Monday, May 30, 2016
Since I arrived in Zurich, I haven't done a whole lot. The downtown area is all easily walkable, so mostly I've just done that. I checked my guidebook when I got settled last night, but it informed me that all the museums are closed on Mondays, and I was too late to get into them before closing time Sunday. So there wasn't much left but to enjoy the city.
And enjoy it I have. It's so refreshing to be in a bustling city, to have busy people, going about their daily lives, doing their jobs, and being happy because this is a good place to live, not a good place to laze around on vacation. It's exactly the kind of place I like. People are in a hurry. The food is good, and made to be taken on the go. And nobody wants to talk to me or sell me anything. They couldn't care less what I'm up to. I love it here.
I have very little planned for tonight, and then tomorrow it's flights back to Seattle and real life.
I don't have the stamina for solo travel that I used to; I still love it, but I tire of it much more quickly now than I used to. I guess Jody's just made me more homey in general. So I'm glad that just as I was getting worn out with this trip, Zurich managed to recharge me.
Saturday, May 28, 2016
Right before I left Edinburgh, Jody and I watched an episode of The Ricky Gervais Show in which Karl Pilkington said that if he could be any nationality, he'd be Italian, because it's so much more of a laid-back lifestyle. In England everyone's rushing around, but in Italy you can sit outside a café all day and nobody thinks it's at all strange.
Maybe that's why I'm not loving it here. I don't want to sit outside cafés all day. I like rushing around. When I first started travelling, I didn't have a lot of money, so I did it as cheaply as possible. I'd go out and walk around seeing the sights that didn't charge admission, and all my food would come from the supermarket. Or maybe some cheap takeaway, but I'd never spend time sitting around a restaurant, lazing over a meal. And it suited me. It's how I still like to travel. Maybe it's just habit, but I think it's more that it's just how I am. I may stay in nicer hotels now, but I still eat on the cheap, and I'll still only pay for admission to something I really want to see, which isn't much.
So Italy, I'm just not that into you. I don't want to go out to a café for proper coffee, I just want a quick cup of instant in my hotel room, to give me enough caffeine to start the day. I don't want to sit around slowly eating a big meal and sipping wine for hours, I just want to grab something and get on my way. And I want to walk quickly, to get to my destination, not take a leisurely stroll down the road like I've nowhere to be, and no one behind me does either. Also, when I went looking in my guidebook for places to visit in Milan, I immediately noticed that everything costs money. The Last Supper is a must see; it's amazing! It costs 8 Euro and you can only get in by booking in advance or taking an official tour. Nope. Thumbs down. I get why people love taking their vacations here, but it's so not me. My favourite cities in the world are London and New York, and this is pretty much the exact opposite of those places.
Which means that I didn't find much I wanted to see here, and nothing that I felt like paying for. It didn't leave me a whole lot of sightseeing to do. So with the sad realisation that Italy and I want totally different things from a Saturday, today I slept late, and then took the subway to the Duomo, because it's evidently the main thing to see in Milan. And it was gorgeous. And surrounded by lots of other great photo-worthy stuff. But I could barely move in the square from all the football fans crowded into it.
|Fans, fans everywhere|
I tried walking a few blocks away from the Duomo where there's a lot of shopping, but there was no let up of the crowds, and I'd had enough of the sun and 29 degree heat. So I made my way back to my nicely air conditioned hotel room, and am now trying to determine what to do with my evening.
If nothing else, the game'll probably be on TV...
Thursday, May 26, 2016
Italy. Of all the places in the world I've had on my list to visit, this wasn't one of them. It always seemed a bit too cliché, too Standard Issue American Tourist for me. My only real interest has been Sicily, since it seems to have its own particularly cool character, impervious to the tourist industry. But even that was mainly when I was studying Italian in college and thought I might have some minor hope of actually understanding what's going on and conversing with people.
Like in many universities, my undergraduate Arts & Sciences degree required a year of a foreign language in order to graduate. It could be anything you like, as long as it was different to what you studied in High School. I'd taken French from grades 7 to 9, but due to a clerical error, my transcript said that I'd taken German. So I could have taken French again for an easy A, but my real desire was to learn Latin. The basis for all the romance languages, the tongue used throughout all academia until relatively recently, who wouldn't want to study that? OK, what complete and total word nerd (ie me) wouldn't want to?
I made the mistake of mentioning this to my uncle who had been forced to take Latin as a young fella, and he set off on a tirade along the lines of only a complete and utter moron would study a nonsensical dead language when they didn't absolutely have to! What can I say, I was young and impressionable, so I believed him and went for Italian instead. Incidentally, years later my (just as nerdy as me) brother did take Latin in college, and loved it.
Anyway, here I am in good old Venezia, and I don't speak a damn word of Italian. A friend of Jody's in Edinburgh a few days ago said, "I'm sure when you get there it will come flooding back." It hasn't. At all. I hear words that sound vaguely familiar and know that I used to use them easily in class everyday, but I can't grasp the meaning, no matter how deeply in my brain I dig for even that one single word. I only remember one phrase from class -- which I may be butchering here -- Tu rompi le palle! It literally translates to something like you're breaking my balls, but colloquially it means... well, about the same thing we use it to mean in English. And I don't really think throwing out that particular line will get me very far around here.
So what was my original point? Oh, right, so I never planned to visit Venice. I always assumed it would be sort of cheesy and touristy, not at all my cup of tea. But I went ahead and booked it because I was already planning Milan and Zurich, so why not take a wee detour? Since then, people have been telling me how it's not anything like you'd expect, it's so beautiful, and not touristy at all. But I gotta say, I don't see it.
This place is touristy. Touristy as fuck, even. It's clear that the entire economy runs on people flocking here for their holidays and being very willing to part with their cash. It's exactly like Las Vegas, only older and wetter. Sure, there are some pretty things to look at and photograph, but there's much more dirt and graffiti and crumbling buildings. And the air smells like sewage all of the time. People complain about the scent of New York? New York is a cupcake shop compared to much of what I've walked through today.
On the plus side, I haven't seen a single car in the 24 hours I've been here. Just loads of people walking and boats! boats! boats! I very much like that aspect of it. The Grand Canal is right outside my hotel window, and while a lovely view, it sounds like a busy highway day and night. Which is essentially what it is, given that it's the fastest way for people move about the city.
I personally haven't really moved by water, apart from the Water Bus that took me from the airport to about 10 minutes walk from my hotel. Instead, the trusty rusty Fitbit tells me that I walked about 7 miles around the city in today's wanderings.
My plan was to walk to the Peggy Guggenheim Collection, which would be about half an hour's trek across the city, and stop for anything pretty along the way. As it turned out, I stopped for a pretty church 8 minutes in, and then became hopelessly lost. Google's directions through the winding streets of Venice were only marginally helpful, so after an hour (and a few more photos of churches), I finally made it to the gallery.
The Guggenheim Collection is the highlight of Venice, for me. It's nicely arranged with indoor galleries around a sculpture garden, and a terrace looking out over the canal. My favourite was the special exhibition of Italian art from the 1960s, called Imagine. I'm always keen on modern art, but I really loved some of what they had in that collection. I spent a long time there.
Afterward, I found my way back across the city, making a few stops along the way, got some pizza and wine for dinner, and am now out of energy. It's beautiful weather today, but all that walking in the sun and the heat sapped my energy. So in my hotel room I sit, watching the sun go down over the Grand Canal, and listening to the band in the bar above me play muffled lounge covers of 30 year old pop songs.
As Thursday evenings go, it's really not bad.
Thursday, February 4, 2016
Having spent several hours over the last 2 days wandering Amsterdam, I've come to one conclusion: I feel weird being a tourist here.... I could see myself living here, working here, but not visiting historical sites and taking pictures of buildings. I feel strange doing it, so I haven't.
Funnily enough, going back all these years later, I felt the same way.
For roughly the last 20 years I've taken note of Henry Rollins' talking show tour dates, and seen him whenever I can, so when he was heading out to Europe for the first time in 4 years, I had to get to a show. Because Jody is a Bristol City football fan, we originally tried to arrange a trip to see a game and Hank's show in Bristol, but the date didn't work out. So instead I picked his Amsterdam gig, the night before my birthday.
I met Jody in Edinburgh on the 27th, and we hopped a short KLM flight over to Amsterdam on the 28th. And then did a lot of nothing. The night we arrived, I spent a long time looking for a supermarket to get us some provisions while Jody had a nap... and found nothing. I came across pretty much everything else: dentist, dry cleaner, bicycle repair, every kind of food restaurant imaginable, Starbucks, and enough weed cafés to come back to the hotel with a contact high, but nary a place to pick up some grocery-type foodstuffs. So we went hungry until we found a Chinese place for dinner before the gig.
Rollins was fantastic as always. It was Jody's first introduction to the man, and he thoroughly enjoyed himself, despite becoming dehydrated while having to stand for almost 3 hours of talking.
Also, Jody was on high alert and still almost got hit by a cyclist on our first night in Amsterdam. It's always chaotic with bikes, motorbikes, cars, and trams all coming at you, but he had the added Scottish disadvantage of looking the wrong way for traffic.
There's a reason I always opt for modern art museums; I walked by all the paintings surrounded by gawkers, and thought that's a nice picture, but nothing really grabbed me. Not until the last room of paintings from the last couple years of Van Gogh's life. Toward the end he finally started to get a little bit weird. Pretty pictures, meh. Weird, I like.
After the museum, I decided I wanted a doner kebab for my birthday dinner, so we picked me up a shwarma to go and a cheap bottle of prosecco (surprisingly good for
--> €3.79), and had a night in watching Spy. --> -->On Saturday, for our last day, neither of us could get motivated to do anything touristy. We did a bit of shopping and wandered through the Vondelpark, but it was too damn cold out to stay for long by the time we got started. Another quiet night in, and only 2 photos to show for my trip again.
So I guess the conclusion is that I like Amsterdam as a city, but I have no motivation to partake of anything it has to offer. If there's a next time, I just have to remember that it's a comfortable place to hang out, and not plan on actually doing anything there. Which kind of takes the fun out of visiting, doesn't it? Might as well just go someplace else.
Monday, October 26, 2015
I'm currently waiting at the airport to leave my 50th state.
We did it! Great job, everybody! High fives all around!
Ahem. So anyway. I've just spent a couple of nights in Oklahoma City -- Oklahoma being the last remaining state I hadn't visited. I arrived at the airport to pick up my rental car, and the man working the desk confirmed every stereotype in two statements:
1) I may have reserved a midsize vehicle, but everyone here drives either a truck or an SUV, so that was my choice (I took the SUV, still too big for my taste)
2) The steak here is the best, so I should go to The Cattleman and ask for the Presidential special; it's George Bush's favourite
But Rental Car Dude aside, I found OKC to be a pretty cool town with friendly people, lots to do, and a seemingly widespread focus on local products. Of course, we all notice what matters to us, so my experience was shaped by what I was looking for, and it wasn't a big steak (much as I do like a big steak).
After wrestling the SUV to my hotel, I went out for provisions and then spent the evening in watching sports. Which is how I would have spent it anywhere in the world. Nothing to report.
Sunday started with a rugby semifinal on TV and then a visit to the Oklahoma City Museum of Art. Unfortunately half of it was closed, in the process of changing exhibits, so I only got to see the painting / sculpture gallery and the Dale Chihuly collection. Both were perfectly nice, but there wasn't enough modern art for my taste. And Chihuly's glass... Well... It's pretty and all, I get it, but if I have never been interested enough to see anything of his in Seattle where he is from, then it probably won't turn me on in Oklahoma either.
The Oklahoma City bombing memorial was just a few blocks away, so I took a walk over and spent some time there. It's very well done, because while it does include the sad memorial to those who lost their lives, it also includes a real tribute to the human spirit and perseverance, particularly around the large tree that survived the destruction around it. It was balanced and impactful in just the right way.
All of that didn't take long, and I had no other plans for the day, so I stopped into a locally focused grocery store (Native Roots) downtown for a few things. Then I spent the rest of the evening watching Saving Grace, a fantastic, weird, dark TV show that I had forgotten about until I was wandering the city where it's based this weekend.
Today I checked out of the hotel and went right to the National Cowboy and Western Heritage Museum, because obviously it had to be done. It is a big building with way more Cowboy, Native American, and general Old West stuff than I could fit into my brain. It's not that I don't think it's interesting or an important part of American history, I guess I just can't relate. I'm a city girl and my ancestors are Europeans who came to this continent in its relatively recent past. But it is really an impressive place, so I was still able to spend around an hour there before grabbing a burrito from a local Mexican joint, heading here to the airport, and soon, back to Seattle.
And I guess I have to thank that one temperamental rental car: I'm glad I never made the day trip down from Kansas City to see just the corner of Oklahoma, because I would have missed out on all this.
Friday, October 9, 2015
Sitting in a hotel room in Newcastle, looking out over the Tyne River, exhausted and generally unenthusiastic. I feel like I've been gone too long.
I knew that I tend to hit the wall at two weeks of travel, but figured Jody's presence would help. And the part with him did just fly by. But because he is his company, he doesn't have the luxury I do of skipping work to traipse around England for a week, while still receiving full pay. So I knew I'd have a few days on my own while he kept up his quizzing, then could look forward to him being back with me in Newcastle on the weekend. Only he isn't. Because this weekend is also the Scottish Green Conference in Glasgow, so he's going there instead. Internally I threw a tantrum at his decision, but it's a one-time only political event that I'd hate for him to miss. Newcastle and I can be seen anytime. But that doesn't help me feel any less fed up with travel today.
Anyway. Newcastle is my last stop on the rugby tour. I was coming to see Scotland's last game in the pool tomorrow, but last week I noticed (relatively) cheap tickets were still available for the All Blacks and Tonga tonight, so I'm going to both while I'm here.
In between RWC stops, I spent a couple of days in London. I arrived at St Pancras on Wednesday afternoon, dragged all my luggage on the Tube to the hotel, went right back out shopping, and within minutes was lying flat on the pavement. I tripped while walking too fast to stop the forward momentum and went right down. Apart from bruised and scraped knees, I walked away fine... But once a klutz, always a klutz, and it did remind me to watch where I'm going. It's shocking how many times I can fall over or crash into things without learning that lesson for good. Shrug.
The rest of the day passed without incident, and I started Thursday at the Victoria and Albert Museum, which was incredible. It's massive, and there's so much to see. I spent about an hour wandering through and then, as Karl Pilkington might say, my eyes were full. I think I missed 2 full floors and most of Asia, but I couldn't take in any more. I guess I'll need to go back next time. The rest of the day was spent shopping, although sadly not buying, because I couldn't find anything I wanted.
So now another busy train ride later, I'm on my last stop of the tour, trying to muster some energy. Really hope it works, because I have two games to cheer for and won't get to do this again for another 4 years...
Wednesday, October 7, 2015
I said, "No, I'm taking it with me. There might be something I need to see in Leicester."
Jody replied, "As someone who's lived there, trust me, there isn't."
But he did add later that it's "not a shithole like Leeds." So I guess that's something.
As it turned out, I haven't seen much of Leicester after all, but it's not the city's fault. I came down with a cold on the way back from football in Aberdeen on Saturday, spent Sunday feeling like complete ass, and hadn't improved terribly by the time I boarded the train here Monday. The weather also turned when I left Scotland, so seeing Leicester meant trudging around in the pouring rain, coughing up a lung. Fun! Even so, I can attest to the fact that Jody's correct, and Leicester is not a shithole.
I spent Monday evening in bed, watching TV and trying to get over my virus, but I did check out the guidebook and found the New Walk Museum and Art Gallery, which was actually on my way to the rugby stadium, and decided I'd leave early on Tuesday afternoon to stop in there before the game. So I slept in late, lazed around drinking coffee, then gathered up all my stuff to take the 10 minute walk to the museum.
After about 5 minutes it started raining. Pouring. No, those aren't strong enough words... Dumping water from every direction, I guess. By the time I got to New Walk, every part of me was completely soaked through and dripping, aside from a small area around my head that the umbrella covered, and my feet/ankles under the protection of rubber boots. That's exactly why I bought the wellies -- the first pair I've owned since I was probably 6 years old. There's nothing worse than sitting through a sporting event with soaked shoes and socks, toes pruning up and making you miserable.
The museum and art gallery was nice enough, a bit small and kid-oriented for me, but not bad. I definitely would have enjoyed it more had I not been so cold and damp during my wander through.
By the time I emerged to head to the game, the sun had come out, and it did a good job of drying me out on my walk to the stadium. The game itself was a pretty good one, if you had no affiliation with either of the teams. Canada went up 15-0, only to have Romania come back to win 17-15 in about the last 25 minutes. The jubilant Canadians putting back bucketfuls of beer turned angry drunk toward the end, and I was happy to get out of there before a fight broke out when one threw his full beverage at the field, meaning mostly all over the fans in front of him.
Along those lines, the drunken fans around me spilled more beer than I've ever seen at any sporting event. My handbag was on the ground, so I was keeping an eye out to ensure it stayed in a dry spot. As I got up to leave, though, I found that the booze had seeped under from behind and there was a rectangular puddle where it had collected under my bag. I dried it with napkins from the snack bar, then cleaned it when I got back to the hotel, and thought that was it sorted. However, picking it up this morning to leave, the bottom was still damp inside and out, and it's clear that the beer was absorbed into the leather. I'm not sure it can be cleaned, especially in a hotel room, so I may need to spend some time this week purse shopping. Damn Canadians!
Anyway, today I'm off to London. No rugby tickets for me, just a detour because it's there. London is its own reason to visit. Obviously.