Roxanne didn't haffta put the red light on, she wanted to...

What if you like to learn about history. But you also like art. But you also just love to walk around and bask in natural beauty. And what if you like those things but aren’t have a little devil in you too and love a good round of trouble-making?

Oh, and cheese? Do you love that too?

You go to Amsterdam.

Hop on whatever vehicle you have available to you and get there. Paddle oars, flap wings, mush dogs. Do it.

Oh, and bring a jacket.

Oh, and bring a lighter.

Because it’s got whatever you want. It’s like Willy Wonka’s factory for culture and vices. I hate to compare it to Vegas because Vegas is cheap and artificial. But, like Vegas, Amsterdam provides you with a buffet of options for premium debauchery. Unlike Vegas, however, it is neither trashy nor artificial. Maybe its how clean it is. Or how people respect each other enough not to be (too) foolish and obnoxious. Or that with the freedom and openness of the culture comes a level of understanding and acceptance. Whatever it is, that city is an incredible experience. From Rembrandt to red lights, captivating.

The first moments of Amsterdam were less than amazing. They were soggy, actually. And stressful. I arrived during rush hour. Which also happened to be flood hour. Have you ever tried to figure out public transit systems during a stampede of giant and waterlogged (albet beautiful) Dutch folk? You might cry. I didn’t, because I’m incredibly stoic and cool-like-cucumbers but lesser people may have.  After an hour of swimming in circles of confusion and rainwater, I figured out where the  tram was which would drop me off right in front of my hostel. Correction: I figured out where the tram that was supposed to drop me off right in front of my hostel was. The hostel was a shy, sneaky, little fella that hid between to other buildings on a pedestrian only street so I missed it even though I walked by it approximetly 2, 543 times. That’s a lot of times. Its enough times to get you good and drenched if you happen to be wandering in the rain. Luckily a very sweet café owner pulled me inside and offered me both directions and a corner to wring myself dry in for a while until it stopped raining. People are nice. I’m learning this. They are just so so nice.

Also had some minor issues with boarding in Amsterdam. Apparently it was some sort of festival weekend (what weekend isn’t a party in this town, though?) So I could only find a bed for a night. This wasn’t going to work. Other things that weren’t working: my money card. And also: my throat. These were problems. Kind of significant but fixable. So what do we do? We go out! We go out to the city center and get caught up in hazyhazy Coffeeshops that don’t have coffee. And alleys rimmed in red. And canals of black water reflecting strings of white lights. And you feel better (and that isn’t because of the ‘coffee,’ you just do).  But because you can’t help but have fun. Even as a spectator. Fun. Everywhere is fun.

So I kind of figured out my problems. Enough to give me another day, which was enough. I simply moved to a new home a block down the street, called my mom in a panic, called the cashcard lady in a panic, became un-panicked, and took a Dayquil. Somuchbetter. Time for some Van Gough, you know?

Van Gough Museum: pretttttttty amazing. Why? Why are you even asking?

a)    It’s Van Gough, guys, nuff said.

b)   It’s also an exhibit that follows the progression of his art from his first scribbles to his final pieces done as he lost sanity and hope. It also includes excerpts and insights from letters between him and his brother, Theo.

c)    Its also contains works by people who influence him and those who he influenced later—the range of which is so great and varied—they have everything from drawings to Japanese prints to comic books.

d)   It also had an exhibit downstairs on photography and painters who used photography during the turn of the century. Really incredible stuff.

Favorites round-up time!

Van Gogh:

 

"Avenue of Poplars in Autumn"

"Parisian Novels"

"Almond Blossom"

"Wild Roses"

"Emperor Moth"

 Other Artists:

Henri Rivière "Funeral Under Umbrellas"

Caillebotte "View from a Balcony"

And also, Redon's "Figure Under a Blossoming Tree," which I can't seem to find a copy of...but Redon is one of my favorites of all time. ever.

After the museum I took a stroll (and by stroll, I mean I walked to crap out of that city. Walked it good and great.) and saw a lot of the more historical areas: The Anne Frank House (which I had originally planned on going into but found it was sold out for three days. Poo.), Vondelpark, The Jordaan District Etc. And I realized a couple of things about The Netherlands:

1)   This is where beautiful people come to live. Its like they’re all stashed up here in the freezingdamncold so as to keep themselves preserved and gorgeous. And its working. Men and women. Children. Beauty.

2)   This is also where bikes come to live. I think perhaps it’s the bicycles’ Mecca land. Like barnacles to a ship, bicycles cling to whatever they can here—posts, fences, racks, cars, shops, each other. Piles and loads and docks full of bikes. Watch out though…they can and will run you over. Wily little critters, Dutch bikes. 

3)   They have some damn good style. Buildings, landscapes, art, design—its all so very clean. Intricate at times as seen in some of the architecture, but never overwhelming. I don’t know if its just because Autumn has arrived—but the lighting is breathtaking as well. It's consistently golden--never glaring or too bright—kind of like its always early morning or late evening.

Other things that will blow your mind in Amsterdam: Flower Markets and Cheese Markets.

Placed next to each other (on purpose, I believe, as a genius strategy to balance the offensive odors of one with the beautiful aromas of the other) these shops will take your senses and show them a thing of two. Rows of roses. Rows of tulips. Rows of bulbs and bags and blooms and CHEESE!!!

 

 

 

Its too much, huh? But wait, there's more-- you get to test em out. Taste all them cheeses as much as you like.

And then maybe you get to come back later and act like it's your first time and do it again…yeah you can do that, too.

After a day of art and cheese and walkingwalkingwalking I might have been tired. But I got over it. Because when night comes in Amsterdam there is a whole ‘nother city to see. So you follow the lights. Here, red lights don’t mean stop. They mean go-do-whatever-you-want (it's ok!).

You want to have a carnival outside your government buildings? Its ok!

You want to sit around and smoke a joint in a bar? It's ok!

You want to pay for sex? It's ok!

You want to have a shop entirely committed to condoms? It's ok!

You want to pee on the street? It's not ok! But the city will provide you with something so that it's ok!

Smoke! Sex! Pee! Its all ok! More than ok—its encouraged. Just be safe and clean. Good boys and girls.

I met some friends in the red light district. Yeah, it’s a strange place to make friends—I’m just a lone girl, wandering through the alleys of prostitutes, window shopping, if you will, minding my own business, when I happen upon some Aussie travelers who had had enough of the red light district and naked women (I know, I didn’t think real men tired of such things either…I didn’t trust them at first because of this but came to realize they were good boys). It was one of their birthdays so we ended up celebrating in proper Amsterdam fashion: pubàcoffeeshopàclub, repeat, repeat, repeat. 

Around 3:30 am we decided enough was enough. We were tired, it was late/early and freezing-- it was time to go home. How do three adults get home in the middle of the night? They cruelly hire a rickshaw, driven by the tiniest of Italian women, to take them. Of course. Then they give her awful directions so she gets lost and has to huff them around for a good half hour. Then they tip her extraextra.

Since I couldn’t find or bargain my way into another room Saturday night, I had to make the most of my last day in the city, so, after 4 hours of sleep, I took off for The Rijksmuseum, which has got a incredibly impressive collection of Dutch art, mostly paintings, but some artifacts, silver and sculpture as well. The way that Dutch artists play with light is what makes their work so impressively unique. Although many of them tend to be darker in a general sense, the pieces usually have a glow to them—whether it’s a still life, portrait, or landscape, the lighting is what makes the piece and some of them, even the darkest, are burning with life and light.

Rijkmuseum Favorites:

Obviously there are a ton of Rembrandt's there, they are all beautiful. He is the master of that glow, its overwhelming. Here are the others:

Moreelse "The Beautiful Sheperdess"

Jan Davidsz "Festoon of Fruits and Flowers"

After the museum, I met up with the Aussiechums for a bit before deciding to hit the dusty trail (and by dusty trail, I mean gritty rail). Since I couldn’t find a place to stay in Amsterdam, I planned on heading to Brussels for the night and then shooting across to London first thing in the morning. Might even try to sneak a Belgian waffle in there. Good plan.

As this trip progresses, however, I think its becoming clear that my good plans rarely turn out.

Coming up next:

When all you want is London but all you’ve got is Brussles.

(Don't worry though, I made it here to London, see:)

Missing everyone, be home soon.

Xxox

-b

V is for...

Oh I’m glad you’re still here—its been a while, no? Thought maybe you’d gotten impatient and wandered off. Sometimes I do awesome things like spend 3 solid days on a train. Ok, maybe not sometimes, but ONE time I did a (nearly)awesome thing and spent 3 solid days on a train. And now I can tell you some things. But those things will come later, there are other things that need to be told now. Because, like I said, its been a while. And there are all sorts of things that start with the letter V that we need to talk about. But don’t worry, none of those things are Vagina and/or Voltaire. You’re welcome.

Brittany’s List of V Things:

(I’ve listed them in V-Numeral format for the sake of organization but please don’t think I’m discussing vitamins of any sort…how dull would that be? This is neither the time nor the place for vitamin chat.)

V1:  Vicenzia.

I swept up my little broken heart bits and shoved them in my bag and left Florence for Vicenzia, Italy further north. By the way? North = shitshititscold (if you look hard, there are some other fun words in there too, just for funsies).  And because I have had some astounding luck with meeting/knowing exceptional people on this trip, I got to stay with an old high school acquaintance, Nichell, who is a very impressive SomethingOrOther in the Army, stationed in Vicenzia. So I had a few things going on here: a comfy cozy place to sleep smack dab in between Verona and Venice, a lovely roommate, and most wonderful….a washing machine (because when you pack for summer but cross the season time zone and arrive in fall you end up wearing the same things every day. Offensive.) I also got a hefty dose of America while I was there. I didn’t miss my homeland yet, but it was interesting to see an American suburb (a la Texas) plopped in the middle of Italy. Interesting and strange. Incongruent? Yes, that would be the accurate. My first night there we went out to a bar where I got to listen to a surprisingly good Beatles cover band (Italians),  get touched by lots of people I didn’t want to be touched by (Americans), and drive a Dodge truck through italian streets (terrifying). but in the end it was a good night.

Moving on.

V2: Verona.

Heard of it? Yes, you have. Maybe you don’t know, but you have. Once upon a time there was a very famous play by Shakespeare called Romeo and Juliet. You were forced to read watch the movie in school-- star crossed lovers, tragedy, (too)young love? Yup,  in Verona. A sweetly romantic village cuddled between some mountains and the Adige river, with great shopping, beautiful views of the surrounding areas, and a large (mostly) intact coliseum.

We  spent the afternoon moseying through the cobbled streets, busy with classy shoppers and street vendors, and got to walk through a large open market  of tents filled with crafts, jewelry, fresh produce and roasting chestnuts (which, by the way, is one of the single most delicious aromas in the world—a perfect accent to a crisp October day.)

We also got to see Juliet’s balcony, tucked away behind busy alleys, which looks out over a quaint courtyard where a bronze statue of the girl stands. Along with heaps of people waiting to rub her boob. I know, that sounds strange but let me explain. According to lore, you will have good luck in love if you cup and rub her breast. Because of this, one of her bronzed breasts is worn down and shines brightly from all the fondling. She gets a lot of action but methinks its not quite worth it.  Floozy. Ok, I explained, but it still sounds weird right? Oh well…its an excuse to touch a boob, duh, FOR FREE! Musta been a man who made up that tale.

V3: Venice.

This is it, folks. Venice, another one of Shakespeare’s subjects. Its famous, its beautiful, its got guys in striped shirts, and guys in boats, and guys in striped shirts in boats! Its everything its made out to be: an intricate and beautiful labyrinth of narrow alleys, ornate architecture and bridges, and vibrant blue water running lazily through canals.  Above all else, Venice is Romance. My friend Ron was right—you need to go with a lover. Because each brick and cobble is laced with romance and there isn’t an area that isn’t breathtaking. I got lost in the beauty. Really, though, lost. Because it is an ACTUAL maze…and I’m not very good at being one of those maze mice. But who cares, because you’re lost in this:

And this:

A most enjoyable 3 hours of wandering.

The directions to everything are displayed in small arrows painted high on the walls of buildings…and with all the glittering masks and sparkling glass, I got (understandably) distracted and therefore lost. I think this is commonly called ADD, but why pigeonhole?

All that army and V wore me out (please read that sentence again and make sure you understand it properly, because I nearly didn’t) so I left for part two of my Italy mission, Operation: Vino Delivery. Shit, guess we can’t escape V words. Let’s continue then, shall we?

V4: Vino
I can’t quite remember if I told you, but my friend Ron Gianelli, has a fantastic winery in my hometown (Jamestown, CA—Gianelli Wine, look it up, drink it up, love it up) but also has family roots and friends in Italy. Because he’s wonderful and because I thought it would be fun addition to my trip, I agreed to deliver 4 bottles of wine to two sets of people (one in Roma, and one in Sestri Levante). I dropped two bottles in Roma after playing e-mail tag with Ron’s friend Giovanni and (sadly) missing him. But I have still been lugging two more bottles up and down stairs, through train stations and through hostels. And night after night they sit in my suitcase…staring at me and taunting me, glistening and sweet. Somehow I’ve managed to refrain from indulging in them (though I’ve been tempted, not simply for pleasure, but so that my arms can have a break, ha) and arranged to meet Ron’s family in the coastal resort town of Sestri Levante. Gander your eyes off:

Pretty nice, huh? Its located just down the coast from the famed Portofino and Cinque Terre, a series of towns known for their perfect climate, beaches, and yachts. Paradise. A nice reprieve from the arctic chills of the Northeast. In summertime the streets are full of vendors and the beaches with umbrellas, but in October, although still beautiful, its mostly locals and fishermen that remain and fill small pockets of the marinas.

With brightly colored huts, striped boats and sweeping beaches, it was perfect eye and camera candy. Like, if cameras could get diabetes, mine would.

No. No, that’s not true. Mine wouldn’t. Because its parent (that would be me, you follow?) forgot to charge its battery. Not only did she neglect to charge it. But she neglected to even grab her charger from her hostel.


In Florence.

FML.

Classic Brittany George right there. So my pictures of paradise are limited to a few dark shots…blast it all. I was annoyed, yes, but the rest of my visit was so enjoyable that I soon forgot. I went to dinner with Antonella, Giancarlo, their neighbor, and her daughter, Sylvia who is my age and helped me set everything up. Even though Antonella and Giancarlo spoke zero English and I only a little Italian, I instantly adored them and we had a great time. Afterword I went out for drinks with Sylvia and met some her friends—who were hilarious—but then it was back to my hotel to figure out my plans for the next few days, since I now had to work Florence back into my route to pick up my charger. Yes, it was out of the way and unexpected, but I wasn’t disappointed to have to return. So I arranged to take the express train in the morning, stop for a few hours, then quickly move north up towards Amsterdam. Look how proactive and organized I am! Wee!

Before you start getting high expectations of me,  stop and reconsider who I am. Even in highly organized and fool proof situations, I can find loopholes. I am a superhero in the name of idiocy.

So my train was delayed. But then it showed up! Hop on. Ahh…nice. Ahh….not my train. Not the wrong train, just not the express. So 1 hour turned to 4 with two tedious transfers. Sigh. Arrived in Florence, retrieved my charger, thanking god that I didn’t have to lug around the wine through all of this, and headed out to find an internet café because I had missed all my connecting trains to get out as well. Shoot.

I started losing faith and cursing the gods, but soon realized it was fate. I trudged down a random street trying to figure out not just how I was going to get out, but where I was going, when, miraculously , I run into one of two people I know in Florence! My favorite Aussiebrit, Jono! Wee! He had had a particularly awful day as well, so we headed to a pub with free internet and expensive beer. Guinness and interwebs: effective treatments for a Shitday. I got my plan sorted out: leave on a night train to Munich (save hostel $$$), arrive early the next day, then travel up to Austria, across Switzerland, stay the night in Basel, and head up to Amsterdam on Thursday. I lost a day so I had a lot to see in a limited amount of time. I figure the scenery from the train in itself would be captivating and it would be a change of pace for me since I had been running ever since I touched down in Europe. A comfortable, leisurely rail adventure! I got my ticket for that night, opting for a reclining chair (free) in a cabin of 6 compared to a $20 bed, I can sleep in chairs.

Train left at 10, which gave me two hours to get food and take care of a major problem: clothes. I still only had one sweater and a jacket. I popped down to the city center in Florence and bought high, thick, boot socks, tights to wear under everything, and a couple sweaters to layer. Success! Bring on the frost! Bring on my fun filled train adventure!

Aw, the midnight express! I was in the caboose of the train so I had to huff and puff all the way to the end of the platform and climb up into the car with all my gear. So completely ready to sit down, shove my earplugs in, and pass out, I banged my way down the car until I found my cabin. Home sweet home!

Naturally, my home for 6 was filled with 4 adults traveling from India, their two children both under the age of 2 (and judging by the smell, at least one of which had a  dirty diaper), and three of us boarding in Florence. The weather in the cabin was a balmy 102 degrees with a humidity level of about 80%. Home sweat home.

Lucky, half the crew (including the adorable but odorous children) was getting off two hours later. We made like sardines until midnight when our overflowing house lessened to a mere brimming house. After I was left in the company of:

--one kind but energetic talian/german terrier-man who told us about his kung-fu skills and lulled us to sleep by singing Frank Sinatra (in Italian, though, to be sure).

--another nondescript man in his 60s who managed sleep, a lot.

--and a Pakistani traveler and his neice, who were spreading the word of the Christian god, and the only one who spoke English. Who also saved me from:

--a 25 year old Italian boy (Bobo was his name? Or something similar) who helped me find my seat but thought my smile of thanks meant “please, stranger, nudge me, wink at me, attempt to lay on my lap and wrap your arms around me.” Bilbo thought wrong, so I utilized multiple gestures and non-verbal communication to rectify the situation. He stayed on his side of the cabin from that point on. Good boy.

Strangely, I didn’t sleep that night. Munich and 6 am couldn’t have come soon enough. I fled the plane and ran downstairs to clean up real quick before hopping on my next connection to Austria. My plan was to stop in Zurich, then Luzerne where there is a beautiful lake to explore, then make my way through Switzerland, stopping and wandering when and where I wanted.

My annoyance and exhaustion from the night melted away as soon as the train left the Munich station, however. The Bavarian countryside—sprawling, perfectly bright green hills, dotted with cows and dark clusters of pines—is enough to absolve any unrest.  Snaking through the woods-Grimm made for a beautiful start to day.

Unfortunately, by the time we got into Switzerland, it was raining too hard to do much wandering. I traveled through all the cities and went out a few times but the rain picked up so most of the day was spent exploring from the seat of a train and admiring the clouds lying low in the valleys between mountains. Grey against green. A dramatic switch from the reds and golds of Italy.

About a half hour before I reached Basel, where I was staying for the night, I looked up to find a soft white layer covering the green hills. I was so excited and awed by how pretty that I totally forgot about the fact that I was going to freeze my ass off. I opted to just enjoy the scenery for a bit longer and worry about retaining my ass later.

A good option, too, since I arrived and although it had stopped snowing by the time we got to Basel, it was still damncold. I bundled up my butt as best as I could, and scampered as quickly as I could across town to my hostel. By this time it was already late and getting dark. I made it to my room and the exhaustion, as well as the sore throat and headache, I had been ignoring caught up to me. I had a go at taking a walk but only made it about a half an hour before it was too dark and I too wiped out to go further, so I  apologized to Basel for not exploring and called it a night. And for the first time since I arrived, went to bed before midnight.

And now? Now I'm on a train to Amsterdam.  I have three days to live it up and have so many markets and museums to see and joints to smoke that I almost don't care that I haven't arranged for a place to sleep yet...hmmm 

Wish me luck! Chat soon.

All my love xxoxx
--b

firenze frenzy

Are you ailing in the heart? Do you find yourself daydreaming about crumbling architecture, the hum of scooters and ray-ban-clad urbanites? A bout of Romesickness perhaps?




Fret not, dear friends, I have found a remedy! All you need to fix you right up is a dose of Essence of Florence (and three bottles of wine) taken daily. Yup. I'm basically Alexander Fleming just with girl-bits and no geeky bow tie. Have a try:

Mmmm, goes down easy huh? So much better than Dimetapp and gives you a lovely buzz. Think i'll be awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for my pharmaceutical revelation? I'll start designing a display case for it now.

Let's be very real though, for just a second. Because this right here:

 

May have been one of the most beautiful sunsets i've ever had the pleasure of watching. Sat on the bridge for a good hour and watched the colors morph and fade. But just when you thought the sky was done dazzling, she turns around and smacks you with some nightbeauty:

Its okay, don't feel weird, I wasn't really able to speak for about ten minutes after seeing this either. Your voice will come back in a few.

But that's Florence for you: beauty abounding. You go expecting to stroll some of the most famous galleries and see art but then you realize that the city in itself is great art. And the people are just as great. Its smaller than Rome, obviously, so the people and atmosphere is a bit more down to earth. There are a lot of students which makes it fun; and there is a perfect balance of grime and art.

The people are just as nice, as well. A lot of tourists and natives mixed about. My hostelmates the first night were a quirky brother and sister from Australia en route to London for the Wall Street sit-in. They were replaced with an equally fun AustraliaBrit named Jono who was moving to the Florence to write and learn Italian and a 'eccentric' NoName boy from Florida who enlightened me about the mores of vampires. I think he was in Florence to study as well, but to be a Vampire, as he slept about 20 hours a day and spoke in varied accents. I didn't have the heart to tell him he was in the wrong country, he seemed fragile. Jono and I explored the city around the university a bit, ate too much, drank too much, and found some awesome light shows in the Piazza Della Signoria. Fine Italian fun.

I also met another native friend! Everyone, please say hello to Ervin:

Yeah, he's a sweetheart. I'm quite lucky to find these wonderful people with great scooters. He took me about to Michelangelo's Piazza above the city (where I took the night shot above) and out to a cute HoleInTheWall pizzeria with delicious pizza and wine. 

I was supposed to leave the next day but was just having too much fun so I stayed...two more days bahahahha (this seems to be a habit of mine?)  I went to Uffizi and The Accademia and was awed by both the famous and not so famous pieces (Grandma: you were right about David's disproportionate anatomy...disappointing indeed). What were my favorites? Oh, I'm so glad you asked, you're so great. I wasn't allowed to take photos, but here were my favs:

Botticelli, "Spring"

Vecchio, "Adam and Eve"

 Vecellio, "Flora"

Bartolini, "Fiducia in Dio"

The Uffizi also had this awesome exhibit on the bottom floor that showed the progression and development of the gallery from first conception to modern day (they are currently constructing a new addition to the gallery). It was amazing to see the first plans and drawings of the building and surrounding area, then to see paintings of the piazzas from hundreds of years ago because so little has changed. Besides people wearing those awful onion-shaped pants. Now they just wear atrocious pants of other various shapes. History and fashion coming full-circle here folks.

I met up with Ervin after the galleries and we went up to a great big park (Central Park, of course) and we strolled around, people watching and enjoying the fall (read: freezing) evening. Don't worry, the second half of my Romesickness remedy works really well for nippy nights as well. Wine warmth.

Fact: Old men playing bocce ball = cutest thing ever. Google it, I swear its true. Cuter than puppies in baskets.

All roads lead to happiness here. Pretty sweet route.

Another city and group of people I hated to leave. But it just keeps getting better so I was excited to see how my next stop would turn out. Still can't believe how generous and kind Fortune has been to me <3

Now, its on to the three V's: Vicenzia, Verona and Venice and more of my new favorite activity: Trainwaiting--

All my love xxox,
b