Back in the USA

Wed Aug 05, 2009 23:09 EST (UTC -5)

And now, the exciting conclusion of my European adventure.

On Thursday night, Andy, George, and I went to see the West End production of Chicago. I had no idea that we were right in the West End with theaters scattered all over the place, but the theater was just a short walk away (with a gelato shop in between). The show starred Michelle Williams of Destiny's Child, but I obviously wouldn't have known that if George hadn't told me. I had never seen the movie, but I enjoyed the show. The orchestra was on the stage, and the conductor interacted with the characters, which I thought was pretty clever. The songs were catchy too.

After the show, for our last dinner in Europe, we went to an Indian restaurant called Tandoori Nights (which a Google search reveals is actually a common name??). Well, it wasn't George's last dinner in Europe, but it was mine and Andy's. After that, we returned to George's dorm room on Drury Lane (yes, the Drury Lane on which the fabled Muffin Man is said to live). I was ready to go to bed in anticipation of a long day.

On Friday morning, Andy and I got our things together, thanked George for his hospitality, and made our way to the airport. We took the Gatwick Express, the same train we had taken from the airport two months ago. Even though it was pretty expensive, it was fast and direct. And we didn't have very much time to look into other options.

At Gatwick, Mark was waiting for me, just as I'd hoped. My cousins in Croatia had given me a bottle of liquor as a gift, so I was going to give it to 21-year-old Mark so he could take it into the country (I mean, as a gift for him to keep). He had been waiting there for a while, but I'm glad he was patient. Otherwise, I think I was just going to chuck the bottle.

With the alcohol out of the way, I wasn't too concerned about the other things I had to bring into the country: a bottle of olive oil, which was also from my cousins, and some stroopwafels that I had bought from a vending machine in Amsterdam two days before. I had been infatuated with the sweet treats ever since my friend Kevin brought some home from the Netherlands a few years ago. I had wanted to pick some up for myself and everybody back home, but while I was in Amsterdam I wasn't in the mood to seek them out. Luckily, I happened to spot some in a vending machine right before I left for London.

We got through everything relatively easily (we didn't even have to take our shoes off for security, which apparently might have been a mistake) and soon found ourselves waiting in the terminal for our flight back to the USA. The three of us were worried that Dan wouldn't show; he and Mark had split up back in Switzerland and weren't staying in the same hostel in London. But Dan did arrive, so the four of us had some time to recount our individual adventures.

Soon, it came time to board the plane, which I would not have been looking forward to at all if it hadn't meant I'd be going home. The plane took off about 40 minutes late, and I managed to keep myself entertained by watching movies (I Love You, Man and The Boat That Rocked) and imagining how great it would be to be home.

Somehow, the plane landed in Orlando a few minutes early. According to my watch, it was getting close to midnight, but the sun had never gone down during the flight. I imagined that the jetlag would be harder to get used to this time because it wouldn't be as simple as skipping a night and then sleeping a lot the next night. But jetlag or no jetlag, I was glad to be back.

Of course, we had to go through customs and all that first. I got quizzed about my trip to prove I wasn't a terrorist. The fact that I had been gone for so long and had visited so many countries and brought back food was apparently too much for Customs and Border Patrol to let slip by. But I showed them I was legit, and that's when I parted ways with Andy, Dan, and Mark. I had a working cell phone for the first time in two months, so I called my parents to let them know I was there.

They were glad to see me; I was glad to see them. I was also very tired. They drove me home, but we stopped for dinner along the way at the Outback Steakhouse in Vero Beach. It was right about there that I realized how great it was to be back in my own country: in a familiar place with familiar food. Those who are about to call me an ugly American should keep reading.

My sister was there when we got home. I showed everybody the stone souvenirs I had brought back from Croatia, as well as the olive oil, the stroopwafels, and some trinkets from Italy. Then I went to bed. Of course, it was not only wonderful and amazing to be back home with my family, but it was also awesome to be back in my own bed after two months of traveling.

Since then, I've gotten to see some family and friends. I spent Sunday night at TJ's with Nick and some other friends. It was an overnight thing, though, which I was glad about. I think going to bed at 04:00 and waking up at 12:00 helped get rid of my jet lag. I'm still getting tired sort of early and waking up sort of early, though. Last night, I went to a family dinner with some relatives I don't see very often. They had lots of questions about the trip, and apparently many of them have been reading this blog too. Between spending time with family and friends, I've been relaxing as I typically would during the summer. I've also been working online.

Europe '09 by the numbers:

• Days: 67 (May 26 - July 31, 2009)
• Countries visited: 14 (United Kingdom, France, Spain, Monaco, Italy, Vatican City, Slovenia, Croatia, Austria, Slovakia, Czech Republic, Germany, Netherlands, Belgium)
• Places I slept: 21
• Times I stayed with family members: 2 (Andy's relatives both times)
• Times I stayed with friends: 3
• Times I stayed in hostels: 2
• Times I stayed in hotels: 3
• Times I stayed with Esperantists or at Esperanto events: 12
• Sleepless nights on trains: 3
• Sleepless half-nights on planes: 1
• Days I traveled without Andy: 17 (25%!)
• Number of currencies I ended up with: 8 (pounds sterling, euros, Croatian kunas, Slovak korunas, Russian rubles, Belorussian rubles, Czech korunas, Hungarian forints)
• Number of times I mentioned to people that I collected coins and banknotes: 3
• Photos taken, December 25, 2002 - May 24, 2009: 4,178
• Photos taken, May 26 - July 31, 2009: 4,002
• Total size of photos: 6.5 GB
• Most photos taken in one day: 411 (June 28, in Rome)
• Videos recorded: 13
• Total size of videos: 248 MB
• Average length of videos: 0:14

So, boring statistics aside, what are we to learn from this trip? I was hoping that going for a two-month adventure would leave me feeling more adventurous. It has, but not for the reason I thought. It was Andy who showed me that you can't be uptight about everything. I can't count the number of times he said, "Let's do it; the worst that could happen is that they yell at us." And you know, we didn't get yelled at very much. It was an eye-opener.

Before I left for the trip, people had told me a bit about Europeans, but you really need to go to Europe to understand them. The impression I got everywhere was that they're content with having less than Americans. They're fine with their small cars and their tiny apartments, and they don't see why they should have dryers when they already have clotheslines and the sun. The US has long been the land of plenty, and that has shaped who we are as Americans; Europeans, living on a continent that has been ravaged by war and political strife, are more down-to-earth.

Things are different there, but I wouldn't say that Europe is, in general, better or worse than America. It's just different. Europeans like their water gassy and their milk creamy. They love soccer and the 24-hour clock. Those are things that I don't think I could get used to (except for the 24-hour clock, which I've always been a fan of and have now decided to use in writing). In the US, we may have crappy schools, overfilled prisons, and drug laws that don't work, but that doesn't mean that our country isn't great. If nothing else, it's great because we are and always have been filled with potential. The American Dream and all that stuff. It's all here.

Some people have asked me if I would live in Europe. Everything I have and everything I know is here in the US, so answer is obvious. But still, I'm glad to have had the trip of a lifetime, and if I could do it all again, I would. Europe '09 taught me more about the world than any book could; the stories I have really are priceless. Every day, I learned something new and did something that I might never do again. So, sometimes the only way to really learn is to be adventurous. After all, the worst that could happen is that they yell at you.

Homeward bound: the incredible journey

Thu Jul 30, 2009 13:31 EST (UTC -5)

Well, kiddies, it happened. My camera's new 1 GB memory card is not functioning. It's not even the camera's fault this time, as my other cards are just fine. That's good news, but I wish I could take 600 photos at a time rather than about 79. (What an odd number, I know. The 16 MB card that came with my camera holds 8 photos. My trusty 128 MB card supposedly holds 64, but I can squeeze out 71.) Fortunately, I lost only a few photos (from Sunday night's concert by the local band).

Anyway, when we last met, I was at the International Youth Congress of Esperanto (IJK) in Liberec, Czech Republic, and it is to that event which we now return.

Last Monday night's entertainment was a quiz show in the style of those hilarious British radio program(me)s. Think "Whose Line Is It Anyway?" (which originally was a British radio show) and that show on NPR where people have to guess the definitions of obscure words. Its name escapes me, but I know it's cheesy. If I do think of it before I post this, I'll probably forget to add it in here. Anyway, the Esperanto quiz show was just as funny, if not funnier. Maybe it helped that the host (sorry, presenter) was British.

Tuesday was the big excursion to Prague. Everyone has told me that Prague is a wonderful city, so I wanted to see exactly how wonderful it was. We started out by taking a tour of the city in an old trolley that I believe was built in 1928 or 1929.

Well, it wasn't really a tour because we didn't have a tour guide telling us what everything was. Actually, one of the IJK organizers was there and explained everything for us, so I guess it was a tour. When the ride ended, we explored the city on foot as a group. We saw some old churches and plazas and things. I kept wondering when we would stop for lunch; they gave us food but no time to eat it, so people were eating as we walked around. I did the same eventually.

One of the highlights of the morning was going to the presidential palace. The organizers of the IJK still remembered a remark that the Czech President had made a year and a half ago. He said, "Pan-Europeanism is artificial and dead, like Esperanto." So our group thought it would be nice to take a picture with one of the guards outside the presidential palace and maybe send it to the President.

That guard wasn't supposed to move or anything, but dang if he didn't look uncomfortable standing there.

Near the palace you can get a great view of the city. As the group moved on, I lingered a bit to check it out.

After that, we made our way to the Charles Bridge, which is apparently an old and famous pedestrian bridge in the city. As with many touristy places, it was filled with artists and musicians and beggars. They were also renovating a section of it. Despite all that, I liked it and wished I could stay longer. I admired the statues that lined the bridge and the view of the river.

My group was the sciencey group, so we saw some scientific sights. In particular, we saw a historic weather station (which I didn't take a picture of because it looked like a giant white box hanging out of a window, and besides, I was running out of pictures) and went to the house where Johannes "The Earth Revolves Around the Sun" Kepler once lived. We didn't go inside, but outside was a small courtyard with a small fountain dedicated to him.

Later, we moved on to what is probably one of the world's most famous clocks. It's that crazy clock thing with, like, 4 hands and 3 faces. You'd know it if you saw it, so look!

We (and a lot of other people) hung around until the top of the hour so we could see the famous show that the clock puts on every hour. It wasn't so spectacular, actually. A couple of windows open and you can see little apostles shuffling by. That's basically it.

After that, we finally had about an hour of free time. I spend time with my new Canadian friend, Gregory. We went to a cafe so he could get something to drink, and then we went to a souvenir shop so he could get some souvenirs. Then we strolled to the statue where we were supposed to meet with everybody. After that, we all went over to the bus and went back to Liberec.

Prague is indeed a nice city. I wish I could have spent a little more time there, particularly down by the river. There are some islands in the river that looked particularly interesting. Our unofficial tour guide said that the World Congress of Esperanto was held on one of the islands in 1996. It must have been pretty large because that's a big event. Anyway, in conclusion, everyone is right about Prague.

In the evening, there was supposed to be a concert by one Kim, an Esperantist and accordionist. When I heard that the concert was being moved to the roof of the building, I thought it was a joke. But I saw too many people going upstairs, so I decided to follow them. Sure enough, people were setting up equipment, and a lot of the audience was already there.

Even though Kim didn't have much accompaniment, he had everyone singing along in Esperanto.

A guitarist named JoMo joined him for the last number. I had actually had lunch with JoMo the day before, not knowing he would be part of the entertainment. It's funny how those things work out!

On Wednesday, Andy and I did not attend the next class on how to teach Esperanto. I went to a presentation about E@I, the organization behind many Esperanto projects on the Internet, including lernu.net. In the afternoon, I was just chillin' when it was pointed out to me that I should probably be at the TEJO meeting that was going on right then.

Apparently, Darcy Ross was supposed to represent USEJ (US Esperanto Youth Organization) at the meeting of TEJO (Worldwide Esperanto Youth Organization), but since she didn't go to the IJK, she gave her voting power to me and Andy. So I sat in on the meeting, but since I didn't know what anything was about, I didn't vote. Actually, I didn't even abstain; I abstained from abstaining. It took me a while to convince myself that I was supposed to be there.

Besides voting on officers and things like that, they decided to write a resolution or declaration along the theme of the congress (i.e., freedom). Apparently, this was a tradition that had not been followed very much in recent years, but they wanted to make a statement to the Czech President about the utility and utter non-deadness of Esperanto.

After that, I attended a presentation about the situation in Israel and Palestine, which I thought was pretty interesting. I think you can really only scratch the surface in an hour, but it was relatively informative.

The evening's entertainment was a performance by JoMo in the town square. It was kind of a long walk (about 30 minutes), but it was nice to get out and see the city. I had heard that he was known for singing in a lot of different languages, and I was vaguely aware that there was some Guinness world record involved. (I think they assumed that everyone already knew everything about him.)

With just a guitar, he performed a lot of rockin' numbers that got the crowd moving. Almost every song was in a different language. Besides the usual suspects such as French, Spanish, German, and Portuguese, he sang songs in Basque, Ukrainian, Serbo-Croatian, and Mohawk. He also sang a Greek song in Dutch. For the curious, his English-language song was "Kansas City," and I'd have to say that my favorite number was "Komm, Gib Mir Deine Hand." Oh, and Kim joined him for the later numbers. The finale was in Esperanto.

On Thursday morning, I attended a presentation called, "Wikipedia: What, Why, How." The "how" part was especially interesting because the lecturer got online and actually created an article for the people to see. I thought everyone at the presentation would already be basically familiar with Wikipedia, but it was nice to see how impressed some people were with how easy the site is to use.

In the afternoon, instead of lectures and things, we had a Cultural/Language Festival in the town square. People from a certain country or region could get together and set up a booth to show off their culture to the other Esperantists (and, with the help of a translator, to the townspeople). Seeing all these booths decked out with flags and maps and posters and food and alcoholic beverages made it easy to see how many countries were being represented at the IJK.

Not every country had a booth, though. As I was digging the different cultures, everyone kept asking me why there was no American booth. Several reasons: there were only a few Americans at the IJK, we were all too lazy, some of us didn't even show up to the festival, we didn't have anything from home to show off, everybody already knows all about our culture (or lack thereof), we can't fix our reputation in the world from behind a booth, etc. I joked that the American booth was the McDonald's in the town square. I just thought the Europeans would find it funny; I don't want to remind myself of how much everyone hates American culture.

The countries and regions represented were, in no particular order: Switzerland, the Netherlands, Australia, Italy, Greece, France, Germany, China, Vietnam, Brazil, Catalonia, South Korea, Canada, Russia, Hungary, Austria, Poland, Ukraine, Pakistan, and Lithuania. So that was just a subset of the countries and regions represented at the IJK.

At the official beginning of the event, they wanted to have one person from each country greet the people of Liberec in their own country's language. Since this is much easier than manning a booth, more countries were represented. I had been asked to say hello from the good old U. S. of A., so I thought I might as well. We went up to the stage by country in alphabetical order, and I was second-to-last, in front of only Vietnam. It gave me a lot of time to figure out what to say.

Hello! Greetings from the United States of America to the people of Liberec. Esperanto, the international language, brings us together.

My delivery wasn't as exciting as some of the other people's, so when I was done, I tried waving or something to get the crowd roaring. The reception seemed to be about average.

As I was milling around later, the President of TEJO told me that my greeting was beautifully done (he understood English, apparently). I didn't know what to say, but only because I hadn't quite heard what he had said, and by the time I had figured it out, it was too late to respond. Awkward.

After some traditional songs and dances on the stage, Kim worked some of his accordion magic. But the weather deteriorated, and eventually it started raining. I made a break for the nearest building, which was city hall. I stood in front of the door with some other people as we watched everyone else take cover in booths or on the stage. As the rain got heavier, some people started running around and having a good time. After the rain subsided, we headed back for dinner.

Food interlude: I haven't really mentioned what I ate at the IJK. Since we were apparently at a university, we were provided with cafeteria food. For breakfast there was always bread with meat and cheese. Some days the cheese was pre-processed and spreadable, other days it was the meat. Lunch and dinner often involved chicken and rice. There was usually weird juice or hot tea to drink. It wasn't the greatest, but I was pretty fine with it. I had paid for it, anyway.

Friday was the last whole day. In the morning, I went on an excursion with a few other people to the local zoo, which was the first in Czechoslovakia. The only problem was that the zoo was closed because of the previous day's storm. So the local guy of the group decided to show us around town. Liberec, it turns out, is a very old city. Probably the most interesting thing for me was seeing the oldest surviving houses, which were built in the Tudor style in 1681. It was nice to get out and do some walking.

In the afternoon, I went to the TEJO meeting feeling a little more confident about what was going on. They discussed membership applications from new national Esperanto youth organizations in Mexico and Benin; we also voted unanimously to explore the possibility of having the IJK in Africa as early as 2012. An Italian guy melodramatically read a draft of the resolution about freedom. There were also some other elections, and finally, a group photo.

That evening was International Evening, a sort of cross-cultural talent show that was also the closing ceremony. There were songs, poetry, dancing, sexy dancing, acting, and more. Several participants were local kids whose parents had found out about the IJK and, I don't know, show off their kids. One guy read some of his poems and Czech as well as one in Esperanto; I think he had only been learning the language for a few days -- he seemed nervous reading it -- but the poem was good.

There was some funny stuff. There was a skit about Italians giving other people lessons on how to act Italian: talking loudly with hand gestures and the like. Among the "students" were Matthieu (who had hosted Andy and me when we were in France), Bara (a friend I had met online), and Guillerme (my roommate there at the IJK): an all-star cast! Some people who had come from the Summer Esperanto Study played their SES song, which pretty accurately described the SES experience.

For me, one of the most exciting parts of the evening was the official inauguration of the new Pasporta Servo web site, which was christened with the sending of a message to none other than the USA's Darcy Ross. And, after introducing the newly elected TEJO officers and some closing words, that was it. I think they didn't have time to present the resolution.

After all that, it was late, but I decided to chill out a little while longer. As usual, after the evening's program, participants could go to the bar, the disco, the movie theater, or the "owl room." The idea of the latter is that if you just want a quiet night, you can go there to enjoy some tea by candlelight. I hadn't been there yet, so I checked it out with Andy and Diana, one of the other Americans. But I was tired, so not long after my tea, I called it a night.

Saturday morning was the leaving day. Chuck Smith, founder of the Esperanto Wikipedia, had seen the notice I posted about Andy and me needing a place to stay in Berlin, and he had told me that he would be willing to put us up since he lives there now. Andy had told me that he was tired of traveling and was taking a flight from Prague to London, where he would stay with our friend George until I got there and we had to fly home. So, I would be going through the last leg of the trip by myself.

So, on Saturday morning, I said my goodbyes to the people who were remaining. I didn't see Andy, but I did see that the keys to his room weren't hanging up behind the front desk, so he must have still been snoozin'. After a while, a cab came to take Chuck, his girlfriend Judith, someone else, and me to the train station. At the station, I saw several people from the IJK; Alex, who Andy and I had met on the way to SES, sat near us on our train.

We weren't going right to Berlin; Chuck was meeting a friend in Dresden and had booked a hotel room there for a night. So after a couple of hours, we arrived in Dresden, Germany, and met up with Chuck's friend. Alex also stopped in Dresden, so there were five of us: Chuck, Judith, Chuck's friend, Alex, and me: a motley crue of Esperantists.

First, we wanted to drop our bags off at the hotel. I think it was supposedly a four-star hotel, and it really was classy. Somewhat less classy was the unfortunate realization that Chuck had accidentally booked the hotel room for 8/25 (August 25) instead of 7/25 (July 25). He did get that sorted out, and we were able to put our bags there before coming back in the evening.

We walked to a Czech restaurant to have a late lunch. I had some ham wrapped in potatoes covered in gravy... with a salad on the side, thankyouverymuch. I ate most of it except for the salad. I also had half a liter of beer, which I drank most of. Everything was pretty good.

After that, we walked around town. Alex went to check in to a hostel, and we started exploring the city without him. The town square was beautiful. I had read that most of the city was destroyed by the Allies, but in the city center there were a lot of old buildings that seemed to have survived.

It started raining, so we ran into a nearby Canadian steakhouse called Ontario. I had never seen a Canadian restaurant before, but it seemed like an ordinary steakhouse with vaguely Canadian decor. Chuck asked the waitress if they had poutine, and she had never heard of it. We had just eaten lunch, so I wasn't hungry, but the others got drinks. I didn't really feel like drinking anything.

After that, we walked around a bit more and checked out some touristy shops near the river Elbe. Alex met up with us, and after parting ways with Chuck's friend, we went back to the hotel. We amused ourselves by reading about all the ridiculous services that the hotel had to offer, and then we decided to take them up on one of their less ridiculous services by watching Get Smart on pay-per-view. I needed to rest; I wasn't feeling very good.

After a while, I had that feeling of blood rushing to my head, so I went to the bathroom and lost my lunch. I hadn't thrown up in a really long time, and I hoped it would just be an isolated incident. It wasn't. Something I had eaten (or drunk) must have really rubbed me the wrong way. Still, I felt a little better each time.

Meanwhile, the movie had ended and Alex had gone to his hostel, so it was just us three in a hotel room for two. Not only did I throw up in a four-star hotel, but it was also the first stop on my entire trip where I used my sleeping bag. Chuck and I thought this was really funny.

I woke up Sunday morning not feeling very hungry. I had some nibbles and made myself look presentable; then we took a taxi to the train station. (The taxis in Germany are overwhelmingly Mercedes-Benzes. Very nice!) On the train, Chuck and I passed the time by watching Bender's Big Score on his laptop. Finally, we were at Berlin's Hauptbahnhof (Main Train Station), which is huge and modern. I was impressed.

It was a short bus trip and walk to Chuck and Judith's apartment. On the way, they stopped to show me something. There was a cobblestone line running diagonally across the street and the sidewalk. On the sidewalk, along the cobblestones, was a small plaque: the Berlin Wall had been here.

After relaxing in their apartment for a little while and having some food to eat, I felt up for a stroll around the neighborhood. They had told me that there were a lot of restaurants around them, and they weren't kidding. Cuban, Egyptian, and Singaporean were just a few of the restaurants I saw. Also nearby were a place where you could try 100 types of beer and another place where you could try 300 types of wine. They also took me to an anarchist art gallery (note to self: cool band name), which consisted mainly of some modern sculptures and a bar. It reminded me of Gainesville.

After another light meal, the subject of The Colbert Report came up. Chuck and Judith love the show, and I mentioned that I had missed the Iraq episodes because I was traveling and hadn't had time to watch them online. We found that the individual episodes had been taken down from the web site, and they didn't want to watch them clip after clip. Thus, the search began, and eventually they got some downloads going. I went to bed not long after that.

On Monday, I was feeling mostly better, so Chuck and Judith took me to the Singaporean restaurant nearby for lunch. The food was very good -- it tasted like Indian -- but I still didn't have much of an appetite. After the meal, Chuck showed me some of the city. We stopped at the Reichstag...

...and not far away was the Brandenburg Gate. It wasn't as imposing as I thought it would be, but it was still nice to look at.

Interestingly, I saw some people who seemed to be getting down from on top of the gate. They didn't look like they were supposed to be there.

The plaza in front of it is kind of touristy; you can have your passport stamped just like in the days of communism or have your picture taken with guys dressed as East German police. Awesome!

An old woman asked us if we spoke English. Chuck said "No" and kept walking. Before I knew what was going on, I said yes. Instead of telling me her spiel, she showed it to me in writing. I said "I'm sorry, I can't read," and walked away. Now that I think about it, she probably would have pickpocketed me if I had stopped to read the thing.

Several blocks away is Checkpoint Charlie, an important checkpoint from the days when Berlin was a divided city. There, you can find (a replica of) the famous "You Are Leaving the American Sector" sign. You can also have your picture taken with a guy who's dressed as an American soldier. Nearby, there's a snack bar called Snack Point Charlie. I thought it was interesting how Berlin seems to make light of its troubled past.

After stopping in a huge bookstore nearby, we went to the river to take a boat tour with some other Esperantists: an Israeli and three Ukrainians, all of whom I had met at the IJK. So the six of us were just chatting in Esperanto on the boat when Chuck decided to ask the people next to us what language they thought we were speaking. They had no idea. When he said it was Esperanto, they mentioned that they had just heard about it on TV!

One day while I was surfing the web in the lobby at the IJK, I saw a German TV crew doing interviews. Actually, "saw" is an understatement because they had their camera right next to my head. One of the organizers then asked for volunteers to sit in on an Esperanto class to be staged for the cameras. I had forgotten about it until Chuck showed me the video from German TV: the segment was in Esperanto with German subtitles, and the reporter even spoke some Esperanto before and after it. You can watch it here!

Anyway, we were all pleasantly surprised that we met people who had watched the segment. Going up and down the river was nice, especially because everything was explained in German and English. I saw some of the things that I had already seen by walking around, but it was nice to sit for an hour and have a drink. At one point, one of the Ukrainians saw a sign and misread the date on it as being in August instead of July. Chuck told her that that mistake had cost him money!

After the cruise, the six of us did some walking around. Chuck was the only real Berliner among us, so he led the way. He showed us a store with an odd specialty: all of its merchandise featured the red and green people from the East German pedestrian crossing lights. Apparently they've remained popular even though communism hasn't. I spotted the hatted proletarians at various points throughout the city.

After that, we stopped for ice cream. I didn't feel like having any, but I did feel like trying currywurst, so we got some of that next. Apparently it's a Berlin specialty. I forget the exact description, but it's like a sausage with Indian sauce on it. Chuck, who had some too, said it wasn't the best currywurst he had ever had, and I could see how it could be better, but I still liked it.

We made our way to a local cultural center, where an Esperanto club would be meeting. There were four other people there: three regulars and a guy whose interest had been piqued by a newspaper article about the IJK. Together, we watched a video of the opening of a small park named after L.L. Zamenhof, the initiator of Esperanto. The park was right in Berlin, and the video had been recorded the week before. There was some music, and some officials gave speeches to a small crowd.

After the video, Chuck discussed ideas for bringing together the rather disparate Esperanto clubs in Berlin. At least, I think so. My mind was elsewhere. I was thinking about how I would be going home soon and how happy I would be to be there. I was still enjoying my European vacation, but after two months, I was starting to miss home again. Y'understand.

The meeting went rather late. Chuck and I went home to watch the first Colbert Report episode from Iraq with Judith. Then, after Judith went to bed, Chuck and I stayed up way too late talking about all kinds of stuff. It was great.

Right after I woke up on Tuesday, I went with Chuck to the corner bakery to pick up some fresh croissants and bread. It was my last day in Berlin. I wished I could have stayed longer, but I felt I should move on and see Amsterdam. Chuck didn't resist very much because Amsterdam is his second-favorite city. But as long as I was with Chuck, there was still something I'd have to do.

Chuck likes games. He had asked if I had ever heard of a board game called Settlers of Catan. I had read about it in a recent issue of Wired magazine, and it was supposed to be, like, the greatest board game ever. So on Tuesday morning, Chuck and Judith invited over Tom, the Israeli Esperantist who had been with us the day before. That way, there would be four people for the game.

Learning the rules of a new game is always kind of tricky for me, and I tend to have no sense of strategy (just kidding, prospective future employers!!). Even though I did pretty badly in the game, it was still fun, and I think some of my friends would like it. It's a German-style board game, so it's different from American-style games. The differences are outside the scope of this blog post, but you can probably read about them on Wikipedia.

After a German lunch of potatoes, sausages, and cabbage (which I ate slowly), I got ready to leave. Chuck and Judith went with me to the bus stop, and away I went to the train station. They had made me feel at home and had taken very good care of me, but I had to keep moving. I was heading home.

About seven hours later, I had arrived in Amsterdam. It was late, and getting acquainted with the public transportation system was a confusing process, as it often has been. Once again, I was using the Pasporta Servo, so I followed the directions that my host had given me.

I got out of the metro station about ten minutes before midnight, making my way into my host's neighborhood. It was quiet, and not many people were around. I had almost gotten to his street when a couple of guys came up alongside me and started talking to me in English. I didn't listen to them; I told them I was late, that I was in a hurry, and that I didn't want to hear it.

I turned the corner onto my host's street and one of the guys stopped me. He started to put his hand into my pocket. He told me to give him 100 euros or he'd kill me. I shouted for help and received two swift hits to the side of my face. Then, I apparently found an opportunity to escape, because I did. I ran down the street to the next intersection, where I could catch my breath while being able to see all around me.

I saw people coming toward me from another direction, so I went back down the street to find my host's apartment. As I made my way there, the other guy was walking on the opposite side of the street, watching me. I found the building and buzzed my host, who let me in. I told him about what happened. I was shaking and on the verge of tears. He called the police.

Two officers came, and I told them about what happened -- fortunately, they spoke English. Once I gave descriptions of the perpetrators, they issued a bulletin. They learned why I was there and had some questions about Esperanto; one of the officers said he remembered reading about it in a book that had belonged to his grandfather. It was certainly an odd time for Esperanto Q&A, but I was grateful to them, so I answered their questions gladly.

The officers drove me and my host to the police station, where I filed a report (again, with an English-speaking official). Doing the police report took such a long time that I was calm by the end of it and my face didn't hurt anymore. The guy gave me a copy of the report (in Dutch) in a spiffy Amsterdam Police folder. My host and I were escorted back to the apartment in an unmarked car. After having a little food and drink, I went to sleep and had bad dreams.

I feel a little like it was my fault. I couldn't help that I was alone or wearing a huge backpack, but I did choose to get into the city at night, and maybe I could have stayed away from the two guys. Everyone -- the officers, the police report guy, the escort -- asked if it was my first time in the Netherlands. When I told them it was, they all wryly welcomed me. But I made it clear to my host that this wouldn't hurt my perception of the place. I know it's a civilized country, probably with a lower crime rate than the United States. I was just walking alone at night, and I looked like a tourist. It could have happened anywhere.

I am glad that it wasn't worse. I don't want to make light of the situation -- it really was traumatizing -- but I have to be glad that I didn't get badly hurt and nothing was stolen from me. I guess I knew what to do. If I had seen a weapon, I would have given them whatever they wanted, but I didn't, so I tried to scare them away. Fortunately, it worked. They must have just been some small-time crooks. I'm also glad that the police were helpful and that a lot of Dutch people are fluent in English.

Wednesday morning, right after I got out of bed, a couple of police officers stopped by and asked if I would ride around the neighborhood with some detectives that night so I could help find the perpetrators. I said it was okay, so they said they'd call that evening.

That day, my host had to check himself into the hospital for appendicitis, and his wife was going to work for the first time since the birth of their youngest child, so I was left alone in the apartment. I wanted to go out and see the city, so I got ready in no particular hurry. Finally, with the map that my host had given me, I headed out.

It was a beautiful afternoon for a walk; it mostly sunny with a cool breeze. I walked along the Amstel River and through what seemed to be a financial area. All the canals and bridges were beautiful to see.

I wasn't really hungry, but I felt like I should be, so I started looking for some place to eat. I turned the corner onto a street that had a lot of restaurants. In particular, there were a lot of Italian and Argentinean places, with some American, Chinese, and Indian restaurants as well. I decided to get some falafel. Andy had introduced falafel to me in Vienna, and I fell in love with the stuff.

I was looking for a little more, so I stopped at a place down the street that had Belgian-style fries. I knew this was something I had to try if I was in Amsterdam. I also knew that mayonnaise was a favorite topping, so I gave it a try. I had a seat in a nearby plaza and enjoyed it.

The plaza was called Dam. It was nice but kind of touristy.

The Anne Frank house was nearby, so I thought I'd have a look. There were a bunch of people in line to enter. I took some pictures of the building that they were going into. Later I found out that the actual house was the inconspicuous-looking building next door. Very clever.

I continued my walk through the city, stopping to rest in several lovely parks along the way. I was really amazed by the number of bicyclists going around. They didn't have to share the road; they had their own lanes everywhere. I think I had already known that, but it was still interesting to see for myself.

I made my way back to the apartment, and I wasn't feeling very good because I had eaten and walked a lot. I lay down for an hour and then just hung around, waiting for the police to call. They didn't, so I went to bed.

This morning, I got my stuff together and took the train to Brussels. From there, I took the Eurostar to London. The trip cost about as much as it did when we went from London to Paris. But it was pretty classy, and it cost about as much as a flight to London would. I wouldn't like to go on an international flight by myself.

Andy met me at the train station in London, and we went back to our friend George's dorm room in the West End (he's studying here for the summer). We're about to go to a show; his mom bought us tickets. Tomorrow: my triumphant return!

Into the world came a new feeling

Mon Jul 20, 2009 11:40 EST (UTC -5)

After sending my last post through the tubes, I went to see Gerda Disappeared, a recent video adaptation of Claude Piron's classic adventure that starts with simple words and gets more complex with each chapter. Apparently my new friend Katja had tipped off the organizers of the Summer Esperanto Study that it was my birthday, so they presented me with a T-shirt and a round of applause. I was glad to get the T-shirt for free because I almost bought it in the bookshop earlier that day. The video was unbearably long and stupendously cheesy, but it would probably be useful for beginners.

Katja's and my rooms were next to each other, and they had a common balcony. Katja had been saying throughout the day that she wanted to spend some time there. After the video, it was late, so we made our way upstairs. She borrowed a lighter from someone, but it wasn't for smoking. She had candles.

We took a couple of chairs out to the balcony. Katja set the candles on a sort of ashtray-like thing that looked like a table. She also brought out juice and cookies. Her roommate joined us for some food and drink but then went to bed.

It was late; it was dark and quiet. Stars twinkled above the darkened trees. The city lights of Modra flickered in the distance. Further away shone Bratislava. All was calm around us. Silence... then, magic. It was the best birthday present.

On Tuesday, we went on an excursion to a castle called Smolenice. Castles are usually old, but this one was mostly from the 20th century. We actually didn't get to see very much of it because it's apparently used as the headquarters of some scientific organization. The highlight was going up to the tower and seeing the town all around.

For the second part of the excursion, we went to a cave called Driny. We had to walk through the woods a bit to get there, but it was worth it. The cave was cool... literally!!! It looked a bit like every other cave I've been to, but that was all right because I enjoy chillin' with stalactites and stalagmites (or 'tites and 'mites if you want to sound hip). I didn't take too many pictures inside the cave because the tour guide said we would have to pay for the privilege. Lame.

On Wednesday, I didn't go to class in the morning because I wanted to sleep in. I needed to pay for upcoming excursions, but I didn't have much cash handy. After dinner, Katja and I took a walk into town, which took about 45 minutes. As we reached the town square, it was getting very dark, and I realized why. There was a huge storm coming.

After I got some money from an ATM, we bought some ice cream. Then it started to rain, so we took refuge in a bus shelter. Well, Katja didn't mind the rain, but I did. I was worried that we would be stranded. So

awweee jordan did u kiss in the rain??? No. Don't interrupt me.

So I decided to start looking for a bus that could whisk us away. Actually, Katja didn't want to get on the buses that passed by because she was enjoying the show. There was some lightning and a little rain. Then, as the clock tower chimed, all the lights went out everywhere. They came back on eventually, and the storm subsided. We decided to walk back.

There were street lights along much of the road but not all of it. At one point we were going uphill with no lights. I could hardly see. It felt like something out of a dream. Once we were almost there, it started raining again. I went to bed not long after that.

On Thursday, we went on an excursion to a castle called Devin. This one was on the outskirts of Bratislava, at the confluence of the Danube and some other river. (I don't have much online time, so I can't do fact checking, okay?) It actually was a genuinely old castle that was largely destroyed by Napoleon (the rascal) and not rebuilt.

After the castle, we checked out the old part of the city, which was situated on the blue Danube.

There were lots of narrow and/or pedestrian streets. The main landmark was a church.

It was nice to walk around, but it was also a little tiring, especially because we had to wait a while for our bus to come back.

That evening was International Evening, where participants could share details their respective cultures. It was essentially an informal talent show with mostly musical acts. Andy gave a piano accompaniment for some guy on a traditional song from somewhere, and then, to represent our dear United States, he did a jazz number on his own. The evening went on for quite a while, so Katja and I left early.

On Friday, there was an all-day excursion to Vienna. It was also Katja's last day (she had to take a train from Vienna), so we wanted to make it a good one.

The highlight of the morning was our trip to the Esperanto Museum, which I totally didn't know existed.

It showcased a small part of the Austrian National Library's collection on Esperanto and other constructed languages. Besides interactive exhibits about the history and structure of the language, there were old posters for Esperanto congresses, copies of the book that introduced Esperanto to the world, and some products with Esperanto names. (Ever heard of Movado watches? The name is Esperanto for "movement"—i.e., the Esperanto movement—and about half of their models still have Esperanto names.)

The museum, while tiny, doesn't treat Esperanto as a curiosity; it keeps Esperanto-speaking visitors in mind. The text accompanying the exhibits was in German, Esperanto, and English; brochures were available in Esperanto; and one of the guys who worked there spoke to us in Esperanto.

Since we couldn't all fit in the Esperanto Museum at once, half of the group went upstairs to the Globe Museum, which was larger and actually kind of interesting.

After a cafeteria-type lunch at some cafeteria-type restaurant, Katja and I split from the group (don't worry, it was okay) so we could do some stuff on our own. First, she needed to go to the train station to get her tickets out of town. Then we were pretty much free to wander around for a couple of hours. We went to the park at City Hall, where I had enjoyed Indian food and beer with Andy and his relative a week before. After that, we strolled back toward Schwedenplatz, where the bus would be waiting.

We arrived there early, so we had enough time to kiss on the banks of the Danube. Then we went to the bus so Katja could get her things and we could say goodbye with one last kiss. Just like that, my week-long dream was over. The ride back to Slovakia was quiet.

That evening, the Summer Esperanto Study came to an official end. We sat in the candlelit cafeteria and sang some songs. Afterward, there was some crazy fun and dancing, but I went to bed early again. I had had some long days.

On Saturday, the people who were left said their goodbyes, and the lucky few of us who were going to the 65th International Youth Congress of Esperanto (IJK) hopped into their cars or a chartered van. Six hours later, we were in the city of Liberec, which, while in the Czech Republic, is not near Prague, which you're going to tell me is a wonderful city.

At the IJK, Andy and I met up with Matthieu, who we stayed with while we were in Paris. Then we went to get dinner. During the meal, I realized that this was a high-profile Esperanto event and wondered which famous names might be there. Just then, a man came to our table and greeted us in English and then in Esperanto. I didn't recognize him, but he introduced himself as Chuck Smith. I was ecstatic; he's perhaps best known as the founder of the Esperanto Wikipedia. He said he had read my blog post about my visit to Croatia and was looking forward to getting to know us.

At the official opening of the IJK, a local choir sang some traditional songs, including some in Esperanto (for which they had to read the words).

There were also a lot of opening remarks by various people in charge of the event. The theme of this year's IJK is freedom (liberec' happens to be the Esperanto word for freedom), and the fact that we were in a formerly authoritarian country did not go unnoticed. (Ironically, at least to me, next year's IJK will be in Cuba.)

It was late, so I decided to get the key for our room. But it turned out that Andy and I weren't assigned to the same room even though we requested it. I was a bit peeved at first, but then I came around to the idea that maybe we should start seeing other people. So after spending some time in the 8th-floor bar drinking unbelievably cheap but good Czech beer with SES friends, I went to meet my roommate and hit the hay.

On Sunday, I woke up and decided that the morning program didn't look very interesting. Not having Internet access, I, um, wrote most of this. (How meta.) After lunch, Andy and I attended a course on how to teach Esperanto. Since we spent the last school year teaching Esperanto for our club, I thought it would be a good idea to learn how it should really be done. The lecture lasted three hours, but it's only the beginning. Using what we've learned, we have to design a lesson plan and teach a group of beginners.

After that, I attended a lecture in keeping with the theme of freedom; it was about OpenStreetMap, which I might just start using now.

In the evening, a local band played a show in a club-like place that's right nearby on the grounds of this university or wherever we are. I got a cheap beer and enjoyed an hour of loud rock 'n' roll (probably in Czech, but who could tell?). They did say "hello," "thank you," and "goodbye" in Esperanto.

After that, they finally got Internet access working in the lobby of our building, but my computer lost the connection and couldn't find it again, even after rebooting.

This morning, I attended lectures on the following subjects: farming and all the doom and gloom that go with that subject, the Esperanto movement in Africa, and a new news site in Esperanto. After lunch, I decided to chill and write, um, the rest of this.

Someone I met yesterday told me it was strange that Esperanto was "only" my second language (rather than, say, my third or fourth). I knew that Esperantists tend to be interested in learning languages (or, to put it humorously, Esperantists are the people who need Esperanto the least), but I had no idea how right she was. There's an event going on right now where people chat with each other, but they're not allowed to use Esperanto or their native languages. I can't participate unless I want to trot out a little stutterin' high school Spanish. ¡Qué va!

Tomorrow is the big excursion day. I'm going on the all-day excursion to Prague, which I've heard is a wonderful city from just about everyone I've ever met. Don't disappoint me, Prague!

It was 20 years ago today

Mon Jul 13, 2009 14:15 EST (UTC -5)

I am now in my twenties. Happy birthday to me. Woo!

My last post was three days late. I couldn't get the photos off my camera (it's old and the parts are getting loose), and once the camera magically fixed itself, I couldn't upload the photos because my web host was in crisis mode (someone figured out how to change their account balance without making a payment). For this post, I can't seem to access FTP or SFTP. It's probably the local network. So, no pictures. Boo. [Edit Mon Jul 20, 2009 07:33 UTC -5: Several pictures added. Yay!]

On Wednesday morning, I arrived in Vienna very tired, so I didn't really do anything all day. Andy cooked, and that was about it.

We spent most of Thursday the same way. We were enjoying the apartment, which belonged to a distant relative of Andy's. He wasn't much older than us, and he was a grad student with a girlfriend, so he wasn't around a lot of the time. But he was there on Thursday evening, so he wanted to show us around the city a bit before we had to leave the next day.

We went to the old part of the city, which is surrounded by a circle of wide boulevards collectively known as the Ring. I remember from my history class that the city walls used to be there. We walked around a bit. The main sight to see in the center of the city is Stephansdom, or St. Stephen's Cathedral.

After that, we went to a sort of international festival that was going on in front of city hall. They were screening films of orchestra concerts and there were tons of pavilions serving up food from around the world. Since Andy's relative is British by birth, he was interested in the Indian food, and so were we. We also got some beer. The food was good. Even the beer was pretty good. After that, we we were tired and went home.

On Friday, we set out for the second annual Summer Esperanto Study in Modra-Harmonia, Slovakia. We first had to take a train from Vienna to Bratislava, and I was getting nervous because we were running behind. At the station in Vienna, Andy saw an Esperantist he knew; he was going to SES as well. I felt much better after that. His name was Alex (Aleks in Esperanto) and he was from France but living in Belgium.

Once in Bratislava, we had to take a couple of buses, the route numbers of which I was fortunate enough to write down. They took us to a bus station, where we would set out for Modra-Harmonia. Eventually, we were on our way. It wasn't a long way away, but there were a lot of stops, so it took a little over an hour.

We arrived only five minutes after the (official) end of registration. We took a quiz so they could determine our level of Esperanto expertise, and then it was time for dinner. The food was actually somewhat good. After that were cheesy ice-breakers. Andy and I also checked out the dorm room we were staying in. It was actually better than a lot of the places we had stayed before. We even had our own bathroom... with a toilet and a shower!

Andy was afraid that there wouldn't be a lot of people our age there, but young people seem to be the majority. There are also middle-aged people, old people, and a few little kids. They generally seem to be from various European countries, but there are a few from the Americas, including a couple of Canadians, a girl from Costa Rica, and one other (USA) American. I would estimate that there are about 100 participants here.

Saturday was the first full day. In the morning were the classes. Based on my quiz results, I had been sorted into the fourth and most advanced group. Andy was in the group too. Unlike the other groups, we didn't talk too much about grammar; instead we talked about news from the Espreranto press and traditions from various countries. There was a lot of group work and discussion. There were also lots of laughs.

For the afternoon, there was an excursion to the city of Modra-Harmonia. A local guy showed us around, with one of the organizers translating from Slovak to Esperanto. There wasn't much to see besides the remains of the old city wall. The church was interesting because its clock tower had a star and crescent on top. The locals apparently added it long ago to make the invading Turks think that they had already conquered the town so they would move on. Apparently it worked.

After that, we went to an ice cream shop for cheap but delicious ice cream. It needs no occasion.

That evening, a local music group performed Slovak folk songs, some in Slovak, some in Esperanto. After that was a wine tasting, so of course, I had to taste some of the local wines they offered. As you might imagine, there was a lot of merriment after that. The folk group came out and performed Italian, American, and other kinds of traditional songs. This only increased the merrymaking.

I chatted with a Russian girl I had met earlier that day. Her name was Katja. We talked and talked. Even after the band left and the wine was all gone, we talked. We talked until we were a couple of the last people in the room. She seemed to take a liking to me. As we walked back to the dorms, we discovered that our rooms were next to each other.

On Sunday, there were classes in the morning as well, except Andy wasn't there because he slept in. In the afternoon was an excursion to a castle called Red Stone or somesuch thing. Katja and I sat with each other on the bus. The castle itself was sort of interesting; we had a tour guide (and translator) who took us through the rooms, which were decked out in various styles. It wasn't the fanciest castle I had ever been in, but it was probably very good in its temporal and spacial context.

Unlike the Alamo, this castle had a basement, and it was the coolest part... literally!! It was also pretty spacious. You could have had a banquet down there.

The second part of the excursion was to go back into town and see some pottery being made. That was kind of interesting, but it was more interesting after that to go back to the ice cream shop, which Katja and I did. We continued to hang out even after that; we took a walk to a nearby restaurant. She had tea; I got a Coke.

In the evening was a concert by Georgo Handzlik, a Esperanto singer whose songs were sometimes funny, sometimes serious. After that, it was late, but I helped Katja with her massive amounts of homework (she's in a different group), explaining (among other things) every preposition in the language. I think it helped me a little with my own Esperanto, but I also think that she just wanted to see me try to explain every preposition in the language. She's actually a rather competent speaker.

While she and her roommate (the Costa Rican girl) were asking for help, the clock figuratively struck midnight. I was 20. Interestingly, my twin sister at home in the US would still be a teenager for another six hours. I thought that was interesting.

I woke up on my birthday morning for another Esperanto-filled day. Due to scheduling conflicts, our classes and meals were now in the same building as the dorm rooms. At breakfast, Katja gave me a postcard with a very special birthday message written on it. Andy slept in again, but I attended the class.

Since then I've just been hanging out; there's no excursion today. I've mostly spent my time with Katja (we took a long walk outside and had some Czech soda at the same restaurant), but for some reason she didn't want to sit around for over an hour as I wrote this. I'd better make it quick.

Happy birthday to me!

The old country

Sat Jul 11, 2009 07:02 EST (UTC -5)

Why? Why split up with my friend to spend the better part of a day going out of the way to an obscure, formerly communist country that's shaped like a chicken wing and has a goat on its flag?

Curiosity, mainly. I have a funny name, and I always wondered exactly where it came from. I've met a lot of relatives on my mom's side of the family but not as many on my dad's. There was some mystery there. I knew that my great-grandfather came from a certain city in Yugoslavia - no, make that Croatia. But that's all I knew.

Last year I did some research and found copies of the immigration records for my great-grandfather and his siblings. They passed through Ellis Island separately about 100 years ago. It seems that they came not from the city of Split but from Pucisca, across the channel on the island of Brac. But why? And who were they?

I doubted I would find out exactly, but I wanted to at least see the place and get a sense of what my ancestors left when they went to America. And, with any luck, I'd get to meet some of the cousins, the descendants of those in the Kalilich family - or, if I may briefly abandon my convention of dropping all diacritical marks, the Kalilić family - who stayed behind in the old country.

On Friday evening, after wandering a bit more in Venice, I came across a restaurant that had a pretty cheap menu and no cover or service charges. Having spent a week in Italy, I was able to get through the meal, from "One?" to the tip, using only the basic Italian phrases that Andy had taught me.

After that, I made my way to the train station to catch my train to Zagreb. It was actually an overnight train to Budapest, but it would apparently be making a fair number of stops, including Zagreb at 4:18 in the morning. I came prepared with some sleeping pills I had just bought, but my car had those booth things rather than rows of seats.

At first, I had the booth thing to myself, but at one of the early stops, and old woman and two girls who looked like sisters got on. The old woman spoke to me in Italian, apparently asking me to help her put her suitcase in the overhead compartment. I obliged. The sisters were talking to each other in some language I didn't recognize.

A little while later, I got up to go to the WC (as they say), but at the same time, two more girls came to take the remaining seats in the booth, and I decided I could wait. The brunette sat next to me, the blonde across from me. They spoke to each other in another language I didn't recognize, although it sounded vaguely like English at times. As the snack cart went by, the blonde asked for something in English.

After a few stops, the old lady was getting off the train and again asked me (apparently) to help her with her suitcase, which was above the blonde's seat. As you can probably guess would happen, I lost my hold of the suitcase and almost fell on her. I said I was sorry and felt pretty awkward after that.

The brunette started reading a book in Dutch, so I had a good guess as to where they were from. Later, they started talking to me. They were going to play a Dutch card game and asked me if I wanted to play. The game turned out to be crazy eights in one of its many guises. I had to get used to their deck of cards, which had different face cards, and the "teasing cards."

As we played, we talked about some cultural differences between our countries, such as the school systems and the drinking ages. Europeans who don't know what the drinking age in America is are always surprised to hear it, and these girls were no exception. They were also very surprised that I had almost four months off from school.

They talked a bit about themselves and the town where they were from. They were traveling for two weeks, and Venice had been their first stop. They had tickets for Zagreb but had changed their minds and wanted to go all the way to Budapest. They looked about the same age - I guessed 21 - but the brunette was 23, and the blonde was 19. I was right on average.

It was late, and the other sisters were trying to sleep in spite of our conversation, but they eventually gave up. It turned out that they spoke English as well. They were from Quebec. One of them had been studying in France, and the other was visiting her. They were stopping in Zagreb to take a bus to Split. We all got to talking with each other, but eventually, things quieted down.

The train made several long stops. Uniformed men and women with little patience asked to see our passports. We were going through Slovenia. Later, in the wee hours, it happened again; we had entered Croatia. During much of the time in between, my eyes were closed. I might have slept for about an hour. I was cognizant of the fact that it was Saturday, the Fourth of July.

Finally, the train stopped in Zagreb. I had some time at the station, so I sat on a bench inside. I had started reading a book on my computer when a man sat next to me and struck up a conversation. His accent was somewhat strong but understandable. He asked where I was from, and I told him. I thought he would ask me for money.

"America is good," he said. He said his name was Noble, or something pronounced like that. He said that he was Albanian, that his father had been executed by communists, that he couldn't get a passport, that he had fought in Iraq. He mused a little on the horrors of war and said he had almost been deported from Croatia several times. He suggested that Michael Jackson might have been killed by Russian spies. He said he was 33 years old.

He saw that I had a laptop and produced a flash drive. He asked me to delete some files on it. I was afraid that the flash drive had a virus or something on it, but he showed me which files to delete, and that was that. Then he asked if I had time for some coffee at the station's cafe, which had just opened at 5:00. I didn't have anything better to do, so I went with him.

He got a coffee. I got a coffee with milk and sugar. I drank as little of it as possible because I wanted to sleep on the next train. Between staring at some of the TVs on the walls, I talked a bit about why I was there in Croatia. I offered to pay for the coffee, but he refused to take any money. In our conversation, he would repeat things. "My name is Noble," he said again. "America is good," he said again.

He asked to see my passport. I thought he was going to copy down my passport number, so I just showed him some of the pages, with my hand happening to cover the important stuff. But he asked to see it himself. I handed it over. An American passport was a great thing to have, he said. He took a look at the cover and kissed it. Then he gave it back to me.

"What's my name?" he asked after saying something. He wanted to make sure I remembered. He said he had to get to his train and told me not to forget about him. He said I should stay in the cafe rather than sitting on the benches outside it. Why? Because it was nicer there. He left.

I went back to the bench after that and continued reading my book. The sun had come up. I took the train to Split a little while later.

The trains in Croatia aren't exactly fast. Taking the bus from Zagreb to Split is supposed to be a little faster. But I had this Eurail ticket, so the ride was mostly paid for. The train traveled through the mountainous Croatian countryside for hours and hours. I took a few sleeping pills but then decided not to sleep. I had written down some basic Croatian phrases, so I went over those. Finally, beyond the mountains, a city on the sea came into view. It was Split.

When my great-grandfather left the Croatian coast for Cleveland, Ohio, it wasn't for the weather. It was sunny and warm when I arrived. As soon as the train stopped, people holding signs saying "Rooms" or "Apartments" in different languages crowded around the door. Lots of people kept asking me if I needed accommodations in Split. Even outside the station, people on the sidewalk approached me and asked if I needed a room, a hostel, an apartment, or other accommodations in Split.

Since I hadn't been able to get in touch with my distant cousins, I felt very fortunate that there was a Pasporta Servo host around here. His name was Ivica, and he told me about the ferry between Split and the island of Brac. There are actually lots of ferries, so I had to make sure I was getting on the right one.

I rode the ferry to Brac, which cost about $6 and took 45 minutes. It's really not that far, but you're on a big, slow boat with cars in it.

The ferry arrived in the town of Supetar, on Brac. From there, he said, I could take a bus, find a taxi, or hitchhike. Taking the bus seemed to be the only sensible option. Since Brac is a rather large island with some small towns on it, the bus service is run by some private company with charter buses. It's about $4 or $5 per ticket.

I got off at Gornji Humac, which didn't seem to be quite a happening place. Even the driver didn't expect me to get off there. "Gornji Humac?" he asked me. After getting off the bus, I could see what he meant. It looked like a small village. It was the mid-afternoon by then, and no one was around. All I had was the name of the town and the house number, but I quickly saw that the houses weren't numbered, nor were the streets named.

After trying to talk to an old woman, I realized that the number I had was the postal code for the town. I found a small bar/restaurant that was technically open. The woman there spoke English, and I asked to use the phone because I had Ivica's number. She knew him and gave him a call for me. I ordered a Coke as a token of gratitude. Ivica arrived a few minutes later, and he took me to his house.

His house looked old like the others, but it looked pretty modern inside. I hadn't eaten all day, so he heated up some soup that was just chilling there. It was good. He also put out some cherries, and I ate a few. To drink, he offered me something I had never heard of before: homemade cherry juice. It was delicious.

After I told Ivica why I was visiting, he mentioned that he too was from Pucisca. He called one of his relatives to ask if she knew about any Kalilićes. She did, so he got their phone numbers. He called them and asked when we could meet them. He also told me that I had a relative in Gornji Humac.

Later, he took me along while he ran some errands. First, we went to a house nearby. It was his family's house, and he took some vegetables from the garden. Inside a small building were some barrels. He took some wine from one of them. Next, he went to a convenience store to get a few things. As he drove, he woud honk or wave at everyone. Everyone knew everyone else there.

After that, we drove out of town onto a dirt road that twisted and turned. He parked the car and we got out. I could see Gornji Humac in the distance. I followed him through various fields with stone walls around them. He was looking for his sheep. Finally, we saw the flock. I had never seen so many sheep, so it was interesting. They all say "Baaa," but each one has a different voice. The little ones go "Baaa!" all small-like.

He wanted to lead them to a different section of his land, and they followed. He gave me some corn to feed some of them. The rest concentrated on the grass. As the sheep grazed, he showed me the lavender bushes that were growing all around. He took two sprigs of lavender and put one behind his ear. He gave me the other, and I did the same.

I asked him how many sheep he had. He said that a shepherd never tells. In any case, he said, he didn't know the exact number, but he could tell that they were all there. He also told me a bit about the history of Brac. Apparently there was once a lot of wine produced there, but a disease killed the native grapes a hundred years ago, prompting a lot of people to leave the island. He said that was probably why my ancestors went to America.

Once he had the sheep where he wanted them, he showed me a tiny church, more like a chapel, near his land. It was dedicated to St. Michael and built in the 10th or 11th or 12th century (two consecutive ones of those, I don't remember).

He said it was still used every year during the island's Good Friday solemnities. The door was locked, but I could sort of peek inside.

There were a lot of rocks on a nearby mountain. He said that they were the ruins of a Bronze Age settlement. In fact, he said, there were some Bronze Age graves near us that had been recently been excavated. One looked like a pile of rocks with a small section dug out of it. He also took me to see a stone hut built used by shepherds for shelter as well as two pools built by some ancient civilization; one for people, the other for animals.

It was getting dark. We went home, and he made dinner: fried potatoes, bread, and salad. He said he rarely cooked and didn't have much food, but I thought the food he had was good. After dinner, it was late, so I got online only briefly to check my e-mail. Besides the usual Facebook notifications, there was my Esperanto word of the day: nobla, noble.

I slept in on Sunday. Ivica was apparently accustomed to sleeping very little, so he had already gone out and done some things. I think it was about 10:30 or 11 when I got out of bed, so I decided to wait till lunchtime to eat anything. Ivica made a delicious soup that I couldn't stop eating. It had large chunks of ham or something in it which you'd cut up before eating.

Apparently, my relatives in Pucisca had said that we could visit them after 5:00, so we had some time to kill. Eating ice cream, Ivica and I set off to the town of Bol, on the south side of the island. The first thing he showed me in town was a local landmark called the "House in House."

Apparently, in the 19th century, some guy had some land in town that someone else wanted to buy. He sold him the land around his house but not the house itself. So, the other guy got mad or something and decided to force out the first guy by building a house around his house. Weird, but clever.

The outer house didn't have a roof, so the whole place basically looked like an abandoned house with high walls (with windows) around it. I followed Ivica inside the outer house, and we looked around. He showed me some architectural elements that were typical of houses in the area. He also said that they use the place as a theater sometimes. Is such the fate of all abandoned buildings?

Bol was a small town, like all the others, but it was rather touristy and had a prominent beach. I thought it was interesting to lot of the signs in town were in Croatian, English, German, and Italian, in that order. We walked down the sidewalk that ran alongside the beach.

We chatted a bit, and he ran into a few friends and neighbors. I ran into the Canadian sisters from the train. We talked for a minute about why I was there (Esperanto) and then went our separate ways.

Eventually, enough time had passed that it was time to go to Pucisca. So, we got back into the car and headed along the twisty mountain roads to the north side of the island.

I had seen pictures of the town, so I recognized it right away. It consists of some houses wedged between mountainsides and a natural harbor.

We parked at the end of the harbor, in the center of town, and continued on foot. There was a steep street nearby. Off the street was a house. A woman and a man were there. They were Kalilićes.

They had us sit inside. The place seemed kind of small but comfortable. They were watching Andy Roddick play Roger Federer on TV. There was a large crucifix on the wall, carved in wood by some family member. I thought it was interesting because my grandfather was also a carpenter, and he made some religious art that we have hanging in our house.

Ivica spoke to them in Croatian; they spoke little English. Ivica translated for me. The man, the father of the family, was called Jerko. His grandfather and my father's grandfather were brothers, which would make him my second cousin once removed. I was surprised that I had never heard of this branch of the family tree. I thought his grandfather had gone to America. Maybe he went back? Or I was confusing him with another brother? I didn't know.

They offered us bread, cheese, and brandy. The brandy was pretty good. Ivica and the Kalilićes talked to each other quite a bit in Croatian; apparently they were trying to figure out how they might know each other. Everybody on Brac knew each other, Ivica said. Jerko showed me a couple of photos of his grandparents and a letter that my great-grandfather had written in 1960.

As gifts, they gave me some items made of Brac's white stone: two candleholders, an ashtray, and a small vase. They said that one of their relatives sold them as souvenirs, and their English was good enough to tell me personally that Brac stone was used in the construction of the White House. They also gave me some olive oil and brandy to take home. When I would say "Thank you" to Jerko, he would say "Please." It actually makes sense if you think about it.

One of their sons, Milan, stopped by and greeted me in English. He seemed to be about my age. He asked me if I was on Facebook, and I told him I was. He wrote down his name and e-mail address and then had to go somewhere. I wrote my family's mailing address and phone number for them.

After that, I wanted to get a picture, so we went outside.

They had a small garden and a lot of potted plants. They also had some grapes growing above our heads; it seems to be a popular thing to do. From the garden I could see other houses on the opposite mountainside; we weren't far from the water.

They said that Jerko's grandfather and his siblings (including my great-grandfather) were born in the house. The house had one story back then; the second story, which I could see was an addition, was added in 1947. I couldn't believe it. This was where my family came from. This was the house they left to go to America.

The other son, Zoran, came by. He was a few years older than me. They said they also had a daughter, but she wasn't there. Zoran and the rest of us went back into the house to chat a little more. Next, they wanted to take me to the cemetery, so I gathered my new belongings and we got into the family car.

I had wanted to see where my ancestors were buried, so this was a welcome development. The road to the cemetery went up alongside a mountain, where we stopped to get a view of the house and the rest of the town. After that, we continued along. It wasn't far at all, of course. Pucisca is a small town.

There was a small church or chapel with rather elaborate graves all around it. Jerko and his wife led us to one of the outer sections that was on higher ground; apparently it was newer. Each family had a section here where its members would be buried together. It was a small cemetery, but we weren't the only visitors there.

We got to a headstone with the Kalilić name on it. Several items had been placed there. As Zoran took a broom and cleaned up the surroundings, I got a good look. Two people were buried there; I think they were Jerko's parents. The headstone was marked "OBITELJ KALILIĆ TRIFE." I asked Ivica what it meant.

It said "Kalilić Trife Family." In Croatia, or in this part of Croatia, each family has a nickname that they use informally, often to distinguish themselves from another family with the same name. I don't think there's another Kalilić family, and neither do they, but they have a nickname. It is Trife.

We walked around a bit more, and Josko and Ivica each saw people that they knew. We then drove back into town, near where Ivica had parked. There was a cafe, so we decided to have drinks. I didn't feel like beer or soda, so I just had water. Sometimes I just want water. We talked some more, and that's when Jerko asked if I had any siblings. Just a twin sister, I said. Everyone is impressed when you say you have a twin.

I was supposed to meet Jerko and his wife again the next day, but in case I couldn't, they wished me well. I asked for their address, which turned out to be little more than their name and the name of the town. Apparently it's such a small town that the people at the post office know where everybody lives.

We parted ways. Ivica and I walked around Pucisca some more. He showed me the Stonemason School, which was open for visiting. It's unique because the students there are taught to work only with simple tools. The work they had on display was very well done. Ivica was able to tell me a lot about everything because he went to the school and, by his account, fared badly.

We could see a couple of rooms filled with lions, faces, fountains, cubes, and modern sculptures, large and small, rough and polished, all made of Brac's white stone.

There were brochures in several languages; I got one in English. It said that Brac stone was, in fact, used for the White House, among other notable structures. In the corner of the main room was a closet whose door was slightly open. I could see a stone head inside; Ivica said it was a bust of Tito.

It had gotten dark out, so we went home. I had wanted to meet with Josko, a relative that I and others of us at home had been in contact with. Ivica called him up, and he said that he would call back the next day. Ivica made fried potatoes for dinner. Once again, it was pretty late, and I was very tired, so I went to bed soon after that. It had been a big day.

I slept in again on Monday. While Ivica was out, I did my laundry and hung it out to dry outside. It seems primitive, but it actually works pretty well if you can get your clothes in direct sunlight. If not, you're kind of screwed. I waited for Josko to call, but I don't think he did.

Ivica had to go to work in the afternoon, so on the way, he took me to visit my other relative, the one right in town. He led me into a small-looking house and talked briefly the people there before leaving. There were two men and a woman. One of the men was smoking. I was introduced to the woman and one of the men; the smoking man left.

Marijana was the name of my relative; she lived there with her husband, Nikola. They looked to be marrying age, and she was pregnant. She was Jerko's daughter, the daughter I didn't meet the day before. That would make her my third cousin. They spoke English well enough to have a conversation.

Marijana said she had never heard of my branch of the family tree until yesterday, and I said the same about hers. We sketched out our respective branches of the family tree, and Marijana mentioned that she had an aunt who lived in Bol. She also said that there was a Kalilić not related to us who lived in Supetar. I figured he must be related somehow.

Nikola spent more of the time talking to me while Marijana held on to my third cousin once removed. He talked about the differences between life in Croatia and life in Australia, where he had spent some of his childhood. Times had been difficult in Croatia due to the war in the 1990s. Things were getting better, he said, but they could be better still.

He seemed optimistic about starting a family, and I was happy for him. He showed me their plans for expanding the house. He also said that they were going to a birthing class soon as Marijana went to get ready. Times had changed in Croatia, he said. Once upon a time, men didn't want to be in the delivery room with their wives. I said that it had been the same in the States. Attitudes were changing.

The TV was on. There was some French show with subtitles, followed by the news. One of the top stories was Obama visiting Medvedev in Russia. We talked a bit about the political environment in the United States. The Europeans I've talked to have expressed their disdain for Bush and their optimism about Obama, just as many Americans have.

Nikola briefly went to get ready, and then they both had to be on their way. They reminded me that Marijana's parents were expecting me to meet them in Bol. Nikola showed me how to get to the souvenir stand where they worked. After they told me they could be found on Facebook even though they didn't have Internet access at home, we took the obligatory picture, and Nikola drove me back to Ivica's, where I had a quick bite to eat.

My next task was to get to Bol. There were a couple of buses standing at Gornji Humac's bus stop, but neither was for Bol, so I decided to thumb a ride. Ivica and Nikola had told me that hitchhiking was safe and common on the island. They also implied that it was legal. I didn't feel so bad, then, as I stuck my thumb out on the side of the road. A car went by. Right behind it was a bus heading for Bol, so I just jumped on the bus.

In Bol, I found the souvenir stand easily, thanks to Nikola's directions. Sure enough, Jerko and his wife were there with all manner of souvenirs from Bol, Brac, and Croatia: magnets, figurines, shells, a life-size seagull, and more. Their stand wasn't far from the area where Ivica and I had walked the day before.

Jerko invited me to sit in a chair across the way from the stand. He sat next to me and got up when people looked like they were interested in something. A couple of his friends and associates came by, and he would introduce me to them. One of them asked (in English) if I wanted anything to drink. I asked for a Coke, and he gave it to me for free.

Jerko also asked me the occasional question about my family with what English he knew. He said he spoke German and some Italian, but the only English he knew where things like "How much?", "Thank you," and numbers. When his wife wasn't manning the stand, she talked to me too. She said that their small seashells were from Brac but that the large ones were from the Philippines. She also said that Bill Gates came by once in his yacht, and his daughter bought a shell.

I watched the passersby pass by. I didn't get bored; I was happy just to be there. After a while, Jerko took me to see his sister, Marijana's aunt who lived there in Bol. We walked to their apartment, which wasn't far away. His sister, Gita, was there with two daughers, Vera (I think) and Zorana. As I should have come to expect, they offered me some meat, cheese, and chocolate, and I obliged.

The daughters spoke English. Zorana wasn't around for long; she had to go to work. Vera told me she was 16, but I think she meant 26. Her boyfriend came around, and he chatted with me quite a bit. His English was very good. We talked about various subjects, and he described various aspects of life in Croatia. The TV news was on in the background, and he asked if focusing on bad news was just a Croatian thing. No, I told him.

Over an hour passed as we exchanged questions about the family and I ate. Jerko mentioned to them in Croatian that I had a twin. I didn't remember the word for "twin" from the day before, but I recognized it by the way Gita and Vera repeated it.

Jerko had to get back to the souvenir stand, so we started to get going. That's when he asked me if I had to be back at Ivica's at any particular time. Apparently they work till 11 PM. I didn't have a problem with that. So we snapped a few pictures of all of us together, and then I went back with Jerko.

Next to his stand was a stand that sold stone souvenirs like the ones I had gotten as gifts the day before. It was then that I got to meet the relative who worked at the stand. He was Jerko's wife's nephew; not a blood relative, but a relative nonetheless. His English was fairly good, and he told me that he lived in Bosnia but worked at the souvenir stand during the summer.

He was interested in computers and the Internet; like me, he liked programming in PHP. In fact, he was sort of a hacker, in the popular sense of the word. He told me about a simple SQL injection, which I though was interesting because I don't know about any of that kind of stuff. He also asked me about life in Florida and whether there were a lot of hurricanes.

Night fell. I thought business would drop off, but a lot of people were still walking around and buying souvenirs. I was taking pictures.

After 10, when Ivica got home from work, he gave my relatives a call to make sure I was with them. They decided to close up shop a little early to take me home.

They stopped at Gornji Humac's bus stop, where Ivica was waiting for me. My relatives said that if I could stay longer, they would gladly let me stay with them. I appreciated the offer and told them I would be back soon with my family. I think they'd really like it there.

On Tuesday morning, Ivica was at work. I had to get back to Supetar to catch the ferry to the mainland. I tried hitchhiking, but no one was stopping. I took the next bus to Supetar. So I've still never hitchhiked, but I've tried hitchhiking.

After the bus, the ferry, three trains, three subway lines, and a trolley, I was at Tuerkenschanzstrasse in Vienna, where Andy was staying with a distant relative. We were back together. I hadn't slept. It was Wednesday morning; I had been traveling for 24 hours.

Why go to Croatia? The scenery is beautiful, and the people are friendly. But most of all, I have family there. Even though they had never met me or even heard of me, they were more than glad to have me and even let me stay in their home. I got a glimpse of the way of life that my father's father's father left behind, and I even visited the home he gave up for a new life in America.

Curiosity, mainly. But also because I feel that, in a small way, I have a stake in the place, and it belongs to me.

For its entire existence, The World of Stuff has been the web site of a teenager. That was the main draw in the early days, when it was pretty exciting not only to come across a "web log" but one written by a teenager. I've used taglines such as "Musings of a teenage teenager," and "The world through the eyes of a not-so-typical teenager," and they fit: these digital pages overflow with teenage thoughts, teenage experiences, teenage non-experiences. But now, it ends. This will be my last post as a teenager. After 1,073 posts, I turn 20 on Monday.

I've had a lot of experiences since I turned 13 (for a detailed treatment of these, see every post I've ever written), but I was still maturing. So it's fitting that I should have my enter my... twenties... while on such an epic trip. I've never felt very different on or right after a birthday, but this is no normal summer. On this unfamiliar continent, am I standing on the boundary between adolescence and adulthood?

It is an important decade. What will my twenties bring? A job or a career? Dating or marriage? Which do I want?

I don't know. I'm just going to school and, in between, trying to have fun. On July 13, and for the foreseeable future, that will be the same.

Tour of Italy

Fri Jul 03, 2009 12:21 EST (UTC -5)

On Saturday morning, Andy and I were in Pisa, Italy. Our hotel was across town from the famous leaning tower, but Pisa is a small city, so it was a short walk. As we got closer to the tower, the density of touristy places like gift shops increased. Finally, I could see the top of the tower above the rooftops. Andy had walked around town the night before and had been impressed by how much the tower leaned. Now it was my turn to see.

Mine and many others'. Throngs of people shuffled around in front of the Field of Miracles, next to the ancient city's cathedral and its ill-planned bell tower, which leaned noticeably, almost threateningly. I was impressed.

The first thing I thought to do was to take a lot of pictures. Next, I decided to get a picture of myself with the tower. When you see photos of people standing of the Field of Miracles with the leaning tower behind them, they've risked being whistled at by a police officer. You're not supposed to stand on the grass.

Being myself, I didn't stand on the grass. But I'd kick myself if I didn't pose for the cheesy holding-up-the-tower photo that everyone else was looking ridiculous doing.

We checked out the area for a little while and considered taking a tour of the tower, but neither of us especially wanted to do it. So we walked our hungry selves back down the narrow streets of Pisa. A guy outside a restaurant charmed us to a table, where we enjoyed our first real ("real"?) Italian meal. There I learned that the restaurants in Italy often serve multiple courses. I had rigatoni (or something like that) bolognese; chicken, veal, and potatoes; and finally, a small fruit salad.

We didn't have much else to do in Pisa, so we went back to the station and took the next train for Rome, where we had a hostel booked for Sunday and Monday nights, but not that night since it was too late to do that online. Andy had called the hostel and asked if we could stay there that night also, and they said it was no problem.

We arrived in Rome and set out for the hostel. I had written down the address and the name of the nearest subway station. But the nearest station wasn't very close. I blame this on the fact that Rome's subway system has only two lines. After asking various people for directions, we took a bus in the right general direction. Eventually, we found someone who could tell us exactly where the hostel was.

The hostel was in the northwestern portion of the city, near Vatican City and the 1960 Olympic complex. This was our second stay at a hostel, so I got more of a feel of what hostels in general were like. Apparently, they are all pretty shoddy. They didn't give us a key when we checked in, and when I asked about it, they said they didn't give out keys to the rooms. Our room was bigger than the last and had lockers for our stuff, but it was deficient in other ways, as we would soon find out. (Keep reading!)

We asked the guy at the desk to recommend a cheap restaurant, so he gave us the name of a pizza place down the road. We found it and had a seat only to realize that it wasn't particularly cheap. We ate there anyway. The service was very good, and the waiter, who spoke English, was more than happy to tell us what everything on the menu was.

I decided to try some different Italian food, so I had tripe. It was really chewy, and it tasted kind of funny, but I'm glad I tried it. After the meal, we realized that that probably wasn't the pizza place. It just had the same name.

On Sunday, I went downstairs for breakfast at the hostel. You could have a small piece of bread, some butter and jelly, and a tiny cup of coffee or whatever. Anything else you had to pay for. I pretended to be ignorant and took a croissant, but I got found out and had to pay for it. Then I got the bread. It was the last breakfast I ate at the hostel. Upstairs in the lobby, I saw two people hand in their room keys.

We set out to see some of Rome's many sights. We started at the Spanish Steps, probably the most famous staircase in the world. In front of the steps is a fountain.

My AAA guidebook to Europe said that Rome was a city of fountains, and I soon realized how right it was. Our next stop perambulating about the city was the Trevi Fountain, a large and absolutely beautiful work of art.

Next, we set out for the Pantheon, also a short walk away.

I only knew it from the movie Angels and Demons, but it is in fact a church that was originally a Roman temple (as the name implies!). It's a circular building whose dome contains a natural skylight. Around the crowds of people you can find the tombs of the Italian kings Humbert I and Victor Emmanuel II, as well as the artist Raphael. I didn't actually find Raffi, but I can assume that he was there.

We walked further toward our ultimate destination, the colossal Colosseum. On the way, we saw a massive monument to Victor Emmanuel. It was really amazing to see.

By this time, we were hungry, so we found a restaurant and split a pizza for lunch. We didn't have to go very far from the restaurant to pass by some ruins and see the Colosseum.

We decided to get a guided tour, which was pretty convenient. I learned a lot about the colorful history of the stadium and what it was like in its glory days. There was a long break in the tour when we were free to wander around. Since Andy hadn't slept much the night before, he took a nap on an old column. And you know what? I was perfectly fine with it.

After checking out the place a little while longer, we continued our tour at the adjacent Palatine Hill, where Rome was supposedly founded and where the Roman Empire was headquartered. On the hill were ruins of a palace and other homes. Next to the hill lay the ruins of the Roman Forum.

That's where our tour ended. Since it was getting late, we asked the tour guide if he could recommend any good, cheap vegetarian restaurants in the area. He gave us a card (he had several) for a certain bar across the river. He said they had a buffet that was free as long as you bought a drink.

After checking out the Forum down below...

...we went to get dinner. We had been walking everywhere all day, but many of the sights in Rome are close together. Even the restaurant wasn't that far. We eventually found the place, which seemed to be a hangout for the locals. The buffet wasn't much, but it was almost all vegetarian, to Andy's delight. For my drink, I had a beer. It's an acquired taste that I think I'm acquiring.

We were sort of close to our hostel by then, but we were tired of walking, so we took a bus to a subway station and went back from there.

There are three types of days we tend to have: travel days, sightseeing days, and rest days, generally in that order. Monday was largely a rest day. I had wanted to go to the Vatican that day, but I had just found out that everything there was closed because it was important Catholic feast day. So we decided to mosey to the train station to get our next tickets early.

Once we were at the station, we started to plan out the logistics of our exit the next day. We would have to check out of the hostel in the morning and visit the Vatican with our backpacks. We saw that there was a place at the train station where we could pay to store our bags for a few hours. Then, when we saw how long the line for tickets was, we decided to save that for tomorrow.

We ate pasta at a restaurant across from the station. It seemed to be something like a club at night because we ate near a sort of stage, but at lunchtime they were playing American songs from the '50s and early '60s.

After wandering around the neighborhood a bit, we went back to the hostel and chilled, enjoying the Wi-Fi that we had to pay for. We got in touch with Mark and found out that he would be arriving in Rome soon and would also be going to the Vatican tomorrow. We didn't really make plans to meet up, though.

It was about then that I noticed the little bites on my arms. Andy had more of them; he would sleep without a shirt on. Yes, it seems that while I had a somewhat good night and slept fairly tight, I in fact let the bedbugs bite. Disgusting.

To save money, we had dinner at the hostel. It turns out that they have halfway decent food beyond the free breakfast. And by halfway decent, I mean just that. Not all the way decent. So that was pretty much my day. Andy went out to a club, and I retreated to our room, where I had a hard time getting to sleep knowing that insects would soon be crawling all over me and eating my flesh.

On Tuesday, we set out for the Vatican. I decided that we shouldn't leave our bags at the train station beforehand because the back-and-forth would eat up a lot of time. The world's smallest independent state was actually only a few blocks from our subway stop. As we got nearer, Andy realized that the place looked familiar. He had gone out for a run and apparently found himself in St. Peter's Square.

We checked out the square first. I was a little underwhelmed. I guess I was expecting it to be more grandiose.

Then we headed toward the Vatican Museums, where one would find the Sistine Chapel and other famous sights. Andy was tired from carrying his bags and from going out the night before, so he decided to skip out on the Vatican and go right to the train station. He wanted to get free Wi-Fi from the only place in Europe where you can reliably find it: McDonald's.

Yes, in the past week or so we've found ourselves at more than one McDonald's, often buying token or not-so-token amounts of food to justify using the free, unlimited wireless Internet. And you know what? McDonald's is a restaurant that has delicious, inexpensive food. We don't eat there every day. We would prefer to go anywhere else. But sometimes, we need to get in touch with our families. Think of the children!!

So I stood in line for the Vatican Museums. The line was long, but it moved fast, and I was in after 15 minutes. Taking my giant backpack to the cloakroom or whatever you'd call it was no problem. I got the student discount and was then free to explore the several museums.

I started with a collection of early Christian art, which turned out to be a bunch of Greek and Roman sculptures. The place looked more like a warehouse than a museum, an ugly labrynth of a room with objects here and there, free to walk up to and often not labeled in any language.

After that, I saw signs for the philatelic and numismatic (stamp and coin) museum, which I totally didn't know that Vatican had. As a banknote, coin, and (sometimes) stamp collector, I was pumped. This would totally be my favorite museum at the Vatican. But then I was informed that that museum was closed that day. NOOOOOO!!!!!

I decided not to waste time, so I followed the signs for the Sistine Chapel. To get there, you have to go through almost everything. Which is not to say that the other stuff isn't worth seeing. There are lots of courtyards and terraces surrounding long, lavishly decorated rooms with old maps and globes and elegant paintings and statues and mosaics and tapestries. It really is spectacular. What's also impressive is that you're allowed to take pictures there.

If you don't like crowds, though, you wouldn't like it. There was a whole mob of people going through. Everyone seemed to be following the signs for the Sistine Chapel, and I though they would never end, but finally, I made it. There were signs saying not to talk or take pictures.

I don't know why, but I expected the Sistine Chapel to be bigger. It's a chapel. It's about as big as a chapel could conceivably be, but it's still a chapel. Michelangelo's frescoes, which cover the walls and ceiling, are fantastic. And the room was unbelievably crowded with people talking and taking pictures. A guard would periodically try to shush the crowd to no avail. And since they weren't doing anything about the many people taking pictures, I took one. Of course, it wasn't very good.

After that, I went through a few more fancy rooms and then found myself back where I started. I got my bag back and returned to St. Peter's Square. As I was getting in line to go into St. Peter's Basilica, someone else getting in line at the same time called my name. It was Mark!

This was the second time he had met me unexpectedly. The first time was in Madrid, when I happened to run into his travel companion, Dan, who took me back to their hostel. We were both pretty surprised that we would coincidentally find each other in Vatican City even though we knew we were both going to be there that day. It's small, but it's a big place.

We headed into St. Peter's Basilica, the spiritual heart of Catholicism, after I put my backpack in another cloakroom without a problem. One of the first sights you can see in the Basilica is Michelangelo's sublime Pieta:

As we wandered around the huge building, Mark asked about the significance of the things we were seeing. We talked about our respective religious upbringings, mine as Catholic, his as Pentecostal.

After that, we visited the grottoes downstairs, where some popes and other important people are buried. No photography is allowed there, and they try to move you through the place pretty fast, probably because it's so small. They have a guy standing in front of John Paul II's grave whose job is to keep people from standing in front of it for more than about two seconds.

By then, it had been a few hours since Andy and I had split up, so I parted ways with Mark to meet him. Once I found him at the McDonald's, I had lunch there (see justification above), and we got our tickets to our next destination... Venice!

The train to Venice was a high-speed train, so we got there in about four hours and change. It was dark when we arrived, and outside the train station, we could see the Grand Canal, Venice's main drag, illuminated by the lights all around it.

The only way to get around in Venice is by boat or by foot, and the public transportation is a system of numbered boat routes. We took a boat to the famous Piazza San Marco, near where our hotel was located. (I don't think I would ever stay at a hostel again.) With enough asking for directions, we made our way through the ancient, narrow streets and found the hotel.

It was late and we were hungry, so we asked the guy at the desk for a recommendation. He told us how to get to a restaurant that was owned by the owner of the hotel. It wasn't far away. Even though it wasn't exactly cheap, we ate there anyway. This was the first time I had been to a restaurant that not only had a service charge but also a cover charge per person. Apparently a lot of the restaurants in Venice are like that.

Our hotel room was small but nicely kept. There was no Internet access in the hotel, so we would have to find it somewhere else. Tired, I took my first shower in a few days (I tried to shower at the hostel but there was little semblance of convenience or privacy) and went to sleep.

On Wednesday, after I had a free breakfast that was actually good, we embarked on a mission to find free Wi-Fi. As you might imagine, we failed. We had lunch at a restaurant that wasn't so great; the food was expensive and microwaved. It tasted okay, but it wasn't worth it.

We found a couple of Internet cafes nearby that were kind of expensive, and we ended up making do with them. During our wanderings throughout the day, Andy and I (but especially Andy) learned how to get around the neighborhood. The ancient streets can be kind of confusing, but the little bridges over the little canals are wonderful to see.

We made it to the Piazza San Marco, where there was a sort of classical music concert going on. There were also lots of pigeons. I took lots of pictures of the landmarks in the square, St. Mark's Basilica...

...and the Campanile, a bell tower.

I went back to the Internet cafe to do some important things. We had planned to go to Croatia next, but Andy preferred to go to Switzerland with Mark, so I made arrangements to stay with an Esperanto speaker there by myself. While I was Internetting, I got an e-mail from Mark about Switzerland plans, but Andy wasn't there to answer because he was at a laundromat. By the time he met up with me, the Internet cafe was closed, so we had to find Wi-Fi elsewhere.

We went back to Piazza San Marco because the guy at the Internet cafe said there was a restaurant-type place where we could connect to their network. I don't know what was up, but the way to the restaurant was blocked, and a police officer there told us that it was full. She asked a nearby woman, apparently from the restaurant, about our request to use the Internet there, and she laughed. I shot them a dirty look as we were walking away.

I remembered hearing from the guy at the Internet cafe that their other location had a Wi-Fi signal after hours. So we went there. We had to sit right outside the building, but it worked. We were on the steps of a little bridge going over a little canal. Andy made plans with Mark, and I burned off the rest of the time I had bought.

By then, it was 11 PM, and a lot of the restaurants were closing. That didn't keep us from stopping to take nice time exposures, like this one from the famous Rialto Bridge:

Eventually, we found a place where we could get pizza even though it was technically closed. Then we headed back to the hotel. It wasn't supposed to be a long day, but it really was.

On Thursday, we headed to the train station because Mark and Dan were supposed to be getting in from Rome around 2:00. After a quick lunch, we headed to their platform. We didn't see them, so they apparently didn't take that train. We went ahead and got our tickets for the next day; Andy's for Switzerland, mine for Croatia. Unlike other places we've been to, the people at the ticket desks didn't have rail schedules for other countries; we had to get them at the information desk. It was a rigmarole.

By then, we had eaten up a few hours, so we decided to eat up some more time at a nearby Internet cafe. After that, we walked around through some parts of the city we hadn't been to yet, including the old Jewish ghetto, which still had a Jewish character to it. Before we knew it, it was time for an early dinner, so we had some pasta at a restaurant. Pizzas and basic pasta dishes are about the cheapest thing you can get at a restaurant in Venice (and probably elsewhere).

After dinner, we found a McDonald's that had free Wi-Fi, no password required. (For the curious, it's at Strada Nova 3923, near Ca' d'Oro.) We were there while they were closing, so when Andy asked them about the Wi-Fi, they gave him some free food. We got cheeseburgers (without the meat) and Fantas. Nice! On the way back to the hotel, we encountered a polite Canadian woman who mentioned that there would be a city-wide Wi-Fi network starting tomorrow.

This morning, Andy left for the train station, and I checked out of the hotel. They let me leave my bag there till later, so I was relatively free to wander around. In Piazza San Marco, I saw large signs saying that July 3, 2009, was Wi-Fi Day. I checked out the shops and did some errands like picking up some Croatian kunas for the next part of my trip. I also went to McDonald's for the Wi-Fi multiple times (hint: I'm there now).

I'm going to miss Italy, especially Venice, which has a charm of its own. Tonight, I'm heading to Croatia, where I'll hopefully get to visit some distant relatives. If not, it'll still be a nice few days. It's supposed to be a beautiful country, and I'll be staying with friendly people.

A tale of four countries

Sat Jun 27, 2009 03:44 EST (UTC -5)

When we last left our heroes, they had awoken in a stylish apartment in Sabadell, a suburb of Barcelona.

Last Friday was a short day since Andy woke up so late. He and I went downstairs to play the keyboard. I taught him a song and he played some others. That was our day, pretty much. Santi and Olga, our hosts, were kind of surprised that we had stayed in Sabadell instead of going into Barcelona, but I wasn't.

Many of you have commented on Andy's tendency to sleep and asked if he had a problem. I said no, he doesn't have a problem. He likes to stay up all night, and he prefers befriending the locals to sightseeing anyway. But actually, he's just told me that he was diagnosed as having an unusual circadian rhythm. Also, for every day I don't mention that he slept late, he probably woke up at a reasonable time. Cut the guy some slack.

On Saturday morning, Andy and I asked our hosts where we could get some more Steinburg Clasica, and they said they had put some lemon Fanta or something in an old Steinburg Clasica bottle. In my defense, 4.8% alcohol could taste like anything.

Mark and Dan were in Barcelona that day, so Andy and I wanted to meet Mark at Park Guell. All we knew is that he wanted to meet us and some of his new friends by a lizard statue. We got lost on the way to the park and arrived half an hour late. There was no sign of Mark or any such statue.

But there were signs of Gaudi, the visionary architect who left his mark on Barcelona. He designed the park, and the flowing forms all around are his.

We went into a cafe to ask where the lizard statue was, and we were told that it wasn't far away. As we went to look for it, we encountered Mark, who had been at the park for a while but was lost and confused. It turned out that the lizard statue was right by the grand staircase at the entrance of the park. Mark's other friends, however, were not.

Mark had already gone around the whole park, so we followed him for a bit. There's a path that encircles the park, and it's filled with tourists. Not long into our walk, we encountered a large open area with a view of the city. It was also my first view of the Mediterranean.

There was also some food right there, so I got a pre-made potato omelet sandwich that was pretty bad. I hadn't eaten all day, though, so it was okay.

We walked a little more and made it to the highest point in the park, which was a sort of mound with stairs going up around it. The view was even better.

Andy and I couldn't stay long, so the three of us started to head back to the nearest metro station. On the way, we stopped at a shop for some more eats and drinks. I had a Fanta, which I wasn't particularly fond of. It tasted like slightly carbonated orange juice.

We parted ways with Mark on the metro. We had to be back at our hosts' apartment because they wanted to take us to a barbecue/campout in the mountains that evening. But when we got there, they said that they were put off by the weather, which was slightly menacing. Instead, we would go in the morning.

They decided to have the barbecue for dinner anyway, so we had a meal of it on the back patio. Since it was mostly going to consist of meat, Andy and I went to the local supermarket so Andy could get some vegetarian food to cook. He ended up making mashed potatoes, which everyone enjoyed. Olga's 10-year-old sister, who was apparently visiting from Russia, had dinner with us too.

On Sunday, we hopped into the van and took a drive to the mountains. There's a small mountain range outside Sabadell. I forget what it's called, but Santi, a mountain enthusiast, calls it his favorite. They said it was their third time taking Esperantists to the mountains. I thought it would be nice to get some fresh air and do something a little different.

We started driving up one particular mountain, going through the neighborhoods that had situated themselves around it. Santi parallel-parked on a street about halfway up the mountain, and nearby we found a place to begin. Oh yes, we would be hiking. Up the mountain.

It started easily enough. But then it quickly got more difficult. I was practically panting before we took our first break. Everyone else, including Olga's sister, was having a grand old time. So I had some water, and we kept going. And going and going and going. We followed narrow paths flanked by wild plants. We climbed stairs of tree branches. We got higher and higher and higher.

Eventually, we were walking around the side of the mountain. The width of the path varied. At one point, it was so narrow that one wrong step could have sent me over the edge if I hadn't been holding on to the cable that was anchored along the mountainside. I wasn't really scared, but I was very tired. Exhausted, even.

At one point, we got to a giant rock formation reminiscent of the southwestern United States. It looked sort of like a giant boulder sitting on a promontory of the mountain. We walked around it and admired the view of the mountainside. There wasn't a lot of room to walk around there, so of course, there were bees hanging around. But nobody got stung, fortunately.

They asked us if we wanted to walk a bit further to get to the restaurant at the top of the mountain or whether we wanted to just leave. Although I was tired and aching, I thought it would be nice to stop at a restaurant and relax. So we kept going higher and higher. The path started to consist of steps, and we saw lots of people going the other direction, so I knew we were close.

Finally, I could see the restaurant at the top of the mountain, but it was still pretty far away. I thought I was going to die as we were finally walking up to it. But nobody else seemed to be that way. There were lots of people hanging around outside, with a lot of kids and dogs. And then there was the view. At the top of the mountain, you could see everything. It was almost worth it!

Rather than going into the restaurant, we sat outside it and had a little picnic, which I thought wasn't as fun. I wasn't very hungry, so I ate a piece of bread and drank gazpacho from a carton. Everyone else had leftovers from the barbecue.

After a while, we did go into the restaurant, which was apparently an 11th-century monastery. ("Every valley shall be exalted and every hill made low." An attractive promise.) We just went in for coffee and tea. Andy fell asleep because, as I recall, he went out clubbin' the night before and therefore slept very little. He had also just hiked up a mountain. Okay???

The restaurant was apparently closing, so we left and went on our way. Going down the mountain was easier than going up, but you still have to be careful not to let gravity get carried away with you. In any case, it was simple enough that I passed the time by just thinking about other stuff. Over the course of my life I've had to endure many boring or tedious things, so I have a high tolerance for boredom.

After a little while, we arrived at a paved road. Instead of continuing down the mountain, we took the road and turned around the corner. It was the street that we had parked on. I looked up. It wasn't halfway up the mountain; it was almost all the way up the mountain. We took a really long and circuitous route to get to the top and a really quick way down. I was as surprised as I was tired.

Andy and I both passed out once we got home. Well, I lay down to rest and apparently actually slept for a little while, which is my equivalent of passing out. I couldn't help but consider Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay my new heroes.

On Monday, Andy and I left Sabadell for a meeting we had been planning for weeks. Andy's friend George was going to be with his mom and stepdad (or somesuch relation) in Barcelona. They had rented an apartment in the Ciutat Vella, the old part of Barcelona. We met them on La Rambla, one of the main drags in town. Andy, George, and I went to a Chinese restaurant and then checked out the apartment.

It was pretty nice. I didn't know you could rent an apartment for a few days like a hotel room, but you can. It also smelled like a hotel room, which wasn't bad. We caught up with George's parents there, and when George's stepdad and I were the only ones awake, we went out to explore the old part of town. There were lots of locals walking up and down the narrow streets. There were also a lot of small plazas, some with their own churches. On our way back, we got some groceries.

Then, it was dinnertime. This was the dinner we had been been aware of well in advance: Monday, June 22, dinner in Barcelona with George's family. For dinner, we had a lot of options. We ended up going to a hip place just around the corner. The menu had entrees categorized in a grid, with the main ingredients on the horizontal axis and the cooking style on the vertical. I think everybody liked the food. They had Italian, Mediterranean, and Asian dishes of all types, so there was something for everyone.

Part of the dinner plan was to spend the night with George's family, so we did that. We were going to leave on Tuesday, but Andy wanted to stay an extra day. I didn't think it was a bad idea either since we had hardly seen much of the city. So Tuesday was a full day in Barcelona.

The five of us started by going to the Picasso Museum, which was only a few blocks from the apartment. Due to its location in the Ciutat Vella, it was necessarily a small place. And when the guidebooks say that this museum mainly has early works by Picasso, they're not kidding. There are only a few of his cubist paintings. And the rooms containing what's supposed to be the highlight of the museum, some of the versions of Las Meninas that he painted in the '50s, were closed for remodeling.

It wasn't all bad; The First Communion, one of his first major works, is very nicely done. But if you're an art major or someone who's otherwise interested in Picasso's early development as an artist, you would probably enjoy it more. Otherwise, you're not missing much.

We spent some more time walking around the area, including the Plaza de la Constitucion:

We had lunch at a quiet, kind of fancy restaurant around there. I had a dish of Catalan sausage with rice and vegetables. After that, we eventually made it to the beach. We sat on a bench behind all the sunbathers and watched the Mediterranean. I also watched the sunbathers for a bit. Andy and George got some beach-type alcoholic drinks.

When we Americans talk about Europeans, we often mention their laissez-faire attitudes toward things that for some reason get our collective national undies in a bunch. What we don't often mention, maybe because we don't know, is that Europeans take things in moderation. They walk their dogs without leashes—sometimes. They take their tops off at the beach—sometimes. They drink in public—sometimes. I don't know how we got this way, but we seem to be afraid that society will collapse if Uncle Bob savors a cold one on the sidewalk or the kids see a nipple. We can learn a lot from the Europeans. Everything in moderation.

It was sometime on Tuesday that I realized it was less than three weeks till my 20th birthday. My days as a teenager are numbered. What, if anything, does it mean? Maybe not that much. After all, our decimal number system is arbitrary. I like to think that I'm 23 in octal. But on the other hand, it means a lot in society to be in one's teens or twenties. My friends who have turned 20 seem like they were when they were 19, but I don't think I would feel the same inside. There's so much I haven't done, and it feels like a weight hanging on me. I don't want to be someone who didn't have so much as a girlfriend until his twenties, but I am set to be. A lot of people would say it doesn't matter, but it doesn't reflect well on me, and I care about that.

It was getting kind of late, and some of us had to go to the bathroom, so we went over to a fancy hotel and used the facilities there. We sure looked out of place since we were all touristy and everything. My comment about the place "oozing with fancy" probably didn't help much either.

We walked home from there. At one point, we went through a park where there was a tire swing. Of course, Andy and George had to swing each other around. I joined in too. After regrouping at the apartment, we went to one of the Ciutat Vella's many other restaurants. This one was called Juicy Jones, and according to some guide that George read, it's the only all-vegan restaurant in Barcelona. I had some gazpacho and some Italian corn thing that I should have remembered the name of. As you might expect for a vegan restaurant, our waitress had lots of tattoos and the decor was crazy. The food was pretty good, though.

By then, it was dark, and we could hear all kinds of fireworks, firecrackers, and other fire-related things. While in Sabadell, we would hear the occasional firework, which sounded like a gunshot or a car backfiring, and we were able to gather that an important holiday was coming up. Tonight was the night before the feast of St. John, the patron saint of Spain. We walked by the Cathedral and saw small children lighting fireworks. In the plaza outside the apartment, there were fireworks too, but I didn't find it too hard to sleep.

Some things were closed on Wednesday, but Andy and I hoped we could get a train out of town so we could continue our journey. George accompanied us to one of the major train stations, where we spent hours waiting to get tickets to France. We had time to eat a quick lunch, but we could have made it a very long one.

Once we got our tickets, we felt free to roam around the city for one more afternoon. We walked through the city's plaza (as I've probably mentioned, every Spanish city has one) and then walked down La Rambla. The tourist books describe La Rambla as such a fun place for kids, but I'm not sure that I would agree. The human statues are supposed to be exciting, but I think they would frighten small children. Heck, they would probably frighten some people I know. My European guidebook also gleefully explains how vendors sell birds on the thoroughfare. Parents would love that, I'm sure.

To be fair, things got more interesting as we moved down the road. That's where the artists are. Some draw portraits and caricatures; others systematically spray-paint alien landscapes. I could have hung out there a little while longer. Also, I think it would be cool to have a caricature of me, but not from one of those artists who draw all their people the same way. Exaggerate my nose and mouth only if I have a big nose and mouth!

We made it down to the Columbus statue, where we sat for a while before returning to the apartment.

Andy and George got gelato and a smoothie on the way, so their appetites were wrecked. We ended up having dinner with George's parents at a bar that happened to serve some food. It was good because I wasn't very hungry. Then Andy and George went to a crepe place and had more gelato.

On Thursday, Andy and I set off early for the train station. The train that was waiting for us was a little different from the ones I had been used to. Rather than kicking back in a relatively modern train, we bounced along in a Franco-era tin can. Our destination: a town in the South of France called Pignans, where we had been putting off meeting our next Pasporta Servo host due to our extra nights in Barcelona with George. On the way to Pignans, we had to make stops in Montpellier, Marseille, and Toulon, so we were on trains and in stations for most of the day.

When we finally got to the little station, we were ready to follow the directions we had been given when a man on a bicycle greeted us in English. I try to ignore suspicious-looking people who try to strike up a conversation with me, but when he mentioned Esperanto, I knew he was our host. He took us back to his house, which wasn't far. The town seemed to be little more than a few houses.

He showed us the guest house that he rented out and used for Pasporta Servo guests. Then we went inside the main house, where we met his wife, who also spoke Esperanto, and his 17-year-old son, who practiced his English with us. It was sort of late by non-Spanish standards, but they had dinner waiting for us. We got to learn a little about the family. The husband was French and the wife was Polish; they apparently met because of Esperanto. They had an older son who was about to finish a trip across the United States. The younger son claimed not to speak Esperanto, but he understood it well.

The after-dinner entertainment consisted mainly of Andy rocking out on the family piano. I accompanied him on the son's guitar. The father had a sort of bongo drum that he played to keep time. After a while, Andy took to the drum and asked if I would sing. I was hesitant at first, but I let it loose on "Stand By Me." We also played that annoying song, "Calabria," which is soooo 2007 or whatever. It was funny.

By then it was late, so after a brief e-mail checking session, we retired to the guest house. Andy really wanted to stay there another night, and I did too, but we were running out of time, and I felt that we had to keep moving on.

So today we awoke for a quick breakfast, and after the son took us to the train station, we made our way back to Toulon, the nearest major city. From there we were supposed to go to Nice, but there was something wrong with the train, so we had to get off at a different station and wait for the next train to Nice. Finally, we were in Nice, which was pretty nice. But we couldn't stay there for long. We were headed for... Monaco.

I always thought it would be interesting to go to Monaco, so I thought we should stop there and check out the world's second-smallest country for a while. We were going to have three hours there, but because of the delays, our Monaco time was cut to one hour.

The French national railway serves Monaco, and its station is pretty large. We walked outside, and the weather was beautiful. Outside the station we saw a map of the country with a "you are here" sticker. It was awesome.

Monaco is a playground of the rich, and it shows. Monte Carlo, the city that is coterminous with the country, is filled with ritzy-looking places, and the water is filled with yachts. Look at me in front of the yachts!

You can also see ritziness on the road. You can find Ferraris and Rolls-Royces next to Renaults and motorcycles. Even the taxis are fancy. I saw a Mercedes-Benz and a Volvo limousine for hire.

Apparently, I wasn't the only tourist who wanted to wander around in Monaco while snapping pictures. To my mild surprise, lots of other tourists were there too, and I even saw some tourist-type shops. About halfway through our hour, we stopped in a small park amid all the hustle and bustle. Then we decided to head back to the station.

On the way, we stopped at a little bakery, where Andy got a little treat that was kind of expensive. In the shop, I saw what seemed to be a photo of the previous Prince of Monaco, flanked with flowers. I wondered how much nationalism it's possible to have in a tiny country that is in many ways dependent on another. I did see the national flag quite a bit.

After Andy had some gelato (hey, it's good stuff), we made it back to the station for our Italy-bound train. After about 20 minutes, we were at the border station of Ventimiglia. This was the first time I had visited two new countries in one day, and it's interesting to note that I had been in three countries in the span of half an hour.

We hit up an Internet cafe across the street from the station so we could make arrangements for our stay in Pisa that evening. We booked the cheapest place we could find, a bed and breakfast. Right after we booked it, we realized it was in the nearby town of Lucca. Undeterred and vaguely aware that Lucca was a beautiful town, I booked a hostel in Rome after that. The website wouldn't let us make a reservation for Saturday night, only Sunday and Monday, so we decided that we would call the hostel and ask about Saturday.

The next train was to Genoa, and there we changed trains for Pisa. Once in Pisa, we realized that we had missed the last train to Lucca, so the only way to get there would be by taxi. Instead we checked out some hotels near the station and found one that was comparably priced to a hostel. That's where we are now. It's not the greatest, of course, but it's not bad either. They have free breakfast and Wi-Fi, but their firewall blocks certain pages, such as those with "gay" in the URL. Not cool.

Today we'll check out the sights in Pisa, and then we're off to Rome!

Nine in the afternoon

Fri Jun 19, 2009 12:12 EST (UTC -5)

Once, I had a friend named Laura. We went to school together. Then, she moved to Seville, Spain. We exchanged a few letters, but they soon stopped.

A few months ago, Laura contacted me through MySpace, and we caught up on things. I told her that I'd be going to Europe in the summer and asked if I could meet up with her.

On Sunday, I took a high-speed train from Madrid to Seville. As you might have been able to guess, it was pretty fast. Laura was waiting for me at the station. I hadn't seen her in 12 years.

We took a bus to her house; they've been building a subway system in the city, but it's not close to being finished, so people get around by bus. Her place is pretty nice. She lives with her mom and her sister (who currently isn't there) and their six cats.

One of the first things I did at her house was drink lots of Coca-Cola. I had been guzzling it all weekend, surpassing the 2-liter mark (not including Pepsi). Laura said she's heard of Americans who visit and can't stop drinking Coke. I didn't think I had noticed a difference between Coke with corn syrup and Coke with sugar, but apparently I don't get tired of the latter as easily.

I was also hungry, so I made myself some small sandwiches. They had an interesting meat that tasted like a cross between bologna and pepperoni. I would call it bolepperoni.

Laura got out her yearbook from second grade, and we shared stories that we remembered about the people in our class. I told her what the ones I've been in contact with were doing now. Laura's mom had some stories from back in the day as well.

Later, Laura and I went out to look for a good place to eat down by the river. By this time, it was about 11 o'clock at night. The Spaniards usually don't eat dinner till late at night, but since it was Sunday, not a lot of places were open. We got a couple of hot dogs and then went to an ice cream shop, which was actually hoppin'.

I was tired. We had walked around a lot, to be sure, but I think weeks of walking have caught up with me. Plus, the days go late in Spain. They wake up late, have a little breakfast, eat a big lunch in the afternoon (around the time of the famous siesta), and have a small dinner late at night. Around 1 or 2 in the afternoon, Laura would still be calling it the morning; it's morning till lunch. She would also say "7 in the afternoon," which makes sense in the summer when the days are so long. It would get dark around 10.

On Monday, we went walking around the central part of town. Seville is a big city, but it feels suburban most everywhere. I wanted to check out the local El Corte Ingles since I didn't get to visit their flagship store in Madrid. It was a department store, but they also have a travel agency and other crazy stuff. In a similar vein, we checked out Fnac, which is an electronics store that also sells movies, music, and books. They should have something like that in the States if they don't already. I would probably live there.

For lunch, we went to one of Laura's favorite restaurants. It's kind of a small place, but there's a bar and some tables. In one corner, there are some large steps, like bleachers, where people can sit and eat. We had some sandwiches. One of mine was a potato omelet sandwich. A potato omelet is called a tortilla de patatas, and it's a traditional dish in Spain. I've also found out that they have lots of words for sandwiches.

Later, as it was getting dark, we went to the Parque Maria Luisa and the adjacent Plaza de España. My camera's new memory card decided to crap out right then, and I didn't have my spare on me, but the lighting was bad anyway. The Plaza is really grandiose, and its grandiosity was evident even though part of it was being renovated. There are lots of benches, each one representing an important city in Spain and showing an illustration about it.

For dinner, we went to a restaurant near Laura's house. Actually, it was apparently a drinking establishment that happened to have a large selection of food and outdoor seating. We each got a couple of tapas, or small plates of food. They're great for trying new things. I can't tell you what I ordered, but it was pretty delicious.

My new memory card had been working intermittently, so on Tuesday, we went back to Fnac to look for a new one. Since they didn't have the right one at a similar capacity, I decided to use my old one, and we went to the Cathedral.

It's one of the larger or largest such buildings in the world and, as is the way of these things, looks even larger when you're inside. Laura explained to me the religious significance of a lot of the things because Spain has some unique traditions. And check out that organ!

One of Christopher Columbus's sons is buried in the Cathedral. Columbus himself may or may not also be entombed in Seville; there's a rival grave in the Dominican Republic. Interesting!

At the church, we climbed the Giralda, the highest tower in Seville.

Most of it was built by the Muslims, who had the foresight to make it wheelchair-accessible. Actually, they built the tower with a series of ramps so they could ride their horses up to the top. The Christians added the top part, with a few stairs, later.

Laura says there's an unwritten rule in Seville that no building should be higher than the Giralda. From it, you can see the whole city.

Next, we went to the Reales Alcazares, built as a royal palace in the Islamic style. The place is pretty open and airy, with lots of gardens that I was, of course, too tired to fully check out. We got to see royal bedchambers with magnificent Islamic designs. They looked like the other chambers because they were empty, but it was still neat.

We went home for lunch, and Laura's mom made paella with chicken and seafood. After I got some work done (I still have my job while I'm on vacation), we went to a classical concert. The ensemble was pretty small, and the people there wanted a donation of €10, so we went somewhere else. Sorry, Oxfam.

In Seville's Macarena neighborhood, there's a small church that's magnificently decked out. I believe it's called Our Lady of Hope of Macarena. We got there too late to go inside, so we had dinner. I had a cold soup called salmorejo, which is like gazpacho but with a stronger taste. I liked it.

On Wednesday, my last day in Seville, we started by going out of town to the ruins of the Roman city of Italica. It's located in another town, and there are restaurants and stuff across the street.

Even though it was very hot, we spent about an hour going around to the ruins of the arena and some various streets and buildings. A lot of them had fantastic mosaics, like this one showing some gods and goddesses:

There was a statue of the Roman Emperor Trajan overlooking the site. He and Hadrian were born there. I've heard of them!

Laura and I were both really hot and tired, so we went to a restaurant across the street from the Roman ruins. I had garlic chicken and some tinto de verano, which is apparently red wine with fruit juice added. It tasted refreshing and not very alcoholic. (Yeah that's how you get schwasted before you know it, by mixing drinks. Feh.)

After that, we returned to the church in Macarena. Behind the altar is a statue of the Virgin Mary, magnificently decked out.

The place reminds me of something, but I can't quite put my finger on it...

I went to bed relatively early in preparation for a long day. My stay with Laura was a lot of fun, and I thought it was cool that I was the first person from our school to visit her at her home in Spain. She also taught me a lot about the culture of Seville. At every turn, she had an opportunity to explain to me something about the local religious festivities such as those during Holy Week. Religion and traditions mean a lot to the people there.

On Thursday, I woke up just in time to catch the taxi that was waiting outside at 5:30 in the morning. Since Andy wasn't there, I had to make do with what little Spanish I had. If any of my Spanish teachers are dead, they'd have been rolling over in their graves.

I made it to the station and caught my train back to Madrid, where Andy would be flying in after going home for his grandfather's funeral. We had decided to meet at Chamartin station, but since our trains were entering and leaving the city at Atocha, I had told him that we should meet there. I sat near the ticket desk, where I told him to meet me, but a pig made me leave even though I wasn't harming anybody.

The situation was complicated. Andy was supposed to go back to Manolo's place, where we had stayed the previous week. Andy had left a lot of his stuff there, and he needed to get it. I thought I would try calling Manolo at work, but my credit card got stuck in the payphone, and I had to ask a random guy who didn't speak English to help me get it out. When I did call, I got an answering machine, and then I didn't have enough change to call his home number.

I thought that I could try to meet Andy where we had originally decided, but I was afraid to go there in case he went to where I was at the same time. I didn't think he didn't have his cell phone with him, so I couldn't call him. But I tried. Well, I tried to try. For the first time in three weeks, I turned on my cell phone. I was supposed to have an international roaming plan for use in case of emergency, but instead I had no signal.

Next, I tried hunting down some Wi-Fi in the likely event that he had sent me an e-mail. Of course, there was nothing usable in the station, and I even went outside the station looking for a cafe or other establishment that would have Wi-Fi. No dice.

Our train for Barcelona was going to be leaving soon, so I headed back to the station, thinking that if I could count on him being in a certain place at a certain time, it would be there and then. I went down to the train and found our seats. He wasn't there. As the train was about to leave, I got off to see if he was anywhere on the platform. He wasn't, so I decided to carry out my next plan.

My next plan was to try harder to find Wi-Fi. I stopped at some benches on the sidewalks outside the station looking for an unsecured network, but with no luck. I was sitting outside a hotel trying to get their Wi-Fi when I heard a familiar voice.

It was Dan, who was traveling with Mark on a concurrent leg of our trip. I knew that they were in Madrid, but I had no idea that we'd run into each other on the street, especially when I needed help the most. Everyone, including Dan's new friends from his hostel, was surprised by the coincidence.

We went to Mark and Dan's hostel, where I promptly jumped on the Wi-Fi. Andy had sent me numerous e-mails telling me where he was and where he would go next. I e-mailed Andy and called his dad to say that Andy should meet me at the hostel, which was close to our train station. Next, I opened the lunch that Laura's mom had packed for me: a ham sandwich, a sort of bread with bits of chocolate in it, a cup of yogurt, and a banana. I ate it all except the banana, which didn't really survive the hectic journey.

I caught up a bit with Dan and Mark, who was very surprised to see me hanging out at his hostel. After waiting at the computer for a while and doing nothing in particular, Andy finally e-mailed to say he would be on his way. Dan and Mark left for Barcelona, and then Andy arrived, tired and sweaty.

He told me his side of the story, and I have to say that it was much worse than mine. It involved meeting where we originally said we would, catching lots of trains, sending lots of e-mails to someone who never replied, and making it to the platform a few minutes after the train to Barcelona had left. He had just gone on his way to Manolo's when I e-mailed him, so he had to go all the way out of town and back. But we were together and safe.

Next, we had to go to Manolo's for real this time, so we contacted him, and he had his wife put Andy's bag outside the door. It took us forever to get there, and finally one of the residents let us into the building. We made it back to Atocha just in time to get tickets for the 19:30 to Barcelona. I collapsed as we ran into the train.

We arrived in Barcelona and managed to find our next Pasporta Servo host pretty easily. We got to the neighborhood just before midnight. The narrow streets were completely silent. We finally found the place, but the door was locked. We had his phone number but no phone. Just a minute later, he pulled up in his car with the young woman he lives with. They showed us into their unfinished yet stylish apartment, where they treated us to food and drinks and we chatted in Esperanto. Then I went to bed. I was very tired.

Today, I woke up Andy at 6 PM (in his defense, he had been jetlagged), and we made ourselves sandwiches. Since the water here tastes kind of funny, we helped ourselves to the alcohol. Steinburg Clasica is a pretty good beer, and at 4.8% alcohol by volume, it's basically a pre-mixed drink. (omg jordan is turing into an alcoholic) I guess we won't do much today, but hopefully we'll see some interesting sights in Barcelona tomorrow.

Se habla español

Sun Jun 14, 2009 04:47 EST (UTC -5)

We didn't do much on Tuesday. I woke Andy up rather late. He used Skype, and I wrote my previous blog post. Before we knew it, it was the early evening, and we hadn't gone out all day. I wanted to see if the nearby Pere Lachaise Cemetery was open, and Andy wanted to go to a particular electronics store for something. He found out that it was closed, and I figured that the cemetery was closed, but we decided to go out anyway.

After confirming my suspicions, we felt free to wander around Paris for a little while. As he has tended to do, Andy found a market and got a piece of fruit to eat. And as he also has tended to do, he went to a bookstore. During our time in France, he decided he wanted to learn French. The woman at the bookstore recommended another bookstore that specialized in learning languages, so we went there, and Andy picked up a French textbook and an Italian phrasebook.

After parting ways with our generous host, we made our way to the train station. We arrived about an hour early, so we went to a cafe, where Andy had some wine and I got a beer. It was my first legal drink. When I return home, my body will once again be too immature to process alcohol. (I've actually heard that used as an excuse for the USA's draconian drinking age, which I don't support at all.)

Anyway, the beer was disgusting, and our train left at 11:10 PM for Irun, a town just across the border with Spain. Seated in front of us were two girls about our age with large backpacks like ours. One of them was wearing a Nova Southeastern University sweatshirt. NSU is a private university in South Florida, i.e., near where Andy and I live. We chatted it up with them for a little while, and then the lights went out and people went to sleep.

Except me. I tried, but I'm not heavy enough of a sleeper to nod off on a plane, train, or automobile. So I went though the entire eight-hour train ride awake and at least semi-conscious.

So that was Paris. The first thing I could do when I got there was contrast it to London. The London Underground is cleaner than the Paris Metro. I didn't realize how nice the trains and stations were in London till I went to Paris.

As I've probably mentioned, this was the first time I had ever spent a significant amount of time in a non-English-speaking country. They do some things differently in France. For one thing, they often have water closets rather than having a toilet in the bathroom. I find nothing wrong with this unless I want to, say, wash my hands or (if the room is actually the size of a closet) sit. Also, I found out about the whole shower thing. Their shower heads are the kind that you can hold, allowing you to shower selectively.

France is pretty much like you'd expect. People play tonsil hockey with each other on park benches and take their loaves of bread for a walk. It is wonderful.

As the sun came up, we were approaching the French border. There were a lot of Spanish-looking villages nestled in the mountains, and at one point, the only thing between our train and the Atlantic Ocean was a little house. Andy and I got off at Irun, where we had just enough time at the train station to pick up some food. We had potato omelet sanwiches. Weird, but good.

Then we caught another train to Vitoria-Gasteiz, the capital of the Basque Country. We had decided to stop there between Paris and Madrid to stay with another Esperantist using the Pasporta Servo. After two hours of more beautiful landscapes, we made it to the city, but our host wouldn't be home till later. We finally found a cafe that had Wi-Fi, so we camped out there. I figured we should buy something, and they had these potato omelets out, so we each got a slice.

It was there that Andy found out that his grandfather had died. He decided that he would go home for the funeral in a few days and then rejoin me a few days later.

We went to our host's house, which again was actually an apartment. Unlike the last one, it was pretty luxurious. He was a very nice guy, and soon he was showing us around town with another local Esperantist.

I learned quite a bit about the city. It's called Vitoria in Spanish and Gasteiz in Basque. The central part of the city is on a hill; it has several churches and other buildings that are hundreds of years old. And everywhere, people were walking around. It seemed like a pretty decent-sized city, but our host and his friend kept running into people that they knew.

At one point, Andy tripped on a curb and hurt his toe, so we took a taxi to the hospital. While we were waiting there, Andy had time to go over his Italian flash cards and get a crash course in Basque from our host. The Basque language is unlike any other, and it has official status along with Spanish in that part of the country. Also, Andy's toe wasn't broken or anything.

After that, we went to a restaurant for some sandwiches and went home. I guess it was a pretty bad day for Andy, but he was still glad that we had stopped in Vitoria, and so was I. The scenery was good, the people were good, the health care system was good, and the sandwiches were good.

On Thursday, we went back to the station to catch our train to Madrid. Our host, who I believe went to work that day, was kind enough to meet us at the station and see us off. Along the way to Madrid, the scenery gradually changed from mountains and valleys to something like a desert. It started to feel like a desert too.

Finally, we were at the station in Madrid. It was late but still daylight. (The long summer days up here have can mess with your head. In England I was often woken up by daylight around 4:55 AM, and you could still see vestiges of sunlight at 10:30 PM.) We decided to eat dinner at a stand at the station. I had some various meats and a potato omelet sandwich. Then we took a local train to our next Pasporta Servo host in the outlying city of Galapagar.

On Friday, we went out and about to explore the city with some Esperantists. Jorge was the editor of a journal of Esperanto literature. He was accompanied by a Cuban, also called Andy, who, though not much older than us, had recently found political refuge in Spain. He love confusing people by talking to them in Esperanto, confusing Esperantists by talking to them in Ido, and drinking Coca-Cola.

After showing us some landmarks and getting lunch, they took us to the Parque del Retiro, which I recognized from one of my high-school Spanish textbooks.

We sat under a tree in the park. American Andy slept while Jorge and Cuban Andy talked in Esperanto about religion, politics, and the like. I mainly listened. It's not just because my speaking skills aren't up to par; I tend not to add much to conversations at all. (A teacher in high school said that when I did contribute to a conversation, it was as if Gandhi had entered a room full of people talking and said "Boo!", first silencing everyone and then making them reflect: "'Boo'... Damn, that's smart.")

After a while, we woke Andy up and continued our walk around central Madrid, including the Puerta del Sol, the point from which all road distances in Spain are measured. I apologized to Jorge for my awkward phrasings and limited vocabulary when I did talk, but he said I was very good for never having met other Esperantists two weeks ago. To improve my skills, he said, I should be an active reader and read his journal. We eventually reached the Plaza Mayor.

From there, Jorge parted ways with us, and Cuban Andy accompanied us to our train station. At home, our generous host had prepared for dinner a homemade potato omelet and a vegetable salad.

On Saturday, we left early so Andy could get to the airport for his flight home. I went with him because he had to use his Spanish knowledge to help me buy tickets to Seville, my (formerly our) next destination. After that, I met Cuban Andy and a couple of other Spanish Esperantists by the Museo Reina Sofia, where one of them was attending a protest against building an oil refinery in Extremadura. After having some free food and free wine (which tasted really nasty), we walked around for a bit and stopped for Cokes. Andy explained that you can't find Coca-Cola in Cuba except at a few hotels.

We went to an anthropological museum that was free because of renovations, and then we had lunch out in front of a restaurant. After that, it was just me and Andy. We had planned to go to the popular museums when the admission would be free. First we went to the Reina Sofia, a modern art museum. We didn't like a lot of the stuff there, but there were some mid-century photographs of Spanish life for which Andy provided a historical context. I also enjoyed the paintings by Miro, Dali, and Picasso. The latter's Guernica is there, flanked by museum employees who keep visitors far away.

We had some time to kill before El Prado would be free, so we chatted, mainly about Esperanto. Andy reminded me that there's a city in Germany that calls itself the Esperanto City and said that we should go there.

Finally, El Prado, one of the world's finest art museums, was opening its doors for free. I'm pleasantly surprised that some museums do this.

As we went inside, I immediately saw a famous painting that I recognized. There were many more where that came from, and Andy seemed to recognize more than I did. Many of the works were by Spanish artists such as Velazquez, Goya, and El Greco, who was actually a Greek. Also, I learned that the Spanish refer to Albrecht Duerer as Alberto Durero.

The highlight of the museum for me was Velazquez's Las Meninas, a very famous painting and one of my favorites. I also enjoyed getting to see The Garden of Earthly Delights. Read about those. They're very interesting!

After that, substitute Andy and I were both tired, so we parted ways. I went back to Galapagar, where I fixed myself a bite to eat and went to bed a little too late. After all the time I've spent with Esperanists here, I've just found out that Jorge Camacho is considered one of the greatest living Esperanto writers. He even has his own article on the English Wikipedia.

I've been impressed by Madrid's art, architecture, and public spaces. The subway system is clean, efficient, and cheap. But today, I'm getting ready to leave for Seville, where I'll meet my friend Laura, whom I haven't seen since she moved there 12 years ago. What sorts of crazy haps will ensue? Stay tuned...

Last tango in Paris

Tue Jun 09, 2009 09:24 EST (UTC -5)

Andy and I stayed in the hostel till Friday. That's when we met up with Matthieu, who we would be staying with for a few days. He first took us to the ruins of a small Roman arena. It appeared to be a park because there were a lot of people around acting as though it were a park.

He then took us to a garden-type place for lunch. There was a crepe stand there, so we had some crepes. The French do love their crepes, and they love to have Nutella with their sweet crepes. We sat on a bench to eat, and it was good because the weather was nice.

After that, we decided to go back to Matthieu's home because it's pretty far from Paris. He lives in Montigny-le-Brettoneaux, which is near Versailles. We took the train there, and it took over an hour. Once we were at his house (actually a condo), we settled in and got to know his family a bit.

They're like an American family. The mom is caring, the dad is goofy. He has two sisters, ages 16 and 1 (one). The older one like to play The Sims 3, and the baby likes to run around and yell and/or cry. They all love "Step by Step" and have taped a lot of episodes. (I wonder where the French guy is from in the French dubbed version.) Their English was much better than our French, so when we weren't speaking in Esperanto with Matthieu, we were communicating in English with his parents.

I had never spent a significant amount of time in a non-Anglophone country, so I didn't know what to expect in the way of customs. When dinnertime rolled around, I got to find out a bit. For dinner was a sort of zucchini-in-sauce-type-thing served over rice, with scrambled eggs on the side and I believe bread as well. The cups they drank out of were pretty small, and they only ever filled them halfway, so I followed suit. After dinner we tasted some cheeses, and the mother presented a traditional Breton cake. It was kind of squidgy and I think had prunes in it, but I liked it.

Also that night, I watched a French movie (subtitled in English) with Matthieu. It was called La Doublure, and it reminded me a lot of other European movies I had seen (not that many) in that it was all about the plot rather than, say, stuff blowing up.

On Saturday, the three of us went to Paris. Our first stop was the Eiffel Tower. Admission was €3.50, which wasn't too bad at all. The first thing I noticed about the Eiffel Tower, besides how big it is, is how brown it is. You can kind of see in pictures that it has a bronze hue, but up close, you can fully imagine the total brownness. In fact, I saw signs saying that the tower was currently undergoing its 19th paint job. Apparently it has to be repainted every few years.

The tower has three floors. It's quite a walk up to the first one (well, it was for me), but the view is worth it.

The second floor was about as long of a walk, but have a look. Actually, this picture might also be from the first floor. I can't really tell.

At the second floor, there are ticket machines. Yes, you have to pay more to go to the top. It's the same amount you paid for your ticket the first time, which depends on how old you are and stuff like that. But what a beautiful view there is.

From there, you take an elevator to the top floor, which is the smallest of the three. It was pretty crowded with other spectators. The lower part of the top floor is indoors and gives the directions and distances to major cities around the world. The top part is, well, as high as you can go. It's pretty unbelievably high up.

The Eiffel Tower isn't just about looking at the scenery. It has a couple of restaurants, a Ben & Jerry's, and (of course) and official store where you can buy Eiffel Tower anything at an insanely high price.

Walking (and elevatoring) down the tower isn't nearly as bad. It seemed to go by rather quickly. Before I knew it, we were back on the ground. We decided to go to a nearby plaza and have some crepes for lunch. Each of us got a crepe with bananas and Nutella. Pretty dang delicious. The Eiffel Tower was still in view from where we were sitting. Here's a nice shot of it.

The next and last sight I wanted to see was Notre Dame, so we stopped there for a little while.

Then, we went home and had a frozen pizza for dinner. It was a little different in that it had a sort of hollandaise sauce instead of tomato sauce, but it was good. The French seem to eat their pizza with a fork and knife. I didn't feel too out of place because I sometimes do that too.

We were kind of in a hurry to eat because we were about to go to the movies. Matthieu's mom took the three of us to see Star Trek, a movie I had already seen twice but was willing to see again. French movie theaters specify whether a foreign film is the "original version" (subtitled in French) or the "French version" (dubbed in French). Earlier, I had been confused when I heard that the movie theater was playing the "original version" of Star Trek. Also, going to the movies in France is hella expensive. I think my ticket was €9.50 or something like that, which Matthieu's mom graciously paid. It seems that you can buy a pass that gets you in to a large number of movies at an overall discount.

The European elections were Sunday, so in the morning, Andy and I went with Matthieu's family to the local polling place. They explained to us that the candidates were commnunists, fascists, and everyone in between. There was also a pro-Esperanto party, which was really awesome. The way they vote in France is pretty interesting. Each party prints a sheet with its list of candidates. To vote, you secretly place one of the sheets into an envelope and put that into the ballot box. Sounds pretty foolproof to me. (When we talked about voting with Matthieu's parents, they remembered that we were from Florida and mentioned the 2000 election. We can never live it down.)

Later that day, Matthieu took us to the Palace of Versailles. Even though it was being partially renovated, what we could see of the place was spectacular. Just look at the gates.

There were lots of bedrooms and sitting rooms and other fancy rooms with paintings and such. One of the most historically important rooms was the Hall of Mirrors, where many important things have happened.

When we went home, we watched another French movie, which Wikipedia says is being remade by Hollywood, possibly with Steve Carrell.

Which brings us to Monday. We went with Matthieu to a train station in Paris, where he helped us get tickets for our next destination: Vitoria-Gasteiz, Basque Country, Spain. He had to talk to the clerk for us because the clerk didn't speak English. We wanted to leave Tuesday morning or afternoon, but the next train would be Tuesday night. We decided not to pay extra for beds. So tonight, instead of spending the night in Vitoria, we'll be on a train.

Matthieu had to be off for a final exam, so he left. In search of decent food, shelter from the rain, and free Wi-Fi, Andy and I eventually found a Starbucks near the station, where we camped out for a few hours. Matthieu came back to visit for a while, but then he had to go home.

Finally, it was time to meet our host for the night and our first Pasporta Servo host. Actually, we had met him briefly at last week's Cafe Esperanto event. He lives in an apartment in the heart of Paris's 20th arrondissement. (The fightin' 20th!) After settling in and having a chat with our host, Andy and I went out to a grocery store and a bakery to get food for dinner. We got a good haul, and Andy ended up making broccoli, mashed potatoes, and tortellini for dinner.

Today is our last day in France. Andy tried to make an omelet, but it turned into scrambled eggs. I wanted to go to the Louvre today, but I found out that it's closed on Tuesdays. I think instead we'll walk around a bit and go to the famous Pere Lachaise Cemetery, where many great Frenchmen and Jim Morrison are buried. Then, tonight, it's off to Spain.