I took a crazy route home to Gelsenkirchen from Paris. I decided I wanted to see some mountains before I went back, so I went back via Geneva, Switzerland. I thought why not spend the whole day travelling and looking out the window since my Eurail pass allowed me that freedom. So I watched the landscape through France, the land is still brown this time of year, as it changed and quickly became more mountainous. I saw what I came to see, white swans glided over pristine lakes the color of gems. In Geneva I spent three hours walking along the lake and through the park. I stopped and ate the remains of the bread and red pesto I bought in Paris. I looked up at the mountains framing the lake. They were so pretty and snow covered, almost cheesy like the cover of a hot cocoa box. Then I took a train to Freiburg, Germany where I walked around in the dark quiet little city, feeling or imagining that I felt the black forest around me. The darkness was thick and seemed to crawl out enveloping the city in lively vines. I saw a pretty church. I saw more than I wanted of Freiburg that night, but that is a story you will have to ask me about another time. I felt silly and tired that night as I put my weary self on a smooth white overnight ice train to Gelsenkirchen with one stop in the morning.
Mark opened his door to me and we ate a delicious Mark style breakfast with coffee and I told him of all my adventures. I felt surprisingly good after sleeping upright in my seat on a train, my purse in my arms under the coat I was using as a blanket.
I am sorry that there are no pictures here of Gelsenkirchen. It isn't a city that is even listed in guidebooks, but because Mark, Mark, and Charley are there it felt like a home base for a while and I actually really started to like it. I always walked with excitement down the pedestrian cobblestone streets whenever I arrived back in town from auditions and adventures. I enjoyed walking Charley the Boston Terrier through the park and going to the little outdoor market to get fish or delicious cake to share over coffee. Mark and Mark were so kind to me that I don't know how I could ever repay them.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Our Friend the Eiffel Tower
I think that many people all over the world love the Eiffel tower. Maybe some Parisians don't love it, but it seems strange not to love the Eiffel tower. When I was all over Paris looking for it and I finally reached it on a sort of gloomy day I actually felt disappointed in it. There were army guys in camouflage with huge guns guarding the area under the tower, and tons of people even during this off season. There were hot dogs, fries and snacks sizzling in overpriced little snack stations and loud rap music playing. There were beggars around and blankets laid out with thousands of Eiffel tower key chains for sale. I actually felt scared when I saw the guns. I guess that was the point. Well, that night when I went back to the youth hostel and met a new friend, he convinced me that I couldn't think that about the Eiffel tower and that I really couldn't leave Paris unimpressed with the Eiffel tower. So even though I felt tired from walking all day, I agreed to go out for an evening walk, because how often do you have an opportunity to do something like that and it's Paris? I am so glad I went. The Eiffel tower really is beautiful and somehow magical at night. I have to admit the Eiffel tower made me feel all fluttery inside. Below are a few pictures from our walk.
Top ten Guide to Parigi
I didn't have a guide for Paris. I brought a very detailed guidebook for Germany on my trip, but I was lucky to find a guidebook in Italian for Paris when I was walking around on Montmartre. Some one left it near one of those binocular stations. I looked around listened for people speaking Italian, didn't hear anyone and slipped the guide into my bag. When I left Paris I stuck this guidebook on the youth hostel bookshelf with some other guides so that it can help enhance some Italian's future trip to Parigi.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
The Ring
I have brought home a very romantic souvenir for Luis. Anyone hoping for plastic beer stein magnets brimming with plastic foam, a dozen Eiffel tower key chains, or plastic dolls in traditional dress will be dissapointed by me on my return from this particular trip.
I was out for an evening walk with an Argentinian magician in Paris when walking along the Seine I saw something glowing gold and round on the ground. I turned around, picked it up, and examined it. "It could be a gypsy ring." He said.
I looked into the shadows around me expecting to be surrounded. "Ahhh!" I started to run. "No, No." he said "There's no gypsy here now. It's just I've seen them with their routine in the streets." He explained to me how he had seen beggars who will intentionally drop a ring on the sidewalk in front of tourists and then say something like "Hey you dropped your ring!" Then after appealing to the tourist's greed they will demand payment for the ring. When people don't follow their trick and just walk by they get angry and start muttering something in their own language.
The very next day I witnessed it in action in Montmartre. It played out exactly as my friend described. The woman dropped a ring, picked it up smiling and looked at the ring.
"Sir, Sir......you dropped your ring." she said to a man who just kept walking briskly by her. Her smile dissappeared.
Perhaps my new ring is worthless. I can picture a gypsy at the end of a day's fruitless work muttering something and throwing the useless ring into the dirt where I proceeded to find it. Or perhaps it got there when a pair of newly weds came on their romantic trip to Paris and ended up having a heated fight.
"Fine! It's over!" The man throwing his ring into a dark spot next to the Seine and wandering off into the night. Perhaps we will see what it is worth. Luis seems to like the ring and even though it is too big for him to wear, he might keep it. I can be a bit superstitious. For example I took no pictures in the cemetery, Pere-Lachaise. Do you think I want to be in a Korean horror film where the ghosts start appearing in the photographs and follow me? I don't have time for that. I also ate nothing even though I had some food in my bag and was a little hungry because I didn't want the ghosts to be jealous. I am sure I would miss food if I were a ghost.
But, maybe the ring is a good sign and I was meant to find it.
I was out for an evening walk with an Argentinian magician in Paris when walking along the Seine I saw something glowing gold and round on the ground. I turned around, picked it up, and examined it. "It could be a gypsy ring." He said.
I looked into the shadows around me expecting to be surrounded. "Ahhh!" I started to run. "No, No." he said "There's no gypsy here now. It's just I've seen them with their routine in the streets." He explained to me how he had seen beggars who will intentionally drop a ring on the sidewalk in front of tourists and then say something like "Hey you dropped your ring!" Then after appealing to the tourist's greed they will demand payment for the ring. When people don't follow their trick and just walk by they get angry and start muttering something in their own language.
The very next day I witnessed it in action in Montmartre. It played out exactly as my friend described. The woman dropped a ring, picked it up smiling and looked at the ring.
"Sir, Sir......you dropped your ring." she said to a man who just kept walking briskly by her. Her smile dissappeared.
Perhaps my new ring is worthless. I can picture a gypsy at the end of a day's fruitless work muttering something and throwing the useless ring into the dirt where I proceeded to find it. Or perhaps it got there when a pair of newly weds came on their romantic trip to Paris and ended up having a heated fight.
"Fine! It's over!" The man throwing his ring into a dark spot next to the Seine and wandering off into the night. Perhaps we will see what it is worth. Luis seems to like the ring and even though it is too big for him to wear, he might keep it. I can be a bit superstitious. For example I took no pictures in the cemetery, Pere-Lachaise. Do you think I want to be in a Korean horror film where the ghosts start appearing in the photographs and follow me? I don't have time for that. I also ate nothing even though I had some food in my bag and was a little hungry because I didn't want the ghosts to be jealous. I am sure I would miss food if I were a ghost.
But, maybe the ring is a good sign and I was meant to find it.
The Raucherbereich another Story
Europeans will tell you everything that is wrong with what you do. You can be expected to answer for Bush's policies and explain reality tv shows. You will receive funny looks when you haven't heard of certain American television shows that they watch although often dubbed in German in Germany. They will wonder why you don't speak Dutch. When all of their countries are connected by a wonderful train system and they watch CNN and the BBC in English, they will wonder how it is that no one speaks anything but English in the US. You will insist to them that it is a big country and really some people do speak Spanish.
People back home that idealise Europe seem to think that better recycling policies and the use of bicycles for example stem for a sincere love for the wellbeing of humanity. However when all of your people are crammed in together in a small space and the Rhein river is dumping pollution in your backyard you might consider recycling too. There are some Europeans that don't recycle strictly.
As delicious as the bread is in Europe, loved by many, there is one thing that goes on there that I cannot explain away. Smoking. Smoking is everywhere. One day after an audition in Dusseldorf I walked the strip of train gate looking for a smoke free place to sit. As a singer I twist my face up and wrinkle my nose at the smell of smoke as I am sure you do too. I finally found a spot on a bench to wait. Only one business man in a detective style trench coat and hat waiting here. I waited in peace for a few minutes while he silently gathered background information on me. Suddenly he pulled out the perfect accessory an elegant dark pipe and began to smoke.
"Of course @$## %%^^ &^*6!" I muttered under my breath looking at him, glaring from the corner of my eyes and getting up to find another waiting spot. His eyes moved casually over to me, unfazed. I stared at him for a while from my new spot, then noticed a curious painted line around the area he was sitting in. Four signs marked the edges of the area. "Raucherbereich," smoking area they said.
People back home that idealise Europe seem to think that better recycling policies and the use of bicycles for example stem for a sincere love for the wellbeing of humanity. However when all of your people are crammed in together in a small space and the Rhein river is dumping pollution in your backyard you might consider recycling too. There are some Europeans that don't recycle strictly.
As delicious as the bread is in Europe, loved by many, there is one thing that goes on there that I cannot explain away. Smoking. Smoking is everywhere. One day after an audition in Dusseldorf I walked the strip of train gate looking for a smoke free place to sit. As a singer I twist my face up and wrinkle my nose at the smell of smoke as I am sure you do too. I finally found a spot on a bench to wait. Only one business man in a detective style trench coat and hat waiting here. I waited in peace for a few minutes while he silently gathered background information on me. Suddenly he pulled out the perfect accessory an elegant dark pipe and began to smoke.
"Of course @$## %%^^ &^*6!" I muttered under my breath looking at him, glaring from the corner of my eyes and getting up to find another waiting spot. His eyes moved casually over to me, unfazed. I stared at him for a while from my new spot, then noticed a curious painted line around the area he was sitting in. Four signs marked the edges of the area. "Raucherbereich," smoking area they said.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Funny Stories :)
I just realized that this blog has really been lacking in funny stories. Maybe you blog readers have the wrong impression and think that there were no funny stories on this trip! Believe me there certainly were.
There was probably something crazy every day to tell about. In Paris I was walking around after my audition for example and an old man on a bicycle with a cart behind it started barreling through a pedestrian walkway. Three cigarettes hanging from his mouth. He rode his bike straight for me and I just stopped like a deer in the headlights. "What's wrong with you!" He shouted at me in French. I jumped out of the way just in time my heart racing. He was already gone but for my own satisfaction I said out loud "What's wrong with me? What's my problem? You're the one with three cigarettes in his mouth riding a bike through a pedestrian walkway! You crazy @#$%!" And then he was gone and I was sure he was crazy.
Yes travelling eventually led to a lot of mumbling under my breath especially when lost or tired. I became quite bold about it after a while and just said whatever I thought out loud.
For example I was in line to get a youth metro pass which I am still eligible for when the lady at the ticket desk explained cooly to me that the passes were only available on weekends.
"Excuse me a moment, I have to think about this." I said as politely as possible and stepped aside.
"@$#$%#, #^$%!&** &^&%$$" I said in frustration. Just as I opened my mouth two American tourists, a couple in their late 50s approached the desk. The man flashed me an amused smile.
"Excuse me. Welcome to Paris!" I told them and walked away.
More stories and pictures to come.
There was probably something crazy every day to tell about. In Paris I was walking around after my audition for example and an old man on a bicycle with a cart behind it started barreling through a pedestrian walkway. Three cigarettes hanging from his mouth. He rode his bike straight for me and I just stopped like a deer in the headlights. "What's wrong with you!" He shouted at me in French. I jumped out of the way just in time my heart racing. He was already gone but for my own satisfaction I said out loud "What's wrong with me? What's my problem? You're the one with three cigarettes in his mouth riding a bike through a pedestrian walkway! You crazy @#$%!" And then he was gone and I was sure he was crazy.
Yes travelling eventually led to a lot of mumbling under my breath especially when lost or tired. I became quite bold about it after a while and just said whatever I thought out loud.
For example I was in line to get a youth metro pass which I am still eligible for when the lady at the ticket desk explained cooly to me that the passes were only available on weekends.
"Excuse me a moment, I have to think about this." I said as politely as possible and stepped aside.
"@$#$%#, #^$%!&** &^&%$$" I said in frustration. Just as I opened my mouth two American tourists, a couple in their late 50s approached the desk. The man flashed me an amused smile.
"Excuse me. Welcome to Paris!" I told them and walked away.
More stories and pictures to come.
A Funny Story/ Love
Well when I first arrived in Paris the night after an audition in Dusseldorf, I found my youth hostel and felt smart because it was a breakfast included youth hostel. A sign posted at the check in desk told the hours for breakfast. In the morning I came downstairs and looked for the table spread with fresh croissants and delicious coffee. Perhaps some orange juice. I didn't see it. hmmm...did I miss it? No, it should be here. I approached the lady at the desk. Her caramel colored hair hung in layers around her face. A matching hand bag sized dog perched on the desk in front of her with fur the same color and texture as the lady's hair. The lady wore an unimpressed expression. The dog shivered delicately. "Sorry did I miss breakfast?"
"eer are your tokens. There is coffee in the machine and croissants in the machine next to it."she said matter of factly. "ok."
I could have a cup of coffee and two croissants or two cups of coffee and one croissant...hmmm better try one of each first. The individually plastic wrapped croissants that fell with a "thunk!" from the vending machine were about the same level of deliciousness as a little debbie snack cake (to me simply awful and the machine coffee? undrinkable.) I was dissapointed at first, but then decided "Hey, at least there's breakfast." The chocolate croissants weren't so bad.
I asked the lady for directions to Place de la Bastille for my audition. "What is your dog's name?" I asked her.
"Er name is Luhb."
"Sorry?"
"Luhb!"
"Oh Love!" The lady pulled out a free map and unfolded it over the dog. hahaha! Welcome to Paris. :)
"eer are your tokens. There is coffee in the machine and croissants in the machine next to it."she said matter of factly. "ok."
I could have a cup of coffee and two croissants or two cups of coffee and one croissant...hmmm better try one of each first. The individually plastic wrapped croissants that fell with a "thunk!" from the vending machine were about the same level of deliciousness as a little debbie snack cake (to me simply awful and the machine coffee? undrinkable.) I was dissapointed at first, but then decided "Hey, at least there's breakfast." The chocolate croissants weren't so bad.
I asked the lady for directions to Place de la Bastille for my audition. "What is your dog's name?" I asked her.
"Er name is Luhb."
"Sorry?"
"Luhb!"
"Oh Love!" The lady pulled out a free map and unfolded it over the dog. hahaha! Welcome to Paris. :)
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
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