Why yes, I do have room for Gelato . . .
Recently I embarked on a European adventure to visit my friends Andrea (Drea) and Robert Mueller. The Muellers recently moved to Switzerland (Robert’s homeland) with their 17-month old baby, Severine. Since I had always planned to see Italy I thought Switzerland would be a delightful addition to the journey. Drea agreed to travel through Italy with me and we took her adorable toddler with us.
Switzerland
We went to downtown Zurich the day after I arrived so that I could walk off the jet lag. The second we got off the bus I was struck with an extreme headache and nausea and decided I must indeed puke before we could press on, and finding a venue was quite the undertaking. (Unbeknownst to some, Europeans have exceedingly large bladders and enormous rectums – hence the minimal need for public restrooms. You can only find them at the train station or, if you're lucky, McDonalds.)
Apart from the vomiting, Zurich was delightful. We strolled down the cobblestone streets in old town, visited the Grossmunster (big church) and gardens along the lake of Zurich. My impression of the Swiss was that they were accommodating and welcoming, but very much into status. Every public venue is kept at the height of cleanliness and each person’s car is pristine, inside and out. Also, there is a very low crime rate simply due to the fact that legal infringements would make a person seem “common.”
I also took a day trip to Lucerne, which is kind of an old fashioned “Cinderella” town. The Jesuit church there was one of the most beautiful I had ever seen, overflowing with sparkling glass and exquisite murals. The inside was gleaming white with lovely pink edging. I eavesdropped on one of the tours (too cheap to pay for my own) and overheard the tour guide say, “the architects believed the church represented the image of God and therefore could not possibly be beautiful enough” so they spared no expense in building it.
I was guided by Rick Steves’ Switzerland book for my walking tour through the city. It was fascinating to see and read about bridges (or anything) built before the 12th century. One of the bridges was full of old paintings, each of which contained a skeleton to remind the (then plague-infested) residents that death is ever-looming in a person’s future. It’s inescapable. (Enjoy Lucerne, everybody!) Also, the city is a technical marvel with water actually flowing OUT of the lake and powering one of the oldest hydroelectric facilities in the world. (The fact I was actually interested in this was proof positive that I spent way too much time working for that engineering firm.)
In addition to Lucerne, I also visited a town called Schaffhausen, where Robert’s ancestors were from. As we were pushing Severine in her stroller, Drea explained that her full name was actually “Severine Elisabeth Mueller Von Shaffhausen” because the Swiss often tacked their place of origin onto their names. I looked down at the adorable baby, who was cuddling her stuffed animal and napping away peacefully, and I secretly prayed that she would never be forced to use her vampire name.
A large portion of our time was spent in Ticino, the Italian part of Switzerland. Robert’s parents have a house in Cademario, near Lugano, which we used as our home base before entering fully into our tour of Italy. It was so beautiful, with a rolling countryside full of vineyards and small farms, little churches and houses tucked away in the hills, and tiny one-table restaurants bursting with wine and pasta.
On our drive in we got somewhat lost trying to find the house and stopped at a hair salon to ask for directions. The completely gorgeous hairdresser only spoke Italian but he immediately elicited help from a stranger passing by. The pudgy woman, who had just finished her shopping, stared intently at our map while an incomprehensible dialogue ensued. At that point a little old man walked up, then another lady, then a local shopkeeper, and eventually all of them were arguing in Italian and grabbing our map out of each other’s hands. Finally, one of the little old ladies tossed up her hands and somehow explained to Drea that we should follow her in her car. She parked just in front of the street we needed to turn on, waved, and blew a kiss at me as we drove by.
Italy
Though Ticino was kind of a pre-cursor, the people there were still Swiss and it wasn’t until Como that I was able to form my first impressions of Italian culture. We traveled mostly by train and therefore were able to have muddled (mostly sign language) conversations with many of the locals. Severine made an impression right away. While the Swiss are what Drea calls “kinder-friendly,” the Italians go completely berserk over babies. Practically every Italian woman who saw her would scream out, “Bellisima! La Bambina!” and throw their hands up in the air. Then they would pour out a rapid succession of Italian adorations, squish her cheeks, hug her, let her empty their purses, put her on their laps and (especially if we were in restaurants) feed her. Also, if ever she was screaming or upset, some Italian man would stop in front of her stroller and flirt with her until she smiled.
I loved it when people talked to Severine because they spoke slow and repeated themselves often so I was able to pick up a little Italian. (Granted, baby talk will only get you so far in a foreign country.) Actually, I’m sure I sounded much like a toddler anyway by the way I spoke only in nouns and pointed emphatically at everything I wanted. Anyway, Como was beautiful but the lake was a bit stinky. We dealt with the stink by eating Gelato, which we proceeded to eat at least once a day every single day of the trip. Spooning our ice cream, we observed the local culture and found it to be much like a high school: full of people hugging, kissing, holding hands, fighting at random, and just generally calling attention to themselves. The Italians were definitely my kind of people.
After our day trip in Como we left the Cademario house and moved on to La Spezia, off the western coast of Italy. We wanted to visit the Cinque Terra and chose to spend the night in La Spezia because it was too expensive to stay in any of the little beachside towns. It was a bit traumatic trying to find our hostel (which was located somewhere in the hills of the village of the lost) and there was a brief incident during which the bus driver yelled at me. We were often yelled at by bus drivers in La Spezia and we never knew exactly what they were saying. Sometimes they wanted us to fold up the stroller. Sometimes they wanted us to get off because it was the last stop. They just kept yelling and we kept trying things – standing up, sitting down, changing seats – until we finally stumbled upon what they wanted.
Our hostel was run by a family of eight children. The mother only had three teeth and the father donned a smeared white t-shirt and had patchy hair and bags under his eyes. There was also a somewhat questionable, limping wiener dog named “Tobia” on the premises who had dusty, tick-infested fur. Understandably, the baby insisted on petting him. But they were kind people who (again) went berserk over Severine and gave her all kinds of presents and never charged us for her breakfast. We enjoyed our visit to the Cinque Terra – had an awesome meal (as was every meal in Italy) and bummed around the beach. We were forced to go back to La Spezia on the ferry because there was a minor train strike, so finding our way back to the hostel was, again, a big adventure.
Florence was our next stop and I was somewhat disappointed because it was completely overrun with tourists. This made it difficult to find lodgings and we couldn’t get into any of the famous exhibits. That evening I went for a walk by myself and saw the Ponte Vecchio (famous bridge), Duomo, and some other sites. Many tourists asked for my help. They were impressed by my firm grasp of the English language but a bit perturbed by my inability to help them with directions. The next morning was much better. The city was all abustle with stores opening and fresh fruits being delivered. We also saw a wonderful outdoor statue gallery.
Our next stop was Venice, which was one of my favorite places. I’m sorry if you haven’t been there yourself, because it’s impossible for me to capture the complete romance of a city floating on the water. I took an evening walk and listened to jazz music gently flow from an out-of-the way bistro, while smells of wine and pasta sauces wafted in front of my nose. Somewhere there was an accordion, a guitar, a man singing opera. Water slapped against the sidewalk as people drank wine on outdoor patios. Shops glowing. Tinkling glass. A man with a bouquet of red roses slung over his shoulder. The whole city is full of romance, but it’s not the kind of romance that makes you feel lonely when you’re by yourself. It’s like the whole city is in love with you.
We left Venice for Verona, where I took an excessive amount of pictures that I can use to geek-out my students during our Romeo and Juliet unit. Then I took a day trip to Milan where I visited the Duomo (the third largest church in the world), La Scala (the world famous opera house), and the fashion district. Undoubtedly, Milan was where I saw some of the most handsome men in my life. In fact, everyone in Milan seemed very fashionable and full of charisma.
And that was the extent of my journey. I'm still sorting through over 200 photos but eventually I will have a DVD full of pictures, and all those within a 30 mile radius will be forced to view them. I cannot fully put this experience into words. Just know that this blog entry, overflowing with text, is just a scratch on the surface of what I saw and how it impacted me. I am forever grateful to the Muellers and their amazing traveling baby for being my hospitable guides this summer. Also, just as I was after my trip to Ireland, I am increasingly infected with the travel bug. Watch out, world: you’re about to be branded with my footprints.
Switzerland
We went to downtown Zurich the day after I arrived so that I could walk off the jet lag. The second we got off the bus I was struck with an extreme headache and nausea and decided I must indeed puke before we could press on, and finding a venue was quite the undertaking. (Unbeknownst to some, Europeans have exceedingly large bladders and enormous rectums – hence the minimal need for public restrooms. You can only find them at the train station or, if you're lucky, McDonalds.)
Apart from the vomiting, Zurich was delightful. We strolled down the cobblestone streets in old town, visited the Grossmunster (big church) and gardens along the lake of Zurich. My impression of the Swiss was that they were accommodating and welcoming, but very much into status. Every public venue is kept at the height of cleanliness and each person’s car is pristine, inside and out. Also, there is a very low crime rate simply due to the fact that legal infringements would make a person seem “common.”
I also took a day trip to Lucerne, which is kind of an old fashioned “Cinderella” town. The Jesuit church there was one of the most beautiful I had ever seen, overflowing with sparkling glass and exquisite murals. The inside was gleaming white with lovely pink edging. I eavesdropped on one of the tours (too cheap to pay for my own) and overheard the tour guide say, “the architects believed the church represented the image of God and therefore could not possibly be beautiful enough” so they spared no expense in building it.
I was guided by Rick Steves’ Switzerland book for my walking tour through the city. It was fascinating to see and read about bridges (or anything) built before the 12th century. One of the bridges was full of old paintings, each of which contained a skeleton to remind the (then plague-infested) residents that death is ever-looming in a person’s future. It’s inescapable. (Enjoy Lucerne, everybody!) Also, the city is a technical marvel with water actually flowing OUT of the lake and powering one of the oldest hydroelectric facilities in the world. (The fact I was actually interested in this was proof positive that I spent way too much time working for that engineering firm.)
In addition to Lucerne, I also visited a town called Schaffhausen, where Robert’s ancestors were from. As we were pushing Severine in her stroller, Drea explained that her full name was actually “Severine Elisabeth Mueller Von Shaffhausen” because the Swiss often tacked their place of origin onto their names. I looked down at the adorable baby, who was cuddling her stuffed animal and napping away peacefully, and I secretly prayed that she would never be forced to use her vampire name.
A large portion of our time was spent in Ticino, the Italian part of Switzerland. Robert’s parents have a house in Cademario, near Lugano, which we used as our home base before entering fully into our tour of Italy. It was so beautiful, with a rolling countryside full of vineyards and small farms, little churches and houses tucked away in the hills, and tiny one-table restaurants bursting with wine and pasta.
On our drive in we got somewhat lost trying to find the house and stopped at a hair salon to ask for directions. The completely gorgeous hairdresser only spoke Italian but he immediately elicited help from a stranger passing by. The pudgy woman, who had just finished her shopping, stared intently at our map while an incomprehensible dialogue ensued. At that point a little old man walked up, then another lady, then a local shopkeeper, and eventually all of them were arguing in Italian and grabbing our map out of each other’s hands. Finally, one of the little old ladies tossed up her hands and somehow explained to Drea that we should follow her in her car. She parked just in front of the street we needed to turn on, waved, and blew a kiss at me as we drove by.
Italy
Though Ticino was kind of a pre-cursor, the people there were still Swiss and it wasn’t until Como that I was able to form my first impressions of Italian culture. We traveled mostly by train and therefore were able to have muddled (mostly sign language) conversations with many of the locals. Severine made an impression right away. While the Swiss are what Drea calls “kinder-friendly,” the Italians go completely berserk over babies. Practically every Italian woman who saw her would scream out, “Bellisima! La Bambina!” and throw their hands up in the air. Then they would pour out a rapid succession of Italian adorations, squish her cheeks, hug her, let her empty their purses, put her on their laps and (especially if we were in restaurants) feed her. Also, if ever she was screaming or upset, some Italian man would stop in front of her stroller and flirt with her until she smiled.
I loved it when people talked to Severine because they spoke slow and repeated themselves often so I was able to pick up a little Italian. (Granted, baby talk will only get you so far in a foreign country.) Actually, I’m sure I sounded much like a toddler anyway by the way I spoke only in nouns and pointed emphatically at everything I wanted. Anyway, Como was beautiful but the lake was a bit stinky. We dealt with the stink by eating Gelato, which we proceeded to eat at least once a day every single day of the trip. Spooning our ice cream, we observed the local culture and found it to be much like a high school: full of people hugging, kissing, holding hands, fighting at random, and just generally calling attention to themselves. The Italians were definitely my kind of people.
After our day trip in Como we left the Cademario house and moved on to La Spezia, off the western coast of Italy. We wanted to visit the Cinque Terra and chose to spend the night in La Spezia because it was too expensive to stay in any of the little beachside towns. It was a bit traumatic trying to find our hostel (which was located somewhere in the hills of the village of the lost) and there was a brief incident during which the bus driver yelled at me. We were often yelled at by bus drivers in La Spezia and we never knew exactly what they were saying. Sometimes they wanted us to fold up the stroller. Sometimes they wanted us to get off because it was the last stop. They just kept yelling and we kept trying things – standing up, sitting down, changing seats – until we finally stumbled upon what they wanted.
Our hostel was run by a family of eight children. The mother only had three teeth and the father donned a smeared white t-shirt and had patchy hair and bags under his eyes. There was also a somewhat questionable, limping wiener dog named “Tobia” on the premises who had dusty, tick-infested fur. Understandably, the baby insisted on petting him. But they were kind people who (again) went berserk over Severine and gave her all kinds of presents and never charged us for her breakfast. We enjoyed our visit to the Cinque Terra – had an awesome meal (as was every meal in Italy) and bummed around the beach. We were forced to go back to La Spezia on the ferry because there was a minor train strike, so finding our way back to the hostel was, again, a big adventure.
Florence was our next stop and I was somewhat disappointed because it was completely overrun with tourists. This made it difficult to find lodgings and we couldn’t get into any of the famous exhibits. That evening I went for a walk by myself and saw the Ponte Vecchio (famous bridge), Duomo, and some other sites. Many tourists asked for my help. They were impressed by my firm grasp of the English language but a bit perturbed by my inability to help them with directions. The next morning was much better. The city was all abustle with stores opening and fresh fruits being delivered. We also saw a wonderful outdoor statue gallery.
Our next stop was Venice, which was one of my favorite places. I’m sorry if you haven’t been there yourself, because it’s impossible for me to capture the complete romance of a city floating on the water. I took an evening walk and listened to jazz music gently flow from an out-of-the way bistro, while smells of wine and pasta sauces wafted in front of my nose. Somewhere there was an accordion, a guitar, a man singing opera. Water slapped against the sidewalk as people drank wine on outdoor patios. Shops glowing. Tinkling glass. A man with a bouquet of red roses slung over his shoulder. The whole city is full of romance, but it’s not the kind of romance that makes you feel lonely when you’re by yourself. It’s like the whole city is in love with you.
We left Venice for Verona, where I took an excessive amount of pictures that I can use to geek-out my students during our Romeo and Juliet unit. Then I took a day trip to Milan where I visited the Duomo (the third largest church in the world), La Scala (the world famous opera house), and the fashion district. Undoubtedly, Milan was where I saw some of the most handsome men in my life. In fact, everyone in Milan seemed very fashionable and full of charisma.
And that was the extent of my journey. I'm still sorting through over 200 photos but eventually I will have a DVD full of pictures, and all those within a 30 mile radius will be forced to view them. I cannot fully put this experience into words. Just know that this blog entry, overflowing with text, is just a scratch on the surface of what I saw and how it impacted me. I am forever grateful to the Muellers and their amazing traveling baby for being my hospitable guides this summer. Also, just as I was after my trip to Ireland, I am increasingly infected with the travel bug. Watch out, world: you’re about to be branded with my footprints.
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