Green Phoenix Rising

Written at 9:00 PM on 10-10-06 in Prague, Czech Republic

My second day in Vienna can be quite easily summed up. Nothing really happened. I got up at about 9:00, showered, and headed to the nearby camera and macintosh store to check out the prices of power converters. Eighty euros later, I had a working power adapter for my computer that wouldn’t send out sparks. It was a painful expense, but a necessary one. I still have three weeks left in my trip, much of which will be spent writing (this is the relax-in-coffee shop part of my trip) and I would have to buy a new adapter when I returned. That’s just how it goes.
Read the rest of this entry »

Written at 9:33 PM on 10-8-06 in Vienna, Austria

After two days of sightseeing in Rome, I’d had enough. It wasn’t that the sights weren’t amazing—they were. It wasn’t that there wasn’t more to see—there was. It wasn’t that I accidentally caused a fender bender while crossing at a crosswalk—I did. No, I just wanted to relax and take a break from museums. There’s only so much you can see—so many pictures of the Virgin Mary holding the baby Jesus or Christ on the cross—before your eyes start to glaze over and you stop appreciating the art and beauty of what’s around you.
Read the rest of this entry »

Written at 11:21 PM on 10-6-06 in Rome, Italy

Side note: Added new pictures page, “Italy Pictures 2” and included links to the pictures within the text of the past three blogs.

Sadly, my free internet seems to have come to an end. I had been using an open wireless signal, supposing it was from the hostel, but not it requires that your computer be registered on the network. I can only assume that the network’s administrator noticed me filching off a bit of the bandwidth and decided they couldn’t stand for such a transgression. Oh well, it was good while it lasted.

Anyway, it’ll be a little harder for me to link the pictures since I can just work from my own computer; it will probably be another day before I can upload them. Hopefully I’ll get this second blog up tonight though, using the hostel’s internet (which isn’t very good, apparently.)

When we last left off, I was drifting asleep after finish my book, Labyrinth. I decided I wouldn’t set an alarm and would instead sleep in. This entailed sleeping in until about 9:30, which was when—either because of noise or my body’s discomfort—I was forced up. I took a shower and got ready for the day. After some time, Dan and Renee joined me for breakfast downstairs. We had decided to head to the Trevi Fountain together, and I welcomed the company since I would be spending most of the day on my own in Vatican City.

I had made an effort to meet up with the girl I met in Florence, Kimberly, but things just didn’t work out. Consequently, I could look forward to more sight-seeing alone. No matter though. There were bigger things to worry about, like the strike by the metro workers. Basically, the entire metro was shut down for the morning and afternoon. What did this mean? Utter chaos. Combine Italian-style driving with twice (perhaps three) times as many people on the roads, and you effectively have a death trap.

The police were doing their best to keep things under control, but it didn’t stop the crosswalks from being a dangerous adventure. Everywhere, one could hear the honking of horns, the buzzing of engines, and a thick fog of car exhaust hung heavy throughout the city. It certainly made things interesting, but interesting does not necessarily require that things be good.

We actually passed the location of the workers’ protest. Words like “stupido” and “bastardo” drifted from the speakers’ podium. It was quite a strange protest, as it included a band. I thought that generally demonstrations included lots of angry people talking, but apparently in Italy, it includes music as well. Anyway, it made for interesting sightseeing.

Dan, Renee and I navigated our way through the city and eventually came to the Trevi Fountain. The fountain was said to bestow luck (and a swift return to Italy) if you tossed one coin in, and love if you put in two coins. I stayed away from two coins, tossing in only a five euro pence piece. We took lots of pictures. It was nice to actually be with someone to take my picture, rather than having to take the typical hand-held pictures. After the Trevi Fountain, however, I parted ways with Dan and Renee. They were off to see the catacombs, while I was on a mission to the Vatican.

I wandered through the streets, passing the Piazza Navona and the Parthenon again by accident. I picked up a gelato on the way, even though it was only about 11AM. Soon I was crossing the river and heading into Vatican City. Stepping into Vatican City is like stepping into a church. Everywhere people are selling images and caricatures of Jesus, Mary, Peter, Paul, the Pope, etc. It was a whole different world—a Christian world.

Nuns and people dressed in the vestments of priests passed me on the streets. I paid little mind to them, other than noting it was interesting to see such things. After walking down the main street to the Vatican, St. Peters Basilica and Plaza arose before me like a great expansive horizon that encompasses everything. The enormous plaza was dotted with people, as well as an enormous line leading to it. I didn’t really know where I was going, so I just joined up with the first line I saw.

After a few minutes, however, I realized that I would be better off heading to the Vaitcan Museum, since it closed early and I didn’t want to miss my chance to see the Sistine Chapel. There was a line, but it didn’t take long, maybe fifteen minutes. After all the other tourist sights, I was accustomed to the metal detectors and ticket lines. I lined up for a student ticket, though I didn’t have the appropriate idea. In a surprising act of kindness, the ticket service man gave me the discount anyway, though I didn’t realize until after it was too late to thank him.

I picked up an audio guide and headed quickly into the Vatican. While I was interested in seeing the museum, I wanted to make sure I didn’t miss the Sistine Chapel. Therefore I speeded through the first sections, listening only to the general overviews of the rooms. The Sistine Chapels (and the museum in general) closed at like 3:30 or 3:45 PM. I had plenty of time, but there was just so much to see.

The Vatican Museum can’t really be conveyed in words or pictures. There’s just so much to see, that one really has to see it with his or her own eyes to truly appreciate the scale of everything. Hundreds of statues and carvings, hundreds more of relics and artifacts, and on top of that thousands of painting and frescoes, make it no wonder the this place is the religious center of the world. I happily listened to my audioguide as I passed through the various galleries. I must say, though, that the books I had just read, Bloodline of the Holy Grail and later Labyrinth threw everything I saw into very sharp relief. I saw Mary, Jesus, John, and Jospeh all in very different ways than I might have seen them before. The books enlightened me, but at the same time robbed me of a certain innocence I might have otherwise enjoyed of the paintings. Honestly though, I’d take knowledge and truth over innocence any day.

Such things were the very topic of Michelangelo’s frescoes on the Sistine Chapel. The place was attended heavily by guards, all ensuring that know pictures were taken and that a constant silence was maintained. I stayed there for about twenty minutes, and about every five minutes, a loud “Silenzio” would cut through the air as the guards reminded everyone that this was a sacred place that demanded silence.

The Sistine Chapel really was something. After the disappointing size of the Colosseum, I guess I didn’t expect the chapel to live of the my expectation, but it most certainly did. The frescoes were painted with such amazing significance and detail. Michelangelo spent five years under the roof, performing his craft, and it really shows. I’ve seen a number of churches throughout Europe, but nothing really compares to this.

After relaxing and enjoying the extensive frescoes, I headed on to check the rest of the exhibits. I also stopped for a brief lunch on one of the piazzas that ran adjacent to the museum. An art gallery, which stood out-of-the-way from the main exhibit, hosted several beautiful paintings, including those of Bernini, DaVinci, and Raphael. After enjoying this, I returned my audioguide and then headed back out onto the street to make my way home.

That’s where the difficulty was. Because of the way Rome is lay out, I really couldn’t get a “straight” street back toward my part of town. Instead, I ended up having to zig-zag back and forth until finally coming to a part I recognized. I didn’t mind so much. It made for an interesting adventure and I got to explore a lot of the more out-of-the-way shops. Eventually I made my way back to the Trevi Fountain (by following the signs) and from there I was able to remember a relatively direct path back to the hostel.

I came back to the room, where Dan and Renee were both sleeping. I settled into my bed to catch up on my blog, which took a fair bit of time. I talked to Dan and Renee a while after they got up; they then left to get dinner at a restaurant while I headed downstairs for to cook an intriguing and complex culinary masterpiece—pasta with salt. Mmmmm. I actually quite like it. I’ve tried using pasta sauce, but of the three pasta sauce jars I’ve bought while here, I disliked—hmm, let’s see—all three of them. When I went back to the room, Renee and Dan were back, as well as a new roommate: a Canadian girl we’d talked with the night before.

We all hung around in the room talking about traveling and all manner of other things. Dan and Renee had to wake up early (4AM) the next morning to catch their plane, so after a few beers and talking for a while, they decided to hit the sack. I stayed up for a while to type up this blog, but unfortunately it was at this time that I discovered my internet source had been cut off. So, after writing a little bit, I went to sleep at the relatively early hour of midnight.

[continued the next morning]

There’s not much to be said for this morning except to say I got up, cleaned up, packed up, and checked out. I’m in the hostel now and I’m going to try and use their free computers, though I don’t think they work too well. I don’t plan on doing much sightseeing today. I think two days of constant sightseeing here in Rome has worn me out a bit. I have to putz around for the day until I catch the night train to Vienna at 8PM. It’s about a 12-hour ride—fun.

On a bit of a side note, I failed to describe much of the “atmosphere” of Rome in this blog or the earlier one, so I think I should mention something here. Rome is chaos. It’s actually not quite as bad as I expected, at least the first day, but on the second day, all the metro workers went on strike. This meant that between my first and second morning of walking, the traffic nearly doubled. Anywhere you walked, the distant (or nearby) clamor of blaring horns and screeching breaks could be heard. To add to this, there’s not really much of a system of crosswalks. Sure, there’s a few crosswalk signals here and there, but mostly there’s just striped paint on the sidewalk indicating you should go. The problem is, no one stops for you if you’re waiting at a crosswalk. Thus you have to make a near-suicidal leap of faith into the street and just pray that the drivers are paying attention. I was noticing the cars as I walked, and there’re surprisingly very few dents on the cars. I can only assume that the madness of Italian driving actually has some kind of order that only becomes visible when you’ve lived here long enough or if you’re actually Italian.

The parking is pretty consistent with the driving. Park anywhere there’s space. There are actually very few places that you can find “No Parking” signs. Unlike in France, the Italians don’t park on the sidewalks. Instead, they just pull into the tiniest spaces, or just park across crosswalks, on street corners, in intersections, or in the enormous plazas, which would be normal except that the cars and motorbikes are parked so closely that you can’t even walk through sections of the plaza. Renting a car in Roma would be absolute madness. I come from a place where you hear a horn honk maybe—I don’t know—once a month? Here, it’s like a form of meditation. And you have to be aggressive. Not in the road rage sense, but it’s sort of like predator and prey—if you show a moment of hesitation, the prey is likely to attack and swallow you.

I was a little concerned that the metro strike would affect intercity trains, but apparently it was only for one day. Good thing, too. It didn’t bother me that I had to walk to the Vatican; after my experiences with the metro in Paris and the buses in several other cities, I trust my feet a lot more than I trust trains and busses. At least if I take a wrong turn, I know it pretty quickly. If you get on the wrong train or bus, then you’re out a few bucks and you’re much further from your destination than you ever intended. That’s only in the cities though. I don’t mind the intercity trains, and I’m actually looking forward to the sleep train tonight. It’ll be a nice change of scene. Well that’s about it for now.

On a side note, this entry marks officially 100 pages that I’ve written since I started the Europe blog. It’s a shame all the writing is incoherent rambling because 100 pages is like one third the length of a novel. Anyway, the writing is more for me than anything else. Got to stay sane.

Written at 6:41 PM on 6-10-06 in Rome, Italy

So Rome. Hm hm hm. It’s quite the interesting place… Let me start from the beginning.

After the roughly four-hour train ride from La Spezia to Roma, I arrived at the Termini, Rome’s main train station. My immediate concern—disregard the numerous warnings about pickpockets—was figuring out where the heck my hostel was. I had, in my infinite wisdom, neglected to write down directions when I booked online.

An internet café promptly assuaged this problem, and I discovered to my pleasure that the hostel was little more than a five-minute walk from the train station. I thought that was pretty convenient, yet I had doubts about this hostel. When I’d spoken to Kimberly in Florence, she’d said her friend had warned her not to stay at the “Yellow Hostel,” which was where I was staying.

Putting doubts aside, I winded my way toward the hostel. I was a bit put off by the extra five-euro fee I’d have to pay to use credit card, but fortunately I was able to use some traveler’s cheques instead. Aside from the fee, everything about the hostel seemed so-far-so-good. The reception was clean and well-equipped, the rooms were clean, the staff was relatively friendly. Nothing about it suggested “bad.”

I put my stuff away in the locker and settled down into bed to relax—which was about as far as my ambitions tended for the remainder of the afternoon. I discovered that I could get a free wi-fi signal from my room, which made me inclined to take care of a lot of stuff online that I’d been meaning to do (such as looking for a job, bleh). I relaxed into the evening, taking only a brief break to venture out to a grocery store and buy some food.

When I returned, I met some of my roommates. There was a pair of friends from Canada, Dan and Renee, and an Australia girl named Rebecca. I talked with some other people down in the lounge as well. And you know what? Everyone was going home. It seemed like for most people, Rome was their last stop. I talked to at least half a dozen people who were heading home within the week, including my three roommates.

Later in the evening they all decided to go out to dinner. I’d already had some food, but I went out with them all the same and ordered a bowl of ice cream. I really can’t convey just how good the ice cream in Italy is. If I tried to convey it in words, it would be something like:

aahmmmaslahhsssgaahhhaammbaahhhmmmggsss

Yeah, I know—it’s good stuff. There was a pub crawl that night, which about thirty people from the hostel were going out on. I decided to stay in and nurse a bottle of wine in the lounge while I did some writing and met people in a little more mellow environment. A met a Scottish girl named Debbie who’d been living in Australia. She was leaving in a couple days and trying to figure out what to do until then. She was thinking of going to Florence, so I told her a little bit about the city.

After a couple hours in the lounge, I returned to the room for a bit more time on the computer, as well as some time spent with my nose in my book. I was over halfway finished with Labyrinth and was determined to finish it before I left Rome.

I went to bed and was only a little disturbed by my drunken roommates who staggered in at around 3 or 4 AM. I’ve been making good use of the earplugs I brought along. They’ve saved me many-a-night of restless sleep.

I had considered waking up early and trying to get to the Colosseum right at opening. I actually realized, even before I went to sleep, that I would just end up resetting my alarm in the morning. Instead, I aimed for a more reasonable goal. I didn’t set my alarm and just anticipated waking some time between nine and ten. And that’s exactly what happened.

I got up and headed for the Colosseum. Now a few words about the Colosseum. The movie Gladiator is totally fallacious. I suppose that’s kind of a given. And I don’t mean about the historical stuff and everything (though a lot of that is false as well). No—I mean about the size. I was expecting this grandiose structure that loomed above all else, towering high on the horizon. What I got was—well—a coliseum.

Sure, it was an amazing architectural and building achievement for the time. And even in its dilapidated, ruined state, it is a testament to the determination of humankind. Yet, I was surprised by the actual size of the “battle area.” I guess all the pictures and movies had just aggrandized the vision in my mind over time, and after seeing the enormity of the Eiffel Tower, it could have been the size of Central Park and I might still have thought, “meh.”

I had something of an ordeal getting into the Colosseum. I waited in line for about fifteen minutes, only to get to the ticket counter and find out I couldn’t afford to get in. It went like this: I hoped I could get the student discount. The student discount only applied to EU students. The cost was 11 euros and without the discount, I was 1 euro short. They didn’t take credit card at all. I searched for an ATM, found one, withdrew cash. I returned to the Colosseum, waiting in line again. Same ticket window. Then the woman (who hadn’t given me the discount) was berating me for not having a euro coin so she wouldn’t have to give as much change. All I had was a fifty, I explained this. And still she asked whether I could ask a friend for a euro coin. I look around at the flock of old people and Japanese tourists. I wonder where this so-called friend is. Eventually, she gives me the two 2-euro coins over which all this conflict occurred. I finally enter the Colosseum.

Despite my disappointment at the Colosseum’s size, and despite the ticket fiasco, I did enjoy walking around the Colosseum. It really is an amazing place, especially if you take a little of your imagination to strip away the layers of time and see the monument as it once was. Also, there was a cool exhibition on Homer Iliad, including sculptures and artwork depicting the Greek figures from the poem. I was surprised there weren’t more displays recounting the history of the Colosseum, but I suppose the tens of thousands of Christians and Romans that died in there might not be something you’d display too proudly. All the same, it would have been good to see an exhibit and timeline detailing the construction and use of the Colosseum.

As part of the ticket to the Colosseum, you gain passage onto the Palantine Hill, which lies just off from the Colosseum. Also present is Constantine’s Arch, as well as several other arch’s and similar structures. The Palantine Hill contains the ruins of Rome’s most early structures. In some cases, the craggy ruins appear to be little more than rocks, jutting up from the ground. In other cases, the ancestral legacy is quite apparent. The Palantine Hill is a huge area, and it took a long time to walk around. I’d intended to go to the Vatican after the Colosseum, but it soon became apparent that I wouldn’t have time.

Coming down from the Palantine Hill, I passed the remnants of the Roman Forum. Like with the Colosseum, I had very high expectations of this structure. I had thought that it had withstood time better, and that one could actually enter into the halls once tread on by the great senators of Rome. Heading away from this historical section of Rome, I plotted a plan that would take me across Rome and allow me to see most of the famous plazas and fountains.

Next on my stop were the Piazza Venezia (and Tomb of the Forgotten Soldier), Piazza Navona and the Pantheon. Along the way, I kept seeing these Egyptian Obelisks. Over the course of my time in Rome, I’ve probably seen half a dozen of them. I suppose its a testament to the historical relationship that Rome had with Egypt.

And of course there were lots of fountains. The fountain in the middle of the Piazza Navona was being refurbished, so that was a little disappointing, but the Pantheon made up for it tenfold. I think I enjoyed the Pantheon because I didn’t really have expectations. I had a pretty good idea what Athens’ Pantheon looks like, but I was unsure about the Roman Pantheon. The outside had enormous columns, which connected with the great domed structure. The Pantheon was converted into a church sometime during the Catholic Church’s reign, but even so, it was no less grandiose than it might have once been when statues of Pagan gods lined the walls. The great dome, with its broad opening in the middle to allow sunlight in, was totally encompassing. Standing under it, one felt incredibly small by comparison. As a church, the Pantheon was also kept very quiet, adding to the sense of splendor. I very much enjoyed it.

From the Pantheon I headed north (after getting a few scoops of gelato) toward the Piazza di Spagna, also known as the Spanish Steps. I’d actually intended to see the Trevi Fountain, but I accidentally neglected it in my navigatory path. The Piazza di Spagna was nice, though it was fully occupied by people. Throngs of people sat on the steps or, like the pigeons, milled about in the Piazza. Snapping a few pictures, I passed by the steps and headed toward my next destination.

Only I couldn’t seem to find my next destination. I found a set of stairs that ran adjacent to the Spanish Steps and which took me up to one of the upper level streets. Only at the wall, my way was barred by a giant wall. I did find a quaint (but well decorated, of course) church, which I gave a quick visit. After that, I followed along the wall for about fifteen minutes until I finally found an entrance. The place I was trying to reach was the Villa Borghese, a large park in the north part of Rome.

This was a wonderful break from the hustle and bustle of Rome. After having wandered through the streets and flows of tourists for almost four hours, I was ready to absorb some nice open space. The park was surprisingly empty, considering it was the largest of the parks near to Rome’s city center. There were the usual trees, fountains, statues. In fact, there was nothing particularly distinguishable about it besides that it was so different from the atmosphere of Rome, which lay only a stone’s throw away.

I wandered about the park and briefly considered going into the Galleria Borghese, but there was no artwork in it that particularly attracted me, and I’d spent enough time in galleries in Florence. (Plus I still had the enormous Vatican Museum to see). So instead I walked on and began to veer back toward the hostel.

By this time, I’d walked so far that I was actually only about fifteen minutes away. The streets that took me back were in a more quiet part of Rome (if there is such a thing) and it was nice not to have to walk abruptly back into the heart of the city after enjoying the park’s serenity. I was exhausted by the time I arrived back at the hostel. I had been out from about ten until four, walking almost the whole time.

I got on the computer and took care of a few correspondences before turning to my book. It wasn’t long after opening the book, though, before I drifted asleep. The nap lasted for about an hour and a half and when I awoke, I was craving food. I also ran back into Dan, Rebecca, and Renee. They went out for a meal, while I stayed in and cooked some and did a bit more reading. When they returned and I was all finished up with my stuff, we decided to go out to a bar.

This bar was pretty lame. Its whole theme centered around Miller Genuine Draught. Yeah—apparently that’s cool or something. I don’t think I’ve ever see MGD so expensive. I only ordered a small glass. I knew what to expect. And now I can honestly attest to the fact that MGD tastes exactly the same on the other side of the world as it does in the U.S., which is not very good. We decided we’d had enough of that and headed back to the hostel to hang out. Dan and Rebecca both bought rounds of beer and we stayed up talking. We were joined by another pair of Canadians.

Soon, though, the day’s tasks began weighing heavily on everyone and the group dispersed to go to bed. I was still feeling quite awake on account of my nap, so I stayed up a little later into the night and finally finished Labyrinth. The book was good, though the end lacked a certain POW that I had come to expect. At least I was done with it though and it could no longer distract me.

I’ll write more soon, and I’m going to link a bunch of pictures into the text of this blog, as well as the Cinque Terra entry, so keep a look out for those. Check back in a couple hours. Now I need to eat. Greg out.

Written at 10:23 AM, 10-4-06, somewhere between La Spezia and Rome.

My evening at the Ostello Archi Rossi in Florence ended with relative quiet. After watching Raiders of the Lost Ark, we put on Last Samurai, which we (the other backpackers and I) watched until about midnight. About that time, most people broke apart and retreated to their respective sleeping quarters.
Read the rest of this entry »

Written at 7:22 PM, 10-1-06 in Florence, Italy

I feel confident in saying that today went more smoothly than any day over the past…mmm…week or so. Not that my days in Greece had any other problems than the torrential downpour—but that in itself posed a pretty big bump in my plans.
Read the rest of this entry »

Written at 7:07 PM in Florence, Italy

It was an almost perfect day. Great weather, beautiful city, time well spent. Now you’re wondering why the “almost.” Well, hold your horses and I’ll tell you.
Read the rest of this entry »

Written at 7:38, 9-29-06 in Florence, Italy.

There’s not much to be said for the 24 hours following my previous post, at least not very much that’s positive. The most positive thing I could say is that I am no longer on the ferry and no longer in a train station in Venice or Bologna, which is where I spent the majority of the day.
Read the rest of this entry »

Written at 8:07PM on 9-28-06, in the Mediterranean Sea between Greece and Italy

We awoke, or rather I should say, I awoke to another stormy morning in Corfu, Greece. I say I awoke because Jacob had gotten up about three hours earlier, whereas I slept in until roughly 12:30PM. (This was on account of staying up until about 3:30AM). Throughout the night I’d heard indications that the storm had not abated, but I was unready for the torrent that confronted me outside. Sidewalks flooded, rain pouring off the canopies, and heavy sheets of rain pressing inward against the windows. What an irony that Greece should have been the sunniest place I went to and was instead the rainiest!
Read the rest of this entry »

Written at 11:53 PM in Corfu, Greece

In my last blog, I don’t think I quite did the Sunrock Hostel justice. I was tired of writing and describing it was kind of an after thought. In this hostel, I have only a day’s worth of experiences to write about, so perhaps I can adequately express the coolness of this place. Read the rest of this entry »