jakit

Ciao, Ciao, Prego, Grazie, Ciao

So here we are in beautiful Lugano.

First let me say that I've learned my journal has been quite popular so I've decided to make it a pay-per-view site. As soon as I figure out the particulars I'm gonna start charging all of you $5 a visit. The site will take VISA, Mastercard and American Express. And if you're family, or you live in 3907, you get a 10% discount. Just send me a copy of your driver's license and I'll give you the discount access code.

This Italian guy told me to keep it free and just put up ads linking to various porn sites, but Erika reminded me that little kids might be reading it, so I decided it against it :O

Any hoodles... Lugano is so amazing. It's like a resort town out of a James Bond movie or something. I see a different Ferrari at least every day and most of the dudes wear suits everywhere. And the chicks... never mind.

The best part of the town is the natural beauty. It sits right on a lake about the size of Tahoe and it's surrounded by all these mountains that eventually lead up into the Alps. Bellissimo

The house we're staying in is an old villa. It has somewhere between 5 and 7 bedroom depending on whether or not you count the maid's quarters or the parlor. But it's very run down. No one has lived here for 20 years or so and it's just used occasionally for weekend trips by the family. It feels like an old cabin in the woods.

The real romantic part of the house is the grounds. It sits on a few acres on one of those mountains I mentioned. It has gorgeous views of the lake from all around.

The upper part of the gardens are in fine shape, but the lower parts are overgrown. There are a couple of terraces we've discovered that have been taken over by trees and plants. While hacking away one day, I found some old stone steps.

When we first got here it was nice and sunny and so we spent all our time in the garden. But it's been raining off and on since so we've been inside cleaning and scrubbing all day. I swear I'm going to hell for all the spiders I've killed.

But we gotta do it. We've got family and friends coming to stay and eat here so it must be clean. I know Alex DeRochers is really picky about that stuff. Damn French ;)

But even with all the cleaning, we can't get rid of the spooky feeling this house gets in the rain. It's feels like that old haunted house on the hill everyone knows about. Several of the former residents of this place have actually died in the house and with Erika and I staying here alone, it kind creeps me out.

A couple nights ago the rain got really bad. It stormed like crazy with loud, rolling thunder and lighting. At about 1:30 at night I was up in the study working on my script while Erika was down sleeping.

I went out on the balcony to smoke a beedy (no cloves remember) and I was stood in the doorway as to not get wet. The thunder got so loud that I was sure Erika had woken up. Suddenly I got all freaked out that she would come looking for me, cuz she was scared, and then scare the bejeesus out of me.

So I put out the beedy and went downstairs to go to bed and sure enough, Erika was awake. I crawled into bed and we both lay awake, listening to the crashes outside.

As luck would have it, the door to the room was directly opposite the window, so everytime the lighting struck, the door lit up to the crack of thunder. It was the most suitable occasion possible for one of the people that had died in the house to swing open the door and ask us what the hell we were doing there.

Every noise we heard was someone coming up the steps. I became so sure that someone was gonna come bursting through that door that I actually made a list in my head of all the different people it could possibly be.

It could be Maia, come to tell us that the phone wasn't working and she was worried about us. Or it could be some Italian-Swiss police who are looking for a burglar. Or maybe the guy who was gonna tune the piano got his timing wrong.

But of course it could also be the old woman who used to live here and I'm sure she doesn't like strangers in her house. I started debating what furniture in the room would actually do the best job of barricading the door.

But then the thunder stopped cracking and the lighting quit flashing and I eventually dozed off to sleep and had nightmares about dead spiders. Erika, however, saw that I feel asleep and suddenly, without her protector awake, got even more creeped out. But then she too managed to drift off to never-neverland after awhile and had her own little nightmares about the place being robbed.

The piano guy showed up, right on time at 8:30 and the two of us grudgingly got out of bed. I hope Chris Ferreira knows of our suffering and is practicing his piano piece for the wedding.

So we anxiously await the sun, for that is when the gardens and the town really become magical. We have all sorts of ideas on how to decorate for our wedding, with candles and flowers and so on. It will be very simple, but beautiful, just how we wanted it. We'll have the actual ceremony overlooking the lake.

There's not much else to write about this place yet, so I think I'll do a little reminiscing about our previous experiences that I haven't been able to get down yet.

I've been doing this journal in internet cafe's, which love to gobble up the Euros, which has meant that I've been unable to relay all our adventures or even edit what I've written. It's pretty much just been straight outta my head to the keyboard and onto the net.

But now Greg the Hills Brother has lent one of his laptops and Phillipe the neighbor has said I can use his connection so I have more time to write.

I think one of the most interesting things about traveling abroad is hearing and learning all the different languages. Well, learning for some. For me, it's just another opportunity to embarrass myself.

Paris wasn't so bad, because you expect the harsh treatment. My very first time there, about 8 years ago, began with a "If you do not speak French, why do you come to France". And imagine that with all the appropriate accents, because that's exactly how it went down.

At the time, I could think of no suitable rebuttal, so I just slinked away in my isolationist American shame. But years later I came up with a doozy... "To keep your dumb-ass employed!" It's true, you know. One fifth of the Parisian economy consists of tourism.

So no more guilty-American in Paris. For now on I do that town Oakland-style. I'm just gonna walk up to a Cafe, sit down, and order me a "Burger and a Coke... and don't forget the ice." If that doesn't work, I'm organizing an International-tourist-boycott of the city until they learn to be nicer. (Of course, you all know I'm only joking :P

But I would like to learn French someday, and maybe then they'll cut me some slack.

Sweden on the other hand was a breeze. Everybody there speaks perfect English and they enjoy using it. I mean, it got to the point where we would actually walk up to people and just start speaking English, completely forgoing the "do you speak..." formalities.

The one thing that messed me up though was there hello. When they greet people, they say "hey". It's just like when we say "hey" except they say it really sharply. So everytime I went into a freakin' store and picked up a shirt or something to look at, I would think I was busted. "Hey!" "Whoa, what'd I do?"

Actually, I think it's a complex I've had since those days pocketing candy at the 7-11 across from my elementary school. Though I never got caught. That's because I had one of those racing jackets from the early 80's with all those pockets. I had something like 10 pockets on this baby, even ones on the sleeves. So the one time they tried to bust me, they only checked my 2 main pockets. Thank god for the Michael Jackson fashion influence.

Overall though, I've managed to pick up a few words here and there. The problem is, it's a few words here and there and I can't seperate them. For instance, I've adopted the Swedish good morning, the French thank-you, the Italian counting system and the really cool German organge juice "Orangensaft."

Consequently, when I walk into a cafe in the morning, greet them, order a couple glasses of OJ for me and Erika, thank them and sit down, I really must throw them for a loop.

And everytime in Europe I always seem to pick one word that becomes my favorite. Last time, it was "Centre Pompidous", a modern art museum in Paris. I don't know, I just kind of liked the way it rolled off my tongue because I would say it all the time. I would even greet people with it.

One time, when I was sitting on the Metro, chanting it to myself over and over, I kinda realized how silly it was. I mean, it would be like if I was sitting on Bart and there were a couple Japanese tourists sitting across from me saying "SFMOMA, SFMOMA" and giggling the whole time. And I must say I've never had anyone open the door on a pizza delivery and say "Montery Bay Aquarium" as I handed him his pie.

This year my word has been "Gopfadackel" (sp?), a Swiss-German word that is quite cool. Erika used to say it back home all the time and so I sort of picked it up over there.

But it's here in Europe that I really started using it. Erika seemed to say it whenever something went wrong, so in trying to be a little more linguisticaly accurate this time, I tried to do the same. I just figured it meant shucks or something.

Eventually after spouting it out all throughout Zurich, she decided to tell me it meant "God damn it".

That's cool.

But here in Lugano, the funny thing is how often they say goodbye. They'll jsut let, like, at least 5 "ciao"'s roll off their tongue when they leave. And they usually add a few "grazie"'s and "prego"'s and maybe even and "okay" for good measure.

So the typical goodbye goes like this. "Ciao, ciao, grazie, prego, ciao, prego, prego, grazie, grazie, ciao, ciao, okay, ciao". I only think they end it at all becuase by then you're out of hearing distance.

I like it.

Anywhoooo...

I have more to write but I should post this now because it's been so long since I last put anything up.

When next I write, it will be about fun in the sun and all the people arriving.

Ciao, ciao, grazie, prego, ciao, prego, prego, grazie, grazie, ciao, ciao, okay, ciao...

Ich Bin Ein Berliner

Ich Bin Ein Berliner

Actually, that means I´m a jelly donut, of which I am not, but it´s what Kennedy said when he wanted to express common ground with the people of Berlin, and so I will say it too, because, after all, this is the city of my father and therefore, I feel a bond with it.

And it´s a cool city too.

Erika and I arrived on Tuesday afternoon and checked into our hotel in East Berlin, the former Soviet part. It´s in an old communist-era factory converted to new use. On the ground floor is cafe, above that is a spa and a gym and above that is a gigantic pool hall. On the top two floors is are a bunch of lofts which make up the hotel.

In the main lobby of the hotel, is a bar which is open 24 hours a day and where techno music plays non-stop. Our room is pretty big and comfortable, but the shower is sheer hell. The water stops after 10 seconds and you have to turn back on again. In addition, the temperature switches between icy cold and burning hot at the seeming whim of some troll living between the walls.

The experience is so bad that I´ve decided to forgo the morning cleansing ritual altogether. It´s already, the Berliners aren´t the cleanest people anyway.

And that´s what this place is like. It´s very young and hip, but not all quite working yet. Berlin is growing fast and ever-changing. It´s a city that hasn´t quite found it´s own identity yet and all this gives it a very energetic and dynamic feel. The more I learn about this city, the more I can see this.

On our first full day here we decided to take a walking tour. Neither Erika nor I had ever done something like this before, but I loved it and would highly recommend it to anyone visiting a big city for the first time. It allowed us to discover Berlin´s history and become oriented at the same time.

The history itself though, is pretty dark. We saw the old Memorial Church that was bombed into a shell of it´s former self but then left standing in that condition as a testament to the evils of war. It´s quite spooky to look at. We walked through tunnels where German and Russian soldiers fought hand to hand in the final days and hours of the war and we saw bullet holes that littered so many buildings and monuments that they´ve essentially given up on repairing them.

We learned how only one in seven of the structures in Berlin were left standing after end of the Allied bombing and how Stalin gave rewarded his troops for their fighting with three days of raping and pillaging. All in all, I think Berlin was hell on earth for awhile there.

And then we saw the effects of the post-war period. Erika took a picture of me in front of one of the only two remaining stretches of the Wall. And we wandered through Alexander Platz, perhaps the ugliest urban center on Earth.

It´s bad enough that much of Berlin was re-built during the 50´s, 60´s and 70´s (which is, in my humble opinion, the worst architectural period in the history of humankind), but in addition, all the stuff in the East was built by the Soviets, who wanted to rid the world of bourgeois ideals of beauty... in other words, create hideous buildings.

At times, I can´t help but look around at the few old buildings that remain and wonder what could have been. Historically Berlin has been a pretty open and liberal place that always seems to get screwed with by outsiders. Even Hitler wasn´t from here and in fact, enjoyed the least amount of popularity here.

One King (Friedrich, or Wilhelm, or Friedrich Wilhelm or something like that) even made Berlin a haven for Jews and other persecuted people because he saw the value of a cosmopolitan society. And the Cabaret and DaDa culture of the 1920´s must have made Berlin an incredibly vibrant place.

So to see all the negative things that have happened here creates a sense of sadness for me that pervades the entire city. But the Berliners themselves seem to be moving along fine.

For one thing, this city is being re-built again, this time with better architecture. If you close your eyes and throw a rock, chances are you´ll hit a crane.

On Wednesday night we went to Potsdamer Platz, which is the new downtown. And when I say new, I mean new. It´s as if they were building and entire urban downtown from scratch. If you stand far enough away, you can see a few cool new high-rises like the Sony Center (super space age) and then crane after crane after crane. And it´s like that everywhere, miles and miles of construction.

But it´s not the buildings that make this place so cool, it´s the people. The folks here are so open and energetic, that it makes it a very exciting place to be. Sometimes I swear there is no one in this town over 40, or at least no one that acts like it. I can´t think of a better environment to be an artist in.

One day we were walking down the steps of the S-Bahn station and came across all these people on the stairs. They were half-dancing, half acting to an accordion player below. It was a sort of theatrical performance being put on in the public transport lobby. I can´t imagine encountering that at MacArthur Bart.

In addition, this place seems to be as cosmopolitan as any American city. In fact, the three best meals we´ve had here have been Greek, Morrocan and Italian. So the vibrant and colorful cultures of these people have also added well to the mix.

My favorite example of the Berlin attitude has to be the famous TV Tower. It was built by the Soviets and looks like as gigantic pole with an enormous disco ball on top that is actually a restaurant. It´s taller than the Eiffel Tower and is great for orienting yourself around the city. To me it´s the ugliest landmark in the world, easily.

But the Berliners love it and embrace it and I have to admit, it´s kind of grown on me. I´ve heard them talk of taking a bunch of spotlights one night and shining up on that baby there and having one mother of a dance party all throughout the city. Knowing the Berliners, I wouldn´t be surprised if they actually pulled this off. If they do, you better believe I´ll be here.

But alas, now we must leave. Erika and I take off tonight on a train for Lugano. I wish we had more time to stroll in all the acres and acres of beautiful parkland, but we don´t. However, I am sure we will return one day and see what this city has finally become.

As far Paris is concerned, I think I was misunderstood in my previous entry because I´ve received an enormous amount of flack. We were only planning on being there two nights at the most because we had to get to Zurich for Michel´s wedding. We cut it down to one night because we were exhausted and Paris, like New York or London, is an enormous city and can be rough if you´re not up to it.

It is still a magical place and I look forward to returning there in a few weeks.

But now, before we leave, I am off to watch Germany play Saudi Arabia in the World Cup while Erika goes shopping (that is so men and women... I know, I know). It should be a blast and I plan on drinking a few of those huge German glasses full of beer.

Oh, and Unc... I spit in the Spree for good luck.

spater...