Italians appear to love "My Way"

Well, maybe they don't love it... maybe they thought tourists loved it... All I know is: this song was played EVERYWHERE in Rome. Walking down the street, sitting in a cafe, walking through a public square... It was "My Way" all day long.

I thought we already talked about trains…?

Yes, here’s more about the trains. (snore)

To summarize, the trains are much different than buses and airplanes. On commuter trains, you typically need to sit facing someone or stand facing a bunch of people. It’s great for people watching. There are traveling gypsy-like folks who bring their accordions or other musical instruments on the train, play their instrument, and then bring a cup around for you to drop Euro coins into. Also, there are children on the trains who drop off photocopies of a story of their family’s plight on an empty seat next to you. 2-3 minutes later, they come back to collect the photocopy and ask you for coins. Steve read that the unemployment rate in the suburbs of France is on the order of 40%, and we definitely saw a good deal of poverty while we traveled.

40% unemployment, in case you’re unaware, is completely insane.

On the trains, you will also see what appears to be every race possible, and you’ll probably hear five different languages at once; likely more. On one train, I counted: French, English, Italian, German, Spanish, something Asian (because I’m ignorant of the differences between Eastern languages), and Arabic. You’ll also see all classes of citizens, top to bottom. If you’re getting the idea that my experience in Europe consisted mostly of people watching, you’d be correct.

Please don’t steal my money, jerk-head!

NICE, FRANCE – Steve, Carrie & Eric approach a cash machine to make withdrawals. They take the westernmost of three cash machines. Some dude has been camped out at the east cash machine for the entire time it takes for the three Euro-pals to withdraw their money. Pretty friggin’ suspicious, if you ask them.

There are two other guys about 20 feet to his left who are obviously looking to pounce on unsuspecting tourists who’ve just received wads of Euro bills from the ATM. They’re in their very early 20s. Eric sizes them up to estimate exactly how much whoop ass he’s going to have to bring to these guys if they make a move. The three tourists get their money and walk away without incident. Steve and Eric discuss a plan for beating the tar out of people who try to rob them, and agree that ‘it’s gonna be ohhhhhnnnnn!’ if anyone decides to mess with the Euro-pals.

“You’re traveling with two grown men,” Chris Schomig informed her daughter. “They’ll keep you safe if you make sure to stay near them the entire time!”

Chris was not wrong! Carrie was traveling with two of the most Adonis-like grown men the world has ever known. Women flock from every continent in hopes of catching even a momentary glance at the duo, who call each other Ace & Gary for fun.

“What can I say about Steve?” asks Carrie. “He’s the best boyfriend ever, and he’s independently wealthy. He just has a job because he feels sorry for society. And Eric... well, I think it’s clear that he’s the tallest 5’9” and three-quarters guy I’ve ever met. No surprise there. He’s independently wealthy as well, but drives a station wagon to keep a low profile. I am SO LUCKY to have traveled with these two grown men.”

And back to reality… Fortunately, our trip was without incident with regard to robbery and ass-whoopin’, but I credit that mostly to money belts, luck, and the fact that we were careful to look out for each other. We definitely had each others’ backs! One other critical factor was some excellent advice we got from our jolly Hotel Medieval manager, Mike, in Avignon. He told us that pick-pocketers were all over the place, and, consequently, we should follow three rules at the cash machine:

1. cover your ATM card from the moment it leaves your money belt to the moment it enters the card reader

2. cover the PIN pad when you enter your PIN

3. get your money into your money belt asap, and worry about arranging it later, when you’re away from the ATM and in more private surroundings

Bring more socks & underwear next time, Blockhead.

Lesson learned. I did laundry five times on the trip, and I can tell you: when you’re immersed in two of the most interesting places you’ve ever been, you want to minimize your damn laundry time. Socks and underwear aren’t huge items to pack, so if you’re going to skimp on packing, skimp on something else.

Rest...aurant or Rest...room?

We were on five planes for this trip:

Denver to Dallas

Dallas to Paris

Rome to Chicago

Chicago to Chicago

Chicago to Denver

WHY, you may ask, did we take a plane from Chicago to Chicago? Well, we didn’t actually FLY from Chicago to Chicago, but we did have to deplane, after sitting on the tarmac for a while, and board a different plane because of an air-conditioner problem.

Denver to Dallas was fine – it was just like any other domestic flight I’ve taken.

Dallas to Paris seemed like the longest, most tedious activity I’ve ever endured (not counting my marriage – hey! I'll be here all week!). The flight was 9.5 hours or so, and just when I thought we were there, the screen flashed an update that we were HALFWAY there. Good lord. So of course, I started singing Bon Jovi’s “Livin’ on a Prayer” song to myself because there’s no other song I can think of that uses the phrase, “Whoa! We’re halfway there!” What a terrible song. Well, I suppose I could have referenced Kenny Loggins’ “Meet Me Halfway”, but that’s even worse than Jon Bon.

Rome to Chicago seemed years shorter than D to P… not sure why. There was a dude next to me whose mission, apparently, was to get all f’d up on high-quality plane liquor. Every time the flight attendant offered a drink, his response was, “I need some booze!” He farted the whole ride home.

Chicago to Denver was memorable because:

1. the first half of the flight featured the most lightning I’ve ever seen
2. the second half of the flight featured me passing out from sheer exhaustion, which was undeniably facilitated by my consumption of a small portion of the World’s Worst Food at the airport Chili’s. I will never go to Chili’s again, mostly because their food reminds me of a giant toilet.

Steve and Ca-hair-ie

The first funny thing about France was the fact that Carrie thought she was having a bad hair day because her straightening iron wouldn’t work with the converter plugs she brought. She kept talking about her hair looking silly until we made enough fun of it NOT looking silly that she was forced to agree that she still looked good.

Carrie's bad hair day is 50x better than my best hair day. End o' story! :)

Go to the damn grocery store!

Next time I go to Europe, I will be eating out WAY less than we did for this trip. We all agreed that the bulk of our spending and budget-breaking was due to food and wine, but mostly food. We broke the bank on restaurants – and they were all worth it, save one or two places, but I don’t exactly have unlimited funds yet… Sooooooo… next time, I’ll be cutting back and eating in more.

There was one night we went to the grocery store and ate a great meal in our common area in the hotel we stayed at in Rome. We bought different cured meats, cheeses, tomatoes, pesto, olives, bread, wine… and I’m sure I’m forgetting something. Anyhoo… the difference between that dinner and eating out was in the neighborhood of:

Eating in: €10/each

Eating out (average): €25-30/each

You can see how eating out adds up in Europe the same way it does in America. I know this because I’m friggin’ stellar at math. That’s why I’m an engineer. Oh wait.

France – Land of Museums... NOT Land of Daily Bathing.

Have you ever seen a museum? I’ve seen like 80 billion of them. Here are several things to know about museums in France:

1. If you only see one museum in France, see the Musee D’Orsay. It’s a converted train station, and the architecture is awesome. Also note that there are many hot, nerdy chicks here.
2. The Louvre is HUGE, and you need a week to see the whole thing, so don’t bother going unless you live in France and have an extra week burning a hole in your schedule. Or if you happen to love museums.
   
3. The glass pyramid entrance to the Louvre is 900 degrees Fahrenheit, so don’t forget that you may die if you stand in it for too long.
4. Most of the museums in France are non-well-ventilated, so B.Ware of B.O. Keep in mind that the hotter the month, the greater the B.O.
5. I like cafes/wine better than I like museums.

France: le graffiti

One thing about France: if you travel by train, you will see a butt-load of graffiti. It's simply everywhere. Apparently, it started getting rampant in the late 70s/early 80s, and frankly I'm surprised there's any space left to paint given that time frame... but I suppose everything gets painted over at some point. It was in every city we visited, and France had graffiti in much greater supply than Italy, but Italy still had its share.

Side note: when we visited the Hall of Mirrors in Versailles, I noticed that some jack-wad named "Rene" had carved his name into one of the mirrors. Good work, dude. We're all REALLY impressed.

dinner on a boat... on the Seine

Although it was pricey, I'd recommend this dinner cruise to anyone who isn't in love with outstanding value. Yes, it was expensive, and yes I've had better meals, but this cruise was all about the experience. Can't knock the French for trying. We did have some excellent foie gras as an appetizer. I also tried frog legs for the first time, and they were great. The port I had as an appetizer kind of did me in, but not before we enjoyed several courses of deliciousness while heading first east, then west on the Seine, ending up near where the boat launched - greeted by a fully lit-up Eiffel Tower.

celebrate Versailles... at a Mexican bar

While Steve and I were crying about how hot it was, Carrie was traveling the gardens you see here. While we were sitting around in the middle of the afternoon on Mother's Day sipping wine at a place more famous for its burritos, Carrie was culturing it up. Yep. We know how to take it all in...

standing on a curb with a crepe in my hand, staring at the... Parisians? Staring at the... land?

When we finally got to Paris, I was STARVING. Not like 'Uganda' starving, but I was definitely hungry. Steve and I inhaled jambon du fromage crepes, and Carrie had the Nutella and banana, just like she saw on some travel show. Maybe she'll comment here and set me straight on the name of the show. Anyway, we talked to the guy who was on TV, and he made our crepes. Super nice guy. He kept calling out "BONJOUR! BONJOUR!" to passers-by. I loved Paris right then.

how this works...

You, reader, have received just about all the chronology you're going to get. My memory sucks, and as a result, you'll be treated to something resembling a stream-of-consciousness account of the trip. If you have an issue with that, please take it up with my secretary, Mona (pictured). If you're looking for order, please take a trip to Steve's blog, which he diligently maintained via Blackberry while we were abroad.

trains

France is all about trains. The first one we took was from Charles de Gaulle to Paris. I have limited train experience; I think I'd been on two prior to France, and I believe one of those was at an amusement park. I like trains, and I wish the US had the same train travel/deals we found in France and Italy. It takes something like 15 hours just to get from Denver to Salt Lake City. No thanks. Not that I'm dying to go to SLC...

This was our train.* It took us 4 billion hours to get from the airport to our hotel, and the conductor made me wear a clown suit. It was weird.

*This wasn't our train.

sleepy

After going to bed at 3 a.m. (smart), I climbed into Steve's car Friday morning around 9:15, May 9. We had a bit of a scare on the way to the airport because our bus was late, but it finally showed up, and we were on our way.

We made it from Denver to Dallas all right, but we weren't sure our luggage had. When we arrived in Paris, we were happy to see our bags were with us all the way.

I ended up sitting behind Steve and Carrie for the 9-hour flight, and every time I talked to them, I felt like a kid sitting in the back seat trying to inject himself into the grown-ups' conversation. Consequently, I found it suitable to call Steve 'Uncle Steve' for the majority of the trip.

Flying, I love seeing the tops of the clouds from my window seat. I like remembering that I'm in a small percentage of all the humans - or earth inhabitants in general - who've witnessed the view from 35,000 feet. It is -63 degrees Fahrenheit.

Look out, Europe!

Hello, Europe. You may remember me from May 9-25 when I visited two of your countries, France and Italy.

Europe, you sure have a lot of museums. You also have a fair amount of cheese, of which I definitely helped consume a great deal. You have many leather-bound books, and your apartments smell of rich mahogany.

Europe, I like you.

This is the story of my trek across part of you with my two traveling pals, Steve & Carrie.

And the story begins...