« | April 2005 | » | ||||
![]() |
||||||
S | M | T | W | T | F | S |
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 | 29 | 30 |
I realize I have done a lot of stupid things. I certainly did not intend to go to Martin and tell NSG about TM. But he just can read me. He knows things. Also, alcohol.
Anyway. I thought we'd had a nice time. Of course I wanted to end up in bed with NSG pledging his undying love and affection, but ... I wore underwear. I didn't think anything was going to actually happen. But I thought it had been a good day. I was really happy I got to see NSG again, and the conversation was great.
The next day, I get the worst email of my life. (But no worries -- he'll send one that's even worse in December!) I have, of course, saved it, but 18 years later I'm not over it so I'm not going to look at it to quote it.
NSG is concerned. He just wants me to be careful. He says that even though I said it was just physical, that I could be more invested than I think, and I could be hurt worse than I can imagine.
If it wasn't so soul-crushing, this would be laughable, because, yes, I was attracted to TM. There was something there. But it is nothing -- NOTHING -- in comparison to what I feel for NSG, and how much he has hurt me. TM, while totally unsuitable, was also entirely safe because I *wasn't* going to fall in love with him. I knew it, and he knew it, and I wasn't going to let myself get hurt like that again.
This is compounded by the fact that I know NSG is trying to look out for me. He has the best of intentions, and ... it is the worst thing he could possibly say to me. He also throws in, just for kicks, that he'd like to stop rehashing our hookup every damn time, because it was so long ago, and we know we aren't going back there, and he's over it.
Unfortunately, I respond to this email. I tell him that I am not invested in TM. That I have not been invested in anyone since him AND LOOK HOW THAT FUCKING TURNED OUT. I tell him that I don't think I can get over it, over him, I've tried, and I'm sorry, but we just can't go back.
Eventually we exchange emails and he says something like he hopes I have a good rest of my weekend. I don't.
For the next 18+ years I will wonder about that conversation in Martin, and if it ruined my life. I feel like he judged me really harshly for TM, and that's not really fair, because ultimately I only even fooled around with TM because I was lonely and trying to get over NSG, not that it worked. And we never even sealed the deal. And he hooked up with K! So, really, what does it matter?
NSG emails me:
Actually watched your Tar Heels the other day just for your sake. Well, they were on in the place where I was studying, but I thought of you. Damn, they're good. Scary. This might be Little Dean's year.
Take care and good luck Wednesday (that's the [Duke] game right?). Like the Holes will need it.
I reply:
Did you get a lot of studying done while watching the Tar Heels? I can't get anything done while I am watching them. The pressure must be getting to everyone in the ACC, what with [Little Dean] running a 103-degree temperature and Coach K fainting during time outs.
I think you should come visit me. We could make it into a bet, like, if Carolina beats Dook and I win the bet, then you have to come visit me. And if Dook wins the game and you win the bet, then you get to come visit me. Something like that.
Today’s big-ticket item was the Schonbrunn Palace and Gardens, a UNESCO World Heritage Site! (I had no idea at the time, and still don’t really know what that entails.) This is simultaneously a tourist attraction and one of those places that all the little schoolchildren go to every year. In a nod to the season, there was a small Christmas Market set up around the perimeter of the grounds at the main entrance.
We took the tour, which was not guided but rather an audio tour. It was interesting, I’m sure, but I don’t really remember anything about it. I have just read the Wikipedia entry on the Schonbrunn Palace and it didn’t even strike a memory chord.
I do, however, remember the gardens. Since it was winter, they obviously were not in full bloom, but it was a nice day when we were there, so it was still fun to explore. There was a duck pond and fountains and statues all around. The highlight of the garden exploration was the crazy squirrel that kept darting around, like he didn’t want to be near us but couldn’t figure out how to get away. We tried and mostly failed to document this on film. (This was my best squirrel story until this year at Niagara Falls, which I will have to tell you about later, like once I finish this godforsaken travelogue.)
After the Schonbrunn, we walked around some other official buildings in Vienna and toured the opera house. We lunched at the Rosenberger Restaurant. I don’t know how Lisa heard of it, but she did, and so we went. It was cafeteria style and pretty good. There is apparently a whole chain of these that are strategically located along the autobahn.
After lunch, it was time for the other “must-do” on my list: sachertorte! We made our way to the Hotel Sacher, where we had to check our coats before we were seated. We ordered our sachertortes, with which I had a cappuccino and Lisa a hot chocolate. It was … okay. The presentation was first-rate, the cappuccino was good, and the torte ... was a bit on the dry side, if you ask me. It is very difficult to get good chocolate cake in a restaurant, and I guess this proves true even if it is a famous sort of dessert.
We were meeting Catrin and Joseph for dinner, but we still had some time before that, so we went shoe shopping. (Of course we did.) I found a pair of loafers with ridiculously high heels that make my ankles cry out in pain, but they were so cute! And only 10 euros! I had to buy them, as a souvenir if nothing else. Lisa debated for a long time over a pair of boots that was on sale, but I don’t think it was as great a sale as my 10-euro bargain. I am not sure if she ended up buying them or not.
We then headed toward our meeting place, which perhaps was Karlsplatz, as that was the location of the Vienna Christmas Market. On the way, lo and behold: Starbucks! It was the first one we’d seen. Lisa took my picture outside the store, but we didn’t go inside and get anything.
Catrin and Joseph took us to Figlmuller, which bills itself on its napkins (one of which I saved) as “the most famous schnitzel in Vienna.” I’m not sure what I ordered, so let’s just say I had the schnitzel. Afterward, we hit the Christmas Market and had roasted chestnuts (Catrin’s favorite) as we walked.
Then it was back to Eva’s apartment for our last night in Europe. (Sad clown.)
The next day, Joseph took us to the Vienna airport and had a farewell coffee with us, as we had plenty of time before our flight to Amsterdam. From there, it was on to Houston, where Jimmy picked us up and informed us that the cat had been sick. (That’s my lasting memory. We had just returned from Europe with all its exciting sights, and Jimmy told us his cat was sick.) I spent the night at the old apartment in Houston (oh the memories) and then it was back to Memphis the following day. I showed all my pictures to my boss and he said, “Why would you ever want to leave Memphis and go overseas to vacation?”
We started Day 10 much like Day 9, in Salzburg with breakfast at the Hotel am Dom. After a quick look inside St Peter’s Cathedral and Cemetery (with catacombs!) and a look at the canal system, we set out to find Mozart. Naturally, we got lost. Somehow we ended up in something that I remember being like a farmer’s market, but I’m not really sure why I have that image, as I think it was more like a dead-end alley with lots of foliage scattered around. And iron gates. Eventually, we ended up in the right place, Mozart’s birthplace. It now sits on the same street as a McDonald’s. The street was very busy and touristy and we didn’t tour the house or anything, just peeked in the windows.
We made our way back to the hotel to collect our luggage and then decided, hey! It’ll be fun to lug all our gear on foot to the train station. It’s not far – we can walk! We were sadly mistaken. After crossing a long bridge filled with cars and nearly colliding with a bus, we determined that we (a) could not walk to the train station and (b) should get on a bus. (I think. We might have taken a cab. There was angst, but I’m not sure whether it was over hailing said taxi or trying to figure out the bus fare.)
Eventually we reached the train station, and we were on our way to our final destination: Vienna!
Our hosts in Vienna were Catrin and Joseph, who were the sister and father of Lisa’s former exchange student, Eva. Upon arrival in Vienna, we were famished and ate at Burger King. (Oh, the shame. But the fries were so, so good.) We met Catrin, who wanted to practice her English on us, which made me feel quite stupid, but it is always nice to have someone around who speaks the language. She took us to TGI Friday’s for dinner. It was a bad day for authentic Austrian food.
After dinner, we were escorted to our quarters for the evening: Eva’s apartment. I do not recall where Eva was, she was either studying abroad someplace or visiting her boyfriend or something—in any case, she wasn’t in town. Her apartment was a small studio, and Catrin and Joseph made sure there were plentiful supplies for us, including chocolate and cappuccino mix which I immediately tried. It was pretty good. We spent a quiet night in the apartment watching the Austrian (German?) version of “The Bachelor.” Funny in any language.
We had left Germany for good (or so we thought) and were on the home stretch now. We had breakfast in the old-world dining room at the hotel and set out to do a little shopping at the stores nearby. We were centrally located, right by the Salzburg cathedral where Mozart was baptized, so we had a look around there. It was Advent, so they had the Advent wreath out. Our big excursion today was to the Salzwelten Salt Mines and Celtic Village.
If Neuschwanstein was Lisa’s, then the salt mines were … mine. (Heh.) It was so campy, how could you not? Again, we had to take the train and then bus to the mines, which were, all total, only about 30 minutes outside of Salzburg. There were very few people on the bus, which took us on a twisty, curvy road, and eventually we realized that one of our traveling companions was a girl named Rachel who was British, I think; in any case, she spoke English. She, too, was headed to the salt mines. Once we got there and bought our tickets, we had to don ugly, dingy white (well they had been white at one point) coveralls, then we waited for this little train to come take us into the mine. I say train, but it was more like a kid’s train – it was like a big long beam of wood on wheels and you straddled it and held on, and then it went like 3 mph. That’s probably like 5 km/hr or something.
Our tour group had four or five different nationalities in it, speaking about four different languages. Rachel, Lisa and I were the only English speakers. Our tour guide, however, knew every language in the group, so she would alternate which she said first and then repeat it three times in different languages. After a quick train ride, we started the tour with a video, then walked around underground for a while, and – what’s this – we crossed the German border back into Bavaria. (So I guess were weren’t done with Germany for good after all.)
Then the fun part: the slides. The quickest way for the miners to descend deeper was to slide down wooden slides. Much like the train, you straddled it. The dingy coveralls had built-in padding in strategic areas so you could just slide right down. There were two such slides that we got to ride. Then we got to taste some salt brine, cross a salt lake, and that was the tour. It let out in the gift shop. (Another resemblance to Disney!) I bought the bulk of my souvenirs there, so I suppose you would have to say their strategy worked.
At the same place as the salt mines was a Celtic Village, which was also kind of campy, but kind of fun. There were animatronic figures, much like Pirates of the Caribbean before they re-did it to make it look like Captain Jack’s version. It was pretty cold outside so we didn’t stay for too long, but we did hit all the buildings in the village.
Then it was back to Salzburg, where I bought some Mozartkugeln. We also found an internet café so Lisa could get in touch with her former exchange student’s family in Vienna, since they were providing accommodation. Our hotel was close to the Hohensalzburg, which had a funicular that I wanted to ride, but by the time we had gotten back into the city, it was getting dark and the funicular, perhaps due to winter hours, was closed. So it was another city, another holiday market, this one the Salzburger Christkindlmarkt. The next day, we would go to Vienna, but first: our search for Mozart.
Technically, we were in Bavaria when we were in Munich. But it felt more like Bavaria when we could see castles in the Bavarian Alps. What can I say? I’m an idiot American tourist.
Today our destination was Neuschwanstein Castle. I had never heard of it (idiot American tourist, remember) but Lisa knew it was the inspiration for the Cinderella Castle at Disney, so it was on her list. There was much angst when we got to the train station this morning, having to do with our luggage. We had checked out of the hotel that morning, so we had all our stuff with us. Rick Steves advises you to travel light, and we had, but even so, we had a good amount of stuff. We were not going back to Munich that night; we were headed to Salzburg, so we had to take it with us. Anyway, to get to the castle, you first take a train to this little town called Füssen, then you take the bus to the castle. Which is really two castles: Hohenschwangou, which looks nothing like the Disney castle, and then Neuschwanstein, which does. It was built by Mad King Ludwig. Mad King Ludwig, Walt Disney. Hmm.So after our angst at the train station and the two-hour train ride to Füssen, we realized that the train station there had nice roomy storage lockers. Luggage problem solved! But with all that and then the bus trip, we actually didn’t have too terrifically much time to spend at the castles. Especially since the tour for each took about an hour, and what with it being nearly December and all, the sun set rather early. You bought the tickets all at once; our tour took us to Hohenschwangou first and we actually ended up with the last scheduled tour for Neuschwanstein.
There are two main things I remember about the castles: 1. There were a lot of steps, especially at Hohenschwangou. There was a group of older tourists ahead of us and one of them had had a knee replacement, and was proceeding accordingly, by which I mean slow, which was fine, but she graciously stepped aside to let us by. 2. You weren’t allowed to take pictures inside the castles. But at the end of the Neuschwanstein tour, there was this little room, kind of like a foyer or something, that was essentially outside, and there was light filtering in so we were in shadow on the wall, so of course we had to make shadow shapes with our hand. We made swans (schwan = swan).
The way the tours worked was that you toured Hohenschwangou first and then you could walk to Neuschwanstein (which they said was about a 45-minute walk) or you could ride one of their buses, or I think if you wanted to pay extra, you could get a carriage to take you. The way that you walked there (or at least one of the ways you walk there) led you over Mary’s Bridge, which has really great castle views, so of course we went that way. We were not stopped by the fact that the path to Mary’s Bridge was closed. It wasn’t technically closed. There was just this big sign blocking the path that said “Danger” in many languages. But it was only dangerous if it was icy and slippery, and there was barely any snow on the ground and it wasn’t that cold, and our trusty Rick Steves guidebook said we could sneak past the barrier, so we did. The path was fine; we passed a few Japanese tourists who had done the same thing, but mostly people stayed away from the danger, I guess. We took lots of pictures on the bridge, so they were doing the last call for our tour by the time we made it to Neuschwanstein. But we made it.
Of the tours themselves, I don’t really remember much. Mad King Ludwig never really got to live in his big castle because he went mad, and he died. There were lots of cool rooms and narrow, winding staircases. I think you could probably google “Neuschwanstein” and find out a lot more than I remember.
After we finished at Neuschwanstein, we walked back down to the town, and then it seems like everyone disappeared. There was a hotel right there, so maybe all the tourists were staying there, or had driven, I don’t know, but suddenly it felt like it was just the two of us wandering around this little town in the Bavarian Alps two hours from Munich. It was less exciting than it sounds, and more unsettling. Eventually we made our way back to the bus stop. There was no one there. We waited, and waited. A couple of other people straggled in and still no bus. Finally, the bus came, and we made it back to the train station, where we collected our luggage and raided the only store still open at that time of night (whatever time of night it was) for high quality European chocolate (Ritter Sport). I think you can get it in some form in the U.S. but I have never again been able to find the Bailey’s Irish Cream-flavored chocolate that I got at that train station. So, so rich. So, so good.
Upon arrival in Salzburg, we checked into our hotel, the Hotel am Dom (lots of stairs and no elevator to our room on one of the upper floors), and had a late dinner of Chinese on a nearby street. I think I’m not making that up.
We rejoin our intrepid travelers on the train from Interlaken, Switzerland to Munich, Germany. The journey takes a little more than seven hours, so we did not have very much daylight left by the time we got to Munich. The long train ride enabled us to eat in the dining car, where we had a cheese plate and tomato soup. Yes, soup on the train. We are adventurous gals! I also never wanted to be a troublemaker and never asked for ice in my drinks, but Coke really is not that good in a glass without ice.
Once we got to Munich, we trudged around with our luggage trying to find our hotel: the Hotel Deutsches Theater. This should have been easy, except that there are two. I am sure they have slightly different names, or something, that do not translate well to English. I don’t know. Naturally we went to the wrong place first. This, as you might imagine, caused some angst. Disaster was averted as we were directed to the right place, and we checked in and dropped our luggage and admired the proper shower, which, let me tell you, was beautiful after our experiences in Freiburg and then the hostel in Interlaken.
Then it was off to explore Munich, and, since we had limited time, we decided the best way to do this was by bus tour. We saw the Onion Towers. If we’d had more time, I wanted to see Olympic Park, but we didn’t so … next time. After the bus tour, we went to the Christmas Market and then the Hofbräuhaus. This was not the first Hofbräuhaus we had visited, no; the first was the one centrally located in Newport, Kentucky (the first authentic Hofbräuhaus in America!). We went there with a TV guy after the Astros played in Cincinnati in May of that same year, when I had driven up from Memphis to meet Lisa. I recall doing my Redbirds gamenotes from Lisa’s hotel room. Oh, those were the days.
So anyway, we had to go to the real German Hofbräuhaus, and also, my brother had been there, and you know how I am about him one-upping me on things. Continuing our “wandering around Munich” theme, we couldn’t quite find the Hofbräuhaus right away. This was irritating, you know, because my brother had obviously found it. It didn’t take us too long before we, too, were successful. At first we had a table to ourselves to enjoy out frothy beverages. Well, only I enjoyed a frothy beverage – Lisa doesn’t like beer – and it was actually not all that strong, it was like half beer and half Seven-Up (or something generic and similar). I’m not sure, but it was pretty good. Towards the end of our meal, some overzealous Australian backpackers joined the table. We chatted for a moment, but I don’t think we lived up to their adventurous spirit, and they moved on.