I'm not at death's door. I'm certainly not a hypochondriac. If anything I am tackling this winter cough due to cold with practicality just as a doctor or mom would. Granted, I make a misstep here or there. Who has time for bed rest? And OK maybe that ONE cigarette after that phlegm producing cheese plate was pushing it.
But this wheezing and whistling? I sound like I'm in a TB sanatorium for crying out loud. Should I start invoking the spirit of Doc Holiday and lament my 'consumption' over a poker table?
At some point during the psychedelic fever dreams, I had an epiphany. Or maybe more of a clever marketing strategy. I have single handedly kept Celestial Seasons Teas in business this week. I bundle up and walk a block to my local bodega to stand and marvel at their selection. They cover their bases and certainly don't disappoint you in your requirements for healing.
They've got the requisite Green and Black and Chamoille. But there's Detox and Menstrual and Echinacea and Ginseng Energy and Diet and Sleepytime Throat and Tension Tamer. My God It's impressive.
They should keep it going though? Branch out further. REALLY take care of every possible ailment or mood?
How's about...
I Just Passed my G.E.D. Tea.
I Stubbed my Toe Tea.
Ebay Auction Loser Tea.
His Facebook Status Denotes a Hint of Irony Tea.
Cognitive Dissonance Tea.
Ipod Warranty Expiration Tea.
Can you dig it?
I kneeeeeew that you could.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Love in the Time of Anthrax
Those posters in the subways CRACK ME UP. The ones that say 'Feeling under the weather today?' (And it shows an umbrella and raining aspirin.) ...And the tag line reads, 'Best thing to do is not get on the train.'
Riiight. Hey you just walking down the subway steps! Listen before you get on the train...Lemme ask ya something... Not feeling so good today huh? Under the weather? Listen, Go home. Explain to your boss that you saw this poster and REALLY thought about it and decided that you actually didn't feel so good. You can totally BLAME us, the MTA. Because GOD FORBID you get on the subway and transmit GERMS on the seats and poles! So just turn around and get back in bed. The MTA really doesnt want to stop the L train if you faint or puke. There's like only so many L trains to go around and we need to squish as many hipsters and yuppies (and police cadets and overworked nurses and mariachi bands and high school kids selling candy for basketball uniforms ) into the train. We certainly can't hold up our inefficient system to aid you in a medical emergency. As a matter of fact...even if your finger hurts...you should probably just stay off the train. We keep saying we're gonna add more trains but we really can't afford it. So instead we're just gonna ask everyone who doesn't feel well...to just...uhh... NOT take the train.
So if you suffer from any of these ailments...
Nausea
Irritability and short tempers
Hostility
Homicidal impulses
Rapid loss of mental clarity
Amnesia
Kidney failure
Diarrhea
Muscle aching and weakness
Tingling or cramping in the legs
Inability to walk
Problems sleeping
Constipation
Impaired muscle formation
Erectile dysfunction
Nerve damage
Mental confusion
Alcoholism
Envy
Gluttony
Sloth
Lust
Greed
Wrath
Pride
or
Apathy...
Please turn around and go home and stay off the train...
Thank you and have a nice day (at home),
THE NY MTA
Riiight. Hey you just walking down the subway steps! Listen before you get on the train...Lemme ask ya something... Not feeling so good today huh? Under the weather? Listen, Go home. Explain to your boss that you saw this poster and REALLY thought about it and decided that you actually didn't feel so good. You can totally BLAME us, the MTA. Because GOD FORBID you get on the subway and transmit GERMS on the seats and poles! So just turn around and get back in bed. The MTA really doesnt want to stop the L train if you faint or puke. There's like only so many L trains to go around and we need to squish as many hipsters and yuppies (and police cadets and overworked nurses and mariachi bands and high school kids selling candy for basketball uniforms ) into the train. We certainly can't hold up our inefficient system to aid you in a medical emergency. As a matter of fact...even if your finger hurts...you should probably just stay off the train. We keep saying we're gonna add more trains but we really can't afford it. So instead we're just gonna ask everyone who doesn't feel well...to just...uhh... NOT take the train.
So if you suffer from any of these ailments...
Nausea
Irritability and short tempers
Hostility
Homicidal impulses
Rapid loss of mental clarity
Amnesia
Kidney failure
Diarrhea
Muscle aching and weakness
Tingling or cramping in the legs
Inability to walk
Problems sleeping
Constipation
Impaired muscle formation
Erectile dysfunction
Nerve damage
Mental confusion
Alcoholism
Envy
Gluttony
Sloth
Lust
Greed
Wrath
Pride
or
Apathy...
Please turn around and go home and stay off the train...
Thank you and have a nice day (at home),
THE NY MTA
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Are You There God? It's Me, Lola!
I never had my Holy Communion. Shoot, I never dragged feet to even one Catechism class. So, when I was sent to girls’ Catholic boarding school in 11th grade, I realized partaking in weekly Mass and receiving the sacrament of the Eucharist might prove morally… tricky. The penguins, bless em’, would provide me with individual attention, positive reinforcement and a healthy raise in my 1.79 GPA. Things my family and I presumed were more substantial than God’s green light to eat a cracker.
My parents weren’t religious just strict and they thought the Nuns could whip me into shape. At school, we were required to attend Mass every week and on Sunday I would sheepishly line up among the throngs of worshippers and partake in the Eucharist. A huge blaring Catholic no-no if you didn’t have your Holy Communion ceremony but I just couldn’t help myself. And If Jesus were so darn forgiving, perhaps he would overlook this slight indiscretion and allow me to …blend.
Eucharist- n. A Christian sacrament in which bread and wine are consecrated and received in commemoration of the passion and death of Jesus.
I was always a bit paranoid that once I joined the line, someone would point and yell and rat me out.
“You can’t be in line! You faker! Lola is trying to eat the body of Christ? Do you even know the significance of this, you heathen?”
Gladly… I went undiscovered. I would step up and enter the aisle when my pew rose for their turn and follow the line to the alter. When reaching the front of the line, I’d put out my hand to receive the Eucharist instead of having the priest place the host directly on my tongue. Somewhere in my mind I thought it might soften the criminal act but I also felt weird about a priest placing something in my mouth. Go figure. With host in hand, I would walk innocently back to my pew coveting the thin wafer and feeling it adhere to my sweaty palms. As I sat down, I eyed my pew companions to see if anyone had read my guilty face and then popped it on my tongue. I loved the taste and texture of those hosts. So crisp! A little salty. Like thin, edible Styrofoam. I would push it toward the roof of my mouth and make it stick for a second before probing with my tongue and cracking it. I’d let it melt into mush before swishing it around and finally swallowing it. Sometimes… I would even think about Jesus. Something along the lines of…
”Ummm Hey Jesus…Uh, I know I’m not supposed to be eating you with out going to Catholic boot camp but ummm…thanks for dying for my sins and stuff. Amen.”
After church on Sundays at boarding school (If I even bothered to show up at all), I would shuffle over to Father Conrad’s office, which was off the side of the chapel entrance. He had an uncle Nestor quality about him but it could have just been the male pattern baldness and flowing robes. I’d knock politely and he’d answer eventually. He’d open the door solemnly and drone on about that day’s sermon in his deep but singsong baritone before I was able to get to my request. So? Did he have the left over host sheets? He did indeed and he shuffled back to his desk and picked up a crumpled brown paper shopping bag with the wafer treats.
The host sheets in question were these baked water and flour full size cookie sheets that the Nuns made. The penguins had little round cutter stamps they would imprint into the cooked layer. After they had culled all they could from the sheets…the leftovers (with the round Eucharist hosts removed) were kept aside. It looked like a very large connect four board. When and where the tradition stemmed that these would make a tasty snack, I know not. All I knew is that one Sunday, junior year, I saw a Mexican exchange student with that brown paper bag and once learning how the goods were procured… I made sure I was the first to hit up Father Conrad.
Grabbing the bag from Old Padre Conrad, I would make a pit stop at the vending machine for a Pepsi and a candy bar. Then run up to my room with the brown bag under my arm, jump out my Z. Cavarucci pleated black pants and silk paisley church shirt and into sweats. I’d head into the junior dorm lounge that consisted of three very ugly but comfy couches and an old Zenith that actually had cable.
Situating myself in the middle of the couch in front of the TV, I’d commandeer the set for the afternoon, hoping to find a John Hughes movies on TBS. I'd sit there till dinner and munch on hosts till my hearts content. I savored one sheet at a time. Breaking it up in sections or sucking off the paste or playfully crunching it up all at one time. Sometimes a white ring of flour would develop around my lips. My eyes would glaze over. My stomach would bloat.
Other Juniors would shuffle by in slippers and ponytails with laundry baskets or bags of freshly micro waved popcorn. Some would stop, stare and recognize the brown bag on my lap and ask for a sheet. I’d casually look over at them and eye them up and down.
“Have you been a good Christian this week? Is Jesus Christ your personal savoir?”
“Oh Fuck you Lola…Come on…Give me some hosts."
“That’s not very Christian-like,” I’d say, playfully eating the host sheet in front of my mouth. “ I don’t think Jesus would care for that language, young lady.”
“Lola!? Please?”
“Ok. Jesus is a forgiving man. You’re lucky there. Come here and let me bless you.”
They would roll their eyes and walk over to the couch. I’d close my eyes for a few seconds and moan Catholic gibberish to unnerve them. Then I’d make the sign of the cross in front of them and offer a “The body of Christ. Go forth and sin no more, my child.”
There shoulders would fall exasperated when I would finally hand over a sheet. I’d chuckle as they walked away, then breath a deep sigh and dig back into the bag. 10 more sheets to go and Molly Ringwald is finally gonna show me some real teen angst. I grabbed more hosts and made a solemn vow. I will fill myself with the Body of Christ. So much so… that I might even become Christ-like??!!
Pretty good deal for $9,000 dollars a year in tuition, eh?
My parents weren’t religious just strict and they thought the Nuns could whip me into shape. At school, we were required to attend Mass every week and on Sunday I would sheepishly line up among the throngs of worshippers and partake in the Eucharist. A huge blaring Catholic no-no if you didn’t have your Holy Communion ceremony but I just couldn’t help myself. And If Jesus were so darn forgiving, perhaps he would overlook this slight indiscretion and allow me to …blend.
Eucharist- n. A Christian sacrament in which bread and wine are consecrated and received in commemoration of the passion and death of Jesus.
I was always a bit paranoid that once I joined the line, someone would point and yell and rat me out.
“You can’t be in line! You faker! Lola is trying to eat the body of Christ? Do you even know the significance of this, you heathen?”
Gladly… I went undiscovered. I would step up and enter the aisle when my pew rose for their turn and follow the line to the alter. When reaching the front of the line, I’d put out my hand to receive the Eucharist instead of having the priest place the host directly on my tongue. Somewhere in my mind I thought it might soften the criminal act but I also felt weird about a priest placing something in my mouth. Go figure. With host in hand, I would walk innocently back to my pew coveting the thin wafer and feeling it adhere to my sweaty palms. As I sat down, I eyed my pew companions to see if anyone had read my guilty face and then popped it on my tongue. I loved the taste and texture of those hosts. So crisp! A little salty. Like thin, edible Styrofoam. I would push it toward the roof of my mouth and make it stick for a second before probing with my tongue and cracking it. I’d let it melt into mush before swishing it around and finally swallowing it. Sometimes… I would even think about Jesus. Something along the lines of…
”Ummm Hey Jesus…Uh, I know I’m not supposed to be eating you with out going to Catholic boot camp but ummm…thanks for dying for my sins and stuff. Amen.”
After church on Sundays at boarding school (If I even bothered to show up at all), I would shuffle over to Father Conrad’s office, which was off the side of the chapel entrance. He had an uncle Nestor quality about him but it could have just been the male pattern baldness and flowing robes. I’d knock politely and he’d answer eventually. He’d open the door solemnly and drone on about that day’s sermon in his deep but singsong baritone before I was able to get to my request. So? Did he have the left over host sheets? He did indeed and he shuffled back to his desk and picked up a crumpled brown paper shopping bag with the wafer treats.
The host sheets in question were these baked water and flour full size cookie sheets that the Nuns made. The penguins had little round cutter stamps they would imprint into the cooked layer. After they had culled all they could from the sheets…the leftovers (with the round Eucharist hosts removed) were kept aside. It looked like a very large connect four board. When and where the tradition stemmed that these would make a tasty snack, I know not. All I knew is that one Sunday, junior year, I saw a Mexican exchange student with that brown paper bag and once learning how the goods were procured… I made sure I was the first to hit up Father Conrad.
Grabbing the bag from Old Padre Conrad, I would make a pit stop at the vending machine for a Pepsi and a candy bar. Then run up to my room with the brown bag under my arm, jump out my Z. Cavarucci pleated black pants and silk paisley church shirt and into sweats. I’d head into the junior dorm lounge that consisted of three very ugly but comfy couches and an old Zenith that actually had cable.
Situating myself in the middle of the couch in front of the TV, I’d commandeer the set for the afternoon, hoping to find a John Hughes movies on TBS. I'd sit there till dinner and munch on hosts till my hearts content. I savored one sheet at a time. Breaking it up in sections or sucking off the paste or playfully crunching it up all at one time. Sometimes a white ring of flour would develop around my lips. My eyes would glaze over. My stomach would bloat.
Other Juniors would shuffle by in slippers and ponytails with laundry baskets or bags of freshly micro waved popcorn. Some would stop, stare and recognize the brown bag on my lap and ask for a sheet. I’d casually look over at them and eye them up and down.
“Have you been a good Christian this week? Is Jesus Christ your personal savoir?”
“Oh Fuck you Lola…Come on…Give me some hosts."
“That’s not very Christian-like,” I’d say, playfully eating the host sheet in front of my mouth. “ I don’t think Jesus would care for that language, young lady.”
“Lola!? Please?”
“Ok. Jesus is a forgiving man. You’re lucky there. Come here and let me bless you.”
They would roll their eyes and walk over to the couch. I’d close my eyes for a few seconds and moan Catholic gibberish to unnerve them. Then I’d make the sign of the cross in front of them and offer a “The body of Christ. Go forth and sin no more, my child.”
There shoulders would fall exasperated when I would finally hand over a sheet. I’d chuckle as they walked away, then breath a deep sigh and dig back into the bag. 10 more sheets to go and Molly Ringwald is finally gonna show me some real teen angst. I grabbed more hosts and made a solemn vow. I will fill myself with the Body of Christ. So much so… that I might even become Christ-like??!!
Pretty good deal for $9,000 dollars a year in tuition, eh?
Sunday, January 07, 2007
Shhh! We're going Geisha Hunting!!!
I don`t even know what day it is and Im fine with that. Been in Kyoto for three days. On the first night, having arrived from Tokyo on the shinkasen bullet train, I was a bit weary of sightseeing and sake and sushi, my wobbly legs were craving something familiar. I heard about a proper Irish pub thats popular round here and decided to head over for some fried fish and chips and a cocktail. Upon entering we found ourselves in the midst of a Japanese wedding reception! It was just ending and the bar was opening up to customers so we were welcomed in. The Irish bartenders and managers were fantastic...as the Irish round the world are. Ended up staying for hours and hours and shooting the shit with my Irish brethern and getting the low down on Kyoto and geisha. All while R and B music played much to my delight. So lets review for a minute, shall we? Irish pub hosting a Japanese wedding and Soul music is playiing all night. Fantastic. Although the next days itineray was shortened and delayed a bit due to the enormous hangover. After the pub closed we ended up at a Karaoke BAR...not box! and sang for another 2 hours. We even saw a geisha woman with her evenings appointment at the bar.
The next day I shook myself off and decided to head a little ways out of town for a hot spring and then a river trip. The onsen was wonderful. Hot water soaking cured the hangover. Then a half an hour away was a 2 hour river trip down the Hozugawa river in Arashiyama. Beautiful mountain river twisting and turning through bamboo forests and other trees I couldnt possibly identify (having slept through most of high school Biology). But anyways...Imagine me and a boatload of 20 Japanese dudes in their 60`s and 70`s... white water cruising. Hilarious. The most talkative of the bunch...although he knew about 10 english words... tried to tell me three ways to Sunday that he wanted to kiss me. So I checked my Japanese phrase book and quickly learned how to say...`Sorry I have a headache`
The entire boat shook with knee slaps and laughs. Then I managed to name drop Hideki Matsui (NY Yankee baseball player for you unfortunate types who dont watch the gentlemans sport) and I was immediatley one of the boys. A floating boat restaurant sidled up to us near the end of our journey where a guy sells little snacks he cooks right on the boat!. Fish and eel and squid (and who knows) and chips and beer. The Japanese grandpas had me trying a multitude of weird shit. No idea what I was eating but it went down okay and tasted alright too.
Then between late yesterday afternoon and today I went to about 10 temples and shrines. I think I hit about .05% of the amount that there are to visit in Kyoto. There are literally hundreds around here. Thousands even. I tried to hit the most famous ones and get the gist. Get all Zen in the rock garden. Check. Take a photo of the bridge and the pond and the big ol Bonzai tree. Check. Walk down the Torii path and listen to my Ipod while breathing in fresh air and contemplating my future. Check. But further enlightment will have to wait...I`m going Geisha hunting!
There about 100 Geisha and 80 Maiko left in Kyoto. The maiko are the apprentice geisha and wear the white face paint and colorful hair ornaments. The regualr geisha just wear Kimono. Spotting the Maiko is best done between 430 and 630 pm as sometimes you can catch them on their way to appointments at tea houses where patrons will pay up to 3000$ for their company and shimasen/japanese guitar performance.
Today I was fully prepared for Geisha hunting. I returned to the hostel around 3 to freshen up and jump back into my kimono, figuring any photo op would have to capture the SPIRIT of Kyoto and honor the tradition of geisha. Also...I look kickass in it. I headed to Gion where most of the the Geisha live and work. My Irish friends mapped out their most frequent routes and I planned on following this route repeatedly and retracing my steps for optimum run-ins.
Ive talked to other hostel kids...and they`ve all seen seen one or two. Some Maiko may stop and pose if they have time. Others walk very fast or run in their wooden flip flops towards their appointment and away from the silly tourists.
I saw... seven.
And got photos with 4 of them.
Well...one on her own and 3 at the same time. One of the women with the maiko...a den mother of sorts, I guess... looked me up and down, smiled and leaned over towards me to straighten the lines of my Kimono under my obi belt. Arrigoto mamasan!
I like the idea of geisha. Theyve always fascinated me. Their very nature is to entertain. I always thought of myself as a gaijin geisha. Bartender? DJ? What do I do but entertain the masses? Get em drinks. Get em dancing. Get em laughing.
And Now...
A few random observations:
If the toilets arent western style then they are flat urinals on the ground that you squat over. Thankfully my Converse are still dry. If they are western toilets...they are the mack daddy of toilets. Coming complete with a hand sink at the top, seat warmer, built-in bidet and my favorite...a soundtrack of trickling water noises to inspire you!!!
There are very very few trash cans anywhere. The Japanese do not like to waste things so I guess to circumvent this...they just dont have trash cans. People also carry there own wash cloths with them to use after washing their hands? So eco friendly but really weird/frustrating to have to carry trash around with you for 10 blocks.
The service industry rules here. Theres no tipping and yet there are like three people waiting on you at all times, so anxious to make sure you have everything you need. NY, take a lesson.
They have something akin to my favorite daily beverage Vitamin water...which please me greatly.
The food at the 7 -11 is actually edible and quite popular?
I totally dig the vending machines. Not only are they on EVERY corner stocked with drinks, coffee, tea, beer, cigs...But I ve seen ones with cameras, ties, batteries, comics and pantyhose. Awesome.
NO one EVER jaywalks. ... I do.
One last thing. The Japanese NEVER steal. Theft is pretty much non exisitent here. You have to take off your shoes before entering a house and you leave them in the foyer. All day long there are like 50 pairs of shoes in the open entrance and nobody nicks em?! A hostel friend dropped her camera while she was dancing at a dance club. It was at lost and found 10 minutes later! Also...Bicycles are a very popluar mode of transportation and you will see hundreds and hundreds of them parked outside of buildings and subway stops.
THEY DONT HAVE LOCKS!
I mean some do...but...ummm... I cant even wrap my head around this. They just park em and go. These people have like...the most amazing lack of selfishness Ive ever encountered in my life.
I want Billy (my schwiin bicycle) that got stolen from me to die and be reincarnated and be born here in Japan. Billy-san!
All is well.Weather has been friggin perfect!! 70-75 degrees every day.
Next blogs will be from....
CHINA y`all!
The next day I shook myself off and decided to head a little ways out of town for a hot spring and then a river trip. The onsen was wonderful. Hot water soaking cured the hangover. Then a half an hour away was a 2 hour river trip down the Hozugawa river in Arashiyama. Beautiful mountain river twisting and turning through bamboo forests and other trees I couldnt possibly identify (having slept through most of high school Biology). But anyways...Imagine me and a boatload of 20 Japanese dudes in their 60`s and 70`s... white water cruising. Hilarious. The most talkative of the bunch...although he knew about 10 english words... tried to tell me three ways to Sunday that he wanted to kiss me. So I checked my Japanese phrase book and quickly learned how to say...`Sorry I have a headache`
The entire boat shook with knee slaps and laughs. Then I managed to name drop Hideki Matsui (NY Yankee baseball player for you unfortunate types who dont watch the gentlemans sport) and I was immediatley one of the boys. A floating boat restaurant sidled up to us near the end of our journey where a guy sells little snacks he cooks right on the boat!. Fish and eel and squid (and who knows) and chips and beer. The Japanese grandpas had me trying a multitude of weird shit. No idea what I was eating but it went down okay and tasted alright too.
Then between late yesterday afternoon and today I went to about 10 temples and shrines. I think I hit about .05% of the amount that there are to visit in Kyoto. There are literally hundreds around here. Thousands even. I tried to hit the most famous ones and get the gist. Get all Zen in the rock garden. Check. Take a photo of the bridge and the pond and the big ol Bonzai tree. Check. Walk down the Torii path and listen to my Ipod while breathing in fresh air and contemplating my future. Check. But further enlightment will have to wait...I`m going Geisha hunting!
There about 100 Geisha and 80 Maiko left in Kyoto. The maiko are the apprentice geisha and wear the white face paint and colorful hair ornaments. The regualr geisha just wear Kimono. Spotting the Maiko is best done between 430 and 630 pm as sometimes you can catch them on their way to appointments at tea houses where patrons will pay up to 3000$ for their company and shimasen/japanese guitar performance.
Today I was fully prepared for Geisha hunting. I returned to the hostel around 3 to freshen up and jump back into my kimono, figuring any photo op would have to capture the SPIRIT of Kyoto and honor the tradition of geisha. Also...I look kickass in it. I headed to Gion where most of the the Geisha live and work. My Irish friends mapped out their most frequent routes and I planned on following this route repeatedly and retracing my steps for optimum run-ins.
Ive talked to other hostel kids...and they`ve all seen seen one or two. Some Maiko may stop and pose if they have time. Others walk very fast or run in their wooden flip flops towards their appointment and away from the silly tourists.
I saw... seven.
And got photos with 4 of them.
Well...one on her own and 3 at the same time. One of the women with the maiko...a den mother of sorts, I guess... looked me up and down, smiled and leaned over towards me to straighten the lines of my Kimono under my obi belt. Arrigoto mamasan!
I like the idea of geisha. Theyve always fascinated me. Their very nature is to entertain. I always thought of myself as a gaijin geisha. Bartender? DJ? What do I do but entertain the masses? Get em drinks. Get em dancing. Get em laughing.
And Now...
A few random observations:
If the toilets arent western style then they are flat urinals on the ground that you squat over. Thankfully my Converse are still dry. If they are western toilets...they are the mack daddy of toilets. Coming complete with a hand sink at the top, seat warmer, built-in bidet and my favorite...a soundtrack of trickling water noises to inspire you!!!
There are very very few trash cans anywhere. The Japanese do not like to waste things so I guess to circumvent this...they just dont have trash cans. People also carry there own wash cloths with them to use after washing their hands? So eco friendly but really weird/frustrating to have to carry trash around with you for 10 blocks.
The service industry rules here. Theres no tipping and yet there are like three people waiting on you at all times, so anxious to make sure you have everything you need. NY, take a lesson.
They have something akin to my favorite daily beverage Vitamin water...which please me greatly.
The food at the 7 -11 is actually edible and quite popular?
I totally dig the vending machines. Not only are they on EVERY corner stocked with drinks, coffee, tea, beer, cigs...But I ve seen ones with cameras, ties, batteries, comics and pantyhose. Awesome.
NO one EVER jaywalks. ... I do.
One last thing. The Japanese NEVER steal. Theft is pretty much non exisitent here. You have to take off your shoes before entering a house and you leave them in the foyer. All day long there are like 50 pairs of shoes in the open entrance and nobody nicks em?! A hostel friend dropped her camera while she was dancing at a dance club. It was at lost and found 10 minutes later! Also...Bicycles are a very popluar mode of transportation and you will see hundreds and hundreds of them parked outside of buildings and subway stops.
THEY DONT HAVE LOCKS!
I mean some do...but...ummm... I cant even wrap my head around this. They just park em and go. These people have like...the most amazing lack of selfishness Ive ever encountered in my life.
I want Billy (my schwiin bicycle) that got stolen from me to die and be reincarnated and be born here in Japan. Billy-san!
All is well.Weather has been friggin perfect!! 70-75 degrees every day.
Next blogs will be from....
CHINA y`all!
Kimono? KimoYES!
Ay!Parrata!
Hostel living has me in a dorm room with 6 other women. All fun and sound chicas from round the globe. I woke up yesterday morning round about 7am because the bunk bed was shaking. I sleepily opened my eyes and wondering sluggishly if the Swede above me was taking care of business. Serious solo and ardent self love kind of business. My brows furrowed and I smirked for a few seconds and then it stopped. I turned over and went back to sleep.
I heard later it was an earthquake. Trivia fact time! There are over 1000 earthquakes in Japan every YEAR. So ...Next time.... I wont automatically assume that someone is getting the Led out.
Yesterday I went to Nikko with a roomate named Nicky. Its two hours north of Tokyo and is nestled near some mountains. Its a very popular day trip because there are some serious shrines up there. So we spent the day wandering through beautiful gardens and temples and shrines. Lovely. Peaceful. Ended up on a wrong bus at one point trying to get to a Japanese Onsen/hot springs to soak for a few hours. Happy accident brought us to the top of a mountain. Autumn colors. Japanese macques /monkeys . And a friggin beautiful lake and waterfalls higher than Niagara Falls. Awesome.
This morning I decided to buy that kimono I wanted at the used Kimono shop. Like I mentioned before, Kimonos are usually very expensive. Some costing upwards to a million bucks. You can buy cheap cotton or polyester ones but I wanted authentic and didnt mind spending a little for it. The lovely Japanese salesgirl even gave me a 20% discount. So I got my Kimono and obi .../the sash that ties around your waist. I am thrilled. Its a knockout and soooo friggin worth it.
Upon returning back at the hostel, the gang and I were making plans for the afternoon. Harajuku is THE place to go on a Sunday afternoon because all the Harajuku girls come out from the Suburbs to dress like crazy Bo Peeps and Freaks and in the lastest high fashion. We wanted to go take photos. A tourist hot spot.
But what to wear to the epicenter of cutting edge and weird? Hmmmm. Jeans and a Tshirt? Sun dress?
Sucka please.
Half an hour later saw me shuffling along the street in full Kimono garb. My posse was cracking up. High fiving my moxy. It was the best decision Ive made since Ive landed. The last 5 days have been a blur of sightseeing. Ive flew mostly under the radar from your typical Japanese citizen who are more focused on getting from point A to point B in an orderly fashion and have no time to inspect the lanky redhead.
Today was entirely different. Almost everyone I passed by checked me out fully. The older women, some in Kimono as well, often stopped me and smiled and laughed or complimented me. I would bow with a coy smile as I had seen done in that Memoirs of a Geisha movie. As I arrived at Harajuku, I whipped out my camera to start taking photos but I was soon surrounded by cameras and I was asked to pose for like...a half an hour.
The Harajuku girls are fashion forward. Ive always said I was fashion backward. Finally it works for me. Old school baby. It was such great fun and I felt so beautiful.
After Harajuku and the Meijo Shrine near Harajuku park...where we saw three different and beautiful traditional Japenese wedding processions!!!!..., we walked through the crowded streets of Shibuya and Shinjuku and ended up at Piss alley and the Red light district. Neon, flash, crowds, Pachinko gambling parlors, craziness, dirty old men that drag their hands across yer bum as they walk by in the tiny alleys that snake endlessly and smoke with food, sake and karaoke and thousands of people crossing the intersection at once. Times Square times twelve. But the Kimono swam me through the crowds effortlessly and so many smiles and pointing and stopping and staring. I'll have to upload my photos and update my Myspace photo. Ill have that photo<-----without photoshopping real soon, my dears!
Full day. Exhausted. Back at the hostel and some kids and I are gonna hit the rooftop deck of the hostel and have some drinks.Tommorow I head for Kyoto which is the cultural heart of Japan. Real living Geisha!
Genki deska?
Genki des!
Rora
Hostel living has me in a dorm room with 6 other women. All fun and sound chicas from round the globe. I woke up yesterday morning round about 7am because the bunk bed was shaking. I sleepily opened my eyes and wondering sluggishly if the Swede above me was taking care of business. Serious solo and ardent self love kind of business. My brows furrowed and I smirked for a few seconds and then it stopped. I turned over and went back to sleep.
I heard later it was an earthquake. Trivia fact time! There are over 1000 earthquakes in Japan every YEAR. So ...Next time.... I wont automatically assume that someone is getting the Led out.
Yesterday I went to Nikko with a roomate named Nicky. Its two hours north of Tokyo and is nestled near some mountains. Its a very popular day trip because there are some serious shrines up there. So we spent the day wandering through beautiful gardens and temples and shrines. Lovely. Peaceful. Ended up on a wrong bus at one point trying to get to a Japanese Onsen/hot springs to soak for a few hours. Happy accident brought us to the top of a mountain. Autumn colors. Japanese macques /monkeys . And a friggin beautiful lake and waterfalls higher than Niagara Falls. Awesome.
This morning I decided to buy that kimono I wanted at the used Kimono shop. Like I mentioned before, Kimonos are usually very expensive. Some costing upwards to a million bucks. You can buy cheap cotton or polyester ones but I wanted authentic and didnt mind spending a little for it. The lovely Japanese salesgirl even gave me a 20% discount. So I got my Kimono and obi .../the sash that ties around your waist. I am thrilled. Its a knockout and soooo friggin worth it.
Upon returning back at the hostel, the gang and I were making plans for the afternoon. Harajuku is THE place to go on a Sunday afternoon because all the Harajuku girls come out from the Suburbs to dress like crazy Bo Peeps and Freaks and in the lastest high fashion. We wanted to go take photos. A tourist hot spot.
But what to wear to the epicenter of cutting edge and weird? Hmmmm. Jeans and a Tshirt? Sun dress?
Sucka please.
Half an hour later saw me shuffling along the street in full Kimono garb. My posse was cracking up. High fiving my moxy. It was the best decision Ive made since Ive landed. The last 5 days have been a blur of sightseeing. Ive flew mostly under the radar from your typical Japanese citizen who are more focused on getting from point A to point B in an orderly fashion and have no time to inspect the lanky redhead.
Today was entirely different. Almost everyone I passed by checked me out fully. The older women, some in Kimono as well, often stopped me and smiled and laughed or complimented me. I would bow with a coy smile as I had seen done in that Memoirs of a Geisha movie. As I arrived at Harajuku, I whipped out my camera to start taking photos but I was soon surrounded by cameras and I was asked to pose for like...a half an hour.
The Harajuku girls are fashion forward. Ive always said I was fashion backward. Finally it works for me. Old school baby. It was such great fun and I felt so beautiful.
After Harajuku and the Meijo Shrine near Harajuku park...where we saw three different and beautiful traditional Japenese wedding processions!!!!..., we walked through the crowded streets of Shibuya and Shinjuku and ended up at Piss alley and the Red light district. Neon, flash, crowds, Pachinko gambling parlors, craziness, dirty old men that drag their hands across yer bum as they walk by in the tiny alleys that snake endlessly and smoke with food, sake and karaoke and thousands of people crossing the intersection at once. Times Square times twelve. But the Kimono swam me through the crowds effortlessly and so many smiles and pointing and stopping and staring. I'll have to upload my photos and update my Myspace photo. Ill have that photo<-----without photoshopping real soon, my dears!
Full day. Exhausted. Back at the hostel and some kids and I are gonna hit the rooftop deck of the hostel and have some drinks.Tommorow I head for Kyoto which is the cultural heart of Japan. Real living Geisha!
Genki deska?
Genki des!
Rora
Tokyo Vice
Kon ba wa! Watashi wa Lola des! Hajime Mashite!
Its rolling off my tongue like ramen drips off my lips. I am HUGE in Japan.
First things first...I LOOVE being a minority. I love being different. I love the attention. Although the Japanese are a very polite peoples. They dont stare or bother you, but there have been quite a few times that I stood, map in hand in the subway, and they come up to check on you. So sweet.
I love bowing. I love the manners. I love keeping to the left of the sidewalk or subway platform when walking. I love slurping my noodles. I love the vending machines. I love the school uniforms and men in suits. I love the how everything is so orderly and clean.
So...I arrived Wednesday afternoon and took the train in from the airport. I arrived at my hostel and immediatley starting rapping with kids in the common room. Rikki from Liverpool and Ryan from Austrailia have become my main wingmen. We made plans for the next day to see the Imperial Palace, The Senso Ji Shrine in Asakusa, The Ueno area and walk around. We ended up at this park where they have boats you can rent. We opted for the giant duck paddle boats and cracked up around the lake for awhile drinking cold sake.
Then last night we went to get conveyor belt sushi. There are these sushi restaurants that have these big square counters. You sit there and sushi plates pass in front of you on a conveyor belt. You are charged depending on the color of the plate. (160 yen for cheap plate and about 450yen for expensive stuff) So we we had out tuna and eel and crab plenty of misc. delicious unpronouncable sushi. You stack the plates between you as you finish. Drink your sake. Grab a plate. Eat and repeat. At the end of the meal...they waiter comes over with this handheld bar code type computerized reader!!! ....And he holds it next to the stack of plates and raises it to the top and then back down again. The fucking computer thing fucking can tell what color plate it is???!! It gives you a receipt. Not only super efficient but technologically kickass!
After sake and sushi..Austrailian Ryan and I decide to hit a Karaoke box. It looks like a hotel entrance. You take an elevator up to the top floor and get a private room. Everything seems second nature to me. Check the songlist book. Pick a song. Type in the number into the remote control thingee. Sing my guts out. Order drinks from the phone on the wall and they deliver them in like...seconds. We kept asking everyone if there were karaoke BARS not just boxes. (You KNOW how I like a crowd.) We heard of a few and will follow up our leads within the next few nights.
This morning, Rikki and Ryan and I got up at the crack of dawn to go to the Tsukiji Central Fish market. Why haul our cookies up at 6am to stand in fish guts? Cause its a friggin mind fuck. Imagine one third of all the fish sold in japan in one day moving through this market. Awesome. Simply awesome. We watched the Tuna auctions from the warehouse. Imagine thousands of frozen tuna fish, 7 feet long at least, all lined up and hundreds of japanese dudes bidding on these things like it was the floor of the NY stock exchange. The auctioner has this husky staccato voice that sing songs the auction. The place is HUGE. On the other side of the auction area is like a square mile or two of stalls selling everything from eels to octopus to shrimp, crab and every single type of fish available. Between the stalls are small passage ways and these little trucks...ummm...like super old school Segways with a dude driving while standing on this flat wagon. And they are driving at Mach 10 past you from every direction. It was like friggin Frogger. But organised chaos. Thousands of restaurant owners and chefs in suits or work clothes all wear knne high black Galoshes and carry big baskets to buy the fish for the days menu.
Then past all that are these stalls for knives and gear and food other than fish. And all these little counter restaurants side by side that are like 6 feet wide. Sushi for breakfast? Not for us. We hit Dennys. And No they dont have Moons over my Hammy.
Quick nap at the hostel and then back out to see some Kabuki Theatre. Didnt understand it as its in Japanesy but I culled the storyline. Someone loves someone else and the rich neighbor is nosy and then the little girl sings and then the mother paints on a screen and the other traveling dude laments. Or something like that. But they all wore beautiful kimonos. Which by the way...I will also be wearing. very very soon. Theres this used Kimono shop I went to yesterday. New ones are like thousands of dollars. These are like 50-300 bucks. I already picked mine out and they:re holding it for me for when I return from Kyoto and Nara.
Tonight I go drop off a bottleof unique and superior Bourbon to a very nice bartender that Rachael and Moss met while here. Friday night in Shibuya. Party time.
I love my life. Im so happy I did this. I am accliamating so well and my heart feels... not so heavy these days. More more more!
Its rolling off my tongue like ramen drips off my lips. I am HUGE in Japan.
First things first...I LOOVE being a minority. I love being different. I love the attention. Although the Japanese are a very polite peoples. They dont stare or bother you, but there have been quite a few times that I stood, map in hand in the subway, and they come up to check on you. So sweet.
I love bowing. I love the manners. I love keeping to the left of the sidewalk or subway platform when walking. I love slurping my noodles. I love the vending machines. I love the school uniforms and men in suits. I love the how everything is so orderly and clean.
So...I arrived Wednesday afternoon and took the train in from the airport. I arrived at my hostel and immediatley starting rapping with kids in the common room. Rikki from Liverpool and Ryan from Austrailia have become my main wingmen. We made plans for the next day to see the Imperial Palace, The Senso Ji Shrine in Asakusa, The Ueno area and walk around. We ended up at this park where they have boats you can rent. We opted for the giant duck paddle boats and cracked up around the lake for awhile drinking cold sake.
Then last night we went to get conveyor belt sushi. There are these sushi restaurants that have these big square counters. You sit there and sushi plates pass in front of you on a conveyor belt. You are charged depending on the color of the plate. (160 yen for cheap plate and about 450yen for expensive stuff) So we we had out tuna and eel and crab plenty of misc. delicious unpronouncable sushi. You stack the plates between you as you finish. Drink your sake. Grab a plate. Eat and repeat. At the end of the meal...they waiter comes over with this handheld bar code type computerized reader!!! ....And he holds it next to the stack of plates and raises it to the top and then back down again. The fucking computer thing fucking can tell what color plate it is???!! It gives you a receipt. Not only super efficient but technologically kickass!
After sake and sushi..Austrailian Ryan and I decide to hit a Karaoke box. It looks like a hotel entrance. You take an elevator up to the top floor and get a private room. Everything seems second nature to me. Check the songlist book. Pick a song. Type in the number into the remote control thingee. Sing my guts out. Order drinks from the phone on the wall and they deliver them in like...seconds. We kept asking everyone if there were karaoke BARS not just boxes. (You KNOW how I like a crowd.) We heard of a few and will follow up our leads within the next few nights.
This morning, Rikki and Ryan and I got up at the crack of dawn to go to the Tsukiji Central Fish market. Why haul our cookies up at 6am to stand in fish guts? Cause its a friggin mind fuck. Imagine one third of all the fish sold in japan in one day moving through this market. Awesome. Simply awesome. We watched the Tuna auctions from the warehouse. Imagine thousands of frozen tuna fish, 7 feet long at least, all lined up and hundreds of japanese dudes bidding on these things like it was the floor of the NY stock exchange. The auctioner has this husky staccato voice that sing songs the auction. The place is HUGE. On the other side of the auction area is like a square mile or two of stalls selling everything from eels to octopus to shrimp, crab and every single type of fish available. Between the stalls are small passage ways and these little trucks...ummm...like super old school Segways with a dude driving while standing on this flat wagon. And they are driving at Mach 10 past you from every direction. It was like friggin Frogger. But organised chaos. Thousands of restaurant owners and chefs in suits or work clothes all wear knne high black Galoshes and carry big baskets to buy the fish for the days menu.
Then past all that are these stalls for knives and gear and food other than fish. And all these little counter restaurants side by side that are like 6 feet wide. Sushi for breakfast? Not for us. We hit Dennys. And No they dont have Moons over my Hammy.
Quick nap at the hostel and then back out to see some Kabuki Theatre. Didnt understand it as its in Japanesy but I culled the storyline. Someone loves someone else and the rich neighbor is nosy and then the little girl sings and then the mother paints on a screen and the other traveling dude laments. Or something like that. But they all wore beautiful kimonos. Which by the way...I will also be wearing. very very soon. Theres this used Kimono shop I went to yesterday. New ones are like thousands of dollars. These are like 50-300 bucks. I already picked mine out and they:re holding it for me for when I return from Kyoto and Nara.
Tonight I go drop off a bottleof unique and superior Bourbon to a very nice bartender that Rachael and Moss met while here. Friday night in Shibuya. Party time.
I love my life. Im so happy I did this. I am accliamating so well and my heart feels... not so heavy these days. More more more!
Monday, April 17, 2006
My trip to Africa July/Aug. 2005
Out of Africa and into the Frying Pan
These are the email journals I sent from the motherland...
Week 1: There's a Zulu on my Stoep!
I arrived in Johannesburg last Thursday night. A gloriously coolevening that also brought with it my 32nd birthday. Indira and I settled in and planned our next day which would include the Apartheid museum.When you enter the museum you are given a pass. The non-whites get a whites pass and the whites get a non-whites pass. Each enters throughthe specific gate marked on their pass card and you walk down a hallway past blown up versions of passport type ID cards. During Apartheid, each non-white person must have this card on them at al ltimes. If their passcards were not in order they were jailed. They were restricted from traveling. They were routinely made to pack all their belongings and "redistributed" to outer parts of the city into black only townships.For three hours we walked through the museum watching videos and reading histories. The most potent and shocking lesson for me were 3 large screens side by side depicting video footage of the early 90'swhen Apartheid was finally dissolving. The riots against Police...the chaos in the city. Constant mobs. Gunfire. Decades of anger boiling to the surface culminating in many many deaths. The white South Africans created their own militia and there was footage of older women and mothers in polos and khaki pants running line drills with handguns.
It's amazing to me that it happened only 10 years ago. But the cities and towns are still somewhat segregated. The white suburbs have beautiful houses with tall fences and barbed wire. They still live in fear of the constant crime. We are routinely told to avoid going out at night. I think they make it sound much worse than it is but we are cautious.
I know...heavy stuff. Go watch Cry freedom and learn for yourself.
Let's move on...you must hear about Safari!
On Saturday we left Johannesburg and booked a 4 day tour into Kruger National Park for
game spotting plus a morning and night bush walk. The best part? We stayed in treehouses! The treehouse was a bamboo and thatched roof hutabout 2 stories off the ground with a balcony. So cold at night!Indira and I don't necessarily like to 'camp" but I mean...come on..A treehouse?! It Had to be done. Plus! It was in the middle of a privategame reserve and we were cautioned to be aware of the roaming buffalo,rhino's and leopards!!??
Those are three of the Big Five!
Whats the Big Five, Lola?
The Big Five are the most dangerous of all the animals. They are the"trophy" animals that everyone wants to see. They are: Elephants, Lions, Rhinos, Buffalo and Leopards.
Can you say, "Sign here for Insurance waiver?"
So you can imagine our girlish screaming when using the outdoorbathroom in the middle of the night and hearing things go bump in thedark. Indira swears there was a Buffalo rubbing its head and bodyagainst our treehouse trunk/stilts one night. I was,thankfully,asleep.
Anyway...morning comes and we drive into the park in open air vehicles. Basically a Toyota pick up truck with a raised seating canopy on the flatbed. From our perch we drove all day through the park and saw...(at super close range)...( I'm talking a meter or two...)(And when I say meters... I mean meters- cause our Americaneducational system has failed us and we can no longer ignore the restof the world. We must herald the metric system!)
Anyway...we saw...Herds of Elephants, Zebras, Giraffes, Lions and cubs, Rhinos, Hippos,Buffalo, Cheetahs, Hyenas, Springboks, Impalas, Nyalas, Crocodiles,Ostriches...Eagles, Beautiful Birds, etc etc. OH! and a leopard!Walking right down the road alongside our vehicle for like 5 minutes!Incredible!Oh Wait till you see my pictures. I got all National Geographic!"
I mean..I've been through Six Flags Safari park...but this was crazy!Cause you're like...in Africa! The park is the size of Israel forgoodness sake. And then...just to make it more interesting...something about a ball bearing or brake pad.... and our tire flew offand we broke down in the middle of the park! Oh how we laughed!...Cause that's what you do when you're in the middle of extreme danger.
So two full days of driving and searching for animals and finding them and hoping they don't crush you or eat you. Exhilirating.At night we would come back to camp and settle in round the bonfire with tea or beer and shoot the shit. Then dinner outside. You've seen 'Out of Africa' or those old Tarzan movies where they have a spread laid out in the middle of the jungle, right? yea. Like that.
Oh my God and the soup. The soup is so friggin good. Split pea.Butternut Squash. Sweet Corn chowder. Delish! Then meats and mealiepap. Mealie pap is their staple. It's like polenta meets Grits but really smooth. Not gritty.After the Braai (BBQ), we would procure more drinks from the bar and return to our seats around the fire. Someone had an ipod with speakers and they entrusted the music selection to me -(seeing as I had thatever useful DJ'ing background.)
After a few choice cuts from Marvin, Stevie and Chi-Lites, The African bartender, Ronald says to me..."Ahhh...so you are a black-white girl."A finer compliment I could not have hoped for in the Motherland.
Anyway- Our last night, Ronald was adamant about showing us a movie.We were content to sit around the fire and sleepily stare at the zillions of stars or bonfire but he was so gung-ho. So he brings out a TV and DVD player and a few hundred feet of extension cord and proceeds to set everything up on a bench by thefire as we shake our heads and try not to let him see us laughing."
Long story short it was a South African movie akin to the GeneWilder/Richard Pryor movies called "There's a Zulu on my Stoep!" Funny as it was, I was exhausted and begged off after 30 minutes of slapstick and headed to the treehouse. (Where my leopard print flannelPJ's fit in smashingly with the decor, mind you.)
Today I'm sitting in CapeTown with the immense Table Mountain looming over the city majestically. We are taking a day off from sightseeingand schedules. We flew in last night from Jo'burg and will spend three days here. Day trips to whale watch. Climb that Table Moutain. Hit the clubs and pubs. Then rent a car and drive the Southern African coast.
We've seen the somewhat intergrated cities, the Dutch/Boer/ whitecountry towns, the Safari and the Bush...but I think we're both hoping to see old school tribal villages as well.The White South Africans are kind of Like Brave New World. I've neverseen so many Blondes in my life...it's like that horror movie...Village of the damned. These perfect little blonde children and their (Editors Note:) jerk grandparents.
Apart from the Apartheid museum, We haven't seen or heard much about racism yet. We've been in the Park or traveling, but both us us are anxious to talk to some folks who can give us the low down. perhaps tonight. I hear the people here are very open with their views. Indira is African American and we heard about a restaurant inStellenbosch (wine country) that refused to serve blacks 2 weeks ago.So we're headed there this week. Oh were gunning for a fight!Anyway.This doesn't suck.More to come.
Whats the latest with Jude and Sienna??!
Love to all.
Miss Lola Belle world traveler
Week 2: ROAD TRIP!!
Still alive. No signs of malaria. Not even a bug bite.I write to you as I sip a delicious Cider beer from the Wild Coast. Indira and I had hung out in Cape town for 2 days and were prepared to climb Table Mountain when we heard that the cable car that brings youdown was broken. Climbing up is scary and exhausting enough... we're not so much hikers/climbers...so we figured we'd swing back through Capetown to tackle it when the cable car was fixed and after visiting the South African Coast. We rented a car and set off.
Ahhh the Garden Route. We planned on sandboarding or skydiving, kayaking, whale watching, etc. along the different coastal towns. Lovely scenic drive. Monkeys on the side ofthe road!(And Driving on the Left side of the road was very easy to pick up.)Anyway, We headed to Hermanus first -about 2 hours from Cape town.Nice enough. Whales off the coast. Wine tasting at at beautiful winery in the hills. Comfy backpackers with a jacuzzi under shooting star milky way skies.But we were getting restless after only half a day. It's super Anglo. Afrikaners everywhere. We wanted some....ummm color? A moreAFRICAN..errrr...NATIVE experience!So we consulted our Lonely Planet book and saw that the XHosa/Zulu tribes are a mere 10 hour drive North. We stared at each othermischievously over white wine and calamari....FUCK IT !ROAD TRIP!So we put the pedal to the medal.
Intially, We didn't think we would have enough time to head that far north when making our itinerary prior to arrival in Cape Town. But we decided to make time...cause when is the next time we'll be here?!Time is almost up!So we drive the 10 hours to Cintsa over a day and a half where a backpackers offers Tribal tours. We arrived yesterday and settled in. Took a walk on the beach then hung by the pool and watched the Londoners play Volleyball.
That night we could see (from our perch at the bar) the small fires burning in the hills around us. Apparantly, the Xhosa people believe that lighting a fire will make the Gods bring rain. Ummm...right..or burn down the county cause it's the dry season?A few of the guys that worked here ran for the hills and put the fire out by the time we went to bed.
(p.s. EVERYONE that we've met here has gotten mugged. ok well not EVERYONE. But like 7 out of 10).
(Whoops. Sorry Mom. Information you might have wanted AFTER I got home, huh?) Anyway. We're safe round these parts. Relatively. As long as they put the fires out.
So! Up at 7am for our tour. 5 of us and our Xhosa guide headed to theTranskeii region in a Landover over some serious rocky and dusty roads. At one point we crossed the Great Kei River by driving thetruck on to a ferry.Out first stop was a typical Xhosa villages. Their brightly painted huts are round and made from twigs and mud. They are farmers and live off the land. Cattle and sheep and pigs and chickens run around their yards and along the dusty roads. We learned how to make the mealie papfrom the maize, drank some foamy stuff that a medicine woman made from herbs and roots, and danced around to some drums and singing.
The women often wear a white clay on their face to reflect the sun and to keep their skin smooth. They also wear very pretty beaded necklaces. The men get circumcised at 18. Most tribe members havethere left pinkie finger chopped off when young to stave off evil spirits. Their language includes a series of clicks and clucks that sound so cool and I've been practicing.
Our next stop was cliff jump into a river down the road. The young boys ran along with our truck and I tossed them apples from the window. They watched our truck in exchange for a bag of Doritos while we walked down a path to the lake/river. We rowed a boat through a beautiful rock ravine and climbed up past the waterfall to jump 30 feet into the (cold!) water.
Then on to lunch on the beach in front of a huge shipwreck. The best for last of course...drinks at the shebeen. A shebeen is a hut/house in a village that sells beers. It's often painted pink(!!!!!). They were illegal during apartheid because blacks couldn't own businesses or drink beer for that matter. So they were very popular. They still are. It's basically a room with two tables and a"bar" at the end. The bar is covered with chicken wire with a hole bigenough to exchange money for beer. We got a few ciders and noticed the local kids peeking in at us so Indira and I headed out to make some new friends which happened easily and quickly.
The music from the shebeen blared from inside and we learned some new dance moves and took lots of pictures. It is IMPERATIVE that you show them the picture you just took. They are so down with the new digital technology. 15-20 kids crowd around you and the small screen laughing at their caught expressions. One village girl even asked me if I came to Africa to "Chillax." The slang of American teens makes its way to Africa?!
It was sad to say goodbye...one young admirer of mine pushed something into my hand as I was leaving. Unwrapping the cloth as we were pulling away...I discovered a ....bottlecap.
I love thoughts that count.
We're back at the hostel now and it's our last night. We've got to head back to Cape Town. We'll drive as much as we can tommorow then drive the rest on Wednesday and get back into town around Noon to FINALLY climb Table mountain. Thursday we fly to Jo'burg and Friday I take the dreaded 18 hour flight back to NY...Should be back in Brooklyn around 9am on saturday morning.
Would have written more but I forget how keyboards work and being round computers just doesn't make sense in this environment. You got the cliff notes. Pictures at Kickball next sunday.
xoxoxoxoxMiss L. Belle
These are the email journals I sent from the motherland...
Week 1: There's a Zulu on my Stoep!
I arrived in Johannesburg last Thursday night. A gloriously coolevening that also brought with it my 32nd birthday. Indira and I settled in and planned our next day which would include the Apartheid museum.When you enter the museum you are given a pass. The non-whites get a whites pass and the whites get a non-whites pass. Each enters throughthe specific gate marked on their pass card and you walk down a hallway past blown up versions of passport type ID cards. During Apartheid, each non-white person must have this card on them at al ltimes. If their passcards were not in order they were jailed. They were restricted from traveling. They were routinely made to pack all their belongings and "redistributed" to outer parts of the city into black only townships.For three hours we walked through the museum watching videos and reading histories. The most potent and shocking lesson for me were 3 large screens side by side depicting video footage of the early 90'swhen Apartheid was finally dissolving. The riots against Police...the chaos in the city. Constant mobs. Gunfire. Decades of anger boiling to the surface culminating in many many deaths. The white South Africans created their own militia and there was footage of older women and mothers in polos and khaki pants running line drills with handguns.
It's amazing to me that it happened only 10 years ago. But the cities and towns are still somewhat segregated. The white suburbs have beautiful houses with tall fences and barbed wire. They still live in fear of the constant crime. We are routinely told to avoid going out at night. I think they make it sound much worse than it is but we are cautious.
I know...heavy stuff. Go watch Cry freedom and learn for yourself.
Let's move on...you must hear about Safari!
On Saturday we left Johannesburg and booked a 4 day tour into Kruger National Park for
game spotting plus a morning and night bush walk. The best part? We stayed in treehouses! The treehouse was a bamboo and thatched roof hutabout 2 stories off the ground with a balcony. So cold at night!Indira and I don't necessarily like to 'camp" but I mean...come on..A treehouse?! It Had to be done. Plus! It was in the middle of a privategame reserve and we were cautioned to be aware of the roaming buffalo,rhino's and leopards!!??
Those are three of the Big Five!
Whats the Big Five, Lola?
The Big Five are the most dangerous of all the animals. They are the"trophy" animals that everyone wants to see. They are: Elephants, Lions, Rhinos, Buffalo and Leopards.
Can you say, "Sign here for Insurance waiver?"
So you can imagine our girlish screaming when using the outdoorbathroom in the middle of the night and hearing things go bump in thedark. Indira swears there was a Buffalo rubbing its head and bodyagainst our treehouse trunk/stilts one night. I was,thankfully,asleep.
Anyway...morning comes and we drive into the park in open air vehicles. Basically a Toyota pick up truck with a raised seating canopy on the flatbed. From our perch we drove all day through the park and saw...(at super close range)...( I'm talking a meter or two...)(And when I say meters... I mean meters- cause our Americaneducational system has failed us and we can no longer ignore the restof the world. We must herald the metric system!)
Anyway...we saw...Herds of Elephants, Zebras, Giraffes, Lions and cubs, Rhinos, Hippos,Buffalo, Cheetahs, Hyenas, Springboks, Impalas, Nyalas, Crocodiles,Ostriches...Eagles, Beautiful Birds, etc etc. OH! and a leopard!Walking right down the road alongside our vehicle for like 5 minutes!Incredible!Oh Wait till you see my pictures. I got all National Geographic!"
I mean..I've been through Six Flags Safari park...but this was crazy!Cause you're like...in Africa! The park is the size of Israel forgoodness sake. And then...just to make it more interesting...something about a ball bearing or brake pad.... and our tire flew offand we broke down in the middle of the park! Oh how we laughed!...Cause that's what you do when you're in the middle of extreme danger.
So two full days of driving and searching for animals and finding them and hoping they don't crush you or eat you. Exhilirating.At night we would come back to camp and settle in round the bonfire with tea or beer and shoot the shit. Then dinner outside. You've seen 'Out of Africa' or those old Tarzan movies where they have a spread laid out in the middle of the jungle, right? yea. Like that.
Oh my God and the soup. The soup is so friggin good. Split pea.Butternut Squash. Sweet Corn chowder. Delish! Then meats and mealiepap. Mealie pap is their staple. It's like polenta meets Grits but really smooth. Not gritty.After the Braai (BBQ), we would procure more drinks from the bar and return to our seats around the fire. Someone had an ipod with speakers and they entrusted the music selection to me -(seeing as I had thatever useful DJ'ing background.)
After a few choice cuts from Marvin, Stevie and Chi-Lites, The African bartender, Ronald says to me..."Ahhh...so you are a black-white girl."A finer compliment I could not have hoped for in the Motherland.
Anyway- Our last night, Ronald was adamant about showing us a movie.We were content to sit around the fire and sleepily stare at the zillions of stars or bonfire but he was so gung-ho. So he brings out a TV and DVD player and a few hundred feet of extension cord and proceeds to set everything up on a bench by thefire as we shake our heads and try not to let him see us laughing."
Long story short it was a South African movie akin to the GeneWilder/Richard Pryor movies called "There's a Zulu on my Stoep!" Funny as it was, I was exhausted and begged off after 30 minutes of slapstick and headed to the treehouse. (Where my leopard print flannelPJ's fit in smashingly with the decor, mind you.)
Today I'm sitting in CapeTown with the immense Table Mountain looming over the city majestically. We are taking a day off from sightseeingand schedules. We flew in last night from Jo'burg and will spend three days here. Day trips to whale watch. Climb that Table Moutain. Hit the clubs and pubs. Then rent a car and drive the Southern African coast.
We've seen the somewhat intergrated cities, the Dutch/Boer/ whitecountry towns, the Safari and the Bush...but I think we're both hoping to see old school tribal villages as well.The White South Africans are kind of Like Brave New World. I've neverseen so many Blondes in my life...it's like that horror movie...Village of the damned. These perfect little blonde children and their (Editors Note:) jerk grandparents.
Apart from the Apartheid museum, We haven't seen or heard much about racism yet. We've been in the Park or traveling, but both us us are anxious to talk to some folks who can give us the low down. perhaps tonight. I hear the people here are very open with their views. Indira is African American and we heard about a restaurant inStellenbosch (wine country) that refused to serve blacks 2 weeks ago.So we're headed there this week. Oh were gunning for a fight!Anyway.This doesn't suck.More to come.
Whats the latest with Jude and Sienna??!
Love to all.
Miss Lola Belle world traveler
Week 2: ROAD TRIP!!
Still alive. No signs of malaria. Not even a bug bite.I write to you as I sip a delicious Cider beer from the Wild Coast. Indira and I had hung out in Cape town for 2 days and were prepared to climb Table Mountain when we heard that the cable car that brings youdown was broken. Climbing up is scary and exhausting enough... we're not so much hikers/climbers...so we figured we'd swing back through Capetown to tackle it when the cable car was fixed and after visiting the South African Coast. We rented a car and set off.
Ahhh the Garden Route. We planned on sandboarding or skydiving, kayaking, whale watching, etc. along the different coastal towns. Lovely scenic drive. Monkeys on the side ofthe road!(And Driving on the Left side of the road was very easy to pick up.)Anyway, We headed to Hermanus first -about 2 hours from Cape town.Nice enough. Whales off the coast. Wine tasting at at beautiful winery in the hills. Comfy backpackers with a jacuzzi under shooting star milky way skies.But we were getting restless after only half a day. It's super Anglo. Afrikaners everywhere. We wanted some....ummm color? A moreAFRICAN..errrr...NATIVE experience!So we consulted our Lonely Planet book and saw that the XHosa/Zulu tribes are a mere 10 hour drive North. We stared at each othermischievously over white wine and calamari....FUCK IT !ROAD TRIP!So we put the pedal to the medal.
Intially, We didn't think we would have enough time to head that far north when making our itinerary prior to arrival in Cape Town. But we decided to make time...cause when is the next time we'll be here?!Time is almost up!So we drive the 10 hours to Cintsa over a day and a half where a backpackers offers Tribal tours. We arrived yesterday and settled in. Took a walk on the beach then hung by the pool and watched the Londoners play Volleyball.
That night we could see (from our perch at the bar) the small fires burning in the hills around us. Apparantly, the Xhosa people believe that lighting a fire will make the Gods bring rain. Ummm...right..or burn down the county cause it's the dry season?A few of the guys that worked here ran for the hills and put the fire out by the time we went to bed.
(p.s. EVERYONE that we've met here has gotten mugged. ok well not EVERYONE. But like 7 out of 10).
(Whoops. Sorry Mom. Information you might have wanted AFTER I got home, huh?) Anyway. We're safe round these parts. Relatively. As long as they put the fires out.
So! Up at 7am for our tour. 5 of us and our Xhosa guide headed to theTranskeii region in a Landover over some serious rocky and dusty roads. At one point we crossed the Great Kei River by driving thetruck on to a ferry.Out first stop was a typical Xhosa villages. Their brightly painted huts are round and made from twigs and mud. They are farmers and live off the land. Cattle and sheep and pigs and chickens run around their yards and along the dusty roads. We learned how to make the mealie papfrom the maize, drank some foamy stuff that a medicine woman made from herbs and roots, and danced around to some drums and singing.
The women often wear a white clay on their face to reflect the sun and to keep their skin smooth. They also wear very pretty beaded necklaces. The men get circumcised at 18. Most tribe members havethere left pinkie finger chopped off when young to stave off evil spirits. Their language includes a series of clicks and clucks that sound so cool and I've been practicing.
Our next stop was cliff jump into a river down the road. The young boys ran along with our truck and I tossed them apples from the window. They watched our truck in exchange for a bag of Doritos while we walked down a path to the lake/river. We rowed a boat through a beautiful rock ravine and climbed up past the waterfall to jump 30 feet into the (cold!) water.
Then on to lunch on the beach in front of a huge shipwreck. The best for last of course...drinks at the shebeen. A shebeen is a hut/house in a village that sells beers. It's often painted pink(!!!!!). They were illegal during apartheid because blacks couldn't own businesses or drink beer for that matter. So they were very popular. They still are. It's basically a room with two tables and a"bar" at the end. The bar is covered with chicken wire with a hole bigenough to exchange money for beer. We got a few ciders and noticed the local kids peeking in at us so Indira and I headed out to make some new friends which happened easily and quickly.
The music from the shebeen blared from inside and we learned some new dance moves and took lots of pictures. It is IMPERATIVE that you show them the picture you just took. They are so down with the new digital technology. 15-20 kids crowd around you and the small screen laughing at their caught expressions. One village girl even asked me if I came to Africa to "Chillax." The slang of American teens makes its way to Africa?!
It was sad to say goodbye...one young admirer of mine pushed something into my hand as I was leaving. Unwrapping the cloth as we were pulling away...I discovered a ....bottlecap.
I love thoughts that count.
We're back at the hostel now and it's our last night. We've got to head back to Cape Town. We'll drive as much as we can tommorow then drive the rest on Wednesday and get back into town around Noon to FINALLY climb Table mountain. Thursday we fly to Jo'burg and Friday I take the dreaded 18 hour flight back to NY...Should be back in Brooklyn around 9am on saturday morning.
Would have written more but I forget how keyboards work and being round computers just doesn't make sense in this environment. You got the cliff notes. Pictures at Kickball next sunday.
xoxoxoxoxMiss L. Belle
My trip to Italy Oct 2004
Friday, October 22, 2004
I went to Italy and you didn't.
Rome Italy. Day One.
Alive.Ok.Maybe even a little inebriated. or alot. 2:30am rome time.Pub crawl...courtesy of the hostel.Haven't slept yet. 24 hours. no sleep/ just can't sleep on planes. Four Tylenol PM couldn't put me to sleep sitting up.NOW that is a diva...Anyway... Got cell phone hooked up. Got pasta carbonara. Then pub crawl with fellow hostelers. Red Bull and Vodka helped.
So far..saw Trevi fountain and Spanish steps. and quite a few pubs and clubs.Also met and spent time with fellow hostel tour groups and kids. Fun bunch. I also met through the gringo tour guides- three boys from the Swiss Guard....for those who don't know...the Swiss Guard are considered the elitest army of any army in the world...they guard the friggin Pope.Tommorow they take me on secret special tour of Vatican.TOTAL HOOK UP. SPECIAL!!! YAH!Good so far. Thumbs up. In rome for 3 more days.Much what I expected.and more.Ciao!Lola Bella!
Buono sera.Rome Day 2.
Let me preface this by saying...you've seen one Crucifixion scene-you've seen them all.That being said...I walked into St. Peter's Basillica with a hearty HOLY SH*T. It's a granddaddy of a church. Da Pope certainly has a nice crib. Took a stairwell down to Saint Peter's Tomb. Also hit the Vatican Museum and the Sistine Chapel. Although you walk through 20 maze-like hallways and rooms before you actually get to the Sistine Chapel and almost all of them have frescos on the ceiling...So I kept thinking THIS room has GOT to be it since each one seemed more ornate than the last. Finally ...We get to it. Breathtaking for sure. I stood directly below Michaelangelos portrait of God and Adam touching fingers, raised my arm, closed an eye and held my pinkie up between them. I felt like Della Reese in Touched by an Angel.
Spent the rest of the day walking and walking. Piazza Navona, Pantheon, Campo di Fiori. Then a Quick nap followed by hostel kitchen cooking and wine consumption with some other travelers. Taking it easy tonight. My gams are shredded. I'm ashamed to admit it but I'm surprised and curious at the lack of catcalls. From what everyone was saying I thought I'd have to wear a burka to keep the Italian men at bay. Apparantly a baseball cap and sweat is enough. Being a tomboy does have it's advantages, eh?
To be continued tommorow...
Buon giorno.Day Three. Rome.Up early. 9am.
Went for a solo excursion to the old school part of town-Hit the colosseum. (Paid for a tour. Learned stuff.) After that...cruised through Vittorale, Circo Massimo, Roman Forum. Weather has been beautiful. 70 degrees. Got the bus and metro system down. My Italian consists of Grazie. Ciao. Prego. and Quanto costa? (HOW MUCH?)
The latter I've learned to ask more often as I was grifted for 6 Euros for a friggin Gatorade outside of the Vatican.
(Note to self-don't buy ANYTHING within a two block radius of any tourist spot.)
Better learn more Italian before I get out of Roma. Gonna call an Italian friend of a friend tonight for dinner and drinks- then meet up with the hostel group for another pub crawl.Tomorrow I head for Naples. Looking forward to it cause it means I'm closer to the second leg of my jouney which includes Capri, Positano, the Amalfi Coast and beachtime. Museums, churches and ruins are interesting and all..but I gots to have some R&R. All this sightseeing is exhausting.Ciao!Lola Bella aka "Brooklyn" (The preferred method the other hostelers have taken in addressing me.)
Naples is Rome on crack. When mentioning I was going to Naples...most other travelers told me how seedy, loud and dirty it was.Ahhhhh...which means...I feel like I'm right at home.When I envisioned Italy...this is what I imagined.Small alleys and cobblestone streets. Laundry lines running 5 stories up. Piazzas full of people drinking and chillling. The dance with death everytime you cross the road trying to avoid cars and scooters. (Walk with confidence).
I love it.
Even though I almost got jacked by some 10 year olds....I was wandering happily lost yesterday through the intricate maze of streets in the Historic district when I came upon a piazza of kids playing soccor. I watched for awhile and considered the possibility of introducing them to kickball...when I thought better of it given my limited Italian vocabulary. I turned around and started heading away...when a few seconds later, I hear running behind me and then someone tries to leg sweep me. I don't even stumble and quickly look behind me fearing the worst. Well...I see two 10 year olds. I'm thinkin' they eyed my camera bag I was clutching tightly and figured I was an easy mark. Perhaps they were hoping I would fall and they could grab the goods. So I just started barking at them and they ran away. It's the not the lecherous men I fear..its the wild pack of kids that roam.
A little while later I saw a larger group of them carrying nun-chucks. hahaha. I smartly cossed the street away from them.The hostel I'm staying at is nice. Great group of people. Two women manage it. One from new Zealand and one from Arizona. We all went to a piazza last night that had two bars and outside tables and had some drinks watching the young Italians preen for each other from their perches on steps, fountains and scooters.
Today I went to the Archelogical museum housing sculptures, and artifacts from Pompeii and the surrounding cities. Then headed down to the seaport and castles for a better view of Mount Vesuvius. Had a lovely seafood linguine lunch by the water with other hostel kids.
So I've got Quanto costa thing down...but now I run into the problem of deciphering exactly how much the goods in question cost because I haven't mastered numbers. I have questions but no answers. Ain't that just life.
Tonight...I'm gonna take it easy cause I get up early tommorow to take a boat to the Island of Capri where I reckon I'll stay for a night or two. Swim...check out the blue grotto and relaxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx.sooooooooo good.
arriverderci!lola bella
I'm on the island of Capri. Home of the caprese salad mind you. Little rainy this morning and I'm waiting for it to blow away so I can swim and go the blue grotto.This island is adorable...and Beautiful. I'm staying in Anacapri...which is on the other side of the island. Streets are rarely labeled, a web of intricate pathways that are about 6 feet wide. It's a mind f*ck trying to figure out how to get back and forth to the hostel but the Italians I've met here have been the nicest and most helpful. It's very touristy here during the day. A lot of senior citizen groups coming into buy Lemoncello. Yesterday I hiked the 1000 steps down past villa san michelle and on to the town of Capri and window shopped. Dolce and Gabbana. Fendi.
Last night...some kids and I went to a restaurant and had a few liters of wine. so cheap. sooo good.Looks like the clouds are parting. bout time. bacios.lola bellawhat day is it?who the fuck cares. I'm in Italy!!Saw the blue grotto today..then a boat ride to Sorrento. Then a bus ride to Positano.
And lucky me...It finally happened...
My first ride on the back of a vespa.
We (some english and australian girls I met at the hostel in Capri.) got into town a bout an hour ago, checked into our hostel overlooking the town and water (breath-taking), and I grabbed a bag of laundry and set off to find somewhere to get it washed. About a ten minute walk down the hill, I find the launderia. Mother, son and daughter comment on my gun tattoo on my hip and I end up showing the rest.
mama gives me the a.o.k and thumbs sign when she sees these and hears I'm from NY. I ask about an internet cafe to write to you fine people and the son, Dario, offers me a ride on his vespa. Hell yea, I say!.We decide to take the scenic route. A good 15 minute journey up and down and around the hair pin turns. He also tells me about a party tommorow night with sushi and cuban music. Sushi and cuban music in Italy? This has to be done. So we exchange numbers and tommorow my travel companions and I salsa and eat da raw pesce. Ciao!Lola Bella
Positano to Florence
Lemoncello is coursing through my veins.But I digress.Positano. Thursday. After the vespa ride with Dario, the launderers son, I went back to the hostel to freshen up. The girls and I headed to dinner at a trattoria on the street down from our hostel and dined on all things appropos. During the meal...I get a phone call from Dario. (Quick descriptive side note. Dario is 5' 3" and a ball of fire.) He and his friend Elio meet up with us and over the course of the next few hours our table for four had turned into a table of 10 as his friends walked by, stopped, listened and had to join the revelry. Two intial liters of vino turned into 8. Salute's and chin chins everytime someone dropped silverware. Which happened every few minutes. Rawkus. Fun. Food kept arriving. Everyone shared. Delightful.Fortunately, I met his friend Chiara. Half-Italian and half-British. Lovely, funny woman. Her Italian father and uncle married two British sisters. Her father is a fisherman in Positano. She invited me to stay with her so I ran up to grab my backpack. Stayed with her two nights. She lives in an apartment on the beach. We woke up the next day to rain so ....stuck inside...we watched Pink Floyd's Live in Pompeii and Eddie Izzard stand-up. Around 1pm...Dario and Francesco knock on the door with pasta, bread and wine. They start cooking lunch and Chiaras father brings down some freshly caught tuna he caught that morning. I made a minor cultural error taking a piece of tuna and adding it to my pasta bowl and Chiara gently informed me that Italians do "COURSES, DARLING". Right...This ain't a buffet, Lola.
The rain cleared up and we walked around Positano, then headed down to the small beach to kick around for awhile. Dinner that night was a pleasant repeat of the dinner we had the night before...only at a restaurant in Praino with live music and sushi. Although what they call sushi and what we know as sushi are two very different things. At the end of every meal...shots of lemoncello went around freely as lightening storms off the coast made a beautiful back drop to our cliffside dining.On Saturday morning I left Positano and had a full day of traveling. Bus to Sorrento. Train to Naples. Train to Rome. Train to Florence.Arrived last night and met some more women travelers on my hostel floor (all really sound women.) we went for some Food, then a wine bar. Then an Irish pub.Today. Walked to the Duomo and am now headed to the Uffizi Gallery.fo some mo CULTURAHHHHHHH.xoxoxoxoxo
Driving throuth Tuscany-Florence was (insert descriptive term here equivelent to beautiful).The first morning , my roomate Emily from Cleveland, and I rolled up to a small hill across the River Arno to the Piazza San Michaelangelo to get a proper view of the city before exploring its streets, museums and famous Duomo.Unfortunately I didn't get a chance to meander inside the Uffizi gallery as the line was 3 and half hours long and I didn't think to make a reservation a few days before. A few less Religious paintings I won't be able to mull but I think I got the gist so far.But we did hit one museum and I saw Michaelangelo's David. Quite a fella. Nice ass. But I wouldn't write home about his twig and berries...and so...moving on...The rest of the highlights mostly include the next days adventure.I rented a car early Monday morning with Emily and another woman, Marie from our hostel..(I'm reading the Da Vinci code right now and the fact that most of my travels find me in the company of women is very parallel to the novels theme of goddess and the sacred feminine. Da sistas are doing it fo themselves!!)
Anyway...yours truly navigated her way through Tuscany, Chianti, Sam Gimignano and Sienna and BACK to FLORENCE without a turnaround or hitch. Quite adept I am at Italian road signs, offensive and defensive driving (and womens intuition) it seems. We took a smaller road through Chianti and San Gimignano and saw some beautiful Tuscan countryside, stopping off here and there for the prerequisite photo op.San Gimignano is called the medieval Manhattan. 14 towers still dot the village. (They once numbered 72 but what with wars and weather erosion?).
Its adorable. Quaint. I can't imagine the throngs that invade this tiny village in the summer. I'm fortunate to have seen it in October.Sienna was akin to San Gimignano but bigger. Great palazzo in the center and one of the prettier churches I've seen ...(and I've seen a plenty!). Last night we had a quiet dinner with delicious wine (Marie works for a winery in New Zealand and knows her stuff)and I partook in some famous Florentine steak and was asleep by 11! The jet lag is gonna KILL me when I get back?! Today I travelled back down to Rome via the train and am settled into the same hostel I stayed at when I first arrived. Tonight is my last big Italian meal and I mean to go for the brass ring. Multiple courses. Proper wine. (Not just the house brand in the litre jug.)And then up at the crack of dawn tomorrow to catch my flight back to NY.Arriving at 2:30pm.I should be home by 4 depending on my route home.
So....Thanks for your shout-outs and interest during my much needed vacation.It went swimmingly.I am eager to sleep in my own bed and eat fried chicken and imbibe vast quantities of Vtiamin water. Maybe all at the same time.
The Prodigal Brooklyn daughter returns.
I went to Italy and you didn't.
Rome Italy. Day One.
Alive.Ok.Maybe even a little inebriated. or alot. 2:30am rome time.Pub crawl...courtesy of the hostel.Haven't slept yet. 24 hours. no sleep/ just can't sleep on planes. Four Tylenol PM couldn't put me to sleep sitting up.NOW that is a diva...Anyway... Got cell phone hooked up. Got pasta carbonara. Then pub crawl with fellow hostelers. Red Bull and Vodka helped.
So far..saw Trevi fountain and Spanish steps. and quite a few pubs and clubs.Also met and spent time with fellow hostel tour groups and kids. Fun bunch. I also met through the gringo tour guides- three boys from the Swiss Guard....for those who don't know...the Swiss Guard are considered the elitest army of any army in the world...they guard the friggin Pope.Tommorow they take me on secret special tour of Vatican.TOTAL HOOK UP. SPECIAL!!! YAH!Good so far. Thumbs up. In rome for 3 more days.Much what I expected.and more.Ciao!Lola Bella!
Buono sera.Rome Day 2.
Let me preface this by saying...you've seen one Crucifixion scene-you've seen them all.That being said...I walked into St. Peter's Basillica with a hearty HOLY SH*T. It's a granddaddy of a church. Da Pope certainly has a nice crib. Took a stairwell down to Saint Peter's Tomb. Also hit the Vatican Museum and the Sistine Chapel. Although you walk through 20 maze-like hallways and rooms before you actually get to the Sistine Chapel and almost all of them have frescos on the ceiling...So I kept thinking THIS room has GOT to be it since each one seemed more ornate than the last. Finally ...We get to it. Breathtaking for sure. I stood directly below Michaelangelos portrait of God and Adam touching fingers, raised my arm, closed an eye and held my pinkie up between them. I felt like Della Reese in Touched by an Angel.
Spent the rest of the day walking and walking. Piazza Navona, Pantheon, Campo di Fiori. Then a Quick nap followed by hostel kitchen cooking and wine consumption with some other travelers. Taking it easy tonight. My gams are shredded. I'm ashamed to admit it but I'm surprised and curious at the lack of catcalls. From what everyone was saying I thought I'd have to wear a burka to keep the Italian men at bay. Apparantly a baseball cap and sweat is enough. Being a tomboy does have it's advantages, eh?
To be continued tommorow...
Buon giorno.Day Three. Rome.Up early. 9am.
Went for a solo excursion to the old school part of town-Hit the colosseum. (Paid for a tour. Learned stuff.) After that...cruised through Vittorale, Circo Massimo, Roman Forum. Weather has been beautiful. 70 degrees. Got the bus and metro system down. My Italian consists of Grazie. Ciao. Prego. and Quanto costa? (HOW MUCH?)
The latter I've learned to ask more often as I was grifted for 6 Euros for a friggin Gatorade outside of the Vatican.
(Note to self-don't buy ANYTHING within a two block radius of any tourist spot.)
Better learn more Italian before I get out of Roma. Gonna call an Italian friend of a friend tonight for dinner and drinks- then meet up with the hostel group for another pub crawl.Tomorrow I head for Naples. Looking forward to it cause it means I'm closer to the second leg of my jouney which includes Capri, Positano, the Amalfi Coast and beachtime. Museums, churches and ruins are interesting and all..but I gots to have some R&R. All this sightseeing is exhausting.Ciao!Lola Bella aka "Brooklyn" (The preferred method the other hostelers have taken in addressing me.)
Naples is Rome on crack. When mentioning I was going to Naples...most other travelers told me how seedy, loud and dirty it was.Ahhhhh...which means...I feel like I'm right at home.When I envisioned Italy...this is what I imagined.Small alleys and cobblestone streets. Laundry lines running 5 stories up. Piazzas full of people drinking and chillling. The dance with death everytime you cross the road trying to avoid cars and scooters. (Walk with confidence).
I love it.
Even though I almost got jacked by some 10 year olds....I was wandering happily lost yesterday through the intricate maze of streets in the Historic district when I came upon a piazza of kids playing soccor. I watched for awhile and considered the possibility of introducing them to kickball...when I thought better of it given my limited Italian vocabulary. I turned around and started heading away...when a few seconds later, I hear running behind me and then someone tries to leg sweep me. I don't even stumble and quickly look behind me fearing the worst. Well...I see two 10 year olds. I'm thinkin' they eyed my camera bag I was clutching tightly and figured I was an easy mark. Perhaps they were hoping I would fall and they could grab the goods. So I just started barking at them and they ran away. It's the not the lecherous men I fear..its the wild pack of kids that roam.
A little while later I saw a larger group of them carrying nun-chucks. hahaha. I smartly cossed the street away from them.The hostel I'm staying at is nice. Great group of people. Two women manage it. One from new Zealand and one from Arizona. We all went to a piazza last night that had two bars and outside tables and had some drinks watching the young Italians preen for each other from their perches on steps, fountains and scooters.
Today I went to the Archelogical museum housing sculptures, and artifacts from Pompeii and the surrounding cities. Then headed down to the seaport and castles for a better view of Mount Vesuvius. Had a lovely seafood linguine lunch by the water with other hostel kids.
So I've got Quanto costa thing down...but now I run into the problem of deciphering exactly how much the goods in question cost because I haven't mastered numbers. I have questions but no answers. Ain't that just life.
Tonight...I'm gonna take it easy cause I get up early tommorow to take a boat to the Island of Capri where I reckon I'll stay for a night or two. Swim...check out the blue grotto and relaxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx.sooooooooo good.
arriverderci!lola bella
I'm on the island of Capri. Home of the caprese salad mind you. Little rainy this morning and I'm waiting for it to blow away so I can swim and go the blue grotto.This island is adorable...and Beautiful. I'm staying in Anacapri...which is on the other side of the island. Streets are rarely labeled, a web of intricate pathways that are about 6 feet wide. It's a mind f*ck trying to figure out how to get back and forth to the hostel but the Italians I've met here have been the nicest and most helpful. It's very touristy here during the day. A lot of senior citizen groups coming into buy Lemoncello. Yesterday I hiked the 1000 steps down past villa san michelle and on to the town of Capri and window shopped. Dolce and Gabbana. Fendi.
Last night...some kids and I went to a restaurant and had a few liters of wine. so cheap. sooo good.Looks like the clouds are parting. bout time. bacios.lola bellawhat day is it?who the fuck cares. I'm in Italy!!Saw the blue grotto today..then a boat ride to Sorrento. Then a bus ride to Positano.
And lucky me...It finally happened...
My first ride on the back of a vespa.
We (some english and australian girls I met at the hostel in Capri.) got into town a bout an hour ago, checked into our hostel overlooking the town and water (breath-taking), and I grabbed a bag of laundry and set off to find somewhere to get it washed. About a ten minute walk down the hill, I find the launderia. Mother, son and daughter comment on my gun tattoo on my hip and I end up showing the rest.
mama gives me the a.o.k and thumbs sign when she sees these and hears I'm from NY. I ask about an internet cafe to write to you fine people and the son, Dario, offers me a ride on his vespa. Hell yea, I say!.We decide to take the scenic route. A good 15 minute journey up and down and around the hair pin turns. He also tells me about a party tommorow night with sushi and cuban music. Sushi and cuban music in Italy? This has to be done. So we exchange numbers and tommorow my travel companions and I salsa and eat da raw pesce. Ciao!Lola Bella
Positano to Florence
Lemoncello is coursing through my veins.But I digress.Positano. Thursday. After the vespa ride with Dario, the launderers son, I went back to the hostel to freshen up. The girls and I headed to dinner at a trattoria on the street down from our hostel and dined on all things appropos. During the meal...I get a phone call from Dario. (Quick descriptive side note. Dario is 5' 3" and a ball of fire.) He and his friend Elio meet up with us and over the course of the next few hours our table for four had turned into a table of 10 as his friends walked by, stopped, listened and had to join the revelry. Two intial liters of vino turned into 8. Salute's and chin chins everytime someone dropped silverware. Which happened every few minutes. Rawkus. Fun. Food kept arriving. Everyone shared. Delightful.Fortunately, I met his friend Chiara. Half-Italian and half-British. Lovely, funny woman. Her Italian father and uncle married two British sisters. Her father is a fisherman in Positano. She invited me to stay with her so I ran up to grab my backpack. Stayed with her two nights. She lives in an apartment on the beach. We woke up the next day to rain so ....stuck inside...we watched Pink Floyd's Live in Pompeii and Eddie Izzard stand-up. Around 1pm...Dario and Francesco knock on the door with pasta, bread and wine. They start cooking lunch and Chiaras father brings down some freshly caught tuna he caught that morning. I made a minor cultural error taking a piece of tuna and adding it to my pasta bowl and Chiara gently informed me that Italians do "COURSES, DARLING". Right...This ain't a buffet, Lola.
The rain cleared up and we walked around Positano, then headed down to the small beach to kick around for awhile. Dinner that night was a pleasant repeat of the dinner we had the night before...only at a restaurant in Praino with live music and sushi. Although what they call sushi and what we know as sushi are two very different things. At the end of every meal...shots of lemoncello went around freely as lightening storms off the coast made a beautiful back drop to our cliffside dining.On Saturday morning I left Positano and had a full day of traveling. Bus to Sorrento. Train to Naples. Train to Rome. Train to Florence.Arrived last night and met some more women travelers on my hostel floor (all really sound women.) we went for some Food, then a wine bar. Then an Irish pub.Today. Walked to the Duomo and am now headed to the Uffizi Gallery.fo some mo CULTURAHHHHHHH.xoxoxoxoxo
Driving throuth Tuscany-Florence was (insert descriptive term here equivelent to beautiful).The first morning , my roomate Emily from Cleveland, and I rolled up to a small hill across the River Arno to the Piazza San Michaelangelo to get a proper view of the city before exploring its streets, museums and famous Duomo.Unfortunately I didn't get a chance to meander inside the Uffizi gallery as the line was 3 and half hours long and I didn't think to make a reservation a few days before. A few less Religious paintings I won't be able to mull but I think I got the gist so far.But we did hit one museum and I saw Michaelangelo's David. Quite a fella. Nice ass. But I wouldn't write home about his twig and berries...and so...moving on...The rest of the highlights mostly include the next days adventure.I rented a car early Monday morning with Emily and another woman, Marie from our hostel..(I'm reading the Da Vinci code right now and the fact that most of my travels find me in the company of women is very parallel to the novels theme of goddess and the sacred feminine. Da sistas are doing it fo themselves!!)
Anyway...yours truly navigated her way through Tuscany, Chianti, Sam Gimignano and Sienna and BACK to FLORENCE without a turnaround or hitch. Quite adept I am at Italian road signs, offensive and defensive driving (and womens intuition) it seems. We took a smaller road through Chianti and San Gimignano and saw some beautiful Tuscan countryside, stopping off here and there for the prerequisite photo op.San Gimignano is called the medieval Manhattan. 14 towers still dot the village. (They once numbered 72 but what with wars and weather erosion?).
Its adorable. Quaint. I can't imagine the throngs that invade this tiny village in the summer. I'm fortunate to have seen it in October.Sienna was akin to San Gimignano but bigger. Great palazzo in the center and one of the prettier churches I've seen ...(and I've seen a plenty!). Last night we had a quiet dinner with delicious wine (Marie works for a winery in New Zealand and knows her stuff)and I partook in some famous Florentine steak and was asleep by 11! The jet lag is gonna KILL me when I get back?! Today I travelled back down to Rome via the train and am settled into the same hostel I stayed at when I first arrived. Tonight is my last big Italian meal and I mean to go for the brass ring. Multiple courses. Proper wine. (Not just the house brand in the litre jug.)And then up at the crack of dawn tomorrow to catch my flight back to NY.Arriving at 2:30pm.I should be home by 4 depending on my route home.
So....Thanks for your shout-outs and interest during my much needed vacation.It went swimmingly.I am eager to sleep in my own bed and eat fried chicken and imbibe vast quantities of Vtiamin water. Maybe all at the same time.
The Prodigal Brooklyn daughter returns.
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