50cc's Worth of Split

Five hundred feet above sea level, Anna and I stopped to snap a picture of the Adriatic Sea stretching away from Split towards the Italian coast. The picture would not have been complete without the canary yellow scooter that brought us to this lofty Croatian escape. The fresh ocean breeze was constant, even when we had parked the rented 50cc moped on the sandy cliff. A perfect, yet quite unexpected way to wrap up our weekend trip to Croatia, our two-wheeled adventure began as a last minute whim.

With an hour and fifteen minutes left until our bus would leave for Zagreb, the passing mopeds inspired the question “Where can we get one of those?” A quick glance around answered that question. Two different scooter rental shops advertised their rides on the sidewalks out front. We raced towards the closest one. A copy of my passport and 80 Kuna (15 American Dollars) soon sent us on a relatively high speed jaunt out of the city.

Pulling away from the curb, we immediately started the search for others from our group. Moments later, a short blast of our horn left Liz Caskey wondering “Who could I have met last night that drives a scooter?!” We only later heard of the confusion we caused among the small group of Miami students. Nevertheless, then was not the time to fraternize with our peers who had chosen to mill around the boardwalk for the last bit of the trip. We were on an adventure.

Weaving in between pedestrians to reach the main road, the challenge was to avoid any scooter antics that would brand us as more Americans. But we made it with pleasantly few mishaps, considering my previous moped driving experience: none.

And so we were off, heading north towards the suburban area home to many of the region’s famous beaches. Suddenly, the funny little European cars sharing the road were no joke. Each compact car became a missile several times our size and weight. Not to worry though, the lawnmower sized engine provided a surprising amount of torque capable of pushing the scooter right along with the light traffic.

In the summer heat, the wind and excitement of the ride confirmed that it was much better than walking. With the deep turquoise water to the left and mountains on the right, it’s hard to imagine a better way to spend $15. While winding higher and higher up the rural streets, the thought of our upcoming bus ride away from this amazing place took to the back seat.

We didn’t stop when the pavement turned to gravel. Eventually, though, a sandy ledge prevented further travel. But what a perfect place for a snapshot of the Adriatic.

Oceanografico: A tour of Europe's Largest Aquarium

Containing Europe’s largest variety of sea-life, the Oceanográfico attracts visitors from around the world to see everything from sharks to seals (in separate tanks, of course).

The modern architecture, including curved arches and glass, is typical of La Ciudad de las Artes y las Ciencias region of Valencia.

At our first stop, Anna captured the artificial ocean surrounding the glass walls of the underwater tunnel.

So this is what a fish sees. Looking through the glass, we had the views normally reserved for scuba divers.

Descriptions of fish could be found along the full length of the artificial reef’s window.

“You are approaching the Canary Islands off the coast of Africa”… hopefully not by sea.

This beluga whale thought he was sly, but we caught him checking out his reflection on the surface.

Back outside, we watched as a seal surfaced from the cool depths for a breath of fresh Spanish air.

In the hot plains of Spain, these South American penguins had their fair share of the spotlight.

The “demostracion del delfin” ended the day on a high note… literally.

Surfing @ Pitti

As tourists, students, and locals roam the streets of Florence, withdrawal sets in. Well, you know what they say, the best detox is a retox; and when the facebook addicts roll off of the street fresh from a tour of Palazzo Pitti, Internet Pitti and its owner, Cristiano Papi, are happy to provide the online fix (for a price, of course). In reality, Papi and the Internet Pitti lounge have been providing much more than just access to the web over the last six years. Any technological endeavor from simple web surfing to DVD burning can be pursued at the lounge.

Upon arrival, patrons are greeted with a “buon giorno,” unless they appear American enough to warrant a “hello,” that is. This simple acknowledgement, however, is hardly the extent of Papi’s extensive English vocabulary. Though Papi was born in Italy, his American mother has since ensured her son’s flawless development of her native tongue. In conversation, it is almost easy to forget that Papi is from Florence until rapid bouts of Italian are exchanged between himself and locals. His knowledge of Italian and English is certainly an advantage in a business whose clientele are mostly either Italians or English-speaking tourists. Even when the occasional Spaniard drops in, Papi doesn’t fret. In fact, he claims to be quite proficient at making up the words he needs.

For the last six years, the 34-year-old resident of Florence has provided his services to both the community and travelers. Papi purchased the facility with a companion in June of 2003 and has gained the majority of his knowledge on the job. “Like any other job, you can learn it—like 90 percent of it [through experience].” He even has the IP addresses memorized for on the spot input into any tourist’s laptop. “And those are the stupidest things ever,” he claims.

While Papi enjoys his business, his occupation doesn’t govern life. “I learned [computer skills] depending on the need rather than the passion,” he explained. Pappi said that he enjoys Italy, particularly the relaxed nightlife; though he tends to steer clear of main tourist areas, such as Santo Spirito, noting, “too many Americans.”

Unlike many Italian businesses, Papi doesn’t pull down the shutters for a month in the summer. “I’m always open,” he said. “I’ll maybe close for a few days around the 15^th of August, which is an Italian holiday.” Around this time, Florence is dead as the locals head off for vacation, leaving tourists confused and with little direction. Meanwhile, Papi likes to head to his family’s beach dwelling with friends for a couple days. But after that, he’s back in Internet Pitti, serving up MySpace cocktails.

Underdressed

I came to Europe looking to experience new cultures. On Thursday, July 9th, that’s exactly what I did. The culture or “scene” I encountered permeates not only Florence, but other major European cities, and even America. Fashion. It drives everything from the Armani stores to the street vendors; $120,000 dresses to $5 designer chocolate. Apparently, I didn’t know the rules.

I left the apartment in my white polo, blue plaid shorts, and reef sandals. I felt pretty fashionable (besides our Italian guide’s comment: “we don’t wear undershirts beneath polos in Italy”).

Enter Nick Verreos: our Sherpa for the oncoming Mount Polimoda. Suddenly, I am highly underdressed.

Nick, of Nikolaki, Project Runway… and the fashion world in general, arrived decked out. Silvershoes, jeans, button down shirt, green tie (with matching green hand bag), silver aviators, and a fauxhawk.

My first impression of Nick: he’s confident, personable, and highly qualified for his job. Intentionally or not, he’s a crowd pleaser. With the majority of the group hanging onto his every word, it was hard to miss “…Shut uupp!... Oh, and remind me to tell you all about Heidi [Klum] later…” Unfortunately, this warranted a “shush, you” from Dr. Bernheim as he was trying to get our attention. Not one to be deterred, Nick’s was the dominating voice of the Miami in Florence group for the rest of the day.

In fact, during our Polimoda visit, it was hard to get in a word edgewise. Nick’s enthusiastic back and forth banter with the instructor made his knowledge of the business quite clear. The look on the professor’s face spelled relief when any students interrupted Nick’s torrent of questions and comments. I laughed to myself: was this “expert” nervous that Nick might catch her without an answer? Eventually her salvation arrived as the marketing professor took over.

Later that evening, Nick made a presentation at the Gould; a colorful powerpoint that led us through his education, career, and entrepreneurial pursuits. I was not expecting the story he told. Entering the trade took much more than heading to the local fashion show and checking in. He chronicled the process of building his reputation. Just as in any self run business, success grew out of failures. From the past to the present, his accomplishments are impressive. Nick has worked with several big name celebrities and high end stores. He was always excited to tell of experiences with Tila Tequila or the playboy girls, but no one mistook his excitement for bragging.

After his speech, I shook hands with Nick and thanked him for coming; he was genuinely appreciative of the Florence invitation. I have no doubt he enjoyed his stay in the fashion capital of Italy. I know we all enjoyed his animated personality. Upon departure, one thing was for certain: he had no shortage of friends among our Florence group.

sand(bags) and sun

After an hour of roaming the canal walkways of Venice, we sat in Piazza San Marco to watch a classic European spectacle: a gypsy harassing everyone in sight. This particular breed of gypsy was wielding a kind of latex sack filled with sand that can be molded into different shapes. They take pride in their ability to mold these sand bags into various body parts. Gypsy vendors such as this one are all over Italy, which is something I’ve never seen in the U.S.A. Tonight’s victims didn’t speak English, but then again, gypsies don’t seem to speak a language anyone here can understand anyway. The ensuing conversation was pretty entertaining; I don’t know what these people said to the gypsy, but it was loud and the point was clear: "go away gypsy, we don't want your trinkets!" The poor gypsy didn’t miss a beat as he tailed a new target, sand sack in hand. As he passed, a few of us sat and took in the night, while a very un-American instrument echoed down the alley to our left. We had to check it out. The dark alley had us all questioning the comforting words of our tour guide: “there’s no crime in Venice.” Opportunity? I thought so. I was first around the corner and, after Jesse passed, Anna was next. I jumped out and yelled “givaa mee EUROS!” I laughed; she screamed loudly; and most of the diners (all locals I might add) were staring at us as we found them being serenaded by a man who was, in fact, playing a piano accordion.

“Nice restaurant, we should check it out tomorrow.” To our dismay, we never did find it again; it was one of those local gems we weren’t meant to stumble upon in the first place. Fortunately, our search ultimately led us to Ristorante Gianni; a restaurant that was excellent, but surprising. Why would I be surprised that the food would be so good at an authentic Italian restaurant? Well, I wasn’t. The surprise was more in favor of the good ole’ U.S. of A. While the food was outstanding at Gianni’s, I realized that everything I ate, I had eaten in America…and it was just as good there. Linguini and clams? Papa’s specialty, served up only in Savannah, Georgia. Mussel soup? My favorite appetizer at Ristorante Arnella in Chicago.

One aspect of Gianni’s, however, could not be matched in America: the atmosphere. Our table was at the very end of a covered pier on the Grand Canal. Buildings that are several times older than America lined both shores. Aromas of food and the sea filled the air. The scene was serene. Even the pigeons seemed to have taken the night off. Our only disturbance came from a rose peddling gypsy...I gave in. We certainly weren’t the only tourists enjoying the scene; our fellow diners to the left spoke French (and actually ordered French fries…), while an older couple chattered with English accents directly in front of us. But our three parties kept to ourselves, enjoying our company and the sounds of the boats. Regardless of your nationality, Venice is a very humbling place if you can appreciate the history. I wonder if they felt as small as I did…

Curious findings:

-A bidet
-A human statue
-Street vendors whose price is a suggestion
-Man-pri (Capri pants for men)
-5 to 6 times as many scooters as cars
-A garage that has one door to the street and cycles cars around on a carousel
-Brick streets the width of a sidewalk and sidewalks the width of a brick
-The Ford "Fiesta"

-The toilet tanks live in the wall

Chicago to Florence: A Journey of Food

After the “Last (American) Supper”… Turkey, potatoes, gravy…etc., I wondered what cuisine awaited across the Atlantic.

The real surprise was airplane food; not so much the quality, but rather its presence in itself… no one serves food on planes these days. Confirmation that Lufthansa is a German airline came quickly. After the indecipherable PA chimed off, my pretzels arrived labeled “upgrade your snack: enjoy the taste of WARSTEINER – the premium German beer.”

Meals left something to be desired, but I was glad to have anything. I couldn’t help but wonder what I would be eating had we departed from Munich rather than O’hare. Will the Sky Chef selection be something other than chicken, rice and cheddar cheese on the way home?

Munich/“Munchen” airport: So now coke is an import, bottled in Zurich (3.50 Euro was my first hint). Anna found ice cream. I don’t know if she’s coming home.

Side note: the Munich airport has nicer clothing stores than any American mall.

Florence: We’re here, and I’m glad the chefs are more skilled than the drivers (or our food would be sub-par). Pasta, bread, stuffed peppers and more. All excellent. We haven’t even eaten at a restaurant yet, but our dorm meals have been excellent. Anna found the “gelateria” and I think that’s her plan to balance out the calorie burning walks through the city. My choice was “un panino de prosciutto e formaggio,” an excellent ham and cheese sandwich from a street vendor.

More food to come.

Mike vs. The Duffel Bag

As my travel partner Anna points out, Baloo the bear lived quite happily on nothing but the "bare neccessities." Who am I to argue with such first hand knowledge?

But then women are from Venus, and on Venus they like to pack.

Watching her struggle to cram everything into an oversized suitcase reminds me of freshman year move in day. It also makes me nervous for the lives of her zippers.

She has resorted to calling Lufthansa to confirm the limit of 2 bags @ 50 pounds each. Hakuna Matata! (no worries ladies... you can pack nearly a human's weight in clothing and accessories)

As a male during the packing experience, after checking on the local food in florence, google maps was kind enough to locate the nearest "lavanderia automatica" or laundromat in english. I can assure you it's not far.

Efficiency: effective operation as measured by a comparison of production with cost (as in energy, time, and money)

which led me to http://www.ricksteves.com/plan/tips/womenpacking.htm

The real problem: my luggage is twice the weight it should be... the cause? They don't wear shorts... in the middle of the summer... anywhere in Europe. Baloo's advice was great until now, but then, Baloo doesn't wear pants.

Ryanair

Booking tickets to Valencia I see that everyone claps when a Ryanair plane lands...

Europe explained