the fantastic mr. fox

There it was, and there it goes. Seeing as this will most likely be my final post from this trip, I might as well detail on how excellent the entire journey has been, with a few tid bits along the way. That, and I just paid five dollars for an Americano at 10 o'clock and drank the shit out of it, so let's just say that a lack of energy is much of a problem at the moment.

Italy was a fantastic place, yet not quite how I envisioned it for. It's funny when you imagine a country so steeped in culture in history that you forget that it has highways as well. Italy, to most, is the magical looking place where everything smells like garlic and every town is on the coast. You forget that sometimes you have to stop on the highway, eat the highway equivalent of a decent Italian meal, and dispose into some strange European bathroom device. At least that's how it worked for me.

A lot of things exceeded my expectations I have to say. Aside from a lot of art history, I admit I didn't know much about Italy before I left. I prefer trips that way: the less I expect of something, the less chance I'll have of being disappointed. Now that I think of it, I live most of my life that very way. That being said, some sights simply blew my mind. Capri, for instance, was a magical place. A lot of tourist-heavy destinations around the world mainly exist because of their travel industry, and everything is custom fit for fat tourists that pass through daily, (the place I think of most off the top of my head is Cavendish, PEI, which was more of a tourist pitfall than a small town). However, most of these Italian towns would exist fine, if not better, with the absence of tourists. They live simple lives here. Beautiful and straightforward.

In the let-down department, I have to say the cuisine was a bit slack, but I can elaborate on why. Apparently throughout Italian history, the politics behind staple seasonings, such as salt, pepper, and garlic, have been quite tumultuous. Salt was extremely hard to come by and was revered as an upper-class commodity. Garlic was viewed almost as a peasants seasoning - a fact which is quite obvious when feasting here, because it's rarely used. Geography is another factor. Every town and regions cuisine varied greatly from the last. Some believed in olive oil, some believed in cheese and cream. Seeing as I'm a huge enthusiast when it comes to cuisine (Alton Brown and I will meet some day), this stuff fascinated me.

Although interesting, I regret to say that very few meals impressed me. Even the pizza! Not one slice did it for me. Who knew? I'd read in an issue of GQ last summer that America had the best pizza in the world and that Italians didn't know what they were doing. I didn't believe it at first, but after visiting I'd like to shake the hand of that writer, because he pinned the tail on the donkey. Bland sauce, too much dough, strange toppings, (sardine and caper pizza sucks ass because neither belong on a pizza) and crude presentation. It was actually quite similar to those weird French pizza's, such as the one I was given during my grade 6 exchange which consisted of white fish and an over-easy egg. And trust me when I say I looked everywhere; from train stations to fine dining - I was on the hunt. I'll admit they made a pretty good Foccacia, but that was just as hit-and-miss. Pistachio gelato is also worth mentioning.

I swam in the Mediterranean Sea while visiting Cinque Terre as well. I try to swim everywhere I go. Not sure exactly why, but it might have to do with trying to feel a deeper connection with the environment. I forgot how much fun salt water can be. Aside from not being able to open my eyes under water (big fan of that) and the urge to drink all the fresh water in town afterward, salt water is great fun. Floating in salt water is an awesome sensation (the salt makes you more buoyant, and I hope you knew that), and your hair does exactly what you want when dried hours later.

The language barrier was daunting at first, but it's fairly uncomplicated when you get the basics in. The meat-and-potatoes of the language are quite basic, and mostly translatable to French. So close in fact, Mike and I comfortably answered questions to a full episode of the Italian equivalent to Who Wants to be a Millionaire?

I have to mention a certain feeling you get when traveling. It's called charging your batteries! What better sensation is there than charging your gadgets when close to the brink of electronic exhaustion? It literally makes me want to mad-scientist laugh. Cell phones, video cameras, digital cameras, ipods, batteries, and laptops. Waking up the morning after a good charge-fest must be comparable to the first night of a honeymoon. I leave my hotel room with a grin ear to ear, sending texts, listening to music on full, and shooting images at their highest resolution. Alright, enough about that.

Switzerland has been fantastic. I didn't expect much, if anything at all. We took an 11-hour train from Rome to Zurich, which showed up at 9:30 that night. We were exhausted from bench pressing luggage into compartments all day and just wanted to lay down. We showed up to our hotel and were greeted by arguably one of the bet dinners I've ever had. Four-course schnitzel dinner with two inclusive steins of beer. Well, we know at least one of them was included, but we got the fuck out of there and went to bed.

Zurich was my kind of town. For starters, I feel far more at home in this part of Europe than anywhere else. The people are very polite, the air is fresh, the water is THE BEST (sorry Toronto, ya'll got bumped), the language is easy to grasp, and the cities are clean and well designed. The food is also fantastic, and the women aren't bad lookin' either. Swiss people are also so funny and simple. They love chocolate and small gadgets.

The mountains here are like nothing I've ever seen, and I've seen some mountains in my day. In the Swiss Alps, every twist and turn is literally a picture postcard. We spent two nights at very, very high elevations. Over six thousand feet above sea level kinda high. Although beautiful, those two nights really fucked my sleep up. Seeing as the air is so thin, the average amount you'd inhale for a breath only suffices for maybe half the oxygen you actually need. If you'd taped two shakers to my hands when I slept, you'd have two of the most delicious martinis by morning, because I didn't sleep. My muscles felt soft and loose and I was always somewhat out of breath. Apparently this effects some more than others. On one of the tours to the Matterhorn, we hit 10,000 feet, one of the highest points in Europe. Think about that!

Alas, I should probably hit the hay. Although I do miss many friends and things about home, I don't really feel like jumping back into the swing. I could do with two more weeks.

I should also mention I had two snowball fights.