Reality check: Fifth week

So life goes on here in Italy. It goes on elsewhere, too, and I suppose that's one of the weird things about being away for an extended period. Yes, I know we're talking about three months, not years. Still, it's long enough to get an idea of time marching on with-or without-your participation. And with this in mind, here's my short list of...

The things I miss about home:

1. The dogs. Though I get to pet dogs a lot, life without Dexter and Punky is definitely not the same as life with them. It's nice that Deborah sends updates a lot, otherwise I'd really be a basket-case. That reminds me, though, that I have made a friend: the neighbors on the first floor (that's the first above street level) have a little tiger-striped cat named Misha, and she gets let out into the stairwell to explore at regular intervals. Since that's where I go type when I'm trying to be quiet, we've become pals, and now she's in the habit of coming up to see if I'm working there (as I have gotten into the habit of propping the door a little open if I think she might come around).

2. Mom and Dad. Though I don't like to rank them against the dogs, the major difference is that I communicate with my parents at regular intervals, where the dogs haven't yet learned to send e-mail.

3. My broadband internet connection. It's HARD to have to go to an internet café a quarter-mile away every time you need to get connected.

4. My bari sax. I've got that rented tenor, and it helps, but it's not a particularly good one-it needs adjusting and misses low notes-and I'm not really a tenor player.

5. Bands. Gosh, I had no idea how much I'd miss playing. For me, music is most fun as a collaborative thing, and it's bumming me out in no small way when I realize it could be next fall before I'm able to get worked back in to any of the groups I've played with. Argh again.

7. Hot showers. Going on trips and staying in hotels really underscores how it positively sucks to be freezing as you shower in the mornings. 'Nuff said.

8. Work time. Although I've been doing my best to get stuff accomplished, it's hard when the necessities of life (cooking, laundry, etc.) take up a lot more time, and then you're without a stable base of operations the rest of it. It's great to travel, but it sure plays hell with getting projects done.



Now that those are out of the way, here's a list of

Things I'm gonna miss when I get home:

1. Not having to drive every day. It's weird-I thought I would have more of a problem with this, but as it turns out, I'm not missing $3.00 a gallon gas or the hassle of having to wash, park, and otherwise deal with cars. I also think that we Americans need to start taking smaller cars a lot more seriously. Some of these little two-seaters have plenty of pep and get something on the order of 50mpg. Now, why can't we figure out how to make something like this available at home?

2. Regular opportunities to work on a second language. I realize I can take lessons at home and make progress, but there's nothing better than being able to practice every day.

3. The food in Italy. It's AWESOME. Don't know how else to describe it.

4. Italian wine. I arrived in Italy not liking wine of any kind, and it only took about a week to clear up that problem. Gosh, I hope the stuff isn't too expensive back home.

5. Gelato de Neri. If this were a normal ice cream shop, I'd lump it in with food, but this place deserves its own mention. If there were a way to transport the whole place back to Burbank I would.

6. The dog-friendly culture in Italy. People who allow dogs into nearly all public places (including shops and on buses) just seem... I dunno... more civilized.

7. The pace of life in Florence. That's not to imply that Italians are lazy-in fact, nothing could be further from the truth. It just doesn't appear that they share America's tendency to live life at an impossible, break-neck speed.

8. Live performances of classical music by world-class ensembles. They're just a short walk and a few euros away here, and we've seen some wonderful stuff.

9. Being in a culture where I don't have to feel like a moral failure because I can't function before 9am. The typical workday here is from 9am-1pm, and then from 3pm-7pm. Gets people home for lunch, too, which has to be good for families.


Anyhow, those are my lists for today. I'm sure they'll change over the next six or so weeks, so I'll probably revisit the topic.

Cheers,
Leanne

Saturday, 10/8/05 11pm

Made it to Madrid and back, and had a blast! Found the U.K. Airliners.net contingent by nearly-quite literally-running into them on the moving walkway. My arrival into the lounge had been delayed by having to drive all over the airport on the terminal shuttle and THEN go through passport control for some reason, and so I was running to catch up with the rest of the group. As I hopped onto one of those moving sidewalks, I was being slowed down by a bunch of English folks who seemed preoccupied with the equipment they had just been flying on, and suddenly... it clicked.

The next couple of hours were an airplane geek's heaven: being able to wander slack-jawed through an international airport, in the company of people who didn't seem to think that sort of thing was odd. We hung out in the terminal cafeteria (good windows) while we waited for more of our brethren to arrive. By 1pm we'd collected most of the lot, which included members from the U.K., Spain, France, the Netherlands, and me from the U.S. Then, finally, we were ready to roll.

So we headed out-with Andy, our representative from the Isle of Man-driving. Of course Andy was on the wrong side of the road (for him), so I was quite impressed with his ability to navigate the streets of Madrid... he did a far better job that I would have been able to, and I'm used to driving on the right. In any case, after checking him out of a hotel on the opposite side of town (he would join the rest of the group that night), we proceeded to a spotting location that Alfonso (our guide from Spain) had showed Andy the day before. It was right near the taxiway, with arrivals coming from one direction, and departures headed the opposite direction, and the traffic was great-I got pictures of at least a half dozen airlines I had never seen before. Thus it went for the next couple of hours... about ten photographers were there in all, and we had a great time until, all to soon, I had to head back to the terminal for my flight back to Barcelona.

The ride home on Iberia was pleasant enough, but this trip was way too short, and I only got to read about the fun the rest of the crew had over the next couple of days. Still, it was a total kick to be able to jump over there and meet them, even if only for a few hours.

Until Amsterdam, that is... :-)

Bye,
Leanne

Saturday, October 8th

On an AM flight to Madrid...

Another early morning. Today the plan is for me to fly from Barcelona to Madrid to meet my airliners.net friends. A bunch of us are invading Madrid to photograph stuff there and generally hang out. I can't wait-it's been a year and a half since I joined that community, and I've never met anyone in person in that time. This should be cool.

Harry graciously offered to drive me to the airport, and so we headed out. I had a map of Spain to work with (hint: not the best scale in the world), and I thought I had a pretty good idea of how to get there. But the airport turned out to be nearly impossible to find; after making about a thousand U-turns, it seemed as though we weren't much closer. We hopped off the highway onto a side street, and having no real idea where to go from there (none of this is helped by the fact that the road signage-throughout Spain, it seems-truly sucks), Harry deposited me in a cab to get me the rest of the way there. It cost nearly €30 to get there, but I made it just in time to run up to self-check-in, and then run onto my flight. Now, I'm on an Iberia A320 headed to the MAD (an airline I only see in pictures, let alone actually FLY on). Also managed to get a window seat, since the person who was apparently supposed to be sitting next to me never showed up. And I even got a peek at a Russian jet-probably an Ilyushin IL-62-which was sitting on the ramp as we took off. Very cool.

We're descending now over some hilly terrain. I see what appears to be a nuclear power plant in the distance off the right side of the plane. The ground below me looks like a desert with a number of what must be freshwater lakes strewn about. I don't know if the appearance is because crops have been harvested by now, but I suppose I'll find out. At any rate, I guess I'll have to finish this later, so...

Ciao for now,
Leanne

Friday, 10/7 - Lloret de Mar, Spain

Woke up shivering this morning. Apparently, all the rooms at this hotel come with twin beds, which would be tolerable if they had provided adequate blankets. Argh. Memories of the inferno hotel in Glasgow are floating deliciously through my head...

But we had things to do. First on the agenda was breakfast; turns out there was a little boardwalk-style shopping area behind the hotel, where we found a café that served these awesome chocolate croissants. Gotta love a country in which chocolate is practically a national treasure! Also behind the hotel was a small Catalunian chapel, and I had to grab a few pictures before we moved on. That style is like nothing else I've seen in Europe; bright colors, polished tiles... looks a lot like something I'd put on the wall at home.

Next on the agenda was to find the car and head toward Barcelona. That turned out to be a slow process, mostly because the signage in Spain is almost completely useless to the tourist. For example, the signs on roads coming out of a roundabout may not be visible until AFTER you've had to turn on that road. This results-in our case, anyway-in a lot of U-turns, and it took until almost 1pm to find a place to catch a train into the Barcelona city center (driving there is sort of like driving to central Manhattan-not worth the trouble). Once we found it, however, the remainder of the trip was smooth, and it was fun to speed along the coast, often within a stone's throw of the water's edge.

Arriving in Barcelona, we transferred to the Metro (subway), and found the Sagrada Familia cathedral. This is the famous gothic cathedral designed by Gaudi, and it lived up to its billing in a big way; the art that covered it was nothing short of amazing. We walked around the cathedral (it takes up about a city block), shooting pictures along the way. Most intriguing to me was the gargoyles; they came in all shapes, including animals such as frogs, lizards, serpents, and snails. Lunch came next at a café across from the cathedral, and consisted of a very decent paella (seasoned rice and vegetables baked with chicken or shrimp in a metal pan). It was fun to sit there and people-watch-we were very close to the metro station and saw people ranging from the most jaded tourists to Spanish schoolkids.

Hopping back on the metro, our next stop was Las Ramblas Avenue, which is sort of a "Tourist Central" in Barcelona. They say that if you get pickpocketed anywhere in Europe, it will most likely happen here, and I can see how that's true-there are about a gazillion people walking along this road (it's actually more like a very wide median that goes down the center of the avenue), and lots to distract oneself with. It started with bird vendors, then progressed to flower stalls, with street performers in all kinds of costumes along the way. Fortunately we didn't get pickpocketed, and before turning back toward the metro that evening we stopped for dinner... at an Indian restaurant. Leave it to us to eat Indian in whatever country we end up in.

This took us up to our witching hour, and it was time to hit the metro back to the regional train that would take us toward Lloret de Mar. After about a 45-minute wait in the underground station (we found we could doze by sitting back-to-back on a bench), we were on a train speeding back up the starlit coast. Back to the car and back to Hotel de Frigidare for the night. Still, a hot shower makes up for a lot.

More manaña,
Leanne

Hitting the dusty trail again

Well, my birthday came and went without any ill effects, and as of 3:45 this morning, we're on our way to Spain. The hideous hour is necessary because Ryanair (one of Europe's low-cost airlines) keeps its flights cheap by flying at strange hours to the strange airports it flies to. Since more of the low-cost airlines fly from Pisa than from Florence (well, actually, more of the regular airlines fly from there, too), the trip to the airport involves about a mile or so walk to the Santa Maria Novella train station in Florence (no buses operate at that hour), a 1 1/2 hour train trip to Pisa, and then the 2-hour flight from Pisa to Barcelona. The airport we're flying to (again, this is a Ryanair thing) is Girona, about 70km north of Barcelona. To split the difference, we booked a hotel in between, in Lloret de Mar. It's right on the coast, so it should be a nice place to hang out.

After getting off the plane, we waiting in an interminable line at the Hertz rental counter--seems the system was running a bit slow. Our patience was rewarded, however, with an upgrade to a Renault Magane instead of the tiny hamster-powered car we'd booked, and it's pretty nice. It's also diesel-burning, which seems odd but is obviously very common in Spain. Gets some nice pick-up on the roundabouts, too.

Once we had the car, we drove north. One of us noticed that the French border was just about 75 km away, and so we thought, hey... what a cool place to go for lunch. Then, having no other agenda for the day, I persuaded (though it wasn't all that hard) Harry to stick in southern France for the day, and we drove on toward Tolouse, home of the Airbus plant and the test facility for the behemoth A380. The drive was gorgeous, and in a couple of hours (allowing for a few twists and turns), we were at the airport, looking for anything that resembled a super-jumbo aircraft. Somehow, we found the active runway, and a cool spot right at the threshold where we were able to watch the arrivals at close range. The only drag about this spot was that it was totally backlit at this time of day, but it was still fun, and I even found a spotter's platform with a couple of guys there taking pictures over the fence. Incredibly, one of them-a French chap with a Canon set-up similar to mine, asked (in French) if I'd like to see a spot on the other side of the airport. Of course I did, and after collecting Harry, we drove around the end of the runway to the opposite side, parked, and walked up a short hill to a spot at the top. It had an unbelievable view of the taxiway, the touchdown point, and--as a bonus--full sun that made for great photography.

Needless to say, I was having a blast clicking away, but the best was still yet to come. Soon, a Virgin Atlantic A340-so new it wasn't yet painted-was taxiing by for a run-up test. A few minutes later, a Turkish A330 did a high-speed taxi and brake test on the runway. Then, when I thought things couldn't get any better, Beluga Five, one of Airbus's five Super Transporters, began a slow roll toward us, preparing for its takeoff to Hamburg, Germany. The Beluga is a wild-looking airplane; it's used to ferry large assemblies (like fuselages) from one Airbus plant to another, and its enormous fuselage is the widest of any transport except, possibly, for the Antonov AN-225. I got some great shots of it taxiing by, then as it made its takeoff roll and lifted off into the blue sky. It was the weirdest-looking aircraft I've ever photographed.


Unfortunately, it was getting late in the afternoon by this time, so we had to bid my new friend good-bye and head back south to Spain. It was a lovely drive and we were treated to a beautiful sunset. Soon, we were in Lloret de Mar and hunting around for the hotel. We found it-right on the waterfront overlooking the Mediterranean-and although it isn't exactly the Ritz, it's clean and has a wonderful bathroom with GREAT water pressure. Funny how those little things can mean SO much.

Ciao for now,
Leanne

The second chapter...

… of a very busy month. It seems that, over the month of September, none of the planned trips ended up being scheduled and instead, they got stacked up in October. Given that the semester break also falls this month, it may well turn out that we end up spending more time out of Italy than in it. It’s kind of cool in a stupefying sort of way—we end up getting three days between trips to get work done and do laundry, and then we’re off again. But hey—far be it for me to complain. This is still the opportunity of a lifetime. The next stop: Spain—a day or so in Barcelona, and I’ll also take a one-day side trip to Madrid to meet some of my airplane-geek friends and hopefully, do some photography at the airport. Can’t wait.

Meanwhile, though, I’m trying to get some website work out for a couple of clients, and wishing I had time to edit all the pictures I’ve been taking. I just looked, and it seems that they’re really beginning to stack up. Might take me longer than the duration of this trip to get them all posted.

What else is happening… oh yeah, it’s my birthday. Whoopee… I’m screaming down that awful hill toward forty. It’s kind of weird to be celebrating it six thousand miles from home, but then again, it could be worse—a few years ago, I spent a birthday doing a press check in Greenfield, Ohio, which is this tiny town hidden in the cornfields, somewhere between Dayton and hell. I remember, like it was yesterday, going to Bob Evans for dinner that night (it made Denny’s look like the Ritz Carlton) and sleeping on a couch at the printing plant for about an hour and a half at a time before they’d wake me again to check something. And the worst part about that entire trip? The plant STILL managed to screw up our job when they trimmed it. What a wasted birthday.

On other fronts, it seems the vermin wars down on the Arno have taken a sinister turn. This afternoon we were walking across the bridge toward home when we noticed that one of the rats had made a kill and was dragging the spoils away toward its lair. I didn’t see the event, but a couple of British gents had and confirmed that the rat had scrambled up the wall pigeons sit on to grab its prey. Yikes! I don’t think I could have possibly influenced this behavior (any rat that’s snatching pigeons off a wall knows what it’s doing), but it’s creepy nonetheless. Could I be contributing to a race of super-rats? Ew.

That’s all for the moment… got to get back to work. I’m putting electric fencing around the apartment building. Just in case.

Cheers,
Leanne

In search of Nessie

Saturday morning we were back in the car-driving on the left, of course-and headed north to chase monsters. Judging from our map, the Loch Ness and its famous inhabitant should be about 130 or so miles away, so we figured it would be a workable day trip. However, first on the agenda was to try again to find that geocache by the river. Having taken another look at the cache page I felt pretty certain I knew where it was, and so we drove back out to the airport. With Harry standing guard at the car, I took a brisk stroll back out to the beacon, found the cache (yay!), said goodbye to Builder Bob as I swapped out two travel bugs I was carrying for two different ones, and jumped back into the car just as it started to rain again. With that find, I've now logged geocaches in three different countries. Cool, eh? (Yeah, I know it's geeky... but it's fun.)

Hopping back on the road, we turned the car north toward what we thought would be the highway junction at Dumbarton. And it might have worked, except that we missed the turnoff and found ourselves headed west along the Firth of Clyde-and there were no other bridges nearby that would get us to where we needed to be. Fortunately we're used to stuff like that happening, and so we decided instead to see if we could find a ferry to a town called Dunoon, take highway 815 north to highway A83, and take that back to the highway we originally needed to be on.

Lesson #1 about highways in Scotland: they always do WAY more winding around than you realize when you look at a road map of the entire country, and that results in speeds far slower than what you'd experience on, say, I-395 in the middle of the California desert.

Oh well. At least the car ferry was fun, and using my long lens I was able to get some great pictures of the coastline. A 20-minute boat ride put us into Dunoon, and we drove around the Argyll Forest Park, stopping frequently to take pictures.








Once we hit highway A83-hours after we had originally planned to-we drove north around Loch Long, and then ambled north up A82 in the hopes of getting to Loch Ness before Nessie turned in for the evening. Sad to say, we searched and searched, but I didn't see her anywhere. I took a few pictures, though-some say she's actually easier to spot that way, and I've posted the results here for further inspection. Seems she's a friendly monster, and I also heard a tale that she actually follows the odd visitor around. I didn't notice anything of the sort, but you know how those legends are... maybe I'll be surprised.

Heading southeast now around an area known as Rob Roy Country, we were treated to some beautiful views of mountains and waterfalls. We drove through the tiny towns of Strathyre and Callander, and then stopped in Doune to visit the Doune castle. It's closed to visitors for the winter, but we were able to walk around the castle and the surrounding streams and take pictures. Along the way we passed several fly fishermen who were taking advantage of an evening hatch, and the setting couldn't have been more idyllic... it looked exactly like the pictures I've seen in fishing calendars. I would have liked to hike out a little farther, but the sun was beginning to set so we had to begin the journey back to Glasgow.

Arriving back at the hotel after stopping for dinner along the way, we had to shower and crash pretty quickly so we could catch a 7:00 flight the next morning back to Italy. It was kind of an exhausting pace, but I'm glad we came. Scotland is beautiful, and I'd love to return again someday. Even if Nessie really *is* just a mythical creature...

More from Italy,
Leanne