Thanksgiving

Though we were in Scotland, we did manage to celebrate Thanksgiving with some Americans. Our friends Abby and Jake were visiting from Princeton this week. We went to Loch Lomond and the Highlands on Tuesday and Wednesday, then came back to St. Andrews for Thanksgiving. Our friends Andy and Laurel and their kids Rylan and Lucas also came over. We had all the fixins. I made sweet potato casserole.

On Friday, I made sure to ask my Scots and English classmates if they had a good Thanksgiving. One said, "Is that one of those holidays where you hate the English?" I said, "It's something like that, but we celebrate when we sailed away from those oppressive English--and now, ironically, some of us Americans are celebrating this in the UK." It was good to celebrate Thanksgiving in Scotland--a place where people both love and hate the English.

botched pilgrimage

On our last morning in Rome, we went to the Vatican. We considered going into the museums and seeing the Sistine Chapel, but the line was out the door and around the corner (even on a weekday in November). Instead, we went to St. Peter's.

I had been looking forward to coming here for a long time. I always felt like it was one of the five sacred pilgrimages any good Presbyterian should make (Jerusalem, Rome, Geneva, Edinburgh/St. Andrews, and, of course, Princeton). Regrettably, I found it to be a negative experience.

St. Peter's is an amazing structure. It felt good standing on the outside knowing that the most impressive structure in Rome was built to and for the glory of God. We went inside and it was still incredible, but different. There is a prominent statue in the nave of Ignatius Loyola with his foot on the back of a Protestant Reformer. The Reformer was looking up at Ignatius with fear in his eyes while holding up a book (a Bible?). And to the side, you could take communion and confess--but only if you were Roman Catholic. Suddenly, I was an outsider in my pilgrimage site. More than that, I felt like my tradition was the enemy to be overcome. At Vatican II, Protestants were elevated to the status of "separated brethren." I guess I just didn't realize how separate we really were.

As such, I'm thinking about removing Rome from the pilgrimage list. Possible replacements include Zurich, Heidelberg, Richmond (Va.), Westminster (London) and Seoul. Or maybe it should be Rome sans Vatican. After all, where would the Reformed faith be without Paul's letter to the Romans?

a word about Italian breakfasts

French breakfast was bad enough. Espresso and a croissant for 10 Euros--but at least you got a seat. In Italy, you don't even get a seat. You just walk in, step up to the bar, order your espresso and croissant, eat, pay too much, and leave. Your legs are tired, your wallet is empty, and your still thristy.

As we moved north, things got better. In Switzerland and Germany, I sat down every morning, had a full breakfast, and drank several lattes. I'm starting to think that colder weather and higher latitudes=bigger breakfasts. In Scotland, people eat a huge "Scottish Breakfast." I wonder what they eat for breakfast in Norway?

But the Italian breakfast is in stark contrast to the Italian supper. Supper was always several courses: (1) antipasto, (2) pasta, (3) meat, (4) cheese, and (5) dessert. Must be because they're so hungry after not eating anything else all day. It was far too much food--Stacey and I would usually just order pasta and a bottle of wine (cheaper than anything else including water).

American Politics in Europe

Kerry conceded the Presidential Election sometime between the time that we took off from Glasgow and landed in Rome. We saw the news in our hotel room on CNN. Because of this election, I knew that it would be an interesting time to be traveling in Europe.

All over Italy, there was graffiti about Bush and the War. It was mainly the War--not Bush and morals, not Bush and economics, etc. While I could appreciate that protest, it did seem a bit ironic in light of Italy's place in WWII. I guess that they have seen what war can do to a country and they are very much against it. The graffiti was also in Switzerland and Germany, though to a lesser extent.

When Stacey and I were in the Cinque Terra, I was approached by an Italian documentary maker to be interviewed about the election and American politics. I was happy to do so. When I asked if I might see myself on TV in America, she replied, "I don't deal with America."

On the whole, American government and politics are incredibly unpopular in Europe now (the headline in one tabloid newspaper in the UK the day after the election read, "How could 59,000,000 people be so dumb?). Ironically, American culture still remains very popular. We were treated well everywhere we went. And we saw American culture everywhere we went. CNN and MTV are standard fare for TV's in hotels everywhere we've been. I watched Popeye "the Mariner" in Italian in Venice, the Simpsons in German in Switzerland, and Full House in German in Rothenberg. Simply put, American movies, music, and brands are ubiquitous.

bag-o-beer

We returned from an 11 day tour of Italy, Switzerland, and Germany yesterday. It was incredible! We had a great time and saw so many things that I could blog on and on 'til the highland cows come home. Instead, I'll just try to add several small blogs over the next week or so.

As for our route, we flew into Rome. From there we went to the Cinque Terra, Pisa, Florence, and Venice. From Venice, we took a scenic route over the Alps on a train to Interlaken. From Interlaken we went to Rothenburg (Germany) via Zurich. Finally, we went to Heidelberg and flew home from Frankfurt. The trip went smoothly...except for the last day.

We were in Heidelberg on the last day--worn out and ready to come home. As such, we decided to break with cultural experiences and have our last meal at the Hard Rock Cafe. Stacey had an Elvis Presley Burger and I had a Beach Boys Burger while listening to the Rolling Stones (surprisingly, the HRC in Heidelberg is very inexpensive).

From there, we took the train and then a bus to the airport. We were there 2.5 hours before our flight and hoping to get to Glasgow in time to hear the Georgia game from an internet cafe. Instead, our flight was delayed four hours and we didn't land in Scotland until about 1 AM. When I got my bag, it was wet from a souvenir beer bottle that broke inside. It was too late to take the train to Glasgow (let alone Edinburgh or St. Andrews), so we decided to get a hotel near the airport in the little town of Ayr. We took a cab to the only hotel in Ayr, but it was booked full. But we couldn't just get another cab, we had to wait in a line in downtown Ayr for about 30 minutes with every drunk person in town. When we finally got a cab, we went to the nearby town of Prestwick and found a room. We wrung the beer out of my clothes and made it to bed by 3 AM.

Needless to say, we missed church the next day. But even with that last day, the trip was great. I'll write more about it later. Check back soon.