From Germany to Italy

Tom and I are finally able to have more than ten minutes to dialogue about our trip, for the first time in more than a week. My cursory Berlin post really did not do the city justice, and so I will make some concluding remarks before moving on the great train ride to Italy.

Like the juxtaposition of communism and capitalism, Berlin has a further complicated history involving World War II. It is an awkward tension for the city, as they try to explain and outline the terror and unspeakable acts that their own people committed. An atrocity of some sort occured at almost every square in the city during over a decade of true Nazi power. Books were burned, humans massacred, and the Halocaust strategized all within a few square miles.

That being said, Berlin does its best to explain the past while maintaining a bright course for the future. The Halocaust Memorial is the the best structure in existence that I am aware of, to fully reach the seemingly insurmountable goal of remembering and honoring the stolen lives of millions of people. A series of rectangular concrete blocks of varying size are put together in a geometrically parallel arrangment, creating a unique rising and falling image on the landscape. It is several degrees colder in the center, as it dips towards the lowest point. Some people see the trains leaving Auschwitz or Dachau, others a chart of rising anti semitism and hate. The best thing Tom and I heard was of a city of sand, with the last blocks disappearing into the ground and continuing forever. This was a memorial of substance and shakes even a lay observer to the core.

Leaving Berlin that night, Tom and I had a few beers. A few strong German beers, that lead us to humming Amazing Grace on the train after we briefly discussed Bravehart. In true bagpipe form, Tom provided the base portion while I did the chorus. We must have been distinctly annoying to the only other individual on the train, a German businessman behind us. I think it is fair to say that the Tom and I have provided a good impression of Americans while over here... perhaps not during the humming session.

We arrived in Venice for a whirlwind two hour visit before the train left for Florence. We ate pizza and gelato there of course, both were quite delicious. The alley ways, narrow bridges, and ancient cathedrals were all around us. We should not have been surprised about how romantic the city is supposed to be, but there were couples merging into one another on every corner. Tom and I did our best not to take a moonlit gondola ride together. Venice felt far too touristy, if that is a word, and the English speakers certainly outnumbered the Italians. It was quite lovely, but to be blunt, two hours was enough.

On a general note, pizza has not dissapointed us in Italy, and I fear that when we return, not even the mighty Di Giorno will satisfy our want. Tom and I like pizza lot. I mean, we really, really like pizza. Back home I look forward every week to a randomly assigned pizza day. Some of you even know ahead of time which day it is. Here, it is pizza day every day. We are averaging at least a half pizza each a day, and forsee no altering of our eating behavior.

Florence was lovely, and running into everything that the de Medici's either outright stole or happened to acquire was amusing. Machiavelli, Galileo, and of course the Medici's make it a city of great artistic and scientific clout. Michaelangelo's David was the best thing we saw there. 17 feet tall and in perfect human proportions, the statue was magnificent. Not cliche pretty like the Mona Lisa, but easily good enough to make one pause and stare. It was a symbol for the city of Florence, a David surrounded by the Goliaths of Rome and Naples. They take great pride in it, and understandably so.

I was ravaged by mosquitos as I slept that night, mosquitos that left Tom quite alone, which led me to the conclusion that my blood is just that much more delicious. We headed down to Salerno, a city south of Naples on the much visited Amalfi Coast. Salerno was not touristy at all, which was wonderful. Tom and I constantly were the only English speakers in a room. This non tourist experience culminated in a tiny family restaurant on a little used street. The place, La Brigante, opened at 9 pm. 9 pm. Tom and I waited for several hours, because we had heard it was especially good. We were the only non Italians in the restaurant for our entire stay. Not a sole spoke English, and the food... well lets just say La Brigante was a local family favorite for a reason. I will quickly mention however, that this expensive and authentic food, was not better significantly better than our one Euro pizza that we had earlier in the day. To reiterate, pizza is phenomenal here.

As I am typing we are in Rome, and tomorrow we are headed to the Colisseum, Forum, and Domus Aurea. Walking on the very streets of Caligula, Nero, Trajan, Aurelius and of course, one of the coolest people ever, Julius Caesar, is a lot of fun for complete nerds like Tom and I. Even so, I do miss America, unequivocally, the greatest country on earth, where going to the bathroom is free, a Coke costs less than three Euro, and people do not try to sell you bow and arrows. Yes, we encountered a bow and arrow salesman.

For tonight, a bid you all adieu, and will write again soon.

Joel