If we had blogs in 1998: Orange you glad we've grown up since then?

In the latest post from my European journal from 1998, the new students are at that point I was after a few weeks during the previous semester - culture shocked, homesick, worn out. As always, spelling, grammatical, and factual errors have been preserved.

31 Jan 1998

Three weeks have gone by so far. I can't believe it. But things are so wonderful, and I still have 15 weeks over here. I ended up writing "The Pact" as soon as I got home from Amsterdam last Sunday. Everyone loved it. I wrote short, quasi-satirical stories based on students and our travel adventures. They usually started with it was a cold, rainy, dreary, depressing day in Fluxembourg... I guess I never got around to finishing the previous journal entry. Oh well, that was basically the end anyway.

This week went by very dull. Went by very dull? Ugh. I was sick on Monday. Wednesday night I went with April and Dana to Scott's the bar but we left before April's friend Jeff got there. I feel bad about it because I wanted to leave at 10:30 to go meet Andrea and everyone at Pub 13 and I think April left because of that. Jeff ended up arriving 15 min after we left, and my friends didn't get back from the concert in time to go to Pub 13. It felt like a wasted night only because I wanted to go out so bad. Everyone is so uptight around MUDEC this semester; they never go out (except for the extreme losers like Roach). We finally went out Friday night, but not everyone was there, namely Andrea & Steph. They went to Andrea's family's place in Germany.

The lovely instructors. I wish I remembered their names.

Friday morning the ITS class went to Trier, and they left from there. ITS was some sort of travel class. Trier is a German city right across the border with Luxembourg. Trier was rather interesting; it was fun going on a field trip. I basically went because they were going. I like them a lot; they're cool. As far as Friday night went, we saw a horrible movie, U-Turn, then went to Pub 13 where I talked to Dana the whole time. Brad was drunk, and the others were being boring, until Erika got tipsy, but by then it was time to go home. I don't know what the problem has been with them lately. We never go out anymore; things are so different from last semester. I don't like it. But I'm glad I've met Andrea & Steph. Matt told me on the train that he was just friends with Andrea. He asked me if I thought Erika didn't like them becoming friends. She is so jealous of Andrea, it's obvious. Unrelated to that fact is that I just don't like Hans. He gets on my nerves; he's such a baby. And he argues about everything. I was glad I left Erika's today right as he showed up. This changed.

I went to the market this morning with Erika, Julia, and Holly (I think that's her name.) And I got pesto, which I had with spaghetti today. It was wonderful. And I got some good olives. Then we went to Erika & Julia's and ate craft Mac N Cheese. I had quite an unproductive day but basically decided to go to Ireland for Carnival & Berlin for Spring Break. Morocco just isn't in my plans. I just hope I can find someone to go. I really want to go to London for a few days during Carnival also. Which I hope I can go with Andrea & whoever. But I have to give hints that I need someone to go with. Andrea said she'd walk to the hospital with me this week to get my weekly allergy shot. That would be wonderful.

Unrelated - I'm writing a story for EDP, but I don't know what about. I ended up writing a short story for my core glass research paper. Writing has been on my mind lately. I think I would like to be a writer. It all goes back to second grade & the Young Writer's Conference. I think I went twice, actually. I wish I would have been pushed farther in that direction. We'll see what happens. Still waiting for that to happen...

2 fevrier 1998

Bought this orange pen today to write my story for EDP with. It's cool; I'd like to use it more often, but these pens are too expensive to waste. I'm living in Europe, and the only thing I can think to write about is a stupid pen? Broke my OJ in the store I bought this pen in. Was embarrassed.  Nothing too exciting happened, except I talked to Fraser and she's going to let me write my story. I don't know how to begin. Andrea was really down today; I wish I could help. She's too good of a person to feel shitty. She asked me to go to Paris this weekend. I said yes even though I shouldn't go (money, railpass, etc.) but I love traveling with them (her, Matt, & Steph). I wonder what we'll do. I'm excited; I hope no one else is coming. Bad to say, but true. (Erika would be ok, but no one else.) I don't want to go to Maroc for Carnival; I want to go to Ireland.

5 fevrier 1998

Happy Birthday, Mom! I'm lying here in bed watching the sun come up through the cracks in my blind. I've been awake since before six, and now it's past 7:30. Too bad I went to bed at about 1:30 last night. I was at Scott's with Erika, Holly, Brad, Emilee, Michelle, Steve, Ryan, and Kristen. We had a good time. Really, the people here this semester are so much better than last. Of course, I wish we could take some of last semester's students and have them replace people like Roach and Yogurt Girl. Ha! Yogurt Girl! Great name! I don't remember who she was or why I called her that. I mean John, Courtney, Kelly, JJ, Emily, and probably some others. But this new group is great. You just have to minus all the dumb sorority girls and North Face boys. Chris is really a cutey. He plays piano and guitar and looks really hot when he's wearing his glasses. And I think he might be nice. But I'll probably never talk to him.

Speaking of talking, I've done too much of that lately. Last night I talked to Erika about the Matt-Andrea situation. Erika is messed up; she needs help. She's incredibly jealous of Andrea. Then I talked to Holly all the way back on the train. About nothing, I'm sure. But the night before was worse. I went to Fat Tuesday MUDEC night at Gerlache with Matt and Andrea and a bunch of drunken MUDECers. Well, Matt revealed to me his feelings for Andrea. And he kept asking what he should do. He is the last thing she needs right now. She needs time to figure out things with Ben. Matt is a distraction. I feel so bad because, either way, one of them is going to get hurt. I'm going to Paris with them & Steph this weekend, so it will be interesting to see what happens. Poor Andrea. Her life is already complicated enough without Matt messing it up more. I hope today turns out to be a good day.

Good lord, such drama. Such juvenile drama.

If we had blogs in 1998: Diary of An Awakening Student

In this installment of the 1997-1998 European journal, we do what tourists do in Amsterdam. I finally get to go to the Van Gogh museum.

As always, spelling, grammatical, and factual errors have been preserved.


25 Janvier 1998 - AMSTERDAM

Left directly after EDP (Education psychology. I chose this as a core course because I did not want to take another class taught by Tony Steinhoff.) for sin city on Friday. Couldn't find our hostel again. We arrived around 10pm and then went out for Indonesian food. I still remember this meal. It was terrible. I wonder if I'd hate it today as an experienced spicy food eater. I'd been brought up on bland Ohio food - spicy was new to me. Now I can't get enough of it. Caught my mouth on fire and four pitchers of water were no match for the heat. Poor Andrea woke up with heartburn from hell. Me, it did nothing to my digestive system, much to my suprise and relief. Maybe my days of stomach aches are finally over. Knock on wood. I had two beers on the train up here. I felt like I needed a drink. Until I dumped the pisswater beer out onto a plate at the Indonesian restaurant. Then I needed water. I was disappointed about the train ride up here. Matt monopolized Andrea to the point of turning stomachs. And Hans was being his usual baby-whine self. Brad was in a bad mood too. I was in a horrible mood myself but managed to keep from being a baby. The train ride was not that fun. Andrea even said something about not talking to us for a long time after we got off the train. I don't understand the whole situation. I don't understand what any of this was about. We were probably just tired.

Anyway, we went to bed as soon as we got back from the restaurant. I hopped into bed and the mattress went flying up and I landed on the other side of the bed. Andrea watched the whole thing happen. Steph & Lucy could not stop laughing, so I couldn't stop. Two, actually less than two hours later I was awake, freezing, and the guy above me was snoring. (Just passed the Rotterdam station.) Guess I was writing this on the train home. So I got my walkman and was awake until 5:30am approximately. I carried that CD player with me everywhere. That year I remember listening to U2, Radiohead, The Verve, Dave Matthews Band, REM, Sarah McLaughlin, Francis Cabrel, Irish music. Poor Andrea was up all night.

Saturday morning finally arrived. Matt & Andrea barely made the 10:30 ending breakfast. We went first to the Rijksmuseum (minus Stephanie) then to the Van Gogh (minus Matt) which was cool. I really like impressionism much more than I ever thought. Impressionists views of the world are warped, which is probably closer to reality than realistic paintings! Then we ate at Burger King. Was I ever in a pissy mood! I'm sick of eating at Burger King wherever I go. That or McDonald's. I hate American fast food.

Then we walked around. I think we were looking for the red light district. I don't know. But Andrea is blaming herself. Under all that friendly energy is something not unlike myself - full of insecurities and frustrations. I hope I can help during the next four months. Anyway, this guy who said he was American started following us around. We went to buy dinner at a grocery store and he followed us there. We got shitty wine, and I'm so glad I bought Sprite. I remember this wine as well as the Indonesian food. It was AWFUL. I mixed a concoction of Red wine, Sprite, Fanta, & Tropicana Pure Premium OJ (was I ever loving it!), which everyone but me thought was disgusting. That sounds disgusting. We had a picnic in the hostel room, then the Aussie guys, Ryan & Jared, came back. Andrea tried to smoke a joint with Ryan (pictures taken). Apparently I don't have these pictures anymore. They aren't in the album! It was great. We decided to go to a coffeeshop. We went to two, the second of which had MUDECers, including Roach, so we left. We went to a place called the Dauphins, and that's where we remained. Me & Andrea played a game of pool. Then we got huge beers. Then Andrea started smoking a cigarette. Oh, it was hilarious. Then she continued to smoke for the rest of the night. I think the total came to six cigarettes and three or four hits off a joint. That was the strangest thing - going up to the bar and ordering a joint. And I thought ordering alcohol from a bar was strange. So I sat there, got high, and watched Steph and Jared, Lucy and Ryan, and Andrea & Matt converse. And I wanted to go home. Ugh. I hate that stuff. There goes my security clearance.

Anne Frank House

Finally we went home and I slept the whole night under a warm blanket until 9am. We went to the Anne Frank Huis. SPOILER ALERT: 21 year old college student tries to put deep thoughts into weak words! As I stared out the window, I could see the German soldiers walking the streets of Amsterdam, and I could feel the air of the Jews who once lived there rush into my lungs and tear at my soul. My comprehension fails to succeed (fails to succeed? Really? What else is failure but a lack of success?!?) when thoughts of the torture & the horror form a puzzle in my mind. As opposed to puzzling the body? Ugh. How could a thing like this happen? 50 years and no traces left of the rape of the world innocense except a few museums & monuments. Will we always remember, or will the pictures become myth and fade form our logical existance? Pondering this, I don' t think enough is done to force us to remember. My generation knows no war, yet peace still seems to elude us. I wonder how much longer we can continue with our dirty looks and our impatience and misunderstanding. Dirty looks? I don't get it. Even those who carry no weapons shoot us down with a look, or a word, or an action. The world fights in Operation Self and I'm ready to quit. I've got the white flag up, but people don't notice. It's as if international law does not exist, which, in reality, it can't, because there is no way to enforce punishment on someone who imposes on my level of comfort. Someday, maybe feelings of numbness to society will disappear, but I doubt it. I think I was starting to get it...

After Anne Frank, we briefly walked through the red light district after a stop at a sandwich shop. I can't condemn the women in those windows. We are all objects in this world, depending on friends and family for survival, but mere statistics to those who don't know us. I live in the ocean. We're nothing but protons of water. They just... And that's how it ended. It would be three weeks before the next entry.

Garden update

Sitting outside right now with the plants, perfect temperature, such a great relief from the awful heat, though it looks like a storm is coming. The tomato plants are looking better now - I now have hope they'll survive, though we'll see if they produce any more blossoms. I do see a few. One of the black krim plants seems to be a superplant. It's more like a bush - it's up to my chin and just as wide as it is tall! Upset, though, because yesterday there was one huge tomato that was almost ripe and today it's gone. I said "one more day." Looks like an animal may have eaten it, as there are some seeds in the back. Picked another one, though about half the size as the disappeared one. Also picked a primo and there are several more that are starting to redden. The BRE seems to have subsided on the roma, too, and they're growing once again. I'm also feeling better, as I've been sick, too.

I haven't weeded in awhile but the plants seem to be keeping control themselves.

And the flowers! It's a rainbow. Except for the impatients, who impatiently couldn't deal with the heatwave - I think they decided to die, although once I thought they were dead and they came back to life. I don't get it - they're "New Guinea impatients," named for a tropical place, but they die in the heat? I put them in shade, but I guess it wasn't shady enough.

The funny thing is that the entire yard looks better since the garden has been planted. There is grass. Before, it was just dirt patches and dandelions. It's as if our tending to the plants was good for everything around. People don't understand that plants are responsive to their surroundings. They like it when you talk to them. I think they loved it when we left the radio in the garden with classical music for them.

The yellow marigolds are impressive. I started with 12 stems with a single flower on each - the first flowers I bought. Now each of them as at least that many. One has 16 flowers on it now. I alternated them with different colored flowers - orange marigolds of a different variety, red salvia, and a pink vinia. Those are the border. I have various other flowers around, too, none whose names I remember at the moment.

Anyway, have hope. All is not lost. Such an enjoyable evening. I think my buddies will be ok.

Life on cough syrup

Over the course of the week, I became sick – real sick, not grand malaise or headache or allergies but actual deep chest congestion and nasal drippage and violent cough. It started with laryngitis and evolved into thoughts of making an appointment to see a doctor. That’s when you know it’s bad. (Despite my cadillac health insurance plan, doctors are still a last resort.) A couple of nights ago – let’s see, today is Thursday so that would have been Tuesday – the coughing had become bad enough that I went to CVS to get some medicine. I would have gone to the independently-owned pharmacy but it was closed, so I had to make a dreaded trip to a store that normally is a headache to go to.

As I stood in the cold medicine aisle wondering what the heck to buy, a CVS pharmacist came up to me and asked if I was finding everything ok. I said I had no idea what to get, so he asked what my symptoms were. Sinus pressure. Chest Congestion. Cough. He recommended a combination of meds. At first he picked out a $50 pack of Mucinex and I told him, “I’m not going to pay that.” He laughed and said, “I get you,” then proceeded to hand me the CVS brand of basically the same cough syrup and a box of CVS brand sinus tablets. I was floored by the service.

I rarely take medicines. The human body’s immune system is a natural healer and most of the time you’re throwing your money down the drain buying pills when you would have gotten better on your own in the same amount of time. But the chest congestion was getting worse, and I was afraid it would develop into an upper respiratory infection requiring antibiotics. I waited until I was ready to go to bed before taking one sinus tablet and a dose of the cough syrup.

A funny thing happens when you take medicine when you’re not used to taking it. I was on drugs.

I woke up in the morning incapable of forming a coherent thought. The sinus pill was supposed to last six hours and the cough syrup four. I said I’d be late for work, but two extra hours didn’t help, either. I was out of it. I went to work anyway and somehow made it through the day.

Later on in the day, well, let’s see, I can’t remember what I was going to say. The past two days have been like that. It’s put my hand on the mouse to go to a page and poof! Forget what I was doing. I guess that’s to be expected when the main ingredient in your cough syrup is the same one they use to make meth.

So this morning some tourists got onto Metro from one of the places in American where the people are large and the brains, well, they’re not so large. When we arrived at the U Street stop, the woman got excited for a minute, saying, “Oh look, we can go to the American Civil War Museum.” From her vantage point, she could not see the “African” in front of it. Her husband did. His face soured, and he grunted and said nothing, but it was easy to see what he was thinking. She, too, quickly saw her error and said “Oh” under her breath.

I’ve lived in Washington for most of the last ten years; tourists are part of the city. There’s always a readjustment period when the high season starts up again, but by May you get used to them again. But there’s a particular breed that I can never get used to, and that is the bigot. There are plenty of them. I commend parents for taking their children to Washington instead of Disneyworld and wish more parents would spend their vacations doing something educational rather than consumer-oriented. I suppose I’m even glad the bigots bring their children here and expose them to another part of America to get them out of their bubble. But I wonder if it is just giving the parents a platform to teach their racism. Some examples I’ve heard:

“I didn’t know there were so many [leans in, lowers voice to a loud whisper] black people in this city.” (Mother overheard at a restaurant.)

“I don’t think we want to be in this neighborhood.” (Said about my neighborhood, a gentrified, mixed-race neighborhood, after seeing a lot of African-Americans around the Metro station.)

“Get out of the way, N___.” (Said by a very large white man in front of his wife and kids, all four wearing backpacks, while going into a restaurant.)

These are just a few memorable examples.

Well, this morning, being doped up on cough medicine and all, I began to prepare a speech for the man if he dared speak his racist thoughts aloud. I imagined people applauding me on the train for speaking up. It was something about how America is made up of all races, religions, ethnicities, and creeds. The man apologized and told his kids that all are created equal. Then my stop came and I realized that the man had not said anything and I needed to change trains.

The cough is getting better. Hope I can stop taking this stuff tomorrow. I had something else to write about in this post, but I forget what it was...

If we had blogs in 1998: A new semester begins, a new chapter

The student returns to Luxembourg on her 21st birthday after a two week vacation to the US. A fresh crop of students has arrived from Oxford, Ohio, full of the naivety that she had experienced a mere four months earlier. She was one of only a handful of students left from the first semester; her's was a unique situation, however, as she had decided to stay an additional semester a couple of months into the first. She just couldn't go home.

As it was in 1997, spelling, grammatical, and factual errors have been preserved.

11 Jan 1998

I'm back. My luggage isn't though. I hope it comes today. I can see why it happened. We weren't off the ground in Cincinnati until 3pm and had two circling patterns until we landed. One was over New York City - the lights went for as far as I could see. I saw the Brooklyn Bridge. We landed and they were already boarding my next plane. So I'm assuming there just wasn't enough time to get my luggage off the first plane onto the next. I sure hope it gets here soon.

I hadn't wanted to come back while I was at home. But as soon as I got into Zurich I was excited again. I saw the Alps for the first time by plane. They're incredible. I can't wait to go visit. Even despite my luggage problem, I was glad to be back in Luxembourg.

Last night was a lot of fun. It sure didn't feel like my birthday. But everyone sang to me at Pub 13. And I didn't buy myself a single drink. I met some cool people. Dana - Julia's friend is really cool. He reminds me of Bill. I met Zach and his friends on the train to the city. I told him the bars were open till whenever on weekends. He stayed until the 4am train. I hope they were ok staying out that late. I hope Pub 13 stayed open past 1am for their sake. I hope they aren't mad at me for telling them bars were open till whenever. Anyway, I have a better feeling about this group than I did the other one.

14 Janvier 1998

What a horrible day I had yesterday. It was all because of Monday. Sunday was not a wonderful day either, though my suitcase came. Delta is awesome. The Dupays drove April & I to the airport and then we had to meet Julia's sister at the business she owned. I was really tired when we got home, so I went to bed, even though it was only 7pm, but then I woke up at 2am and couldn't' go back to sleep. So I drank 2 cups of French Vanilla Cafe and went to school. I was so nervous all day, for some reason. We had EDP in the Salle de fetes, and also, much to my dismay, Putz's class was there. The class is much too large. Which pisses me off that they limited 310 and not 308. It's not fair. I had wanted to take a different French class but was shut out by the smaller class size. Well, Monday seemed to go real slow, but then we went to Match & I got some OJ and smirnoff and was gone for Haag's class. It was stupid. Then we went to Gerlache but things are foggy after that. I talked to an Italian guy who spoke english & played guitar. I tried to play, but my fingers were not cooperating. After that is blank, though I've heard stories since. But yesterday I felt embarrassed all day & basically dinner. I really wish I had my guitar. I'll probably buy one soon. I had really been afraid I had said something to offend someone, but it seems not likely now. Idiot.

17 Janvier 1998

Sitting in a hostel in Bruges right now waiting for breakfast. Actually I'm just waiting for the sink to put my contacts in.

Firetruck in front of our hotel

Later that day...I guess the sink freed up at that moment. What a day it's been so far. This hostel is great. Yesterday when we got here it at 8:30 we went straight here. We ate wonderful food at the restaurant downstairs. The guy who works here is so friendly. It's the passage hotel, for future reference. It still exists! Then we went out and walked around the town. Some people wanted to go to a dance club. I, for one, hate dancing and opted for the retire early choice. Matt, Erika, and Andrea chose the same option. I went to bed right away. I awoke at 7am the next morning, hopped in the hold-the-button shower, and was ready by 8am, but breakfast of bread and oj didn't begin until 9am. Mike & Erika snuck up to the top of a church. We were all ready to go by 10am. When we walked out the door, there was smoke everywhere. We thought our hotel was on fire.

22 Janvier 1998

A peaceful morning in Bruges

To continue with the weekend in Brugges, we watched as firetrucks pulled up outside. I guess it turned out to be the hotel next door. That was our first tension of the group, because some people wanted to go site see, but some of us wanted to watch the excitement. It wasn't more than 10 minutes.

We first went to a church with Michelangelo's Madonna and Child. The cathedral was magnificent, very moving. I felt every good emotion raise from the depths they usually are hiding in, and the sun shone on me, as if God Himself was aiming it at me to warm my chilly soul. I have mixed feelings about this. One the one hand, it is terrible writing, but it sure as hell is better than the "it was cool" descriptions I wrote during the first semester. Rarely have I felt so uplifted, so wonderful, and I began to cry. Andrea said she cried too.I think that's when I decided that I'd really like to become good friends. I don't know why it was that moment. It just was.

Next we walked to the Church of the Holy Blood where some of Christ's blood is protected in an alter. Or an altar. Also, supposedly should be in that sentence. The church was one of the oldest churches I've ever been in. It really did something to me. My insecurities came flooding out, like blood from a gunshot wound. Again, better than "it was cool." I withdrew back into myself more than I had in a very long time. I hate when that happens. I don't know what this means. It's probably as stupid as it sounds. Anyway, I don't know what happened after that. It's all foggy. I was alone, on purpose. This is my 21 year old attempt to be "deep." I didn't know how to say what I felt at the time. Today I'd be more apt to describe it as the universe being in line or something like that. I do vaguely remember the spiritual occurrence that happened on that day. When finally I saw Erika, with Mike & Becky, I made a fool of myself but then followed them around. Actually, I can't remember, but I think that was after lunch. For lunch, we had whole chickens. Then we went window shopping & Ryan & I bought jelly beans. Andrea & Erika were in their own world. And Matt was with them. I felt really left out because I really like all of them and just wished I could be closer to them. Maybe it's my damn fear again of people getting too close, I don't know. That's when we went to the church to see the blood.

After the whole craziness episode, I settled down. Now I'm starting to be scared of what this means. We had great hot chocolate at a coffee shop, then went to a CD shop, where I bought Surfacing Sarah McLaughlin's album - I had had a tape of it but Kristine had stolen it. Then we met up with the others and went back to the hostel to regroup. We were going to hang Doggie from the light string, but didn't. I still think it would have been funny. Doggie was a stuffed animal of Andrea's she carried around everywhere. If she had been someone else, I'd comment about being 20 years old and carrying a stuffed animal around. But somehow, it was ok when she did it. 

We went to an awesome Flemish restaurant. There were 9 of us, but there was room. I sat with Matt, Andrea, and Emily, who hated me at first, but I think that's no longer the case. I had a ham roll with the one vegetable I don't like here - chickara or something like that (I don't know what this is. A Google search turns up "chicharo," which is just snow peas, so I don't know why I wouldn't like it.), and mashed potatoes, and Palm beer. It was a big deal for Steph, who's last name is Palm. It was a good time. Andrea forced me to speak of my experience at the church, and we talked about the Catholic Church and organized religion in general. It was a good time.

Afterwards, Erika & Becky & Emily went home and the rest of us played Shithead at a jazz club over beer. I supposedly had learned how to play that awful Monday, but I don't remember. When we got back, they were all still up. Erika wouldn't shut up for the longest time. I was getting pissed.

The group in front of the North Sea in Oostende at dawn

In the morning we got up real early to go to Oostende to see the North Sea. It was awesome. We walked out on some rocks to take pictures. Erika & Andrea took their shoes off and waded in the water. They said it was freezing. We ate fresh seafood from a small stand, except Andrea & Becky's shrimp wasn't fresh. Me and Erika got off at Bruxelles-Midi, which is actually Brussels south, in search of Belgian Waffles, but ended up getting Sbaro pizza instead. Like what's in Union Station next to my office now. Ugh. Then we went home. I wrote a fictionalized story that everyone seemed to love about the weekend. I think it was a good thing.

Anyway, yesterday Steph & Andrea asked me to go with them to Amsterdam. I wasn't going to go anywhere, but they're so cool, and I think it would be a lot of fun. I had fun last night. We went to the red light Italian place. I had an awesome garlic & olive oil spaghetti and a sprite for only 200 flux. Andrea actually wanted me to tell my life story. I guessed her major even before she told me. No one ever wants to listen to me, but I would like to talk with her sometime. I'm wondering if beneath all her upbeat happiness there lurks problematic feelings. I hope not. She seems like such a great person. After the restaurant we went to Pub 13 and played Euchere & darts. It was a lot of fun. I can't wait till the weekend.

Pestilence

We wanted a garden. We got one, a beautiful one. Then the rains came.

I can't express how heartbroken I am. We had called the plants our children and talked to them and played classical music for them and sometimes even left the radio in the garden overnight. They grew wildly, fully, beautifully, but the rains came for an extended two week visit and brought with them blight. We had more than fifty tomatoes and probably as many more blossoms. Chris was giving away tomatoes to people before they even grew. Counting chickens.

This morning I made a desperate attempt to save them with fungicide, but the blight has spread so quickly that I don't think they can be saved. They certainly won't grow any new fruits. We have to hope the plants stay alive long enough for the fruits that are there to ripen. Then there's the blossom end rot. It currently affects the roma plants, and I'm hoping the others are spared this fate. I've picked a dozen small roma that have reddened, only four of them not affect by the BER. I chopped the ends off the others and dug out the pestilence, and the good halves were wonderful.

I thought they had perked up when I went to visit them after work this evening. I cut a good deal of blighted leaves from the plants - there were so many I couldn't get them all before darkness fell. They don't look good at all - only one seems that it can be saved, but it has a little blight, too.

Our pepper plants have produced, and we've eaten fresh herbs all summer. But the tomatoes were the heart and soul of the garden.

They gave us such joy for two months. It's going to be tough to see them go. :(

If we had blogs in 1997: Reflections on semester 1

Before I start posting the next semester of my 1997-1998 study abroad journal, I thought I should take some time to reflect upon the first one. The time was window shopping, seeing things from the outside. I was still an Ohioan, yet to become a citizen of the world. But I had seen those things, even if from the outside, things you can't find in isolated corners of the world.

Southwest Ohio hadn't experience a conflict since the civil war. It had never felt the rain of bombs from an aerial war. It had never known life after the apocalypse, rebuilding a town from rubble, the rebirth that is possible from the ashes of devastation, the reconciliation that can bloom from the deepest hatreds. Had I not traveled to and lived on a continent fifty years removed from attempted suicide, I'd be disconnected from these realities like most Americans are today. I was especially drawn to the post-Soviet new world order, curious about how the planet would change, skeptical about the triumph of liberal democracy as Fukuyama so arrogantly had proclaimed. I saw bullet-riddled buildings in East Berlin; military cemeteries in France, Germany, and Luxembourg; went to concentration camps, museums, and memorials; and met people whose lives had forever been altered by the tragedy of war. I saw the European Union as the grandest anti-war experiment the world has ever known. No, I did not experience an active conflict at that time, but it became real to me over there.

So, too, did the little orange and yellow and green spots on a map. People lived in these spots, people who laughed, cried, had families, went to work, and all of the same things we as Americans did. In fact, I learned that Europeans did a lot of things better than we did, that they lived fuller lives than us, ate better food, treated their citizens as human beings rather than consumers or producers of labor. I wasn't questioning the rationality of nationality yet, but a seed had certainly been planted within me.

I didn't make the dean's list that semester thanks to Tony Steinhoff. To have one professor in charge of six of your credit hours makes things tough, especially when he does not give A's or when he has the personality of a doorknob and you're reading books like Wealth of Nations and The Leviathan and going on week-long trips that are so disorganized you don't even know who Christophe Plantin is at the end of a week during which he is a central character. The thing about the class is that it would have helped me a great deal if I had learned more about the ideas we were reading, if I could remember the central tenets of Hobbes or Locke or Rousseau even the next semester for my academic work. But the class was so dull and seemingly followed no logical order that I failed to retain most of it and had to learn it myself years later. A great opportunity to learn it in the place where it happened was missed.

But that wasn't really the point of going abroad. Originally, the point was to get away from the monotony of Ohio. I chose to go to Miami because of the Luxembourg program; my student tour guide of the university was going the next semester and it was all she talked about on the tour. I think of the series of coincidences that put me in Luxembourg - how I was only on that tour to get out of a day of high school and how I heard of the school because a rep was at my high school and I wanted to get out of physics class - and it reminds me how life is funny like that, how even a second can change the course of our lives forever.

Now more than ever Americans are afraid of all things foreign. Only a quarter of us even hold a passport. We should be pushing study abroad for everyone. Experience erases fear. And Americans certainly wouldn't let their government get away with the things it does in their name if they better understood the world. Besides, the world is a wondrous place, full of seemingly impossible places and feats and stories and people and beauty. To ignore all of that is, well, criminal. Evil, even.

Curtain Call

I submitted an entry to NPR's three-minute fiction contest in May. The challenge was: In 600 words or fewer, write a story in which a character finds something that he or she has no intention of returning. It wasn't picked for the website, but I didn't think it was a bad story, especially since I wrote it in a couple of hours. Perhaps I should have added another sentence at the end.


This was the winner. I don't like it. Here are the others they picked.

Curtain Call

It couldn’t be real. Nick looked at the ticket again; the date was as he saw it the first time and the seat was one of the best the opera house had to offer. Tosca, his favorite opera, the one that had put him on the verge of stardom in his youth, would be performed the next night and he held a ticket to it in his hand.

I have to turn it in, he thought each time he looked at it, even mumbling it aloud once, but then another wealthy Washingtonian would look past him as he came to get his coat at the coat check and it became easier to hold the secret in his pocket.

You once adored me, he thought to himself. I was Mario Cavarodossi.

Indeed he had been. He was going to be the best – maybe not Luciano, but close. Everyone said so. The music came from another world; how a man with such a small stature could produce such a big sound was a marvel to all who heard him. He made them remember their humanity, made them feel emotions they had forgotten existed. They had adored him and brought him into their circle and he loved them all but when his voice failed him they forgot he existed.

The ticket had fallen out of someone’s coat pocket and was lying there on the floor as if it were a worthless thing. He nearly threw it away but gave it glance, more out of boredom than curiosity, and that glance cost him his peace. He could be fired from this job if he did not turn it in. They’d know where it had been lost – they always knew exactly where their things had been and they mostly found the lost things, but if they didn’t, someone always paid.

When Nick lost his voice he lost his world, and it was a thing that couldn’t be found. Ten years had passed since his voice stopped working and in those ten years life had been a struggle. He hadn’t been to the opera house since he last set foot on that stage. At first it was too painful but then it was too expensive, and soon pretending not to miss it was no longer possible. He took solace in cheap whiskey and floated from job to job, often serving those who had once let him into their homes. It took a long time to stop feeling ashamed. His talent had taught him pride, but pride can only last so long before survival requires something else, something like working the coat check at a charity function to raise money for a cause that no one in the room really cares about. He felt that seeing Tosca could get him his soul back. He sang a few of Mario’s lines under his breath.

“You were good once,” he heard a woman say in a voice he knew far too well, even now, all these years later. He had loved her, almost as much as he loved the opera, but she was the first to go, even before he knew his voice was gone forever. She looked much older; time had not been kind or maybe he had just lost track of it.

“Thanks,” he muttered.

“I seem to have misplaced a ticket,” she told him. “To Tosca. For tomorrow. Have you seen it?”

“No. No I haven’t.”

If we had blogs in 1997: Goodbye, 1997

The last post from the first semester of my year abroad in Europe. Lots of good riddance here. As always, spelling, grammatical, and factual errors have been preserved.

11 Dec 1997

I must start by saying how much Kristine disgusts me. Last night she locked us out of the common room because Adam was here. I can't wait for her to go. She is the most irresponsible, disrespectful, immature person I have ever had the misfortune of meeting. Hilarious.

Now that I got that out, let me start with today's events and work backwards to Thanksgiving weekend. Today, I finally got my research paper done. I even turned it in to Tony, though technically its not due until tomorrow. A funny thing happened - all the proscrastinators couldn't save their papers. They kept the chateau open until 10:30, but a lot of that work was lost. I hope Kristine's work was lost, though she probably wasn't doing any. Schadenfreude!

Anyway, that's all I've been doing for the past couple of weeks. I've fallen far behind in Smith (Adam, as in Wealth of Nations) and Hitler (Adolf, as in murderous dictator). I barely remember this week - I can't believe Thursday is over already. Last night we had a slide show, but I didn't think it was sad because I'm not leaving. I wish a few people were staying - Courtney, John, Kelly, Bethany, Jared, Steve C, Steve B, Mary, JJ, Dave, and maybe a few others, the mature ones. I would even help Kristine carry her bags out the door if it meant getting rid of her quicker. Some people said some really dumb things at the slide show. They're proud of their immaturity. Otherwise, the day was uneventful. I can't think of any extraordinary thing that happened Tuesday or Monday. Sunday I went to the international craft bazaar, which seemed to be a waste of time. Wait. That was the Sunday before. Last Sunday I spent the day at the chateau because it was open. I must have gotten a lot of work done, because I'm finished now. Saturday can't be explained until I explain Friday's dinner-dance.

Me & April left at 5:30 for Lux. Matt was there at the train station and Niki, Valerie, and Lissa were there. So we all rode the train together to the Lux train station where we had the ball. Dinner was chicken cordon bleu, some wierd stuff, potatoes, quiche, and lots of wine. The Dupays came late, and complained about the food and made no effort to hide their boredom. Matt got the Becker scholarship for which me & Erika were in the running. I got the Most Likely to Be Prepared for Winter and Hunting Season 365 Days a Year superlative. This was because of the red hat I wore everywhere. I drank 4 or 5 glasses of wine and bought three beers. There was dancing - I hate dancing. Mary went on a pecking spree. She told Matt O she liked him but he didn't remember any of it. At least he acted like it. If he did remember, he's a great guy for pretending he didn't. Anyway, the pecking spree continued at Pub 13. I had two pina coladas, a cigar which I stole from Osborne, and a cigarette which I ended up dropping on Julia. Gross. Smoking. Ugh. Have only done it a few times in my life. She was great - trashed but cool. Her and Hans looked really great together. Yawn...

Anyway, the most suprising thing of the night was Dan D. Just talking to him - he is a good guy, he just has a real problem with alcohol, and he's pretty immature. I wonder if its because he gained that reputation and he thinks he has to keep it. For some reason, we all just left. I went to Erika's house with Matt, Mary, and who-knows-why-Lissa, where I passed out. Next thing I knew, Matt & Mary and what's her name left, not soon after Brian B left Julie Co's room. Hmm... So I moved into Erika's bed and woke up when Madame Lye came into the room. Erika was sleeping on her chair. It looked so uncomfortable. Yawn...

We left about 1pm to get lunch at the spicy food place across from the train station. Spicy food? That's real specific. I wonder if it was Indian. Turkish? Probably something like that, something I'd never eaten during my Southwest Ohio upbringing. Then we went to Clervaux after we met Matt. We got to the hotel and they just laid around. Then Justina got there and we all ate dinner. It wasn't that great for the price. (Before that we had the whimpiest shakes ever for $3.) Then we went up to a room and laid around until Julia, Hans, & Brad came. We watched Home Alone in french. (April said she watched it in German, but I don't see how it would be on in French and German on the same night. I think she just couldn't distinguish between french and german - and she claims to understand french. What bullshit! Ha! There was a lot of that. Since we had to take either French or German, some students thought that after a few months, since they could understand a few words they were fluent in a language. The funny thing about this comment is that it is quite possible the movie was in Luxembourgish, which is a Germanic dialect with French loan words. I could have thought it was French because I understood a few of the words, while she could have thought it was German because she couldn't understand enough of the words!) Then we watched Doloris Claiborne in English. After, we talked for awhile, but it wasn't a memorable conversation. In the morning me & Justina watched Smurfs in Deutsch. We ate bread and nutella like a typical breakfast. Then we went to the chateau. That means the chateau in Clervaux.

Don't know why I repeat all this again: The week before was more work and not a lot of non routine happenings. The Sunday before, I went to the international bazaar and the Lux mall. Saturday was fun. We had Thanksgiving at Erika's house. Erika did most things. Matt & Mary peeled the potatoes, I did onions, Julia and Justina did carrots, Brad and Hans made Tiramisu, Julia messed up the whipped cream. The meal was wonderful. The wine really got to me, though. Me and Erika, that is. She passed out on her bed. We all had a bottle of wine each. It was a wonderful time, but now Erika has this thing against alcohol. I wish she didn't. The Friday before that we saw the Peacemaker, which had a lot of flaws, but I still liked it. Mary threw a fit when we tore it apart. She throws a lot of fits. She didn't even go to Clervaux with us.

I miss Lynn. I wonder what's up with her. I hope nothing has changed between us. If she abandons me, I don't know what I'll do. Why must I fear this always? I get to go home in one week. I can't wait.

19 Dec 1997

It's over. I'm sitting in Schiphol airport now. My flight to Detroit doesn't leave till 2:30, and it's only 11 o'clock. But I get to fly into Detroit, after all the hassle. They switched my first flight time from Lux and i would not have gotten here in time. But I was able to get the 7:55am flight to Amsterdam after being placed on stand by. Emily had the same problem. They were going to send her to Milwaukee and me to Columbus via Memphis. But I caught the 4:50am train to Petange, switched there to go to Lux, took Bus 9 to the aeroport,, and arrived there at 6:00am. It was difficult to get such a small amount of sleep. Actually, I'm suprised it hasn't been bad. But last night we went to Pub Gerlache, Chi Chis, and Pub 13. Mary got me an alarm clock as a Christmas present. Erika got me a U2 book in French. I haven't begun to read the book, but the alarm clock helped tremendously in getting up this morning. I think it made the difference between my landing in Detroit or Columbus. And Robert drove me to the Differdange gare. I would have missed it otherwise. I had to make him because I was locked in. Strangest door lock ever. You had to have a key to get OUT of the house. The key wasn't there.

It's been strange. I'll probably never see most of these people again. Some of them I don't want to see ever again. Some I wish were staying next semester. It's been like a dream. Tomorrow I have to get up and go to Tony's class. I guess this is part of the (bad) "dream" since I was sitting in the airport and decided to take the other core course the next semester. Educational psychology. That's how bad his class was - I wouldn't even take a course within my major. No more Tony. I can't believe he gave me a B- on my research project. I better get a better grade on my final paper, even though it's crap. I'm sure I'll get a B/B- like the others. This past week was horrible. Not only did I have four examens, but that damn final was a pain. And I couldn't start it until the research paper was done. Tony does not know how to teach. He was at Pub Gerlache last night, but he left early. He probably was grading our papers. He has to be done by Monday.

Matt was crying last night because people were leaving. I didn't feel sad. I'm glad to get away. I can't wait to go home. Only 12 more hours.

And that's how the semester ends. College-like. Europe had become a home; it was no longer a  foreign land. The next semester brought plenty of new travel adventures. From what I've read so far, these new entries are deeper, better written (better, not great), and evidence of actual learning about the world.

If we had blogs in 1997: Six hours on a train, Paris, and The Note

Vienna, Clervaux, Brussels, Luxembourg, Paris, oh Paris. Again you will find the naming of places but no descriptions of them. I don't even know if it were this trip when I went up the Eiffel Tower for the first time or a subsequent one. With that, I present to you the latest installment of my 1997-1998 journal from Europe, complete with original spelling, grammatical, and factual errors.

31 Oct 1997

I stopped in Vienna on the way back from Italy - it was just half a day. Yes, it was out of the way, but I wanted to see it and didn't know if I'd get another chance. 

Prater

Well, my stuff didn't get stolen, but I didn't get a lot of sleep on the train. I guess it was enough because I'm still running. Vienna was wonderful. It is truly a beautiful city. I would like to come back sometime and see a symphony or even an opera. Wien is to music what firenze is to art.

It was cold, but I walked around all day. I saw the magestic buildings of the old Austrian-Hungarian empire. I walked around the Prater. It would be a great place to hang out in the summer. I sat there for awhile feeling for the first time this semester the end of summer. I was ready to go about 5pm but the train doesn't leave until 9:30. It was dark by 5pm, which makes wandering around harder to do. So I walked around and window shopped and dreamed. I had to pay a $12 supplement to ride this train to Koblenz (so glad I don't have to get off at 6am in Frankfurt and wait for the 7:50 train to Trier/Lux.) I'm so ready to go home to Lux. I'm getting kind of lonely.

I don't mention the brass band that I stopped to listen to, but it was great to listen to free music!

8 Nov 1997

Best use for a tank

What a week. Last Saturday I got to go the Frankfurt to Koblenz route along the Rhine, which I love. It's my favorite train ride. I got home around noon, wrote my postcards, took a shower, ate some Frosted Flakes, and went to bed about 4pm and slept until 8am Sunday morning. Then I went to Clervaux. It was very beautiful. Nothing about the Battle of the Bulge Museum or the kids playing on the tank? Nothing about the autumn-colored Ardennes forests? Nothing about actual Clervaux?

On Tuesday we went to Bizarre and again on Thursday, but Tuesday Ernie was there, and Erika felt uncomfortable the whole night. I don't remember who Ernie was. Then Thursday she gave Matt the note. The note. A juvenile "I like you" note. As if we were in elementary school! Friday I took my poli-sci exam and I'm sure I nailed it. Wednesday I went to Bruxelles for like 2 hours. It took three hours to get there. I walked through the tourist shopping distrcit, failed to find out any info on group flights, but I did get a Belgian Waffle with chantilly et fraises. My class was at 6pm and I thought I could go to Brussels for the day? Six hours on a train for two hours in the city? Insane! I missed Hitler the class because I didn't change trains at Esch and got to the chateau at 7pm. I watched Not Without My Daughter. A movie about an American woman who marries an Iranian-American man. When they go to Iran to visit his family, he won't let her return to the US. She has an opportunity to escape but won't go without her daughter. Friday after my exam, we skipped core (Mary, Matt, & I). Mary and I sat in the kitchen with Erika while she fretted about the letter. Matt was cool with it, though.

We left for Paris yesterday. It was a four hour train ride. Hans went, too, and Bethany was on the train with us, along with some gross smoker with yellow fingers and a disgusting cough. He smoked four cigarettes before he went into the corridor. I think the car was supposed to be non smoking. We saw a rainbow on the train ride.

When we got to Paris, we went straight to the hotel to check in, and then ate at McDonald's. Peer pressure. Then Matt & Mary went to the store & bought some alcohol. Matt had already bought some Bailey's. Hans got drunk and talked all night, and Mary, always the party pooper, went to bed first. At least she got up in the morning this time. Hans was shafted in his high school musicals. He also talked about religion. I disagreed with his views but didn't tell him. Ha! I'd never withhold my thoughts these days! He doesn't believe in Hell. And he doesn't think you have to love Christ to go to Heaven. He thinks everyone goes there. I should have asked him about Hitler.

Anyway, we left at a descent time in the morning, to my surprise. We went straight to Notre Dame, which wasn't as I had imagined it. I don't know what I thought it would look like. Then we walked to the Champs- Elysees and ate at Burger King. Peer pressure. Matt & Mary paid me back for the hotel I had charged on my visa, but not Hans. I charged two French CDs and The Verve to my Visa, and then went to Hagen Daas. I had capucino and Cafe ice cream. I also saw U2 perform Mofo at the European MTV awards, though I didn't hear it. I made Hans pay for mine. He still owes me like $8, but I doubt I ever see it. Hans, you owe me 8 bucks! Ha!

We then walked to the Arc de Triomphe. From there we went to the brown Eifel Tower with the 784 jours until 2000 sign on it. I felt like I was at King's Island. Except the Eiffel Tower is three times taller than the replica at King's Island. And it's freaking Paris! Then Mary wanted to go to the place where Diana died. It was under the replica of the flame of the statue of liberty. How ironic. Like Alanis Morrisette's definition of ironic? Cuz it's not. It was really sad, but cool at the same time because there were things written in so many different languages. From there we took metro back. Matt & Mary went to the gare. Hans came with me to the Hard Rock Cafe and went to a bookstore. I bought my guitar pin but didn't go into the restaurant. We went to the gare and got on the train, and less than four hours later, we got to Lux. Matt and I hurried to catch the :54 train, and here I am. Paris was cool. I plan on going back next semester. Apparently I had already decided at this time I was going to stay another semester. Surprised I didn't mention it earlier. I'm glad I went with Matt & Hans & even Mary who doesn't share any of my interests. But it was a good weekend, and I'm going to bed soon.

Matt does some wierd teeth grinding thing in his sleep.

14 November 1997

Went to Erika's house tonight to eat dinner. It was wonderful pasta and ok cider & wine. Erika and I had too much, I think. Then we went and saw LA Confidential which wasn't that great. Erika was acting wierd, but so was Matt. It's like he avoided me all night...I don't know why he would, but I just felt that way, for some reason. Last night we went to Bizarre, and Brad and I were the only ones who drank. So maybe it had something to do with that. Lately it seems as if he just wants to stay away from us - I think it's Erika's fault because of the note. They still haven't talked about it yet. Today Kristine left her key and so she couldn't get into the house to pack and leave for Prague. I'm sure she'll blame me tomorrow. I'm sick of her irresponsible behavior. I think she needs to grow up. Right now I'm tired and am going to bed.

21 Nov 1997

Three weeks of classes left - I can't believe it. I'm done with traveling for the semester although I really miss it. Being here on weekends makes the time go even faster, because you begin a new week without realizing you've left the last one.

RIP, Pub 13

Tonight Matt, Erika, Mary, and I went to see Peacemaker with George Clooney. I liked it, but Matt & Erika didn't too much. It wasn't the best movie I've ever seen, but it was fun. Then we went to Pub 13, and I think we were the first ones to return after the trashing incident. I don't remember what the "trashing incident" was, but I can guess which drunken morons were involved. Matt & I had a decent conversation on the train about how exhausted we are and was glad to know that I'm not the only one feeling like this. I can't wait till I get to go home. I need a break. School is so hard. Tomorrow and Sunday I will be busting my butt to get things done. It's getting to the point where Luxembourg feels like Oxford (where Miami is located, not England), except I like most of the people here. Though I have learned how to extremely dislike some people on a personal level, I have a lot of great friends to counter that feeling. Helenrose is the biggest moron on the planet.  I can't wait till I never have to see her or a few other waste of skin people. But next year at Miami may be cool.

28 Nov 1997

Shopping for the feast

Yesterday we had a wonderful Thanksgiving dinner - turkey, mashed potatoes, corn, cranberry sauce, and pumpkin pie (w/whipped cream) made from pie filling from the American military base near here. Everyone was drunk - it was pretty disgusting. I remember how pissed I was. Brad M got drunk on 3 glasses of wine & champaigne. We went to the pub by the train station. A man there who knows Matt O bought the second round of drinks for us.


Only five entries in the span of one month. I was enjoying my time, finally. I was LIVING in a foreign country, not spending a few months on vacation. I couldn't travel any more because I didn't have enough money for it and I had used all of my Eurorail days, but it didn't bother me because I was returning for another semester. And I didn't have to deal with The Clique after that.

If we had blogs in 1997: I'm sorry Mario, but your princess is in another palazzo

The student goes to Venice and observes life in boats. She makes no attempt to explain what she is seeing, except for a brief mention that San Marco's church is built on the burial site of St. Mark, nothing about the city's gothic architecture or its connections to the Byzantine Empire or the Islamic world or the Venetian Republic. She didn't know what she was seeing, but she did observe the lives of the Venetians. As always, spelling, grammatical, and factual errors, as well as inane commentary, have been preserved.

30 Oct 1997

Last night I tried to go to bed early but some obnoxious Americans in the room next to me kept me up. Then the girl in my room came in. At first I thought she was an American but she came from Toronto. Her name was Joewel (I asked if it was like the singer) and she had been traveling for a year. She had started off in Australia and was about to finish up in Greece. She took odd jobs to make money. She had already graduated from college and was putting her career on hold to travel. We talked for probably two or three hours about everything. She was going to Rome in the morning, and I told her how much I hated it. She talked about being a Canadian, about her travels, and I mostly listened toward the end because it was getting late and I was really getting tired. But I told her about how embarrassing it was sometimes to be an American over here. She left a pretty big impression on me about confidence being alone. I still didn't have the guts to go to a sit down restaurant alone. So I had no pasta in Italy - I lived on gelati - mostly pistacchio & malaga. Gelati is the plural of gelato, apparently. How can ice cream be plural? I had it three times a day, though today I had two pieces of pizza. No matter where you get pizza in Italy, it's good. Even if it's been sitting out all day. Even if it gives you food poisoning, which it did?


Joewel was supposed to catch the 6:45am or 8:15am train to Rome, but she woke me up at 8:00. Good thing, because I would have kept on sleeping, since I had gone to bed so late. (Since I have no alarm clock. She had hers stolen as well.) I caught the 9:37 train to Venezia. It was a beautiful train ride through the mountains, despite the fact a quarter of it was through tunnels. I don't know what is the accurate figure, but one of the tunnels is over 18km long. While looking up this info, I came across this TripAdvisor question from some woman who is "deathly afraid of tunnels." She ended up not going to Venice because of it. Sad. I'm pretty afraid of flying, but I do it anyway. Why miss out on life experiences because of irrational fear? After Bologna though, it mostly was flat, dull farmland. It felt like Southwest Ohio. Somehow I doubt this is true. I got to Venice about 12:15. I was going to take a canal taxi to San Marco but it was about $15 so I decided to walk. I loved the Venetian glass sculptures. I'd like to decorate my house with it. Venice was beautiful. The canals were as magnificent as I thought they would be. I walked to San Marco through the winding alleys. It took about 40 minutes.

The church was beautiful, but San Marco Square is covered with disgusting pigeons. If you're Princess Cruises, they are "doves." This is how they embellish. Why would anyone want to take a cruise? St. Mark is supposedly buried on the site of the church. I decided to hunt for a piece of pizza that wasn't L5000 a slice. Ha. Not around San Marco. Not around anywhere I searched. I bought some gelati and took a stroll through the residence alleys. I didn't have a map, just started walking. I encountered a tower that was leaning (not as much as Pisa's), and a palace made of red brick (and now I understand why all the castles in Super Mario Brothers are made of red brick.) I don't know what building this refers to. I have a faint recollection of the building but can't find an image of it on Google. It's probably not a palace.

Main Street

I ended up walking around in a circle, and then headed back to San Marco and then tried to make my way towards the train station because I had seen cheaper pizza along that way. (Imagine that - food is cheaper near the train station.) I walked around in circles until I found the right path back. Along the way I stopped at La boutique de gelati or something like that because Let's Go recommended it and I had never eaten at a Let's Go place. I kept walking and bought some postcards for only L300. Then I finally found L2500 pizza and got a piece. It was wonderful. Then I headed back to the train station. I had run out of stuff to do. Actually, there isn't much in Venice to do except shop. And walk around. I had done a lot of that. It was really cold. I'd love to walk around when it was warmer. Nothing to do? Well, perhaps that is true if you had "free" to the statement. Museums, music, bars, restaurants...they all cost money. I missed out on a lot during this whole week. But I got a lot out of it, too.

Traffic in Venice

I sat up at the train station steps and watched the people for awhile. Then I walked the other direction and found a spot where I could watch the boats. I could have sat there all day and watched them. I saw the paramedics load a lady onto the ambulance boat. There were taxi boats, police boats, tow boats, and regular boats. Venice does have cars, but they have a large parking garage to put them all in because there is no way to drive them through the city. I loved it. And I still do. I could sit on those steps right now and be as amused by the ambulance boat as I was on this day.

I walked around a bit more in a last ditch effort to find an Italian flag, but did not succeed. I collected little flags from the countries I visited in Europe. Well, theoretically. I only got them from Ireland, Netherlands, Belgium, Luxembourg, and UK, missing Italy, Germany, Switzerland, and France. I meant to buy an Italian flag when we were there in March. I forgot. It was dark by the time I got back to the train station, so I sat down, or maybe that's when I got my pizza. I sat outside on the steps again and watched the people. This Italian guy comes up to me and says (I think) that I was sitting there since 4 o'clock. He must not have known I had walked around for an hour after the first time I sat there. But it soon got too cold for me. I went inside and got gelatti one last time. Then I got my bag and sat down on the ground because there were no seats. Then some crazy french guy came in and sat down next to me. I think he was a con. He told me he had a girlfriend in Moscow and he didn't know if she loved him or not. He asked me what I thought and I said she did and he kissed me on the cheek. Then he asked if I thought he was good looking. What was I supposed to say? Then he asked if I knew anyone as beautiful as he was. Then he told me he had no place to sleep. I asked him why he didn't get a hotel and he said he had no money. That was my chance to con the con man. I told him I had used all of my money and had nothing but a train ticket. He left me alone soon after that.  Then the security guys came and told me to get off the ground.

I sat on a seat for a second but then got on my train and listened to some obnoxious Americans. I had to go check because I thought they might be Miami students. They weren't, but they were embarrassing me. American tourists are often loud, rude, and think they're entitled. Canadians often sew Canadian flag patches on their backpacks so they aren't mistaken for American. Back then in the pre-George W. Bush years, this was largely due to the obnoxiousness of Americans rather than policy-oriented reasoning.  I was alone in my compartment until the conductor came and sat there. Then 3 people got on at the next stop. Then the conductor and another person got off. Now I am in the compartment with a woman and a shady guy. I really need to watch my stuff, he scares me. Joewel told me that a couple of weeks ago, Italy had an earth quake and they've been having aftershocks for two weeks. Italy doesn't have earthquakes. How apocalyptic is that? Not that it has anything to do with the guy across from me.

Remember plate tectonics?

Italy doesn't have earthquakes? Boy, I was dumb. In 1117, Verona had a massive earthquake that destroyed most of the city's medieval buildings. Sicily had an earthquake in 1169 that killed 15,000 people. In 1343 an earthquake caused a tsunami that destroyed ports along the Amalfi Coast. In 1693, an earthquake in Sicily killed 60,000, and another in 1908 killed 100,000-200,000 people. Italy had two last month! The country has had frequent earthquakes and volcanic eruptions for 12 million years - it's located on the edge of the Eurasian plate that collides with the African plate.