And back to our regularly scheduled traveling nightmare

Sooooo...Now I'm at O'Hare and apparently my flight no longer exists! Super fun. I managed to get back into the states without a problem. But when I went to check in for my connecting flight through United after going through Customs and what not the ticket county lady was like "oh your connecting flight doesn't exist anymore. You didn't get rebooked and all the flights are full until tomorrow at 9:30pm. You can try to fly standby until then." Awesome. So now I get to go have stern talks with people and hope to get on a flight at some point in the next couple of days.

Zzzzz....

At Airport soo tired... Vienna Awesome..

Oops . . . Now in Vienna

So this whole blogging everyday thing fell apart very quickly for two reasons.

Reason number one: Matt wouldn’t let me stop walking. As soon as he arrived it was a non-stop walkathon. “Look at this church,” Matt would say, “now let’s look at this one on the OTHER SIDE of the city.” Then we would walk about a block and a half and get lost. We had a most fantastic tour of the myriad dead ends of Venice.

(Matt would like to here indicate that this is in fact not true, and would further like to point out that we spent plenty of time on all kinds of boats, and waiting for all kinds of boats, and sitting at the wells in every piazza and campo in Venice).

Sure every once in a while I would prevail upon Matt’s sense of mercy to allow me to sit on any available surface. Lucky for me the water fountains of Venice are not only easily located and make great seats, but they are of great historical import and require close inspection by the truly dedicated traveler.

(Matt would now like to point out that Gaby’s idea of “prevailing upon my sense of mercy” is just sitting down and refusing to move. Also sometimes demanding foot rubs.)

Compounding the issue, my once cushiony comfy Dr. Scholl’s foam inserts (no gel insoles on airplanes or the terrorists win!) completely crapped out. The first two days in Venice were wet and rainy, and though I did not experience sloshing through acqua alta I was introduced to each and every puddle that could be found on Giudecca as I searched for a supermarket. My only pair of shoes were soaked for two days straight and, combined with my feet pounding on hard cobblestones, Dr. Scholl decided that the doctor would be out for the remainder of the trip. Given this information, one could easily understand my utter exhaustion at the end of each day.

Reason number two: Our hostel had spotty internet access. No reason was given just that every couple of days the internet would stop working for a couple of more days. So out of the six days I was there we only had internet access for two days.

Theoretically, wi-fi should be easier to get here in Vienna so we’ll try to do better. Meanwhile I may backdate some posts that I meant to have up earlier.

Love,

Gaby and Matt

Days 1-2

Well it's good that if Matt had to miss any days of this vacation it was these two first days. Though it's been pretty warm (I scoff at coats...scoff scoff) it's been gloomy and rainy. The rain isn't torrential so it isn't bothering me that much but it makes it so that I can't really take my camera all the time. I've worked out a highly fashionable system in which I hang the camera around my neck and cover it with a scarf while not in use. The worst bits are the puddles. I spent a lot of energy on the my first morning trying not to step in puddles but by the afternoon my only pair of shoes and feet were soaked anyway.



I've been wandering around town trying to limit my sightseeing to things that Matt may not want to see. Which I don't think is a lot. I've spent most of my time just exploring. I've decided who ever designs casinos must have taken lessons from the Venetians. The area that composes most of Venice is pretty small so getting lost is near impossible. It seems that all roads lead to the Piazza de San Marco. I've picked roads at random and just walked and inevitably I end up back at the Piazza.



It hasn't been lonely though. I've lucked out and have met Carly a really nice Canadian girl who is traveling alone through Europe for three months. We've hung out and explored town together and last night we got to know two of our other roomates: Pauline and Jane, a hilarious mother and daughter duo from Australia. Pauly and Jane were great to talk to and they broke out some gin that they "HAD" to get rid off before their next leg of travel to the states. We chatted and drank the verboten gin in our room until about 11:30 when we got told to shut up. :-)

This my friends is why I love hostels.

Arriving in Venice

I got in to Venice at about midnight on Sunday night. It was raining and all of the people who were on the half empty plane with me were Italian and knew how to get where they were going and well...left. I had been a little bit concerned about this part of the trip because the airport is not in Venice proper and you have to take a bus/train to the islands and then there is a waterbus to the island where the hostel is located. That isn't so bad but during my research I couldn't find anywhere that listed how late any of these services ran. Worst case scenario I could take a taxi and then a water taxi to the hostel but that would easily cost me 100 Euros. Ok, so that wasn't really worst case scenario because I just wouldn't pay that much to go anywhere. Worst case scenario really was standing outside the airport until public transit started running again. After a few minutes of wandering I found a bus ticket window and the nice lady sold me a ticket to get into the city. She didn't warn me about there no longer being any waterbus service in town so I took it as a good sign. In town I followed people towards the water and found the waterbus stop pretty quickly. Yay! For the late night Italian partiers there is a late night water bus service that runs until 4:30 am. After traveling for 24 hours the waterbus ride to the island was refreshing and it felt like a reassuring welcome to Venice.

web access

Postings may get a little less frequent as all research shows that Venice has yet to discover free wifi.

Frankfurt- 10 hour layover

I had a ten hour layover in Frankfurt. And though most people would frown upon such a long layover I merely see it as a way to see another city practically for free! As we all now know Matt was supposed to be with me today. He’s been in Frankfurt before and is by far better than I in translating German. The little bits of German I know are mostly gleaned from watching Indiana Jones repeatedly and the Oktober fest that the amusement park in our neighborhood has every year. Oh also once I played Mrs. Frank in a production of Anne Frank. So suffice it to say I’m really good at shouting “schnell, schnell!” but that may not be something I want to go around yelling whilst lost.

Though I had been planning on relying on Matt pretty heavily on this part of the trip I didn’t want to miss out just because he wasn’t here. So I practiced saying “sprechen sie Englisch?” stored my bags in a locker and headed towards the pictures of trains that I figured must go into town.

Honestly how hard can trains be right? I mean I’ve been taking them since I was 15 and skipping school to go to Boston for the day. I was confronted with this:

Too many buttons! All in German! I’ve identified Frankfurt HBF as a central looking station on the train map. I’m not entirely sure if it’s near anything interesting but it looks promising. Problem: none of the buttons are labeled Frankfurt HBF. I stare for a while and watch other people buy their tickets and then I spy a helpful man in a red train worker vest. A moment later I have my ticket, I figure out which platform to wait on and I’m off!

Did you know that October 31 is when Frankfurt does their marathon? Since I don’t have a map of the city when I get out of the station I head towards the cheering and music that is pouring down the street and I discover this fact. I hang around and watch for a bit but I want to get past the marathon because if steeples are any indication it looks like the interesting part of town is a few blocks past the marathon. Problem is they have the whole area barricaded. I follow the crowd for a while, stopping to pick up a bratwurst with mustard, and I end up inside a building that appears to be the rock show like finish line for this marathon.


People are randomly shoving signs and giant blue phallic balloon things into my hands with which to cheer… so I do.

I finally find a map on the floor and get my bearings. I give up on trying to make it past the marathon and head in the other direction which conveniently is a scenic river.

The train ride back was just as adventurous. I pushed one of the three buttons that had a picture of a plane on it and the price was the same as it was getting here so I guessed it was right. There were several trains marked Flughafen which I think means airport or at least it’s sometimes paired with a picture of a plane so it should be ok. I jump on the next Flughafen train right before it leaves and then I freak out a little as it pulls out of the station. This train is WAY nicer then the train that got me to the station. It has dining cars and a first class. The train I took to get to Frankfurt HBF was a regular commuter looking train. But the signs still say something german-flughafen/airport so I wait for fifteen minutes until the next stop hoping that Frankfurt doesn’t have more than one airport. Yay! The next stop is and airport and it looks like the same one.

Well now just waiting on the last leg of my flight that will get me to Venice. I still haven’t figured out how I am getting to Hostel on an island at 11:30 pm on a Sunday. Oh well!

Empty seat

So this isn't going well so far. Matt is back at home fighting the good fight with travelocity and I'm currently in Canada awaiting a connection. I broke down a little bit, ok maybe a tiny bit more than a little, as I was going through security. (Travelers trip: No one will give you shit if you're a crying girl trying to get through security and look totally pathetic).

On the plus side since he didn't make the flight I get to fly with an empty seat next to me! Yay for stretching.

P.S. Seriously Canada you made me move my liquids to a 1 liter bag because 1 quart isn't exactly a liter?? WTF

Motherfucker

This fucking sucks. Canada air decided that Matt's passport is too beat-up to fly on. Nevermind that he has used it twice to travel in the past few months once internationally in the last few weeks and no one said anything about it before! So we're still trying this whole trip thing. I'm gonna board today to save on fees for my booking. Matt is going to have to go to Seattle to the emergency passport place and wait until Monday to get an emergency replacement and get on a plane. ARG!

I'm back baby!

If you haven't yet noticed I have recommenced the blogging. It's a combination of:

• getting wonderfully encouraging anonymous comments (keep em' coming)
• finally finishing a bunch of half started entries
• wanting to share all the Halloween crafting
• most importantly, revving up for a trip to Europe which I will endeavor to semi-live blog for your voyeuristic pleasure.

So to the three of you that are still reading (Hi Gabe!) stay tuned and comment often!

Love,

Gaby

Things That Annoy Japuvians

If you've ever worked in an office environment then at some point I'm sure that someone has forced you to play "guess the baby" as a team building exercise. You know - it's spirit week or some crap and everyone brings in a picture of themselves as a baby and all the pictures are put up on a board for display. Everyone then gets a chance to guess who is who and the person the gets the most right wins. So the board always ends up looking like this:

Hmmm.. who could the half Japanese/half Peruvian baby be??? Why do I always have to be the free square on the baby bingo card!
(hehehe those are all Matt, well except for the one that's me and the random man baby, isn't he cute??)

Serious Literary Discussion

Matt and I often like to discuss literature. Though we have differing tastes (Matt would say I have none (I would counter that he should take his bourgeois attitude elsewhere because honestly if a magazine is going to print a picture next to an article it ought to be related to said article ::shakes fist at Harper's::)), we find it enjoyable to really examine literature and it helps us to really understand each other.

So, dear internets, I thought it would be a nice social gesture to show you how such a discussion unfolded between the two of us one day not long ago. So that through this example you too will be be able to create bridges of understanding with your partner.

Without further ado here are our thoughts on:






Ghost Shadow by Heather Graham.
_________________________________________________________________
From: Gaby
To: Mafoo
Subject: Just because the word "ghost" is in the title does not mean it'll be good reading

OMG if the author of my book doesn't stop using the work "huskily" I'm gonna throw up.

_________________________________________________________________
From: Mafoo
To: Gaby
Subject: RE: If the word "ghost" is in the title you can pretty much assume the book will be bad

Mafoo laughed huskily at the Ga's obvious discomfiture, then drove his dogsled off across the Alaskan tundra huskily. Also later he removed the coverings from ears of corn huskily.

_________________________________________________________________
From: Gaby
To: Mafoo
Subject: RE: That isn't so. I bet "Ghost Pirate Raptors from Outer Space" would be a good book

AHHHHH!!! I die.

(Note to readers: proclaiming your own death is an unbeatable argument against many things)
_________________________________________________________________
From: Mafoo
To: Gaby
Subject: RE: That isn't a real book

"Don't die," he whispered huskily and tenderly into her ear, as the sun set duskily on her life half-lived.

_________________________________________________________________
From: Gaby
To: Mafoo
Subject: RE: Suck it

"It won't be forever," she whispered through her half closed lips. Her heart beat on its own one last time as her tormented soul was released into the mystical ether of another world. Wiping tears away and sobbing huskily, Mafoo turned away, unable to look at the prone corpse of his lifelong lover. Unbeknownst to him, Ga's quickly cooling hand moved to comfort him. Startled, he turned, hope swelling in his bosom, and saw that the lively Ga had changed. Before he could comprehend what may have occurred, his vision was blurred by a sound knock to his head. "Vampire!" he exclaimed as his life ebbed away down his dead lover's throat.

_________________________________________________________________
From: Mafoo
To: Gaby
Subject: RE: That's what she said...huskily

Nobody likes vampire Ga. She is a jerk.

Mumified Fairies

Pixies, Doxies, Fairies call of them what you like. These tiny winged magical creatures are rarely seen and often when they are found they are generally long departed from this world and hardly recognizable. So imagine my pleasure when I found this fine specimen at a local rare antique shop we endearingly call Borgin & Burks.

Ok, I may be exaggerating. Borgin & Burks does in fact exist in our neighborhood (officially called Justin and Burks) and they do carry the coolest array of curiosities but this lovely little creature was not purchased. It in fact is a product of the "Halloween Madness" I succumb to every year. Surprisingly simple, it only took me a couple of evenings to create. A little glue, a pair of old nylons, paint, leaves and - ta-da - ancient dead fairies! I gave Matt the task of creating a specimen label and true to form he spent the next hour researching fun sounding and interesting place names in Britain.

My first attempt worked out so well that I made a second one for my friend. At her request I mummified Tinkerbell. (clap harder next time boys and girls).

Pillows and Hats

Spring started about a month ago here in Portland; unfortunately, this last week has seen a reintroduction of cold, rain, hail and well... winter. Bleh! But no matter, my company gave us a "Spring Holiday," which is just a thinly veiled way of celebrating Good Friday. So yesterday while I was puttering about the house contemplating doing laundry I stumbled upon a post on Lulu's Vintage blog announcing that she would be holding their first annual Easter Hat Parade. My interest was piqued, but only slightly, as my only experience with Easter Hats has been this. And that experience was like walking into a scary warped world of undue privilege and people named Muffy. But then of course there's the hats! And the making of hats! I sighed and buried away the urge to make a hat for a holiday I don't even really celebrate and went to Joann Fabrics to try and find some Super Sculpy clay for a project that has been rattling about in my head for months now. Really, I had convinced myself that the trip to the fabric store was only for clay. But then at the store all the spring flowers and Easter accoutrements were on sale and honestly I ALREADY had a little felt ram that I made sitting at home. How could I not? Half an hour later I was sitting at home covering one of Matt's top hats with moss and carefully trying not to get hot glue on the hat itself. (I had given this hat to Matt when we were 17 and he hasn't worn it because it's too big and he doesn't like the period that this hat is from so I didn't think he would get to angry if it got ruined). In a few hours I had this!



Today we scoffed at the miserable weather and I donned my hat. Matt grabbed the umbrellas and off we went! The ladies we met were sweet though a bit "networky" and I'm not particularly good at that. We had a small but intrepid group and off we went on our parade.

We skipped out a little early and headed back to Pioneer Square to partake in International Pillow fight day. But that is for another post.