Some people leave you with a lasting impression...

I was sifting through the vast collection of music on YouTube and I came across a clip by Colin Hay. Some of you may remember the Scottish/Aussie lead singer from an 80s Australian band called Men At Work.

On a more personal level, one of his songs hit home. There are some people who enter your life, for a short period of time, yet manage to leave a whopping imprint on your existence. You cherish those moments you once shared together; you find yourself daydreaming, wondering what became of them and you question if you had that same magical appeal on their lives. You find yourself smiling at a moment's notice remembering magnetic exchanges...sitting back and relishing those special sparks.

The following clip from Colin Hay talks about those tender moments once shared with that special someone, with the full knowledge that life does go on...but "don't think I'll ever get over you..."

My thoughts on Italy...

Having had the pleasure of visiting South of Italy (namely Rome, Naples, Sorento, Amalfi, Capri, Anacapri and Positano)three years ago, versus this trip in the Northern part of Italy, I have come to realise that my temperament matches the southern part more.

This trip, as a general rule, was scenic, architecturally invigorating, and culturally eye opening. The locals were not as playful, friendly and flirtatious as the Southern part. Along the Amalfi Coast, also a tourist attraction, the locals are inviting and helpful beyond words. Their motto is to leave you with a lasting impression.

Here in Venice and Florence, they are also mulled by too many tourists coming through, but the local temperament and their rules of hospitality are harsh and less "serviable", less catering-to. They were also "surprised" by solo female travellers. To them, folks like me were aliens, a puzzle. If you travelled alone, you were more likely to be offered "a date with benefits". My favorite line of all from a male Fiorentini, who didn't understand why I roamed alone on holiday, was "but why?"
Puts things into perspective, doesn't it?

These places have a lot to offer. The sites alone are charming to any foreigner coming through. With a tiny bit of added charm, care to please attitude and a dash of sex appeal, this place could be magical.



Just my two cents worth.

Ciao, Ciao Italia!

This trip wouldn't be complete without voicing my thoughts on Amerigo Vespucci Aeroporto. OMG!!!! OMG!!!! In simple terms, the Dominican Republic Airport is more impressive than this tiny, run down, poor excuse of a fly zone.

An hour and a half before the flight, the check-in attendants are nowhere to be found. There is a line-up from here to there, some odd workers that seemed to have been responsible for unlocking the main doors to this joint.

Then the trail of lovely blue suits arrive, slowly, oh so slowly to tend to their desks. This was Italian time at its best. Boarding is also interesting...does not matter if you have kids and strollers, are in Executive or First Class seating, back rows first...the name of the game is push and shove at 6am!

Arrivederci Italia!

A Casanova and a thief...all at McDonald's?

So I decided to stop by McDonald's for a salad?
I know, who goes to McDonald's for a salad...but I was too tired at that hour and wanted a quick grab, swallow and head to my room.

At this restaurant location, they have the McCafe too. I sat in that zone, as it was quieter and cleaner. I am having issues with cleanliness. I guess my OCD is rearing its ugly head and maybe that's a sign, am ready for the comforts of my home, sweet home. I digress.

There I am, after a long day....sweaty, sticky but in my pretty white dress with some grey hues and pretty white sandals chomping away at my salad. I was so concerned about my purse, and those who know me well will know I am rarely concerned about that...in fact, most times, I just leave it lying around.

I noticed I was being watched.
An older man, most likely older than my father.
Every bite I took, he would smile.
The first few times, I wasn't amused.
By the time the tenth bite occured, I figured "oh what's the matter with you, he's being friendly...get over yourself".

At that time, this young man walks in and begins to eye my purse. I figured I overstayed my welcome at this place and should call it a day and grab my tram to the hotel. As am about to hop off my stool, the old man comes over and says in Italian, care to join me for a coffee? I smiled and thanked him for his kindness but kindly declined. He goes on to say but you are "Bellissima"...Meantime, he grabs my tray and clears it for me. I smile, thank him and walk away. I think he survived the experience. I will give him this, many a MEN I have met in recent times don't have the cajones to step up to the plate like this gentleman did. It's too bad!

So I begin to make my way toward the tram...and you will recall that young man and MY PURSE. Well he suddenly appears on the escalator right next to me. I turned toward him and gave him a stern look. He hopped off and went a different direction.
I continue walking along the sidewalk and crossed the street....now the man is standing right behind me waiting at the tram stop.

I figured it's now or never...a lot of people are standing right beside me, so I went for it in a loud shreak "any reason why you are following me since McDOnald's?"
He ran away into the train station. Creepy but handled.

Pizza for lunch, followed by Pisa, the bell tower.

This afternoon, I joined a tour bus that head to the town of Pisa. Pisa is known more than for its leaning bell tower. Today, the city of Pisa has close to 90,000 inhabitants, many churches, a university that dates back to the 11th century. The Italians do recognise the positive changes brought on during Napoleonic Empire, as the schooling followed the French system.

The site of the leaning bell tower is marvellous. Funny, all these years, I would see images of this place and I was never able to imagine the size of this bell tower, the baptistery nearby and the church.
The bell tower was closed for almost ten years, but they recently have decided to re-open it to the public. For 15 Euros and 280 some odd stairs, you can climb the tower in this steam bath of a weather. Can you tell I didn't do it?

Instead, I joined the myriad of other retarded tourists trying to take pictures "pushing", "kicking" or "carrying" the tower. It's today, when I had hoped to travel with a professional photographer to take some "retarded" touristy shots of me and the tower. Alas, I tried grabbing passerbys and asked them to help me place my hand or foot in the right spot...instead, I have plenty of shots with me "giving up" the search for that typical, tourist pose! Ho hum....

Some interesting facts about this location:
-There are no records of the creator of this blessed leaning tower...after all who would want to have their name on this leaning structure? Wouldn't look so good on their portfolios, no?

-The church and the Baptistery are also leaning. The soil is too wet for such big structures, as Pisa is very close to the Mediterranean sea.

-They have beautiful grass sprawled all over the square. But they have hired POLICE BRGADE to keep tourists off from the green growth. So lying on your back, looking at the sky and admiring the intricate details of the architecture is a NO NO.

There you have it...The Pisa review.
Btw, am all Pizza-ed out!

Ciao, ciao!

Piazzela Michelangelo- The look out!

My hotel is pissing me off.
There I said it.
It's under renovations which means hammering at 7:30 am (Sunday or Tuesday what's the diff??) Clearly they forgot to mention THAT at the time of booking. So for my convenience, they offer me a room with filth, some bed bugs (as my body has these unusual welts), the cold water is removed to create an even better steam effect than the warmth outside, and the waitresses at the breakfast seem annoyed that I would need a fork...after all, one has fingers, right?
So, this morning, I ran out of there...after I blasted them of course.
I am happy to report, my room has been upgraded...we shall see about the cutlery situation tomorrow morning.

Which now brings me to Piazzela Michelangelo.
I hopped on the city bus that rode up a hill for close to 15 mins, to arrive to a green, wooded area that reminded me a lot of Mount-Royal in Montreal.
The bus stops at the tip of the hill and you are welcomed by a breath taking view of Florence and my special non-circumcised friend David.

From this angle, you realise that Florence is nestled in a valley. The Duomo never looked this good, as you are now able to appreciate the beauty of the famous dome. The Duomo's roof was built 20 years after the church was built. They couldn't quite figure out how to seal the deal.

Unlike Mount-Royal or the Summit look out, this piazzela has quaint terraces, coffee shops and bars. A must see if you visit Florence!!

Trust and honesty first while boarding public transport???

Using the public transportation system is the best way to get to know a city. In Florence, they have trams, buses, electric buses that cover the city quite well.
You can buy your ticket at the Tabacco shops for 1,20 Euro per way. The ticket is valid up to ninety minutes. You can also purchase your ticket on the bus for 2 Euros.
Once you climb into a bus, it's up to you to validate your ticket. The driver is not responsible to check if you have paid your fare. The transport industry in Florence is based on trust. In fact, I would say, in most of Europe, if not all, it's based on trust and honesty. Should you be caught without a valid ticket, the fine is $40 Euros in Florence.

Now let's look at reality in the last four days.
As a diligent tourist, I have been paying the fares.
I have also witnessed people who get on and off without validating their tickets.
I have seen families get on, ask the driver for tickets, he has none left and yet they stay on to enjoy the ride.
I have yet to see a patrol officer checking for valid tickets.
So how is the public transport system sustaining itself financially? Was this just a sample size, I happen to look at, with the 90 mins grace period? Or is the tourism industry paying for the free transport to the 350,000 Fiorentines in Florence?

Which now brings me to the Montreal public transport...
We have hikes in fares every January, there are more attendants in our metro system to watch like a hawk, our turn stlyes are yet another means of patroling the situation. Yet the STCUM seems to run out of funds and needs to raise fees.
Why have we not put in more electric buses on our roads, like they have here in Florence?

A lot of questions....would be nice to have SOME answers.

Shopping in Florence!!!

Some of you may have noticed I was a wee bit quiet the first few days in Firenze. I felt a little out of sorts, when I took a bus ride to the town center, where The Duomo stands somewhat at the center and various piazzas surround it.
At first site, you are bombarded with labels like Prada, Gucci, Miu Miu juxtaposed with renaissance architecture. Something was not sitting well with me. I am used to seeing those labels with modern shops like in LA, New York. Here I flew all this way to be drowning in a sea of labels and feeling out of sorts.

I began meandering daily along the narrow side streets and walked through piazza after piazza, and I soon discovered they have tons of outdoor markets. Unlike our markets, these stalls or stands would be selling what I consider to be high end...purses made in lamb skin with beautiful buckles at 100 euro or more.
As I approached each vendor, I realised one common thing between them....they were all from the Middle East, more specifically the leather vendors were from Iran.
This amused me.

Being a desert dweller, I hate paying full price. I love bargaining, striking a deal, the whole dance between the buyer and seller....until both parties reach that zone to make the sale. And so I began dancing...
Let's just say, I am coming home with one too many leather purses, one too many silk scarves, one too many wallets...and proud that I didn't pay those crazy prices in the boutiques and most of all...all products are made in Bella Italia, not China!!!

Their leather feels sooooooooo soft!!!
So, if you are ever in Florence, don't pay their asking price...drop the asking price by 40%!

Chianti Region in Tuscany

I had the pleasure of joining a multi-cultural group today to head toward the hills in Tuscany in the Chianti region where we road a bus along winding roads with breath taking views of vineyards, olive groves, monasteries, fortresses and castellos.

We had a wonderful guide from Florence named Sabra, with no roots or ties to Israel, other than the fact that her parents were travelling along the mediterranean Sea and met a woman named Sabra. They were smitten with the name and the rest is history.

While travelling on the bus, she exlained about the Chianti wines. For one, Chianti wines have an old tradition, dating back to 1404. The Duke of Tuscany, Cosimo III de Medici, protected the Chianti label and vineyards by establishing borders. Toscany is not known for the production of white wines. Their Chianti Classico red wines are a blend of three types of grapes, the main one (90% worth) being Sangiovese grapes.

We visited the Castello Il Palagio which dates back to 1252. As of the 15th Century, the castle became the ownership of the Republica Fiorentina who transformed it into a fortress. The castle does not have an authentic medieval feel, as sections have been rebuilt in the 1900s. It has a small chapel, a tower, a dungeon which now holds oak barrels of Chianti classico. This cellar is one of the main attractions of Il Palagio. They have also included modern steel containers which allow the wine to age accordingly.

We had an opportunity to sample three of their wines and a sweet desert wine, along with delicious tapas ( Pecorino cheese with a spicy jelly, garlic bread al olio, cured meats, and biscotti to dip in the sweet desert wine).
I sat at a table with two charming, American women who were travelling around Europe for five weeks, as well as this Dutch family from Holland who were on their own driving through Toscana. A delightful way to spend the afternoon, chatting, sipping, laughing, tasting....being!

Can we talk circumcision here?

David
1504
Marble, height 434 cm
Galleria dell'Accademia, Florence

Michelangelo was the creator behind this masterpiece. For close to 400 years, it was seen at the entrance of Palazzo Vecchio, also known as the city hall. It's at that point in time, the locals noticed David's shoulders eroding, and so they moved the statue to the Accademia Gallery.

To the Fiorentini, The David was a symbol of liberty, somewhat like the Statue of Liberty for the Americans.

Now let's get down to business.
Reiner, the guide at the museum, explained the story behind David.
This was taken from the Biblical intertpretation of David and Goliath.
So, was David not a JEW? Was he not from the Old Testament?
If so, at birth, was he not circumcised?

I have always been biblically challenged about my roots. That being said, having raised two Jewish boys and been married to a Jewish man, I could argue I have some semblance of expertise in that realm. Here's my conundrum...Was David not a Jewish man? If so, his penis sure wasn't pointing in that direction.

Perhaps Michelangelo found sculpting veins and musculature to be an easier task than shaving off a foreskin.
And to think, tourists were complaining about one hand being larger than the next...please!!!

Murano, Burano and Torcello....

Murano, Burano and Torcello...a mini cruise!

Heat stroke and all, I went aboard this mini cruise line that took visitors to the island of Murano, known for its glass blowing technique. We were invited into a glass blowing factory where we see an artist at play, in agonizing heat from fire pits (never mind the actual overwhelming heat outside). He grabs a ball of glass and begins twisting and rolling, pulling and snapping it into shapes we are all too familiar. Horses, vases, bowls, in gorgeous colours adorn this factory.

The cruise then heads over to Burano, a fishing village with a distinct architecture all on its own. Clear lines, use of bright colours on the outside and white roof tops, clothing lines with a multitude of colourful garments decorate this island. The ladies in the village are known for their needle work. If you are looking for lace tablecloths, runners and napkins, this is the place to be. An old woman sits by the door, as you enter the shop and shows her tedious craft. A time consuming work of art!

Our last stop, was Torcello. Once off the boat ride, it was a ten minute walk to a wooded area with the canal running through. Tourism has minimally hit this part of the island. As expected, there is the local bell tower, the clock tower, the church and nearby shops. You are drawn to the ever present sound of crickets nearby. A serene location in which to have a nice cool meal, assuming the weather was less hot and humid.

The ride back to Venice was peaceful and breezy. I sat back and watched the folks nearby. It dawned on me what an interesting sample of tourists were sailing on the Mar Adriatico along with me. We had Sicilians on board, making fun of the Venetian tour guide. We had an American family travelling with grandparents too. It was nice to see the grandchildren dote over their grandparents, who were clearly having issues with the heat. We had an Australian Edward Cullen who clearly had vampish tendencies...his bold and beautiful girlfriend had plenty bites on display! We had the middle aged European woman, who in this dreadful heat, insisted on spraying herself with a dreadful cologne, yet most likely could have stopped torturing the rest of the crew ten sprays ago. My all time favourite group to observe and this tends to be more visible within European families....the grandparents and their grandchild on a journey together. What fascinates me most is how well behaved these children are!

Tonight is my last night in Venezia...one last walk into the labyrinth where, whether I like it or not, I will have to ask numerous directions to get back to my hotel. Once I am near The Cartier store, it’s a left then head straight to The Timberland shop and then Splendid, my hotel! No...this isn’t just a woman using landmarks to find her way, but rather this is the only way to make sense of these winding paths.

Arrivederci!

Finally afforded a Gondola ride....Bellissima!

Yesterday afternoon, around 3:45, I chatted with a man from Ocho Rios. Of course, true to form, I asked him if he was lost. Jamaica is that way, I pointed in some strange direction. He laughed.

He now works in Venice and lives on the Main land to reduce cost of living. He works in the tourism industry and like everyone else on this planet he has his story. It starts with "I fell in love with an Italian woman" and continues with "we had a son, whom I love dearly" and ends with "we are no longer together". To remain close to his son, he flew to Itlay, Venice namely, and began learning street Venetian and hustled for work....and now it works for a Gondola touring company.

I think he liked me green eyes....for I ONLY PAID 29 Euros to set sail on this Gondola. Four other people joined me and we had the cock-eyed Gondolier sail us away through the maze of canals. What a treat!!!
Indeed, it is a ride to remember. Most Gondoliers LOVE to flirt with the tourists. Most of them are in amazing shape. You do have a series of them who are Richard Simmons doubles, with pink bandanas and matching pink sneekers...they amuse me most, as they are the ones to sing the loudest to attract better tips.

Some interesting facts now. Gondoliers go to Gondola School...for two years!!
Gondoliers are unionised!!!
Some Gondoliers leave their true profession (doctors, lawyers...OY it's a Jewish Mother's nightmare) to earn more money. How much you ask? They earn 100 euros an hour.

It will be a ride to remember...along with my heat stroke kicking in a notch!!!!
Arrivederci for now!

More Venezia with a dash of Heat Stroke! Molto bene!

I was a little fatigued yesterday but by day’s end, my head was spinning and my leg muscles began to slow me down. I thought it had something to do with the Venetian testosterone that free flows through this labyrinth. Was it their thick black hair in contrast with their gorgeous green/blue/grey eyes, their olive skin that seem to glisten in the sun, their self-confidence, their bold ways of looking right at you and saying what’s on their mind....Casanovas in their true form! They speak to you and for all you know they could be swearing at you; yet in your mind, it is a romantic musical piece to my ears, with huge sex appeal. Unlike our gardeners back home who seem to have been swallowed by the Western world. My hairdresser remains an exception to that rule...the man brought a piece of Italy to Evita! I have a colleague who would concur.

Alas, it turned out my dizziness had little to do with the Venetian MEN, and more to do with this unbearable high heat mixed with humidity. I thought I was hydrating plenty. Apparently not.

Munich had the same temperatures, but every corner of every block was a fruit stand to sell whole fruits at a nominal fee. Munich had oodles of land on which to farm. Venice, on the other hand, has WATER! Looks like fruits are imported to this lovely abode, which translates to...not as easily accessible and let’s not even talk about variety. Apples, oranges, pineapple and the odd watermelon are the common staples here.

I joined a walking tour yesterday morning with a sexy Venetian tour guide, who spoke eloquently. She was FULL of knowledge. This was mainly an American group from Alabama and Michigan. An interesting mix to say the least. While the guide gave detailed historical facts on the visited sites, they were more concerned about what to bring back home, when is the next pee stop, what should they have for lunch. The tour was less than an hour and a half long...we are NOT talking about an all day commitment here. I digress.
She began the tour with the royal garden and walked along the main port of San Marco. You are accosted by a number of vendors selling all sorts of tourist items made in China. I had the pleasure of sitting with a middle aged Venetian artist, Bartolomeo, who told me about his hobby, the local way of life for the 60 000 inhabitants in Venice. Almost all vendors sell these magnificent theatre masks (made in China of course) that date back to the Venetian way of life, the actors’ corner, and the theatrical world.

The guide brings us close to the main entrance of the San Marco Piazzetta. Two big columns with two sculptures are meant to welcome visitors: one of a winged lion (a symbol used by Venetians to refer to San Marco) and the other is a statue of San Todaro, the first patron of Venice. In 1125, when the columns were given as gifts by the East, the Venetians would use the space in between to carry out death sentences. Today, the Venetians refuse to walk through the columns to avoid being struck by back luck. So the only FOOLS to walk though (and u can include me into that mix) are the tourists. I will know who to blame when bad luck strikes me.

She showed us the Clock Tower, built in 1496 to 1599, by Mauro Cordussi. It’s an unusual clock. It is crowned wih a terrace which houses a big bell, sounded by two moors. Under the terrace, we see St-Mark’s Lion and a semi-circular platform of Madonna with a child. The clock indicates the flow of the seasons, the passage of the sun in the constellations, the time and the lunar cycles. I find myself compelled to give the details of this beautiful and unusual clock to let you in on a final note. In 1599, the Venetians were so pleased with Cordussi’s handcrafted work that they refused to renumerate him for his hard work; instead, they chose to poke out BOTH his eyes as guarantee that he will NEVER duplicate this clock again.

The Bell Tower also has a fascinating tale. It is the oldest bell tower in Venice. It was built over Roman foundations and was erected under the Doge (aka President) Pietro Tribuno’s will. It survived many fires and earthquakes. That being said, in 1902, it collapsed without any damage to the half a million recorded visitors back then nor nearby buildings. The tower is about 100 meters in height and holds a rotating statue of an angel. Today, the Venetians refer to this Bell Tower as the Gentleman for the way in which it collapsed without harming a soul, other than a cat. When the Venetians want to know the weather, they observe the rotating angel. If she is facing the water, it’s a sunny day. If she is facing the clock tower, the rain...she’s a coming.

Our next stop was The Basilica of St. Mark. There are line ups from here to eternity to see this church. The tour companies have swung a deal with the Church to allow by-passing the endless lanes. Consider it a Disney’s Fast Pass version!

In 832, this church was used as the first Doges’ private religious quarters. It took over four hundred years, many artists, craftsmen, carpenters, brick layers, mosaic layers to finish this magnificent work of art. In some areas of the Basilica, it has a Gothic style, while in other areas it has a Romanic and Byzantine architecture. The guide explained that when they had to transfer the body of the Evangelist Mark from Egypt to Venice, to avoid the Turks from capturing and the body, they covered it with ham, knowing that their Muslim faith would not allow them to reach for the body. His body now resides in The Basilica. Once inside, you are struck by the amount of gold mosaics used to decorate the place. During the middle ages, walls were decorated with frescos; back then they realized that the humidity in Venice would rot the paintings. The use of gold was rust proof.

She guided us through many other smaller campos or squares to show us how each and every one has a church, a bell tower, a palace for the Doge, a water well and homes. The first campo to be built was St-Mark’s. As more settled in to Venice, new campos were created. Hence the labyrinth of a set up in Venezia!

Venezia....oh my!!!!

Bien Venutti!
This place is magical, regardless of how long it took me to get here from the airport to Saint-Marco Square. For a lovely 13 Euros, a vaporetto (fancy word meaning public transportation on water....but their word sounds sooo much more sexy, NO?)will sail you across. Upon arrival to this busy, delightful, sensory over-load filled location, you grab your luggage and begin meandering the labyrinth called Venice.

I quickly dropped off my luggage at the hotel and made my way to the piazetta, where I found a small table which faced the Basilica, while being serenaded by a four piece band playing Italian melodies. Life is GOOD!!!
I must have sat there for an hour, allowing the sounds, the sights, the scents and the mob catch up with my senses.

I will use a later blog to describe THE MEN in Venezia...They deserve a blog all on their own. I will only say, one is better looking than the next. Meantime, the Canon is on over drive...what to do with all these pics, once am home?

When I say mob, I mean all walks of life, from all over the world have decided to fly or sail into Venice to catch a quick glimpse of this surreal zone.
Gondolas and their Gondoliers await you to take you anywhere and everywhere, at a nominal fee of course of 100 Euros. You can negotiate a slightly better rate a few bridges away and maybe pay 80 Euros. I ask the chief, why the price variation between the two stalls. He answers "because they are BASTARDS...Ciao Bella!"

I walked into a local shop, and began chatting with the employee.
I asked her where would a local grab a Gondola, without having to feel raped in the process. She smiles and directs me to quieter canals and says "when you see a gondolier sailing along in a solo Gondola, smile sexily and grab his attention...and then offer him 50 Euros for that same ride". "Grazie Mille, Bella" is what I responded for this delightful insider tip. Perhaps a mini-skirt is in order tomorrow, with a lovely shade of hot red on the lips? Si?

The Euros do not go very far here. Meals, drinks, and goods are pricy. While I sat at that Piazzetta for a late lunch, I ordered a grilled veggy panini, diet coke, and gelato for desert while basking in the surroundings...and a paid a wee fortune. 40 Euros to be exact!!!
It is not every day, one is in Venezia!

Ciao Ciao for now!

Let's talk Burkas, shall we?

It's my last day in Munich...and I have kept it somewhat together about the omnipresent BURKAS in Munich. Alas, I can no longer keep my mouth shut.

I am puzzled.
I don't get them.
I don't understand them.
I remain confused.

Here is why...
The young generation parade around in their black burkas, wearing their veils in a sensual way, with THICK make-up that make the eyes tantalizing and sexual. Their feet are slipped into a beautiful pair of Miu Miu high heeled-sandals and gorgeous hennah designs entice and invite us to wonder what hides beneath the dark cloak.
In the past four days, I see them walk in and out of expensive department stores buying designer clothing as if the clothing were being given away.

So here is my question...
Isn't the purpose in the Muslim religion to wear burkas to maintain modesty?
Does it not say in the Qur’an (Allah’s word, stated by Mohammed)that women should cover their beauties? (perhaps meaning their legs, arms, hair and chests).
If so, where is THIS modest behaviour when you are raising other's curiosity by exuding sexual mystique, eyes adorned with thick lashes and black lined mascara and hues of eye shadow to draw in even a "mildly blind man"??

Glad I got that out of the way.

Here is my next observation...
My room faces an indoor courtyard and I can see a parallel hallway where patrons enter the room. To some extent when am typing away at my desk which faces the window and courtyard, I become the fish in the bowl.

That being said, I cannot tell you the number of unusual behaviours I have witnessed in the last little while. The Saudi men walk around in their white gowns in mid-afternoon, barefoot, pacing the hallway and staring at ME!

A few hours later, you can see two young men carrying huge baskets filled with walnuts, still walking in barefoot along the corridor until they knock on a room door.

At the breakfast table, where waiters are everywhere, these families sit at their table and have their Filipina housekeepers fetch their meals for the entire crew.

I won't tell you how many times, I have seen trails of sunflower seed shells all over the corridors.

The restaurant in the Sofitel, turned one of their dining halls into a Hallal friendly zone. One area of the cafe/bar, no longer serves liquor to accommodate these families.

Let's talk pool and spa...there are special times at which women can bathe freely and men can bathe freely and when men and women can ogle eachother.
So tonight, between 10pm and midnight, the pool was open to women only.
The Saudi women enter in their burkas, and disrobe in the shower stalls. When they enter the pool area, they have swim suits on, and thick cover ups. Layer after layer of clothing float in the pool.(Nothing like the stolen image above, from Google).
The lights at this spa pool are dimmed; the colour palette in the spa are chocolate, silver and light blue. It has a grotto feel to it...

Not far from the pool, there are groups of women who sit fully draped in their black burkas and chat away while checking on their daughters swimming. Younger than ten, they are seen wearing Western bathing suits. I am assuming that having reached puberty, they are clothed in layers like their mothers.
Hennah-like tattoos adorn their feet.

I entered the pool, and funny how I became the odd person out. I FELT as if I was naked. I swam around and wondered into a darker section of the pool, dim lit for ambiance sake. Upon my return, the Saudi lady asks me, what's on the other side?
I told her the pool continues in an S-design. "Don't you want to go?", I ask. She answers "I'm afraid".

I tell her to follow me and her kids jump for joy, all excited about their upcoming "adventure on the dark side of the pool"!!! This amused me. What would this same lady have said if she were walking down the streets of Amsterdam and two men asked her to join them for a threesome with endless pot...now THAT is scary in my world.
Mind you, other's might find that exhilarating!!!!

I also noticed, when I was in the sauna or steam room, they wouldn't enter. They would come in and step out shortly. Was it me or all their layers of clothing?
I was ready to call it a night. I grabbed my white spa robe and began making my way to the elevators. The women ALL leaned to the right to see me walk away and head to the lift. As I press the elevator button to head to my floor, I smile.
I guess roaming in a bathrobe, at some hotel, in Munich makes ME the ODD MAN OUT!

Gute nacht or should I be saying tossbiheena 'ala khayr?

Day four- Dachau Concentration camp

The locals prefer calling it a Memorial center...but the reality of it is,from the 30 people that came out today with Radius Tours, a concentration camp was more familiar a term.

I met up with Jason, the American tour guide, with a Masters in History. He moved down here seven years ago to marry his lovely German bride. Enjoyed his insight, his delivery, his depth in detail story telling. It just seemed like it was far from being enough.

We took a train toward Dachau, followed by a short ten minute bus ride along a small winding road. We drove through a village, that since those early days of 1930s, had grown immensely. Quaint little shops, tall trees....it seems more slower paced than Munich. Right before the Dachau stop, Jason informs us that behind those barbed wires, are the still intact residences of what was once the SS officers. They look like white mansions, with red roof shingles and big bright windows.
Apparently, today, the government owns these properties. They are NOT open to visitors; governnment cars are stored on this particular property and the office space is used by government workers.

We get off the bus and begin our walk down this stoned pathway. Tall trees in contrast with the light gray grounds. To the right, wooden fencing to block off the center of this camp. To the left, the very first building that housed political activists, religious leaders (outspoken clergymen/priests, gypsies, Jehovah's witnesses, homosexuals....) who were in the wrong according to Nazi officials. Following that, we are told that Jews were brought in by the loads...and their predicament was more gruesome than the ones mentioned before.

We were able to see remnants of the train tracks which simplified the transportation of all these helpless individuals. Jason was explaining that once Hitler was elected as Chancelor (that is right ELECTED...see the power of a vote and its implication), it didn't take long before he chose this zone. This abandonned property since World War One had the right infrastructure for the purposes of the Nazi regime. The prisonners were brought here to work until exhaustion. Sometimes, there was actual work, and yet other times they were asked to dig a hole and fill it up....for the purpose of tiring out the individual, breaking him down, and ultimately stripping away his dignity and humilty.

Jason also mentioned that on all the panels along this camp the wording was carefully chosen to avoid people denying the stats. In essence, the numbers were greater than what is being diffused. Key words like "more than" were in constant usage.

We continued to walk along this narrow path and approached the famous iron black gates with the wording " Arbeit Macht Frei", meaning Freedom through work. Jason tells us that Dachau was the "Academy of Terror", the originator, role model and training ground for the vast order of brutality that spread over half of Europe in the wake of the Nazies, which ultimately ended in the Final Solution.

The actual barracks no longer exist. They did up until the fifties, but were later torn down. It appears once liberation by the American troops occured, the barracks were used by other political figures and over time, historians believed it wouldn't be a true representation of the actual setting during the second world war.
The cypress trees along each side still remain, tall and green. I found myself staring at them and thinking "YOU, tree, are a living thing...what must you have seen?"
I distanced myself from the group a little to walk along this path and stare at this empty stone filled section with numbered stone placks, once given to each barrack...and I bent down and ran my fingers through the tiny pebbles and thought about "the number of prisonners who dragged their feet during this horrid period."


None the less, they re-built one set of barracks showing the living space in 1930, 1938 and 1940. I did take a series of picture which I will show once am home. All this to say, that the room size was meant for fifty individuals...but by 1940, they were filling those same rooms with 250 boards on which to sleep. The casual dining tables, and stools no longer existed, as more prisonners were brought in. I won't even mention their bathroom facilities.

Our before last stop was the crematoriums. There were two and they were the originals. The first small one had two ovens and was not capable of burning more than one body at a time. This particular building was used before the war.
After the war, they built this huge building that provided the gaz chambers or showers, the waiting room while one undresses, the ovens which now was capable of burning three bodies at one time.
The most moving moment for me had to be the showers or gaz chambers. Low ceilings, shower heads, vents that brought in those gazes that killed the oxygen in the red blood cells. The lights were dim and there were too many tourists in that tiny space and I could just imagine what it must have been like for the prisonners awaiting their death.

There are three memorial set up where the barracks used to be. One is a Jewish Memorial with a burning sensation to the odd shape structure. A menorah stands at the tip and off-center. There is a Catholic prominent structure in the center and finally a Protestant Reconciliation building which houses religious services every week.

The tour ended in what used to be "THE KITCHEN". Now it hosts a museum and movie theatre that shows a documentary of the history of Dachau. I found it poignant, as at regular intervals, the commentator stoppped speaking as various gruesome images were being shown....a moment of silence if you will.

Day 3 Salzburg, Austria

This morning, with a small group, I headed to Salzburg by train. Alun (no I didn't mispell it), the tour guide from UK was an interesting fellow. He was not overly friendly, but had a solid knowledge of the history behind every special landmark. His delivery was somewhat drab.

We began our journey with a short city bus ride to bring us near Schloss Mirabell.The religious order governed the city back in 1772 until 1803 by Archbishop Hieronymus Graf von Colloredo. Apparently, he had a lovely mistress who bore fifteen of his bastards. At which point in time, he built her the famous Schloss Mirabel. As Alun suggested "she clearly deserved this estate!"
Parts of the well manucured garden, which are now open to the general public for the last 100 years, was used by Fraulein Maria and the Von Trapp children while they were singing Do Re Mi. The tunnel, in which the children went through still remains in the garden.

We then headed to Mozart-Wohnhaus, a building where Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart resided. He lived at this site between 1773 and 1780. It is at this site that Mozart is known to have composed 'Salzburg Symphonies'. Five violin concertos, sonatas and church music were also composed at Mozart Wohnhaus.

Right next to this building, yet another famous physicist by the name of Christian Andreas Doppler. He was the first to describe,in 1842, the change in the sound wave with a passing object.

At this time, I connected with an American/Indian (Hindou) woman from Miami. Swapna and I spent the better part of the day discovering Old Town Salzburg. We tried to limit having a series of landscape pics of our trips, by taking turns taking each other's pics...a reality for solo travelers. At this point, Swapna and I left the group and began touring on our own for the next three hours. We took a funicular to the Festung Hohensalzburg Fortress, high a top a hill. We chose a nice outdoor restaurant with a view of the city and enjoyed close to a litre of water each, as the weather was hot and humid and a light fare. My salad was yummy and I can't wait to try replicating those flavors back home...grilled variety of mushrooms, on a bed of mesclun greens and a few slices of tomato, with a raspberry vinaigrette!!!

We toured the fortress,but were somewhat disappointed with the set-up of each states room...no furniture, but a series of poster boards to describe what used to be.
we made our way back, and headed to the gates of the Katakomben....sounds dreary...in other words cemeteries. However, this cemetery was special, as it was the place that influenced the directors of The Sound Of Music to film that segment where the Von Trapp Family were hiding behind tombstones while The Reverand Mother dealt with the SS.

To cool off, Swapna and I headed to Saint-Peter Kirche/Church where we observed the numerous frescos adorning the walls. Funny, on most of my trips to Europe, I make it a point to sit inside a church and embrace the peacefulness it brings me. I am going to HELL now as a Jewess, that's for sure.

At this point, Swapna and I split up to shop our separate ways. I was busy photographing the store signs, that date back to the 1800s. Toward the end of the visit, I learned that Altstadt aka Old Town (with its world famous baroque architecture) is one of the best-preserved city centres north of the Alps, and was listed as a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1997.

I stopped at this Five Star confisserie to pick up what Alun said was The World Famous Salzburg's Sacher torte. The place was stuffy indeed. I tried to ask a few questions, but clearly the Austrian lady was in no mood to put up with my English banter....she was proud to speak German, that's for sure. I couldn't figure out what size I wanted...so I told her to serve another customer while I made up my mind.
This gentleman walks in and orders two miniatures and she smiles and places it in a tiny gift bag with stickers and ribbons and delivers it with a gracious smile.
When is was my turn, I politely told her I will have what he is having....she DUMPS it into a PLAIN bag, rolls the edge with her fingers and tosses it to ME!!!! It's too bad the Europeans have so much to learn from the Western Culture and it's service industry.
I hear they are in the midst of a recession....wouldn't it be nice to smile and serve GRACEFULLY???? Perhaps, it's too much for which to ask.

I met up with Alun and the group, and we made our way back to the train station to head to Munich. A full and fun day, indeed!

Day 2 in Munich...

Decalage horaire, quelle horreur!!! Which translates to up at 4am and what to do?

Breakfast is only served at 6:30am...Had plenty of time to shower and doll myself up for the excursion today to Harburg castle and then to Rothenburg, a medieval village.

Breakfast at the hotel-a treat
Getting dolled up this morning-brilliant intuition (I even had lipstick on at that hour)
Getting asked to join a young American for breakfast at 6:30am-PRICELESS!

David was a cutie of an American, training to be a chef. He was on business to learn from senior chefs (Michelin stars) and worked along their sides. Worldly, well-spoken, strong and solid beliefs and somewhat comical in nature. After being showered with compliments about my hair, eyes and VOICE ( as he closed his eyes to describe what it is he likes-yum), he asks me how old I am- to which I reply "consider me, Mrs. Robinson".

He never heard of The Graduate...clearly I dated myself. David is 28.
God we ALL need pick me ups like this...to remind us that we are not just middle aged mothers, with typical life stressors. How nice to be looked at and TOLD "you are attractive-Hell, you don't need plenty of fish".
...and NO I WILL NOT BE SEEING him, as he left town. It was just a lovely breakfast with a perfect stranger!!!! Thanks David for putting a smile on my face so early in the day!!

I walked merrily to the train station, to meet the tour company. Petra was a drab tour guide and someone remind me to "NEVER JOIN A BIG ASS TOUR AGAIN" with American teenagers. I know I have American viewers here...but these guys lacked a global education, manners, basic knowledge. Makes me wonder what is happening in high schools.

The grayline bus hit the autobahn... and we were told this highway system is THANKS to Hitler. He wanted to reduce unemployment levels, back then. To do so, he ordered the creation of autobahns. The speed limit on most of these highways is 130km/hr. That being said, 19% of the autobahns are SPEED LIMIT FREE. Who needs the Grand Prix?

We made it to Harburg castle and thanks to Wikipedia, one knows that "Harburg is a town (population 6,000) on Bavaria's romantic road boasting one of the most impressive remaining medieval castles in Germany. It is in the Donau-Ries district.
The castle was first mentioned in 1150 and has never been seriously damaged by war. Unlike many other German castles which were often built in the last 200 years or rebuilt after World War II, the castle Harburg retains the feel of the Middle Ages. Michael Jackson has called Harburg "the castle of my dreams", and he tried (unsuccessfully) to buy it.
The village itself is quaint with many footpaths and a historic stone bridge."

We drove an hour more to Rothenburg ob der Tauber, in the district of Ansbach of Mittelfranken. It is a well-preserved medieval old town. The name of this village comes from German, meaning Red fortress above the Tauber river.
The village was also an inspiration for Walt Disney's movie Pinocchio.
There was a band from Wisconsin, Ambassadors of music,with over 100 gifted musicians who performed for the tourists. Nice way to relax and enjoy the scenery.

On the ride back, my American teenage FRIENDS, decided to be loud and obnoxious for the duration of the THREE hour ride back....Calgon and Grey GOOSE take me away.

About thirty minutes close to Munich, we drove over The Danube river and I thought of Strauss' An der schönen blauen Donau. Here's my conundrum: That river was not blue...the water was as clear as could be. Which brings me to my next thought: was Strauss living a blue moment?

Tomorrow, Salzburg, Austria for the day....can't wait to walk the streets of Wolfgang and the place where The Sound of Music was filmed....

For now, Auf Wiedersehen!

First impressions of Munich, Germany

Guten tag,

Yesterday was officially my first day in Munich. I chose Munich, based on my trip last summer when I flew into this city and had a chance to check out the aerial view of this place. I had found it charming, green and somewhat peaceful below the clouds.

The flight to Munich yesterday was a breeze. I even had a chance to nap, which isn't something I do all that easily. The airport is in the midst of a forest. The city center of Munich is about 30km. I tried to negotiate with a desert dwelling cab driver, to no avail. I even begged! Failure totale!!!

I arrive at the sofitel in Bayerpost and the lovely blue-eyed, blond haired lady desk manager informs me that it will take a few hours to give me a room, as the hotel is fully booked. She convinces me to drop everything and begin discovering the area.

So my discovery of this city begins....a stroll along Bayer strasse/street, where I am surprised to see so many Lebanese vendors. Arabic writing on the store windows, signs, menus... I continue along Neuhauser Strasse and Kaufinger strasse/street to reach old town,a touristy, cobble-stoned square with cafes, a town hall, and a church. It is said that between 1319 and 1791, this gateway served as the entrance to the Old City through the second fortified ring wall.
Nearby is the Burgersaalkirche (church) which holds the tomb of Father Rupert Mayer, whose opposition to the Nazis cost him his life.

Once I arrived to the square, I found a nice outdoor cafe and enjoyed my morning latte and watched people walk on by. I was blown away by the TALL folks walking by, the mannequins at H&M were GIANT size to represent the German population. The locals have a sense of style. The women are elegantly dressed and the men HAD NICE SHOES and Jeans (I guess now would be a good time to tell you have a shoe fettish-men's shoe that is!!!) I was too tired to pull out my camera and focus...hohum....otherwise, I would have been clicking away to add to my collection of Men around the World!

At 11am I had the pleasure of listening to the Glockenspiel/Carillon of the New Town Hall, a neo-gothic building which was erected between 1867 and 1909. The 85 meter tower is a Bavarian attraction, with its 43 bells, and 32 almost life-size figurines which dance and entertain the crowds. The dance has something to do with the celebration of the wedding of Duke Wilhelm V to Renata of Lorraine.

I continued meandering for the next three hours and returned to the hotel, only to find out that my room was no where ready. They asked me to kindly be seated ans they would get back to me. I began observations of the patrons of this hotel. Burkas, black veils, while their MEN wore tank tops, shorts and sandals. Did I forget to mention that the temperatures were in the 35C and humid!!! I felt I could have been in Qatar, Dubai, Kuwait....and wait a second they are getting room keys!!! Why???
Oh manager....Jet lag finally reached its toll.

I did get a room and Bassam my syrian porter was kind enought to escort me to my room. I coudn't keep it in...from one desert dweller to another, I asked him "wasss up with all the burkas???" He laughed!!!!Hysterically!
Apparently, the Saudis can't stanf their local weather in the fifties; they travel on holiday to cooler climates ( like Munich's 30s) to chill!!! ...and shop apparently. Of course, true to Tania, I then asked..."shop for what????The Burkas cover everything, including NOSTRILS!!!" He burst out laughing again.

I settled in my room and turned on some television...only to see TV Kuwait, TV Dubai, TV SAUDI, TV AL Jazeerah and this went on...no joke.
Don't you think, somewhere on the hotel brochure or web page, they should have removed them gorgeous German blonds I like to check out and instead displayed Burka central....that way, I can choose to go there or NOT?? Just sayin'....if I wanted to see Qatar, I would have flown there, no?

In search of Farrah Fawcett...

My eldest son and I got caught up with conversations of Playboy, its utility, how women should not be seen as receptacles etc....

Then it hit me...I need to tell HIM something.
In essence, I mentioned to him that in 1995, being a huge fan of Farrah Fawcett, I bought her first nude spread in Playboy magazine. That morning, I had heard on a local AM station (CKGM for those of you who remember them days)that owning that edition of Playboy Magazine (in its sealed bag no less) would be a collectible one day.

... And so with my hubby in tow, we headed to a nearby news stand, purchased the icon's nude spread and came home. I won't go into the sordid detail of how uncomfortable HE was to see me pick up the mag, pay for it and walk home. Surely, I also don't need to mention the number of times HE tried to get his hands on the magazine, regardless of how many times I reminded HIM "it's worth more sealed!"
Well I got so tired of keeping an eye on this sealed copy, that I hid it. In fact, I hid it so well, I can't find it!

Which brings me to my son...I told him that the day I die, to scour the house in search of Farrah. Along with his brother, he has the choice to sell it one day or sit back, with a few brewskies and check out the legendary Farrah! Meanwhile, I have been keeping an eye on Ebay for the mag's current going rate. No one has it sealed on Ebay and the price is set at $26US.

Indeed, time will tell!

Say my name, say my name....

Things that make you go hmmmmmmmmmm....
One mundane morning, I decided to pick up my voicemail. I think there must have been a half dozen messages. Don't go thinking I am popular and all. It's more along the lines of "can't be bothered listening to the recordings". I digress...

One particular message got my attention. I think I must have played it back a dozen times. The voice, on the over played message, was that of my x-hubby. For nineteen years, I have heard this man call me by my nickname. Yet on this glorious morning, he called me by my name. It sounded absurd, awkward and very strange. He seemed to have struggled with it too.
Was this yet another reminder of a marriage gone wrong or was this more for my amusement?

I can tell you the following...I replayed the recording while focusing on my reaction, feelings and mindset. I didn't realize to what extent I was disengaged and disconnected from this man, I once called my husband.

I have discovered something of great meaning to me. I never realized to what extent one's name has value. In my suddenly single chapter in life, the relevance and importance of hearing a man call my name is of great importance to me. You would be surprised to know that I have witnessed a great many men who seem uncomfortable voicing a girl's name while chatting (happily or angrily for that matter) or making love. I find myself having to constantly remind my date,my friend or my lover how I enjoy hearing my name, as opposed to generically leading me into a conversation.

Seriously, is it too much for which to ask?