New City + Old Friend

So yes, Boo and I were headed to Eastern Europe, but we couldn't leave Pisa without first acting our parts of the ultimate tourists (see below). We're so clever.

So far, I am digging Poland.  We got to the airport and took a look at the bus that would take us into the city, got intimidated, and opted for a taxi instead.  Before we got in, I asked him approximately how much it would cost for him to take us to the city center.  He replied that it would be around 70 zloty.  I hummed and hawed, and then finally agreed.  The thing is, I had no idea how much 70 zloty was – it could have been equivalent to $7 or $7,000, but it sounded reasonable enough to me.

Along with the exchange rate, I didn’t do any kind of research before coming to Krakow.  I know JP II spent a good deal of his life here, I know St. Hyacinth (aka San Jacinto aka one of my fave villages outside of Piura) is from here, and I know Mirek is from here.  And that is the extent of my knowledge.  But I was loving what I was seeing.  On our taxi ride, we passed a church where dozens of little boys and girls wearing precious white outfits were leaving following their First Communion.  Gotta love Catholicism.  The taxi had these maps with history, culture points, common phrases in Polish, and tourist attractions all related to Krakow.  It was in English and it was free.  So my first impressions of Poland were: Catholic and informative.  So far, so good.

I’m looking around at all the signs and I’m just amazed of how many consonants they can fit into a word.  And how Zs there are! Any Pole would be fantastic at Scrabble.  One of my favorite things to do is point out a word and ask Mirek how to pronounce it because it always turns out to be completey different than I imagined.  It turns out my Polish, excuse me, I mean Polski, is actually quite good.  Anytime Mirek has a conversation with someone I guess what they said and I am always right.  I mean, it’s usually things like, “Can we have some menus, please?”, “You can keep the change,” “Yes, I’m finished, you can take my plate.”  But still, I’ve never guessed incorrectly (unless Mirek is just humoring me which is very possible).

Background story on Mirek:

When I studied abroad in Spain, I lived in an apartment with four other international students – 2 boys and 2 girls.  One of the boys had to move out within the first week or so because it turned out his credits wouldn’t transfer.  Our landlady quickly filled his space with “El Polaco.”  No one knew who he was, what his name was, when he was arriving – we only knew a guy from Poland was taking Sergio’s place.  When he finally came, at first I thought his name was Mark, and then I thought it was Eric – and then I finally realized it was a mix between the two: Mirek.

Mirek and I immediately bonded because for both of us, our English was far superior to our Spanish – the preferred language of the rest of our roommates.  Mirek and I would frequently go to Mass together and we were just the bestest of friends.  But sadly the semester ended, and Mirek returned to Poland I to ooosa.  That could have been the end of our story – but no! I have come to Mirek’s home country to reunite at last!

Mirek no longer lives in Krakow, but another city three hours away, so he graciously took off work, and came to see us and be our personal tour guide!  He was amazing.  We did not have to worry about where to eat, how to talk to anyone, how to get somewhere, what to do – Mirek took care of everything.  And he didn’t mess around – we saw Market Square, St. Mary's Basilica, tons more churches, the Archbishop’s residence where John Paul II lived (that was my request), Wawel Royal Castle and Cathedral, and the Jewish District.  That kid wore us out!

 St. Mary's Basilica.  We went inside and it is one of the most beautiful churches I have ever seen.

 Market Square

Precious little church in Market Square - just a couple hundred feet from St. Mary's

You can't throw a cat in this town without hitting a church.  Seriously, here's two right next to each other.

Wawel Royal Castle from afar

 Lots of fun things to do at Wawel Castle - but something in particular caught my eye.

 Am I reading that right?! DRAGON'S DEN?

 But alas, no dragon.  Without a dragon, I think they should just advertise it as "Den."

 Zygmunt Bell in the Cathedral of the Castle dating back to 1520.  It's only rung on important occasions like the end of World War II, when John Paul II was named pope, when he died, and when he was beatified, and on the death of Poland's President and First Lady

Apparently, it's good luck to touch the bell, so Boo had to get in on the action

Late Polish President and First Lady buried in the crypt of the Cathedral

 What I love about Poland: they have pictures of John Paul II everywhere

Really, everywhere.

 The Archbishop's residence in Krakow - where John Paul II lived before he became pope

 JP II would address the public from this window

Mirek and Boo at our lovely terrace lunch

my little meer-kat :)

 Kazimierz, the Jewish District

 Jewish cemetery (obvious caption)

While walking around Kazimierz, we saw everyone was eating these big pieces of bread with all kinds of toppings on them (looking back, I guess it's basically just pizza).  Mirek told us that late at night, after a night of drinking, you can end up waiting an hour to get one of these things.  Well I'm always down for drunk food at any time of day.  So we took the plunge and ours was an interesting mix of tomato, mushroom, feta, corn, and green olives.  Loved it.

 The original city walls

Mirek's university - I don't think he wanted to be in the picture.

 Enjoying a beer at the end of our very long day (ignore the bison fingers)

Lech tops Żywiec anyday (I am so Polish)

And we even got to enjoy some sweet break dancing

One final thing about how fantastic Poland is - everyone is paler than me!  For once, my skin does not blind passersby. 

Now to Paris - yes, sure, we'll go to the Louvre, Notre Dame, Eiffel Tower, Musee d'Orsay, Arc de Triomphe like your everyday, normal, run-of-the mill tourists, but we've also set our sights on something much more exciting and dare I say, magical:  Disneyland Paris.

Ohhhh nooooo

Getting to Siena was an ordeal.   Our room in Riomaggiore was at the very tip top of the town.  So high up, that Boo and I didn’t even eat dinner one night because we didn’t want to bother going into the town to get food only to have to climb back up.  Justifiably, we were worried about getting our luggage down to the train station. (I don’t think I’ve ever been on a trip where I thought, ‘Wow, I sure didn’t pack enough.  I wish I had gobs more things to lug around’  No, it’s always, “What the H-E-double hockey stick was I think packing all of this crap?” Among countless other profanities directed towards my oversized suitcase). So we asked Maria (the owner of our room – Emiliano’s mother, who abandoned Melissa at the train station) to drive us to the train station in the morning.  She agreed and said, “No problem! I drive you!”  Great! Well the agreed upon time rolls around, and Maria is not to be found.  So Boo struts up to her house (she lives directly above us), uses her great Italian skills to tell Maria’s mother for Maria to get her butt in gear.  (The room renting business is apparently a family affair).  Crisis averted: we make our train.

BUT! I forgot to validate the ticket beforehand! You have to stamp your ticket at these little machines or else it’s not valid.  We’ve been doing this the whole time, Rick Steves even warned us about it, but I just plumb forgot to do it.  So at each stop – for 3 stops – I would jump out of the train to find one of those little yellow machines to stamp our ticket. The first one was out of service, and I couldn’t even find a machine at the second two stops.  Each time, Boo would fret that I wouldn’t make it back on the train in time.  And she had good reason – I had all of our cash and credit cards. She would not have gotten very far.

After the third stop, I had finally had enough and decided to just give up.  Just when I had surrendered, here comes the train official strolling through our car asking to see everyone’s ticket.  Well shit.  So I hand him our unvalidated tickets, play dumb (funny thing: playing the dumb tourist is not so much acting, it’s just my life), and he writes us each a ticket: 5 euro a piece, which we pay on the spot.  Not a big deal, but our tickets were only 10 euro a piece, so that’s half the price right there.  Whatevs, we managed that debacle with only slight embarrassment.

The blow to my pride hurt more than the ten euros 

When we arrive to Pisa, we have to change trains.  Not our strong suit.  Our train was already delayed so we really had two minutes to get on our next train.  But we did it! Success! But the train is incredibly crowded.  We’re forced to stand not even in a car, but the little compartment with the doors that joins two cars together.  It’s croweded, there is absolutely no airflow, and it doesn’t smell too pleasant.  Well we’re speeding along, suffocating the entire away, and another official asks to see our ticket.  He looks them over and says, “Oh no!”  And I’m like I know, I know, we already got in trouble – here’s the citation we received.  And he replies, “No, you were supposed to get off at the last stop.”  Well shit, again.  The whole compartment collectively replies, “Ohhhh nooo.” – including Boo.  He instructs us to stay on this train to Florence, and buy new tickets there for Siena.

So we do that.  We arrive to Florence, successfully buy new tickets, find the correct train (this one’s direct – no changing train confusion), and 10 minutes outside of Siena – The. Train. Breaks. Down.   This Italian guy sitting behind us is all hot and bothered by the situation – shouting “vaffanculo!” (which incidentally,  is the only Italian I know).  Turns out he speaks English, and is trying to be Boo’s best friend explaining to her what the train problem is and suggesting that we all just walk to Siena.  Eventually, the train is up and running and again and we finally make it to Siena. 

When we get to our hotel, our luck finally changed.  An American woman, who was leaving, offers us a ticket that she had bought that gets you in to all of the sites in Siena.  She didn’t have time to see the Duomo and a couple of other things so she gave it to us as we were checking in.  That was about the nicest thing anyone had ever done for me! We were so pleased that we immediately set out to explore Siena and visited The Duomo, Piazza de Campo, and the St. Catherine of Siena’s House and Church. We saw St. Catherine of Siena’s head (and finger, but the head was way more impressive).  Mom didn’t believe and she was like, isn’t it just a painting?  And I said no, that’s the real deal.  It’s a miracle!  And then we realized - that’s about all there is to do in Siena. 

Our room - part of a converted convent.  

Lori: Hey Mom! Since we're staying in this convent, are you pretending to be a nun?

Boo: No.

Lori:  Cool.  Me neither.

View from our room

 A calzone that would have even impressed Steinbrenner

Interior of the Duomo

 Yeah - that's Boo in there.  Loving life.

Oh guess who else has been here - THE POPE.  See below.

The Holy Head of St. Catherine of Siena, Patron Saint of Italy - nbd.

Tomorrow we leave for Krakow and I get to reunite with Mirek after three long years!!!!! Cannot wait.

"Hiking" is really just another word for "difficult walking"

Oh Ryanair, how I’ve missed you.  It was Boo’s first Ryanair experience, and she was definitely a fan.  She was right there applauding along with all the other passengers as we gave thanks to God that we landed safely. The Pisa airport brought back memories of a particularly trying Ryanair experience where they made us fit our bags into the metal thing to make sure they were small enough.  Of course, they weren’t.  Ryan managed to get his suitcase in the thing, but then couldn’t get it out.  With Eric and I on our hands and knees holding the metal box down so Ryan could pry his suitcase house.  “Think thin, think thin!”   Good times.

We took a train from Pisa to Riomaggiore, where we are staying in the Cinque Terre.  Emiliano, our apartment owner, said that he would meet us at the train station when we arrived in Riomaggiore.  Well we got there, and no Emiliano.  Some lady asked us if we were “Melissa,” but other than that, no signs, no patiently waiting Italian man, no nothing.  So I had an address, and got to walkin – the wrong way.  We walked, then we turned back, then we just kind of wandered around.  Finally, we asked that woman who was asking about Melissa, if she knew where we should go.  And she exclaimed, “I am Emiliano’s mother! Why didn’t you say something! I have been waiting here a half hour for you!”  How am I supposed to know what Emiliano’s mother looks like when I don’t even know Emiliano.  I was pissed.  She drove us up to our apartment, which is perfectly nice and has a balcony overlooking the city, but she has yet to get in my good graces.  And I want to know, Whatever happened to Melissa?  I bet there’s some poor tourist still stranded at the Riomaggiore train station.

View from our room

Ocean view from our room

Riomaggiore

Backing up a bit, Cinque Terre is a group of five towns in northern Italy along the Mediterranean coast.  They are tiny, little picturesque places with brightly colored buildings and breathtaking sea views.  You can hike from town to town, which I did three years ago and Boo and I did again today – and let me tell you, it was just as miserable as the first time. The first time I was here, it was raining the whole time, so this was a little better in that regard, but it still as arduous as ever. And what’s worse is when Boo and I did are taking a “photo break” (aka gasping for air and hoping our legs don’t collapse under us), Germans in their 70’s are marching right past us holding their walking sticks with pride.  But really, the views were stunning and well worth the strenuous hike.  We took a train to Monterosso (the furthest town from Riomaggiore) and hiked from there to Vernazza, where we ate lunch.  Then we hiked to Corniglia.  It seemed with each mountaintop (hilltop – I don’t know – it seemed like mountains), that we passed, the views became even more incredible.  It really was awesome.  The next path was closed, so we just took that train on home.  The next day we did the short walk between Riomaggiore and Manarola and back again.

We made the best of the rain back in '08

Monterosso

Vernazza

The unstoppable mother-daughter duo

In the town of Vernazza - debating whether to continue hiking or call it quits. 

Spoiler alert: Boeckings never quit.

Corniglia

I carved "Boo + Lori 2011" just kidding.  That would have been weird.

Little lovers

Manarola

On Sunday, we went to Mass like good Roamin Catholics.  We were inadvertantly made instant celebrities.  How did this happen?  Well there was a baptism at Mass and Boo and I wanted to be close to the action so we sat up near the very front (apparently the pews reserved for the family of the baptized).  So we will be making appearances in many home videos and photos.  Hoopsies.  Interestingly, the priest faced away from the congregation – what is this, Pre-Vatican II?

If you are planning on coming to the Cinque Terre, be warned: it is absolutely LOADED with tourists.  Not that I can complain, because I, too, am a tourist.  If you’re looking to really experience the essence of Italian culture, this is not the place to do it.  However, it’s still one of my favorite places ever and would highly recommend it to anyone.  I think the pictures from the hike speak for themselves.

This picture does not do justice to the amount of tourists there

But then again, maybe it's not so overrun with tourists