to clarify the thing about the guy in leiderhosen

I should add that he was old enough to be my
grandfather. Wouldn't want anyone to get the wrong
idea!

xoxo
Michele

Another funny sign

This one made me throw my head back and laugh
hysterically. It read:

Back to School Sale

Hahahaaaaaaaaa

The first day of school was a couple of days ago and
for the first time in FOREVER I didn't have to be
there! Reality is finally sinking in (sometimes like
lead).

Anyway, I saw that sign in Berlin after typing my last
novel. And I think many of you will be happy to note
that I'm at a "standard" keyboard, so no games with
the z/y switcheroo.

>From Berlin we arrived in Prauge, home of affordable
dining and drinking, and more church spires than you
could shake a stick at. (I tried. Got a cramp in my
elbow.)

In Prague, I caught up with a friend of a friend from
the SF Softball circle. It was great walking through
the city with Pam. She pointed out a whole bunch of
sights for me to explore later on in the weekend (some
of my cohorts on the bus paid 9eu for a similar tour).
It was all fun in games until we crossed the river
and faced about a million steps up to a park. "Sure,
I can do steps!" I said cheerfully. It helped knowing
that we were on our way to a beer garden with cheap
cheap Budvar (Bud Weis Er) and sweeping views of
Prague. To our delight and surprise, we were also
treated to a pretty cool fireworks show. Just another
Friday night, I suppose.

On Saturday, I finally got to show some skin again, as
the rain that followed me in Amsterdam and Berlin
seemed to finally take off. I soaked up a few rays of
sunshine in Town Hall Square, listening to, of all
things, a dixieland jazz band busking. After every
three songs, they'd stop for a whiskey/cigarette
break. Consequently, each of the guys who sang
sounded like Louis Prima crossed with Harvey
Firestein. And because of that (or inspite of that) I
couldn't tell if they were singing actual Czech words
or just skatting like Louis Armstrong liked to do.
But they were great!

I also took a minute to watch Prague's Astronomical
Clock. That was sort of like the facade of It's A
Small World meets the penny arcade that used to be
under the Cliff House. Only crappy. One minute of my
life sacrificed to the vacation gods, but I DID get a
great picture of all the people around me gawking up
at the thing. :)

Day two in Prague was less sunny. Our hotel was way
out of the city center, so I took my time in heading
back to town, and met up with Mr. and Mrs. Doubtfire.
As cute, older couples go, these two were top notch.
They were traveling around with another tour group,
and needed to know how to get into the city. Me,
always happy to speak English with people, told them
I'd lead the way (I was heading to the same place
afterall). Anyhoo, they were really cute, and very
sweet. They were all sorts of amazed about a young
woman traveling alone. "We'd never do that in our
day," she said. "Couldn't have afforded it," he
added. "We're supposed to be able to afford it?" I
asked. We parted company with kisses and hugs as
though we'd known each other for 20 years instead of
just 20 minutes.

On my second wander through Prague, I crossed the
jam-packed St. Charles Bridge (think of John Voight
hitting the water in the beginnnig of Mission
Impossible) and cruised around the shadow of Prague's
castle (the biggest in Europe?). And, oddly enough, I
had another really good Mexican lunch.

We left Prauge in the rain and got to Vienna in the
rain. And the rain lingered for ages. I had an extra
day in Vienna, so I killed it by doing laundry and
reading 2 books. When I finally did head out into the
city, I walked around the Schonberg palace, past the
Opera House, and the home of the Vienna Boys Choir.
Unfortunately, the boys get July and August off, as do
the opera singers and just about anyone else you'd
want to see in Vienna. So I did what any other person
woud do and spent much of the next day at a cemetary.
(At least I knew that people would be there!)

This place was gi-gantic. Over 2.5 million people are
buried here. (I can't recall the name of the place, as
if you hadn't noticed.) There are plenty of average
joes and janes, huge sections of graves marked only
with Stars of Davids, and a very stately, groomed area
that is the final resting place of some famous guys
named Beethoven, Strauss, Brahms, and Bach. The new
sections of the cemetary were really nice and gave me
no creepy feelings whatsoever. But what fun is that?
I felt inspired to head over to the very old and
overgrown section for a wander around. Some of the
graves were marked with dates back in the 1700s.
Other graves weren't legible at all. And still others
had fallen over, crumbled or, been removed completely.
Ivy grew over most of it, and if it weren't
daylight...well, let's face it, if it weren't
daylight, I sure as hell wouldn't have been there!...I
wouldn't have been surprised to be reliving the night
of the living dead or something like that.
Imaginations are dangerous in places like that!

And that was Vienna. No sausages. :)

>From Vienna we went to Salzburg for two nights. Along
the way I met up with a guy (Ian) who became my travel
buddy for the rest of the week. Together we did the
Sound of Music tour of Salzburg (entertaining EVERYONE
with our (horrible) renditions of the songs). This
was such a great tour. We got to see all of the great
sights from the movie: the Mirabell Gardens, the
abbey, the churches, the gazebo, and the beautiful
house on the lake. The only thing we didn't get to do
(to my and Ian's chagrin) was twirl around on a
hillside....something we were very willing to do
because, amazingly, the sun was out! But that wasn't
part of the tour.

We had dinner that night at what we thought was
Salzburg's famous Augustine beer hall. Actually, it
was Augustine's less-famous and slightly higher-priced
neighbor. But we had a great spread of Austrian food
(schnitzel, hams, cheeses, potato salads) and
monk-made beer.

The next day, Ian and I set out on yet another
organized tour (after spending the morning walking
through Salzburg's old town) to an ice cave in the
Austrian Alps. Can I say that it was cool? It was
cool. It was 0degrees cool. And this time I was
happy that it was rainy and foggy because I wouldn't
have wanted the view from the cable car ride that went
about 1700 meters straight up. The cave, well, it's
an ice cave. In its entirety, the cave goes about
72Ks back into the mountain, but only the first
kilometer is icy, so that's where we stayed. One k
in, one k out. 700 steps in (50 of which were at a 45
degree climb) and 700 steps out (luging ...luge-ing...
was not an option). It was fun, well worth the money,
and as promised by our guide, we got to keep our
souveniers (sore muscles) for several days after. At
this point, 1400 steps and 2ks is nothing, but it was
the 45 minutes of hiking up to the cave that gave me
calves of steel. Santorini's got nothing on the Alps!

Okay, so we finally got out of Salzburg's rain and
made our way to Munich's rain. At this point, none of
us were aware of exactly how much rain was falling in
the region. So, rather than being concerned, we were
still feeling mostly inconvenienced.

Bavaria! Beer, pretzels, cream. (Who needs brown
paper packages wrapped up in string?) We headed to
the Hofbrauhaus almost immediately for a glimpse at
the original beer hall. Bavarians are experts at
denial. Unless you lookup at the ceiling and study it
closely (or read a history book) you'd never know that
this was where the Nazis got their start. There are a
few painted-over swastikas on the ceiling, but
otherwise no mention of Munich's past. In a way, this
is a good thing, so I was told, because it lessens the
number of people who still support the Nazi party from
coming in and protesting and/or celebrating. So
instead they fill the HBHaus with oompapa music, men
in leiderhosen (had a dance with one), and beer
drinking merry makers. Good fun, even though we were
being laughed at by the locals for trying to slog
through the language to chat with the guy who "owned"
our table (same guy I danced with, actually).

>From the Hofbrau we went to a more authentic and less
touristy beer hall where Ian and I split meat loaf and
mac and cheeese. Very much a German specialty! For a
twist, they served the cheeseymac with crispy fried
onions on top. Yummy!

I must confess that I am back on a German keyboard and
the urge to do the z/y thing again is overwhelming. I
started writing this from Nice, but now I find myself
in Switzerland. Today was my second 3-country-day out
of the last 5 days. I don't know which end is up
anymore.

I'm going to give this thing a break for a while, but
will continue soon with the rest of my time in Munich
(complete with a trip to the Magic Kingdom), a quick
stop in Venice, and a very short night in Nice. Plus
I'm sure I'll have some good Swiss tales to tell.

Until then, happy whatever day it is. I personally
have no idea. :)

Love,
Michele

It's been so long, I can't even come up with a subject line

Here goes, folks. A whirlwind catch up on as much as
I can remember from the past couple of weeks.

After a few days of Chinese food in Lisbon (it was
cheap, nearby, and had an english menu) and one
delicious meal of bbq'd chicken, I left Portugal and
made my way back into Spain. The bus rides are only
getting longer at this point, and it took us several
hours to get to Salamanca, Spain. Salamanca is known
as the golden city. Most of the buildings are sandy
colored, and this gives the town a really clean,
bright, and airy feel to it.

Typing time out: I'm writing this from Berlin, where
the keyboard is almost identical to ours in the US.
The only difference is the location of the z and the
y. So, from here on out, I'm just tzping as if I'm on
a "regular" kezboard.

Anzhoo... Salamanca. Beautiful. Home to a huge
universitz and, consequentlz, a lot of American
students doing their studz abroad thing. I onlz
stazed in Salamanca for one night, to avoid a return
trip to Madrid, and to allow mzself a night in San
Sebastian on the coast of Spain, near the French
Border. The train ride took about six hours and was
prettz uneventful. That is, until Jill, mz travel
buddz du jour realiyed that she'd left her passport
behind in Salamanca. Whoops. So I spent a bit of
time talking her down, telling her that it would be
okaz, that the hostel where we were going in San Seb
would not leave her high and drz. She was a bit of a
worrz wart, but calmed down considerablz when we
checked in and found that not onlz could she staz, but
that the new hostel staff would call the other place
and organiye a courier to bring her passport to San
Seb the next daz. (Which is exactlz what happened, as
she told me when we caught up with each other in Paris
a few dazs later.)

San Seb. Beautiful, coastal Spain. Small town, big
cathedral, great beaches. I was there for about 20
hours, 8 of which I was asleep. During the daz, I
stood on a promenade overlooking the Atlantic and
realiyed that I#ve stood on the edge of three
continents. Not too shabbz. When can I go to
Antarctica?? (Just kidding, mom.)

Then we were off to Bordeaux. Or as I liked to call
it, Bored-Doh! Here is where I hit mz slump. I was
tired of buses, trains, and traveling in general. I
didn't want to do anz of the tourist stuff Bordeaux
had to offer (mostlz expensive wine tours anzwaz), and
I had managed to land in a single room at mz hostel
for no extra charge (this is when it pazs to be a solo
traveler). I had mz own room, a tv, and mz verz own
hot-water heater shower. Seriouslz. Ever showered in
an aluminum can before? Quite fun, actuallz. I meant
to take a picture of it, but forgot. I did spend a
lot of time walking around Bordeaux itself. It's a
good, flat citz with (zou guessed it) a big cathedral
at the center of town, and lots of quaint cobblestone
streets with posh, overpriced shops. People were
friendlz, especiallz the guz who ran the hotel. And
thez had a book swap, which alwazs makes me happz.
And since I'd devoured two Sidnez Sheldon books while
I was there (In a daz and a half!), I needed some new
material.

We left Bordeaux bound for Paris on Mondaz morning
with Judz at the helm of the bus. As if in a movie, I
heard the voice of Aussie Chris from the Greek Islands
trip sazing, "If zou get Judz, look out!" Dulz noted.
She was a peach, and a rotten, crankz one at that.
I'm not sure how it is that she was hired to be a
cheerful, chirpz guide, but she's in the wrong
business. After surviving her abrupt, negative
attitude, combined with the absolute worst
nasal-monotone Australian accent I have EVER heard
(and I've heard a lot), we finallz arrived in Paris
and made a mad dash across the street (think Frogger
with a giant backpack) to the lovelz Hotel Avenir.

It's kind of fun to saz the following:
Everztime I'm in Paris, I staz at the Hotel Avenir.
:) But it's true. This was where I stazed for a
night back in Maz between London and Athens (Or, for
those who are pazing close attention, London and
Rome). Last time I spent less than 12 hours in the
place, so imagine mz surprise when I walked in and the
guz said, "Michele! Zou're back!" Whoa... who's got
anzthing bad to saz about French hospitalitz? Not me
anzmore! Pierre (not his real name, but it will do)
was great, he set me up in the best 4-bed room thez
had to offer: the one with the wrap around balconz
overlooking the street that is no longer completelz
ripped up as it was in Maz. No jackhammers and a view
of the Sacre Coer cathedral. Fantastic! As in Maz, I
dumped mz stuff and headed out to find Karen (from
Greece and the small world run-in in Orvieto, Italz)
who had also been on the bus. Together, we gathered
up a small armz of people from the bus, headed for the
supermarket, grabbed a couple of bottles of wine, some
cheese, chocolate, and other treats and made our waz
up to the Sacre Coer for a sunset picnic. Jill, of
the train in Spain, was also there and we basicallz
sat on our bums for 6 hours, watching the lights come
on in Paris. It was great. Super relaxing, and verz
fun. We swapped stories of other travelers. (Like
Troz, a Canadian who was stupid enough to put his
camera in one of those suction trash cans in Seville,
just to film what would happen. What happened? He
got to spend an extra couple of dazs in Seville,
looking through the dump for his camera that got
sucked right off of the string he'd tied it to.)

Daz two in Paris was spent walking, walking, walking.
I walked from the hotel to the the big cemetarz where
Jim Morrison (and, unbeknownst to me, Gertrude Stein)
is buried. As cemeteries go, it was prettz spiffz.
Verz cool, shaded, and cobbled. And packed! (People
are dzing to get in! Har, har, ahem...) In some
sections, I couldn't walk between the graves because
thez were so close together. Of the headstones I saw,
the oldest person buried there was born in 1756.
Jim's itself was prettz bland. And I didn't know the
thing about Gertrude Stein until later that daz, while
reading a new book (Around the World in 80 Dates)
where the author has one of her dates with, zou got
it, Jim Morrison. :)

That daz in Paris was probablz one of mz best dazs on
the trip. In France, no less! I wouldn't have guessed
it. But the weather was perfect, the people were
friendlz (or at least weren't rude) and I had the best
picnic ever on the grass in front of the Eiffel tower.
All I did was stop at a supermarket for a can of tuna
salad, an avocado, and a baguette, and let me tell zou
that simple pleasures trulz are the best. It was
fantastic.

The next daz I wandered around to Notre Dame, walked
around the outside of the Louvre (I don't like art
enough to deal with the inside of it), and made mz waz
(surprise) to the Hard Rock Cafe for lunch. From
there I took a long walk (in the wrong direction) to
the hotel. When I finallz got there, all I wanted to
do was take a nap. I had the room to mzself, and was
read for some R&R&R(eading). Great timing for the
Avenir to have a construction worker in the room,
redoing the bathroom. I went downstairs to ask Pierre
what, if anzthing, could be done, and he simplz gave
me a kez to the room next door, told me that those
people weren't checking in until later, and said to
enjoz mz nap. I love that guz! (Even though I wasn't
too sure about the whole, "sleep in their bed before
thez arrive" thing.) After the siesta, I made mz waz
back to the Eiffel Tower (or "Awful" tower as I
overheard a little girl call it the daz before) to
meet up with the Fat Tire bike tour people.

The evening bike tour of Paris is, rightfullz so, the
most popular excursion with Busabout travelers.
Tickets are sold on the bus before we arrive, and of
the people I've talked to, no one has regretted
shelling out the €22 for the tour. We met around 7,
got going around 7:30 and rode around Paris for a few
hours before hopping on a boat that would take us
along the Seine, past the tower, past Notre Dame, past
the Louvre and everz other cool touristz sight along
the river (including Paris's "beach" and a replica of
the Statue of Libertz). The tour was great, and our
guide was hilarious. We raced around the courtzard of
the Louvre, had skid contests on the Champs de Elzsee,
and all in all wreaked havoc on the citz streets for
the night. It was great!

Finallz, though, it was time to bid Adieu to Paris,
and hop the bus for Amsterdam. We made a quick stop
in Brugge, Belgium, long enough to get a few pictures
and some indigestion from a burger eaten waz too
quicklz (no hot, smellz food allowed on the bus).
Around 6, we made it into Amsterdam, and I immediatelz
headed out of the citz to a little town called
Hoofddorp. Whz? Long-lost friends and free
accommodation!

Zup, I caught up with Mo, a good friend of mine and
best friend of mz brother, Dan. Mo moved to Holland a
few zears ago, settled down and in Februarz welcomed a
son. So, not onlz do I get good, home cooked meals,
laundrz, friendlz faces, I get a babz/nephew fix.
Loved it, needed it, and relished it. The weather was
tzpical Amsterdam summer (according to Mo) which I
guess is okaz since I'm sure mz rain jacket and
umbrella were feeling prettz left out all this time.
And I was happz to put that Universitz of Salamanca
hooded sweatshirt to good use. I spent two full dazs
getting absolutelz lost around Amsterdam, one daz
lounging at the house and watching a little bit of
baseball (Mo is a coach for one of the local teams),
and a daz wandering around Rotterdam and The Hague.
Minus the getting lost part, I loved it all. Even the
cold weather was a welcome change. Amsterdam is all
bridges, canals, and biczcles (with legaliyed drugs
and prostitution thrown in). The red light district
was an adventure in itself, the true challenge easilz
being avoiding ezecontact with both the women behind
the windows, and men walking out of the "salons." I
was also happz to find mzself back in bagel-land. Zou
never realiye how much zou miss a bagel until zou
can't find one anzwehre. Mz first return to this
gastronomical delight came in the form of a toasted
sesame bagel with chive cream cheese, and fresh
avocado and tomato. I could have (and should have)
taken a picture of it. I had everz intention of
checking out the Anne Frank museum, but so did
everzone else in the citz (a lot of people considering
that during this one weekend, the area was plazing
host to a Formula 1 race, a huge dance festival, and
Amsterdam's Gaz Pride) who wanted to get out of the
rain for a while. The line went around the block, so
I did the same and kept walking until I reached the
flower market where roughlz 5,342,645,845 tulip bulbs
are available for sale.

The meter here is ticking. If I keep going on with
the highs and lows of Amsterdam, I won't have time for
Berlin!

Berlin! A cold, graz, concrete jungle, but still
beautiful in it's own waz. I covered a lot of the
same ground on both dazs, except todaz I did it on a
bike (another Fat Tire tour) whereas zesterdaz I
walked. The first major sight was the Brandenburg
Gate and Pariesen Platy. The gate itself has several
places in the historz books, but is most recentlz seen
as the backdrop from all of the people celebrating the
fall of the wall back in 89. (And, incidentallz, on
the other side of the gate is the schwankz hotel where
wacko-Jacko dangled his babz a few zears ago!) From
Brandenburg, I headed over to the uber-controversial
Memorial to the Murdered Jews of Europe. Super
controversion for a few reasons:
1) Some think that there are more than enough
memorials to the murdered Jews, and not enough to
others who lost their lives during the holocaust
(gzpsies, gazs, disabled, and those who were killed
for harboring anz of the above),
2) The siye of the memorial. It's about the siye of a
citz block,
3) Location, location, location. Some think that
building a memorial to murdered jews atop a former
Nayi bunker is poor planning. And finallz, the corker
4) To protect the memorial from grafitti (which is
legal) thez coated it with a chemical that would allow
for easz removal of the paint. The problem? It
wasn't until after the contract was signed that
someone realiyed that the companz supplzing the
chemical was a subsidiarz of the companz that supplied
the Nayi partz with the gas used at the different
death camps.
Still, all of those things in mind, the memorial
itself is prettz impressive.

Both the bike tour and mz foot tour took me through
Potsdamer Platy (more emptz office space than anzwhere
in Europe), along parts of the Berlin wall (humming
Pink Flozd all the waz), past Checkpoint Charlie, and
bz several different cathedrals, government buildings,
and monuments to Soviets, Germans, Allied Forces, etc.

Berlin is a concrete citz. I even saw a mixer with an
orange rhombus! Go RMC/Cemex!

Wow. Mz time is up! I'm off to Prague tomorrow and
then Austria for about a week. It's getting harder
and harder to pack up everz three dazs, but it's
almost over. Amaying!

Best alwazs!
Michele

More photos

Hey everyone,

Pictures from France, Belgium, and Holland are online.
Details will follow (eventually).

Ciao!
Michele

(http://www.michelesumma.com)