So this is the original blog entry I wrote about spring break... they're making me edit things in it to make it more "appropriate" for central's website, as well as breaking it into three separate entries (apparently it's a little long ::shrug::)
Saturday, 11 April, 2009: So, rather than attempting to assemble coherent stories from everything that happened over spring break in a state of total exhaustion Sunday when I return, I’ve decided to lug my heavy laptop around with me over the course of the week and make entries nightly to make more accurate (and hopefully more vivid) recollections of my journeys. Also, the other important reason is to unload pictures from my camera because at the rate I’m going, the camera will be full before the week is half through. I took 128 pictures today. My camera can only hold 334.
Anywho, last night’s airport adventure was a fun one. We flew out of one of those really cheapy flight companies, and so it was nothing like what I was used to flying. It was general admission, so you sat where you could find a seat; nothing was complimentary, no food, no snacks, no water, no anything. That was rough because it was a three-hour flight, so even some pretzels would have been nice. Alas, ‘tis the life of a poor college student I guess. Then, getting from the airport to the hostel was fun. We ended getting off at one of the wrong stops, and it was so late that no more trains were running. However, we called the place and they came to pick us up, so the crisis was averted without much fuss.
Rome, today, was incredible. Period. We woke up bright and early to go pick up the tickets for mass tomorrow (which I’m still unbelievably excited for, but I guess you’ll be reading this after everything’s all said and done… so stay tuned then for my reaction later). We basically did all things touristy, but I’m okay with that. I’m not in London, so I’m totally okay with being the giddy tourist—and believe me, I was giddy ALL DAY. We visited the Vatican, tipped the Trevi Fountian, soared up the Spanish Steps, pored over the Pantheon, hiked up Palatine Hill, roamed around the Roman Forum, and conquered the Coliseum. (Haha! And also, our pun of the day came about because someone asked what the plan was, to which Heather responded, “roam.” We all laughed quite a bit.) But seriously, it was so amazing to see everything that before today I had only ever dreamed about.
We all threw money into the Trevi Fountain, which is supposed to mean that we’ll come back and visit Rome again some day; so hopefully that will come true. When we were at the Spanish Steps, all I could think about was the Everybody Loves Raymond episode where they’re in Rome and he asks where the Spanish Escalator is. I have no idea why that little memory decided to lodge itself into my memory, but it resurfaced and I laughed. The steps weren’t even that big. In the Pantheon, we found the tomb of Raphael.
We paid a bit of money to receive a tour of the Forum and the Coliseum. It was so amazing. The Coliseum was great. My history major friends may make fun of me for not knowing this, but I wasn’t aware that they had a canopy for it. The guide explained and showed us where they would put up a canopy to shield the Roman people from the hot sun. Also, he informed us that before they made the antechambers below the floor of the Coliseum, they would flood it to have naval battles. In the Coliseum, there’s also a giant cross to commemorate all of the Christians who were killed within the walls as entertainment for the Romans. Later, seeing the top of Palatine Hill where so many of the Emperor’s palaces stood, as well as seeing the other excavated sites where Romulus and Reamus founded the city was incredible. Then, to go down and see the Roman Forum was even more breathtaking. To walk around and see the ruins of where the Senate was in session and the portions of the city really make me feel so awed. Civilization has been happening in that spot for quite some time, and to get to see it with my own eyes was an absolute dream. We saw so much today; it was incredible.
While I was outside the Coliseum, I came across quite the moral dilemma. There were tons of vendors out there trying to sell crap to people; one of the most popular items on sale was sunglasses. I didn’t bring the sunglasses I bought in London because I wanted to pick up another pair. This particular salesman knew what he was doing because he walked right up, put the glasses on my face and put a mirror in my hand. It was successful. I liked the pair (which happened to be aviators). So as I’m standing there, figuring out if I want to pay ten euro for these cheap aviators while he continues to try and sell pairs to others, a police vehicle rolls up. When the salesman sees the officer, he panics, grabs his glasses from people and runs. However, he ran away without removing the aviators from my face. Insert moral dilemma here. At this point, I could have just been given a free pair of sunglasses; I could have just walked away and disappeared with a sweet (but cheap) pair of shades. There was no way I was going to pay ten for them. My question was would what I have done really been stealing, because he was obviously doing something he wasn’t supposed to? The guy flocked back to me as I stood there, torn about my options. I eventually offered him five euro, and he agreed.
Also, I had my first real gelato today! This was almost as momentous as seeing the Coliseum. Okay, that’s not necessarily true, but I can honestly say that I was blown away by how delicious it was. Nothing I’ve ever tried in the States has ever compared to the gelato I had today. We’ve joked about only eating gelato tomorrow—and I can honestly say that I’d be okay with that… Okay, that’s not necessarily true either because the other food I’ve had was also incredibly delicious. I had a pruschutto and mozzarella panini for lunch that made my mouth water, and the pizza for dinner was equally delish—it was covered in tomatoes, basil and zucchini.
Without blabbering on and on and on about how great everything was—although, by the end of this, I’m sure that’ll be the prevailing motif—I’m going to cut it short tonight because we’re waking up at the crack of dawn to see if we can get good seats for mass. I really, REALLY want to see Benedict from as close of a seat as I can.
Sunday, 12 April, 2009: I saw the Pope! (an aside to start, the group of us at mass have actually started writing a spoof of The Lonely Island’s “I’m on a Boat,” with the title “I saw the Pope.”) We woke up at the butt-crack of dawn to get on the first train into the city to stand in line to hope for a good seat at mass. Our seats ended up not being ideal, but it’s because we were given some misinformation. We were told that Benedict was going to roll through the crowd in his Popemobile, so we stationed ourselves along an aisle to see that rather than getting as close as possible; however, unfortunately, he didn’t end up taking a ride, so our seat “strategery” backfired. Alas… However, that didn’t stop mass from being one of the most epic things I’ve ever done in my life! I mean, even if I only saw him from afar, they had massive televisions set up, that I dubbed Papalvision, to show what was going on up at the altar. AJ put it best when he said, “It was amazing! I couldn’t stop smiling through mass!!” We were Catholic geeks to the max. The mass was mostly in Latin, but then random other portions were in various languages; for example, the first reading was in Spanish and the second in English. Then, later on, other portions were in Portuguese, Arabic and other world languages. It really was amazing. There were so many people.
After mass, we were dismayed to learn that the Sistine Chapel was closed. Yeah, I was really really disappointed. However, as it was then suggested, now I have an excuse to go back. I did some shopping and then we found a place to stop and eat. Can I just say I love Italian food? It’s fantastic. We ate at a street-side cafe and were entertained first by a violinist, which was so perfect—it was straight out of a movie. But then, things got more exciting as two drunken men decided to interrupt some people’s lunches. He was farther down the sidewalk from us, so we met no interruption, but after arguing with a waiter (who, for the record, looked like he could have ripped them in half), the two men decided they wanted the bottle of wine that was on a woman’s table. There was quite a bit of angry yelling—all in Italian, so I can’t give a better play by play—and they were forced out into the street. The aforementioned angry waiter squared off with them in the street. However, the police showed up before the altercation escalated past yelling and forceful shoving. It was outrageous.
After lunch and a show, we went back into the Vatican to get in line for St. Peter’s Basilica. Following mass hours before, the line extended all the way around the square, and there was no way we were going to wait in a line that long. So when we went back, it was shorter and moving rather quickly. I do have a funny anecdote about the Basilica—at least I thought it was funny. However, when my dad reads this, he probably won’t be as amused, but I found it funny nonetheless (sorry Dad!). As I was climbing the final steps to enter the church proper (from the first vestibule area), I peered in and was completely in awe—completely and totally. Well, as I entered—still in total awe—the only thing that I could mutter (keep in mind it was an unconscious utterance, I didn’t mean to) was “holy s***.” Don’t ask me why, I’m not proud of it, but I can say I was honestly that blown away. However, as the nasty little words begin to escape my lips, I notice the body next to me ascending the stairs was a sweet little nun. So I immediately try and abort speaking with my lips pinched shut after “holy.” Needless to say, it was one of my finer moments. ::hangs head:: I don’t know why I wanted to say it either, because part of my Lenten vows was to stop swearing, and I’d been doing a really good job of keeping my mouth clean, and I’d refrained from cursing all morning. It just came out. But I guess that goes to further cement how completely astonished I was when I walked in to the Basilica.
I saw the entire church with my jaw on the floor. Any words I could describe it with would fail to really capture how grand and immaculate it all is. It was entirely monstrous in size and grandeur. I saw as much as was open to the public, as there were sections closed for various reasons. However, it was really nice because there was a small mass or something going on in the front section of the church, so there was a lot of wonderful chamber church choir music to accompany my stroll. It really was just incredible. THEN! To make it an even better visit, I noticed that there were some booths open for confession, and a couple of them had English signs on them. I got to go to confession on Easter Sunday in St. Peter’s Basilica!!! Oh man! It was amazing! My apologies if that’s too much Catholic geekitude, I’m trying to keep it to a minimum, but it was just so wonderful. The priest was surprisingly funny, actually. I don’t think English was his first language, though, because he had a thick, theological-looking text he was reading that was clearly in Spanish.
Anywho, it was awesome to the max. I could have taken a picture of every single surface of that building because they were all incredible, immaculate and beautiful. After that, some of my companions were getting tired, so they headed back to the hostel while I went south again because I never saw the Circus Maximus on the previous day. I was told that it was just a lame field, but I didn’t care. I really wanted to see it. And they were kind of right. It wasn’t anything impressive like the Forum the day before. However, I can proudly say that I ran around the same track that chariot races took place on 2000 years ago. I was really excited. My friends made fun of me a bit, but I guess that comes with the territory. We took our last looks at the city, bought a final round of gelato (our second of the day), and headed back to the hostel.
Let me just say that after that gelato, I never want normal ice cream again. The stuff is so good. I tried three different flavours with each order I made, so in all, I tried nine flavours—and I must say that they were all to die for. Also, as a closing remark for the day, I’m really glad I brought my laptop because after two days, I’ve taken 230 photos, so there’d be no way that I’d fit this entire spring break on my single memory card.
Monday, 13 April, 2009: Our shuttle left for the airport at 4:45 this morning. The first twelve hours of my day were a blur of sleeping, reading, and some napping. We flew from Rome to Milan, then from Milan to Athens. Our Rome to Milan flight left somewhere in the 6 a.m. range, but I honestly couldn’t tell you. Then, our Milan flight left noonish, if I remember correctly, so we had quite a bit of time in the Milan airport as well. And, as I previously mentioned, I was either sleeping or reading. I’m reading this delightful book Kelsey let me borrow; it’s called The Alternative Hero and it was written by a bloke named Tim Thorton. It’s about this 30-something guy who is basically a failure at life but is still obsessed with his favourite band from when he was 17. There’s considerably more to it, but there are two real appeals for me. First is the narrator, the life failure, has a pretentious indie-mentality about the music he likes and has stark opinions about the bands he doesn’t. I can relate to that quite well. The other thing is that the author is British, and so the narrator lives in London; for me then, I could have never appreciated this book before this semester. It’s very culturally British, and specifically London, that because of how fortunate I’ve been this semester, I understand a lot of the humour that I wouldn’t have otherwise.
Anywho, the flight from Rome to Milan was only an hour, so it wasn’t terrible. However, the second flight was three hours. I usually have trouble sitting for that length of time, but I spent two-thirds of the flight in various stages of comatose. I’d wake up randomly and realise that I was completely uncomfortable and needed to shift my weight somehow. These were both EasyJet flights as well, so there was no snack, and I swear the chairs are slimmer, because even I was feeling a bit cramped.
Alas, none of that mattered when we landed. After making a couple of terrible Grease jokes in relation to our location, I practically skipped out of the airport. We were supposed to be able to just take the Metro from the airport to our hostel (which is really more of a hotel), but apparently the tube line we needed is under construction—which meant we had to take a bus past the construction, then get on the Metro and go the rest of the way. The bus ride was one of the most terrifying experiences of my life. The bus driver was a maniac. I believe I’ve commented on London bus drivers being fearless, but they were really good at what they did. The guy driving our bus was suffering from a bout of road rage, and in my humble opinion, a lack of depth perception. It was a rough ride, to say the least. We made it safe and sound (although, I think I have a bruise from losing my balance and falling into one of the poles one of the numerous times that the driver slammed on the braked for no apparent reason).
Our hostel/hotel is right in the centre of the city, which is great at only 20 euro a night. Overall, that is a bit pricey, but considering its location, I have no complaints. My companions booked this place without my consent, but that’s okay. It’s better than originally planned. There are five of us now, and so we booked a double and a triple, however they didn’t have a triple available, so they gave us two doubles and then a single with a twin bed, and somehow, I’m lucky enough to get the twin bed to myself. It’s pretty lovely, especially in comparison to the tiny bed at the hostel in Rome. I’m excited to be able to sleep without curling or bending my legs at all. It’s the little things in life…
With the long flights and time differences, it was early evening when we finally got settled into our rooms. We went wandering outside, and we can see the Acropolis from the front door of the hotel! We wandered through this area labelled a flea market and found this small restaurant to have some traditional Greek food for dinner (most of us hadn’t had much to eat today—personally, I’d only had a half of a baguette sandwich at 9 a.m. in the Milan airport).
There’s a fast food place back in my home town that sells gyros and a few other fast-food imitations of Greek food. Comparing that to what I had for dinner would be like comparing a McDonald’s cheeseburger to something Bobby Flay cooks up on one of his Food Network specials. We saw that there was an Applebee’s down the street from our hotel, and the girls wanted to go there, but I played the “stubborn jerk” card and refused, demanding we sample some authentic cuisine. At the end of dinner, they were grateful I had talked some sense into them. My four friends all ordered chicken gyros. I ordered a chicken bacon sandwich that had a Greek name, beginning with an S. I cannot for the life of me remember the name of the thing. I’ll look it up and include it tomorrow. However, the name notwithstanding, I’ll never forget how good it was. There were big, juicy hunks of chicken wrapped up in slices of savoury bacon. And it was real bacon, too! which I do really miss, because bacon in Britain is like Canadian bacon in the States—glorified ham. I like British bacon—don’t get me wrong—but I miss real bacon. As I sit in my large bed and type this, I can still taste its flavour in my mouth (I’m prolonging brushing my teeth until I’m ready to fall asleep…don’t judge me). So on top of the matrimony of meat, there was lettuce, tomatoes, shreds of carrots, some French fries (or chips if you prefer the British terminology) and some bizarre sauce. It’s also important to note there was a seasoning on the chips and in the sauce that I want to think could have been similar to a Lauwry’s seasoning (I have NO IDEA how to spell that, Lourey’s maybe?). My parents are probably scratching their heads right now because I’m notorious for hating tomatoes and avoiding them like the smelly kid on the playground. Tomatoes included, I’ve found myself eating quite a bit of stuff that I’d always said I didn’t like—it’s almost like I’m growing up a bit, because I rarely ever meet “grown-ups” who claim to not like certain foods; they may prefer things, but never to “grown-ups” refuse food on the grounds that they don’t like it.
Okay, sorry about that little tangent, but it was something I thought about today after eating the tomatoes on my sandwich and also realising that I’ve eaten avocados and guacamole and quite a few other things that I wouldn’t ever eat back home. Anywho, the other thing that made the meal absolutely fantastic was my choice beverage. I also gave up soda for Lent, so today at the Greek restaurant, I decided to order a Sprite. It was delicious. I miss the sugary-sweet goodness of carbonated sodas.
Val and Amanda just came bursting into my room (while I write this at 11-ish at night); apparently they broke their door and cannot get into their room. They’ve been given the keys to another room, so their going to sleep there, but the locksmith isn’t coming until after 11, so the girl’s won’t get their things back until morning (they’re going to bed now because we’re waking up early in the morning and taking Athens by storm).
I feel like this is a pretty good place to wrap up for the night. Oh! The other sweet thing about dinner was that one of the gentlemen working there cleaning tables was born in New Jersey. He said his parents immigrated there and he was born and raised in the U.S., but he chose to move back to Greece. He was a really nice guy who talked to use quite a bit before and after our meal.
Haha! So I just turned my computer off and went to the bathroom to brush my teeth and realised that there’s another issue that I meant to discuss that completely slipped my mind. In the bathroom, there are a couple signs regarding the plumbing, and their completely written in Greek. That’s terrifying. I can no longer fake it like I know the language. It’s not like Spanish, French or Italian, where I know a little and can make up the rest based on some linguistical skills. No pun intended, but the language is Greek to me. I mean, I recognize most of the Greek letters, but that’s only because I use them as variables in some of my math calculations. I know sigma, theta, lambda, mew, pi, but I don’t know how they are actually spoken or used. That was the most terrifying part of today. Not only was the bus driver crazy, but we had only a Greek word to identify which bus stop we wanted. We were squinting out the window and every stop, desperately trying to identify it before it was too late. Listening to people speak it is equally disheartening. Although, to be honest, I think it’s all really fascinating, so hopefully I might be able to learn a bit by the time I leave and actually pronounce a few words properly.
Here’s to hoping…
Tuesday, 14 April, 2009: Quote of the day: “That wasn’t a lick; licks have movement. Lick is a verb!” That’s what I replied when accused of licking Amanda’s face this evening right before a nightcap of elegant desserts. We were taking a picture and we decided it should be a “goofy” photo. So I waited until right before the shutter and I pressed the fat side of my tongue to Amanda’s temple. The look captured on her face is priceless!
We started the morning bright and early—carpe diem, you know? The hotel had a complimentary breakfast that started at 7:30, so that’s what time we were ready by. We immediately ascended up to the Acropolis. We stopped momentarily to peer down into the ruins of the Agora. Oh man, I almost died. There’s no exciting story, but I just couldn’t handle everything I saw. We then found the Theatre of Dionysus and my head almost exploded. In ancient Greece, there was a huge festival in Athens that celebrated Dionysus in all of his drunken glory, and the culmination of this week-long festival was three straight days of dramatic, which—if you couldn’t guess—took place in the very theatre I saw today. That’s where drama started! The first plays were just a single person, then a chorus of people to join the one actor, then two and three thespians to entertain the Greek masses. I blame this obsession on Dr. Garrity, an English prof at SJC. He basically knows everything about ancient Greek drama, and in my assorted classes with him, I’ve heard everything he knows at least twice.
As epic as it felt to lay eyes on the ancient theatre, climbing the rest of the way up to the top of the Acropolis was even more amazing. The Parthenon was magnificent. Holy cow, to see it in person was incredible; pictures do not do it justice. It’s so big. However, the postcard version isn’t covered in scaffolding. They’re constantly doing renovation and restoration on the structure, and so there was almost half of it that had scaffolding erected around it. However, that really didn’t take away from the magnitude of it, it was just different. The one dynamic to the visit that was interesting was to observe peoples’ sentiments to the British Museum. For anyone who is unaware, the British Museum owns quite a bit of the sculpture that once adorned the Parthenon and they refuse to return it to Greece. The average person only sees the British Museum as a greedy antiquities collector that won’t let go, but the Museum does have honest and justifiable reasons behind their refusal. It was removed and taken from Greece by a private collector a long time ago because he saw it was being used inappropriately (for target practice!) by the Ottoman Army (who was in control of Greece at the time). The collector offered the government a sum of money and they sold him the pieces. The Greeks argue that no one consulted them about it, just a tyrannical government in power at the time. The British Museum argues that if it wasn’t for this collector (who later donated the pieces to the Museum), the stuff would have been completely destroyed. Also, the British Museum argues that more people will be able to see it if it’s in London. Anywho, long tangent cut short, it’s an interesting debate—and it’s one of personally haven’t picked a side to support. However, AJ has an internship at the British Museum this semester (he provided most of the information I explained above) and decided to take a photo wearing his museum identification card just to be goofy and cheeky. He was a bit afraid, so we did it when no one would notice and then he promptly returned the badge to it’s hiding spot, because we didn’t want any incidents.
After we spent time up at the Parthenon, the beautiful weather disappeared behind some angry looking rain clouds. We visited the ruins of the Temple to Zeus under dreary grey skies. It was unfortunate. However, something glorious did happen that I forgot to mention earlier, but must be told because it basically made my day. It costs twelve euro to but a ticket that will get you into six historical spots around Athens. However, we learned that EU students do not have to pay anything; that means because I had my LMU student ID card, I got into all of the places for free. It was friggin’ amazing! I was totally pumped for that. We wanted to beat the rain back to our hostel, at least for a bit, but we first stopped at the old Olympic stadium. It’s not from the 2004 Olympics, but from the time previous that Athens hosted the games. We weren’t sure how long ago that was, but the stadium was pretty neat. It paled in comparison to the stadiums of the recent games, but it was still really cool to see. I wanted to run a lap around the track, but it was all fenced off. I was really disappointed.
After letting the rain run its course (and eating lunch), I headed out to the 2004 Olympic site, which was a 30 minute Metro ride out into the outskirts of Athens. That was really bizarre. First because the Greek Metro is just different in comparison to London. I feel like I’ve been spoiled by the wonderful way London does things, however, some of it isn’t even anyone’s fault. The Greek people just don’t have the same etiquette on the Metro that is expected in London. The Greeks were far pushier and more impatient. They also don’t wait for people to exit the train before entering, which is a pet peeve of mine in London. Alas, it was just part of the experience. However, finally arriving at the site added a sense of delusion. I’ve always wondered what happens to huge buildings that are not being used after the games. It was really pretty close to what I imagine a ghost town to be like. We did see people using the outdoor pools. There were swimmers and water polo players. So it made me a little happy to see that some of it was still being used, but most of the stuff was just fenced off and closed up tight. It just seemed so wrong. It cost so much to build and use all of the different facilities that just lie dormant and vacant. I dunno, it just seems like such a waste to me. However, that being said, it was really cool to out there and see all of it.
There was a TV in the kitchen that was stuck on CNN, so I got to see Barack’s speech. We watched that and then went out for dinner. The place we went wasn’t as good as the first place from yesterday, but it was still pretty good. I got a chicken gyro. However, after dinner, we went walking around and found this place to get a delicious dessert as a nightcap. We ordered these two elaborate sounding dishes, one being a heavenly chocolate cake with ice cream, the other being something more Greek, with a caramelised banana and some other pastry and ice cream. However, the funniest thing happened during our stint in the restaurant that made all of us almost pee ourselves laughing. While discussing what we wanted to order, AJ—with all the confidence in the world—said “If you want something traditionally Greek, look no further than this.” We all look and see that he is, in fact, pointing to the crém brûlè option on the menu. He apparently didn’t know what I t was, but because it has so many different accents on the letters, he just assumed it was Greek. We all got a good kick out of it. He probably won’t ever live it down.
I’m kind of exhausted, so I’m going to try and get some sleep. The awkward thing is, even though I’m in love with the fact that the bed is large enough for me, it’s also very loud. The wood frame makes quite a bit of noise with the littlest of movements, so the bed wakes me up every time I shift my weight or try and roll over. However, if that’s the biggest complaint I have about my stay here in Athens, so be it.
Wednesday, 15 April, 2009: Right now, I’m on a plane (luckily, there haven’t been any snakes), flying from Athens to Cairo. Today has been quite the day. Our supergroup of awesome parted ways after breakfast this morning; the rest of them ferrying off to Greek Isles. Val and I decided to try and hit up a few more sites in Athens after she bought some sandals in the market. We took quite a bit of time in the morning exploring the Agora properly. It was so delightful. It’s almost set up like a park the way there are so many various trails and such. The Temple of Hephaestus was by far the coolest thing to see. It is the most complete temple structure still standing—its construction is similar (if not identical) to that of the Parthenon, it’s just smaller. It was funny because there were a number of the sculpture stones adorning the temple still in place and in a fairly decent condition, and they were depicting a battle between centaurs and some other mythical race. AJ and I were discussing the day previous whether or not centaurs appeared in Greek mythology, because neither of us could remember. It was serendipitous; I was just sad he wasn’t there to see it. Also, one of the structures had been restored, renovated and turned into a pseudo-museum. They had quite a few wonderful artefacts on display—very cool indeed. The other incredibly exciting moment of the Agora expedition was realising that the vantage point that we looked down into the Agora from yesterday was in fact Aeropagus. Aeropagus was famously where St. Paul spoke to the Greek people and worked to evangelise them. My dad was the one who pointed it out to me, but I cannot remember which book of the Bible it appears in. However, AJ and I looked for it the day before without any luck, so I was going to be really disappointed if I couldn’t find it.
Okay. I need to break from my quasi-narrative for a moment and rant. What kind of unnecessary hubris must a person have to think it’s okay to invade another person’s limited personal space on an airplane? It is my firm belief that reclining seats should be permanently removed from all aircraft. I’m 6’4”; and most of my height is in my legs. If I sit in the seat on an airplane properly (although, the same is true on buses as well), my legs just barely fit between my seat and the one in front of me—barely. So I don’t understand why, then, I have to tolerate someone who is so inconsiderate that they ram their seat into my poor knees because they cannot handle to sit in an upright position with good lumbar support. Are they so slothful that they feel they must sit with an obtuse angle at their waist, and this will help them achieve a greater zen? No, the only thing achieved is my bruised legs, first from the jerk slamming his seat forward, then from anything going up and down the aisles because that is where my leg must end up without room within the confines of my seat. It makes me so angry. Especially because this particular jerk-off is as tall as I am, so he should be more considerate. Plus, he’s teaching his two daughters, both under 5’5”, that it’s completely acceptable, if not encouraged, to recline the seats to make yourself “more comfortable.”
I’m sorry; rant finished. Nope, no it’s not… He just, on top of his fully reclined seat, pushed the seat back even farther. It has a bit of give, which he apparently is going to take full advantage of by pushing it back as he lazes. I’m about to have a neuro-psychotic episode where I daydream I’ve put the blunt end of my pen into his eye and beat on it with a hammer. Haha! With something like that, it's like I'm in my own episode of Scrubs!
I’m sorry; that’s a bit over the top. But honestly, reclining chairs on public transportation is one of my biggest pet peeves ever, right above Rachel Ray’s voice and right below un-perforated toilet paper.
After my delight in finding the Aeropagus, Val and I decided to travel over to one of the other hills we saw yesterday from the Acropolis. At the top was the Temple of the Muses, or it was also called the Temple to Filopapou. At about the time we left the Agora, the beautiful sunshine was attacked by some auspicious-looking cloud cover. We made it about half-way up this hill when the heavens opened and dumped a poop-ton of rain in our general direction. Val and I cowered underneath my little umbrella for probably 15 minutes while this rain poured and poured. I found it appropriate at this point to get my iPod out and listen to All Time Low’s cover of “Umbrella.” It was charming. Then, in the most bipolar of fashions, the sun usurped the sky once more, the rain disappeared and it got hot again. Squishing the rest of the way to the top was glorious (even if our shoes were thoroughly soaked). From this vantage, we could see the water—so beautiful! We then found some random trails to wander down the other side of the hill, weaving through a fantastic amount of beautiful nature.
We made it to the bottom of the hill and out to a collection of cafes before the rain started pouring again. After another huge bout of rain, Val and I went to lunch at the first restaurant we had dinner at. I had a salad called Gyristroula. It was chicken, bacon, lettuce, tomato, carrots and dressing. It was pretty tasty. And, for the record, the sandwich I ate before was called Souvlaki. I really feel like the restaurant deserves to be in guidebooks because it was really delicious, really cheap and tourist friendly.
After our meal, we went on a trek through the city to try and find a place that has baklava. It was a failure in finding what we wanted, however it was a success seeing the city one last time. It was a great way to see things. We dried off back at the hotel for a while and then headed to the airport to meet Jessica, who’s joining us for the Cairo part of our journey. On our transit to the airport, we met a man on the tube who was born in the UK and is a Greek citizen. He overheard us talking about London and we had a delightful conversation on the trip. He told us that this was probably one of the worst times ever to visit Athens because apparently there was a young boy who was killed by the police and when the story broke on the news there were quite a few riots that took place. It’s kind of a scary thought. I wonder now if that had anything to do with the monstrous amount of graffiti that was all over the city; I don’t know if I mentioned that before, but the city looked dirty in that regard. I really didn’t find it to be gross, but the graffiti was unsettling. I just assumed it to be something that culturally wasn’t a big deal, but who knows.
* * *
So we are at our host, Tarek’s, house. He was supposed to pick us up at the airport, but apparently something came up and he had to take care of, so we ended up taking a taxi from the airport to his flat. It was quite the confusing fiasco. There is another couchsurfer here (Ben) at his place who is keeping us company. We may end up crashing before Tarek gets back. We’re totally exhausted.
Thursday, 16 April, 2009: We awoke to a bright, sun-shinny Cairo morning. Tarek didn’t return home until I got out of the shower, which was at nine-something. Tarek and his wife said that the pyramids were something that needed to be seen if one is going to “seize the day.” Instead, Val, Jessica and I (with Ben joining us!) decided to tackle the Egyptian Museum. Wow. I was first really upset because I forgot my student ID, so I had to pay full price to enter the museum—it made me really angry. It was such a bonehead thing to do. It was also disappointing because they don’t allow cameras in the museum at all. The museum houses the largest collection of Egyptian antiquities in the world—as it should. We spend hours in that place; it was massive. I saw more sarcophagi than I ever thought existed. Everything in the museum was amazing; however the crown jewel of the museum was the room housing King Tutankhamen’s personal effects that were collected from Luxor, including the legendary headdress. I reacted similarly to what I did when I saw the Rosetta Stone, only to an extreme degree—because it was the headdress of King Tut, and I was in Cairo.
The museum was amazing. After spending a long time there, we walked down and saw the river… and by the river, I mean the Nile! I basically went nuts because I was standing on the shore of the Nile (don’t judge me). The four of us walked around the downtown area for some time.
I really feel like I need to stop providing a play-by-play and unload about everything I’ve seen. I’ll admit that I was a bit worried about coming to Cairo because there’s something terrifying about being in a completely different culture, even physically another continent. It was something that I started to notice last night that was realised in the morning as well when Tarek gave us a lift into town. There really aren’t any traffic rules—at all. Driving is basically a free-for-all. Most of the roads don’t even have any lines on them. Okay, the more freeway-like roads do, but they’re ignored; and all of the other roads are just open concrete. Then, if that’s not exciting enough, throw pedestrians into the mix, who are also travelling on the roads in a free-for-all-like manner. It’s pure chaos. The only means of communication is honking. You honk to get in front of someone; you honk to let someone know they’re welcome to get in front of you; you honk to let someone know they are in your way. Everyone honks for every reason; it’s pretty nuts.
The four of us decided to take a taxi into the Islamic part of Cairo to see some of the largest mosques. Unfortunately, the citadel closed less than a half an hour before we got there. It was frustrating, however I glowed the entire ride because I successfully bartered with the guy to get a lower price. Unlike in the States, you agree with the driver up front what the ride will cost. I prefer this to the meter-method in the US. We walked down to see some of the other mosques and entered a small one down the road. I’d never been in a mosque before, so I had no idea what to expect. I knew I had to take my shoes off, but other than that, I was ready for anything. It wasn’t terribly busy, but there was a small collection of men praying. Ben and I sat down with a few men and they explained something about the lineage of the mosque. It was hard to understand first because I don’t really know much about Islam, and second because their English was very broken.
After the mosque, we went to find something to eat for dinner. I think I’m going to take this time to just gush about the food. I was really excited to try the local fare; I wanted to eat real Egyptian food. In the morning, before we left, Tarek provided us with three different types of things in pita bread. The first was lettuce, carrots, tomatoes and French fries. The second he called fuul, which was basically fava beans blended together and smashed into a paste form. The third was called falafel. It was this herb paste that was kind of fried and it was in the pita with lettuce and tomato. There was also a plate of sliced carrots on the table, and to my pleasant surprise, when I bit into one, it turns out they were canned and pickled with spicy peppers. (My dad used to can peppers and when he threw a carrot in, my brother and I would always fight over it because it was the spiciest, ergo most delicious.) After our first successful experience with Egyptian food, I was excited when Ben said he wanted us to try something and went in search of an eatery selling it. We found a place selling it, and Ben ordered four bowls for us—it was called Koshari. It was noodles and rice in a bowl with lentil, peppercorns, fried onions and a couple other things I’m still not sure what they were. Then, we poured spicy tomato sauce all over it (as well as some chilli sauce, but that was optional). It was friggin’ delicious. I loved it; I inhaled my bowl of it. Then, I almost collapsed in shock when Ben asked how much we owed and he said eight pounds. Ben paid his eight pounds, then as I got mine out, he shook his hand and head, saying “no, no, no. eight pound for all.” That means that we ate our meal for two Egyptian pounds, which is 35.5 American cents. Yeah!
By the time we were finished with dinner, it was sundown. However, we took a moment and looked in this bakery that was across the street. We peered inside and were welcomed by a nice man who invited us back to see them making some bread. I laughed quite a bit because when he asked us where we were from, and we responded the United States, the next word out of his mouth was “Obama!” The man gave us a sample of a few sweets. We then hopped on a bus to make it back to the city centre. It was a trip trying to figure out which bus would take us in the right direction. We wanted to take a felucca ride on the Nile. There were motorboats and sailboat to choose from. The motorboats were lit up like broken carnival rides and were blasting tons of obnoxious music. We really wanted to ride a sailboat. Ben, being completely fearless, walked up and down the river to find the best price for the four of us to take a ride. We ended up paying ten Egyptian pounds for thirty minutes on the river in a sailboat. It was wonderful.
I should explain Ben. Ben is from the upper peninsula of Michigan. However, he’s spent the last 18 months travelling Asia and Africa. Yeah! After he graduated with an undergraduate degree, he decided he wanted to see the world. He’s been travelling through Asia and India, then flew from India to South Africa and bought a motorcycle that he’s used to tour the continent. Yeah! So he’s pretty much one of the coolest guys I’ve ever met. He’s become a companion to us over our adventures and it’s been great.
After Tarek picked us up when he got off work, we returned to his house to relax, only to go out again. Tarek decided that we had to experience Cairo at night. Tarek and his wife said that Cairo never sleeps, and they weren’t kidding. We kind of noticed it taxi-ing from the airport, but heading back out into the city solidified the notion that it really doesn’t ever sleep. The city looked as alive at eleven at night (when we left for a second dinner) as it did in the afternoon. Tarek took us into city around this mosque that was actually draped in lights. Tarek explained that because of the various holidays (specifically both Easter celebrations), it was almost like a festival. We lead us around a bunch of twists and turns and brought us to this restaurant for one of his favourite meals—pigeon. That’s right, pigeon. For dinner at 11:30 p.m., I had two pigeons. One stuffed with rice and seasoning, baked and the other grilled, on top of a “pigeon soup,” which was a seasoned broth made with pigeon meat. It was outrageous; I still can’t get over the fact that I ate it. I figure I’m not going to turn anything down while here—I’ve got to experience everything I can. There’s not much meat on a pigeon. It didn’t taste bad, honestly. Tarek made fun of me during the meal because I put the pigeon and rice in a pita with the veggies on the table (onion, tomato, cucumber and lettuce) and a bit of the hummus (I’m not terribly keen on the hummus, but I can handle small bits of it with other things—I think it’s the texture). He called me a victim of the American sandwich culture (he also made fun of me for doing it in such a meticulous fashion).
After dinner, Tarek lead us around through some different alleys—making up a ridiculous story about vampire mummies along the way—so we could partake in another traditional Egyptian activity, smoking shisha. We ordered a dessert called Umm Ali and had a tea drink I cannot recall the name of, but trust me, it was delicious. They were both spectacularly delicious. I had always turned down my friends who’d invited me to smoke hookah back home, but I didn’t want to be rude, so I partook on this occasion. It was interesting. It was apple-flavoured. The place we went was really classy! There was even live music. There were two gentlemen with an Eastern-looking string instrument (I don’t know the names of all the different guitars) and a tambourine, and they were singing and they were really great. We didn’t return to Tarek’s until well after two in the morning, and the streets were still alive with activity.
Friday, 17 April, 2009: I can die a happy man. I fulfilled one of my greatest childhood dreams today. I SAW THE PYRAMIDS OF GIZA!!!!!! Even now, as I reflect to write about it, my heart’s aflutter. It really was sooo amazing. I can’t even believe it. The four of us (Ben joined us again today! He said he was going to sleep in, but changed his mind in the morning) left bright and early, hopped in a taxi and departed for what I can easily call one of the greatest things I’ve ever done in my entire life. Seriously, this is one of those times that if I was in a sentimental mood, I may start to get choked up.
I remembered my student ID today, so everything was half price. I practically pranced through the entrance. I FRIGGIN’ SAW THE PYRAMIDS! Sorry, that’ll be my last outburst of overexcited-ness. We first went over to the Sphinx and took a boatload of pictures. We then walked around to the back side of the pyramids and take a boatload of photos. We paid to enter the Pyramid of Khafre. That is the middle pyramid—the one with the limestone still on top of it. I was so terribly excited to enter the actual pyramid that I didn’t let the obscenely small tunnel nor the unbearably hot temperature bother me. It was honestly like a sauna in there; and I hit my head and back trying to make in through the entrance shaft (I got a headache from the pyramids!). We walked around and touched and took boatloads of pictures of all three of the great pyramids. Then, we made a friend in a man named Sahid. He was one of the many men their selling camel and horse rides around the plateau. However, after Ben and I talked with him for a few minutes, he proved to be totally legit and an honest business man. It was refreshing considering how many people are there to rip you off. For 50 Egyptian pounds, he took us around the plateau to the highest points to take a boatload of great photos and was really helpful. We took two camels and two horses so we could switch half way through (and say that we rode both around the pyramids). Before we started, we went over to where Sahid had the animals, and another man was there (apparently the boss-man of the operation) and he offered us what he endearingly called “Egyptian whiskey.” It turns out this was just chai, but I thought its other name was better. That also delighted me greatly because I’d been wanting to have some real chai while I was here (I love the fake American stuff quite a bit, so I figured genuine chai would be a dream—and it was!). I started out on a camel—I was really excited to ride a camel—and it was delightful. I was on my own, without a guide to drive me, so I really felt awesome. After having a great time on my camel, I got to ride a horse. It was even better because he let me actually ride it a bit and I got it up to a nice gallop. I almost did it once, but the stirrup broke. So he stopped me, collected them both, and let me go a bit again. I felt like a complete badass galloping along, looking to my left and seeing the pyramids.
I condensed most of the great day into those 461 words, but we were at the Giza plateau all day. The four of us had such a blast. At the end of the day, Ben and I were talking and he mentioned that for a while, he developed an obsession for taking mid-air photos, where he would leap off of something to get the most air in the photo. Well, before we left, I decided to take one leaping off of a marble block, with a pyramid in the back ground. When I get back, I will probably change it to my profile picture, because it’s really sweet; I like it a lot, although I’m still fond of my current profile picture quite a bit. After leaving, we found another place to have some Koshari. We retired home early because we’re all rather exhausted and pretty crispy from the sun. That’s another reason I’m excited—I’ve got me some color (even if it’s a nice shade of pink, it’ll turn tan-ish eventually)!
I really like it here; I’m sad I only have one more day in the city. The people here are very nice and polite. Some obviously have ulterior motives in mind, but they’re still delightfully pleasant and I really enjoy talking with people. The little kids are fun, too. It happened today and yesterday in front of the museum as well. I get stared at like I’m a dinosaur. It happened in Guatemala quite a bit, and so it’s not a problem. It’s kind of funny really. They like to practice their English and ask me questions.
Also, another anecdote to reiterate the point that Cairo doesn’t sleep. Tarek got home from work around 9:30 p.m. and then immediately changed and left again because he had a wedding to attend. Then, Asser (Tarek’s wife), ordered dinner at around midnight because Tarek was expected back soon.
Saturday, 18 April, 2009: Our final day in Cairo was a wonderful one. We spend most of the morning at the Citadel. The Citadel was founded in 1176 and is now one of the most popular tourist attractions in Cairo (that bit I lifted from Frommers). It’s a fort-like structure that now has a few mosques and museums inside. I’ve been wanting to go to a mosque since I booked my flight to Cairo, and so I was again giddy. The largest mosque in Cairo, the Mosque of Mohammed Ali, is within the Citadel. The first mosque we entered, however, was called the Mosque of an-Nasr Mohammed. It was unique in that it was more like a marble courtyard (for lack of a better description). There was a square outer wall and a hallway around it, opening into the centre. In fact, the best way I can describe it is by paralleling it with a cloister. The real difference was that the centre was marble, not a nice lawn.
Mohammed Ali Mosque was incredibly beautiful—incredibly incredibly beautiful. The massive domed ceiling was ornate and all of the hanging lights added such an amazing effect to the room. Jessica, Val and I took the time to just sit there and enjoy just how wonderful it was. When I get back to the States, I’m going to read a book about Islam. AJ recommended one to me that I’m going to try and find at my local library. I do want to learn and know more about the faith because it’s so fascinating.
Throughout the Citadel, there were flocks of school children. Today, I decided rather than acknowledging them when they called out to me, I would make any responses to them in Spanish. It was really funny to see some of their reactions; there was a mix of really confused and really excited. The excited kids just yelled “HOLA” right back to me. It was cute nonetheless.
We visited two of the museums within the Citadel, neither with any sort of excited gusto and fervour. We walked through both the military museum, as well as the carriage museum. The military museum was basically a disorganised collection of everything “fighting” Egypt had ever done/participated in. Yes, that was a poorly constructed sentence; in fact, it was completely terrible, so allow me to explain. There were artefacts from not only modern wars and battles that Egypt had fought in (i.e. the World Wars, the conflicts for its independence from Britian), as well as fighting from older times (i.e. weaponry and such from Islamic and XXXXX periods). It lacked real organization, but it was cool to see the inside of the building and think that it used to serve as an amazingly sweet palace. The other museum, the carriage museum, was really just a collection of a dozen or so horse-drawn carriages that had some historical significance.
After our Citadel adventure, we went back to Khan al-Khalili (which, if I didn’t mention before, was the area where the mosque was lit up and we ate pigeon the other night) because there were quite a few shops there and the girls and I wanted to do a bit of souvenir shopping (the girls wanted to do a lot of shopping, I just had a couple of things to pick up). I spent most of the time talking to various shop keepers; when they’re not incessantly trying to peddle their goods to you, they’re actually wonderfully pleasant people—although, that could just be part of the act. The three of us got a kick out of how many of the men told me I was a lucky man to have two ladies with me. On a couple of occasions, I was offered to sell them for some camels; I thought that would have been a pretty sweet deal, but the girls didn’t seem too keen on it. I was also told quite a few times that I had beautiful hair (yes, by the men in these shops). It was a good time to be had by all. The one thing that I sort of wanted to buy, I couldn’t find one up to my obsessive standards—I wanted to purchase an Egyptian chess set. I examined quite a few, but I found something I really didn’t like with all of them. I’m afraid I may be too obsessive compulsive about it, but my justification is that if I’m not completely happy with it, I shouldn’t spend money on it.
Speaking of spending money, with all the time I spent in the market today, as well as all three taxi rides, I feel like I’ve refined my art of negotiation and bartering for a cheaper price. Everything I bought today, I bought for my price without compromise (and it’s not that I’m trying to be arrogant about it, but I am proud). Before we left this morning, Asser gave us a tip that was very successful. She said that one tactic is to have your money out, in your hand, for them to see. Inversely to how buyers are more likely to buy something if they touch it, the merchant will be more likely to accept the price. The hardest bargain to make was for the taxi ride back from Khan al-Khalili to Tarek’s house. We only paid 20 Egyptian pounds to get into the city in the morning, so I (against the wishes of Val and Jessica) wouldn’t accept a taxi unless it would cost 20 again. The first two drivers wouldn’t go lower than thirty—with the second driver even having another driver step in and try to tag-team me into paying a higher price. However, we crossed the street (the direction of traffic then headed in the direction we needed to go) and were immediately successful. I’ve also found that the less the cabbie is being paid, the faster he drives. That makes the ride much more interesting.
We got back to Tarek’s around 4:30, just in time to see history in the making (and make it onto Egyptian national news). Allow me to digress for a minute to properly explain. When we first arrived, Ben explained that Asser was organising a non-violent protest to sexism and sexual assault. She explained later to us that she was harassed by a gang of men one night, and one of the boys assaulted her. She took her assailant to court and the judge immediately threw the case out because she was a woman. That was apparently the catalyst behind the event she was organising. There was a whole slew of media who had turned up for the event. Tarek said that three of the four major news networks appeared and was taking footage and interviews. Admittedly, the presence of Ben, Jessica, Val and I also brought about quite a bit of attention. Ben was interviewed by two different TV stations, three radio stations and two newspaper journalists. Jessica did three television interviews. I’ll admit I was a bit jealous. It would have been so amazingly cool to be interviewed, but I was in the back of most of the shots as they put people holding signs in the background of every single shot. I did have an obscene amount of pictures taken of me, however. One photo, as well, promises to be really amazing. I was wearing my aviators (see 11 April for that story), which are reflective, and one of the photographers took a shot of my face with one of the protest signs reflected in my sunglasses. It was a very cool shot, indeed. This was nowhere near as momentous as the women marching in Afghanistan, but to see so many there to hold signs in protest, and even more press there to document what was going on. Asser was the woman of the hour; it was great! We got a great chuckle thinking about Mark, Central’s London Programme Director, who during G20 adamantly told us to stay away from protesting, turning on CNN and them running something about this and seeing us there.
Sunday, 19 April, 2009: ::big sigh:: it’s 8:58 a.m. in Athens and I’ve been sitting in the Athens International Airport since 5:20 a.m. Our flight left Cairo at 2:45 local time and took an hour and twenty-five minutes to make it to Athens (another time zone east). The cheapest flight we could find from Cairo to London brought us back to Athens first, and it brought us back for a seven and a half hour layover. I wish there was some other way, but this was the most expensive flight of our entire vacation, so we went with what was cheapest. It is Easter Sunday in the Greek Orthodox Church. If the Metro wasn’t closed and the bus such a hassle, Val and I may have considered going back into the city (I personally would have liked to see an Orthodox mass), but instead, we’re sleeping on benches. I wish I could say I did the cool thing and watched the sun rise over the Grecian horizon, but it’s really cloudy out, so I just can barely see the sun through the clouds now. I figure this would give me a good amount of time to finish writing what appears to be the longest word document I’ve ever written.
I also MUST mention one of the most giggleworthy things I’ve ever seen. At the Cairo International Airport, in one the cafes, they had a TV on, and it was playing The Mummy Returns. I got a good chortle out of that.
The flight to Athens was easily one of the most pleasant flights I’ve ever taken. Getting on the plane, I was bitter because I was in a window seat, however the plane was barely half full, and I actually had the entire row of three seats to myself. Also, it was terribly roomy! I hope our next Olympic Air flight is that nice. The row of seats in front of me was far enough away that I could comfortably sit with my left ankle on my right knee. It was a nice flight and the meal was good. Is it bad that I really like airline food? There’s such a stigma of disgusting that follows airline food, but I always find it to be quite tasty. Not all of it is gourmet cuisine, but I rarely eat things that I think taste bad. I guess I’m just odd.
Looking back and rereading everything, I can’t believe I’ve had such an opportunity. This week has been a sprint of epic proportions. I’ve seen more this week than some people will ever as long as they live. Without a doubt, this will be the greatest spring break in the history of all history, but more than that, it’s been fulfilling what, before January when I left for London, was only my wildest dreams. Without any superfluous reflections, I do want to thank anyone who took on the daunting task of reading this mammoth of a post, or even reading only part of it. It does mean a lot to me.
Cheers!
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