jakit

Madrid Chill & Paris Anxiety

I´m sitting in the upstairs of an old Madrid cafe.

The place is laid back but it speaks of a former grandeur perhaps from before the Civil War. Over by the window, a group of old men are playing dominos or some Spanish version of it. A waiter just brought me a shot of espresso for I need to sober up a little before I make my way to the train station. The bill was 1.75 Euros. I gave him 2 and motioned with my hand that I needed no change. He seemed pleased.

They´ve thrown a few computers up here and so that´s where I am. I´ve just come from spending a few hours in an outdoor cafe drinking beer and watching the Spaniards be happy and warm. This is in stark contrast to the vibe of Paris.

Paris is great, but there´s always a sense of relief that comes when you leave the place. They are so damned particular with their ways that I walk around in a state of permanent anxiety, as if at any time I might do something godawful wrong.

And I have, believe me.

Once I committed the unforgiveable crime of picking out my own fruit from the stand. A couple days ago I actually tried to order dinner at the wrong time; it was too early; silly American.

When you upset the delicate Parisian way, they let you know. Not in the loud, arrogant American style, but it the passive-agressive French form, they sulk. They really do, they sulk. And because I harbour such guilt for the international crimes of our current administration, I actually feel bad. And because I feel bad, I get timid.

It got to the point the other night that I almost didn´t eat. I was eating poorly and I felt like having something vegetarian. I remembered this one little place on Montmartre that Erika, Chris, Nicole and I went to in the summer of 20002 and I decided to track it down. Much to my surprise, I actually found it. However, I couldn´t remember if you were supposed to sit yourself at a restaurant or approach a waiter first and ask to be seated. The inside of the tiny restaurant was full and I didn´t want to walk in and commit a major faux paux, so I sat down at the only table outside and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

No one came to help me. I couldn´t tell if they hadn´t seen me or if they were refusing to help me because of my bad form. Someone who did see me, though, was some French chick inside. Sadly, she didn´t choose to inform the waitress of my presence.

Even worse; because the chick had seen me, I couldn´t get up now and go inside and play it off like I had just shown up. It should have been simple to just go in there and say something but I had become convinced that they were all conspiring to teach me a lesson for trying to seat myself. I was postitive that when I finally walked in there they would all shake their heads and pooh-pooh in that Gaulic way.

All the customers knew what I was doing. The two construction workers sitting and smoking nearby on the sidewalk were starting to stare at me. Everyone walking down the street gave me that look. I might as well have been naked standing on the top of the Eiffel Tower singing the Star Spangled Banner.

Finally, when the pressure became too much to bear, I took off. I just darted out of there at full fast-walk speed. I rounded a corner and took a deep breath.

Eventually that night I was finally able to eat. But it took awhile.

Adventure

Well, I'm off on my adventure.

I leave today for Paris, from which I will slowly make my way via train and boat to Marrakech.

Hopefully, I'll see Barcelona and Fez along the way.

Ciao,

Chaos in Paris

Okay, so there's this story from the summer of 2002 that I never included in my journal. It's really quite funny.

Erika and I arrived in Paris from Provence shortly after Chris, Nicole and Alex. They went to the Hermitage Hotel where we had stayed on all our previous journeys to Paris, but we were going somewhere different.

Marian had a friend who owned an apartment right on the outskirts of Paris, in a little village whose name escapes me now. Actually, it was no longer a little village. It was just as dense and busy as Paris was and, in fact, there was no way of knowing where Paris ended and it began. I'm sure it must have been swallowed up by the rapidly growing burg sometime in the last century.

So Marian met us at the Metro stop by the apartment and we walked over to the place and put out stuff away. We had a little bit of wine and then decided to call the Hermitage to see what the others were up to. We all decided to meet at the top of Montmartre for a drink.

There we met at a little Irish pub that Erika and I had been to before. After sitting and drinking for awhile it was soon past midnight and Erika and her mom, as well as Nicole, were getting tired and wanted to go. I, on the other hand, felt compeled to stay.

Alex offered for me to sleep on the floor in his hotel room. This seemed like a reasonable thing to do, after all, I had slept on Dave's stone floor in Paris just two years ago. Erika understood and so she and her mom went back to the apartment, while Nicole went to the Hermitage. This left Chris, Alex and I alone in Paris and we did what any other red-blooded American males would have done, we head for the strip club neighborhood.

Now, we didn't actually go in any, but we were curious what the place was like so that's where we went. Besides, it had a very liveley atmosphere and what better place to talk about girl-trouble.

So the three of us walked up and down the street, got accosted by some young punks, ate a little French fast-food, checked out the Moulin Rouge, drank a few beers and tried our best to ignore all the guys working the doors.

Well, eventually, I, myself got pretty tired. It was now about 3am and I was having trouble staying awake. Alex's floor was beginning to seem very uncomfortable and I started to remember just how crappy I felt in the morning after Dave's stone floor.

So, I told the two guys I had changed my mind and wanted to go home after all. They asked me if I was sure, I insisted I was, and then they sent me on my way.

I took off for the Metro and walked down to the platform. I looked around and wondered if maybe the Metro was still running because the place was quite empty. However, there were a few people on the platform across from me and so I decided that, yes, the Metro must still be running, in fact, it probably runs all night.

Just then some voice on a speaker started speaking in French. I had no idea what he was saying, but soon learned the gist of it as the people on the platform across from me started walking up the stairs. The Metro was now closed.

I walked up to the street again and looked around. There was no site of Chris or Alex. Damn. I was smack dab in the middle of Paris, in a kind of shitty neighborhood to be exact, all alone at 3 in the morning. Furthermore, I was way to tired too walk all the way back to the hotel and I was realizing that I was actually drunker than I had previously noticed.

But I was an adventurer and I could handle this situation. The first thing I would need to do was to get a Taxi. But wait, have no cash. So, I would have to find an ATM first. I walked around for a bit and finally ran across a cash machine. I very carefully pulled out my money and shoved in my pocket.

Now I needed a cab. This was harder than you would think. First of all, I soon learned, you don't flag a cab down from wherever you are like in New York. Nope. Here is Paris there are specially designated cab spots where you need to stand. I noticed this after 15 minutes of watching the cab-drivers pass me by and pick all the people up standing on the other block. I thought it was becaus I was American, but no, this was just one of those ways in which the French appear to be very logical and sane, only to disappoint you later.

Anway, I moved to the cab-retrieval spot and eventually landed myself a ride. I hopped in and, after some language haggling, he asked me where I was going. Wait a minute... where the hell was I going? It was some sort of village, but I can't really remember the name.

The driver wasn't very amused and very reluctantly ran through all the names he knew of the surrounding villages of Paris. Unfortunately, none of them rang a bell. I knew it was west. Does that help? It's next to the big green spot on the Metro map. Wait a minute. I could remember the name of the Metro spot.

So I pulled out the Metro map and showed him where I wanted to go. That was good enough for him and so he took off driving. 60 bucks and 30 minutes later, we arrived.

I paid the man, got out and looked around. Okay... now, if you've ever been to Paris, you know that the buildings all look the GOD-DAMN-SAME! It's not like here, where you can use a Taco Bell or a Jiffy Lube as a landmark. Nope, in Paris, you gotta just know.

And I didn't know. I had no freakin' idea. So I just started walking around. I remembered it was only a few blocks from the Metro, so I walked a few blocks in a variety of different directions and then always came back to where I started to go anew.

Eventually, on perhaps the fifth try, I came across my new and temporary home. Alas, I could get some sleep. Alas, I could crawl in bed at 4 in the morning and rest my aching head. Ah, but only.

The funny thing about this night is that I never anticipated the problems I would encounter. Even after one blockade was thrown in front of me that I would eventually have to overcome, I never looked far enough ahead to see the next one coming.

Well, the next was coming, in fact it already came, and it was staring at me right in the face as I stood looking at the buzzer list hoping to get in... there must have been 30 names on there and I had no idea who was the owner of the apartment we were staying at. No idea in hell. There wasn't any Metro map that was gonna save me this time.

So, after banging my head on the beautiful Parisian stone wall, I wandered out to below what I thought was the window of my fellow travelers. I tried yelling quietly, but for obvious reasons (yelling quietly? c'mon) it didn't work. So then I thought about climbing up, but soon nixed that idea too when the garbage collector across the street started staring at me suspicously.

Everntually, I decided I would try throwing coins at the window to get their attention. I pulled a Euro out of my pocket and hucked it up there. Missed below. I tried again. Missed to the left. I tried again. It hit, but not loud enough. So now I reeled back and really let her fly.

Bang!

It hit loud alright. And hard. It didn't wake anybody up, but what it did do, was ricochet back in my direction at near light-speed and clock me square between the eyes. Ow. Yeah, that hurt. I looked around for my missing coin and started to feel a warmth running down my nose. I felt up there and realized I was bleeding. Furthermore, I now couldn't find my freakin' Euro.

Great. All I wanted to do was go to sleep and here I was stuck outside this damn French apartment building. I had come so far to get so close to my goal and yet I was still out on the street.

I went back to the buzzers and just stared. Thirty names. Who could it be? I decided I was going to just walk to a nearby cafe and fall asleep in a booth until morning. Yeah, it would suck, but I was doing everything I could just to keep my poor eyes open.

Yet, I was gonna give myself one last try. Before I walked away, I was gonna take a crap shoot and just push one button to see what happen. I scanned the list and found a name; Perreira. That was similar to my homie Chris Ferreira's name. It was as good as anything else. So I pressed the name and waited. Nothing.

I hung my head low, signaling my complete and utter defeat, and began on the long loser's walk to the all-night Parisian cafe.

But then, much to my surprise, I heard my name. I looked up at the windows and saw Marian. She told me she would buzz me in and so I shot over to the door and up into the apartment.

It turns out the name Perreira was right. Hooray! Beers for Chris!

So now all I wanted to do was settle in and crash out. But first, I had to explain why my face was covered in blood.

Final Days

So today is the last day of our adventure and it happens to be the Swiss National holiday too... very cool.

I know I haven't written in a long time, but I've been keeping a journal in my laptop that I will edit and put up on the web when I get home. It will be very detailed, if anyone cares to read it.

I wasn’t able to post it before because I was very busy in Lugano and then after that internet access was scarce in Provence. But perhaps the real difficulty in posting my journal came from my inability to truly express what I was feeling. It has been hard to accurately describe the events because everything was truly wonderful and I didn’t know how to put it in words.

However, I have been working on it and I will post it soon after I return. But for now I will quickly try to sum up the last half of our trip.

My mom and Charlotte showed up in Lugano on the 12th of June and then Dave the following day. We had about a week or so together, just relaxing and soaking up the Lugano atmosphere. We made a few sidetrips, but for the most part, we were just enjoying Ticino and each other's company.

Around the 20th, Charlotte and I went to Paris and Erika went to Zurich to greet more people that were arriving.

In Paris, Charlotte and I met up with my dad, Age and his girlfriend Lora. We spent a couple days touring the huge city. Then we had dinner with Marian, Hilary and Hansika; Erika’s mom, sister and niece. Then we all headed to Lugano.

When we got to Lugano, Greg and Brian had just arrived. In the next few days everyone else would show up. We had many fabulous feasts during this time and a crazy night out for the bachelor and bachelorette parties. Then came the wedding.

The ceremony was in the garden of the villa overlooking the lake below. Erika and I stood up on the edge with our minister Orloff between us. The weather was somewhat overcast, but this kept it from being boiling hot, so it was perfect.

Chris Ferreira played the piano for our entrance, Sally and Carolyn walked out with Erika, Dave read an incredible poem he wrote and Brian shot it all on Super 8 film. Later Greg would give a very cool toast during dinner.

After the ceremony, Erika and I walked down a stone path to a park overlooking the city and everyone else soon followed. We all had champagne and appetizers and everyone took many pictures.

Then we returned to the house for dinner in the garden. The fabulous feast was prepared by our new friends Franz and Fred with the help of Franz’s girlfriend Beatrice. It was all delicious.

However, during the main course, it started to rain. We hurriedly got umbrellas from the hotel owner next door who had previously offered them to us as a wedding gift, for it rains often in Lugano. Soon it turned into a full fledged thunderstorm.

We ate our food under the umbrellas and then we all gathered in the living room for desert. After the tasty treats we cleared the tables and danced. It soon stopped raining and people returned outside to socialize.

The next morning people started to leave, but it was a week before everyone except the final seven were left. During this time we had many more wonderful feasts and walks. Greg and Hanna took off on the 3rd and so the next day Erika, I, Dave, Brian, Alex, Chris and Nicole traveled to Provence.

In Provence we stayed with a relative of Greg's named Maurice. We had a big house with a piano all to ourselves and use of the pool in front of Maurice's house. We were just outside of an ancient town called Lourges.

Our days here were lazy too, made up of bike rides, games and dinners that we all prepared together. Much art was created by the whole lot of us during this time. Sadly though, after 10 days of good vibes we had to leave.

Alex, Chris, Nicole, Erika and I all took off for Paris while Dave and Brian stuck around a couple more days before heading to Marseilles. Here we met up with Erika's mom before she left. Paris was fun, but it didn't compare to Lugano or Provence.

After the last people left, Erika and I made our way down to Zurich to spend out last two weeks.

All in all, it was better than I could have possibly imagined.

My only regret is that it was so wonderful an experience that I've had the hardest time dealing with it's end.

For several weeks, Erika and I were in heaven. Most of our best friends and family were gathered half-way across the world in the most romantic of spots for the most important day of our lives.

The wedding was romantic, fun, casual and festive just like we wanted. In the days leading up to the wedding everyone pitched in helping set-up and decorate. It was truly a community affair, which was our dream.

But, like I said, it's hard for me to put into words so you'll have to wait for the longer journal.

But I would like to post something here that I think some people might want to read. Erika and I wrote our own ceremony and in the beginning said something about why we were gathered so far away for the ceremony.

So, for those of you who didn't come and were wondering why we got married in Lugano, here it is.

For many months, Chris and Erika struggled to find the ideal place to hold their wedding ceremony. They desired a location that would hold significance, exude romance and gather community. Eventually, this would all come together here at Villa Salute, a setting that features many qualities which we may all use to enhance the ceremony today.

Here in Europe, we may draw upon the history and traditions of different cultures. Our lives are enriched as we open ourselves and gain appreciation for qualities in life that are often unseen. Switzerland is a country that profoundly influenced Erika’s life and it is also the ancestral home of part of Chris’ family. In Lugano, we are surrounded by the Italian influence of passion, romance and family that so inspires this couple.

In the family home of Maia Ernst, we feel the celebration of friendship and all the joys that such relationships bring forth. In gathering friends and family together far from home, we create the sense of community that arises as people are extracted from their daily routines and brought together under one roof to work, live and laugh together.

In traveling the continent for two months prior to their ceremony, Chris and Erika have further strengthened their relationship. The time alone has allowed them not only to learn more about each other but also to share their thoughts and feelings on their commitment to one another and their marriage ceremony.

So there you have it. Of course you needed to hear it being said by our really cool Unitarian minister Orloff.

Anyway, those times were good and I will treasure them the rest of my life. I had good times with my family and good times with my friends and good times with all of us together. And Erika and I had a great time on the whole trip, becoming close than ever before.

I will always laugh when I remember Dave singing on the bus after Greg's wedding. His kicking off an economic crisis cracked me up too, as did his telling of an adventure between he and Brian concerning a youth hostel drifting out to sea.

In fact, Dave was really funny on this trip. I think he was feeling good and everyone really enjoyed being around him.

And that makes me feel great too... knowing that this summer was huge for not only Erika and I, but also Greg, who got married, and my family and so many others.

And speaking of Greg and Dave, two of my favorite moments were with those two. One was in the limo on the way to Greg's wedding and the other was under the porch at Villa Salute after Greg's speech at my wedding.

Both times were special because I think all three of us were really appreciating the importance of the situation and also feeling the history between the three of us... 25 years of history. Very cool.

Then there were the Uno games. First between just Erika and I. We would play every night while it rained outside after a day of cleaning.

Then when my mom, Chuck and Dave arrived, we had many great games late into the night. We played late because the nights cooled down a little from the 100 degree days and we wanted to enjoy the outside. But it was not without effort on our part. We had to hold candles up to our cards to see what was green and what was blue.

Then we played Uno with everyone a few times. I missed the game on the bachelor party night as I was passed out upstairs, but the others played till' dawn. We tried to play in Provence, but we didn't have a deck and it didn't quite work with normal cards.

So we got a deck when we returned to Paris and then Erika, I, Chris and Nicole all played one night while drinking wine on the steps of Sacre Couer overlooking the city below. Truly an unforgettable experience.

Speaking of Paris and unforgetable, my dad, Chuck, Age and his girlfriend Lora all wandered around Paris for a few days a week before the wedding. It was hectic and I was running all over the place, but it was a once in a lifetime experience that I will always treasure.

Then there was the clothes-shopping trip to Milan in nearly unbearable heat. The bachelor party I alluded to earlier (and bachelorette party of which I know nothing about). The trip up to Monte Bre and back and then down to Gandria and it's beautiful old winding alleyways.

And then of course our wine-tasting tour of Provence on bikes. Though we only successfully found one winery, and they were quite rude, the journey through the sunny vineyards on two wheels was what it was really about.

Also in Provence we had fabulous feasts that we all cooked together and then played late-night games of Pitonque. And we drank a whole lotta wine.

It was all completely magical and I never thought I could be so happy. But I was. In fact, it was all the little things that I will miss the most. Just hanging out with people... people that were very happy themselves.

And then there were the times I spent alone. I will miss those greatly too. Every morning in Lugano I would get up and walk to town for coffee. It was about a 20-30 minute walk and half the trip was spent winding through these old stone paths that went behind the huge villas on the mountain.

This is when it was just our Lugano, just Erika and I. Later it would become everyone's and that was great too. But it was also special when it was our private little city and our huge villa that we had all to ourselves. For a few weeks there, I was Luganese.

I am no longer Luganese. I can't even wear the clothes anymore that I bought and wore all the time in Lugano. I just feel different wearing them elsewhere.

But we will return. And I will return all over Switzerland for I have really fallen in love with this place. I cannot say enough great things about it.

Provence was wonderful too, but it is too much like California for me to justify traveling all the way over there. I can always go to Sonoma.

But Switzerland is truly different. It is an example for the rest of the world in how to live in a civilized society. I love Oakland and California, they are my home, but we have much we can learn from these people in the Alps.

Today is my last day here and essentially my last day of the trip as we leave tonight for Paris and then the following morning for home. I am eager to return and start my life again, but I will deeply miss this place.

Just yesterday we made a little adventure to the village where my great-grandfather grew up. He was an orphan, dropped off as a baby on the steps of an old monastery in the mountains. The monks raised him and he eventually moved to Portland and started a dairy farm. Another reason why this place is so special to me.

And then there was the wonderful hospitality shown us by Maia, Michel, Yasemin, Regi, Franz, Fred and Beatrice. If they represent the Swiss, then this is the friendliest country around.

Alas, all good things come to an end. But, like I said, I am also eager to return. I miss my Peets coffee, my Catos and my A's.

More importantly, I am eager to get on with my life. I've learned a lot on this trip and I'm anxious to apply my new ideas to my daily living. At the very least, I'm gonna get a bike.

Also, I finished Leisure some 3 hours before we left. So I look forward to getting back and sending it to some festivals and maybe making a web-site. And I've been writing a new script on this trip so I can't wait to get started on that one also.

Ciao Europe,

I will see you soon America.

Sorry

Sorry I haven`t been updating.

First I was busy from the wedding and now we are in Provence and haven`t been able to spend time on the internet.

Quick summary:

The wedding far exceeded my expectations and we had the most magical time of our llives.

I am writing in my laptop so when I can, i will post the entries online.

Till then, Ciao

P.S. I think Provence is my new favorite spot in Europe... incredible

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...

Gambling in Goteburg

Erika and I are leaving Sweden in about a couple hours, but I thought I´d dash off a quick bit about our latest adventures.

Yesterday, like I wrote, we went to an art show with Hanna´s aunt and uncle. It was just Erika, Dave, Brian and I since Emily had taken off for Oslo, Norway. This was sad, especially for Erika as I think she started to get sick of hanging with just the guys afterwards.

So we went to the art show without Em, but we still had a great time. Hanna´s family is really very nice and they did a lot to make sure we felt welcome in Goteburg, so we´re going to try to return the favor when the come to California for Greg´s reception in September.

The art show was interesting, but creepy. Most of it was by this artist who examines the psychotic mind. I could only take so much.

Afterwards we took a boat down the river which was very cool. When we got back to the apartment we made a huge pasta dinner and had some red wine. YES! Finally, a nice big dinner with no fish!

We let our belly´s soak up all the good food and then us guys took off to the downtown while Erika stayed home and watched some sappy movie on TV. Like I said, I think she needed a break.

So Dave, Brian and I walked downtown. Even though the public transportation here is really good, we´ve been walking everywhere anyway, because it´s all pretty close.

We ended up at this English pub and had a few local beers. Then we were ready for some gambling. Yep, gambling. The Swedes are pretty cool about this whole concept and a lot of the bars have blackjack tables set up in the corner. So, until about 2am, we played cards.

I ended up ahead about 40 bucks. Brian lost about that much and Dave... well, he lost a bit more.

But we all had fun anyway and met some interesting people from all over. Our first dealer was a Macedonian girl who really didn´t like America very much. Not just Bush, she didn´t like Clinton either.

This confused me becuase it seems like you really should like one or the other. They´re like Hot-Meister and Cold-Meister from that old Christmas cartoon. But apparently she was upset over the bombing of Yugoslavia.

This effected me pretty deeply because usually we debate politics with people who complain about taxes or enviromental policies and so on. But here was a person who was upset about her homeland being bombed.

So we talked about it a little and eventually she warmed up to us from Dave´s charm. But then the place closed and we moved to another bar with a table, but it was not nearly as fun.

Around 2 or 2:30 in the morning we walked home in the pouring rain and went to bed. In the morning Dave woke us up by declaring he was "kicking off an economic crisis" and then emphasizing this statement with a good booting of the chair. Of course I reminded him of the positive outcome of my night of gambling, to which he then gave me the boot.

Then we went to the train station and sent Dave and Brian off on their journey north to Stockholm. We´ll see them next in Paris or Lugano. Or who knows. Everyone just seems to be wandering around the continent and plans are changing all the time. We still don´t know what we´re going to do in July.

After they left we found this great part of town called the Haga. It´s just a few square blocks but it´s full of charm. It´s a neigborhood that dates to 1648 I think, and the streets are all cobblestone. There´s a really cool bath-house that we took a mini tour of.

The whole place has a nice laid-back Berkeley vibe, with little antique shops and used clothes stores. We found this great cafe where we had lunch and I think it was probably my favorite place to eat on our whole trip so far. Just really comfortable with old wood tables and benches with cusions.

If anybody ever comes to Goteburg, make sure to check out this part of town.

But now we´re off, and we need to hurry or we´ll miss the boat... literally. We decided to take a boat down the river and across the sea to Germany. Then we´ll take a train to Berlin. It costs a little extra, but it will be loads of fun. And then train would have put us in Berlin at midnight, which would not have been cool.

The only problem is that the boat has a casino. So at the end of the boat ride, I might be joing Dave in kicking off an economic crisis.

spater...

The Swedish Castle

So here we are in Gotheburg, Sweden. We arrived on Tuesday and I must say that it´s very different than anywhere I´ve ever been.

First off, the sun currently goes down around 11pm and rises around 3am. Also, almost all the people are Swedish, and almost all the Swedes are good-looking. It´s not like Zurich, which was very cosmopolitan. There are a few immigrants around here, but it´s almost not noticeable.

And it´s very chilly here. Not the temperature, but the mood. All the people I´ve met are quite nice, but the Swedish in general are not very talkative. I´ve been told by several Swedes that they are a very reserved and independent people and are used to being alone.

That´s all cool with me, but I sure am longing for the warmth of the Italians in Lugano.

But there´s been a lot of Californian´s here and they are a bunch of warm people. On Wednesday Greg´s parents, Ernie and Michele, took us all out to a restaurant. That was a lot of fun. The fish was fabulous.

Last night was Greg´s wedding. It was in a castle and it was quite fancy. Dave and I were the groomsmen and now all the Swedish woman are after Dave because he looked so dapper in his tuxedo.

Before the wedding, Greg, Erika, Brian, Dave and I all went to a very fancy restaurant for lunch. This too was a fabulous treat from Ernie and Michele. The fish was very good.

There were a bunch of very touching moments but I think the highlight was when Hanna sung a Swedish song to Greg. That really killed me. She did that during the big dinner. The fish was good.

I couldn´t eat much of my dinner though, because I had to give a toast. It was pretty nerve racking giving a speech in front of all these Swedish people I don´t know.

But I did it and it went over really well. I got a bunch of compliments so I felt good. Erika thought my final toast was a bit crude, but all the Swedes said it was perfect, even the mother of the bride. So then I relaxed and had some fun.

At the end of the night everyone piled into this huge bus that was rented to drive everyone home. Dave and Brian were quite imbibed by this time and Dave actually managed to get the microphone from the bus driver and sang a bit of Oasis for us all. I´m not too sure what the Swedes thought of his singing, but I thoroughly enjoyed it.

It was pretty heavy to see Greg get married. He and Dave and I had some Hills Brothers bonding moments before the wedding and that was cool. 25 years is a long time to know someone. It made me really appreciate the great friendships I have.

Hopefully Greg will move back to the Bay some day. Then I can also get to know his new bride Hanna better. She seems really cool and interesting but I´ve barely talked to her and since she is the wife of a Hills Brother, that will have to change.

So we all had a blast at the wedding and now we´re just recovering. Hanna´s parents had a brunch today at their house. I´ve had way too much fish.

Dave and Brian are in the room next to Erika and I, and Emily, Greg´s sister, is one door down from them. We´ve all been hanging out and cooking together since we have a kitchen in our room. Maybe tonight we´ll go out to a movie.

Tomorrow we´re going to an art exhibit with Hanna´s uncle, who is himself an artist and a very political leftist. It should be fun.

On Monday we leave for Berlin.

spater...

Good Fortunes

We seem to be riding a nice lucky streak here in Zurich.

Michel and Yasemin decided to come back from their trip early, so we were going to have to sleep in their living room for the next few nights. Which was fine because even though we enjoyed having this place to ourselves, we also wanted to spend time with them.

But then this morning in the building's laundry room, Erika met a woman who lives upstairs who told us that another tenant on the top floor was currently in America for a wedding. He had given her the keys to his place and said that anyone who wanted to stay there while he was gone should feel welcome.

And wow, what a place.

It's as if we were in San Francisco and someone let us stay in their top floor apartment in the North Beach. There's a little balcony overlooking the lake and he has the nicest furniture you can imagine. Plus we're just a couple floors above Michel and Yasemin.

So we consider ourselves quite lucky at the moment.

Last night Toni and his girlfriend Naemi took us to a grand opening party for a new restaurant on the lake. Most of the people there were Italian, and like most Italians, very well dressed. Fortunately, I had just bought a new Italian shirt that I wore, so I didn't stand out too badly.

Afterwards we went back to our friend Roberto's restaurant and I had my first tasting of horse meat. I convinced myself that it was a fine and noble horse that had died valiantly in battle. Therefore, I had no feelings of guilt in eating one of my favorite animals.

So we are living the good life, but the adventures are few. Soon though, we will embark on the part of our trip that takes up north through Germany and Denmark and on our way to Sweden for Greg's wedding.

Along the way we will visit Orloff, the minister for our ceremony. Then we hope to spend a day or so in Berlin before we reach Gothenburg where Greg has arranged an apartment for us. I can't wait to see Greg, Dave, Brian and the Carson family.

As wonderful as everything is though, it also makes me appreciate what we have back home. Our little life on Piedmont Avenue is very European, and we've been telling everyone we meet to come visit us and see what Oakland is really like.

I sent an email to Chris Ferreira asking him to buy a beer for me every Monday night and just set it on the bar where I would be. And every Friday night to set a clove on Jason Parker's table and put a Playstation 2 control buy it and play one game of Virtua Fighter 3.

And I also ask that someone on the Ave buy a Peets coffee for me every once in awhile (small in a large cup with a dash of cream) and then set it on the stoop, sit next to it and talk about nothing for awhile.

But most importantly, someone needs to bring my lucky A's hat, with my Rickey Henderson rookie card in it, to a Thursday daytime A's game. My beloved boys of summer have been in a major slump since I left and we need to correct that. So maybe Blake and Jon can offset that bad voodoo.

Anyway, enough about back home.

Toni invited us to some club tonight where Naemi works. I don't know though, we're kinda' beat and need to cut back on the money spending too. It's hard though, because there is so much to do in Zurich and this town is so damn expensive.

And I didn't pack properly. I brought clothes for traveling, not for kicking it all these hip European cities. So I need to do some shopping to make up for that, and shopping cost a lot of money. Alas, when I am hungry and without wine somewhere in the south of France in July, at least I'll know that I look cool.

That's all for now. I gotta start moving our stuff upstaris.

spater...

Kiss the Swiss

So we’ve been in Europe for one week now and I am sad to report that it is most definitely impossible to buy cloves anywhere on this damn continent. Believe me, it is not for lack of effort that I have come up short. Apparently, the European Union has banned these nasty little buggers. As to why, I don’t know, but it sure makes you wonder. Think about that Jason Parker.

Anyway, Erika and I are in Zurich now and have been for a few days. Paris was way too chaotic for us and we fled after only one night. Don’t get me wrong, it was my third time there and I still think Paris is the most amazing city in the world and I look forward to returning in a few weeks, but the condition we were in when we arrived made the French capital a little overwhelming this time.

Take our jet lag, combine it with frantically making last minute arrangements, add me not sleeping the final two days in order to finish Leisure and you can see why we were a mess when we arrived at Charles de Gaulle. And Paris is no place to be a mess in.

We did have a few fine moments before we departed however. I bought a cool pair of pants as we strolled along the Champs Elysees and we enjoyed a tasty meal at this charming little vegetarian restaurant in the Marais (well, I think the meal was tasty, all I really remember is the organic wine). We also met some friendly people, like the woman who owns the Ermitage Hotel up on Montmarte.

Yet, when all is said and done, Paris was hard.

The night we left we were sent all over the place by countless French train officials who didn’t seem to care one way or the other what we did. Right before we got on the train to Zurich we asked a guy behind the counter if we needed to do anything with our Eurail passes before we boarded. He told us just to get on and so we did. Then when the guy came around to check our tickets, he started to punch one of them and then got distracted and launched into some other topic of interest at the moment, thus leaving our tickets untouched.

So when the train finally crossed the border into Switzerland and the Swiss official came around to check our tickets, we received quite a scolding. He very sternly informed us that we were supposed to validate our passes before we boarded the train in Paris. We pleaded ignorance and told him that the French guy had said just to board.

He was having none of that and showed us exactly where on the ticket it instructs you as to how and when to validate it. Obviously this guy was quite familair with the old blame-it-on-the-French routine.

He then said that the penalty was 50 Swiss Francs (about 35 dollars), but that he would let us off the hook this time. He filled in all the appropriate information and went on his way.

I can’t describe just how good we felt at that moment. In Paris, no one even noticed our existence unless we were blocking the door to a cafe or something. To actually have someone acknowledge us, even if we were being busted, was quite the nice welcome.

So here we are in Zurich for Michel's wedding. On Saturday night we went to the reception. The actual wedding was a small occasion at city hall a few days before.

The reception was a very laid back and comfortable affair. The dinner was in a four hundred year old building that was once used as a winery. Everyone brought a dish so it was a sort of pot-luck deal.

Some people dressed up in suit and tie, while others were more casual. In fact, the older people were far more casual than the younger ones. But everyone seemed comfortable regardless. Yasemin’s family is from Turkey so we danced to some great Turkish music after dinner. Then there was desert, cigars and some amazing Italian sweet wine.

We saw Cello there. He's the guy that Jon Farber kissed when he dropped the bread in the pot at the Fondue party. Cello wouldn't admit it, but I think he misses Jon.

The night before I met my first non-relative Horvath. Toni, another old friend of ours, has a girlfriend who happens to be one of the Tribe. Very cool.

As far as housing goes, our first few days here were spent at an apartment in the suburb of Schlieren. But now we’re at Michel’s in a very cool neigborhood in the heart of town. We’ll be here for the rest of the week while he is off on his honeymoon in Turkey. And while Zurich may not have the romance, beauty and grandeur of Paris, it is a far better place for us to re-cooperate.

And yet it is also very charming. I was here two years ago and found it nice then, but now that I’ve spent some more time here, I’m really in awe at the quality of life these people enjoy.

Previously, I had thought that the Swiss ability to live so harmoniously came from stacks and stacks of rules. But Ironically, I think there are probably far more rules to follow in the freedom-loving USA. People here just naturally behave civilized so the need to impose order is a minor need at best. Only once have I seen a police officer since we arrived.

The best example of the Swiss character I can think of is probably the public transportation system. Using trains, trams and buses you can easily get anywhere in the city and it’s surrounding environs.

But the most incredible part is that it all works on the honor system. You buy a ticket from a machine on the street, put it in your wallet and board the tram. Supposedly a guy comes around every once in awhile to check and see if you have a ticket or not, but I have yet to see one.

However, as much as I admire this, it also drives me batty. We must have spent about 50 bucks so far on tickets and I can’t help but think it was all wasted money. Alas, that’s the American in me rearing his ugly head.

Speaking of ugly Americans, the Europeans seem to be ever on the ready to launch into a little speech about the evil-doings of our government and the utterly moronic image George W maintains on this continent. Though I mostly agree with everything they say, I do find it a little silly to hear all this America bashing coming from someone wearing a pair of Levis and smoking a Marlboro while listening to Madonna mp3s on their Macintosh. But hey, I guess that’s the world today.

Anyway, I’m fascinated by this place. Everyone we’ve met has been friendly and eager to practice their English with us. They all seem to be very proud to be Swiss, yet without expressing any kind of nationalistic pride. Just a sort of sense of accomplishment, I guess, at being a country made up of Germans, French and Italians that all happen to get along with each other.

And each one of those cultures seems to contribute to the other so that they are not actually German, French or Italian, but instead Swiss-German, Swiss-French and Swiss-Italian.

But as much as I like this place, we came to Europe for the romance and adventure, not to live a normal, daily life. So I’m a little anxious to move on and see Budapest, Lugano and maybe Greece, Turkey or Morrocco. To leave the Germanic cultures and go somewhere more exotic.

That’s all for now, I’ll write more soon. We’re off to wander through the park.