Spotlight on Michael Sin

Michael Sin is a quiet young man with a sotto voce voice who will invariably surprise you with his cultural wherewithal and his ability to soak up city idiosyncrasies. He really knows cars and car makes and models and styles and engines. Others on this trip also know this--evidently, the Audi A5 has been spotted—but can they also cook? Michael can. Let’s call him the Gastronomic Car Enthusiast. Or the Gourmet Mechanic.

Taking advantage of his apartment kitchen in Florence, Michael made bruschetta for his roommates. He went to a farmer’s market and bought bread, buffalo mozzarella, tomatoes, olive oil, and arugula. He toasted and presented it to them--plus a few girls--while they were playing hearts, preparing for The Big Cruise Tournament. Reviews were overwhelmingly positive.

Here’s a picture of Michael in front of the coliseum. Thee coliseum.

Rome in a Day or The Tourists Have Landed

Thirty-eight of us went to Rome. We spread out and devoured it. Or vice versa. The tourists have descended upon Rome, I am afraid. I have gone for the last four years and each year it’s more crowded—lots and lots and lots of people. Some weathered the long lines of The Vatican and others bolted. It was hard to escape the heat, but, alas, the heat, this year, was not insufferable.

I met some dreamers midday at the Pantheon and we walked to the Coliseum. A tour leader most lead, I suppose, but I’ll admit our path was not a straight line. We took some interesting narrow streets away from the throngs until we arrived at The Forum. We actually had such a pleasant walk and talk about nothing and everything that our Roman Holiday will be molto buon memorable. These were the students with whom I walked: Paige, Amanda, Skyler, Reina, Jennifer S., Daryl, and Emily. Michael, and Daniel caught up later.

Truly but wryly,

LV

Some pictures

Yes, I realize I haven't said much about London, Brugge or Paris. You'll have to ask your son or daughter about The Ice Bar, the bike ride to Sluice or The Louvre. Instead of retreading let me throw down some pictures. We have some extraordinary photographers on this trip. I wish I could use their pictures, but they don't have SD cards. I'm talking about Brad Dessy's urban shots of the Venice canals, Bryant DeRoy's nature shots of the Belgium countryside, and Marcello Calcagnotto's artistic Monemartre pictures. But I've got a few tooa nd here they are.

I'm also mindful of the fact that not everyone has shown up yet in photos and not everyone has been mentioned. but I'm keeping tabs. It'll happen.

Truly,
LV

Firenze and Roma

Well we're in Florence at our favorite hotel of the whole trip. This is a family-run Gothic classic with real art on the walls and real genuine service. Massimo and daughter Sara run the place with Italian zeal, hearty laughs and compassionate attention to the patron's needs. Nico, Daniella, and Jimmy have been working here every year we've come. They are as loyal to us as they are to Massimo. However, Sara is the blessing behind the bustle of 56 dreamers trying to navigate the winding streets of Firenze. She directs them not only to The Duomo, Signoria Square, and The Statues of David--there are two copies also in town--but to the train station, the laundromat, the ATM, and cheapest grocery store. I didn't get one of Sara, but here's THall and Massimo and also Nico serving us the best cappuccino Florence has to offer.. The third pic is the The Albion Hotel. If you come to Florence, by all means stay here.

Tomorrow morning I'm taking many kids to Rome. Yes, we'll see Rome in a day. This is not an official agenda item. It will cost each 66 Euros for the round trip train fare. We think the dreamers are doing OK with money, but they'll be pinching in the last week.

Truly but wryly,
LV

Spotlight on Steven Suh

Steven Suh is one of the more popular dreamers this year. He is easy going, friendly, politie and funny. He seems to be having a great time and enjoys the group dynamics. Nothing seems to phase Steven. His wallet slipped out one of his pockets on the coach and Leto, our Italian bus driver, was nowhere to be found to retrieve it. We were in Prague and Leto wouldn’t be needed for a few days. Steven was without money for 40 hours but he was not miffed. In Salzburg he got a bloody nose while playing hearts at the Augustiner. Later, in Venice he dropped three fancy merano-glass gifts and two broke. But he took it in stride. That’s just the way he is. For some reason he got the nickname The Grey Bear.

One night I heard some loud thumping above my room and went to check it out. Turns out The Grey Bear was wrestling five other guys at once. They were laughing and having a swell time. C Hall and I have since put an end to Hotel Room wrestling, we think. Steven later said it was the craziest fun he's had because he pinned 'em all. (I personally doubt he could beat Kahnke). He said his favorite city so far has been Prague because he had his dancing shoes on at the 5-story disco.

Here's two pics--In the first he's seen with Justin Suh, another excellent traveler.
Cheers to Steven Suh.

Salzburg ist Gemutlichkeit

This morning 50 out of 56 kids rented bicycles and are either headed to the mountain the Austrians call Untersberg or are tooling around the Sound of Music do-re-me streets. The other six are hiking. As mentioned before, we love it when these kids get up and challenge themselves. They think they have free will, but it is the city, three days new, that wakens them. The smaller cities embolden a sometimes-false confidence in the girls and a faux braggadocio in the boys. Fine. Let them feel capable. But we are in Hansel and Gretel country. This city drops crumbs.

Salzburg counts as a small city. It is lovely. It is safe. It’s gemutlichkeit. It beckons and whispers, “Explore.” Kids sense the zeitgeist of the city and comply unwittingly to the 500 year old sensibility. My view, as I type, is your view. What do you think? You will not rot in your hotel room today. The river knows your name. The Augustiner calls your bluff, and the fortress carries you up into exulted heights.

Last night Emily, Maerjon, Cleo, Kevin, Daryl, Eric W., Bryant W. and Lonnie K. experienced the dulcet sounds of a string quartet plus a piano in this fortress, called Hohenstein Schloss and today many more will go. Who’d a thunk we had such a highbrow group? They dressed up, ate dinner and fell into a lovely sleep--no trance—as the musicians finished with the piece de resistance Mozart number, “Eine Kleine Nacht Music.” – Oh, those Deutschlanders sure do the internal rhyme well. My favorite “I licht dich nicht.” = I like you not. (OK, I like the sound not the sentiment.). Anyway, you know this Mozart vignette. It goes like this: dump, da dump, da dump da dump da dump . . .(now accelerando) dump de dump de dump de dump de dump. Brrrumpta da dump de dad a da, Brumpta de dump de dad a da.” I doubt it was as good as the performance we witnessed two days ago in Salzburg Altstadt. A man playing Ravel’s Bolero on water-filled wine glasses mesmerized us. I had to explain to the kids why this piece goes on and on—17 minutes, in my memory. They were not old enough to know the movie 10 with Bo Derek and Dudley Moore. Sorry if I’m corrupting their youth.

I don’t have a picture of the concert but this group (plus Daniel L.) was lucky enough to have dinner in Paris at the historic Chartier with Coach Hall and LV. Here are some pictures. It looks like Kevin is watching the waiter draw pictures on the tablecloth, but he’s merely sizing up the math. I guess those Parisan proportions were not enough as they all crossed the street to nab the vender’s crepes.

Coach Hall has made this Europe trip for 12 years in a row and he has his favorite “Magic Crepe” stand in Paris as well as his “Magic Bosna” stand in Salzburg. The way he describes the wunderbar taste of each bite at both places elicits ohhs and ahhs and long lines. The price is right and the taste is, again, gemutlichkeit. ( I’m not sure what gemutlichkeit means but it is my favorite German word and alternative-country, bluegrass singer Robbie Fulks uses it in his song called “I’m Gonna Take you Home (and Make you Like me).” I'm quite certain it’s the first known use of the word in a country music song. Per my waiter: use it when a group of friends is sitting around and having a nice conversation. Es ist Gemutlich. Put the omlaut over the u, too.

It’s 2:35 now and the forecasted rain has held back. The bike-dreamers shall survive. Yesterday was a beautiful warm day. After our glorious tour of the Salzburg Mines and Hell Bruin, the castle with trick water fountains, we broke up into bosna groups and many ended up at the Augustiner to play cards. In the pictures, notice Liz Liz dodging the surprise water guns. Her body language captured the unsuspecting fun of the day.

We have more kids playing in the hearts tournament this year and are practicing—and practice they need—for the real tournament on the cruise. The Augustiner Church has a beautiful food court and garden. The Marzen they serve has religion trapped in the tiny carbonated bubbles escaping upwards. At one time we had five tables of hearts going—and the snitzel wasn’t bad either. LV, merely studying the obvious tendencies of the players in his group, let Forest win, with Eric B. and Erik K. tying for second. Coach Hall shot the moon twice in a dramatic comeback win over Tyrone, Brad and Amanda.

This just in: rain and pictures from Untersberg featuring Casandra, Shaun, Kevin, Aaron, David, Matt M., Erik K, Brad G., Colby and Nick.

Truly but wryly,

LV

Prague Day #3: Working his Wort

It’s two p.m. and, I finally found my café, the Tynska Literarni Kavarna on little Tynska Street behind the Church of Tyn, the most picturesque of all spiraled structures in Prague.
There are two Tynska streets, a shop owner informed me as I went round and round on the other Tynska. But I was close, and in my book close counts.

Yesterday’s close did not count in the eyes of three tag-a-longs. As Coach Hall and I turned the semi-correct left and fully-wrong right, our byzantine quest became Kafkaesque. And then the rain fell. And the snickers became guffaws. When we found U Medvidku, a restaurant/bar dating from 1466, it was closed. Little did they know how touchy the subject was for one tour leader. This was not merely a one-hour lost-in-Prague walk. I had waited a whole year for the chance to luxuriate in the top floor micro-brewery featuring the redoubtable Oldgott yeast beer as described in the two-page August 6th Sunday travel section of the L.A. Times. I clipped out this story called “The Ultimate Beer Tour” and taped it to the wall of our living room. (My kids can attest to it.) Bohemia is the Pilsner Capital of the World, and not being a big fan of this soft-water lager style, I reveled in the thought that new brewers were tinkering with the tried-and-true formula. Fortunately, the clouds cleared, U Medkidku would be open in 15 minutes, and we happened upon the most historic café in Prague, the Café Louvre, where Einstein and Kafka and Churchill hung out(but not at the same time)—if that’s what people, in fact, did in the old days--hung out. Bryant ordered the Havana Hot Chocolate, and a chocolate cake—no nuts, don’t worry. Arwin had a cappuccino and ice cream and Coach Hall had likewise a cappuccino featuring the consistently tasty Segafreda coffee beans. I forget what Ryan and I had.

Rejuvenated, we set forth again for the holy grail of brews and were not disappointed. We found Aaron and David loitering inside and we each had one beer. It’s the only beer anyone has had on the whole trip. The quest does not always reward—the gold at the end of the rainbow, the fish at the end of the lure, the . . . hmm, I’m not too good with metaphors. But the heart that beats that rapido beat as one approaches the destination of destinations is worth it. And sometimes, just sometimes, an even more glorious end supercedes the high anticipation. Through the low-slung vaulted ceiling we walked, then sat at long wooden benches, and talked to the brewer, and watched him work his wort. We sipped and tasted and marveled at the sweet foretaste and bitter hop kick. Who cares about a smoothly balanced beer when you have one that gallops down your throat in the kind of royal style those Clydesdales only dream about? Wow. Maybe I can write in metaphors. And the conversation moved from the intellectually deep analysis of the movie Jackass all the way to a brilliant exegesis of Borat. What range we conversationists possess. It will be an afternoon we all will long remember.

And so today I’m traversing solo until 4 p. m. Meeting many at U Fleck U. Earlier I toured the mesmerizing New Kafka Museum, and now I’m eating cheese and bread at this literary hide-away. To paraphrase the N.Y. Times—it’s steps away from the tourists at Old Town Square, but in some ways centuries away. I'd like to tell you more about Franz Kafka, but now it’s onto the Muzeum of Cubizm.

Truly, but wryly,
The Literary Vagabond