Geneva avec Famille

Switzerland brought with it familiar faces.

More specifically it was the first (and only) time on this trip I saw family.
My cousin, Gabe has been living with his wife Lauren and working in Geneva for almost a year now.

If I remember correctly, the two years working in Switzerland had come about via the same company he had worked for in America.
The two of them picked me up from the train station. This was another one of those rare occasions where picking me up meant with an actual vehicle.

We actually ended up going directly to the Swiss watch museum from the train station.  It might sound like we were rushing through things, but really it was great planning on their part.

I arrived on a Saturday afternoon, and I would be leaving on a Tuesday.  I hadn't realized it, but most museums in Geneva were closed on Sundays AND Mondays, so I just had a small window of opportunity to see some really cool watches.

I don't know if cool is the best way to describe some of these watches.  Jaw dropping might be more appropriate. I'm not even talking about the amazing accuracy of watches built over one hundred years ago.  The amount of ornamentation that went into some of these pieces was amazing.  Semi-precious stones with engravings, mother of pearl landscapes, tiny portraits of royal families and their crests. 
And those were just the traditionally shaped pocket watches.  They also came in so many varieties of different shapes.  Eggs, birds, flowers that opened, pendants, ladies' fans, any thing you could dream up.

Perhaps the most intricate were the larger clock pieces that had mechanical moving figures. Most impressive to me were the beautiful little mechanical birds that dances around while they sang in their beautiful little golden cages.  The museum was dedicated mostly to Phillip Patek watches, which is apparently still an expensive brand even today.

Afterwards, we returned to their flat, which was absolutely gorgeous.  I was actually expecting a smaller living space, given that we were in Europe after all, but this was more spacious than most of the American flats I have seen even.  First floor (meaning one floor above ground, which is 0), very welcoming open foyer/dining/living area, and even a guest bedroom (I'm always happy to take a vacation from my old friend the couch).

We ate dinner in that night and discussed the game plan for Sunday.  There were only a few limitations.  Firstly, Sunday means almost all normal shops and museums are closed.  And secondly, crazy amounts of walking were out of the question as well.

Lauren was currently in the recovery stages of not just foot surgery, but FEET surgery.  By the time I arrived in Geneva, she had graduated to walking on her own, but she wasn't about to win a marathon anytime soon.

There were several factory/museums within driving distance, so it came down to picking my favorite food group.

Either wine, cheese, or chocolate.
I had visited many many great wine regions in France.  One can never visit too many vineyards though.  I had been to the Lindt chocolate factory in Cologne, but this one sounded different.  Plus, Gabe and Lauren had not been to it either.  I'd never seen cheese made before.  That could have been interesting, but I figured flooding my system with gruyere would be something I'd regret later.

So chocolate and wine it was.

It took us less than two hours to reach the Callier chocolate factory.  Actually I wouldn't have been sad if the drive had taken us five hours.  Between the mountains, vineyards, and cute little towns, there was never actually anything to see, but it was all still so beautiful.

As we neared the factory (according to the GPS) the road got narrower and more winding.  We were sort of snaking our way down a very rural valley.  Gabe made the joke that maybe they needed all the cows to make the milk chocolate (turns out he wasn't far off!)

The Callier chocolate factory ran groups in rotations by language.  From what I could see, they were mostly in French, English, and Italian, with some German as well.  We arrived pretty much perfectly in time for the English tour.

Now, when I went to the Lindt factory in Cologne, I was promised the Willy Wonka of chocolate factories.  Sadly Lindt had fallen short, but I thought Callier hit it spot on.

The whole tour was automatic animations and voice overs that kept you in one room until it opened up to reveal the next.  It was all aimed at someone closer to half my age...which is probably why I loved it.
You started in the dark Aztec jungle, where chocolate all started.  Then we moved on to Spanish explorers, European royalty, and forbidding popes.

Eventually your brought to Switzerland, where they started adding milk to chocolate.

Apparently its not as easy as one might think to add milk to chocolate, make it stick together, taste good, AND not go bad.  It took several collaborating minds, including Cailler, to perfect the recipe.

The tour then moved into more recent times, capitalizing the huge business chocolate has become and the elaborate advertisements that came along too.

At the end, the tour talked about present chocolate making practices, including a machine you could watch through glass, as well as, what else but a tasting :)

There were probably thirty or so different chocolates laid out for tasting.  Anyone with a wrapper on got slipped into my purse for later.  I couldn't handle all the unwrapped ones though either.  We left feeling spoiled, but not uncomfortable at least.

Afterwards, we took a short drive south to Lavau.  There, the entire town was built into a hillside that overlooked Geneva Lake.  The sun wasn't shining, but it was simply gorgeous.

Amongst the cottage like houses and five-table cafes, were vineyards cut into tiers in the side of the hill.
We reached a winery at the very bottom near the lake, and it was like a movie. Lake and mountains on one side, waterfall cascading down the other side.

Really Switzerland? That's how you're going to be?

The winery itself wasn't huge.  It was rather like a wine cellar built into a cave with little high top tables to taste the wine.  The real specialty of this winery was the film it showed in the basement.

The screen was set into three long "steps"of screens, as to imitate the way in which the vineyards here were arranged. The story followed a local wine maker (or rather an entire family, as that's how many people it takes) through an entire year.
It was a very well done film, and such an interesting story. 

Wine making is a year long process.  Each plant is pruned and personally attended to several times a year, pre-grapes and with grapes.  Everything is tested and recorded.  The wine maker could tell you exactly what the weather was, and exactly what the vines were doing on any given day of any given year since he took over the wine making (it wouldn't have surprised me if he had his father and grand-father's records as well).

Pruning was a whole family event, as was harvesting. Only harvesting included a whole lot more sweat.  They showed teenage kids with these contraptions on their backs that looked like manual forklifts.  Each forklift held three or four crates that they would fill with grapes, then carry back to the truck.  Now I'm terrible at estimating volume, but these crates must have been 2x3x2 ft.
Can you imagine how heavy just one would be?

The film really pushed the idea that at any moment, an entire years work could be destroyed by the weather.  I don't think I could handle that type of devastation.

I come from a family of farmers, and weather has been unkind to us before as well.  I cannot say where our farms may be more or less work, I can say that we don't put that amount of love into our corn like these people do into their grapes.

After the movie, we of course had to taste this hard work for ourselves.  I had gone in skeptical of Swiss wine, but what I had was quite good, I thought (after willingly drinking one glass of Franzia, I think one loses all wine credibility...)

We returned to Geneva and went out to a local tapas/burger pub.  Apparently, in Geneva, it is difficult to find a good restaurant in the medium price range.

Oh yes, I haven't explained just exactly how expensive Geneva is.

Geneva is the third most expensive city in the world, next to Zurich and Tokyo.

Its impossible for me to explain, so using the "Big Mac Index"

USA=$4.20 Switzerland =$6.81

Now granted, the quality is much better here.  No GMO's, most everything is Swiss grown/made.  After WWII, Switzerland wanted to be completely self sufficient, that way they could survive even in the event of being cut off from trade during war.  You're not just encouraged to buy Swiss.  Its pretty much a rule and often your best choice anyways.

Switzerland seems like its really got its shit together.

Bonne Nuit Geneva
Tegs

Dairyland for the Lactose Retarded

My plan for Switzerland had been Geneva, Bern, Zurich.  However, when I sent out my request for a couch in Bern, I got a reply from a couple in the nearby town of Fribourg (pronounced Free-bore).  Lauren had a friends that had visited there and heard it was beautiful.  After a brief google, I quickly accepted.

Xavier and Elise sounded like fun people and I couldn't pass on such a cute little town.  Plus, Bern happened to be situated between Fribourg and Zurich, so I could still make a visit if I wanted.

Xavier was the principle host online, and while they had no hosting references, they had been surfers before.  Plus, with a girl in the household I don't feel near as exposed.

I was so glad I made the exception, because Fribourg was absolutely gorgeous.  It had, what I would consider, extremely hilly streets, which only added to its dynamics.  All the buildings were old and made from stone, with little street lamps hanging above the doors. 

Just a ten minute walk from the station to their flat and I was already in love.

Both Xavier and Elise walked me back to their flat.  By sheer coincidence, Elise had actually been on the same train from Geneva.  While we were just on the edge of the French part of Switzerland, both of them also spoke German in addition to English.

Now as it turns out, I had come at a very important time in Switzerland.  That night was the Swiss hockey championship final game.  Bern vs Zurich.  Elise had to get up early the next day, so when she went to bed, Xavier and I headed across town to watch the game at a pub with his friends.

I had thought that since Fribourg was so close to Bern, that they would side with them.  However, Bern had beat out Fribourg, so everyone was backing Zurich instead. 

By the time we got there, it was the last period.  It was a 1-1 tie game, until Zurich scored two seconds before the buzzer.

Afterwards, we went for a victory beer.  Most of Xavier's friends peeled off to go home, so it ended up just being three of us.  We mostly ended up talking about music. 

He had an interesting taste in a wide variety of music, as I had already heard some samples back at his flat.  He also was a bit of a promoter of music in Fribourg.

Xavier had bought an old public transport bus and turned it into a party bus/business hub/backstage hang out: Le BusPoint.  Some major carpentry work went into this thing, as well as plenty of electrical planning.  He used it to rent out to customers as well as a band interview venue for local festivals.  One of which festivals was actually put together and planned by Xavier and some of his friends.  Kind of amazing really.

The next day, Elise had to work but Xavier only had a short meeting in town, so he offered to show me around a bit.

Fribourg is an absolutely beautiful old city that's partially in a valley next to a river, and the rest of the city was situated above with various hilly streets. 

It was a very long hike up the hill on the other side of the valley, but the view was so worth it.  You could see literally the whole town.  Xavier even pointed out his apartment building from clear across the city. Everything was very green there.  On the way down the hill, we passed a flock of sheep and other various small groups of farm animals, including these adorable baby goats. 

After fully descending (and then scaling the opposite side of the valley), Xavier pointed me down a long street of shops and left for his meeting.  I walked this street pretty much until I started to see more livestock than people. 

I headed back to the flat, as Elise was supposed to be back soon, and that night they were making traditional Swiss fondue for dinner.

Fondue is too good to let something like dairy intolerance stop me from eating it.

My mother makes a cheese fondue for holidays using various cheeses, mostly different types of cheddar I believe, and beer.  The Swiss use two types of cheeses, Gruyere and Emmanthaler, and dry white wine.  It is difficult to make such an authentic fondue in the states because the Gruyere we can buy is almost guaranteed to be pasteurized, as in Switzerland it is not.

We dipped bread into the fondue, and it wasn't impolite to just eat straight of your skewer.  My hosts put a bit of tabasco on their plate to dip their bread in, but Xavier said his father would be appalled if he saw him doing that.  The tabasco was a nice addition.  I also mentioned that in the States, we would dip apples in the cheese to.  They had never tried it, but agreed that it sounded like a pretty tasty idea.

That night we decided to watch a movie.  They asked if I had any suggestions as to an American film they hadn't seen.  I mentioned the movie Crash.  If you have never seen the movie, I highly suggest it.  I'm pretty sure it won several awards.  The film is really five our six stories that are all interconnected, and each story has to do with stereotypes, racism, and religious stigmas.  There's no way to explain the movie, you just have to see it.

Elise and Xavier loved it.

I explained that not everyone acts like they do in the movie, but everyone has at least a hint of each stereotype in the back of their mind.  They may not act based on those stereotypes, but the thoughts are still there.  We can't help it.  The mind creates stereotypes and schemas to process information faster, sometimes they are generalizable, sometimes not.

After the movie (and checking the score of the Chelsea match), we all hit the sac.  The two of them had to work the next day, and I was stopping in Bern on my way to Zurich.

Salut Fribourg
Tegs

Peace, Love, and Large Hadron Colliders

It was good to be back in a French speaking city.  Finally, I could read shop signs and bus ticket machines.  I could guess my way through Italian, but Hungarian, for instance, turned my brain to noodles trying to make sense of it.

I had just one thing I had to see in Geneva, or I wasn't leaving.

CERN

CERN stands for Conseil Européen pour la Recherche Nucléaire.  The name has since been changed to European Organization for Nuclear Research, but they kept the acronym.

CERN contains quite a few different scientific contraptions.  Some work together, others work alone.  All are for a common goal:

To discover the Higgs Boson, and better understand the beginnings of our universe.

In a nutshell, CERN smashed particles together at high speeds and looks at the chunks that fly off.

Specifically, they're looking for the Higgs Boson.

Now I don't pretend to know a lot about this part of physics, I've yet to take any quantum classes at all.  But from what I do understand, the Higgs Boson is a hypothetical particular type of elementary particle.  It has certain properties that, if it were confirmed to exist, would help to explain how other elementary particles have mass.  It would also hopefully help gain evidence for Super Symmetry, a concept I'm not comfortable enough with to explain.

To see an actual out of commission collider and get the full tour, you need to book reservations WAY in advance.  I checked over two months before I left for Europe, and I still could not get a reservation.

Not to be disappointed, there are two other free to the public exhibits.  One was a more interactive physics lesson.  You started with little demonstrations that proved the basics.  Copper coils with magnets, lights shining through holes, gold foil and fake alpha particles etc.  Then it slowly eased you into less tangible concepts until finally you got into the hypothetical.

I really would like to go back for the full tour after I take a few more classes. I learned a lot, but I also think there was a lot that I missed.

The other part of the CERN exhibit was a huge globe that had all these interactive touch spheres that showed you how CERN operated more in depth.  There was also a "movie" that played every fifteen minutes in a different language.  The"movie" played on every surface on the inside of the globe.  It explained why they were smashing particles and what new discoveries could mean.  Each collision produces insane amounts of data that are sent and analyzed by different scientists all over the world.  I thought the collision patterns themselves were kind of pretty looking.  You can google LHC collision images, or there is one you can sort of see an example in one of my pictures.

The only other ambition I had in Geneva was to see the Palace of Nations.

The Palace of Nations was originally built to be the headquarters of the League of Nations, which was formed after WWI by the ideas of Woodrow Wilson.  Speaking of which, as a president we learn so little about (all I knew is he was the only president with a PhD), he is pretty popular in Europe.  At least in Geneva alone, there were several buildings and such named after him.

Anyways, the League of Nations fell apart at the start of WWII (ironic, as preventing war was one of its higher objectives), and after WWII came the modern United Nations.  The Palace of Nations became the Geneva UN headquarters.  Fun fact, it was the Geneva UN headquarters since 1946, but Switzerland did not join the UN until 2002.  Now, while the main headquarters are of course in NYC, certain branches of the UN are actually run from Geneva.  The United Nations Human Rights Council is stationed there.  The other ones I can recall especially also had to do with human rights, some aspects of war, and also genocide.

When you arrive at the palace, you MUST have your passport.  When you enter the grounds, you are actually leaving Switzerland and entering a neutral zone.  I actually arrived just in time, as you must also be with a tour guide, and they only run two sets of tours per day.

The tour mostly consisted of seeing the conference rooms, from both spectator views and member views.  On the floor of the UN, each seat had headphones that they would select to hear one of six channels.  Each channel was one of the six spoken UN languages that six interpreters would be simultaneously translating whoever was speaking on the floor at that time. 

This meant that in order to be a UN representative, you must speak either English, Spanish, French, Mandarin, Arabic, or Russian.  These were not chosen randomly though, they are the six most spoken languages in the world.

One of the more interesting aspects is the UN logo.  It is a globe surrounded by two olive branches symbolizing peace.  The cool thing is, the globe is actually looked at from the north pole, as to symbolize that no country or continent is above another.

We saw two particularly remarkable conference rooms.  One had extremely large sepia murals, by I believe a Spanish artist, representing the succession of humanity.

They. Were. Amazing.

The other conference room that was beautiful had a ceiling designed by Miguel Barcelo.  He used different materials and was advised by many different engineers to get the desired stalactite effect, then followed it up with spray paint.  Apparently the artist's research and brainstorming process was just about as long and as costly as the actual finished project itself.  It was definitely interesting and beautiful, but it makes you think, couldn't that money have been put towards helping people?  They spent tens of millions on this ceiling.  Which sort of leads to a deeper question. 

Developed countries spend millions and millions on art and other types of aesthetics.  Meanwhile, undeveloped countries may not have clean water.  Shouldn't we be forsaking art until the rest of the world reaches a higher standard of living? That isn't necessarily my opinion, as a producer and consumer of art, it would be very difficult for me to see that happen.  But it does make you think...

The day out and about concluded with dining in.  The next day, Gabe would fly to Belgium for a short business trip, and I would also leave for my next city.

If your interested in more Switzerland, or what its like to be an American living in a new culture, Gabe and Lauren also run a blog.

Au revoir Geneva
Tegs

Water Under Bridges

It rained the next day.

In fact it rained the ENTIRE next day.

Sadly, Alison and Julian left early that morning, but us three remaining couch surfers and Alberto were all to go into Venice together.

After the compulsory half an hour bus ride.  We just took of into the city.  Venice is not arranged into any sort of navigable grid.  The lack of right angles and abundance of small allies make using a map sort of pointless.  You would literally have to hold it the whole time.

Once you put it away, you'd be lost again already.

So we just wandered off.

We ended up making what I think was sort of a large figure eight.  It didn't matter where we went.  It was beautiful EVERYWHERE.  Every building was old and gorgeous. Every time we crossed over a canal I could have taken at least six postcard photos.  Vines with flowers grew up the sides of antique door frames.  Even the window frames with their peeling paint and warped panes were worth admiring.

Eventually we started to follow signs that led us to Piazza San Marco (the most famous square in Venice, the one in all the diamond jewelry commercials). 

Now it was raining of course, and despite my very adequate rain coat, Alberto insisted upon holding his umbrella over me.  Which at times was a bit annoying (did I mention my bubble?).  At other times, it was rather hilarious. 

Venice has tons and tons of tourists walking around it's tiny winding alleys. Pair the already cramped space with shop awnings and an over sized umbrella, and you get some rather humorous physical comedy.  Every once on a while, Alberto's umbrella would get caught on something and yank him backwards.

I may or may not have purposely navigated some tight spaces, just to see it happen. (I know you're reading this Alberto, my apologies for being evil, now you know my true nature)

Once we made it to San Marco, I must say I was rather disappointed.  It looked just how I had imagined, plus five hundred tourists with Nikons around their necks.  It wasn't especially beautiful or picturesque anymore.  We quickly moved on to the shore.

We walked around the shore, practically a fourth of the way around Venice, it felt like.

All the while, my feet are positively sloshing inside my boots.

Cobblestones had worn holes in the bottoms, and so there was consistently more water in my boots than there was on the sidewalk at any given moment.  Literally, at times there were bubbles coming out of the toes.

We walked around for four or five hours, then I said I couldn't handle anymore.  My feet stung every time I took a step.  The extra weight of the water had also given me shin splints that only added to the misery.

I tried to keep quiet as long as I could.  I didn't want to ruin Zuzanna and Jacek's visit.  Which brought me to another realization, I much preferred traveling by myself.  I hated constantly thinking about how to see what I wanted to see, while still pleasing the other half of the group.  Being considerate of others
is kind of tiring, being selfish is easy.

When we got back, I found that my feet had been rubbed completely raw.  Every step was like walking on hot coals.  It took a week for them to go back to normal.

After returning and hanging our shoes up on the heater.  We got some pizza from a shop literally ten meters away.  And they were really, really good.  Clearly we aren't doing it right in America.  The one pizza, called "pony", had, guess what kind of meat? If Alberto hadn't told me, I wouldn't have known it was anything different than beef.  All of it was so worth the belly ache I got later from all the cheese.

We followed up dinner with some drinks.  One was awesome, the other was truly terrible.

The first was Alberto's homemade limoncello creme.  And I mean homemade.  Like he grew the lemons.  It was just like traditional limoncello, only thicker with some vanilla flavor to it.

The other drink was Mezzo Mezzo, meaning half and half.  Half being Asian melon liquor, the other half being rhubarb liquor.  Sounds good right? Wrong.  Either they have a different breed of rhubarb over here, or they use the leaves rather than the stalks.  No clue.  But it was bitter, and terrible, and reminded me of that foul black candy they had in Scandinavia.

I have yet to fully recover from its taste.

That night, with Julian and Alison gone, Zuzanna and Jacek got the upstairs bed.  I told Alberto I would take either the floor or the couch, not the same arrangement as the previous night.  Being a gentleman, he took the floor.

Once again, with the Polish couple upstairs, Alberto tried to convince
me to stay.  I felt a little bad for the guy.  With the way he described Italian women, it didn't seem as if they would have been very compatible.  I said that I could not stay, we left it at that, and went to sleep.

I was abruptly awoken by a cellphone light and someone sitting over me on the couch.  It could have been five minutes later, it could have been fifty minutes later, I have no idea, because I had been sound asleep.

He asked if I would kiss him.

Now when I am woken from a really deep sleep, I'm typically incoherent and have no ambitions to become coherent.  I just want to go back to what I was doing.

I turned my face into the back of the couch, said no, and tried to get back to that REM cycle I was in the middle of.

Imagine trying giving medicine to a four year old.  I'm guessing that's kinda what I looked like turning my head away.

I'm not sure how long he sat there trying to convince me otherwise (incoherent, like I said), but I remained with my head turned until he gave up.

That morning, I had to get up super early to catch my connecting trains to Geneva.  The Polish couple was not awake, but Alberto was.

As I was packing to leave, he asked that I would never forget him.  I said of course I would not (after all this had been a one-of-a-kind surfing experience).  He then gave me his last bottle of limoncello creme, and told me to take it with me, and think of him when I drank it back in Ohio.  I was very honored with his gift, as making the liquor is not a quick process, and also that last bottle was supposed to go to a party he was attending later that evening.

However.

One must understand the sheer weight of a 750mL glass bottle full of dense creme liquor.  I knew when I took it, there was no way I could carry it for seven more weeks.  Even if I had, the chance of it making through customs was risky at best. 

I took it, intending to offer some to my future hosts and share some of the Venice I experienced.

Later, when I asked Alberto if I could write about him in my blog, he said of course.  He said to write whatever I wished, good or bad. He also later apologized for his behavior.  An apology, I told him, wasn't necessary.  It was all part if my experience in Italy, and I wouldn't have had Venice any other way.

Ciao Venezia
Tegs

That's Amore!

Considering that I planned this entire trip from my couch in Ohio, I've had very few problems, I'm proud to say.  But there are some things I definitely would have done differently.

For instance, I would have reversed my city order from Vienna, Bratislava, Budapest to Budapest, Bratislava, Vienna instead.

Because, to go from Budapest to my next city, Venice, meant I had to take a train all the way back to Vienna first.

All in all, Budapest to Venice took two trains, one bus, and eleven hours of my day.

I like long train rides, but I'll admit its poor usage of my limited time here.

On the bus, I meet a Swedish guy named Tuna (sp?), who was studying abroad in Vienna and visiting Venice.  He was kind of clueless where he was supposed to go once he got of the bus (who doesn't bring a map?!).  I offered to let him tag along with me to get directions from my host, Alberto, who was meeting me at the bus stop.

It took us a minute to find Alberto, and once we did he was a little less than enthusiastic about Tuna and his questions.  I could understand why though, we were kind of on a tight schedule.

That night was a dinner for Alberto's local political party, which he was very active in.  I had arrived shortly after six, and the dinner was at eight.

The thing about Venice, is that bit many people actually live in the city.  Unless they are extremely rich, most people live on the mainland (Venice is an island for those of you that didn't know, like me). 

So to get to Alberto's house in Mira, we had to take a 30 minute bus.

We crammed ourselves into an over crowded bus.  My backpack, which sticks out a foot behind me, was making me the least popular passenger, per usual.  Eventually I took it off, and held it between my legs.

About ten minutes in, verbal banter broke out between the driver and the whole front half of the bus.  It sounded intense to me.  I for sure thought the driver was about to go mafia on the one guy.  Apparently, it was mostly about the bus being late, etc.

Everything sounds intense in Italian.

We made it to Alberto's house, and I met his two other couch surfers, Alison and Julian.  They were both studying abroad in Bristol, but Julian was from Canada, and Alison was from Australia.

Native English speakers.  After a while abroad, you miss the little things about native English speakers.  Non-natives tend to overuse words like "exactly"or phrases like "for me, it's okay".  Not that those aren't okay things to say, I can always understand the meaning.  I just have to sort of "digest" non-native English, whereas listening to an American takes no extra effort.

Someone on my trip actually mentioned how a group of exchange students, from all over Europe, could understand each other perfectly in English.  Even though it might be their second or third language, it would be their only common language.  But throw a native English speaker in the group, and I guarantee it will be much harder for them to understand everyone else.

Ironic a bit.

Back to Venice.

After a quick pit stop, the four of us headed to the dinner.  We met a friend of Alberto's down the street, who took us in his car. 

Now when I heard "political dinner", I assumed it would be a sit and tie type affair.  In an effort to be proper, I donned the fanciest thing I had with me (a cotton t-shirt dress...). 

Turns out I had nothing to worry about. 

The dinner was in a small family restaurant, where all the seats were benches, and the toilet was a hole in the floor with a garden hose for sanitation.

I had an awesome time at this dinner.

Our table had the only for people speaking English (between Alison and Julian being Asian, and me being blonde, it wasn't hard to pick out the foreigners.) It was great to have the two of them there with me.  They were both hilarious, I loved hearing their views on living in England.  Plus, it's so much less awkward when there's a group of you that doesn't really know how to act. 

Alberto, having read my profile, brought up Star Trek at some point.  I admitted that I had never seen an episode, simply because I had always felt loyal to Star Wars, and Star Trek seemed like the other woman.  Trying to convince me of Trek's superiority, he cited that Martin Luther King Jr. watched and loved Star Trek.  I said, had he been alive to see it, he would have recognized Star Wars as the bigger genius.

Touché.

Our geek discussion continued quite a bit further, to The Big Bang Theory and beyond.

Dinner consisted of thirteen million different courses. 

There was bread.  Then there was a meat and cheese plate.  Then there was a dish of deli-type salads.  Then there was falafel type things. Then a heavy wild rice dish.  Then, since the main course was taking too long, they brought out the best fries ever, fried in olive oil I believe.

The main course: braised donkey.

When I read the menu online beforehand, it had not occurred to me how closely donkey and horse are related...

Oh, but it was good.

At the dinner there was also a handful of kids that had come with their parents.  One in particular was a seven year old girl named Valentina who had taken a liking to me for some reason. 

Now I've never really been around children, and I'm not a huge fan of them.  Frankly I just don't know how to interact, but I tried my best.

She knew very little English, so Alberto was doing most of the translating.  She asked if I was from England.  When I said no, America, she got kind of excited.  She told me I was very pretty, and that she wanted to come back to America with me.  I joked about shoving her in my suitcase.  She took it rather seriously and yelled to her mom that she was going to America!  I felt a little bad because I think she actually believed it.  I said that I would write to her if she gave me her address.  So she did, and she asked for mine as well.  I also found out that her birthday was coincidentally the same as mine! I think I will send her a birthday card postmarked from the states.

I couldn't understand her fascination with me.  Alberto said that, to them, I seem like a Britney Spears or a Lola Bunny.  Valentina had even referred to me as being like Lola Bunny.  I thought this was hilarious.  Also apparently I wiggle around a lot when I talk and do this thing with my shoulders that is very animated and unusual to them.  I'd never noticed.

Another surprising thing Alberto said, was that while Valentina was a sweet girl now, she would grow up to be a snobby and spoiled typical Italian woman.  Of course I had heard of this stereotype, but I hadn't thought of it as a solid rule.

It has been a common theme among many of my hosts to say that American girls are much more open than girls of their country.  Some have even said cooler and more fun, but I don't mean to brag...  I have also heard the opposite.  That previous Americans my hosts had had were arrogant and boring, and generally acted as if their country and citizens were superior to any other.

By the time the dinner had finished, we were all about to go into a food coma.  Upon returning to Alberto's house, he received a message from two Polish surfers, whose previously arranged host on Venice had flaked on them.

Now as it turned out, Alberto only had one bed and one couch.  Now he had five surfers.  Julian and Alison got the bed upstairs that they had been sleeping on previously.  The Polish couple set up blankets on the floor in the living room and I got the couch.  This left Alberto.

I made a joke (of course I did) that I'd take two couch cushions, and he could have the third.

He took this into serious consideration.

What ended up going down, was we both shared all three cushions, but in opposite directions. 

There were Italian feet directly under my pillow.

It was generally uncomfortable, but I couldn't say anything.  Where else would he have slept?  He promised to be a perfect gentleman, and I trusted him.  Besides, with two other people in the room, I couldn't foresee anything bad happening.

While the Polish couple (Zuzanna and Jacek) were in the upstairs bathroom, Alberto asked me a rather surprising question.

He asked me to stay longer in Venice.

Longer as in forever.

Now I was exhausted at this point, so I hope I'm paraphrasing correctly.  But he basically said that he was sure I was just the girl he had been looking for, and that if I would agree to stay, he would stop accepting couch surfers forever. 

I was most definitely caught off guard.  So what did I do?

I responded with a joke of course.

I said I'd have to wait and see how much I liked Venice tomorrow first.

He said the offer would still stand tomorrow.

Buona Notte Italy
Tegs

An Update in Real Time

Most of my posts in the past have been, well, in the past.  So I thought I would give a brief, current update on my situation.

So far, along with some other cities you have yet to hear about, I've made it to Maastricht.

Some of my belongings have not.

I'd like to dedicate the first half of this entry to my fallen comrades.

Firstly, while it was not quite a death, I'd like to mourn the loss of my khaki green coat.

I managed to turn it purple khaki in Switzerland, when I washed it with my scarf.

A pair of white socks was also caught in the cross fire and turned pink.

The coat never fully recovered after its initial injury.  Later it lost one button in Prague, and another in Maastricht.

It is still in critical condition, but I'm hoping for a full recovery, as both buttons have been kept on ice ever since.

My boots, however, do not share such a happy ending.

I officially laid my two faithful steeds to rest in Prague.

Cobblestones had weakened their immune system and they caught full fledged pneumonia in the Venice rain.

Also in Venice, one boot suffered burn wounds from a heater that was meant to cure the pneumonia.

Both boots were given death masks before their proper funeral.

I am happy to report that that sums up the casualties at this time

Now, as I've been abroad for seven weeks now, I have a pretty solid opinion if the things I miss about the States and the things I do not miss about the States.

Here they are.

Things I Do Not Miss:

Driving a car

Being able to understand small talk going on around me

Walmarts

Seeing people in their pajamas

Seeing obese people in their pajamas

Being able to understand any advertisements at all

Jersey Shore

Hardcore Republicans

Drive-thru's

Being available by phone 24/7

The 12hr clock (24 is so much simpler)

Presidential campaign advertisements

Kim Kardashian

Pick-up trucks and SUV's

Now...
Things I Do Miss:

Towels bigger than napkins

Not having to always carry some sort of bag

Blow dryers and straightening irons

Toenail Polish

Having more than four outfits

Normal usage of the word "exactly"

Not having everything I own rolled in rubber bands or sealed in zip lock baggies

Showers that have curtains

American electrical sockets

Talking fast and using slang

My personal bubble

24 hour stores

People picking up on my sarcasm

Salsa

Eating healthy and regular meals

My awesome queen sized mattress

Lotion

Singing in the car

Jeopardy!

Panera

My current roommates

My new roommate

The awesome people I work with

Friends from back home

Sisters in Columbus

My fam

Good peanut butter

That's probably not quite everything, but you get the idea.

Tegs