Traveling while black: Germany and France

So in part three of my travel and race series I combine Germany and France. I visited these countries during my study abroad in England in the early 2000s. One thing I have noted in my travels is that  some people in other countries are surprised that you, as a person of color, can vacation internationally. This sentiment is changing, however, during that time in Europe I encountered many a person  who could not fathom that I was American.

Now this was after 9/11 and there was a lot of anti-Bush sentiment from all groups so I didn't go shouting it from the roof tops that I was a US citizen. But I swear, people would guess that I was everything but. I got that I was first English, then from a country in Africa (forgot which one), Canadian, Jamaican.

This view is changing slowly but surely now (check out instagram travelnoire for proof) as more and more black people in this country are traveling overseas far and wide. But apparently in the early 2000s this wasn't so? I once again blame the media as I suppose a lot of our television exports of black people were not just Girlfriends and Oprah (I'm looking at you The Wire) so perhaps others simply thought we were too poor to travel? I'd even hear from other black travelers that they'd get mistaken for famous because apparently this is the only way we'd be on travel?

 Let me not get onto my soapbox about the importance of experiencing different cultures if you are lucky enough to be in a position to do this. But, just travel, it'll change your life. Okay so a quick take on Germany and France from the eyes of a person of color.

First Paris, France. I was only here for about 4 days. I did not feel uncomfortable here at all. It's diverse (it attracts a lot of french speaking African people and, therefore, there were places catering to black hair and beauty which is something I'm always kinda sorta checking for when I travel).  This is not surprising as the history of France, although rooted in slavery as well, became more open decades before the U.S. did (it's why Josephine Baker move there, I think, but there were many more black artist who became expats because of the tolerance of the French).  If anything, the main thing I noticed about the French was that they just wanted you to respect their culture and language. They had no problem ignoring you if you asked for directions in English but if you asked for help in some butchered French they were very accommodating and would speak English back to help. I guess it was the effort that counts and we didn't want to be seen as "the ugly American" anyway. Especially not at that time when Americans were such targets. Paris, in the end, is a lovely place and I'd recommend it.

On to Germany. I was here for almost a week in Heidelberg and Frankfurt. I must admit, I was nervous to come here. I mean, with a history of the Holocaust and Neo-Nazis I didn't think a brown girl with the last name Solomon was going to be welcomed. In the airport military/police walked around with rifles which was a first for me so I was even more unnerved. Of course I got "randomly" questioned along with my friend but I wasn't surprised. But, as with many things, time changes attitudes. Of course I've heard current stories of black people facing racism and even assult in Germany. However, for the 4 or 5 days I was there, I felt no racism. I felt stares, lots of them. There are some people of color in Germany but its not a melting pot, at least it wasn't 10 or so years ago. So when a brown girl shows up with natural hair, well I get a couple of looks. But they were looks of interest not distain. I didn't mind the stares since I understood where it was coming from and at least no one asked to touch my hair (this happened to a friend when we were in Spain, however, it was a child so she let her play with her braids).

The music didn't stop when I entered a room. In fact when my friend went to a beauty salon to see if she could get her hair done, although they were not equipped to do "black" hair, they were friendly about trying. My friend opted not to get it done though. When I think of Germany, I think of history, friendly people of today, food, clothes that actually fit me (because they are a curvy people) and a city (Frankfurt) so clean you can eat food off the ground (don't worry, I didn't). Frankfurt of today is not a frightful city to me so it got my stamp of approval.

Misadventures in Italy: The Final Chapter

Day Six: Chonk Chong

Was a busy day, we went to the picturesque and medieval San Gimignano in the Tuscan countryside. If you go, check out the gelato and the Museum of Torture (wicked). We then headed over to a Tuscan winery for a tour and wine and olive oil tasting. Not the best but still an experience. We went out again our last night but didn’t have as much fun. We are the dancing type of girls, not the sit and be seen kind. I want to sip a drink and do a two step or engage in conversation preferably with the opposite sex. We were out on a Wednesday but the places we hit up (Lockness Lounge, Moyo) were all packed. I did encounter the cutie from the previous night but he didn’t stick around too long with me (maybe he was a bit peeved I didn’t call him like he asked?).

Day Seven: Chonk (getting tired)

Was the longest day ever. We were on and off the coach all day. In Italy bus drivers can only drive for 2 ½ hours and then they must get a mandatory break. We hit Pisa and tried to take some creative shots in front of the tower but failed miserably (okay it was hot and we were tired). Then we went to Verona where the real Romeo and Juliet inspiration supposedly came to Shakespeare. Whatever, I could have taken a pass. By the time we got to Venice it was 10 at night. And wouldn’t you know Contiki had the nerve to put us in the suburbs of Venice with no access to nightlife. You had to take a pilgrimage to get to the main islands like San Marco. I mean seriously, I could get to D.C. from Baltimore (assuming no traffic) in less time. Where’s the fun in that? The hotels were a bit better, although no TV stations were in English. You just don’t do young people like that.


Day Eight: Chonk

We traveled to San Marco island in Venice which I loved. We shopped (I bought some Italian leather sandals, so cute! And several Murano glass pieces, what Venice is known for). We also took a gondola ride which was really nice and involved several boats of Asian tourist taking pictures of us. I’d like to believe it was because they thought we were an up and coming girl group but I really suspect it was because they had never seen black people in “real life” and wanted to capture the moment. They were very friendly about it, smiled and waved. We posed for our paparazzi and waved back, what can ya do?

All in all it was a long and tiring day which involved us telling African vendors selling crap to leave us alone. It was incessant. I even saw some of them block the path or grab some tourists by the arm who obviously hadn’t rocked the New York/Baltimore “mean mug” so they wouldn’t bother them. My sister went off on one of them. I was really praying it wasn’t going to be some international black on black crime but he walked away after he dropped the F bomb on her.

Day Nine: Chonk

Back to Rome with the second longest trek ever (and with Contiki kindly NOT booking our extra night like it did ALL the rest of the travelers who had a post stay, we had to book our own hotel and get our own transport to the hotel – i.e. drag our luggage SEVERAL blocks to the taxi stand in which my taxi group paid 10 euros more than others did to get to the same place- seriously think a storm cloud is over my head sometimes). We attempted to grab an early dinner/late lunch but apparently the Italians do not believe in the senior citizen meal time because none of them served dinner until around 630/7pm. So we passed time by going window shopping around Via del Corso. We had our last meal at a lovely outdoor lounge. I still remember that meal *thoughts trailing off*

Okay so we couldn’t leave Rome without trying the night life. But only three of the six had the energy to get out so we got dolled up and hit the town. We caught a cab to a place called La Masion which we heard was good. First thing we noticed, it was down an alley off of another (yet busier) alley. Now most of the cities in Italy seem to have alleys with lots of shops and they will stick a shop in any space they can find (we saw one store literally the size of a bathroom stall) so that didn’t deter us. What did was the swastika spray painted on a wall of the alley. Another sign you aren’t in the U.S. If someone spray painted a sign of hate near your establishment you’d rush to get it off but in a city where diversity isn’t as prevalent and you were actually allied with Nazi Germany, well maybe that just isn’t number one on your mind.

So the place did not look busy and we decided it’d be best to move on. We had drinks at a cute bar called Anima and then headed over to another equally as cute spot called Fluid. We met some more cute Italians and engaged in meaningless conversation the rest of the night. They wanted to take us dancing afterwards but alas, we only had enough euros for a cab ride home. No problem, they said they could drive us. Again, not trying to end up on the strobe doped up on heroine so we declined and parted ways. Still had fun.

But the fun was over. On day ten we flew back to BWI airport. The flight was ridiculously long and to top it off my luggage decided it did not want to come back with me and it was another 12 hours after landing before I saw it again- again US Airways, you suck as per usual.

But I made it back to tell the tale and I hope it inspires you to check out that fabulous place called Italy…just go with another airline… and another tour group.

Misadventures in Italy Part Three

Days Three and Four: Clonk Clong

Note to all considering taking a tour group: Sleep will be little. Each day began with me waking up around 630am in order to make the tour/bus for the day’s activity. Having to drag a huge suitcase several blocks to a tour bus every other day, not so much fun. I had to take a vacation from my vacation!

So we went to see the Roman Colosseum which was cool but we decided at this point not to roll with Contiki anymore unless we had to so we left the tour group after that and then shopped at the Porta Portese flea market. Now if you are a shopper like me then this is a must to hit up. Great place to buy purses, scarves, jewelry, shoes and clothes. Remember to bargain! I am still angry that I bought a purse for 18 euros then walked a little further and found a similar purse for 7 euros. Lesson learned: good things come to those who wait!

That evening we went for pizza (yes again, don’t judge) courtesy of the Contiki package and I got serenaded by the wonderful Italian singer working there (Okay, I’m not special, some of my friends were serenaded too).

The next day we hit the Vatican City, it was just okay for me. I’m not Catholic or a history buff and after a two and a half hour tour, seeing the Sistine Chapel just didn’t hit me as profound. I just wanted to sit down somewhere.

We then traveled on to Florence where we were met with the same less than pleasant accommodations, however at least we didn’t have to hold the shower nozzle! We went for dinner where I had spaghetti with marinara sauce (not a red meat eater) which was still rather tasty. Then we went for karaoke which I love to do in DC so of course I had to try it out in another country at the Red Garter. Had a great time! Then we hit up a bar and some girls in the Contiki group wanted to go dancing so the tour guide took us to a club he heard would be good. My friends took a look around at the crowd and said, no thanks. Looked a little Jersey Shoreish (who incidentally were also filming while we were there). And no we did not see the Jersey Shore cast although some in our tour group did party with them (I’m not hatin though, okay I was bummed. Instead of taking us to a cool bar like he did these other tour group members, our guide sent us to a seedy club!)


Day Five: Chonk Chong (yes I will keep doing this)

We bought ourselves some real Italian leather. I got a nice tan purse which was stained by the blue US Airways blanket I sat it on. Did I tell you how I hate US Airways? I’m still trying to get those stains out but it’s a losing battle. Sigh.

We meant to do some real sightseeing (we did see some buildings) but the famous art galleries were booked. Booked! Who heard of that? Oh well, just a good reason to hit up Florence again (although, side note, you’d think Contiki would have booked one of the galleries for us like they did the Vatican Museum…). Oh and by the way, I guess someone spoke to the guide because this time he did wait for folks and no one got left behind after the first day.

So we did more shopping in the markets, and departments (like Coin and OVS industry) and checked out Ponte Vecchio (great place to by gold), then we were off to a dressy Tuscan dinner. I had the cutest one shoulder strapped dress and got called Shakira by a guy on the street. See profile picture, granted I straightened my hair and got blondish highlights but I look nothing like her (although she’s cute). Did folks just draw a blank on cute brown skinned women?

Anywho, after dinner we kept the party going and headed to a spot called Zoe where we encountered a group of Italian cuties who we engaged in delightful conversation with the rest of the night. Now this is what I came for, haha! One of the cuties gave me his card and wanted to meet up again the next night but I didn’t call him. I didn’t see the point, not a long distance kind of girl and like the Kelly Clarkson song, I Do Not Hook Up.

On a different note, with six women, I suggested we use the buddy method so no one ends up alone. That didn’t always work. My sister who was supposed to be my buddy kindly (kindly because she did say “excuse me”) shoved me out of the way at the end of the night to get into the first taxi that came for us. Did she get out when she found that I could not get in the first taxi? No, she went on her way! Grumble Grumble.

Luckily one of the cuties was a cab driver and drove me and the other two ladies left behind (for free) to our hotel in his taxi. It was a licensed cab and he had his taxi license information. Seriously I cannot afford to get Got, my father, unlike Liam Neeson’s character in Taken, does not have a special set of skills to get me back!

Next up, the conclusion of my trip.

Misadventures in Italy Part Two

Day Two: Chonk Chong (as you will recall that is my Law and Order sound)

I make it in Rome in one piece and without further aggravation. This was actually the first time I was not pulled to the side and given extra questioning or pat downs due to my traveling while being black. Don’t be surprised folks, before 9/11 black women were the number one group to be profiled in airports (because apparently we don’t travel for pleasure or business but to be drug mules for our boyfriends).

So we stayed at a 2 star hotel (American translation means 1 star hotel). Yes, I understand in other countries with more history a lot of the hotels in the city areas are really old and therefore lose space when they try to update their facilities with things like bathrooms and more than one full sized bed in a room but it was still a bit of a shock and a learning lesson. We also had to turn in the key (not card) with a key chain the weight of a boulder to the front desk every time we left the building. Type A Cosmo girl will do no less than a 3, and preferably 4, star hotel for the future. Having to hold the shower nozzle was a bit of a challenge and made me yearn for the days of college dorm bathrooms. And three women to a hotel room is not desirable. Gotta like the gals you’re with and don’t mind getting flashed a few times!

Anywho, friends and I walked a bit of the Roman streets and were greeted with confidence boosting catcalls. My favorite was a guy who called out the window to us “Spettacolare!” (aka Spectacular) (four black women, take that Psych Today!). Our hotel was in the more diverse area because I passed by two! Black hair salons and a black beauty shop.

Now quick backdrop on my limited knowledge of race relations in Italy. It’s not yet a melting pot but it’s getting there, whether folks are happy with it or not. I encountered loads of Africans and Asians (mostly Chinese and Indian/Middle Eastern). Many aren’t too happy with the Africans there due to the constant and pushy nature of vendors selling goods on the street. Get this: it’s not illegal to sell knockoffs on the street but it is illegal (huge fine) to buy them. Translation: we just want to fine the unknowledgeable tourist so we can get some money for our government. Anywho, the diversity was a welcomed surprise yet Italians could tell the difference between the local African Immigrants and tourists of the African diaspora.

Oddly, but often enough, whenever I travel overseas locals never assume I am African American. I (and my friends) have been considered everything from Puerto Rican, Panamanian, Canadian, British and African but never American. Even the cleaning lady for our hotel in Florence who was African herself thought my friend and I were Brazilian. What’s the deal? Who spread the false rumor that Black American women don’t travel? I’ll just put the blame on BET.

Okay, so next we did our TWO hour orientation/check in with Contiki (so unnecessary as we did the check ins on line and if they gave out itineraries, like professionals, things would be so much more smooth and time efficient). Our first stop with Contiki (who I will never recommend even to my worse enemy, well perhaps them, but just them) was a walking tour of some of Italy to see the Pantheon, Trevei Fountain, Spanish Steps. Sure wish I got to see them cause I got left behind. The tour guide did not explain that following him would be like an episode of the Amazing Race. By the end of the tour only 10 people (out of 55) were still with him. Note to Contiki, you have failed if you lose over 75% of your tour group!

But my loyal sister stayed behind with me and we had a fabulous time on our own. I began my two pound weight gain with pizza (the yummy memories still haunt me), pistachio gelato and wine of course. Always wine…(up next, shopping and Florence and boys, oh my)