XC 1X2

 I’m still just not really feeling this city. It’s too cold and difficult to meet people. Today is the last day. Ive scrapped my southern Italy plans and I’m heading straight for Greece. Either the isolation will kill me or I’ll learn to relax, we’ll see. Trial by fire, the best kind. In any case, my hangover prevented me from hitting the road early enough to make any real progress so today became another slow day of tourism. At my cousin’s recommendation, I made it out to the Doria Pamphilj gallery. This is an old and wealthy Roman family. They count a pope among their own (apparently a really awful one) and have more money than God’s Dad’s Boss. This collection is probably the largest privately owned collection of art in the world. If you cut up their collection and used it as toilet paper, you’d be able to wipe your ass with Caravaggio for the rest of your life. The collection of Italian masterworks is what most people come to see. What excited me most was the unexpected, a half...

 Today was a doing things day. TCB. I’ve run out of clean underwear and when in Rome, do laundry like a Roman. I tossed my clothes off at a laundromat in Trastevere and handled some other errands. First order of business way buying stamps. Every now and again I fire off a postcard or two and I had some that needed sending. I’d already attempted to buy stamps but fell victim to a tourist trap. There is a private post company that handles international mailings for unsuspecting tourists here. Their rates are reasonable but your letter may take months to arrive. I’ve since learned that you can go to a licensed tobacco shop and buy legit postage. I went to a licensed tobacco shop and bought more crappy stamps from a second company that has the same racket. At this point I threw in the towel, none of my letters are urgent.  Once the wash stopped I grabbed breakfast over the tumble dry. A nice sandwich and coffee. I’m noticing that using what little Italian I’ve learned is keeping t...

 I’m continuing my Milanese breakfast habits here. Cappuccino and whatever sweet thing in the case looks good. Today that was a small fried thing resembling a donut. After breakfast came bad news, my Thanksgiving plans fell through. Oh well, just means more planning later. For now, the Colosseum. I understand that’s it’s the name but it just seems so silly This is another one that just didn’t resonate for me. A big decaying pile of stones. Impressive and surrounded by a gaggle of tourists. The bit of good news is that people kept asking me to take photos of them with their cameras. I guess this means I still look decently clean cut. I got tired of the rock pile pretty quick and decided to hit another site.  The metro ride to The Vatican was annoying. Lots of Americans who just got off an airplane and are taking public transit for the first time in their lives. They’re exhausted and all they can think about are the stories they’re heard about thieves in Rome. It was kind of fun...

 On the way to Rome I had my last Milanese breakfast. Cappuccino too fast and a pistachio filled croissant. It feels gross, exhilarating, and delicious all at once. I board the Frecciarossa from Milan at 11 and before I know it we’re doing a buck eighty through the countryside. I can’t wait until we have this in California. Amtrak had its best year ever this year and it is clear that outside of the Northeast, California is leading the pack with ridership. When I do transportation advocacy back home I feel like I’m planting seeds for trees I may never see. Maybe if I’m lucky when I’m too old to drive it will be easier to live without a car. You see so many elderly people in public in the cities here. Deftly skipping over cobblestones and zipping up the stairs of the metro. I want that to be me someday. I dropped my bags in my room and breathed a sigh of relief. This may be the end of hostels for the remainder of my trip. Being the off season, the price difference between a hostel an...

 I didn’t do much of anything today but wander the city aimlessly. More than anything else I was excited to have a day of good weather where I could just take in the city. Water water everywhere One interesting note was dinner, not interesting for the meal but for the conversation. I overheard the people next to me talking American and asked them where they were from. They said Bergen, New Jersey which is actually not far from where I was staying a few weeks ago. I’m not sure why I used a plural ‘they’ in this sentence. This was a couple on a honeymoon and he was doing all the talking. He talked about a lot of things, how much he found California distasteful, how tiring their honeymoon had been. A real gem. His wife hardly said a word and had a look in her eyes the whole time like she wanted to run so far away. ‘Til death I guess. Moments like that make me feel happy to be single. I rounded out the evening by listening to a man in the hostel lobby play guitar. A west coast (best co...

 I tried my hand again at the Milanese breakfast. The caffeine rushes into my body and I’m shaking. I hate it I hate it I hate it. Somehow it feels right. Today’s mission is the Duomo, Milan’s central cathedral that the whole city is based around. I hop the nearest tram in, all the lines go directly to it. I buy my ticket and since my time slot isn’t for another two hours, I start with the museum. Rain day What an incredible collection. The Duomo Museum was an incredible primer. This 600 year construction project is an incredible statement of unity. Just the thought of a people deciding to build a church and 600 years keeping that going is so incredible to me. When they started building it, the continent I live in hadn’t even been seen by an Italian. The museum is the usual orgy of immaculate hand work. It is incredible, breathtaking, and a display of the love that the local people feel for God and this church. Crazier still, it is only the scraps. Test pieces from ideas that went ...

 I woke up and resolved to enjoy a coffee in the local style. When in Rome do as the Romans do. Oddly enough, this phrase is not taught in continental English and seems to confuse even the most fluent locals. I’m normally a tea drinker, adjusting to coffee drinking has been surprisingly easy. What they do in Milan was not at all what I expected. Breakfast is a cappuccino, consumed while standing at a bar and a snack, usually something small and sweet. This is a hell of a change from the French style where you sit and see how long you can stretch one cup for. Order, knock it back, go. I had some time to kill before getting to today’s to do item so I wandered the local high streets for more clothes. Nothing interesting came my way and so it was lunchtime. A close friend of mine grew up in Milan and recommended a pizza place to me. Thick and fluffy risen crust with a crunchy bottom. Simple tart sauce. Good cheese. Anchovy. Moretti. A perfect lunch. I meet up with Jackie who I met last...

 Today is a travel day. I’ve really grown to love waking up in the same bed every day in a room on my own. It’s been a luxury that I am incredibly thankful for. All good things must come to an end and today that means going to Milan. Hardly the end of the world. I check the weather and decide that the world is indeed ending. Milan is colder than Nice and we’ve had a cold snap over the last few days. I’m tired of this nonsense. I pack my bags and pop into Monoprix for one last grocery run. An apple, a sandwich, Perrier, and a croissant. I look at the prices and pause, why am I leaving a place where a croissant is one euro and a bottle of beaujolais can be obtained for five bucks. Residency may be simple enough, we can tackle that later. I indulge in something incredibly American. My local transport card isn’t going to be any good in Italy and there’s one ride left on it. I take the tram one stop from the supermarket to the train station. Feels good with my heavy bag. I take the...

 My last day here. It was only fit that it should be my most relaxing. After such a long stay in one place I was due to handle laundry again. I feel like this is becoming one of the measures of time by which I know how long I’ve been in one place. I have now been in Europe for three loads of Laundry. Sounds practical. I made the most of my time, the wash cycle was for breakfast and drying was me figuring out how to get money from La Banque Postale. The staff there is more helpful than most American Banque workers and certainly more so than American Postale workers. Love my boys in blue. Since I’ve nearly finished Zorba the Greek, I went on an adventure to a local English bookshop. Nice has one, run by a lady from the UK. Like most things here, it is also a cafe. It seems like any shop where people may want to gather can also sell you espresso and allow you to linger. This cafe is a place where people who read in English gather. I talk to a man from Bristol who has lived here for th...

 It’s taken a few weeks of work but I think my body has become accustomed to the continental habit of never drinking water. Water is something you ask for and pay for, you’ll never see the locals drinking it. The French of the South are less guilty of this than northerners but from how little you see in people’s glasses you’d think the stuff was regarded as poison.  Brunch was traditional. Red wine, a mixed green salad, and pissaladiere. The last item is a local treat, pizza dough topped with onions roasted to the point that they may as well be a liquid. Maybe with some olives and anchovies. Delicious. From there I hopped the bus one town over, years ago a Rothschild built a villa there and now it is a museaum. The baroness liked pink, a lot. The entirety of the house was a display of the finest Italian furnishings of her day and her favorite color. The wealth on display is insane, she outbid King Leopold II for the plot. The real attraction is the gardens which are immaculate...

 Yui and I coordinated again on our travel plans today. The adventure du jour is Cannes. Another small gorgeous town on the cote d’azure, they have a lot of these. Maybe I’ve been on the road too long but these small European towns are all starting to blend together. Get off the train station, walk up a hill to see the old town, narrow streets, questionable stairs. See the old church. See the old castle. Onward. They’re gorgeous, just all starting to seem the same. Can be Cannes. Can be elsewhere. Yui and I had a fantastic lunch and plot our next move. My mother’s cousin David recommended a town just up the hill called Grasse which is home to many old perfumeries. We take the train up and walk around. This place is steep. A 20 minute walk upstairs takes us to the international perfume museum. I’d never been to an exhibit with so many semellables before. It was great fun wandering around, learning about the trade, and sniffing samples. The craziest thing in the exhibition was defini...

 Nice is rather centrally located along the south coast making it an ideal jumping off point for day trips to the other towns in the region. Today I figured was as good a day as any to check out Monaco. I walked to Gare d’ SNCF (there’s a sign you’ll never see in Paris) and battled with a ZOU machine to get my train ticket. For those not in the know, the regional rail ticket machines use this incredibly French system of input devices. You get a big red cancel button, a big green button that means everything green can mean, and a four inch wide wheel you twist with your hands to tell the clanker where you’d like to go. It’s easy once you get the hang of it but the learning curve is steep. To me and the others pecking at the screen looking for touch targets it may as well be alien technology. A fun relic of the Minitel era.  I board the train and remark to the passenger next to me that the coast is gorgeous. We strike up a conversation. Yui is visiting from Tokyo and as it turns...

 Best sleep I’ve had while moving, hands down. We need couchette in the US. I saw the train left Antibes, our second to last stop and that the only other person remaining in the cabin and myself were both awake. Great excuse to open the window shade and prepare for detraining. It is raining today in Nice, not so nice. I’ve arranged a luxury for myself here, I will be staying in my own hotel room. I haven’t done this since Cumberland, almost an month ago. Check in does not go smoothly but when it is all done the man at the front desk is being oddly kind with me and smiling. This is making me nervous, I haven’t received such warm treatment since I left the states. I’m not sure if I just got scammed or if this is simply a mark that I am leaving the licorice belt and entering the sunshine and beaches part of the continent.  Since my room was not ready I popped my dirty laundry in at the local Machines a Laver and grabbed breakfast at Lidl, a supermarket. Self checkout was hell. I ...

 The small amount of rain we were supposed to have today has been banished, praise be. An occasion to wear a T shirt for the first time in I can’t remember how long. I leave my hotel, get a quick shave, and a sandwich called a Chapati. These bear no resemblance to the Indian bread. They are a result of Tunisian influence and are packed full of mayo and tuna. For five euros it makes a fantastic grab and go for the train. Shockingly, the French Riviera can be cheaper than the American riviera. The plan today was to take the bus to an old Rothschild mansion but I’ve gotten on the wrong bus and will instead be forced to watch the Cote d Azure roll by for an hour. I used to say that OCTA route 1 was the prettiest bus route I’d been on, Lignes d’Azur route 15 beats the Hell out of it. Maybe that’s just because the trees and mountains remind me of home. The wrong bus dropped me in the old city of Nice, trying to decide what happened next. Since I had not done one for some time, I register...

 I woke up twice today. The first time was when the person with the bed below mine let her alarm snooze into oblivion at 6 am. The second was our now routine 9:30 am fire alarm. I need to relax and London is not the place to do it. I’m not looking for culture here anymore so I went to a bagel shop for a taste of everything. This shop is odd, it’s clearly meant to evolution New York bageling but all the details are off. The interior design has all the trappings of a northeastern Jewish deli. The cups are straight out of a Greek diner. The service is slow and conducted without shouting. The customers are permitted to ask questions about what’s being ordered. The bagel is good, small, and not in the style of New York. No matter, it’s what I ordered. In the bowels of St Pancras I board the Eurostar to make my journey to Paris. The tunnel zips by and I turn the pages of The Heart of Darkness. Two hours later in Gare Du Nord I transfer to a packed RER train to make a family call. My moth...

 I woke up to the sound of a piercing screech. Someone had decided that they really needed an in-room wake and back at 9:30 am, the fire alarm responded in kind. After my rude awakening and breakfast, I headed off to The Imperial War Museum. I wasn’t sure exactaly what to expect from the IWM but I assumed I’d learn how to wage war in the British imperial style. It’s a broad topic for a museum, imperial war, could mean a lot of things I guess. The museum mainly covers the first and second world wars with rotating exhibitions on other subjects. I walked the WWI exhibit to see what I was in for. The museum has zillions of articles pertaining to the war. I didn’t learn much from the displays, I paid attention in history class. What was interesting was learning how the IWM talked about neighbors invading neighbors in living memory. The US mainland hasn't seen an invasion for over 200 years. We haven’t invaded a neighbor for over 100 years and the Pancho Villa “expedition” is a short foo...

Today is a beautiful day in London. Honestly, the best weather I’ve had since Washington DC, if you told me that was going to be the case I would never have believed you. This decent weather is hurting my photos. Unfortunately my camera is easiest carried in a jacket pocket due to size, can’t do that when it’s nice out. Good weather means go outside, I took the bus to Kensington Gardens to investigate. Ehhhh, not for me. Mostly grass and dead trees. When I see plant life I want to see variety and chaos. With all courtesy to his majesty, what he’s go just isn’t for me.  I was getting hungry anyway and went off to The Woolseley for breakfast. This is a comically traditional British establishment. A doorwoman in a bowler hat opens the entrance and wishes me a good morning. When they see I am dining for one they offer me the day’s newspaper. I decline, there’s booking to be done. I start my day off with a full English breakfast and a pot of Assam. Damn their traditions, no milk or suga...

Typically I write my posts the morning after the day happens. You’ll have to pardon my overuse of the phrase “today” but it’s more fun for me like that. My blog, my rules. Since I’m on the Eurostar and chunneling my way to London, I thought I’d start this post by jotting down thoughts and findings that might have belonged elsewhere but haven’t gotten in anywhere yet.  America is a fascinating place. I think people in the US don’t appreciate our own multiculturalism enough. That’s not just the “melting pot” (I’m more of a salad bowl theory guy myself) but even wildly differing opinions across our large WASP population. The fact that our union has held for almost 300 years with only one major interruption is pretty incredible and a testament to our ability to hold it together. We’ll have to see what happens next. Personally I am hopeful. Getting around by train is Europe is fantastic. Trains in Europe kind of suck. Where’s my outlet? Where’s my bar? Why do you call this intercity ser...