Travel and Exploration

Images of: Roma

Landed in Milano, Italia on May 8^th.  The airport felt seedy.  Very seedy.  I was glad to see an airport in (Western) Europe that is super outdated in comparison to JFK.  Quite the opposite of it’s closer regions in Northern Europe, or even Marsielle Airport in Southern France.  Funny stuff Italy: In your face rough, playful, and flirty as always (except for Tuscany I think).  Still, got to be careful..

😉

Milanos seemed to be quicker than the Tuscans, I think almost everybody else in Italy is faster than the Tuscans.  However, the pseudo sly ones are from Rome, and further down south.   I had a quick chat with a girl from Sweden, and she recommended that I take the bus from the airport to the central station.  I didn’t. I recommend it, as long as the weather permits.  That’s because the bus departs almost right away, and is as fast and cheaper than the train.  I had forgotten that about Italy (except for Rome).  Buses are better than the local train.

I arrived in Rome via Milano in the late afternoon.  The Central Station in Rome is huge. There are two levels.   Shops everywhere.  You have to stay alert as there are hand-bag snatchers, and don’t buy the tickets from people offering to, it could be a trick.  Stick with the machines or with the ticket counters if they are open.  Just an FYI, if you are hungry and want more selection head downstairs as there is a small grocery store.  You could buy pre-made sandwiches, etc.  It’s more inexpensive on the main level, upstairs.  You also get less of a constant crowd.  I also liked the bathrooms down here as opposed to the first (upper) level.  You have to pay in both bathrooms.  The cafes downstairs also have less of a crowd, and provide a more clam and cozy atmosphere.  No Starbucks in Rome or in Italy.  Thank God.  Free Internet connection, argh!, good luck with that.  Coffee wise, you get the best darn coffee in the world in all of Italy, including Rome, not that burned garbage from Starbucks.  I drink decaf.  And even the decaf was amazing in Rome, and pretty much all of Italy.

Organization wise, there is none, in fact its negative.  It boils down to one root problem lack of coordination.  I think many people in big cities of Italy are bored or may have some psychological problem or they just get their kicks  this way.  That is by blatantly cutting people off.  Example:  A guy cut me off at FCO while waiting for the check-in queue when I was going to leave Rome, and started smirking as if he had won a small fortune.  Another example:  I happened to be the first one on the bus that would take us to board our plane.  Also, I was the first one on the ladder.  I thought  to myself “there is first time for everything.” Until I was brushed and pushed aside by a medium sized, short lady who was in an incredible haste to board the plane.  I expressed “No scusa, No perdoneee… No nothing…”  Subsequently, I thought, oh maybe she had an emergency and had to go to the bathroom or something.  When I got upstairs, and the second passenger to board the plane,  I saw her smiling with her carry-ons stowed away.  I was puzzled and annoyed.  Mabye she was just mental or bored or got her kicks this way.  As far as Rome, probably not all of Italy, I think there are many people in Rome as in Manhattan who are just mental or bored, and just don’t care.

As far as Rome, and north of Italy.  I probably like Tuscany much better as its more relaxed and once has to be less alert.  However, Rome could be one of the best, I think better than Paris, if you have the right company.  I don’t know.  Italy in general I have found to be very hyper and very sexual.  In Rome, pedestrians don’t have the right of way, let alone a side walk.  The main roads will have a side walk.   In Rome, drivers have the right of way, and pedestrians have the privilege of walking the road or crossing the street.  It’s very funny, and could be dangerous at times, however, not as dangerous as crossing the street or roads in London.

Italy could be fun, and could be hell.   As one writer put it: “Italia Chaos. Bella Chaos.”

If you could drive from Rome to Nice then just drive.  If you could take a train then take a train.  The bus is a very long ride, and I don’t know enough about it.  I took the plane.  If you take the plane, try to take the earliest or latest plane.  As FCO Airport (Domestic EU) flights are not very organized.  Its takes you back to waiting for a boat without have a very reliable time-table.  And there is just one big giant screen with about 300 to 500 onlookers heading to different directions.  The price difference between flying and train was about $20, not including the $17 ticket from Rome terme to FCO.  So, about $37 difference. Not big.  Time wise, if the queues are quick, and you depart and arrive on time then plane is quickest.. Chances of that happening are slim, unless you book a 5:30am or 6:30am flight.  Better take the train next time?  Lol.

My flight from FCO to Nice, had loud disco-club music on.  It was on while boarding, during take off, during the flight, and I think also during our landing.  Seriously.  It was childishly funny and  unpleasant.  That was Rome.  On to oui, oui, and  excuse moi. Thank Goodness I was out of Rome! 🙂

The English or the British.  You may have to read a book on that to know the difference.  Regardless, here are my experiences from my adventures in London during the spring of 2015.

I got into my room that was in a large house after an 8 hour flight, 1.5 hour pass through at immigration (even while being a US Citizen), and a 3 hour first time commute from Victoria terminal.   The woman renting me the place via Airbnb was, on my initial read on her, a nice old lady.  I dropped my bags, and off I went.  Took Portobello Road, and was somehow via the Tube and avoiding the line to Cock Fosters at Victoria again. I wanted to quickly get used to the London Tube.  Actually, it took me about 4 days to figure it out.  I came home late and slept till goodness knows the hour, only to be woken up by loud noises of kids and a cat.  I think it was intentional by the nice old lady.  On my first real day, she seemed to be nice, and showed me around the kitchen.  The floor had cat food and other items, so, I chose to leave my socks on.  In general, it wasn’t too clean for a kitchen.  She was friendly, and talkative, yet, I went out to tour London.   I had a mixed experience with the people of London.  The social and economic class vibrations were pretty much in my face.  I have had that before, so it was super easy to detect it.  Some people were friendly to me only as a mere formality.  Some were genuine about it.

In comparison to NYC, it’s a lot cleaner, and more organized.  That went for its local transport as well: Tube, Trains, and Buses.  The Tube for the several lines I rode on were clean inside, and so were the tube stations.  They really need to improve on their tube card.  The tube card is much like the metro card except more expensive and different cost structure.  Also, just keep in mind at many Tube stops (probably all) including Victoria did not have an escalator or an elevator.  Generally, I had a very positive experience.  People in the Tube mostly keep to themselves.  I found that unfriendly at the time, and I understand it now that that’s fine and acceptable especially for the women riders of Tube.   I think they just need to be more relaxed not necessarily soft.  They being all of them with all the different backgrounds.  Also, I did not encounter a single pan-handler or mentally unstable in your face loud, obnoxious, and smelly person as you would almost every day and every ride and multiple times in that ancient Subway of NYC.

The first night with the owner was kept brief.  I had told her that I don’t drink for health reasons.  And that was, and still is true.  I hit the sack, and was fast asleep and hoped my sore throat or allergy type symptoms would go away in the morning.

The next morning I awoke to a loud smoke alarm.  I ran upstairs to the kitchen to find no smell of smoke or anything.  The nice old lady said she was making toast, and it got burned and thereby setting of the alarm.  Still, there was no smell of burnt bread. I know it well (or should I be English and say: “I know it ratherrrr well.”)  My suspicion was she just wanted to wake me up, or maybe I was just being a doubtful idiot. After breakfast, took the tube to Victoria, and did not like figuring out the odd ball connections of the tube and was in dislike with the English bureaucracy.  I waited in line for the travel and tour info bus line at Victoria terminal for 40 minutes.  I missed both the 10:20 bus and the 11:00 am bus to Windsor Castle.  The Green Bus Terminal was about a 15 minute brisk walk.  The customer service reps in the booth of the Green Bus Terminal, laughed at me, when I mentioned the 11:00am bus didn’t stop for me when I waved my hand, and the bus-ticketer aboard the bus informed me (while the bus was in motion) to purchase the ticket at the booth.  Love that immigrant run English Bureaucracy.  So, at the booth, the big fat eastern European guy laughed quite literally “Ha, Ha, Ha”, and then informed me I could have bought the ticket on the Bus.   The other guy upon noticing my nervous-upset self, tamed down, and tried to help me.  I bought the ticket, and later told me it was non-refundable.  Quite a day I was having.  Outside, I walked in the back where there were some Café stands, and only one was open.  On the café stand was an anti-considerate sales person who happen to be from that region of the formerly ruled British Raj. No she was not even experienced to get the badge of a “Barista”.   I guess she disliked me because of my cleanly spoken (American) English.  I don’t know, maybe she hated her job, or she hated to help out her clan that owned this little makeshift shop of a café.  And I had succeeded in claiming a bare victory by purchasing a croissant and coffee from her.  She was so friendly she might as well as have tossed the croissant at me.  I thought to myself to her  “Burn baby burn.”

Finally, aboard the double decker Green line bus, I enjoyed to view on the top level all the way to lovely Windsor Castle.  At Windsor Castle there were more true English people running the place.  Sorry, I couldn’t discern between the Scottish, Welsh, English, or British, and truly I am not even interested in learning about their bloody rivalries.  Off with your head 🙂

On my third night, I had returned, and found the nice old lady drinking.  I saw her in a panicky mode.  Panicking as she was trying to hide the wine bottle, which she later admitted to me jokingly. She was with a friend.  He was an honest looking person.  Her real side came out.  And she offered me a drink.  I knew that she knew that I was avoiding to drink.  However, she was kind of inexperienced and figuring out things and obviously thought I belonged to certain faith, which she admitted later.  Only after I decided to have a few drinks with here was she put at ease.  Well, my drinking had started again, reprehensibly, only to prove to her that I was okay with drinking, smoking, and all that as long as it didn’t affect my health. So for 6 more nights I would have a drink with her and who-ever she had over.  I also bought her some wine on my second to last night.  However, I still suspected her for being creative in creating a different havoc almost every morning.  I suspect it was to get me up and out of the house. Some nice old lady, mighty English of her (even though she was and is admittedly a proud Scott).

Oddly, there are many Eastern European immigrants, a significant of Polish decent, in England, especially in London.  Most of them were nice to me.  Sometimes they were friendly to get a large tip, and other times so they could practice their English.  They seemed genuine in their being.

London has many of the fast food eateries as New York.  Still, their Mexican food at Chipotles was not that good.  Their black beans were a bit hard and kind of raw.  I also ate at another small Mexican place where the food was made by Italians, and some Eastern Europeans.  I don’t remember the name of the place, and the food did not taste Mexican or American.  It was the Eastern European-London version of Mexican food that was very affordable and affectionate.

The English are definitely refined in their taste of music. Everywhere I went they had really good music selections.  This was modern music, and I don’t even know the names of the groups in the endless Genres I heard. Take NYC or Boston radio, it’s awful, except for maybe WQXR and (Jazz), the rest of the Genres are awful.  Take any café small or chain in the East Coast USA they play awful music in comparison to that of London.

The best thing I liked about London were all its Gardens, and parks.  I had a mixed experience with the people of London both native (whatever that means), and recently shifted ones.