From Africa To Russia

In the morning, take the boat once again, sit top deck, enjoy the beautiful sunshine and the breeze. Gaze out across the water into the mist. Somewhere out there is Algeria and Libya and the whole mysterious mammoth girth of Africa. I hike through the alleys of Venice with my pack on my back. No matter how carefully I follow my map, I wind up in dead ends, or going in circles. A bit maddening without signs. I wind up at the extreme west end of the island, having overshot the train station. I backtrack a bit, twist and turn and eventually find it. I take my pack off and rest in a park for a spell. My shirt is soaked through with sweat. The mosquitos enjoy this. Stop in at a little cafe near the train station, hoping to save some money. I pick out a bacon and brie sandwich, 3.50 euros. I have a coke with it, and then a beer. The bill comes: sandwich: 4.50 euros, coke: 4.00 euros, beer: 6 euros. Highway robbery, no two ways about it. The train to Vienna is mostly empty, but there are two Californians sitting with me, Chris and Alitha. The train ride is long, but the conversation is good and time passes quickly. We ride through mountains and valleys, some of the peaks sprinkled with snow. There are cottages here and there, and everything looks like something out of a dream, truly magnificent country. I realize on the train that what I thought were allergies in Venice were actually the beginnings of a cold, which proceeds to get into full swing in a very short space of time. We get to Vienna around ten, grab the metro and I find my hostel. As I am walking on the street towards it, Germany scores in the World Cup with only five minutes left, and I hear eruptions in just about all the apartments in Vienna all at the same time. The reception guy at the hostel is ecstatic, he has been watching the game and can barely contain himself. He giddily showers me with gifts: a free towel, a handful of drink coupons. The hostel I am staying in is called Wombats and is really top notch, a lot of attention to detail, a highly recommended stop in Vienna. I am feeling like crap because of the cold and collapse in bed immediately.

Take my shower in the morning, air-dry on the walk back. Take the boat into Venice again, walk around a bit, see the Arsenal (a military building of some sort, I believe naval – there are fellows in white caps and outfits milling about) and the public garden. It is hot and I am tired. I was going to head across to the other island to go to the beach but I don’t think I’ll make it. I stop for lunch, and with the cost I just about give up on the idea of saving money on this trip, at least in Venice. The beverages in particular, any ingestible liquid is three euros minimum (and usually a lot higher). I order a beer and a wine anyway. A group of three from New York sit down at the table next to me, a nice bunch, we chat for a while. It is nice just to talk with someone for a while who is not looking at you like you are a turd. One of the women is from the town next to mine where I live in New Jersey, small world. I ask the guy how his trip is going. “I’m sick of churches,” he says. Head on back to the boat, after having dallied too long at lunch and having to jog it in to make it in time. Take a nap, lounge around, no World Cup at three on the TV, sad for me. The Italian chapter, and thus the southern leg of the journey is drawing to a close, soon to head north. At night I go over and watch France tie Switzerland, and hang out with Luis, Manfred from Germany, Toby from Poland, an English guy and an Australian originally from Macedonia. Truly an international cast.

Wake up, catch the boat to Venice, ticket is twenty euros for three days, unlimited trips. Families take pictures on the ferry, every little child has his own digital camera. We disembark. Venice is wonderful, it is all canals and ... [Continue reading this entry]

Take the train to Venice via Bologna. A hot Italian broad in the seat next to me, tossing and turning and talking to herself, vaguely agitated. Another guy reading a book and talking to himself, teaching himself Chinese. A Chinese ... [Continue reading this entry]