Awoke to a light drizzle and a chilly breeze. Slept well but the leg is still not operating at 100%. I considered renting a car or moped; they won't give me a big boy bike. In the end, I decided to take it easy today. Bought some groceries and came back to the sobe to catch up on my writing. If I ever return to these type of islands, I should remember that transportation is critical. Bring a bike or car or rent one. There is only a couple hours worth of site-seeing in these small villages. The island does look interesting and I would like to explore it more. There is a bus route that can take you to the other communities on the island. Just do not feel driven to do it. A down day is called for. Tomorrow morning I need to be at the dock by 8:45am for my 7 hour ferry to Dubrovnik. No reserved room in Dubrovnik, I will look for another sobe – more likely, the owner will find me.
Monday, September 22, 2008
Sunday, September 21, 2008
The village
This is the first time, given an opportunity to climb a steep hill to get a great view of the surrounding, I have not risen to the occasion. My leg is dragging me down. I pushed it too hard yesterday in Spilt. I did wander around the village and the port. I stopped at one point and took off my sneakers and socks to wade in the Aegean. I plunged in and immediately my boys ran screaming up to my liver. Holy shit it was cold! It took several hours of coaxing for them to return to their nature place and order was restored.
From what I can see, the island is very nice. There is a protected bay where the small boats dock. Hills rise up all around the village. I wanted to get up one side or the other but it is not to be. The oldest part of the village is all stone. Stone streets and stone houses. The streets are too narrow for cars and there are no sidewalks. Very nice. The newer part of town, new being a relative term, is filled with homes, stores, and the expected conveniences of today's life. What I find most interesting are the yards. Nary a blade of grass. Each yard is taken up with fruit trees, grape vines, and vegetable gardens. The only large areas of grass is in the village park and the football pitch, otherwise, the surface is composed of crushed stone, small rocks, gravel, and sand or gardens.
Pizza for dinner. I gave it one more shot. This time I decided to not try something crazy like ham and pineapple or sausage. I chose a regional specialty, Frutti del Mar, a seafood pizza. To say that it was a mistake would be an understatement. I give up on pizza here in Europe. Dessert was great as usual. Thank god for gelatto.
Went for a walk on the outskirt of the village after dinner. The sun had already set. A man not a year older than 128 puttered by in a small tractor towing a cart filled with freshly picked produce. He had come from the surrounding hills. What was remarkably about this is as he passed me, I nodded in greeting and he returned the greeting with a flourish by removing his hat and giving me a sitting bow. The people are friendly.
From what I can see, the island is very nice. There is a protected bay where the small boats dock. Hills rise up all around the village. I wanted to get up one side or the other but it is not to be. The oldest part of the village is all stone. Stone streets and stone houses. The streets are too narrow for cars and there are no sidewalks. Very nice. The newer part of town, new being a relative term, is filled with homes, stores, and the expected conveniences of today's life. What I find most interesting are the yards. Nary a blade of grass. Each yard is taken up with fruit trees, grape vines, and vegetable gardens. The only large areas of grass is in the village park and the football pitch, otherwise, the surface is composed of crushed stone, small rocks, gravel, and sand or gardens.
Pizza for dinner. I gave it one more shot. This time I decided to not try something crazy like ham and pineapple or sausage. I chose a regional specialty, Frutti del Mar, a seafood pizza. To say that it was a mistake would be an understatement. I give up on pizza here in Europe. Dessert was great as usual. Thank god for gelatto.
Went for a walk on the outskirt of the village after dinner. The sun had already set. A man not a year older than 128 puttered by in a small tractor towing a cart filled with freshly picked produce. He had come from the surrounding hills. What was remarkably about this is as he passed me, I nodded in greeting and he returned the greeting with a flourish by removing his hat and giving me a sitting bow. The people are friendly.
Ferry Ride to Stari Grad and a Sobe
I arrived at Stari Grad, on the island of Hvar, this morning. Ferry ride was relaxing. Spoke with an elderly man from Florida, via New Jersey, for a few minutes during the trip. He was wearing ear buds and I suddenly started wondering what was different about his generation than the comparable generation at his age from the early eighties. I do not recall people in their sixties and seventies during the eighties taking to technology as readily. So I asked him his opinion. A side note, Jim's tracks were mainly sermons and religious programs. What a find! Alas, I choose not to enter into a religious discussion – he looked tired. I suspect he may use the ear buds to escape from his wife, a woman capable of talking without the need for occasional oxygen breaks. I found it amusing when he turned on a sermon, leaned back, clasped his hands, and closed his eyes. His posture indicted deep thought; more likely a gentle slumber.
As to accommodations, I decided to let fate decide. I was not off the ferry more than 10 seconds when I was approached by a woman asking me if I needed a room. I certainly do. I know I am supposed to haggle - oddly enough, I love to argue about everything except money. So I took her offer at face value. I need to get over this weakness if I am ever to travel to much of the rest of the world. The room is clean, comfortable, and close to the square. Good. Now to visit the village, Faros, first founded in 385 BC.
As to accommodations, I decided to let fate decide. I was not off the ferry more than 10 seconds when I was approached by a woman asking me if I needed a room. I certainly do. I know I am supposed to haggle - oddly enough, I love to argue about everything except money. So I took her offer at face value. I need to get over this weakness if I am ever to travel to much of the rest of the world. The room is clean, comfortable, and close to the square. Good. Now to visit the village, Faros, first founded in 385 BC.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Cat sanctuary
Having only one full day in Split, I awoke early and headed out to explore. For those not in the know, the Roman emperor Diocletian built a palace here that today makes up the center of town. Many of the walls from the palace still stand. Today it thrives as a tourist haven. It is on the Croatian coast and I would highly recommend it as a stopover if you are in the area.
I started in the farmers/craft market. The fruit was amazingly good. The plums and the pear that I ate were without doubt, the best I have ever eaten. I bought a variety of nuts, raisins, and cranberries and mixed them together in a plastic bag to create trail mix. I expect it to last for the reminder of my trip – a really cheap tasty snack.
Next I wandered around the palace area and then went into the ancient temple/converted church. Not much to see, but interesting, especially if you walk around while imagining yourself during an earlier time period. The catacomb is basically a basement for the temple. I suspect it was used by the Jews during their high holidays when sacrificing christian children and feasting on their remains. Whelps, perhaps my imagination went a little too far.
Later in the day, I trekked up the side of the major hill that the town is situated around. At the top of the hill is a small fortification. The view is spectacular. I stopped at the Split zoo on the way down. This is a tiny zoo. If it only possessed domesticated animals, it would have been a nice treat, especially for children. Unfortunately, the zoo has other animals for which it does not have adequate facilities. For example, 3 bears in tiny cement and metal cages. The cages reminded me of the cages used by old time traveling circuses. My non-expert opinion would be to move the larger animals to a proper setting and convert the zoo into a petting zoo. The zoo is already full of all types of farm yard animals – why not clean up the place, adjust the layout slightly, and allow for more interaction. My penny.
For those wondering about the title, I have never been to a city which so visibly contains such a large number of feral cats. They are all over. Split reminds me of Key West with their wild chickens.
I started in the farmers/craft market. The fruit was amazingly good. The plums and the pear that I ate were without doubt, the best I have ever eaten. I bought a variety of nuts, raisins, and cranberries and mixed them together in a plastic bag to create trail mix. I expect it to last for the reminder of my trip – a really cheap tasty snack.
Next I wandered around the palace area and then went into the ancient temple/converted church. Not much to see, but interesting, especially if you walk around while imagining yourself during an earlier time period. The catacomb is basically a basement for the temple. I suspect it was used by the Jews during their high holidays when sacrificing christian children and feasting on their remains. Whelps, perhaps my imagination went a little too far.
Later in the day, I trekked up the side of the major hill that the town is situated around. At the top of the hill is a small fortification. The view is spectacular. I stopped at the Split zoo on the way down. This is a tiny zoo. If it only possessed domesticated animals, it would have been a nice treat, especially for children. Unfortunately, the zoo has other animals for which it does not have adequate facilities. For example, 3 bears in tiny cement and metal cages. The cages reminded me of the cages used by old time traveling circuses. My non-expert opinion would be to move the larger animals to a proper setting and convert the zoo into a petting zoo. The zoo is already full of all types of farm yard animals – why not clean up the place, adjust the layout slightly, and allow for more interaction. My penny.
For those wondering about the title, I have never been to a city which so visibly contains such a large number of feral cats. They are all over. Split reminds me of Key West with their wild chickens.
Friday, September 19, 2008
A Day of Trains
I had a 6 am train to Zagreb today. No problem except for the lack of sleep. O, I also was taught to check distances before making plans. I knew the trip from Budapest to Zagreb would take 6 hours. I choose the first train out thinking that I could get to Zagreb by noon, spend a few hours walking the city, and then jump on a train for a short trip to Split. So much for thinking. The trip from Zagreb to Split is nearly 6 hours in duration. At least the scenery is great. Up and down and all around mountains. The last 2 hours was in darkness so if I had to do it again, I would take an earlier train from Zagreb.
I must admit that I finally lost my temper at a European today. I had arrived at the Zagreb train station and I was trying to buy the next available train ticket to Split. I started at the information window which sent me to the train information window. Unsurprisingly, she sent me to the ticketing window at the other side of the station. After waiting in line for 20 minutes, I get to the counter and attempt to by a ticket. I am refused. The teller tells me no. Her command of English revolves around “no” and “information booth”. I return to train information line and queue. What is interesting is that the train information person does not speak English well and refers me to the basic information queue. There I am told that everything is ok and that I must have been standing in the international line. I assure here that I was not since I stood in the line that did not have the word “international” in it. She shrugged and directed back across the station from whence I came. Once again, I was refused and sent back to information. At information, I am finally told that the computers are down and that they can not sell tickets. What! People are buying tickets as we speak. She shrugged again and wandered away. Back to the train line, I went. I was in luck to get the same woman for the third time. I asked for a ticket to Split once again. She shook her head and said something to the young woman at the next counter who, in passable English, asked me what was wrong. I said that I wanted to buy a ticket to Split. Her response was predictable.
Ticket Seller #2: Sorry. We can not sell tickets. Computers are down.
Me: What. Wait. What did you just give to that woman? (Pointing to Woman in line 2.) (WTF – A man behind me in line #1 had just bought a ticket! Everyone is buying tickets!!!!!!)
Ticket Seller #2: A train ticket.
Me to Strange Women buying ticket: Excuse me, where is the ticket for?
Strange Women buying ticket: Split
Me: You sell her a ticket to Split but you will not sell one to me?
Ticket Seller #2: Yes, she is going today to Split.
Me: So am I.
Ticket Seller #2: Then you already have a ticket?
(long diatribe follows)
I am going to stop here and say that I am humbly grateful for the designers of plexiglass and the thoughtful engineer that decided that it was only necessary to have two small hole - one for the passage of money/tickets and the other for sound. If not for these two things, I may have been a guest in Croatia for a long time.
I did make it to Split and I was punished for my outburst. While departing the train, I slipped and pulled a calf muscle. Luckily, it was dark and my directions to the sobe where significantly bad as to have me wander around for nearly an hour lugging my full backup and school pack while dragging my left leg along side me. On a bright note, the sobe is lovely.
I must admit that I finally lost my temper at a European today. I had arrived at the Zagreb train station and I was trying to buy the next available train ticket to Split. I started at the information window which sent me to the train information window. Unsurprisingly, she sent me to the ticketing window at the other side of the station. After waiting in line for 20 minutes, I get to the counter and attempt to by a ticket. I am refused. The teller tells me no. Her command of English revolves around “no” and “information booth”. I return to train information line and queue. What is interesting is that the train information person does not speak English well and refers me to the basic information queue. There I am told that everything is ok and that I must have been standing in the international line. I assure here that I was not since I stood in the line that did not have the word “international” in it. She shrugged and directed back across the station from whence I came. Once again, I was refused and sent back to information. At information, I am finally told that the computers are down and that they can not sell tickets. What! People are buying tickets as we speak. She shrugged again and wandered away. Back to the train line, I went. I was in luck to get the same woman for the third time. I asked for a ticket to Split once again. She shook her head and said something to the young woman at the next counter who, in passable English, asked me what was wrong. I said that I wanted to buy a ticket to Split. Her response was predictable.
Ticket Seller #2: Sorry. We can not sell tickets. Computers are down.
Me: What. Wait. What did you just give to that woman? (Pointing to Woman in line 2.) (WTF – A man behind me in line #1 had just bought a ticket! Everyone is buying tickets!!!!!!)
Ticket Seller #2: A train ticket.
Me to Strange Women buying ticket: Excuse me, where is the ticket for?
Strange Women buying ticket: Split
Me: You sell her a ticket to Split but you will not sell one to me?
Ticket Seller #2: Yes, she is going today to Split.
Me: So am I.
Ticket Seller #2: Then you already have a ticket?
(long diatribe follows)
I am going to stop here and say that I am humbly grateful for the designers of plexiglass and the thoughtful engineer that decided that it was only necessary to have two small hole - one for the passage of money/tickets and the other for sound. If not for these two things, I may have been a guest in Croatia for a long time.
I did make it to Split and I was punished for my outburst. While departing the train, I slipped and pulled a calf muscle. Luckily, it was dark and my directions to the sobe where significantly bad as to have me wander around for nearly an hour lugging my full backup and school pack while dragging my left leg along side me. On a bright note, the sobe is lovely.
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Leaving Paris tomorrow
My time is up in Paris. I hope to return someday. Paris is a beautiful city with a near endless supply of activities. Public transportation is great and the parks are wonderful. The citizenry just needs to work on the quality of food. I intentionally did not go to a few important places so as to provide additional impetus to return. Also, I wish to spend time in the real France; those areas not Paris. Hey, anyone interested in hiking the Pilgrim's trail in 2011 or 2012? Let me know.
I fly to Prague first thing in the morning. It is good to get back on the road. I am excited. I bought a real backpack the other day. I think it will be easier to get around with the pack instead of a suit case. It is also much hipper - that's what I am all about!
I fly to Prague first thing in the morning. It is good to get back on the road. I am excited. I bought a real backpack the other day. I think it will be easier to get around with the pack instead of a suit case. It is also much hipper - that's what I am all about!
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Critical French Phrase & What's Hot
Without question the most important French phrase that needs to be learned is “carafe de l'eau”, pronounced “Ka-raft Dough”. In Paris, you do not need to be polite. No: please, thank you, could you, I would like, etc, required. Simply “Ka-raft Dough”. You are saying “carafe of water” - 'nough said.
Why is this important? If you are an American, you expect water, you need water. Plain water. No gas - regular god-given clean non-carbonated free H20. I can understand the German's predilection for gassing things, it is almost genetic for them, but what is up with the rest of the Europeans? With this phrase, you will get something to drink. Additional plus, they do not charge for it. Soda is too expensive and if you simply ask for water, they will bring you bottled water – with or without gas, but with an extra item on you bill. Why pay for what should be free?
I do not remember if I have already mentioned that there are two hot things this summer in Paris, so I will mention it again. One, hamburgers. Really expensive hamburgers. Eaten with a knife and fork. Usually open face. I ask you – what is the point? Two, tights. Women are wearing tights. Well, I think that is what they are called. Whatever they are called, they look wonderful on women with great or even good shaped legs. Anything to enhance a woman's legs is wonderful idea in my book. I approve.
Why is this important? If you are an American, you expect water, you need water. Plain water. No gas - regular god-given clean non-carbonated free H20. I can understand the German's predilection for gassing things, it is almost genetic for them, but what is up with the rest of the Europeans? With this phrase, you will get something to drink. Additional plus, they do not charge for it. Soda is too expensive and if you simply ask for water, they will bring you bottled water – with or without gas, but with an extra item on you bill. Why pay for what should be free?
I do not remember if I have already mentioned that there are two hot things this summer in Paris, so I will mention it again. One, hamburgers. Really expensive hamburgers. Eaten with a knife and fork. Usually open face. I ask you – what is the point? Two, tights. Women are wearing tights. Well, I think that is what they are called. Whatever they are called, they look wonderful on women with great or even good shaped legs. Anything to enhance a woman's legs is wonderful idea in my book. I approve.
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Making a decision
For the past week or so I have been attempting to come to a decision concerning where I will go next in Europe. Technically, the decision has already been made. I have a plane ticket to Prague for the 8th and a ticket to Barcelona, from Vienna, for the 15th. I bought the tickets before leaving for Europe with the understanding that I could change my itinerary, if so desired. So many places and things to do. O my! Tons of alternative travel plans floating around my frontal lobe. A difficult decision. So much so that I finally decided to flip a coin and let Lady luck decide for me. Adding a little directed randomness into my life can not hurt, right? Heads I stay with my original plan; tails I change my travel plans. So while walking home today, I
- pulled a nice shiny coin from my pocket and placed it on my thumb
- sent a quick pray to Fortuna to ensure that if I fail to catch the coin, it will not land on its side
- hmmm, what do you call the thumb flicking process? ... whatever; I do it
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Musée Guimet - Closed due to ??
I planned on going to the Musée Guimet today. Actually, I intended to go this past weekend, however, it was closed due to a security issue. It was to have re-opened by now but the website still says it is closed. This time it states that there were injuries and a review is taking place. Not sure what happened.
Not one to complain, I instead went to the Musée d'Orsay. Without question, the d'Orsay is the most beautiful train station I have ever visited. Remove all of the displayed artwork and the interior is still fascinating. Return the statues and you have a feast for the eyes. This is definitely a place I will visit whenever I return to Paris . I particular love the layout and how small exhibit areas are neatly tucked away in such a seemingly open space. I felt like clapping with gee when I came across the miniature cityscape displayed by way of a glass ceiling/floor. I am possibly disappointed in that I did not bring my camera. Without the camera I focus solely on the moment; with the camera I take a near endless supply of crappy pictures that will assist me in remembering what I saw.
After d'Orsay, I started wandering back to the apartment and came upon the Musée Rodin. After a few minutes of thought, I decided to enter. I should remind myself more often that I do occasionally make the right decision. Here is my evidence. The Rodin museum is a perfect combination of garden and art. Just enough art to enhance gods' glorious roses; benches discreetly placed to allow peaceful reflection on the creations of nature and man. If you wish to skip the small art collection in the building and just visit the gardens, you can purchase a ticket for the garden for €1. I am going to try and get back to the garden, this time with my camera.
Not one to complain, I instead went to the Musée d'Orsay. Without question, the d'Orsay is the most beautiful train station I have ever visited. Remove all of the displayed artwork and the interior is still fascinating. Return the statues and you have a feast for the eyes. This is definitely a place I will visit whenever I return to Paris . I particular love the layout and how small exhibit areas are neatly tucked away in such a seemingly open space. I felt like clapping with gee when I came across the miniature cityscape displayed by way of a glass ceiling/floor. I am possibly disappointed in that I did not bring my camera. Without the camera I focus solely on the moment; with the camera I take a near endless supply of crappy pictures that will assist me in remembering what I saw.
After d'Orsay, I started wandering back to the apartment and came upon the Musée Rodin. After a few minutes of thought, I decided to enter. I should remind myself more often that I do occasionally make the right decision. Here is my evidence. The Rodin museum is a perfect combination of garden and art. Just enough art to enhance gods' glorious roses; benches discreetly placed to allow peaceful reflection on the creations of nature and man. If you wish to skip the small art collection in the building and just visit the gardens, you can purchase a ticket for the garden for €1. I am going to try and get back to the garden, this time with my camera.
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Pompidou and a realization
Went to the Pompidou today. Wow. Well, not the art - I am not a fan of modern art. What is stunning is the view. I would suggest for any first time Paris visitor to come here first to see the city. The ticket is
The building layout is a little confusing at first. The main entrance is located not on the main street but at the back center of the building. You go through security first when entering the building. The ticket windows are across the wide expansion towards the left. After getting a ticket, enter the main exhibit areas by going back towards the entrance on the right. You show your ticket and walk outside. The escalator is on the outside of the building. I recommend going all the way to the top and walk along the passage to see Paris. Amazing, simply amazing. There is a cafe at the top. If you do not mind $$$, I am sure it will be good. Once you are finished, return to the escalator and go down two floors to enter the exhibit hall. Return to the first floor to visit the other small exhibit areas.
I found the old "Modern" art area, which is located by taking the stairs within the main exhibit hall, to be more interesting than the current "Modern" art area; but hey, whatever floats your boat.
While admiring the city from the top of the Pompidou, I realized that I really really like Paris. I did not expect this and it is difficult to admit. I wish to point out that I do not have anything but shallow interactions with the French; maybe that is why I like Paris so much. Actually, Nicole tells me that I am very similar to Parsians. I choose to believe that her words are a compliment in the same way that the religious believe in their theology.
A final note, I am impressed that most of the museums and attractions in Paris provide free entry for children under 18. A small number of attractions actually increase the age limit to 25. Do the museums in the US do this? If not, why?
€10The building layout is a little confusing at first. The main entrance is located not on the main street but at the back center of the building. You go through security first when entering the building. The ticket windows are across the wide expansion towards the left. After getting a ticket, enter the main exhibit areas by going back towards the entrance on the right. You show your ticket and walk outside. The escalator is on the outside of the building. I recommend going all the way to the top and walk along the passage to see Paris. Amazing, simply amazing. There is a cafe at the top. If you do not mind $$$, I am sure it will be good. Once you are finished, return to the escalator and go down two floors to enter the exhibit hall. Return to the first floor to visit the other small exhibit areas.
I found the old "Modern" art area, which is located by taking the stairs within the main exhibit hall, to be more interesting than the current "Modern" art area; but hey, whatever floats your boat.
While admiring the city from the top of the Pompidou, I realized that I really really like Paris. I did not expect this and it is difficult to admit. I wish to point out that I do not have anything but shallow interactions with the French; maybe that is why I like Paris so much. Actually, Nicole tells me that I am very similar to Parsians. I choose to believe that her words are a compliment in the same way that the religious believe in their theology.
A final note, I am impressed that most of the museums and attractions in Paris provide free entry for children under 18. A small number of attractions actually increase the age limit to 25. Do the museums in the US do this? If not, why?
Monday, August 25, 2008
Faffing about
Thank His Holy Noodly Appendage, the Olympics are over. I have been farting around for over ten days. Nothing important is complete. I have watched countless hours of sports(?) on French TV. No more diving, equestrian, handball, rhythmic gymnastics, fencing, and pool dancing. What will I watch? I guess it is back to the Poker channel. Even the little league world series is complete. Congrats Hawaii!
Actually, it is time to get back to work. I have two projects that need finishing and I am ready to re-enter museums. This will certainly be a busy week.
On a sad note - Mike and the Mad Dog have divorced. Thanks for the good times.
Actually, it is time to get back to work. I have two projects that need finishing and I am ready to re-enter museums. This will certainly be a busy week.
On a sad note - Mike and the Mad Dog have divorced. Thanks for the good times.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Calling out to my brain trust
Ok folks, let's see how well a group-think works. Please fill out this brief form which will aid me in making a minor but troubling decision. Thanks!
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Country mouse all alone
Nicole was off at 6:00am. Since I had only gotten about 2 hours sleep, I returned to bed and slept to mid-afternoon.
The plan for August is as follows:
The plan for August is as follows:
- Complete website for a friend
- Complete project for school
- Wander around Paris and surrounding areas
- Take one or two overnight trips around France/Belgium
- Paint the living room and dining room
- Have a great time
- Catch up on my blog
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Home depot, Leroy style
It is the last day with the rental car so we are going to use it for home improvement projects.
We visited the local garbage transfer station twice and deposited old drywall and other waste products created from an earlier kitchen rehab project.
We then went to a local home improvement store called Leroy Merlin. Not surprisingly, the store contained an art exhibit on the first floor. What did surprise me is that if you buy something, you can get a rebate on a portion of the vat tax if you pay someone to actually perform the work. So you buy the material or goods at the store, let's say a ceiling fan, and then have an electrician install the fan, you can request a portion of the tax back. This seems contrary to the concept of do-it-yourself.
By the way, paint is horribly expensive here in France. It cost Nicole ~$92 for .6 gallons of paint.
We visited the local garbage transfer station twice and deposited old drywall and other waste products created from an earlier kitchen rehab project.
We then went to a local home improvement store called Leroy Merlin. Not surprisingly, the store contained an art exhibit on the first floor. What did surprise me is that if you buy something, you can get a rebate on a portion of the vat tax if you pay someone to actually perform the work. So you buy the material or goods at the store, let's say a ceiling fan, and then have an electrician install the fan, you can request a portion of the tax back. This seems contrary to the concept of do-it-yourself.
By the way, paint is horribly expensive here in France. It cost Nicole ~$92 for .6 gallons of paint.
Changing a lock
The locksmith, whom I will call Bert, was due back at noon to replace the lock. Surprisingly, Bert called before noon to let us know that he was running late. At 12:30pm, Bert arrived. Nicole and I planned to go to the paint store once the lock was replaced. So much for plans. Around 5:30pm, a second locksmith, Ernie, arrived.
Vadim, Nicole's husband, called and when he found out that French people were still at work and that it was after 4:15pm, he demanded that we take photos of this historic occasion. We declined.
Hours later, after significant banging, muttering, drilling, muttering, and grinding, we heard the sounds of congratulation passing between Bert and Ernie. I wandered over towards the door as Ernie was leaving. Bert smiled at me and waved me over to try the door. I reached out, grasped the door handle, turned and pulled ... hmmm, the door did not move but I now was in possession of a door handle. I looked over at Bert. He was no longer smiling.
Bert took the handle from me and re-attached it to the door. I tried the door twice more with the same results. Bert and I started talking to one another about this issue. Since I do not speak French and Bert did not speak any English, communication was slightly limited. Basically, Bert was assuring me that everything was ok; that I needed to be more gentle with the door knob. I did not agree. I tend to believe that while it is important to be able to unlock and open a door when standing on the exterior side, it is equally important to be able to unlock and open a door when standing on the interior side of the door. Call me crazy.
Finally, I called Nicole over and wanted her to speak in French to Bert and forcefully demand that the job was not complete until the door could be effectively opened from either side. She looked at me like I was crazy. It seems that French men rarely listen to women. We were in luck though since for the past 15 minutes Nicole had been cornered in the hallway listening to an elderly neighbor while Bert and I calmly dicussed the purpose of a door. She asked her neighbor to talk to the locksmith. After a few minutes of conversation, Bert glared at me, smiled at the old man, and then went back to work. 15 minutes later, after some more drilling and muttering, the job was concluded.
So after about 16 man-hours of labor, our lock is fixed, and the door can be opened from either side. French engineering at is best. Off to bed.
Vadim, Nicole's husband, called and when he found out that French people were still at work and that it was after 4:15pm, he demanded that we take photos of this historic occasion. We declined.
Hours later, after significant banging, muttering, drilling, muttering, and grinding, we heard the sounds of congratulation passing between Bert and Ernie. I wandered over towards the door as Ernie was leaving. Bert smiled at me and waved me over to try the door. I reached out, grasped the door handle, turned and pulled ... hmmm, the door did not move but I now was in possession of a door handle. I looked over at Bert. He was no longer smiling.
Bert took the handle from me and re-attached it to the door. I tried the door twice more with the same results. Bert and I started talking to one another about this issue. Since I do not speak French and Bert did not speak any English, communication was slightly limited. Basically, Bert was assuring me that everything was ok; that I needed to be more gentle with the door knob. I did not agree. I tend to believe that while it is important to be able to unlock and open a door when standing on the exterior side, it is equally important to be able to unlock and open a door when standing on the interior side of the door. Call me crazy.
Finally, I called Nicole over and wanted her to speak in French to Bert and forcefully demand that the job was not complete until the door could be effectively opened from either side. She looked at me like I was crazy. It seems that French men rarely listen to women. We were in luck though since for the past 15 minutes Nicole had been cornered in the hallway listening to an elderly neighbor while Bert and I calmly dicussed the purpose of a door. She asked her neighbor to talk to the locksmith. After a few minutes of conversation, Bert glared at me, smiled at the old man, and then went back to work. 15 minutes later, after some more drilling and muttering, the job was concluded.
So after about 16 man-hours of labor, our lock is fixed, and the door can be opened from either side. French engineering at is best. Off to bed.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Back in Paris
Left Budapest at 6:45am. Arrived in Paris at 12:15am. Found the apartment door lock tampered with and the key no longer working. Nicole put on a brave face and contacted a locksmith. An hour later we were in the apartment. Locksmith will come tomorrow to replace the locking mechanism. The damage - 1,130 Euros. Strong door! Thieves did not get in but they certainly caused significant damage. Enough excitement for today. Going to sleep. Will post on my road trip over the coming days.
One quick note, find a job in Budapest.
One quick note, find a job in Budapest.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Switzerland - the land of cranes and tunnels
Switzerland is not our goal for this trip - it is simply the flyover zone. What stands out about Switzerland to me is the vast number of cranes. They are all over each city and village we pass. Dubai has more cranes than any other place in the world right now, but Switzerland must be in the top five. I understand that the repair/build season is short so the cranes are necessary, unfortunately it appears that for every fifty cranes, there is only one person trained on how to use them.
As to the tunnels, they are everywhere. I suspect that the Swiss love to build them, either that or, the mob is really strong here. I would not be surprised to learn that many of these tunnels were built and then dirt put over them to justify their existence.
We arrived in Winterthur without any problems. After check-in at the hotel, we drove around until we found the city center, parked, and wandered around for a while. Nicole recommended a noodle restaurant for dinner and I acquiesced. Details of the dinner are not necessary. Let's just say that chopsticks are not my friend, one of my dumplings committed suicide in my soup bowel, and walking around the city with a t-shirt inside out is definitely sexy.
As to the tunnels, they are everywhere. I suspect that the Swiss love to build them, either that or, the mob is really strong here. I would not be surprised to learn that many of these tunnels were built and then dirt put over them to justify their existence.
We arrived in Winterthur without any problems. After check-in at the hotel, we drove around until we found the city center, parked, and wandered around for a while. Nicole recommended a noodle restaurant for dinner and I acquiesced. Details of the dinner are not necessary. Let's just say that chopsticks are not my friend, one of my dumplings committed suicide in my soup bowel, and walking around the city with a t-shirt inside out is definitely sexy.
Road trip to Vienna
Today we start our road trip to Vienna. It is about a 12 hour drive from Paris. Since neither Nicole or I have visited the Principality of Liechtenstein, we have decided to drive through Switzerland, stay overnight in Winterthur, visit Liechtenstein in the morning, and go to Vienna later in the day.
Off to pick up my car. Thank god it will not be a Kangoo!
Off to pick up my car. Thank god it will not be a Kangoo!
Monday, July 21, 2008
Road Trip and misc. comments
Read the news about the dollar falling in value again. I expect before long it will be more economical for me to wipe with my American dollars than it would be to convert them to Euros and buy toilet paper!
On another front - food. Food is major bad habit. It provides me with warmth, comfort, joy, and a glowing sense of fullness, as well as keeping me alive. A necessary evil. So all week I have been trying to come up with the perfect adjective that will describe the food available in Paris, particularly French food. Today I declare that adjective to be: awful. Much more to come on this front.
Americans are too damn uptight. John Ashcroft, do not come here - too many statutes showing little boys' tinkles or women with bare breasts. My god, look at this ad hung on a subway wall:
Going on a road trip tomorrow. Looking forward to Schnitzel and apple stredul!
On another front - food. Food is major bad habit. It provides me with warmth, comfort, joy, and a glowing sense of fullness, as well as keeping me alive. A necessary evil. So all week I have been trying to come up with the perfect adjective that will describe the food available in Paris, particularly French food. Today I declare that adjective to be: awful. Much more to come on this front.
Americans are too damn uptight. John Ashcroft, do not come here - too many statutes showing little boys' tinkles or women with bare breasts. My god, look at this ad hung on a subway wall:
Going on a road trip tomorrow. Looking forward to Schnitzel and apple stredul!
Dinner on the Champs-Élysées
Nicole and I went up to the Champs-Élysées for a walk and dinner. We started at the Arc de Triomphe.
We met my girlfriend in front of the monument. Have I sent you a picture of her yet? If not, here she is. I am not sure of her name, but that trivial detail will be ironed out once we talk some more ... Actually, I guess it was not meant to be. After I crossed the street, she decided to move on with another man. He seemed nice enough and she was too young for me. Such is life.
Dinner was French food. The atmosphere was great. We sat outside and watched as people moved about the street. Several young children serenaded us from a car. Very cute. I applauded.
I am amazed by the number of Muslim women on this street wearing the niqāb. After my week of travel around the city this is the first place I have encountered them. I honestly do not know how to classify them. Are they Muslim fundamentalist, conservative, or something I do not know. When the first woman walked by me, I suddenly started thinking about Scooby Doo. I braced myself for her to suddenly pivot, throw her hands toward me, wiggle her fingers, and scream "boggied boggied boo". (Note to self - learn how to spell this phrase) I started giggling and for the reminder of the night when one passed, I had to be careful to not laugh. In all seriousness, their dress made me uncomfortable. Not, I am going to be blown up uncomfortable; it just felt wrong, alien, de-humanizing. It creates an artificial barrier of isolation between people. It serves its purpose well. I wondered if a woman wearing this tripped and hurt herself, should I reach out and pick her up, try and talk to her? I am not sure. Would reaching out to her cause her more discomfort, cause conflict between her and her family? This outfit screams leave me alone; don't touch me. At least, that is my initial impression. I will say that it is very different seeing these women on film versus walking feet from them.
It was a great day. A long walk during a beautiful day. I learned new things about French history. I felt the energy of the Champs-Élysées and its people. I was able to observe a new culture (I wish I could have talked with some of the women and men). Finally , I got my first up close look at the Eiffel Tower at night.
For my friends in my life and those who have left, I wish that wherever you are, your day was as wonderful as mine. Goodnight.
We met my girlfriend in front of the monument. Have I sent you a picture of her yet? If not, here she is. I am not sure of her name, but that trivial detail will be ironed out once we talk some more ... Actually, I guess it was not meant to be. After I crossed the street, she decided to move on with another man. He seemed nice enough and she was too young for me. Such is life.Dinner was French food. The atmosphere was great. We sat outside and watched as people moved about the street. Several young children serenaded us from a car. Very cute. I applauded.
I am amazed by the number of Muslim women on this street wearing the niqāb. After my week of travel around the city this is the first place I have encountered them. I honestly do not know how to classify them. Are they Muslim fundamentalist, conservative, or something I do not know. When the first woman walked by me, I suddenly started thinking about Scooby Doo. I braced myself for her to suddenly pivot, throw her hands toward me, wiggle her fingers, and scream "boggied boggied boo". (Note to self - learn how to spell this phrase) I started giggling and for the reminder of the night when one passed, I had to be careful to not laugh. In all seriousness, their dress made me uncomfortable. Not, I am going to be blown up uncomfortable; it just felt wrong, alien, de-humanizing. It creates an artificial barrier of isolation between people. It serves its purpose well. I wondered if a woman wearing this tripped and hurt herself, should I reach out and pick her up, try and talk to her? I am not sure. Would reaching out to her cause her more discomfort, cause conflict between her and her family? This outfit screams leave me alone; don't touch me. At least, that is my initial impression. I will say that it is very different seeing these women on film versus walking feet from them.
It was a great day. A long walk during a beautiful day. I learned new things about French history. I felt the energy of the Champs-Élysées and its people. I was able to observe a new culture (I wish I could have talked with some of the women and men). Finally , I got my first up close look at the Eiffel Tower at night.
For my friends in my life and those who have left, I wish that wherever you are, your day was as wonderful as mine. Goodnight.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Let's try the Musée d'Orsay instead
Woke up this morning. Another victory, but one step closer to death. Nicole suggested that I try someplace other than the Panthéon, in particular her favorite museum in Paris, the Musée d'Orsay. She also suggested that I take the subway to the museum and walk home. She is a wise woman.
During our discussion, Nicole mentioned that if I take the correct "sortie", I would end up nearly right in front of the museum. For those that do not speak French, such as myself, "sortie" means exit. Well, from my own personal experience in France, this is only true when there is one "sortie" out of the subway. "sortie" has a different meaning when there are plural "sortie". I have discovered that the when a subway has multiple "sortie", it literally translates to - "no matter which exit you take, it will be the wrong one".
I spent a wonderful day wandering around the 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 11th, 12th, and 14th, however, I finally did something that you would not expect. I entered a building. Entry was free and there were no crowds. It was the Memorial de la Shoah. If you think this is a museum dedicated to school, you would be sadly mistaken. This is my first entrance into a Holocaust memorial and I was deeply moved. My only suggestion would be to add English subtitles or alternative audio feeds for the multimedia pieces. I would have spent the whole day listening if I could have understood the testimony.
During our discussion, Nicole mentioned that if I take the correct "sortie", I would end up nearly right in front of the museum. For those that do not speak French, such as myself, "sortie" means exit. Well, from my own personal experience in France, this is only true when there is one "sortie" out of the subway. "sortie" has a different meaning when there are plural "sortie". I have discovered that the when a subway has multiple "sortie", it literally translates to - "no matter which exit you take, it will be the wrong one".
I spent a wonderful day wandering around the 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 11th, 12th, and 14th, however, I finally did something that you would not expect. I entered a building. Entry was free and there were no crowds. It was the Memorial de la Shoah. If you think this is a museum dedicated to school, you would be sadly mistaken. This is my first entrance into a Holocaust memorial and I was deeply moved. My only suggestion would be to add English subtitles or alternative audio feeds for the multimedia pieces. I would have spent the whole day listening if I could have understood the testimony.
Saturday, July 19, 2008
Opps, I did it Again
Well, if you guested that I would wander somewhere other than the Panthéon, you would be correct. Once again I made it to Luxembourg gardens - no sweat. I entered the gardens and spent a good hour in a new section. I left the gardens from a new exit and once again decided to take a side road as a short-cut. The weather was nice and I had all day. Several hours of walking later after going through Little Asia, I decided enough is enough, and I started looking at the map.
I would like to say that I quickly found my way back. In fact, after another hour I found that I was even farther from where I should be. I finally jumped on the subway, took it back to the Louvre, walked back across the Seine, found the Green Line, and returned home around 8:00pm. All told, I wandered about six hours today through the 13th, 14th, 6th, and 5th. Tired, but it was worth the effort.
I would like to say that I quickly found my way back. In fact, after another hour I found that I was even farther from where I should be. I finally jumped on the subway, took it back to the Louvre, walked back across the Seine, found the Green Line, and returned home around 8:00pm. All told, I wandered about six hours today through the 13th, 14th, 6th, and 5th. Tired, but it was worth the effort.
Off to the Panthéon - Another try
Yesterday was fun but not a success if you define success as actually getting to where you planned to go. Today is a new day. I have checked the maps and I am off.
By the way, I was asked two questions the other day.
First question: Where my photos?
Yes, I have been taking a great deal of pictures while walking around the city. The problem is that most of them are piss poor. I made the mistake of actually reading the book that came with the camera as well as a book specifically for my camera that I purchased at Borders. I also recently purchased a wide angle lens and a book on how to shoot with a wide angle lens. All of this new knowledge has made me take a step back from bad photographer to horrible photographer. Hopefully, things will get better with practice. I am storing the not so hideous photos at picasaweb.google.com/mudwasp
Second question: How can I afford this trip?
Short answer - Who said I can? Free lodging helps a great deal. Once I return home, I will go back to the real world, get a job, grow older, pay taxes, and die. Right now I am enjoying my trip. Maybe it is time for you to take a trip??
By the way, I was asked two questions the other day.
First question: Where my photos?
Yes, I have been taking a great deal of pictures while walking around the city. The problem is that most of them are piss poor. I made the mistake of actually reading the book that came with the camera as well as a book specifically for my camera that I purchased at Borders. I also recently purchased a wide angle lens and a book on how to shoot with a wide angle lens. All of this new knowledge has made me take a step back from bad photographer to horrible photographer. Hopefully, things will get better with practice. I am storing the not so hideous photos at picasaweb.google.com/mudwasp
Second question: How can I afford this trip?
Short answer - Who said I can? Free lodging helps a great deal. Once I return home, I will go back to the real world, get a job, grow older, pay taxes, and die. Right now I am enjoying my trip. Maybe it is time for you to take a trip??
Friday, July 18, 2008
Somehow I missed the Panthéon
Everything started well.
I reached the Luxembourg gardens without a hitch. Speaking of the Luxembourg gardens, it is a wonderful place. I have spent several hours there and whenever I pass by I enter to see a different area.
Now a straight path to the Panthéon. No problems. Wait. A large crowd appears ahead at an intersection. Maybe I should duck down this small side street and circle around the crowd. Great idea!
About an hour later I find myself crossing the Seine near the Louvre. Who really wants to visit a bunch of dead people anyway? I don't feel overly interested in entering the museum today. I go down the stairs and walk on the bank of the river toward Notre Dame. I could have stayed on the sidewalk by the street, but when given a choice between large crowds and cars versus quiet isolation and the lovely bouquet of urine, I will always select the latter.
Without any trouble, I make it to Notre Dame. I wander around the structure, sit in a park behind the church and listen to some teenagers play music, stop and watch some kids playing in the sand box, and back around to the front of the church. Too many people in line to enter today. I will come back another time or three.
I will try for the Panthéon tomorrow. Homeward bound now.
I reached the Luxembourg gardens without a hitch. Speaking of the Luxembourg gardens, it is a wonderful place. I have spent several hours there and whenever I pass by I enter to see a different area.
Now a straight path to the Panthéon. No problems. Wait. A large crowd appears ahead at an intersection. Maybe I should duck down this small side street and circle around the crowd. Great idea!About an hour later I find myself crossing the Seine near the Louvre. Who really wants to visit a bunch of dead people anyway? I don't feel overly interested in entering the museum today. I go down the stairs and walk on the bank of the river toward Notre Dame. I could have stayed on the sidewalk by the street, but when given a choice between large crowds and cars versus quiet isolation and the lovely bouquet of urine, I will always select the latter.
Without any trouble, I make it to Notre Dame. I wander around the structure, sit in a park behind the church and listen to some teenagers play music, stop and watch some kids playing in the sand box, and back around to the front of the church. Too many people in line to enter today. I will come back another time or three.
I will try for the Panthéon tomorrow. Homeward bound now.
Off to the Panthéon
I have decided that it is time to enter a building. Since I have unintentionally walked by the Panthéon three times this week, I am confident that I can get there without any difficulty. For those that do not know the Panthéon, here is a short history lesson1:
Napoleon, unable to steal and transport the real Pantheon from Rome, Italy, orders the building of a new church in Paris. This new building is christened the Panthéon since the French dislike the idea of anything of cultural significance being created that they did not in fact create.
While the Panthéon has rarely ever been used as a church, its primary purpose is as a burial mound for the world's most important humans. Strikingly, these people all tend to be French. Since the French put such a strong emphasis on equality among men and women, there is even a token woman, Marie Curie, buried here. For those that do not recognize her, she is most famous for scientifically proving that you can die from radiation poisoning.
So off to the Panthéon I go.
1. The author makes no claims as to the validity of this lesson. In fact, if questioned, the author will vigorously deny even writing this posting.
Napoleon, unable to steal and transport the real Pantheon from Rome, Italy, orders the building of a new church in Paris. This new building is christened the Panthéon since the French dislike the idea of anything of cultural significance being created that they did not in fact create.
While the Panthéon has rarely ever been used as a church, its primary purpose is as a burial mound for the world's most important humans. Strikingly, these people all tend to be French. Since the French put such a strong emphasis on equality among men and women, there is even a token woman, Marie Curie, buried here. For those that do not recognize her, she is most famous for scientifically proving that you can die from radiation poisoning.
So off to the Panthéon I go.
1. The author makes no claims as to the validity of this lesson. In fact, if questioned, the author will vigorously deny even writing this posting.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Like a rat in a maze
Generally I pride myself on my sense of direction and my ability to get from point A to point B without significant delay or difficulty. Luckily, this pride is still intact due to the fact that I actually have no plans or need to get to a specific point at a specific time. I have taken the approach that anywhere that I find myself is exactly where I wanted to be, otherwise, I fear that manly pride would be in tatters.
To be fair, I have wandered around areas that are not all considered tourist areas and I have attempted to stay off of the major roadways as much as possible. Much of my travels have revolved around the 15th arrondissement. Arrondissement is the fancy French word for section. There are 20 sections of Paris and I have walked through a considerable portion of the 15th, 7th, 1st, 6th, 5th, 8th, 2nd, and 9th. Much of the time is spent trying to find my apartment.
Going somewhere has been rather easy. As I have already stated, if I try to get somewhere and end up somewhere else, ok, it must be god's plan. The difficulty arises when attempting to coming home. On three consecutive days, what should have taken no more than 30 minutes to return home have led to at least 1 1/2 hour journeys.
The problem is that Paris is a giant maze. Most streets are narrow with buildings uniformly five to six stories high without any breaks between buildings; you can not see any landmarks, the sun, or other streets. There is no such thing in Paris as a yard. I have found that taking a side street as a short-cut is only a wise approach if you wish to extend your walk. Nicole tells me that even Parisian walk around the city with a guide book. This is probably not true, but bless her heart for trying.
If I could start the week over, I would not change a thing. This is how you learn a new city and I would have missed a ton of small parks and those quirky little things that make a place unique.
To be fair, I have wandered around areas that are not all considered tourist areas and I have attempted to stay off of the major roadways as much as possible. Much of my travels have revolved around the 15th arrondissement. Arrondissement is the fancy French word for section. There are 20 sections of Paris and I have walked through a considerable portion of the 15th, 7th, 1st, 6th, 5th, 8th, 2nd, and 9th. Much of the time is spent trying to find my apartment.
Going somewhere has been rather easy. As I have already stated, if I try to get somewhere and end up somewhere else, ok, it must be god's plan. The difficulty arises when attempting to coming home. On three consecutive days, what should have taken no more than 30 minutes to return home have led to at least 1 1/2 hour journeys.
The problem is that Paris is a giant maze. Most streets are narrow with buildings uniformly five to six stories high without any breaks between buildings; you can not see any landmarks, the sun, or other streets. There is no such thing in Paris as a yard. I have found that taking a side street as a short-cut is only a wise approach if you wish to extend your walk. Nicole tells me that even Parisian walk around the city with a guide book. This is probably not true, but bless her heart for trying.
If I could start the week over, I would not change a thing. This is how you learn a new city and I would have missed a ton of small parks and those quirky little things that make a place unique.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
I feel like Speedy Gonzales
Since arriving in Paris I have spent most of my time walking. Walking up and down streets, gardens, and around places of interest. Note that I have not actually entered any places of interest other than gardens. One thing that I find funny is that here in Paris, I am an exceptionally fast walker. Those that know my walking style will find this difficult to believe. If asked to describe my mobility, I think I would say that for a man of my size, I am deceptively slow. Perhaps an example is warranted.
Earlier this year in Gainesville while walking by a group of big beautiful Nubian princesses, they turned toward me and one spoke to me in a deep southern drawl. She said, "You sure are the slowest white boy I have ever seen!" I replied with the best come hither smile I could generate, "My pace allows me the most time possible to gaze at beautiful women." (Well, something to that effect.) Predictably, her response can be best summarized as "Not a chance". In my defense, I was only walking at two-thirds my normal speed, but I think you can get the picture.
So I feel like Speedy Gonzales here in Paris because everyone else moves so slowly. I can understand the tourist since they do not seem to know where they want to go or how to get there if they did. What is up with the French? My first hypothesis is that they are attempting to conserve energy. Why you ask? To avoid having to eat the food.
Earlier this year in Gainesville while walking by a group of big beautiful Nubian princesses, they turned toward me and one spoke to me in a deep southern drawl. She said, "You sure are the slowest white boy I have ever seen!" I replied with the best come hither smile I could generate, "My pace allows me the most time possible to gaze at beautiful women." (Well, something to that effect.) Predictably, her response can be best summarized as "Not a chance". In my defense, I was only walking at two-thirds my normal speed, but I think you can get the picture.
So I feel like Speedy Gonzales here in Paris because everyone else moves so slowly. I can understand the tourist since they do not seem to know where they want to go or how to get there if they did. What is up with the French? My first hypothesis is that they are attempting to conserve energy. Why you ask? To avoid having to eat the food.
Monday, July 14, 2008
My first week in Paris
My basic plan for the week is to walk the city and get a good overview of its layout and architecture. I do not expect to enter any of the monuments or museums yet. I will also get comfortable with the bus lines and subway system.
Today is Bastille day, a national holiday. Parades, speeches, and fireworks. I intend to avoid them. I thought it might be nice to visit Bastille, but Nicole assures me that nothing is left of the prison. Hmmm, Who know?
Time for a walk.
Today is Bastille day, a national holiday. Parades, speeches, and fireworks. I intend to avoid them. I thought it might be nice to visit Bastille, but Nicole assures me that nothing is left of the prison. Hmmm, Who know?
Time for a walk.
Sunday, July 13, 2008
Entering Paris
Arrived in Paris last night around 7pm. Since it was early, we decided to drive around so that I could get a quick look at the City of Lights.
First, I would like to say that overall my sister is a good driver. I am generally a nervous passenger since I always drive and because I am a better driver than everyone else. How do I know this? Ask me, I will tell you so. No, this is not a control issue - I swear on my mother's grave. So the driving until now has been good. Things changed in Paris. I watched with growing anxiety as my sister turned from a reasonably safe passive (though left-lane hog) driver into an obvious extra driver for Death Race 2000. I think it took only about 45 minutes to drive by every monument and museum in Paris worth seeing, but I am not positive. About fifteen minutes in I started having vision problems and head pain. It took me a few more minutes to recall that what I was experiencing is called a headache. Seems my ex-wife had co-opted my headaches years ago and used them for what I can only describe as nefarious purposes when she was not able to generate her own. I may be getting off track ... anyway, the ride was great fun and I am happy that it ended without any serious injuries.
I would like to make a suggestion to the French traffic police. I suggest that once a month, a driver of a car be allowed, without any repercussions, to open their window and tip over a person on a motorbike or scooter. These people are deserving of much worse. For example, during our foray around Paris a man on a motorcycle started hammering his horn because we were blocking him from continuing down the street. He happened to be driving on the sidewalk and had the misfortune of being blocked by inconsiderate pedestrians. We were blocking his passage due to a red light that for some reason Nicole was obeying. I rolled down my window in case he passed us on the right but he decided to cut off the car behind us and veer into oncoming traffic so that he could get in front of us. I begged Nicole to take him out but she was too busy muttering about stupid American tourists and counting how many points she could earn at the next intersection to pay any heed to me.
First, I would like to say that overall my sister is a good driver. I am generally a nervous passenger since I always drive and because I am a better driver than everyone else. How do I know this? Ask me, I will tell you so. No, this is not a control issue - I swear on my mother's grave. So the driving until now has been good. Things changed in Paris. I watched with growing anxiety as my sister turned from a reasonably safe passive (though left-lane hog) driver into an obvious extra driver for Death Race 2000. I think it took only about 45 minutes to drive by every monument and museum in Paris worth seeing, but I am not positive. About fifteen minutes in I started having vision problems and head pain. It took me a few more minutes to recall that what I was experiencing is called a headache. Seems my ex-wife had co-opted my headaches years ago and used them for what I can only describe as nefarious purposes when she was not able to generate her own. I may be getting off track ... anyway, the ride was great fun and I am happy that it ended without any serious injuries.
I would like to make a suggestion to the French traffic police. I suggest that once a month, a driver of a car be allowed, without any repercussions, to open their window and tip over a person on a motorbike or scooter. These people are deserving of much worse. For example, during our foray around Paris a man on a motorcycle started hammering his horn because we were blocking him from continuing down the street. He happened to be driving on the sidewalk and had the misfortune of being blocked by inconsiderate pedestrians. We were blocking his passage due to a red light that for some reason Nicole was obeying. I rolled down my window in case he passed us on the right but he decided to cut off the car behind us and veer into oncoming traffic so that he could get in front of us. I begged Nicole to take him out but she was too busy muttering about stupid American tourists and counting how many points she could earn at the next intersection to pay any heed to me.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
A medieval town, part two
Gent, I like you. I would have loved you while a D&D playing teenager. What is not to love in a town with a medieval castle, a canal, and several thousand-year old buildings. Even the toy store was cool.
For those god-fearing people, Saint Bavo Cathedral is amazing and for the small price of 3 euros , you get to see the Lamb of God. This was my first, of many, visits to a church. God did not strike me down so I guess it is safe to enter. Honestly, I have always been impressed by old European churches - their grandeur, the sense of awe and fear that they must have imposed on their believers, and the dedication required to complete such structures is admirable. I wonder if my Southern Baptist friends would appreciate these churches?
Definitely a great day trip!
Off to Paris
For those god-fearing people, Saint Bavo Cathedral is amazing and for the small price of 3 euros , you get to see the Lamb of God. This was my first, of many, visits to a church. God did not strike me down so I guess it is safe to enter. Honestly, I have always been impressed by old European churches - their grandeur, the sense of awe and fear that they must have imposed on their believers, and the dedication required to complete such structures is admirable. I wonder if my Southern Baptist friends would appreciate these churches?
Definitely a great day trip!
Off to Paris
Friday, July 11, 2008
A medieval town
We arrived in Gent around 6:30 pm. It looks promising. We did a quick walk around the old center and then ate at an Ukrainian restaurant.
Speaking of food .. since I have arrived, we have eaten Indian, okonomiyaki (Japanese pancakes), junk food, and Ukrainian. Is there something wrong with this picture?
Tomorrow off to the castle and several churches. Did you know - this is where the War of 1812's peace treaty was negotiated and signed between the US and Britain?
Lessons learned in Amsterdam
We are leaving Amsterdam today and I am a little disappointed. There are a ton of places to see and things to do here in the Netherlands. I did not plan on seeing them since this was a short visit, but I could have done more. So for next time:
On to Gent, Belgium.
- Be prepared for the rain
- Realize that it will be colder here than you expect - you need more than shorts and t-shirts in July
- No naps after the plane trip
- There is much more to the Netherlands than the coffee houses
- Have a plan of attack and organize your schedule
On to Gent, Belgium.
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Hermitage and the Rijksmuseum
Visited two museums today, the Hermitage and the Rijksmuseum. The current exhibit at the Hermitage is called "Images of St Petersburg" and it contains around 100 photo images from the late 19th to the early 20th century. I found the stereographic photographs to be the most interesting, but I would probably skip this to spend more time in the Rijksmuseum. My opinion may change once the Hermitage moves next door to a much large building which will afford them considerable more space for multiple exhibits.
The Rijksmuseum was more interesting for me. It contains two amazing dollhouses that I know an old friend of mine would die to see.
Weather turned rainey again. Back to the apartment.
The Rijksmuseum was more interesting for me. It contains two amazing dollhouses that I know an old friend of mine would die to see.
The owner, Petronella, ordered miniature porcelain objects from China and commissioned furniture makers and artists to decorate the interior ... spent between twenty and thirty thousand guilders on her doll's house. In the seventeenth century she would have been able to buy a real house along one of the canals for that price.The Rijksmuseum also contains many of Rembrandt's works, including the "Night Watch", as well as other important painters and artists. If you are in town, this is definitely a place to visit.
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Weather turned rainey again. Back to the apartment.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Harlingen
Took an drive up to Harlingen this morning to see a typical village on the coast. Drive was enjoyable. Plenty of cows, sheep, fields, bikers, and water. Weather was good.
Nicole was under the weather and by late morning it was apparent that we needed to call it a day. This was good by me since I had awoken at sunrise. Yesterday's nap is playing havoc with me. Also, the rain is back.
Amsterdam, a new opinion
Ok, I was wrong. Now that there is sunshine and no rain, the place is actually rather nice. While many of the buildings are similar in size and shape there is enough difference to be interesting. The canals add a romantic element.
The Dutch certainly know how to garden. It seems that wherever color is needed, a flowering plant resides. I knew that the spring is beautiful here. It did not occur to me that the summer bloom would be so nice.
We just passed a flower stand and I am staggered by the low cost of the plants and cut flowers. I imaging that if I lived here, I would always have cut flowers in the rooms.
It is starting to drizzle again. Time to head home and try again tomorrow.
The Dutch certainly know how to garden. It seems that wherever color is needed, a flowering plant resides. I knew that the spring is beautiful here. It did not occur to me that the summer bloom would be so nice.
It is starting to drizzle again. Time to head home and try again tomorrow.
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Initial Impression of Amsterdam
I am underwhelmed. We left the airport and went straight downtown to get an idea of the area.
I guess most Americans visit Amsterdam for the coffee houses. This is not my motivation. Actually, I do not know much about this area. It does not help that it is raining and is still early morning. Not many people are about. We decide to go back to the apartment - thanks James for a place to stay. The apartment is rather nice. James is a friend of Nicole. He is back in Texas for the summer. Nicole has nothing but great things to say about him.
The apartment overlooks one of the many canals. The bed looks inviting and with all of the gloomy weather and rain, I decide to take a nap. Not a good idea, but ....
I awake at four. I feel like shit. Weather appears to have broken, the sun is attempting to liven up what has been a dismay day. We are going out for dinner and another look at the city.
I guess most Americans visit Amsterdam for the coffee houses. This is not my motivation. Actually, I do not know much about this area. It does not help that it is raining and is still early morning. Not many people are about. We decide to go back to the apartment - thanks James for a place to stay. The apartment is rather nice. James is a friend of Nicole. He is back in Texas for the summer. Nicole has nothing but great things to say about him.
The apartment overlooks one of the many canals. The bed looks inviting and with all of the gloomy weather and rain, I decide to take a nap. Not a good idea, but ....
I awake at four. I feel like shit. Weather appears to have broken, the sun is attempting to liven up what has been a dismay day. We are going out for dinner and another look at the city.
Arriving at Schiphol
I have arrived in Europe. Off the plane at 6:45am. Passport control a breeze. The officer mentions that I no longer wear a beard and then laughs. Bag collection is slow. At 7:15am, I enter the main area of Schiphol airport to look for my sister. She is not here. I wander to the cafe where we had planned to meet if either of us were late.
While waiting I am struck by how quiet it is. Unlike American airports, there is not the nearly constant droning of the loudspeaker reminding idiots that smoking is not allowed or that suspicious bags should be reported to security. People glide about with a purpose. I am surprised to see soldiers patrolling carrying large obviously deadly weapons. They seem out-of-place in this tranquil setting. Maybe the US should have soldiers patrolling our airports, instead of rental cops. I wonder if that would make our citizens feel safer or lead to even more irrational fear.
Hey, my sis is here. Time to visit Amsterdam.
While waiting I am struck by how quiet it is. Unlike American airports, there is not the nearly constant droning of the loudspeaker reminding idiots that smoking is not allowed or that suspicious bags should be reported to security. People glide about with a purpose. I am surprised to see soldiers patrolling carrying large obviously deadly weapons. They seem out-of-place in this tranquil setting. Maybe the US should have soldiers patrolling our airports, instead of rental cops. I wonder if that would make our citizens feel safer or lead to even more irrational fear.
Hey, my sis is here. Time to visit Amsterdam.
Flight to Amsterdam
Wow, those 5 inches were worth the price of admission. Another piece of good news is that I no longer require the fat man extender seat belt. I have lost over 100lbs since my last flight, but I thought I would still need an extender. Not so. I am happy. This happiness lasted all of five minutes. It seems a rather large young fellow, bigger than me, gave up his seat to a woman in the back of the plane and was now going to sit next to me. My bad luck. I had both seats to myself until this guy decides to be gracious. Shockingly, this guy then convinces the tiny man in front to switch seats with him. Life is geting better. Wait, it gets even better. Mr Big guy convinces a woman several rows back to sit were Tiny man was sitting so that he can sit next to, his words, "a hot chick". Well, Tiny man sees his assigned seat open and jumps back into his seat. This leaves me staring up at a tall slender attractive woman who is glaring back at me for being duped into sitting next to me. She starts to demand her seat back, quite loudly actually, when the steward gets on the intercom and demands that everyone sit for departure. She sits in a huff, sends a message on her crackberry, leans back, and then quickly falls asleep. I am not sure how to take this seeing how I was the bystander. I never opened my mouth. I feel dissed by Big guy, Tiny man, and Attractive woman. I know I don't smell - I showered and shaved earlier in the day. Clothes are new and clean. Usually people put in some effort before blowing me off - three disses in less than five minutes without me uttering a word. Definitely a record. Not a good omen. Amsterdam in about 8 hours. The joy.
Monday, July 7, 2008
At the Airport
Arrived at the airport promptly at 11:00am - all glory goes to my driver, thanks Dad! I approached the counter with some trepidation. Silly me. Behind the counter there were four employees. One of them was helping a customer and the other three appeared to be talking about a tv show. It only took about five minutes to be called up to the desk. Less than two minutes later I was walking to the gate. No problems and no explanation as to why I was not allowed to print my pass from home. I kept my mouth shut the whole time. I think this is a wise course of action and I make a promise to myself to try not to ask questions of anyone in the travel industry. Questions tend to make things go downhill.
At the gate, I see the plane is delayed. I ask the man at the counter why the delay. Hmmm, my promise lasted all of 15 minutes. Will have to work on this. Weather is the reply. Weather in Chicago. I ask if there are any upgrades available. I don't plan on actually upgrading, but I figured I will distract the man with another question before he sees my irritation at having to wait even longer for the trip to be started. My question backfires. He convinces me to buy 5 extra inches for my flight from DC to Amsterdam. Smooth talker that man was. I tried to get the extra inches in width but it was not to be.
Finally, the flight from Chicago arrives and we board. Boarding was fun. I felt like I was back in the old days. The passengers were broken into two groups. Group one boarded normally and group two, my group, went on to the tarmac and board via the back of the plane. My trip finally begins at 2:25 pm.
At the gate, I see the plane is delayed. I ask the man at the counter why the delay. Hmmm, my promise lasted all of 15 minutes. Will have to work on this. Weather is the reply. Weather in Chicago. I ask if there are any upgrades available. I don't plan on actually upgrading, but I figured I will distract the man with another question before he sees my irritation at having to wait even longer for the trip to be started. My question backfires. He convinces me to buy 5 extra inches for my flight from DC to Amsterdam. Smooth talker that man was. I tried to get the extra inches in width but it was not to be.
Finally, the flight from Chicago arrives and we board. Boarding was fun. I felt like I was back in the old days. The passengers were broken into two groups. Group one boarded normally and group two, my group, went on to the tarmac and board via the back of the plane. My trip finally begins at 2:25 pm.
To the Road I go
My flight leaves tomorrow at 1:40pm. All packed and excitement is growing - so is my general level of anxiety. What will go wrong? All ready tonight the airline would not allow me to print my ticket from home. After providing my personal details, including passport information, the website reports that I must go to the counter at the airport because ... well, it did not say. On a positive note, I am to arrival an extra hour earlier to sort out any potential problems. So I will arrive at 11:00am and try to keep my mouth shut so as to not offending anyone. Maybe I will get lucky and get a body search from the TSA lovelies.