Travel Recap
It's cold and rainy and I only have 20 minutes left of work anyway so I'd much rather do a trip recap. This is more for me than for anyone so I'll do an LJ cut. This will also probably turn into a blogpost but I wanted to chronicle it here first.
Even before I left for Vienna it seemed to be a blessed venture. As I was researching how to get to the hotel from the airport I saw an ad for Gustav Klimt's "The Kiss." My mouth dropped open and my heart swelled because "The Kiss" is one of my favorite paintings and I remember ages ago a colleague asked me if I'd seen it in person and then described it to me. I couldn't believe of all the paintings and of all the times I could have gone to Vienna it was during a period when my favorite painting would be there.
I left for the airport lugging my enormous backpacking backpack cursing how much I was obliged to carry because of work -- i.e. a laptop, recorder, notebook, travel adapter, etc. I was sweaty and gross by the time I made it to BART and was more than ready to check my bag. When I arrive at the airport I go up to the ticket counter and they say, "We can only get you to Frankfurt and not from Frankfurt to Vienna because there is a strike going on in Germany." Um, what? Excuse me? I asked what my other options were and they directed me to the United ticket counter where there was a flight later in the day that went through London/Heathrow. I was traveling with my boss so when he arrived I told him the sitch and we decided to take the later flight. It's a good thing we did because we both got ENTIRE ROWS to ourselves. That means on the 10 hour flight to London I stretched out on the seats and went to sleep. We made it to London and then Vienna with no problems and my boss paid for everything -- the cab, lunch, etc. Plus, he knew where to go so I didn't have to think about a thing.
As soon as we touched down in Europe it's as if I had never left. Everything felt familiar and comfortable. I didn't experience any sort of jetlag, culture shock, nothing. It was as if I took a flight to somewhere in the U.S. in how blase/unassuming it all was. This despite the copious amounts of German, hard-to-decipher accents, and unusual street signs. We checked into our swank hotel (which I will post pictures of eventually) and that was that. Each room/suite was named after somebody. I was in the Hans Hass room, a diver/documentarian and painted on the wall was a quote of his: "Tief unten glaubt man, ein Vogel zu sein," which translates as, "Deep down, one believes himself/herself to be a bird." The very first night we arrived we took the Ubahn (the subway) to Stephansplatz and stepped inside their famous Cathedral. We then walked to dinner where I had a horrible meal because all I ate was a salad. ("Will this restaurant have anything I can eat?" "You can get a salad." The response in my head was, "Fuck you! A salad! I don't want a fucking salad!") But whatever, my boss treated all of us (a bunch of writers came for the conference as well.)
What surprised me was just how much people came up to me and started speaking German. Even at the conference -- where there was a high probability I'd be foreign -- they launched into German when they saw me. What was even more surprising is how much I understood. One day I got up to give my seat to a beggar because I thought he was riding the train, but instead he was asking for money. An old lady with short-cropped, gray hair turned to me and started lamenting (in German) how these beggars board the train asking for handouts, and isn't it such an annoyance? Later when the train rocked she turned to me again and made a comment in German about how fast the train goes and isn't it terrible how they knock you around? I nodded, hemmed and hawed like I understood, because I did.
Mostly my experience in Vienna was covering the conference, getting turned around when I was attempting to do things myself, and eating really poorly. The one night I ventured off on my own to go to a vegan/vegetarian Irish pub I had trouble finding it and then when I did service was slow and the food was made of gluten so I had an allergic reaction. There were some very sweet moments though -- like whenever I got lost someone would come along and point me in the right direction. The grace really kicked into high gear when the work part ended and the vacation began. I got SUPER lost getting to the Belvedere, the museum where the Klimt was, and I had every intention of buying a burner phone but was unable to because of my hectic work schedule. As a consequence of getting lost I passed by a shop that sold pay-as-you-go phones. This saved me the trouble of getting back to the hotel and asking them where I could purchase one. The phone was vitally important because I was set to meet up with solitaryrose14 and internet is never a guarantee. I was filled with gratitude as I purchased my sweet little Nokia phone that came with a flashlight! (This was very important later.) And it just so happened before I left the conference I stopped by an ATM, rendered even more perfect by the fact the store took cash only. The little nudges I received on the trip were so fortuitous, they really made everything so much easier for me.
Anyway, I trooped along to the Belvedere and finally saw "The Kiss." I gazed at it for a solid 15 minutes marveling how big it is, the colors, the emotional response I felt. I wondered about its history and significance and in that moment a Japanese tour group came by and started yammering about the painting. (As my friend Beth says, I need to be more specific with my prayers.) I watched the tour guide pantomime the position of the two lovers before finally seeing her explain it's not a malevolent painting showing a woman getting choked, but rather a sweet embrace, a transcendental love. I was even given the opportunity to discuss the paining with a pregnant Spanish woman as she sat down beside me on the bench. I left the museum, racing to get back to the hotel because I had to catch a train and write my last story for the day, grabbed my stuff, and left for the train station. As I get to the Ubahn I hear one of my colleagues' voice ring out -- turns out they were leaving the exact train I was boarding! They didn't see me but I still thought there was something to that.
I took the train to Salzburg, nervous and excited about my Italy adventure. I watched the Austrian countryside flash by before it became too dark to see anything out of the windows. I watched sunshine turn to rain and worried I'd had have to walk the 10 minutes to the hostel sans umbrella because I didn't have free hands what with carrying a purse and a laptop bag. As I exited the train I was relieved to see the rain had stopped. A Chinese woman came up to me and said, "Excuse me, are you going to a hostel? I just arrived and I don't have anywhere to stay." (I'm guessing the enormous backpack tipped her off.) "I sure am! You can walk with me."
We chatted as we crossed under train overpasses and through construction zones. I thought to myself, "This is why people enjoy going to hostels. They're a place to meet people." We checked into the big, bright, kind-of-corporate (if you know what I mean) hostel and that was it. I needed to drop my stuff off before finally turning in my news article and then heading out for dinner. I get up to my room, chat with my roommates, and then walk the six minutes to the vegetarian restaurant only to find it's closed. (The food in Austria. I tell you.) As it was nearly 9 p.m. I was too tired to try somewhere else so instead I came back to the hostel and meandering past graffitied walls and doorways with messages like, "There's nothing better to do in Salzburg other than laundry," and an arrow pointing to the comment that said, "Epic win!" Along with the requisite "So and so was here in 2010." I walked into the grungy, sponge-less kitchen and made dinner -- rice and beans. I had the foresight before I left the States to bring some rice and dehydrated beans because I anticipated this could be a problem. I literally meditated on the booth in the kitchen because there was no one else for me to go. Of course it was super awkward when a tall brown-haired man walked in, or when people came by to do laundry as the laundry room was adjacent to the kitchen. I gave up and decided to skype my mom to vent my frustration and failed because wouldn't you know, internet access in a basement isn't all that great.
I couldn't go back to my room though because my roommates were sleeping. I looked in all the common rooms, praying for an empty space, close to tears, before I found the breakfast room, which was devoid of people. Because my battery was on its last leg I had to perch by the television with my laptop on the shelf above me so I could use the outlet. Sitting in my purple pajamas I completely lost it. As I've mentioned, I fucking hate hostels because there's no privacy. And I'd had a hard day what with the travel, lack of sleep, lack of food, lack of meditation, and being premenstrual. Is it any wonder I cried? My mom proceeded to console me before I finally went off to bed. But I didn't go off to bed because I had the worst night's sleep. I had to change rooms in the middle of the night because in mine I heard a ceaseless low rumbling, like a truck idling times a thousand. And in my new room I had to deal with intermittent snores and other people getting up to go to the bathroom. It was horrible.
Needless to say I was exhausted when I woke up and also stressed because I had a train to catch at 10:10. I panicked because it was a 10 minute walk to the train station and I left my hostel at 10 because, well, I don't know, that's how long it took me to be ready. I power walked to the train station, no mean feat with an enormous backpack and two large bags dangling from your arms, praying, praying I wouldn't be late because the next train to Venice wouldn't be until late that afternoon and there was no way I wanted to stay in Salzburg after the horrible night I'd had. I race to the platform with minutes to spare, only to find out the train was 5 minutes late. I smiled to myself because it was as if the universe conspired to make the train late to give me more time. I don't think I sat in the correct car, but whatever, I don't speak German and no one told me to move.
You guys, the train ride to Venice. Oh my god. I was the most beautiful landscape I have ever seen. We snaked through the Alps and the mountains were covered with snow, pine trees dotted the landscape, and valleys dipped below the tracks. It was breathtaking, truly. Everything you imagine the Alps to be it was. That train ride was the most gorgeous ride I've ever been on in my life, I almost didn't want it to end. But end it did, with the snowy mountains flattening out to golden plains, clouds dispersing to let the sun in. Austria gave way to Italy. Because of the timing of things I picked a train that had a bus connection to Italy. A nice doubledecker bus but a bus nonetheless. The bus ride was blah, which surprised me because I thought I would LOVE the Italian countryside and I didn't. After going through the Alps I found it to be boring. I snoozed on the bus until we came into Venice. Except I didn't come into Venice. I came into Tronchetto, which is still on the mainland. Fuuuuuuck. How was I going to get to Venice?!? My directions to my hostel were from the train station! Not this weird deserted bus station!
I looked around and again panicked. The other Americans on the bus took a vaporetto, or water bus, but somehow I didn't want to do that. I followed behind the two German-speaking tourists and watched them even though they were as clueless as I was. Somehow the bus driver or I don't even know, some man, conveyed to them they could pay a euro and buy a ticket on the "People mover," which is essentially a shuttle train. The tourists bought one too many tickets so they gave one to me. Ha! Love it! The train pulled into the bus station, which was next to the train station and I waded through the thick crowds of tourists to reach my hostel.
My first views of the Gran Canal were beautiful but mostly I was tired and wanted to put my luggage down. I clutched my map and read the directions carefully because the last thing I wanted to do in Venice was get lost with all my possessions on my back. After turning around endless corners and completely illogical streets, I finally came to my sweet little hostel. This one was much better than the one in Salzburg. Namely because it was smaller, there were fewer people, and I was literally in a room with old ladies. Seriously. Sylvia and Anne were old enough to be my grandmothers. They fussed over me a bit before we all went to the grocery store so I could get enough cash to pay for the hostel and hopefully buy a new phone because in a twist of fate, my Austrian one ran out of credit and I couldn't top it up online, only by buying a card that could only be found where? Austria.
We wondered around while I was out of my mind exhausted, trying to soak up what it meant to be in Venice. We came back to the hostel so I could meditate and call my friend in Florence who I had been unable to reach. I was supposed to stay with him the very next night and had only a vague idea of how to get to him. Needless to say I was anxious. I again meditated in the common area because I couldn't do it in my bedroom. Why yes it was super awkward and very not satisfying. And I wasn't able to get in touch with my friend either. Rats.
I was too tired and worn out to try to go out to eat so I made dinner again. Rice and beans. I chatted with some young twenty-somethings while I waited to use the "element," aka, hot plate. It was fine, but all I could think was how much I wanted to stay in a posh hotel by myself like I had in Vienna. Because I was only going to be in Venice for not even a day, I decided the best thing to do after dinner was go for a walk. Amazingly, I didn't get lost even though the streets are super confusing and don't seem to follow any sort of order -- rather they start and stop of their own accord. Walking through the streets of Venice I was struck by how dead the city seemed. No one but tourists were out, and even then they were few in numbers. Nothing was happening. There was no movement. No cars because there are no cars in Venice. All the shops were closed. It was eerie walking around at night in silence while being in a city. The city felt dead to me and that's because it is -- the only people who live there are the elderly and they're dying out. The youth have all left because there is no industry in Venice except tourism and a little bit of glass and it's super expensive to live there. There are more tourists in Venice than there are Venetians. It was depressing.
That night I again slept poorly because I don't do well sleeping in groups at the moment, but I did sleep better. After all, I was in a room with old ladies so I was certainly the last one to go to bed and they were very quiet. The room in general was quiet because it was well insulated and there is no street noise. The next morning I chatted with the other patrons and it turns out some of the girls were from Emerson College where my sister graduated from! I thought it was hilarious out of all the places and all the colleges I ran into two girls who knew of my sister. Too funny.
I was all set to see the sights by myself but the old ladies and I went to the Rialto Bridge and St. Mark's Basilica because they hadn't seen much of the city either. Again, on the walk there I was struck by just how many tourists there were. I must have taken a photo for five different people on the Rialto Bridge. I couldn't walk two feet without bumping into an American. Venice had the feel of an amusement park for adults and I hated it. I took a picture but all over Venice there were stickers showing a box with the words "Empty inside" written across it. It seemed like a good metaphor for Venice -- a beautiful gilded box that was empty inside. I bought a new SIIM card (hallelujah!) and they were running a promotion so I could call anywhere in Italy for FREE for a week AND have internet access at certain hotspots. Later this turned out to be a god send.
Mostly I was unimpressed with Venice. Beautiful yes, but nothing that wowed me. I left the old ladies at about lunch time and walked back to my hostel, soaking up the sunshine and trying to find a redeeming quality about Venice. I couldn't do it. Frankly, I was happy to leave. I packed up my stuff and got the hell out of Venice.
At the train station I called solitaryrose14 to determine her whereabouts but it turns out she was hella sick. Stomach-bug-can't-eat-anything-hurling-all-night kind of sick. We made tentative plans to meet at the train station but in the end that didn't happen due to her illness. I FINALLY got in touch with my friend after texting him on my new Italian phone and felt relieved I knew where to go. Except I didn't. When I got to Florence I wandered around for an HOUR looking for bus number 20 asking random people left and right. I even walked into the tourist information center to ask for help and the lady said, "It's right across the street." "No it's not. I looked. It seems as if I need to turn left when I get out of here?" "No, you just cross. You don't turn." "I looked it's not there," I said. "It's out front. Just cross the street," she replied. Fuck you TI lady, the bus was not there.
I decided to walk in the general direction of where I thought the bus would be, again asking for help. A super sweet bus driver asked me where I was going and he said, "Come on. Jump on the bus." And then when I got two stops away he told me to jump off and catch the number 6 bus. I took it but I panicked that it would take me to the wrong Via Lungo L'Affrico, or drop me at the wrong end, so I jumped off at San Marco Piazza where I again asked someone to put me in the direction of the 20 bus and I finally boarded it. (Turns out Florence is small and I could have stayed on the 6. Oh well. C'est la vie.)
I finally, finally made it to my friend's house and almost cried in relief from being able to put my bag down, do laundry and eat dinner. Not to mention have a good meditation. Solitaryrose14 was in no shape to sleep in the same double bed as me so I finally had a room all to myself. It was quite a luxury to sleep alone and meditate undisturbed. Rachel (solitaryrose14) and I made plans to meet up the next day at 11. I got a late start because I had women's issues to deal with if you catch my drift. Oh and I got lost. AGAIN. For some reason I could not figure out where the hell I was going in Florence. Venice? With it's crazy canals and streets that make zero sense? No problem! Florence where the streets are ordered and I have a map? Problem. I think it's because it was smaller than I anticipated. I'm used to big cities where you have to walk a ways before you reach the street you need to turn down. In Florence the street could be 15 feet away. I kept passing the streets I needed to turn down, and each of the piazzas (squares) had about five streets shooting off from it. Anywho, I had a hell of a time meeting up with her at the Accademia Galleria, the home of the David.
I strolled up the building taken aback. "This is where they keep one of the most famous sculptures in the world? This nondescript brown building?" It looked nothing like a museum. It was so unassuming I had to pull out my guidebook to make sure I had the right address. Solitaryrose14 took a walk while waiting for me so I had to wait for her to show up. When she did we breezed through the line and got in for FREE because it was International Women's Day! Not to mention there was NO ONE in the Accademia. I got to be up close and personal with the David. That was our turning point in Florence. Right there. We gaped at the David and I was taken aback at how I felt, which was nothing. Really? After crying when I saw my first Michelangelo in Bruges I feel NOTHING for the David? But it's true. I felt as if I'd seen it before. Like it was a sight I'd visited many a time. Sure, I was impressed by Michelangelo's craftsmanship, but I wasn't moved by his work.
Rachel and I left to get pizza (my first slice since coming to Italy!) and took pictures on the Ponte Vecchio:
We then took a Renaissance Walk courtesy of a free audioguide by Rick Steves. It was good. We learned a lot. And the whole time I felt I'd been there before. Walking near the Duomo, standing in the squares, I could easily picture Renaissance life. Solitaryrose14 and I got some gelato and mostly sat in the present moment, the first time I was able to since coming to Italy. We sat in the sunshine and talked while the wind whipped my hair and the sun warmed my face. For the first time in weeks I didn't need to be anywhere, I didn't need to do anything. I could relax, unwind and bond with a friend. We went home at around 5:30 and putzed around while I tried to meditate before being interrupted by another friend. The sweet Italian from this post. He no longer works for the UN and he's definitely not my future husband as he's engaged to someone else, but it was nice to see him nonetheless. He is super sweet. He came all the way to my friend's place because I was in no mood to leave the house again until dinner at 9:30 (such is the Italian way!). He wasn't going to eat dinner with us because he had to be up early the next morning but he ended up coming anyway. SR14 ended up passing out because she was still sick while the rest of us margiis went to an amazing vegan restaurant. It was the best food I had in Italy. The dish I had was so rich and so cheesy, I remarked to my friends, "Are you sure this is vegan?!?"
And to get there I rode on the back of a scooter. How very Italian! The other interesting piece for me is I had strong deja vu while I was there. Everyone around me spoke Italian but it was fine, I understood. That is, until about 10:45 when I was so tired I could barely speak English. I rode back home on the scooter and felt such love and gratitude in my heart. I was so present, so alive, so happy. It was thrilling to ride around Florence on a scooter.
The next morning SR14 went to Pisa while I slept. (Hell yeah I did. I didn't get to sleep until close to 1.)We were going to meet up at the Ufizzi Gallery but as luck would have it, we both arrived at the train station at the SAME TIME so we walked together. This is what I mean by everything being in flow. We had planned to meet up earlier but instead we reunited at the train station. We made it to the Ufizzi Gallery only to find a hella long line. SR14 didn't want to wait as she had more sightseeing calling to her in Rome but I wanted to see all the famous artwork. So I waited. Forever. And then walked in, seeing paintings such as the Birth of Venus and many more. I was again struck by how all the paintings seemed familiar. I was blase about the whole thing because I don't know, they didn't seem new to me. I sprung for an express train to Rome and waited an hour for SR14 to arrive. It was fine. It was nice to sit in Termini and not rush off to somewhere new. After all the traveling I'd been doing I was pretty ok with sitting still.
She met up with me and we went to an all women's hostel in Trastevere. It used to be a convent so it had brick floors and austere rooms. Nice, but plain. We went out to eat and then came home. SR14 went to bed early because she still felt ill. I stayed up to skype with my mom and check facebook (thank God I did!). The grace I experienced in Rome, I tell you.
One of the acaryas from Ananda Marga announced via facebook he was in Rome to which I replied, "What?!? I'm in Rome!" I sent him a message asking for contact info and if he was doing a program. We got in touch the next morning and he said he was doing a heart circle and a group meditation at a margii's house in Frascati. He also mentioned a friend of mine, who I'd COMPLETELY forgotten lived in Rome would also be there. Dada told me what time to board the train and so after puttering around the hostel and then stumbling upon a cat sanctuary in the middle of some ruins, I made my way to Termini, the train station. I was too early so I hung around a bit before boarding and then I walked onto the second to last car and sitting at the end, facing me was my friend Shantideva, sitting with two other margii women. Needless to say, he was surprised to see me. I laughed when I saw him because this was precisely the thing that had been happening to me the entire time I was traveling. He scooted over and we made our way to the margii's house. I was dead tired and thus practically falling asleep during it all -- especially because everyone around me spoke Italian and by that point I was too tired to attempt to understand or communicate. Shanti and I made plans to hang out on Sunday, which was beautiful because after SR14 left I was a bit sad I'd have to explore Rome all by myself.
The next morning Shanti came to me at my hostel and we walked around heading in the general direction of the Roman Forum. For some reason I had an adverse reaction to the forum -- I did NOT want to see it. I immediately thought it would be boring and thus refused to see it, even though I generally love that stuff. I think it's because I had a past life there and had to sit through all the political machinations and was not interested in reliving it, even though when I bought a ticket to the Colosseum it also gave entry to the forum.
Shanti had already seen the Colosseum so he didn't want to pay to go in again. I went in by myself and listened to a Rick Steves audio guide. It was AMAZING. He painted such a picture of the Colosseum and I loved it. I felt even more familiarity and confidence in the Colosseum than I had in other parts of Rome. And once I visited the Colosseum the weird out-of-bodyish experience I'd been having dissipated because it's as if all the pieces shifted into place. I had a flash of a past life a the Colosseum with Devadutta no less, striding through the hallways as soldiers. I felt such confidence and pleasure -- I obviously used to think going to the Colosseum was great sport.
I met up with Shanti and his friend Jordan outside. We wandered some more, and Shanti being the friendly guy he is, struck up a conversation with a stranger, which happened to be fortuitous because the stranger mentioned we were close by the church that has Michelangelo's Moses with the horns. Amazing no? My goal while in Italy was to see as much of Michelangelo's work as possible, and I did. But after the Moses I started to feel REALLY tired and slightly sick so I took the bus back to my hostel and said goodbye. When I got back and laid down for a bit I felt better and told Shanti I could meet up with him for dinner after all. Instead of fumbling around the streets of Rome, a friend of his (and fellow margii) picked me up from hostel and drove us to a macrobiotic vegetarian restaurant. We ate at 9:30, naturally. Afterward I went on the most terrifying car ride of my life: hairpin turns, passing by cars with inches to spare, no seatbelts. I grabbed onto the handle above my seat to hang on for dear life. But I also have to admit, I kind of liked it. We went up to the highest hill in Rome and looked out below us. You could clearly see all the rings around Rome and the spokes coming off the rings. It reminded me of Twin Peaks in SF. We drove back down and then Viirendra dropped off Jordan (Shanti's friend), Shanti, then me. He got a little lost bringing me back, and I also had the distinct impression it was a bit on purpose to prolong the car ride. We tried to communicate -- him in broken English and me using un poco di Italiano combined with hand gestures. We did the double-cheek kiss and that was it. I rolled in well after midnight.
The next morning I slept in (although not as long as I would have liked) and meandered to the natural grocery store, which as luck would have it, was close to my hostel. "Store" is probably too generous a term. It was more like a shop as it was so small. But it had everything I needed so I grabbed some soy yogurt and devoured it on the bench outside before making my way to St. Peter's. St. Peter's was horribly crowded, even in this, the off season. And I'm pretty sure I saw someone almost get pick-pocketed.
I wanted to make sure I saw the Sistine Chapel so that was my first stop. I walked for what seemed FOREVER through throngs of people, not even pausing to look at the various tapestries, statues, and paintings lining the walls of the Pope's estate in the rooms prior to the Sistine. I finally walked in and was. . .underwhelmed. I'm sad to say I wasn't overcome by the panels of some of Michelangelo's most famous work. They really did look like painted statues and the women were men with boobs. And I had the distinct impression (again) that I'd seen it all before. Nothing seemed new to me or my eyes. I sat on a bench and listened to Rick Steves' audio tour, impressed by how Michelangelo painted that whole damn ceiling by standing up. Can you imagine? He must have had some severe physical issues. I mean seriously. I willed myself to stick around a bit longer, hoping I'd feel something but I didn't, except admiration. I walked out to enter the main part of St. Peter's, not realizing I was exiting and thus would have to wait in a loooong line to get through security. Whoops. It's alright because I sat on the steps under the columns ringing the church and listened to Rick Steves explain to me how this is the largest church in the world. I believe it. The place is crazy big. And ostentatious. I let Rick talk me through the whole place, explaining the significance of the altar and the dome before we ended the tour with Michelangelo's Pieta. This one did move me. The grief in Mary's eyes. Holding her dead son in her arms, it was heart-wrenching. It didn't seem "new" to me, but with this one anyway I felt something. Not as strongly as the Madonna and Child I saw years ago in Bruges, but still, something. That man was a genius. Seriously.
I walked back to my hostel, contemplating the experience I had, before lying down to read "The Hunger Games" and meditate before heading out again. I got SUPER lost getting to the Pantheon, but that's ok because if I'd gotten there earlier it would have been too early, considering the restaurant I chose for that evening didn't open until 8 and the Pantheon closed at 7:30. There's only so much you can see in a one-room sphere. As it was, I stayed at the Pantheon for about 45 minutes because I meditated on one of the pews. And then I took my tired self to the restaurant where I ate alone. It turns out they were spiritual folks and said something about Krishna, to which I replied, "My name is Radha." They LOVED hearing that and seemed, honored? I was there. The owner asked for my e-mail address because his wife wrote a book and could use some help with it. And then I came home. Last night in Rome. Packed up my stuff and set my alarm for 5:00 a.m.
Oh lord. The next morning I didn't wake up until 6:10. Ten minutes AFTER my cab had arrived, and only then because the front desk pounded on my door. I raced out a bed, threw a comb through my hair, brushed my teeth and was out the door in 15 minutes. Again, half an hour AFTER I was supposed to have left for the airport. I ate my yogurt in the cab and freaked out that I'd be late. The cabbie dropped me off at the wrong terminal (and for that I was grateful I didn't tip him) and I finally came to the right place. Turns out I mixed up the time and my flight was 15 minutes after I'd anticipated. Ha! So of course I had time to spare and made my flight no problem. And then on my connection from Newark to SF the airline desk attendant asked if anyone would give up their seat near the front of the aircraft for an entire row to themselves in the back. Um. Yes. So I again had a row all to myself while I devoured "The Hunger Games." I took a cab home with pretty much no line to speak of and that was it! Food waiting for me in the fridge. Trip over. It was, however, the longest day of my life because I didn't sleep much on the plane.
I think I'm so keen on seeing the Hunger Games movie because I associate it with my trip and all the joy I felt. Like somehow watching the movie I'll be able to recapture a bit of the experience, because, it really was one of the sweetest experiences of my life thus far.
Even before I left for Vienna it seemed to be a blessed venture. As I was researching how to get to the hotel from the airport I saw an ad for Gustav Klimt's "The Kiss." My mouth dropped open and my heart swelled because "The Kiss" is one of my favorite paintings and I remember ages ago a colleague asked me if I'd seen it in person and then described it to me. I couldn't believe of all the paintings and of all the times I could have gone to Vienna it was during a period when my favorite painting would be there.
I left for the airport lugging my enormous backpacking backpack cursing how much I was obliged to carry because of work -- i.e. a laptop, recorder, notebook, travel adapter, etc. I was sweaty and gross by the time I made it to BART and was more than ready to check my bag. When I arrive at the airport I go up to the ticket counter and they say, "We can only get you to Frankfurt and not from Frankfurt to Vienna because there is a strike going on in Germany." Um, what? Excuse me? I asked what my other options were and they directed me to the United ticket counter where there was a flight later in the day that went through London/Heathrow. I was traveling with my boss so when he arrived I told him the sitch and we decided to take the later flight. It's a good thing we did because we both got ENTIRE ROWS to ourselves. That means on the 10 hour flight to London I stretched out on the seats and went to sleep. We made it to London and then Vienna with no problems and my boss paid for everything -- the cab, lunch, etc. Plus, he knew where to go so I didn't have to think about a thing.
As soon as we touched down in Europe it's as if I had never left. Everything felt familiar and comfortable. I didn't experience any sort of jetlag, culture shock, nothing. It was as if I took a flight to somewhere in the U.S. in how blase/unassuming it all was. This despite the copious amounts of German, hard-to-decipher accents, and unusual street signs. We checked into our swank hotel (which I will post pictures of eventually) and that was that. Each room/suite was named after somebody. I was in the Hans Hass room, a diver/documentarian and painted on the wall was a quote of his: "Tief unten glaubt man, ein Vogel zu sein," which translates as, "Deep down, one believes himself/herself to be a bird." The very first night we arrived we took the Ubahn (the subway) to Stephansplatz and stepped inside their famous Cathedral. We then walked to dinner where I had a horrible meal because all I ate was a salad. ("Will this restaurant have anything I can eat?" "You can get a salad." The response in my head was, "Fuck you! A salad! I don't want a fucking salad!") But whatever, my boss treated all of us (a bunch of writers came for the conference as well.)
What surprised me was just how much people came up to me and started speaking German. Even at the conference -- where there was a high probability I'd be foreign -- they launched into German when they saw me. What was even more surprising is how much I understood. One day I got up to give my seat to a beggar because I thought he was riding the train, but instead he was asking for money. An old lady with short-cropped, gray hair turned to me and started lamenting (in German) how these beggars board the train asking for handouts, and isn't it such an annoyance? Later when the train rocked she turned to me again and made a comment in German about how fast the train goes and isn't it terrible how they knock you around? I nodded, hemmed and hawed like I understood, because I did.
Mostly my experience in Vienna was covering the conference, getting turned around when I was attempting to do things myself, and eating really poorly. The one night I ventured off on my own to go to a vegan/vegetarian Irish pub I had trouble finding it and then when I did service was slow and the food was made of gluten so I had an allergic reaction. There were some very sweet moments though -- like whenever I got lost someone would come along and point me in the right direction. The grace really kicked into high gear when the work part ended and the vacation began. I got SUPER lost getting to the Belvedere, the museum where the Klimt was, and I had every intention of buying a burner phone but was unable to because of my hectic work schedule. As a consequence of getting lost I passed by a shop that sold pay-as-you-go phones. This saved me the trouble of getting back to the hotel and asking them where I could purchase one. The phone was vitally important because I was set to meet up with solitaryrose14 and internet is never a guarantee. I was filled with gratitude as I purchased my sweet little Nokia phone that came with a flashlight! (This was very important later.) And it just so happened before I left the conference I stopped by an ATM, rendered even more perfect by the fact the store took cash only. The little nudges I received on the trip were so fortuitous, they really made everything so much easier for me.
Anyway, I trooped along to the Belvedere and finally saw "The Kiss." I gazed at it for a solid 15 minutes marveling how big it is, the colors, the emotional response I felt. I wondered about its history and significance and in that moment a Japanese tour group came by and started yammering about the painting. (As my friend Beth says, I need to be more specific with my prayers.) I watched the tour guide pantomime the position of the two lovers before finally seeing her explain it's not a malevolent painting showing a woman getting choked, but rather a sweet embrace, a transcendental love. I was even given the opportunity to discuss the paining with a pregnant Spanish woman as she sat down beside me on the bench. I left the museum, racing to get back to the hotel because I had to catch a train and write my last story for the day, grabbed my stuff, and left for the train station. As I get to the Ubahn I hear one of my colleagues' voice ring out -- turns out they were leaving the exact train I was boarding! They didn't see me but I still thought there was something to that.
I took the train to Salzburg, nervous and excited about my Italy adventure. I watched the Austrian countryside flash by before it became too dark to see anything out of the windows. I watched sunshine turn to rain and worried I'd had have to walk the 10 minutes to the hostel sans umbrella because I didn't have free hands what with carrying a purse and a laptop bag. As I exited the train I was relieved to see the rain had stopped. A Chinese woman came up to me and said, "Excuse me, are you going to a hostel? I just arrived and I don't have anywhere to stay." (I'm guessing the enormous backpack tipped her off.) "I sure am! You can walk with me."
We chatted as we crossed under train overpasses and through construction zones. I thought to myself, "This is why people enjoy going to hostels. They're a place to meet people." We checked into the big, bright, kind-of-corporate (if you know what I mean) hostel and that was it. I needed to drop my stuff off before finally turning in my news article and then heading out for dinner. I get up to my room, chat with my roommates, and then walk the six minutes to the vegetarian restaurant only to find it's closed. (The food in Austria. I tell you.) As it was nearly 9 p.m. I was too tired to try somewhere else so instead I came back to the hostel and meandering past graffitied walls and doorways with messages like, "There's nothing better to do in Salzburg other than laundry," and an arrow pointing to the comment that said, "Epic win!" Along with the requisite "So and so was here in 2010." I walked into the grungy, sponge-less kitchen and made dinner -- rice and beans. I had the foresight before I left the States to bring some rice and dehydrated beans because I anticipated this could be a problem. I literally meditated on the booth in the kitchen because there was no one else for me to go. Of course it was super awkward when a tall brown-haired man walked in, or when people came by to do laundry as the laundry room was adjacent to the kitchen. I gave up and decided to skype my mom to vent my frustration and failed because wouldn't you know, internet access in a basement isn't all that great.
I couldn't go back to my room though because my roommates were sleeping. I looked in all the common rooms, praying for an empty space, close to tears, before I found the breakfast room, which was devoid of people. Because my battery was on its last leg I had to perch by the television with my laptop on the shelf above me so I could use the outlet. Sitting in my purple pajamas I completely lost it. As I've mentioned, I fucking hate hostels because there's no privacy. And I'd had a hard day what with the travel, lack of sleep, lack of food, lack of meditation, and being premenstrual. Is it any wonder I cried? My mom proceeded to console me before I finally went off to bed. But I didn't go off to bed because I had the worst night's sleep. I had to change rooms in the middle of the night because in mine I heard a ceaseless low rumbling, like a truck idling times a thousand. And in my new room I had to deal with intermittent snores and other people getting up to go to the bathroom. It was horrible.
Needless to say I was exhausted when I woke up and also stressed because I had a train to catch at 10:10. I panicked because it was a 10 minute walk to the train station and I left my hostel at 10 because, well, I don't know, that's how long it took me to be ready. I power walked to the train station, no mean feat with an enormous backpack and two large bags dangling from your arms, praying, praying I wouldn't be late because the next train to Venice wouldn't be until late that afternoon and there was no way I wanted to stay in Salzburg after the horrible night I'd had. I race to the platform with minutes to spare, only to find out the train was 5 minutes late. I smiled to myself because it was as if the universe conspired to make the train late to give me more time. I don't think I sat in the correct car, but whatever, I don't speak German and no one told me to move.
You guys, the train ride to Venice. Oh my god. I was the most beautiful landscape I have ever seen. We snaked through the Alps and the mountains were covered with snow, pine trees dotted the landscape, and valleys dipped below the tracks. It was breathtaking, truly. Everything you imagine the Alps to be it was. That train ride was the most gorgeous ride I've ever been on in my life, I almost didn't want it to end. But end it did, with the snowy mountains flattening out to golden plains, clouds dispersing to let the sun in. Austria gave way to Italy. Because of the timing of things I picked a train that had a bus connection to Italy. A nice doubledecker bus but a bus nonetheless. The bus ride was blah, which surprised me because I thought I would LOVE the Italian countryside and I didn't. After going through the Alps I found it to be boring. I snoozed on the bus until we came into Venice. Except I didn't come into Venice. I came into Tronchetto, which is still on the mainland. Fuuuuuuck. How was I going to get to Venice?!? My directions to my hostel were from the train station! Not this weird deserted bus station!
I looked around and again panicked. The other Americans on the bus took a vaporetto, or water bus, but somehow I didn't want to do that. I followed behind the two German-speaking tourists and watched them even though they were as clueless as I was. Somehow the bus driver or I don't even know, some man, conveyed to them they could pay a euro and buy a ticket on the "People mover," which is essentially a shuttle train. The tourists bought one too many tickets so they gave one to me. Ha! Love it! The train pulled into the bus station, which was next to the train station and I waded through the thick crowds of tourists to reach my hostel.
My first views of the Gran Canal were beautiful but mostly I was tired and wanted to put my luggage down. I clutched my map and read the directions carefully because the last thing I wanted to do in Venice was get lost with all my possessions on my back. After turning around endless corners and completely illogical streets, I finally came to my sweet little hostel. This one was much better than the one in Salzburg. Namely because it was smaller, there were fewer people, and I was literally in a room with old ladies. Seriously. Sylvia and Anne were old enough to be my grandmothers. They fussed over me a bit before we all went to the grocery store so I could get enough cash to pay for the hostel and hopefully buy a new phone because in a twist of fate, my Austrian one ran out of credit and I couldn't top it up online, only by buying a card that could only be found where? Austria.
We wondered around while I was out of my mind exhausted, trying to soak up what it meant to be in Venice. We came back to the hostel so I could meditate and call my friend in Florence who I had been unable to reach. I was supposed to stay with him the very next night and had only a vague idea of how to get to him. Needless to say I was anxious. I again meditated in the common area because I couldn't do it in my bedroom. Why yes it was super awkward and very not satisfying. And I wasn't able to get in touch with my friend either. Rats.
I was too tired and worn out to try to go out to eat so I made dinner again. Rice and beans. I chatted with some young twenty-somethings while I waited to use the "element," aka, hot plate. It was fine, but all I could think was how much I wanted to stay in a posh hotel by myself like I had in Vienna. Because I was only going to be in Venice for not even a day, I decided the best thing to do after dinner was go for a walk. Amazingly, I didn't get lost even though the streets are super confusing and don't seem to follow any sort of order -- rather they start and stop of their own accord. Walking through the streets of Venice I was struck by how dead the city seemed. No one but tourists were out, and even then they were few in numbers. Nothing was happening. There was no movement. No cars because there are no cars in Venice. All the shops were closed. It was eerie walking around at night in silence while being in a city. The city felt dead to me and that's because it is -- the only people who live there are the elderly and they're dying out. The youth have all left because there is no industry in Venice except tourism and a little bit of glass and it's super expensive to live there. There are more tourists in Venice than there are Venetians. It was depressing.
That night I again slept poorly because I don't do well sleeping in groups at the moment, but I did sleep better. After all, I was in a room with old ladies so I was certainly the last one to go to bed and they were very quiet. The room in general was quiet because it was well insulated and there is no street noise. The next morning I chatted with the other patrons and it turns out some of the girls were from Emerson College where my sister graduated from! I thought it was hilarious out of all the places and all the colleges I ran into two girls who knew of my sister. Too funny.
I was all set to see the sights by myself but the old ladies and I went to the Rialto Bridge and St. Mark's Basilica because they hadn't seen much of the city either. Again, on the walk there I was struck by just how many tourists there were. I must have taken a photo for five different people on the Rialto Bridge. I couldn't walk two feet without bumping into an American. Venice had the feel of an amusement park for adults and I hated it. I took a picture but all over Venice there were stickers showing a box with the words "Empty inside" written across it. It seemed like a good metaphor for Venice -- a beautiful gilded box that was empty inside. I bought a new SIIM card (hallelujah!) and they were running a promotion so I could call anywhere in Italy for FREE for a week AND have internet access at certain hotspots. Later this turned out to be a god send.
Mostly I was unimpressed with Venice. Beautiful yes, but nothing that wowed me. I left the old ladies at about lunch time and walked back to my hostel, soaking up the sunshine and trying to find a redeeming quality about Venice. I couldn't do it. Frankly, I was happy to leave. I packed up my stuff and got the hell out of Venice.
At the train station I called solitaryrose14 to determine her whereabouts but it turns out she was hella sick. Stomach-bug-can't-eat-anything-hurling-all-night kind of sick. We made tentative plans to meet at the train station but in the end that didn't happen due to her illness. I FINALLY got in touch with my friend after texting him on my new Italian phone and felt relieved I knew where to go. Except I didn't. When I got to Florence I wandered around for an HOUR looking for bus number 20 asking random people left and right. I even walked into the tourist information center to ask for help and the lady said, "It's right across the street." "No it's not. I looked. It seems as if I need to turn left when I get out of here?" "No, you just cross. You don't turn." "I looked it's not there," I said. "It's out front. Just cross the street," she replied. Fuck you TI lady, the bus was not there.
I decided to walk in the general direction of where I thought the bus would be, again asking for help. A super sweet bus driver asked me where I was going and he said, "Come on. Jump on the bus." And then when I got two stops away he told me to jump off and catch the number 6 bus. I took it but I panicked that it would take me to the wrong Via Lungo L'Affrico, or drop me at the wrong end, so I jumped off at San Marco Piazza where I again asked someone to put me in the direction of the 20 bus and I finally boarded it. (Turns out Florence is small and I could have stayed on the 6. Oh well. C'est la vie.)
I finally, finally made it to my friend's house and almost cried in relief from being able to put my bag down, do laundry and eat dinner. Not to mention have a good meditation. Solitaryrose14 was in no shape to sleep in the same double bed as me so I finally had a room all to myself. It was quite a luxury to sleep alone and meditate undisturbed. Rachel (solitaryrose14) and I made plans to meet up the next day at 11. I got a late start because I had women's issues to deal with if you catch my drift. Oh and I got lost. AGAIN. For some reason I could not figure out where the hell I was going in Florence. Venice? With it's crazy canals and streets that make zero sense? No problem! Florence where the streets are ordered and I have a map? Problem. I think it's because it was smaller than I anticipated. I'm used to big cities where you have to walk a ways before you reach the street you need to turn down. In Florence the street could be 15 feet away. I kept passing the streets I needed to turn down, and each of the piazzas (squares) had about five streets shooting off from it. Anywho, I had a hell of a time meeting up with her at the Accademia Galleria, the home of the David.
I strolled up the building taken aback. "This is where they keep one of the most famous sculptures in the world? This nondescript brown building?" It looked nothing like a museum. It was so unassuming I had to pull out my guidebook to make sure I had the right address. Solitaryrose14 took a walk while waiting for me so I had to wait for her to show up. When she did we breezed through the line and got in for FREE because it was International Women's Day! Not to mention there was NO ONE in the Accademia. I got to be up close and personal with the David. That was our turning point in Florence. Right there. We gaped at the David and I was taken aback at how I felt, which was nothing. Really? After crying when I saw my first Michelangelo in Bruges I feel NOTHING for the David? But it's true. I felt as if I'd seen it before. Like it was a sight I'd visited many a time. Sure, I was impressed by Michelangelo's craftsmanship, but I wasn't moved by his work.
Rachel and I left to get pizza (my first slice since coming to Italy!) and took pictures on the Ponte Vecchio:
We then took a Renaissance Walk courtesy of a free audioguide by Rick Steves. It was good. We learned a lot. And the whole time I felt I'd been there before. Walking near the Duomo, standing in the squares, I could easily picture Renaissance life. Solitaryrose14 and I got some gelato and mostly sat in the present moment, the first time I was able to since coming to Italy. We sat in the sunshine and talked while the wind whipped my hair and the sun warmed my face. For the first time in weeks I didn't need to be anywhere, I didn't need to do anything. I could relax, unwind and bond with a friend. We went home at around 5:30 and putzed around while I tried to meditate before being interrupted by another friend. The sweet Italian from this post. He no longer works for the UN and he's definitely not my future husband as he's engaged to someone else, but it was nice to see him nonetheless. He is super sweet. He came all the way to my friend's place because I was in no mood to leave the house again until dinner at 9:30 (such is the Italian way!). He wasn't going to eat dinner with us because he had to be up early the next morning but he ended up coming anyway. SR14 ended up passing out because she was still sick while the rest of us margiis went to an amazing vegan restaurant. It was the best food I had in Italy. The dish I had was so rich and so cheesy, I remarked to my friends, "Are you sure this is vegan?!?"
And to get there I rode on the back of a scooter. How very Italian! The other interesting piece for me is I had strong deja vu while I was there. Everyone around me spoke Italian but it was fine, I understood. That is, until about 10:45 when I was so tired I could barely speak English. I rode back home on the scooter and felt such love and gratitude in my heart. I was so present, so alive, so happy. It was thrilling to ride around Florence on a scooter.
The next morning SR14 went to Pisa while I slept. (Hell yeah I did. I didn't get to sleep until close to 1.)We were going to meet up at the Ufizzi Gallery but as luck would have it, we both arrived at the train station at the SAME TIME so we walked together. This is what I mean by everything being in flow. We had planned to meet up earlier but instead we reunited at the train station. We made it to the Ufizzi Gallery only to find a hella long line. SR14 didn't want to wait as she had more sightseeing calling to her in Rome but I wanted to see all the famous artwork. So I waited. Forever. And then walked in, seeing paintings such as the Birth of Venus and many more. I was again struck by how all the paintings seemed familiar. I was blase about the whole thing because I don't know, they didn't seem new to me. I sprung for an express train to Rome and waited an hour for SR14 to arrive. It was fine. It was nice to sit in Termini and not rush off to somewhere new. After all the traveling I'd been doing I was pretty ok with sitting still.
She met up with me and we went to an all women's hostel in Trastevere. It used to be a convent so it had brick floors and austere rooms. Nice, but plain. We went out to eat and then came home. SR14 went to bed early because she still felt ill. I stayed up to skype with my mom and check facebook (thank God I did!). The grace I experienced in Rome, I tell you.
One of the acaryas from Ananda Marga announced via facebook he was in Rome to which I replied, "What?!? I'm in Rome!" I sent him a message asking for contact info and if he was doing a program. We got in touch the next morning and he said he was doing a heart circle and a group meditation at a margii's house in Frascati. He also mentioned a friend of mine, who I'd COMPLETELY forgotten lived in Rome would also be there. Dada told me what time to board the train and so after puttering around the hostel and then stumbling upon a cat sanctuary in the middle of some ruins, I made my way to Termini, the train station. I was too early so I hung around a bit before boarding and then I walked onto the second to last car and sitting at the end, facing me was my friend Shantideva, sitting with two other margii women. Needless to say, he was surprised to see me. I laughed when I saw him because this was precisely the thing that had been happening to me the entire time I was traveling. He scooted over and we made our way to the margii's house. I was dead tired and thus practically falling asleep during it all -- especially because everyone around me spoke Italian and by that point I was too tired to attempt to understand or communicate. Shanti and I made plans to hang out on Sunday, which was beautiful because after SR14 left I was a bit sad I'd have to explore Rome all by myself.
The next morning Shanti came to me at my hostel and we walked around heading in the general direction of the Roman Forum. For some reason I had an adverse reaction to the forum -- I did NOT want to see it. I immediately thought it would be boring and thus refused to see it, even though I generally love that stuff. I think it's because I had a past life there and had to sit through all the political machinations and was not interested in reliving it, even though when I bought a ticket to the Colosseum it also gave entry to the forum.
Shanti had already seen the Colosseum so he didn't want to pay to go in again. I went in by myself and listened to a Rick Steves audio guide. It was AMAZING. He painted such a picture of the Colosseum and I loved it. I felt even more familiarity and confidence in the Colosseum than I had in other parts of Rome. And once I visited the Colosseum the weird out-of-bodyish experience I'd been having dissipated because it's as if all the pieces shifted into place. I had a flash of a past life a the Colosseum with Devadutta no less, striding through the hallways as soldiers. I felt such confidence and pleasure -- I obviously used to think going to the Colosseum was great sport.
I met up with Shanti and his friend Jordan outside. We wandered some more, and Shanti being the friendly guy he is, struck up a conversation with a stranger, which happened to be fortuitous because the stranger mentioned we were close by the church that has Michelangelo's Moses with the horns. Amazing no? My goal while in Italy was to see as much of Michelangelo's work as possible, and I did. But after the Moses I started to feel REALLY tired and slightly sick so I took the bus back to my hostel and said goodbye. When I got back and laid down for a bit I felt better and told Shanti I could meet up with him for dinner after all. Instead of fumbling around the streets of Rome, a friend of his (and fellow margii) picked me up from hostel and drove us to a macrobiotic vegetarian restaurant. We ate at 9:30, naturally. Afterward I went on the most terrifying car ride of my life: hairpin turns, passing by cars with inches to spare, no seatbelts. I grabbed onto the handle above my seat to hang on for dear life. But I also have to admit, I kind of liked it. We went up to the highest hill in Rome and looked out below us. You could clearly see all the rings around Rome and the spokes coming off the rings. It reminded me of Twin Peaks in SF. We drove back down and then Viirendra dropped off Jordan (Shanti's friend), Shanti, then me. He got a little lost bringing me back, and I also had the distinct impression it was a bit on purpose to prolong the car ride. We tried to communicate -- him in broken English and me using un poco di Italiano combined with hand gestures. We did the double-cheek kiss and that was it. I rolled in well after midnight.
The next morning I slept in (although not as long as I would have liked) and meandered to the natural grocery store, which as luck would have it, was close to my hostel. "Store" is probably too generous a term. It was more like a shop as it was so small. But it had everything I needed so I grabbed some soy yogurt and devoured it on the bench outside before making my way to St. Peter's. St. Peter's was horribly crowded, even in this, the off season. And I'm pretty sure I saw someone almost get pick-pocketed.
I wanted to make sure I saw the Sistine Chapel so that was my first stop. I walked for what seemed FOREVER through throngs of people, not even pausing to look at the various tapestries, statues, and paintings lining the walls of the Pope's estate in the rooms prior to the Sistine. I finally walked in and was. . .underwhelmed. I'm sad to say I wasn't overcome by the panels of some of Michelangelo's most famous work. They really did look like painted statues and the women were men with boobs. And I had the distinct impression (again) that I'd seen it all before. Nothing seemed new to me or my eyes. I sat on a bench and listened to Rick Steves' audio tour, impressed by how Michelangelo painted that whole damn ceiling by standing up. Can you imagine? He must have had some severe physical issues. I mean seriously. I willed myself to stick around a bit longer, hoping I'd feel something but I didn't, except admiration. I walked out to enter the main part of St. Peter's, not realizing I was exiting and thus would have to wait in a loooong line to get through security. Whoops. It's alright because I sat on the steps under the columns ringing the church and listened to Rick Steves explain to me how this is the largest church in the world. I believe it. The place is crazy big. And ostentatious. I let Rick talk me through the whole place, explaining the significance of the altar and the dome before we ended the tour with Michelangelo's Pieta. This one did move me. The grief in Mary's eyes. Holding her dead son in her arms, it was heart-wrenching. It didn't seem "new" to me, but with this one anyway I felt something. Not as strongly as the Madonna and Child I saw years ago in Bruges, but still, something. That man was a genius. Seriously.
I walked back to my hostel, contemplating the experience I had, before lying down to read "The Hunger Games" and meditate before heading out again. I got SUPER lost getting to the Pantheon, but that's ok because if I'd gotten there earlier it would have been too early, considering the restaurant I chose for that evening didn't open until 8 and the Pantheon closed at 7:30. There's only so much you can see in a one-room sphere. As it was, I stayed at the Pantheon for about 45 minutes because I meditated on one of the pews. And then I took my tired self to the restaurant where I ate alone. It turns out they were spiritual folks and said something about Krishna, to which I replied, "My name is Radha." They LOVED hearing that and seemed, honored? I was there. The owner asked for my e-mail address because his wife wrote a book and could use some help with it. And then I came home. Last night in Rome. Packed up my stuff and set my alarm for 5:00 a.m.
Oh lord. The next morning I didn't wake up until 6:10. Ten minutes AFTER my cab had arrived, and only then because the front desk pounded on my door. I raced out a bed, threw a comb through my hair, brushed my teeth and was out the door in 15 minutes. Again, half an hour AFTER I was supposed to have left for the airport. I ate my yogurt in the cab and freaked out that I'd be late. The cabbie dropped me off at the wrong terminal (and for that I was grateful I didn't tip him) and I finally came to the right place. Turns out I mixed up the time and my flight was 15 minutes after I'd anticipated. Ha! So of course I had time to spare and made my flight no problem. And then on my connection from Newark to SF the airline desk attendant asked if anyone would give up their seat near the front of the aircraft for an entire row to themselves in the back. Um. Yes. So I again had a row all to myself while I devoured "The Hunger Games." I took a cab home with pretty much no line to speak of and that was it! Food waiting for me in the fridge. Trip over. It was, however, the longest day of my life because I didn't sleep much on the plane.
I think I'm so keen on seeing the Hunger Games movie because I associate it with my trip and all the joy I felt. Like somehow watching the movie I'll be able to recapture a bit of the experience, because, it really was one of the sweetest experiences of my life thus far.