Opportunity Knocks

“Being nobody’s son, I was my own course and was filled with both pride and wretchedness…I have always preferred to accuse myself rather than the universe, not only out of simple good-heartedness, bu in order to derive only from myself.”
– Jean-Paul Sartre

Hola from Barrrrrrrcelona! I have just saved approximately 1 euro by climbing the mountain to my hostel as opposed to taking a bus. In retrospect, had I known the “20 minute walk” would have been completely up a steep hill, I might possibly have chosen public transportation rather than expose all the locals in the neighborhood to the crazy Blair, red-faced and cursing mercilessly at her back-pack. Since Rome, I stayed yet longer in Italy, going to a small Italian village called Legnaro where Nicole is living/teaching. It was lovely to get away from the big cities and just have some down time with Nic and her boss Sylvio and lovely wife Yoshia (spelling, Nicole?). It felt more like home that anything has in a while, which was especially important at that juncture as I’d managed to secure for myself a fun little virus. Legnaro is just outside Padova about half an hour, so we spent some time there with some of her friends and we also took a day trip to Verona. All in all, really splendid. With luck and good timing, I’ll make it back for Thanksgiving so we can cook up a tasty turkey dinner American style. Next, I ventured on to Milan again and then promptly out of Milan, again. I bought a ticket to Nice, but the train had a stop in Monte Carlo, so I just got off there, why not. From there, I went to Nice. It seems like a vibrant, thriving city…were I only not there on a Sunday…which I was. So I spent some quality time lying on the beach in my street clothes, trying to remember all my memories from forever. Tough business. Then, it was onward to Barcelona, where I am currently waiting for 1:30 to roll around so I can check in. So for now…
Happy Halloween
but more importantly,
Happy Birthday Dad!

“One has to chose ever so delicately among one’s difficulties, attaching oneself to the greatest, bearing hard on those and intelligently neglecting the others. If one attempts to tackle them all one is certain to deal completely with none; whereas the effectual dealing with a few casts a blest golden haze under cover of which, like wanton mocking goddesses in clouds, the others find prudent to retire.”
-Henry James, Preface to the Aspern Papers

Ciao! Well, I’m still here in Italy, a lovely country that has earned a disproportionate amount of my time in Europe thanks to the history, architecture and of course, the food. I was fortunate enough to meet two lads from Australia and Oregon on the boat from Athens who were also headed to Rome, so when I showed up at the train station at 11pm at night, I was not alone. I was here three years ago, but that apparently is enough time to forget the layout of the city. Luckily, one had been to Rome just a month earlier and knew a place to stay. Unluckily, when we got there, it was booked. So the first night was spent at something of a questionable looking establishment run by Chileans who we joked would wait for us to fall asleep so as to procure our vital organs. Really though, it was less haha, more blind fear. Needless to say, we survived, kidneys in tact to go back to the other hostel for the following two nights. I really enjoy this hostel, and I’ve managed to pick up a very little bit of Japanese, as it is run by a Japanese guy, Tomo, his girlfriend, and a few others. But more on this later.

They say all roads lead to Rome, and that’s all well and good, but what to do when you reach Rome? Then all of the many roads leading to Rome converge confusingly, conspiring against the innocent tourist used to the New York grid system. ‘I have walked a lot’ would be something of an understatement. Closer to the truth would be ‘the freakin map in the guidebook I took from the hostel was inaccurate.’ Really, some of the monuments were backwards in the pictures, not all mind you, but assuredly those from which I would have derived benefit in relocating my hostel in the evening. With my eurail pass, I am entitled to a discount on the ferry going from Salerno to Tunis, so I decided that might be fun. So today, I bid farewell to Rome and headed for Africa. I did not reach Africa. I am in currently in Rome. I got to Salerno (half the day on a train) and found that being Sunday, everything was closed, and I do not speak enough Italian to convey “I need a place to sleep tonight because my ferry to Tunisia doesn’t leave until tomorrow”. So, I decide to forgo Tunis for now, and go back up to Padova to try and find Nicole (much to her consternation, I am sure, being that I am only now notifying her of my arrival). Then probably a little southern French comfort. But I digress: returning to Rome, I find myself wandering back through the train station when who should I run into–but Tomo. So that is why I am back in Rome, at the same hostel, saying hello to the same puzzled people who saw me leave this morning.

And that’s all the story I have for you right now. I was personally very excited to finish The Gulag today, but perhaps this is not exactly enthralling for you. I know it wasn’t for me. I will try be more interesting before the next entry.

” ‘I would be glad to know which is worst, to be ravished a hundred times by pirates, to have one buttock cut off, to run the gauntlet among the Bulgarians, to be whipped and hanged at an auto-da-fe, to be dissected, to be chained to an oar in a galley; and, in short, to experience all the miseries through which every one of us hath passed, or to remain here doing nothing?’
‘This,’ said Candide, ‘is the grand question’ ”

-Voltaire, Candide

Hello, all. Well, I haven’t done anything to top skydiving in the last week, but I thought I should write nonetheless. Currently, I am in Athens, and place of obsession for me as I am immensely intrigued by ancient Greek culture, mythology and above all, architecture. Needless to say, the past two days have certainly quenched this and moreover, destroyed my poor feet which I chose foolishly to arm only with flip-flops. Other than that, I’ve passed my time here talking for hours on end about American politics (which I am in no position/inclination to defend) with my French and Hungarian roommates. Last night, I found a coffee shop and had a delicious chocolate banana crepe…and a coffee. Being that I do not drink coffee that often, it tends to have something of a notable effect on me. Last night it caused me to stare at a wall for approximately 30 minutes and then write furiously…pure nonsense…into my travel journal. (Thank you Tigs). I wrote many many pages of this nonsense, and thought to favor you with a sampling here, so that you may see why I generally opt for tea.

“Society is like a hair-do. All separate pieces attached to the same scalp. In a more liberal society, they may be different lengths and hues–cut and dyed that way. In a more traditional or constricted society, they are all encouraged to grow to the same length–or at least to have that appearance, lest we forget that hair ‘level’ on the bottom consists of longer hairs from the top, shorter from the bottom. Either way, unique or familiar, all the hairs grow at the same rate.”
-Me.

See what I mean? Below it I wrote, “The first pyramid was built because_____ ” and then seem to lose my train of thought, moving to another subject some lines down.

Since my last posting, I’ve spent time in Venice and Florence. Upon my arrival in Venice, I was met by a man in a suit at the train station who gave me a card for a hotel at a good price. So, instead of waiting in the line to see my other options, I just go there. It is actually a quaint little hotel, right off one of the canals. I pay the lady at the front desk and she takes me to my room…..or rather, the attic. Yes, my “room” is in the attic of the hotel, cut off from other beds by sheets hung on some rope stretched the length of said attic. (See picture on webshots) There is surprisingly a bathroom, but since the roof slopes, there is exactly one place I can stand in the bathroom without hitting my head. The good news is, directly above my bed, there is a skylight. So, with nothing better to do that evening, I crawl through the two foot space allowable and on to the roof to look at the people, moon and stars, unnoticed by all three. Unfortunately, the tiles on the roof are not secured, but I avert danger by crawling VERY SLOWLY upwards. It was lovely. The next two nights, I stayed with a woman who bid me call her, “Mama Rita” in her private home. The nuns told me to. Florence was also very amicable to me, though I upset to find the gellati was pricier there. I’ve also since spent a night on an overcrowded train where I was forced to lay on the floor , ew, and a very exciting 7 hours in a ferry port in Bari, neither of which I can really feel comfortable complaining about while reading about the horrors of the Gulag.

As alluded to earlier, my pictures are now on webshots and can be found at http://community.webshots.com/user/blairnlampe if’n you’re so inclined. They’re basically up to date minus a few more from Athens, coming soon.

Really, I’ve nothing else for you. Seek entertainment elsewhere.

Blair

“And I’m free. Free fallin'” -Tom Petty

I am in an airplane flying over the majestic Swiss Alps. I came here, to a small town called Interlocken (between the lakes) for one thing. It is simply gorgeous, snow capped mountains surrounded by crystal blue lakes as far as the eye can see. And it can see all from this height, miles and miles of picturesque landscape, like one giant postcard. And this is the perfect day, not just because of the date but the weather is clear, sunny. They tell me it is the first weekend in months that is has not been raining. But even in the midst of a place and a view such as this, it would be an outright lie to say that’s all I am thinking about. The other passengers on the plane are serenading me with ‘Happy Birthday’, a very personable bunch. But moreover, there is a man named Mick strapped to my back, and suddenly, the door of the plane has opened. Miles and miles and miles, and the door is open.
“ARE YOU READY?” Mick shouts.
“NO”, but I’ve already begun to assume the position: head back, legs back, arch.
Then nothing. Then sky, then green, sky, mountain, is that a house? sky, my hands, my feet, are my shoes going to stay on? close your mouth Blair, let go of your shoulder straps and open your arms, you’re flying. The wind is roaring, but I don’t hear it. The only word on my lips is wow, but it doesn’t get any further than that, my monosyllabic capacities have ceased to function, I didn’t even scream. I promised myself I would keep my eyes open; more than anything else–thinking about all the ‘what if’s and ‘what am I doing’s–just repeating to myself , if you’re gonna jump, make sure your damn eyes are open. And they were. It’s strange, it’s not how I imagined unmitigated falling would feel, there’s a very strong force from beneath, almost like you aren’t falling at all, but should be going upward. Combined with the undeniable gravitational pull, it’s almost as if you’re suspended in mid air. It’s hard to breathe at first, but only because you forget to do so. Then there is a violent tug, and you slow down, knowing the parachute has been deployed. Somehow though, this part frightened me more than the free fall, maybe because I had time to think. I must have asked poor Mick 7 times to make sure I stayed attached, don’t drop me. He just laughs, sings some more Happy Birthday; he’ll be doing this nine more times just today, all of them just as squeamish as me, same stupid jokes, nervous laughter.
“Wanna spin?” he asks.
“Well–” and we’re spinning. I get dizzy pretty easily. I tell him this.
“Look up at the chute” he coaches, “you won’t get dizzy.” Spin, spin.
“No, really. I’m getting kind of nauseous.” So he quits and we just glide for a while. It’s surprisingly peaceful, plummeting towards the earth. It is as if there is a layer of atmosphere below us that keeps all the sounds of the world in, like our daily lives take place in a cacophonous music box, and for this moment, I’ve stepped out, closed the lid. Then it’s over, lift your legs, skid onto the landing field. Give Mick a high five and thank him for saving your life. Then quickly sit down, deep breaths, have a Coke so you don’t pass out or throw up. (I did neither).

This certainly gives caving a run for its money.

P.S. I’d like to give a quick thank you for all the birthday wishes. I bought myself a rockin’ Swiss Army knife, and tonight I’m taking myself out to dinner, fondue maybe. Mmm. Also, I would like everyone to know that gmail hates me, and I have had several complaints of emails not received. Therefore, if you have written me at any time BEFORE October 1st and have not received a reply, it’s not because I didn’t write back. Please please please let me know and I’ll take care of it. As a general rule, if 2 weeks goes by and I haven’t responded to an email, it is because I did respond, but Gmail wasn’t listening. The time between Oct 1 and now, computers have been scarce, so any emails sent in this time will be answered in the next few days when I get to Milan. Cheers.

“…and I’ll tie a string around my finger so I don’t forget not to get so tied up to the things that I regret.” – Clem Snide, Summer

So I’m thinking from now on, I’ll start my blogs with a quote or a line from a song or something. How do you feel about that? Oh, what do I care how you feel, it’s my blog, and I’ll use all the cheesy quality writing infractions I wish.

So here I am in Budapest. “Budapest?” you ask. “Yes,” I say. I went to Munich from 7am to 12am but seeing as how hostel prices are currently double what I paid in March, I booked an overnight for Vienna. “So,” you ask wisely, “why are you not in Vienna?” “Well,” I reply, becoming somewhat agitated with all of your nosey questions, “I was tired, so I slept on the train through Vienna all the way to Budapest.” And that’s how the former soviet block cookie crumbles. I really like it here. For one, I have found an internet cafe which charges less than a euro for an hour, which is outstanding. Furthermore, the keyboard is an english one, so no more hunting out apostrophes. ‘ See? ‘ Isn’t that nice? ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ I’m so happy. I enjoy this city so much, I have booked 3 nights here and am contemplating booking a 4th. This really says something considering the most I’ve stayed anywhere else is 2. That’s committment. Actually, in all honesty, I haven’t seen as much of the city as I’d like, at least not above ground. But everything here is very cheap, and I had to do laundry and other time consuming things, like sleeping, so I needed a place where I could just relax for a while. Tonight, I’m planning on gourging myself at a Mongolian BBQ with an Aussie and a Canadian I met at the hostel, though I can’t say I’d mind if the Canadian changed his mind, I think he has the Black Lung. But I digress. I should tell about yesterday and my new passion, caving. I arrived at the hostel at noon and was still tired, so I slept for another few hours, but then, I signed up for a tour of the caving system below Budapest. My experience in the past has been these guided tours through really big holes underground, but that was about it. ‘Look at the stalagtites. Look at the stalagmites. Little girl, please stop climbing on that.’ That sort of thing. So when I signed up for this, I sort of expected something of the like, but the people at the hostel said it was a really good experience and the overalls and helmets were incluced in the price. Overalls and helmets? Ok, that sounds a bit more my speed. So into the caves I go. There’s an engaged couple in the group that likes me and wants me to stay in front of them, behind the guide, which I don’t mind. I like to play leader, you bump your head more, but there’s no one telling you what to do next, you have to figure it out.

Everyone’s sort of unsure what awaits them around the next dimly lit corner, and all I can do is follow the guide, trying to contort my body the way that he does, on to the next big opening. I wait for the rest of the group to scramble through, and there you all sit together, wondering if next, you to proceed through a large dark hole a few feet away. Instead, your guide points to a hole the size of your head and in his deep Hungarian accent says, “We go this way”.

I am not a claustrophobic person. I don’t mind the dark. But there is a moment when you are crawling on your stomach, straining your arms because you can’t bend your legs to push off; you don’t know how much further you have to go because you can’t look ahead, the passage is too narrow to hold your head anyway but sideways. In that moment, you remember where you are. 60 meters below the earths surface, solid rock above you, solid rock below. Well, from here it looks solid, but you know it isn’t. You know that here and there are caverns, spaces created by earthquakes, loose rocks and boulders, and above all, cracks, running along this “solid rock” that could at any moment make it not so. You feel suddenly, the weight of all that earth falling in before you can yell and remember that nature and its forces have never laid down their arms to the protests or pleadings of man. Yet there you are, alone now because your guide is experienced and nimble and has disappeared before your very eyes. Is this the way? How could this possibly be the way a body is meant to go? At this moment, I have no control. Then you feel it, room to turn your head, and as soon as that, it’s over and there’s more space than you know what to do with. You stand up. Breathe in. The air, cool, stale, saturated with sheer time, thousands of years this air has been here, long before humans knew this place existed. But it’s also the same air shared with those first spelunkers who climed into these depths one hundred years ago. Their voices are still there, lingering, the emotions escaping their lips and expressed in their caution as they explore dark trenches for the first time, it’s all there, hovering above you, all around. It’s in the layer of dirt that coats your body, gets in your lungs. You breathe in. What a rush.

And that’s caving. I love it. I think I’ve just discovered new criteria for decideing where to live. It was mountains, ocean, etc, now it is caves. I suggest it to anyone not afraid of small spaces, and maybe even those who are, just to add a little umph to your day.

The train from Oslo to Bergen was indeed beautiful, but it was also upwards of seven hours, most of this time spent in solitude, wondering at the nationality of the couple across from me. Sitting facing these people for so long, I still cannot ascertain knowledge as to what language they are speaking. Then, for some reason, (because I having not spoken to them or anyone else, they could not know which language I spoke) they ask me where I am from in an accent I do not recognize. [Note: you will not find a single conjunction in this entire blog, as I cannot find an apostrophe key] I tell them New York, and ask the same of them. Wales. ha. Anyway, they are very friendly and ask where I am staying, seeing as how it was rather late by this time and the information office was long closed. I tell them honestly that I do not know and they graciously offer to share their tent with me. Now, it should be noted that this sort of scenario is not new to me. For some reason–and it has been this was since I was 17 or so,couples in their almost 30s either just married or probably soon to be–love me. I have got my theories as to why this is, but will not expound upon them here, just suffice it to say when I meet a couple like this, I know they will almost immediately take a great shine and concern, sort of “we want to be your friend, but we are also suddenly filled with a feeling toward you that is very parental and protective” sort of thing. I do not mind. I enjoy all the care of an older relative or sibling, but with none of the repromanding that might accompany our subsequent behavior. In Norway, there is a rule that you can camp anywhere, so long as it is 300m from any houses. So we head towards a park we see on their map, but when we get there, find it is actually a militazy base, and probably not therefore appropriate for out camping upon. Then, it begins to rain. We seek shelter across the street under an awning that is possibly a loading dock. I learn they have just been to Spain for “cheap but good” wine and rum. So, with no where to go, and the weather being no condontinion to go in, we toast the night in leaky paper cups (made in the UK) and have a smashing good time sitting on the loading dock until 2am when the rain subsided and we checked into a hostel. I slept in quite a while and when I woke up, they were gone. Cést la vie. What was left of the next day I spent sightseeing around Bergen and met a Norweigian named Daniel, who was staying at the hostel because he had had a fight with his wife. An interesting character. Next, I was off to Hamburg for a day before finally arriving here, in Luxembourg. Luxembourg is a clean, green hilly machine. It is very small, which I suppose helps in keeping it so tidy. Tonight, I am overnighting it to Munich, to catch a day or so of Oktoberfest, though I doubt I will be able to find anywhere to stay, so will probably just move along to Switzerland where I have some business to take care of. But more on that later…

That’s right, after 3 weeks of trying, I have arrived! My apologies to those of you who I know I owe personal emails to (and to those whom I sent emails but who did not recieve them–well, I tried.) I’ll soon send more, but computers here are pretty expensive, and I haven’t really had any down time in a few days. After Stockholm, I borded a ferry to Helsinki, only to find that it was an overnight ride. It was lovely becase it went all through the archipelagos surrounding the coast, so that was really something. I made a trip to the on board duty free shop, picking up crackers, cheese and caviar, and settled in for my surprise cruise. Helsinki: City of randomly placed parks and woodland areas not shown on city maps. It was nice, the archetecture reminisent of St. Petersburg which made me a bit sentimental, being so very close to it. After the boat back, I returned to Stockholm and took an overnight train to Trondheim, Norway, where there is a lovely cathedral and sort of an olde town Norweigen feel. I enjoyed that for about a day, then it was the train to Oslo. So basically, I write now having not had a real bed for the past 3 nights. Tonight I hope to procure one, but as I could not find one in Oslo, I’ve booked a train to Bergen, a city amidst the fjords, and supposedly the most “beautuful train ride in the world”. We shall see. Then I’m back to Oslo, then then I’m escaping Scandinavia in the general direction of Luxembourg…I think. As I promised, I’ll be sending more emails asap, most of which I even have written, but not the time to type out. Alas. Speak with you soon

Blair

Quoc?

Ok, this one’s gonna be short because I only have 5 minutes remaining. I left Amsterdam for Coppenhagen, spent a few nights there and now I’m hanging out in Stockholm….Slowly but surely, closer to Oslo. After all this hype, I’m a bit worried that it’s not going to be the Emerald City, but that’s ok, I liked the rest of the movie too. Mmm. Poppies. Not much to report once again, I kind of fell into a slump strangly linked to the inclimate weather in Coppenhagen, so I just kind of lingered and napped while I was there, but now I’m feeling back on my game. No northern lights yet, but here’s hoping.