No wonder people are distressed by lifesize Orlando Bloom posters.

Wednesday night, 6 August 2008
Zurich

We spent the night of the 6th in oldtown Zürich, in a little rock-n-roll inn called Zic Zac Rock Hotel.

Oldtown Zürich has narrow cobbled streets for pedestrians only, and the entrance to the Hotel is around the corner from the address given. This is because the Hotel begins on the second floor, and the address is to the building and the stairs are around the side. There is a bustling sidewalk cafe below the hotel. We arrived there after dark and bumbled about for a bit trying to decide exactly where we belonged, until a nice waiter took pity on us and led us around to the door.

Zic Zac Rock Hotel is a unique little place. Each of the rooms is named after a musical group or artist, designated by a little plaque on the door, and there are little guitars in the carpet and rock memorabilia on the walls. J and I were placed in the George Michael room (spelt "Georg" Michael on the door plate... he must be Austrian).

The Georg Michael room was quite a terrifying experience.

The proprietors must not have been able to find many George Michael mementoes, but we also didn't see inside any of the other rooms, so that is based purely on assumption. On one wall was hung a small photo of George Michael at a concert. On the wall next to my bed was a GIGANTIC MURAL of George Michael leering into the room. J made me sleep next to him.

I distracted myself from the prying eyes of the mural by tuning into one of the three television channels to watch some soccer. Bellinzona played FC Aarau in the Swiss Super League. Tragically, even my beloved footy couldn't take away the utter creepiness. Maybe it was the lock of painted hair falling suggestively on the painted forehead. Maybe it was because the entire room was a delicate yellow color. Maybe it was the creepy eyes that burned this image into my brain forever... actually yeah. I think that was it.

Our window opened above another sidewalk cafe, so the fabulous smells and the sound of laughter drifted up to us long after we fell asleep under the watchful eyes of Mr. George Michael. In the morning we took the tram back to Zurich Hoptbahnhof (main station) and caught the early train to Schaffhausen, away from Zurich and George Michael.

Why couldn't we have stayed in the "John Bon Jovi Room"?

and there I met a boy with long eyelashes...

Tuesday, 5 August 2008

European Adventure Travel Day 4:
Zermatt to Interlaken, Switzerland

Morning in Zermatt. J and I woke up and stumbled around our tiny room, trying to keep from waking the snoring mountaineers, then we went down to a real Swiss breakfast of muesli, yoghurt, bread, jam, cheese and cold cuts, with tea or juice. There were no tourists in the dining room. Everyone was dressed in hiking or mountain biking gear, showcasing their windburned faces and sunbleached hair. After we repacked our bags, we retraced our taxi ride by foot back to the center of town. This passed us on the way:

(All pics are clickable)

Zermatt electric car with concrete mixer

Because there are no cars allowed in this town -and therefore no heavy equipment- they have to transport stuff to building sites the hard way. After the concrete vat guy went past, he was followed by several loads of sand and gravel. We also met lots of people dressed to the nines in ski gear, walking up the street in ski boots with not a trace of snow in sight.

We caught our train to Interlaken, but the view was spoiled because most of the trip was through tunnels. When we pulled into the station, J pulled out her handy map that told us to "follow the brown signs to the hostel." As it turned out, the "brown" signs were really a mustardy-yellow.

View from my room

Balmer's Herberge is a famous European hostel, the oldest private hostel in Switzerland. We were on the second floor of the main building, right under the sign. There's an underground bar and the floors are creaky and old. It's been expanded until it resembles a maze. We ditched our stuff and walked around town for awhile. Interlaken is the country's adventure capital, offering canyoning, glacier climbing, skydiving, and whitewater rafting, among others.

Paragliders in Interlaken, Switzerland

Since it's not cheap to participate in any of the above, J and I explored the town and the shops for several hours. Eventually we came across the park where the tandem paragliders were landing. We watched them land, fold their chutes and stuff them back into the bags. I want a job where I can soar through the air all day so tourists can get their thrills!

Grounded paragliders

Back at the hostel with our picnic lunch, J and I met a Turkish boy named Sabit. He was on his own, so he ate lunch with us before having a go at whitewater rafting. After he came back that evening, J headed for bed, so he asked if I wanted to walk. Interlaken has an enforced noise curfew of 10pm (hence the bar being underground), so we wandered in the gathering dark until we met an elderly couple. Sabit asked which lake was prettier, so they pointed us east. We decided to go as far as the canal, so we walked to the place where there are steps down into the icy water.

Interlaken canal bridge

Then we went shopping. He was looking for a Swiss watch, so I picked out the biggest mens watch I could find and told him I wanted it. He looked confused and told me "is for male," so I amused both of us instead by trying on ridiculous orange sunglasses. We walked again under the trees with camoflage bark and leaves that cast shadows shaped like flowers in the light of the streetlamps, until he abruptly decided he was tired and we should go back. Before long neither of us recognized the area. He wanted to stop and ask directions (!) but I could see grass just down the street. It was the paraglider landing park, so I practically dragged him up the street and found our way home. He bought me Toffifay candy from a vending machine because there was a footballer on the package in honor of EuroCup 2008. Sabit speaks 5 or 6 languages, and he told me that Aussies sound like Americans. He gave me double kisses and the box of candy and said goodnight.

Sunrise in the Alps

Interlaken is beautiful. My one regret is not taking the train up to Gimmelwald and to Jungfraujoch, the "top of Europe." I understand it to be breathtaking there. J was exhausted, so we just stayed in Interlaken. We had a good time, even without the extreme sports. :)

One night in Italy

Milan, Italy
3 August 2008

My hostel was hard to find. In the end, it took about three hours, a bus ticket I never found out if I actually needed, and four kind strangers who took pity on me.

The station I arrived at (Milano Centrale) is enormous. It has 24 platforms and serves about 120 million people per year. From the station, my directions said to board the 92 bus. The bus loop is out behind the station, through a park-like area, and across a street. An Italian boy (correctly assuming confusion) guided me onto the bus and off at the stop I needed. From the stop, it should have been a quick two-minute walk across the street and up the block, but I turned the wrong way and wandered for over an hour. For this I blame confusing Italian street names that sound like addresses.

Stazione Centrale di Milano

Italian summer nights are hot.

I may have been propositioned by an older gentleman from his car window, but what do I know? I don't speak Italian.

By the time I made it to my hostel, I was sweaty and digusting and tired from a very long day. I stayed at the Hotel America, home of this sign. It's actually a very nice, very clean place, and contrary to my earlier experiences, conveniently located.

In the common room, there were two lads from London, a girl from Australia, and a boy from Atlanta, Georgia (who looked and sounded just like James Dean!), who invited me to watch The Simpsons with them. We talked about our travels, about home, and about patriotism, and then we answered Rob's (from London) insane questions (he assured us that he was genuinely curious to know the answers).

I love staying in hostels because of the people you meet. In hotels, you rarely see anyone, but hostel-dwellers are a special breed of people that exude camaraderie. Hanging out with a multi-national group in a city where no one speaks the language is quite fun. It was a lovely wind-down to the day.

My balcony view in Milano

My return to the station in the morning was comical. At the bus stop, I asked if this was where the 92 bus stopped, but the English word for "92" is nothing like the Italian. A tiny elderly lady, who did not speak a word of English, tried her best to help me, but unfortunately for foreign language communication, speaking slowly and loudly in Italian is still speaking in a foreign language. She finally dragged some man off the street to assure me (also loudly) that "yes, bus 92 stop here, go to stazione."

I missed my train back to Switzerland by one minute, so I remained in Milan for two more hours, soaking up the sunshine and watching the goings-on in the home of my sister's "boyfriend," Pato, who plays for AC Milan. =)

I loved Italy.