Mmm, hazelnut rolls...

Sorry again for the long time between updates, but what can I do? I'm typing this before checking my hotmail, so if I don't answer any questions you may have sent, I'll get to that later. I'm using a German keyboard, which is basically pretty much the same as an English one, except that the z and the y were switched around when nobody was looking.

To take up where I left off last time...this'll be a long one, so be prepared.

I did take the overnight train to Venice, only I had to take a regular seat because the bunks were all reserved. Note to self: spending the night slouched in the corner of a train compartment and being woken up every hour by either the conductor wanting to see your ticket or your inconsiderate compartment-mates is not conductive to an ideal frame of mind through which to view Venice the next day.

I arrived in Venice at about 7:30, flipped frantically through my Lonely Planet guide to find directions on how to get to a place to spend the night, found them, took the vaporetto to Giudecca and tried to join a convent. They said no, but they let me leave my things there and said they'd think about letting me spend the night. Thankfully, they did let me, so I spent that night in a convent dorm-room with 29 other girls, all of us in little iron beds with the flattest pillows I've ever seen.

Anyway, the hostel part of the convent being closed from 9 to 3, I had just enough time to wash up a bit before hitting the town. After having spent almost twenty-four hours in trains, you can imagine I didn't smell all that good. Not only that, I was starving. So I freshened up, took another vaporetto to Venice proper (well, the part of it that I wanted to see) and promptly got lost.

So far, I think I've gotten lost in Europe and average of once a day. After Venice, that average might be up to twice a day. Even with a map, it was no good. To begin with, I got off at the wrong vaporetto stop, then walked in the wrong direction, probably in circles, because there are no streets in Venice, only alleys and canals. At last, at *last*, I found the Piazza San Marco and was astounded by the number of pigeons there.

To tell the truth, I wasn't all that impressed with Venice. Maybe I was too tired and too hungry, but it struck me as being a sad city. Everything looks old and decrepit, its buildings in various states of decay, its people understandably sick of all the tourists. It was already lousy with us (strangely enough, many of them Italian themselves) and it isn't even the high season yet.

I went back to the convent early and was in bed by nine. Not all that early, considering the curfew there is ten o'clock sharp, after which they lock the doors and you're on your own.

The next morning, I happened to share a sink with a woman from Hull who was travelling with here teenage daughter. I spent the morning walking around the city with them, and she was kind enough to let me entrust her with a mask I bought. I'm sure one of my loving friends or family members will volunteer to call her and arrange to pick it up, right?

I took the train for Austria at 1 on the 28th. After three hours we had crossed the border and were still climbing steadily. Looking out at the lush mountains and valleys, it struck me that what was missing in Venice was greenery. But looking out the train window, I saw more shades of green than I had ever seen in my life, fresh young leaves, fir trees fringed in new growth like lace, a valley filled with trees that looked like nothing so much as a lake, each tree-top crested a different shade of green.

Arriving in Bruck, I made the train for Graz with seconds to spare. Now *that* was a proper train.

(continued)

I'm fairly sure I was in the second class wagon, but if that was second class, what was first class like? They probably give you a personal valet. In 2nd, the seats were cushy armchair seats, wide and well spaced from each other, even the curtains looked classy.

I arrived in Graz at around 8:30, got out my Lonely Planet to check the map, and headed out of the station. I had to turn right, and as I looked for a street sign, to make sure I was heading in the right direction, I saw something that almost sent chills down my spine. I was at an intersection, and there were street signs for BOTH streets, and I could see them! Walking on, my suspicions were confirmed and tears of joy welled up in my eyes. I felt like getting down on my knees and kissing the ground.

Why?, you ask? Because Austrians, or at least the good citizens of Graz, believe in putting street signs at every corner where they can be seen. They believe in putting up helpful signs indicating in which direction you should go to reach certain important places. This is nothing unusual, but to someone who has spent the last eleven days getting lost in France because the French see no point in putting street signs at roundabouts, this was a small miracle.

I arrived at the hostel, found out they had no more beds for the night, and so spent the night at the Hotel Strasser. It was cheap, clean, and I had my own room, so I could have stayed up all night and not bothered anyone. But I didn't. I turned out my light at ten. How pathetic. At any rate, I'm so far *below* my budget that I can allow myself these little luxuries.

Last night was also a momentous occasion for another reason: I had my first conversation in German. It went something like this.

I was leaving the hotel to find something to eat when I reached the door at the same time as the middle-aged lady I assume was the owner. She opened the door and stood aside to let me pass, and said, "Bitte." I said "Danke!" and she answered "Bitte," with a smile. Wonderful, eh? I also had several similar conversations today when buying food, most of which consisted of me saying "Ein (point and read little sign), bitte," and "Danke."

Another reason to celebrate today: I did my laundry. The first time this trip, I actually used a washer and dryer. This was not just washing my underwear in a sink, this was a real load of laundry. And the smell of clean clothes really is one of the most pleasant smells in the world, especially when you've spent the last three days wearing sweaty, grungy clothes because you couldn't find a washing machine.

One of the fun things about foreign countries is their advertising. The ad that struck me the most, here, shows a smiling old lady dressed as Napoleon. What on earth is she trying to sell me?!

I walked around Graz, today, and it's a lovely town. I'm staying at the hostel tonight, and tomorrow I'm off to Wien! I have clean clothes and a full stomach.

I'm happy.