Rome: Day 3

On Saturday, Julia showed us the church and student community center where she used to live and study. We had a nice picnic (away from the rain), took a nap in the comfy chairs, and played with the Euro version of Lincoln logs. We then explored the staircases of the theology library.
___________________________________________________
We visited the Villa Borghese museum, which was filled with extravagant marble and the famous Bernini sculptures (Appollo e Daphne and David, to name a few).
___________________________________________________
After a wet walk through the park, we took a pause at a café to dry off and have an afternoon cappucino. It amazes me how many waiters rattled on in Italian, expecting me to answer. Thanks to my French, I have an ounce of advantage in uderstanding the language when compared to the 100% anglophone. That is not to say, however, that my spoken Italian isn't just as broken and smattered with sign language as any other non-speaker. It takes quite a bit of effort to even guess at the pronunciation of a word. Oh well, I now know what I need to work on.
___________________________________________________
Saturday night, we dined at a wonderful little restaurant where I ate the best pizza of my life (mozzarella, zucchini blossoms, and anchovies), roquet and tomato salad with olive oil and lemon juice, and tiramisu with strong espresso and the richest mrscapone that has ever touched my palate. Yum is all I can say.
___________________________________________________
Afterwards, we explored la Notte dei Musei (Museum Night), where we saw fluo colums, complete with pink soldiers on horseback and museum lines that stretched down the stairs and wrapped around the block. Because we were thoroughly tired and our shoes had transformed into squishy water vessels, we left the long lines, rejected free, unlimited museum access, and headed to the hostel in pursuit of much needed sleep.

The rain in Spain falls mainly on my head.

And, due to a recent crack in the sole of my right shoe - ironically the only pair I brought for my short trip - the rain soaks through my sock and up to my ankle. There is some sort of character-building lesson to this whole weather-related nuisance, I just don't know what it is. I also enjoy how as I squish my way out of the Metro station and block the slushy snow with my umbrella, there are numerous vendors at the top of the stairs trying to push more umbrellas in my hand in hopes for a few euros in their pockets.
___________________________________________________
All complaints aside, I have to give Madrid credit for what I think is, quite possibly, the most fantastic (and cheap!) cafe con leche ever, beautiful contemporary art exhibits that are largely free for students, and some rather impressive architecture. For example, take the Atocha train station with its plethora of comfy benches, strong rays of natural light, and indoor botanical center filled with chirping birds and algae-covered turtles. Whether it is raining or snowing outside, you can take a 20 minute siesta next to large palm trees and imagine being on a beach somewhere while people rush by with roller suitcases and duffel bags.
___________________________________________________
Now that I have returned to the land of banks and watches, I stare at a $7 bag of potato chips and start to miss cheap food. Also, they took my hot sauce. I was fully prepared for them to confiscate it in the airport, considering it was well over 100mL, but it is still a disappointment. I will have to scour the virtually non-existent Asian stores in Lausanne to find my treasured Sriracha.

Madrid: Tuesday

So, remember my shoe? I tried to close the crack with cement glue, but the second I stepped outside in the smallest puddle of water, I felt a rush of cold to the middle of my right foot. After walking 15 minutes to the light rail station from Linda's apartment, that foot was completely drenched once again. It's no matter, because later, on my way to the Royal Palace, I attempted to step over a small pond that was collecting at the bottom of the stone stairs. I unfortunately did not manage to evade the puddle, and both of my feet were feeling the full effect immediately. As an added bonus, my right foot emitted bubbles like a rabid dog every time I took a step.
___________________________________________________
The first visit on my agenda was the Temple of Debod, an ancient Egyptian ruin site with a reflecting pool and a great view - albeit foggy - of the city of Madrid. There was also a free museum in the largest part of the ruin structure. It showed ancient Egyptian heiroglyphics and dioramas of possible configurations of the structures in Egyptian times. It was interesting to see the story unfold and learn a little about the significance of each of the gods.
___________________________________________________
My quest continued to a church not far from the Debod site. I went down a path through a park, passing the Teleferico and over the train tracks, noting that the entire bridge over the tracks and all of the walls were covered in colorful graffiti. It was amazing to see what people had created over the years, and I'm sure it would not be a recommended place to travel at night. Over the bridge was the Real Ermita de San Antonio de la Florida, a church that contained Goya's religious frescoes as well as his burial ground. Unfortunately, no pictures were allowed, so you will have to imagine his colorful and expressive style on the canvas of the church's ceiling. There was also a video in Spanish about the restoration process, so I briefly sat and watched albeit my lack of understanding.
___________________________________________________
After the visit to the church, I was feeling a little hungry and hoping to find a warm place to sit and eat my packed lunch. I came across Principe Pio, a main Metro and train station, that had a giant mall with endless food court and tables. I sat across from the movie theater entrance, where I saw that there was a movie playing with George Clooney and a llama. I'm still not fully updated on the movies that come out in the US, so it wasn't surprising that I did not recognize the film.
___________________________________________________
I also took a trip to the Royal Palace after lunch and saw the incredibly elaborate rooms where a bunch of kings named Carlos lived. There were porcelain rooms (where porcelain cherubs and vines covered the walls and ceiling) and oriental rooms and dining rooms covered in intricate silk patterns. There was also a room with a Stradavarius collection: two violins, a viola, and two cellos. This was the first time I had seen a Stradivarius, and, although you could tell that they replaced the tailpiece, strings, and pegs to make the instruments look nicer, I have to say that I was pretty impressed. I especially loved the cello, which was unadorned (as seen in the picture of the violin on the "Stradavarius" link, there is an edging along the face of the violin as well as paintings on the sides) and in pristine condition. It is a shame, though, that they are sitting in a box instead of being played.
___________________________________________________
Plaza de Espana was another place that I on my walk around town. I took pictures of the fountain and the large hotel under construction.
___________________________________________________
Linda took me to a couple of Asian grocery stores, where I found Sriracha rooster sauce and very cheap noodles and quinoa.
We then went to a more ethnic neighborhood with various Asian cuisine, and Linda took me to an Indian restaurant - 7 euro for a large pappadum with tamarind and mint yogurt sauces, pureed lentil soup with cilantro and lemon, palak paneer, choapati, wine, and Indian tea. Linda ordered pakoras, a chicken curry dish, and basmati rice. Our entire dinner ended up being 15 euro for what had to be some of the best Indian food I have ever tasted.

Lesson in hospital visits

When I arrived home yesterday evening, I saw Sharon standing in front of her door with a giant bandage on her hand and a look of amused anxiety on her face.
___________________________________________________
"So..."
"Sharon! Is that a bandage? What did you do to your finger?!"
"It hurts a lot. I think I need to go to the hospital."
___________________________________________________
We rushed to put on our coats and left for CHUV, the university hospital in Lausanne. After running into Pasha on our way to Flon, we took the M2 to CHUV, which has the characteristic hacking and baby noises over the intercom to signify the stop. How clever. At any rate, we arrive to the emergency room and stand behind the yellow line until the receptionist is done on the computer. Sharon holds up her hand, and the woman gives us an apologetic look and starts to say something that doesn't sound promising. She calls another woman over, who proceeds to tell us that we have to go to a specialist clinic for hands and feet, called la Clinique de Londeraie.
___________________________________________________
My question is, what happens if you are carrying your dismembered foot around and no longer have the ability to walk? Are they still going to make you go all the way across town to the specialist because the public university hospital cannot treat you? This is another one of those Swiss administration policies that I fail to understand. The receptionist printed out the instructions for us and explained the metro journey and the 15 minute walk from the train station, including which turns to take at which lights, etc. Sharon and I wondered why they turned us away if the hospital was completely empty, and we decided that it was empty because they turned everyone else away as well. We begrudgingly took the trek to the hand and foot clinic, which was on a small, sparsely-lit street. She ended up getting two stitches and was out in about 30 minutes. All in all, it turned out to be an important learning experience. Now we know that it is important to verify the correct hospital for your condition before you show up dying at the counter of the emergency room.

Maison d'Ailleurs, Yverdon-les-Bains

Today, I took the train to Yverdon-les-Bains, a 40 minute ride north of Lausanne gare. This was my first solo excursion -evidently no one in my circle of friends is interested in science fiction, which will have to change. This brings me to the point of my story - the Maison d'Ailleurs, or the "House of Elsewhere." It already sounds cool; I know. You wish that you had gone.

The reason why I went to this rather incredible museum - the only one of its kind in the world - is because the intelligent people of the metro decided to post a publicity of the main exhibit in a few of its trains. Immediately after seeing the words "illustrator of Alice and Wonderland," I knew that my destiny was to go to Yverdon-les-Bains and learn about the history of science fiction and, specifically, to marvel at the works of Mervyn Peake.

Never have I seen an artist with such talent in expression and mastery of the human form. He understood how a small change in the face could create beauty or monstrosity, how a simple line in the mouth could transform a smile into a grimace. I cannot get over how detailed his drawings were: the cross-hatching lines must have taken days to complete, and the shading and contrast made everything seem so much more real. I took great delight in reading his tale of "Captain Slaughterboard," as well as his "Rhymes without Reason."

We can sometimes take for granted these beautiful drawings, but if it wasn't for the illustrations in children's books, we would often lose that sense of transformation into another world - full of fantastic adventures, strange creatures, and heroic battles. It can be depressing to think that real illustration is becoming a dying art due to the invention of high-tech computer programs. The next time you read Grimm's fairy tales, take a look at those pen strokes; those artists who took a physical pen to paper deserve recognition for their imaginative vision.

First day of arrival...phone service and internet = null

Today, we took the Métro* to my apartment at Ochettes and moved my bags. Only one roommate has moved in thus far; her name is Mansoureh and she is purely francophone from my understanding. She is studying linguistics and literature at the University of Lausanne. She is very friendly and welcoming and has invited me to share most of the household items like the dishes and pots. In the kitchen, we have a sink, an oven/stove, and a small counter. There is no microwave or dishwasher, so I must get used to longer food preparation on a regular basis as well as efficiently washing dishes. The oven also has many buttons that I do not understand – instead of words, the settings are in pictograph form : heat on top/bottom, heat on bottom, heat on top, broil, etc. The rooms are spacious and the windows are different from those in the States. They have blinds on the outside, and only the top part of the window opens.



*One great incentive about staying in hotels in Lausanne is that they offer you a free public transport card for the duration of your stay. Thus, you can take the metro or the bus for free almost anywhere in the city. Think of all of the money you save on a rental car!

Our recycling program is interesting in that they have a compost bin, glass, cardboard, tin, aluminum, and plastic, which is much better than the offerings at Iowa State. All we have to do is go downstairs to the basement, or “la cave,” and drop off our recycling and trash. They also offer a bicycle parking, which also encourages my environmentalist tendencies. (Stay tuned for pictures of these facilities!)

After having dropped off my things at Ochettes, my mom and I went in search of a Migros, one of the local chain grocery stores. We stopped at one near the Métro station and compared prices to those in the US. Obviously, things are more expensive in Europe…5 CHF for a red pepper can give you an idea. Even after purchasing mostly the Migros budget brand items, we spent over 30 CHF on a bag of groceries, which included lunch for the day and some household items needed for my apartment.

I experienced a problem on my first day of arrival – my Swiss cell phone got lost somehow in the chaos of removing my luggage from the overhead bin of the airplane. Thus, I had to spend today in search of cell phone providers, not necessarily sure what would entail a good rate or not. I tried three different Migros stores, a Co-op hypermarché (a very large grocery store that was bustling with people on a Saturday afternoon), and a Manor grocery store. Sadly, none seemed to carry a phone. However, I thought I was in luck when I spotted an InterDiscount store a block ahead. They sold a pre-paid phone for about 30 CHF with some minutes added. Unfortunately, when I asked the store clerk if I could purchase the phone, she claimed that the phone transactions were closed for the day and I would not be able to purchase one until the following Monday. I have subsequently decided that the city of Lausanne does not wish for me to be able to contact people via telephone. Perhaps I will try another grocery store or the post office in the next couple of days…unless we can track down my vagrant phone.

After having no luck with the phone, I pursued my next endeavor – obtaining a public transportation card. The train station reminded me a bit of the DOT….one of those “take-a-number” charades that involves standing and waiting amidst crowds of people shuffling in and out of automatic doors and listening to the constant “ding” of the queue. In addition to the heightened sense of chaos in the train station, I had a million butterflies fluttering in my stomach from the constant stress of speaking a foreign language and navigating foreign streets.
I never thought that I would see the day where I longed to find a Wal-mart to simply have a store with everything I needed at a low enough price that I didn’t care about the quality. How hard is it to find a comforter and a pillow? IKEA can be reached by commuter train and then bus and then by foot, but that would take over an hour to reach the destination. Besides, all of these specialty stores pride themselves on Swiss quality, which is great unless you’re on a major college budget and desperately long for secondhand prices.

Along with frustration comes a sense of appreciation for what Lausanne does have to offer. For one, I cannot imagine better scenery than snow-capped mountains, a glistening blue lake, houses and hotels with astounding architecture, and an assortment of happy-looking farm animals. One thing that reminds me of Iowa that I never thought would be true – there are sheep farmers a block away from my apartment building, which is a pretty surprising similarity to the horse barn next to the Frederiksen Court apartments. I also seem myself becoming accustomed to this beautiful weather, something which often seems unfamiliar in the state of Iowa. The air is crisp and clean, and there is very little humidity. I actually enjoy the rain and the slugs on the sidewalk; it gives me a chance to break in my raincoat.