The Photo Nazi

Things at the Byblos Art Hotel were pretty quiet while I was there, but that just meant the staff were all that more eager to be of assistance. The room rate I had booked at the hotel was based around the Marc Quinn art exhibit in town, and it included a ticket to the exhibition, a special cocktail, a “flower paintings” dinner, and complimentary transportation to and from the center of Verona. I was determined to take advantage of all the perks.

Still hopped up on my perfect cappuccino, I grabbed my camera and headed out the door with the hotel’s driver. He dropped me at the edge of the main square, and I was off to explore Verona. It wasn’t my first time in the city, but back when I visited in high school, we were young brats that didn’t really know where to go and didn’t really pay attention to where we were. I remember visiting the supposed home of Romeo’s Juliette and seeing the Roman arena, but otherwise, Verona was a very unremarkable city in my mind. As it turns out, Verona is quite a nice little city, and I thoroughly enjoyed my second visit. I wandered down the streets taking pictures and taking in the architecture and atmosphere. The goal of my time in Verona was to visit the art exhibit at Juliette’s house. Apparently, Marc Quinn is some up and coming British modern artist, and not surprisingly, I had never heard of him before. I had a ticket to his exhibit though, so by God I was going to see it.

Making my way to the exhibit, I made a detour to check out some of the smaller piazzas, watched the tourists along Via Mazzini, and stood under the disapproving glare of Dante Alighieri. Fighting through the crowds in Juliette’s courtyard, I soon realize that the museum I am so eagerly trying to reach is closed. I had another hour before the museum would open, so I went to grab a gelato and wander some more streets. With a cone of banana and coconut gelato in hand, I stumbled upon a fabulous pastry shop full of local cakes and sweets, but alas, it was closed for the day. Back under the balcony Shakespeare made famous, the doors of museum were opening, and I was one of the first people inside. I handed my ticket to the woman at the register who then stared at it, turned it upside down, looked at the back, and then asked me, “What is this?”

When I explained that the piece of paper she was holding was a ticket for the exhibit given to me by my hotel, she grumbled some choice Italian expletives, printed a new ticket and sent me on my way. At the top of the stairs, an Italian gentleman that suffered from some form of brain damage saw my camera and yelled, “NO FLASH!” followed by a cordial, “Buon Giorno, ticket please.” He insisted that I start my exploration of the exhibit on the 3rd floor, so I made my way up the next flight of stairs. Once there, another museum employee came to me and said, “Photo si, flash NO!”

“Ok, no flash.” I examined the photograph-like paintings of flowers and some glasswork, and I even took some pictures, but I didn’t dare use my flash. One more floor up was Quinn’s most famous work, the Siren. It’s a very peculiar golden sculpture of Kate Moss in an incredibly modesty-compromising position… but she is wearing underwear. Less than floored by the masterpiece, I still felt it was necessary to take a photograph for posterity. I made sure that my flash was off, snapped a picture, and within seconds, a young Italian woman came running in yelling, “NO PHOTOS! NO! NO! NO!”

“I was told no flash.”
“NO PHOTO!”
“Downstairs they said, photo si, flash no.”
“Now you are upstairs, NO PHOTO!”

Fine by me, Il Duce, I already got my damn photo.

The Perfect Cappuccino

It was a crazy weekend in Geneva, but I had a great time on my surprise excursion. It's great to have so many friends scattered around the world, and I really appreciate Grega hosting me for the weekend. On my way down to Verona, I ended up parked in front of the Mont Blanc tunnel for nearly two hours, but it was a beautiful day in the alps, and I joined the crowds of people that abandoned their vehicles to lay in the grass and enjoy the sun. Once I finally made the nearly 7 mile drive through the tunnel, I realized that I was probably lucky to have been one of the people waiting outside the tunnel instead of being one of the people inside with all the police, fire fighters and ambulances. I'm still not sure what happened in there, but I am sure it was more of an inconvenience than a few hours of waiting.

Once in Verona, I pulled up to a large well-manicured villa and found myself immersed in the world of the European "yacht-club" crowd. Everyone is attired in pastel colors, with collars up and sweaters draped over their shoulders. The hotel itself is completely filled with random pieces of modern art; a few naked women here, random brightly colored blobs there, sculptures of unusually contorted people sitting on pedestals, and the random incredible Venetian glass chandelier in the lobby.

After the long drive, I was in no mood to sit for an extended dinner and people watch, so I chose to have the quintessential non-Italian, Italian meal in my room. I had a Cesar Salad and Spaghetti Bolognese (ok, so Spaghetti alla Bolognese is actually Italian, but I still felt overly American ordering it). I cracked open the bottle of local red wine that the hotel had left in my room as a welcome gift, and had a nice evening in front of the TV.

Breakfast this morning was relaxing. I had an assortment of Italian cheeses with some fresh bread and prosciutto, some yogurt, a boiled egg, and a small apricot tart. The best part of sitting on the terrace by the fountain was enjoying my morning cappuccino. So often in life, one is confronted with mediocre cappucinos or worse, but in this establishment, the coffee was strong and dark, the milk properly frothed and mixed in ideal proportions with the aesthetically crucial swirl at the top. It was indeed the perfect cappucino.

Shortly, I plan on visiting the exhibit of modern art by Marc Quinn, the ticket for which was included in my room rate. The afternoon will probably involve some relaxing by the pool and some photography of the property. Tomorrow... well, I don't know about tomorrow yet, but I'm sure I'll figure it out soon enough.

I made it safely to Verona after a longer than expected drive, and I've settled in at the über-hip Byblos Art Hotel. Pictures and updates to follow in due time.

For a short moment, with pretty woman playing on radio nostalgie, I was able to see the peak of Mont Blanc through a break in the clouds. Spectacular as it was, I am now stuck outside the mont blanc tunnel due to some accident inside. It has been over an hour already, but I think we may be allowed in the tunnel soon.

100 mph through Europe

Some plans with a friend fell through, so I found myself trying to decide what to do with my weekend. Having recently discovered that my friend Grega had moved from Ljubljana to Geneva, I figured, "I have a brand new Mercedes C class that is dying to hit the highways, why not go to Switzerland?"

Overnight, I had ditched my plans for Croatia and took off to Geneva with the hopes of heading down to Provence for a bit as well. I loaded my stuff in the car and took off. I waved Trieste, said hi to Venice, sped through Milan, admired the Val d'aosta, tunneled through Mont Blanc (which cost 33EUR by the way!), passed quickly through France before finally getting a bit lost in Geneva. Watching Europe pass by at high speed is a thrilling experience. At several points along the way, I was close to just pulling onto the shoulder of the highway to take pictures, but I decided this was a bad idea for a number of reasons. The open fields with random patches of trees, the hills and valleys, quaint villages with stone churches and the occasional castle, rushing rivers, snow capped alps in the background; I couldn't help but enjoy myself. Besides, I was driving through Italy, which has great sandwiches at their gas stations - nothing beats stopping at an Autogrill for a snack.

I managed to leave Ljubljana without thinking to print directions, so I tested my European geography skills by navigating my way to Geneva with no map, no directions and no GPS. I made one wrong highway choice and headed down the road to Genova from Vercelli, but as soon as I noticed the alps in my rear view mirror, I figured I was probably going the wrong direction. The mistake cost me about an hour thanks to highway construction and a decidedly sparce offering of exits. About 30km outside of Geneva, I called Grega to get an address, thinking I could manage to find his place with the help of my iPhone. For future reference, written instructions and a second-rate GPS tracker are of little help when you're driving solo in a new city. I finally just paused at a stop light to take a look at the map, and then found my way to Grega's.

Almost immediately, we took off to meet some of Grega's colleagues for dinner. Working with the UN and other NGOs in Geneva, Grega has met some interesting people. I've always been fascinated with the world of international diplomacy, so it's fun meeting people from so many different countries working in the field. After dinner, we met some more friends for drinks, and it ended up being quite a long night. Two bars and one club later, the two of us walked a young Mexican woman back to her apartment and then got home just as the sun was rising.

After a few hours of sleep, we enjoyed a nice day wandering around the lake, walking through the old town, and hanging out with more friends. Now, I'm relaxing in the apartment, listening to the dogs bark down the street. Unfortunately, my new favorite hotel in France, La Bastide de Moustiers, is fully booked the next couple days, so my plans for Provence have evolved into a couple days in Verona before heading back to Ljubljana.

In the Shadows of an Empire

Felix and I woke up relatively early this morning, but we didn't rush out to an active day. We stayed in the apartment for quite a while eating breakfast, listening to music, and just generally goofing off. When we finally did leave the apartment, it was a beautiful day out in Vienna. We decided to enjoy the weather as much as possible, so we took a nice walk around the Hofburg palace and ended up having lunch at the Palmenhaus restaurant in the Burggarten.

We started with a salad of fresh greens topped with a sizeable slab of goat cheese all drizzled with some Styrian pumpkin seed oil and balsamic. Felix had an Indian influenced chicken burger with coriander, fresh fruits and chili sauce. I had risotto with King prawns and sun dried tomatoes. The meal was concluded with a Mango lassi ice cream sundae. A few scoops of yogurt ice cream, mango puree, fresh strawberries and whipped cream. It was a fantastically fresh and light dessert that went perfectly with the sunny weather.

After lunch, we walked around the gardens and found a nice spot to lay down for a bit. History was all around as I looked up from the grassy gardens of the former seat of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. We were protected from the heat of the springtime sun by the shadow cast by the Hofburg. The golden double eagle of the Hapsburgs glowing in the daylight, I couldn't help but wonder what it must have been like to call such a magnificent palace home. If only the aging trees in the garden could tell us the stories they have seen; the whispers of military leaders, the gossip shared by the women of the court, the games played by blue-blooded children.

More rest, some reading and some computing made up the rest of the day. I accompanied Felix on his way to work the nightshift at a local hotel late this evening. Wandered around town a bit, and grabbed a Dürüm kebab on Kärtnerstrasse. In front of the State Opera House, they were showing the ongoing show from inside on a large screen. I enjoyed my kebab while listening to the arias, and then grabbed an ice cream on the way home. Vienna is such a great city, and I miss living here sometimes. The culture and history that oozes out of every corner of this place is remarkable. I have another day to enjoy here, and then it's on to the next destination.

The Coming Apocolypse

The sun was beating down on the Mozart city. Tourists wandered past Carpe Diem snapping photos of the antique-style iron signs hanging from the building facades along the Getreidegasse. Three of us sat on the terrace enjoying some bite-size snacks for lunch, but time was nearing for us to pay our bill and head to the train station to meet Angie upon the arrival of her train from Munich. Those of us that survived any sizeable sojourn at the American School knew the type of chaos our students were capable of causing, but none of us were prepared for the apocalyptical signs that would accompany our gathering.

At the very moment that we were preparing to leave our seats, the exact number of former AISers and SIPsters necessary to knock the planetary alignments off whack had arrived in the city. The sky went black and the rain began to beat down on the passers-by. With a crack, rumble and flash the wind whipped through the awnings and rain was falling sideways into the restaurant. Golf ball sized hail began to pour from the heavens - it was if the city was being stoned in pre-emptive action against our transgressions.

Eventually, the weather improved slightly, and we made the run back to our apartment. Wet but full of anticipation, we awaited our scheduled gathering at Murphy’s Law - the first large meeting of our former students in almost 10 years. Spending the evening at the Irish Pub, hugs, kisses, smiles, laughter and stories of days-gone-by were in abundance… as were the drinks. We all enjoyed ourselves over a few beverages - some may have indulged in a few too many, but it was a great night.

Earlier in the day, some of us had stopped by the school to trigger some more memories and say hi to old friends and teachers. Much had changed at the school, and yet everything was the same. New paint, new faces, but everything was still eerily familiar. We spent some time catching up with our old history teacher, Mr. Agardy, who seemed happy to catch up on all of our personal stories since we left the big yellow building, and applauded us on our ambition and successes. Over an hour was spent in the Dean of Students’ office chatting away like it was 1999. We also stopped by the main office and said hello to Frau Gundringer, the one that keeps the school running as smoothly as possible. The headmaster was in his office right next to us when we stepped in. His door was wide open, but he never bothered to come out to greet us - didn’t even give us a hello from his desk. Part of me always felt like I was more mature than he was back in high school, but I can say with relative certainty now that he is about as childish as a school administrator could be. Such a lack of simple courtesies is appalling for someone in a leadership position. Once upon a time, he was one of my favorite teachers, and I still think he belongs in a classroom instead of an office. When I left the school back in 2000, he and I were not on great terms, but I never stopped being cordial, and I would expect the same from him. Besides, his problems with me should not affect the way he greets my friends.

No disappointments or difficult memories can overcome the fact that my decision to leave home and move to Austria at the age of 14 was the single most important decision of my life. The lessons I learned, the experiences I had, the people I met and the friendships I found will last a lifetime. It wasn’t all a fairytale, but sometimes it feels like it when I’m surrounded by the amazing people with whom I shared that period of my life. Last night, we enjoyed dinner together, followed by a few drinks at one of the old bars along the river. From 1993 to 2002, former students of all ages gathered to remember the good times and laugh at the bad. Age and circumstance have changed us all, but we can never forget the school that brought us all together.