Last day in Baden

Baden is really a gorgeous place. However, the internet is way too expensive, and the weather is on the cusp of a downpour. Any minute the sky is going to open, and I need to find some shelter for a couple hours.

Luckily there is a library here. With English books! There is something really nice about sitting in a hotel away from home reading a book you have read a million times before. Unfortunately, it is not the easiest place to find... better start walking!

Tonight I am going to services (with all my bags) then I have to run to the train station to catch a train to the Vienna S-Bahn and a metro to the airport. night at the airport, airplane to Italy, train to Sulmona, no idea how to hotel (hopefully ther eis a bus) Ahh, life is not EASY travelling alone!

Strecker II

So I did not win. Well, I won a book, but not an actual prize. The competition turned strange today - all the rules changed.

I arrived today (30 mins hike in the RAIN) and my accompanist was not there yet. We had a scheduled practise time but he was not there. So I waited and waited and 5 minutes before I was supposed to sing he showed up. Remember, I had NEVER heard these pieces played. They had been mailed to my by the competition just a couple of weeks ago, when I was in Salzburg, and since then I have not had piano access at all. So. He gets there and he wanted to just zip through the songs, but unfortunately, Strecker accompaniments from the 1930s were heavily influenced by Berg and Schoenburg. The melody is simple, the melody with the accompaniment is not so simple. I made him go over it a couple of times.
Then, the organizer of the competition came over. he said that I was to sing only the operette today. (We had just wasted 6 minutes going over the Wiener Lied), and so I did, and it went really well, for a wordy German piece that I had just learned.
The next bunch of people all sang 2 songs - Operetta aria and Wiener Lied, so I felt a bit put-out and went to investigate.

I asked around and got a bunch of excuses from different people. Time was running short (or something like that) that is all they needed to hear, bla bla. Finally someone told me that last night the rules had suddenly been changed: If you are not from Wien you are VERBOTEN to sing a Wienerlied. Why? Because as a non-Viennese (later extended to non-German or Austrian) you will obviously not comprehend the subtleties of the lyrics.
Now, the lyrics are all about wine. and dancing and song. I was the only person there who was not German, and I felt a bit more put-out (especially as the winner was calculated by adding up Wienerlied points and Operetta points). Not to rave of conspiracies, but come ON. They LOVE rules over here. I did not know they like changing rules, though. (For example, one girl changed her repertoire, and the head of the competition ahd to be found and dragged onto the stage to assure the uneasy jury that a a song change was permitted)

Obviously, I did not win. It was a lot of fun, but I feel that I did not even have a chance today.

On a different subject, I found the synagogue last night and there was a nice lady there who invited me to services tomorrow. Getting to the airport is more of a Schlepp later at night, but I am interested so I will go. Her son is moving to Grande Prairie Alberta. Isn´t that CRAZY?

Synagogue

There is a synagogue here. I am going to find it now. And then supper.


BADEN SYNAGOGUE - BETHAUS BADENGrabengasse 142500 Baden bei WienTel: 02236- 26383www.synagogenverein.atEmail: synagogenverein@gmx.at Jüdischer Synagogenverein Baden f d Bundesland Niederösterreich

Strecker Competition

I am in lovely Baden. It is like Vienna, but charming and there are no beggars. I know, the elite should not only live in a town, but it is so much more comfortable to walk the streets.

The Pension is beautiful. I sang in the competition this morning and spent all day with my new friends, awaiting the results.

And...

I made the finals!!! Yipes! I am the ONLY non-German in the competition. Wish me luck. There are only 3 prizes and 13 finalists, but we´ll see...

Wet in Wien

Whenever I come to Austria it rains. Non-stop. I am sure that Vienna is a lovely city, but all I can see are wet, dripping people and wet, dripping awnings.

And wet, dripping me.

My hostel here offered free laundry however, and now my clothes are clean. Finally! I arrived at 11:30, picked up the laundry at a quarter to 1 (am!) and put it in the dryer and fell asleep. I woke up at 3 absolutely freezing. I had been sleeping in a tank top and a curduroy skirt, as everything else was in the wash. SO cold. Luckily, when I went downstairs my dryer clothes were warm and dry. I stole some extra sheets for the bedroom, but it was still the coldest night yet.

I was awoken in the morning at 8 by everyone leaving, and I lay there shivering until 9, when they came to tell me checkout is 9am.

I am back at the hostel now, to pick up my heavy bags and to head to Baden. Hopefully if I ever come to Vienna again it will be dryer.

I am sick of McDonalds hamburgers and salads. It is often the only palce around that has seats - the Europeans seem to fancy eating standing at a table. I am sick of Beggars. One came up to me while I was eating crackers for breakfast and asked me for one. I gave him 3 - being hungry is no fun, and he got all angry - he had only asked for ONE. Like I wanted it back now. The other day I offered some of my extra food to a beggar and she was just a woman sitting down. Humiliating!! (for us both). I am sick of the rain and the wet clothes and always having so much to lug around and the constant heavy purse (money, documents, camera, vid camera), and of not knowing if I will get any sleep and I want to go home. 19 days. I should have been more excited about a day in Vienna, but all I could thin is... 4 more steps to the corner, 5 more steps to that bench...

I did pop in some important church. The doorway was swarming with beggars. Inside it cost to climb over the church and it cost go climb below the church, and the only way to see the middle of the church was to pay a guide to go there. Rediculous. Salzburg is a much more sensible city.

Thinking about it, it rained last week too. Rainy tuesdays. Did I meantion that at this hostel, the Porzelleum, the rooms were clean, but when I looked under the mattress (last week I was at a place with bedbugs) there were TWO bugs there. One sort of looked like I thought a flea would look. I slept with the light on. There were no elevators, and my room was on the 3rd floor (remember that ground level is ZERO). The internet here is not cheap, but elsewhere in the city it is something like 1.50 for each 10 minutes (!) Everywhere else in Europe it is 1-2€/hour.

There isn´t much more to write. Travel is suppsoed to be fun, but this is not fun anymore. I don´t know when the fun stopped, but I just want to go to Fountain Park Pool and sit in the dry sauna and be warm. Then go home and have a big bowl fo Tomato soup. That would be heaven!

Forgot something about Rome ---

There is a tidbit about Roma I forgot to mention when I was there - since I have a few mins, I might as well mention it now.

In the centre of Rome there is a pit of some ancient ruin. In the pit they have deposited all of the street cats. Probably ´pit´is not the right term. It is a large area set down from the street. The cats are given food and water and a huge playground of ruins. What a great way to deal with stray cats! They are not being killed and they are living happy lives and not being a nuisence.

A few thoughts on Munich

Despite the initial absence of H&Ms (because, to be fair, I have not seen a lot of the city and possibly if I had explored more than the 5 or so streets that I had travelled I would have seen one or eight of them), Munich is a better city than Frankfurt.

There are less beggars (although, as in Rome, the beggars here kneel with their arms held out, all the time. I am really, really sorry that they are beggars, but that is just humiliating for them.)

There are Belgian-style fries and waffles, and beer and pretzels everywhere. Salad is cheap (finally!) but dressing costs extra. In the market at Marionplatz there was one booth with pigs´ faces on sale (by the kg - and no, I don´t know if the price was good! Actually the faces were horrific. The cheeks and ears and eyes were gone, but the sweet pouting snouts were not. MUCH more disgusting than the body-church in Rome), and at the next booth there were little pigs fashioned from twigs and cord to make into a fall lawn display, even with little nametags with cute little piggy names on them (like Eliza and Bella). Such a contrast!

Newspapers and the Subway are the honour system (yes, I paid!), and everyone is really polite and friendly. Many more Germans and less immigrants from Africa or Asia. For once, the train station is not the sex district.

There are all sorts of pictures of Munich back in the day. "The Day" seems to have ended suddenly in 1929 and started again in 1945. There are no pictures of hotels of historic inscriptions or statues of things that happened between those years. I am split. Partly I agree with that. They don´t deserve to have a history from those years. Anything they would boast of would have to be Nazi-related. On the other hand, it is awfully convenient that they are allowed to erase16 years of history. And it is unsettling to see Dachau on the U-Bahn (subway) map.

Urban-planning wise, this city (and probably any city in Germany or Austria) is far superior to anything in Italy. There are elevators. In the suway, there is an escalator that runs both up- and downwards, depending from which direction it is approached. (I could not help pondering the fate of the poor escalator´s robotic brain if two people - one on the top and one below - were to approach it at the exact same moment. Chaos, no doubt.

At one point in this trip I made an important discovery (now, I am probably the only one who did not already know this, but I am still feeling clever). The word ALPINE comes from ALP. I just always figured it was amy mountains. But on the day I went with R to the nunners I was speed-walking in the rain back to the train, and I sniffed the heavenly air and thought,
"I love Alpine air. Especially in the Al...WAIT!" I have also realized that everything I love about Jasper and Banff (the pretty flowers outside the windows of the log cabins, the log cabins, the pace of life, etc.) is basically a copy of the real thing, which is here. I still adore our mountains, but the air in the alps, and it is so gorgeous. We passed though Innesbruck yesterday, which is right in the mountains, and it was so neat! I bet there is great skiing nearby (it is also great fun to take a train under a mountain. Mountians, hill, mountain, under under under under - hey, no more mountains?!)

Only 1:20 until the train leaves for Vienna. I mailed the books, but decided that customs would not appreciate the sentiment of the fake Prada, but might instead dwell on the tag proclaiming it as a real purse. It will have to be mailed from home. When I was at the post office I explained that I was mailing books and asked how much. She said it would cose 18.00€!! Yipes!! I explained again SLOWLY in my prettiest German that they were books and don´t cost that much (Belgium has no special book rate. Germany does. Looky what I know!) In the end it cost 4.50€, which is totally worth it to send 4 really good (and heavy) books to someone who will appreciate them (I hope).

I am nervous about tonight´s hotel. It is a budget hotel, which has gine both ways in the past. Could be simple and charming, could be crawling with evil.

(Did I mention, Expedia refunded me the money for the toilet-seat free night back in Antwerp. Refer to posts from Sept 11, 12. Free money, and I totally deserve it after that night!)

Und tag im Munich

In 2 hours I go to Vienna. I am torn. I feel that I should be out walking all around this Bevarian city and enjoying the crowds and the great weather, but all I want to do is sit. My legs say "Nein!"

I did use them to get to Marionplatz, where I bought lunch at the Market there - Hommous, bits of Feta in tomato sauce, and a pretzel and bread to dip. The market was fun to see (especially since I knew R had been there just a few weeks ago), but the cheese was hard to eat ohne fork, and the only places to sit were at the beer gardens. Well-dressed people were sitting all over eating, so I found a ledge, plopped down and had a great lunch. I bought a green prune for dessert (so good!) and some for dinner tonight.

I also used the feet to get to the apotheke (pharmacy, though here most drugs are over the counter, it seems...), where I got a cream for my feet, which are really dry from all the use, probably) When I went to buy the cream, I was trying to explain in german, and I used a bunch of really relevant words (or so I thought), and all of a sudden her face lit up and she announced really loudly in the small store: AHHH, I understand! A YEAST infection!

Cry.

Now I must convince my tired feet to go to the post office, where we are mailing an illicit purse and some books to my sis. Am I a horrible person not to take advantage of bing here? Probably so. I took a lot of pictures to compensate.

Au revoir to Paris...Guten tag to Munich

Actually I left from ROME - but when I opened this page the title came up - someone else must have used it. Less typing for me, just imagine it says ROMA. (and ciao instead of au revoir) I guess the ready-made title didn´t save any effort after all...

So, 11:36 on a train (yes, that is hours. Almost twelve hours), and I am here in Germany. We travelled north from Rome to Bologna and then to Verona and then into Austria, through the gorgeous mountains, and then into Germany. There were farmhouses and lakes and it was so pretty. I looked out the window and knit a hat to match a scarf I had knit. Now I have a pretty fall set to wear if it ever gets chilly. I had a seat by the window and managed to sit alone the entire time. On a train ride that long, even greeting someone else is dangerous - one hello and you are sudden 11:36-hour companions. Nein Danke!

My body is not train-happy. My fingers are really stiff, so not much typing. The trip was uneventful. The hotel here is gorgeous - typical business hotel, but after last night it is just heaven. I checked in, took a quick shower, and hiked the km or so to Oktoberfest. There is so much to write about Oktoberfest, and I am so tired! Here are some of the highlights (I will elaborate later)

-Liederhosen on the men. Tres funny. Not just fat jolly men, but the 20-year olds who would usually not be seen dead in anything that is not übercool. The little shorts are funny. The rolled socks are funny. I wish my dad would dress in hosen (maybe once)!
-Some of the women are wearing dirndls, but most of the younger girls are dressed in slutted-out dresses and aprons. Barmaid-style, with bosoms spilling over and much petticoat and leg showing.
-The kids´rides there included a pony ride with real ponies and a train ride around a garden filled with theose stupid red-capped gnomes
-The beer tents! SOO funny!
-The live oompah-band that accompanied the spinner ride.
-The mouse circus. Thisis the only thing I bought a ticket to see. 300 white mice playing on boxes and running accross tightropes
-Everyone was wearing gingerbread hearts with messages around their necks. Better the boyfriend, (or drunker) the bigger the heart. I bought a modest 1.5€ heart - yum!

There is so much more. I am starving though - I haven´t eaten since 10:30 this morning (it is 9:30 pm) and I bought a salad and pretzel and yoghurt drink. It is handy being beside the station - little supermarktes with cheap eats (re not eating all day - the train didn´t ever STOP to let us get off for a moment. Hm!!)

Hell night in the Hostel

This is the HELL hostel. It is almost enought to drive me to whatever religion will ensure that I never have to be here again.

This converstion just happened:
"Hey, you what have you been up to tonight?"
"I've been out, you know, just got in. You?"
"Oh, I've just been - you know - smoking some hash"
"Have any more?"

It is 4:30. Why am I not in my bed? Well, at 3:30 one drunken group came into the dorm, and at 4:00 the second group came in. By 4:30 there was a constant squeqk, squeqkkk....

Now.

I am not a prude. Well, maybe I am a bit of a prude, but I like to think that I am not a prude. Even if I sigh when I see people (any people) sitting in a restaurant together, and sigh again when I see someone actually helped with her bags, I am very comfortable with travelling alone. However, sex in a 10 person dorm is not only inappropriate, it is annoying. I want to sleep!
Between the hash-induced musings behind me and the love den in the dorm room, I do not know which one to choose.

2 Hours until the train.

Backpacker's Hostel

There is internet in the hostel. And Argentinian music. Everyone seems to be having fun and laughing and I feel a bit left out. I don't really know that much Spanish. Still, it is fun to watch. I forgot how hostels provide amusement, if not companionship. The beds look clean enough.

I need to figure out where I'm staying for the rest of the trip - there are just so many open nights still! Budapest... Rome when I come back.. cry!

I changed my hotel in Baden bei Wien to one a lot less fancy but a third of the price. That is much better! now I feel less guilty. There will be other opportunities for luxury, and I'm sure the new place will be JUST FINE.

Nothing else up. Someone here is playing a guiter. Sleep is for the lonely, so I will not think negative thoughts about the noise :)

Last Day in Rome (this week...)

Ciao Roma. I will be back in one week, but for now, I am on the way out.

I was not sure how to spend the day. I am really exhausted, and walking around town in a skirt always results in bugbites or chafed legs, however today I needed a break from the pants.

I spent part of the day at the Vatican, watching people come and go and stand in line. That turned into a purse-buying expedition for a friend of my mum. I love shopping for purses, it is just as fun when it is for someone else! Then I went to the train station, to change some of my US currency into Euros. In the station, for 40$ US I would receive €22. What?! There is no WAY the rate was that bad! I growled something angry and stomped outside to the ratty area where I had been living. Changing the money there got me €32. Better. Just out of curiosity (and because it was hot outside and the station is air-conditioned) I stood for awhile and read the departures bulletin. Hm.. no train to Munich at all... but.. but...

So off the information bureau, which involved taking a number and waiting for ages in nice clean chairs. Hmm, this I could get used to. I could stay here all day taking numbers and asking questions....Finally my number (74) was called. I was informed in Italian that yes, there was a train tomorrow. Why was it not on the board? It just was not. Okay.

While waiting to pose my pressing query, I met a girl from California who had travelled to Rome for business, and who had actually ducked into the information room for somewhere to sit. My idea!! She had not seen any of Rome, because the subway scared her (there is no metro in California I guess) and she did not talk any Italian. She was Buddhist, but she still wanted to see the vatican (and to get a purse like I had just bought) so we headed there. We found the purse, and she was thrilled. However, then the seller licked the leather to prove that it was real. No more purse for her! I gave her lessons in how to tell a real from a fake (I am sooo cultured!) but we did not and up finding any other acceptable purses. In the Vatican, we went to see Pope JPII's grave, and she wanted to go into the cathedral. I was wearing a tank top and I warned her that I would not be allowed in. However, we decided to try, and I was waved through the modesty check. We spent about 10 minutes in the church, when I was approached by the MODESTY POLICE. I was asked to leave St. Paul's Cathedral! Yikes!! I said I would leave, and that I understood (in Italian), and he started marching towards the door and telling me to hurry hurry. I told him that I would go but I was not going to run through the crowds. I had been let in after all! I covered my shoulders with hair and a designed bag, but still he hurried us. Then we walked by his superior, and that man started yelling at him and he started yelling at us, and finally I said (loudly! In Italian!!) that I understood and I did not mind leaving. And I was leaving, so don't get angry. Our first escort apologized to us and said that he just did not want to get into trouble. Everyone seemed to expect that we were going to make a huge fuss. Wai was just confused about why I was immodist (the tank top covers a LOT), and I was trying not to laugh. I did not mind leaving -respect for other religions and all that. HOWEVER, if they have a pre-modesty check and if I PASS that I should not be embarrassed in the church. And HONESTLY, are bare shoulders worse than some of the other things there...? One man was wearing speedo-tight bike shorts. You could see everything. AT least in Jerusalem they will give tourists something to wrap around themselves when modesty is required.

Ahh, thrown out of the church...

After that Wai found some presents for her kids at home, and I walked her to ther hotel shuttle bus. She was still nervous. She could not believe she had taken the subway. She thought I was amazingly adept at the tourist thing. Yes, I AM remarkable. Everyone should realize it!

I made my exhausted way to my new hostel. However, I had been moved to another hostel with the same company. Not the quiet hostel that I had booked, but the PARTY HOSTEL. There will be stories tomorrow. And that is all!

Surviving Naples

I am safely back in Rome! Honestly, maybe I am crazy (no comments NECESSARY on that one), but all of Naples felt very sinister to me. Outside seemed threatening. Really, I am not making it up...

I slept well in my luxurious private room (I actually missed the way the bed at Roma's Albergo Lucia caved in in the middle... I sleep really well in a saggy bed, I suppose - well, I am back in that room tonight, so...). I woke up early and was out of the hotel within 10 minutes. Things to do!

(A small side note on the state of my pants. I was looking back at my pictures, and I realized that I last washed my pants on September 1, on the farm in France. The first two pairs were dirtied within a week (rainy weather), and so that means I must have been wearing these pants for...ugh! Way too long. Aren't I charming?)

So I left the hotel (It only cost 20€! Was supposed to cost 19.60E, but I was not getting technical - I had gotten way better than I had paid for) and hurried to the Circumvesuvio station. (Let me insert a note here about how classy the elevator was in the hotel - it was cute with the wire grille and sliding door, but it cost .05 centimes to use. A PAY elevator!? Needless to mention, I did not use the elevator). The circumvesuvio is a mix between the train and the metro, and it's route - obviously - is circling Mount Vesuvius. Pompeii is halfway around, and Sorrento is at the end of the route. Long long long minutes later, we arrived. Luckily I had managed to - uh - borrow a book from the hostel. Eleanor Rigby by Douglas Coupland. It was a fast read but so nice to have an English book! Soon I will be out of reading.

But back to the story - I am talking to family on the computer at the same time, so it is hard to concentrate - I dont't want to put this off however, since there is always something else to write about tomorrow! So I arrived in Sorrento, and followed the boisterous Americans to the shopping district. There did not seem like there was much to do there - The 1232th (or so) Italian church, hotels, restaurants and cafes, and shops. The specialty of this region was:
1. Pompeii recreations (statues, mosaics)
2. Pottery with bright colours - lots of green and yellow - which was nice but slightly tacky
3. Tiles with paintings of the region
4. Inlaid wood chess sets and music boxes
5. Lemon Liquer

The best part (well, not best for me, but I wish some of YOU could have been there) was that there were so many liqueur stores, all making basically the same product, that they all offered samples so the discerning consumer could make an educated choice. Sometimes there were free lemon chocolates and lemon cookies too. I couldn't resist trying the liqueur once though - it actually burned the lips! No germs in my mouth after that!! It was actually quite good though. I bought some gelato (green melon and special lemon. As a word of gelato advice, anything with the word special in it usually invilves coconut. Ew! I had made this mistake before, but I had forgotten. The two flavours did not go well together, as the lemoni was creamy and the melon was fruity. Still, gelato is gelato..) and looked at the shops. I was a good girl though! Snap-a-holic with the camera but not shop-a-holic.

I wandered down a side street and was suddenly met with a superb view of the mare and mount Vesuvius. I sat there for awhile enjoying the sun and the sea air, then decided to brave Naples and try to see the Pompeii exibits in the National Naples museum.

Back in Napoli...

The walk to the museum was scary. Nothing in particular (besides crossing the roads. In Rome the cars do not stop at a scosswalk, but they do slow down, and one can step in front of them and they will generally stop. Not so in Naples. They actually speed up towards pedestrian crossings. I had heard it was so, but now I believe it. NOT pleasant, and those Vespas come by even during red lights). I passed a few interesting shops.

The first was a pizza shop, where a they had a washroom (phew!) and where a full pizza cost 1€. Really! They folded it up and wrapped it so I could munch and march at the same time. Manners are fine, but this was Naples! The other shop I passed was a pet shop. However, this pet shop was no typical place (or maybe it was, for Naples...)

There were guinea pigs cuddling bunnies. There were finches with long tail feathers and purple birds with yellow eyes. There were squirrels scampering another cage, and on the front stoop pf the shop was a large strutting rooster. There were not any gerbils (probrbly for the best, since I honestly did not know if I could have walked away without one), and in the hamster cage everyone looked fat and well fed. However. On the top level of the hamster cage was a pink foot with a white legbone attached, and some fluff. This had been a hamster, but it had been ET UP! Then I noticed that in the window, just above the bright plastic animal cages, was a display of handcuffs and huge guns. A pet and gun shop? Why not? Rooster guarding firearms + bloodthirsty flesh-eating hamsters = GOTTA GO!

I hurried to the museum. Admission was a shocking 9€, and then 5€ for the audioguide (unlike in the Met in NYC, where every couple of paintings were explained by the audioguide, in this place I used the machine maybe 7 times in total. Waste of money!). No discount for Canadian students, and about 75% of the displays were closed. I objected and was told that the government decided the admission prices and they could not change it just because ther was nothing to see. Grrr, ITALY! Still, the treasures of Pompeii was open and that is why I had came, and it was so worth it.

Some of the hilights of the museum were (today is a very list-y day. It makes it easier to stay on track when I am so tired):

-The statues of the always-sexy Athena and Julius Caesar.
-The statue from Pompeii (most was from Pompeii) of two dogs closely resembling Ginnie and Maxie attacking a wild Boar. Awww, puppies!
-The mosaics from the floors and walls of Pompeii. One of them used over a MILLION little tiles.
-Paintings from Pompeii. Actual portraits. In the Met museum there had been ancient Egyptian paintings from the pyramids, but I had not been certain that they were paintings (had not invested in an audioguide!) from ancient Egypt. Now, not to be controversial, but since there were paintings from 200 BC - 72 BCE, why didn't some ancient artist ever set up her ancient wooden easel and paint a portrait of Jesus? They painted serpents and middle-class artisans and houses and wild boars, so why not...? Oh well *waiting for angry responses* I am curious though...that would sure cure people of the white-man-with-sandy-locks-and-blue-eyes notion!
-Ancient inventions. The dark ages sure were a drag! Living in filth and diesease, when in ancient times all sorts of nifty technology actually existed. There were surgeries, and water-clocks, and there were even steam-powered dolls who walked and whose eyes moved. And there was even indoor plumbing. No wonder people loved Pompeii!
-The cool corners where I could sit and rest for a minute in relative (this is still Naples after all) safety...ahhh!
-And... the best room of all... The FORBIDDEN ROOM OF SECRETS (they called it something dramatic like that). If you were under 14 you had to go in with a parent. Good thing I am not under 14! What was in the room, you wonder. Casts of Pompeii victims? Mystical instruments?? No! It was a whole display of Penises! There was a display case laballed (one of the few things in the entire museum labelled at all) "24 plaster penises". There were statues of
them jutting up from the floor and thrusting out from the walls. There were organs enough and of such length and girth to make any man hang his head in shame at his own inadequecy. There were penis necklaces and penis rings and a headless statue in a toga with the biggest (ew. only. ONLY! I guess losing one head makes the other one twice as effective? Hee hee!) Italian erection I have ever seen. There were erotic paintings and statues (let me note that there were breasts all over the museum. This was truly a male-oriented room) and little tin figures one inch tall with two inch endowments. The most creative organ I saw was part of a mobile. It had two feet, a little tail, and wings. Every man's dream!

After the museum I took the metro (all that scary walking was only one stop of metro!) back to the termini and got on my first-class train back to Rome. The first class compartment was of course the furthest, and was full of squalling children, and a cell phone which rang out the 'Sex and the City' theme about twice a minute. Ahh, they do know how to pamper a girl in this country!

I am back in Rome. Time to go to bed!

The Pompeii Dog

If any one is actually reading the posts here, or read their St. Albert 3rd grad reader, they will know about the Pompeii dog. Well, when I arrived at Pompeii, there was a dog, just like the one in the book! It wasn't dead though, but happy and cavorting through the ruins. It was like areward for actually reading all those stories!

Pompeii

Mamma Mia!! I am in Naples - the birthplace of Naples and the biggest crime city north of Sicily. on the way I was probably warned a half dozen times to watch out there are thieves everywhere, so I am walking around terrified, clutching my purse and looking mean. The train rider here was supposed to just take 2.5 hours, but it took almost 4. First the train left the station 20 mins late. Then we stopped at ever little place on the way, and when we were just outside the Naples main station (and at quite a right-angle..on the side of a hill) we stopped. Just stopped for almost an hour, because our track was being used by another train and another and another. The locals were not please. Actually, 'not pleased' is a drastic understatement. They had been pretty patiend when the inside lights did not turn on in that 5km tunnel and we were in absolute pitch blackness, but not now. The conductor came in to apologize and everyone started yelling at him. I got a bunch of it on tape. Yell yell yell, then one girl turned to the camera, smiled widely, threw open her arms, and announced "Welcome to Naples!" Uh oh.

I only harassed a little bit in the station. One begger asked if I would spare change and I told him no (he was so obviously not a real beggar) and he tried to push close and started ranting about how I did have the money. I yelled at him to go away and he did. People were right! As soon as I could grab a slice of unhealthy Naples pizza (buffalo mozzerella... yummm...) I bought a ticket for Pompeii and escaped.

The ride around Mount Vesuvius was uneventful but long. Getting into Pompeii involved buying a ticket, bartering for a little book, and then pushing past all the crowds. I almost got in a yelling fight with one lady. Welcome to Naples...

Pompeii was amazing. There were ruins and even plasters of some bodies.

There were ancient shops and great houses. You could just imagine some priest mentioning that the Vesuvius Gods were geting a little angry and that perhaps it was time to relocate, and the people of Pompeii saying that it was not possible - the tile was just laid, and it is so hard to pry 2345243 stones out of the foyer every time one moved...

There were paintings on the wall and tiles and I walked around in awe of everything until from the direction of the volcano there came a deep rumble. And another. And another! I had seen enough. If the evil Vesuvius monsters wanted me out, I was going. On one side (the side of the volcano) the sky was dark and evil-looking. On the other side the sun was shining preternaturally brightly, meaning that something was going to happen, soon. No-one else seemed to care. However, SOMEONE had learned from the whole ruined-city-disaster. Time to go!

Going was not so easy. I found two eaqually uneasy English girls and we managed to find an exit by climbing down a very steep (and off-limit) wall. We were safe. It was an exit, but not the exit where I had left my backpack. I asked them the fastest way there and the man pointed vaguely towards the mountain. "Just cut across the cemetary", he said cheerily, "then walk accross the entire city and you will be there." That was 2km or so. On cobblestones. But I made it, and I escaped!

Waiting for the train back no-one was discussing the wonders of Pompeii. There were two flaming American brothers discussing how to wash the younger brother's hat. The older one suggested that although it had not been washed in 8 years, perhaps now was the time, and for it not to list its shape, it should be washed in the top part of the dishwasher - with the cups on the bottom level, so as not to waste a load... There were 3 nerdy-looking friends discussing that if you started the role-playing game on level 20 with 0% strength, was there another way to get through the door. You would have two swords of course.

I have never felt happier to be solo. Imagine, I could be that nerdy!

My hotel in Naples is in the scary area, but when I went to check in, they gave me a private room (I had reserved a 5-girl dorm). I am not arguing. I have been moved around with Hostelworld before. I am thrilled though and can't wait to take the hunk of cheese and the Happy Hippo I bought for supper back to the room and lie down. I asked for a formaggio piquante and the deli man gave me a sample bigger then the piece I wanted to buy. All the muzak in the stores sound like themes from The Sopranos. What a funny city!

A Rome Day

Today I decided to check out some of the Roman sights that I had missed the last time I was here (Just over a year ago). I had seen the Vaticano and inside the Colosseo, so I tried to see different bits of Rome. So...

(What I really wanted to do is shop for more purses. A friend of my mom has put in a request for one, so I get to shop GUILT FREE. I would make a great personal shopper, by the way. That or a tour guide. If anyone is hiring...)

I started out at the pyramid or Cestius. Basically because I had been disappointed missing it last time, and because it is located on a subway line. My feet are tired! I do not have a tour book, but basically what I know about the pyramisd is that Julius Caesar went to Egype (where he met Cleopatra) and then came back to Rome and had the pyramid built as a souvenir. When in Rome, do as the Egyptians do! However Caesar actually did much better than the Egyptians, as it took just over 300 days to build the pyramid. I walked around it and in the back discovered a huge walled cemetary. A FAMOUS walled cemetary. Keats is buried there, and I think Goethe's son, and there are anciant graves (including 3 crushed men they found when excavating the pyramis), as well as some from only a few years ago. From what I can gather it is an exclusive place to be buried - diplomats who died while travelling and rich doctors. The monuments are gorgeous, though - statues of grief-stricken angels, cherubs, and even stone lovers cavorting on the graves.

After wandering through the gardens, I was starving. I was also really excited because I was on my way to see a church made all from bones. It had been closed last time I was in the country, and it was not a holy-sounding place. Just macabre.

I ate lunch at a little restaurant around the corner from the church. I had not eaten at a real restaurant at all this trip - maybe once - but I wanted to eat some petto di pollo. Last time I was in Italy I'd had some, and I had dreamed of it ever since.
(Petto di Pollo = breast of chicken, pounded flat, then salted with course salt, drenched in olive oil and lemon and maybe cream, and then grilled) Yes, it had cream on it. I am the traif-monster. This is the second time ever I have eaten milk and meat together, and I would feel bad about it if it had not tasted so good. It was SO good. SOO good.

So. The bone church. This is the church from an order of monks - over 4000 -- who, when they died, were left to shrivel and then used for art. I am not kidding. There was a clock made of femurs. There was a chandelier made of verterbae. Mountains of skulls. There were little bone cherubim fashioned by pairing skulls and hipbones for wings. I met an American dental hygenist outside the church, and as she had taken a class in anatomy she told me what all the bones were. There were beds made of bones. And then lying on the beds were dead monke in their habits. These were not all bones. There was shriveled flesh. It was absolutely disgusting. There was a flying skeleton holding a bone-scythe and a bone scale. There were three little boy-monks. There were bones everywhere, in whimsical patterns. Bones are not meant to be whimsical. Or maybe they are... I looked and looked, and then realized that I was breathing BONE-AIR and escaped.

My new American friend - Monica - suggested going for coffee and cakes, and so I did what I had been dying to do since the first time I was there - sit at a cafe and look cool. And we did! Afterwards we went to the Pantheon since she had not seen it yet. Then she want back to her hotel to pack (on her way home) and I sat and read out side the colesseum for awhile and then went back to my room for a supper of cheese and bread. My GARRET. How romantic, right?

**

Tomorrw I am going to Naples and Pompeii: I have always wanted to see Pompeii, ever since in grade 3 when we read in the reader about the little blind boy who lived in Pompeii. He had a little dog and every day at the same time the dog went to get him a bun from the bun shop. Well, one day Mount Vesuvius expoloded and people started running and screaming and the little boy did not know what to do. So his little dog led him to the boat nd disappeared - only to be found thousands of years later with the little bun in his little lava-filled mouth. I can't be the only one who remembers that story!

Rules for Buying a Cheap Purse

1. Never look too interested
2. Be pleasant but not too enthusiastic.
3. Do not hesitate to point out invisible flaws in the material or the stitching
4. When they say it is a Gucci purse (Or Louis or whatever) agree that it "sort of" is - so they know you know it is a fake.
5. When they say name a price, waver a bit and see what they will name - THEN name something lower then that.
6. Watch them selling to others to get ideas about how much the purses are worth.
7. Know what to look for - scope out real one first
8. There are a million more rules - I love bartering!

The girl beside me is writing to her friend about how she met Nicole Kidman in Rome - not fair! I am not celebrity-nuts, but that would have been fun!

Long Roman Day

There is nothing like a bus pass. Really! I have walked around maybe a dozen cities (Rome too) and there is nothing like jumping on a bus or a tram guilt-free. (Guilt free first because you are not sneaking on, and guilt free secondly because it doesn't cost anything to rest weary legs). Unfortunately, many of the Italians on the subway do not hold deodorant as a pressing priority. long, hot rides can get unbearable. But it is an adventure, right?

Before I go on about Rome - I just have to admit my addiction to the Belgium show Eurokids. It is better than Idol even - I can't believe I missed the final : http://www.een.be/extra/subsites/eurokids/e_euro_opeen_nummers/index.shtml

A few words about my hotel here in Rome. It is a really bad area of the city, right behind the bus station. That seems to be a bad area of any city and I always seem to be staying right there - but the room is clean, and though it is not worth the price, I am impressed with the cleanliness. It is in an apartment block where every floor is a different Pensione. Mine - Pensione Lucia - is on the top (6th) floor. To get up there is an elevator in a cage - VERY neat, all rattley and scary. Unfortunately, if someone on the 6th floor forgets to close the cage the elevator will not come down and one will have to haul their tired selves up 6 stories or narrow stone steps. Luckily, that has only happened to me in the other direction - walking DOWN is not as tiring. There is a large Italian family who lives and runs the Pensione - they are always eating when I enter the Pensione (the private dining room is visible from the door). To get in one has to ring the buzzer at the front gate and again at the door. I feel guilty every time I want in, but they are probably right that if the keys do not leave the building they will not be lost.

The room itself has a television (with a sign warning that to turn the volume on will annoy others), stone steps leading to a window (picture a chambermaid's room) and a bathroom that is spotless save for a gob or mucus on one wall with a single black hair sticking out of it. It is disgusting and I can't stop looking at it when I am in there. I keep hoping it will disappear, but it does not. The shower is just a fixture on the wall, so when the shower goes on all gets sopping wet.

***

Today I visited the Pantheon

Pantheon is one of the greatest, the most majestic and best preserved monuments in ancient Rome. The present building of 80 A. D., wanted by Adrian, stands up on the ruins of the previous temple, built by Agrippa in 27 B. C.; the inscription on the tympanum, original from the old temple, made the researchers think for a long time that the Pantheon (as we can see it now) had been built by Agrippa himself. In 609, Pope Bonifacio IV turned the pagan temple into a Christian church. The high level of preservation is just due to this transformation. The sight from Rotunda Square propose us the view of the portico, and of the already mentioned inscription. When you enter, you discover the reason why this monument is famous in the world, as an absolute example of architectural and building skill: the immense dome, symbol of the vault of heaven. On the top you can admire the opening penetrated by the pencil of light that constitutes the only luminous source of the Temple, symbol of the eternal light that enlightens the man, and of time passing by. In fact the sensation you can feel by visiting the building in the different hours of the day is strictly depending on the position of the sun, and so on the position of the ray of light inside the building; 43 mt. high, it is comparable to San Peter's dome, but it was built more than a thousand years before. Remarkably important are the graves of famous personages of history and arts that are located within it.

and saw Raphael's grave. Yes, THAT Raphael. The ninja turtle. I guess Shreddar triumphed in the end. It was hard to look around with a camera that needed charging, but I can go back tomorrow and take scads of pictures. (I did end up buying a charger for 2€ - the first store said 5:80 and the second 17. Then a sweet little lady who knew not a word of english solved all my converter problems - although I had to run back to the hotel to make sure that the plugs came with a surge protector - I know, boooring.... but now I can use the camera again!

Then I wandered high and low and around and down the spanish steps and from obelisk to obelisk. You see, I had a vision. Although near the colleseum there were crowds of men selling designer (sort of) handbags, in the areas where the tour buses stopped I knew they would be more expensive. This vision was a big market, perhaps in a square, with millions of gorgeous designer bags, and all cheap cheap! So I walked and suddenly, I came upon THAT VERY SQUARE. A dream come true! Prada! Gucci! I am THAT shallow.

I got into a conversation with one of the men selling the purses. It turns out that all of them come from Senegel, in Africa. I wonder - do the purses come from Senegal? Are they imported along with the sellers? It is a big mystery. Did I buy a purse? That too will remain a m ystery, because of course I would never buy a FAKE, and any purse that graces my classy arm must be the real thing.

Just a note - I went to the head of the competition to record the theft, and her answer - in Italian - was "It's not my problem". Hm. Never mind that it took almost 5 hours to go and see her. I did not even yell at her, I just turned around and waited in the rain for the bus, looking and feeling miserable. A little pity is never amiss. (I guess I looked so sad standing ther dripping in the rain that one of the singers - a tall, handsome Italian boy - went to the corner store and bought me some cookies. That was sweet!)

The 5 hour bus ride was ludacris though. The bus was just pulling away from the station when the Roman skies opened. We sat for almost an hour as the streets were flooded. Luckily I had a seat on the bus. One of the windows would not close, and instead of giving up her seat, the Italian lady sitting under the window opened her umbrella and huddled in (?) comfort. For almost an HOUR. People sure are strange.

LIST OF THINGS MISSING 2
1 - French CD
2 - Soft-grip Blue Pen

One interesting thing

I had one bit of luck today (besides singing well in the competition. But that is not luck.). I was pounding a vending machine in the music conservatory - I had paid and the candy had not dropped (That is not the bit of luck, although I had gone to pay when I found enough change for 2 candy bags in the machine, so it wasn't a travesty). So I was hitting the machine and cursing when an Italian lady offered to buy the water right above the dangling M&M packet and see if we could get it to drop (Still not the lucky part. It didn't quite knock it down). The lucky part is that we started talking and it happens that the lady is the head of another competition that I am doing here in Roma in 2 weeks. She said that I could save on the price of a stamp and of getting a money order if I went to her office tomorrow and dropped the materials off in person - and she said that I could choose my time slot. I AM lucky! No wait, the ROBBERY. Not so lucky after all...

If things went well...

...there would not be anything to write about. I know when I am home and life is boring again I will think that I am crazy, not appreciating being here - I mean, ROMA! - I am actually here. However, I want to be hooome. Let us begin with:

The MISSING list
1. The 100€ that was stolen in Salzburg
2. My converter (cameras need charging). Hopefully a new one isn't too expensive.
3. My retainer. New retainer: 400$. I can't believe it.
4. My pink microfleece sweater. I loved it: I could not wear it at home because it attracts dog hair like an - uh - dog hair magnet. But I used it as a pillow here and of course as a sweater.
5. 150€. Robbed again! I am too poor to be robbed all the time! This time the money was taken out of my wallet while I was singing in the competition. I had left it outside the room with the other singers, because that is what everyone else did. I had the money folded up in the bottom of my wallet to pay for my hotel. They did not take my ID or my passport or my American money or even all of my Euros. But I am molto pissed off. I cut corners every day to save cents here and there, and then this happens.

I went to McDonalds for lunch today, and as soon as I sat down I was attacked by swarms of beggars. Now, I am not insensitive to their plight: It is scary not to have money. However, it is not FAIR when a beggar prods her 5-year-old child to sit down at your table and look at your food and then she asks for food for her child to eat. No, I did not need all of my fries. I was happy to give them to the child. It is just the point. Leave me alone, everyone!

I have not seen any of Rome. Besides the Subway. There are special quirks to this city - if you pay for the subway and there is no change in thge machine they will give you a voucher and you have to wait in line later to get your change. Truly a special place.

I am too annoyed about the money to write anything useful.

Ryanair means never having to say you're sorry...

So another lovely flight with Ryanair. My bag was 12 Kilos over the weight limit, so I waddled through security dressed in...everything! They asked me to take off the extra clothes. 3 bins later they said that I could just go through. I told them that I still had a bathing suit, a cocktail dress, 2 tanktops, and then the two tanktops I was actually wearing today (as well as a pair of sweat pants, 3 more skirts, and a pair of black dress pants). They will never forget me! The fashion-conscious Italians were giving me all sorts of wierd looks, but then four of them (who turned out to be Torontonians, and why they were even flying Ryanair I have no idea. One woman was rubbing the lip gloss Air Canada gives out in Executive class on her lips. I have some too, but it is from my important sis) started talking to me, and soon were indignantly taking my side agains Ryanair. Why SHOULDN't I wear all my clothes if I wanted to etc. etc. It was pretty funny considering that I was not questioned at all about THAT.

So I got on the plane (which, as always, involves elbows and running to get a decent seat) and tucked my stuff under my seat. And the, for no reason at all, the harassment started. I could not keep my things under my seat. It was an Emergency exit (There was no door in the wall). I had to put it above. And I could not just drape my coat on my shoulders, it had to be ON me. In case we all had to escape, you see. I told him in French that he could take my bags but I did not know where they were going to go (The overhead bins were all absolutely full. Mostly with my clothes). He took that as lip and pointed to a 'Do not stow in emergency aisle' sign: I tried to explain that I was not questioning him, I just did not see where he could put them: Sigh: he took my purse away somewhere, and we took off. The announcement came on that we could walk around the airplane, so I got up to find where the annoying flight attendant had stuffed my purse (which I was loath to let out of my sight - it has loads of cash as well as the passport and everything I might ever need - including the executive lip gloss. Don't want to lose that) And before I was even out of my seat I was getting a lecture that the seat belt sign was still on and he did not care what the announcement had said. O-kay.

The attendents came around with a cart to sell food. And duty-free. And bus passes for Rome. And lottery scratch tickets. And Ryan Air memorabelia. It was almost landing time, so I offered my bag to the flight attendant. WITH A SMILE. He took it, and as he turned away the other flight attendant came over.

"Your coat..." she started.

I said that I knew, and that I was just buttoning it up, and that people were still wandering around the cabin, but okay. I buttoned it up and she kept watching me.

"Put your shoes on" she said. So I did. She did not leave.

"Your SCARF..."

I said that the scarf was on me. PATIENTLY. She said that I had to wind in around my neck. So I did, and then asked her if that was acceptable. She said that no it was not and that I had to KNOT it around my neck or she would take it away. I told her nicely and patiently that I was not going to knot the scarf around my neck. I was hot. I would knot it on the ends so if we had to flee suddenly it would not fall off, but that was as much as I would do. She didn't leave.

"Your tank top..."

I had taken off a layer of tank top and it was in my lap. I already had stuff all over the airplane, and I tried to explain this to her, and I offered to knot it to my scarf so we would all be attached. No, it had to go into the overhead bin.

So I asked (not to make trouble) why I couldn't hold a tank top in my lap but the guy next to me could hold a newspaper: There were 4 other people and they were all holding projectiles. She answered something incomprehensible about if there was an evacuation people could not step over my little purple tank top and as a result would all die. No-one would slip on a newspaper, though, or a paperback. Funnily enough, she didn't make me put away my camera, or notice that I had forgotten to buckle up.

IT was so wierd! I was talking to an Italian girl on the navette (they let everyone on: Now, I am not objecting sonce I was one of the last people, but it is scary to ride on the back stairs of the bus, pressed up against the doors tht open at each stop. Girl to my left STANK. The two guys in front of me - I was nose level to their butts - also stank. It was an okay ride though, because my new Italian friend and I complained about Flemish the whole way. She too noticed that they all know French but won't speak it. And things that their language sounds like gibberish) and she had watched the whole thing and was appalled. Lucky me! At least on the airplane when someone opened the overhead compartments a file-folder of mine fell out and hit someone on the head. I was screeching at them to wait and not open it yet (Although that someone may have been my new friend, now that I think of it. Oops!)

But I am in Roma, at a cute (thus far) family-run Pensione near the bus station. I have been here 45 minutes and guys go by yelling out "mio amore!" at me. Flattered, but annoyed.

Overall, Brussels was charming but wierd. I bought a waffle there and it was RAW. I don't remember if I wrote about this already, but not even strawberryice cream could save the waffle. I window-shopped and actually bought a teensy bag of Belgian chocolates to bring home, a bit of lace for me, a present for Dad, a late Wedding Present, and a little wooden mouse. He is so cute! Everyone needs a wooden mouse. Oh, and a teensy icon of the mannequen pis. It could have been worse, there were corkscrews, and you can GUESS where the corkscrew part came out of...

I also played a trivia game where you spin a wheel and answer a question about Belgian (or whatever they choose to ask) and maybe win a prize. The little Belgian boy before me was asked a multiplication question, and he won a balloon. I could do better than that, surely!
My question was easy, since they could tell I was not Belgian: How many Provinces in Belgium: I guessed 5. Or 7. The answer was 10, but I looked adorable and was suitably charminbg so I still got some authentic Belgian beer cup (There is no WAY it will not break) specially made for drinking a Belgian beer. I got a picture taken of me receiving it with the head of the "Marionette Pis society. There is a SOCIETY) As I waslked around the square guys kept touching the same spot on the cup and warning me that with the shape of the cup if you drink until the beer is just up the THERE somehow it will spill all over you. (So why MAKE the cup that shape then? I don't get it! The Belgians have changed the basic shape of a class to thwart it's only function. But it was a prize...) What a fun thing to have!

I sing tomorrow afternoon, so I am going to bed.

Manneken Pis

http://www.trabel.com/brussel/brussel-manneken.htm

What is there even to SAY? He is really cute though. And the cherry beer that spouts out of him doesn't taste as much as like - well, piss - as one would expect.

I have been walking in circles. I spun a wheel and won a Brussels beer glass. I bought Dad a little prezzie. I looked (too expensive!) at a lace Challah cover. I wish I had been in this city all week, there is so much to see!

I am avoiding the Escargots stands though...ew

That is all, I have to figure out the cheapest way to get to looovely Charleois..

Evil Omens

Reasons why it is time to leave Belgium:
1 - I am actually TIRED of waffles
2 - I automatically say Dank U now - like the Flemish
3 - Stigmata moment yesterday on my left wrist - why was it bleeding?? Maybe SOMETHING wants me to leave ;)
4 - Along that theme - there is a dark cloud that floolws me whenever I am outside. I can see it looming.
5 - I can't think of any more reasons. But hoorah I am going!

A treat!

I was going to sleep at the airport tonight. I had researched it and I was sure I was going to. But I am just too tired! I found a last-minute deal on a 4-star best Western with a JACUZZI in Brussels. Cheaper than the hotel I had here, and it is an an amazing location. Hurrah weekend specials! It is money I did not want to spend, but I can't sleep at the bloody airport..the sleeping at airport page doesn't rate the Charleroi airport very highly...

Life is better with a Jacuzzi, I bet!

(Just a note - I am getting very good at the Death Stare. As in, try to flirt with me or whistle or cluck or whatever at me and you get a Death Stare. Boys are so stupid sometimes!)

My mum just came on MSN messenger. Isn't that a treat! I can't wait to get to the hotel. I smell like cheap pizza and the steam from the giant vats of eggs and sausage that were blocking the streets. Mmmm, cloud of grease... (I didn't EAT them, just got enveloped by them). I hope there is something good on the french TV tonight... this morning there was Delta State in French - I wonder if they originally talk french or english? It is not like you can read their lips, since they are cartoons. I know - big nerd. However, it is nice to watch something Canadian.

The guy in charge of the internet cafe just came over, tapped my shoulder and sang to me Vouz avez rester plus longtemps que vouz avez diiiiittt" (I had to register to use these bloody computers and he was treated to a "why should I register I will only be here for 30 minutes and then I am leaving Namur forever" rant.) I answered that I am a girl and I can changez mon avis tous les 5 minutes. Heh heh... it is TRUE!

The bathrooms here cost .30 centimes to use. I wonder, will they ever go up? IS there inflation for bathrooms? It is not like the facilities actually improve...still, I don't enjoy paying anything. The rooms are a lot cleaner than the free toilets in NYC. Hint to travellers: The french don't understand Salle De Bain. And don't call the belgians Francais unless you want a lecture (I got one yesterday) they are FRANCOPHONES BELGIQUES.

On to Brussels and Rome!

Une petite ville

Namur is a typical Belgian village. The buses only run until 21:30 (resulting in an expensive taxi ride to the hotel), an H&M, McDonalds, Pizza hut, internet café, waffle stands, and weekend festival.

In this particular town on this particular weekend it is the Fete de la Wallonie. The Walloons are the French who fought the Flemish and live in 90% of the lower part of Belgium. They like their waffels. They also like their peckets. What is a Pecket?? It is some vodka-fruit thing that comes in dozens of flavours and colours and which they sell in booths all over the city. To adults and children alike. (There are some flavours that no self-respecting adult would imbibe). And it is dirt cheap. Coke Light (Although in this region Pepsi is around more) 1.80€, Pecket 1.00. And if you buy 5 you get one free.

When I arrived in the city last night the streets were flooded with swarms of very drunk teenagers. This afternoon nothing has changed. I am all for a party, but it is really, realy tiring being at THIS party. Crowds of people go around screaming. There are brass bands playing everything from Sweet Georgia Brown to Ne Me Quitte Pas. People are dressed in Wallonie outfit which is frankly ridiculous looking. (But so is the WORD Walloonie) There are stands sekking Champignons and Stella Artois and Barbe a Papa. It is a big french party, and I am probably the only one here alone.

Not that that fact goes unnoticed by the local boys 'ça va bien?' is the usual pick-up line.

I have learned the following words: Callotte
um.. I had a whole list but I cant remember them now. This list will be lenghtened.

Today is the day when I officially been Gone Too Long. Walking around the streets hurts. Steps hurt even more (YOU try trudging along the highway weeds and mud in the rain sometime...). My clothes are either dirty or wet (I washed a bunch yesterday but they did not dry, making the bag even heavier). The bag - my GORGEOUS Air Canada purple bag, my first own piece of luggage - is almost unusable. My make a sidewalk when you can pave the only way to the bus stop with STONES? Unfurtunately, the suitcase wheels don't understand and are wearing away. Paris subway ruined the shape of the bag. My fab Roots shoe bag (from the clearance bin at Staples) is coming apart too. My clothes are looking decidedly ratty, and worst of all, my TMJ Retainer is missing. I haveno idea what to do about that. I tore my bag apart trying to find it. (I did find a box of Jewellery I thought I had lost. I ADORE that jewellery so that was sure a relief). But the retainer costs $500.00. I already called the hotel in Antwerp twice but they don't have it. Cry. Travelling isn't fun anymore. I am dreading going to Rome because it means more hauling of bags and walking and walking and being so tired. I am VERY tempted to just leave early, but that would be a stupid thing to do. Sigh..

4O years ago...

...a hypothetical conversation 40 years ago...

"Welcome home, Jacques....how was the office?"
"Oh.. same old, Lili. How was homemaking?"
"Nothing special..hey, chérie, I had a brilliant idea today!"
"Oh? Was it a cooking or cleaning idea?"
"Actually, it WAS. Jacques, I would love to open a little restaurant. Wouldn't it be fun, I could talk to new people all day and I love to cook...I could make those little tartes, and maybe some tomato soup. We could keep some chickens out back! Wouldn't that be so nice?"
"That isn't a bad idea...a restaurant...well, we would have to think of somewhere to build it. You know; perhaps near a tourist attraction so we could get lots of customers. Somewhere where land is cheap. Any ideas?"
"Well, do we have any tourist attractions in this tiny corner of Europe? We don't have a EuroDisney or even an Eiffel tower...stupid French built one first... Do tourists even come here?"
"I have the PERFECT idea... you knoa that old concentration camp down the road a few miles? Loads of turists visit that - I see the tour buses going by. I bet they get awfully thirsty walking around the torture room and the barracks. We could open a pub there...you know, for a pint or Stella Artois after the tour?"
"Brilliant idea! The land isn't being used for anything ELSE..the elderly visitors would love my tartes..."

Eek. The Breendonk pub is like a Dachau Mall (actually I think there is one of those too). How inappropriate!!

***

I must have walked 6 KM today.. MORE actually - about 2 in Antwerp, then at least 2 from Breendonk town to Breendonk memoriam ( by the side of the highway...have you ever walked in mud by the side of a busy highway, watching the rain clouds loom? Definitely tourist plus), and then another km to the tran station in the town beside Breendonk. And now 1KM to get my luggage at the hotel. Au revoir Antwerp, I am going to Namur.

Whereever that is.

A page all about Moi

http://www.sleepinginairports.net/

Freezing City

It is maybe 5 degrees here today - good thing I knitted that scarf last week. Today is Leave Antwerp day, but later. I left my bags in the hotel and I am going to to visit Breendonk, the Belgian Concentration Camp. That should make me want to leave the area, if the bugs didn't!

It is only 20 km away, and for some reason my Antwerp bus pass gets me there free. Goody.

Yesterday I went to Meschelen to visit the Jewish Deportation Museum. They seemed really glad to have anyone visit (I was the only one there), and after I walked around Meschelen. They had an H&M but not much else.

On the bus ride there a Belgian from Nigeria was flirting annoyingly and - just my luck - he was on my bus on the way back too. Ignoring him was not working, and being blatently rude was not working, so finally I started talking to him, and he told me all about how the African immigrants here are treated like second class citizens. Not fair! He has a bachelor in economics and when he went for an interview at a bank they told him that they only wanted white people at the tills and he could sweep the floors or something. Isn't it nice to live in Canada?

Nothing else, I have to find somewhere to stay tonight...

Nothing to do in Antwerp

...and nowhere to stay. This everyday panic for lodgings is getting tiring. I am trying to decide if I should go to Brussels (nearer to the airport where I have to be Sunday), or to Bruges (Supposed to be gorgeous) or to just stay here because at least I know my way around this annoying city.

The breakfast buffet was disappointing. 10Euris for the usual sawdust corn flakes and orange juice and they didn't even have real nutella. Breakfast could be so exciting, potentially. But not in Antwerp.

Hmm, this is such a hard decision...should I go to Brussels? To Meschlen? To Bruges?

A tiring place

So I splurged and spent a whopping 59Euro for a hotel - that is like 75$ for just one night. OUCH. But it was necessary, I was so tired - and the breakfast buffet is supposed to be first rate - it alone costs 10Euro, so really the room is just 49Euro with a really expensive breakfast?

My dad would hate the room. It is small and there are corpses of mosquitos in grotesque death poses. On the stucco ceiling and the concrete walls and the ugly curtains. But the bed is soft and it doesn't smell - I think more than the discomfort of the last few weeks, it is the SMELL of all these horrid places that is wearing me down.

It was not an easy thing to even get tht hotel. I left the hostel and went to the train station, where I stuffed all my bags in a locker, closed it, went to pay, and found that it had locked itself shut and not printed out a barcode (they are computerized lockers). So I did not know if it would suddenly open and I ha no way to open it later. Over to the train office for a minor fit. The locker specialist (What, is she on staff just for when this problem arises?) and I finally got the locker open by punching in the override code (she) and kicking the door until it unjammed (me). We were a superb team.

Then to the tourist office. ALL I DID was ask for another hotel and mention that the last one they had recommended was infested with vermin and perhaps she should pause before readily recommending it to other sleepy travellers.

"I can do that," she answered, "If you write a letter."

I told her that I had spent enought time living the hellish hotel and I was not going to go out, purchase stationary and an envelope (These hotels provide neither stationary nor an envelope), write an letter, and deliver it to her. I had better things to do. Just please make a note of it. Or not.

She said that if I did not write a letter I could not really expect anything to be improved.

I told her that I did not care if it was ever improved or not. I was trying to save someone my night, but I really did not care. I wanted a room for the night where I could actually sleep, and a suggestion of something to do to try and redeem this city from being one of the worst travel experiences of my life.

She told me that one cannot judge a city by its hotels. And that it was not the city it was my attitude towards the city.

Oh! Can't Judge a city by the hotel?? I told her that I had hardly slept in over a week. A city should have at least one hotel that was not missing toilet seats or infested with animals. And to please find that hotel and to book it for me.

This went on and on. It was so stupid. Finally I (very rudely) told her that I was in no mood to debate the hellhole of which she is so proud - thqt she may work at a tourist office but she has no idea what it is like to be a tourist in this city - and to book me a room at the Ibis hotel (I knew they had a special).

She booked me a room and I left. It was not the Ibis hotel. Muckily I did not have to yell when I reached the Ibis hotel. They called another tourist centre and changed to booking. All I wanted from the lady was a bit of pity. I was not going to stay at a bloody hostel but they insisted it was a lovely one.

I slept most of the day, then went to H&M. There is a shopping street in the city where the stores are on the first level of architecturally stunning buildings. These stores operate as loss-leader stores, since rent costs something like 50 000E a MONTH. For a little store. and there are 4 H&Ms on this street. Today I discovered the fourth one! I didn't buy anything (I am being massively thrifty! Breakfast was free at the ass hostel, I bought a waffle for lunch, and bought banana and youghert at the supermarket for supper. Of course, now it is almost time for supper-wasn't-enough-snack) but it was fun to look. Then I went to see The Island. In English. It even costs .30E to use the washroom in the THEATRE.

Now I have to go back to the train station, get some clean clothes and a toothbrush out of the locker, and get back to the hotel. Unless I get everything, drag it to the hotel, and maybe stay there tomorrow too. I am just so tired!!

Good Night, sleep tight, don't let the...uh oh!

Bloody hostel. Now I have to boil all of my clothes. There is nothing like feeling dozens of little buggies running and cavorting all over a girl to make her want out of a town quickly. Neat place? Antwerp sure is. But not if you want to sleep.

Strangely enough, in ly inbox this morning I received a brochure from another hostel I stayed at for a new hostel in Bruges, Belgium. Why, that is not far from here! Perhaps that is where to go next...

...But YOGHURT can't make you go back in time!

One hears the funniest things when flipping channels on Belgium tv. Of course, funniest of all is Flemish. Anything in Flemish...

No big plans today. probably a movie...

Be Prepared!

Tomorrow noght and for the rest of the week I am going to be staying in a little hostel called the Scout Hostel. You guessed it! It is all about scouts and scouting but it is really clean (well, maybe REALLY clean is a bit much to say) and it is cheap. There are loads of squished mosquitos but if I get there early tomorrow morning I can pick a room that isn't replete with carnage.

I was just watching a Canadian cartoon on TV - they must have gotten it from Quebec because the dubbed voices were all Canadian-Accented. But... those aren't their REAL voices! ;)

I found the H&M street today - 3 of them on one block. I was good today. All I bought was lunch and soon supper.

Time to see what there is to see in this place..

Follow the fluttering Earlocks...

Today (thus far) has not been so bad. Lunch at boring yet predictable McDs (salad! I promise!) and then I window-shopped at the diamond stores. THAT was fun, and I was not even tempted a little bit.

Actually, that is a lie. I love rings and especially necklaces. They didn't seem particularly cheap, and I don't have money for diamonds anyway! Or I wouldn't be eating at McDs!! It was fun to look though...

Then I noticed a bunch of orthodox Jewish boys pedaling past on bicycles. Ooh, Brooklyn in Antwerp? I started to follow them. And it was boring! There was a synagogue but not much else, and now I don't lknow where to go next. I have to find my way back and figure out where I am sleeping for the next 5 days. Joy. Maybe a movie...

The Porcelain Throne

Dear Sir or Madame at Expedia,

I have some comments to add to my complaint of last night, and I would appreciate receiving more than a form letter as a response.

My hotel room last night had a nice large double bed, and a cot, all covered with multicoloured bedspreads (They were, I believe, originally one colour - beige. I did not look too closely at the plethora of stains and of cigarette burns), a privacy curtain (which looked like it had been ripped with a knife, then taped together with now-drooping scotch tape. It even had companionship in the form of 2 small black flies and a hungry mosquito. However, my room came with no toilet seat. When I arrived I spent about five minutes peering at the toilet wondering if this was a special Belgian toilet (just like as in in shopping malls in Italy there are just holes in the ground. If you are not posh enough for a small Italian boutique, apparently you deserve to squat)

Perplexed, I made yet another trip down to the front desk. The last trip had been to inquire about chenging channels on the television and the response had been a smile and a remote control taken from a cubby (not that I did change channels once I got up there.. the Eurokids competition was on and that was better than anything English or German CNN has to offer. Ever. No World disaster is funner than 13-year-olds getting their little Flemish hearts broken on TV . )

"Excuse me," I said, glancing around to see if there was a pile of toilet seats propped up anywhere "I know this is a budget hotel, but are the toilets supposed to have SEATS on them?"

"Of COURSE," she answered. "Doesn't yours?" I shook my head. "Couldn't you find it?"

I patiently explained to her that there was nowhere to hide a toliet seat in the tiny room and if she did not have a cubby where I could sign one out, I needed her help in finding some other toilet option.

She pointed accross the street to the burger place.

THIS is a 3-star hotel??

They would not give me another room, and as it was prepaid I could not leave. I actually had to WALK in the dark in a bad area to a nearby cafe to use the washroom. When I complained I was told firmly that there was nothing that they could do.

I could overlook the torn draiperies and the were sticky, dark stains on the floor, and the thick dust on the floor, but I wanted a toilet!

I was told I could go accross the street to another hotel if I was so unsatisfied. As this hotel had been prepaid that wouldn't have been a good idea. The desk clerk told me that it wouldn't too expensive however, as that hotel charges by the hour and it was already quite late. I looked out the window, and all that was left flasing in the Neon HOTEL light were the first two letters, blinking on and off in sickly green. HO...HO...HO. By the hour... no, I decided to stay.

This morning I talked to the manager and said that I had paid for a toilet and did not get what I paid for. I was told that as it was an expedia booking and I had ALREADY CONTACTED EXPEDIA with my discontent he would not do anything for me.

In other words, last night they would not give me a room until I found a phone and called Expedia in Canada and waited in hold for ages while they had to CALL the hotel to tell them I actually had a room.


I could not stay at the hotel I had paid for unless I contacted Expedia.

Now I was being punished for doing so. He told me that he would have upgraded me and given ne a second night free in his hotel but now he has to deal with Expedia and why should he make things easy for me - I am not his problem, my discomfort is YOUR problem.

They had a sister hotel and could have moved me there if there were no toilet seats to give me in his hotel. Even the sleaziest hostel has a usable toilet.

I would like a refund. This was NOT a 3 star hotel (as they advertise) or a 2.5 star hotel as you advertise. When I told him the room was filthy I received another eloquant shrug and was told that the cleaning staff had not come inthat day so some of the rooms were not as clean as other nights.

Once more: I could not use the toilet. It had no seat. They would not give me my room because though I had my confirmation number they had no fax from Expedia (or a fax machine - it goes to their sister hotel) and would not phone Expedia long-distance. I had to dodge the pimps and whores to find a cafe where I could phone and then I had to pay for a 20 minute call while they talked to the hotel (no way to reverse the charges).
Then when I complained last night about the toilet she not only did nothing but she LAUGHED at me. This morning the manager told me that if Ihad not already expressed displeasure to Expedia he would have compensated me for my hellish room, but since now he has to "Deal with those Expedia guys" he does not want to deal with me also.
I am most disappointed. You misrepresented a hotel. I booked a room WITH A TOILET and paid for a toilet and since the one there was impossible for a lady to use I want some refund.

Sincerely,

Melanie Gall


I am going to go look at some diamonds.

Evil Expedia

So I made a hotel booking for tonight through Expedia.ca . I lugged my bags down 2 very narrow spiral staircases, on the tram and accross the city, and to the hotel. Who informed me that 1. If I had booked through them it would have been 20$ cheaper, and 2. They had no way of confirming the Expedia booking, as they had no internet access and refused to call them.

So, I had to walk in the dark to a stupid call centre and CALL Expedia and pitch a phone fit. Result: They phoned the hotel and they cancelled tomorrow's booking so that I can save the money tomorrow.

This has been SOO stressful. I hate everyone!

(But I have a bag of pistacios, cup a soup, and a fruit juice for dinner. Hoorah!! Munchies)

A bit about Antwerp

Antwerp is a port city. It has ancient buildings with the cutest wrought-iron gates outside the windows. There are flowers everywhere. All the signs are in a million languages, and everyone walks around drinking beer. Since it is a university cioty a lot of the restaurants give discounts to students. There are horse-drawn carriages clip-clopping along the streets, but the horses look a lot happier than in other cities I've been. There is a scout rally or something becuse in the Metro Tunnl there was a ring of boy-scouts playing a game. Also tons of bands, posing with their instruments in front of different statues. There is live music everywhere - buskers and litle orchestras playing and there are tubes going faaar underground on some of the street corners where people throw their bottles and cans for recycling.

Lots of the words on the signs have AA in them - strange language! And people would rather talk English (even if they can't) than french (even if they can). There is a huge zoo in the centre of the city and diamond shops everywhere.

Time to sneak out of the hostel!

The Secret Language of the Belgians

I am in Antwerp. It is a city far, far in the north of Belgium (which, since it is Belgium, is not terribly far or terribly north) This is the ancient city of shopping and diamonds. I am not allowed much of either. Okay, I am not allowed any diamnonds. Not even a little baby diamond. Not that I am even tempted. I mean, just because diamonds are practically a cultural symbol for me - my mother has one; and her mother, and on and on. I even know the word in Yiddish for diamond: Diamondl. Aren't I clever? Lucky I also contain spectacular self-control and have not even bought one diamond. Even though I just got here and it is Sunday and all the stores are closed. But not one! I have not even been tempted (much).

I found my hostel and dumped my stuff and went to walk around the city. Great city! Everyone talks in code though so communication is limited. In Belgian-speak, they speak 'Flemish' but that can't be a real language, since no-one *I* know has ever heard if it before. It is like German mixed with funny vowels, and I have already learned a ton of words: dag (day), internet (internet), waffle (waffle), Turkije (Turkey). Too bad none of them don't do together at all. These Flemish people have some beef with the French, and I was warned TWICE on the way here NOT to talk French. Scary! Okay, it is a French country and French is not allowed. More rules than Frankfurt!

Anyway, I walked around the city and then went back for a lie-down. I didn't sleep last night until 5:30 - I was busy trapping the 4 mosquitos that suddenly appeared in the bedroom. It took 6 hours to lure them out (with my swollen yet juicy flesh) and kill them, splatterin my blood everywhere. Ugh! Actually, I only killed 3 of them - the last one I chased out and closed the door in her evil hungry face. So I went back to the hotel and climed up upon my lovely clean bunk bed

(can anyone guess what comes next?) and looked up and saw DOZENS of mosquitos all over the ceiling. Oh, NO! And I am the only one in the dorm, so as soon as I lie down I will be mobbed. I almost had a nervous breakdown. Still may happen. I found this internet café and hav to stop typing this and start looking for somewhere to sleep tonight. Help! (hee hee.. good thing I didn't PAY for the hostel yet!)

On attendent les résultats

It is time to leave Verviers. There is still a mosquito in my room here, so I will be even more tired tomorrow.

I will not be sorry to leave!

However, there are 3 girls here I know. 2 girls that I know from Toronto walked right by. They could have invited me to go to dinner with them or at least have said hello. I was standing alone when they started by, and I made sure I looked très busy so that THEY could talk to me if they wanted to. Bloody snobs. One of the girls has gained 25 pounds though. Hee Hee. I know, mean mean.

In this town, though, that will soon be me! The food my family eats is brown bread, bland pasta; and deep fried fish (they have a cute little deep fryer). The food at the restaurant is expensive, and no one eats alone at those cute little romantic tables (and it is all smoky) So off the McDs again! They have salads and stuff, but it is the only non-smoking eatery in this town. And the food is way cheaper than a restaurant, where even a salad is 12€. Blowing money on food is not worth it when a girl is alooone.

Mosquito bites itchy. I am bruised from scratching. Oh wait, maybe that is mascara. If you rub bite on face it doesnùt not count as scratching. It *is* mascara! That must mean that my face is all smeary. Ew!

Another sleepless night *or* the price of free

The first round of competitors sang last night: The audiance adores one girl from Japan who was adorable but could not hit the high notes very well and was just okay. She picked a good aria. There was a Korean Baritone and a Bass who were fantastic singers but who didn't bother to change expression and who just moved their arms a little bit. There was a Mezzo who sang Una Voce with a lot of enthusiasm (French I think) and a soprano from Roumanie with a huge fake wig who also sang well. Myfavourite was a Mezzo from Roumanie who sang Handel. There were some pretty awful singers too; a orean Bass who growled out an Urecognizeable French aria (notes AND diction) and a Brazilian girl who sang Glitter and be Gay like a horse. She actually NEIGHED the runs. As one girl there said: "Wow, nobody else sounded a BIT like her." Phew, small blessings! I do not think I could deal with more neighing singers!

Qnother host family was there with their singer (the neigher) and their teenage kids and I hung out. They made fun of the singers and showed me around the backstage of the theatre. Reminds me of W and I. Why did I not get THAT family??

Last night after the performances my hosts were in a good mood. There was smoing and talking unti 1am. Right below me. Myroom stank of paint and smoke. The neighbour let her dog out at 1:30 an yelled at it for awhile. Finally the house was quiet, and...

Bzzzzzzzz

Another Mosquito! Not fair! The windows were not open it was stuffy and unbearabe and still there is a mosquito! I waited 30 minutes but it dod not come out, so I turned the light out again.

Bzzzzzzzz

And again, and again. Finally I put my feet out for bait (they were far from my ears) and fell asleep. 5:30 I woke up with my feet burning and a little bite on each one; and one on my leg.

When I woke up this morning I was not in the best of moods. I washed myhair and checked the bus schedue. The only bus for 2 hours was leaving... NOW? ! Well, It was not Germany, so I had a few minutes. I stuffed shoes and stockings and makeup in my backpack, and ran down the stairs.

The lady (I don't even know their names) stoppe me at the door. "Where are you going?" she asked. "What about breakfast?"
I said (In FRENCH...GOOD French° that I was exhausted. I have bites all over and I am allergic to peint and smoke and I have to go.
As usual, she either did not understand me or she did not understand what I was saying. She asked me if I did not need to eat.

Hm, I thought. A meal of stale brown bread, cherry jam and religious questions? No THANK you! "Non merci" I called, sprinting to the bus. "See you there!"

Poor lady is probaby confused. But I am itchy. That is worse!





There are 2 more days of singers and I sing today. But I have hardly slept in 4 nights...it is not fair! To come so far and not be able to to a great job. cry! I hate paople

Le Outlook *Positive*

After souper-ing on McDonalds Belgium, things are more 'quaint' and less 'maddening'.

Itchy? Well, it could be like a GAME; How many steps without scratching a foor or an arm or a leg or a hand or a face. 4 steps...7 steps... ooh, a streetlamp. Accidentally hitting it with my leg doesn't count as a scratch right?? *relief relief* 3 more steps...1 more step...Well; if no-one is looking it doesn't count as scratching, right? Like that time when I put the thermometer in the hot water in grade 3 to get a fever. No wait, I think that was TV. Sure miss English TV! *Scratch Scratch* Oh, someone was looking. OOH, he is leering now. Well, I'll be LESS sexy if he sees me scratching my face....

See, games are fun...

Computer Keys sticky? Well, maybe it is *magic* goo... ew. Maybe everything isnùt cheery. Ew Ew EW!

And although my flight home was cancelled (The loovely airline decided that they had not sold enough tickets, so they cancelled all of the flights to Calgary in October. ALL of them!) I have a ticket straight to Edmonton. But J, I will get to Calgary soon!! Urban girl!

But it will be fun watching the singers tonight.. one girl told me that she plans to wear Jeans.. in an OPERA house to SING... I have no idea how dressy to be tomorrow. The application form said to wear a 'leisure suit'. Like thqt Sierra game? I al so confused and is it better to be overdressed of underdressed?

There was one funny thing today. While waiting to rehearse my arias with the pianist I started talking to the other singers outside. They were: An Italian girl who insisted on practising her French, and a Korean guy who spoke German. Guess who was the translator - BOTH ways?? Don't speak German INDEED?!

I winder how many words I can type without scratching.. *scratch scratch* sigh...

Why they are Called FRENCH Fries

Now, I have nothing to say against Belgians. It is a lovely country and everyone is so nice. But SOMETIMES... It is strange how different this place is culturally from the rest of Europe and Canada and basically anywhere I have ever been.

Business-wise, Germany and France are very much like Canada. Need a bank draft? Go to the bank. Need a letter mailed? It is cheaper to send it to Edmonton from Paris than from Toronto!

I went to the bank and the post office today to
1. Get a bank draft (money order) for an Italian competition
2. Send it to Italy
3. Send a book to my sister via Canada

3 was accomplished easily, although there is no cheap paper (Germany) or book (France) rate. Still pretty cheap though. Still cheaper than Toronto, but it cost double what it would in Germany.

1 was not so easily accomplished. After waiting in line at a bank for 30 minutes he pretended to not know what I was talking about. I could have murdered him. This feeling happens a lot lately. Many times a day. In this case, from the moment I left the bank to the moment when the letter got mailed.

The postoffice was also a bank and Wetern Union office. Okay, why not. Post office bank. Mondy order? Sure, it is easy and cheap if you happen to be sending it within Belgium. Italy is as foreign as Tunisia when one is here. Wiring the money would cost €15; getting some wierd thing where the Italian post office sends a cheque to the competition..eventually.. is the best that they could offer. But it had to be mailed today. And it cost €10.

I looked up and saw a sign advertising a wier transfer to Ugandia. It cost €8.60. I asked why was it cheaper to send things to Ugandia than 2 countries away to Italy?!. I received in return an elegant Belgian shrug.

And then they almost wouldn't do it for me! Whyever NOT??
Because I was not sending this to a person, but to a business.
Because I did not have a Belgian address. "But... don't you have ANY address here...??"
Because why should things ever be easy? She kept praising my French. Did not help frustration level. If my French was so could why was this so bloody HARD to do??

Nothing make sense here. No wonder the French managed to steal credit for the pommes frites that the Belgians invented...


****

Sara dit :
class was good! y are belgians crazy?
*Melanie* - Dans la France dit :
becquse they pretend thqt they do not understqnd my french
*Melanie* - Dans la France dit :
qnd lqugh qt the words I use
*Melanie* - Dans la France dit :
qnd put the q where the a is supposed to be

***

If I sounds a little nuts it is because I am so tired. There were three mosquitos im my room last night. Blue tanktop dispatched the first one? New red H&M tanktop the second one, but the third one - who when dying spatted me with my own blood - eluded me all night.

I LOATHE lying in bed and listening to the whine of a mosquito, and it kept happening! For the second night in a row I woke up AFLAME with the itch. I am not good with foreign mosquitos. My face, both forearms? one leg and one foot are swollen. Je suis la victim de la Belgique! I was lying in bad last night between skeeto chases, and I could almost TASTE the itch: kind of like Honeydew Melon - and I LIKE honeydew melon! I am so tired. I am burning with these bites - they are actually really hot! And it is all trippy having so many bites, I get a bit dizzy qnd nqusious and things seem a little unreal *tripping out on mosquito poison*...
It was worse in Germany last year and in Dominica though... I completely forget what was the point of all this paragraph..

***

Tomorrw afternoon I sing. I am tha only singer starting with a Handel aria. The Judges apparently do not like Handel arias. Too bad! It is way prettier than the 3 arias everyone else does (Si, mi chaiamano Mimi, La Rondine, and So Anch'io)

***

The subject of Religion came up at the billet house last night. Gasp! Jewish!!

This is what followed:

"But you don't LOOK like a Jew, AND NEITHER DO YOUR PARENTS" ( I asked what was that look and they did not answer)

"You must really be interested in WWII!" (The dqy before they pointed to q monument qnd qsked me if I knew that there had been two world wars)

"When did you cross over to Canada"

"Are your parents Jewish?"

And then a million questions. So now I represent an entire religion/culture.

They qre truly fascinated. Apparently, as far as they know Protestant is not Christian at all and they are definitely Catholics "although we find it hard..i mean, believe in something you don't know is THERE?"

I am being super patient. Even when they explained to me this morning that the bus stop accross the street was the one I had gotten off at yesterday. no kidding. More bus talk.

But they are sweet and although it is rainy and I am SOSOO tichy it is fun walking along and looking in the shop windows. The Two best stores is a video game shop called "Mario's World3, and a shoe shop called "Shoes in the Box." Shoes. In a box. Whyever NOT?? How creative!

I am writing this from a cafe in the African part of town. The teensy place not only has an H1M, but it has a 'hood. I love it! People are really friendly in this area and this cafe is way cheaper and SO MUCH cleaner than the one I as in yesterday. The two populations don't even go to school together. Where is the love?? I feel much more comfortable in THIS part of town; At least I donùt keep getting blank looks when I start to speak (My french is GOOD! It is the Belgiabs whi talk funny!)

Email me people I am loonely

The best presents

Thank you to:

W who gave me the travel pillow without which I would not have been able to sleep at all last night

A whose translator has - from cockroach to kindness - gotten me through 4 countries thus far this month

M and D whose great backpack is sooo handy!

They actually have Belgian waffles here, with pears and apples in them... num num!

Also the couple I am staying with does not understand me. Some of it is vocabulary: they asked if I wanted a tartière (or something) of stale pain; I thought the word was morceau. I said so and they laughts at me once for not understanding tartière and once for using a funny word like morceau. I do not do well when ridiculed. It takes a lot of energy to maintain a pleasant, interested expression, when they talk about the same boring things (like Soccer, which of course they called Football. I tried to explain that we have Am Football and Football but they thought I was talking about rugby or someting and laughed at me again), for the 567th time that hour.

They keep not understanding when I say something, so a "no thanks" can take 3 minutes to express. I want OUT! Cry! I never want to be a houseguest like this again, but it keeps on happening!

Killing (or at least annoying!) with Kindness

Je suis dans la Belgique. I am being billeted and the family is very nice; Thery are two elderly people who live in the suburbs outside this little town. I was supposed to stay in a hotel last night, but when I arrived at the station there was an organizer meeting a girl from Brazil (no-one even bothered to confirm that I was registered, much less meet me anywhere!) and they called my host family, and I saved the cost of a night in a hotel.

Belgium is lovely. This town is adorable, and even has an H&M! Alas, free billeted lodging means that my independance has been abruptly curtailed. And I don't like it one bit!

I know, that makes me ungrateful, but in the last 15 hours I have had to listen to conversations such as (translated for your reading convenience):

"Look at this area. This is where the Africans live. Do you have any of them in your town?"

"Two years ago we billited a girl from Mongolia; you know what they are like there, from the East. She could not even talk French!"

"This is where you will catch the bus"

"See the yellow sign? The one that says bus? That is where it will stop."

"When you want to get off the bus you have to pull the cord."

"Here (gesturing to tree) is where you could pull it."

"Or here (gesturing to other - and rather similar - tree)"

"Here is not a good place to pull the chord. See, then he will stop at THIS bus stop;"

"See the yellow sign? For bus stop? That is where you will be if you pull the chord too early"

"Well (listening to CD) we think it is quite good but who knows what the judges will be looking for"

"Here are some hangers. Do you knoa how to use them?"

"Well, as you suggested, you can probably buy bus tickets at the Tabac (you can) but you had better lean out the window and call to the bus driver to ask him"

"...car in park; window closed; getting out... can you open your door alright?"

And the BEST comment was:
"C'est vraimant MARRON que quelqu'un qui vient do Canada a un accent comme ca!"

Sigh. Racists who are obsessive. Help mee!

The pianist is his son, and he sat in on our rehearsal and smoked. The bedroom I am staying in smelly strongly of paint and needs a fan and when I opened the window all sorts of beasts came in; the pillows are 2cm thick, that is all, and there are no sheets, just futons; I got bitten in the middme of the night all over my arms and legs and face; All they seem to eat is stale bread and cherry jam. Help!

I put my foot down and said FIRMLY that I was staying in la village and not to expect me until... (12:00, he interjetcted) AT LEAST 15:00. I have dealt with this situation before. If I do not assert independance now I will be in the paint room all week. I can barely sing, but I do not compete until Sat.