Travel Bug Robert
Finding the funny in the world.

A pint of beer, but which one? Ireland’s debate rages on.

Rebels.

Climbing the Duomo in Florence is exhausting.  There are a lot of stairs in that place.  And even though it’s a cathedral–a sacred place of worship for millions of people a year–some whippersnappers decided to graffiti it up.  Well, not the pretty part of the Duomo; only the walls leading up to the pretty part.  I have to say, I’m impressed with their rebellious actions.  I don’t condone it, but I’m impressed.  Look at where they chose to write on the wall–right next to a sign that says “don’t write on the walls.”  That takes some guts.  There really aren’t any guards watching you on your climb up to the top, but morally that takes some guts.  These guys (or girls–it could be girls.  I’m very egalitarian in my criminal judgements), they know that they’re doing something naughty.  I guess that’s the thrill, though, right?  The thrill of maybe getting caught while ignoring a very sensible rule.   I’m not a risk taker myself.  I get worried if I clink a glass too loudly in a restaurant.  I don’t want to bother the other customers.  So this “livin’ on the edge” business doesn’t jive with me.

I will say, though, I do want to be remembered like these people.  Let’s be serious, that’s really why someone writes their name on a wall.  Maybe some will get a fun little adrenaline jolt looking over their shoulder as they Sharpie their name and date onto a Renaissance-era church, but most are writing their name on the wall so a hundred years from now, somebody will know they were there and that they existed.  It’s the whole “flag on the moon” complex.  We already made it to the moon, NASA.  Why waste a perfectly good American flag on a place in the universe that no one will ever see but us?

When I was a kid, they were putting in a new cement sidewalk, and when the workers had gone home and left it to dry, I rode through on my bike so my tracks could remain there forever, literally cemented in time (I guess I was a bit of a rebel as a kid).  The next day, I went back and discovered they re-cemented the sidewalk, erasing all proof that my bike or me had ever been there.

I guess what I’m saying to these taggers is, what if the Duomo buys a can of paint?

A Really Bad Souvenir

I love street artists.  Love ‘em.  The only thing that beats a street artist for me is a street performer.  I’m talking the juggling/break dancing/death-defying-stunt variety.  A good straight jacket escape is pretty hard to beat for me.  But street artists still have a big place in my heart.  They’re out there every day, trying to make a living selling their art.  You have to give them props for that.  Have you ever tried to do that?  And Etsy doesn’t count, ’cause you can do that in your pajamas.  There is a down side to street artists, though: if they’re around, you know you’re in a touristy area.  For the “travel like a local” ilk, that might be disconcerting.  I’ve learned, however, to embrace even the most touristy of locales.  They’re touristy for a reason–something is there that’s cool enough to see in person.

Also, admittedly, some of these pieces of “art” aren’t too inspired.  Like, in New York City you can buy photos of the Statue of Liberty everywhere.  Or in Paris, the Eiffel Tower.  This is like buying the black and white poster of John Belushi from “Animal House” and putting it in your college dorm room.  Come on, get a little more creative with your artistic purchases while traveling.  Although, I’m guessing those rote images of landmarks are what keep these artists alive.  Kind of like how musicians dread playing the same songs over and over at every single wedding, but they have to in order to pay the rent.

If you want a little zest in your art souvenir, why not get a caricature of yourself?  You can always look at it and remember where you bought it, but the location reminder won’t be as blatant as, say, a painting of Big Ben.  I don’t know, just a thought.  But whatever you do, if you’re in Rome, don’t give your money to this caricaturist.  He’s mean.  Look at that awful picture he’s drawing of that sweet little girl.  He’s not pulling any punches in his interpretation of her.

Actually, the more I think about it, this guy is all right.  Here I am complaining about how people buy cliched images of cities–really safe, postcard-friendly pictures–and here’s an artist who has no regard for his subject’s feelings and is only concerned with his own style.  He’s like the wedding singer who belts out “Sympathy for the Devil” after the Best Man’s speech.  Forget what I said before–buy a drawing from this guy.  You’ll have a memorable souvenir from your trip, and you’ll get to see the ugly side of your soul.

Robert Eats Lasagna in Rome

Italy is known the world over for its delicious food and especially for its pasta.  When in Rome, I popped into this place to see if the pasta was really as good as everyone said.

Well, it was pretty darn good, let me tell you.  That lasagna couldn’t have been any fresher.

And you want to talk about rich?  So decadent, but in the best way possible.  We’re not talking about a fried Twinkie kind of decadent here.  This was decadent in a “not greasy at all and totally worth the 1,200 calories” kind of way.  Apparently, it’s all about the beschemel sauce.  Well done, Italy.  I tip my hat and loosen my belt to you.

Amsterdam’s Sarphatipark: hard on spelling, easy on the eyes

Amsterdam may be one of the most relaxed cities I’ve visited.  And everyone living there can’t be pot smokers, so I don’t think you can attribute their relaxed vibe on just marijuana.   Whatever the cause, I like it.  Like, they have all those bikes, which is great for the environment and keeps you in shape, but it’s not the fastest mode of transportation out there.  They could be all driving cars or motorized scooters and get places much faster, but that’s not what they want.   It’s refreshing.  And then all the parks they have just keep that chill feeling going.  I went to a pleasant little park called Sarphatipark.  It wasn’t anything fancy, but it was just perfect for a little break from all the relaxing.

And the great thing about Sarphatipark is there’s a little place to pick up some delicious food right across the street called Romios Griekse Traiterie.  I had quite a delicious gyro from there, but they have more selection than that.  Some really tasty Greek food, and the kind of preparations that are just right to bring to a leisurely picnic in the park.