Rome

"I've seen much of the rest of the world. It is brutal and cruel and dark, Rome is the light."
--Maximus Decimus Meridius



With only two and a half days in Rome, we had to carefully budget our time in order to make it to all of the critically important sites this city has to offer. Naturally, we spent the first afternoon at the "Time Elevator" theme ride. Since I went to public school, history was not a mandatory offering. Nevertheless, I somehow made it through Mr. Hendricks' Area Studies class with an A, recovering from an embarrassing incident in which I was asked in front of the whole class what Lenin's first name was. I still maintain that "Love me do" had as much if not more of an impact on Western Civilization as the Communist regime in Russia. The Time Elevator was just the thing I needed to brush up on my Roman History and prepare me for the sights of the next couple days. Like any good documentary, it contained lots of fictional narrator type characters for comic relief and to keep you interested and entertained. I could tell that all the other members of the audience (most of whom were about 5 years old) appreciated this as much as I did. After getting a good introduction to Roman history, we proceeded to hammer out the Vatican, Colosseum, Forum, Rostrum, Senate, Mamartine Prison, Pantheon, Temple of Julius Caesar, and the Arch of Constantine. It was quite an education. For example, after his "grand exit" from St. Peters, the Holy Father was whisked away in a vehicle known as the Pope-mobile. I'm not making this up. Can you please tell me why no one has capitalized on this theme for a Bruce Willis movie complete with its own line of action figures? "Your eminence, the jihadists are angry with the remarks in your speech. We must flee. To the Pope-mobile!!" Then they would have the Snoop-Dogg soundtrack playing as he rappels down from the tower into the vehicle, which would be a slightly modified jet turbine version of the H2.

Florence

"I never wanted this for you. I work my whole life - I don't apologize - to take care of my family, and I refused to be a fool, dancing on the string held by all those bigshots. I don't apologize - that's my life - but I thought that, that when it was your time, that you would be the one to hold the string. Senator Corleone; Governor Corleone. Well, it wasn't enough time, Michael. It wasn't enough time."
--Vito



I don't know what you've heard, but the David surpasses all expectations and hype. I'm an art idiot, but this sculpture even took my breath away. But probably the highlight of the Florence leg was a little restaurant you won't read about in Rick Steves called "Il Latini." Unable to make reservations, we arrived to find a mob scene outside the front door of this establishment. It became clear rather quickly that there would not be anyone taking our names or handing us a little buzzer like you get at the Olive Garden, so I did my best Johnny Fontaine impersonation and walked to the front of the group like they should have been expecting us. Within seconds we were sitting down and embarking on a 7 course meal that involved several dishes I had never even heard of. During the evening, my Italian vocabulary tripled (meaning I could now say three words) as we conversed with the locals in this incredible joint.

Cinque Terre

"The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the work of his hands."
--Psalm 19:1



After taking in the tower, we boarded a train for Europe's ultimate back door--Cinque Terre. This group of five towns hovers on the cliffs overlooking the blue waters of the Ligurian sea just south of Portofino. Monterosso, Vernazza, Corniglia, Manarola, and Riomaggiore--you have to see them to believe them. As was once reported in the LA Times: "The Cinque Terre is one of those places people tend to read about once and then dream about forever." I still haven't woken up from the dream. It was in one of these tiny villages that I really got to experience my first dose of Italian cuisine. Unsure of what to order, I recalled my brother's preference for Gnocci every time we ate in Little Italy after his travels in Europe. Let me tell you that Amicci's will never even come close to the real thing, baby. Our 2 days in the Italian riviera were probably as close to heaven as I've been in this life, but they were over in a flash.

Pisa

"You can only lean against that which resists.”
--Indian Proverb



Without a doubt, the climax of my European adventures occurred during the last week and a half as I traveled through Italy with Houston friends Sam and Leslie. We caught a flight out of London Stansted at the butt crack of dawn headed for Pisa. As we were standing in the "queue" waiting to get on the flight, Leslie whispered to me that we were in the company of greatness. I quickly glanced over my shoulder, did a double take, and realized that she was right--one of our fellow Ryan Air passengers was a bona fide celebrity. It's always difficult to know how to conduct yourself in this kind of situation. You figure these guys get so sick and tired of signing autographs and not being able to go anywhere without being mobbed by people that you don't want to add to the problem just for the cheap thrill of saying you met a celebrity. Obviously the thing to do is come up with some sort of clever line to acknowledge your appreciation of the person without totally getting in their business. For some reason, I've always found that difficult. I think it has to do with the nature of the celebrities I've come into contact over the years. I mean, what are you supposed to say to people like...

John Elway (pre Super Bowl victories). "Hey John, this could be the year. All you guys have to do is put away Jacksonville!"
Tom Landry (post Jimmy Johnson Super Bowl victories). "Dude, just think what YOU could have done with Troy Aikman and Neon Deion!"
Mike Dukakis. "What's happenin' governor? Hey, is it true the Greek translation of your last name is MONDALE??"
John Kerry. "Oh my gosh! It's John Kerry!! My stomach is doing flip flops!!!"

So you can understand the context when I contemplated my options for confronting Andy Serkis...
1. Hey Andy, do you know if there's a meal on this flight? Spoilin' nice fish. Give it to us raw and w-r-r-riggling; you keep nasty chips!
2. Gotta love these early morning flights. Master should be resting, Master needs to keep up his strength.
3. Did that guy stop you and ask for your passport? He wants the precious. Always he is looking for it. And the precious is wanting to go back to him... But we mustn't let him have it.
4. I don't know about you but I'm ready to leave England with this cold weather rolling in. I want to leave now and never come back! What? Leave now and never come back! {brief silence} We told him to go away... and away he goes! Gone, gone, gone!

Ultimately, we decided not to approach him. This was primarily based on the fact that we couldn't come up with his last name and were divided on the issue of whether he would prefer to be addressed as Gollum or Smeagol. I of course immediately wished that Daniel was along on the trip. I'd have loved to see Andy approach him and be like: "Orlando, what in the heck are you doing flying Ryan Air?"

1066

"War is an ugly thing, but not the ugliest of things. The decayed and degraded state of moral and patriotic feeling which thinks that nothing is worth war is much worse. The person who has nothing for which he is willing to fight, nothing which is more important than his own personal safety, is a miserable creature and has no chance of being free unless made and kept so by the exertions of better men than himself."
--John Stuart Mill



One consequence of spending three decades in formal education is that you inevitably wind up in a lecture asking yourself: "Who in the world could possibly give a rat's crap about this stuff?" Such was the case in my medical school genetics course when they started talking about sonic hedgehog and I realized much to my disappointment that the word "sega" was not to be introduced in the discussion at any point. In contrast, there have been other times when I sat back and marveled at what I was being taught, thinking: "I don't care what profession you're in, this stuff is completely relevant." This was my college experience with the many Military Arts and Sciences courses I was required to take. Consequently, I don't think there will ever be a day when I'll grow weary of seeing and learning about the battle sights that shaped history. After being blown away by Bunker Hill and Gettysburg, you can imagine my excitement at traveling to a continent that offers Agincourt, Waterloo, and of course Normandy.

So it was that on the exact date of the 940th anniversary of the Battle of Hastings that I found myself in East Sussex watching a reenactment of the decisive victory in the Norman conquest of England. It was during this conflict that William the Conqueror defeated King Harold II and remains the last time that England was occupied by a foreign power. This was my first time watching a reenactment, and I have to admit that in retrospect I actually prefer viewing the empty field and letting my imagination run wild. Call me a perfectionist, but I maintain that the fight scene in the 19swhmarmaea {covering mouth with hand} Robbinsdale Armstrong High School production of "Shane 2: The Revenge of the Shane" was superior in every aspect. Granted, I may be a little biased having directed and starred in that film. Don't worry if you haven't seen it, we never released it on video...that's how you develop a cult following. Anyway, I think what was really missing from this reenactment was some closeups of the blood and gore that was surely a major element in the struggle. I'm thinking next year we put up massive projection screens encircling the battlefield and then have about a dozen soldiers wearing helmet cams. The climax of the battle would come when we see one of the Norman knights ride up to Harold and swing his axe just below his helmet cam. The next thing we would see is his head falling off (from the first-person perspective) back and to the left...back and to the left. I realize that this may not be entirely historically accurate, but for the sake of the children in the audience I think we should give them something to remember. To clarify, they haven't asked me to do the writing for this but the ideas just keep popping...

Paris

"Back home everyone said I didn't have any talent. They might be saying the same thing over here but it sounds better in French."
--Gene Kelly as Jerry Mulligan



Last week I made a snap decision to catch the Eurostar with my friend Aaron and spend the weekend in Paris. We were greeted by spectacular weather and after taking in the world's finest artwork at the Louvre, strolling down the Rue de Cler, visiting Napoleon's tomb, and pondering the brilliance of "The Thinker," we were finally on our way back to the hotel to pick up our things and wrap up a much needed break from the cloudy England weather. That's when the adventure began.

I had been looking all weekend for a specific bank that I could withdraw funds from and not pay the $5 fee. As we were nearing the Arc de Triumphe, Aaron noticed the ATM I had been looking for, and I quickly shoved in my card and entered my PIN. It was at this moment that the Americans at the ATM next to me warned me to watch out for three children that were lingering around--they were pickpockets. Thankful for the heads up, I quickly protected my man purse that contained in excess of $1000 in electronics. I asked them nicely to back off, and in response they proceeded to swarm on me, covering up the ATM screen as if trying to get me to purchase a magazine they were holding up. At first I wasn't too concerned. Being from Baltimore, I actually have a great deal of experience with all varieties of crime. In fact, the last time I was in Paris I remember watching as my mom performed a Chuck Norris Power Ranger round kick to bring down a failed pickpocket attempt by a young man that took my dad's wallet. Given the evolving nature of the situation, I followed rule #1: generate attention. In my USAFA freshman-hazing voice, I began yelling many things to the children in French. Unfortunately, my command of the language is a little weak, so the children didn't seem to get the picture when I sounded off: JE VOUDRAIS ALLER AU SALLE DE BAINS!!!!! (OK, it wasn't quite that bad but pretty close). At this point, I canceled out my transaction, grabbed my ATM card, and Aaron and I both evacuated the scene. It was just at this moment that three large men appeared and aggressively approached me, stating that these children had stolen my money. Being 100% certain that I had cancelled the ATM transaction and being absolutely convinced that these guys were part of the scam, I bolted. That's when things got confusing. Instead of letting me run (which is the textbook response that is taught to criminals in entry level courses) they pursued me. I ducked down into the Metro, thinking that my odds of finding a law enforcement professional or government worker to sound the alarm were greatest in this setting. They converged on me, threw me against the wall, whipped out their billy clubs and pointed at a concealed pistol. At the same time, they pulled out badges that were around their necks that said "Police" on them and looked very similar to the ones I saw recently at Walmart in the "5 and under" section. During the next 15 minutes, they proceeded to say things about the United States of America that are not fit to print on this blog. At this moment it was obvious that these guys were members of Al Qaeda... Or they were French... One of the men began making threats, saying that if I tried to go anywhere he would beat me Rodney King style. Several times I was threatened with an arrest. Obviously none of this behavior matched the kind of conduct I would expect from a law enforcement professional, particularly since I had done nothing but allegedly leaving behind some money at an ATM. Aaron immediately called one of our friends in London, got the number for the US Embassy, and we began to sort things out. It was obvious where things were headed. They were going to pull up in a car and ask us to get in and go to the station to file a report on the kids. Having a close friend who almost died after getting in a car after being held at gunpoint, I wasn't very enthusiastic about this option. As long as it was an obvious police vehicle driven by a uniformed officer, however, there was nothing to worry about. Right. So when an unmarked van showed up driven by a guy in civilian clothes with an eyebrow ring and smoking a cigarette, I wasn't exactly supremely confident that these guys were legit. We insisted on speaking with a uniformed officer, much to the disgust of the three men. Our friend at the Embassy began walking towards the scene, communicating with us on his cell. Finally, amidst some heated threats one of the men brought in some uniformed officers who assured us that everything was OK. After we got in the car, the driver (who I think was Captain Bezu Fache) peeled off down the Champs Elysses nearly colliding with another vehicle at several points during the journey. Evidently in Paris transporting two Americans and three ten-year-olds to the police station in order to spend the next 3 hours filling out paperwork qualifies as an emergency situation worthy of placing pedestrian lives at risk. We finally made it to the station, filed the report, and recovered the money. After missing our return train and rescheduling for several hours later, Aaron and I took time to thank God for protecting us. We also expressed our sincerest appreciation to the French officers who had helped bring these young criminals to justice. I'm guessing this was their first experience with the concept of gratitude, so hopefully next time we have to liberate their country from Germany they too will remember to say "Thanks!"