David and Tracey Do Europe
1998
The Day Before:
On Thursday May 21st I finally made that darn reservation for a double suite at Elizabeth House in London England. Cost: L60 = $93.00 I am very nervous and stressed. I’m waiting for Tracey to get home so we can go exchange our cash into Traveler’s Checks.
The Day:
The work day on Friday May 22nd was filled with stress. Everyone said goodbye and the guys made jokes about the plane crashing. Now we are at the airport. We just got dropped off by Loren at Newark Airport. We checked in like a breeze (no lines!). Now we have two hours to kill while we wait to board.
Tracey is a bit depressed because she found out her mother had been crying because she couldn’t do what Tracey is doing. I reassured Tracey by telling her that a part of her mother is doing it and that she will live vicariously through Tracey. She seems a bit happier. I am very excited and nervous! But, hey, this has been my dream forever and I am about to realize it.
On The Airplane
We are on the airplane and have been here for almost two hours. We haven’t taken off yet. The airport is so busy on this memorial weekend that our flight has been delayed.
We had a pleasant surprise back at the airport. Tracey and I had been sitting outside in the sun, loving each other and when we came back in we ran into my mother and my sister Myrna. It was so cool! They came down to see us off. We had a bite to eat with them and they walked us to the terminal. I love them.
We’ve been sitting here forever. I have dozed off twice and it is very hot. It feels like the air conditioning is off. There is also a strange gas-like smell which is making me a bit lightheaded. I suspect that it is just my nerves. I am still very uneasy.
London
What a day it has been! We got to Heathrow this morning and the guy at Customs let us go by with four cartons of cigarettes without any charge. “Off you go!” he told us after a cursory check of our baggage. He was very nice and set a happy tone for our trip.
When we got our backpacks we realized just how heavy they were. Our backs were killing us! We took the Underground from Heathrow to Victoria Station and from there walked around in a huge circle carrying these heavy backpacks for an eternity before finding Elizabeth House only two blocks away from the station in the opposite direction. When we got there we discovered that check in wasn’t until noon and it was only 10 am. Thank God they let us leave our packs in the lobby while we went exploring the surrounding area!
We didn’t wander too far for fear of getting lost, but we did find a nearby restaurant and ate a slightly gross breakfast. Bacon here is not the same as the bacon back home, trust me on that. And the eggs were sketchy at best. Then we found a computer center where we sent out email to family and friends and let them know we got here ok. I also bought a pack of chocolate orange gum which tasted just as good as it sounds.
Finally, noon rolled around and we got the room. It was tiny! We were supposed to have a Double Suite with a private bath and a TV. What we got was a walk-in closet with two separate beds and a huge picture window overlooking the back of a brick building. The bathroom was down the hallway and there was no TV. The only other thing we had in the room was a tiny sink and a bare light bulb hanging over the bed.
As soon as the door to the room was shut, and we got over the shock of its size, the excitement of being in Europe together at last dawned on us. After showering and changing, we decided to go out and explore London. Armed only with a camera, the after-glow, our good looks, and endless wit, we saw all the cool touristy sights in London: Buckingham Palace, Westminster Abbey, Big Ben (I was disappointed to learn that it was a clock LOL), The River Thames, Trafalgar Square, Leicester Square, Piccadilly, SoHo, The Strand, et al.
By this point, we had walked so much that our legs were going numb. So, we decided to take the Underground back to the hotel and rest a bit before our night plans. When we got to the room, Tracey flung herself on the bed and promptly went to sleep. I hung around the room, trying to read, but boredom and exhaustion overtook me and I too feel asleep.
Tracey woke me up at 10 pm. We had fallen victim to the evil jet lag and has slept most of the day away! We got up, still groggy, got dressed and tried to make the most of what we had left of the night. We were hoping to find a great British dance club or something.
We took the Underground once again and ended up on Charing Cross Road looking for a club we knew we were doomed not to find. Anyway, to make a long story short we got lost, we walked around SoHo and Picadilly Circus, and watched all the drunken people stumble by. It was actually fun because people-watching is one of our favorite hobbies. We ended up being the very last customers in a nearly-empty restaurant named “Garfunkles” and had a great (albeit expensive) meal. We then found a big double-decker bus and sat on the top level and rode it back to Victoria Station, all the while watching people on the streets and imagining where their evenings had been like. From Victoria Station we held hands and had a comfortably quiet and romantic walk back to the hotel.
What a Mess!
The check out time at Elizabeth House is 10:45 am. We were supposed to get a wake up call at 9:00 and, of course, we didn’t. We woke up in a panic at 10:20 and I rushed downstairs, my hair a total mess, to ask the receptionist if we could have at least some time to shower and get dressed. I don’t know if she truly felt sympathy for us, or the horror or my hair and breath intimidated her, but she was very compliant. We rushed around and got it all together by 11 am.
We struggled with our heavy backpacks all the way back to Victoria Station and got on the Underground. We had to switch trains twice to make it to Waterloo station where we stood in a long line to get tickets for the Eurostar Train to Paris. Tickets cost 86 Ponuds each (you do the math) and they didn’t take American Traveler’s Checks. So, Tracey had to stay at the desk and I had to run upstairs and across the station (I felt like OJ in those old Hertz commercials) to find an exchange booth.
Now, I should say here that no one in England would accept our Traveler’s Checks, so I have had to exchange them almost constantly. I know the drill: You sign them, You hand them to the guy, He hands you back 2/3 of the value in Pounds. This asshole wanted to see my passport and driver’s license, he wrote my license number on the back of each one (I had many checks) and then gets on the phone to call each one of them in! Meanwhile, Tracey is holding up progress at the desk downstairs and our train leaves in 5 – 10 minutes! Furthermore, he overcharged me in commission. I gave him $400 in checks and he gave me L200. That is ½! I was pissed. I was very rude to that bastard and I caused a scene. I was that rude, angry American that they Europeans loooove. People stared and an American family behind me in line joined in on my bashing of the guy. They backed me up in telling him what a cheating fuckhead he was. I snatched my money and ran back to the ticket booth. Everyone could tell I was pissed, so they just handed me the tickets in silence.
As I write this, we are travelling across the English countryside on our way to Paris. We are sitting in Coach 5 seats 73 and 74 surrounded by Americans. I ate a great sandwich, but poor Tracey had to resort to eating a can of Pringles from yesterday because they have nothing available here that she can eat. At last we are on our way out of expensive England (In one day I spent nearly $500.00) and on our way to gay old Paris, the City of Love. But the best part is that the dollar is worth almost twice the value in France! Yay!
PS. Did I mention we are in a smoking car? I am going to have one now.
Paris
We arrived at Paris at 4:00pm by our watches, only to realize that Paris is in another time zone, so it is really 5:00pm. I never felt the sense of total confusion that I did when we stepped off the train at the station Gare du Lyon. It was a total mob scene! The din of a million voices assaulted our ears. The crowds seemed to rush by, yet stand still at the same time. Military men carrying assault rifles patrolled the station, while beautiful gypsy children ran around them and surrounded us. Their little hands were all over us, no doubt trying to find pockets they could reach into. We gave them our left over British coins, and they ran away giggling to their next victims.
We felt paralyzed with fear because we didn’t know what to do next. We didn’t even know where in Paris we were. After standing around like morons for half and hour (and many suspicious looks from the armed soldiers), we decided to go and make reservations for the Wednesday train to Austria. We worked our way through the throng of sweaty people, wrestling to keep our backpacks from hurting anyone.
When we finally found the ticketing booth, we were crushed to discover that the trip to Austria is in excess of 10 hours. We were led to believe that there was a high-speed bullet train from Paris to Austria which took only three hours. Boy, were we misinformed! We were so depressed and pissed off about it, we decided to deal with that later and just get to a hotel.
We bought a city map and took to the streets. We walked for what seemed like an eternity to a Metro station and took a short train ride to the area surrounding the Louvre. We wandered around until we found the hotel we were looking for – Hotel de Lille on Rue du Pelican. I read somewhere that many French people speak Spanish, so I took a chance and spoke to the desk manager in Spanish. He was fluent and we got a room with a private shower for 280 Francs which is roughly 56 Dollars.
There are two problems with the room, though. #1: We can only have the room for tonight, not three days as planned, and #2: There is no toilet. Number one is presently not a problem because there are a thousand hotels in Paris. But, number two is a HUGE problem.
We have a sink and a bidet in the bathroom. It makes no sense! You figure, if they went through the trouble of putting in a bidet, they may as well have just put in a toilet instead. For those of you who don’t k now what a bidet is, it is like a mini urinal that shoots a stream of water like a fountain. There is a tiny drain at the bottom of it which makes it safe for #1s, but #2s would have nowhere to go. The nearest toilet is down two flights of stairs in a heavily trafficked hallway.
This makes Tracey depressed and she is presently laying in bed, sighing in not so silent desperation. It’s a good thing we only have this room for the night, because we could not last three days without a toilet. We are about to venture out into the streets again to try to find something to eat and figure out where we are going to stay tomorrow. My spirits are still high. Paris is beautiful and I look forward to exploring it. I am even trying to practice my French. I think I may even try to order our meal in French for a change. Alors!
Stormy Night in Paris
Paris is beautiful! We strolled through the streets of Paris looking for a restaurant. We are staying a block from the Louvre and all the restaurants are accordingly expensive. We have no idea what the menus in the windows say, but can easily see the prices in Francs listed after each entry. There are way too many zeros in those numbers for our comfort. So, we decided to press onward to cheaper pastures.
We have seen some pretty sights on our walk, but none we could capture on film because the camera chose that moment to go on strike. I changed the film, put in new batteries, and still the damn thing won’t shoot. It’s a shame too, because as we walked alongside the Louvre (which spans many, many blocks) the streets opened up to Place de la Concorde and it was breathtaking!
The sun hung high in the sky over a magnificent roundabout lined with monuments. On one side were the Gardens of the Louvre, across was Ave de Chaps-Elysees, behind a huge tower was the Seine River, and in the background hovered the Eiffel Tower. I felt as if I was in some sort of living painting of what I had imagined Paris to look like. My hair stood on end and I silently cursed my cheap camera. If I can get the camera working tomorrow I will capture that scene. I know it will never leave my head.
We finally found a restaurant that had an English menu posted, so we went in. A lady led us to our table and we felt like total scumbags. Everyone in the restaurant was dressed in suits and dresses and we were dressed in jeans and t-shirts. This was a classy joint and we felt totally uncomfortable. The waiter ignored us and when he finally looked our way I motioned him over. He cursed me out in French! A rude French waiter, how original! I don’t know what he said, but his hand gestures led me to believe he told me to wait a fucking minute because we are too busy. The look accompanying those gestures was totally nasty. I told Tracey I wanted to leave. So we got up and ran out of the place. It was fun! We were laughing!
Once outside, we realized that we still hadn’t eaten a damn thing. We were starving. We wandered until we found a nice little sidewalk restaurant. I ordered in French, but the waiter spoke English anyway. He was a really pleasant person and quite charming. When the moment came to leave a tip, we didn’t really know what to leave him. Our bill totaled 264 Francs, so we left him 40 Francs. I am assuming it was a decent tip because when he saw what we left, he beamed and said: “That is a very good tip! Thank you!” Although now that I do the math, I think maybe he was being sarcastic.
Our bellies full of Poulet et Fromage, we meandered back toward to hotel. We were shocked at how late it had become. When we had left the hotel, the desk attendant gave us a key to the front door of the hotel and warned us that the hotel is kept locked at night, when no one was working the desk. By the time we got back to the now spooky alley that is Rue du Pelican, it had grown very dark. We nervously tried the key in the front door. And, you guessed it, it did not work!
At first it was a bit funny, and we laughed at our luck. But then after 15 minutes of standing outside in the dark alley, trying to get the door open, ringing the doorbell, and banging on the door, it became downright scary. We began to think that this hotel thing was a scam designed to rob valuables from the tourists. We were quickly veering into a near panic. Where would we sleep? What about our packs and passports? I began to silently pray to God for help.
A few minutes after I began to pray, we saw an old lady turn the corner and begin to walk down the alley towards us. She saw us still grappling with the door and smiled at us kindly. She spoke words I could not understand. She had a serene expression and I knew she felt compassion for us. She took the key from my hand and in an instant had the door unlocked. We laughed with joy and said “Merci, Merci!” over and over again. I took her hand and kissed it. She said something else in French and continued on her way. I choose to believe that she may have been an angel sent by God.
Once inside the room, we realized that we had nothing to eat or drink. So, I ventured back out into the dark Parisian streets and found a grocery store. I discussed Soccer (as if I know anything about the topic) with the guys behind the counter and made it safely to the hotel. Tracey let me in this time because the key still did not work for me. And we gorged ourselves on sweet snacks and drinks.
Well, it is getting late and we need to get up early because we have no idea what time check out is. As I sit on the bed and write this journal, I can hear Tracey yawning next to me. I have a small window of opportunity here to discover if Paris truly is the city of love, so I must bid you Adieu. Bon soirée, mes Amies.
We Love Paris!
I did not have such a restful night because Tracey woke me up in the middle of the night and whispered “He’s here!” and then fell right back to sleep. The way she said it was really freaky. I stayed up the rest of the night watching shadows moving behind the curtains and trying to figure out who “He” was. I finally went back to sleep as dawn broke. Tracey woke me up and had no recollection of her cryptic statement. We shared a laugh about my hellish night as we got our stuff together. Check out time was at noon, and we immediately set out to find a new hotel for our second Parisian night.
Boy, did we find a good one! It’s called Hotel de la Vallee and we love it. The room is huge and it has a private toilet, a shower, and cable TV. It was only 290 Francs which is like $58.00. It is located in the coolest section of Paris – Rue de St. Dennis in the heart of the Red Light District. The hotel is on top of a porn shop and across the street from a porn theater. The streets are packed with cool young college kids looking for some forbidden fun. And several prostitutes!
After unloading our megalithic backpacks in the room, we took to the streets armed with our miraculously working camera. Our destination was the Eiffel Tower. We found it quite easily (Frankly, it is kind of hard to miss) and went straight to the top. The view from above was breathtaking. It was a beautiful, clear day so the visibility was amazing.
Being up there was so amazing and romantic, that I actually started to propose to Tracey. Then I realized that I didn’t have a ring, so I backed down just as I was saying: “Tracey, I have a question to ask you. Would you..?” She smiled and said “What?” And idiot me said: “…Mmmmind if we stayed in Paris one extra night?” It was so stupid. And I felt like an ass. But I swear, had I had a ring on me I would have asked her to marry me then and there.
On the way down from the Eiffel Tower we ran into two ladies from New Jersey. Denise lives in Union, the same town as us, and Jackie lives in Hillside, the next town over. It’s a small world after all! We hit it off with them and the four of us spent the rest of the day sightseeing. We visited the Arc de Triomphe, shopped around Champs-Elysees (we didn’t buy anything, but we did eat a lot of pastries), went to Place de la Concorde, Jardin de Tuileries, and ended up at The Louvre. It was gorgeous! The ladies were really cool and asked us to join them tomorrow for a tour of Versailles. But we don’t know if we are going yet.
We still have to decide what we are going to do about Austria. The train would take us 10 hours and we really don’t want to do that. We could charter a plane for a butt load of cash, but we aren’t crazy. Plus, we really want to stay in this room for another night. We love it so much here! We have a lot of thinking to do tomorrow.
As for tonight, we have returned to our room, and we are eating and watching MTV Europe. It got dark here tonight around 10pm and that was sort of weird but cool. The nights are short and the days last forever in Paris. This is definitely going to be a country we will visit again (if we can afford it!).
Au Revoir, Paris!
We are currently zooming across the dark landscape of eastern Paris, heading toward Switzerland. But, I will tell you more about that later. Let me begin at the beginning.
Last night, on an impulse, I went down to the concierge and paid for another night in the hotel. That meant that whether we left Tuesday or Wednesday, at least we wouldn’t have to worry about a wake up call. We loved the room so much, we just wanted to sleep in late and move at our own pace. But that room was quite deceiving, let me tell you.
The room itself was great but the bed was mega-uncomfortable. Actually, to be precise the bad was a bit hard, but the real problem was the floor itself. The floor was slanted! The bed was leaning back at a diagonal angle. When you lay down, your feet are higher than your head and your body slides backwards to the left. During last night’s euphoria over how great the room was we failed to notice the slant. After waking up five times in the night because we couldn’t sleep, we realized how shitty it was.
We woke up with headaches because of all the blood rushing to our heads. And I froze all night because the covers slid off me and onto Tracey’s head. It looked like she was wearing a turban when she woke up! Not only did we wake up not rested, we woke up around 12:45 pm. We struggled with the shower, got dressed, and left that hell hole at 2:30pm.
Our first order of business was getting some information about the lightning fast TVG trains to Switzerland. Our concierge told us that the TVG office was back at the Gare du Lyon train station. When we got there we were shuffled from desk to desk until we got to “The Man Who Could Help Us.”
“The Man Who Could Help Us” appeared to be quite intimidating. He was a large fellow with a huge, angry, angry red scar running down the left side of his face and an eye that didn’t quite follow the normal orbit that eyes should follow. I can only imagine what horrors he has been through. He turned out to be a pretty cool and helpful guy who got us sleeping car tickets for a train to Zurich, Switzerland and a connection from Zurich to Salzburg, Austria.
The drawback (there is ALWAYS a drawback) is that these TVG trains aren’t as fast as their reputation makes them out to be. It will take us 8 hours to get to Switzerland and 6 hours from there to Austria. That is 14 hours of travel! That was much longer than the originally quoted 10 ½ hours by a competing train station on our first day. (Before you ask, we needed to make reservations a day in advance for that train and we wanted to leave a.s.a.p.). So, we took the tickets. Tracey was visibly upset. But I managed to cheer her up by reminding her that at least we have a sleeping car, so we don’t just have to sit there for 8 hours. It will be just like a hotel on wheels. Plus, I have had a long running fantasy about a sleeping car on a train.
So, we decided to make the best of our last few hours in Paris. We took the Metro and headed off toward the Latin Quarter to indulge in some Spanish cuisine. By the time we walked to the Metro it had begun to rain. This dampened our spirits as well as our hair. Next, we found out that there are no Metro stops in the Latin Quarter. We got off at the closest stop which was 15 blocks away.
We began our soggy march down Blvd de Saint Michelle, still determined to get some Spanish food. The streets were packed with many sidewalk sales. We even ran into the tail end of a parade. We walked for a while, and just as the rain stopped and the sun began to peek through the clouds we stumbled across The Palace of Luxembourg and its beautiful gardens to our left. We went in and took a couple of pictures. It was very beautiful. By this time, we decided to forget about making it to the Latin Quarter because it was getting late and we weren’t sure how much farther we had to go. So we headed back to our room in a much better mood.
We took a nap in our lopsided bed. We then realized that we still haven’t had anything to eat. We got up with the intention of getting some dinner, when Tracey realized that one of her favorite sneakers was missing. We searched the entire room from top to bottom and could not find it. I asked Tracey if she could remember the last time she wore them and she believed it was at the other hotel on Rue du Pelican. We figured she must have left it there.
With the clock ticking (It was 9:00pm and our train was leaving at 10:30pm), we took the Metro over to Rue du Pelican. When we got there, the door was locked (surprise! surprise!). We banged on the door until the lady that runs the hotel came out. She spoke no English at all, so we tried to communicate our predicament as best we could through gestures and my high school level French. She said something to the effect of: “I’m very sorry. We have not found any sneakers.” Tracey was very upset. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to say the wrong thing, so I just told her that I’d buy her another pair when we got back to the states. The problem is that those were the only pair of comfortable footwear she had brought with her. The only other things she had were the boots she was wearing. And as we discovered today, they were not great for long distance walks. I felt bad for her.
We made it back to our street and had a quick dinner which we cut short when we realized that it was almost 10pm. We ran up to our room, grabbed our gigantic backpacks and ran down to find the Metro station that would take us to Gar du L’Est. The Metro station we needed was closed for repairs. Our heart sank as we realized that we were in deep poop. We looked at our map and saw that the train station Gar du L’Est was way too far for us to walk with our heavy packs and it was already 10:10pm.
Just as hope was beginning to leave, we saw a cab pull up alongside us. We hopped in the cab and made it to the station just in time! We got on the train, just as it was about to pull away from the station. We found our sleeping car and it was pretty cool looking. Much better than I had imagined it would be. We noticed it had four beds in it, though and we were totally hoping we wouldn’t have to share our space. We spread out our packs over all four beds to discourage anyone from riding with us. The conductor finally came by, checked our tickets and told us we would have the car all to ourselves. He saw our big grins and winked at us as he shut the door.
Tracey is pretty happy now because she was worried this train would suck and now we know that it won’t. We will be arriving in Zurich at 6:30am and our next train out to Salzburg won’t leave until 9:30am, so we have some time to explore Switzerland. I’m pretty psyched! Maybe we’ll even get to buy some real Swiss cheese. It is now 12:10am and time for me to bid you a good night once again. I am going to see if a real sleeping car can match the hype that I have built up in my head. I hope we don’t derail.
Forget Paris
Well, it certainly was all that is was hyped up to be! The rushing landscape was great and very romantic. We slept until 6:00am when the conductor woke us, Or should I say, when his body odor woke us. Boy! He was ripe! He must have been running outside along the train all night without the benefit of Right Guard. We had to hang out in the hallway for the last half hour after he left, because our car had become a mini Chernobyl.
We arrived in Zurich, Switzerland at 6:30am on the dot and quickly escaped the toxic cloud that was seeping out from under the car door into the hallway. When we got off the train we were really grungy so we looked for a bathroom to freshen up. We found a place in the station named “Mr. Clean” that was pretty neat. For a Swiss Franc you can take a shower and use a clean, private bathroom and sink. So we went to get our French Francs and a few traveler’s checks cashed over into Swiss Francs ($1 = 1.55 SF) and took a much needed shower. When we no longer smelled like French Conductor, we decided to explore Zurich. We were starving as usual, and needed to find a place to eat. We put our increasingly monstrous backpacks in a locker (8.00 SF) and walked out of the back of the station.
Zurich is very clean and neat and has some of the most beautiful women in all Europe. Everyone seemed really friendly and most spoke English. The weird thing about Zurich: there are giant plastic cows everywhere. I am not kidding. They line the streets, they hang from the ceiling of the train station, and they decorate every store front. They are everywhere! We later found out they were the work of a famous artist and they were on exhibit. We were relieved, because for a little while there I suspected that the Swiss were into some strange cow cult type of thing a la Wicker Man.
A cool thing that I noticed as we searched for a place to eat was that major record stores had displays and posters in their windows for bands that you usually have to search hard to find in America. Groups like Die Artsen and Einsterzende Neubauten were as prominently displayed there as Mariah Carey or Bruce Springsteen would be displayed in the USA. It was awesome!
We ended up eating at McDonald’s because everything else was closed. Plus, we were totally craving Egg McMuffins. While we were there, Tracey used the bathroom and was excited to report that the toilet seats were self cleaning. They would rotate and a fresh new seat would appear. Sounded good, but by the time she told me we had realized that our train would be leaving. So, we rushed out of the McDonalds back to the station. We are currently traveling across the Swiss countryside along the edge of a beautiful lake with the Swiss Alps in the distance. I am at peace with my soul.
The Train
The train ride from Zurich to Salzburg was very long but the passage of time was eased by our encounter with a lovely girl named Nadia. Nadia was a 23 year old Canadian who was travelling across Europe on her own. She was from Vancouver, home of my favorite band Skinny Puppy. The three of us hit it off and spent the trip talking about music and life. We even all tried a hemp based soda in hopes it would have sort of effect. But, alas, it did not. The hemp drink had all the THC taken out. Nadia and Tracey knew this and I did not, so they sat and watched me ponder if I was high or not for a good portion of the trip. It was a lot of fun and she was very cool. We exchanged numbers and we hope our paths will cross again someday.
At some point during the train ride, the train stopped and many armed soldiers came on the train and demanded to see our passports. During the minutes when they were looking at our passports with one raised eyebrow, I flashed back to all the protests I had been part of in the late 80’s and early 90’s and I hoped I wasn’t on any kind of terroristic lists. I signed a lot of petitions back them without even reading what they were. I also eyed Nadia suspiciously and wondered what was really in that hemp drink she gave me. All my fears evaporated when they gave us back our passports and disappeared into other parts of the train.
When we got to Salzburg, we called our friend Dagmar so that she could pick us up. She lives a couple of hours away in the little skiing village of Maria Alm, so we had at least two hours to kill. We stepped out of the train station intent on exploring Salzburg, but things got a little scary. The station was in a kind of rough looking part of Salzburg and there were crowds of punk teenagers and skinheads begging for money and generally acting like tools. I could smell a bad situation a mile away, so we decided to stay in the station and try to find some food. We found a decent restaurant and had lunch. It was surprisingly cheap. One American Dollar equals ten Austrian Schillings, so we feel rich!
Dagmar and her girlfriend Ingrid picked us up. It was great to see them. We drove around Salzburg for a bit, but we didn’t stop because we had an almost two hour long journey back and it was already getting late in the afternoon. It was a beautiful ride back through the Alps and in and out of Germany. We even got to drive on the Autobahn. I can’t describe the beauty my eyes have seen these past few days!
We arrived at Maria Alm in the early evening. It is a tiny, peaceful village on the foothills of the Alps. All the houses are colorful and the landscape is dominated by huge, snow capped mountains. It is breathtaking! The only noise in the air when we parked was the chirping of birds and the soft trickle of a nearby stream that cuts through the center of the village. The smell of flowers was intoxicating and I instantly knew I would love it here.
Dagmar and Ingrid own a beautiful townhome at the edge of the village. It is modern, yet retains a really charming Old World quality. I marveled at the real wood burning stove side by side with modern appliances. The view from their balcony was simply gorgeous. We made ourselves comfortable and I discovered another wonder in the bathroom. The design of the toilet is unlike anything I have ever seen. There is no water inside the toilet bowl. Instead there is a little shelf a few inches under the seat. Whatever your body produces would sit on that shelf. Then when you flush, water rushes out and cleans of the shelf, sending the waste down an unseen hole in the front of the bowl. When I asked about it, I was told that was a prevalent design in Europe so that parents could check the stool of children for any diseases or unusual coloration. Wow.
We were not in the apartment for long because Dagmar had made dinner plans for us at the local Mexican restaurant which is owned by one of her friends. We left the car at the house and walked up a small country road to the center of the village. Dagmar’s family own a Hotel/Restaurant in town called The Bunny Pub and the Mexican restaurant was located directly across from it. On the way there we saw the old town church where Dagmar’s Father and Grandparents are interred. It is a beautiful church that seems to unite the town.
The restaurant was Mexican in cuisine only. It looked like a very intimate and dark ski lodge. And it was decorated accordingly, with not a single Mexican item anywhere in sight. They did have a wall decorated with license plates from all over the world, and I suddenly had a vague memory of Dagmar asking my buddy Mike for his old license plates several years ago. Dagmar’s friend was a ravishing raven-haired beauty in her early 30’s and she was very friendly. She even sat down with us to eat. The food was surprisingly good, even though it was prepared by an Austrian who had learned to cook by reading cookbooks. The atmosphere was fun, and more and more people came over to join us at our table. At one point the rest of the restaurant was empty and everyone crowded around our table. Everyone began drinking and singing in German.
I ended up playing darts with the local cab driver who had a secret dream of coming to New York and becoming a male model. He was actually really cool. Then we switched over to play a game where there is a tree stump (in the middle of the restaurant!) with a nail only slightly nailed to the flat part of the stump. Using the claw side of the hammer, you had to hit the nail hard enough to drive it in as deep as possible. That was fun! Turns out it was a drinking game, and everyone around us got wasted and started pressuring us to drink too. Unfortunately, Tracey and I didn’t drink at that time and you could tell everyone was slightly offended that we kept on refusing the shots they constantly sent our way. Even if we drank, we would have ended up in the hospital for alcohol poisoning the way they expected us to drink.
The first three hours at the restaurant were a lot of fun. But after a while, we had enough and wanted to go back to the house. As luck would have it, Dagmar’s girlfriend Ingrid got inebriated and wanted to stay for “10 more minutes.” Those “10 more minutes” stretched out into three more hours! Tracey and I began to feel like we were trapped and we kept expecting Dante to walk by and nod at us.
When we had reached our absolute breaking point, we decided to just walk back to the house. We stood outside trying to get our bearings, when Dagmar came out with a very happy Ingrid in tow and followed by the cab driving male model. I doubted the cab driver’s sobriety, but at this point I was too tired to argue. I do have to say that the little village of Maria Alm knows how to party real hard!
Back at the apartment, we got into snuggle wear and called our parents to check in. We hung out on the balcony and chatted for a bit while we looked up at all the stars. The stars at night are blinding here in Austria. We are scheduled to climb the highest peak in Austria tomorrow and I am very excited. We are in bed right now and I am having a bit of a hard time getting comfortable. Maybe I should have had a couple of those shots, and I would be a lot more relaxed. Oh well, I would look like an idiot if I asked Dagmar if she has anything to drink now. I’m going to try to go to sleep. Good night.
Osterreich
Osterreich is Austria’s real name in German. I discovered that later in the day as I stood in the gift shop of the highest mountain in Austria. It was imprinted on the countless key chains and shot glasses that I pretended to look at as I fought back the panic I felt at almost dying a few minutes prior. My heart was still pounding in my chest as I looked around the gift shop and beyond to the restaurant trying to find my companions. I spotted them sitting at a table laughing, oblivious to what I had just been through. I walked over to meet them.
This morning Dagmar had woken us up and served us a wonderful breakfast in her balcony. We sat and talked about the fun we had last night as we looked over at all the mountain peaks that surround Maria Alm. We also discussed the plans for the day. We were going to drive up into the Alps and visit the highest peak in Austria named GroBglockner. It is 3.798 m which translates to I-don’t-know-what but it is really high up there. Definitely higher than any mountain I’ve ever been on! We were going to have lunch at the peak and then drive back down the other side. Tracey and I were both nervous and excited and couldn’t wait to shower, get dressed, and get going.
Later that morning we were on our way. On the road there, we passed a large cabin alongside the road with huge yellow letters along the roof. Dagmar explained that it was a house of prostitution and that prostitution is legal in Austria. I wanted to stop by to do some research on the socio-economic implications such political rulings have had on Austrian society, but Tracey saw right through my bullshit and out the kibosh on my plan.
As we reached the Alps, my heart began to swell. I have never felt as simultaneously tiny and huge as I did standing among those frost-covered giants. The pictures I took will speak the language that only the eyes can understand and which I am at a loss to verbalize. As we drove the winding road up the mountainside, we left summer behind and reached a blinding world of winter. All around us stood huge walls of snow that rose three or four times the height of the car, creating an open air tunnel that rivaled the claustrophobia I felt in NYC’s Lincoln Tunnel. Near the top of the mountain was a rest area cleared of snow with a row of pole mounted binoculars that allowed us to see over into Italy from the heights of the GroBglockner.
We continued on our journey heavenward and reached the end of the road. To our left was a huge glacier that surrounded the actual peak of the mountain. We couldn’t even see the peak because it was covered in clouds. To our right was a restaurant that seemed to defy the laws of gravity. Now I should pause here and mention that we came on this European trip with no heavy coats. We were totally ill-prepared for mountain climbing. We pulled up to the front of the restaurant and let the frozen women out. I volunteered to park the car and run back because I am a foolish man who is not afraid of the cold. As the women entered the climate controlled restaurant, I made a K-Turn and drove over to the parking area.
When I got out of the car, I did not immediately feel the cold through my Structure sweater. I looked over at the glacier and I remembered that Dagmar had told us that there was a small furry creature that was unique to this area and was usually found on the glacier. I decided to take a walk over there and take a peek and a picture over the railing above the glacier. When I reached the railing, I noticed that there we some wooden stairs leading down to the glacier. I stood at the top and looked down and I saw one of the furry creatures! I got my camera ready and tried to take a picture. But the badger-like creature was really fast and moved away. I walked down a few steps to try to get a better picture. I succeed after a descending a few more steps.
I turned around to head back up the stairs and that’s when I realized how far down I had gone and how bitterly cold it had become. I started back up the stairs and my body began to really shake and hurt. Suddenly I realized that I was finding it really hard to breathe. I remembered Dagmar telling us that up here the air was really thin and that we have to watch how we exert ourselves as we could pass out. So, here I am wearing only a sweater, a t-shirt underneath and a thin jacket, trying to climb a long flight of stairs in sub-zero temperature. I opened my mouth to call out for help and nothing came out. I gulped a deep breath of air and rushed up the final stairs to the road.
By the time I reached the road, my entire body was numb and I may or may not have lost consciousness for a few seconds. Cursing the darn rodent and my stupidity, I gasped for oxygen like that fish at the end of the Faith No More video for Epic. I still had to somehow make it across the road to the restaurant. I prayed to God to send me one of those St. Bernard dogs with a little barrel around its neck, but I doubted it would show up. I summoned whatever strength I had left and pinched myself on the arms to stay conscious. I trembled and shambled my way across the road and just managed to stumble into the sliding doors. They opened with a hiss and I fell into the lobby, may face nearly blue and covered in frost. No one noticed. I lay there for a minute and silently thanked God for apathy. When I managed to get a hold of myself, I rose to my feet and stumbled into the souvenir shop. The heat there was cranked up and within minutes I could feel the blood circulating through my limbs once again. I headed over to the restaurant, and mentally decided to downplay my stupid brush with death.
The restaurant was beautiful and the view was beyond compare but, Oy Vey, was the food awful! Tracey ordered lasagna but instead of pasta, they made it with layers of pancakes and ricotta cheese. Pancakes, for crying out loud! I had some combination of sausage and some other meat rolled in a pancake-type shell. Apparently, they make some really good, strong drinks but, once again, not a drinker here, so I missed out. We did have a nice time taking about the low drinking age in Austria and how parents serve their kids wine at an early age at the dinner table. No wonder Dagmar can drink anyone I know under the table, she’s had extensive training!
As I write this journal, we have begun our descent down the other side of the mountain. Right now only one word comes to mind: Majestic. All my life I have wanted to have this kind of ex…
Same Day- Osterreich Part Deux
It is still the same day. Tracey and I both fell asleep in the back seat of Dagmar’s car as we drove down the mountain. Fell asleep is not the appropriate word. We passed out. Apparently that is a common occurrence as all the oxygen you were deprived of at the top of the mountain floods back into your system. I don’t know how Dagmar and Ingrid managed to stay conscious, but I guess they are used to it. We knocked out instantaneously and woke up with what can only be described as a major hangover.
The girls woke us up when they pulled into a strange place behind a gas station. The place was named Alptraum which translates to Nightmare. It was either the fact that we were still half asleep and feeling hung over, or the total weirdness of the place but we felt as if we were in a living dream. The place was very surreal. It was a bar, restaurant, tourist trap, and funhouse. The only thing I could possibly compare it to would be a Chucky Cheese for stoned adults built on the fifth layer of Hell. It is built on three levels and it is filled with really scary talking cartoon-like dummies that move on their own and glare at you as you pass them. The most off kilter madhouse music blares throughout the place keeping you in a total state of fear and paranoia. I am getting confused trying to remember what it was like. It seems like the entire stop there was only a dream or a figment of my imagination. Except that Tracey remembers being there too.
We ended up staying there for way too long. That is one thing about Europeans-They have a different concept of time than Americans. They are very laid back and can easily spend a couple of hours just relaxing. Their vacations are two months long, for crying out loud! We Americans live lives counted out by the length of seconds. We rush from one task to the next and are satisfied with two non-consecutive weeks of beaches at generic resorts with no local flavor. As an American, I was desperate going into our second hour at Alptraum and I resorted to cajoling in an attempt to get us back on the road.
When we finally left, Tracey and I promptly fell back asleep in the car. I am sure we must have passed some breathtaking vistas on the ride back, but they were lost on our slumbering eyes. By that point we cared about nothing except being in a bed and sleeping off our high altitude hangover. I remember dreaming vivid dreams and not being sure if they were really dreams or just bathroom stops along the way.
We awoke again as we were parking in front of Dagmar’s Family Hotel/Restaurant. I finally got to meet her Mother, Brother, and her Sister, albeit I shudder to imagine what they must have though of my disheveled hair, bloodshot eyes, and weak handshake. We got a tour of the beautiful hotel and the world famous Bunny Pub. We could only imagine how crowded that bar must get in the middle of ski season. Judging from the stories that Dagmar had told me throughout the years, it’s a pretty wild scene!
It was really nice meeting the family and hanging at the hotel, but we were still in desperate need of a bed. So we began to drop subtle hints about maybe heading back to the apartment for a bit. Well, I guess the hints weren’t that subtle because everyone thought we were being a bit rude. “You Americans, always rush, rush, rush!” they said with a joking smile. But you know they really meant it. I felt bad, but really, we are not feeling well, it is our vacation, and we only have four day left!
After we left, we drove to a neighboring town and got some Chinese food to go. By this time, it was 9:00 pm and there was not much open. Tracey got some ravioli type thing from the pizza place next door, and we headed back to the apartment, Dagmar got our dirty clothes together to wash, while we sat, ate, and watched German TV. We were pleasantly shocked to see that German TV allows full frontal nudity, so we got a kick out of that for a while.
Now, Dagmar, Tracey, and I are sitting on her balcony smoking. The stars are beautiful as they swim in the ebon blackness. The mountains that surround us are dimly lit and their shimmering outline lends another dimension to the otherworldly character of the night sky. Somewhere inside the apartment Ingrid is keeping herself busy, perhaps purposely giving Dagmar a minute alone with us on our last night here. The three of us catch up on old topics and make plans and promises for future frivolity. It feels good to breathe in the Austrian air and get a better clue as to where Dagmar came from and the people that have influenced her growth. We are glad she is happy with Ingrid and we tell her so. Just as we do, Ingrid pokes her head in to the balcony and we share a moment of benign laughter that Ingrid could not decipher. My smile falters when I realize that tomorrow I have to make some annoying calls to try to get train tickets to Munich and from there to Amsterdam. Hopefully we will stay there until Saturday before heading to Rotterdam to take a ferry back to England. So much to do, so little time, and so little money.
Auf Weidersen
I awoke from very bad dreams about death and seeing dead relatives. This is disturbing but it doesn’t scare me nearly as enough as knowing that we have to leave today and have no reservations. I got up and started making phone calls. Everything is so convoluted. This is what we figured out at last: Dagmar is driving us to the nearby town of Zell Am Zee and from there we are taking a train to Salzburg. From Salzburg, we take a train to Munich and from Munich we switch to the Amsterdam train. We leave Zell Am Zee at 7:19 pm and we won’t get to Amsterdam until 9:40 am. This sucks because we have no sleeping cars! They were all booked up in advance.
Getting from Amsterdam to England will also be a chore. There is a ferry that goes from Rotterdam to Ipswich, but it only departs twice a day and it is a four hour boat ride. It departs at 7 am and 4 pm. The problem: 7 am is too early for us to get up (without and alarm clock), pack, and take the hour long train from Amsterdam to Rotterdam and make it to the boat. The 4 pm boat we can do, but it means we won’t be getting to Ipswich until 8 and London until 9 pm and we have no room reserved. So, what we may do is catch a plane from Amsterdam to Heathrow and hope it’s not too expensive.
All this information caused so much anxiety that we really needed to just get out of the house. So, we went shopping for souvenirs and ate lunch. I tell you, Tracey and I have spent so much of this vacation trying to find food or eating that I feel like Pac-Man. One interesting thing I found out today at McDonald’s Austria (I just can’t get enough of it!) is that you have to pay extra for ketchup. It’s the little things we encountered in our European travels that really fascinate me.
We are now on a train going from Zell Am Zee to Salzburg. Tracey and I are sitting inside a little cabin on the train with another guy that looks Spanish, but is most likely German. Everyone is looking out of the window, keeping the unnecessary silence that strangers keep upon finding themselves in close quarters. Austria was beautiful, and it was so hard to say goodbye to Dagmar and Ingrid, but we are excited to be on our way to Amsterdam. The only obstacle that stands our way to the freedom that Amsterdam offers is the long night ahead.
We just switched trains at Salzburg headed to Munich. In that last train, the guy sitting with us turned out to be an Iraqi, who spoke German and Dutch, but only a tiny smattering of English. He was trying to communicate with us and all I managed to understand were the following: 1) He’s 37; 2) He works or Worked for Saddam Hussein; 3) He’s some sort of electrician; 4) He’s going somewhere near Vienna; and 5) He’s either an outcast or a political refugee from Iraq. He seemed very nice (“Not at all like a Terrorist.”) and even gave us a bag of pistachios.
We are now sitting in a very packed smoking car filled with rowdy drunken teenagers. It is just like a typical high school movie when they show a rowdy classroom: the kids are throwing stuff all around, running up and down the aisle, and making out in their seats. The main difference is that they have huge bottle of Vodka and are obviously drunk. We are talking 14 year olds here, people. The drinking age in Germany is something like 12. It must rock to be a teenager in Deutschland.
Well, well, well. We are now on the train from Munich to Amsterdam. This train is extremely packed, and there are people sitting in the aisles and just standing against windows. The ticket dude definitely oversold this train. We were lucky enough to find a pair of seats under a pile of coats in a cabin with four other people: an American couple from Florida, a German guy, and a chick who hasn’t said a single word yet. The Americans are very friendly and chatty. The German dude seems ok, but Tracey may have insulted him and his country. During a conversation with the American couple about the TV show Seinfeld, Tracey kept talking about how much she loved the Soup Nazi. She kept loudly proclaiming how funny the Soup Nazi was, and eventually the German dude asked: “What is this Soup Nazi? Nazi is not funny. Nazi is not comedy!” Even the silent woman looked over at us with distaste. We explained what we were referring to and he still said that Nazi wasn’t a joke.
Tracey and I began thinking about how long this train ride was going to be and we got very worked up. She just took two sleeping pills I gave her and hopefully she will be asleep soon. Once she is asleep, I will take my two sleeping pills and hopefully we will wake up in Amsterdam. This is a challenging situation; but in a way, it makes it that much more of an adventure. So, we have to sit up for several hours. So what? At least we are exploring the world and not just sitting at work somewhere in New Jersey. I really hope sleep comes soon for us. Time passes by so much quicker. Tracey is still awake as I write this, but she looks sleepy. I am going to take my pills and look out the window into the darkness.
I awoke thinking we had arrived in Amsterdam, only to find out we are still three hours away. That was kind of depressing. It turns out the pills didn’t work for Tracey and she has been awake the entire trip. I really feel bad for her. She looks like she has been through the ringer. The American couple (David and Anisse) is really cool. David and I have really hit it off and have been talking all morning about how excited we are to be in Amsterdam. We are toying with the idea of meeting up later and the four of us checking out the Van Gogh Museum together.
We just arrived! Yeah! Amsterdam at last! Woo!
Amsterdam
We arrived late at Amsterdam. We were supposed to be here at 9:45 am, but we actually got here at 10:30 am. We made plans to meet with David and Anisse again at the train station at 2:00 pm and set off on our separate ways. Tracey and I trudged over to the post office to get phone cards with which we could calls hotels.
We had no reservations and were disheartened to find out that every hotel we called was booked, The 8th hotel we called, The Aspen, had a room available, but there were a couple of drawbacks. The room was only available for two nights, not one. And we had to be there in a half an hour to claim it. We had no idea how to get there, only an address. So we set out to try to find it, with our gigantic packs riding on our backs.
Of course, we got lost. The city of Amsterdam seems to be built in concentric circles instead of a grid. So we began walking in the direction we thought the Aspen was, only to walk in a gigantic circle away from its true location. The day was getting hotter and hotter and the backpacks were getting heavier and heavier, until at last Tracey reached her breaking point and found a sidewalk café to sit at while I continued the search. Less than a block later, and two blocks from the train station were we began our journey in the opposite direction, I found The Aspen, registered and went back to get Tracey.
The hotel is called The Aspen after the ski resort because of the steepness of its stairs. What a bitch it is to climb them! The room is a tiny closet, similar to our hotel in London. We paid 170 Guilders (roughly $85) for two nights, even though we only need one. Tracey lay down and I hopped in the shower. When I was out and dressed, I left Tracey in bed and went out to buy a roll of film for the camera. I wandered around a bit (not too far!) to get a feel for my surroundings.
Amsterdam is a very confusing city. The streets are all semi-circular and the canals criss-cross them. Amsterdam is also the city of juxtaposition. There are beautiful tree-lined canals in front of architecturally gorgeous houses right next door to Porno shops. And perfect families on bikes riding in front of Hash Coffeehouses. I love it! I love the freedom that Amsterdam represents.
I came back to the room and Tracey was still asleep. I went down the hall to shave and when I came back she was awake. She told me she didn’t think she’d be able to make our 2:00pm rendezvous with David and Anisse. I told her to get in the shower and get ready, while I walked down to the train station to meet up with our new found friends. I found David and Anisse and we all walked back to The Aspen to get Tracey. Together, we went sightseeing around Amsterdam.
Our sightseeing led us directly to The Red Bull Coffeehouse. As soon as we entered, we knew we were in another world. The dimly lit space was covered in day glow paintings and the ceiling had day glow stars all over it. The Jimi Hendrix Experience played softly in the background as we found a table at the far corner. A very perky coed with multiple facial piercings approached us with menus in hand. We were flabbergasted at the varieties of coffee that were available to order. Not only that, but they also had an edible section with several types of brownies and weird mushrooms too.
I selected Purple Haze in honor of Hendrix. I don’t remember what David selected, but I was surprised to find that Anisse didn’t partake. She didn’t want to feel left out, especially after coming all this way to Amsterdam, so instead she ordered some mushrooms. None of us had eaten mushrooms before so we didn’t know how you were supposed to do them. While we waited for our order to arrive, Anisse went next door to a pizzeria and got a slice of pizza. When she came back, she put all four tiny mushrooms on her slice and ate it down.
We hung out at The Red Bull for a while and chatted, but soon we got the urge to go and explore the city. We walked out into the bright sunlight and that’s when everything changed all at once. I don’t know about everyone else, but I felt a sense of elation unlike any I have ever felt before. The city of Amsterdam was alive and beckoning me to unravel all of its mysteries. Everything felt so much more real, and everyone was beautiful. I turned to my companions and saw them all in a new light. David and Anisse I had only recently met, so the change was subtle. But Tracey, who I had been dating for three years at that point, looked completely different. She was still beautiful, but now she was even more so. She was radiant as she stood six feet off the ground and shone her smile down upon me. I leaned over to kiss her and it was the sweetest kiss I had known. Anisse looked over at us with amusement. The mushrooms had obviously not digested yet.
We wandered around the beautiful city for what seemed like a lifetime, taking in the beauty of its architecture and the warmth of its people. The canals were filled with tourists riding the waterbuses. They smiled up at us with impossibly big smiles and eyes that reflected our wonder. The city charmed us with its beauty and made us fall in love with its promises of the pleasures to come. All around us the flowers sang, bathed in sunlight. I looked up at the sky through the frame of the trees and caught sight of a solitary plane navigating the endless blue. I realized then that we hadn’t yet booked a flight for London!
Seized by an instant panic, I turned to my companions and made them aware of our predicament. Tracey suggested we hop on a cab and head over to the airport. David said he and Anisse were going back to the hotel for a bit and that we should swing by their hotel around 7:00 pm and meet up for dinner. We said our goodbyes and they wandered off into the brightness of the day.
We rushed off to the airport. We found out that the next available flight to Heathrow in London leaves Amsterdam the day after tomorrow at 7:30 am and arrives in London at 7:30 am (Time change of one hour = instant trip!). Our flight out of Heathrow leaves at 9:30 am. We would be cutting it close, but we will make it! This also means we can spend another day in Amsterdam instead of expensive London. And we had already paid our hotel room for two nights! So it all worked out perfect!
By the time we got back it was nearly 7 pm, so we swung by David and Anisse’s hotel to wait for them. David came down and told us that Anisse was really sick from the mushrooms and that he didn’t think they would be able to hang much tonight. He was planning on sitting with her in the room and calming her down. We told him we will be around tomorrow and if she is feeling better, they know where to find us. He smiled the feeble smile of a eunuch at an orgy, and headed back to care for his woman.
We came back to the hotel room and took a little nap. I am up now writing this journal. I feel bad for David and Anisse, but I’m excited about the alone time we have ahead of us. Tonight we are planning to go to dinner, then explore the Red Light District, and cap the night off with some dancing at one of Amsterdam’s legendary gay clubs. I can’t wait. Time to wake up Tracey!
Tracey and I got dressed and we went out for dinner. After wandering around the tree lined streets surrounding the Red Light District, we found a charming Mexican restaurant that was heavy on atmosphere and, we realized too late, heavy on spicy food. After two or three bites, we realized that we had made a huge mistake in ignoring the little fire symbols next to every item on the menu. I think the name of the restaurant translated to Hole in your Tongue. The food nearly made us cry and wipe our tongues with the napkins, but the place was nice. And with all the crying, it was all oddly romantic.
After dinner, we wandered over into the Red Light District. The windows of the buildings that face the street are lined with women that are for sale. Or more accurately, they are for rent. It is so surreal. It is like window shopping for prostitutes! There are white ones, brown ones, short ones, tall ones, gorgeous ones, and, well, other gorgeous ones. A wide variety of "on-topic" souvenir shops are also sprinkled throughout the area. This is the most packed area of Amsterdam. All the tourists love the naughty weirdness of it.
We wandered around for a while, lamenting the fact that we were not allowed to take any pictures, until we came across a sign outside a club advertising a live show. Tracey and I, as well as a few other couples who had stopped to read the sign, took advantage of the group anonymity and courage and went in to check it out.
After each couple paid the equivalent of 50 Dollars, we were ushered into an old Western style theatre straight out of Mel Brooks’ Blazing Saddles. We glanced around nervously as the lights dimmed and a spotlight lit up the stage. I kept expecting Madeline Kahn to come out singing “I’m So Tired.” It was close. A red headed woman dressed in lingerie came out from behind the curtain and began tap dancing to Flamenco music. She finished the entire song and took a bow as we clapped in slight confusion. She left the stage and was replaced by another woman dressed in many veils who gyrated on stage to some Euro Techno music as she slowly peeled off veil after veil until she was topless and curtseying.
Finally, the stage went dark. One by one, little purple lights appeared along the front of the stage timed to the beat of a dissonant drum. The beat solidified and the lights grew in intensity until a couple took the stage "au naturel". They danced in time with the groove and slowly their dance grew more and more explicit. Then they went ahead and put on the performance we had all come to see. I found it to be quite mechanical and not at all arousing. If anything, it was done in high camp style and ended up being quite funny. The audience got into it, calling out witty comments at perfect moments. Several more Vaudeville style acts and one more carnal coupling followed before it was over. It all turned out to be a lot of fun, and was definitely a one-of-a-kind experience.
We left the Red Light District and set off to find one of the several gay clubs in the area. We looked around for a bit and couldn’t find one. I then realized that I had left my city map back at the hotel, and since Tracey had a headache anyway we headed back to grab the map and some aspirin.
Back on the streets once again, we got lost and wandered for hours. We walked in circles, trying to make sense of streets that all looked the same. The map was useless. None of the streets we were passing matched any of the streets outlined on the map. It was as if we were using a map of Berlin in Amsterdam. By the second hour of wandering, Tracey’s headache had not subsided and my feet were begging for a seat. Because of this, tempers were flaring and Tracey and I ended up getting into a stupid argument that resulted in us finally saying ‘Fuck It” and going back to the hotel. Once we were comfortable and rested, we realized we were fighting for no reason and made up. It ended up being a really nice night. We slept well, secure in the knowledge that we didn’t have to wake up early. We have all day tomorrow!
Van Gogh
We woke up well rested at noon and were ready for the public by 1:30 pm. Today was our last full day in Europe, so we had to make the most of it. Our first mission, find the Van Gogh museum. Tracey and I are both huge Van Gogh fans and we knew we would never forgive ourselves if we didn’t go and pay our respects to his mad genius.
Finding the museum was surprisingly easy. All we had to do was hail a cab in front of our building and ask him to take us there. (Where was this logic last night?) We got there relatively quick, but were bummed out to find that we were not allowed to take pictures inside the museum. Oh well, we thought as we stood in line to get tickets, our memories would just have to serve us well.
Inside, there was an amazing tribute to the artist and his work. The paintings were all arranged chronologically and this gave us a fascinating look at how his vision of the world changed over the years. His early work was all done in dark muted colors and featured mainly scenes of peasants working in the fields. As he grew, more color started creeping into his canvas. You can tell when he moved to the south of France, because his painting got lighter and sunnier. As his absinthe soaked insanity grew, his painting got wilder and more brilliant. Starry Night was an elegy to his madness. This museum trip will forever live on in my memory as one of my favorite of all time. We bought a picture book of his work and several postcards and made our way outside, looking into the bright sunlight with a new perspective.
We wandered around the vicinity of the Park Hotel and we ran into our septuagenarian co-worker John Tchounis. It’s a small world after all! He and his much younger girlfriend were on the way back to the United States and were waiting for an airport cab. We stopped and talked to them for a bit and found out that his girlfriend had just been pick-pocketed aboard one of the tramcars. They warned us to be wary of mass transportation in the area and to make sure we kept our valuables safe. Armed with this extra dose of paranoia, we bid them farewell and headed toward the canals intent on taking an alternate form of mass transit.
We boarded a waterbus and floated along the canals of Amsterdam taking in the city from a wholly different angle. From the water, the city looked even more beautiful. It was like a real life version of a Disney ride. We passed several notable landmarks and were really touched to see a monument to homosexuality at the water’s edge. The triangular monument was littered with fresh cut flowers and indicated to us a society that had grown beyond hatred and into unconditional acceptance. It just added to the overall sense of beauty and “rightness” that the city exuded.
We even got into a boat crash! We were about to enter a narrow tunnel underneath a bridge, when another boat came in from the opposite side. We began to back up and we hit a wall with a loud crunch. A boat that was behind us, tried to pass us on the right and crashed headlong into the boat that was coming out of the tunnel ahead of us. The boat that had originally been behind us began to back up and crashed into the boat that was behind it. No one was hurt, but it was a huge mess. We sat, amused, and half-tempted to just climb up one of the low canal walls and out into the liberty of the street. Just as we were about to act on our impulse, the cluster fuck resolved itself and we arrived safely at Centraal Station.
We shopped around for souvenirs and found another interesting looking coffee shop. We popped in for a few minutes and left feeling very content. We floated down the block and came upon The Sex Museum. Without even so much as a discussion, we headed to the door. We paid our admission and ventured into quite possibly the weirdest museum I have ever been to. The museum was filled with paintings, sculptures, pictures, and videos documenting every possible aspect of sex and sexuality throughout history. From the mundane to the erotic, from the kinky to the perverse, if someone had an orgasm over it at some point in our existence, there was a section of this museum dedicated to it. We had a blast giggling at some exhibits and had moments of shocked silence at others. The effect of the coffee made everything seem much more intense than what it probably was, but that made it all the more fun.
When we made it to the exit of the museum, I realized that I had no recollection whatsoever of being inside the museum! I honestly didn’t remember anything about it. I looked over at the entrance and reacted as if I have just seen it for the first time. I told Tracey I wanted to go in there to check it out. She told me we had just left the museum and I was very confused.
I made Tracey go through the Sex Museum once again. This time I was a little more aware of my surrounding and the experience. Tracey was amused at seeing me have the same reactions I had the first time around. She even entertained herself by subtly foreshadowing what exhibit was next around the bend. By the time we made it out of there the second time, our state of euphoria had subsided and we suddenly realized that we were starving!
We found a little Argentinean restaurant and decided to give it a shot. I am so glad we did. It was definitely the best meal we had all trip and quite possibly one of the top ten meals I’ve had in my entire life. The rice and chicken were familiar enough for comfort but exotic enough for excitement. The spices were unusual and the rice was buttery, and it really satisfied me in a way that not many other dishes ever had. I made a mental note to never pass up an opportunity to eat Argentinean food. A glass of Argentinean white wine was the perfect complement to the perfect meal.
Our bellies full, we made our way back toward the Red Light District and another live show that was a lot funnier than the first. This one was inspired more by David Letterman’s “Stupid Human Tricks” than by anything remotely sexy. They asked for volunteers from the audience to help out in the act and I readily raised my hand. But Tracey was having none of that. It wasn’t because of jealousy. It was a matter of not wanting me to go off on stage and leaving her alone in the audience in a foreign land. I totally understood. In the end, I was glad I didn’t volunteer because everyone who did was made a fool of on stage for laughs. One guy was made to strip and the dancer wrote all over his chest using a permanent marker. Another guy had to eat a banana (don’t ask). And one had to light a long cigarette, which the dancer then smoked without using her mouth. I am pretty sure that ping-pong balls came into play at some point too. It was all really cheesy and bawdy fun.
We hung around the Red Light District for a bit longer, buying more souvenirs for our more open-minded friends. After some frozen ice cream treats, we went back to the hotel to pack for our departure tomorrow. We met another couple staying at our hotel that is also leaving as early as we are, so we made a pact that whichever couple wakes up first will go knock on the other couple’s door. We had bought a little tulip-shaped alarm clock from one of the souvenir shops, but we know realized that we had failed to get batteries for it. I panicked about it for a minute or two, until realized I could easily just run back out and grab some batteries. Tracey stayed behind and showered while I stepped out.
I walked out alone into the cool Dutch night and was instantly revitalized. I strolled down to Dam Square and I found a little shop that had a Pride Flag in its window. All the time I’ve been here I have been trying to find the Gay scene, but apart from the Homomonument I have not had any success. I walked in and knew I had just found the right spot to ask about it. I asked the guy behind the counter if he knew where any of the gay clubs were located. He gave me a newspaper filled with ads, maps, and directions to every gay club, restaurant, and hangout in Amsterdam. Turns out we were staying less than three blocks from one of the coolest gay clubs! I slapped my forehead and the clerk gave me a sympathetic look. I grabbed some batteries and made my exit.
Back at the hotel, I told Tracey of my discovery. She was open to going, but the problem was this: It was now 12:25 a.m. and we had to be up at 5:00 a.m. Plus, we only have 25 Guilders left. I do have a $1,000 in traveler’s checks, but that is the emergency grand I borrowed from my boss, Bud. And since I didn’t use it in the trip, I was planning on just returning it to him so that I won’t be in his debt. So, what do I do? Do I do the wacky thing and go out all night? Or do I do the responsible thing and stay in and get some sleep and save the money? I don’t know what I would choose now. But I chose then to be responsible, take a shower, and head to bed.
We have a big day tomorrow. We are going back home. I had such a great vacation, perhaps even the best one in my life. I am very lucky to have been able to do this. There are many others who dream of doing what I am doing. Thank God for allowing me to get out and see the world. I know that all these things I have seen these past ten days will live on forever in my mind. We did so much in such a small amount of time. This shows that if we can do this, with God’s grace we can do anything.
Departure
We woke up at 4:45 a.m. thanks to our trusty tulip alarm clock. I got dressed in a hurry and went upstairs to knock on the other couple’s door, only to find him coming down to knock on mine. We bumped fists and wished each other a safe trip. Tracey and I finished our last second grab fest and snagged a couple of complimentary Danishes on our way out the door to catch a cab. The cabbie charged us 10 Guilders and dropped us off at the station. We ran upstairs to track 15A, and the other couple showed up seconds later. We are now all on the train en route to the airport. I am very excited, yet scared. I hope it is a big plane that takes us from Holland to England. I hate small planes!
We are on board the plane now. It is not a tiny plane, but it is a small one. We will arrive at Heathrow in one hour and once there, we have two hours to kill until our U.S. flight. Of course, I am nervous but I am mostly just sad that we have to leave Europe and go back to our everyday lives.
Touched down in England at 7:30 a.m.
We hung out at Heathrow for about an hour instead of the anticipated two hours. It seems our flight is leaving early. We shopped at a magazine store where Tracey got a book and I got two magazines. One magazine had a free CD of great songs and the other had a Windows 97 First Aid disc. Each magazine cost only 2.99 Pounds. What a bargain!
We are now on a bus taking us to our plane. Tracey and I both took sleeping pills. See you later!
I just woke up. We are on the flight from London to Newark. It is a very turbulent flight. My pen just broke and I can’t write any more. We are somewhere over Bangor, Maine and only have about an hour to go.
Found another pen. The flight was nightmarishly turbulent, but the food and snacks rocked! We just landed safely in Newark, NJ. Thank God!!
We are finally home! I miss Europe already. Maybe next year we will try for Ireland, Scotland, and Spain…
