34 minute post

Hey y'all,

We're doing a speed post here, because as the Brits like to say, I can't be arsed.

I wish I could paint even the slightest word picture of the incredible monuments that I saw in Rome, notably the Pantheon.  Scott and I initially came across it at night, as it lies unassumingly cramped in a small plaza, shielded from view by many buildings.  We visited it hastily the last day, just before catching our plane to Dublin.  I consider myself lucky to have even placed a foot inside the dome, but I easily could have taken a seat for hours and attempted to etch a more permanent memory of the splendor surrounding me.  The very center of the dome is an Oculus, allowing a circle of sunlight to traipse along its interior.  Of course, the B.C. origin of the building and the exact dimensions beg the question, "How?"

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This weekend, I went to Savoie, a region in the Alps.  My friend's parents have a restaurant and hotel there, catering to French people and foreigners alike.  Their house is warmly wooded on the interior, marking the successful marriage of wooden cabin, and mountains.

Skiing was on the itinerary, but sub-par conditions and late-night partying kept it at bay.  I'm okay with that, because skiing I have done.  Climbing up a muddy, somewhat rocky side path in the Alps to a mountainside bar at midnight, and descending by means of sitting on shovels four hours later, I had not done.  It was a good time.

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OK, that will do for tonight.

If I ever made a movie, this song would get in there one way or another.

Evolution of the Blog, with Roman Metaphors

After a hot start to the blog this year (first 3 posts in 3 weeks), my frequency had begun to dwindle, much like the decline of gladiator activity in the Colosseum in the fifth century A.D.  But like the battles that were temporarily revived soon after, the blog is back.  This may be analogy overkill, a word that could have also been used by medieval Roman intellectuals, for they feared the bloody battles had a negative impact on the values of participants and spectators.

Basically, we are at the Dublin hostel right now, counting the minutes until we can take the 3 a.m. shuttle to the airport for our flight to Paris.  We checked out at 10:30 a.m. yesterday because we are cheap and didn't want to pay for a final night, but we snuck back in to stay away from the Dublin cold and expensive pub brews.

We streamed a bunch of college basketball games and got in our recommended five fruits for the day with some delicious berry and pear Irish cider (and a banana).

The Pantheon blew my mind, and this will go down as yet another blog post in which I wanted to try to describe the awe-inspiring structure, and failed.

Until the next time...

Dublin

Scott and Dan here, reporting from Dublin as planned.  This is a very good thing, as Rome's winding, busy streets had as much killing potential as no-handed, downhill bicycling.  Worst analogy yet.  But seriously, if you go to Rome, avoid consumption of gelato while walking around.  You can easily enter an alternate universe of gelato jubilee, and get run over by motorcycle or automobile.  The locals (if you can find any in Rome, that is..) seem to have an understanding with the drivers, and simply walk onward, fearlessly, unscathed.  My crossings of the street had the feel of those coarsely-shot, rocky Any Given Sunday football scenes.

Speaking of alternate universes, START RATIONING.  BE PREPARED FOR THE END.  THE SCIENTISTS ARE NOT TELLING US EVERYTHING.

I'll fill in the gaps here.  So Scott and I were cruising around Rome a couple of days ago (he sets a torrid pace), trying to fit in the Vatican museum.  We were giving out serious tourist vibes, maps out, clothes not clinging to our bodies mercilessly (image of Scott's tree trunks in tight, European jeans...WOOF), myself donning 4euro plastic glasses purchased from the ubiquitous street peddlers.

A middle-aged woman greeted us in American English.  She kindly informed us that the Vatican museum was closed, so we would have to try again the next day.  I asked her what she was doing in Rome.  She was a tour guide, she explained, who grew up in L.A.  That's when things got weird.

She went on to say that she flew in to Europe on 06/06/06, because there were ''cheap flights'' (right...) and anyways, the devil and her had a deal worked out in which they leave each other alone.  ''I came over to connect some dots,'' she added.

My eyes remained locked to hers and I feigned open-minded interest (ok the ''interest'' part I did not have to fake... I love encounters like this) because I am a softie and I try to avoid giving off the "You are clinically insane" message, even if I am sure of the diagnosis.  However, out of the corner of my eye, I could see Scott shuffling around a bit, as well as some facial adjustments that I figured to be cynical (and merited) smirking.

Additional points from Constellation Lady:
- A ticket to the underworld can be obtained.  She did not provide more details; I would hook you guys up if I knew more, and you know that.
- All of the presidents are related.  Obama, Taft... Recessive genes make for crazy times!
- The truth is on youtube.
- I can be a servant of God.  I just have to keep my mind open, and not believe everything I hear (yes, her inclusion of this advice could be classified as this Alanis Morsette song).

Viewers wishing to know more about the truth can visit projectcamelot.org.

 The conclusion of our exchange involved us walking away slowly, and her saying that she hoped we didn't think she was crazy.  I meekly replied, "No, no.  Projectcamelot.org.  I'll check it out."
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Let me just say that the countries of Japan and New Zealand are in my good graces at the moment.  In Rome, we kicked it a bit with Yoshi from Tokyo, a 23-year old who said "Wow!" to about everything we had to say.  Great kid.

And then there was Byron from New Zealand.  A slightly overweight, shaggy-haired graffic design artist, he was doing what Australians and New Zealanders tend to do:  travelling the world until no more money remained, and then heading back home.  He arrived at the hostel our last night in Rome, already drunk from dinner.  If I was making a light-hearted romance movie in which a girl brought her beau over to meet the family, I would cast Byron as the loveable but slightly abrasive little brother who manages to put the beau in uncomfortable situations.

They were two more fantastic hosteling diplomats.

Slán, my friends.  There's sleep to be slept and Guinnesses to be consumed.

From Rome

Bonjourno,

We arrived in Rome yesterday at one in the afternoon, to sunny, mild weather. Unfortunately, it was straight to the hostel beds for us, as Scott and I had gotten two hours of sleep combined our last night in Madrid. The sleep deprivation made for a most unenjoyable, head-bobbing Ryanair flight into Rome. The baby being passed back and forth over my head between two Spanish women did not help my cause.

To review our stops so far:

Lisbon is a phenomenal, vibrant city that had me at hello. It has earthy hues to it, with clay-red roofs resting on top of yellow, orange, and salmon-pink houses. These colors, with a touch of Tagus River thrown in, result in a tranquility that I haven't felt in more bustling European cities. Thin, winding streets rise and fall between apartment buildings that people are lucky enough to live in. The city offers a wonderful view across the river of lush green trees surrounding a massive, white monument commemorating Christopher Columbus.

Madrid, on the other hand, allows me to begin a new list from my European travels: Cities that I Do Not Like. I have never gone to a European city that did not stimulate me in the slightest. And then came Madrid.

OK I have to go explore Rome. Talk soon.

the ''...'' (see prior post) explained

So I came on here, at 2:40 a.m., to get in touch with you folks from Madrid.


Unfortunately, after the requisite nba.com visit, it brought me to 2:55 a.m., at which point a Spanish hombre came down and told us we had five minutes left on the computer.


Thus, this is my first five minute post.


Basically, the title of this post suggests my intention to elaborate upon my post from Lisbon, which in fact was supposed to be continued that very night, until we fell into some beer pong with some English chaps.


Probably a good thing that I'm getting the boot right now, as Scott and I are 0-for-2 in waking up for hostel free breakfasts on this trip. 

Hope to try back tomorrow.  Buenos noches.

Greetings from Lisbon

Hey all,

In the spirit of blogging comraderie, as my travel mate be bloggin' (and I hope you be bloggin' too), I'm going to go with shorter, more frequent posts on this European voyage.  We departed today, bright and early, from Lyon.  I got the recommended one and a half hours of sleep this morning, until my 5:45 a.m. alarm aggressively summoned me from my teasing slumbers.  Three eggs apiece later, Scott and I were on our way to Lyon's airport.  Rejecting my 24 years of experience with sleep, I exclaimed that I was in form, and that this would most likely continue throughout the day.  Scott, the realist, said that he was exhausted.  

We both crashed hard on the one and a half hour flight, and we rolled in to some fine, palm tree- accompanied Lisboan weather.  The sun was shining, and it had to be about 55 degrees, which is feeling pretty warm these days.  On the bus ride from the airport, the palm trees that were flanking the artsy city murals painted on the sides of buildings (all four or five stories worth, by the way) reminded me of a glorious, irresponsible Spring Break destination by the name of Panama City, and I was in my happy place.  

This month of March, 2011, bodes to be a good one...