Encore

For all of my loyal followers, new comers, travelers, foes and everything betwixt, this is my final blog posting. Confusion must be flowing over you like water in a bath(those take forever to fill up). But it will subside if your literacy just hangs on for a few more minutes.

As we all know, I was babying my parents around Italy and Switzerland. Babying might be a wrong term to use here... No, it's the right one. I was self motivated to make sure our caravan got to every destination with as little hassle and distraction as possible. I was often volunteered by my parents to be the asker of questions, orderer of food, and expert negotiator of cheap souvenirs. How much this costs, where that hotel is, why don't I have 5 different kinds of cheeses on my plate. I am not quite sure why they had me do it. Most of the time my italian was so rough that I would soon be forced to just speak english to them. It wasn't just any english that you speak to a foreigner. Most people think english is the universal language of the world. I am here to say NAY, the language of the world is broken english. My mom speaks english very well, but didn't understand that when one speaks to foreigners you don't say "what per say are the circumstances in which a favorable outcome may come to pass?"  In BE(broken english) you say "what I do good times later?"

We were having a smashing time in Italy and Switzerland when we left out of Zurich to get to Istanbul. I had bragged about Turkey so much to my parents that they felt intrigued to see what fuss I was making. We were in the airport going through customs when the dark cloud of ignorance manifested above me and let out its furious monsoon. You are saying, "Brian, I am not even sure what that last sentence means, please explain". Don't interrupt! I was told prior to my visit to Europe that I can only be in Europe for 90 days but, could hop in and out of the EU to renew my travelers visa. This seemed like an awesome idea. I could stay forever with a forced vacation every 3 months. If you recall, my brief stint in Norway was my attempt at jumping through what seemed like a giant loop hole. The loop hole was actually just a large pit with skunks at the bottom ready to stank me up. The law as it stands today is that one can be in Europe for 90 days. But you have 180 days to spend those 90 days. So from the day of entry in January 20 I had 6 months to spend 3 months of time there. It sounds a bit confusing at first, but when one get interrogated by Swiss police you understand very quickly. Luckily for me they believed I was ignorant of my crime and only fined me 400 francs. They informed me that 3 days later I would have been in huge trouble with possible jailing and deportation. I am very lucky that my parents were there to help me keep me calm and to help pay to keep me from having a European record.

We made out way to Istanbul in a three hour flight. Needless to say I was a bit of a debbie downer. We plopped our stuff at our respected hotels/hostels and met up to see what the city was offering. If you have ever been to my parents house, to say they are Persian carpet enthusiasts is a modest description. We were now in the midst of thousands of middle east carpet shops without the guns and danger. They were lured into each shop in Istanbul with the promise of a carpet show and apple tea. Now I am not sure I counted all of them, but in one day I am sure 30 cups of tea were consumed by each of us. I can not say no to the sugar and bitterness that bless my tongue with each burning sip. Three days of site seeing and shopping left my parents wanting more. They were so happy with Istanbul they wanted to prolong their stay. They couldn't, but they wanted too.

After I got into Istanbul my parents did what parents do for children that would be thrown in jail if were caught in Europe. They used their flight miles and found me a ticket back to Tucson. So at the end of the Istanbul insanity we flew to Rome where i left them at the train station. Now it is important for me to reveal a moment of clarity that washed over me like water in a bath(man i just cant get away from that bath water). When I left 22 months ago to Europe the first time I left with a feeling of excitement and shock when I left Phoenix. Upon arrival in Madrid I was scared, freaking out, and question what the heck was wrong with me for doing this. I had found my way to what was a "hostel" the size of a cell block and just as comfortable. Then just a few days ago I was coming back in the same exact order but backwards. Crappy hostel with a flight out of Madrid. But this time when I left Europe I had a different feeling consume me. Instead of the nervous twitches and confusion with life, I had felt I had accomplished something that gave me confidence that would not be attained any other way. I am not much for signs, but when the beginning and end are mirrors to itself it felt like a conclusion was made to my backpacking days. I have gotten what I can out of the meandering world, and now it is my turn to give back for all it has offered to me.

I want to thank everyone that has been reading this blog during my incredible journey. Hearing that I actually had readers inspired me to keep writing. I want to thank my mother and father for their love and support. If not for them I would not have been able to accomplish my traveling dream. Friends that kept me sane whilst in my slumps and laughed with me during my peaks. Lovely Lori for taking a masterful picture of my after picture shown below(not much has changed since the first one except i need to learn how to use an ironing board.

p.s. I said something to my mom in passing off the top of my head that she told me would be great to add in the blog. "When everything is foreign, nothing is."



Moral of the story, get off you butt and have an adventure. There is too much out there to see.

Sales Rack

The last time I blogged to you I was in the legendary Cinque Terre region of Italy. Much sun and hiking left us hungry for some cooler weather with a bit of R&R. My parents and I said goodbye to our family friends in Milan and went our separate ways. They went to the seductress city of Venice, we headed north to the wealthy city of Lugano, Switzerland. I had raved about Switzerland so much that they penciled it into their busy schedule. I had never actually heard of any of the places we were going besides Zurich, but I am down for new experiences any time.

Last time I was in Switzerland I remembered that things were a bit expensive, but this time around I really was able to understand the price of luxury. My parents were staying at a 5 star hotel overlooking a beautiful lake. To pull up a cot into their room would have cost 117 US dollars! I thought this was a bit unnecessary to spend such an extravagant amount on me. I would rather sleep on a bench then spend that kind of money. Though the benches were rather comfortable to sit on, to sleep on them would have played mean jokes on my spine. With luck and persistence I found a nice little hostel that overlooked the city for 30 francs a night. Steep, but doable.

The next day my father was considering buying a watch. Where else in the world would you buy a watch besides Switzerland? Swiss cheese, Swiss chocolate, Swiss army knives, and Swiss watches. There is a street called Via Nassa that was dedicated to expensive jewelry and watches. Once in a while we would walk into a place and ask for a watch to be shown to us. Now if you know my parents, my mom is dressed in fancy colors and some nice jewels. My father is dresses equally fancy in basketball shorts and a t-shirt. It wasn’t a surprise when we walked in and they gave us a lil bit of a “what are you doing in here?” look. I felt like we were Pretty Womaning the people with wanting to buy something and them not wanting to serve us. There was a watch that looked especially classy that we asked about. Before we heard their whole spiel about the making of the time piece we asked “How much?” A whopping 31,000 Francs it would cost to be able to tell time. Before he had a chance to say another word we were out the door and on to the next store. I told my dad that it is a watch that if you have to ask how much it costs, you probably can't/don't want to buy it. End of the story, we found a real nice, classy watch that tells the time and everything. Mission successful.

Eventfulness

It has been way to long since my last blog post and honestly could probably be another span of time before I get back to it. The past five days I have been staying with my parents and our family friends in a villa in Tuscany. Needless to say the wifi ability is slightly less than nil.

It was so great seeing my parents again. It was kind of luck that let our paths cross. They told me that they were going to be walking around a few blocks away from the academia at a certain time. They were not aware that there are four cardinal directions and a bunch of directions between those four. I had a possibly 16 or so blocks to roam around to find them. The first street I took to wander was serendipitous street. We met almost instantly and exchange loving hugs and kisses.

The three days we spent in Florence and wine country of Tuscany were filled with sight seeing and major shopping. When in rome, do as the romans. When in Florence, do as the romans, mostly because romans ruled them too at one point. Leather goods consumed our attention along with cashmere scarves and gelato. Let us just say my bag might be going back to Sardinia a little more full then when I started.

One of the toughest parts of the trip was driving around trying to find the towns that we had mapped out. The first part of the problem was “plans”. I am not sure who actually invented that word, but it seems to cause more trouble than helps. Italians try to warn you of that, but then dig it in when driving around. As you drive to a specific small town location there are signs everywhere. The signs are not like the United States where it says Roger st. or MLK Blvd. Instead it will give a large city in a direction. If you are trying to go to a itty bitty town of 200 people it will not be on any street signs or directions. Thus planning becomes difficult. The best way I could deal with it was to stick my head in my book and let the adults discuss and decide.

Wine. It has never been my favorite libation. When I go to a party I might bring root beer or juice boxes. The taste of anything with alcohol just makes my eyes squint, nose crinkle, and mouth make a rather attractive bitter look. My excitement for wine country was on par as if I were to get a coffee enema. It’s just not up my alley. Again my book became my best friend.

Moral of the story, if you cant read, sometimes the letters look like pictures and it looks like reading…

McDonalds Is From Where?

On my way to see my parents from Montpellier. This requires me to take a train ride between 9 to 10 hours total to get to Pisa. Time is loose for me so it was my prerogative to stop off in Torino for a day or two before I make my way. I got on my train around 2 in the afternoon and took my seat next to a scruffy middle aged sleeping man. He was the French version of a American southerner. Midway through the trip he was speaking his gibberish French in his sleep loud enough to gain the attention of everyone in the car. Loud enough to wake himself up and excuse his unknown behavior to the nearby listeners. I ducked my hat low, put my ear buds in and read my book. This disguise did not secure my safety from the awkward interaction that was about to occur.

He focused his gaze on me and began rapping quickly in French with intent on me understanding. I gave the universal look of I don’t understand; pursed lips, squinted eyes, raised eye brows, quick head shakes. He kept talking to me persistently maybe thinking that eventually I would divulged the fact I was actually French. After 20 or so minutes of possible ridicule or compliments he walked to a table just behind me and started talking to a different guy who I assume spoke actual French.

I thought I was in the clear, my book and I would be able to become one again. WRONG. A young girl sat across the way from me and started trying to speak broken English to me. Her first words to me was “you have beautiful eyes”. I said thank you and tried to keep reading. She moved on over to where I sat and began asking nearly every question in the world. “Whats you name?”, “Where are you from?”, “Whats your dog’s name?”, “is there McDonalds in America?”. That last one caught me off guard too. True story, she asked my age and I told her 25. I asked hers back as a sign of curtsey and she responded 20. This threw me off guard mostly because she looked 12. I looked for clues that might solve this mystery. Traveling alone, could be 20. Pokemon back pack, could be 12. Rather good English, could be 20. Obsessed with her video games, probably 12. It was nearly an hour of interview questions. I feel that if Opera where to invite me to her last show, I would be thoroughly prepared for anything.

I was received in Torino around 9 at night. As I walked out of the train station I was surrounded by a city of construction. If felt like every block was consumed with rubble and caution tape. Reading directions given by the hostel was particularly interesting. Catching the right busses that don’t pass by me required a large amount of walking. I knew the general location I had to get to so I decided to make an adventure out of it. If I came to a fork in the road I would use my expert Italian skills to ask the local pedestrian “where is Dora Station?” I still can’t comprehend what Italians say so I had to rely on their cultural need to gesture everything they say. It is my true belief that the first interpretive dancers were just average Italians on stage. An hour of walking through a slummy part of town made me tired, cranky, and less inclined to stay an extra day in Torino to discover what gems it possesses. So now I am sharing a train cabin with two nice old ladies to Pisa. I get to see the parents today!!!

Moral of the story, learn how to say “I speak (insert a language here)” in that language to get out of awkward conversations.