The London bag-checking debacle

RyanAir defies popular dogma and proves that hell is actually located in the sky.

Thursday night. Gatwick Airport. I successfully check-in at the RYANAIR counter, my coat stuffed with several purchases and belongings to avoid having to put them in my bag and paying to check it. I successfully get through security and into the gate waiting area (why the hell are there gate-waiting areas? Is there not enough waiting at check-in, then security, then boarding, then to get on the plane, then to get to your seat?). As I am walking to the door to leave and board the plane (I am the last in line), a worker sees the Turkish rug sticking out the bottom of my coat, stops me, and asks:

“Excuse me miss, what is that under your coat?” With a heavy British accent that automatically connotes a tone of superiority.

“My body” I answer.

He asks me to open my coat and I refuse. I repeat to him that only my body is under my coat.

“I know what a woman’s body looks like and that is NOT a woman’s body. Open your coat please.” This guy is clearly gay, so I am confused as to how he knows so much about a woman’s body.

“No. I went through security and I do not have to open my coat for you. This is a part of my body and I will keep it with me in my seat. If I weighed 10 kilos more than I do, I am sure I could still get on the plane, so I am going on the plane.” I stated proudly.

“No ma’am. You cannot get on the plane. I will not let you.” He switched to ma’am. I am not quite sure why he did this, considering I was on the verge of starting to yell like a child.

“I want to talk to your manager NOW. Please call him or her.” I ask, my voice stern and (I hope) authoritative.

“If I call my manager he will come down here and you will miss the flight.” This is when I get TRULY infuriated... and irrational/crazy/loud.

“Ok. fine. I am getting on the plane. NOW. And you legally cannot stop me.” I was not sure if that was true or not

“No. I will not let you do that, ma’am. Open your coat.” He repeats.

I walk to the door and he covers the exit in front of me.

I ACTUALLY consider faking left and passing him on the right, but realize that this would not be a good idea and it probably would not be successful either.

He may have sensed this and reached for the phone. Yes, I almost got security called on me. Can you say BADASS? I say that now, but at the time, fury was running through me, not excitement. The minutes pass and I see the last of passengers boarding the plane. I realize at that point I have no choice. We are at a standoff. He could call security, making me miss my flight, and I really did not want that to happen.

Stolen from http://reputation-guardian.com/

He eventually made me open my coat and I did, exposing my camera, Turkish rug, books and umbrella underneath. I tried to be smug and nonchalant, like it was normal for people to have all this stuff in their coat. But who is to say that the inside of my coat did not serve as a giant pocket? Technically? Right? I was not physically holding onto anything; all the items were supported between my body and the coat, staying in place by pressure alone. You can say I am a psycho, but the legality of what I did IS a matter of debate.

“Fine. FINE. What do you want me to do? I’ll do it” I say as I take my backpack off to get to my purse. I know what he wants.

“If you have no cash you can pay for your bag with a card.”

“Great! Thank you!” I said as sarcastically as I could.

“Thank you madam,” he said condescendingly. It was devastating how much of a power trip this guy was on. I really truly hope he got a bonus for this, and that he suffers an excruciating eternity in hell after he dies.

“Congratulations! You won! Here is my card.” I yell… like a psycho. I only see red and I start to shake. This moment is in the top 10 angriest of my life. I know everyone hates losing, but I REALLY hate losing.

He walked away and it seemed like an hour before he got back, taking a leisurely time processing my card and extracting my 35 Euro, undeservedly.  

When he comes back, I realize I have been acting crazy and like a child at the same time, so I apologize for yelling. He says nothing. I asked him for his name, a pen and paper ready to complain about him and/or mention his name when I sue RyanAir or him, personally. I don’t know how that all works but at the time, I was determined I would do it.

“You don’t need to know my name, just that I am the director of access.” He said it as he covered his badge. I can use this for my case, I thought. Shouldn’t he have been PROUD? If he was doing his job at such a magnificent caliber, he should have given me his name very willingly.

I know it may seem irrational to have such personal feelings, but I seriously hate this man more than I have ever hated anyone. He took my bag and I ran out the door and into the plane, still shaking. I managed to hold back tears the whole time I was talking to the worker because I knew they would not be functional and he might have felt even BETTER about his power trip. As we took off the air pressure finally pushed the tears out, but I am proud to say none actually fell. I was so mad that I lost. There is nothing I hate more than losing and I had failed to such a drastic degree a couple minutes before that I couldn’t help my eyes from watering. At the time, I was thinking this guy’s refusal to give me his name definitely gives me some good rudimentary fodder in any legal case on which I would like to embark. Clearly, such intense anger can make people (me) a little illogical. End scene.

Now, 11 months later. I admit I have not done anything in terms of suing or complaining about this guy, but I certainly plan on finding out who he is and telling his manager what I think about him. 

The Utmost

Best Public Transportation: Madrid, Spain

Worst public transportation: Berlin, Germany

Best architecture: Paris, France

Best cathedral: Sevilla, Spain

Best Men: Dublin, Ireland

Worst Men: Everywhere, Morocco

Best gardens: Granada, Spain

Best festival: Oktoberfest in Munich, Germany

Best food: Rome/Milan, Italy & San Sebastian, Spain

Best shopping: Istanbul, Turkey

Friendliest locals: Santorini, Greece

Most interesting history: Prague, Czech Republic

Best pleasant surprise: Krakow, Poland

Best beaches: Valencia, Spain

Best nightlife: Barcelona and Madrid, Spain

Best old stuff: Pompeii, Italy

Favorite city overall (besides Madrid): Paris, France

Most expensive: Venice, Italy

Least expensive, Istanbul, Turkey

Best hostel: The Flying Pig, Amsterdam, The Netherlands

Best Airport: Berlin airport

Best art museum: Museu d’Orsay, Paris, France

Coolest bar: The Dow Jones, Barcelona, Spain

Best painting: Guernica by Picasso in Madrid, Spain

Best sculpture: The David by Michaelangelo, Florence, Italy

40 Planes and 30 Trains

It’s time. Let’s review where those numbers took me during my 9 months abroad:

SPAIN: Madrid, Barcelona, San Sebastian, Bilbao, Seville, Toledo, Segovia, Córdoba, Aranjuez, Salamanca, Escorial, Buytrago del Loyola, Valencia, Granada

Toledo

ITALY: Milan, Cinque Terre, Venice, Florence, Pisa, Rome, Naples, Pompeii, Sorrento

Florence

PORTUGAL: Lagos, Lisbon, Porto and everywhere in between (rental car)

Porto

POLAND: Torun, Warsaw, Krakow, Gdansk, Wloclawek, Oświęcim

Oświęcim

IRELAND: Dublin, Wicklow, Glendalough

Dublin

GREECE: Athens, Hydra, Santorini, Crete

Ia, Santorini, Greece

ROMANIA- Cluj, Simleu Silvaniei, Turda

Turda

NETHERLANDS: Amsterdam, Utrecht

Amsterdam

SWITZERLAND: Zurich (sort of; stopped by during a 7 hr layover)

ENGLAND: London, Amesbury

London

FRANCE: Paris (x2), Versailles

Paris

MOROCCO: Marrakesh, Fes

Fes

GERMANY: Munich, Berlin

Berlin

CZECH REPUBLIC: Prague

Prague

HUNGARY: Budapest

BELGIUM: Brussels

Brussels

TURKEY: Istanbul

Istanbul

So is there anywhere I would have liked to visit but did not? OF COURSE! I would have loved to go to go skiing in the Swiss Alps, visit other places in France (Nice, Bordeaux, Lyon), see Denmark, Finland, Norway, Sweden, Russia, Lithuania, Ukraine, Austria, Croatia, Malta and more cities in Spain (Burgos, A coruña, Ibiza, Málaga, Mallorca, The Canary Islands)...

This does not mean I am UPSET at all, or even close to it; it means that I still have so much more to explore in Europe when I go back. It also means I would never claim to truly “know” or “understand” Europe. The history and culture of this tiny continent (it is barely larger than the continental United States) is too multifaceted and complicated to be within my comprehension. 

That being said, I can still compile a list of silly superlatives for the countries and cities I HAVE visited. So, which city has the best architecture?  The best food? The best public transportation? The worst public transportation? The best men? Coming soon…

Rome is SO different from Florence. Not only are the two hugely different symbols of Italy (one of antiquity and one of renaissance), they exude completely opposite contemporary personalities. Yes, cities have personalites. Florence, a city famous for the global reawakening it bore, is historically different from Rome, a city that basically exemplifies the FIRST time anyone woke up (hello, ancient Romans; they kind of started everything).

The most obvious difference though, is the relationship between cars and people in the two cities. It's really important, ok? In Florence, the people rule the streets (there are many pedestrian-only roads) In Rome, it is a constant battle for street power. Really. Every time you cross the street in Rome, even on crosswalks, cars DO NOT slow down until they almost hit you (though they never actually do). The more confident you appear while walking across the street the better and sooner the cars will slow to a stop. If you are strapped for ideas on how to feign the intimidating pedestrian (oxymoron) demeanor, look to Maximus. I mean, when in Rome do as... Russell Crowe does.

Casually walked by the National Monument of Victor Emmanuel II

ANYWAY, I heard the Pantheon of Rome was pretty important as far as domes go (laugh here if you are as immature as I am). It inspired the Duomo of Florence, which was later used as a model to make The Capital dome in Washington DC. I meant to walk only to the Pantheon and accidentally passed...everything. One of the awesome things about Rome all the important stuff is where you can SEE IT. The city is the relic. It’s amazing.

The Pantheon of Rome, built in 126 AD, and STILL
the largest unreinforced concrete dome in the world

Raphael's tomb

After the Pantheon, seeing Rafael’s tomb and listening to Rick Steves on my ipod cheesily explain it all , I stumbled upon Giolitti Gelateria. Gelato had been serving as my lunch for the past few days, so I figured why not another day to further my spiral into malnutrition? This place was PACKED and hectic, so I liked it immediately. Most of the best places to eat in Italy are full, loud and confusing. The place did not disappoint; it was definitely the best gelato I had in Rome.

Awwww proposal on the Spanish Steps!!

Rome

The next day, I got to check into the hotel where I would meet my mom that night. Rome’s heat is OPPRESSIVE and the state of my bank account was/is feeble, so I spent a lot of time in the air-conditioned hotel, waiting for my mom to arrive at night. When she finally arrived, I was so happy to see her and finally have a travel mate. 

We started early with heavy touring the next day, giving my mom’s jetlag no time to manifest itself. For a Jew mother-daughter reunion, I decided the Vatican was the perfect place to start our trip. The irony joke was on me, however, because the religious theme of the Vatican takes a clear backseat to the collection of art and sculpture there. I was obviously looking forward to the Sistine Chapel and the painting of the Last Judgement, but The Pietá and the School of Athens??? I was blown away by the collection of significant art there.

The School of Athens by Raphael!

The Pieta by Michelangelo

For the second half of the day, my mom and I went to the Spanish Steps and The Trevi Fountain (just as striking, and crowded, as everyone describes). 

Making my wish at the Trevi Fountain 

For dinner, we ate possibly the best dinner I have ever had in my life. I found La Taverna dei Fori Imperiali online and because a party had less people than they expected, my mom and I were able to eat there. Yes, this place was packed. Foreshadowing.

We had melon and prosciutto and artichokes alla Romana to start. For dinner, we ordered two specials: linguine with pomodoro and lobster and gnocchi with veal, truffle oil and parmesano. It wouldn't be Italy if we didn´t have an amazing red wine to accompany the feast. This meal was INCREDIBLE. While taking my first bite of the buttery, truffle infused gnocchi with strong parmesano cheese, as soon as I became ecstatic that I had the rest of the plate left, I was immediately devastated at the possibility that I will never eat something so delicious again. THAT is what Italy can do to you.

Melon and prosciutto: weird, yet delicious

Gnocchi with veal, parmeasno and truffle sauce. One of the best things I have ever eaten

Mama and I at our favorite restaurant in Italy

Casually walking by the Coliseum at night

Wearing all black in June was a great choice

From Rome, it was off to Pompeii to see MORE incredibly preserved relics. Besides the ancient city of Pompeii, the rest of the area leaves a lot to be desired: a few restaurants, a lot of campsites and some cheesy souvenir shops. Our hotel, however, certainly made up for what the city lacked, most notably with its recommendation of Machiavelli, an (of course) italian restaurant for dinner. We got to enjoy some amazing caprese bruschetta, shrimp and pea risotto, swordfish, tiramisu, and delicious white wine. The food coma was worth it.

The sexiest bruschetta you've ever seen  

Shrimp and pea risotto

            The next day, we went to the impressively well-preserved Pompeii ruins. The town was partially destroyed in 79 AD by the volcanic eruption of Mt. Vesuvius, but instead of completely destroying the buildings, the ash served as a preservative until the site was rediscovered in 1599, then completely unearthed in 1748. The most impressive part of Pompeii are the detailed plaster casts of the victims, showing body positions and facial expressions of the victims moments before their death (ALMOST 2,000 YEARS AFTER IT HAPPENED!!). 

Pompeii

Plaster cast of a victim from the eruption of Vesuvius in AD 79

By around noontime, my mom and I were already tired out, so we decided to make a trip to Sorrento, a beautiful, albeit touristic, town on the Amalfi coast. My mom and I walked around to the shops, got a drink at the pier (ok, I got a drink; she got lemonade) and stopped in at Il Pozzo restuarante for dinner. I liked Sorrento, but after visiting so many amazing Italian cities, it didn't really measure up. Sorry, Sorrento! No offense.

Sorrento!

On the next day, my final day in Italy, I was happy to see what I had heard was the most "authentic" city in Italy before departing: NAPLES. Supposedly, this city is run by the mafia, which I imagine causes a lot of problems. Napoli seems to go through a roulette of urban complications, the most recent one being the city is full of trash. Yes, literal trash. Why? The dumps are full. The government Whoever is in charge can't seem to figure out how to the fix this highly complicated problem.

So, is it weird that I kind of loved this place? Not only was it far less touristic than anywhere else I had been in Italy, it had this raw, and yes, a little bit of a dangerous atmosphere. Naples is Italy in its purest, most unadulterated form: some trashy women with fake Louis Vouitton belts, incredible food, vibrant streets with great shopping, and men with a complete and total lack of discretion. 

Castel Nuovo in Naples

I have to admit, though, enjoying UNQUESTIONABLY the best pizza I have had in my life also helped contribute to my love for Naples.

Pizza at Da Michele (yup, the one from Eat, Pray, Love) in Naples

BEST PIZZA IN THE WORLD

Riding on the train back to Rome to take a plane back to Madrid, I felt a little nostalgic to be leaving. Even though I didn't get to every great city in Italy, I did a pretty good job of covering the widths and lengths of The Boot and, like most people Americans, fell in love with the Italian culture and FOOD. 

Oh and p.s. I am now morbidly obese. 

Eating. No praying. No loving. Ok, some loving.

Here’s the thing about Italy: It is as amazing as everyone says. The food, the people, the landscape, everything. Although I was by myself (because I went after my academic program ended and after everyone else had run out of money), it didn’t matter so much because I had Italy to keep me company. I am so happy I saved this trip for last.

The first destination in my two-week Italy tour was Milan, strictly because flights there were cheap. A lot of people told me how ugly Milan is… and they were right. It seems like a city in black and white; every car is gray, black, silver or white. Even the major attraction, the Duomo (which, I will admit, is striking) is made of white marble. In general, it seems like a place where people actually do work, which so NOT Italy. 

The Duomo of Milan 

Despite the unpleasant city landscape, I had some amazing food in Milan. Almost every restaurant, trattoria or bakery I went to in Italy was based on recommendations through people I knew or online. I know, I know, so NOT spontaneous and in line with the Italian lifestyle. My mindset was (and is after the success of my research) I was in the culinary capital of the world, so I didn’t want to mess it up.

The Pizza I ate at Spontini was a delicious pan pizza style, cooked in a brick oven with perfectly browned mozzarella cheese and some lovely Italian men serving it. The gelato I had near the Duomo, complete with a pool of melted milk chocolate in the bottom of the cone and real pieces of pistachio in the gelato was incredible. The extra dark chocolate gelato at Grom, a family owned chain where everything is made by hand, was, frankly, pseudo-orgasmic. Both the spicy ham and parmesan and the ricotta and spinach panzerottis I had at Panzerotti Luini were worth much more than the 2 each euro they cost.

In addition to eating my face off, I also got to see the Last Supper by Leonardo Da Vinci. The process of viewing the painting, located in a church with nothing else of interest, was, well, a process. First, I had to make a reservation for a specific time three weeks in advance. When I got there, I had to wait in a room to be let into a waiting area, then wait there to be let into an airtight room, THEN led into the room where the Last Supper is held. Of course, the painting itself is very impressive and I was happy to have an audio-guide explain the process of its restoration and why it is such an important piece of art. Thanks Rick Steves free itunes audio-tours!

Obviously NOT a real picture of The Last Supper (even I couldn't break those photo rules)
but it looks exactly like this, down to the damaged part at J-dog's legs and feet.  

I was very happy to leave and Milan and go somewhere I KNEW was beautiful: the Cinque Terre. Cinque terre means five lands in Italian and it consists of five villages on the sides of cliffs facing the Mediterranean Sea.

Monterosso, Italy in the CInque Terre

While staying in Monterosso, I became friends with a gelateria owner and he invited me to help make gelato for his store the next morning (oddly asking literally nothing in return)! If you can call helping taste-testing every flavor as it came out of the gelato maker, I definitely assisted a whole lot. While fresh-made gelato doesn’t exactly sound like it would be anything more special than 5-hour old gelato, I can assure you it IS. Every flavor was the best gelato I had ever eaten.

Making Stracciatella gelato 

Caprese NOMMMMM

The hike between all the towns is 10KM and includes a lot of cliff-side and aerial views of these beautiful villages. Everything I read about the hike said it is physical and you have to be athletic to do it. No problem; I’m totally athletic! Well it turns out, a year in Europe had caused me to deteriorate into a much less athletic state than to which I was accustomed. Let’s just say the amount of sweat involved in this hike was… excessive.

Vernazza, Italy

Vernazza, Italy 

Pesto comes from the Cinque Terre originally. Score.

Although there were an unnatural amount of tourists (especially Americans) in the Cinque Terre, it still had a neighborhood feel. Even all the baseball caps, mom-cargo shorts, and chubby adolescents could not distract from Cinque Terre’s charm and beauty.

Riomaggiore, Italy. Favorite.

After Cinque Terre, it was off to Milan for one night, then in the morning to…. VENICE. I feel like every time I say VENICE there should be chimes and a little melody to go along with it. This place is just that magical. When you walk out of Santa Lucia train station, you see the grand canal immediately, it’s like a slap of beauty right to the face... and it hurts so good. Even though I think everyone knows Venice is a city built on water, it’s hard to believe to what extent it is really on/in the water. Let’s just say the homes, hotels, and restaurants on the grand-canal look like they are literally floating, the bottom a little green just like a dock in a river. It literally looks unreal.

Unfortunately, Venice is as expensive as it is beautiful, which kept this city from being one of my favorites. I feel like Italy, especially Venice, takes advantage of its destination status and over-charges visitors for museum-entrances, transportation and food. Apart from making me more broke, I started to resent the country’s tourism industry tactics. With that said, NOTHING could undermine the beauty of Italy’s cities.

In a traghetto gondola (which costs 0.50 euro cents per person instead of 80 euro per boat.
I guess this makes it a trag(ically poor and)ghetto?

I headed to Burano, via Murano, for a half day. Murano is an island off the main land famous for glass-blowing. I got to see a free glass-blowing display in a room that was about 110 degrees, and ran away before they tried to pressure me into buying anything (as if anyone could pressure me into buying something).

Murano Glass factories

Thankfully, the rain stopped just before I reached Burano, an old fisherman’s village with brightly colored houses. The special look of this island is so important, in fact, that anyone who wants to paint his or her home must have the color approved by the government. 

Burano, Italy

Appropriate outfit for the occasion

The next day, I explored the main island of Venice, ate gelato for lunch, peaked in the hundreds of stores with carnival masks and blown glass, and got lost amongst the canals.

Free entrance to a store with ugly souvenirs. Awesome! Thanks!

St. Marks's Square

PASTA

Carnival masks in Venice

There truly is no place like Venice and it is somewhere you MUST see before you die… or before it sinks.

I boarded yet another train for Florence and practically s soon as I arrived, I fell in love with the Duomo, engineered by Brunelleschi. It is the largest dome in the world made of a brick and even though some say the green, pink and white facade is excessive, I think it provides a stark and interesting contrast with the deep, warm brick. Basically… Florence Cathedral exterior= So. Amazing. We won’t talk about the interior or how long of a line I had to wait into see how disappointing it was.

As if this centerpiece to the city were not enough, Florence has a ludicrous collection of art, famous dead people and cheap food.

Pizza by weight. THATSWHATIMTALKINABOUT.

Gelateria dei Neri. Best gelato I had in Italy.

I visited the Uffizi Gallery first and was so happy I got a reservation online, since the wait in line was an estimated 2 hours (!!!!!).  This gallery has the biggest collection of renaissance art in the world, most notably (in my opinion), it holds The Birth of Venus by Boticelli and Medusa by Caravaggio. I took an art break to have a beef, parmesan and arugula panino with chianti wine at ‘Ino, an AMAZING sandwich place near the Ponte Vecchio.

Ponte Vecchio Bridge

Next, it was time to go to L’Accademia and meet The David. I had heard so much about him and while waiting in the reservation line, it was hard to contain my excitement. I hoped his butt was as beautiful in person as it was in pictures. 

I couldn’t have prepared myself for the sculpture I saw at the end of the hallway of “slaves” by Michaelangelo. DAVID IS BEAUTIFUL. The sculpture is so multifaceted and even though every angle, vein, curve seems so calculated, Michelangelo carved David free-hand (like all of his statues), as opposed to with a certain plan like most other sculptors. Michelangelo used to say “every block of stone has a statue inside it and it is the task of the sculptor to discover it.”

Totally illegal picture. Totally worth the scolding I got. 

While in Florence, I took a day trip to Pisa, an easy hour train ride away. I have to admit, I was incredibly tired, and cultured-out, so I just saw the Leaning Tower of Pisa, took some pictures and ate lunch (albeit a FANTASTIC lunch at Antica Trattoria il Campano - homemade spaghetti with parmesan, tomatoes, garlic and olive oil) before going back to Florence.

It's the one leaning, not me. 

There is so much to see in Florence: Santa Croce Church (where Michelangelo is buried), Piazza Michelangelo (where the bronze David is displayed), Piazza della Signorina (where a ridiculous amount of sculptures stand) Pitti Palace (the unfinsihed Medici palace) and too many churches to name. The student vibe and walkability of the city reminded me so much of Boston, giving me just a tinge of home-sickness. It came just in time though, because I would be meeting my mom in the next city, ROME.