When in Rome, stop saying "When in Rome"

This past weekend had a lot of firsts for me. It was my first time in Rome. It was the first time I’ve used Ryanair (“Prostitutes of Air Travel”) on this trip (although not my first time ever.) It was the first time I’ve ever hated Indian street vendors so much. It was my first experience with Italian public transportation. It was my first experience hating Italian public transportation. However, it wasn’t the first time I’ve ever complained so much.

            But seriously, Rome was amazing. Except for those Indians trying to hawk their umbrellas. They must have robbed an umbrella warehouse or something because literally every single vendor had six umbrellas and there were about 1000 salesmen. Now, I’m no math scholar, but that’s like a million umbrellas.

            Anyway, it’s a great city. The ancient buildings are impressive to say the least, and the air just dripped with history. And speaking of dripping air, you know what didn’t happen in Rome while we were sightseeing? Rain. Much like the mythical mountains that Belgian parents tell their children about, the sun is an equally legendary character in the nighttime tales of Brussels toddlers. Romans informed me that the sky is actually blue, not gray, and that in fact they had not “painted the clouds blue like a bunch of crazy Italians.”

            Likewise, my roommate and I found a small park-like area inside the Roman forum that was set on a hill. It offered a great view of the entire city, Coliseum included, and the touch with nature, however brief it was, really lifted my mood. Not as much as when I shook hands and got a photo with a Swiss Guardsman, but almost.

            Did I mention I shook hands and got a photo with a Swiss Guardsman? Because I totally did. The Swiss mercenaries at the Vatican dress in clothes that were designed many years ago, but could easily pass as the genius creation of Ralph Lauren. On acid. In a circus.  That, coupled with the magnitude of St. Peter’s Basilica and the rest of the Vatican City, made for a very happy self. I probably don’t need to visit any more churches after seeing St. Pete’s (he prefers “Pete” in informal situations.)

            Here is where I will put the obligatory rant about Italian public transportation, which appears to have been designed by Ralph Lauren on acid in a circus. In order to get on the bus from the city to the airport, you need to exchange your bus ticket for a plastic ticket before everyone else does so you can get a seat because heaven forbid some people stand on a bus. Then you go outside in the rain (There it is! I knew it wouldn’t let me have an entirely dry trip), but the bus driver won’t take your newly acquired plastic ticket. The guy who is supposed to take your ticket is busy counting other tickets in the corner of the station from the previous bus, or maybe he’s peeing because Italians like to play Hide-and-Seek with their restrooms. Then, when he finally comes over to take tickets, half of the people don’t understand the whole ticket exchange process, so he explains the situation to every single person, rather than making a group announcement. So you get on the bus with a bunch of wet Italians, who, like Gremlins, seem to reproduce when wet, so despite the ticket service, it’s still crowded. The moral of the story is, one of those damn street vendors got on the bus and was trying to hawk her wares. I mean, go Belgian transportation.

Notes:

1. Despite my complaining, Rome was beautiful. The history is stunning and when you consider that these buildings are some of the oldest structures on the planet and still standing, it’s a bit intimidating.

2. I stick by my previous thesis that Americans are idiotic travelers. Some girls got a photo with the guys who stand outside the Coliseum dressed as Roman soldiers and didn’t realized they had to pay them until afterward. However, we did find two guys throwing a football around and threw with them. I do miss American football.

3. I may not have escaped the plague running rampant in the group after all. Matt caught strep from himself again and I have mild cold-like symptoms. Hoping it is just allergies to street vendors.

4. Those cursed Mediterranean seagulls from Hell live in Rome.  If you’re not familiar with them, they’re about twice the size of American seagulls and they have blood red eyes. And I’m pretty sure they eat pigeons. Or tourists.

5. Props this week go to Josh for booking a really nice apartment for cheap. There were three rooms and we each got out own bed and some privacy, as well as internet and a gas stove. Which I may have burned my fingers on twice.

Yeah, I'll have the Luxembourger with Fries. I mean Frites.

            Instead of Paris, our group decided on going to Luxembourg for the weekend. Paris was looking to be a little too daunting given some peoples’ exams on Monday, which is fine with me because Paris smells funny. And it was adopted. We went to the train station where several events transpired. The two most important of these events were 1. Kati bought “Frisk,” a type of mint, and 2. We rode on the Hogwarts Express. So for the rest of the trip, whenever we had bad breath, we could count on Kati to Frisk us. What a great friend. And as for the Hogwarts Express, I’m sure anyone who has traveled on a train in Europe can attest to how beautiful it is to watch snow fall on the countryside of a foreign country, cows and horses huddling close as they graze on the last tufts of grass, as you look longingly through the glass while crammed in a seat next to a sweaty Luxembourger who has an unusual concept of “personal space.” Ruined that image for you, didn’t I?

            Luxembourg turned out to be an excellent choice. Coming from Brussels, where mountains are myths told to children before bed, Luxembourg’s hills were quite refreshing. Especially the hill behind our hostel. That thing is easily the number one cause of premature death in the city. And to get just about anywhere, you have to traverse it. To travel safely, I recommend at least one set of crampons and a team of Sherpas. But the rest of the city of Luxembourg (located in the region of Luxembourg the country called Luxembourg) was very nice, and even bustling at times in the main shopping square. Luxembourg is best known for its banking, but one should not overlook its chocolate, beers, and playgrounds.

            Those of you who saw my facebook photos know this, but playgrounds in Europe are a carefully designed way to weed out the weaker and dumber children in society. Playground architects think safety features show a lack of creativity and that a deficiency in precariously high rope bridges indicates your failure in the field. What I’m trying to say is that six college students spent an hour on the playground, genuinely enjoying themselves and they will never have that much fun on an American playground because it’s too safe. I’m going to end the main recount here because this playground has me so worked up that anything else will just sound disappointing.

Notes:

1.     Big thanks to Dana and her parents for purchasing the group a meal from a restaurant that we had no business looking at, never mind eating in.

2.     I am pleased to inform you all that even though I did enter a McDonald’s, it was only to use the restroom. I will never give them money while I’m here, but I will pee in them in an emergency.

3.     Belgium also has mobile home parks in the south, just like the USA. Knowledge on the dental care of the residents and the likelihood of being destroyed by rogue tornadoes is unknown.

4.     I love talking to people in Spanish.

5.     Buy one, get one free is always a beautiful thing.

Clash of the Continents: 1st Installment

Presented below for your reading pleasure is a subjective comparison of certain aspects of daily life in America and Europe.  I hope to make these comparisons a monthly or bi-monthly post as more topics are brought to my attention. Also, keep in mind these are subjective, so if I step on your toes or you disagree, then you're wrong. A post on my trip to Luxembourg will be up later.

Things America got right:

Bathrooms – Let’s get this out of the way now. Charging people to use a public restroom is annoying and sadistic. Also, how does the restroom attendant describe his job to his friends? For everyone’s sake, I hope they work in a shift cycle with other public employees. I would hate for a stranger to learn my potty schedule because he is a tenured bathroom guardian.

Music – Apparently. I hate Rihanna, Beiber, and the Black Eyed Peas like any red-blooded American should. Much to my dismay, Europe’s musical tastes mirror that of an American high school girl. All public places, including bars, clubs, metros, and restaurants, play American top-40 music. Perhaps this belongs more under “Things Europe got horribly wrong.”

Restaurant Prices – Eating out in America isn’t cheap, but European restaurants seem to think their food is made entirely from caviar and unicorn kisses. As much as I’d love to drop the equivalent of $30 on a meal regularly, it’s just not cost effective. And most of the sit down restaurants here require at least that much, plus drinks (more on that later). However tip is included which is a plus. Another positive side effect is it forces us to cook, which is both beneficial in the long run and phenomenally dangerous in the now run.

Drinks – Drinks here means all beverages, alcoholic or otherwise. First off, they’re expensive and asking for free refills will get you a dirty look at best and a hearty derisive laugh at worst. Secondly, we’re already getting cheated those 25 milliliters because of the conversion from 12 ounces to 33 centiliters (you better believe I calculated!). Many bottles only contain 25 centiliters. And thirdly, there is no thirdly. I’m willing to excuse the whole carbonated water thing because it’s cultural, but if you’re going to charge me $3 and surprise me with gassy water then (insert fart joke here).

Weather – I swear all of Europe is a rainy, bleak mess right now, with very few exceptions. As much as I usually love rainy, bleak messes, it’s a bit daunting to know that this trend is continent-wide and there’s little to no chance of escape until spring. And South Carolina gets snow while Brussels gets none, despite being hundreds of miles farther south? Shenanigans.

Things Europe got right:

Windows – How America let Europe get so far ahead in window engineering baffles me. These things don’t slide up and down like some archaic Tangram puzzle. They open in and out in a smooth and quiet manner. They can be opened a variety of distances. They’re larger and less obstructed. They allow me to sit on the window ledge and stare without a screen or white crossbar getting in the way. I may be in love. Or a feline.

Churches – I like renovated warehouses of worship enough. But the cathedrals here are just amazing. And it seems like every town has at least one or two very impressive stone churches. I’m actually pretty fond of churches (more so when they’re empty) and I could easily see myself blowing a day just hanging out in a few of them around Brussels. Plus, church names are much more intimidating when you can’t understand what they mean. Basilique Nationale du Sacré-Cœur sounds like the national venomous reptile from the Belgian badlands, whereas Second Baptist Church sounds like the runner-up to First Baptist Church in the Christian Coalition Chili Cook-off.

University – Apparently university is only 800 Euros a semester or so, not including any scholarships. The catch is, you have to survive the rigorous first two years. That sounds easy to some of you, but it’s a trap. You’d be surprised how difficult even menial tasks are when there’s heaps of cheap beer available to anyone that looks like they could have passed the 3^rd grade.

Sales Tax – It may be higher here, but it’s included in the price on the tag. Thank you! The American system is flamingly idiotic. If the same people who can’t finish La Sagrada Familia after over 100 years can be bothered to calculate and include tax in prices, you know America was hitting the Patriotic Punch a little too hard when it came time to decide on how costs would be displayed.

Beer – Obvious. Even the cheapest Jupiler or Maes here trumps some of the mid-level American stuff. I will admit, I sometimes miss a good Blue Moon, but when the supermarkets are practically throwing Stella Artois at you, it’s hard to get too upset. Plus, everything is higher percentage, so you don’t feel obligated to drink more than one (or something like that.) Hooray beer.

Carpe Diem: Seize the Carp

January 17, 2010: I am writing this from self-imposed quarantine. Three of the people in our group have contracted some sort of illness, leaving me to lock myself in the window box area with the curtains drawn. I only venture out to eat and do laundry.  Outside, one of the skyscrapers is currently having a seizure. Its lights are fading off and on in an unpredictable pattern, similar to an octopus’s camouflage. The blinking reminds me of the futility of survival. The infected sit just beyond my curtain, watching Dexter on my bed. I plan to sterilize it later. I’m terrified and I think they can smell fear. My only chance at dodging this illness is to pickle the virus before it takes hold in my body.

            **We now have a confirmed case of strep throat in the apartment, and two more cold-like illnesses with people downstairs. My goal of staying healthy is being severely threatened. **

            Anyway, in attempt to get really in touch with my domestic side, I have branched from cooking into laundry. Worrisome, I know, but it’s ok, I had a genius solution. Instead of dropping 4 Euros on the laundromat, I decided to tub wash my clothes myself. I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking “But Tyler, won’t clothes take forever to dry, even indoors, in that damp climate?” And that’s why you’re all smarter than me and should warn me before I do anything more difficult than use an ATM (it’s OK to leave my card in the machine for next time, right?). Most of the stuff dried within 5 hours. And by “most” I of course mean “none.” I finally resorted to blow-drying some of it, and fortunately, the rest was dry by morning. Except for my jacket. I swear that thing absorbed about 10 pounds of water, expelling about 8 pounds of what appeared to be raw sewage when I squeezed the water out. It’s still damp right now, and I fully expect it to grow an hyper-resistant mold colony that feeds on cigarette smoke and American stupidity, both of which are abundant in and around our hotel.

            In other exciting news, I had my first Post Office experience here. Apparently customs decided the package containing one of my textbooks looked enough like a bomb to warrant searching and a 10 Euro fee. But I dutifully paid the dues, doing so during a damp downpour I give up on this alliteration. Basically, I got the one lady who didn’t speak much English, but at least she was friendly. I need to know more French. Like “I’m retarded” or “I’m so sorry for myself and my friends for stepping on your dog, no one taught us how to open the doors on your public transportation.” You know, the useful phrases.

            Anyway, it’s Paris this weekend, which should be exciting, then Rome after that. We may die in Rome. I say that so you have advance warning to get your “goodbyes” out.

Notes:

1.     I don’t think I’ve ever tried so hard not to get sick. Which means I’ll get sick.

2.     Does anyone else think that the day after the Super Bowl should be an international holiday?

3.     I’ve decided I’m collecting flags from every country I’ve been to. I’ll decide where to hang them later.

4.     New linens are the best things ever behind a fresh waffle.

5.     Seriously though, cigarette smoke is nasty and gets in everything.

I remember my first Antwerp

Things have finally begun to click some now.  I was a part of a group of 10 that took a day trip to Antwerp today. I didn’t know what to expect at all from Antwerp, especially after I pissed off a ticket salesman and couldn’t open the train doors to begin the trip. And I was almost disappointed by the bitter weather, but it really turned out to be a beautiful city. It’s a lot more laidback and more friendly to pedestrians than Brussels . I’ll be posting pictures on facebook later tonight from the trip. But more importantly than that, the group dynamic seems to have gotten a lot better since we were forced to hang around each other in another foreign place for an entire day. No major issues yet, at least for now, and the girls are cooking dinner for us tonight, so I’m grateful to get a break from that.

            I’ve started noticing what bothers natives about American travelers. We have an incredibly strong sense of entitlement, and it comes off as arrogance and ignorance when we try to communicate with people over here. Even if not all of us expect to be spoken to in English while abroad, we tend to get more frustrated more quickly than we should be allowed to. And while speaking habits are more of a cultural thing, Americans definitely appear to be louder and bolder when speaking amongst themselves as compared to Europeans. We’ve already had a few instances where some members of the program have embarrassed themselves in public through “American” behaviors, and it’s bringing shame to the rest of us. I wish I knew more French or Dutch when traveling so I didn’t appear so ignorant, but I don’t have time to relearn French and learn business.

            Regardless of that, Brussels and Belgium are amazing. I’ve never lived in a city before, and I’m really starting to enjoy the urban lifestyle. Walking everywhere is more relaxing, even if it does take more time, and the metro makes everything conveniently located. While the nightlife in Brussels is supposedly not as good as in Antwerp, it’s still novel to be able to go to bars at night. And the central location allows us to go just about anywhere without too much hassle. Antwerp was an almost-spontaneous day trip and this weekend we’re considering Paris or Germany, followed by Rome the next weekend. School fits itself into this equation but the profs work with us to make traveling easier. It’s a great system.

Notes:

1.     Navigating is fun until you screw up.

2.     Of course the sun would come out on the day I plan to do school work.

3.     Antwerp apparently translates to “Hand thrower” because of a story associated with the town’s history. See facebook for details.

4.     Chicken Burgers: The Breakfast of Champions.

5.     Paying less than 2 Dollars/Euros for a meal cooked by someone else is one of the greatest pleasures in life.

Captain Ryan: Origins

Dillon brought it to my attention that some of you don't know the backstory of the alias Captain Ryan. Two summers ago, Stephanie Eller, Courtney Dixon, and I went to Canada for 9 days. While we were in Toronto, I saw some sort of pin lying face down on the street near Lake Ontario. I picked it up and it read "Cruise Toronto: Capt Ryan." I put it on and we took a picture of me wearing it, and Courtney used her photoshop skills to make me look like a captain, which is the origin of my photo on this blog. Since then, Captain Ryan has become a sort of joke alter ego, a badass version of myself if you will.

In what I consider a terrible mistake, I have been elected chef for dinner the past two nights. My cooking knowledge is usually limited to hot pockets, ramen, and hotter pockets. Tonight I’m making tacos, which my roommates have informed me are a type of Mexican hot pocket, so hopefully I won’t burn down the apartment complex. We’ve also experienced some of the local fare, which is based heavily on fries (frites), fish (poissons), and beer (beer). Even though everyone knows I always try to abstain from drinking as much as possible in Clemson, it’s fiscally irresponsible for me NOT to drink beer here. It’s so cheap I practically have to. I hope you’re able to empathize with my pain during this trying time.

We’re all still new to the bar scene, in addition to the French speaking scene and the not acting like an idiotic American scene. I wish I knew as much French as I did in elementary school, but I also don’t want to be a pansy, so I’ll stick with Spanish.  The city is getting smaller as we explore more, but I’m still able to get lost without too much effort. Classes also start tomorrow which confuses me because I was unaware that we’d be doing anything but partying for a semester. Reality is going to have to go to chill out for a few more days though because the national championship game starts tomorrow night at 2:30 AM and we’ve found a sports bar that will be playing it. I have the distinct feeling my professor may not have a great first impression of me at my 9 AM class. It’s cool though, I’m sure he’ll be a Ducks fan. Go Oregon!

Notes:

1.     Google translate is not your friend.

2.     Cooking on a stove with only two eyes that are 3 inches apart can make for some interesting cookware formations.

3.     Americans have buildings all wrong. When I can look outside at night and see one building lit up in rainbow colors, one with a ribbon of light on it, and one that changes colors over time and still be sober, I’m happy.

4.     American cartoons in French. Hilarious. Bob l’eponge, nuff said.

5.     It upsets me that Clemson will be seeing significantly more snow over the next few days than I will.

This first post is going to be relatively dull compared to the future ones (I hope), in part because I’m new to this newfangled blogosphere and also due to how mundane air travel can be. Surprisingly, I got through baggage check-in, security, and got to my gate in 45 minutes, which I believe is a new speed record for Atlanta’s airport. But Murphy and his canon wouldn’t let me go entirely unmolested, and I found out the baggage check-in lady had referred me to the wrong gate. So I packed up, bid a fond farewell to the seat I had grown to love in those 15 minutes and moved to the correct terminal.

But before I proceed (as in all honesty, I’m writing this part at the gate and have little to say at this point), I must give a shout out to the Tiger Band for providing me with my only piece of stowaway luggage. That new duffle was the perfect size for this trip, if not a little too big. I’ve always prided myself in my packing ability, and I continue to stroke my ego currently for getting 4 months worth of things into a duffle bag and a book bag.

FLASH FORWARD

It’s currently 5:31 AM in Brussels, 11:31 PM in South Carolina. I’m rather jet lagged, but that’s to be expected. I met a Belgian man on the plane named Guillame who actually lived near our apartment at some point in his life. He spoke almost no English, and I almost no French, but he did offer to drop me off at my apartment from the airport. Now, I’m not normally one to turn down generous offers from complete and entirely foreign strangers, but I was scheduled to meet my roommate Tom at the airport.  To this point, I’m surprised by how easy everything has been. Some people in my group have had terrible luck with trains and the metro, but I weathered that storm unscathed. The group is still largely unfamiliar with itself, but I’m learning names here faster than I have with any other people. My roommates are awesome and well traveled. Because I’m still tired, I’ll stop the recount here and hopefully will have some pictures up when I get a chance to stumble around Brussels in the daylight.

Notes So Far:

1.     English = Good, French = Butchered, Dutch = Merde!

2.     Beer is good. And stuff. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O-jOEAufDQ4

3.     I have yet to shower and smell like rancid homeless man. Don’t worry, it’s first on my to-do list come morning.

4.     Don’t let me forget to do some massive travel superlatives for this entire semester. For those of you unfamiliar with my superlatives, consult my Notes for the Canadian trip ones. Sorry about the photo links in advance.

5.     I did not have a beer immediately upon landing. I know, I'm rather disappointed in myself too but it would have A. Knocked me out, B. Cost 5 Euros, and C. Made me look like an alcoholic to the natives because I landed at 8:00 AM. I'm okay with C though.

6.     Never take me seriously