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Other Emails from Alan |
Agent J's Mission to Europe (The Short and the Long) |
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The Short: Kathleen and I went to Europe for 3 weeks. Landed in Frankfurt Germany, traveled by train to Slovenia and Croatia where it was hot and beautiful. Traveled by boat and train to and through Italy on the way to Switzerland, where it was cool and beautiful. We walked, ate, enjoyed the local music and had an incredibly great time. The Long: My partner Agent Kat and I arrived in Frankfurt and quickly realized that Europe was experiencing the same warm temperatures that the East Coast of the United States had been experiencing this summer. This was a welcome change to the arctic summer we had been experiencing in San Francisco. Of course when you get off the plane wearing a sweatshirt dragging luggage to the train station in 90 degree heat, you realize that you will be pushing your deodorant to it's breaking point. We spent the first day in a semi-coma shuffling ourselves around Frankfurt trying to stay awake in an attempt to get ourselves adjusted to the time change. And of course we had to have Bratwurst for lunch But then it's not like you have an option. It's almost as if they make you sign a waiver when you get off the plane that you will eat MEAT morning, noon and night when you're in Germany. Mit sempf (with mustard) of course. Somewhat refreshed on the next day, (or at least not in a hazy dream state) we got on a train and headed south. Agent K and I travel in a very flexible manner. We had no specific destination in mind that day, we only knew that we wanted to end up in Zagreb at some point. We passed through Munich and opted not to indulge in a gallon jug of beer. We crossed in to Austria and passed Salzburg and continued south. We were prepared at anytime to jump from the train if one of the stops looked particularly appealing. We didn't feel we were missing anything by passing on Munich and Salzburg as we had been there in the past and were looking for a less "touristy" place. We saw a spot on the map that was one of the last stops in Austria before crossing into Slovenia. The town was called Badgastein, though considering all the bratwurst we ate the previous day we thought this might be a bad omen. Besides the weather was starting to take a turn for the worse as the clouds darkened and it started to sprinkle. We decided to continue on into Slovenia before stopping. Jesenice (Say "Yes-in-its-ay") was the first stop in Slovenia and we thought this might be interesting. But after asking the border guards about Jesenice's amenities, it didn't seem like the cute mountain village we were looking for. In fact when the train finally pulled into the station we were greeted by a town that had all the charm of Chernobyl. It was getting late but we decided to make it all the way to Ljubljana for the night. When we got off the train we asked about rooms at the tourist information center and he informed us that this was a busy night. We thought this was sort of unusual on Tuesday night. He directed us to one of the less expensive hotels that we were used to staying in. But even our low standards could not deal with this literally cockroach infested hole. We wandered the streets checking out other hotels on the list we had been given. The next stop was very discouraging. The man behind the desk told us that his hotel was full and when we asked him if he knew of any vacancies in town he simply stated categorically "No, everything is full." Ok, I wonder where the nearest park bench is? Despondent but not defeated (yet) we walked over to the Holiday Inn (nothing like experiencing the "local" flavor eh?) With weary eyes and pitiful voices we pleaded "Please tell us you have a room." They did, at the very American price of $200 a night. This was not the lop-sided currency exchange experience we had had the last time we were in this part of the world. But when you take a risk by getting off the train without a reservation, sometimes the "adventures" you experience are expensive ones. At least it looked like a $200 room. And we made the most of it. We swam in the indoor pool, availed ourselves of the minibar, took the little shampoo bottles, soaps, slippers, shower caps and basically everything else that wasn't nailed down. And no cockroaches. The next day as we were waiting for our train to Zagreb to leave, I got to do a little stunt work to go along with this spy story. Kathleen and I loaded our luggage on the train 15 minutes before departure. With this extra time I decided to get off the train and go to a vending machine I saw on the platform. As I was attempting figure out the local currency (1700 Solvenia Tollars for a Fanta?) suddenly I heard the sound of train leaving the station. Of course this is not an unusual sound when you're at a train station, unless of course it's your train and it's departing 15 minutes early with your wife, your luggage, your passport and all your money (except for 1700 Slovenian Tollars for a Fanta) on board without you. The train must have been travelling 25 miles per hour by the time I noticed it was MY train and I sprinted towards an open door on one of cars. I lunged for the hand rail andpulled myself up on the step and swung inside as the train sped out of the station. This entire episode was very exciting but made truly satisfying when I later learned that Kathleen had witnessed the entire maneuver from an open window (A fish story isn't a fish story if someone else sees the Fish). However, my daring and heroic escape from Ljubljana suddenly had and ironic and comic twist (the story of my life really.) After finding Kathleen running towards me in the hallway of the train (and had this been a movie, surely her line would have been "Thank God you made it out alive!") the train slowed and came to a stop at the far end of the train yard. Ok. Now all the passengers who had boarded early with us looked around in confusion. Was this in fact the train to Zagreb or were we destined to be stored in the train yard with all the other box cars? Spotting a train worker in day-glow orange I asked and was assured this was in fact the train to Zagreb. They were just shifting some cars around (and apparently like making the tourists sprint and sweat.) I later found out that this episode also had historical significance. I learned from my father, who we were meeting in Zagreb, that he had performed a similar maneuver near the end of World War II escaping from the Nazi's and conscription into the Yugoslav army. Zagreb was beautiful. We met up with my parents and had a wonderful time walking around the city recounting stories of my father's youth in the city. But the jewel of the trip was yet to come. Having met with one of my father's former co-workers, his wife Erika told us of an island off the coast called Hvar. Utilizing the spontaneity that we try to infuse in all of our trips, the four of us decided to go for it. And we weren't disappointed. Hvar is small port town on a sparsely inhabited island that looks like a living travel poster. Crystal clear blue sea, old stone buildings, palm trees, bronze people and an extremely laid back atmosphere. And as an added bonus it's really, really cheap. We rented an apartment for the equivalent of $35 U.S. a night. Being a port village, the seafood was abundant and excellent. Kathleen and I sampled the "Spaghetti Fruite de Mare" in every restaurant. One evening, the four of us dining together had an incredibly large meal including wine, more Fruite de Mare and a 15 pound lobster which we all shared. The total bill came to about $75. Kathleen seriously considered cashing in her retirement savings so we could live on Hvar for the next 20 years. Swimming everyday in this incredible water spoils you. With mask and flippers I snorkeled along able to see about 50 feet down. The clarity is so amazing that the true depth only becomes apparent when you see something at the bottom and you try to dive for it. Something was reflecting sunlight at the bottom and with a deep breath I suddenly felt the crushing pressure against my ears and lungs and continued deeper. Reaching the bottom I was rewarded by the discovery of a semi-ancient Roman amphora. A container that surely held the nectar of the Gods. Yes, it was a one "Litar" Coke Bottle. I was ecstatic and hoped to add it to my collection. But alas, the top was broken off. Still a memorable experience. The heat was intense for the next several days, cooled in the evenings by the occasional and dramatic thunder storm. We slept with windows wide open and strangely there were no insects bothering us. That is until after one of those dramatic thunder storms. The new moisture must have hatched a new batch of eggs, and the new babies were ravenous, leaving Kathleen with the resulting love bites all up and down her arms. Listening to one of my father's stories I learned that it was on this island that he had tried to escape from communist Yugoslavia in 1949 by fashioning a power boat out of one of the local fishing boats by installing the engine from his 750 BMW motorcycle. He and his friend Vuk Peric and their wives were all set to go when one of the local police caught them working on the boat. The authorities confiscated the boat and threw my father and Vuk in jail for 30 days. In the end they could not prove that they were going to use the boat to escape, so they were set free, but the boat was never returned to them. It was not until much later in 1952 after the death of his wife did my father finally escape Yugoslavia alone by climbing the mountains of Slovenia, crossing into Austria. We still had plans to go to Switzerland on the last half of our trip so it was time to leave this island paradise. We boarded a boat that would carry across the Adriatic to Ancona in Italy. It was a night crossing and we had our own room on board. For some reason the "Love Boat" theme kept running through my head that night. But neither Julie the cruise director nor Captain Stubing was anywhere to be found. I was a little nervous at first because I'm very susceptible to sea-sickness but the sea was extremely calm that night and the gentle rocking only aided in my rest. Arriving in Ancona, Italy the next morning we boarded a train and started heading north towards the Swiss border. Again we had no official plans in Italy and might or might not get off the train if something presented itself. We were really beginning to experience the true joy of travel watching the countryside pass by like a beautiful melody. It was hypnotic in fact and we were lulled into a state of such bliss that we missed an opportunity in Arona. The train came to a stop beside a picturesque lake in the foothills of the Italian Alps. When we suddenly realized that we should have got off the train to explore this little town, it was too late. No matter, we would just continue on to Zermatt for the evening. Arriving in Zermatt after a journey that began yesterday afternoon we must have traveled nearly 900 kilometers during that leg. The effects of which became apparent as we checked into the Hotel Continental. Kathleen and I looked at each other and said "Does it feel like the room is moving?" Sure enough we were both getting sea-sick land locked in the Swiss Alps. After nearly 24 hours of traveling by boat and train, the constant gentle rocking must have affected out inner ears and the solid floor felt fluid. I'd heard of sailors returning home after months at sea feeling this way. The next day the cool crisp air of Zermatt felt wonderful. After packing jackets and sweaters and lugging them halfway across Europe it was nice to be finally able to use them. Though the warmth of Hvar was relaxing, the ultra clean air of politically correct Zermatt (electric cars only please!) was invigorating. The irony here (and there's always irony isn't there?) is that in this pristine air everyone smokes like they're personally related to RJ Reynolds and they're trying to keep the family business alive. I could stare at the Matterhorn all day, and occasionally found myself doing just that. The views in this valley are so perfect they shouldn't exist, but they do. We hiked around a bit. Or should I say we hiked "UP" as there is little option in this valley. Every turn on the trail is rewarded with yet another grade. I kept turning to Kathleen and saying in my best kavetching voice "Again with the UP!" But at least I got some exercise to counter-act all the Swiss chocolate and cheese I kept eating. Which brings me to something I kept annoying Kathleen with on our trip. I enjoying going into the well stocked cheese shops in Switzerland and asking "Do you have any 'Swiss' cheese?" Those Swiss, no sense of humor. We took the Gornergrat Bahnen to the top of the mountain one day and stood in awe of the incredible views of the glaciers. It had snowed the previous evening at this elevation and we tramped through the snow along the trails as eagles sailed in the thermals over head. The extremes of this trip were really exciting, from the sun drenched beaches of Hvar to the thin air of the snow capped Matterhorn. Our intent on this trip was to further explore areas that we had been to before and enjoyed but not had the opportunity to fully appreciate. We left Zermatt and planed to soak up as much Switzerland as humanly possible. We passed through Interlaken (which is amazingly inter-between two Lakens) on the way to Brienz. Brienz was quaint but lacked a certain Je ne sais quois. More likely, with all this exploring of the tiny out of the way villages we were craving big city living. We moved on to Luzern. Luzern had plenty to offer. Where we spent 4 days in Zermatt looking at expensive watches and a multitude of Swiss Army knives, in Luzern there tons of expensive watches and a multitude of Swiss Army knives. But it had other things as well. Kathleen and I went to see Star Wars: Episode 1 in an absolutely empty theater. Well mostly empty. After goofing around in the theater, going to the front and making long drawn out introductions to the movie as if I were Mr. Lucas himself and using a compass, protractor and satellite global positioning to find the exact epicenter of this immense empty theater we found our seats. Just as the lights dimmed, one other patron came in. He sat right in front of me. I'm not kidding. Kathleen and I looked at each other with that incredulous "only me" look. We jumped over the row of seats behind us to reclaim our sense of space. This is like walking on the moon and staring up in sky looking and earth and accidentally bumping into someone. Astronomically unlikely, but leave it to me. The movie began with a series of advertisements instead of previews and we were shocked when they were all cigarettes commercials. There he was, the Marlboro Man, riding across the screen 30 feet high, "Whenever men smoke for flavor." This was surreal. The movie finally began and it was in English with French and German subtitles. Occasionally I would read the French subtitles to figure out what the hell Jar Jar Binks was saying because I certainly couldn't understand him in English. Then someone would say something in some alien language and there would be 3 sets of subtitles on the screen and I would forget to read the English translation because I suddenly realized that I can't speak Tatooinese. This was my second viewing of this film and it was much more enjoyable the second time. Though I'm anxiously awaiting the Video release because hopefully they'll offer a "Special Edition" version in which Jar Jar Binks is digitally REMOVED. Finally our time in Europe was nearing the end. We boarded a train that would take us back to Frankfurt. We spent our last day in Frankfurt trying to find CD's of some of the songs we had heard on the radio during our trip. The music that becomes popular in Europe often never makes it the United States. There is a decided Pop and Disco feel to European music, whereas the U.S. is still mired in that Grunge crap that passes for music. So there we were in Frankfurt in the heart of Europe where most of the great composers lived and worked and created some of the most moving music in history and Kathleen and I were looking for two songs. One was called "The Rigga-Ding-Dong-Song" while the other, we did not know the name of, but it had an incessant chorus that went "Da ba dee, da ba dye, Da ba dee, da ba die." (Kind of makes you wonder about the future of civilization) Armed with this "Da ba dee" knowledge we entered a music emporium, I mustered all my courage and walked up to the clerk. Knowing she may not speak much English I spoke slowly and stated, "I'm looking for this song. I don't know what it's called, but it goes (and I proceeded to sing) 'Da ba dee, da ba dye, Da ba dee, da ba die." Of course my first thought was that she would think I was a typical American lunatic and possibly ring for security. However, to my surprise, as the last 'da ba die' left my lips, and with out missing a beat she produced the CD single from nowhere with the deftness of a master magician producing a rabbit. Like finishing a fine meal, you'll want the aftertaste of this story to linger a while. If so, ask me and I'll play the "Da ba dee, da ba dye, Da ba dee, da ba die" song for you (officially known as "Blue" by Eiffel 65) and you will be so repulsed but strangely unable to look away.
Alan Jasenovic
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