Road Trip, Day II -- Verona, Italy

After a wonderful breakfast at our hotel in Schwangau, we left Germany and drove south through Austria towards Italy.


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I wish I hadn't been driving because the scenery was truly breathtaking: winding roads through the Alps, blue skies with perfect views of the snow-capped peaks.  Incredible.

As we got further south, the sky darkened, the mist gathered and, by the time we reached Italy, it was pouring.   By then we'd swapped drivers and I could snap a couple of photos of the Dolomites.

Beautiful, especially with the mist hanging about, but not nearly as impressive as the Austrian Alps.

Finally, we reached our destination, Verona, Italy, where we planned to spend a couple of hours before heading off to Vicenza to visit some friends.

Verona has some Roman ruins, like this impressive arena:

Guess who's hiding behind that umbrella?

That's right:  Will!  But I got him in this photo.

But it's most famous for being the setting of Shakespeare's tragedy, Romeo and Juliet.  Supposedly the Montague and Capulet families (or their real-life inspirations) lived here and you can even visit their homes.

This is Juliet's famous balcony, underneath which Romeo professed his eternal love:



And a statue of Juliet herself:

Supposedly, rubbing her right breast brings you good luck.  Which explains why it's so shiny.

Though most of Verona was fairly quiet, Juliet's house was mobbed with tourists.  Even stranger, as we entered the courtyard to her house, we noticed this wall stuck with thousands of globs of dried up chewing gum.

Apparently, you're supposed to write a love note and stick it to the wall somehow and most people seem to have resorted to gum.  Ick.  Kate stuck on a little note to her friend Ryan, with whom she's planning to marry and have 10 children.  When she's much, much older, I hope.

There were also metal gates covered with padlocks left behind by couples to symbolize their eternal love.

A little nicer than chewing gum, right?

An explanation of the "locks of love" here.

More on Juliet's house here.

Kate was extremely interested in the story of Romeo and Juliet, which she'd never heard except as it relates to the recent animated film, Gnomeo and Juliet, one of her favorites.  This story is exactly like Shakespeare's play except that there's a happy ending.  And the characters are actually garden gnomes, not humans.  As we walked toward Juliet's house, Kate insisted that I tell her the real story of Romeo and Juliet over and over and over.  She was much more disappointed that the characters were human, not gnomes, than by the fact that they both died at the end. (Will's response?  "They were in love and they both died?  Cool!  Love is GROSS!")  

After we finished with Juliet's house we wandered around Verona a bit, admiring the winding streets and  interesting architecture.

And the ubiquitous golden King Tut

In the US this building would look shabby and dilapidated, but in Europe?  Charming.  

Time for another dose of humiliation

I was just thinking the other day that I hadn't had any humiliating stories to tell lately.  I should've known better, because now I've got a good one.

I took the car to the gas station yesterday and -- listening to my bickering children -- was a little distracted as I fueled up.  The pump clicked off, I put the nozzle back and realized, with a sudden chill of horror, that I had just put GAS in my car.  My DIESEL car.  Merde.

I don't know much about cars, but I know that isn't good.  So I had to go back in to the gas station and explain to the attendants what I'd done.  They were very nice.  They helped me call the local auto club (thank goodness I joined!), pushed my car to the parking lot, and gave my children lollipops while we waited.

Kate had had her Christmas play that afternoon and was in full makeup (she was a doll).  In trying to explain the makeup, I inadvertently told the attendant  Kate had had cancer that morning.  Christmas cancer, to be exact.  In my defense, concert and cancer sound really similar in French.  Maybe that's why they got lollipops?  No, I think I clarified.  More humiliation...

The auto club towed my car to the local Toyota dealership and left it there to be repaired in the morning.   The kids and I took the bus to school this morning, a friend drove me to the airport to rent a car (got one of the last ones in Luxembourg!), and we hope to have our car back tomorrow.  Let's just not think about how much this little error will cost.

Of course, there is some good news:
•  I will be extra, extra careful to choose the right fuel from now on
• We now know how to take the bus to school
• I am perfectly proficient at explaining that I am an idiot in two languages!

:)

New car

Our search for a new car is finally over!  We're the proud owners of a 2007 Toyota Corolla Verso, which, though it looks small, can actually seat seven people -- handy for all those visitors we're expecting.  (There will be lots of visitors, right??)  Granted, the two seats in the back are best suited for little people or those who don't mind riding around with their knees tucked under their chins, but the flexibility is nice.

The car search -- in French -- was daunting, to say the least.  Once I figured out what kind of car we wanted, I scoured the used car listings, emailed the possibilities (with the help of Google Translate), and set up appointments to see cars.  This was one of the first ones we saw, thank goodness.   The seller spoke no English at all, but I managed to muddle through the appointment and test drive, express that we wanted to buy the car and then... tell him our relocation company would contact him to work out the details.

I caved.  I don't have the vocabulary to talk about cars (the seller may as well have been speaking Greek when he was telling me all the car's fabulous features), much less navigate the pitfalls of insurance and car registration.  The relocation assistant has been wonderful.  She's taking care of everything.  I think I may love her.

So here's our new car:

So far I love it.  It is a stick shift, but let me say it is SO, SO, SO much easier to drive than the other car!  It doesn't stall at the drop of the hat, I don't have to wrestle with the gear shift to put it in gear, and it's really easy to shift smoothly.  I'm beginning to think that rental car may have had some issues.  Maybe all the trouble I was having wasn't due to my inexpert driving??  Or at least not entirely.

I can only hope...

Jennifer's latest humiliation

Guess what it involves?  That's right, driving up a hill!

Every Tuesday, I go walking with a very nice group of moms from the kids' school.  Each week, one mom hosts and we explore a different trail for an hour or two, and then adjourn to the host's home for coffee and pastries (to make up for all the calories burned on the hike).  This week, the hike was near school so we started from there and then afterwards caravanned to the host's home.  Sometimes I'll ride with another mom, but this time I was on my own.  Fearing that there may be hills involved and thus, at best the possibility for humiliation, at worst, severe bumper damage, I tried to wait till I was sure to be the last one in the caravan.  I was nearly successful, with just one other driver behind me. I had no idea where I was going, my only hope being to follow the other drivers though I did have the address in my phone so I knew I could look it up on my phone GPS if necessary.

So, off we went. All was going well till we started to ascend a hill--no, a cliff, a true San Francisco-type hill sure to strike terror into the heart of every new stick-shift driver.  I was holding my breath, praying that I wouldn't have to stop, breaking out in a cold sweat as I saw the brake lights illuminate three cars ahead.  I slowed to a crawl, inching forward till the last possible second.  It was no good.  I had to stop.  As the car ahead of me started to move, not rolling back a millimeter (how do they do that????), my whole body went numb with panic.  The car behind me -- someone who knew me! the horror!! -- was too close for comfort (read:  nearer than six feet), so I took a deep breath, released the clutch as I pushed down on the gas and.... stalled horribly, the car bucking and jerking as if it were possessed.

Realizing this could take a while, I put on my hazards and waved at the car behind me to go around -- please!!!  She didn't move.  Now close to hyperventilation, I tried again.  Total failure.  I was so afraid of rolling back that I floored it, then panicked as the car leapt ahead, dropped the clutch and stalled.  My only hope  now was the parking brake, which I'd never been able to use properly despite several late-night practice sessions on steep, deserted hills.  I took another deep breath, pulled the parking brake, clutch in, gas, released the parking brake and -- I was off!  It worked!  Yes, I peeled out, leaving half the rubber from my tires on the street, but I didn't stall or crush the bumper of the car behind me.

By this time, of course, the caravan was long gone.  And I had no idea where to go.  And the poor, unwitting mom foolish enough to follow me was still on my tail.  I considered driving on as if I weren't part of the group (walking group?  what walking group?), leaving the other mom to fend for herself  but then I felt guilty.  Plus, she probably knew who I was, or at the very least she knew my car.  I'd never be able to show my face in the school parking lot again.  I'd have to collect the kids by bus from then on.  Or park three miles away and give them piggy back rides to the car.

Realizing I had no other choice, I pulled over and faced the music.  I was apologetic, she was excruciatingly nice.  I looked up the address on my phone GPS and we set off.  She insisted on following me despite my best efforts to convince her otherwise (I was the one with directions after all, so I guess she had a point.)  So rattled by the experience, I stalled twice on the way there for no good reason at all. I really don't do that anymore.  But each time I restarted the car so quickly, I don't think she noticed.  Icing on the cake, I had to borrow money from her for the parking meter.  Clearly, I am an idiot.

We walked in to the host's home to a barrage of questions, "What happened?  Did you get lost? Are you okay?"  Yes, again, I'm the idiot American who can't drive a stick shift.  All I could do was stuff a croissant in my mouth as quickly as possible so I couldn't answer any more questions.  To make matters worse, everyone was so nice, commenting that they're so used to driving manual cars that they forget how hard it is for us Americans. (Let's not implicate all Americans, here, I am sure it's just me.)

The plus side of this little experience?  I was so inspired my humiliation that (after googling "how to drive a stick shift uphill") I took the car out after the kids were in bed to the steepest hill in Luxembourg and practiced.  And practiced and practiced and practiced.  And?  I've got it now!  I started off using the parking brake 15 times in a row without stalling or rolling back, and today I deliberately stopped at  traffic light on a hill -- just for the fun of it! -- and started off without incident.  Whew!  Still, just to be safe, I will make absolutely certain that I am the last person in the caravan from here on out....

My humiliating moment of the day

Yet another car-related one, big surprise.

I was trying to parallel park the car on a hill -- a challenge I might've avoided under different circumstances, but it was a big spot, the street was quiet, and no one was around.  In the past couple of weeks, my driving has gotten much better:  I almost never stall even with all the stop and go traffic around here, I can get the car into and out of our tiny garage with ease, I shift at the right time without grinding gears, and I don't hyperventilate anymore -- except on hills.  This is my biggest challenge.  So, when I saw this chance to practice without anyone around, I jumped at it.

I pulled up next to the the car in front, took a deep breath, and got ready to back into the spot.  The nose of the car was pointing downhill, so of course when I started backing into the spot, I rolled forward..and panicked and stalled the car.  Unfazed, I restarted the car and tried again...and overcompensated and gave it too much gas, nearly taking out the street sign...and then stalled, again.  Still unfazed, I pulled out and tried one more time.  This time, I did fine, only rolled forward a little and reversed without stalling.  But my angle was wrong and I ended up too far on the sidewalk (everyone here parks on the sidewalk, but this was a bit too far, like nearly on the boulangerie's doorstep).

I pulled out one more time, and this time thought I'd experiment with using the parking brake to keep me from rolling forward -- something I haven't yet mastered.  Well, I still don't have it:  I stalled the car yet again.  Restarted and tried one more time.  Now I thought I'd experiment with letting the clutch out to the point where the car starts to shake before moving my foot from the brake to the gas, thinking I might be able to get moving a little faster this way.  I did -- way faster than I expected, causing me to nearly take out the street sign again, panic and stall the car one more time.  Confident that I had it now, I restarted the car, and backed into the parking spot perfectly without rolling forward at all.

Feeling triumphant, I started to get out of the car -- and noticed a group of men standing around, laughing and pointing.    I had been so engaged with my task, I didn't even see them before.  Hoping they'd go away, I sat in the car a minute or two, digging through my purse and trying to look busy.  But they didn't.  In fact, they called over another friend and pointed me out to him.  Since I was now nearly late to pick up the kids, I had no choice but to get out and face the crowd.  As I got out, they burst into a loud round of applause, complete with whistling and cheering.

What else could I do but take a bow, then walk away with my face blazing, hoping that they'd have dispersed by the time I got back to the car with the kids.

Idiot expat moment of the day:

Stalling three times while driving up an icy hill.

This is the hill* that makes me break out into a cold sweat each day as I take the kids to school.  It's right before a stoplight (naturally), and every morning I cross my fingers that the light will be green and I won't have to stop on the incline.  Today, the light turned green just as I was starting up the slope, so I inched forward and then downshifted to second just as I was nearly stopped because I'd heard you didn't need to shift into first as long as you had some forward motion.  Well, I guess that doesn't hold true on a hill, especially one covered in ice.  So I stalled out, panicked restarted the car as quickly as possible, only to realize I actually hadn't stalled:  the engine was still running.  This, of course, confused me so much that I did actually stall.  Then I tried starting off again, but had forgotten to shift to first.  So embarrassing!  I will say, however, that drivers here are incredibly gracious.  No one even honked at me or flipped me off or anything.  They just carefully went around me.

I did redeem myself somewhat by driving to Ikea (in Belgium!) on the autoroute without incident.  I thought that would be really hard but it's much easier than driving in town.  And I was very careful in Ikea not to make an idiot of myself:  I needed to buy some very large furniture so I meticulously measured the cargo space of the car first to ensure my purchases would fit.  And they did.  They were so heavy I had to drag them through the slush and manuever them with my legs to angle them into the car, but I did it.  And I was able to ask questions in the store (in French) and get answers that I understood.  Whew!  Shopping in a foreign country is rife with potential for making an idiot of oneself, so I'm feeling lucky that I only had one idiot moment today. :)

* Okay, it's not really a hill, especially by San Francisco standards, but it is enough of a slope that the car rolls back pretty quickly.  That's enough to scare me!

Idiot expat moment of the day:

Having to ask some random man at the gas station if my car took diesel or regular gas.  It said "Diesel" on the gas tank cap but surrounded by all these exclamation marks so I wasn't sure if it meant yes diesel or no diesel.  Fortunately, he was very kind and didn't laugh at me -- at least, I'm sure, until he drove away.