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mhuzzellAs many of you may know, Kalea and I have decided to spend our Inter-Semester break not in the usual sleepy, half-drunken stupor, nor even (as is the habit of the richer students), skiing. No, instead--against the hemming, hawing and outright warnings of all those we told--we bought a 15-day pass on the Eurolines bus system, thereby to wander around the continent at our leisure.
We started off in London, thence to Amsterdam. Don't let the title fool you; this part of the trip was great, (Coming soon: 'Molly and Kalea's AMAZING Trip Through Europe'), but there was a lot of crap around it, mostly due to our means of travel. After Amsterdam, we went directly to Rome, a 31-hour bus journey. I wrote the following on a bit of paper, waiting to leave the Swiss border into Italy:
There is something about reading about the Bullshit of the past to make you angry about the Bullshit you experience as you read. Reading 'The Monkey Wrench Gang' through the airports going to the USA at Christmas. Reading 'The Grapes of Wrath' now. The Bullshit is different, but it is all Bullshit. I'm not saying that any of the crap that went down on that bus ride was anything like comparable to what happened to the Joad family and others like them, but the source of it--government bullshit, and in their case, the complicity and cooperation of government and Big Business--is the same.
When we first got on the bus there was some minor hassle. We hadn't had breakfast, and the driver told us no food was allowed on the bus (but you could buy cold drinks from the driver for €1 apiece). But, y'know, whatever. We changed drivers in Belgium, and it was okay from there. The trip seemed pretty smooth until we were stopped, seemingly randomly, in France.
It must have been about 1 a.m. when the bus pulled into a service station and a cluster of blue-clad men and women labelled 'DOUANES' stormed the bus. First they took one family out--a man, a pregnant woman, a little girl, and two little lap-dogs--and searched them, right there beside the petrol pumps. Then they brought a dog snuffling through the bus, after which they searched our handbags. The young man who pawed through mine whistled softly as he opened an unlabelled white box to find menstrual supplies. Well, what the fuck was he expecting?
After this we were all herded off the coach and told to remove our luggage from underneath. I say 'told', but it was really 'gestured', because the DOUANES spoke only in French, which more than half of the passengers didn't understand, and no one bothered to translate. But before we actually took our bags out, the dog was sent into the luggage racks to sniff around the bags. Then we took them out and lined them up, and he went along the line. He was a little yellow lab, not much more than a puppy, and his handler shouted constant instruction. I got the feeling they were training him. I had a horrible suspicion that the whole ordeal may have been just a training exercise for the damn dog.
The dog pawed at one bag, which was then opened up and unpacked, right there in front of everyone. We tried to look away, but we stared anyway as every posession of an otherwise dignified old Chinese man was laid out. Halfway through, he was taken aside to be patted down himself, so he could not even watch his shame. When the guard was satisfied that hte bag contained nothing illegal (he had even opened up the sealed papers of the scented soaps the poor man had bought as souvenirs), he put all the things back into the bag. But he does so haphazardly. A record, which had been carefully packed for its greatest safety, was now left to last, so that it would be almost sure to break in the soft duffel bag. Fortunately, at this point the old Chinese man was able to take control of his belongings and re-packed them properly. Eventually, we were on our way again.
Until we reached the Swiss border. Here, our passports were taken again, and we waited a while (maybe half an hour or so) while they were examinied in a little room. This had happened when we first crossed the Channel Tunnel into France, on our way to Amsterdam, so I was not really surprised. Eventually our passports were returned and we moved on.
...until we tried to leave Switzerland, when we were stopped, again, by the Swiss border patrol. They collected our passports, and I commented to Kalea that it was a pity they didn't stamp them when we came into Switzerland, so they could just look at the stamps and see that they'd done this whole check already an hour or two ago. She laughed, but I was serious. Then we were asked to get out of the coach agian, to line up our luggage again, and again a dog went sniffng along the line, and isnide the bus and inside the luggage racks. Then we were allowed back on the bus, and that is when I started writing this. I watch the sky grey into light from what had been complete blackness, and watch as the people in private cars are waved merrily by. I have nothing more to write, and we are still waiting for our passports to be returned. [Stopped writing at 7:41 am. Kalea tells me we stopped around 6:20. Passports returned at 8:25. We move again at 8:30.]
______________________
Then we were in Rome, which you'd think would be great, but wasn't. I mean, it was interesting to see some of the stuff. The Vatican museum was really nice--though the Sistine Chapel doesn't hold a candle to its reputation--and the gelati was delicious. But the whole culture of the place was a little too loud for us, a little too abrasive. There was an definite air of 'you are tourists and we will therefore take full advantage of you' everywhere between the main train station and the Colisseum (less so around the Vatican, to be fair). Our choice of lodging didn't help. We were staying at the 'Freestyle' hostel, a loud, chatty little hole-in-the-wall hostel that might have been pleasant were it not for half the staff and most of the guests. They were all the worst stereotypes of American, Canadian and Australian "I'm on my year/semester/whatever abroad and I'm backpacking around Europe" sorts, who all talked very loudly about very little (mostly where they'd been, where they'd go, and the cost of travel). It wasn't all bad--though the good stuff will be saved for the next entry: 'Molly and Kalea's AMAZING Trip Through Europe'--but we were quite glad, four days and one overnight bus ride later, to get into Barcelona.
Jan, a friend we made in Amsterdam, has some friends here--Anarchist hippie types--who have a sort of permaculture commune thing he thought we could stay in. He was going to come down on Sunday, but in the end couldn't make it until Wednesday, which is the same day I have to leave. Kalea's going to stay a bit longer, and will get to see the permaculture commune, but I'm going to miss it by a day, and am deeply disappointed. Not that I'm especially interested in permaculture (like she is), but it's annoying to finally be in Barcelona and not have any contact with the Anarcho-counterculture. Instead, we've mostly wandered around, being a bit touristy, and stayed in a hostel.
When we were planning this trip, a couple of people expressed their worry that Kalea and I might end up fighting and hating each other, being in such close company for such a long and often stressful time. Actually, we've gotten along great, thanks to realising some quirks of one another. She's grouchy when she's hungry, I'm useless when I'm undercaffeinated. So when we got into Barcelona, we were starting to get tetchy and just looked at each other and I said "you need to eat", and she said "you need some coffee", and that was that.
Still, today has been a bit trying. Tonight we're staying with Kalea's friend Anna, who's here on a year abroad. But our first night in town, like I said, we stayed at another hostel, where neither of us slept much or well. Some of our roommates kept turning the thermostat up to 30, and some others apparently came in loudly at 3 am (I didn't wake up. I can, and have, slept through a hurricane). Then we overslept a little in the morning, making checking out rushed and stressful. I didn't get enough coffee in the morning and was a bit useless all day, which annoyed Kalea, who was already grouchy from her interrupted and overheated sleep. But it never devolved into fighting. Now we've rested a bit, and it's time to head back out on the town. Stay tuned (probably some time next week) for our next installment: 'Molly and Kalea's AMAZING Trip Through Europe'.
We started off in London, thence to Amsterdam. Don't let the title fool you; this part of the trip was great, (Coming soon: 'Molly and Kalea's AMAZING Trip Through Europe'), but there was a lot of crap around it, mostly due to our means of travel. After Amsterdam, we went directly to Rome, a 31-hour bus journey. I wrote the following on a bit of paper, waiting to leave the Swiss border into Italy:
There is something about reading about the Bullshit of the past to make you angry about the Bullshit you experience as you read. Reading 'The Monkey Wrench Gang' through the airports going to the USA at Christmas. Reading 'The Grapes of Wrath' now. The Bullshit is different, but it is all Bullshit. I'm not saying that any of the crap that went down on that bus ride was anything like comparable to what happened to the Joad family and others like them, but the source of it--government bullshit, and in their case, the complicity and cooperation of government and Big Business--is the same.
When we first got on the bus there was some minor hassle. We hadn't had breakfast, and the driver told us no food was allowed on the bus (but you could buy cold drinks from the driver for €1 apiece). But, y'know, whatever. We changed drivers in Belgium, and it was okay from there. The trip seemed pretty smooth until we were stopped, seemingly randomly, in France.
It must have been about 1 a.m. when the bus pulled into a service station and a cluster of blue-clad men and women labelled 'DOUANES' stormed the bus. First they took one family out--a man, a pregnant woman, a little girl, and two little lap-dogs--and searched them, right there beside the petrol pumps. Then they brought a dog snuffling through the bus, after which they searched our handbags. The young man who pawed through mine whistled softly as he opened an unlabelled white box to find menstrual supplies. Well, what the fuck was he expecting?
After this we were all herded off the coach and told to remove our luggage from underneath. I say 'told', but it was really 'gestured', because the DOUANES spoke only in French, which more than half of the passengers didn't understand, and no one bothered to translate. But before we actually took our bags out, the dog was sent into the luggage racks to sniff around the bags. Then we took them out and lined them up, and he went along the line. He was a little yellow lab, not much more than a puppy, and his handler shouted constant instruction. I got the feeling they were training him. I had a horrible suspicion that the whole ordeal may have been just a training exercise for the damn dog.
The dog pawed at one bag, which was then opened up and unpacked, right there in front of everyone. We tried to look away, but we stared anyway as every posession of an otherwise dignified old Chinese man was laid out. Halfway through, he was taken aside to be patted down himself, so he could not even watch his shame. When the guard was satisfied that hte bag contained nothing illegal (he had even opened up the sealed papers of the scented soaps the poor man had bought as souvenirs), he put all the things back into the bag. But he does so haphazardly. A record, which had been carefully packed for its greatest safety, was now left to last, so that it would be almost sure to break in the soft duffel bag. Fortunately, at this point the old Chinese man was able to take control of his belongings and re-packed them properly. Eventually, we were on our way again.
Until we reached the Swiss border. Here, our passports were taken again, and we waited a while (maybe half an hour or so) while they were examinied in a little room. This had happened when we first crossed the Channel Tunnel into France, on our way to Amsterdam, so I was not really surprised. Eventually our passports were returned and we moved on.
...until we tried to leave Switzerland, when we were stopped, again, by the Swiss border patrol. They collected our passports, and I commented to Kalea that it was a pity they didn't stamp them when we came into Switzerland, so they could just look at the stamps and see that they'd done this whole check already an hour or two ago. She laughed, but I was serious. Then we were asked to get out of the coach agian, to line up our luggage again, and again a dog went sniffng along the line, and isnide the bus and inside the luggage racks. Then we were allowed back on the bus, and that is when I started writing this. I watch the sky grey into light from what had been complete blackness, and watch as the people in private cars are waved merrily by. I have nothing more to write, and we are still waiting for our passports to be returned. [Stopped writing at 7:41 am. Kalea tells me we stopped around 6:20. Passports returned at 8:25. We move again at 8:30.]
______________________
Then we were in Rome, which you'd think would be great, but wasn't. I mean, it was interesting to see some of the stuff. The Vatican museum was really nice--though the Sistine Chapel doesn't hold a candle to its reputation--and the gelati was delicious. But the whole culture of the place was a little too loud for us, a little too abrasive. There was an definite air of 'you are tourists and we will therefore take full advantage of you' everywhere between the main train station and the Colisseum (less so around the Vatican, to be fair). Our choice of lodging didn't help. We were staying at the 'Freestyle' hostel, a loud, chatty little hole-in-the-wall hostel that might have been pleasant were it not for half the staff and most of the guests. They were all the worst stereotypes of American, Canadian and Australian "I'm on my year/semester/whatever abroad and I'm backpacking around Europe" sorts, who all talked very loudly about very little (mostly where they'd been, where they'd go, and the cost of travel). It wasn't all bad--though the good stuff will be saved for the next entry: 'Molly and Kalea's AMAZING Trip Through Europe'--but we were quite glad, four days and one overnight bus ride later, to get into Barcelona.
Jan, a friend we made in Amsterdam, has some friends here--Anarchist hippie types--who have a sort of permaculture commune thing he thought we could stay in. He was going to come down on Sunday, but in the end couldn't make it until Wednesday, which is the same day I have to leave. Kalea's going to stay a bit longer, and will get to see the permaculture commune, but I'm going to miss it by a day, and am deeply disappointed. Not that I'm especially interested in permaculture (like she is), but it's annoying to finally be in Barcelona and not have any contact with the Anarcho-counterculture. Instead, we've mostly wandered around, being a bit touristy, and stayed in a hostel.
When we were planning this trip, a couple of people expressed their worry that Kalea and I might end up fighting and hating each other, being in such close company for such a long and often stressful time. Actually, we've gotten along great, thanks to realising some quirks of one another. She's grouchy when she's hungry, I'm useless when I'm undercaffeinated. So when we got into Barcelona, we were starting to get tetchy and just looked at each other and I said "you need to eat", and she said "you need some coffee", and that was that.
Still, today has been a bit trying. Tonight we're staying with Kalea's friend Anna, who's here on a year abroad. But our first night in town, like I said, we stayed at another hostel, where neither of us slept much or well. Some of our roommates kept turning the thermostat up to 30, and some others apparently came in loudly at 3 am (I didn't wake up. I can, and have, slept through a hurricane). Then we overslept a little in the morning, making checking out rushed and stressful. I didn't get enough coffee in the morning and was a bit useless all day, which annoyed Kalea, who was already grouchy from her interrupted and overheated sleep. But it never devolved into fighting. Now we've rested a bit, and it's time to head back out on the town. Stay tuned (probably some time next week) for our next installment: 'Molly and Kalea's AMAZING Trip Through Europe'.
