European Adventure - Day 8

Its not always difficult to wake up at the crack of dawn when you don't have curtains covering the window in your room. but today it was a good thing. today is a travel day. with breakfast starting at 7:30, every two minutes I'd remind the boys that we had a 7:45 gondola to catch. I urged them to skip food, but they assured me that was not an option. we went down for our bread and juice allotment, but I noticed a problem as soon as Jeff ordered a hot chocolate too. Just as James Bond has his choice drink, so does Jeff: Hot Chocolate with two cubes of sugar (because chocolate isn't sweet enough). And then stirred with a silver spoon in a clockwise rotation. I felt like I should set the example and start marching first, but then that would leave no one behind to hurry them up as needed.

Finally with a 5 minute hike and 5 min to go we set off for the cable car station. We hurried down the mountain short-cut path. I started running for the station in hopes of somehow delaying them enough for the guys to catch up and make the cable car, but that failed because as the first customers of the day the ticket machine had to warm up. But anyway... I was running and Ryan had followed some local kid through their backyard thinking a shortcut was available, thus leaving Jeff guide-less on the rough gravel path towing his roll-behind luggage. As I approached I saw the two incoming Gondolas pulling into their stops at our station. I quickly ordered our three needed tickets, but to no avail. The gondolas as were in and out of the station before you could spell 'stinky swiss cheese'. As I asked for the three tickets, the lady behind the counter didn't seem to act. I think that she knew that we would miss our ride, so she didn't want to lead me on with any false hopes of catching the car. So as I turned my head with fading hope, the gondola sunk from the platform at the station. I turned my head the other way, just to welcome Ryan to the station, via his local 'shortcut'. It was another minute before Jeff rolled down the pathway. Because I was running and Ryan with his creative shortcuts, he had no way to tell where we were, which direction that is. It was a short 30 minutes to the next ride down. So we had a few spectacular minutes to enjoy the crisp morning air, and soak in the cloudless views of the glorious alps. Yes thats right, the clouds flew away last night, so it was completely clear.

I do trust both the swiss and German train systems, but short layovers still make me nervous. We only had 20 minutes from when we hit Interlaken to when the next connecting train would leave, and this being our last moment in the great town of Switzerland, we needed a few parting gifts, i.e. chocolate. I had been telling Plewe that thats what I wanted/needed for people back hope, and he agreeing, volunteered to make the decision making sprint to the store as I raced to the ticket counter and booked us some tickets to Venice. As I got in line, I kept asking Jeff what time it was, and the minute that Ryan left, I told myself "I shouldn't have done that" and asked Jeff to go and fetch Ryan. Time was of the utmost importance here. But both the chocolate gods, and the train gods were on our side, cause as I left the ticket office, I only had to wait 30 seconds before I saw them running towards me from the nearby grocery store. It was a really intense run for all of us. I had mine and Jeff's stuff. Only at this point I realized how heavy Jeff's bags were. I think he was taking large rocks home, as souvenirs, (kind of like my dad at any national park). As I struggled with that weight, Jeff who had got to fetch Ryan from the store was carrying our chocolate selection. He was doing well to keep our precious cargo safe. Then Ryan was running the best he could with a huge camping backpack on, as well as a bag of collected items that he's had since Paris. It was like a reenactment of 'chariots of fire'. I could almost hear the tune in my head, and the people cheering too as they made their dash for the train platform. We only knew we were safe when all three of us were safely aboard the train, just as the doors were closing. Wheeeew! Mission accomplished. I had actually sent Jeff over to tell Ryan to abort the chocolate mission, but he took the green light, and it all worked out.

It was a nice ride to Venice, other than having to switch trains three times. Thats always a pain. There was a definite change in scenery as we traveled from Switzerland to Italy. The mountains, the architecture, the people (and their laziness), the train punctuality, and the sassy model girls started appearing again.

At one point on the train ride our dear friend Jeff leaned over to, what I thought was look out the window, but instead me and the Ry-man heard another surprise, a leather-sliding echo from Jeffie's seat. He 'ripped ass' and it sounded bad, like he crapped his pants. We almost died laughing, but only hoped that we were the only two to hear such an act. Stuff like that almost always makes train rides fun. We sat by some lady who I think was in the Mob. We're in Italy after all. She was fairly Petite, but had the deepest and raspiest voice imaginable.

So now that we were in Italy, the R.S. guidebook/bible started taking over. He was close on some stuff, but definitely no all. there was a hotel kiosk in the strain station which helped us score a great deal not to far away. And this is where Venice started getting funny. We asked the hotel lady how to get there and she said it was only 30 meters away. No problem, it'll take 2 minutes, even with jeff's 30 lb. roll behind brick carrier, right? (wrong). Jeff was content on staying within the 30 meter limit that Hotel-lady told us about, while Ryan was content on asking some on , or looking at a mop. I was content with egging them both on, hoping that someone w3ould eventually show us the way. Finally after 2 laps up and down the same street even I broke down and bought a map, which Jeff didn't think we needed, because R.S. said so. Ryan had seen one, and looked at it and was trying to get us there, to our hotel, but Jeff kept wanted to re examine the well visited street and I refused to help (as much as possible). I occasionally would verify our direction with the map, either supporting or questioning Ryan's chosen Paths. We finally arrived after about 200 meters, much to Jeff's astonishment.

Just in visiting the one street 3 times, our interests were sparked , so we were ready to see the whole city. Upon starting this quest we also began our Gelato eating festival as well. Now, Venice is the 'Plewe-the-pit-stop's' heaven, but a nightmare for me. Around every confusing corner, and on every single alley street, sidewalk, or canal, there are a dozen shops full of trinkets, gifts, colored glass of all varieties, and colorful porcelains carnival masks. And my dear friend Ryan needed to stop in every single one. A nightmare for any navigator. We were trying to get to the main plaza at the opposite end of the island. We eventually made it. We only had 1 day so we were going to try to see as much stuff as possible.

After walking around for a minute we wandered over to the main Canal on the open water. We took a few picture, then we spotted something that I couldn't let NOT be photographed by us. Some Indian dude was posing for his 'buddy' right by the water. I mean these were true glamor shots! Sitting sprawled out on the pavement seductively, sitting, leaning back on one hand, crossing legs in front of him... And yes the shirt was un-buttoned half way down his torso The one pose that I got on film was him standing with a shy pouting faced, with the "I've got a surprise for you later" look on his face. This kid was photographic gold, so we followed him down the pier a ways. All this time while I'm trying to document this whole situation, Ryan comes and tells me to check this chick out... NO problem, we've both been doing it quite a bit this trip, so it was nothing new. Then he sys that she's the spitting image of the Catherine Cook girl that we all know. Jeff had already tested the Name calling technique and it failed, so after I photographed this person, I decided to try a definitive test of my own. I walked up right behind her and was going to try the Plewe-street-contacting method of getting her to look at me by spouting cheesy pick-up lines. From the side everyone looks different. But as soon as I get behind her I confirm the 'eternal smile' -the underwear line that only Mormons have. So I just say to her " hey Catherine, whats up?" From there she about had a heard attack. She was just off in her own little world pondering life with her diary and the city of Venice. She said she thought she heard her name but she'd been stalked/ harassed by so many weird Euro-Guys this trip, she just blew it off. So we got to hang out with her the rest of the day. Which consisted of eating pizza at a street cafe (they were everywhere) walking around, window shopping , and goofing off. When we sat down to eat you could tell that she hadn't had a normal meaningful conversation with anyone in a while, so she took the time to philosophize on the little soap box that we gave her. I tuned them out real quick cause it was nothing I cared to discuss on a vacation. It wasn't vacation related. It required activity from too many neurons. That and we could philosophize about life any time and we had [very] limited hours in Venice. But that was just me. We continued the race for Gelato as we walked around. There was a particular church I needed to photograph, and they all were nice enough to amuse me.

At one point during our stroll, having to sift through dozens of 'crap' vendors in every Piazza, Jeff told me he overheard a guy selling watches; since I'd already advertised this to everyone, I found it quite nice. So I ran up to the guy. African or Jamaican, and asked him about this rumor. I must have caught him a-mid a difficult conversation between him and his 'look-out' The first thing I heard was 'Jamaican 1' asking 'Puerto Rican 1' if this was the guy, pointing to me. Annoyed and confused with the lack of respect that any loud annoying tourist deserves, I asked him what was up, and does he have watches to sell. Not really looking at me, but constantly glancing side to side, he responded by saying that his 'look-out-a-Rican' said he saw a cop and thought it could have been me. Surprised at this, I told the un-trusting Jamaican that his Mexican friend was stupid as he was ugly. And that I don't deal with Voodoo Magicians anyway. So Red and I left. Later I was feeling rambunctious so with Catherine on my back I started running into people. My fun was short lived though.

After hours of labyrinth like wandering, we as gentleman offered to walk lady Catherine back to the monastery where she was staying. And that was definitely easier said than done. By this point they were all relying in me as navigator. Because I had brought the map, maybe because of my up-canny skill and orienteering ability. Yes, the fact that I couldn't stand how slow they were going , and by walking my normal pace (faster than them) that is how I passively told them all to hurry up, well, ya. Or could it have been because even if they would lead, I'd still need to correct them? Well, ya after a bit of wandering, and listening to 3 back seat drivers bark out directions for 20 minutes my internal compass/ liahona shut down as my deep seeded dislike for this rat maze filled with up. The fact that I was looking at a map, didn't know where I was, or where we were going didn't ease the disdain for this picturesque city. It was late now. most shops were closed, the minimal local night life was filling an occasional Piazza. I eventually gave up and fell to the back of the pack To let themselves get even more lost. Even when we asked locals how to get to the convent, their directions were extensively vague and unhelpful. By some miracle Catherine finally recognized something and then led us to her convent.

So, now the second part of that story; We were deep in the heart of Venice, Italy somewhere, and I felt lost. So I started leading us in a direction which I thought was helpful. The streets there sure are confusing, and there are very few signs to San Marco (one end of the island) or to the train station (at the other end). These signs are old run down, and very random. On the 30-40 minute search for our hotel, my dislike for this place grew and grew. It waxed strong in hatred. I even saw the old Jim come out for a second. He took over more like. I vowed even to erase all my pictures from this place to delete the memory all together. The two guys were having fun with this, so their gittyness/humor/joy only fueled my hate engine. Yes it was late enough that all filters on Jim had gone to bed. I don't remember what he said anymore, but I'm sure it was funny and mean. There were still Jamaicans hanging out on the main bridge of the city when we got there, so they got to hear what angry tourist Jim thought of their rip-off sunglasses and purses. And that I didn't appreciate their gypsy cohorts, and that I don't deal with people who use Black Magic. My feet were just as tired as I was.