Nonstop disco, "Spritzes", and bare asses!!!

I'm in a Peugeot 206 with Laura, Stefano and Pietro and we make the trek to Como Lake, Italy. Still the coincidences and deja vu continue; this was the same car that I rented with my friend Kristen back in 2004. Seems like Peugeot is my official euro road trip car :) And I still can't get used to how close everything is. The fact that we left from Crema and made it to Como in about 2 hours, and we're in a completely different town with different architecture and amazing history. You drive 2 hours from Vancouver and you might get to Hope or Chilliwack. Big f'in deal!

So we finally find Emilia's apartment, and sure enough Emilia is standing there waving. Wow, seven and a half years...and she looks the same! Classic italian beauty, she honestly looked like she hadn't aged and was the same girl I knew back in Paris. She was standing with her boyfriend who I would come to know as Gigi (short for Luigi) and with whom I would become great buddies. He's so friggin hilarious; he has this loud outgoing personality and speaks super fast, kinda like what a westerner's perception of a typical italian might be. He would provide me with much entertainment...

We all went upstairs to their cool little apartment; very modern and stylishand tidy, and alot of orange accents everywhere. So cozy, with a living room/dining room, a kitchen with fancy appliances, and a spare bedroom with pullout beds. Then I had to prepare for the event of the evening, and one of the best moments of my trip...the big 70's party! Well it was more like 60's and 70's; Emilia asked me if I wanted to go a few weeks before my trip if I wanted to go to this 70's-themed fundraiser party and the ticket was 50 euros...but open bar! I said HELL YES of course. I can't quite remember what the fundraiser was raising funds for, but it didn't matter. So I pulled out my 70's shirt I had lugged all this way, and some yellow aviators....and to cap it off, I shaved my infamous handlebar moustache once again...I was as ready as I'll ever be!

A couple of Gigi's friends came over to get their costumes. Ok seriously: these costumes were TOP NOTCH. We're in a small town in Italy! Where the hell would they get such accurate clothes? The patterns were unbelievable and the wigs were so awesome. Gigi's one friend had this one piece satin suit with an open chest and bands of flowing fabric on his arms; Gigi and his other friends had AWESOME floral hippie patterns and huge shoes. Man, these guys knew how to have a good time. Emi had a dress her mom wore in the 70's, so awesome too. So the friends took off and we would meet them at dinner.

Then we all went out for a walk into downtown Como which is all foot traffic. A pretty small town, but some really swanky shops; we went down to see the famous lake, and we could see just a few of the hundreds of GIANT waterfront mansions that Como is famous for. Movie stars, soccer players, business moguls, politicians...all come here and buy homes on the lake. Not to be confused with Como Lake in Coquitlam where I used to live...trust me, no one important lives there.

There was a Rally event on though, I saw some awesome Euro Rally cars! Went down to the main square and all these wicked decaled out cars were sitting revving their engines...I had a huge grin on my face the whole time. There is no word for Rally in Italian, so when Emi was trying to explain to me what was going on she kept saying "rrrrrrallay-ah" in a thick accent...I had no idea what she was saying but I eventually figured it out. "Oh! A "Rally"?" "Si!...rrrrralllay-ah"...hahaha...

Como makes entertainment news all the time because supposedly George Clooney lives out there somewhere in a huge mansion. And by the way all citizens are convinced George is gay. Apparently italian pop star Tiziano Ferro lives out there too, sort of Michael Buble for Italy. He's also gay apparently. No one is safe for the italians, I guess.

We went into a candy shop and Emilia bought some "Marrons glaces", I dunno what they are in english, candied chestnuts essentially. Pretty damn tasty and sweet as hell! We then went to a bar and grabbed a drink, we all had a "spritz", which is a trendy italian drink, a combination of white wine and club soda or prosecco (sparkling wine) and Aperol, an orange-based bitter liqueur. Delicious. I've tried to find it in Vancouver but hard to come by.

We then met up with a bunch of Emi and Luigi's friends at a fancy restaurant for dinner that served typical fish and seafood from the lake (lakefood?) The dish I got was called 'Lario di Lago', a white fish found in Como Lake. I had fresh gnocchi as well; I wanted to punch myself in the face how good the food was.

Then I said goodbye to little Laura, and Stefano and Pietro. I just find them to be such truly genuine and helping people, who like to do things for others and expect nothing in return. Same goes for Emi and Gigi, they are just so nice to me and pay my way because I'm a special guest in their lives. I'm super grateful to have friends like all of them.

So then we all headed outside and were told to wait for a shuttle to the party? Serious, how big is this thing? And yes, what rolled up to take us to the party? Nothing other than a 2-toned VW Minibus in mint condition!!! What the hell! So hilarious to see all these tall guys dressed as they were cramming into the van...there wasn't quite enough room so we got the next ride in an old Land Rover.

And again, to my surprise we roll up to the party...which is held at an Audi dealership?? All the cars were moved out and there were lights and lasers and hundreds of moving bodies inside instead. Decorations everywhere. We get inside and there's a live band singing one hit disco song after another in sped up tempo, blending one song into the next for a nonstop dance party. And the outfits!!! WHAT THE HELL!!! How did all of these people get these amazing costumes!!! I was so impressed...and even more impressed at the open bar :) They even had another VW Minbus setup inside all lit up to take pictures with!

It was such an amazing feeling to be at the coolest party in town and be the only foreigner there. Well I did meet some girl who spoke english with a british accent but wasn't english, and a swedish guy who spoke english. I remember these italian girls saw my camera on my back and I felt it move and I turned around startled and they said something to me and I spoke back in italian. But they knew right away I wasn't Italian, and asked where I was from and thought it was cool that I was from Canada. We all went inside and danced right up near the band. Then I had one of those magical moments when I was slightly tipsy but fully aware of the awesomeness of the situation; I was dancing with old friends and new, and the music just felt so damned loud and...good. And everyone was having the time of their lives. So fun. I got alot of great photos here

When we decided to leave, what shows up to pick us up?? The Minibus of course! Gigi and his 2 buddies Freddie and Carlo were smashed out of their minds, and Emilia was quite tipsy too...we cram in the minibus and head back into town. We get dropped off at home at 445am and we have to walk up the stairs; the whole time we are all laughing our asses off and they're all stumbling around and laughing more. Gigi for some reason decide to drop his pants and walk up the stairs with his pants around his ankles. And it's all even more ridiculous because of what everyone's wearing and Gigi and Freddie had huge afro wigs on.

When we get up to the flat Gigi and the guys fall to the floor and Gigi pulls his underwear down to expose his bare ass, then pulls Emilia down and rolls around with her....he told a story about when they were in California and Emi saw all the hot beach body dudes she almost had an orgasm; Gigi's impression of her was hilarious...after all that I haven't laughed that hard in a while!

When we all eventually got up the next day, we headed out and up a twisty road to Bellagio for some lunch, and photos and amazing views...and no not the Las Vegas hotel, the REAL place...

Panzerotti, Perfect Pasta, and it's pronounced "A-NEES"...

Alright friends...I'm finally back in Vancouver. In fact, I've been back for 2 weeks now, and found myself very busy with a few things since I've returned. I was jetlagged for a good week, I helped put up my theatre company's second play, I've gone back to work (much welcomed after not working for 2 months) and I moved into my mom's apartment, which is friggin awesome. Things are going really well for me right now. Time to get back to writing before it becomes a fog...

But it's strange, my trip already seems so long ago, and it was literally a world away. Now back to the slow pace of my Vancouver life. Not saying it's bad, just very different. I was so used to doing and seeing so many different things everyday, for 6 weeks.

Like I said, I feel good about things and more confident in what I know. But I do remember when I got back I felt an extreme high, that has subsided now into more of a pleasant feeling. I felt so happy to see all my friends again and share stories.

And that's what I have to keep doing until it's done. I'm determined to finish this blog and put up pictures as soon as I can, because I've felt myself already drifting away...stay tuned for some great stories, and yes, eventually pictures!

Now back to Milan...

*****

 I woke up on a sofabed in a quaint bright Milanese apartment, instead of a hostel...much better though. Martina had left for work so her husband Nelson and Pietro and I all had breakfast in the kitchen. An italian breakfast is never a huge deal, usually just coffee and a pastry. This time we had leftover poundcake from last night and...instant coffee. Yes :) It was a tea drinking household...whoda thunk?

So I needed to get back to my hostel before 11am, my checkout time. We made our way across town and got up to the hostel just in time...my bag had a nice, expensive sleep on the bed. Well, I did get to use the shower which was actually great. They even let me store my bag there until the evening, when I would meet Laura.

So we set our for a day in Milan. I was still hungry (of course) so we went across the street to a little cafe and I got a sandwich, a nice caffe latte and a fresh squeezed orange juice, or "spremuta". I love how in Italy, and in most cafes in the countries I visited, almost every decent bar has a kickass espresso machine and a fresh squeeze orange juice machine. Amazing! And Pietro bought me breakfast, so nice of him. Ok, NOW I'm ready to go. We went downtown to the main piazza with the famous Duomo di Milano. Thankfully they had just finished the renovations of the exterior; the detail on this church is amazing. Pietro and I talked in english most of the time, his english is awesome as he spent a few months in the US. We did the tour through the interior where there was a service happening; this building is so huge, and the stained glass windows go on forever. We even did the tour to the roof, which is well worth doing, we got to the very top of the white roof to get a great view over the city. Lots of people just hanging out and enjoying the sunny day.

We came back down and with only a few hours left, Pietro took me to a famous Panzerotto restaurant, where the lineup was out the door and down the street at lunchtime. For those who don't know, a panzerotto is like a calzone, like a pizza folded in half, but gently fried. Um, ya. F-ing delicious. We each got 2 kinds, they were only like 3 euros each and went and found some steps to sit on in a plaza nearby that weren't occupied by dozens of of other people with the exact same idea, panzerotto in hand. Pietro then took me to a famous gelato place...this would be the best gelato I would have in Italy. I had a chocolate kind and some other crazy caramelly-praline-I-don't-even-know kind, delicious. OH YEAH: When you order ice cream and italy, you don't have to order a giant size to get 2 scoops of 2 different kinds, you can just order a small one and get 2 kinds. AMAZING. Although this I fear could lead to daily consumption and trial of every kind of gelato there is....whoa back now...

So the plan now was to go back to my hostel, grab my bag, and Pietro and I would go out to Crema to meet Laura and her boyfriend Stefano for dinner. Crema was about an hour outside of Milan; not far distance-wise, but you can only take small country roads anywhere once you get a certain distance from big cities. Crema wasn't a dot on the map by any means, it was sizeable and had a main shopping district. Pietro lives in Crema too, so he stayed on the bus once we got to where he told me to get off to meet Laura to go home and meet us later.

I stepped off the bus and called Laura; she said she was a couple minutes away...but for a brief moment, I was an obvious outsider with a huge backpack, standing on the side of the road in a small town in Italy rarely visited by tourists. I thought for a second "Wow if she doesn't come, I would have NO idea where the hell I was."...but she did.

Very cool to see little Laura. She's just so typically friendly and welcoming Italian. We went back to her bright and fancy apartment in Crema where she lives with Stefano her boyfriend. She had laid out my sofabed and gave me a tour of the place and said to make myself at home and do whatever I liked. She had to go out to work for a few hours but would be back. I got a chance to just relax and nap, and take it all in. I felt so lucky to be so welcomed into a home.

I woke up and Laura came home and I let her in, and soon after Stefano came home from work. I remembered meeting him briefly when I came through in 2004 with Kristen, when I stayed at her parents place in the country. I remember back then her mom was also so welcoming and kind but didn't speak english so I had to speak italian. I remember having a great home cooked meal with fried zucchini from the garden; Kristen was squeamish about trying new foods, and didn't think she would like it, but she tried it and couldn't get enough. It was like a different food altogether from zucchini we have at home in Canada, so good.

Pietro couldn't meet us so  the three of us went out to dinner at a local pizza place that Stefano likes. I was surprised at the different kinds you could get, I always thought italian pizza was kept pretty simple. I keep seeing the words "Rocket" and "Speck" showing up on english menus. Problem is in Italian the words are the same. So they put the same words on the english menu and expect me to understand. "Oh sorry, ya now I understand what Speck is, thanks for translating that. Apparently, "Rocket" is some mistranslation for what we call Arugula, the leafy vegetable...also called that in Italy. And "Speck" is some thin sliced german-style meat. Never heard of it. But it's tasty. I made sure to have Gorgonzola again on my pizza though. And sausage and onion :) SOOOOO good... And I probably had the best Tiramisu I've ever tasted, not too sweet at all. And of course they didn't let me pay!

After dinner we met up with Pietro and went through the town centre to a bar with a "drinking" theme. Quotes about alcohol and various bartending accessories everywhere. We chatted mostly in Italian as Stefano doesn't speak much english. I had some gay fancy cocktail like a mojito, it was alright but not great. But Pietro had the full on Absynthe dealio with the sugar cube and green flame and all. Not my cup of tea though as anyone who knows me knows I hate licorice as that's what it tastes like...but it was entertaining to watch. Pietro speaks great english but understandably he mispronounces the occasional word...so he was trying to describe the taste of Absynthe and said "It tastes like anus" "Um, I think you mean 'anice'!" I said...we laughed pretty hard after that.

Afterwards we wandered through the streets and I got a mini tour of Crema; it has a town Plaza and Duomo as well. A small town in Lombardia with it's own rich history and monuments and stories...I just love Italy. If you're from Crema, you're 'cremasco'...sounds cool :)

The next day I got up and Laura made me breakfast, pulled everything out of her cupboards it seemed. Still very simple: coffee, fruit, cereal. They had an automatic Lavazza coffee machine that you put coffee pods into. Italians are serious about their coffee! Still almost as good as a proper espresso machine. I had time to catch up on some emails and relax, and a couple hours later they started lunch. I had mentioned that I felt like I was lacking vegetables in my diet so they went out and got some veggies for a pasta sauce. Don't remember if I mentioned this before, but I started to get constipated from all the pizza and pasta I was eating over the week in Italy...an awful feeling...FYI.
But I was so caught up in the moment of being with friends in their cute apartment in a small town in Italy, I pulled out my journal and just wrote about what I saw for a few moments...I like this journal entry so I'm gonna transcribe it word for word:

"Crema, Casa di Laura. Oct. 23/2010

They're making vegetable pasta in a bright kitchen...I said I hadn't had veggies or fruit while travelling so they went and got some to make veggie pasta. Stefano opened a bottle of red wine. The table is set neatly with a plate of parmeggiano in thin chunks. Stefano timed the pasta boiling on his iphone, to make sure it's perfect. Pietro told me yesterday cooking pasta properly is the first step, sauce is something else. Such kind and giving people..."

After lunch I said goodbye to lovely Crema and the four of us piled into Stefano's Peugeot 206 and were on our way to Como to see Emilia...none of us had seen her in 7 years!

Como would be one of my favourite destinations to date...including the infamous Disco party, the lake, and a Swiss Casino...AND teaching italian friends some dirty words!

A long journey, and a concert experience of a lifetime...

After my whirlwind spontaneous trip to the ancient city of Pompei, I still had a flight to catch in Rome to Milan for the next leg of my tour. I had to get up at 5am, barely got any sleep. The hostel guy said goodbye to me as I slipped out the door, and I headed to the bus stop. I had to catch the train at 630 at Naples Station so I didn't have a lot of room for error. Thankfully I caught the bus right on time and I was on my way. Got to the station, figured out how to buy the ticket...for only 10,50 euros to Rome? Not complaining! But then I got back to Rome and found the train to Fiumicino at the other end of the station...damn this heavy backpack...and it was 15 euros to go to the airport!!! WTF?? How do you figure that? Anyways, made it to the airport...after all that my flight was running behind a bit, so I had time for a small meal.

So I flew to Milan-Malpensa. Malpensa, like Fiumicino, is also nowhere near the city centre. So I bought a shuttle ticket to the central station, that took an hour, then hopped on the metro. Changed lines at one point too. Finally, I find my hostel, in a pretty nice neighbourhood too. Sigh of relief, I can relax.

If you've been counting, that's a bus, 2 trains, a plane, another bus, and 2 metro trains. Holy crap.

But talk about a night and day difference from Naples. Milan is just the opposite; clean, upscale, trendy, and clearly has money...that Naples could use. The cars drive in an orderly fashion, and there's plenty of room in the wide streets. No piles of smelly garbage...all in all really nice. But the hostel; well, it was clean, and....quiet. Really quiet. The young chinese guy at the desk didn't speak much english other than what was needed to check in guests. I mean, everything I asked, he or his mother (I'm assuming) were helpful. But what was missing was the overall warmth and welcome I just experienced in Naples. Crappier hostel aesthetically, poor town etc...but I got a great vibe from Naples. They instantly told me what to do, how the hostel worked, what I need to do in Naples etc..a genuine desire to see me enjoy myself there and get the most out of it. The feeling I got right away in Milan, not just from the hostel, was much more...composed. Which is not necessarily a bad thing. But maybe things would change...

So I went out and grabbed the ol' kebab...I kinda like having kebabs in each city, to determine the best one. I should have started a kebab blog maybe. If I do, I shall call it "Keblog"*. Or "Kebablog"*. (* Copyright 2010 SartorialSaga. All rights reserved." I called up my friend Pietro who I hadn't seen since my trip with Kristen. Now, I may not have mentioned, I had visited Milan before in 2004 with Kristen and saw these friends, but I was extremely ill at the time. Kristen had to drive the car thru the Swiss Alps alone while I was unconscious in the passenger seat from the flu or whatever. So I was still sick in Milan and didn't get to do much.

My friend Laura, who was still busy working that day, said Pietro, who is a piano teacher, was giving a seminar on Gustav Mahler's 5th Symphony at the Auditorium di Milano, and following the seminar was a concert. He invited me to come see, so I made my way across a town I didn't know in a hurry to the place I marked on my map. Made it just in time to see Pietro's speech. Now my italian isn't THAT good; I have a feeling I would have trouble following a speech on that subject in english, let alone italian...far too esoteric, but really interesting. I understood parts of it, and he had audioclips to back it up so it was great. Took some pics for him, thought he might like to have some, as he doesn't do that very often. The crowd was quite a bit older, the types you would expect to be Mahler conoisseurs. But he did a great job.

After, I went up and said hi to Pietro, it had been so long! I met his friend Martina who I was told to call and meet up with...turns out I could have stayed with her that night instead of the hostel...but too late. We talked for a bit, then I went and bought my ticket just before it started...it was only like 12 euros...and they put me front row centre, right behind the piano! Whoa! It was like my own private concert! I would never expect to get the chance to see a classical concert with a full orchestra in Milan...so cool.

The first "opening act" before Mahler was an interlude by a young pianist, 30s, doing Mozart. Extremely talented man. With first 3 notes I instantly had chills. Not many things make me feel like that. I got a little emotional for a minute; the piano supported by a full orchestra, right in front of me. So beautiful. Made me realize first, how much I love the piano, but also, that I wish I continued with it when I was really young. Chances aren't as good now I suppose to be great, but it's still something I NEED to learn how to do.

This young man had a bit of arrogance to him, a bit like he was showing off....but I suppose Mozart was like that too. To be a young prodigy that everyone revered. I suppose I can't blame the guy; there's always that fine line between humbly accepting love and affection, and drawing it and feeding off of it by showing off. I dunno, I'd love to discuss this sometime, always been an interesting subject...

(Damn, I had to stop writing, now I'm in an internet cafe in Dublin and the keyboard keys are all sticky...this is gonna be challenging)

So anyways, the piano part ended. To be honest I thought that was the end of the show. I got up to leave and indicated to my friends who weren't sitting with me that I would be outside the hall. Went downstairs and got an espresso. Then the lights flashed as they tried to get everyone back inside. No one had left. Oh. That was just the intro act! So I went back to my seat, front row centre again. This time, the piano was replaced by a conductor's platform.

The conductor came out...such a cliche. He had big crazy grey hair sticking straight up. Wearing all black and a simple collarless shirt, he seemed a little less formal. But almost more exclusive as he was afforded these comforts for what he was about to do.

Silence after the applause. A pause. Then, he raised hands and made a WOOOOOSSHHH noise as he brought in the wind and string instruments. Chills again down my back. There must have been about 200 people who made up this orchestra. So cool. So many talented, flawless professionals.

I could see just the cellists and violinists from my seat. I like how everyone is dressed their best for this night. I spotted this attractive young violinist in an evening dress. I only saw her face at the beginning, my view was blocked by the conductor and other players. But I could just hear her, and see her beautiful arms caressing and holding this amazing instrument. So graceful the way she holds it. But the men are different; the lead violinist was an older man, who held it more aggressively, and it wasn't feminine at all. So interesting. Being this close I could also pick out a certain person to listen to, if you look at them and watch their movements.

The conductor was hilarious and amazing at the same time. He almost seemed out of timing with the music and therefore kindof out of place. But I guess it makes sense to everyone there, and he had full control of them. He would cross his hands and gesture with a flat hand, and raise it up high, and with the other hand form a claw that he would shake with authority at another section. He would slice and dice back and forth with his wand to the strings, and STAB the wind instruments, and pound the ground for the percussion. So much passion.

Then all the strings started plucking their instruments. The simple motion combined with the sound made it really funny. But I could really visualize things with the music; images of all kinds, without knowing the story. Makes me wonder how you would even begin to compose something of this scale, with so many elements. These composers are frickin geniuses. Their full understanding of music and its intricate parts is so vastly beyond my comprehension.

When I looked up at him I was also looking right into the lights on the ceiling, partially blinding me sometimes. The energy picked up; I had a huge grin on my face as I would look left at the violinists and right at the cellists. Flashes of light from the middle reminded me to look at the conductor, as he convulsed and swung his arms around occasionally blocking the lights from the ceiling. Being this close I could hear all his movements, and breathing...and I could see big gobs of sweat falling from his face...

I was reminded often this evening of my friend Kenzo, who's so damned skilled with the violin. I appreciate that skill so much. I want to understand it more.

This man was insane, but was so passionate about what he did. I'm beginning to realize that we call some things "cliche" because we might never see these things for real, and the cliche is our only undertanding of it. The word sort of has a dismissive connotation, naive and ignorant. But now I've seen the real deal, and it just makes sense in my head now.

After the concert ended, which was almost an hour of straight playing and flailing and singing etc, we went to Martina's for dinner; me, Pietro, Martina, Nelson her husband, and a couple other friends. She cooked some amazing chorizo meat pasta, AND gorgonzola sauce, with the cheese from the town of the same name just outside of Milan! SO delicious. We had some wine and had homemade pound cake for dessert and a dessert wine too. I stayed so late I didn't even make it back to my hostel, and slept there, like a rock. Whew.

The next day I would discover Milan with Pietro, and see my friend Laura after many years...

Ruins, rainbows, puppies and...PIZZA! And garbage.

Destination: Naples...and the ancient city of Pompei.

I arrived at about 2pm in Naples, and didnt have a map or anything for my hostel. Exciting and scary at the same time. First off, Naples is crazy. It seems so disorderly and dirty and kind of dangerous at first. On top of that, there is garbage in the streets everywhere, and graffiti on every single wall...seems like shit could go down here if Im not careful.

Even if youre lost, if you use your noggin you can pretty much get to where you want to be. Some sketchy guys tried to offer me a cab ride...no thanks, dont feel like wasting money or god knows where they would take me. I had a little mini map for the hostel so I knew roughly where I had to go. The bus was far from the train station...and on the way, the map fell out of my pocket. But i remembered where to go. I asked a bus driver and he pointed me in the right direction. had to go buy a bus ticket from a corner store. Then I got on the bus and went towards the hostel. Got out and right in front of me was a huge castle on the the water. And construction everywhere. But where to go from here...

Big tip: if ever lost, just go into a 4-star hotel to the receptionist, and ask for a map. I found an NH hotel, same chain as in Brussels, and asked for help from the desk. She printed me a map, looked it up online, and showed me where to go...so helpful without hesitation. So I finally found the hostel: Bella Capri Naples. Had to buzz up and use 5 cents in the elevator to go up. Got to the top and the hostel was so tiny...but very welcoming. The lady was instantly friendly, didnt mind that I didnt have a reservation ( I lied earlier, didnt use hostelbookers for this one, just a recommendation from the hostel in Rome.) I met some old Argentinian guy in the room, we spoke a bit in spanish, I wander what his story was. He was like 65 and staying in a hostel in Naples. Anyways I went back to the desk. I said I was there to see Pompei, and I only had a few hours till it closed. She told me where to find the bus, and to buy a round trip ticket. I set off, grabbed a sandwich and a coffee and found the invisible bus station. I asked a random guy if the bus came yet, and he said he was waiting for the same bus. As the bus rolled up, he indicated to me from across the way that it was the right one. So nice. Then the bus ride was about 45 minutes. So cool, I could see Capri Island out in the distance, and Mount Vesuvius up ahead. Then, someone I didnt even talk to figured I wanted to see Pompei, and pointed out the right stop...which I wouldve have missed if it wasnt for him. I had about 2.5 hours to see the place before dark and closing.

I went to find the entrance, bought a couple postcards and even the audio guide. It was threatening to rain...I wandered in, it seemed so huge and complex, but amazing. Consider this town was founded by the Romans in 200 BC! It was destroyed in 79 AD by an eruption from MT Vesuvius. What killed most people at first was the several feet of ash that fell on the town, but preserving many of the famous mummified bodies we know Pompei for. Then later that day rivers of lava running at 70 kmh ran through the town destroying much of it, and the next day a massive earthquake took care of the rest. Everyone was killed in 2 days. Ouch. But, I guess it was the ash that actually preserved most of the original painted and mosaic artwork everywhere. Amazing to see this town had drainage systems, clothes washing stations, running water from wells, vineyards, cloisters, chapels, 2 auditoriums for theatre, sportsgrounds for horses, and a huge coliseum.

 The art was amazing, mosaics talking about Jason and the Argonauts, Egyptian Gods, Achilles etc. But even more interesting was the sacred erotic art...ancient porn basically. Lesbian stuff, and even some really kinky shit, like some half goat dude railing a normal goat...uhm...wow. Sorry to whoever is reading this and didnt see that coming...actually no Im not sorry :)

The other cool thing was that there were stray dogs running around everywhere. Apparently dogs have always been respected and welcome in the city; theyre actually fed though, and I found out you can adopt a dog from Pompei! When I get a dog, Im gettin a Pompei dog...I shall call him...Pompee...

It started to get dark and raining and the people were dissipating, then magic happened: I spotted a big rainbow over the ruins...so damn magical, its the only way to describe it. I was very humbled by that place. So much history, so much went into building that city...then in an instant, it was destroyed forever. Kinda made me appreciate what I have. You gotta seize the day, you really do.

Found the bus stop again and sure enough, the bus came and took me right back to town. Like 4 euros for a round trip. Awesome. I went up to the hostel and asked where I could find the famous Naples Pizza. I headed over to Gino Sorbillo, the most famous restaurant and the self-described "best pizza in Italy". Sweet. I also found out about all the garbage. Basically, the government doesnt have a proper system to get rid of Naples garbage, so theyve been dumping it in the countryside. Thankfully, the Mafia has a pretty strong hold on things down here. Theyve been blocking the routes for the garbage trucks, so they cant get the garbage out of town. Hence the piles of garbage. Also I learned, the presence of the Mafia keeps petty crimes down, so even though it looks like a shithole, youre pretty safe in the streets. Didnt seem like it at first, but I got used to it.

I found Gino Sorbillo and there was a huge lineup of young people out front. You had to put in your name and they yelled it over the intercom. I realized after when they would yell my name that it would sound funny..."Marco, tre...Chiara, quattro...TAAA-EE-LORRRRE, UNO." My last name in Italian sounds ridiculous. So I ordered a "Nonno Luigi" which was actually more of a panzerotto than a pizza. But still amazing and yes, one of the best Ive ever had. I paired it with a german Paulaner beer, as everyone else was doing. Served in plastic dixie cups, but didnt matter. A musical duo came in, a man with a guitar and a girl with a tambourine...they played for the restaurant and even did an acoustic version of "We dont speak Americano"...so awesome.

I headed back to the hostel, and took some pictures of the garbage on the way back. Such a crazy place, and would be such a contrast to where I was about to go next...

Went to bed and got up way early for my trip to Milan. Old Argentinian dude was semi awake, dont think he slept. I packed up and headed out the door. The desk guy was asleep on the couch as I snuck out at 545am. He popped his head up and in his grogginess said "bye Brendan" in a thick italian accent. So friggin nice here.

So far Ive realized a couple of important things about myself, and I need to write about these things.
I make friends very easily, and I can feel connected to someone I just met quite quickly. Like that night in the hostel in Rome with all those peeps in the room, laughing together. And Corinnas friends. Theres no reason why you cant make great friends quickly.
Ive been speaking in Italian almost exclusively here to get by. And at dinner with Corinna and friends. Considering I barely studied the language, Im pretty proud about my ability to pick it up and communicate. Maybe that sounds conceited but I dont care, I dont say stuff like that often.
Ive also realized Im a good traveller. I can find places, stores, and hostels with very little information, and I have a good sense of direction. Feels like I can survive anywhere. And thats a great feeling.

Im feeling really happy and confident these days. I think its important to check back on the things you think youre good at and to acknowledge them. Its easy to beat yourself up about things you cant do, trust me I know.

Headed on the bus to Milan...some amazing times ahead...concerts, parties...whew, Im tried just thinking about it!

Small town Italy, great food and better friends.

Alright friends, its been a while again since my last post. Problem remains the same, so much to do and no time to post! Barely even getting a minute to write in my journal...but that could only mean one thing: That Im keeping track of everything im doing and it will all end up in this blog, so keep checking back. Every city I go to Im doing such fun stuff its blowing my mind.


Im in Berlin right now using this funky german keyboard that swaps the y and the z around cuz its used so much, and I cant figure out where the apostrophe is...so thats why Im not using them FYI.

Ok so back in Italy....

******
On the train to Albano I passed a beautiful lake as the sun was on its way down. Nothing quite like the Italian countryside. I pull into the station and stand alone for a moment, in a suburb which surely no tourists visit. Then I turn to see a girl with long blonde hair running towards me "Brendi Brendi!" she yells. Corinna looks and is exactly the same, just long blonde hair this time instead of a short red bob she had in Paris. I did see her briefly 6 years ago when I rented the car with my friend Kristen, but it still felt like an eternity. She such a caring and cool person, so good to see her again.

We hopped into her beat up old Nissan Micra, with dented panels and a passenger window that was wedged up and couldnt roll down. There are so many beat up cars in Italy that they have a word for them, something like "carccione" I think, which in English isnt quite the same as "piece of shit" because the italian word has a more endearing connotation, and not resentful. We drove to her town of Arricia and down to Lake Nemi where they all hang out in the summertime. Such a beautiful private place, just for the youth of that village. We went back into town to meet her friend who was soon closing up her shop, and we met her friend, a french guy who moved there a few years ago and makes custom rings and jewelry across the way. We had to wait another hour or so so we wandered through the old part of the village as the sun had set and the streets were just lit by the orange incandescence of the old streetlights. Corinna teaches theatre to kids; we went into the old theatre where she teaches sometiems but there was a rehearsal going on so we couldnt go in. We ended up at an old viaduct where she used to hang out too. We stopped and chatted about life back in Paris, and leading up to now. Shes had it rough for jobs, she works 3 right now, and has no job security. After Greece, Italy is in the most trouble as one of the bigger countries in Europe. Hard to get good work and Berlusconi the President is a much hated and corrupt man. I felt really bad for her situation, and it made me really appreciate my job and the things my country has to offer me. She would love to travel and even live somewhere else but its so hard. Im pretty damn lucky.

We went back to the town centre and had a Martini at a cool little bar in an upstairs living room, and they brought out chips and nuts and little pizza breads. So common in Italy to get all that with just drinks. (Wait till I talk about Como...) We then met her friends and went to a little hole in the wall restaurant and had real, regional food. Mussels, seafood pasta, and some bean soup made by the grandma in the kitchen. I got to try a meat plate including slices of the famous Arricia "porchetta" pork. YUM. Later her other friend Alessia joined us. We ate a special biscotti for dessert that you dip in white wine...so weird but delicious. It had like a hard sugar crust on it and it was already made with white wine. Wow. We then went to a little cafe after to grab a coffee and to get some change so I could pay Alessia back for the meal, which after all was only like 15 euros. We were also with an older guy Alessandro at dinner.  So he, Corinna, Alessia and myself said goodbye to the others and headed back to the town centre and dropped off Alessandro, and the 3 of us continued back to Rome. So great of her to give me a ride, and she refused to take any money for gas. At that point it was already quite late but we tried to find a cool bar that was still open. Not our luck, we just ended up just kinda wandered around Travestere, a cool neighbourhood with some great bars. Ended up just grabbing a beer and wandered around some more. We just chatted in Italian the whole time, switching a bit to english when I needed to be really specific. But I liked hearing them speak italian :) Then we tried to make it back across Rome to my hostel, and it was pretty hard to do with all the one way streets, combined with the fact that they didnt really have any sense of direction hahaha... oh, classic. Pulled up to my hostel finally and had a long goodbye to both of them, even though I had just met Alessia, I still felt welcomed into friendship. So common in Italy I find. They expect nothing back and give so much. I would encounter this even more in Como and Crema a little later...

I had originally planned to stay a little longer at Corinnas, but because I never stayed with her, I had one extra day, and I made a spontaneous decision: I had never been to Naples. And I wanted to see Pompei. So I bought a ticket the next day and made my way to a hostel I booked last minute on Hostelbookers (great site btw). It was already midday, and I would have less than a day there, but it was worth a shot...

Believe me, Pompei is worth a trip by itself...

Ancient ruins, bitchy rose vendors, and hostel bar madness...

So I had to get up early for my flight for Rome today, and it didn't help that a new hosteller in the bed right below me started snoring louder than anything I've ever heard in my life. I was eventually wide awake and could hear everyone else rustling too. I could feel their energy sayin"somebody tell im to shutup!!" I tried earplugs but the actual bass note of the snoring was reverberating through my bed. Eventually, I turned on my light, reached down from the bed and poked the jerk. He was some chatty Aussie dude in a midlife crisis or something staying with 20-somethings in a hostel. Some new girl a few bunks over from Austin, Texas warned me that he was chatty and that he snored...nothing I could do though. Witholding my rage, I poked him and said "HEY STEVE." "...Huh? What? Yeah"? He said, startled, mid-snore. "Your snoring is keeping a room of people awake, you have to stop. This can't go on" "Oh, sorry mate, ya it's just that this is my first night's sleep in a long time and blah blah blah..." "Yeah well, you have to stop." " Yeah I reckon I can go downstairs now, you think they'll let me? I'm rested enough..." I sensed that this was a problem that he's dealt with before. "What time is it?" He asked. "It's 430 am."Ya I'll just go down then." "OK..." And with that, he put on his shoes and left the room. Thank the LORD AND SAVIOUR JESUS CHRIST OF LATTER DAY SAINTS, I can sleep. Victory! I'm glad I dealt with it this way as I was having darker thoughts about dealing with the problem...I've clearly been watching too much Dexter at home...

Headed off to the Metro, dropped off some postcards on the way. Made it to the Airport with plenty of time to spare, though I didn't eat any breakfast, so I spent 7,90 euros on a double "Mugaccino" and some yogurt at the only cafe near the gate. I had 60 euros left to  my name as it's been over 2 weeks without the possibility of withdrawing cash from an ATM. Let's hope Italy is different...

***

It's hot in Rome....my bag is ridiculously heavy, why I decided to have a back pack on this trip I have no idea, I lift heavy shit all the time at work and now every day on my vacation I'm carrying my 50 lb backpack. I use wheels to carry shit at work all the time...why did I have to take "backpacking around Europe" so literally...

Found my hostel, Alessandro Palace. Very cool old building. Super nice people at the desk, showed me to my room with SEVEN other beds...uh oh...but it was empty right now. Went to do some laundry...and turns out they do it for me! I had a coupon from the hostel and it only cost me 6 euros and they washed and dried everything for me...awesome. Good start. Next priority, get food. Found a cheap kebab and a beer. So delicious...but I'm predicting many a-kebab to be eaten in the near future for sustenance...like 3,50 plus 2,00 for a beer. Wicked. Then the moment of truth...went to the bank machine, and like the 20+ times I tried to withdraw money in Paris, I put in my code and expected the same message to pop up...then I heard bills flipping...HOLY CRAP! IT WORKED!!! SO friggin relieved...some Aussie man and his son were standing right there and caught the moment and I explained to them...they were laughing as I must have looked so relieved...

Then I had my first experience with an Italian guy. With a my wallet now slightly padded, I sat down at cafe and thought to look through the menu to order some fancy coffee...but I really just wanted a normal one (even though the normal ones in Italy are tiny espressos, FYI), and I tried out my rusty Italian. "Il menu, per favore" Then he suddenly went on about why I needed a menu; imagine this rambling but in italian and really quick with lots of hand gestures :" A menu? Why do you need a menu? It's a cafe! Why don't you just order coffee if you want coffee, look around everyone's drinking coffee, she's drinking tea, they're having a beer, why do you come to a cafe and want to see a menu, this isn't a restaurant...." etc etc...So hilarious. I love how direct he was. I laughed and of course just had a coffee.

So my first night in Rome was awesome. I met this Asian-Aussie girl named Saet (like "say it with flowers) who was in my room. We got there the same day so we decided to hang out together. We decided to take the big red tourist bus tour of Rome to check it out; this may seem really touristy and it is, but it's a great way to see everything at least in a short amount of time, you can hop off anytime and restart the next day even, and you can figure out where you want to go later when you have more time. It was also good we were together because she had a terrible sense of direction. Sorry Saet if you're reading this...actually I can't find her email so I doubt she is reading this...

So far I've ordered food, asked for directions, bought stuff all in Italian. I'm pretty impressed with myself so far, considering it's been 7 years since I've used it. Saet and I went for dinner near our hostel and had pasta and pizza and cheap wine...god I love Italy and Europe for that. We met up with some Americans in our room and went to a bar at another hostel called Yellow Bar; freepour cocktails woo! One of the americans worked for Kleen Kanteen stainless steel bottles and I told him I had one and I loved it so I was his best friend. Pretty chill night with some chatty Americans and Saet.

The next day we got off at St. Peter's Square and hung outside the Vatican, then wandered down to the Spanish Steps. Bought a little gift there, tons of artists like Place des Tertres in Montmartre in Paris. Some sketchy guy started talking to me and shook my hand and I was sure he was trying to distract me from something, so I kept checking my pocket and backpack...paranoid? Maybe. But it happens. At the bottom of the steps was some classic Idian dude with a bunch of roses who tried to give us one. I know their game; they see a guy and a girl together, assume they're romantically involved (could be related), force a rose into her hand and say it's free, then chat the guy up and eventually get money. Well, silly Saet took the damn rose then he started talking to me "where you from?" etc. I said right away "no thanks, forget it." And then he lost his smile and cussed me out in hindi. Hilarious. 

We walked down to the famous Trevi Fountain and took some pics. We walked to another major plaza and had some pizza and gelato...mmm...then we tried to catch our bus but just decided to walk to the Forum Ruins after all. Saet was tired so she went back and I went into the forum with just an hour and a half of daylight to spare. Whipped out my 50mm lens and got some neat shots. So cool, the layers of rock and marble excavated over the years. Walked all the way back to the hostel and grabbed a kebab on the way. Went down to the bar to find some friends. Cool little bar, lots of anglophones of course. Met a couple cool Colombian chicks too. Later we went to the Yellow Bar again with the Americans. It was closed from the outside so they started banging on the door as they had been drinking a bit more. I thought it was a lost cause, but someone actually came around and let us in! We got inside and the place was nuts! This is where it got...interesting. Immediately there's a hot girl in her bra dancing behind the bar alternating with the bartenders. Some other really drunk girls stumbling around. It was insane...Felt a little uncomfortable as some of the guys well knew that they were hammered out of their minds as they were "dancing with them". Didn't take long for topless girl to lose the bra and start dancing out on the floor with everyone else...then a little later it didn't take long for her to be on the floor and some friends tending to her condition. I met some cool guy from Surrey though, he was half Puerto Rican or something so he had a bunch of latino buddies. It was a fun but crazy night; I didn´'t stay much longer after and went off to bed.

There was this hilarious overweight Argentian dude named Ezekiel in our room who was at the bar and was dancing with one of those girls, and then got all pissed off when one of the americans "took his girl". It was so funny how angry he got "I'm going to kill him. I'm going to kill him in his sleep." He spoke english really well but when he spoke, he kinda yelled and was really intense, so everything he said souded like a threat even if it wasn't one.

I was the first one back in the room but they all came in after, most of them drinking. I kinda wanted to sleep but we ended up all just talking and laughing most of the night. Ezekiel was really drunk and kept sayind "De floor is movink" And he couldn't say Saet's name so he called her "Sand". Saet would make fun of him and had a hilarious laugh. It was pretty cool; 7 or 8 of us all in the room from all over the world having just met, laughing hysterically. Arty, a nice guy from Daytona Beach said we were the best bunch of hostellers he ever met. Wasn't one bad apple in the bunch.

The next day I got up and went to the Colisseum with the Columbian chicks. I've seen it before but it was really cool to see it again. I got in free with the Spanish guided tour as I had a ticket already from the ruins and just followed them. I headed back to the hostel, and had to switch rooms cuz I hadn't actually booked a hostel, so I paid more for a 4 bed room. Met my 2 American hosteller roommates, and headed to the train station. 

I was headed to Albano, then to Ariccia just outside of Rome. The sun was low in the sky and the orange light lit up an ancient aquaduct that ran along side the traintracks...so cool. Looking forward to seeing my old roommate Corinna from Paris. The last half of my year there I lived with her, we met at school and pretended to be a couple so we could rent the 1 bedroom plus den apartment in Chinatown in Paris. It came down to that, it's so hard and expensive to find a good apartment there.

Corinna is so great and caring, like a big sister/ fake girlfriend. Can't wait to see her.

Boat cruises, melted cheese, and ROCHECHOUART. Au revoir Paris!

My last 2 days in Paris. Said goodbye to Angelina Jolie and Cilnei this morning; was sad to see them go, I had a great time with them and they were really down to earth people...can't say as much for some of the other people I met there. Last night I showed Ana my war letters from my Grandma, and she was very, very interested in them. I didn't fully understand why at first, I mean I think the letters are fascinating, but aren't everyone's cup of tea. But for a country like Brazil who had nothing to do with WW1 and only read about them, for her to see them in person was surreal and compelling. She had a huge smile on her face the whole time and said "Wow...this is so great...it's better than the Louvre!" That was a pretty awesome comment.
Said goodbye to Hubert as well, he was really cool. I'm glad I hung out with him and spoke french instead of those other canadians, one of whom was some girl from Toronto who spoke really loud especially when she was drunk and wouldn't shut the hell up about herself.

Again with the money issues...again the deja vu about that. Went to a Western Union to get my SECOND emergency Visa money transfer thanks to Vancity Savings and Credit Union...walked all the way to the Post Office and read a sign in the doorway ¨Les Services Western Union sont suspendus." I won't bother translating that for you. Spent more of my morning finding other locations. Walked 30 mins and it was the same story at the next one. Finally found one that worked, and I was back in the game with some cash... thank Baby Jesus. On the way back from the Post Office I bumped into Joelle again; small world! Small neighbourhood at least!

Walked to the Metro and went to Republique, where I found a cool shop and bought myself a very special souvenir of Paris. I saw it a long time ago and finally got a chance to get one here...
Wandered through the Marais again, the protests and parades were still ongoing...tons of people in the streets. Whaddya know! They have Ben & Jerry's Ice Cream here in Paris...Cookie Dough Ice Cream? Yes please. I went to this "Photo Service" place where they backed up my photos on DVD for a bargain price of 30 euros for 2 DVDs, one of which only had like 100 photos on it. That's like over 40 dollars people. Oh well, I had no choice really, and it was at this point I realized I needed a netbook. But peace of mind can cost alot sometimes so I bit the bullet.

Then I went to one of my favourite stores called WE. Wish we had it in Canada, I always find stuff I like. Bought a tshirt and by God in heaven they had pants that fit me. And then something happened...I was in the changeroom, and I put my brand new Ipod Nano on a little shelf to get it out of the way. I had the thought right then "better not leave it there"...well, I bought the stuff and head to the metro..then 10 mins later I realized I left it behind! Goddammit...I ran back and the stores were all closing. I got to the store and the gate was closed but I talked to the guys inside and got them to check the change room....and of course, it was gone. SHIT.

You know, chances were slim to get it back, I know. But I do know that in Canada there would at least be a SLIGHT chance that someone would bring it to the front desk so that the person could come back for it. Maybe less likely for an ipod, but a cell phone for sure. I know I was with my buddy Anthony and he found an Iphone on the lawn by the side of the road once. He just left it on and waited for someone to call, and they did and he gave it back. Just what we do in Canada. But honestly, I wouldn´t doubt the possibility that the worker dude at the shop went back there, the ipod was still there, he put it in his pocket and came back and said "Sorry, didnt find it." Something about french guys who will take anything they can get at any cost to anyone else. At least that's the sense I get in Paris, as I did back then too. Oh well, I had a feeling I was never destined to have that ipod, even though it was a gift from the show I worked on. So I didn't lose money per se but it's still a real pain in the ass.

And then I went outside and it started raining. Ah yes, this is the Paris I know too, cold and wet. Went and got some crappy chinese food and felt pretty bummed. So there was the last piece of the deja vu puzzle; years ago I was at a bar with my Italian friend Emilia and I had my Minidisc, YES MINIDISC player (ya now you know I'm old) in the pocket of my favourite jacket, on the back of the chair I was sitting in. She was facing me the whole time, keep in mind...and we got up to leave and my jacket was gone. It wasn't the monetary value of the things. My music, my favourite jacket, gone. And Emilia saw nothing and she was facing me! Damn these thieves are slick...So yes, like back then, I lost my music. Not quite the same way, but it was still stolen.

Feeling full of fried rice and nems (french word for spring rolls? WTF), I decided to do the one big thing I never got to do way back then: Go on a Bateau Mouche tour on the Seine. So I went down to Ile de la Cite and bought a big tall Heineken and sat in the front of the boat. Only 12 euros for a more than an hour tour. I'm impressed. Kinda spitting rain and I was sitting outside. Then my spirits lifted high: the boat started to move, and I was headed down the Seine at night with my camera in hand looking at all the beautifully lit monuments and buildings. It stopped raining too. Then everyone came out to the front where I was with their cameras too. Inching closer and closer to the Eiffel Tower, passing under the impressive bridges, while a cute french girl gives us some rushed and unrehearsed tour guide comments about everything we're seeing in a heavy french accent. We stop and turn around at the Eiffel Tower. No matter what happened that day, I couldn't help but smile like a fool when I'm looking up at that big bright thing in the night. It really is damned impressive. We just missed the interval for all the sparkly lights, but it was still amazing. We turned back and went around the islands by Notre Dame. I never got to learn so much about the bridges.  So cool to see the kids along the Seine crowded together just hanging out...some great memories just like that. We rounded L'ile St. Louis and Paris' most expensive apartments, and we came to a bridge that they say if it's your first time going under, you have to turn and kiss the person next to you and make a wish...ok dammit, this was already a pretty damned romantic boatride and they had to rub it in my face...there was some old dude hanging out with his married friends, I wasn't about to make his night so I just looked around and enjoyed it vicariously through the other couples...without being creepy as much as I could.

I bought a Nutella Crepe and a Desperados beer...I remember those flavours so well. Do we get Desperados in Canada? Someone help me find it later. Anyways, I also found a little padlock at the corner store. For a project later...

Last day in Paris. Lots to do. Got up and went to the Sacre Coeur. Nice sunny cold day now. Got some great daytime pics of the Basilique. And of course got harassed by the dudes who want to put a bracelet on your wrist for "free". They are really aggressive, I walked past him saying "no no no" and he yelled back at me "Hey! Don't be Chinese!" Uuuhm...ok. I think I understand but wow. Bartered with one of the souvenir dudes and bought a decent sized Eiffel Tower for my new apartment when I get back. Hey, I´m allowed to have one :) Wandered through the Marais one last time and went to get a Shawarma again, but it was closed for some dumb reason and the lineup at another one was ridiculous...so I tried a fancy new crepe place and it was awesome. I watched him place the cheese intentionally so it spilled onto the grill so there was a yummy burnt crust on the outside..mmm...Went and sat in a park I sat in once with my mom when she came with me back then. Wandered to Centre Pompidou and there was this street performer dude named Phillipe who interacted with the crowd and imitated people as they walked through his "stage" he was actually pretty damned funny I don't usually laugh at those guys but he was good.

I went to the Larry Clark exhibit way on the other side of town, and discovered the line was about 6 hours long...maybe shorter, I decided I could spend my last day in a lineup or go do other stuff...so I did the latter. I made my way north to the giant flea market I went to before. SO awesome, everyone must go there sometime. But just outside it are more street vendors..and this time, even being more mature, fluent in french, and just plain bigger, I felt less safe by myself than last time. These french dudes are always looking for a way in and would fuck you over if they had the chance. Just don't give it to them is all. Wandered through the little stalls of antique furniture and knick knacks, and I bought some more awesome vintage 100 year old postcards of Paris. So cool. I also found another cool knicknacky place, but I bought a gift for someone there so I don't want to talk about it or type the word knickknkank anymore.

Rounded the corner at one point and saw 2 young punk kids smoking hash: they stopped talking and gave me a once over, they knew I was a foreigner...little pricks, just try it this time...I dunno if I ever explained that one early morning 7 years ago some of those kids were wandering through the metro train I was on and they saw my cell phone and jumped on top of me trying to take the phone and were punching me. Thankfully they didn't get it but then they followed me to my connection and sat next to me on the subway, about 10 of them. As every stop grew closer to mine I predicted they would get off at mine and follow me...thankfully I ran home lightning fast as soon as I got there so they never got the chance...

Took the train to St Michel and had Goat Cheese Fondue for my last meal in Paris...mmmm....so good.

Hey maybe it's cliche, but If you've been to Pont des Arts lately in Paris, it's covered in padlocks inscribed with couples's in love initials. Some just one lock, some two interlocked. All different kinds of locks...I got some great pics there. They weren't there 7 years ago I'm sure, but I spent a lot of time on that bridge with friends. In keeping with the new tradition, I scratched my name on the lock and went and put it on. Felt so cheesy but awesome at the same time.

I'll miss the way the metro voice lady sounds like Homer Simpson saying "Bed goes up! Bed goes down." as she says the name of the station twice. "Barbes Rochechouart! Barbes Rochechouart." Ill miss pronouncing that place too...haha I remember a cute little french girl trying to pronounce it "Barbes Roch...Rochefort" And the dad said " Non non, c'est Barbes ROCHECHOUART." I'll miss the time some girl got on the metro with a vintage chair, and there were no seats for her, so she put it down and sat on it and smiled and turned to me and shrugged her shoulders. In fact that same little girl who was trying to pronounce the word was on that trip, and the chair girl was deep in conversation with the guy next to her, and I watched the little girls face as she was so caught up in the other conversation that she was imitating the facial expressions unconsciously...so cute.

I'll miss Paris again this time, but I feel good about leaving it this time. The rest of my trip will be amazing. The beautiful people, the fashion, the crepes, the cafes, the crowded metro, and even the sketchy french guys...k maybe not them. I got to do everything I wanted, except see my friend Kathleen, one of the Canadian girls I met back then who married a french guy and stayed. I really wanted to see her, but it didn't work out.

But this was a great experience and a necessary one. I love this city, but I'm ready to move on, literally and figuratively. A bientot Paris! I'll be back, but next time with someone special to show it around to :)

Next stop, Rome, Italy!!!

Shakespeare, Larry Clark and Sir Mix-A-Lot...one night only!

So I'm now in a hostel for the first time this trip...been in a 3-star hotel or better until this point, so I've been spoiled. Now I'm in a room with 5 other people. For what it is, St. Christopher's Inn in Paris is pretty good. It actually has a restaurant, a bar, and a nightclub. The beds have little privacy curtains and charging stations and night lights. I would soon realize I would be pretty spoiled by this, as other hostels aren't as dialed. The hostel also happens to be 2 blocks from my first apartment in Paris. I was walking back from the metro and met a couple from Brazil, Ana and Cilnei. I would hang out with them later at the bar and we became good friends. I told Ana she looks like Angelina Jolie but she doesn't think so. Also, I woke up the first morning and met a big tall French guy from Senegal who was sleeping in my room. I came to know him as Hubert, doesn't speak much English. Super cool guy, very ambitious and wants to move to Montreal. But I told him how cold it gets there so he's having to mull it over...

The first night I went and visited Joelle Lenoir, my host-mom for the first part of my stay in Paris. She always has a foreign student staying in one of her rooms, often French-Canadian. Lots of memories in that apartment; it looks the same but with some more modern shelving in the living room. Knick knacks and crocheted art on the walls...we caught up for a bit, and I told her about my trip through Belgium. Turns out she had done a research paper on Canadians in the war for some reason; gave me a copy to bring back to Canada. What are the chances? We went out for dinner to catch up after...had my first pizza of MANY on this trip...ran into some problems later...if you catch my drift...

I'm seeing this place again but I'm still captivated by what I see. Every corner I turn I want to take a picture. It feels so great to feel iinspired to do so. I don't want to take any of this for granted. As I wrote this I'm sitting in Place des Vosges, a beautiful park surrounded by upscale apartments in the classy Marais district. I came here many times, to sit and write, or listen to music, or think. Alot of people here are doing just that: nothing. No ipods, no books, just sitting and watching the fountain, or the young mom being chased by her toddler. Funny how this place makes you want to do that; I can't tell you how many times if at all I've gone to a park in Vancouver just to sit and relax. I grabbed my favourite shawarma, the best in the city: L'As du Falafel. Still don't know what an As is...or do I? So damned delicious and tastes identical to how I remember. Often grab one down the block and head here to enjoy it.

Yesterday after I left the Poubelle (=garbage in french FYI), I wandered down to the Pantheon where Voltaire is buried. There was a chinese movie being shot out there...felt funny to be ushered aside by a French PA! Actually it didn't feel any different and it felt like I hadn't left Vancouver...except for the massive ancient coumned tomb in the background...continued to St. Michel area. Bought some postcards. And...GASP...I went to Starbucks...hahahah....I swear, they did not exist here 7 years ago. But, there was a company called "Columbus Cafe" which sold coffee to go...a completely unknown concept in France. I was convinced it was Starbucks in desguise, they used terms like "tall" and "grande" and sold muffins. Now, I haven't seen one while I've been here but Starbucks is everywhere...curious...The Starbucks guy asked me if I wanted syrup or whipped cream on my coffee...what the HELL is wrong with you of COURSE not. I responded in a less offensive way, but he was still taken aback. What an IDIOT...just kidding he's just doing his job...I guess...

I also tried to find my favourite crepe place, Kiki Mimi, which was Lebanese owned, and they would make this kickass lebanese chicken crepe...Adeel and I would frequent that place at least 3 times a week for one, but it's gone and replaced by a new falafel place. Sounds good, but not the same!

If you ever go to Paris, take a few minutes to wander through Shakespeare and Co. bookstore. A famous english bookstore in Paris, packed to the teets with books in every corner....the library section is upstairs, where you can sit and read whatever you want. Some amazing old original editions of some great books. But it's more the experience of being in there. It's so quiet, as the books as as a perfect sound insulator. I can hear music in the other room. I duck under the low doorway, and find a room with books in stacks on the ground. A piano sits eagerly inviting someone to play. But the music is coming from just around the corner, a young girl sits playing a strange ukelele-type instrument. So beautifully. The place is buzzing with energy, stories to be told by people passing, and the books themselves...I went back near the stairs and down another narrow hall, on my left is a tiny cubby with string lights and a typewriter...again, inviting someone to sit and share. Further down the hall is a room with benches and a table by a bright window, overlooking Notre Dame Cathedral. Not a bad view if you're sitting and reading and look up every once in a while; which one girl is doing right now. But in the corner, another girl sits and reads, unconsciously twisting her hair; her face is facing the other way but I can see her in the reflection of a large mirror with an ornate gold frame. Such a perfect photo opportunity. Alas, the place is so perfectly quiet that the shutter of my camera would disturb the very moment I'm trying to capture. I also don't want to seem creepy...so there's that too :)

Of course, everywhere I go the Metro is still jammed because of the strike. I met my friend Johane again for Japanese food in a new Japanese district in the 1st Arrondissement. No california rolls...but otherwise really yummy!  I ordered Edamame for Johane, she never had it before. We had a great chat about all sorts of stuff, including pronounciations. There was a really cool exhibit here on Larry Clark, the director of the cult movie KIDS. But when she said his name I had no idea what the hell she was saying...."Laaarr-chy Claaar-chk"...OOOOOoooh...LARRY CLARK. Haha. Somehow we brought up the subject of eating a muffin. I don't know how much of the english is kept when pronouncing an english word in french...so I tried...and my version caused an unending fit of laughter from her...so now I call her my "muffin"...but the way I like to pronounce it in french.

Back at the hostel I met Ana and Cilnei and Hubert again. Yes, there are plenty of Canadians and Australians and other english speakers there, but except for a few I found most of them to be annoying. I preferred my group. It was Karaoke night at the club. I tore it up with "Baby Got Back" by Sir Mix-A-Lot. Ana was quite happy about it, and Cilnei and Hubert liked it, but I think I scared off most of the frenchies. Oh well, I have a couple fans at least!

Just 2 more days in Paris and a lot left to see...some bad news, followed by the perfect pick-me-up...

"Luc va a l'ecole, avec son chien Fido..."

Continued from Paris...

It's been over 7 years since I've sat here, in the courtyard at Paris III: Sorbonne Nouvelle, Censier. Feels really strange to be here. It actually feels surreal to come back here. Looks exactly the same as it did back then. But somehow it seems smaller. Did I really grow that much? What the hell? Anyways, the deja vu continues. The weather is the same as it was when I started class, it's the same time of year. Chilly and sunny. I walked through the foyer past the auditioriums. This would be the first place I met any friends here. It was a pretty amazing moment: people from all over the world who don't know each other, meeting for the first time not knowing that they will build friendships and memories that will last for years to come. Little cliques at first, the spanish instantly recognize the spanish speakers, same with the italians, then soon you have a big group of spanish and italians hugging each other and laughing. I love these cultures...so friendly and welcoming. Doesn't really happen in Canada like that.

I met my friend Adeel for the first time here, the only english speaker I hung out with for the first few days; we eventually became great friends. Adeel is one unique guy: half Japanese, half Pakistani. Doesn't have a hometown as he grew up on a ship. Two completely opposing cultures...must make for a challenging upbringing.
Then I met 3 Canadian girls who helped me keep my canadianism while living here. I like being immersed in a totally different life, but it's important to stay connected to what you know. Not everyone has a hometown per se, so I'm grateful for mine.

The cafeteria still smells like burnt cheese. Cigarette smoke lingers in the sitting area. The old beat up piano still sits in the corner. One time between classes I came and sat down and someone jumped on and played "La Valse D'Amelie" from the movie; everyone stopped to listen. I'm pretty sure the same lunch ladies still work there. I grab a coffee from the machine for 50 cents, and head out to the courtyard. Still mainly girls who go to school here. And everyone is the age I was when I was there, around 20 years old. Most of them smoke, and when you're a student on a budget, you buy in bulk. They all have packs of raw tobacco and keep the filters inside. I like how they all have the same method to roll one; they hold the filter in their lips while they pull out a paper. You can walk around town and always see little white things hanging out of the corners of peoples mouths.

Deja vu again: the girl sitting next to me has a Counting Crows song on loop, I can hear it through her headphones. I went to their concert with my friend Rosie while I was here back then. I talked to the girl for a bit, she was a bit surprised to be sitting next to someone who wasn't french, pleasantly though. I told her about the concert...she asked me if I liked it here, I said yes, of course. I soon let her get back to her break, and her song on loop.

Kids pile out into the courtyard in groups after class, light up a smoke, check their phones. Just like any other school really. I'm starting to feel like my time has come and gone. I was here, had an amazing year, and left. And it's over. And I'm cool with it. Because this trip has been so amazing so far, and I've had great new memories.

I think it's really easy to get stuck in the past, especially when one is very sentimental, like I know I am. But you have to blindly trust that when you do new things, those are new memories...which very well might be as good if not better than your old ones. And if you do more new things, you don't look back at that "one time" that everything seemed to be perfect; you look back and realize it's just one moment among many.

So I've let go of "La Sorbonne Poubelle", but it's time to check out some old spots, and some new ones, and meet some old friends...and some new ones too...

Dead celebrities, bus tours and...bar fights?

I woke up late (finally) this morning to a quiet and slightly chilly but beautiful and stylish apartment to myself in Como, Italy. The wind is whistling at the windows and it's pissing rain pretty hard. Turned on the TV and eventually figured out how to change the channel to MTV, so I could see what the kids are listening to these days. The signal keeps cutting out everytime the wind picks up. Out the window, the old fashioned TV antennas equipped with new satellite dishes sway back and forth on the tile rooftops. Turns out it's mostly stuff we hear back in Canada. But it's kinda nice to hear a bit of a reminder of where I'm from. A complete immersion into another culture might be a bit too much.
I made myself some breakfast and a caffe americano by using their espresso machine and boiling some water in a pot on the stove. I love italian coffee but I wanted to sip a big cup of something while I watched TV and checked my email.
Maybe it's just the cheeziness in me but I started hearing a few things from the TV while I was half paying attention and typing. A random interview with Arcade Fire was on about their continuing rise in popularity...whom I actually saw in concert a couple days before my trip.

"When you're on the right track you can surprise yourself a bit." - Arcade Fire guy

Hey, its not too deep or anything, but I heard it. Signs everywhere that I'm doing the right thing. Maybe I'm more open to hearing it now. Every day has been so different beyond anything I could dream up. This lack of control and knowledge is so liberating and, necessary. I have no idea whatsoever what I'll be doing tomorrow. It's really damned exciting.

So yes, I realize I haven't posted on my blog in a long while...I've been just too damned busy doing stuff that there's barely been time to reflect on what I've done, which in reality is exactly what I've needed. But I still definitely want to share my experience on this blog, and now that I have a day to relax I can do that. Who knows how long it will take me though to catch up, as my days have been filled with awesomeness.

I also realize I should have bought a netbook before coming so I could type when i dont have internet, check my email and post when I do, and have a place to back up all my photos...for anyone wanting to travel like I have i highly recommend this. My plan was not to be attached to my computer and emails etc while i was travelling...but it's been inevitable when I've chosen to do this blog. Also, typing on italian and especially french keyboards is a pain in the ass, so pardon the occasional lack of punctuation. And as for my photos I've had to pay thru the nose to back them up on dvd...so a portable hard drive or a computer would have been nice.

I'll get back to Como later....you won't believe where I went while I was here...and just prior I lived it up in Rome and then made a spontaneous trip to Pompei...stay tuned for that story too...

Let's pick back up in Paris; I better get started because SO much has happened...

*****

So after little sleep due to a long conversation with Visa the night before, we woke up, had a late breakfast and went to the Number One spot on my list, a place I never went when I lived here before: La Cimetiere Pere Lachaise. So glad to have had my 50mm lens for this...some awesome shots here. Buried at this famous cemetery you will find Chopin, Modigliani, Jim Morrison, Paris' beloved Edith Piaf, and Oscar Wilde. His grave was the most impressive of all, a huge sculpture covered in adoring graffiti, messages, quotes and...lipstick kisses. So interesting...fans from all over the world, including many gay supporters. Grandma wasn't at all impressed though; considering we just came from war memorials where such behaviour couldn't be more disrespectful...so I know where she's coming from. I'm really impressed she was able to walk up the steep cobblestone hills of the cemetery on her new knee too; a pretty huge walk and we just started the day.

We then stopped for an amazing lunch at a random Brasserie near Porte de Gambetta north of the Cemetery. I've been amazed that we haven't had a single bad meal this whole time. I mean we could easily have ordered the wrong thing or picked a bad restaurant...but i think it's a combination of good luck and just that there's great food everywhere.

It was then time to head to the Eiffel Tower; Grandma had never been, but it would be my fourth time climbing to the top. No complaints whatsoever, I'll never get tired of going up the Eiffel Tower, trust me! But we got there and of coruse the lineup was huge, so we tried the handicap line...and we needed PROOF that she was handicapped. Like, a document. Ah yes, the french will never change. They couldn't just LOOK and SEE she had a cane and we could have showed a driver's license proving her age. Nope, can't do that, can you? I guess there is a massive problem with people pretending they're handicapped in order to skip the line for the Eiffel Tower....*COUGH*...ok.

So instead we decided to reserve for the next day and take a bus tour instead! I never actually thought I would like it but it was actually a good idea! We had headphones that told us a bit about some monuments and in between they played classical music...at one point Grandma turned to me with a big smile and said "This is actually kinda fun!" So cute. We eventually got off halfway thru the tour at Notre Dame and went back to the hotel to rest. Then we went out to dinner to a restaurant we tried to get into 3 nights in a row....there wasn't a free table so we decided to wait it out. Thus began a pretty eventful evening...

I had to do laundry so previously while Grandma rested I ran out and found a laundromat. So before we went to dinner I threw my stuff in the wash. A few locals came in while I was there, including a bum who sat and smoked at the other end of the room, then at one point got up and blew his nose in an old fabric softener sheet. Sexy. So I got back to the hotel and we went to dinner. I had set my timer for the dryer and it was going to go off while we were in line so as to avoid having that bum steal my clothes and wipe his ass with my socks I decided to run back to the laundromat and pick them up. In the meantime, the bartender had seen us and knew we were waiting. We only had 10 mins or so to wait, for the first time the whole trip, I left Grandma's side for 10 mins.

I ran to the laundromat, and ran back to the hotel, and ran back to the restaurant. Our table had just become available; perfect timing. Then everyone in the restaurant were coming up to my Grandma, smiling and saying things like "We're glad you're ok" and "wow that was crazy!" etc., including the restaurant owner and some american girls and a man at another table. So I asked what happened! Apparently, as soon as I left, some of the anglophones standing and drinking nearby noticed my grandmother alone, so invited her to chat. Then some other guy wanted her to have a seat so he asked some guy who was sitting to offer up his seat. That guy got upset and they started arguing and then I think the first guy shoved the other guy and tried to punch him! And in the cafuffle (sp?), Grandma was shoved out of the way and fell partially and a stool hit her leg...the whole time she had no idea what the hell was happening nor did most of the bar. Immediately, the bartender I will soon get to know as Thibault, kicked the guy out who started the whole thing. Apparently the guy was a regular patron too, but now of course is banned from the restaurant.

Grandma was ok, and it was more just an exciting little evening...with a small bruise on her leg as a reminder. I told everyone after, of course I leave her alone for 10 mins and she starts a new French Revolution in the bar...can't leave her alone for a second, jeez... :) Just be careful, she might whoop your ass if your back is turned...

So we had a great meal after all, and it turns out the bartender is the son of the owner and is half french. i chatted a bit more with those americans, and we all decided to meet up for a drink later. I took my rabidly violent Grandmother back to the hotel so she could chill out, and I went out for a drink with the americans. We then went and met up with Thibault at another bar, then I took them to the Moose, the Canadian bar where we all had a few drinks. They wanted to go to karaoke after, but I had a pretty exciting day already...

One of the american girls asked me "I don't get it, I dont speak french but Im always really nice to everyone here and I say 'merci' and 'bonjour' and they're mean to me sometimes!" Well, I basically said "Well it isn't your fault...but it is". I've learned that French people just have different personalities than americans. They take a bit longer to warm up to you but they are still nice...and it REALLY helps if you speak french. I think Parisians are just tired of americans coming and thinking the world is one big amusement park for them where everyone speaks theire language and is there to serve them. French people aren't as 'chipper' and 'happy' as americans (or canadians) can seem at first. That sort of attitude can seem pretentious and just insincere, regardless of intent.

The next day was our last day in Paris. Finally got some money from Visa forwarded to a Western Union, thank god. We had alot to do that day but our priority was getting Grandma a new suitcase. Luckily near the Western Union I spotted a luggage store...thankfully because I didn't know where we would find one. I helped her buy a kickass new carbon-fibre Samsonite suitcase. We then set off to Notre Dame where the bus tour left off and hopped back on. Went by and saw the Opera house, Grandma is a big opera fan. Then we passed thru Place Vendome where the Hotel Ritz is, and made our way up the Champs D'Elysees to the Arc de Triomphe. We had a reservation at the Eiffel Tower for 3pm so we hopped in a cab. Got to the tower just in time. Still a lineup in the reserved line though. We got to the top and Grandma was thrilled. I've never seen Paris like that day, a near cloudless sky and perfect sunshine. Very cool.

We got to the bottom and of course get hoarded by the Senegal black dudes who try to peddle their Eiffel Tower merch. There must be an Eiffel Tower merchandise pimp somewhere who gives them the stuff to sell. Because they are all tall, young guys selling the same stuff. If you pay attention, the tattered sheets that they lay on the ground and set up all their stuff on have little strings on the corners...for when shit goes down, like it did when we were there. Turns out it's never that serious, but they're operating a business without paying taxes, so the police can arrest them and take their shit. They're released right away though. This happens all day long. But the hilarious part is that as soon as the police catch one, in the blink of an eye, the others all see it and each grab all 4 corners of the sheet and they are GONE like the wind. You should see these guys run...and watch the Famas rifle-toting military dudes chase after them and tackle them....SO FUNNY...maybe I shouldn't laugh but I can't help it.

We headed back to the hotel to rest, and I had arranged to meet with my old Professor Pierre Tomi from school here in Paris. He taught my favourite course while I was there; Paris History. We even did excursions around the city! Now I don't have a great memory for history, but it was fascinating at the time...and he's so nice and I'm glad he kept contact with me, even though I wasn't the top tier student.

We went out to meet him at a cafe and we hadn't eaten all day so we didn't stay long there...but it was great to see him! He lost weight! He's 75 now but looks great...such a pleasant and courteous man. I knew he would get along great with Grandma even if they couldn't really talk to each other. Grandma could speak a tiny bit of french so they could a bit. Before going to the restaurant we went down the street so Pierre could show us something....ever the tour guide! We looked up and he showed us a sign outside the house where Picasso painted "Guernica"...and across the street, the building where Louis XIII was crowned. Crazy!

I left Grandma again briefly, but this time in the trusting care of Pierre while I returned to the hotel to change our taxi to an earlier time because of the metro strike that was to begin the next day. They walked to the restaurant and I met them later. I don't often meet people that I trust completely, but him I do, and it's comforting. We had a decent dinner, a bit strange as this time we weren't quite sure what we were ordering...She got ribs by accident, it was ok but hard to eat. I had an "ile flottante" for dessert, a sort of giant pile of egg white merengue covered in caramel and creme anglaise...yummy but really sweet. We had a great conversation and in fact, a great Thanksgiving Dinner, I realized after!

We got back to the hotel and started to pack. No more 3-4 star hotels for Brendan...boooooo. I'll miss her though, the breakfasts, the dinners, the taxi rides...but also caring for her and helping her realize a dream of travelling somewhere special, to war memorials and a magical city that I know well. I'll even miss when she rambles, because I know she's talking because she feels comfortable knowing I'm there. I hope one day when I'm 83 in the year 2065 I can go to Paris with my grandson...

The next morning we got up early and left Hotel Madison on Boulevard Saint-Germain and hopped in a taxi. Turns out the traffic wasn't as bad as it could be but it would suck to miss the flight. We grabbed a final breakfast together and headed to the gate. It's easier for her to get around an airport in a wheelchair so we preordered the service the day before. We waited a bit for the guy to come, but I had talked to the desk and they said I could accompany her no problem to the gate. It was soon time to go and she hopped in the wheelchair and we were on our way, but then I was told I couldn't go with her. Suddenly there was a rush to get her to the gate as the guy had to help other people and then I went back to the desk and explained how my Grandpa helped her to the gate in Toronto, and suddenly 3 people were yelling at me in french that it's not possible in Paris unless you have a plane ticket etc etc and now we have to go to the security check. I then found myself getting really emotional like they were taking her away from me. He was about to take her thru the gate with letting me say goodbye, so I stopped him, and he asked me to tell her she will be ok and someone will help her when he drops her off. Still being rushed and people talking and metal detectors beeping I leaned down to kiss her goodbye and she was smiling and I told her everything and she wasn't worried and trusted everything would be fine...then I had to say goodbye and looked back to see this nice young man, but still a stranger to me, push my grandma thru the security check while I was immediately being escorted away from the station...I got really upset and angry that I coudn't help her any longer and that they didn't let me go with her...

I was then left with no one to talk to and feeling pretty choked up as I went to find the gate to the rural train back to town....I had no idea it would be that hard to let her go.

At breakfast before she left I asked her what I could bring her for breakfast and with a big grin on her face she said she maybe wanted a doughnut she saw in a display case...She told me that in 1st grade, in 1933 during the depression and her family was poor, she was always late for school because on her walk to school she would stop by the store window and watch them make doughnuts...I just had a vivid image of a little girl standing in front of a store window all bundled up in the cold, watching with big eyes as they made tasty treats right in front of her...

The funny thing is that I don't see an older person, I see a person who is still young at heart, and still has a passion for living...

So I'm sad that I'm now alone. But I soon realize that all is good, and I'm alone in a city I know and love...now it's time to revisit some familiar places...

Deja vu...an appropriate french term.

OK so I'm in a bit of a pickle. Vancity decided, right before I left to change their debit network from Plus to Cirrus. Normally, of course I wouldn't give a shit. I only give a shit when I've been in Europe for 2 weeks WITHOUT THE ABILITY TO WITHDRAW CURRENCY. So yes, I'm angry. I'm trying reaaaaaallllly hard not to let this affect my experience here...but when the whole city runs on cash and the places that do take Visa only take it after 10 euros, things get...challenging. Vancity's solution was to get me an emergency cash advance through Visa as I don't have a PIN for it. I'm waiting on my second cash advance now, and I'm pretty much stuck at the hostel until I get it. Thanks, Vancity.

I say deja vu is appropriate because, when I was here studying, I had very little money to work with. Now I come back, I'm not loaded but I brought a bit to enjoy this place a little more. And I can't get to it! Fantastic.

But in reality, I'm still loving every minute of this place. I have a place to sleep, a pair of shoes and a camera. I've already half-filled my 16GB SD card and I've barely started my trip! Oh man, I can't wait to see some of these properly on a screen bigger than 2.5". I'm also hoping they're all in focus from my manual focus 50mm. Thank you Rosie for suggesting that purchase, it's made my trip so far...I love that thing...

So back to Grandma. So we got up the next morning after arriving, and walked from the hotel to the Musee D'Orsay. I went before but I saw some parts I never saw before. I'm quite proud of how much she has walked so far. We found a little store that sold italian linen, I helped her buy a new shirt because damn it's been hot out. We wandered through most of the museum; there was a Van Gogh exhibit, including the famous portrait shot. Pretty cool. It's funny, my only (young) French friend Johane pointed out that when she was in New York, she found it odd that people take pictures of themselves in front of paintings. That's a very American thing to do, and she's right, it doesn't make sense. You take a picture of yourself in front of a building or monument or sunset on a beach that's one thing. But a painting? You're supposed to look at it. And then you might tell people you saw it. But it's art, people know what it looks like, why do you need to show that you stood in front of it?

Anyways, there was some awesome furniture in the museum too I never saw before, and maybe I appreciate more cuz of my job. I didn't realize how cool designer furniture was around the late 1800s to early 1900s. Almost art deco-y but not. We had tea at the restaurant there; was alright, more like a tourist trap than a real tea house, even though the setting and the waiters uniforms might indicate otherwise.

We then hopped in a taxi to the Monet exhibit at Grand Palais...aaaah...SO awesome. We jumped the line again (thanks Grandma!) and I actually took one of those radio guide cell phone things along. Well worth it for this. They basically pulled in all of Monets big works from around the world to create a chronological tour of his art. You could follow how he developed his style, how his relationships and surrounding influenced what he did...so awesome. he painted over 2000 pictures in his lifetime! You want inspiration and story about a man who LOVED what he did, read up on him...Apparently when he was well known, he painted some works in the Gare St. Lazare in Paris...the station pulled in trains, moved through people and even put coal int the stationary trains to give Monet more lighting effects for him to study from the steam. The only downside to it all was in the recordings, they had 'Monet' chime in every once in a while to really 'enhance' the experience....unfortunately the voice acting was TERRIBLE, and Monet spoke in an affected and ridiculous English accent. The quotes were so randomly placed sometimes too. He would just chime in for no reason. Say this in your best crusty, old man, top hat-wearing, monocle-sporting, pipe-toting English accent "I WANTED TO DO THE...ELUSIVE..." I thought I was listening to some shitty Margaret Atwood book on tape or something...

We ate a full on french Brasserie meal at L'Atlas in the St. Germain area. Pretty damn tasty. Grandma had Pear and Lemon sorbet for dessert...what? Yeah, it's good.

I went to meet Johane, my one and only French friend around my age. It is very true, french people even confirmed for me that Parisians really don't have any interest in mingling with foreigners. In the south of France near the social latin cultures you have more luck. But Parisians are very cliquey. They hang out in the bar at my hostel and there's foreigners everywhere but they don't even try to mingle. I'm gonna venture a guess here: I'm gonna say that they're pussies. Usually when people don't want to talk it's because they're shy or scared. I think they're happy to not have to try to speak english or even french to others because they're happy in their own bubble. Johane is an exception and there are a few after her. She came up to me in one of my classes back then because she was studying english and wanted to practice speaking and learn about my country. She's awesome, and she's a perfect example of a beautiful french girl...minus the not-interacting part. Very strong opinions in politics and other things too. Good humble personality. I have to admit I appreciate that aspect of her personality. She's not self-centered in any way and it's awesome. She said she found New Yorkers when she was there to be nice at first but totally transparent, and would say one thing and you'd call the next day and they would bail out. To be honest, at this hostel I'm staying at, I just hung out with this one Senegal-French black guy named Hubert and a couple from Brasil. I met plenty of Canadians and Aussies, but I've got along best with non-native english speakers, they've been much more down to earth.

I got to hang out at a little house party for a bit...I miss those. Cheese and bread and meat and grapes on the table. 1664 Kronenbourg beer....yum. I met her colleague from work, he was pretty cool and we all had some good laughs. I'm glad I've got to practice my french alot here, and relearn some colloquial terms.

Got home and was talking to Visa till 330am...ugh...

Ok, my time is up. The sun just came out. I'm walking to Sacre Coeur.

B