the last schlafwagen to veniceby michelle
The only thing nicer than going to Venice... is getting proposed to an hour before you leave for Venice. One would think that Venice is where you would get proposed to which makes getting proposed to before you go most certainly a surprise. And it makes the already highly anticipated trip to Venice even more highly anticipated. What was once just a ho-hum run-of-the-mill trip to Venice, Italy is now an ENGAGEMENTMOON to be celebrated at every waking moment. And celebrated we did.
So we decided to take a sleeper train to Venice or as they say in those parts, a Schlafwagen. The nice thing about taking the train is there is no rigamarole to go through before you get to the train including pretty much zero security. I could have had bombs in my underwear, shoes... I could have shown up five minutes before the train left and had one of those cartoon round bombs with the long fuse under each arm and been like, hey what's up, and they probably wouldn't have even looked at me twice.
So we reserved our very own two-person Schlafwagenzimmer (sleeper car room). I think it's the fanciest you can go on these things. The next step down is what is called a couchette which basically is a room with six couches, three on each side like bunk beds, that you share with random people. We get two nice bunkbeds with a little table and a couch and even a little sink. Mind you, it's all very cramped and tiny but they do maximize the space.
Who's that engaged lady in the Schlafwagen?
If you want to see more, go to our Videos page to get a grand tour of our glamorous quarters!
Along with the fancy room, we got a nice big breakfast in the morning. This translates to us each getting to choose six things from a list of Viennese breakfast items which can best be described as a deconstructed sandwich. The bread traditionally included with one's Frühstück (I'm larnin' you something!) is basically a Kaiser roll or as they say in Vienna, Semmel. The other items are basically jam, butter, cold cuts, cheese slices, pate, etc. And of course, we also got some juice and coffee. It is Wiener Frühstück, isn't it?
Riding into Venice on the train is beautiful. For those of you who are unawares, Venice is an island and you arrive just as it's light over the water onto the island and into the city right to the train station.
That, my friends, is the island of Venice.
After we unloaded and detrained, we made our way to the water taxi aka Vaporetto stop. I was fully debriefed by my Venetian friend Andrea which Vaporetto to take to our hotel as one will make many stops (1) whilst the other (2) is very swift about taking you through the Grand Canal. However, even a native's help will not prepare you for navigating the "streets" of Venice. I had a map. It seemed we were very close to where we needed to be. I wish Venice were laid out like an Ikea. You walk in the entrance and maybe you have to walk through the whole store but you will eventually pass by everything before you get to the end. In Venice, you basically wander and wander and wander perhaps employing some natural instinct and hopefully stumble across your destination. That is essentially what happened to us. We knew we were close. It just took us a while to find the right rape alleys to follow. We somehow found our hotel. Unfortunately, however, it was still a bit early, so we were not rewarded with a room or even so much as a high five for finding the place. We dropped off our bags and headed off into the frozen city. Oh, did I mention? Venice was super duper cold. It was so cold, I didn't even think of getting an Italian gelato. That's cold.
Let me pedal back a week or so to make mention that in my German class, a Lithuanian classmate warned me of the flooded streets in Venice. I scoffed at her. She said, wear galoshes! I doublescoffed. Well, here I found myself in Venice, Italy and a lot of the streets were indeed flooded. I scoffed in error! I doublescoffed in a double error! Now, the kind city puts out platforms for us greenhorns to walk on when this situation arises. However, there were a lot of showoffs in their knee-high water boots splashing around from here to there and back again. I could wear galoshes! I can splash around! You're not analyzing the complex genetics data of the Arabidopsis thaliana! That's what Alex does. I like to throw it around when I can.
Some people put on their galoshes and took on the water. We opted for the platforms.
Honestly, though, I don't know why I have been wasting your time. I went to Venice. I will now give you what you want... FOOD PORN!
At Osteria Al Portego eating a plate of awesome fried seafood. Heaven.
Taking a break after some ridiculously awesome pumpkin flan at La Zucca in Venice.
Our meals at Osteria Al Promessi Sposi. That's a whole lot of squid ink.
At Osteria Al Portego. Up top we have pappardelle with pork sausage and porcini mushrooms and on the bottom we have gnocchi with scallops and zucchini and saffron. Murder me it was so good.
Ciao!
he liked it so he went and put a ring on it (among other things)by michelle
I am so behind on these blog posts. It is my goal to catch up this weekend. And not one of those fake New Year's resolution no intention of actually following through on them goals but a for-real goal. A goal I will achieve! A goal for the ages! A goal that which I will talk about so much as to procrastinate actually completing the goal itself!
While you are waiting for at least two more meaty blog posts, I will share with you a couple updates on my goings-on:
1) I am engaged! (Ich liebe dich, Alex)
2) I am currently under a non-self-imposed exile from Austria and its Schengen country brethren. (Further explanation forthcoming in an as aforementioned new blog post)
3) I have recently released a new episode of my podcast Walking With Michelle and a new episode of my web cartoon Into the Dumb. (You can also subscribe on iTunes if you're into that sort of thing)
I must now take leave as I am at my parents' house in Sun City, Arizona and we're going to the bowling alley to play pool. And then we're going we're going to eat terrible Mexican food. Oh, how I have missed you, America.
my bonn thanksgiving (better belated than never)by michelle
Alex and I went on our separate ways for Thanksgiving. He went stateside Boston and I...chose to not have jetlag. More specifically, I went to Bonn, Germany. Now, this is my second foray into Germanland. The first being into aforeposted Stuttgart. And I will mention now that Stuttgart is really not that far of a stretch from Vienna in that the language is spoken very similarly from the hi/byes to the words that are used for things to the way words are generally pronounced. Let's just say, it was very comfortable. On the other hand, Bonn was like a whole other country! They do not even say "Grüß got". It was jarring. The only things I could flaunt about my German learnings over the last few months were random words that I knew without their surrounding sentences. It still seemed to impress though. And that was before I went to German school even. It was a good foundation probably. Now when I go back there, I can shove my learned German conversating in their German faces. I actually wanted to use the German word for faces there but I looked it up and it was Gesichter and that just doesn't sound right to me so I'm not going to use it because I don't want to be made fun of for using the wrong word. It probably really means like pet monkey or something. And that's not what I want to say!
Okay, anyhow, so in Bonn, I have two friends both from college waybackwhen. We have Trinity (Trin) who I have known since, I think, my freshman year of college. And we have Robert (Tall German Robert) who we both met our senior yearish when he was doing a year abroad at our school. And then badabing badaboom, fast-forward umpteen years and wedding bells are a'ringing. Well, they got married secretly by an Elvis impersonator in Vegas so I'm not sure if there were literally wedding bells but you get the idea.
Anyhow, also in town for the week were Trin's parents Ann and Paul from Green Bay, Wisconsin. And then we have Zach who I think I met my sophomore year through Trin. And to bring it all together, Zach was the one who eventually introduced both of us to Robert a few years later. Also of note, Zach is doing the expatriate thing too as he is currently residing in Paris. (Bonjour, Zach!) Also in attendance were Trin's friend Fabiola from Spain and Trin's sister Paula from Madison. And the German contingent joining us for Thanksgiving dinner were Robert's parents, brother and brother's girlfriend.
A few weeks before the celebrated event, Trin sent out detailed itineraries for the trip. Our week on paper appeared to be jampacked. And it was. I got in on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. We actually weren't having the holiday's dinner until Saturday because for some reason, Germans don't get Thanksgiving and the following Friday off! Go figure. So in order to incorporate Robert's family into the funfest, we took one for the team and moved Thanksgiving to the weekend. It felt pretty good moving a holiday to another day. All-powerful kindalike. I might just move some other holidays too. First order of business, Halloween gets moved to February because I'm sick of sharing my birthday week with that scary thunder-stealing holiday. April Fools Day just goes away completely because I don't like surprises. And St. Patrick's day can stay where it is but that stupid rule where people get to pinch you if you're not wearing green is skedaddled. I think that's enough for now. Please make the necessary notes on your calendars as this is effective immediately.
The next day, Tall German Robert and I went to Köln (Cologne) to pick up Zachary from the train station. Let me mention now that Trin requested that we perhaps bring some cheese from our respective cities for the Friday night tapas-style dinner. I opted not to because I feel that Viennese cheese seems to have a high stink factor and I ain't bringing that on no plane. Zach, however, gets off his train smelling like the inside of a shoe. There was really no question that Zach brought some cheese. He certainly did. It really wouldn't have been so bad if the smell emanating from his self was identifiable as a cheese odor. It was just identifiable as "that guy needs some kind of serious shower". We ditched that backpack on some poor unsuspecting soul in charge of the lockers at the train station. Sorry for ruining your nose holes for the day, buddy!
Christmas markets are all the rage here in Europe. I've been to a million in Vienna. And I went to a million on this trip. I have to say though that the market in Bonn ranked up there with the best. And it's not because they had superior Glühwein or Punsch. It's not because I found the most impressive wares. It's because they had the drunken, singing animatronic reindeer heads. I have provided you a picture below but you can check out the video section to see them in live action!
Paula is scared of the crazy reindeer heads.
The Thanksgiving dinner was spectacular. I was, unfortunately, nursing a foot injury incurred in the traditional Pre-Thanksgiving Hartman Football Extravaganza. Apparently the most stayed part of that tradition is that you play until somebody gets hurt. So we played until Paul Hartman (yes, Trinity's FATHER) kicked me as hard he could in my foot. I'm leaving out some details here that would lay less blame on his actions but this is my blog and I shall create the visual pictures that I choose. So, anyhow, I should thank him because it afforded me the excuse to lay on the couch gathering sympathy with a bag of ice on my big toe and a bag of Brach's candy corn attached to my mouth. I recovered enough after an hour or so of that and then I participated in an hour or so of turkey and turkey accoutrement eating and then an hour of so recovering from that only to eat pie for another hour or so. I felt that I had to really show the Germans in attendance how we do Thanksgiving which is to eat until it hurts to move.
From right to left: German, German, German, Sconnie.
And I even managed to last the whole dinner without getting into any trouble. After dinner, Paula and I did conspire to stick a cigarette in the paper turkey centerpiece's mouth. It took Ann Hartman (Trin and Paula's Mom) a while to notice and when she did, I wasn't even the first one she blamed! I love meeting new mothers and recreating myself in a whole new less mischievous light. Even when she found out that I was the one who actually did it, Paula got into more trouble because it was her brain's idea. Sorry, Paula, if I can't be the good daughter in my family. I'm going to be the good daughter in everybody else's.
The last day we were in town, Tall German Robert and Trin took us to Arweiler to visit the Regierungsbunker. This is a Cold War era bunker that was built to house three thousand German government officials were there to be some sort of nuclear fallout or other disaster with the idea that they could continue to run the country from the underground. However, the facilities were only built to sustain the three thousand people for 30 days. After that, I guess, the chosen ones are free to return to their homes and care for their radioactive sore-covered friends and family. What a great, well-thought-out plan! Anyhow, the bunker was pretty fascinating. They actually only had the first section of the full 17km open. Apparently, the rest is dismantled and/or flooded. Or so they say (scary music plays this sentence off). Sorry I don't have any pictures to display but it cost an extra 2 Euro 50 to bring in a camera and I was feeling cheap. Let me just say that the rooms were one Benjamin Linus shy of being straight outta Lost.
After the tour, we went in to the village of Ahrweiler to get some lunch and to peruse yet another Christmas market. It was there that I was accosted by the creepy Santa Claus. I will leave you with a picture documenting this moment.
The St. Nick of the Ahrweiler Weinachsmarkt. I gave him two euros so he could buy the little kids some cake. Seemed a bit suspect.
P.S. To the jerks who lifted Zachary's thousands of dollars worth of camera and equipment while he was sleeping on the train, screw you and your morally devoid jackass selves. You will get your comeuppance!
flugzeuge, zuge und autosby michelle
I wasn't really banking on doing any stand-up whilst in Vienna. However, an opportunity presented itself to do a USO show in Stuttgart, Germany. That opportunity came by way of Bengt Washburn, a comedian I had never met, though who was vouched for by my esteemed comedy colleague Moshe Kasher. So I knew he wasn't an axe murder. Or, at least he wasn't a hacky axe murderer. Hacky as in bad comedian, not as in hacking with his murderin' axe. No pun intended. And, yes, I am saying I'd rather be axe murdered by somebody who has a good sense of humor or at least somebody that has a bad sense of humor who knows it and doesn't try. The last thing I want before I die is some arrogant boy murderer who feels the need to get overly physical with his technique while making references to things we all remember. Or maybe that's exactly what I want...
Me: Could you please just commence with your murdering? (Hold my hair up and turn my head to the side to expose my bare neck.)
Hacky Axe Murderer: Let me axe you something... (waves his axe around and then paces for about 10 seconds) You remember Nintendo?
Me: ...
Hacky Axe Murderer: You had to blow in those damn cartridges to get them to work. YOU HAD TO BLOW IN THEM! (He drops axe to mime blowing into a Nintendo cartridge.)
Me: (Zork-style: Pick up axe. Kill Hacky Axe Murderer with axe.)
But I digress, let's get back to our adventure. We got into Stuttgart the day of the show and the never-met-before wonderful Bengt Washburn picked us up at the airport and let us stay at his house for the night. He even took us on a bit of sightseeing in the picturesque German town of Tübingen. Proof below:
In Tübingen, Germany with young Ian, son of Bengt
So the USO show was at 7pm preceded by a lovely buffet dinner at 6pm. This should have been the red-flag warning for me. Young, comedy-loving, entertainment-starved servicepeople don't need to be lured in by buffets. Older people do. To them it isn't COMEDY SHOW in capital letters and buffet in teeny-tiny letters. It's BUFFET BUFFET BUFFET (oh, there's a comedy show too?). And do you know what older people do? They bring kids. Sure, that's a great idea. I mentioned something to one of the organizers who came back a bit later and told me she talked to all the parents and told them that this is not necessarily a show for kids and the comics will not be censoring themselves. Then I explained that my problem wasn't whether or not the parents were cool with it, but rather it wasn't my desire to tell any of my jokes with all their innuendo and colorful language in front of children. Also, it might actually make other people in the audience uncomfortable with the kids there too. That was all I could do though. I was introduced and brought on stage. And as I grab the mic, two kids both younger than 7 take seats in the front row. You have to be kidding me, Uncle Sam. I can't remember exactly what I said as I addressed those children but it was a thinly-veiled announcement to the parents that it was extremely inappropriate for their children to be in attendance and shit was gonna get uncomfortable. It worked. Those kids left after my first joke and the other kids left not long thereafter. Mission accomplished! The show ended up being great. The crowd was fantastic. I even got a fancy USO coin for doing the show. And, if you were wondering, it is not legal tender. I found that out the hard way.
Telling jokes to folks at the USO on the Panzer Kaserne Base in Stuttgart, Germany.
The next morning, superhost Bengt Washburn brought us to the train station. We were going to travel to Strasbourg, France. This was our first European train experience. How exciting! We even managed to find our correct track and get on the correct train in the correct car. Did I mention it was a speed train? It was awesome. Well, awesome except for the fact that there were no murders on the train. How am I suppose to solve any train murder mysteries if there are no murders? I thought that's what you did on trains. Next time I'll just have to get the ball rolling and do the murder myself. And a future you are welcome to you.
We had made reservations at a Best Western quaint little mom-and-pop bed and breakfast in the middle of town. We checked in and realized that we got a room with two twin beds instead of a queen. And the Best Western bed and breakfast was sold out for the weekend so we could not switch. Merde! So we get up to our room and we realize that the twin beds are pushed together in the middle of the room with night stands on either side making it essentially a queen bed with a scary dangerous chasm in the middle. This is exactly how the bedroom in our Vienna apartment is set up. It is maddening. It's like a 50s television bedroom up in Europe.
One huge thing we learned in France is... that we do not speak French. I think somehow our brains thought with all of our success learning basic German, we would be able to understand and speak any language. Oh, not true, mon ami. We were just so used to people speaking to us in other languages and then responding to them in German. We were not used to this Frenchspeak. We would listen so hard trying to understand what they said until we realized we didn't have any idea what they said. We would just get so flustered trying to respond which resulted in a string of words from all the languages we knew. "Dankethankyougraciasankyouthay!" And then we would run away. So embarrassing.
This post has gone on long enough. You get the idea. And as a special treat, here is a video of dogs playing in a Strasbourg street. Enjoy.
i know all there is to know about the crying gameby michelle
Alex and I had separate flights from Vienna to Hawaii. Mine was through DC. And that is where this story takes place. I arrived in my nation's capitol about 4pm. I had about an hour and a half to connect and it takes bloody forever to go through customs. You have to wait there in line with a million people in the same predicament as you. And there was this jackass of a guy who was trying to cut past everybody because he has a plane to catch. Really, a plane? Guess what? We ALL have a plane to catch, a-hole. I actually said that to him minus the a-hole part.
I finally got to my gate with a few minutes to spare. And....the flight was overbooked. (Thanks United!) So I just had to wait there for my name to be called. Tick tock. Tick tock. Finally, she sighed and said, I hate to do this. And then she said two names...one not my name and one MY NAME. Hallelujah. Let's roll. (Okay, maybe that's not the right thing to say when talking about an impending plane ride) So I get on the plane where I have been instructed to find an open seat. I spy one right away but the other girl was right there and her name was called first and I am nice so I did something that was going to become very regrettable... I offered her the seat. I did that assuming the other purported open seat was just going to be a few rows back...so I kept walking... and walking... until I found myself at the end of the plane part. Shit, no more seats. Dammit! Why was I so nice to that girl I didn't know? She was probably a jerkface too. Maybe I could just go unnoticed and let this plane take off with me standing here and I could do a choreographed dance between the aisles and the lavatories for the next five hours? I didn't get a chance. I got spotted. I wish I had worn my "inconspicuous part of the interior of an airplane" camouflage. Exit, stage left. Sigh. Cue plane take off. Now show me some despair. Oh, DESPAIRRRRR.
I was so very tired. And so very screwed. It was too late to get on any flights after that one. Alex was on his way to Los Angeles where he was expecting to meet me at my gate when we were then supposed to go to meet the good Jim Hamilton at baggage claim. I had no American cell phone. I had no American money. So I had to go exchange my 10 odd euros for cash and then use that cash to get change from a bartender. Then, I had to travel in a time machine back to 1998 and use a payphone. Oh, the humanity. And I'm jetlagged to the point of feeling drugged. Well, I guess, technically, I was jetlagged AND drugged. It's a PRESCRIPTION!
So then I had to go wait in line. It seems really unfair that they overbook your flight, they screw your plans and then they make you wait in an unreasonably long line. (Thanks United!) Not to mention an unreasonable long line with pissed-off, crazy people. Everybody wants you to join their Team Angry Consumer. I just wanted out of there. It took probably an hour and a half of line waiting before I got my turn. At this point, I was kind of glad to be getting a hotel and some cash. It was late and I had enough jetlag to work through already without adding on another three-hour time difference. There was another flight at 8am in the morning which would put me in Los Angeles 11amish which wasn't going to be so terrible. However, as the man helping me was ringing it up, he realized that that morning flight was sold out too and he wasn't going to have a specific seat available for me. He said that I was first on the list though and it shouldn't be a problem. (DANGER DANGER DANGER) I was too tired to protest though. (No, Michelle. Protest! You should protest!) Sure, fine, whatever. Where's the bed?
I got back to the airport the next morning with plenty of time to spare. I wanted to be the first person at the gate. The rep finally showed up about an hour after I got there and she barely looked up when she told me that the flight was overbooked (Thanks United!) and she couldn't promise that I would get a seat and THAT SHE WOULD CALL MY NAME WHEN SHE DID. She had to say that over and over to people. I didn't want to make her madder so I just sat nearby and waited patiently and hoped hoped hoped things were not going to turn into a shitstorm. Then, I heard her say to somebody that the next available flight after this one didn't leave until like 8pm. SHITSTORM! I started to panic. And I realized that drastic measures needed to be taken. There was only one choice. I had only one option. I went up to that counter and focused on the new less-angry-seeming lady that was now there... and I started, "I know that you have said this over and over and that you'll call my name when you can give me a seat but I just had to say something because I just have to get on that plane. I can't stay here in D.C. all day. I don't know anybody here. (Voice crack) I don't have a cell phone. I don't have any money. (Tears) I've been living in Vienna and my boyfriend is supposed to meet me in Los Angeles and we're going to Hawaii tomorrow and I can't stay here (Full-on crying with an audience)." I looked at her face and I saw that I broke her. She looked back at me with Mom eyes. Mission accomplished. She said to just be patient and listen for my name. I wasn't embarrassed that I cried in public. I wasn't embarrassed because all those people waiting for their names to be called were just jealous that they didn't do it first. And they couldn't do it now. That would be so transparent. Five minutes later, mine was the first name called. And when I went up to get my boarding pass, the first meaner gate lady held on to it, looked at me with these super "tsk, tsk" eyes and said, "Next time... don't cry."
Sorry, mean lady. It worked too good. My only regret is I didn't cry the night before.
the @whatupvienna twitter
the @biloon twitter
the photos
the weather
-
Overcast
21°F
-
Wed
32/17
-
Thu
26/17
-
Fri
33/26
the comments
- Stephanie on he liked it so he went and put a ring on it (among other things)
- michelle on he liked it so he went and put a ring on it (among other things)
- madoc on he liked it so he went and put a ring on it (among other things)
- Ulli maier on when in doubt, just say mozart lived there
- Vienna on my bonn thanksgiving (better belated than never)
the most commented
the links
- american women's society of vienna
- bjarni & dorte machen wien
- deutschakademie
- english cinema in vienna
- english theatre in vienna
- germanwings
- livemocha
- official website of comedian michelle biloon
- the @drplatt twitter
- the daily flailure
- the gregor mendel institute
- vienna expats forum
the calendar
| M | T | W | T | F | S | S |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
| « Jan | ||||||
| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 |
| 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 |
| 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 |
| 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 |