So goodbye
yellow brick road.
Where the dogs
of society howl.
You can't plant me
in your penthouse.
I'm going back
to my plough.
— Bernie Taupin, 1973
If you find yourself walking down a sidewalk in Sofia, be sure to pick up your feet and watch where you step. You see, most of the sidewalks here are designed in a unique variety of square and octagon-like shaped stoned blocks that measure up to about 12 inches in diameter. The problem is, time hasn't been good to these little stoned sidewalks. Pretty often, you just might find one out of place or alignment, usually giving off a teeter-totter-like effect upon stepping on to one. The result is usually a loss of foot balance or maybe even something worst. For instance, in an ice or rain storm, after water or slush gets trapped underneath a teeter-totter stone, the force of the spring can jolt up a mighty wet splash on you when stepping on one in the wrong spot. Or a more common occurrence, is a trip or bad fall. And I'm certainly no construction worker, nor will I pretend to be, but the brick layer on duty that day probably should have thought the matter out in long terms and laid down a much larger cement foundation or placed much larger and heavier stoned blocks into the surface to prevent folks from having to play this game of teeter-totter Russian roulette on the sidewalks.
And most often it's usually us clumsy ex-pats that aren't quite familiar with the turf who end up being the victims. Usually breaking an ankle or looking goofy tripping over one. However, us ex-pats aren't the only ones who fall victim. Every now and again one of the locals here just might take a dive, too. For example, just recently during one of my celebrity status moments while walking to a nearby Internet cafe, a rather petite looking Bulgarian girl, resembling Audrey Hepburn auditioning for a P. Diddy video, was strutting fast towards me down one of them teeter-totter-looking sidewalks. Instead of keeping her eyes on the unbalance bricks below — she was busy giving me the stare down, like most Bulgarians tend to do upon seeing me walk towards them. As she got closer, eyes still wide open and stuck on me, the next thing that happened was too ugly to describe in detail. Let's just say she found out rather quickly that them 4 1/2 inch stiletto heels that she was wearing don't mix too well with one of them teeter-totter sidewalks, because she came crashing down hard to the ground.
Ouch.
I didn't know what to do. At first I just stood there for a second looking all awkward and embarrassed for her. My first reaction was to ask her if she was okay. But I didn't know how to say it in Bulgarian. She was young enough, so it was quite possible that she spoke a little English. But since it all happened so fast, the idea of simply speaking English to her didn't immediately come to mind. Instead, I tried to think of a Bulgarian word that would be helpful. Dobre was the first word that came to mind. It means okay or good. But that could have easily been taken the wrong way, of course. So I scraped the verbiage and thought the human thing to do here was to simply help the lady up off the ground. But by the time I extended a helping hand, she'd risen up from the concrete rather quickly and brushed herself off — looking more embarrassed than ever and giving me about as much eye contact as Stevie Wonder gives his piano keys.
Other than her bruised ego, she seemed okay to me, so I didn't make any more helpful gestures toward her. Besides, I could see that she just wanted to get as far away from the scene as possible. So the both of us just walked away without a word spoken. Which was probably the best thing to do in such an awkward situation like this. Alas, the accident was another painful reminder of the dangers one can face walking down one of these teeter-totter-like sidewalks here in Sofia.
But hold on a minute, not every concrete walkway in Sofia is dangerous or damaged. Actually, there's a lot of beautiful walkways and sidewalks all around town. One that instantly comes to mind is the gorgeous golden Yellow Brick Road that leads to Alexander Nevsky Cathedral. You might recall that I've mentioned this useful pathway in previous episodes of my Blog-O-Daria. Telling you how it saved my butt on a few occasions during my first visits to Sofia. Like the one time when I was trying to impress Sarah and ventured out on my own without a map, ending up lost and bewildered in some unknown and remote part of Sofia. Fortunately, those lovable little yellow bricks were like a popcorn trail for a lost boy scout in a forest deep. They led me back home each time. And in more ways than this, you can easily say that The Yellow Brick Road of Sofia has been much deserving of its Wizard of Oz namesake, especially if you look at it like a symbolic pathway that led me to all the exotic and wonderful European countries that I've explored so far, like Turkey, Greece, Romania, Ireland and most importantly, the beautiful Czech Republic and its magical city Prague, that I nicknamed the Emerald City in Episode 8 of my Blog-O-Daria.
Speaking of namesake, The Yellow Brick Road brings to mind a classic 1973 song by Elton John called "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road." In the mid 70's, I was introduced to the song and album of the same name by my older brother Brubby. I owe Brub and Elton a huge debt that I hope to never have to repay for introducing me to this thing called music, because around the same time, he introduced me to another Elton John song called "Daniel," a song that I call my introduction to music.
And please don't let me be misunderstood, there were about a dozen more noteworthy tunes from my youth that my mom, dad and 7 other siblings introduced to me that also aided in my discovery of music, such as "Up On The Roof," "Tears Of A Clown," "When Will I see You Again," "Silly Love Songs," "Moonlight Feels Right," "(Not Just) Knee Deep," or anything by the Jackson 5 or Spinners. But it was "Daniel" that opened my ears and spoke to me. It said — listen here son, music's going to be your best friend for life. I must have been no older than 3 or 4, but I vividly remember begging my brother to play it over and over again. And to this very day, the melancholy masterpiece about a Vietnam War vet still remains at a solid #2 spot on my personal list of the 100 Greatest Songs You Must Hear Before You Die, right below Sly & The Family Stone's "Thank You (Falettinme Be Mice Elf Agin)."
So now that I've divulged my personal innermost childhood musical memories, you'll have a good idea just how important and magical it was to get the opportunity and privilege to finally see the Sir Elton John live in concert right here in Sofia. Sarah and our good friend Joe, the third member of our Summer concert threesome this year, also witnessed my dream come true.
As we sat outdoors in the sold out arena of mostly middle aged Bulgarians, anxiously awaiting the Brown Dirt Cowboy to take the stage, I became a bit worried that he might not perform "Daniel" and "Philadelphia Freedom," another top 100 favorite song of mine. But to my surprise, he performed both songs along with many other big hits, album tracks and b-sides that he rarely performs live, delivering one the the most stellar live performances of his career.
Before the concert I'd always considered myself a big EJ fan. But after seeing his live and energetic performance, with the warmest stage presence since Sammy Davis Jr. and the courage of an English Knight armed with a piano (anti-gay and other stupid neo-nazi-like groups protested against EJ performing in Sofia and other European and Asian countries), I'd become an even bigger one.
Oh, and I'm sure nothing would have topped seeing Elton in 1975, back when he was in his prime. Because like Dylan in concert a few weeks back, EJ's voice has also changed dramatically since. In 1977, under the advise and tutelage of master producer Thom Bell, Elton started singing in a much lower register — no longer hitting them signature glass shattering high notes that he belted out on hits like "Benny And The Jets" and "Rocket Man." Nevertheless, being a true musician and master of his craft, in recent times, Elton has learned to use that low and gruff vocal style to perfection — still taking us high, but without the shattered glass in between.
A couple weeks after EJ's magical performance, once again, and might I add symbolically, the Yellow Brick Road led me to 5 new unexplored countries in Europe. So for the next few weeks, it was goodbye yellow brick road, hello Serbia, Croatia, Montenegro, Bosnia (and Herzegovina) and Italy!
It felt good to be back on the plough again. The travel plough, that is. It had been quite a while since I'd traveled to new a country. I even got bitten by the old travel bug, again. You see, besides living with Sarah, another important reason why I choose to live in Europe is for easy travel access. If you think about it, driving to Poland from Sofia, is just about equivilent to driving to Boston from DC. So I didn't think twice when my friend Joe invited Sarah and I along to accompany him and his best friend Teresa, of upstate New York, for a road trip to explore 13 countries. Unfortunately, Sarah and I would only be hanging around for 5 of those 13 countries. But hey, it was better than nothing.
Oh, and I'm sure everyone knows how road trips can go. They can either bring friendships closer together or disintegrate them. Fortunately, ours didn't disintegrate. All of us got along just great, actually. But initially, Sarah and I had know idea things would go so smoothly. Of course, she and I get along on road trips. And we both had taken some previous successful road trips with Joe. So we pretty much knew how he operated. But we didn't know what to expect from Teresa. We really didn't know her from jump street. All we knew was that she and Joe were best friend's since college. But Joe somehow knew the chemistry between the 4 of us would work. And it did. Teresa was such a sweet and perfect travel buddy. And just like me, she was crazy about taking pictures and videos the whole time. We bonded on that subject for most of the trip and shared lots of laughs, especially during a recurring game I invented called Count The Black People. It's a game that simply involves a head count of all the Black folks that we'd see in each country we visited. I originally started the game as a personal observation since living abroad in Europe. I'd noticed how very few Blacks I see on a day to day basis, particularly in the Balkans. So I thought it would be kind of fun to actually get a head count going to keep track. So far, I'm up to a total of 3 in Bulgaria. Counting me, of course. But the number is rising steadily.
Anyway, Joe, the starship trooper that he is, drove his little blue Skoda with expert-like skills and timing through 4 countries (9 more after he dropped Sarah and I off). And there's only a handful of people I would trust behind the wheel of a tiny Skoda driving fast paced on narrow European roads. And Joe's one of them. He's a fantastic driver. I tell him all the time that he missed his NASCAR calling. He and I both agree that his driving chops must come from viewing countless reruns of Speed Racer, a late 60s manga cartoon we both enjoyed in our childhood. Too bad the show did nothing for my driving skills. I think I must have gotten influenced by Jethro of the Beverly Hillbillies. Alas, Joe did all the driving and we all took turns navigating with Teresa at shotgun. Joe provided the music, too. I thought that was fair considering he was the the designated driver for the trip, and it was his car. But when the music became too new sounding for my delicate little music snobbery ears, I kept the old iPod synced up and nearby for emergency.
The drive through most of old Yugoslavia was pretty sweet and interesting. The only time we might have broken a sweat or two, was the sight of traffic cops lying in the cut or during border patrol stops. At the Serbian border, our first country of arrival, Joe accidently ran a stop sign. Yeah. No big deal, right?
The border cop went berserk!
He angrily waved us back. Joe rush reversed the Skoda to the stopping point and gave the guard the most sweetest smile he could muster up. It didn't work. The border guard gave Joe and the rest of us a smile right back — only it was one of them mean, dirty Sheriff Rosco P. Coltrane kind of smiles. He then asked Joe to open the hatchback of the Skoda. I could tell that the border guard really knew we were cleaner than a newborn baby's bottom, he just wanted to make sure we had his respect, so he huffed about, seemingly rummaging through our luggage, barely turning them over. He then shut the hatchback and waved us off with that get the hell out of here and don't come back kind of wave.
He needn't worry — we were only passing through Serbia. Since it borders Bulgaria, we could always come back and visit there another time. Our agenda was to move on to more distant countries on the list. And although our time was short in Serbia, we did get to drive by the beautiful Belgrade, and stop at a service station to take a picture for proof that we'd been there. When we got out of the car, the cold temperatures outside surprised us a bit. We were all hoping this wasn't a sign of chilly weather dominating the forecast for the majority of our trip. This would really suck big considering that our future intentions were to bask in the sandy and sunny beaches of Montenegro and Croatia.
When we arrived in Bosnia and Herzegovina (which I'll shorted to just 'Bosnia' for this episode of Blog-O-Daria), our hopes of basking in the sunshine began to fade. Not only were the temperatures chilly there, it was raining like cats and dogs. It was a real downer. No pun intended. Teresa, speaking in her most cheerful and positive tone, a comforting tone that she would display throughout trip, reminded us that, "there's a chance we'll never pass this way again, so let's make the best of it."
We all looked at each other and nodded in agreement and the next thing you know, four umbrella cladded Americans took to the the heart of Sarajevo, the capital city of Bosnia that underwent the longest siege in post WWII Military history during the Bosnian War. And in more recent times, the city where my celebrity status reached its highest peak — so far.
But like most things in life, this record high can be debated depending on your tastes in celebrity status attention. I mean, one might think that girls tripping over teeter-totter sidewalks or wolf calling me is the epitome of celebrity attention, but I'd say the epitome is having folks ask me to a take a picture and sign an autograph for them. Or, how about this one — mothers wanting me to take a picture of me with their babies! Yeah, that was a first! The rest of the group, mainly Joe, made jokes about that one and insisted I run for office! Oh, and in Mostar, home of the Stari Most, a 16th century bridge that was originally destroyed during the War in Bosnia and Herzegovina then rebuilt, a dozen teenage girls came out of nowhere and practically begged me to have their pictures taken with them! Come on, I'd say that is pretty damn awesome for a dude who has never even made a #1 record!
After that moment — Joe, Teresa and even Sarah were all flabbergasted. Me? Well, I only wanted to know what in the hell real life celebrity did they think I was? Lenny Kravitz? Usher?? Justin Timberlake!?! Whoever I was to them, Joe, like a greedy Roger Healey from I Dream Of Jeannie, insisted on being my agent. He seemingly joked about charging a euro (that's about a buck fifty in good old US dollars) for each picture I took with uh, er...each fan. But as the trip went on and my celebrity status got bigger and bigger — I think I actually saw tiny little dollar signs starting to take form in the center of Joe's eyeballs. It was no longer a joke to him — he seriously wanted to get us paid! So whenever a teenage girl would give me the slightest bit of attention — Joe would yell out, "one euro, Owen!" Nevertheless, I gladly gave each person a freebie that asked me to have their picture taken with them, ignoring Joe's demands and keeping my hands clean.
As the sun darted in and out of the clouds, the heavy rain fall won the battle overall in Sarajevo. This didn't stop the four of us from taking a sight seeing tour of the beautiful city, learning its history, including all of its religious diversity that apparently coexisted there for centuries. I marveled at the display of many mosques, synagogues, and churches literally standing side by side in harmony. But as we crossed over the Latin Bridge where Franz Ferdinand was assassinated, strolling the streets filled with seemingly fresh looking sniper-riddled buildings, occasionally passing by rose-like blood spattered ground sculptures, that reminded us of the longest siege of a capital city in the history of modern day warfare, it was hard for us to swallow that all of it happened only a little under 15 years ago in a city that was host to the 1984 Winter Olympics.
During our short mournful-like drive out of Sarajevo, in the direction to Montenegro, we had reason to smile again. You see, everyones favorite homeboy Mr. Blue Sky finally made a needed appearance and brought along a big yellow sun with him that lit up from behind the quite enormous and beautifully exotic black mountains of Montenegro. The namesake of the country.
Our first stop in Montenegro was Budva, a coastal town known for its sandy beaches, diverse nightlife, and a beautiful example of Mediterranean architecture. The boardwalk was typical in appearance. And during the night, the big bright carnival lights and hordes of tourists were reminiscent of Virginia Beach and Ocean City in the States. But in the day, the dreamlike crystal blue waters looked like nothing I'd seen before. It felt wonderful, too! It even took my allergies away! Joe told me that ocean waters can clear up sinuses. Acting as a remedy, somewhat similar to a neti pot. And usually when I'm on a beach, I never like to swim. I'm that guy on the beach who gets in for a minute or two, maybe wetting up his feet or knees — then basking in the sun and sand with a good magazine or iPod. But upon learning about the ocean remedies and feeling so sinus-free after a swim or two, I was found in my skin-tight Euro style Speedos taking to the waters pretty often, usually staying in for hours. But unfortunately, I mostly stayed in the shallow section due to my lack of swimming skills.
On one of our many beautiful sunny days on the Budva beach, I did, however, become a little envious of Sarah, Joe and Teresa for being able to stay out in the deep part of the ocean for long periods of time. I'd wondered how they were able to do this without getting tired. I eventually found out from them that the secret was simply floating on top of the water. Unfortunately, during my pre-teens and beyond, I'd never learned this rather important swimming technique. Maybe because I was used to swimming in pools where I could easily hold on the to the edge when I got tired of treading water. Out in the deep sea there's, of course, no edge to hold on to — so after a little while, I would frustratingly swim back to shore just to get a breather or two in.
But that would soon change.
Sarah and Joe, two excellent college swim team alumnus, took me under their watchful wing and gave me some much needed swimming lessons. And I guess the old saying is true that your never too old to learn something new, because after a few hours of training I learned how to stay afloat in the deep part of the sea for an extended amount of time. They also taught me an array of other swimming techniques that I'd always wanted to learn, like the backstroke, one of the coolest looking swimming styles of all time! But learning it hasn't been easy. I think I almost have the hang of it. Right now my stroke is just a bit rough around the edges. Joe says, I just need to relax a bit more to give it that smooth look, and with little more practice, it'll get there eventually.
Speaking of getting there — after Budva, we stopped by Kotor, a nearby coastal town in Montenegro located in a most secluded part of the Gulf of Kotor, where we hiked up a very tall and ancient fortress wall. Of course, Hiker Sarah made it up to the top fast, first and furious, with no sweat. Me? Well, I did make it to the top second, but I quickly collapsed on the first big rock I found, sweating harder than a fat man on a tight rope. Nevertheless, I think my hiking skills are getting better all the time.
Our next stop was Croatia. And I ain't gonna lie, it was pretty sick! (Uh yeah, sick means something good, to all my square readers out there.) Especially Dubrovnik, located on the Adriatic Sea coast in the extreme south of Dalmatia. After we settled into our very hospitable B&B, we continued our chillin' on the beach theme that originated in Montengro. And the most chill spot to get that done was on the Copacabana Beach, a very miniature copycat version the real Copacabana Beach in Rio that I'd love to someday visit. But for the moment, the fake-me-out Copacabana Beach in Dubrovnik was good enough.
After a couple of days of lazily lying around on the sunny imitation Copacabana Beach, getting super sun-tanned, taking dips in the ocean and pedalo rides — we started to yearn for some civilization. So the four of us headed to the beautiful Old City of Dubrovnik. There, we enjoyed easy feeling strolls through Stradun, Dubrovnik's main street, near Onofrio's Fountain and The Walls of Dubrovnik. This is also where I was reminded of another good reason why I needed to say goodbye to the Yellow Brick Road for a while — a very urgent need to shop for a few goodies that one would never find in Sofia, like some current issues of MOJO magazines and the newly released Not Fade Away boxed set of Buddy Holly's complete studio recordings that I'd been drooling over on Amazon for the pass few months.
You see, when the rest of the group stopped off in a little gift shop, I spotted a nearby, seemingly cool looking CD shop. I really didn't think I'd find any of the goodies that I was looking for in Dubrovnik. I just figured Italy would be the best place to get that sort of stuff. But one can never be sure about these things, so I took a peek inside anyway. I was correct about the Buddy box. They didn't have it. And surprisingly, and might I add shamefully, the store clerks inside had never heard of the influential rock legend and former Crickets frontman. Being the music snob that I am, upon learning of their lack of music history, I didn't spend much more inside. But on the way out, I did stumble upon a little magazine shop on Stradun that surprisingly carried a couple of current issues of MOJO, the Bible for serious music readers.
I was happy as a lark!
Nightlife in Dubrovnik's main street was even more exciting than daytime. Each night, we dined in some of the city's most delicious restaurants, surrounded by live music and dancing in the streets. Oh, and restaurant dining also brings to mind Joe's fanatical love for football (soccer). Throughout the entire trip, it was mandatory that we sought out a dining spot that included a televised airing of the latest World Cup match. And to be honest, I am not a huge fan of watching televised sporting events. For me, sporting events waste up too much of my valuable time away from watching far more important and highbrow stuff like, Frankenstein Meets The Wolf Man. Nevertheless, do to an extreme over exposure of watching televised sporting events in my early youth, I can easily go with the flow. So I really didn't mind watching the World Cup matches at all. And after viewing so many matches, I even found myself getting bit by the old sport-watching bug, again. I surprised myself during some clutch moments of the World Cup matches by becoming extremely nervous and tense. Especially during the Uruguay vs Ghana match. It was reminiscent of the feelings I'd get in my childhood during clutch games between the Cowboys and Steelers. I loved and hated getting that feeling back all at the same time.
Sadly, the next morning, Sarah and I had to split from Joe and Teresa who headed off on their own adventures to explore 8 more exciting European countries. Sarah and I had one more day in Dubrovnik before we left for Italy, so we took a small sail barge tour of the seaside and visited some more beautiful sunny and sandy beaches.
Since we were only a border line away, the flight to Italy was a short one. Sarah and I arrived in Milan first. It was around 11 pm when a shuttle bus dropped us off near a crowded train station close to our hotel. We stayed one night in MIlan and let's just say it wasn't exactly a warm welcome. For instance, in a desparate search to find food, we walked about 4 blocks away from that crowded well lit train station only to find nothing was opened. Both of us were starved out of our minds, so we kept searching, eventually ending up on a sketchy block filled with derelicts and ladies of the oldest profession. The scene reminded me of something out of Mean Streets.
And before I go on, I must address my dear sweet and understanding Milani readers out there to not take any offense to what I am about to say. Believe me, I'm an equal opportunity offender. I talk more trash about my own country or city than any other. But I have to tell you, Sarah and I were a bit surprised by what we saw in Milan. Or better yet, confused. You see we both pictured Milan looking more like a Times Square-esque-Vegas-like hybrid filled with rich glamourous and fashionable inhabitants. Instead, it looked more like a swap-meet-filled section of Baltimore on the roughest of nights.
So at this point we decided to give up of the food search and head back to the safer looking part of town, when seemingly out of nowhere four shady looking characters appeared walking slowly behind us. I turned around once to get a quick glance at them. Only once. Didn't want to get them worked up. I noticed they were just kids. Maybe late teens, very early 20s. But kids scare me the most. And most kids have a reputation for acting fearless and dumb. Two things that don't mix together well. I could hear them giggling as they got closer. Then one of them started singing or chanting something that sounded like a broken Italian record playing backwards. For the first time since living in Europe — I felt truly afraid or threatened for my safety. Mainly because Sarah was with me. If I were alone I could easily kick one of them in the goolies, then make a fast run for it.
But Sarah was there — so I had to chill.
As they got even closer, nearly at our backs, still giggling and chanting, I began to clutch Sarah's hand tightly. At the first foul move, I was ready to shout out to Sarah to run as fast as she could — then try to fend them off the best I could. How? I wasn't really sure about that. Since it was so many of them, the first thing that came to mind was to go with the Fresh Prince of Bel Air's approach to scaring off attackers. "Act crazy. Pretend like the government had just done a radical experiment on my brain that left me with a sporadic-like tick in my shoulder. Then start jumping up and down and yelling and screaming at them continuously. — 'Back up! Back up!'" This time, thankfully, I didn't have to use Will Smith's expert technique. Because by the time we reached the brighter side of the corner, a bit more closer to the crowded well lit train station, they passed right by us. No harm. No foul. Afterwards, I felt a little bad about stereotyping these kids. Most likely they were just harmless little brats out to get their rocks off by scaring the hell out of us paranoid American tourists. But one can never be sure of these things.
Speaking of stereotyping, as Sarah and I crossed over to the other side of the street, closer to the train station, a rather huge Italian dude speaking English rather well, looking friendly and trustworthy enough, waved us over to his restaurant. He was happy to get the business in the late hours of the night. Sarah and I sat down, relaxed, and ate some very delicious pizza. Later on, back at the hotel, pretty exhausted and tired, we headed straight to bed to make sure we were rested up well for our train ride to Venice the next morning. I was more excited than a kid at Christmas. Venice had always been a dream destination of mine ever since I saw it on the silver screen in 1979 when James Bond was fighting Jaws in that memorable scene from Moonraker. I'd always fantasized about what it would actually look like in real life from time to time. And unlike Milan, I was hoping my dreams and visions would be just like I pictured it when I got there.
It was and then some.
And if I may steal a classic quote from Star Trek's Spock to describe Venice, I'd say it was simply fascinating. It was truly one of kind. I'd never seen anything quite like it in my entire life and something tells me that I never will. And not only did it look like my dreams, it shocked me to learn that the entire city was engulfed in water. I'd always thought that it was just a couple of sections of the city — but to my surprised water was everywhere! There were even waterbuses and watertaxes that took folks from point A to B! Fascinating!
Sarah had already been to Venice once during her backpacking days, so she was getting some free entertainment by simply watching my reactions to everything. But she was anxious about one thing she needed to do on her second time around. You see during her first visit to Venice, Sarah was a poor grad student, so she couldn't afford to experience one of the most iconic treasures of Venice — a gondola ride through the city! So we made sure that was a priority on our list.
After we settled into our sixteenth century styled B&B, conveniently located next door to the yummiest chocolate shop you could imagine, we took a romantic stroll through the Rialto Bridge and the enormous Piazza San Marco packed with tons of tourists and souvenir shops filled with enough Venetian masks to supply a decade of Carnivals to come! A little before dusk, it was time to make Sarah's dreams come true, so we headed for the nearest gondola port and was off on a long awaited, and might I add extremely romantic, gondola ride of our lives — sailing through the marrow watery alleyways filled with iconic Venetian staples right before our eyes, such as the picturesque Giorgio Maggiore Island and Santa Maria della Salute. We both could finally check Venice gondola ride off of our lists. Check!
For the next few days we tried to stuff everything we could into our short Venetian stay. Sarah and I also had to kiss and say goodbye because it was her last leg of our 5 country trip. Like Joe and Teresa, she needed to split off and head back home for work. Originally, I was supposed to go back with her, but since I was in Italy, and most likely will never stop back through Italy again, Sarah suggested that it would be a smart idea for me to explore as many cities there as I possible could with the time I had. So I added on a few more Italian dream destinations of mine that included the lovely Florence, Pisa and Rome!
Before I go into details about my Italian solo destinations and adventures, I think I should update you on one of the sub-themes of this episode and a well known recurring Blog-O-Daria theme — my infamous celebrity status. In this episode so far, you've seen how my it reached its highest peak in Bosnia and Croatia. Well, in Italy I was in for a rude awakening. My ever-so-present celebrity status reached an all time low since living in Europe — so far. It was kind of strange, too. In Italy, I could have tripped up, fell down a flight of stairs and broke my neck and no one would have even batted an eye. I told Sarah about it and she thought I was disappointed by this. You see, she and I have this little running debate going on about my celebrity status. She thinks that I love all the attention that I am getting out here in Europe. She thinks that I can't live without it! My own girlfriend thinks this! Can you believe that?
Uh, don't answer that!
Seriously though, like I said in previous episodes, I can really do without the attention. As a matter of fact, it felt really nice not have someone stare at me while I walked down a street. Or point a finger at me while trying to enjoy a slice of pizza. I truly felt at peace in Italy. And I really wasn't surprised that I got hardly any attention there, considering Italy was like a baby version of America. No joke — I thought there were more American tourists hanging out there than native Italians! The only time I felt like I might have seen some native Italians was when I was dining in a restaurant or shopping in a store. It was quite interesting to find that Italy must be at the top of the list of American tourists destinations in Europe. Oh, and this also brings to mind a new score on that little game I mentioned called Count The Black People. Well, let's just say in Italy, we lost count. Sarah and I both were not only pleasantly surprised to find that Black Italians made up a very large percentage of Italy, but that it was also heavy on the multicultural (or racially diverse) side in general.
Okay, Sarah was back home now and a brother was solo in Italy and off to Florence by train, a method of travel that I've always adored since first visiting Europe almost 6 years ago. Oh, and speaking of trains — Seasoned Sarah made sure I knew all there was to know about traveling by train in Europe. She gave me the good old European Rail Travel 101 class and exam before she took off. One of the best lectures or words of wisdom she gave me was if you so happen to get on the wrong train, you can always get off and turn around at the next stop. I repeated that line to myself throughout my journey. Believe it or not, it was therapeutic.
Yeah, and right now, I know what you're thinking. You're saying to yourself, Come on O, riding a train is easy, dude — it's like elementary! You just buy a ticket and get on the damn train! Not really. When you're in a foreign country alone and unexperienced, standing in a super crowed train station packed with tons of tourist milling about and big scary monitors and signs that point everywhere — it can be really intimidating.
And it was!
During my train ride to Florence, I think I got cursed out in Italian by one of them ticket-taker dudes for purchasing an outdated ticket. He shouted in my face and pointed at the date and time on my ticket as I continually told him that, "shouting at me in another language means nothing to me if I cannot understand it!" Which I'm sure he didn't understand. The whole situation was quite ridiculous. Everyone stopped what they were doing and started staring and stuff. For a split second, I felt awfully embarrassed. Then like a spiritual Obi-Wan Kenobi's voice inside my ear, I heard some more of Sarah's wise travel words of wisdom. She said; when traveling in a foreign country, one must try to overcome embarrassment. So I brush it off quickly and kept my head up high. After he calmed down a bit, he pulled 10 euros from his pocket signifying that I needed to pay that amount to stay onboard. I didn't care about the price at this point. I was just happy that he didn't throw me from the train. As angry as he was, I would have paid 50 euros to calm him down. Nevertheless, by the end of my trip, I got the hang of it all. I'd become pretty good at reading monitors, buying the correct tickets, and catching trains on time.
I was becoming seasoned.
When I finally arrived in Florence, it was indeed lovely. But the heat was on. It must have been over 110 degrees out. And them black skinny jeans that I had stubbornly worn, sacrificing comfort for cool, didn't help matters much. For the first time ever, I'd wished I was that typical-looking dude in shorts, a baseball cap and sandals. In Florence, I stayed in a huge youth hostel where mostly American tourists partied just about every night and took advantage of a free swimming pool to get out of the scorching heat.
For two sweaty days and nights, with no underground subway system for transportation, I walked the ancient city of Florence taking it all in. Well as much as time permitted. I explored the picturesque Ponte Vecchio, Piazza della Repubblica of Florence, Giotto's Campanile and The Palazzo Vecchio, stopping to take countless photos of the brilliant life-like sculptures that littered the ancient courtyard. At the suggestion of my boy Rudy, an Italian-American friend of mine from DC, I painstakingly climbed all of the 463 steps that led up to the top of The Florence Cathedral, the highest peak in Florence, and witnessed the most breathtaking view one could imagine. Thanks for the recommendation, Ru! Oh yeah, and I guess I should mention that The Ru also suggested I try some gelato while perusing around Italy, particularly Rome. I found a favorite flavor in lemon. It was yummy for my tummy and a good way to beat the heat in Italy. Thanks again, Ru. You are the man!
If you recall my misbehaving in Episode 13 after being left alone in London for a day, that resulted in a 24 hour shopping spree at a local music and DVD shop, leaving me no time to seek out important historical sites — for this trip, I'd made a promise to Sarah that I would be a good school boy in Italy. So I made it a priority to stay focused on the more important and historical aspects of the country. But if you know me well, then you'll know just how difficult that would be. So I made a compromise for myself. At the end of the day after I'd completed all my studying and homework, I would reward myself with a visit to the best CD and DVD shops Florence had to offer. They were fantastic, too! Unfortunately, and not surprisingly, all of the great Italian Giallos were offered in Italian only, leaving me empty-handed in the DVD department. However, I did manage to scoop up some good LPs by The Drifters, Little Feat, and Rickie Lee Jones at a wonderful CD store called Discoteca Laziale. Sadly, there was still no sign of that Buddy Box anywhere. But at least the store clerks had heard of the late great Rock pioneer. They even said that the box was there, but sold out. This gave me high hopes. I told myself rather optimistically, "I still have Rome. Hopefully it would be there." Then I crossed my fingers. Tightly.
Oh, and speaking of Episode 13, I did manage to keep in with my morbid theme of grave hunting in Florence. I paid a visit to the Basilica of Santa Croce, the burial place of Michelangelo, and paid my respects to one of the most influential painter of all time. I surprised myself by getting a bit choked up at the sight of his tomb all decorated in his honor. I guess I thought about all that he'd done for visual art and got a bit emotional.
My next Florence highlight doesn't really stick to my grave hunting theme, but its pretty damn morbid to say the least — one night while taking a stroll on the almost empty streets of Florence, I stumble upon a place where most American tourists would fear to tread — a museum devoted strictly to the infamous subject of serial killers. It was nearly 11 pm when I spotted a wax figure of Hannibal Lecture posted outside a storefront with a huge sign read Serial Killer e Pena di Morte. And other than the very friendly curator, just like I figured, no one else was inside. As frightened as a tuna fish out of water, I paid my 12 Euros and entered anyway. I guess, besides taking an interest in the ever-so untouchable and taboo subject matter for some time now, I was curious to see how one would display such a thing.
And yes, it was indeed well worth the time and money. And, some money and time must have been put into the museum, because it was pretty spectacular! The curator provided me with headsets that played a well researched audio history as I timidly walked through darkened and dimmed corridors filled with the most exquisite and life-like waxed figures of some of the most notorious killers of our time set in the most realistic and detailed stage-like scenes that included the likes of, Ted Bundy, John Wayne Gacy, Ed Gein, Jack The Ripper, Charles Manson, Countess Elizabeth Báthory, the first known serial killer and Hungarian vampiress, and even one I'd never even heard of who goes by the named Andrei Chikatilo, the Russian serial killer better known as the Butcher of Rostov. When in Florence, I would not recommended this museum for the squeamish or offensively challenged. But for those who are...uh, let's just say...into something completely different.
The next morning at the hostel, inside my 4 bunked mixed dorm that consisted of a Brazilian girl, an American girl and a Canadian dude — a new roommate arrived. His name was John, a fellow ex-pat from Chicago. And I know this means I am getting a little old when I say this. And believe me, I have nothing against folks getting their party on — but most of the tourist in the hostel would sleep in the day time and party at night. They might as well had stayed home to do that. But John was like a breath of fresh air. He wasn't your typical "party all the time" American dude hanging out in Italy. He was a brilliant photographer who was interested in checking out Florence in the daytime, so he and I instantly connected on the art thing and before you know it, we were off to see Michelangelo's David at the Accademia Gallery, another dream destination of mine that I can check off my list. Check! While waiting in a humongous line of tired, sweaty and impatient tourists, we met another breath of fresh air — a lady named Nic, an Australian traveling through Europe. The three of us spent a couple of days together, sight seeing and taking tons of pictures. Like Joe, John was also a huge football (soccer) fan, so on our last night together, we watched the latest World Cup match while eating some more delicious Italian pizza.
The next day the three of us split up due to other previous planned obligations. I had just one more day left in Florence, so keeping with my seeing as much of Italy as I can while I am in Italy theme, I took a short train ride to Pisa, home of the famous Leaning Tower of Pisa. And boy was that sucker leaning some kind of good! Just seeing it face to...uh, er...tower, was all too surreal to describe in words. It's another dream destination I can now check off of my list. Check! And a top favorite moment of my entire 5 country trip.
Okay. Last, but certainly not least — Rome, Italy's beautiful and historical city that spans over two and a half thousand years. Rome tops the list of my all time favorite places in Italy. It's also the place in Italy where the pinnacle of the heat wave erupted, prompting hundreds of tourists to plunge into the hypnotic and tranquil Trevi Fountain, the largest Baroque fountain in the city. As I walked a intensely hot Rome, jockeying for the shaded side of the streets, and burning my behind off in them black skinny jeans, I noticed that my favorite Chuck Taylor All-Stars were starting to collapse from all of the walking I endured in Florence. To save myself from more embarrassment, I ducked inside the nearest shoe outlet and purchase a new pair of ASICS with the same black and white color scheme, but not nearly as cool as my old Chucks. Shoes in Bulgaria are pretty expensive. Almost double priced! So Italy, where the prices were far more cheaper, was the perfect time and place for them to wear down. And I needn't worry about the new pair making a repeat performance of the old pair, Rome had a New York-styled-user-friendly subway system that not only gave my new shoes a break, but my blistered feet a break as well.
In Rome, I stayed at another hostel. And like the Florence hostel, I was placed in another 4 bunked mixed dormatory where I enjoyed the company of two Greek girls named Nora and Terri and an Irish dude named Deckland. Deckland was definitely the party animal. Some days he didn't come home until 4 am! Observing this, I did all the cool sight-seeing historical stuff with the Greek girls, and saved my nighttime fun for hanging out with Mr. Deckland. One of our favorite chill spots was the Spanish Steps, the longest and widest staircase in Europe, where we watched folks dance to the sounds of live drumming.
Unlike the Florence hostel, the Roman hostel wasn't even close to having the same fun and cheerful atmosphere. And that part of the hostel stay didn't really matter much to me. Far as I was concerned, it was just a place to lie my head for a few nights. But the staff was just so dead and unhelpful about everything that I had to make due on my own. So the first thing I did was sign up for a really cool tour. For a small fee, I learned a lot of first hand knowledge of the city and a trip to the Vatican City and Vatican Museums to get a glimpse of St. Peter's Basilica and the Sistine Chapel, where I took a brave sneak shot of The Creation Of Adam, another dream destination of mine that I can check off my list. Check! In the chapel, many tourists were ejected after being caught taking pictures of the ancient ceiling. But it was my one moment. So after a couple of girls I'd met on the tour covered for me, I went for it. Snap! I got one. The shot ended up coming out awful and blurry, due to my hands shaking in fear, but I still got an original shot of the Sistine Chapel! Nice.
Another top favorite moment of my 5 country trip and check off on my list of dream destinations, was the Colosseum. And like The Leaning Tower, there's really no way I can describe that one moment in time when I exited the turn-styles of Colosseum Subway station and saw one of the greatest works in Roman architecture right there before my eyes. It lived up to the hype and every one of my preconceived notions. The Colosseum was also where I got a small bit of celebrity status in Italy back without falling down a flight of stairs. Three very lovely Korean girls asked me if they could have their picture taken with me. Of course I agreed. And although they didn't ask for an autograph to go with the picture — when they found out I was traveling alone, they insisted that I hang out with them for the day. So the four of us spent a few hours inside the Colosseum and around the Roman Forum taking pictures and digging the scene. Okay, okay...you win, Sarah — I'll admit it. It was pretty darn nice to finally get a little bit of celebrity Status attention back in Italy. Oh well, I guess you're right. I must be getting used to the attention.
Before I was back on a plane to the Yellow Brick Road, where my celebrity status is more eminent than a military sergeant, my last and final day in Rome couldn't have ended on a sweeter note. A sweet musical note. Like in Florence, after I'd done all my studying and homework, I figured I was deserving of another little treat, so in Rome I found a couple more of them Discoteca Laziale CD/DVD stores I'd shopped at in Florence. And yes you got it right — the first store I walked in had that Buddy Holly boxed set on display at the front counter. It was sitting pretty and plain as can be, as if it were waiting there for me to arrive.
I was happier than a lark, now.
And while I am on the subject, music buyers should beware that this Buddy box isn't for the casual music listener. It's 6 discs filled with over two hundred rare and unreleased alternate studio takes, mono, live and instrumentals versions of Buddy's works. For instance, you'll find about 5 different versions of "That'll Be The Day" which would probably make you die if you can't tell the difference between each version. So in other words, it's strictly for the serious Buddy fanatics and music loving idiots like myself who get-off on stuff like this. All casual listeners will be happier purchasing a simple greatest hits package. Trust me on this one.
Okay, before I conclude my story with a run down of all the delicious cuisine I devoured on my 5 country trip, as always — I must to say that my beautiful (clears throat) photographs tell a much better story than I can. So please click on this link to view about 345 pictures from my 5 country trip with captions included. Oh, and I know that's a heck of a lot of pictures to view — but keep in mind that you are viewing an edited down version of a total of 4,000 photographs! So cut me some slack here.
Okay, now onto to the delicious cuisine from all 5 countries. Well first off, as aforementioned, we didn't really get to explore Serbia or its cuisine. Well, that is, if you don't count eating at a Serbian gasoline station. So in that case, I'll just leave Serb off the list this time. Nevertheless, both Montenegro and Bosnia, had quite delicious and similar cuisine. And like Bulgaria and most Balkan countries, there was plenty of bonitsa to go around for a quick on-the-go snack. But in Bosnia, instead of cheese filled bonitsa, lamb and beef were a common substitute. And I should also mention, for those like I, who are not a partaker of the swine, in Bosnia there was no problem finding a beef dish just about everywhere. As a result of the Ottoman administration for almost 500 years, Bosnian food is closely related to Turkish/Greek, so a typical meat dish would include primarily beef or lamb. Montenegro was where I'd eaten the second best fish ever in my whole life. The first being Greece, of course. Croatia had the most interesting cuisine of them all. It was kind of a hybrid of both Bosnia and Montenegro, with a touch of Italian and Mediterranean cuisine thrown in. In Dubrovnik, Joe and I ate the best spaghetti and beef bolognese I had on the entire trip! It Made me want to slap somebody's mama! Twice!!
And last but not least, everybody's favorite. Pizza. It was simply amazing in Italy. And this was, of course, not surprising for me at all. I'd heard so much about the Italian legend for so long that I had been anticipating it for the entire trip. I ate so many different kinds, from thick to thin, veggie to cheese, enjoying them all. I even learned the so-called correct way of eating pizza from a waiter in Venice. He told me the real way to eat pizza was to fold it in half and eat it like a sandwich. I didn't like that way very much, but he was nice enough, so I humored him and did it anyway. I was also surprised that most, if not all, restaurants in Italy served pizza by the whole instead of by the slice, a common way to serve pizza in the States. That seemed a bit weird and overindulging for Sarah and I, but we eventually got used to it. Oh, and I can't forget Montenegro. They, surprisingly, had some pretty yummy pizza, too. Well, the one and only one we had was yummy. You see oddly enough, in Montenegro it was difficult for us to find a plain ol' everyday plain cheese pizza or one without pork on it. We eventually found one pizza joint that was generous enough to make one large plain cheese pizza especially for us. Now that's hospitality.
Okay, what I am about to say just might get me into some real hot water this time. It could possibly start wars between countries. I even consulted with Sarah on the issue and she warned me not to say it. It's just as equivalent and crazy as someone saying that The Monkees made better songs than The Beatles. Or that Battlestar Galactica was more superior than Star Wars! Or Pepsi taste better than Coke! But I'm still going to say it. And I really don't care if you call me crazy, leave me hateful comments, death threats, or never read my Blog-O-Daria again! — I'm still saying it.
Of all the pizza I've eaten in Italy, Ledo Pizza back home in Maryland is still the best damn pizza I've ever tasted on the Planet.
Be seeing you.
O
