I Didn't Divide This Post Up But I Probably Should Have

22 May 2009
Back to Innsbruck but this time with Lydia and Lori.

We had a great time in Berlin. We got to our hostel at maybe 6 p.m. but I’d accidentally left the directions on the train. We roamed around a bit asking people if they knew where the Mitte’s Backpacker Hostel was an no one seemed to know even though it was within a 7 minute walk from the station. We asked some police looking people. No help. We asked a cab driver, no help and an attitude. So we thought if we could just find an internet café we could find the address and Google Map directions. We didn’t find an internet café but we did find a hookah bar.

The guy working there didn’t speak much English and we only know four phrases in German, none of which included subjects like the internet. The guy behind the counter said, “Yes, yes! We have internet!” I expected wifi or a room with computers like a call center. Nope. It was a closet with a personal desktop. I don’t know if I would have used a computer in a closet if Lydia and Lori weren’t there with me but I was able to get the address and ask the guy where the street was. We said we’d come back, but we didn’t.

Instead we ate bread and cheese in the room and went wandering around Berlin. We stumbled upon a gallery opening of someone’s photography. My favorite photographs were arranged in pairs. They were sepia colored and kinda fanciful. There was one with a young boy wearing a paper hat in a field blowing into a paper towel tube and in the sky were hundreds of little birds. It looked like the boy was blowing the birds from his own lungs. I feel like that sometimes.

After that we went to a park. It was such a delightful park. Everyone was sitting around on blankets eating ice cream. I swear, every time I look out across a park I think of this one painting by Renoir or someone. It’s just a bunch of English people in the 1800’s hanging around a park on a Sunday afternoon. I feel like that sometimes, too.

So we ate Ice cream and then we thought a bottle of wine would suit the moment quite well. It also seemed like everyone else was drinking wine or beer while sitting on their little blue and white blankets. We walked to the little convenience store and picked out a bottle of wine. We realized that it was corked and we did not have a corkscrew. Nor did the little shop sell one. Now, we’ve voiced worries about being three young women wandering around Europe for an extended period of time. Perhaps if we were guys, we’d be a bit safer. Actually, being three young women has paid off quite nicely.
For instance: the other guy working at the convenience store was quick open the bottle for us by taking a flat head screwdriver to the cork and shoving it into the bottle. Would he do that if we were three dudes? I’d like to think not. But I’m pretty sure we’ve accumulated the equivalent of a case of beer and a bag of coffee beans just cuz we’re girls.

Anyway.

This post is a little outdated. It’s now May 30, 2009. A lot has happened between that night in Berlin when we sat in a park and tried to get an idea for how big we felt and how absolutely not big we really were.

We managed to not miss any trains to Innsbruck. Which was awesome. We had legit worries. We had to take a night train from Berlin to Zurich. That was cool enough. The chairs looked like they were made for a space flick in 1966. So what everyone in 1966 thought would be really stylish and functional in the year 2009. Which very well could have been the age of American colonies on Mars. Except that it’s not and reading Ray Bradbury’s book The Martian Chronicles has made me glad that it’s not. There were about twenty fifteen-year-old French kids in our car who were chowing down on Red Bulls and Dunkin Donuts. We obviously didn’t have a quiet night. But that wasn’t the part that we were worried about. It was the change at Zurich because we had about 25 minutes to find the ticket counter, buy 2 tickets, get breakfast, and find the track for the train to Innsbruck. It’s easy with a Eurail pass cuz you just hop on and off when and where you need. Not so much when you have to buy tickets at every place.

We decided Lori would get coffees and rolls while Lydia and me went to buy tickets. When we got off the train we left Lori pretty quickly without looking what track the train would be leaving from, and when Lyd and I got to the ticket counter, I voiced my fears about leaving Lori. It could have been really bad. As soon as Lyd got to the ticket counter I bolted to find Lori to tell her that it was track 9! track 9! By bolted, I just mean I waddled really really quickly in my flip flops and huge back pack, hoping Lori’d just stayed pretty much where we’d left her. And she did! Like they teach you in Girl Scouts when you’re lost in the woods! You stay where you are and basically wait for the world to find you. Maybe blowing a whistle if you have one handy. Note to self: Carry a whistle with me to the train station.

So we all got on the train and Lori’d gotten us these Delicious croissants filled with chocolate.

We got to Innsbruck and got on Bus F, which would takes us within a 3 minutes walk of Seb B’s mom’s house. I couldn’t wait to get there. We arrived about 3 in the afternoon and she had homemade Weiner schnitzel and potato salad and regular salad and coffee for us. And we got to meet Seb’s sister, Lena, who’s just home from studying in India.

I love Austria. There’s so much I can say about how beautiful and warm Austria is but it’s certainly beautiful and warm because of the people I’ve been honored enough to spend time with. I have been graced with so much generosity and hospitality that I hope I can repay even a third of it.

While in Austria we learned to surf in Niklas’ wave pool. We went shopping for shorts and a plant for Gabriele, Seb B’s mom. We celebrated Christoph’s 25th birthday with a huge cook out. Christoph is Niklas’ housemate. We went to the Café Bar Moustache, which is the bar belonging to their best friend, where we had a huge foosball tournament and Lydia and Stephan (another friend of Niklas’) rocked while me and Lori and Niklas did not rock. We went back to Moustache on Sunday night for the Sunday night quiz, which is done in English. The guy and girl doing the quiz threw in a few American questions for us because they met us at Christoph’s party and knew we were coming to the quiz. The questions were “What is Bill Clinton’s middle name?” “Which of the 5 great lakes in the US borders Chicago?” and, “Who was the only president of the south during the American Civil War?” We got 2 of the three. Robert is Not Bill Clinton’s middle name. It’s Jefferson.

We got to Innsbruck on Friday and by Friday night we were being urged to skip Venice and stay in Austria until Monday. By Saturday afternoon we’d confirmed “Forget Venice!”

Monday Niklas took us to this little lake about 50 minutes east of Innsbruck, but still in Tyrol, way up in the mountains. I cannot even describe to you how beautiful this place was. Niklas told us that this region of Tyrol was as Tyrolean as you could get. He’d never been there before either so it was new for all of us. We hung a hammock between two trees and laid out our blankets on these wooden platforms that were built because the ground was so soft and moist. The water was warmer than we’d expected. There were only two other families there with their little children and big dogs. I’ll post pictures, which still won’t do this place justice. In fact, it started raining while we were in the lake, it was only about navel deep, and we looked out across the water and the world was surreal. The sun was shining and the raindrops were massive and three quarters of them formed bubbles when they hit the water and the other quarter created diamonds that jumped up for a split second. Thousands of diamonds hitting the water and sinking to the bottom of the tiny murky lake, getting lost and buried under the muck and seaweed no one wanted to put their feet in.

We swam to a huge rock in the middle of the lake and Niklas started to climb up, finding finger and foot holds. He pulled his face up level with the top of the rock, which had grass and a tree growing on it, and threw himself backwards off the rock. “Let’s get out of here!” I thought he’d slipped and just didn’t want to try again. He was swimming away from us back towards the dock and said, “Snake!” We caught up with him and didn’t slow down until we got back. He’d looked a huge snake square in the face and after hearing it hiss at him, he decided it best to just get away. A bit of a thrill.

After the lake we went to the smallest town in Austria. We ate traditional Austrian food and Niklas taught us a traditional Austrian card game called Watten. It’s a lot like Euchre and you need four people so maybe I’ll teach it to you sometime, if you want.

Niklas got us to the train station with about 25 minutes to spare before our night train left and we suddenly had the urge to eat Burger King. Niklas ran into a friend who couldn’t make it to the party and we greeted him and offered to get him a sandwich. We got Niklas a cheeseburger and this guy a whopper. We gave them hugs and said, “Next time we’re in Innsbruck, we’ll hang out!”

We did not sleep on the night train. We did not receive futuristic 1966 space shuttle seats; we got regular, immobile, train seats. And it was uncomfortable. And Long. And we made it to Rome.

We did not purchase our train tickets for the next destination like we’d told ourselves we would. We hadn’t booked our ferry to Greece yet and we weren’t sure what time it’d depart. But we’d get the tickets anytime within the next 3 days. Our hostel was a 5-minute walk from the station.

Rome was strange. I liked it, but it certainly wasn’t my favorite place. We saw the Coliseum. Every day. The first time we saw it it was amazing. Breathtaking. Stunning. The second time it was still far from the hostel. By the third time we’d come across that building we were like, “How do we keep ending up here?” We went to the Vatican but didn’t go in. We went to the Pantheon. It was free. Raphael is buried there. But that’s not his original burial place.

Oh, our first meal in Rome we managed to piss off the waitress. There was just a language miscommunication and she brought us a pizza we didn’t order, or at least we didn’t think we ordered, and she took it back but wasn’t very nice to us the rest of the time we were there. The whole time I was eating the replacement pizza and I was wondering if I was tasting spit or if the cheese had been dropped on the floor or if they were watching and laughing at us eating something they’d taken their revenge our on. Maybe not.

We watched the Man U Vs. Barcelona game at Fergie Field near the Stadium Olympico. Only Manchester United fans were allowed in this field. The Barca fans had a different filed they could watch the game at. There was also supposed to be no alcohol sales at all the day of the game in Rome.
I’ve just decided that there are no rules in Rome. There are no walking rules, driving rules, parking rules, drinking laws, or fashion restrictions whatsoever. It’s a lawless ancient land where there are so many ruins and historical sites that they have to start turning them into cat shelters. I’m not exaggerating.

We came across some fenced in ruins that might have been small temples. They were discovered in the 1920’s and no one really knows what they are. We noticed a lot of cats. About 12 or so. That was a little odd, we decided. Just cats hanging out in the ruins. We then found a sign that said it was a cat refuge. Basically stray cats are found, spay and neutered, tested and vaccinated, and then put in a pit of ancient Roman ruins. Does this seem slightly ridiculous to anyone else?

What else was slightly ridiculous about Rome? Our hostel had free pasta dinners at 7 pm during the week. It was terrible but we ate there every night. It was free and you could bring your own wine and the people at our hostel were really cool. We hung out with a Ben from just north of London. An Alex from Vancouver. And a couple of kids from Montreal. By kids, I mean 18 year olds. I can’t believe that 18 seems young to me. I guess it’s cuz I’m a week away from 22.

One night in Rome, the night before the Champions League Game, we went to a café to get ice cream and we sat next to these middle aged guys from Manchester who were really drunk and really loud. They kept chatting with us and looking at Lydia’s paintings and saying things to randoms walking by like, “Don’t worry. She’ll be back! She’s not left you!” And they were singing, “The famous Man United went to Rome to see the Pope! To Rome to see the Pope! To Rome to see the Pope! The famous Man United went to Rome to see the Pope and this is what they said! Glory, glory Man United! Glory, glory Man United! Glory, glory Man United and the Reds go marching on!” to the tune of the Battle Hymn of the Republic.
Lydia decided to paint these guys and the one kept saying to make sure she got his black fascist socks in. Don’t forget to include my fascist socks. What ever that means. They also kept calling the waiter Tony, because every Italian guy is named Tony. And they also kept making references to his questionable sexuality.

I wonder what they were singing when Man U lost the game. Probably what everyone else was singing which was something about Man U never dying. On our walk back from the park there was a fire under a bridge. What would a football match be without a fire? Not a football match, that’s for sure.

Poor Lydia. On our walk back a very fat man in a black tee shirt pinched her butt. Lydia’s just corrected me, “squeezed her bottom,” she says. Which is after the tactful phrase of Ben North of London. A few blocks later we came across the perp. and Lori asked if she should beat him up. Lydia said no, but if you could give him a bottom squeeze, I’d feel better. Alex Vancouver and Lori Lue Ludwig grasped hands and went in for the kill. They ran up behind this very fat man in a black tee shirt and together squeezed his bottom. They then broke hands and ran off in different directions laughing and laughing while we pointed and laughed and laughed as well. Karma had been restored.

We checked out of our hostel at 11 on Friday. We didn’t leave the hostel till after 1. We had to book a hostel in Greece. Every review for every hostel made references to how dirty they were. Ugh. We weren’t able to book a train to Bari for our ferry that night.

I don’t want to talk about it. I almost flipped out. We’ve missed two of two ferries. We are 0 for 2 for making ferries. Like I said, I don’t really want to talk about it. But I’m sure there’s a phrase that goes something like “fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice shame on me.” But applied to ferry making: miss two ferries and what in God’s name is wrong with you? It was completely our fault. So we had an extra day in Rome we didn’t really want and we had to cancel our hostel in Patras, which cost us about 20 euros.
What do you do in Rome when you don’t really want to be there anymore? Go see Angles and Demons starring Tom Hanks in Italian. Of course. Certainly not visit the Coliseum Again. Even though you know you can’t understand Italian. So we watched about 40 minutes of the movie in Italian then snuck into the English version that started 5 minutes before the Italian one.

That’s probably the best movie ever to see in Rome. I felt like they’d just followed me around for three days, filming where I’ve been and then just superimposing Tom Hanks into my place. It’s also one of the worst movies ever. And Euan McGreggor has severely disappointed me by participating in that film. I may never forgive him. Then we went to McDonald’s for dinner. I ate a Big Mac and French fries and drank a coke.

We didn’t miss our night train to Bari. But it was uncomfortable.
Bari’s been giving us trouble all day. But it’s also given us a bit of comfort here and there. We got to the port at about 8:30 am. We were so tired. We tried to sleep on the benches. A woman kept telling people to sit up, even thought there were a total of 10 people in the huge lobby. I watched her force these three Canadians up and thought, “Screw that. I’m lying down.” A while later she came to me, saying something in Italian and without even opening my eyes, I said, “Oh my shoes. Sorry.” and just shifted my feet from the seat to the floor. I’m about done with authority. Seriously about finished. Especially knowing that for a second night in a row I won’t have a proper bed. Not sleeping will make you do some strange things. For instance: It was quite cold in the lobby of the ferry station so I decided to go to the bathroom and put jeans on. There were only two stalls and by 10 am the station was packed with loud people. The line was very long and a woman and wedged her way in front of me. I saw Lydia come out of one of the stalls and I looked at her and the 9 people ahead of me and was like “Right here.” So I kicked off my shoes and dropped trow right there. Lydia says it wasn’t enough that I had an intense look of determination on my face, but that the looks on the faces of the women around me. I don’t need to be understood. I need to be warm.
I tried to sleep for another hour but there was a kid across the lobby who was meowing and meowing as loud as his obnoxious lungs would allow and I said to Lori after about 10 minutes of this meowing that I’m not one for punching children, but that kid was really really unaware of what he was stirring up inside me. We decided to drop our luggage at some lockers and find a good restaurant. The luggage room was on the other side of the port and didn’t open until 11:30 so we sat outside in the sun and read. By the way, it was really windy and raining when we got to Bari. It was miserable.
We left our baggage and went walking around the town. We were whistled at, honked at, and cat called 10 times today. We counted. Can you believe that? It’s absurd.

Anyway.

We found an awesome restaurant and ate the best meal I’ve had in Italy. It was a typical Barian dish made of rice, fried potatoes and mussels. We then found a stonewall to lie on. For two hours. I fell asleep and I tell you, that stonewall in the sun was more comfortable than a padded chair on the night train. I slept on my stomach for over an hour then turned over and slept on my back a bit. I knew I was getting a sunburn on my arms but I was so tired I didn’t care. And I was getting hot hot. But I couldn’t move. When I finally got up Lydia was already awake painting. Lori was stirring as well. The piazza was full of people. We went in search of a grocery store. We compared weird sunburns. Lori has severe sunglasses outlines on her face. Lydia not only has a farmer’s tan (burn) but the crease in her elbow is pure white from how she had her arms folded. And she’s got a line down her left cheek from where she put her sweater over her eyes. I didn’t really get burnt at all. I’d slept on my stomach so my face isn’t pink and my arms are just a little red. I’ve been making a bit of fun of them all day.

By the time we got on the ferry (about 4 hours ago) I realized that I too was burnt. A sharp, bright red line across my lower back. It’s worse than theirs and in a terrible place when you consider that I have to walk around with a backpack for the next two weeks.

I just want to get to Greece. I don’t even want to go to Athens. I want to go to a beach and stay there for 4 days. I want to sleep in a bed. And I want to chill out.

Oh. And we were attacked by a group of Italian kids at the fountain.

We were walking back to the ferry at about 6 pm and we were out of water. We saw a group of kids filling water balloons at the fountain in the piazza and thought, well, let’s get some water here. The kids addressed us. English? They asked. Yes. English. They all laughed. We didn’t much like the scene, but we needed water, and we couldn’t let them sense our fear. Kids are like dogs and horses in that respect. Lydia went forward and filled the bottle. One of the smaller boys fake tossed a water balloon at me. I put my bag down and held out my hands, yeah toss it here, kid. I knew it wouldn’t break, even if it hit the ground because they were filling the balloons too full and weren’t puncturing the bottom with a needle sized hole so they’d burst on contact. He didn’t toss it to me, he full on threw it at me. It bounced and rolled behind me. I grabbed it and gave him an “oh, you’re in a bit of trouble now,” look. He bolted back a few paces and I held it out to him. I wasn’t going to throw it. He wouldn’t come close. So I put it on the ground and backed away. He came and got it. Just then two girls ran up from the right and started attacking Lori and Lydia. No no! We don’t want trouble! They were laughing and we were laughing and one of the bigger boys went after Lori, who squirted water from her bottle back at him and thought she could find safety by getting closer to a group of guys who were about our age. No dice. They just moved farther and farther away. Lydia and Lori got nailed. I got a soggy shoe. But I’d dropped my jacket and knew I’d have to go back into the danger zone to get it. I turned and saw one of the little girls, with a crazed look in her eye and foam at her mouth. What Lydia likes the call the Devil Child of Bari, Italy. These weren’t children. These were beasts. Children of the Fountain. We were slightly over our heads here.
There was a dad figure who’d picked up my jacket at the exact same moment that Devil Child of Bari, Italy did. I saw the scene and for a split second thought the dad figure would join them against us. No, that would have been absurd. But no more absurd than being attacked by a gang of bloodthirsty Italian children. Devil Child released on command and Dad Figure returned my damp jacket.

In retrospect, Lydia noticed that Dad Figure wasn’t laughing, but he wasn’t really surprised or really reprimanding the kids for attacking us. She reckons it’s a daily thing. “Eat your breakfast. Don’t harass the tourists.” And you accept it when you can get your kid to eat a bowl of coco puffs, even if they won’t drink their milk and you accept it when they attempt soak tourist with water balloons, but when they start to steal garments, they’ve gone too far.

We wish we could have seen the reactions of the other tourists and the other locals. Would the other tourists have helped if things got out of hand? Fight or flight? Which would it be? Were they thinking, “glad it’s not me! Let’s get out of here!” Were the other locals secretly wishing they could take the revenge on tourists their children were attempting, or were they horrified their children would treat strangers with such disrespect?

Either way, it was the second time we’ve thought about punching a kid. What has Italy and a serious lack of sleep done to us?

So! Present moment! It’s 11:55 Greek time and we’re on our ferry and we’ve taken over a little corner where we intend to sleep and we’ve eaten more bread and cheese and there’s a shower we can use and we’ve been chatting away delightfully with an older Belgian couple and Lori’s on her laptop and Lydia’s reading my copy of Brother’s Karamazov and if only we had a guitar.

And if only this Really drunk guy would leave everyone alone. But the staff already has a close eye on him.

This post is 7 and a half pages long in a word document. Whew! I’ve been working on it for days and I’m finally caught up but I’ve left a lot of details out. That happens when you’re trying to talk about 3 different cities in one blow. Hope I can be a little more regular with my posts.

58 days left in Europe. 93 till Josh is home from Iraq. 285 till he’s home for good.