International Hi-Jinx: Episode II // 2004-02-06

- We drove through south-western Germany passing Heidelberg, Karlsruhe, Strasbourg, Colmar, Freiburg and other Mannheim-like cities through torrents of rain. There were german grocery trucks to the left of us, a yellow VW Passat filled with dogs to the right for almost 300 km. Fields of wet sod and mossy gray grassfields, anticipating spring's corn and sunflowers, flanked the highway. The ends of my sleeves were still wet making my fingers cold. We ate 'Merci' chocolate and talked dazedly, zooming towards Switzerland. Looking at his profile as he drove, I still couldn't believe my senses. After Basel the rain stopped and the sky opened over the Alps, like spilled ink on white paper. Luzern, San Gottardo, Bellinzona and we glided over the Swiss-Italian boarder as easily as one passes between rooms. Then came Como, Bergamo, and finally - Milano. A sign proclaimed us 280 km from Florence, 200 from Venice.

- Then came… Yellow-faced house with red gate, small red christmas lights wrapped on green metal railing, silver Fiat Barchetta -

orange-lit dashboard proclaiming 12C 110 km/h a half-empty tank. A door opened revealing a warm rectangle of a room and then I met everyone. And it was an affair of smiling. And it was good.

- December 27th 3 tunnels through the Alps, jade green lake Como, white waterfalls down mountain-side, sitting by the fire in mountain house, smelling firewood burn I could not warm myself, we were to spend the next three days in the company of Play Station, Nelly, Antonio, Davide, and…

- cat-eyed Silvia, her clear voice with every word carefully pronounced as if she spoke a language learned and not native - later I watched her mix cocaine with my student card, she snorted it in one almost-graceful swoop then downed a spoon of sugar, a mouthful of mint vodka "Cazzo! com'e' amaro"… later still, I watched her eat piecess of parmigano cheese on the cot wrapped in a green blanket, blonde hair

spilling like comet tails with her head leaned back stopping a nose bleed. She questioned me, paraniod. She wanted to know everything. Then she said in a low, defeated voice: "Everyone does this here you know, even school teachers, people with children"..she answered accusatons I never made.

It seems I have the same confession-inducing effect on people the world-over.

- Then came the dreading of his blue-screened Ericsson mobile telephone which brought torrents of unrest each time it went off reminding me that I shouldn't really be there; his ex called twice in one afternoon, a looming reminder that I was walking into a play, 28 years late. We ate coffee-flavoured gelato, and napped on white pillows - he dreamed I was holding his hands. Later we walked over cracked pavement and cobblestone in Monza where the air smelled like cotton candy. I looked into store windows en route and saw thongs and really fantastic fucken boots. Church bells struck eleven times and we went home, watched Executive Decision on TV, it was dubbed in italian and we laughed watching Kurt Russell speak in tongues.

- The first morning he left for work at 5. I laid in that bed wide awake, a loneliness so crushing descended on me I thought it would swallow me whole. I don’t think words could ever caputre precisely how it is when reality of the thrilling adventure you imagined finally hits and you realize the full scope of the situation. I was alone in a room pitch black save the navy slats of dawn seeping in through the shutters, and a coldness which seeped through the tile floors. I was lying in thick silence the kind that is so complete it deafens you. I was somewhere in some city in some country on some continent, years from my next of kin. I willed myself to sleep and when I woke up next the room was filled with light my knuckles bloodless and so cramped from uneasy, cover-clenching sleep, it took 10 minutes to regain the use of my right hand. I found a men’s fashion magazine and read frightening articles which from what I could surmise from my limited knowledge of the language, gave men tips on easy fuck-n-run etiquette. “If your girlfriend is catholic, the easiest way to end your relationship is to tell her that you will never consider marrying in a church”. And when I saw him come through the door at two, all fear and doubt left me as if I had never felt it at all.

- In the days that followed: eating mayonnaise with Stefano and talking about Pennywise, soaring church bells in dim morning light, the congregation of his friends on Christmas Eve and me feeling somewhat like a mail-order bride, an imported oddity, everyone assuming me American they spoke to me loudly and slowly. I felt welcomed but foolish; "You are not at your house for Natale? Ma come mai? E cosa ne pensano i tuoi?" that first morning’s darkenss envelopped me again, there were girls I didn’t think could exist in real life not 10 centimeters from me standing in D&G boots; "She is a model, her father works for RAI" I was explained. I felt invisible and on display at the same time. Like I was watching myself from a distance.

- A man passing by on the street sang "Siamo La Coppia Piu Bella Del Mondo" to us as we walked to the orange subway:

Crescenzago-Cimiano-Udine-Lambrate-Piola-Loreto-Lima-Porta Venezia-Palestro-San Babila. Two gypsies with accordions came into our subway car and played music wildly and beautifully as only they know how while I hid my face in his coat lapels after glimpsing the rows of blank, snobbish faces of the passangers reflected in the plexiglass I faced. I thought my heart would break at that moment at their apathy. He whispered something about hating ‘those people’ and I asked him why. He couldn’t answer me. We left the train at the next stop. We walked along Via Napoleone + Sant'Andrea, Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II, expolred the Castello Sforzesco medieval museum, and touched furry dog carrying shoulder bags in Fiorucci. We walked into a bourgy optical store and bought a contact lens case I had forgotten to bring – the whole time in Germany I kept my lenses in a film container. They put my purchase in a deep red Salvatore Ferragamo bag. Then we followed the main street and entered the Duomo. He asked me to marry him under a gigantic Jesus and I said yes.

In retrospect, I realize the agreement is pretty binding based on the giant Jesus thing alone.

- We spent New Year's eve on the couch, fell asleep watching The Rocky Horror Picture Show on TV at 12:10. At 7 in the morning we woke and started the six-hour journey back to Mannheim. Through fogs and rains. We spoke little - what could be said? We listened to Shania Twain sing "I'm Gonna Getcha" on the Swiss radio 4 times. It reminded me of Canada, and I cannot explain to you in words how much I didn't want it to.

Part 3

Coming Soon.... The Swedish hi-jinx and tips on how to spend 15 hours in a German airport without losing your mind.

make it so // engage