This Weekend I'm Staying Home
Oh, hello blog-world. I sort of forgot all about you. Or more, I didn't feel like posting anything. But I have my peeps to please.
Where shall I start? After an extended period of sitting around and doing nothing, I decided to climb mountains. Specifically, the Alps. More specifically, the Dolomites. Happy?
The surrounding region, Trentino-Alto Adige, is inhabited by a German-speaking ethnic minority. Don't forget that large sections of Italy -- such as the Veneto, where I live -- were dominated by the Hapsburgs, rulers of Austria. This bilingual heritage is fully evident in street names such as "Luigi Heidelberg".
I got up to like, 10,000 feet. Then the air got thin and suddenly I wasn't sure which way was which. This resulted in me diving for the ground, in an attempt to not slide down the steep, gravelly glacial remains head-first. But it was pretty. Then I stumbled down the mountainside, a valley, and another mountainside, and after waiting an hour-and-a-half I found out that the bus doesn't actually come when the schedule says it does. So I found a cheap hotel in the dark and prayed that I wouldn't die.
Anyway, I showed up back home a day late and missed a family party. I apologized to Nonna, and she played Italian grandma and said things like, "It wasn't that great . . . Just the entire family . . . and big steaks. Wow, the countryside is such a beautiful place, up in the hills with such a panoramic view. You didn't miss much. I mean, it may have been a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, but don't feel bad."
Upon hearing my account, Mom said she hoped I apologized to Nonna and that she must have been worried sick. Uh huh. She had my number and never called to find out if I was dead. Well, Nonna was busy having her revenge through nagging, which lasted a few days and included a new rule that I have to wear socks all the time because you get colds through your feet. Also, did she hear the part where I mentioned altitude sickness and being trapped, alone, in the mountains?
Next weekend I took no quarter and hit the Eurochocolate Festival in Perugia head-on. It is possible, my friends, to get sick off of chocolate liqueur samples. That stuff is thick. Also, you know a medieval city is way too high up on a hill when you reach downtown after riding three escalators.
This post is entirely uninteresting, my apologies.
Here is a picture of me holding a frozen octopus in September:
That should spruce things up a bit.
Sitting across from my friend Jesse in the mensa (caffeteria), I commented, "I always wondered what people were saying when they spoke in other languages."
"Well, now you know," he responded, pointing out the obvious.
"Yeah, either I'm busy saying something really nasty about the person standing next to me, or it's too private for everyone else's ears."
"But don't you think that's a bad idea? A lot of people here speak English," he reproved.
"Not at all. I'm careful. I know what I'm doing. I got lots of practice in Egypt."
5 . . . 4 . . . 3 . . . 2 . . . 1:
The girl sitting next to me turned and said in accented English, "So where are you guys from?"
I will never, ever learn my lesson.
Where shall I start? After an extended period of sitting around and doing nothing, I decided to climb mountains. Specifically, the Alps. More specifically, the Dolomites. Happy?
The surrounding region, Trentino-Alto Adige, is inhabited by a German-speaking ethnic minority. Don't forget that large sections of Italy -- such as the Veneto, where I live -- were dominated by the Hapsburgs, rulers of Austria. This bilingual heritage is fully evident in street names such as "Luigi Heidelberg".
I got up to like, 10,000 feet. Then the air got thin and suddenly I wasn't sure which way was which. This resulted in me diving for the ground, in an attempt to not slide down the steep, gravelly glacial remains head-first. But it was pretty. Then I stumbled down the mountainside, a valley, and another mountainside, and after waiting an hour-and-a-half I found out that the bus doesn't actually come when the schedule says it does. So I found a cheap hotel in the dark and prayed that I wouldn't die.
Anyway, I showed up back home a day late and missed a family party. I apologized to Nonna, and she played Italian grandma and said things like, "It wasn't that great . . . Just the entire family . . . and big steaks. Wow, the countryside is such a beautiful place, up in the hills with such a panoramic view. You didn't miss much. I mean, it may have been a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, but don't feel bad."
Upon hearing my account, Mom said she hoped I apologized to Nonna and that she must have been worried sick. Uh huh. She had my number and never called to find out if I was dead. Well, Nonna was busy having her revenge through nagging, which lasted a few days and included a new rule that I have to wear socks all the time because you get colds through your feet. Also, did she hear the part where I mentioned altitude sickness and being trapped, alone, in the mountains?
Next weekend I took no quarter and hit the Eurochocolate Festival in Perugia head-on. It is possible, my friends, to get sick off of chocolate liqueur samples. That stuff is thick. Also, you know a medieval city is way too high up on a hill when you reach downtown after riding three escalators.
This post is entirely uninteresting, my apologies.
Here is a picture of me holding a frozen octopus in September:
That should spruce things up a bit.
Sitting across from my friend Jesse in the mensa (caffeteria), I commented, "I always wondered what people were saying when they spoke in other languages."
"Well, now you know," he responded, pointing out the obvious.
"Yeah, either I'm busy saying something really nasty about the person standing next to me, or it's too private for everyone else's ears."
"But don't you think that's a bad idea? A lot of people here speak English," he reproved.
"Not at all. I'm careful. I know what I'm doing. I got lots of practice in Egypt."
5 . . . 4 . . . 3 . . . 2 . . . 1:
The girl sitting next to me turned and said in accented English, "So where are you guys from?"
I will never, ever learn my lesson.
posted by L at
8:13 AM
3 Comments:
You went into the Alps by yourself? I don't know if I would have been that courageous.
No no no . . . not a chance. I went with two friends. Who left me on the side of the mountain because they thought it would only be "like forty minutes" before they got to the glacial pass and back.
Ha.
Get new friends.
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