Patron Saint of Vampires
August 17 : Summertime in Rome – Sweatin' to the Oldies
We got to our hotel room and Nicole immediately felt very, very sick. I left her to take a nap for a few hours. I'm hoping it is due to extreme jet lag. If she manages to ruin our vacation by coming down violently ill on the first day, I shall be annoyed. Fortunately, after a couple of hours nap, she fully recovered.
Our first day here and we've already had our first spot of excitement. We got off the subway near the Coliseum. Nicole headed off in an area with some other ruins. I turned around to take a picture of the Coliseum and when I turned back she had vanished. I figured that she would quickly realize that I wasn't behind her and would return to the last place we had seen each other, to whit, the subway station. When she didn't return I headed off in the direction I saw her last, then I got tired of looking for her and did a little sightseeing, then returned to the subway station to see if she had returned (she hadn't), then went out looking for her again, etc. She finally found me one and half hours later. She had assumed I had gone to the Coliseum and when she didn't see me there, assumed I had gone in without her so she went in herself. Since the last time I saw her she was heading in the direction directly opposite from the Coliseum, it didn't even occur to me to check there until an hour after I lost her, at which point she was probably inside. I politely explained to her the value of going back to your last known location when you get lost. Note that Nicole's version of these events differs in certain insignificant details, such as who was to blame for this little incident. But he who writes the trip report gets his version of history remembered.
Nicole: Matt is a big bobo who left me alone at the Coliseum.
I was a little concerned about the neighborhood our hotel is in as there is graffiti everywhere. However, most of Rome appears to have graffiti everywhere. They could lose this quaint custom without taking away from the charm.
Waiter at the restaurant we had dinner in:
Nicole: “I would like a lemon ice.”
Waiter: “A lemon ice.” Then, with his pad in his hand, talking aloud, “One orange ice”.
Me: “No, a lemon ice.”
Waiter: “Ah, you wanted the orange ice. One orange, one lemon.”
Me: “Er, no.”
He also got our pizza order wrong.
Monday, August 18 2003 : Summertime in Rome – Gonna Make you Sweat
We went to bed at 8:00 PM last night so we could kick our jet lag and get an early start today. It was a cunning plan, marred only by the fact that we both slept until past noon. We saw the Vatican, the Trevi Fountain, and the Spanish Steps.
| Shoulders Covered vs. Unconvered |
At the Vatican, we were not allowed in the line to St. Peter's Basilica because Nicole was dressed like a brazen hussy. We figured we were safe because I was wearing pants (as opposed to shorts) and Nicole was wearing a long dress. Not good enough because her shoulders were exposed. We actually saw many women (and a few men) not allowed in line by the Vatican fashion police. Nicole wanted to buy a burkah, but she had to settle for a shawl to cover up. We saw a kid leave the Basilica who was wearing a Marilyn Manson t-shirt. His shoulders were covered though.
Before we embarked on this trip I had thought that the “Spanish Steps” were grassy plains, like the Russian Steppes. It turns out they’re just some stupid steps. There’s a bunch of tourists sitting on them, and some annoying rose-sellers to add to the ambiance. The Spanish Steps are the tourist-site equivalent of Zsa-Zsa Gabor, they are famous for being famous. Our Fodor’s guidebook claims this is a Rome “must-see”. It was not the last bad call our Fodor's guidebook was to make.
Random thoughts:
Drinks are absurdly overpriced at the tourist places, but because it's so brutally hot we are forced to pay it. We are probably spending $100/day on water and Gatorade.
So far all the crime warnings about Italy seem to be exaggerated.
I expected a lot of U.S. and other foreign tourists, but the vast majority of tourists in Rome are Italians.
I've stayed at nice hotels with big fluffy towels and cheap hotels with threadbare towels. The towels at our hotel (La Pergola) are something different, like giant nonabsorbent linen napkins.
Tuesday, August 19, 2003 : Summertime in Rome – We Came, We Saw, We Sweated
We woke up this morning at 6:45 AM to the sound of a loudmouth American woman chewing out her husband. We were briefly ashamed to be Americans, but 20 minutes later we heard the same thing, only this time it was an Italian woman. When we left our room Nicole started loudly cawing at me like a crow. She figured, “When in Rome...”
We got an early start and headed to the Vatican Museums. We endured the long, twisty, sweaty mass of humanity that is the line to the Sistine Chapel. It was pretty cool, actually. Amazing what one guy (Michelangelo) could accomplish in only four years. We also saw a painting of what appeared to be a guy mooning God. No photos allowed unfortunately.
Granted it's their Basilica and they could require you to wear clown pants if they wanted, but it seems a bit silly that the Vatican doesn't allow bare shoulders or knees in their Basilica when their art museum is full of statues of nekkid people.
Nicole went to powder her nose in the Vatican Museum. I didn't see her again for 45 minutes. 45 minutes, I might add, in which the security guy would not let me sit down. This time, there can be no controversy as to who was at fault. Nicole got lost on her way back to the bathroom. I'm going to invest in walkie-talkies or maybe a tracking collar.
I started channeling my mother today, in that I could not for the life of me keep straight the name of the old Roman building we wanted to see. The Palindrome? The Palladium? Of course, it was the Parthenon. (<-click here)
At the end of the day we were so stinky…and this is true…the French couple next to us at dinner got up and moved.
Discussion questions:
1.Is there any tourist attraction that wouldn't be improved by requiring people to wear clown pants?
2.Explain.
Random observations:
Hardly any Italians smoke, not like in France or Spain
You can drink 8 gallons of water a day and never need to go to the bathroom.
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| St. Catherine, Patron Saint of Vampires |
Wednesday, August 20, 2003 : Siena – We Didn't Come Here to Have Fun, We Came Here to See Stuff
Took the train from Rome to Siena. Siena is a quaint little medieval town crawling with tourists. It's a lot cooler (temperature-wise) here. We saw the mummified head of St. Catherine. It was in a lighted case in a church. No photos, sadly. For Nicole, it was the highlight of our whole trip. Nicole speculated that she was beheaded because she was a vampire.
Thursday, August 21, 2003: Carol of the Bells
We were going to have a leisurely day and sleep in today, but the nearby church of San Domenico had other ideas. It woke us up at 7 AM with ten full minutes of bells, after which the traffic noise started in earnest. So we gave up and got up. (Click here to hear us discussing the bells.)
We were waiting our turn to climb the tower of the town hall, so we had a liquid lunch (wine and water). I needed a haircut, so during our “meal” I kept practicing the phrase “Donde provei una barberia (“Where is a barber?”). At the end of the meal I tried out my well-practiced phrase, but the waiter just said “I don' know” and shook his long ponytail at me.
Carpaccio di manzo con parmigianoe rucola is a popular dish here. “Raw meat with rucola salad”. I'm an adventurous guy, but no. Every restaurant serves prosciutto e melone, ham and melon, so we finally had to try it. It tastes like melon...wrapped in ham. Two great tastes that are somewhat gross together, so we ate them separate.
We went to an art museum (“The Hospital”) in Siena, and saw a statue of an angel with his middle finger extended, i.e., “flipping the bird”. You will have to trust me on this as, once again, no pictures were allowed. Next trip, I'm bringing a spy camera.
Nicole was rebelling and refused to walk a step further, so we called a cab to take us to the station and bought a ticket to Florence. I promised Nicole that in Florence we would be carried around by rickshaws and marshmallow clouds. Nicole went to the bus booth and asked (in Italian) when the bus to Firenze (Florence) left. As best as she can make out, the woman answered “vincere”, which means “to defeat”. She speculated that the bus isn't running because it was defeated in a race. Myself, I suspect it was a battle of wits. Either way, the train seemed a better option.
I just realized I have been saying “gratsi” wrong the whole time. It's grat-see-eh not grat-see.
When we left the train station in Florence, we met an old guy on a ratty old bicycle. He was trying to get us to stay at his place instead of a hotel. It was a hard sell, which normally turns me off, but I figured that either we'd meet a nice authentic Italian couple or else we'd be murdered in our sleep. Either way it'd be interesting. The couple (Jimmy and Norma) turned out to be friendly, and there were a few other people staying in the other bedrooms. We opted for a private bedroom, which was their daughter's former bedroom, complete with stuffed animals. There are pictures of their daughter, who is apparently a semi-famous model, all over the walls. It's pretty noisy though so we have to keep the windows closed. A bummer since there's no air conditioning. Florence in general seems a lot more bustling than Rome; I was hoping it'd be more laid back.
Friday, August 22, 2003: Florence
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Jimmy and Norma's dog is named "Fioco". He is insane. He would come up to you looking for affection or attack you, barking and snapping, depending on his mood, which could change from one minute to the next. |
We went to the Palazzo Piti. We were getting kind of tired of statues and paintings so we decided to see the Giardino di Boboli (Boboli Garden). However, it didn't turn out to be a “garden” in the standard sense, it was a statue garden. Still interesting though.
Nearly every naked male statue in the Gallerina Palatina appears to have had his johnson snapped off. As the statues are otherwise undamaged, I can only assume Florence went through a period of artistic prudery when all the statues were dis-”membered”.
Saturday, August 23, 2003: Can't Take Any More Art Galleries
Nicole said that, when we get back, if she never sees another art gallery again it'll be too soon. I have to admit I'm a bit galleried out myself. In many art galleries, it seems that every piece o' art is of the same theme. The famous Galleria degli Uffizi certainly fits into that category. As Nicole said, “Mary and baby Jesus, Mary and baby Jesus. Ya seen one, ya seen 'em all.”
It's like the U.N. At Jimmy and Norma's. Today arrived a (we think) gay couple from England, one of whom was a South American guy originally from Denmark. Everyone seems to be from multiple places; it's all very exotic. The couple we hung out with for a bit was from the Canary Islands in Spain, but was living in Germany. A guy we also hung out with was from New Zealand, but was currently living in Greece. Also a guy from Kuala Lampur arrived.
Random observation:
There are lots of English speakers in Florence, especially Americans.
People spit on the floor of the Florence train station. Jeez o' pete, were you born in barn?
Sunday, August 24, 2003: Creepy Old Man
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| Jimmy and Norma |
Jimmy and Norma are worried because the guy from Kuala Lampur, who claimed to be extremely tired, borrowed a key to the house and went out. He stayed out past curfew (midnight). In fact he never came back. It was very odd. All his stuff was still there. Jimmy checked the hospital and biked around town looking for him. We never did found out what happened to him as we had to leave for Venice.
Nicole: I just met the creepiest old man I have ever seen in my life. He had been staring at me with a pair of binoculars when Matt and I were sitting on the Venizia Trano Statzione floor. As soon as Matt left to find un gabinetta a por mia, the creepy guy (think Max Von Syndow as a pervert with bad teeth) came up to me and told me that he wanted me to know that I had beautiful legs. “They're so lengthy,” he said as he flashed a horrible yellow toothy grin. Now, while I'm glad to discover I have PPLLs (purty pudgy little legs) instead of just PiLLs (pudgy little legs), I'd rather not have heard it from this guy.
We are staying at a one star hotel in Venice. It is about the size of a walk in closet, but its nice to have air conditioning and our own bathroom again.
The Italians would not be without their beloved graffiti, and Venice is no exception. If you look past that and all the tourists, it is as beautiful as its fame suggests. There are canals everywhere, which you cross via bridges. I requested that the accordion player play “That's Amore”, which Nicole had been singing since we got in Italy, thus assuring that I'd be gettin' some tonight.
Nicole: Instead of Disney World, this is Romance World. If Walt Disney made a theme park for Adults on their honeymoon, it would be Venice.
Tourist Advisory: Caution - Atmosphere of Venice may cause pregnancy.
Monday, August 25, 2003: Wandering Around Venice
We were warned that it was easy to get lost in Venice, and that is very true. Even with a couple of paper maps and a GPS (yes, I know I am a geek), navigating the twisty streets and bridges and canals can be maddening. We finally figured out that a day pass on the water bus (vaporetto) is a little pricey but well worth it.
Tuesday, August 26, 2003: Gondola Ride
We ended up having to stay an extra day in Venice as the only train out didn't leave until 11 PM. Not exactly a drag, but our "schedule" had us in France two days ago. Since we had an extra day to do cheesy touristy stuff, we decided to take a gondola ride. Just remember to haggle on the price!
Random Observation: As far as I can tell, there's no “Italian Ice” in Italy.
Wednesday, August 27, 2003: Nicole Is Very Popular with European Men
Nicole: On the night train from Venice to Marseille Matt and I were sleeping in fold down benches in our cabin. The train became so full that another guy had to join us. God damn Italians! Always trying to feel up on a lady's legs! I pinched his hand and that made he stop for a little while, but then he was at it again. That's when I woke Matt up and made him sleep next to the creep.
Actually, I was awake, but I was keeping an eye on our luggage to make sure he didn't try to make off with it. I was totally oblivious as to what was happening right next to me.
Eventually, we arrived at Marseille, and rented a car. Without a GPS, navigating Marseille is impossible. With it, it's just a nightmare. There is construction and closed off streets everywhere. However, we made it to the Palais Longchamp, took some pictures, and headed for Avignon.
Nicole: There are as many flies in Avignon as there are mosquitos in Firenze, and they are swarming around me just as much. AAAH!
Thursday, August 28, 2003: Pont du Gard
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| You don't quite get the sense of how big it is from this picture, but the Pont du Gard is is immense. |
We went to see the Pont du Gard, the third most visited site in France. It's an enormous Roman aqueduct bridge. I had seen it last time I was in the South of France, and I knew Nicole would enjoy it. When we got there we thought it might be closed as there were almost no people there. However, it turned out that for once we had gotten an early start and got there before the rest of the tourists. It was great to be able to see it without being surrounded by The Teeming Masses.
We saw a classical quartet concert at the Palais de Papes, the Palace of the Anti-Popes. Nicole said she liked it in an “it's good for you” kind of way.
Random thought: French graffiti is more artistic than the entirely unimaginative Italian graffiti.
We made it to our hotel in Nice, the two, or possibly one, star hotel called the Flots d'Azure. The beds are mushy and the room is a little noisy from the traffic outside our window, but the traffic is from the Promenade Anglais and our window faces Angel Bay. It's a great view and location for cheap, so can't complain.
Nicole: Yet another reason why I love my Malto Matty: When we got off the train in Nice, he carried an elderly British lady's bag up and down three flights of stairs. Such a gentleman. Matty rulez.
We had dinner at one of the few restaurants located on the beach. Unfortunately, there was an American singer/guitarist performing there, and he was terrible. Actually he was so awful it was almost amusing, but when he started to ruin a Janis Joplin song, Nicole was fittin' to throw him a beating.
We saw some streetwalkers on the walk back to our hotel, which seemed a little odd as it's not really a low brow neighborhood. There were a couple of blocks from one of the fanciest hotels in the world, the Negresco. I always assumed that kind of carryings on happened in your sleazier neighborhoods. Once we noticed, every where we went in the evening we would play “spot the streetwalker”. On one side of the street there's a stream of tourists strolling along the promenade along Angel Bay, and on the other side are the prostitutes.
In Italy, if you speak Italian to people, they understand you but respond in English. In France if you say anything in French, no matter how badly, they assume you speak French. Yes, I realize this is a cliché.
Friday, August 29, 2003: Nicole is Sick Of European Food
I had been to Monaco six years ago, so I took Nicole to the sites that I remembered liking best. We went to the Jardin Exotique, the aquarium, and the Casino. Nicole wanted to be able to say that she had gambled at the Casino in Monte-Carlo. Since neither of us are gamblers, we limited ourselves to one Euro. I was too embarrassed to ask for one Euro in tokens, so Nicole did it. We lost in two pulls of the slot machine. Nicole said, “We walked into this place with a dollar, and we walked out with nothin'. The casino cleaned us out.”
Nicole hasn't been terribly impressed by Italian or French cuisine, so for dinner on our second-to-last night in Europe, we ate at the Stars and Bars, a restaurant that caters to the hip young Monégasques with exotic American cuisine.
Saturday, August 30, 2003 : Beach Time in Nice – The Agony of de Feet
We decided that we needed some beach time on our last day, so we went to the beach across the street from our hotel. The beaches in Nice are all stones, not sand. They are very painful to walk on and in the shallow water the surf drops large rocks on your feet, so they get it from both ends. Also the water is freezing cold. Once our bodies went numb from the cold and we made it to deeper water, it was actually fun to bob around like a cork for a while.
We climbed Le Château, a park on a rock/hill that overlooks all of Nice. At the far end is a famous old cemetery, the largest in France, which we visited. It was filled with beautiful sculpted monuments, but we had to hurry through as it was getting late and we were worried about being shut in. Nicole claimed that when the gates are shut, the zombies are allowed to come out.
We had some slushes at a place specializing in crazy ice cream flavors like grapefruit, beer (Corona – Guiness I could see, in fact that sounds great, but Corona?), lavender, violet, rose, bergamot, rosemary, vanilla with red pepper, and thyme. I tried to convince Nicole to split a cone of Tomato and Basil, but she wasn't going for it. I finally decided to get a scoop for myself. It was...interesting. It's actually not bad upfront, like gazpacho, but it has a sweet aftertaste that makes the overall effect very...eeech.
Nicole rates the cities of our European tour:
• Rome is the #1 city for exercise.
• Siena is the #1 city for severed vampire heads.
• Florence is the #1 city for multicultural immersion and pirate dogs.
• Venice is the #1 city for gettin' some.
• Marseille is the #1 city for rude people.
• Nice is the #1 city for hookers.
• Monte-Carlo is the #1 city for high-rollin' action.