To continue:
Waking up in Salzburg in the springtime was something spectacular; the Alps and the castles and the historical knicknacks about Mozart were the icing on the cake of a city that seemed to be held together by tulips and fountains. After considerable disagreement, we split off into two factions, one moving on to Vienna, leaving Tom and Jessica and I to happily depart on our Sound of Music tour in the company of people mainly over the age of sixty. It was fantastic; complete with the gazebo and cheesy music and photo-ops. Our eventual arrival in Vienna went pretty smoothly, and we had an even better night out at restaurants where there seemed to be a disproportionate number of people dressed as the easter bunny. That night I ended up sleeping in the car, and nearly beating the living shit out of Tom in the back of our cramped little Golf, all in an unconcious state. We had a nice easter breakfast of cold boiled eggs and chocolate outside of the cathedral, and rented public bikes to ride around the city. I added Vienna to my list of ferris wheels, and then ended up arguing about what to do next. I think by that point we were all more or less driving one another insane and healed old wounds with the help of ice cream on the way through Bavaria to Nuremburg, and ended up eventually in Cologne. The cathedral there was absolutely incredible--I could show pictures but it would look exactly like every other cathedral you've ever seen--the only difference is that this one is about three times as large.
I guess the month before that was mainly characterized by a religious routine of eating Stefano's pasta for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, going to the Shamrock, and then dancing clumsily at Metamorphosis, and then defending American culture over even more pasta at 5 AM. Occasionally I would be fortunate enough to be sung to sleep. It was really great to have such a constant companion--it felt like we were the fox and the hound, or perhaps a couple of senior citizens who met over prune juice at the Home. There were three consecutive good-bye parties leading up to his departure, culminating in a big to-do up on top of Mount St. Pieter.
Waking up in Salzburg in the springtime was something spectacular; the Alps and the castles and the historical knicknacks about Mozart were the icing on the cake of a city that seemed to be held together by tulips and fountains. After considerable disagreement, we split off into two factions, one moving on to Vienna, leaving Tom and Jessica and I to happily depart on our Sound of Music tour in the company of people mainly over the age of sixty. It was fantastic; complete with the gazebo and cheesy music and photo-ops. Our eventual arrival in Vienna went pretty smoothly, and we had an even better night out at restaurants where there seemed to be a disproportionate number of people dressed as the easter bunny. That night I ended up sleeping in the car, and nearly beating the living shit out of Tom in the back of our cramped little Golf, all in an unconcious state. We had a nice easter breakfast of cold boiled eggs and chocolate outside of the cathedral, and rented public bikes to ride around the city. I added Vienna to my list of ferris wheels, and then ended up arguing about what to do next. I think by that point we were all more or less driving one another insane and healed old wounds with the help of ice cream on the way through Bavaria to Nuremburg, and ended up eventually in Cologne. The cathedral there was absolutely incredible--I could show pictures but it would look exactly like every other cathedral you've ever seen--the only difference is that this one is about three times as large.
I guess the month before that was mainly characterized by a religious routine of eating Stefano's pasta for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, going to the Shamrock, and then dancing clumsily at Metamorphosis, and then defending American culture over even more pasta at 5 AM. Occasionally I would be fortunate enough to be sung to sleep. It was really great to have such a constant companion--it felt like we were the fox and the hound, or perhaps a couple of senior citizens who met over prune juice at the Home. There were three consecutive good-bye parties leading up to his departure, culminating in a big to-do up on top of Mount St. Pieter.
posted by Sandy at 7:35 PM
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