Adventures Overseas 15/16

These sixteen updates will be the condensed and often more erratic version of my adventures overseas, comprised of the updates that I sent home to my family at the time.

Author's Disclaimer: The following were written when I traveled overseas with my sister. They were the short and sweet version of what was going on in my daily journal. Often, I watered things down so that our parents wouldn't know how scared we really were or how bad a hostel really was. We didn't want to scare them. Also, I wrote these updates on my iPod, and in the interest of authenticity, I haven't edited or changed the formatting much. This may be less to do with authenticity and more to do with all those darn buttons I'd have to press if I edited it all. Anyway, there are plenty of little typos to go around I'm sure. I'm sorry. They bug me, too.

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Update 15: November 30, 2018 – FRIDAY

The first couple days of this week passed really fast. Now, the last few have been a little slower as we get closer and closer to finally coming home!!

This Saturday is where I left you, which was our second day in Rome.

Our plan for that day was to check out the Colosseum in the morning and fly by the seats of our pants from there.

Since Sister got her free bracelet, we have been getting better at shutting down buskers. We feel okay about walking away from the conversation, even if they’re still talking. I’m not sure if it’s us getting street-smart, or just us getting sick of people.

The two may not be mutually exclusive.

Anyway, we kind of weaved our way this way and that through the city, checking out the sites. We have a little tourist map of the center of Rome that points us towards various things, from war memorials to ruins.

We ended up staying for a while in the Medici Gardens, as there was a nice lookout there and we had some time to kill before we went to Mass.

when we first got up there and stood on the terrace that overlooks the city, there were quite a few tourists, and a man ‘giving’ away roses. I don’t know if you know the rose ploy, but it’s a simple one. The guy smiles a simpery smile, hands a lady a rose for free because she is so beautiful (obviously we are major targets, as you’ll see), then doesn’t actually leave you alone until you pay him for the rose.

We generally can avoid these guys (despite our beauty) because they go more for the couples, probably succeeding in making the man feel unchivalrous if he doesn’t buy his lady a rose.

Anyway, they aren’t all as pushy as this guy was. He was unreal.

I was trying to use my iPod to take a picture of the spectacular view when a rose comes under my nose, attached to an East Indian man. I glanced over and there he was, a short, slight man, smiling his simpery smile. I looked away quickly; I didn’t want to encourage him with eye contact, even though he was standing so close to me that eye contact was contact of the least concern.

“No, thank you,” I said, because I’m exceedingly polite. I turned back to my iPod, but I couldn’t really return to my task as the rose was still there. Still attached to the little man.

I don’t know if these salesmen speak much English, because the umbrella sellers, poncho peddlers, and rose pushers all do the same thing to sell their wares: they just repeat the name of the thing they have.

“Umbrella, umbrella, umbrellaaaaas!!!!”

“Poncho, poncho, ponchooooos!!!!”

The rose guys do the same thing, but to fit their simpery smiles, they just ask sweetly, “Rose? A rose? Rose?”

Anyway, this too-close little rose-man was really working the flower angle with his repeated offers of, “Rose? A rose?” So I had to respond again.

I didn’t think the rose would get closer to my face or that the little man would get closer to me, but both of those undesirable events took place when I said “No! Noooo!” And tried to escape both by turning myself away. As I turned, however, the rose followed me around, even more in my face, and the little man’s arm wrapped around me in his attempts to keep the rose in my face. If he was a bigger guy, maybe I would have involved my elbows in the confrontation, but it just didn’t seem a fair fight with this slender figure.

To be fair, that last ‘no’ I gave was a sort of anxious giggle that really did lack assertion, so I can understand his persistence. Luckily, my sister knows that anxious giggle.

She turned to me in my plight, glared at the little man, and said with a firmness that I am not usually able to muster, “No.”

I didn’t think it would work, because I didn’t know how glares translated, or even how the no-nonsense tone of voice translated.

It translated.

The rose instantly vanished, and by the time I turned back around, the little man had gone, too.

Sister is my rock.

On Sunday, we got up really early and took the metro down to the Vatican Museum. On the last Sunday of the month, they have a free entry, though it’s only open from 9-2. We got there at 8:15, and there were still about 200 people in front of us, though we counted ourselves lucky, as the line quickly stretched out behind us. By 9:30, we were in. We went first to the Sistine Chapel and admired the art in there, then we wound our way back through. My favourite things were the marble statues. I’ve said it before, but they are just so lifelike! There are whole rooms and corridors just teeming with them!

As we approached 2pm, the employees started to cut people off from exhibits and herd us out of areas. They have a whole system in place for getting people out of there, which is good, because it’s a real maze.

After that, it was raining pretty hard, so we decided to just go see one more church, then go back to the hostel.

It was 5pm by the time we got back, and our feet were pretty soaked.

Sister finally messaged the hostel guy about our lock, and he came and pried open the metal clip that held it to the door. Dad figures he can get it open, so we’re going to haul the useless thing back home.

On Monday, we planned a beach day! We got to sleep in a bit, then we got going once we saw what a lovely, sunny day it was! It took a bit to get to the beach, as we had to use the metro, a train, and a bus, but we got there! As the bus drove us to this uninhabited area, we got a teensy but nervous, but the beach wiped our qualms away! It was lovely, soft, clean sand, and the water was clear and warm; the waves were quite big and would come crashing up the beach, almost dragging us off our feet. We collected shells, had a picnic on a huge driftwood log, and drew pictures in the sand. It was a glorious day to get away from the city and away from the people!!

Every day is a glorious day to get away from cities and people, though. Which reminds me: 9 more days until we’re home!!!

On Tuesday, we planned to go to St Peter’s Basilica. We got there around 8:30, and there wasn’t much of a line, which was nice. We even managed to sit in on some Adoration, as well as go to confession there! All in all, an excellent way to spend the morning. By the time we left, there was a crazy line up to get in, so we were pretty pleased with ourselves.

We ate lunch in the square, and since we were perched on the edge of a fountain, eating bread and cheese for the umpteenth time, we are probably in the background of a lot of pictures. We’re basically famous.

After that, we decided to check out some more famous sites that we hadn’t been to yet, then end off with a coffee at the oldest cafe in Rome before we went to an English Mass that we’d discovered.

Our plan went awry at the café.

We found a table to sit at, then Jaimie waited around for a menu while I used the toilet. It looked like a pretty posh place, so I was surprised to see that the WC was just 3 stalls and 3 sinks; no men’s and women’s, just a free for all. Also, you had to put some money in the little “offerta” plate at the entry.

Usually a fancier-looking place like that would have a free WC, but I didn’t care that much, so I paid up and went back to our table. When I got there, Sister greeted me with, “We got a problem.”

She showed me the menu.

An espresso is usually the cheapest thing at a cafe. You can get one from an espresso dispenser machine for 0.70€, or at a cafe bar for 1-2€. The espressos on this menu were still the cheapest, but they were a whopping 7€.

I scanned the menu for some evidence of the espressos being infused with gold leaf or perhaps being bottomless espressos (both were not healthy options, but would have at least explained the price).

Nope. One could only expect a 7€ tablespoon of strong, black sludge served in a tiny cup.

Now, I knew it would be more expensive, and I knew that taking a table would incur a service charge, as is normal for restaurants here. But service charges are generally 1-2€ charges tacked on to the total. NOT A 7€ TINY CUP OF ESPRESSO!

We were just concluding that we would have to bite the bullet and maybe split a cake (the glazed maronis were only 3€, but we thought it would look really odd to split a single nut), then I mentioned that it was ridiculous that they expected people to pay for the WC in addition to those prices.

Sister looked at me, appearing to be personally offended by this.

“What? You had to pay??” She folded up the menu and looked around for the guard of this gilded prison, the waiter.

“In that case, I don’t feel bad about leaving. Come on; let’s go.”

And, so we left.

At the church that evening, we picked up tickets for the Wednesday audience; they’re free, but you still need to book tickets, though it’s really easy to do so.

On Wednesday morning, we got up really early, dressed really warm, packed up coffee and breakfast as well as a lunch, and headed to the Vatican.

We had seen a whole pile of chairs being set up in the square outside the basilica yesterday, so we assumed that the audience was held outside. Nope. It’s indoors, so we almost died from the heat.

Just kidding, it wasn’t that bad, but we were peeling off layers.

The audience was pretty neat, but most of the people gathered were groups who were on pilgrimage and who’s trips were all building up to this point. We booked our tickets for it the previous day.

Needless to say, we were not as energetic as most of the room. We were about on the same level as he old Italian man beside us. When everyone was standing on their seats trying to get a look at the pope, he waved his hands in annoyance and got past the language barrier very clearly with a look that said, “If everyone would be more considerate, we could all see what’s going on a lot better.”

We agreed, and decided to silently protest by sitting down, drinking coffee from our canteens, and eating croissants.

Eventually, the sheep sat down and we could all see again.

The program ran really simply: various cardinals got up and gave a reading in their language, then extending greetings to some of the groups that were on pilgrimage. Then, Pope Francis gave a sermon.

Then the cardinals got up again and gave a brief summary of the sermon as well as extending greetings and blessings on behalf of the Holy Father. He extended blessings to the families of all those attending, so you’re welcome, fam.

As the English cardinal was giving greetings to a specific group, that group got up and stopped him from continuing by starting to sing the Creed. Unfortunately, they picked one of the longest prayers and sang it at the pace of a funeral dirge, so there was little anyone could do but awkwardly wait for it to end. I felt bad for the English cardinal.

They weren’t halfway through when they were railroaded themselves, though. A little boy had gone up onto the stage and started goofing around. He wasn’t very interested in the pope at all, but made a beeline for the Swiss Guards, in all their stoic postures and colourful garb. He was grabbing at their spears, pulling at their uniforms, and trying to hold their hands.

The crowd went wild.

The English cardinal gave up on order returning and just rattled off the last few words before sitting down again.

The program wasn’t much longer after that, and was in various other languages, so we just watched the little boy, who was still up on stage.

We figured we’d just wait for people to file out, and sip on coffee until it wasn’t such a hassle to leave. About half the people left, but half of them were still sticking around, standing in chairs again to get a better look at the pope, who was greeting some of the religious groups that came, I think.

We left around 11:30, and decided to go find a park to sit and eat in. We walked for a ways, and eventually came to a lovely, huge, mostly-empty park! We spent the rest of the day in there, either eating, talking, or just wandering around. Again I say, it’s nice to get away from people.

Thursday was our day trip to Tivoli, a little mountain town that is about an hour’s train ride from Rome.

It’s a small mountain town with not a lot to do, but we heard of a lovely garden there, Villa Gregoriano, that has lovely waterfalls.

We spent most of the day in there, drawing a little and wandering the paths. There are these little cave halls that go along the cliff face. They are either what remains of some of the villas that were swept away as the gorge was formed, or they are recreations of what would have been there. I’m not sure. They were neat to wander through, though. The waterfalls were indeed lovely. One we could see really well, with great view points, but the bigger one had a view point closed down, so we only saw bits of it.

By the time we got out of there, it was around 4pm, so we walked to a lookout point in the town and watched the sun set from there. We could see other mountain villages nearby and it made it seem like we were on another planet, the way the houses were stacked up and around the the sharp little mountain peaks surrounding. It was really lovely.

We headed home after that and have been looking into our upcoming flights.

I’ve just discovered that we are flying home from Keflavik, not Reykjavik as I had thought.

I almost pooped my pants (pardon my French).

Fortunately, it will be just a matter of taking an airport shuttle from Reykjavik to Keflavik, which isn’t terribly far.

Sister looked it up on google maps and the route said it would take 16 hours to get there. She almost pooped her pants, then, but realized that the map was set for walking. We will not be walking.

Anyway, we’ve also been double checking the baggage allowances. We initially thought we were checking bags for both the flight to Iceland and the flight home, so we were not going to mail anything home. Good thing I checked, or we would have had to forfeit the jars of hazelnut and pistachio paste that we bought.

Over my dead body.

Anyway, we will be doing a mail run, I think.

With the way our trip has been running so smoothly, I think some of you have already been praying for us, but if you could throw in some extra prayers that our flights go smoothly, too, that would be excellent!

This morning, we had to wait around at the hostel because we’re not too sure when the guy thinks we’re supposed to leave. We booked through a website until Friday (today), because that’s all it let us do. When we got here, we gave him the extra money for another night, and we thought that was all good. When we looked at the receipt recently, it says we’re leaving today, which would be a real bummer. Being that the hostel is really dead, I don’t think it’ll be an issue, but this is when the guy says he can meet, so we’re sticking around. It’s good, because it gives me an opportunity to send you my LAST FULL WEEK OFUPDATES!!!

Today, we’ll just be mailing our food and sea shells home, so it’ll be a boring day. That’s okay though, because I have a cold and I can complain about it to Sister much more more comfortably now.

This just in: Post Italia is something I never ever want to experience again.

Our plan was to get a box, then send it through the Vatican Post office. At that post office, we were informed that they did not supply boxes, and only shipped parcels under 2kg. We figured that our parcel was close to that, but not over. We waited an hour at Post Italia for a box, then were told we had taken the wrong subcategory of a number, so we had to go take another number. After another half an hour of waiting, we were told that they did not sell the boxes just as boxes; only as mailing units. So off we went in search of a box.

It was after over an hour of searching that we stooped to a new low. After asking at a number of stores for a box, we found some cardboard outside of a store and muscled it into a box-ish shape, then duct taped that sucker shut (thank goodness Sister's been packing a roll of duct tape this whole trip). When we marched our parcel back to the Vatican Post office, we were turned down: it was 400g too heavy, which we estimated was roughly the weight of the darn box. Dejected, we returned to Post Italia, took yet another number, and waited for another 45 minutes. When we were finally on the cusp of getting this basic task completed, it still took half an hour to explain that we had a box number, that our postal code has letters in it, and that 'Chicken' is my family name, and not the place it’s going. He looked very sideways at the ‘Box 39’ part, still, and insisted we write another address. The only other thing we have is a physical location of the house, so we gave him that. I think it confused him more.

We may never see those rocks and shells again.