Droevig, ich bin ein Australien. Je ne parle pas Italiano.
This time tomorrow, I'll be heading towards a place where I can use English, 100% guilt free. Europe will be a wonderful, fading memory... unless, of course, some supernatural power senses that I'm about to board some mode of long-distant transport and comes up with a novel way to delay my flight. Don't laugh, I'm not saying this without a precedent!*
Whenever I do get to New York, not having to expend a significant amount of mental energy trying to cope with a foreign language will make for a nice change. Rome was full-on enough without the language barrier. When I got around the city by foot, virtually every road crossing meant walking in front of a moving vehicle and hoping that it'd slow down. When I made my way around using the metro, the packed carriages usually had at least a few shady looking kids, a few buskers that sent pitiable looking children around to collect their earnings, and at least one announcement warning you about pick-pockets. However, the main tourist sights were fairly easy to find. If they weren't marked with tourists elbowing towards the best locations for photo-ops, there were plenty of locals out to get your money. Persistently turning down the pleads of beggars doesn't make you feel great.
Against this bustle of activity is a city so grand, and so rich in history, that it becomes almost impossible to take in. One moment you're trying to appreciate the significance of the ruins in front of you, still standing after thousands of years, and then you see a Michelangelo. It's awe inspiring to see what people with a vision can do. Marble palaces cast shadows over the sculpted masterpieces that dot the city.
Fortunately, even this place allows you to be sane. After stepping out of a basilica that Michelangelo had initially designed, after seeing the sculptures and paintings inside, lost in the seemingly god-like genius of the artists, I saw one of the prettiest sights in Rome. I'd made my way into the ruins of the largest baths in ancient times, a dying reminder of a lost culture, crumbling. Above this decay, above the honking cars and the smoking men in leather jackets, there were thousands upon thousands of birds. They flew together, morphed into ink-blots in the sky, and dissipated. They danced like this until the sun went down, I wasn't going to see them again.
*I've had three memorable flights so far...
Sydney to Tokyo: ended up in Osaka because of something that was desribed as a "cyclone" by crew on board the plane. Sounded strange to me as it was winter in Japan. Made it to Tokyo about 3 hours later than expected. Trains also not running because of the wind.
Tokyo to London: flight delayed for about 4 hours for reasons unknown to me. Made for an interesting walk to my hostel in London, late on a Saturday night.
London to Paris: flight oversold and I was forced onto the next one (with 90 euros as compensation). That flight was also oversold, and was offered more more money to take the next one after that. Didn't want to hold up my uncle any longer (who was meant to be waiting for me), so didn't take the cash. Flight was delayed 3 hours anyway, because of luggage problems. Got to Paris around four hours late. Uncle had to skip work without knowing what was going on, not very cheery when he greeted me. Gave him most of the compensation.
My travel plans have also been affected by some sort of once every hundred years or so type of storm in Sweden (3 hour delay due to having to take a bus), a train strike in Italy (mentioned previously in this blog, 1 day delay), and who knows what the problem was coming back to Paris from Rome (a 19 hour train ride, of which 5 hours consisted of lying down not knowing why the train wasn't moving).
Is this normal, or have I been blessed?
Whenever I do get to New York, not having to expend a significant amount of mental energy trying to cope with a foreign language will make for a nice change. Rome was full-on enough without the language barrier. When I got around the city by foot, virtually every road crossing meant walking in front of a moving vehicle and hoping that it'd slow down. When I made my way around using the metro, the packed carriages usually had at least a few shady looking kids, a few buskers that sent pitiable looking children around to collect their earnings, and at least one announcement warning you about pick-pockets. However, the main tourist sights were fairly easy to find. If they weren't marked with tourists elbowing towards the best locations for photo-ops, there were plenty of locals out to get your money. Persistently turning down the pleads of beggars doesn't make you feel great.
Against this bustle of activity is a city so grand, and so rich in history, that it becomes almost impossible to take in. One moment you're trying to appreciate the significance of the ruins in front of you, still standing after thousands of years, and then you see a Michelangelo. It's awe inspiring to see what people with a vision can do. Marble palaces cast shadows over the sculpted masterpieces that dot the city.
Fortunately, even this place allows you to be sane. After stepping out of a basilica that Michelangelo had initially designed, after seeing the sculptures and paintings inside, lost in the seemingly god-like genius of the artists, I saw one of the prettiest sights in Rome. I'd made my way into the ruins of the largest baths in ancient times, a dying reminder of a lost culture, crumbling. Above this decay, above the honking cars and the smoking men in leather jackets, there were thousands upon thousands of birds. They flew together, morphed into ink-blots in the sky, and dissipated. They danced like this until the sun went down, I wasn't going to see them again.
*I've had three memorable flights so far...
Sydney to Tokyo: ended up in Osaka because of something that was desribed as a "cyclone" by crew on board the plane. Sounded strange to me as it was winter in Japan. Made it to Tokyo about 3 hours later than expected. Trains also not running because of the wind.
Tokyo to London: flight delayed for about 4 hours for reasons unknown to me. Made for an interesting walk to my hostel in London, late on a Saturday night.
London to Paris: flight oversold and I was forced onto the next one (with 90 euros as compensation). That flight was also oversold, and was offered more more money to take the next one after that. Didn't want to hold up my uncle any longer (who was meant to be waiting for me), so didn't take the cash. Flight was delayed 3 hours anyway, because of luggage problems. Got to Paris around four hours late. Uncle had to skip work without knowing what was going on, not very cheery when he greeted me. Gave him most of the compensation.
My travel plans have also been affected by some sort of once every hundred years or so type of storm in Sweden (3 hour delay due to having to take a bus), a train strike in Italy (mentioned previously in this blog, 1 day delay), and who knows what the problem was coming back to Paris from Rome (a 19 hour train ride, of which 5 hours consisted of lying down not knowing why the train wasn't moving).
Is this normal, or have I been blessed?
posted by Gene at 3:43 am
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