Franz Josef to Queensland photos are now in the Ryan and Ron Do the World blog. Note that a number of the photos were taken through the bus windows as we drove.
Showing posts with label Franz Josef. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Franz Josef. Show all posts
Friday, January 07, 2011
What Do You Mean 8 Hours on a Bus? Franz Josef to Queensland
0 commentsUnlike well oiled machines, when the alarm goes off at 6:10am, we do not jump out of bed. With all of the creaks and cracks, we could use a dose of WD40 in a few joints here and there to make movement more efficient. I tried not waking fully so that the realization of an 8 hour bus ride does not fully permeate my consciousness. If that happened I may have unavoidable urges to harm Ron for booking the trip when he so well knows my aversion to bus rides. Actually I have a loathing of any bus trip that lasts over 3 hours.
These long distance buses stop directly across from that hateful place where we did the glacier tour. We were early, hoping that one of the cafés would be open for coffee, but darn if they don’t open until 8am when the bus is due. Too much liquid is also a problem for long bus trips. Powers of suggestion make me very vulnerable to needing a bathroom. All I need is to overhear someone say something related and boom, I have to go. I try not to sit next to parent with children. If they ask the kid if she/he needs a potty, BOOM. They got me. Besides the obvious triggers: bladder, urinate, bathroom, pee, loo, WC, there are the subconscious ones. Those include fluid, stream, waterfall, rain, drizzle, tinkle, dribble, faucet, nappie, diaper, leakage, bedpan, catheter and bladder seaweed. I am a goner holding my knees together like a young woman on a first date with the school Romeo.
When our booked NakedBus turned out to be a Newman’s bus, we were only momentarily confounded, but the young and agile driver Garrett, assured us it was on a trick by the companies. We boarded with plenty of seating options; gleefully choosing the seat right in front of the toilet seemed like a smart move until I discovered it was locked. Oh, the pressure: water pressure on the bladder and mental pressure trying to convince myself I don’t own a bladder.
One thing I realized on this bus that has been true of all of the buses we have been on is that the windows are pristine clean. We have never had a problem seeing out or taking pictures through the windows. Even today, it rained heavily, but the side windows were spot free.
For an 8 hour bus trip, my best method of coping is to sleep for 7 ½ of them. Garrett our driver, however, had a different plan. He had the audacity to point out a remarkable site that we should not miss out on about every twenty minutes or so. Just as I started to doze, Garrett was on his headphone loudspeaker sharing a phenomenally incredible aspect of Mother Nature’s works of art. As we knew before, New Zealand would not exist if it were not earthquakes that pushed up land from the sea and plunged it together. Glaciers and volcanoes jumped in with their contributions. In the area we were, they still have 300 tremors a year. According to Garrett, scientists believe NZ is 200 years overdue for another horrendously powerful and destructive earthquake. It seems the one in Christchurch was not big enough.
Garret was atypical of bus drivers. He was young and was probably in perfect proportion for his height/weight ratio. If there was any excess fat, he had to have locked it up in the luggage storage, because it certainly was not on him. Soon it became apparent that this was no ordinary point A to point B mode of transport, but more like a tour bus ride. Close to every hour or close to it, we would stop at a vista point for a camera opportunity or a bathroom break. Garrett drove us to the half-way point where he would leave us to drive another bus coming from the opposite direction back to where we started. This allows both drivers to return at night to their home area. With the drivers changing buses, none of the passengers from either direction had to do anything, but relax. We arrived early, giving us the opportunity to walk through part of the sub-tropical rainforest to view a waterfall.
When we returned from the waterfall, Peter was our driver. Peter was a typical bus driver: close to sixty years old and heavy enough to make Santa Claus feel like an anorexic. He was just as pleasant as Garrett and shared just as much, but there were some concerns. When Garrett was not talking to us, we could assume his headset loudspeaker was turned off. All was quiet.
Alternatively, when Peter was not talking, we all heard AHHHHH-HEEEEEMMM repeatedly for the first half hour. Immediately even the most resistant passenger snapped their seatbelt securely, had their seat upright, replaced the tray table in a locked position and assumed the crash position. Ron verbalized it while the rest of us thought it: Peter fell asleep at the wheel. Of course, none of us were brave enough to unbuckle our seatbelt to find out for sure either. Other assumptions were that he was watching a porn movie while driving, practicing to be a Lamaze coach, or rehearsing to be a stand-in for Darth Vadar.
As it turned out, he was awake, he was just trying to shove air from his mouth with a guided assist from his nose past his belly into a search and rescue mission to his lungs. This sound would go on for at least an hour. When it stopped, we all assumed the crash position again thinking he may have died at the wheel.
After a break and walk outside, Peter had better breathe control, but his voice on the loudspeaker sounded like construction trucks as they speed over a freshly graveled road. He really is a nice guy, but seriously he could stroke out at the wheel.
Each time I was tempted to sleep, there was something outside the window that kept my attention like a prisoner. Every mile was extraordinarily beautiful and it changes so often, you never have a chance to tire of it. If anything, you want more of the same for just a few more minutes. Some of the mountains look like they are covered with a Brussel sprout pox, little round lumps of greenery all over its face. This is like the vegan version of Chicken Pox, for those who just don’t deal with animal products.
To see what I mean you will have to check out the photos for this trip. We are again at a YHA, Youth Hostel Association here in Queensland. There are two of them; we are at the YHA Lakefront. Sure as it is named we have a magnificent view of the lake and mountains out the window. We walked the town some, booked a tour of the Lord of the Rings and went for Thai for dinner. Another good day!
These long distance buses stop directly across from that hateful place where we did the glacier tour. We were early, hoping that one of the cafés would be open for coffee, but darn if they don’t open until 8am when the bus is due. Too much liquid is also a problem for long bus trips. Powers of suggestion make me very vulnerable to needing a bathroom. All I need is to overhear someone say something related and boom, I have to go. I try not to sit next to parent with children. If they ask the kid if she/he needs a potty, BOOM. They got me. Besides the obvious triggers: bladder, urinate, bathroom, pee, loo, WC, there are the subconscious ones. Those include fluid, stream, waterfall, rain, drizzle, tinkle, dribble, faucet, nappie, diaper, leakage, bedpan, catheter and bladder seaweed. I am a goner holding my knees together like a young woman on a first date with the school Romeo.
When our booked NakedBus turned out to be a Newman’s bus, we were only momentarily confounded, but the young and agile driver Garrett, assured us it was on a trick by the companies. We boarded with plenty of seating options; gleefully choosing the seat right in front of the toilet seemed like a smart move until I discovered it was locked. Oh, the pressure: water pressure on the bladder and mental pressure trying to convince myself I don’t own a bladder.
One thing I realized on this bus that has been true of all of the buses we have been on is that the windows are pristine clean. We have never had a problem seeing out or taking pictures through the windows. Even today, it rained heavily, but the side windows were spot free.
For an 8 hour bus trip, my best method of coping is to sleep for 7 ½ of them. Garrett our driver, however, had a different plan. He had the audacity to point out a remarkable site that we should not miss out on about every twenty minutes or so. Just as I started to doze, Garrett was on his headphone loudspeaker sharing a phenomenally incredible aspect of Mother Nature’s works of art. As we knew before, New Zealand would not exist if it were not earthquakes that pushed up land from the sea and plunged it together. Glaciers and volcanoes jumped in with their contributions. In the area we were, they still have 300 tremors a year. According to Garrett, scientists believe NZ is 200 years overdue for another horrendously powerful and destructive earthquake. It seems the one in Christchurch was not big enough.
Garret was atypical of bus drivers. He was young and was probably in perfect proportion for his height/weight ratio. If there was any excess fat, he had to have locked it up in the luggage storage, because it certainly was not on him. Soon it became apparent that this was no ordinary point A to point B mode of transport, but more like a tour bus ride. Close to every hour or close to it, we would stop at a vista point for a camera opportunity or a bathroom break. Garrett drove us to the half-way point where he would leave us to drive another bus coming from the opposite direction back to where we started. This allows both drivers to return at night to their home area. With the drivers changing buses, none of the passengers from either direction had to do anything, but relax. We arrived early, giving us the opportunity to walk through part of the sub-tropical rainforest to view a waterfall.
When we returned from the waterfall, Peter was our driver. Peter was a typical bus driver: close to sixty years old and heavy enough to make Santa Claus feel like an anorexic. He was just as pleasant as Garrett and shared just as much, but there were some concerns. When Garrett was not talking to us, we could assume his headset loudspeaker was turned off. All was quiet.
Alternatively, when Peter was not talking, we all heard AHHHHH-HEEEEEMMM repeatedly for the first half hour. Immediately even the most resistant passenger snapped their seatbelt securely, had their seat upright, replaced the tray table in a locked position and assumed the crash position. Ron verbalized it while the rest of us thought it: Peter fell asleep at the wheel. Of course, none of us were brave enough to unbuckle our seatbelt to find out for sure either. Other assumptions were that he was watching a porn movie while driving, practicing to be a Lamaze coach, or rehearsing to be a stand-in for Darth Vadar.
As it turned out, he was awake, he was just trying to shove air from his mouth with a guided assist from his nose past his belly into a search and rescue mission to his lungs. This sound would go on for at least an hour. When it stopped, we all assumed the crash position again thinking he may have died at the wheel.
After a break and walk outside, Peter had better breathe control, but his voice on the loudspeaker sounded like construction trucks as they speed over a freshly graveled road. He really is a nice guy, but seriously he could stroke out at the wheel.
Each time I was tempted to sleep, there was something outside the window that kept my attention like a prisoner. Every mile was extraordinarily beautiful and it changes so often, you never have a chance to tire of it. If anything, you want more of the same for just a few more minutes. Some of the mountains look like they are covered with a Brussel sprout pox, little round lumps of greenery all over its face. This is like the vegan version of Chicken Pox, for those who just don’t deal with animal products.
To see what I mean you will have to check out the photos for this trip. We are again at a YHA, Youth Hostel Association here in Queensland. There are two of them; we are at the YHA Lakefront. Sure as it is named we have a magnificent view of the lake and mountains out the window. We walked the town some, booked a tour of the Lord of the Rings and went for Thai for dinner. Another good day!
Thursday, January 06, 2011
Rain in the Forecast
0 commentsYesterday, I was remiss in reporting that at 10am, our bedroom door opens and a surprised young woman says “Excuse me, but you need to leave by 10 and it is that now.” For a moment, in my mental fogginess, I thought we had rented a room by the hour and were caught in some lewd act of sleeping. How many decades has it been since a young woman entered my bedroom? You won’t get the answer from me…because it has been too long ago to have made a lasting impression. When we said we had two more nights, she apologized and left. Another reason why I gave up on women, they kept apologizing and saying your check out time is overdue as they were leaving MY bedroom.
On a more dismal note, the weather forecast today is for torrential rain. For once the weatherperson is right on. The sound of rain woke us early this morning. Niagara, Iguaçu, and Victoria Falls are mere faucets dripping water compared to the downpour that is comically called a rain shower. We had no plans for the day other than read, relax, go through photos, and write. It was a perfect day for it with the only interruption being the sights out the sliding glass doors. We waited for evacuation orders to come any minute. Yesterday, our guide said they can get as much rain in three hours as London gets in a month during a wet period. If we knew Show and Tell was following his statement, we would have prepared better. In fact, it really was a joyful day. No transportation to take us elsewhere, no luggage lugging, no checking in or out of places to sleep, just shear bliss relaxation with reading and writing. I finished the book Safe Houses and started What to Keep. My idea of a glorious day.
Because of our perils with Pauline yesterday, our bonus was free entry to the hot springs. At 5pm, we decided to walk over there, soak for an hour and then get dinner. With the rain flying out of horizontal clouds, an umbrella was worthless. What we needed were the protective shields of riot police, nothing over our heads was going to protect us from anything. Ron attempted to use his umbrella, but the rib assembly kept doing back flips causing it to go inside out, while the stretchers were holding on for dear life. At first we thought we would stop at the ATM for some cash, but it was the nasty bank’s machine that charges NZ$10 for a withdrawal. Fo’get-about-it.
There was some irony in trying to stay dry in order to soak in hot water. It must have been the knowledge that we were saving NZ$23 entry fee by having survived the glaciers that motivated us. By the time we had arrived at the spa, my waterproof shoulder bag that normally has my camera, but now was holding my towel, was also carrying about a liter of rainwater. The rain was hitting my eyes so fast and furiously, even little eye shield wipers would not have helped.
When we arrived, the attendant cut off our wrist bands that we had been protecting through showers to show that we did indeed deserve to enter. She pointed the way to the male locker room and said there were lockers outside, but they cost $2. Why would you put the lockers outside when the changing rooms are inside? DUH!! Because I do everything that does not require much physical energy faster than Ron, I was ready for the pools in minutes and went to find a locker out by the pools. As soon as I walked out the door I thought we had made a mistake; being an atypical male, I DID ask for directions.
Twenty lockers are available for hire. Twenty lockers for all of the guests of a well publicized spa. Twenty lockers are all they have, twenty. The alternative is to pack your clothes in a plastic bag and tuck it under the benches in little cubbies, where the rain is flooding. Who did the planning for this place? In 2009, there were eighty-four bank robberies within New Zealand. That is more than once a week; there are only fifty-two weeks in a year. By 2010 it had dropped to half that amount; a lesser number of high achievers I guess. Regardless, with these statistics do I really want to store my clothes and my wallet in a cubby open to the public? I think not.
So without getting to soak in the hot springs, we were soaked in cold rain. After looking at the restaurant menus, it did not take brain surgeon intelligence to determine we were cooking dinner tonight, not eating out. For the price of one dinner in the inflated dining options, we were able to buy four pork steaks, salad, and a bottle of wine. They have a great Australian Shiraz wine on sale for NZ$7.95. We know for a fact it was good. We polished off a bottle last night.
After dinner, we watched Winter’s Bone. If anyone wants to know what rural mountain life is like in the US, this is the movie to watch. Aside from the meth labs, the rest of it was pretty darn realistic from areas I have been to. Back then they were making moonshine, perhaps they have moved into another product line by now. Tomorrow is a quantum 8 hour bus ride. I just may need another bottle of the Shiraz to go.
On a more dismal note, the weather forecast today is for torrential rain. For once the weatherperson is right on. The sound of rain woke us early this morning. Niagara, Iguaçu, and Victoria Falls are mere faucets dripping water compared to the downpour that is comically called a rain shower. We had no plans for the day other than read, relax, go through photos, and write. It was a perfect day for it with the only interruption being the sights out the sliding glass doors. We waited for evacuation orders to come any minute. Yesterday, our guide said they can get as much rain in three hours as London gets in a month during a wet period. If we knew Show and Tell was following his statement, we would have prepared better. In fact, it really was a joyful day. No transportation to take us elsewhere, no luggage lugging, no checking in or out of places to sleep, just shear bliss relaxation with reading and writing. I finished the book Safe Houses and started What to Keep. My idea of a glorious day.
Because of our perils with Pauline yesterday, our bonus was free entry to the hot springs. At 5pm, we decided to walk over there, soak for an hour and then get dinner. With the rain flying out of horizontal clouds, an umbrella was worthless. What we needed were the protective shields of riot police, nothing over our heads was going to protect us from anything. Ron attempted to use his umbrella, but the rib assembly kept doing back flips causing it to go inside out, while the stretchers were holding on for dear life. At first we thought we would stop at the ATM for some cash, but it was the nasty bank’s machine that charges NZ$10 for a withdrawal. Fo’get-about-it.
There was some irony in trying to stay dry in order to soak in hot water. It must have been the knowledge that we were saving NZ$23 entry fee by having survived the glaciers that motivated us. By the time we had arrived at the spa, my waterproof shoulder bag that normally has my camera, but now was holding my towel, was also carrying about a liter of rainwater. The rain was hitting my eyes so fast and furiously, even little eye shield wipers would not have helped.
When we arrived, the attendant cut off our wrist bands that we had been protecting through showers to show that we did indeed deserve to enter. She pointed the way to the male locker room and said there were lockers outside, but they cost $2. Why would you put the lockers outside when the changing rooms are inside? DUH!! Because I do everything that does not require much physical energy faster than Ron, I was ready for the pools in minutes and went to find a locker out by the pools. As soon as I walked out the door I thought we had made a mistake; being an atypical male, I DID ask for directions.
Twenty lockers are available for hire. Twenty lockers for all of the guests of a well publicized spa. Twenty lockers are all they have, twenty. The alternative is to pack your clothes in a plastic bag and tuck it under the benches in little cubbies, where the rain is flooding. Who did the planning for this place? In 2009, there were eighty-four bank robberies within New Zealand. That is more than once a week; there are only fifty-two weeks in a year. By 2010 it had dropped to half that amount; a lesser number of high achievers I guess. Regardless, with these statistics do I really want to store my clothes and my wallet in a cubby open to the public? I think not.
So without getting to soak in the hot springs, we were soaked in cold rain. After looking at the restaurant menus, it did not take brain surgeon intelligence to determine we were cooking dinner tonight, not eating out. For the price of one dinner in the inflated dining options, we were able to buy four pork steaks, salad, and a bottle of wine. They have a great Australian Shiraz wine on sale for NZ$7.95. We know for a fact it was good. We polished off a bottle last night.
After dinner, we watched Winter’s Bone. If anyone wants to know what rural mountain life is like in the US, this is the movie to watch. Aside from the meth labs, the rest of it was pretty darn realistic from areas I have been to. Back then they were making moonshine, perhaps they have moved into another product line by now. Tomorrow is a quantum 8 hour bus ride. I just may need another bottle of the Shiraz to go.
Wednesday, January 05, 2011
It's My Birthday Again
0 commentsToday is my birthday, but within 9 days, it is crowded with them. Yesterday, January 4th was Dr. Alma Flor Ada’s birthday. She was my doctoral dissertation chair and mentor. It was also the birthday of Ray Ruiz, the New Orleans reader who also owns a B and B. Today is mine and . Tomorrow, the 6th is Sheila Orlowski’s. Her family took me in when I moved to Michigan to complete high school. We have been friends ever since then. She shares the date with Jennifer McCluskey, a nurse I used to work with and was very close to. January 8th, is the birthday of a former partner John E. Holmes. We have remained friends over the years too.
When I awoke this morning knowing it was my birthday, I wondered why we celebrate them beyond the age of twenty-one. As a child they are rites of passage either along with or replacing the other rites of Bar Mitzvah or Confirmation for example, though there are others. From the teen years, there is the rite of passage of getting a driver’s license; this is followed by the ages to vote or drink legally, depending on the state/country.
Now, I think we should devote more celebration to the other rites of passage or accomplishments in life. Getting engaged for example takes mental, physical, and spiritual work on differing levels. Not a solo event, it takes two people putting through their best efforts through that tediously long interview process before they make the ultimate commitment. An engagement deserves celebration.
Living together or marriage, after the final masks are thrown off and we see exactly what we have committed to; it takes more work, compromise, planning, mental challenges and renewed spirit of the soul. Each year that these two people survive the hardships and joys of being together should be celebrated.
School graduations take mental effort in order to reach that stage. There was work, energy, and determination involved. Let’s cheer for those who graduate.
Let’s also cheer for those who find a job they are qualified for, are using their qualifications, find it fulfilling, and work to the best of their abilities to maintain. If they are not made redundant through no fault of their own, we should show all forms of merriment each year that are there.
Aging though, I have real questions about after a certain age. I think greeting cards companies should rethink their birthday greetings. Here are some suggestions:
1. Congratulations! You have avoided sniper fire for another year. Way to go!
2. Well, you made it through living another year. I guess God did give you enough brains to keep your blood flowing and your lungs breathing.
3. Gosh, another year has passed and you are another year older, but yet it took no effort on your part to age. Well done!
4. Best wishes on getting another year older. At the rate you are going, you will be dead sooner than you think.
5. Wow, another year of learning the cross the street safely, not eat poisonous mushrooms, and ducking when your spouse throws those knives at you. You are an example for us all. Good on’ya!
Regardless of what my thoughts are on my own birthday, I wish all the best to all of the others who are sharing a special day this week. If you don't send birthday greetings, I will not think any less of you. Certainly, I have a negative attitude toward my aging process, so I won't hold it against you.
These people were born on the same day and same year as I.
Pamela Sue Martin, Westport Ct, actress (Nancy Drew, Fallon-Dynasty)
Steve Archer, American singer (The Archers)
Mike Rann, Australian politician
George Tenet, American CIA director
Tuesday, January 04, 2011
Off to the Alps
0 commentsBruce took us to the train station to catch the Trans-Alpine scenic train. No one told them here that the Alps are really in Switzerland and other European countries. The routine was the same as our last two train adventures, but not as crowded. Due to some dream last night, I awoke at 3:30am without ever returning to sleep, so the rocking of the train put me out like a baby in a swinging cradle. Each announcement for some special view by the train staff would rouse me long enough to look, but then I conked out once again. The scenery was magnificent on each trip we have taken; the country is stupendously bountiful. We were headed for Franz Josef, the glacier region of the country. The knowledge of how it came to be called this has escaped us, but we will investigate it and get back to you.
With the train ended in Greymouth, we had to change transport. From there, we were scheduled for a NakedBus ride the rest of the way. NakedBus does not really run this route, so they contract it out to Atomic Buses. The driver charged us an extra NZ$10 for having a 3rd bag in storage. That has not happened yet. I think it was for his pocket. I should have asked for a receipt. Calling this vehicle a bus is like calling a pigging bank a prize winning hog. It was no more than an oversized van already pretty well filled with young people minus one man and one woman who could have been my grandparents. Empty seats were a premium, but there were two together in the back. The catch was the tire hump was there. As it was there was less leg room than a budget airline; sharing with a hump is not ideal for a 3 hour ride. We were going to wait it out for the first stop when someone was sure to get off.
When we did stop only 1 person left us, but that opened a seat for two at the front of the shuttle. In theory, this was true, but the young man in front had both seats reclining back. When I said something, he just put his ear buds in and grandma gave him a sly smirk. I stayed; Ron went back to our old seat. Without me there, the hump was not an issue. He could stretch his legs.
There was no way I could sit facing front with the two seats in front of me reclining. On one seat he had a canvas shopping bag. Did the shopping bag really need to recline? I made a point of stating his reclining seats made sitting behind him difficult. He flicked his head in my way direction, but seemed to catch himself. It was like an automatic reaction knowing I was speaking to him, but if he turned his head completely he would have to deal with me. Seething, I sat behind him thinking of the fun I could have pulling his scraggly underdeveloped retro sideburns out of his face one by one with a small crochet hook. With only twenty hairs on each side, it was totally unsatisfying. I needed more. I stared at the back of his head trying to burn holes in it; his hair looked like black pin feathers of a guinea hen. Grandma turned out to be a whacko too. US American, didn’t you just guess it would be so? She breaks out of her coma long enough to shout “Have you ever heard of Randolf Boodleboob?” Selfish ignorant young man with no manners composes himself after granny’s surprise outburst long enough to say “No”. Granny tells the bus she is supporting him for President of the United States, so we have not heard of him, we will. Okay, sure grandma. You are riding on the EasyJet version of highway transportation and you are supporting this unknown for president. She must have missed a dose or two of her medications.
When we finally arrived at Franz Josef the driver told all NakedBus people this was the end of the line for us. She and the youthful ignoramus missed the announcement. They were sitting directly behind the driver. It was confusing for them. They were not NakedBus or Atomic Shuttle customers, but WormWays Buses. I was certain they needed to stay on the shuttle if for no other reason than to give the rest of us a head start in getting away.
As hostels go, this is the nicest so far this trip. Our room is large, twin beds, an extra large private bathroom, and great amenities for cooking, lounging, watching television and all. Tomorrow we will go on a glacier tour for the afternoon, which should be fun. When we were on a cruise at the tip of Argentina and Chile, we did it then too. What amazing sights.
It seems that grocery stores that are within reach of hostels are automatic goldmines. I had thought that they jacked up prices due to the captive audience, but it seems here that those supermarkets that are nowhere near a hostel are just as expensive. Prices are incredibly expensive even by European standards, aside from Budapest, making it barely a lesser option for eating out vs eating in.
With the train ended in Greymouth, we had to change transport. From there, we were scheduled for a NakedBus ride the rest of the way. NakedBus does not really run this route, so they contract it out to Atomic Buses. The driver charged us an extra NZ$10 for having a 3rd bag in storage. That has not happened yet. I think it was for his pocket. I should have asked for a receipt. Calling this vehicle a bus is like calling a pigging bank a prize winning hog. It was no more than an oversized van already pretty well filled with young people minus one man and one woman who could have been my grandparents. Empty seats were a premium, but there were two together in the back. The catch was the tire hump was there. As it was there was less leg room than a budget airline; sharing with a hump is not ideal for a 3 hour ride. We were going to wait it out for the first stop when someone was sure to get off.
When we did stop only 1 person left us, but that opened a seat for two at the front of the shuttle. In theory, this was true, but the young man in front had both seats reclining back. When I said something, he just put his ear buds in and grandma gave him a sly smirk. I stayed; Ron went back to our old seat. Without me there, the hump was not an issue. He could stretch his legs.
There was no way I could sit facing front with the two seats in front of me reclining. On one seat he had a canvas shopping bag. Did the shopping bag really need to recline? I made a point of stating his reclining seats made sitting behind him difficult. He flicked his head in my way direction, but seemed to catch himself. It was like an automatic reaction knowing I was speaking to him, but if he turned his head completely he would have to deal with me. Seething, I sat behind him thinking of the fun I could have pulling his scraggly underdeveloped retro sideburns out of his face one by one with a small crochet hook. With only twenty hairs on each side, it was totally unsatisfying. I needed more. I stared at the back of his head trying to burn holes in it; his hair looked like black pin feathers of a guinea hen. Grandma turned out to be a whacko too. US American, didn’t you just guess it would be so? She breaks out of her coma long enough to shout “Have you ever heard of Randolf Boodleboob?” Selfish ignorant young man with no manners composes himself after granny’s surprise outburst long enough to say “No”. Granny tells the bus she is supporting him for President of the United States, so we have not heard of him, we will. Okay, sure grandma. You are riding on the EasyJet version of highway transportation and you are supporting this unknown for president. She must have missed a dose or two of her medications.
When we finally arrived at Franz Josef the driver told all NakedBus people this was the end of the line for us. She and the youthful ignoramus missed the announcement. They were sitting directly behind the driver. It was confusing for them. They were not NakedBus or Atomic Shuttle customers, but WormWays Buses. I was certain they needed to stay on the shuttle if for no other reason than to give the rest of us a head start in getting away.
As hostels go, this is the nicest so far this trip. Our room is large, twin beds, an extra large private bathroom, and great amenities for cooking, lounging, watching television and all. Tomorrow we will go on a glacier tour for the afternoon, which should be fun. When we were on a cruise at the tip of Argentina and Chile, we did it then too. What amazing sights.
It seems that grocery stores that are within reach of hostels are automatic goldmines. I had thought that they jacked up prices due to the captive audience, but it seems here that those supermarkets that are nowhere near a hostel are just as expensive. Prices are incredibly expensive even by European standards, aside from Budapest, making it barely a lesser option for eating out vs eating in.
Monday, August 25, 2008
Where is Everyone?
0 comments
Breakfast is included in the hotel rate. It is minimal, but enough. The coffee machine, a product of Nescafe is self-service. I placed my cup on the tray and hit the latte button, but the result was a pure white without a trace of coffee. Although the hot milk was delicious, I really wanted caffeine. After I had some of it downed, I put the cup back and hit the espresso button, making a perfect latte.
We bought bus tickets at the reception desk walked to the 36 
bus stop to go to Miramare Castle. We were not quite sure which stop to get off, but went by instinct, Ron’s instincts, not mine. After getting off of the bus, we had to walk back in the direction we came, but the castle was on the other side of the highway. There was no way to cross. After walking through the two tunnels we had traveled through on the bus, we found an institute with steps leading to a park. We asked someone who said we could go that way, but there were many paths, so to be careful.
It was a hefty climb of numerous short flights of stairs with small resting platforms at the top of each flight. After innumerable flights, we reached the apex to find a lovely wooded park with 
generously wide walking paths and well placed benches. About every 500 feet, there was a map showing the current location and all of the important landmarks of the area. We found out way to the castle after descending some insubstantial flights of stairs. The castle was built by Archduke Ferdinand Maximilian, brother to Franz Josef the Emperor of Austria and the Hapsburg Empire. The castle is surrounded by 22 hectares of trees imported from around the world.
We toured the castle for 4 Euros entrance for me, but Ron was able to get in for free with his senior ID from Hungary. Either way, it was worth the charge. The castle was not overly extravagant, tasteful enough to be charming, but it was hot and I could barely stand it. After we finished the tour, we walked through the park to the end and descended at the restaurant where the bus sits to return the route back again.
Back to the starting point at the end of the bus line, we looked for the Jewish synagogue that was on the sights to see list and found it handily. However, it is only open on Sundays and Thursdays for touring and closed completely other days of the week. We missed it yesterday and will be leaving early on Thursday, so that is off our list. We also checked out the Renaissance Museum, but it was closed for the month of August. Not doing well, we wandered instead. Again today, although being Monday, most stores are closed. It was well into the afternoon, yet there is no sign of life, nor are there signs stating they are closed. Door signs claim they should be open welcoming shoppers, but the lock on the entrance displays something different altogether. Again, many of the cafés and restaurants are still shuttered also giving the city a ghost like feeling. The streets are not busy with pedestrians, there are not many tourists, and the cars that are zipping through the streets are racing with a passion to get through here to someplace with more action, as fast as possible.
Remember the children’s game of clasping your hands together and chanting “Here is the church, here is the steeple, open the doors and where are all of the people?” I kept asking that question all day today. The only people that were out in any number were the seniors who were hoarding the seats on the bus like they were being evacuated and needed comfort for the long haul.
We stopped at a café for a snack since there was not much else worth attempting by 3:00 pm. I ordered a latte and received a cup of hot milk. There seems to be a trend here, so being quick to learn, I realized a latte here is not a coffee latte, but just the milk. Lesson to be learned, a latte here is milk only. Even when I have asked for a coffee latte, they had no idea what I wanted. When this time filler had run its course, we went back to the hotel to catch some of the Democratic National Convention news coverage.
After some writing and a nap, we went seeking one of the old cafés with a reputation. Like Vienna and Budapest and most likely dozens of other cities around the world, there are some famous hangouts which developed a reputation for hosting the famous and infamous of the world of literature, the arts, followed by politicians, and insidious others who chose that place as their nesting area. Three of these are still in tact with business as usual. We went to discover the first one. The inside was embellished with dark wood ceilings, but ivory walls with white trim like oversized cameos. Broken into cozy rooms, it maintained the intimacy that small groups of like minded people would gravitate toward and reward them with privacy for their discussions. We chose to sit outside since all of Trieste and probably all of Italy now is non-smoking indoors.
We walked the waterfront again this evening, but we had much more of it to ourselves than
yesterday. There were so few people out, it was almost eerie. Watching the last vestiges of the sun disappear over the water as it was rising on some other’s morning, the clouds transformed from oranges to pinks and later to grays as their appearance morphed from one shape to another, shifting so slowly, it was barely a cognitive experience.
For dinner, we decided to try a place on the canal recommended by the hotel, called ‘A Kiss by the Canal’. We were told they gave a 10% discount to hotel guests, so we decided to try it. By the canal, they have sofas with tables between them. I thought it would be too difficult to eat dinner from a sofa on such a low table. The other outside tables were along side the restaurant, so we chose a table there. When our waiter came over, we asked for a menu. He looked a bit stunned and then went for another server, but returned to say our waiter would be with us shortly. The menu is written on a blackboard, so our new host brought it over and translated the entire list of options. Ron ordered the pasta with crab and I ordered the pasta with ham and pepperoni.
When the food was served, Ron’s pasta was missing the crab and the broccoli that was supposed to be part of it. What he received was the pasta with the shrimp instead. Mine was the correct dish, but the ham and pepperoni were so finely diced, they both could have been shaken from a salt shaker. The sauce was the redeeming factor, since the pasta was penne, not the spaghetti I had thought.
With two disappointing meals, we decided we needed gelato. That place was hopping and anyone who was left in the city was there. This is where all of the action was happening. People do not seem to appear on the streets until after 9 pm, but they disappear again shortly after 10:00.
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