultan`s summer retreat, which amused me the first time I heard it. I had been expecting having to do a daytrip to see his summer getaway and then foundout it was a 5 minute walk away.) and the spot I had snuck into yesterday.

More later.
In short the alhambra was amazing and totally worth it. €10 and 7 hours. usually I get bored after a while, but every room and garden i walked into I was struck. Even with all the people, I almost forgot they were there... until I tried to take a picture without people in it. =)

Maryanna needed to grocery shop, and i went along to support her.
And buy .79 pate (tastes like liverwurst.. is it liverwurst?) , lotion, white wine, a .59 dark chocolate bar (yeah, maryanna was going to through away a cake she didn`t like and I ate it... confirming there is no taste adversion to chocolate... but there is an exteme caution still, so that`s good), mushrooms, and olives. Made an amazing asian soup. with a stock cube and fresh lettuce and mushrooms I pan cooked a little first and rice noodles. delicious.

Granada: Monday and Tuesday

2006-04-18T09:43:00.000-07:00

Monday
Took a freezing cold shower, waited in line forever to check out. After that line ran down to grab my food, kitchen was locked. I have a turkey sandwich with lettuce in there! knocked and knocked.
" the kitchen is closed" (it does close at 10:30 and it was exactly 10:30, but we aren`t allowed to have food in our rooms either)
I just need to grab my bag of food, my bus is leaving...
¨the kitchen is closed¨ (i figured out afterward this probably was all the english he knew)
I could see other hostelers in the kitchen eating and talking. The guy was standing off to the side so I just pointed, walked into the kitchen, grabbed my bag and left.
I walked quickly to the bus station, eating my turkey sandwich. it was really good. I had toasted the bread, buttered it, layered both sides with turkey (so the lettuce wouldn`t mess up the bread) and then put my fresh lettuce in the middle).
I made the bus, again, with 20 minutes to spare. The ticketguy who gave me my printed out ticket when I showed him my reservation number said something that sounded like Leaves at 11:50. but I had reserved the 11:30 bus. there wsa no 11:50. The desk guy was busy with people, so I went down to the buses... looked around. There was nothing on the screens, nothing that would tell you where the bus left from. and I had 60 places to choose from.
I found a continental bus driver and showed him my ticket. veite tres. he said
ok. tres is 3. Veite. I ran through the numbers in my head and as I thought about my lost rick steves spanish phrase book that had the list of numbers, I forgot all the numbers I knew (1-100) over 10. is it 50? It was 15 minutes till and I was a close to maybe sort of panicing. BUt first I found a group of 18 year old girls (one of them had to know a little english). She did. Veite tres? Is it 53? yes.
Ok gra....
No wait! Veite tres. that`s 23.
gracias. I went to 23 and looked at the people around and pointed to the ground. Granada? they nodded. I ate the rest of my turkey sandwhich. This would have cost me $4 anywhere else. but from a €1 head of lettuce (also used in soup, salad, and another salad), €3 container of turkey (also another sandwhich, soup, and snack), and two slices of white toast and butter from my hostel breakfast- it was not only tasty but economical.

I really am missing on some sleep. Those accursed spanish girls. They were so loud and talkative. They came in at 1am and were whispering and whispering to eachother. I love how, when your bed is 2 feet from theirs, they think that by whispering for a half hour (and I`m being generous calling it whispering) you won`t disturb anyone.
After 45 minutes I had had it. Even my earplugs wouldn`t keep them out. They had had all day to talk.
"Porbavor!" I called out slightly sleep-drunkenly. I mumbled something and then softly went shhhh.
The worst one, girl 3, let out a loud muffled laugh. but shortly whispered "buenos noches" to her friend, snickered a little more. I`m sure it will become one of their many little inside jokes. And that is ok.

I had thrown my bag underneath with everyone elses, my camera was locked inside. This wasn`t a problem at first, the scenery was pretty uninspired for awhile. Factories, flat, with tje shadows of mountains in the distance, I finally closed the shade and tried to sleep.

This bus also didn`t have a bathrooñm, so we took a break. Only I didn`t know how long it was, because the driver announced it in spanish. I looked to the women next to me and she held up her hand 10 fingers and said something (in spanish). 10 minutes. I went to the restroom, and bought a bag of cheetos. Something about bus trips sometimes inspires me to eat crap. I got outside just within 10 minutes, I completly on mytoes with these bus breaks. I do not want to be left behind with everything I own but my moneybelt driving away. but noone came out and the bus was shut down. I walked around some more, still dead. I walked in and finally found some of the fellow passangers I recognized, they were pretty settled in, dipping their pastries in their hot chocolate or coffee. One was eating a sandwhich. I bought a crossaint for .90. It was bready and probably factory made but it was stilll 100 times better than the cheetos. I have to knock this off. I`m going to get so sick of crossaints.

I watched the 4 recognizable passangers, they still eren`t moving. I went and took a walk around the bus. after a 40 minute break, we were on our way.
I was reading and then something caught my eye, I opened the shade, just like that we were in the mountains. and they were amazing. my camera`s under the bus. how do I describe this? how do I remember this? I ran words through my head and nothing seemed to work. I was too tired to get set up to draw. I jsut settled for looking. I came up with something that night, and in the halfsleep thought it was close to genious, but since changed my mind...
I might put it up, we`ll see.

We got in at 5:00 (not the 415) and so all I wanted to do was get to myhostel before dark, since it was in a winding street, tourist drawing (therefore mugger drawing) neigbhorhood.

I`m sort of figuring out the meters vs. miles. I figured out if I walked to the hostel from the station it would be around 3 to 4 miles and I didn`t have that time so I took the city bus. I feel sorry for the granadians who have to take bus 3 or 33 everyday. Half of it was packed with people and their cumbersome suitcases/backpacks, yet somehow we kept managing to fit people on. Granada suprised me. I had expected to walk out into a hilly ancient city, and instead was met by a very modern one. I was looking at my map, trying to figure out where the bus was so I wasn`t taken 10 miles away from where I needed to get off, and a spanish guy with colorful rope tied around his wrist just put his finger on my map and pointed to where we were and where the bus went. There are a lot of people like that. They know you are a confused tourist and even if they don`t speak english and you don`t speak spanish, they find a way to help you out.
After a half hour I started to see my picture of granada, spanish homes climbing up the hillside, emerge between the tall buildings. I second guessed myself as to where to get off and so got off at the next stop (wasn`t too far off though). I saw on the map I had to walk by a river for a good deal of the way. Sigh. A river. I pictured a mile of concrete and lampposts. But in five minutes I was walking on a narrow one way cobbled street, that I thought was a pedestrian walkway until a car lumbered past. The river was lined with quaint stone bridges, beautiful old buildings with the alhambra on top. The river was almost a stream being enjoyed by large white ducks, and the shops were filled with morrocan lamps and pillows. It was a great walk that didn`t last too long. I walked up a two high hills. Almost all the reviews for this hostel complained about having to walk up high hills and stairs. Almost half of hostel reviews in general complain about having to walk up hills and stairs. Which I find quite funny. These people have surely seen pictures of the cities they are going to. It`s part of why they are going. I don`t know how you might not suspect that your hostel might possibly be on one of these many pituresque hills or staircases, meaning you would have to walk up it to get there.

I got checked in at 7 and went to bed at 8.
It was very very cold. I had thought granada, being in the south, would be warmer. must be the mountains.

Tuesday
people are waiting for the net so short version.
got my train booked, but not without problems
walked around
found the greatest supermarket on earth. I would cut my grocery bill in half (if not more) by moving to spain. tasty bakery chabata bread. .80 (in the US it would cost me about 5 bucks) wine 1.00-4.00. capers .75 olives (huge jar) 1.00 fruit and veggies: cheap and amazing (I had august worthy strawberrys yesterday) I walked around the grocery store trying to supress the crazed grin on my face.

Madrid Sunday

2006-04-16T11:21:00.000-07:00

I can`t believe it was already my last full day in Madrid. These 3-4 nights per place is a little dissorienting at times. But I get 6 nights in Granada. And the first thing I`m doing in Granada is RESERVING MY TICKET TO BARCELONA.

But i`m taking the bus to granada because it`s only $14 supposidly. and for a 5 hour trip that`s amazing. So I need to make this quick and find out for sure so I`m not finding this out while wearing my backpack, and carrying two extra bags. I really do need to get some things taken care of at the post office.

The Parque del Buen Retiro was one reason I really wanted to go to Madrid. The other was the El Rastro Flea Market that happens every Sunday in the Embajadores (I just call it the old central district where I`m staying) district. It wasn`t quite the gigantic garage sale I was expecting, but it was still enormous and great. Just about everyother stall was selling clothes I would own and wear. But most were €15 or more and I just wasn`t ready for that. I already have so many Michelle clothes. so so many. But do you know what I don`t have to many of? Scarves! One can always by another scarve.
Livia and I passed a few stands that were selling scarves friday and I finally had to go back and buy one. I told her about all my scarves (all 130 of them). She looked at me and then said "That sounds a bit like sickness..." "It`s not a sickness, it`s a collection! I collect scarves! " (I didn`t actually realize I was collecting them until a few months ago. I just knew I loved them and if one was pretty and cheap it was mine. Mine. I`ve always wanted to collect something. Stuffed Animals. Stamps. Stickers. Fingernail polish. Coins. Postcards. Glass Bottles. Magazine pictures. There were problems with these collections and they didn`t go too far. Then, one day, as I sat surrounded by my 117 scarves I realized I had a collection. I collected scarves. I had found my lifes calling. Collection wise.)
I continued my explanation to Livia "You have to understand, I usually get the scarves for 25 cents or a dollar at second hand shops..."
She still had that twisted look on her face "That`s still not good."
I had to go back through all the stands and make sure I was making the right choice.
"But what do you do with all of them? You can`t wear a different scarf every day."
"I do. Theres ones for going to the park, painting a house, going to the market in june, walking to work..."
But we had made our way back to the scarves, "there it is! the green one."
"You don`t have a green one." she raised her eyebrows
"Not a long thin one with stripes. And tassles!"
"You are sure?"
"I know all my scarves."
Livia looked at me a little differently after this, and whenever we passed scarves after this she now recognized the gleam that would spark in my eye, and she would grab my arm just in case my quirkiness went the direction of crazy. "You`ve already bought a scarf today and you´re going to the market on sunday."
So at the market, I walked around with all the people and the $15 clothes. After asking 7 different venders how much the gorgeous unmarked clothes were and continually getting around the same price every time, I resigned myself to happily take in the market. There was really one main reason why I was here. I needed to find a bag. I`ve decided the enormous flowers and butterflys on white 90`s canvas was making me stand out in Portugal and Spain (more than I already do). Plus the strap dug into my shoulder with even when the weight wasn`t that much. I`ve been looking at everyone else`s bags and found that earthy colors with a shoulder strap should be the ticket. At 11:30 the crowd had gotten to the point of hundreds of soft bodies all bumping together like balls at chucky cheese, but we were all shopping...
Then I heard it "Dos! Dos!" and what were they shouting Dos for? Scarves! Beautiful colorful scarves! And there was even a sign saying they were €2. I controlled myself... a little. (hush. I only bought 3.)

I bought a artsy purse for €3 and then realized I had made a stupid choice. It didn`t rest at the right place. I needed a messanger bag. So I bought one for €4.50. No icecream or crossaints for me today.

Oh I forgot to mention. I wore a diguise of sorts to the market. I was sort of scared that the carmel women would be begging at the market (it would be the place to beg on sunday) and she`s see me and jump me. So I tied up my hair and covered it with a blue scarf (my hair had been down the day we met), put on my old brown glasses, lipstick, and wore my blue sweater. (and did not carry my white bag). I knew it was a little silly ("Oh, that girl looks exactly like the one I want to kill, but this one has brown glasses with a blue purse, I can`t see the color of her hair, and she`s a little prettier. It must be someone else." ) but it made me feel better. I put two emergency carmels in my pocket just in case.

I was at the market till 2 and then took the long way back, took a wrong street but found a nice fountain to sit on with other citizens, and ate a little bread,
I found my way back by way of the Plaza Mayor and changed my mind about it. When I had first seen it at 8am, there weren`t that many people around. Now it was full of people, sitting in the expensive cafe and resturant chairs, busking, and congregated in little groups in the middle. I really like how Madrid lets the public sit and lay everywhere in a nonsquating fashion. There were people eating their lunch, planning out their day, resting, and one guy was watching11 backpacks. He wasn`t doing a very good job of it though, just resting on them. I was somewhat tempted to run over and grab one just to show him that he needs to lope his arms and legs through the straps like a responsible backpack watcher, but thought better of it. He did look comfortable.
I went to the hostel and fixed a fantastic lunch of soup with rice noodles, vegetable flavoring, and fresh lettuce, went back to the park because there was a drum circle. Didn`t get that into it, walked back. Walked around The Prado because it was free today. Only found a couple paintings I liked, which made for a quick trip. Now I`m looking for my bus and going to bed.

Granada on Monday. I keep hearing really good things about Granada.
I will miss these wide sidewalks and walkways though.

Madrid fri and sat

2006-04-15T06:58:00.000-07:00

I woke up groggily to a girl chatting on her cell phone. My hostel room is right by the sitting room of the second floor, and this seems to be the place for everyone to have their important relationship problem discussions at 12am or 6am. And not only is our room equipped with a door that will only close if you lock it, it has a enormous window that has no real purpose other than for more noise to get in (or for people to crawl into the room from the hallway and unto my bed). The kiwi´s were whispering about the annoying girl yapping on our cellphone.
¨it´s actually pretty interesting, this guy did this and...¨
What time is it? 6? My alarm should be going off pretty soon here...
7:48
Oh crap.
¨Did my alarms go off?¨ I ask the kiwis as I grab my clothes.
¨We heard something go off.¨
¨I can´t believe I slept through it. (brain: Oh my...I refuse to take this one...) I was supposed to meet someone at 7.¨ I run downstairs and make sure Livia isn`t sitting in the lobby. She`s not. Who in their right mind would?
The train leaves at 9. I take an incredibly quick shower, because me being smelly after a night bus on top of late wouldn´t really help my case. I quickly walk to the bus station. I resolve to be a little smarter about the morning plans I make after 2 days without sleep. I don´t beat myself up, but I do have a few pictures in my mind of Livia looking at me tiredly with a dark cloud over her. I get to the train station, buy a ticket, walk to the tracks at 8:40 and find out there is a 8am train and 10am train. She probably took the 8am train, I´m never going to find her in Segovia, or it will be at the end of the day and she`ll just look at me as I apoligize. "I never stand people up. (I just sometimes make them wait 3 hours.) I go to find something to eat and as I´m looking at the screen to make sure there is a 10am train I hear "Michelle!"
I turn around and there is Livia, she looks relieved. We hug eachother.
"I`m so sorry!"
"No, I`m sorry! I thought we were meeting at 8am¨
¨I was more tired then I thought slept through two alarms!¨

Now that`s a daytrip partner to get. Deep down they know that you are kidding yourself- waking up at 6:30 when you´re short on sleep, so their subconcious switches the time accordingly. And knowing the other gets confused about dates and times (yesterday Livia told me it was Friday. No, It`s thursday. No it`s friday. I`m pretty sure it`s thursday, yesterday was wednesday, I just looked at a calendar today. ¨Oh shit, I bought a train ticket for the wrong day. I thought it was friday.¨ Well, see if they´ll let you change it.) so their subconsious lets them get the extra sleep they need.
Elena told me she was at the hostel at 8:10 (I had just left) and when she didn`t see me she realized she had messed up the times so she hurried to the train station and when she found out the train didn`t leave till 10 she relaxed a little. I get her to buy the ticket since the line has grown from the 5 people I had to 15.

We are both happy and get some breakfast to celebrate. life is good. I get a jamon rustica sandwich and Livia gets a crossaint and coffee (everywhere you go they have the crossaint and coffee combo. If it was tea and crossaint I would bite.). We make our way to the train. If you are in Madrid, do everything before 9. At 9:30 the line is again stretched all around the station. There is a huge crowd waiting, and they are all going to segovia. Livia and I possission ourselves in such a way that as everyone pushes in we manage to get a seat. It`s a two hour train ride, and it looks like a packed subway car as we take off. I look around for a old person, mom/with baby, pregnant women, or person with crutches to offer my precious seat to as the courtesy sign instructs, but the only white haired head I see is at the end of the car, and trying to offer them my seat would be impossible. And if not impossible, it would cause a riot. Most of the people standing by us are teenagers and couples who decide to pass the time by giving eachother loud kisses.

Yellow, purple and delicious bright red flowers wip past us. After an half hour or so we start to see mountains. I am so tired, but someone is holding on to my headrest so I just stare out the window. We get to Segovia at noon and everyone clammers off and heads in mass to the town center. Livia and I have figured out it is a bit of a trek to segovia`s plaza mayor and so we take the city bus to preserve our energy. The bus is packed as the driver goes to the next stop. Somehow, after he yells at us, we manage to fit 20 more people on. Most of the people get off before the old town. There must be a parade or something.

We make our our way to the center and there are people on top waiting for something. Ok, I´m not feeling like googiling right this second, so this is a probably incorrect or misinformation but before easter, the thing to do in spain is for men in robes that totally look like KKK getups (though these are blackor purple or blue) and slowly walk around with a statue of jesus and Mary (very big heavy statues on wooden planks that 8 or more men have to carry) as everyone watches. I want to say it started in Seville but both segovia and madrid do it (probably lots of towns do it). The robed men started to come and Livia asked if I wanted to watch (she had seen it the night before in Madrid and said it creeped her out alittle because it reminded her of the inquisition. I told her what it reminded me of. I know it has nothing to do with it, but my mind can`t not go there. I tried to make up for the kkk reference during a reverent procession and I told her I think (because I saw a travel video with the procession) it has something to do with representing that they are sinners and that`s why their face is covered... or something. Livia didn`t think that was much better and started looking at the cathedral.

Neither of us wanted to see it and I got into travel planner mode and told her we should make our way to the castle while the crowds were distracted by the procession. and then we could see the big cathedral. then we could see the aquaduct.
We bought our ticket €3 to the castle. It does kind of look like the disney one. It was kind of small and the famous tower that is supposed to give you great views was closed (they still had you pay for it) though I guess a ancient spiral staircase might protest to having hundreds at a time clamour up and down it.
It was 2 and Livia and I realized we were really really hungry. We painfully made our way back to the center and bought some bread. She wanted meat. We found a place that gave you €1 tapas. Livia got sausages. I got something that I thought was sausages but was actually fat, bone and skin. I decided no to figure out what part of the pig I was eating. It was shop, little almonds in a light carmel coating. I couldn`t stop eating them as we walked to the aquduct. Though I did stop when I saw the mountains peaking through the narrow street. It was warm and there were mountains on a cobbled street.

What I like about Europe is with so many of it`s "sights", you could easily find something right around where you are that also satisfies you . You could see the famous aqueduct in france (sol du duc I think), but here`s one in segovia.
I found anise bread and bought it for €2.5.
I walked to the bus station to see if there was cheaper tickets there since the train was a madhouse while Livia took a nap. I got heart shaped pastry.
You keep this up and I`m going to turn into a pastry. I get a €6 bus ticket for both of us (the train was 9.90) and walk into a church. There are a few people sitting quictly, praying, preparing for friday service. But there are also 10 or 12 people talking loudly to eachother and taking pictures. A man in a red sweater vest looks at them tiredly. It made me sad. Though I did discretly take a picture when the sweater vest man left with the priest.

Livia gets something to eat and we make our way to the bus. Livia was a great travel friend. We both walked fast, ate pastry and icecream, have stomach problems on the bus, and we didn`t have to talk the whole time. And I was still tired, so haivng someone with me kept me going. Though because I was having a nice relaxing day with a friend, I was dropping and misplacing everything towards the end and LIvia had to watch out for her glassy eyed travel partner.

The bus only takes a little over an hour. The scrubby trees on the green valleys with the mountains directly over them made for very nice scenery watching.
Livia and I walked around the plaza del sol (the heart of spain and madrid) and ran into another procession with the pointy hoods, jesus and mary while we were looking for a good doner eatery (livia told me I had to try it). This procession one was pretty big. there was a seperate band for mary and jesus.
We watched a little because we had no choice with all the people, some who were watching, others who were following the statue. I walked Livia to the train station and then walked back to the only open grocerystore in the city and bought some eggs. It was 2 hours later and the procession was still going on. THough it was winding up, with the mary and jesus statue meeting. Cameras sometimes concern me. It isn`t experience, it`s zoom, click click click.
I watched for 20 minutes or so. Watching everyone with their unbrellas clapping the closer the jesus platform got to mary`s. Then the I saw something very nice. A father was walking away with a little boy on his shoulders who had a tired, bored expression and was answering something his father had said with a drawn out ¨por que?¨ (why?)
It was delightful.

Though I really do like Madrid. A lot of people I met said they didn`t like Madrid. It was just a really big city they said. But I feel a little more relaxed here, the people here seem to form one big excited group and that makes Madrid feel alive. And it has lots of places to get icecream. and if two people are walking slowly down a sidewalk sideby side, you can easily walk around them on the newer wide sidewalk. I got stuck behind many a slow couple in Lisbon, and the cars wizzing by made it impossible to choose the street, and as for the opposite sidewalk, well that was either a makeshift parkinglot or a "sunglass" seller hangout. If a person offers you sunglasses in Lisbon. Just say no.

Saturday.
Somewhere in Madrid there is a toothless, carmel loving street women who hates me, but I`ll talk about that later. First, A lose and a tribute:
to two containers of floss and one mechanical pencil stuffed with a three months supply of lead, I can now add a 7.95 Rick steves Spanish phrasebook that has been donated to a fellow tourist somewhere in Segovia. I felt a little extra vulnerable in Portugal with only my little list of 5 phrases and words and that feeling will get to be continued for 13 days.
It was a great little phrasebook. Blue, funny, light, useful. It had phrases for travel (that I would just write down and hand to the ticket person to ensure a smooth transaction, since I`m finding my accent is atrotious), for women being harrassed (no may tochas!), a little englishtospanish and spanish to english dictionary, and a menu decoder. And now it is gone. THough I am glad it was you instead of my passport or thin red scarve that I forgot in the lisbon commons room one night. and my new long striped scarf I dropped in the street and some passerbys pointed it out. I`ll buy another one of you. but for now-goodbye my spanish rick steves phrase book. goodbye.

I awoke with another loud conversation at 7am with a guy and girl who had just gotten in from their night of fun. I would die if I lived on Madrid time. Die. The day I got here, as I was waiting for hte sun to come up at the bus stop a younger guy came by and plopped down by the people. Two other young guys came by shortly and made the guy get up. They were walking home at 7am after being out all night. How would you work? or study? Or cross streets safely?
From what I could tell from this couples conversation is that it was a spanish guy and an english girl. Spanish guy was.... oh I don`t know, it just went on and on and I`m not going to grace it with a story. ¨My friend is having problems but we must never speak of it (repeat 18 times)¨ ¨I like you and we had a good time but...¨ (repeat 6 or so times) And the girl just kept making spineless nice girl¨thats ok¨comments back.
my spanish roomates are not shy and one of them opened the door and "shh`d" them. "gracias" I said, sweet sweet sleep. Spanish girl then went to her friend and said "we must never speak of it...." which got them giggling and talking. The plan had been to sleep until I woke up completly recovered from bus time but I was now fully awake so I said goodbye to my bed and took a shower.
After a 10 minute oredeal extracting my crumbly anise bread from the toaster, I hardboiled my eggs and got a few jealous looks as they ate their customary bread, jam, milk and cereal free breakfast. I made a crumbly anise bread and turky sandwhich for lunch.

Everybody hurts (sometimes) really is a great great song. and the internet guy made me herbal tea.

I realized I was still really tired and when I saw all my roomates were gone, I went back to bed. I was this close to dreaming into sleep when two of my spanish girls entered the room. They say something softly to someone, it sounds like a guy. No you`re ok, what were you kind of dreaming about- I think maybe your mom was saying something, I almost have it... but then the 3rd and loudest spanish girl starts talking and talking and TALKING and the dream is gone. Bloody hell. I uncover my head (I sleep with the covers over my head because it is the best way to sleep. If I ever need to be calmed down, throw a blanket over my head. Calm. But don`t have someone I don`t know and trust do it or else that won`t calm me down.) and look over slighly exasperated at girls 2 and 3. They don`t see me but girl 1 does and shhs them. It works for a minute. I get up and put on my sandals. Girl 3 is oblivious to the fact that her loud passionant spanish just destroyed someones sleep. "Do you know a guy here?" she asks me
"No..."
"When we came in and you were sleeping a guy was standing in the room."
"And doing what?"
The girls don`t make sense for a bit and I make out that no, he wasn`t watching me, he was just standing there in the dark room holding his suitcase and sort of smiling (that`s how girl 3 is demonstrating it)
I guess the next time I nap the door needs to be locked. Though strange smiling boys with suitcases could just as well crawl through the enormous window and step on my head.
girls 1 and 2 leave and girl 3 lays on her bed with an exhausted sigh.
If I had a harmonica I would use it right at this moment.

I walk through the city and get a tiramasu ice cream cone. I have this thing with tiramasu. I don`t really like it. It`s soggy and my taste buds always look at me with slight confusion when I eat it. Cream, rum soaked cookie, pudding. Yet almost everytime I could order it, I have to. I think it`s the name. Tiramisu. Though as an icecream flavor its really good. I think....

I walk into a nice looking tea shop and my nose wrinkles. beer and urine and no shower for weeks. I see a man who is going to all the people at the counter and asking them for change, he stops in front of me and I say no and back away, he goes to the next patron, patting a man on his coat pocket, the man looks back, a little annoyed but completly unphased and lightly moves the guys hand away. the counter people just glance at him and keep serving people.

Madrid has a free Egyptian tomb in a park a short ways away from the palace (I walked around it`s free gardens. I see women with carnations going after people wlaking to the tomb, walk far off to the side. I walk quickly looking ahead but the women sees me. And I look promising to her. Hola, she runs in front of me, smiles widely, talking rapidly. I say no. nicely. no again. She reaches for my arm and almost takes it. NO! She looks a little shocked and She lets go and goes for the next person. I feel a little bad for basically shouting, she had a nice smile. But it was be a loud and firm sayer of no or walk into the tomb with a carnation. I didn`t have a third option.
The tomb was small and stuffed with people, but it was an egyptian tomb.

I walk for hours on a long wide treelined sidewalk that borders a huge city park (It kind of reminded me of the one in NYC by central park, with much fewer people (and dogs and taxis and tacky hot dog stands). I relax. Its a little cold, the sun seems to take it´s sweet time coming up in Madrid. Sun: Well if these jokers are going to run around all night, I`m not warming this city until they wake up.
I use the restroom, the restroom cleaner keeps talking to me and all I can make out is bano. She might have been telling me the restroom gets cleaned at this time. I don`t know. There were people when I walked in two minutes before. I walk past a candy store and oh they have werthers soft carmels. I buy 5 and a couple strawberry swirls.
I walk a little and look around. Everything looks good and I sit next to an older women.
The carmels are disgusting. I am very disapointed with Werthers Original Company. It doesn`t even taste like their chewy carmels. It tastes like the cheap ones you melt for apples. Why would they send such junk to spain? I put my brain on sleep mode for a second and close my eyes and enjoy the sun. I open them and a women zones in on me, leans in and says something. I tell her no and shake my head. The older women is gone. The women with a striped sweater and no teeth says something again. I say no and I don`t understand (in spanish). My gosh I`ve only been sitting here for two minutes. *Yawn* Um, I think you better respond with something other then no, losiento or no comprendo, she`s not going away. Well I lost my phrase book, I told her No twice or three times and I`m just sitting here, enjoying the sun. And I don`t think she`s someone I want to yell at.
She says another sentence I don`t understand. She`s pointing to the candy beside you. Huh? Oh, those gross things. They are only like 5 cents and they are downstairs but I don`t know how to say that in spanish. I point to where I got them.
No, she telling you to give her one! Well that`s kind of presumptuous. I mean, I`ll give her one but my word... Danger! Danger!
"Caremelo! Caremelo!" She says angrily and then makes a move towards me like a cat fight is about to begin and I hold up a finger in warning and my eyes flash. Do not mess with my happy sun time. She backs off and walks away muttering and goes off to panhandle peopple who don`t take 2 minutes to come back to the real world in which they have to respond.
Oh crap. I just about got my face scratched over candy. cheap gross candy. You never let me sleep on a city street (in another country!) by a metro/train station woman! Never! We have talked and talked about this! You´ve had wake up calls. lessons. proof how imporatant this is. What was with that finger of warning with the angry eyes? You didn`t give me much time to work so I did what I could. Well I would have given her a carmel, but I just wanted to be left alone to think. If I had been awake I would have told you in a timely manner that she was wanting a carmel, saw no reason for you not to give her one (happy sun time or not) and she would have left you alone if you had just handed her one. Or she would have grabbed my outstretched hand and stuck a dirty needle in it. Yes. Yes. that could have been as well. *rolls eyes* Sigh. We are really moving to Chicago? You bet your buttons we are.... Let`s go to a grocery store. Yes, lets. Though I might mention that you had better get used to and smart(er) about being zoned in on the street or at the park. All. the. time.
The grocery store provides me with digestive busicuits, water and lentils.

Night bus, Day 1 (thur) in Madrid

2006-04-13T08:46:00.000-07:00

Europe is so unkind to dreamers.

I got to the Lisbon train station. "The train is full."
"full?"
"full."
"the train tomorrow is full to."
I can´t wait in Lisbon till Friday, I have a hostel booked in Madrid. The bus station is right next door, so I walk to the first window that I see with Madrid and 20:45 (meaning there is a night bus) and buy a ticket. €39 isn`t bad, but I can`t do this again. I have a train pass and I do need to use it.

I then explore the area around the train station. Beatriz, my bus to Porto friend, told me she lives there. It was a bad area 10 years ago, but in 98´there was a worlds fair and now it´s a very nice area and I should go there. So I did, and it was very nice. I bought a €3 super duper icecream cone in the next door mall- pistachio, banana and chocolate and tiramisu. I think I´m just trying to catch up on all the years of no icecream.

I walked up and down by the ocean, up and down the square where the worlds fair was, watched a colorful volcano fountain. I really do love how Lisbon tiles the sidewalks and plazas. I listened to some portugese cds (I`ve heard some great music just in passing, but they only had a few cds set up to listen to, and none of these were lovely)
I decided I should probably get something to eat and checked out my options. sandwhich. sandwhich. sandwhich. Ooo. Salad Bar. A tasty healthy, salad bar.

The only problem was I paid €11 for a salad. Those pay by weight things get me every time. Chicago has 2-4 Whole Foods who have the same system. I´m determined to solve this problem. I´m guessing the answer is not to treat it as a all you can eat buffet. It was the fish that got me. I just took a small part of it, but felt bad for breaking it up. So I took it all. But everyone seemed to be paying €9 or so. And I only paid €10.74. It was €11.29 and as I took out my change, saw I didn-t have enough and reached for my twenty. The cashier, changed the price just like that and looked at me as I handed her my twenty. She shook her head. She had seen my change, she saw .74 and she wanted it.
I stood waiting for the bus, eating my precious salad bar treat. Everyone else had eaten like civalized people at tables. I really shouldn`t have done this because I think I slept one hour on the bus from feeling so blah. I even had two seats to myself. But everyone was talking almost the whole time, they kept these red lights on so I felt like I was traveling in a bright red lightbulb, and there was no bathroom on the bus, so we stopped every two hours.

We got to Madrid at 5:30 (6:30 actually, I forgot to change my clock). The bathroom had no toilet paper anywhere. Or soap. An older women almost entered the stall where I had my stuff. When I pantomimed I had been on a toilet paper hunt, that is why I abandoned my stale, she went "ooooh." and gave me a long explanation in spanish, and then opened the front pocket of her suitcase, which was all toilet paper, and handed me a portion. I thanked the lovely women and then afterward got a crossaint (I just realized I ate the crossaint with my hands when the bathroom had had no soap. I`m doing pretty good breaking this anti-germ wash//wipes dependency. I waited for the sun to come up, but my legs needed a stretch and I got impatient and made my way outside. The hostel was only 2 miles away and I saw a couple people out. Everyone I passed was dragging along a roller suitcase. I seriously think I passed 80 people with roller suitcases. The sound was echoing around town. Wrrrrr,bump,bump,bump,bump.

There was only me and a couple rollers for the first half of the walk though on a main street. I walked past this man who I had seen just standing there, across the street, and I had seen watching people for awhile. As I passed he watched me and crossed the street to my side. I crossed the street to his side. Clip Clop Clip Clop. He kept my pace, glancing across the carless street over at me. There were still a couple people out, but sometimes it was just me and him on opposite sides of the street. When the people had passed, for no reason at all, he crossed back again. I figured if he was going to look silly crossing the street for no apparent reason, I would do likewise. I crossed back. He gave me a look. We got to the train station and he crossed and I made sure I was with a group of people. He went on his way. Maybe he just likes to cross the street and be on sidewalks with another person. Maybe he got robbed a couple years ago on that same street at 7 in the morning and so he just waits till he sees someone he is sure wouldn`t hurt him (being the big, vulnerable 40 yearold man in the blue pimp suit with clippy shoes that he is) and then crosses the street when he finds that perfect person to put his mind at ease.
But I have something I like. I like to walk on sidewalks with people who havn´t been standing on the opposite side, watching people and then crossing around one specific person. And I am not the only person in Spain with "blond" hair. It was still dark and after this I stood at a bus stop with a group of people and compossed myself. I shouldn`t have been walking at 6:00, I looked at a pharmacy clock, oh it´s 7:00. I hate this. But I still like citys. I do. (see this is a good thing for chicago. Do I want to tear my hair out after 3 months of having to be a lot more alert than I did in dsm) I watched the sky grow lighter and then kept walking. I got a little offtrack (a convience store guy helped me out and gave me a map because my guidebook one was very limited) and got to the Hostel by way of the Plaza Mayor. I´m not quite sure what makes the Plaza Mayor such a tourist attraction. I´ve seen Plazas surrounded by one building in every city I´ve been, and they are also nice. I passed 40 policemen all walking to their posts who seemed to have gotten out of their group meeting for the day. It was nice to know that they decide to protect you at 8:00am. Did I really only sleep an hour?

I find the hostel, store my bags (since it was far to early to check in ) and I used their internet. I really didn`t want to be in the city today. I figured I`d daytrip to Segovia or Toledo. "Toledo has narrow winding streets.". "Segovia has narrow winding streets.". Sigh. Old Michelle would have thought this was horribly romantic, but current Michelle would like someone with her on the narrow winding streets because I am so tired of having to be on high alert all the time. There is a reason to travel in pairs. (Not that I`m not happy doing this trip by myself, but I`m going to get friends for the narrow dark streets part.) Just then I heard a girl asking about Segovia.
And I turned away from the internet, would you like someone to go with you?
She looked a little taken aback seeing as she had never seen me or met me and I just jumped in. Sure. that would be nice.
If you`d like to go alone it`s not a problem.
Oh no, then I wouldn`t have to go alone.
So Livia (from germay) went to drop off her stuff at her new hostel and I finished up my internet time. and then we went to the train station.
We kept being in the wrong area, in the wrong line. These errors cost us an hour. When we found the right line, there were 400 people in 4 lines, and 3 window attendents. (good ol´holy week)
As we go close I posed the thought that the train wasn`t leaving till 12, we wouldn`t get there till 2, and everyone in line seemed to be going to Segovia. It is a tourist destination, but I guess i just assumed everyone would be going to Sevilla. Since that is where people go for holy week.
Livia agreed with me and we decided to come tomorrow at 7am, buy our tickets, and be on a 9am train. So Livia went to do her errands and I walked to the Parque del Buen Retiro. I have dreamed about this park. Ever since I saw a picture of it, a partial palace (in a park), I wanted to go.

But it was 11:45 and I was freaked out about not having any real food and every store would be closed for siesta time (which I think is 12-3, but I might be wrong). I got a tosomthing espana sandwhich. Which was a potato and egg omlete on a 6 inch baugette. It was kind of a gross concept, but I liked it more then the onion ring sandwich. I got a McDonalds €1 salad so I wouldn+t just be eating slabs off egg cassorole on white bread.

I spent 4 hours in the park. 2 of them sleeping (I tied my bag to my body and my boots to my bag and sweater and positioned myself so my face was in the shade and my white little legs could burn). There was so many people you would have thought it was a big fair, but it didn`t feel like too much. They were all just enjoying the park. I loved seeing how everyone was doing their siesta. If they weren`t walking around, Everyone was in little groups (or by themselves): some playing guitar, some blowing up ballons, some doing taichi, reading, writing, sleeping, putting on lotion, sunbathing, playing catch, eating. It was marvelous. I love seeing little individual pictures of who people are all in one place. I felt completly comfortable and relaxed. I was also half drugged with lack of sleep and wandered around for 45 minutes after the first hour siesta and finally found one. I`ll say one thing about Madrid, because I havn`t really experienced this anywhere else in Europe. Going to the bathroom is very important to them. When I went to the convience store bathroom, I heard a group of women come in and try the door and make angry sounds when it didn`t open. They had just walked in. They kept trying the door even though I yelled to let them know someone was in here and they would have to wait 15 seconds. I immediatly opened it and motioned it would be a moment and a little witch of a women glared back at me. I quickly washed my hands and as I left the evil women made a comment to her friends. I made a point to roll my eyes so her and her friends could see. I don´t know if that was culturally sensitive, but she had had to wait 30 seconds. So here I was in the park bathroom, had just sat down and someone tried the door and when it didn`t open, started banging on it and trying to open it. As if knocking a door off it´s hinges will make the person who is having the audacity to use it (when you`d like to) disapeer. (maybe there was a time when bathroom doors didn`t open and they are all still affected....
I sure am rich with these alternative stories for every annoying person).
Despite that, I could probably safely say the park will be my favorite part of madrid.

And now I`m here. I need to go to bed so I can wake up tomorrow and not wish I had never been born and be happy seeing segovia. I`m not quite sure why i`m going. There is plenty to see in Madrid, it´s two hours one way (but only €5! (one way)). But I would like a daytrip (I get to see a little of northernish spain) and it has a fairy tale castle (one that inspired walt disney- the others in bavaria) and a roman aqueduct. the original daytrip plan was toledo and its hilly windy little neighborhoods. But I feel pretty satifsfied in that area from lisbon and porto.

love, me

Porto tues and wed

2006-04-11T03:32:00.000-07:00

My new hotel room is a little shabbier, no mini bar, no little side room, the tv is high in the ceiling. But the breakfast makes up for it and then some. cheese, 4 different meats, crossaints, crepes, bread (toast, hard bread, biscotti), 5 different little sweet breads, egg and ham quiche, cereals (blah), tomatoes, rice in pudding, strawberries in wine, apples. And let me tell you- I ate it all. All around me the english and portugese had their coffee as they daintily ate their one or two sweetbreads of choice. (though I did see them keep going back, they went in stages). I had my plate piled high like I was at a luthern potluck and crumbs were spread around me. Oh I didn´t have the plain bread and two of the sweetbreads. I decided to stop the maddness of trying to get all my needed nutrition for the day in one sitting.

I walked to the serralves art museum today. (all the books tell you to take a bus, but it´s only a 2mile walk). I was walking throught the nicer neighborhoods today. I only bought a ticket to the surrounding serralves gated park. It was pretty. Not awe inspiring, but it was relaxing and nice not have to be completly on my guard. I love cities, I love all they offer, but it does get a little exhausting to have to stay aware and alert. I then walked to the ocean, got a pizza pastry and walked by the ocean wall. A seagull kept hovering directly by me and and giving me the eye (ok, while I havn´t been fabricating the other stuff, but I guess the bird may have just been flying. but I didn´t trust him.) I walked to a nearby park and it was ugly. more gravel walkways than grass. I took a tram mostly into town and it stopped a lot sooner than I thought it would so I was stuck by the river with the same isolated stairs and walkways as my choices for getting up the cliff. I took a funicular up instead. everyone on it was acting like they were on the coolest roller coaster in the world. I would have loved to scamper up stairs, but I was just wary of them. So dark and narrow and isolated. But the cool thing is I got on it without having to pay for it because I still had my tram card and it worked for it. I walked back to the city center. I was proud of myself, I did everything I had planned to do. Well, I didn´t get a banana and chocolate icecream cone as planned. But I´ve discovered that pears and broccoli here are local and they taste AMAZING. and who needs a ice cream cone when you can eat the tastiest portugese pear in the world for like 25 cents? twentyfive cents. Any pear I´ve ever had compared to this one was complete cardboard. And the portugese broccoli is even good. almost sweet.

Ok need to finalize my choices for getting to madrid by thursday.

hope everyone has a great easter.

WED
Last night I was doing good. In bed by 10, almost asleep by 10:30. But then the noise I had been ignoring grew louder and louder. People were chanting and shouting outside my hotel room. The kind of songs you´d sing at a football game or a strike or a revolt against the city. The noise grew to the point that I got up, put on pants and got my moneybelt out of my bag and put it under my pillow just in case I had to flee a burning city. I looked out my window where I could just see a small amount of street, expecting to see 200 heads of hair but couldn´t see anything. The women in the apartment across from me came out and looked over her balcony and didn´t look too concerned so I didn´t put on my boots. I did however decide if fleeing with my backpack was worth it. or if I should just escape with my passport and money and not be an obvious target. Just then 3 guys under my window started chanting, arms raised and the crowd I couldn´t see joined in, somehow even louder than before.

I went downstairs and asked the deskguy what was going on.
But I did pick up "Oh well.... the students, they just had dinner. It shouldn´t last...long."
"Oh ok. thanks."
Wait. What? Just had dinner? Graduation. Won a game? Planning to break windows and destroy the town I could understand. but dinner? I go outside and cautiously peak outside, curious to see what 300 riot chanting, dinner eating Porto students look like. There´s only 20 of them. Shouting in a group, some of them dancing. I go back upstairs and am met by a tired german. "Do they do this every night" "Well, I was here last night and it didn´t happen. The desk guy said they just had dinner and it shouldn´t last long." Yeah. Doesn´t make sense.
The dinner celebration lasted till about 11 :30, and then the hotel slept.

Am about to walk to the bus that goes to Lisbon.

Then will immediatly go to the train station and reserve the train to Madrid for that night. Hopefully it´s not all booked up. *fingers crossed* Another night train.... but this time I´m equipped with knowledge, digestive buiscuits, gas water (that´s what they call carbonated water here. Isn´t that great?) with a screw off cap, and clean socks. And i didn´t realize it, but the hostel room I booked for madrid is an ALL girls room. So lots of new things await me. After a couple days alone in a hostel room and 4 days in a hotel room, it will nice to be in the house environment again. snoring and all. the hotel room had just as much noise
love michelle

Porto Day 2 (sun) and (mon)

2006-04-10T08:17:00.000-07:00

Sunday

I eat breakfast and take a long hot bath. I will explore today. I will. I get out and walk all around town.
A great deal of the city seems shut down. I am on the main shopping street, just looking at the window displays with other people. A man, who looks homeless, stops and offers me a cookie (they have hundreds of digestive biscuit cookies to choose from here, they are really cheap and in a round package), I decline, but it was a sweet gesture.
After a while, I am looking at another window display and a decent looking guy walks by me, stops and looks, and then stops at the window display, sneaking looks at me. I decide to keep walking and another guy (You guys I´m really not making this up or being paranoid. This is completly honest and objective) does a double look at me and also crosses the road walking towards me. I luck upon a mall with lots of people and I am folllowed by my two new friends. Who really look completly decent but I just want to be by myself today. I march into the first store I see. It´s a upscale expensive fest, but for this purpose it´s fine. It has relaxing music. I look at the €40 tanks. This is absurd. Yes, yes, I may have been a little hypersensitive in the past about guys being attracted to me (because at 19 I thought I had succesfully become an invisible flower on the wall where that was concered), I may still be, but I have worked on this (a little) and to go from it happening 4 times a year to 10 times a day (stalking included) is just a little much.
I walk around the stores and try to get the mindset where it doesn´t annoy or rattle me. I try to picture myself as a women who can be relaxed and cool and unphased . Nope. I don´t like being stalked or random guys attempting to "get to know me" when I´m in each city for a few days. There will be no dinner. No walks by the river. No making out. No dating. No sex. no marriage. I´m just not interested-I´m traveling dang it. Little Ava the Austrian told me her boyfriend is her cello and I understood. I told her mine is bread, but thinking about it, really it´s more just tasting experiences. Be it pastries or sights or walks or talks. I also told her about my monthly crushes on random famous guys and she told me I should never cheat on my boyfriend.
I love hostels and the boys there. And if random men in the park or on the street where just looking for a friendly conversation (and on the search for communal lentils and pasta), it would be fine. But it hasn´t happened to me yet. It may be the culture, that´s fine. But I would like to just walk down the street or sit on the park bench like a normal person or be able to stop and look at something for 2 seconds without getting forced into a "what language do you speak, you want to go out" conversation.

I find a grocery store and feel my whole body relax. I buy a pear and orange but keep shopping around. So what did you do in Europe Michelle? I went to ever supermarket I could. And it was awesome. At this rate you are going to go to every supermarket in Europe. I look at the entire row of digestive buscuits. And then glance at the chocolate. No. Still gross. I. have. taste. adversion. to. you. Oh you do not. It says back to me. People suck. Eat us. We are tasty and supply whatever that pherimone,endosomething thing is that makes you happy. You won´t care that you can´t walk down the street like a normal person.

Ugh. That. is. it. I decide. I am getting engaged. I don´t need strange men on the street talking to me, I have groceries for that.
I leave the chocolate (buy my groceries) and I march to all the clairs like stores I have passed. My portugese pear is amazing. The only problem is all their rings are costumy. I had been planning to bring an engagement-like ring with me on my trip for this very purpose. The only problem was I didn´t own one. I hate rings. My fingers hate rings. I brought along a gold band that had happysad drama face on it (it´s the only ring I´ve ever liked-I stole it from my sister), but turtle laughed that I thought an obvious costume ring might work. I am willing to pay anything for a engagement-looking ring right now. Up to €5 anyways. I find one that fits but it´s an enormous purple stone surrounded by (fake) diamonds. The point is to cut down my admirers, not get my finger lopped off by a gypsy kid. I keep looking.

After searching for 45 minutes in 5 different stores, I find it. It´s a simple silver band. It has 3 little diamonds on the bottom on the left side and 3 little diamonds on the top on the right side. I put it on and took it off. It did panic me a little how I kept thinking it was stuck on my finger for life (the main reason I hate rings), but after 7 or so tries I was convinced I wouldn´t be stuck with a stupid ring on my finger for the rest of my life. It can come off with a calm mind and a little work. It´s €3.95. that´s like 6 dollars. for a ring. but I agree that it will be totally worth it if it works. You are absolutly correct Thrifty girl. I buy it and put it on. I go use the restroom and think about who gave it to me.

His name is Andrew. We are getting married November 27th. He is a year from becoming a doctor. He is tall and blond. He was really busy with his residencies (or whatever they are called) and Andrew isn´t that interested in travel, he´s got his doctor thing. We are going to live in Boston. We met in Kansas City. I miss him a lot and after I do my Europe thing, I´ll come back and settle down in Boston. Thinking about it, Andrew is a bit of a square, but I don´t actually have to be attracted to him, just engaged. Besides, with my mind, it´s probably a good thing I´m not attracted to my fake fiance. Half of my honest to goodness crushes have been on literary characters.

I look at the Ring and introduce myself. Hi, I´ll do my best, but just so you know, there are men out there who don´t really care if there is a ring on your finger. I know Ring, but if you get rid of the decent guys for me, I only have to get rid of the indecent ones, it will save me time and energy. And I need that energy for mugger awareness, crossing streets, and keeping watch that I don´t daydream all the time. Fine with me, lets go.

I go out with my left hand in display. And it was beautiful. Men looked at me and saw the silver glittering on my ring finger and looked away and kept walking. The sun came out and I kept walking, strutting a little even. I was superwomen. Super travel girl with an €3.95 fake engagement ring on my finger.

I got stuck on a few narrow streets that made me a little nervous, but all in all have a good walking day. I ate some swordfish and ran into Beatriz. We hug. She asks me what I´m doing that night. I´m not doing anything. We´ll coming here to get a drink (in the european sense.) If you´d like to join us. It won´t be late because we have a flight in the morning.
I consider it and ask what time
Well, it has to be early because we have to be to the airport at 6am.
Probably 11. It will just be till 12.
Hah. Oh I´m an old lady. An old lady schoolmarm. I tell Beatriz it is a little late for me (she already thinks I´m a very interesting creature.)
I consider but there´s no way in heck I´m walking down to the river at 10:30 and a cab would be €10. I think every possiblity of going out people, other than thursday night, has had a €10-€30 price tag. I really like Beatriz, such a cute lovely lisbon girl, but I´m liking my safe little hotel room (after I look under the bed, in the shower, and in the sitting room.).

Monday.
It´s 4:00 and I meant to just be in the cheap internet cafe till 2 when I could check into my new hotel but got a little comfortable. they have mtv on so I´m a little distracted. While is discouraging to not be able to escape your countries stupid songs, it does feel like I´ve brought along my ipod or mix tape. Except when "photograph" comes on. Help. Us. All. "loook at this photogrrrrraaaaph." most disgusting sounding singing voice ever. How I hate that song. How I hate it so. But coldplay came on "and I will try to fix you...." ahh. thanks. and (don´t know the singer) "so you had a bad day, blah blah blah blah,sing a sad song, turn it around, so you had a bad day" again thanks.
andJust for you Ans. Natasha Beddingfield. "IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou." Hah ha. (kiss) And apparently it´s the european version of her video. No fun dancing stereos. In this she´s storming around a cool european cottage in cool clothes, cutting flowers and scribbling in a notepad. Though it´s still a little fantasyish video. So I guess you might have still hated the song with a passion even if you had seen this video. But she was wearing very nice clothes. And there were flowers. and lots of colors. and sketchbooks. Tips, you would have liked it.

Lisbon Day 7 and Day 8-bus to Porto

2006-04-10T05:40:00.000-07:00

Day 7 (fri)
I was not a supertourist today. But I´m alright with that.

A girl in my room (she had been sleeping when I had came into the room) and I started to talk. She was checking out of the hostel to meet her parents at a hotel a 45 minute walk away. She had been planning to wander around the neigborhoods, and since she had her big backpack with her, I gave her a fellow traveler´s "just so you know..." warning. (I have been giving a lot of those to people in the hostel here in Lisbon. Just so you know... the rossio station is closed. Just so you know... this is a bad area of town... Just so you know... if you get this card it saves you money. While they are grateful I´ve saved them also having to go through it, I feel a little schoolmarmish.) I showed her the main shot to the hotel on the map.

I could either get the tourist card and run around the city, or have a conversation, a pastry, and a walk with someone. I choose the latter. It felt right. Anna from Canada and I shared our love of pastry (we also had the public television/healthy food childhood in commen). We talked about that if you gain 10 pounds while enjoying the most delicious bread in the world, so be it. We both walk around everywhere, so it all evens out.

We had been planning to walk around the main city park but instead we sat on a park bench in front of the hotel with Anna´s backpack. We are both young, have lighter hair, glasses and are tall. And one female of this description in Portugal is one thing. But two! One man after the other kept looking at us as we sat and talked on the park bench.

I was going on about how I wear two money belts. One hidden, tucked under the underwear (in a travel view, it´s not gross), and the other right outside- a decoy money belt with a little change. However I wasn´t able to explain about the secret moneybelt for a few minutes because An old man with white hair stopped right in front of us and stared at us with a little hungry smile, so I just started talking gibberish. "So I said I was going to go to the store...." The man walks a little more and stops again and stares and smiles again. Repeat. Repeat. Reapeat. "I´m just going to keep talking like this until he´s further away..." Anna understands, she´s been living in Brussels and gets proposed to every day. She nods her head and my brain starts to process actual sentences. "Is he still looking at us?"
"yes." But he´s out of earshot so I continue about the money belt.

Another man, another stare so I decide to stop talking about how I hide my money in a public area and trick theifs. The old man has now taken a seat at the nearest parkbench so he gets a good veiw. I tell Anna that I have got to do laundry, the only thing I had to wear today was my knee length black skirt (though I´m also wearing a baggy sweatshirt) and perhaps this is why every guy in the park is looking (besides the fact that we are both tasty foreign treats). Then I remember that the baggy yoga pants, the professional tan pants and the long hippy shirt didn´t prevent looks either.
"Yeah, that´s the first thing I thought when I saw you this morning Michelle." She points at me "Slut. That´s what this girl is."
We both laugh but then shortly another man stops and stares and takes the park bench on the other side as a man in a tan sweater walks quickly by and also does a double take, but he has a job to go to. And the nearest parkbenches are taken.
Anna decides she´s had enough of Lisbon and we go into the hotel to see if her dad has arrived. He has. He´s cute and british but he has a meeting. Anna and I sit on the balcony and talk until her mom comes. We get tea and pastry and then They walk back with me. Anna is contemplating hiding in the hotel the whole weekend and I try to convince her that would be sad, because Lisbon is beautiful (dirty and a little dangerous, but beautiful). We keep loosing her (also adorable) mom who keeps getting sidetracked by shops or views. I convince them that they have to see a few views from the Barrio Alto so we trek up one set of stairs after the other and after many views we come upon a busy public park. Kids are playing, Old women are tossing a ball back and forth, and the men are playing cheese. Anna and her mom are going to find their way back to the hotel and I am once again alone. But I´ve been here before so I take the main road down to the center. I stop to grab a water bottle and get a look when I hand the cashier a 20€ bill instead of a €1. Apparently there is a coin shortage in Lisbon because every single time I havn´t had a €2 coin or 20 cent, or whatever coin is appropriate the cashiers look at me and question (in portugese) something along the lines of "don´t you have the right change? Dig through your purse till you find it schmuck. I´m not breaking this." Sometimes I have, but this time it´s not possible. He reluctently hands over the coins and I keep walking down the hill.

I conveniently end up at my icecream shop and the last flavors I have left are walnut and almond. I decided that while it´s still icecream, I don´t need to test anything with nuts in it again. "Michelle!" I turn around with a start, freaked out that someone in Lisbon knows my name and Zeeshawn from the hostel is walking towards me. "You scared me man." "I´m sorry, where´d you get the icecream cone" I´m start to answer because his brain has jumped onto the next subject "This is my friend blondguyfromcalifornia and blondgirl. Do you know where this street is?" We go on the street search. The hostel is booked up so Zeeshawn and friend have to find a new hostel. They find the new hostel and I tell Zeeshawn I´m heading back "We´re all eating at the hostel at 10, then at midnight to go to the bars again."
"are they going to be little seedy ones in the back streets?" I ask as I walk down the stairs. He points at me, both arms waving "You know it!" I laugh tiredly and say that I´m going to sleep instead. I eat my pasta in the lounge and then read. Zeeshawn(from texas) and blondcalifornian are in barcelona studying spanish (for a great deal of the northamericans I´ve met who are studying in europe, well there seems to be quotes around studying. They are in europe!) and are on spring break. The hostel guy tells Zeeshawn and his friend two beds are available because there was a cancelation, but they´ve already found a room. He then tells me I´m by myself tonight.
"You missed out, Zeeshawn. You guys would have been roommates with me!"
"Dang it!"
"We could have had pillowfights, talked all night, cuddled," the blondcalifornian laments.
"Yeah, shoot... Hah. I get my own room." Guy (be it snoring australian, snoring french canadian or non-snoring buddist monk (or bouncing texanwhoseparentsarefromindia or flirtyfriendlycalifornian who will come home at 4 in the morning) free. Mom and Dad, it´s a clean, safe bed in a good european hostel or $100 hotel room or the street. And the street is also co-ed. I´m just saying...

After a group of us finish eating rediculous amounts of couscous I go to bed instead of watching another round of checkers with the 10 other girls are gathered around. The 10 other girls who are waiting to go out decide to watch another stirring round.

I wake up and open my door to see if I can grab the one floor bathroom and someone´s in it. I step out of the room completly to be first in line. I hear a voice behind me and one of the older women is standing there in her gray leggings and holding a towel. "You make one more move toward that door and I will charge and smash you like the little ant you are" she calmly warns me in german. Maybe portugese. It´s amazing how much you can understand with just body language and vocal tone. I decide to make a spinach and egg omlete.

I go upstairs after breakfast and the shower is still taken, I sense a presence and am met with another towel holding german women who raises an eyebrow at me. I hold up a hand of peace and go downstairs and double check to see where the bus station is. Spunky little Ava waits while I do this and tells me how she also didn´t go out last night because she far too tired. Little cello playing austrian Ava. I will miss seeing her gormet dishes and how she pulls in her chair and leans in and lowers her voice like she has a secret whenever she´s going to tell you anything directly. Though it can make it bloody hard to know what she´s saying.

I go up and the shower is open! I jump in and there´s no water. Agh. I put my clothes back on, gather everything up and I go to the second level. nope, that shower doesn´t work either. I probably should have tried that first before I settled in. I put my clothes back on for the second time and go to the front desk. "Ah yes." Bruno says. "They cut a water main. It will be 15 minutes." It is 10:20 and I have to be at the bus station at least by 11:45 for my 12 bus. I pack up my bag and try again. No water. At 10:50 I resign myself to the fact that I´m not getting a shower today. I really should have taken one yesterday (but I would have missed talking to Anna and hanging out at the Ritz). That´s the foreign country/hostel lesson for the day. Take a shower whenever you can. It goes next to the, If there is food around, eat it rule. As I´m packing up I get a mysterious cut and my finger starts bleeding. Wow, water would be really nice right now. It´s not there. I can´t find a bandaid so I wrap toilet paper around the fingers with dried blood. Attractive.

I check out at 11:10. "You aren´t even going to wait to take a bath?" Bruno questions, wrinkling his nose at the thought. "I have a bus I have to catch" I say. "Be careful" he says. "I will."
Me and my earthy self walk to the metro and get to the bus station right at 11:40 and they are boarding the bus. That was cutting it to close. It´s packed. I have a seatmate for awhile but he goes and sits right by the driver. Either he wanted to talk to the driver or I smell, I don´t worry about it too much. I did put on deoderant, because it´s not effected by lisbon water systems. My backpack sits next to me until Fatima, when more people get on. I think the driver said that everyone gets a 15 minute break (this bus is like a greyhound, only no bathroom). I´m not going to risk it. Those who did get off come back to find their seats taken. A girl who got on with her two friends is one of them and she sits by me and my backpack sits back on my lap. She asks me something in portugese. "No (now) fala port..." "Would you like to put your bag on the floor." She says in perfect english. "No, I´m good. I might take a nap and use it as a pillow."

After awhile I get tired of this and start up a conversation with my seatmate. She is from Lisbon and is traveling to Porto with her friends to take a flight to London (spring break).
We talk the rest of the way.
I tell her about how I´m moving to Chicago when I get back and this sounds crazy to her after she finds out I don´t know anyone there, nor do I have a job. "You´re just going to move there." "Yep" "But your family and friends, they are where you were." "Yeah, but it´s only 5 hours away." She laughs a bit shocked at this and explains that "only 5 hours.." in portugal is at the top of the country. She talks about
She says an "oh no" to my "stalking", "men staring" situtaions and assures me it´s never happened to her or her friends. "I know somewhere else that would be bad, but here, He probably just liked you" She then says (as for all the lisbon incidents) "I guess it is because you are blond that you are a target." "Now I know I´m white, but I´ve never thought of myself as blond! I have brown hairI´m actually considered to be the dark one of my family. ."
"Here [in portuagal] you are blond." She laughs.
My face falls a little. I don´t want to be blond. I´ve never wanted to be blond. (well, when I was five I did. but I was a confused kid.) "I could dye my hair black..... "
"Just enjoy it. You are blond."
"But I´m a brunette!"
She laughs at me and we talk about other things. I still really don´t want to be blond but I keep this struggle to myself.

She questions if I get lonely when I travel alone. She´s never done it. I explain the benefits and also say how it´s a lot easier to meet people. "See, if I was traveling with someone right now" I say "I wouldn´t be talking to you." "That is true, but I am with my friends and I am talking to you because they are sleeping." She´s so cute. We both keep playing with our hair as we talk to eachother. Though her´s is all curly so there´s more to work with.

I tell her about the two porugese soaps I saw- floribella and the highschool one and she grimaces. "oh no. that is a horrible thing to see of portugal!" "But it was so fun!" "But you don´t know portugese." I tell what happened in the episode I saw The rich family thought the little boy was kidnapped. The rich women was happy the tv crew was coming over but only because then she´d be on tv, but she really hates the little boy. And the little boy wasn´t kidnapped, he was hiding under the spunky main characters bed because he doesn´t like the rich women... and she looks at me "wow. you really did understand what was going on..." "I´ve watched too much tv and with soap operas (or bad tv) they pretty much use the same plots... in any country." God bless america. (Was it us who started the whole soap opera thing? or was it mexico, spain or portugal?)
She tells me some things about the shows that even my gift for deciphering utter crap couldn´t know. las moreanjas or something, the highschool show has actually been going on for 3 years and you follow the characters through to college (like saved by the bell I say. yes.) ...and they try to deal with things like sex and drugs but they don´t do a very good job... (oh it´s more like 90210 then. (because the raciest thing I saw on saved by the bell was a toga/drinking is bad episode)) Anyone 13 to 17 is addicted to the show. And no, teachers in portugal do not wear off the shoulder flowing scarve clothes or skateboarder shirts. Only on something Las morenjas. (I scratch becoming a teacher in portugal off my list) And floribella has only been on a month and is more magical, has crazier clothes and it isn´t doing very well because it´s on the same time as highschool show and the kiddies can´t give up their crappy show.

I was so happy to get the inside scoop on the awesome portugal soaps that I offer her my londonmap instead of sending it home (shoot! I didn´t ask about the reality show where they make celebrities be in a second rate circus. they make them perform everynight in a little tent with a small audience and everything. how that thought made me laugh. Though I´ve never been able to stomach any celebrity reality show in US because ech). And Beatriz gives me her email. And invites me to go out for a drink with them if I want.

Go to the hotel, go to internet, am really tired, go to bed.

Lisbon: Day 6 (thur)

2006-04-06T04:26:00.000-07:00

london day 1-3 is updated as much as it´s going to be while i´m traveling

I´m not going to do much today. Just finalize my plans, book my buses, mail some cards, book hostels in italy. It´s still raining. I have enough food to feed me until saturday so I´m going to eat that. I plan to be a supertourist tomorrow.

For breakfast I had eggs with capers, noodles from last night, some anise crackers (big circles) and an orange. everyone here cooks so well. little gourmands with their garlic, onions, and white wine.

love, michelle

4/5

2006-04-05T14:23:00.000-07:00

I think I´m going to stop on trying to update this to the extent I´ve been trying to do. It´s frusterating, trying to type out an entry, getting off the computer 7 times so all the other hostelers can check their my space accounts (internet is free here). I stayed in for a great deal of the day so I could get the entries typed up before I forgot, but it was raining, so people kept popping in to check their mail or look at pictures of their friends. And then at the internet cafes, any entry I am paying 4 euros or more for 2 hours.

But I´ll keep writing in my journal, so all of you will get to read the long hand version eventually. But I´ll put up little updates. This way there will be more interesting things to read rather than, worked on the internet all day while in an international city.

today, rained, stayed in, went out, walked around neighborhood, went to the grocery store, cooked up leeks and eggs, talked with the hostel kids, went to bed at a good time. Really nice hostel.

Lisbon: Day 4 and Day 5 (tues and wed)

2006-04-05T03:10:00.000-07:00

I check out of my hostel and walk the 40 minutes downtown with my bag. Most hostels don´t like you to clock in till 2 or 3 so I go to an internet cafe and type out my train story. 4 euros just because I love all of you. The man hands me a card so I can keep track of my time. It says 12,12. 12,12. No, it´s 11:12. I look at the computer clock. No, it´s 12:12. My clock is an hour behind. When did that happen? I must have set my clock back 2 hours instead of just one when we crossed the border. And I´ve just now noticed it. I know I vaugely wandered how it was already 4pm when I left the hostel on sunday. So when I was walking home at 9:30, it was 10:30. opps. No more changing my watch while in a half coma on a night train. Because I´ve just proven I´m not going to notice it for days.
I check into my hostel and it´s lovely. It is on one of the narrow little streets in the Barrio Alto, but it´s got great character. Tiles, hardwood floors, bright little rooms, no graffiti.
I soak in my room for awhile and think about what I want to do. It´s 4 (actually 4) and I haven´t eaten all day except for my rye bread, an orange (a portugese orange) and seasame seeds. I would like an ice cream cone. You had one yesterday. And it was perfect! 1.5 euro, a sweet sugar cone, and two scoops. I want to try EVERY flavor. Yes, I am going to get an ice cream cone and walk around the barrio alto. That is what I will do. I get my icecream cone (coffee and vanilla scoops) and walk around. I am on a search for a resturant I saw the first day I was here. It was hidden in the middle of the neighboorhood and It charmed me. It was just there, on the dirty stones. Several couples were seated outside, enjoying their white wine, eating 7 euro chicken. I didn´t have the sense to write the street down so it´s going to be a bit of a needle in the haystack search. I take a street and come upon a park with a fantastic city view. Oh my gosh. I have to interupt here. someone. some person has been whisteling for the last 20 minutes and I want to kill them. kill them. what a horrible gift to posess whistling. they are quite good, which I guess makes them think it´s ok to trill every song they know.damn. I can´t see who it is since they are in the other room. but I want to know who it is so I can silently hate them whenever I see them. damn whistler. Ive been pretty noise sensitive the last couple days. There was a loud canadian in the common room yesterday who talked no softer than a shout. He was here this morning to. IT`S SOOOO NICE THEERE. YOOOU SHOOOULD GO. Why do loud people love to talk. It´s also loudly raining. loud. everyone is loud. loud. loud. loud.

Mom, please don´t print this out and send to grandma. it´s a work in progress. I´m going to go out and brave the rain and maybe i´ll be less of a irratated person then. and don´t print off tan pants either. It really wasn´t that scary since it was still light at 8 (or 9 =) ) and there was a lot of people around. It was just really annoying. I believe he is the 4th stalker I´ve had in my life. Yep 4th. There was the guy who only went to class to stare at me at dmacc (I know this because he told me, after a couple weeks of just staring at me), there was the man with the big bronco in clive who thought he was clever to follow me by going into each parking lot to see where I walked next, and there was the guy on drugs in drake who stalked me on a sunny saturday and made some very inappropriate gestures and statements so I was forced to take an alternate route home so he wouldn´t see where I lived while carrying a table and two chairs. What stunk was I couldn´t just go on other streets because I risked getting even more further away from my destination later at night and it was the only main, safe street for around a half hour.

oh man. I´m just going to finish this later.

Lisbon:Day 2 and 3 (sunday and monday)

2006-04-04T06:37:00.000-07:00

Lisbon- day 2 (short version) walked around. as I walk around the narrow streets, two guys and a girl pass me. One of them looks at me and says something in portugese that sounds like mishmishmish. The girl makes an angry sound and smacks him. Thanks lisbon girl. I don´t know if you were defending the honor of a fellow female, or ticked your boyfriend was making sexual comments to someone other than you, but thanks. I found a lovely monastary courtyard and had a mineral water and a pastry. I had planned to go to the post office, but I thought I had been walking north and west, but when I finally located myself on a map I saw I was had only been going north, and was an hour away from anywhere. It was 7:30 so I knew I needed to be quick to get home before dark. I stick to one large street so I don´t get lost this time. I had been walking down the street for almost 20 minutes when I realized that a pair of tan pants had been behind me for sometime. The tan pants belonged to someone that had been walking a little too close to me 10 minutes earlier, so I had walked a little faster and then forgotten about it. Am I being paranoid? No, my brain answers. I start to walk faster. So does he. Crap, that jerk is totally following me! I walk faster and he does well, I can feel his eyes on my back. I can not keep this pace up with sandles on slippery stone sidewalks. So I abruptly stop, planning to cross the street and he keeps walking. Ok, maybe I was being paranoid. I don´t want to cross the street, it´s busy, a whole bunch of lanes and the opposite direction from where I want to go. I keep walking. Tan pants seems to be walking slower. Oh. He´s totally walking slower. He looks back at me and slows down some more. If I slow down anymore I´ll be stopped. Crap. Cross! Cross! Ah! I can´t. In the moment I take to look for a way to cross he swoops in on me. Spanish? he says. No. English? Yes I say, walking faster. But we´ve been introduced now, so he´s firmly planted on my side. He only speaks some, but doesn´t let that stop him. He asks me if I´m from LA or NYC. New York I say. He gets my name. I don´t say it´s Michelle. He says his name and I instantly forget it. We´ve been walking side by side for 10 minutes now. I need to find a way to get away, he is not following me home. I have to loose him at the city center. He seems harmless enough, but I´m ticked. It´s one thing to approach someone. It´s another to completly stalk them for 35 minutes down a street. I could have sprained my bloody ankle. Do you like Disciaoteca? "Disciaoteca?" Disco. "No, I´ve been sick, I´m going to bed. I´m actually on my way there right now." We get to the city center and I backtrack and walk across the pedestrain walkway without saying goodbye. I cut across the large square and cross the pedestrian way. There´s the ocean. I look around the square and ´tan pants isn´t there. good. I glance at the map to make sure I´m not going down the wrong street. I glance up and there he is, standing at the pedestrian crossing, looking at me with his huge glasses and mustache. I take off down the street and I lose him. Walk the last 15 minutes stalker free.

day 3 really nice day hiking to a hilltop castle where I can see a great deal of portugal. beautiful (and stalker free)

day 4, new hostel, really nice (still stalker free)

The Night Train and Day 1 in Lisbon (4/1)

2006-04-04T04:29:00.000-07:00

I made it to the station with 40 minutes to spare and waited on track 3. I met an (yet another)australian who wasn´t really looking forward to a 12 hour train ride. I handed him an orange and told him it would be fine. I wear my 57 hour greyhound bus ride like a badge, with it I am the cool traveler who could handle anything.

I see the train and get ready to hop on and a women stops me. "no habla espanol" "local. train." she says. "ah. gracias"
The train comes 15 minutes later and everyone is stuffs themselves into the 2 foot wide aisle that leads to the train compartments. Everyone seems to be just grabbing a seat in the most maddening fashion. They find a compartment, but they don`t completly exit the aisle, so everyone is still trapped behind them. The people who were already on the train seem to feel this is an oprotune time to strole down the aisle. They glare at the rest of us for daring to be there with our luggage. Some of them are stricking up conversations that require on person to stand in the compartment and the other in the aisle. I forget about reserved seats in the midst of this. Iºm getting close to going mad and I throw myself into the nearest compartment. "Is there room" I say "Just get in" I hear, as if I was the one holding everything up this whole time. I start to secure my backpack to the overhead rail with my lock as the same voice insults my locking style "Does it somehow work better if you loop it twice?" I turn around to see who has been snipping at me sarcastically in perfect english but noone is looking up, they are all conversing with eachother in spanish. I peg the blond guy with the white checkered shirt. He is stitting with this arms crossed and he has a smug expression on his face. He is speaks easily with everyone and has struck up a friendship with the old man sitting next to him and across from me. The old man is reclining in his seat, his cheerful belly preventing him from sitting up straight. He keeps trying to extend his legs straight but mine are preventing him from doing that. He decides my nonexistant foot space would be the perfect place to store his mandolin. He looks to be a nice old man so I don´t feel irratated, though I´m not cutting off my toes for his mandolin/euckalalee. The ticket guy comes around and two of us are not in our reserved seats. I am one of them. None of the compartments are marked so I just have to count down and guess at the right compartment and then squint at the tiny number markers on the seat. I find the right compartment and Iºm searching for 47. Itºs not on the right side. I turn around and a spanish guy smiles at me with raised eyebrows and pats the seat right next to him. 47. great. However, there are only 4 of us and there are 8 seats so I sit down on the empty to and gesture to my new boyfriend that we all might as well be comfortable. He keeps drinking this little beer called Super Bock with his friend. I really hate that same. Super Bock. Bah. I will later see this name 1,000 times on every add and corner window I pass. I´ve started to just deal with my hate.
A guy comes in and I am forced to cozy up with Super Bock boy. I look in my phrase book for "Don´t touch me" (no may tochas), not because I think he will, but if there is any chance in the world he does, I don´t want to have to get out my phrase book and turn on the light at 2 in the morning. A phrase like donºt touch me is really best used right in the appropriate moment.
I look out to the aisle and a blond british girl appears to be hanging out while someone else talks to people in the next compartment. This person enters our compartment and I just look at him. He looks like a cool teacher, glasses, curly black hair and gray tweed pants. He is definently not a cute teacher because He flashes a police badge and commands us to get out our passports and identification. Oh. I get mine out and wait somewhat nervously. Everyone Iºve met up till now keeps talking about how you practically don´t need your passport now (you need it to get in, but they donºt think it would be a huge deal if it got stonlen since the borders arenºt strict on the continent now.) I totally disagree. The blond girl and another guy stand glumly behind him. The policeman asks Mr. forcedmetositinmyactuallyseat if he speaks spanish "pequeno" (or however you spell a little in spanish). He asks me the same question as he looks over my passport front to back. "No habla espanol" For once I´m glad I don´t because I probably would have had to answer more questions like mr. pequeno did. We are all legal so the policeman leaves with the two naughty brits in tow. I wasn´t planning on that so it freaked me out. What really freaked me out was all the people on the travel boards who give little posts like`"me or my gf have been living in madrid illegally for 2 years, and we have a wedding to go to in france, are we going to be ok" Some people say that there is barely any checks. Others tell them to not be stupid even if there are few checks. Others let them have it. I would let them know to just make sure they are not on a train with me or someone like me, because that train is getting checked. I am watching Mr. Pequeno because his spanish seems pretty fluent to me. Why would he say a little to the policeman? I eye his metal suitcase. Hmmmm. I bet that his ACTUAL seat is right next to super bock guy #2. Not on the comfy two seats.

Ugh. I feel so sick. We have been shifting back and forth for hours and my stomach is a bubbleling cauldren. back and forth. back and forth. I can´t feel my legs very well either. There´s only two feet of foot space and you only get a less than foot of that, so since my legs extend a lot further than half a foot, Iºm forced to tuck my feet in. There are 8 of us now and Iºve decided that compartments are torture chambers. Two guys who don´t look all there keep walking past the compartments, staring into them with a mad smile on their face. Compartments look so romantic on tv. Like a cozy living room. A little stinky laughably cramped living room. I go for a little walk in the aisle and see my old compartment. The old man is playing his mandolin and singing softly while everyone smiling peacefully. The light is on and everyone is wearing soft pastel colored sweaters. I keep walking and test out the train bathroom. The toilet empties out directly on the tracks so you can hear rocks bouncing around directly underneath you. I´m terrified that I´m going to get clocked in the bum by a small boulder. I don´t spend very long in that bathroom. As I walk back I hear a shrill scream and a large group crowds around the compartment. A boy is standing outside with his mickey mouse backpack and a small mousy women hurries out. A passanger asks the mousy women (who was the screamer) what happened. It´s all in spanish but I see one of the mad aisle walkers is in there. The take'charge passanger starts arguing with the madaisle walker. All I can tell is he did something inappropriate to the women but doesnºt think he did. He argues w- passanger man, who is going to report him. I go back to my little hole and all the guys are talking about the recent drama and laughing. So I guess it wasnºt too serious.

Itºs about 3am and Iºve slept off and on and I can tell my legs are close to swelling so I get up and stand in the aisle. A lot of other people have chosen to do this as well. Mr. Pequeno is also standing there. I have taken off my boots and am rubbing my feet. I donºt care if they smell, I am not going to have enormous legs. I stand for an hour or so, stretching and shaking out my legs until the stiff feeling goes away. I get out my tonic water and labourously try to pry off the lid. Come on! I need you tonic water. I try to use my cap to protect my hand from the little metal grooves but it still wonºt come off. Mr. Pequeno helps me out, smashing the top off with the metal window rail. If I had tryed that glass and tonic water would be everywhere. I give him an orange. I feel like such a benefactress, handing out oranges from my 1euro bag. He peels it in front of the open window and the smell of oranges gets blown around the aisle. What a nice smell. I figured out the secret to survive the death train. Lot of aisle time and tonic water. I am able to sleep some after that.

I get off at 11 and walk out to find my hostel. It is right by the station. They let me check in and I take a shower and get settled. I have a plan to go to Sintra (a popular day trip place from Lisbon). Since I have my train pass and it´s valid for 4-1. I walk the 20 minutes to the local train station and notice that there is something off about Lisbon. The buildings are beautiful, the sun is shining brightly and something justs feels off about it. I buy a crossaint. It´s more heafty and not as lovely and flaky as the ones in San Sebastian, but it´s still bread. Noone is out, I´m practically the only one on the streets. I decide to figure out what the problem is later and go to the train station. The map does not look like this station has a train that goes to sintra, but the ticket girl says it does. I get on the train after almost beating down a group with my bag who decided to stop have a family meeting right in front of me, trapping me as everyone streamed off the train. I wiggled throuh around them and I look at the map of destinations the train has. It says Caicais. Not Sinta. But the ticket girl said... I decide not to trust her and I get off the train. I´m tired. I decide to walk to the station that it looks like the correct train leaves from. I quickly put my finger on what is off to me about Lisbon. There is graffetti literally everywhere. Every fancy, beautiful building you pass has junky grafitti sprinkled around it. Does the goverment just hand out the spray cans for free? I make my way up a narrow steep hill, stepping around the dog poop. I earlier walked past a park in which 4 people looked like they had been living there for some time. To the point they had a washline and a big burner set up. Portugal is one of the poorer countries and I just came from a resort area, I get that. But what I don´t get is that all I´ve read and heard noone mentioned it.All the fellow travelers, all the guides, Noone mentioned it. They just talked about was that everyone knew english, there was a lot of pastry shops, that it´s a nice city, and that it rained when they were there. I guess on the travel shows they weren´t kidding when they compared lisbon to san fransico. Samantha Brown and RIck Steves look at me and laugh. "Oh, you thought we said it was like San Fransico because of the cable bridge, the hills and the history? Sweet girl, no. We meant the decay, crime, smell and gross imbalance of rich and poor. Didn´t you see us wink after we said San Francisco?
This was my relax and rewind stop. I´m spending 7 days here. My spirts lift a little when I find a supermarket. I don´t dislike Lisbon, I´m just having to adjust the way I originally planned to view it. My guidebook did say not to walk around some of the neighboorhoods at night, so I´m glad they at least someone wasnted me to informed. Some of the buildings look just days from crumbeling into a dirty heap. A lot are covered in tiles (still with graffiti). Wallpaper for buildings. I am way off from reaching the station. I´m not lost, I just didn´t realize I would be shot up an enourmous hill on my mapped out route and it would take me 1 hour to get off it. Everything is so windy and narrow I am careful to only walk down streets others are walking down until I get more comfortable. Lisbon is starting to grow on me. I finally make my way to the center and stumble upon the rich downtown. There is still beggers at every corner, but less poop. I search for the station in vain. I finally figure out it´s underground, but it seems to not be there either. I give up. Everyone seems to have entered from where they were hiding and people are pleasantly strolling around the large pedestrian walkways. I join them for awhile and then decide that I´m tired and hungry and have been walking around for 4 hours. I make my way back and stop at a resturant. The waiter starts to talk to me and before I can say anything the waiter at the resturant right next door pulls me away. Ènglish. We speak english. I polietly look at the menu and tell him I´m going to keep walking. I do and decide I have to have a real meal now. I go back to resturant number 1. "fala englash? (do you speak english)" "No. Portugese." But the way he says it is No,silly I´m Portugese so I speak Portugese. I respond in an Yes, I know, Of course smile and I order sardines. I don´t know why. I just knew I´d like them. I doubted they´d be the can kind.
He brings out a plate of cheese, bread, and a little fried thing. I am prepared. I know that portugese waiters bring out appatizers and the unarmed tourist is pleased and eats them up, only to be suprised to spend 5-15 more than they thought. "Cuanto Cuesta?" The waiter writes down that the fried thing is 1.5, the bread .30, and the cheese 1. I pantomime that I just want the bread. I don´t know if I´ve upset him or not. You´re just doing what Rick Steves said, and Rick is a polite, sensitive traveler. You were nice about it, you used your portugese phrases, So you´re fine. Five minutes later the waiter puts olive oil and vinager on the table and walks off and I´m met with a delima. The vinager is open. The olive oil is not. I don´t have to pay for it do I? I decide to give the cuanto cuesta a rest and I have a small bit of bread and to not have it with the olive oil would be a crime, so I crack it open.
The waiter brings my sardines and salad when I´m done and I hear him say seis. seis? six? Crap! did I just buy a 6 euro bottle of olive oil? I look at the olive oil. It would be ok if you did. wouldn´t it? I blush and smile. "Yeah. you would be a bit clumsy to travel with, but you really are the greatest condiment in the world." The salt looks at me and glares. "Ok, well you are basic table salt. But if you were some sea salt than it would be a total tie."
My sardines are the side of a small football. they are not tiny little canned things. and they are covered in seasalt and they are tasty. They also have 2 million bones in them, but after I pull out the main spine, the other bones can basically just be carefully eaten. It would take far to long to pull them all out. And fish bones are supposedly great for calcium. I´m not eating the spine though. I draw the line there. I get the bill and find I won´t be taking home any olive oil. I´m just paying for the bread, water and fish as I planned. I walk back home and put my water in the fridge. My roomates are from Paris. "Would you like to drink with us." I decline, I´m still having to be careful. I watch part of The pirates of the carrabein (bah sp) with them. It´s in english with portugese subtitles. Fanny asks me if I´d just like a little taste. It´s very sweet she says, it´s sangria. They are drinking out of tiny little plastic cups so I just take a taste. We talk a little and then I go to bed.

Getting on a jet train...

2006-03-31T10:40:00.000-08:00

but not yet. I am yet again in a internet cafe, booking hostels.

I quit my job a month before so I´d have the time to get the trip all together so it would be smooth sailing. But when I sat down to book them, I hit a block. What if I changed my mind! What if I´m a train with the coolest people this world has ever seen and they want me to live in their centrally located flat with them free of charge and I´ve got a crappy hostel booking over my head? I wanted to be free! free as a bird! free to change my mind at any given moment! Free to get off the train and float to the hostel in any given city and say ¨I have decided that I want you to be blessed with my presence for 3 nights.¨

I knew it was unrealistic. I knew I was creating problems for myself. I knew I was playing with fire. But it´s all turned out alright. I have a roof over my head at every place I´m going up until may 10th (the rest will have to be for a lisbon internet cafe).

What better way, in this day and age, to connect with the local culture than in an internet cafe. Why just 19 minutes ago, a women in the phone booth next to my computer was either being told that a) she was being thrown out of her apartment b)her grandma or child was dying c)her husband didn´t love her any more. Whatever it was- she was NOT having it. I don´t know if she realized that just because the phone was in an enclosed booth that everyone could hear her. It was very dramatic. And in spanish.

OH CRAP! there are two american girls above me booking hostels as well. ¨hee hee. it´s a great one for paris! it´s in the center!¨ I could have understood this in July, August. But april? may? all the little fellow travelers are everywhere. everywhere!

Yes Turtle (my exroomie, but not exfriend, for those of you who aren´t turtle). I KNOW. I know I knew better. You told me. You kept telling me it would be better if I just sat down and committed. I knowknowknowknow. but free! free as a bird! Not chained to an itinerary of any kind! Well, now I am. But it´s a different one than before so I technically have gotten to be spontanious. Provided it´s not a: holiday, weekend, or in a popular area.
I´m in lisbon for 7 days (2 different hostels)
then porto (treating myself to hotels... but not because the 196 bed hostel was booked. noooo. treating. my. self.)
Madrid for easter weekend (that was an arduous booking. The whole dang city was booked. easter weekend. holy week. imagine. but i found a little hostel after searching for and hour... or 3.)
Granada the 17-24th, barcelona for 4 days, a campsite in italy for may 1st weekend (huge holiday in europe) because I (pause) read that it had very nice fir trees and I love tents. after cinque terre and venice the itinerary is getting shot to pieces again.

but really, even though i have spent... 30 to 35 euros and about 12 hours in internet cafes searching around for rooms... I don´t feel bad about it (I really don´t), it´s kind of fun. It´s a hunt. The deer have wandered off and now I´m going for the wild turkeys. Or Like a good board game. and there are really only 2. candyland and chutes&ladders. I´m sorry, you can´t go to the gumdrop forest at the moment, people who don´t have commitment or take action issues have it reserved. However, you get to go to the licorice forest! Yes! the licorice forest! I love licorice! more than gumdrops!

Granted, if I give advice to anyone else for europe in march-april-may it will be to shake them and tell them to bookbookbook for the love of all that is good. But if they look back at me with glazed eyes, and question, ¨but what if I´m handed a $5 room in a local castle at every town by a smiling travel pixie... I mean, I know it´s unrealistic, but... what. if.¨ they say
well, then I know I´ve found a kindred spirit.

Well, better get off to the train. I was avoiding reserving a seat (something you have to do (and pay for, even if you have a pass)) and as I walked around San Sebastian and it got later and later I thought ¨come on michelle, this isn´t like you¨ and I´ll let you know what my brain said. ¨You´ve been saying that a lot this trip. ¨Michelle, it´s not like you to leave your passport on the floor of a national airport.¨ Ït´s not like you to spill milk all over yourself¨ ¨Michelle, it´s not like you to walk around eating crossaints instead of walking to the train station and just reserving your seat.¨ Michelle. that is exactly like you. It doesn´t always have to be, I can work with it, but only if you stop with this rediculous act of being suprised at your rather signiture actions. yes, I know, you are a couple days away from being a graceful athletic princess who debates with a firequick wit and saves orphans on the side. but in the meantime, your credit card is laying precariously on the computer desk. please put it in your money belt. love, your brain. p.s. you now have 1 hour to walk the 20 minutes to the train station with your bag and 7 pounds of emergency food stuffs. Yes. I am very proud of you for preparing just in case the train wanders off into an uncharted territory of spain. That bag of pistacios is going to save the day. oh and please zip up your money belt. thanks.

(I really do have actual travel entrys. but I needed a little fun before my night train.)

Tired in San Sebastian 3/29-3/30

2006-03-30T03:49:00.000-08:00

3/30 I´m going to be a little behind on the updates. I have a lot I need to do today and internet here is a little pricey (1.80 euro' an hour). I need to book most of my hostels (esp. for easter week, if I´m not too late already), reserve my train for tomorrow night, find a place to do laundry, I´m almost out of clothes (normally I´d just hand wash, but I´´d like the sick clothes to have a deep clean)

3-29
took a slow train to Hendaye at noon (the ticket said it would be 22 minutes, it was about 40 minutes to an hour), and then a commuter train to San Sebastian. It was 2 when I got in and as I wandered out of the station I felt a bit off. I took off my boots and brushed out my hair and laid out in the square with the others taking advantage of the siesta time. Dropped off my stuff into my hostel (more of an apartment for surfers it seems) and put on my sandals.

Found a cheap underground supermarket and got a .18 euro 2 liter bottle of water and 1 euro strawberrys (I think I´m going to live on strawberrys here. They are ripe, cheap and everywhere.) Ate strawberrys and crossaints on the ocean wall. The bay around San Sebastian looks suprisingly small compared to the pictures and videos I´ve seen of it. Took off my sandals and walked on the oceans edge, then wandered through town on the pedestrian boulavards.

....more later

3-30 it is overcast today, and I was planning on hiking up the mountain, but my eyes are pretty watery, which concerns me.(edited: I just realized! everywhere I go there are flowers and greenery. It´s never been proven but I do get minor allergy symptoms in the spring (though usually I just get very dry eyes)... so maybe I´m not going blind after all) Watery eyes usually the one clear sign I have that I am being really stupid with my body. but I´ve been getting 8 or 9 hours of sleep. maybe 7. I don´t know. I´ll just have to be good and go to bed before 10 tonight. I´m just trying to ease into the 2 hour time change (daylights savings and going to europe jumped me ahead yet again) but I did get a lot of my notes copied down last night, so it wasn´t that I was just staying up till midnight for the heck of it. And I learned a lot about what australian beer is the best. Something I´m sure will enrichen my life for sometime to come as I shop for my michelle-friendly single-serving bottles of wine.

Biarittz 3/27-3/29

2006-03-30T03:48:00.000-08:00

Day 2 in Biarritz
I slowly wake up and considering climbing off my mountain top bunk and taking a shower. I wait 10 minutes and then hear the rest of my roomates are stirring around. No! they´ll get in the shower first! They don´t have a five minute climb ahead of them. They can just hop out of bed. It´s a usual delima in hostel rooms with one shared bathroom. If you wait, you could end up waiting 45 minutes while Claudette washes her hair and does her makeup, as you forget about ever wanting to be clean again, as long as you can use the toilet in the next half hour. preferably next 5 minutes. I get my breakfast of tea, apple, orange, and mini baugette. what a nice breakfast. I had had it with toast and jam and cereal I wasn´t going to eat. Nutrients! I walk past the lake on a lovely path and am soon met with the desision to take the long way (that I took the night before) that gives you a sidewalk, or the short way that has you ducking away from cars on a windy forest road. Melissa, my confident kiwi roommate, comes down the path. We decide we are cool with hanging out for awhile and we brave the short way together. Melissa is 30, has lived and worked in the uk for 5 years, and had a week vacation ( you get 5 weeks in europe, uk. 5!) and had found a cheap flight to biarittz-bordeax. We have a nice talk on the way into town. It´s been two or three hours, and I am wanting to stop and hug the spindly fairy tale trees and sit on the stone decorated benches. Melissa is craving coffee that she wants to drink by the sea, and after walking around the touristy part (fancy, expensive, pastel colored gallerys and dressshops) we find ourselves at a inland intersection. We trust Melissa´s sense of direction this time and get to a large beach. after days of bread and water, I test the waters and I have the tastiest crepe in the world with whipped cream. Melissa wants to read, I want to go to the cemetary I saw from the bus the day before. We split up with a "if you´re at this spot at 4 and want to grab a bit to eat together, that´s cool. If not, that´s cool to." agreement. I make my way to the cemetary on the map. I like Biarritz. I feel completly safe here. Thta is until I notice all the little salamanders that dart back into the bushes when I would walk by. I can handle mice, crickets, some spiders.... but if something is little and foriegn to me, I just assume it´s poisoness and it scares the heck out of me. One after the other kept skittering away and I swore if one jumped on my face I would scream and scream. Not the most sensible approach. Looking back, I know I should have vowed to remain calm and quickly pick it off me, and if bit and feeling ill, signal/call for help. But at the time I was on very narrow sidewalks and surrounded by salamander infested hedges, so I didn´t think of it. I try to think about things other than salamanders biting my nose. There is one thing kind of bothering me. I have my drawing pencils. I have my sketchbook. But if I see something I like, I´d much rather just snap a picture than spend an hour or five recording it. This whole artist argument with myself never ends. I don´t know if it doesn´t make me an artist, but it might make me a lazy one. bah. so tired of this debate. I get to the cemetary and It´s not quite how I remember it from the bus. It´s huge. Most of them have ceramic decoration sitting on the grave. I realize if I´m going to make my not-agreement for 4oclock maybe lunch I better turn back. On the way I find the cemetary I saw the day before. This one is cute and lovely. Though it´s so sunny, it doesn´t give off the same feeling it did before. I kind of hope Melissa isn´t there because I really want to slowly walk on the seawall. My wish is granted, but I am pleased with myself for being there right at 4, so I get a strawberry icecream cone and watch the waves and the brave kids playing in them. I reach a conclusion on the artist debate. There´s all kinds of artists. Maybe I´ll never have the paitence or desire to labourously sketch out a landscape or perfectly capture a window. But I would like to capture the feeling of a girl in a red shirt playing in the waves. Or to frame two friends holding their shoes, screaming together when the cold water splashes over them. I finish my cone and walk along the sea wall. Biarritz seems set up to be a nightmare in the summer. Benches and lookouts are verywhere. But on a sunny spring day, it´s amazing. High cliffs, wild sea, little flowers and hedges dotted all over the hillside. 500 benches to choose from.

Man, this walk seems to be taking a lot longer than it did this morning. I´ve been walking (not getting lost) for almost 2 hours now and I´m still only halfway there. But my spirits are lifted when I see, shining in the sun, A french supermarket. A supermarket!
How I love supermarkets. I hurry in and am immediatly met with rows and rows of 1-4 euro bottles of wine. I cry, my stomach isn´t ready yet. 1 euro bottles of wine! oh come on. I let you have that crepe with wipped cream today. AND the icecream cone. I think I´m being very nice. Just wait a week, then you can sip some wine. No chocolate for as long as you live though. No, I agree with you about the chocolate stomach, I´m not really desiring it at all. Which I know I should feel sad about. I can´t believe I´ve developed taste adversion to chocolate. Though I don´t feel too sad. And even if I don´t have an adversion, I´m just going to let myself think I do. It is going to save me a lot of health delimas and money.

I get a large package of seasoned precooked cous'cous (1.2!), strawberrys (.75!), a package of pistachios (1.50 !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!), a can of delicious french green beans (.30!!) a can of garbonzo beans (.30). Supermarkets rock! I also get a razor and floss (not quite as much a steal, 3 euros each, but I need them. forgot to pack razor and lost floss in midst of my sickness). I walk the rest of the hour eating my couscous with my hands.

¨Please! No more chips!¨

2006-03-30T03:46:00.000-08:00

3/25-3/26

After I hung out in the park, I got an indian lunch and took off on the subway to do some siteseeing. I asked a londoner the best park view. She looked a little taken aback by the uncivilized stranger´s question, but named off a couple parks. I didn´t recognize them, but she had said they were just off this stop so I got out of the underground earlier than expected. I was met with a rather flat landscape all around me so I consulted my trusty map and decided I´d walk over Chelsea bridge and see battlement park. It´s not listed in the guidebooks, but most parks have something to offer.

At the park, I decided that the whole ¨do not look at strangers and for the love of all that is holy do not say hello¨ london thing does have some nice side effects. It´s rather peaceful. It would be bizarre to live around it for the rest of my life, being so programed to shout out a friendly hello the second another lifeform is 10 feet from me. But to not be expected to do anything but be in your own quiet little world is nice.

The park was not a tourist park, just a well loved pedestrian ramble with an old english garden and interesting guadi type sculptures. On a large green field a girl was warming up to do yoga and I watched her (tried to do it discretly and non stalker like). She rolled her shoulders quickly and swung her arms around and then seemlessly dipped into her poses. I love runners and dancers and yogis. I think they are amazing. I resolved to actually look at my tai chi book the next day, rather than use it to hide my train pass in my backpack. That is one of my big desires, to be a girl in a colorful warmup outfit in a green field, warming up to do my moves. And then actually doing them, without out falling over or getting bored in 2 minutes. Dedicated.

I walked past a rather industrial section of the river and I made my way past to where the buses were and took the bus to the national portrait gallery. I went because I knew it was free and I did find it interesting how they have portraits of famous british people, dead and alive. I think every town should have that, even the small ones with noone famous. This is Jan, she liked to cut out paper dolls and was a great calligrapher. And there would be a painting of Jan-pointy nose and gingham jacket, eyes narrowed. It would be a good project to give to high school art students.

The national portrait gallery was a little less quirky than that. I really enjoyed it. As did the 600 other people around me who were also glad to be out of the rain in a free museum. There were a lot of kings and queens and I read almost every little plaque by them. I was able to do this because I skipped all the kings and dukes and just looked at the queens and duchess´and mistresses. They had nicer clothes and hair and their descriptions were less diplomatic. The guys all looked the same. There was one kind of hot one though. His name was Rupert and he fought against us in the war of independence. For the queens, it would often list if the people liked them or not. If they were very catholic, the people hated them. If they were very protastant, not really fans either. The only ones they seemed to like were either dead in a few years or couldn´t speak english. I got rather sick of the kings and queens, the portraits didn´t seem to end. I thought I was done with the royal wing and then made my way around the corner and say another long hallway stretching before me and wanted to cry. There is nothing like being inside after walking for hours to make you realize that you are hot, thirsty (no water fountains anywhere in london), your bag is heavy, and if you don´t get your feet out of your boots you´re going to go a little nutty. Fortanantly, there were a lot of pictures of men in the hallway, so it went quickly. You have to have some sort of system in museums, and (as I´m sure everyone is so suprised) this was mine for the day.

For the ¨people who are still living¨ floor, I didn´t descriminate by sex, because they were alive and therefore less boring. My favorite was of J.K. Rowling. I think I´ve seen a picture of it before. It´s a picture box. I sat and looked at it for 20 minutes, though it was understandebly a very popular piece, so I studyed it in between the groups that would walk in front and stare. She is in a nightgown, sitting on a chair in a narrow and empty room with one window. There is also a radiator and the table she is eating waffles and eggs on. And there is a big aloe vera plant in front of her, an extra touch I really liked. Because aloe vera plants are awesome. It was so perfect, and the 3'D effect drew you in. it took the artist 4 months to complete. I can´t image that. To work on a project for 4 months. On the 3-D projects I had to do, towards the end I just started hacking to just get it done. My other favorite painting was of an artist (noone I knew of before) called Joceylen something. Since half the women in the place seemed to be debutantes or mistress, a lot of them had a coy sideways glance on them. Because that is what you do when you´re a mistress. Only look at people out of the side of your eyes and recline on a sofa. But Jocylen (don´t know how it´s spelled) was a career women, so she was standing tall, wearing a beautiful embroidered black suit.

At 6 the place closed, so I was thrown out into the street with my other rain dodgers. I meant to walk through the park, but it was cold and rainy and I decided I really should just ride the buses to sitesee, since I had my 15 pound pass and the next day needed to be spent doing my internet errands.

My gosh the buses are impossible. They aren´t, there are just a lot of them. My map is showing me all the buses (the ones whose route goes by main tourist haunts) go past Trafalger square. But you could walk on all the side streets around Trafalger square for 45 minutes and still not find half of the 16 buses the map lists. I choose a bus and accidently take it past where I wanted, so I get off and take the tube to picadilly square and get on another bus. By then it´s 7:30, dark and rainy and it hits me that I can´t see a damn thing. So I get off and make my way back to the hostel on the tube. I walk down queensway, past the big beautful indian scarves. 3 for 10 pounds (18 US dollars). I can´t. I can. I can´t. I can. I can´t. I do. (When I figure out the postal system here Turtle, you´re getting a package, but it´s not for you. :) ) Well, since I´ve dipped my toes into debauchery, I decide to continue. Do I want an ice cream cone? A cake? A pastry. I vaugely wonder if perhaps I should access that I´m not just shopping and wanting sweets because I´m sad I failed with the the bus system for an hour but no, I do need super. I see the lights of the mall and decide to sign up for the 3 pounds for 24 hours internet so I can getsome internet writting done that night and get the most out of my money. And what else is in the mall? A Marks and Spencers! (a grocery store. the grocery store I would blow all my money at if I lived in london.) And what does Marks and Spencers sell? Besides eggs, little chocolates, pears, and crackers-which I buy. Big organic cookies. Big chocolate organic cookies. 5 inches in diameter. I buy it, and eat it as I go up the escalators to the internet. My, I´m getting kind of flushed. Hmm. I need little pound coins to get on the internet so I get the cheapest thing I can find at starbucks. 75 pence organic chips. I realize I´m still unsure what to do about the hostels, where I really want to be on what day, so I sit at the table in the starbucks sitting arena, and munch on the chips as I figure it out. Why is it so hot in here? I go over to the internet, make my entry and realize that I don´t feel very good. I just need some sleep, it is 11. So I walk the block back to the hostel and get ready for bed. My face is gray. That´s not a good color to be. I´ve felt sick many times before and nothings happened, so I cross my fingers and go to bed. Throwing up terrifys me because I don´t just throw up. I go on a week long marathon, which ends in the doctors office/hospital. Being shot up with pills and antibiotics as my entire digestive systems sleeps for a couple more weeks.

For the more sensitive minds, I´ve put T.U. in place of youknowwhat
1:00 am' T.U. ¨are you ok¨ my roomate asks, getting out of bed. ¨No¨I sob. T.U. My egyptian-london mother looks at me quizically
¨I havn´t been drinking.¨I get out¨I must have ate something bad.¨ My mind furiously switches on: Must have? Must have? MUST HAVE! You´ve been screwed up with the sleep, weather, a large time change, and you eat JAM, cereal and milk, drink caffienated tea (granted it was morning but still!) indian food, a big chocolate cookie, and pieces of chocolate, and CHIPS. Something even on a normal day that could get you sick, you giant baffon. Plus. What is with you trying to save money by drinking tap water. Have you thought that maybe there is a reason you keep getting offered just bottled water at resturants. Maybe some stomachs can´t handle london water if they aren´t used to it. Stomachs. Like. YOURS. Oh you are going DOWN.
1:20 T.U. It´s interesting, I´m not feeling that horrible afterwards. Maybe I´m ok now. Maybe I´ve escaped my usual fate. What shall I do to ensure this? Hmmm. Why I´ll drink my ëaters digest tea. That´s saved me many times. I go downstairs and get the guy to open up the kitchen for me. I don´t think anyone would have said no to me. I looked fairly pathetic. Authentically sick. I heat up the water.
2:00 T.U.
2:20 feel ok again, I drink my tea. This is good. I´m ok. I sit on the floor. No. maybe I´m not. crap. But nothings happening so I wander past the tv room, maybe I´ll just watch a movie with all the other nightowls until my next visit of fun. I look at the screen and before me the movie is in the middle of the most famous part of ¨¨clockwork orange´¨. I only know this because the movie cover has always disturbed me. The scene also disturbs me and I run to the restroom.
T.U. T.U.
I close up the kitchen and go upstairs and crawl in bed, placing the bags beside me.
3:00 T.U. I am huddled by the door, tears streaming down my face and my other roommate has just come in and caustiously approaches me. I ask her for any plastic bags. She delivers.
I go to the restroom and throw my bags away, You know I think, I might as well just stay in here. I wake up some time later. It is interesting how I´m able to just pass out so well even with being sick. Somewhat inconvient because I am in a tiny cold restroom and my legs are completly asleep. How long have I been in here.
I literally stumble out of the restroom, and two girls (obviously coming down from a buzz) are eating crackers in the hallway. ¨I havn´t been drinking¨ I say. They don´t quite understand, but one of them tells me what she thinks of my sweaty faced, red'eyed, can´t stand up state ¨You are F-ed up._?¨ She´s german. ¨No. Sick. Ate. something. bad.¨ ¨Ah.¨ She says. ¨Welcome to London.¨ ¨Thanks¨ I say as I lay on the hallway floor and cover my head with my hands. How many times have I thrown up (sorry. T.U´ed) ? I´ve lost count. The light in the hallway is rather unforgiving and the german girls are crunching their post-beer crackers so very loud, so I go back to the room, wrap myself in the duvet and make a little next in the tiny space between the bunks. I feel safer sitting up, curled in a little ball. E-L mom asks me how I am. ¨I T.U. again¨(and again and again). ¨I tried to drink some tea....¨¨ ¨¨You drink tea! you can´t drink tea when you are sick! you´ll just T.U.!¨¨ (this I now know. very well.)
I tell her I agree. I fall asleep.
4:00 T.U.
Sleep, still huddled in a ball.
8:00am my 3rd roommate comes home. I feel a small stab of bitterness how roommates 2 and 3 can drink and drink and go to bed late and it´s chips and a chocolate cookie at 8:30pm that gets me. but I T.U. before I can dwell on it too long and fall back asleep.

I wake up with my roommates at 3:00 pm. Hey, It´s been 7 hours! I don´t get too excited. But it´s a nice thought. I go back to bed. I wake up again at 5pm and E'L mom is back. ¨How are you my love?¨ ¨I think I´m ok now¨ ¨I thought you had had much to drink last night, but then I was very worried for you...¨ She suggests maybe going to a doctor to make sure I´m ok and find out why I got sick but I explain what I have inherted in glorious family stomach quirks. ¨I really shouldn´t eat like a lot of people do... (I confess) and I had chips and a cookie last night¨ E.L. does not like this. ¨You must not eat chips! Please! No More Chips! You must take care of yourself!¨¨ Roomate 2 is getting ready to face the day and silently nods in agreement. We talk some more, about water and weather and time changes and she feels better for my well being but again stresses that I must not eat chips and cookies if that is bad for me and that I must take care of my self. I tell her I will.
I don´t have any bottled water in the room so I put on a sweater and wander out to the corner store and get some plain-nasty wheat bread and bottled water. I need to make sure I´m ok since I´m getting on a subway, train, plane, and bus the next day. I ask the guy to triple bag it (just in case). EL approves of my breakfast'lunch´supper. ¨Oh that is very good.¨ ¨You see. when you drink water.... When you are sick. Your stomach, it is like the sea. Moving around, angry. So when You drink water, it is even worse and you T.U..¨ I nod and nibble on my bread. ¨and when you eat bread. you know when you drop bread in a little water it shoop¨ she gestures ¨takes it all up.¨ Her and I eat. I´m aware I´m going to loose 3 euros on my 24 hour internet pass and it´s the last day of my 15 euro transportation pass, but decide it´ll just add to my ¨no more chocolate for you, pay more attention to the signs that you´re sick¨ lesson. E.L. and I go to bed at 6 and I sleep through the night until 8am Monday. I need to get to the train station at 10am.

From my journal on 3/25

2006-03-25T13:46:00.000-08:00

I was standing in line for breakfast this morning at the Astor Park Hostel after I had taken a shawer and washed my hair. I started to hear water drops around me as I puzzled that I hadn't thought that my hair was that wet. I went to move my wet mop so as to position it so it would drip dry on my shoulders when I saw my purse was the offender- or really it was the water bottle in my purse. My lifetime garrentee never tear or break platupus water bottle was creating a small puddle on the floor and the breakfast counter was between me and the sink. I handed the bottle over to one of the hostel workers and asked him to dump it out for me, as I wiped up the spill on the floor. He filled it up to the top. I pantomimed and explained again that it was dripping/broken and I needed it dumped out. He dumped it out, filled it with hot water and brought it to me as it got more water over the kitchen floor. We got it right the 3rd time. I sat in the breakfast room feeling off kilter and very aware of how I looked. Sopping wet hair, tired eyes, ratty sweatshirt and a mess of wet papers strewn around my half eaten toast and soggy cereal (with the occasional wrapper, crumpled receipts and napkins dotted around for effect). \the people around me were dry, stylish, and engaged in happy bilingual chatter. All I was missing was a sticky faced child with wild eyes and a diaper bag. (no offense meant to mothers with sticky faced children, diaper bags or wet hair)
..... I walked to Kensington Gardens after this, strolled around the children's gated playground with the other potential kidnappers before opening, and then walked to the nearby lake and kept writing.

A movie scene that has always stuck with me and often plays through my mind is from "before sunrise." (an american and Parisian meet on a train, and the american (jesse) asks the Parisian if she will get off the train with him in Vienna to hang out for the rest of the day/night before his flight leaves. It's a lot of walking around and talking.) Jesse and Celine are sitting at a cafe when a gypsy women approaches them and reads Celine's palm. She says the usual stuff a gypsy women would say to a young traveling women but the she firmly looks at Celine and intently says "You need to resign yourself to the awkwardness of life... only then can you truly live/become the women you want to be." (I forget the very last part). Celine is taken aback by this, it hits her, as it did me. Awkward is a word that haunts me. It has stuck around longer than any other. Clumsy, loser, dumb, klutz, stupid, ugly, boring crazy, weird: those have been proven to be false or temporary, dependent on the way I view myself, the lies I've believed, certain situations. Awkward still sticks around, and even when I forget about it, it smiles and waves, reminding me it hasn't left. I have trouble refuting it because it is there: an honest feeling, a situation.

I guess the answer to all of this is I need to let that be ok. To acknowlege that I know it's there, but change the way I react to that feeling. My usual reactions consist of , freezing, running to dreamland, avoiding, disappearing or attacking myself. Nothing bad happened this morning and I was still affected. No one slipped on water bottle pond, my journal was miraculously protected by the other jumble of papers, and I quickly solved the problem by grabbing a pile of napkins and wiping it up. My hair is now dry and I am sitting on a park bench in style, all accessories matching- even my flower/butterfly early 90's bag seems to fit in...
But what if someone had slipped/fell/broke something because of me? \What would I have done? Right before the plane to London took off, a girl's suitcase fell from the overhead compartment and fell on a 13 year old's head and arm. I sat there frozen, dying for the kind girl who was bent beside the crying teenager, as the mother snarled and sent waves of hate towards her inbetween asking her daughter if she was ok every 15 seconds.
I was too far away to be allowed to go into competent helper mode so I just sat and stared. Feeling horrible about the whole situation while absorbing the girl's feelings, the mother's anger, the teenagers pain. It turned out to be fine. The stewardess got ice, the mother settled down, and the kind girl got her suitcase in a more secure compartment. But I still felt horrible for her. Horrible that her suitcase had fallen on someone, that now she felt guilty and horrible (I know some people wouldn't, but in this case I'm pretty sure she did).

I need to realize that nothing is the end of the world. I need to know that and I need to hold on to that. Even if (God forbid) I am the accidental cause of a a horrible catastrophe or just say or do something awful, if it doesn't kill me, I will still be here and will need to deal with the situation. It won't be able to be changed, I won't be able to go back and make it not happen. Beating myself up, Numbing out, Freezing, becoming self destructive will only exasterbate any unfortunate situation.
I accidentaly ran my bike into a friend's bike when I was 10 and she cracked her rib. She didn't like me very much after that. I cried and cried and apologized (and allowed myself to be even more her whipping girl than I was before). I felt like a walking danger zone after that. But we both lived and I realized that sycronized bike routines were possibly not my area of expertise, only to be attempted by trained professionals.
It's ok to make mistakes (wise to learn from your own, wiser still to learn from others- such a preachy quote, but I still find it to be true). Accidents can/will happen and you may have to make amends. So make them and live.... Something I'll just have to remind myself of constantly.

London Day 1-3

2006-03-25T13:42:00.000-08:00

London.

Day 1 (3/22):
I put £8 in the internet at the airport to use it for a little over an hour. The pound coins here just look so much like quarters.I wasn´t thinking.
I spent £6.5 getting a one day travel pass to get to the hostel. As we pass all the little neighborhoods, I realize I´m in London and I realize I am excited.

I get off at my stop and think I am at a deserted brick subway stop, until I turn around and see hundreds of people on the other side. All in their outfits, waiting to go home, it would make a great picture but I´m not ready to whip out my camera just yet. I buy a map from a vending machine and make my way up top in search of my hostel. Crap people drive really fast here. Little residendial streets and cars are zipping down them. The sidewalks aren´t much safter, they are narrow and everyone rushes up and down them, I feel like I´m breaking up the seemless flow so I veer off to a sidestreet.
In "Neither here nor there" Bill Bryson talks about how when he first went to europe, he walked around in amazement. That person was a luxemburger. so was that person. And I think it´s a usual, natural, noncopycat reaction because I have it to as I walk around getting more excited. that bird is a london bird. There´s a london mom yelling at her london child. That´s a london garden. And a london street. And a london shop. I´m in london!

I find my hostel and settle in. And then explore a little. I eat non discript carrabien food with a sullen waitress at a chain resturant (I didn´t know it was a chain when I walked in and ordered, I though I was supporting a family establishment) and I study my map and decide what I´ll do the next few days, and if I´ll stay here longer or not.

My roommates are two very nice american boys who are from Boston and a british guy. The bostonians talk about the huge boston road project. I go downstairs and wait for an hour with a few other poor souls for the free internet. You are only supposed to use it for a half hour. but two girls who I saw there an hour or more earlier are having to much fun chatting and checking their my space accounts. I will never have a my space account. but I think I vowed never to have a blog. When I finally get a computer and I see more poor souls waiting and waiting and I nicely remind the girls that you really are only supposed to be on it for a half hour if people are waiting "and you guys..." I let them finish the sentence in your minds. One of them gives me a sassy who the heck are you look " Yeah. Ok." She goes back to the computer looking at pictures and commenting that soandso is so ugly and such a flirt. I´m too tired to want to smack her. Her quieter blond friend announces she´s going to bed and the other girl protests. but blond girl leaves and her friend glares at me. Hah. but my half hour is also up so I go upstairs and go to bed.

Day 2 (3/23): I woke up at 8. I go to the bathroom to change. I have breakfast- toast, apricot jam, several cups of tea and orange juice, a little milk , bread of my own (rosemary bread that I bought in the mall, it´s not the greatest, but it´s better than sliced bread). I sit across from a german girl and her mom. It is fun to see people from germany, a lot of them look like me. The rest of the table is infested with italian kids who are shouting and gesturing to their freinds at the end of the table. Apparently the germans and I are preventing a happy breakfast gathering for them. The second I get up my chair is taken and my cup and plate are pushed aside as they swoop in to be one unit. I put my food at another table and look at the wartime photographs (lttle london kids being reunited with their parents after the war).

I go back upstairs and take advantage of the inroom sink by washing my clothes. I know the american boys have checked out so I use their towels to dry my clothes. Some things become much less gross when you travel. Normally I would never touch anyones used towel. But it´s perfect today. I feel very tired and I write down an inventory of my backpack till 2, and then use the free internet till 3. I get a cheap flight (£40 or 90) bookedto biarritz. On the ryanair website they only have passport or identification instructions for uk and european citizens. What if I get there (after spending £15 on the train ticket there) and find out I can´t fly because i´m from the us. Of course I´m not going to call, I´ll just vaugely worry about it.

I walk down the street and find an organic store with a deli. £5 for a little bin of tofu, lentils, beets, and pasta. I buy postcards and then walk past several shops selling scarves. oh I want them. I want them all. Everyone in london is wearing a stripped fringed scarf that they have neatly looped around their neck. and since it is a good travel rule to try fit in with the locals, I buy two for £5. The first thing I find in kensington gardens is a gated playground. It looks fabulous. It has an actual pirate ship, teepees and I want to see it. Only it has a heavy security gate, lots of cameras and a large sign that reads "No adults without children are allowed" I glance around to see if there is a spare child to borrow, but don´t see any, so I resign myself to never see the fun playground. But then I see that london doesn´t like to descriminate against the childless, so there is a small sign that reads:adults without children under the age of 12 may view the garden at 9:30 before the playground opens at 10:00. Excellent.

I walk through Kensington gardens and it´s lovely, but there is on thing I really want to see in Hyde park. I was looking through a travel magazine a couple years ago, and there was an announcement that the Princess Diana Memorial Fountain had opened. It could be the Melba Sue May Memorial fountain and I wouldn´t have cared. All I cared about is by this was a sunny picture of 2 girls with their shoes off, wearing stylish sundressed, wading through a looping concrete fountain. And I wanted to be there. In a sundress, with my shoes off, walking in the concrete ring. The picture only was of a small part of it, since it said it was a ring, I hadcompleted the picture in my mind. An enourmous, mile long celtic ring of a fountain covered the park full of sunshine and joy. So, of course, I was a little disapointed when I came upon a single boring circle of gray concrete in the wet ground, about 30 feet or so in diameter. And there was a serious sign telling you that you couldn´t play in the fountain, only sit on the side and dip your toes in (to cold for that). I reserved dissapointment and walked around it. After awhile it won me over. If you were right by it and just concentrated on the fontain, you saw that no part of the fountain was like the other part. The sides twisted around- narrow on the right and fat on the left until they looped and were the same size, but then switched, the right got larger and the left shrunk. And it was really many fountains contained in one circular river. Steps bet bubbles, which met a narrow steam of water, leading to a little waterfall, shooting spickets, and then an irregular surface which produced an almost musical sound.This fountain could even be fun for people who can´t see. I test this by closing my eyes and listening to each fountains sound. Yep. fun.
After 20 minutes I keep walking and stumbled unto a photo shoo. The photographer was cursing and barking orders to his assistants. The models are typically tall and skinny, one is in a yellow 50´s dress and the other is in a white coat. So if you´re a magazine addict and see two girls in such outfits standing on either side of a stone bench- I was there. Noone else seemed to care about the photo shoot. Bicycles buzzed by, women hurridly clipclopped with their high heels down the long path. My leg started to hurt after all the walking in sandels, so I readjusted it by doing my tai chi walk. I got a few stares, but it worked. pain free.
There had been a question in my mind that had been nagging me and I finally figured it out. WHERE were all the homeless people? the pan handelers? The scary men up to no good who stand in doorways and street corners? Not once have I been asked for money. Not once have I seen anyone asking for money. This is London. London is a huge city and I´ve been around it and nothing. Do they lock them up? Actually take care of them? I braved my way across the busy square. I still can´t believe how fast everyone drives here. Even the enormous buses just barrel down the street. I walked past the fancy buildings and found the best window display I´ve ever seen. Maybe not the best, but it made me laugh and laugh. It had all these male manniquens, who were dressed quite stylishly, with scarves as their key assesory. Tied around their waist just so, looped around the neck, tied in their hair. They were all very pretty and I don´t think I´ll ever see a guy dressed like that is des moines. A girl, sure. A guy, no. During daylight anyways. It´s gotten pretty dark. The policemen are driving through hyde park and locking it up. I get lost in a pedestrian walkway and realize I could meet one of the absent scary men who hide in doorways if I don´t get home quickly so I stick to main streets.

I get a £4 kebab (which is not on a stick but like a gyro. I feel slightly uncivilized, eating my kebab on the sidewalks, but it´s tasty, so I don´t really care. the londoners can deal with it.
And on a sidenote: toilets in london do not like to flush.

Day 3: (3/24):I am a little tired of being in a room with all guys. Not that I really planned it. To ensure I´m not sleeping in a train station, I always tell any hostel I´m alright with a mixed room (if they don´t offer an all female one, or I havn´t booked it). I usually get put in one, only I don´t notice because it´s always been all girls.I think most of the hostels I stayed at in the us try their hardest to keep the sexs´seperate. Just calling it a mixed room gives the hostel possible flexibility. Most HI hostels however, don´t mess with that. No girls with boys! no boys with girls! a lot of people don´t like HI hostels. I don´t really care as long as rats aren´t crawling over me and I have access to a shower and a toilet. That So of all my 30 different mixed room experiences' this is the first actual mixed room.

It got very tiring last night. My friendly american boys were replaced by a cell phone using, keyboard clicking german, an alcholic english guy, and the one from the night before. All of them did the following: sniffed rather than blowing their noses, commented how hot it was and opened the window the second they came in (it really wasn´t hot), and ignored eacthoer and talked to me. They all went to bed late. They were all gone when I woke up. I ate breakfast: toast, jam, orange juice, tea, and the rest of my hunk of bread. I took a showere and check out at 1030. I dropped my luggage off at my new hostel, which was 2 blocks away. Without asking for my ID, they gave me a key to a closet full of bags. I couldn´t for the life of me get the door open. I love the look of bone keys (herringbone?). I secured my bags and managed to lock the door. Crap. Forgot my map. Labourously try to open the door again, and 5 minutes later I open it. Walk out of the hostel and feel like I´ve forgotten something else. Where´s my rain jacket? My pink, expensive, not mine rainjacket that I´m borrowing from turtle. I walk back to the closet, look in the window and there it is. Laying on the bags, all pink and stealable. My gosh michelle. I start to question how I´ve been able to survive for 25 years, then remember I don´t need to insult myself. But my gosh. My 3rd battle with the key proves to be a loosing one. I am crouched on the floor, trying to squint and get the stupid key right where it needs to be. A hostel guy walks by me and laughs. I can see I´m going to be making a lot of friends here After 5 minutes, a hostel maid takes pity on me and opens the door for me. I grab the rainjacket and double check everything. I´m good. I jump on the notting hill bus which terminates after a mile. So I just decide to grab a random bus-268. The busses alarm me. The way they zoom down the streets along wit the car. I eep expecting to hear a splatbut on´t.
People watching on a double decker bus is fabulous. I could do it everyday, all day, for a week and still not be tired of it. There´s a women in a green sweater talking to a shop keeper. And there´s a little kid riding a bike. And there´s a women who is completly cordinated (I´m going to spell check these things when there is more time, for now you´ll have to forgive me). Black shoes, silver buckle, red tights, silver and black dress, red scarf, silver glasses. I love how cordinated and matched the london women are. After being on bus 268 for 40 minutes we pass a large, hilltop cemetary and my heart leaps. I want to get off here. >So I do.
It was the haringbord cemetary I think. I wander around and see the greatest sign ever. A little boy is standing dumbfounded as another kid pushes a large angle statue on him. The angel glares at the boy it´s about to smash and in large block letters above this frightening scene is CEMETARIES ARE NOT PLAYGROUNDS. Hah. What a great poster. It´s almost as great as the DON´T SHAKE YOUR BABY billboard I saw once. Now. Don´t get me wrong. I sincerly concure that you should not push angel statues on your friends in cemetaries and really should never ever shake your baby, or any baby for that matter. But because I would never consider doing it or think about doing it, seeing it in bold serious letters on a huge poster or billboard just gives me a small fit of giggles. The cemetary was deserted but really nice. There were huge monuments and statues everywhere. There was noone else around, so I didn´t get to treat it as a playground. The peacefulness of it with the mist and little paths covered in brush and ivy started to creep me out after an hour, so I caught a bus to trafalger square. I love riding buses around, you just observe and if you see something that captures you, you jump off. The next thing that captured me was a sign for £5.99 all you can eat pizza buffet. I ate all I could. Any chance I get to eat vegetables I do. And since lettuce is crap for nutrients, I ate a lot of lima beans, corn and beets (and pizza). I took the metro to the london tower, and when I got out of the station, there it was, the tower castle. Then I saw something more beautiful. Toffee apples, £1. Ah! all i have is a 20 or 95p.
Michelle. you are at the tower castle and just ate all you could. Go explore.
Toffee. apple. I´ll just break my 20.
You´re at a castle!
Castles aren´t sweet.
They can be, in a tasting life sense.
Fine. Lets go see the dumb castle.
I think you´ll be ok.

Now. this little exchange might concern some. but really, I just really like toffee apples. or anything tasty from a stand for £1. I´m very passionant about it. I walk all around the public wall that surrounds the tower castle and then watch a free 20 minute video at the visitor center that shows everything in the tower castle that any visitor that pays is about to see. I´m fully satisfyed by the video. I just had a fufilling and free tour. I walk happily to the tower bridge and walk across. After barely using my camera, I´m starting to get into taking a picture of everything I like or see. Which is everything. When I start to walk back over the bridge I realize I can´t. there is an enormous cruise ship that is slowly making it´s way under the bridge. Everyone seems pretty excited about this. All the tourists on the bridge wave or take pictures of the people shouting and waving on the cruise ship. I give in and take pictures as well. When the bridge reconnects a lot of londoners, who I don´t think were as thrilled to be waiting 25 minutes for a cruise ship to cross, hurry across the bridge. I walk back around the tower hill, appreciating the castle at night and then hop the metro back home.

London airport

2006-03-22T06:25:00.000-08:00

I'm not planning on updating everyday, but I have to book a hostel (apparently, even though London has tons of hostels, it also has tons of people to stay in those hostels, according to the official airport "I'll help you find a room" guy who thought I was crazy for just wanting to just go to the city and just walk around. And I know this as well, just like I know you get in trouble if you don't pay bills on time and you don't pass classes you don't hand in any assignments for.

My flight got in at 11:30am, and it's now2:30 and I'm still in the airport. The immigration line took a half hour, but that only excuses me till 12:00. The immigration guy looked at my train pass, return flight ticket and passport and deemed me exceptable for england. I went to get my backpack and finally found it at the very last luggage terminal. In my excitement to be grab I almost knocked over another women who was firmly planted right between me and my happy reunion. I felt kind of bad, and when I turned around in this state a man was asking me what plane this luggage was from. "Chicago!" I happily said as I dumped everything on the floor. My backpack, my passport, my train pass , my purse, my carry-on bag, and a bag of coats (I really am only traveling with two bags (two emergency ones just in case) but I felt the need to bring on every possible form of entertainment or comfort with me on the plan without exceeding the carryon weight limit. The man said something in reply but my ears hadn't recovered from the flight (they still haven't) so I just repeated myself and we shared the familiar stare of strangers who don't understand and are trying to figure out what the other is thinking. I assured him it was the Chicago flight and grabbed up my bags, admonishing myself for putting my train pass on the floor. I went over to the nearby chairs to rearrange my stuff.

Oh crapcrapcrapcrap. Where's my passport. Where'd I put my passport. Did I put it in a bag? Did I put it in my pocket? Actually. I was going on about 7 hours of sleep for the last 48 hours so it was more so "Ohhh..... wheresmypassport...that's... not...good...whered...I...last...put...it....?
I looked over at the man I had just "helped" and saw him holding a passport. I watched him for a minute, planning the reaction I would have if I saw him slip it in his pocket and sell it on the black market. I then decided I should just walk over there right away and polietly ask if that passport in his hand is mine. It was. "Michelle?" He said. Matching my picture with my face. "Yes that's my passport. Thankyou. (thank you) (thankyou)" (as in my head I said... .I... can't... believe... you...put...your....PASSPORT....on....the...floor". Actually I think I said that outloud, only using the socially proper I instead of a third person reference). The guy, since we had just shared an experience, was asking me my plans and telling me his and asked if I wanted to split a cab. I told him public transport was the way to go cuz most modern airports are connected to public transport. I could tell he was fine with continuing our journey together (since I had kind of communicated I was in need of serious help) but I declined.
While he had just saved my life, I needed to have a serious meeting with ms. headintheclouds and give her a firm rule that even if she's gotten no sleep AT all for a month- she's not misplacing passports/trainpasses/id's/money/boots or backpack.

well, I've got my hostel booked and my times almost up.

...and no Michelle, even though it looks like it, your brand new british pounds are not play money. they are actually really expensive you better not lose them real money.

Chicago

2006-03-21T10:08:00.000-08:00

I had a really long trip to Chicago on the greyhound. We arrived at the Chicago bus stop at 10:20 am (instead of 6:30am). The bus was an hour late (1am instead of midnight) and the trip to Iowa City took 4 1/2 hours instead of 2 hours. We were in pretty bad weather from Dsm to close to Iowa City (I was looking out the window in a daze and thought I was seeing a car going down an exit ramp when I realized it was actually a very steep ditch. The bus driver chose that moment to stop and clean off the windshield with her hands and she drove the ditch person to Iowa City.), when we got closer to the border the roads were completely clear all the way to Chicago. I had two seats to myself the whole trip but probably wasn't able to sleep more than 4-5 hours. I brought along a little dictionary, which was actually pretty good reading. I like words if I'm not being graded on them.
It's just started to snow a little here in Chicago, but hopefully my plane leaves as planned. I've taken refuge in the city library where 100 people are enjoying the free internet with me. I decided I love Chicago cold and dirty as well as green and warm, so that was a good thing to discover.

I'm off to eat breakfast/lunch, buy deodorant (which I forgot to bring), a hairbrush or comb (also forgot) and boot inserts. Then I think I'm completely set for my trip.

Trip plan

2006-03-19T07:51:00.000-08:00

Trip plan, subject to change
I'll be using a 2 month train pass that will let me use the trains for 11 days in France, Spain, Portugal, Italy and Switzerland.

2 London
4 Paris
3 San Sebastian
5 Lisbon
5 Madrid
6 Granada
5 Barcelona
7 Cinque Terre (on the Northwest coast of Italy)
2 Lucca (some places I'm going to in Italy are fairly close together so I won't use the train pass for those trips)
2 Verona
3 Venice
4 Trento
3 Sorrento
2 Capri
5 Rome

(last 25 days, Northern Italy or France)

When I'm leaving

2006-03-18T15:40:00.000-08:00

My bus leaves tomorrow for Chicago at 11pm Monday night (that's tomorrow). I've been asked about a hundred and ten times if I'm excited, to which I just smile and say yes. It's a lot more simple to give people what they expect to hear then give hour long roundabout that I would surely want to clarify or correct the next day.

To try to simplify it:
Part of me wants to just get it over with. But those I've ventured to say this to give me a blank stare as they try to wrap their heads around what I just said. When they finally recover, "You get to go to EUROPE for THREE MONTHS you spoiled brat" (or "What??") seems to be on the tip of their tounges and I hastly try to explain that I really am excited, it's just that thinking/dreaming about something continually for too long can make you think you've already done it. I've thought about and planned this trip for five years (maybe more) and I wanted to think about something else. I went though several stages in the last few months to try remedy this, few of these stages were practical. After almost spending all my money on a 2 month language course or a flight from london to Indonesia- I decided I should probably commit to my original plan. Which required me actually looking at the amount of money I had in my real life bank account. After this I decided to keep going down reality road and hacked off 7 countries from the itinerary. I'd like to see Germany, Denmark, Sweden, Norway, and the Netherlands some day- but seeing them in 15 days seemed tiring.

I had been flirting with the idea, but my last month there I really wanted to do...something. Something other that sitting half dazed on a train as I sink back into a travel coma with the thought "that was pretty, I really should stay awake for this.... and by bingle if that jerk coughs one more time I am going to kill him." So I am going to Wwoof (willing workers on organic farms) in Italy/and or France. There are a lot of situations to choose from and as long as I'm not on a cheese farm or a place that requires moderate upper body strength, I'll be good. Since I finalized this decision at the last minute, I have no idea what is going to happen, which is nice. It will also be nice to really get to experience an area and to put all the skills I learned during forced Iowa summer labor to work.

I fly out from Chicago on Tuesday at 9pm. I'll get to London at 7am