Woohoo!
Our neighbors wifi is disconnected for whatever reason. Which means our poaching days are over. But today's great find is the library has free wi-fi. Suh-weet! Back to (almost) at home connectivity.
Busy morning, dropped off the car to have more work done (ugh, we replaced rotors, two front tires, oil change and state inspection yesterday and today. Ramen noodles for dinner, anyone?), and walked Fredly home, then walked up to the bank so Chris could get change. Then off to pick up dog food. Fred FINALLY has a dog food he genuinely likes. Had I known about this 3 years ago, he'd probably be a hundred pounder today. Cleaned up our tiny front garden where my herbs live in daily combat with the ground cover some idiot planted before I moved in. And then walked up to the library to get my internet fix. At some point I see a trip to the local coffee shop, and of course walking back to the mechanics to get the car. I was hoping to get to the local market today, but at this point I don't think the car will be done in time. Time to roll up my pants leg and bike over to the grocery store. All boring things, but it's such a beautiful day out that I can't say I'm at all unhappy.
The Wake Up Call
As things are slowly starting to come back into my mind as processed memories, one thing that I just thought of was the struggles we had as essentially non-French speakers in France. Belgium - no problem. The Flemish Belgians were friendly, easy going, and mostly English speaking anyway. But in Compiegne and in Cysoing, the group ran into a few French people who were so stuck on our pigeon French or complete lack of French (depending on which member of the group was involved), that any urge they may have had to assist us was completely shut down. Which is a really polite way to say they either ignored us or else were pretty ugly to us.
When we were talking about this on the flight from Paris, Chris was talking about how appalled he was at the treatment he got. I kind of agreed. We weren't talking about a "No Speak English" treatment, we're talking about open rudeness at times. We were talking about how we would at least try to help out a non-English speaker using hand gestures, maps, our 3 words that we know in other languages, etc. (And my brother actually has a great story of me falling on my face in my attempt to speak to two lost-looking French people at a B&B in Ireland.). Anyway, about that time we got off the plane in O'Hare, and entered the first of two customs halls. One was for US citizens, the other for everyone else. A very large security guard/police officer was yelling in a very thick Chicago accent that US citizens were to go through this hall while all others were to proceed to the next hall. At that point the "AHA!" moment hit. Being fresh from a country where we didn't speak the language, we looked around and realized the signs were ONLY in English and the only directions that these potentially non-English speakers were getting were from a screaming policeman who we natives could barely understand. This was CHICAGO, one of the major entry ports to the US. Maybe there are ways in which we aren't too many steps above a small town in the French countryside after all.
Labels: Travel
Great post
Waiterrant has a good post on that tough spot that anyone in customer service gets into when a customer (reasonably or unreasonably) wants something that you just can't give them. In his case, the customer was unreasonable, but it's even worse when it's something reasonable to expect. There have been times in the past where due to warehouse revamps, material shortages, hurricanes, or strikes that I've had to tell a customer that we couldn't deliver what we said we could, when we said we could. And the only thing I could say was "I'm really sorry."
Regardless, go read his post, it's much better than mine.
Labels: Other Blogs
Great moments in signage history
My husband took this picture of a sign hanging up at the local coffee shop.
The Mrs
Today is "take your child to work" day (or as we call it around here, slave labor day). My boss brought his three little boys around and introduced them to everyone. It sort of made me laugh how taken aback I was when he referred to me as Mrs. It's really funny, in this informal day and age, how seldom I've been called that in the last year and a half. The neighbor kids refer to adults as Mr or Ms first name, and adults never call each other Mr or Mrs. So it was a little odd. Cool, but strange!
40 hours
Somewhere about mid March I decided to add on to my NY resolutions. This year's resolution is to put in 40 hours of volunteer time for the year. 46 weeks of work to put food on my table, 1 week of work to help others. Seems sort of modest. Except now I'm well into the 2nd quarter of the year, and I only have 8 hours done. Zoips! Sigh, just spent time on the
Hands On Network website for the local volunteer clearinghouse and signed up for a few different things in May. 9 more volunteer hours. So that means if I put in 3-4 hours a month for the rest of the year, I'll make my goal.
My problem is that I'm essentially lazy, so I hate Saturday morning activities. Add to that we often travel on the weekend, and signing up on Saturdays can be a bit dicey. Then on top of that, I'm a bit reclusive by nature, so I trend towards more "hands off" activities like foodbank, database updates, vacant lot cleanups, etc. (Kind of ironic when I work with a group called "hands on", no?) Opportunities during the week that meet both requirements are a little more limited. But...only 4 hours a month? There are no excuses for me not to be able to swing that!
By the way, if you want to do volunteer work, definitely check out the Hands On network. The cool thing is these are one shot volunteer opportunities, so if you can't commit a set amount of time per month, you can still do good things for other people.
Curses
Finally got in touch with the cardiologist's office about the results of my echocardiogram, and I do have a bicuspid aortic valve (contrary to my doc's initial "no way" reaction). However all heart function appears normal right now and it's just sort of one of those things that isn't a problem until it is. Essentially it's a fairly common birth defect occurring in 1-2% of the population (most of whom probably don't know it). It can mean absolutely nothing (which is apparently where I'm at now), it can result in a thickening of the valve which results in stenosis (a constriction of the area that the blood passes through), or the valve could essentially stop being effective. Or the moon could fall out of the sky and the sun stop shining.
For now, unfortunately, the results mean that I have no excuses to stop running, and telling Chris that I'm too weak to do housework isn't going to make the grade. They didn't set a timeline for specific follow ups that need to be done, but I figure every few years I'll check back in, unless I start showing signs of breathlessness, and getting weak in the knees when Chris is not around. Then I'll go back regardless of the timing.
Magic Number
Ok, I don't believe in astrology, numerology etc. But I admit to being amused when I read this stuff. Apparently, according to the latest
silly website fun, my magic number is 7. Here's the description of 7:
The Life Path 7 suggests that you entered this plane with a gift for investigation, analysis, and keen observation. You are a thinker of the first order. You evaluate situations very quickly, and with amazing accuracy. As a result, you are thorough and complete in your work, the perfectionist who expects everyone else to meet a high standard of performance, too.
A Life Path 7 person is a peaceful and affectionate soul. But you guard your connection to people carefully. It's easy for you to detect deception and recognize insincere people, and you avoid them. You aren't one to have a wide circle of friends, but once you accept someone as a friend, it's for life. It's as if you must get to know someone a lot better before you allow the wall surrounding you to be penetrated. Chances are you are a very charming and refined individual with great poise and a quick wit. Nonetheless, there is an exclusiveness about you. You probably aren't a very social person. Your reserve is often taken to be aloofness, but actually, it's not that at all. It is merely a cover up for your basic feeling of insecurity. There's no rush, It takes time for you to warm up to new friends. Clubs and organizations hold little interest for you; you are not a joiner.
You actually like being alone and away from the hustle and bustle of modern life. In many ways, you would have fit in better in much earlier times when the pace of life was less hectic. You need a good deal of quiet time to be with your own inner thoughts and dreams. You dislike crowds, noise, distractions, and confusion.
The overwhelming strength of the number 7 is reflected in the depth of thinking that is shown; you will garner knowledge from practically every source that you find. Intellectual, scientific, and studious, you don't accept a premise until you have dissected the subject and arrived at your own independent conclusion.
This is a very spiritual number and it often denotes a sort of spiritual wisdom that becomes apparent at a fairly early age. A built in inner guide providing a strong sense of intuition may set you up as being a law unto yourself. Whatever spiritual position you take, whether traditional or bizarre, you will cling to it with fervor. Once you have decided an issue, it is almost impossible to get you to revisit the question. Adaptability is not your style, and change for you is a rarity.
You rely heavily on your experiences and your intuition, rather than accepting advice from someone. Your hunches usually prove to be very accurate, and knowing this, you follow the directions they seem to guide.
In the most negative use of the 7 energies, you can become very pessimistic, lackadaisical, quarrelsome, and secretive. A Life Path 7 individual who is not living life fully and gaining through experiences, is a hard person to live with because of a serious lack of consideration for others. There is such a negative attitude. Indeed, operating on the negative side of the 7 can produce a very selfish and spoiled individual and living with one can be a challenge. This may be why some 7s actually prefer living alone. If you have any of the negative traits they are very difficult to get rid of because you tend to feel that the world really does owe you a living or that in some way you are not being fairly treated.
Fortunately, the negative 7 is not the typical 7, at least not without some mitigating positive traits. This number is one that seems to have some major shifts from highs to lows. Stability in feelings may be elusive for you.
Trees are gooo...snore...
I'm allergic to trees. It never fails, on those days that I can't seem to keep my eyes open, I go to the
National Allergy Bureau Site, and sure enough, trees are off the charts. Today is no exception. I went for a half an hour walk at lunch, and by the time I got back, I was ready to nap. Send drugs.
Labels: Seasons, Travel
A good weekend
My brother got ordained a transitional deacon in the Roman Catholic Church this weekend. This follows a few months of stress, so as a family we're totally, completely relieved. And, as mentioned in an earlier post, he'll probably get to be a Deacon at a local hometown parish, with a priest our whole family knows and likes. So Saturday was a truly joyous day for my family and for Bill's friends.
A friend was asking the progression towards being a priest. Hmm, well it actually works a little differently for different orders. For diocesan priests - the ones who stay in a specific geographic area and primarily tend to parishes - there's no brother step. And timelines vary, with the Jesuits taking up to 14 years to complete training. (Bill will have 7) I believe the Diocesan priest training is 4 or 5 years. But essentially the progression is:
Postulancy - gives the man a chance to decide whether he wants to do this or not. For Bill this was approx 2 months.
Novice - "formation", introduces them to the life they're going to lead. For Bill, this was one year.
Brother - a full member of the order with specific duties and responsibilities under Canon Law. To make things more confusing, with certain groups you can stop here and be a Brother for the rest of your life if you so choose. Essentially a full member of the order, but the duties usually tend to be less sacramental and more day to day heavy lifting. For Bill this was a 5 year period, at the end of which he took "permanent vows" which means that he has committed to stay with the order for the rest of his life.
Deacon - more responsibilities, can preach at Mass, duties are more sacramental. These are also proscribed under Canon Law. This is another one where you can be a permanent Deacon. You can be a permanent Deacon without going through the steps required to be a priest. For a transitional deacon (one who wants to be a priest) this is generally 1 year.
So Bill became a deacon this weekend, and then he'll spend the summer at a parish helping the priest out. Sort of like residency for a doctor, for a transitional deacon this is when they learn the ropes of parish life with a mentor to make sure they don't get crazy. We're pretty excited because the parish Bill will probably be at has a priest that our family knows and likes. So we're happy that he'll have a good one!
PriestLabels: Travel
Weekend in New England
Off to Hartford CT to watch my brother be ordained a transitional deacon. (For you non-Catholics, that means that he'll be ordained a priest next year.) Then the next day it's up to Stockbridge, MA where he'll be deacon at the Divine Mercy Mass that's being broadcast on EWTN. I told my brother that I'd be holding the "Go Bill!" sign up at the Divine Mercy Mass. He asked "What if I mess up?" and I told him that I'd tape "away" next to "Go". Ah, a warm and loving family.
I feel bad, Fred is just now starting to forgive me for having whisked the pack away from him for two weeks. And now I leave for 3 more days. And quite honestly, I'm super tired, and not particularly in love with airports/airlines at this time of my life. And I don't want to leave Chris for 3 days right now, I just want to snuggle up with him and eat all of that chocolate we brought back from our trip.
Wah.
Crybaby. Realistically all of my reasons for not being excited about this weekend are because of good things in my life. A honeymoon in Europe. A cute, loving dog. A handsome, loving husband. And all of my reasons for looking forward to going are also because of good things in my life - my Mom, Dad, and brother. So, Hooray! I'm going to see my family in Connecticut!
Labels: Travel
Top 101 Screenplays
According to the Writer's Guild of America, these are the top 101 screenplays of all time. I've seen - 76 out of 101. Mostly thanks to the fact that a good portion of these are also in the AFI top 100 list which I worked my way through. I love lists!
101. Notorious
100. Memento
99. The Wild Bunch
98. The Grapes of Wrath
97. The Searchers
96. The Hustler
95. Hannah and her Sisters
94. Patton
93. Do the Right Thing
92. Psycho
91. The Verdict
90. Sideways
89. Forrest Gump
88. Field of Dreams
87. 8 1/2
86. Harold & Maude
85. La Grande Illusion
84. The Princess Bride
83. Rear Window
82. Cool Hand Luke
81. Being There
80. Witness
79. The Producers
78. Rocky
77. Adaptation
76. Raging Bull
75. High Noon
74. Being John Malkovich
73. Amadeus
72. Thelma & Louise
71. The Lion in Winter
70. The African Queen
69. Dog Day Afternoon
68. Star Wars
67. E.T. the Extra-Terrestrial
66. Jerry Maguire
65. Singin' in the Rain
64. Terms of Endearment
63. Jaws
62. Moonstruck
61. The Silence of the Lambs
60. L.A. Confidential
59. It Happened One Night
58. Ordinary People
57. Crimes and Misdeameanors
56. Back to the Future
55. Apocalypse Now
54. Manhattan
53. All the President's Men
52. The Lady Eve
51. Broadcast News
50. The Sixth Sense
49. Schindler's List
48. The Bridge on the River Kwai
47. The Maltese Falcon
46. The Treasure of the Sierra Madre
45. One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest
44. The Best Years of Our Lives
43. Taxi Driver
42. Raiders of the Lost Ark
41. Goodfellas
40. When Harry Met Sally
39. The Sting
38. American Beauty
37. The Philadelphia Story
36. Midnight Cowboy
35. The Usual Suspects
34. The Sweet Smell of Success
33. The Third Man
32. Fargo
31. His Girl Friday
30. Unforgiven
29. Sullivan's Travels
28. Shakespeare in Love
27. Groundhog Day
26. Double Indemnity
25. The Wizard of Oz
24. Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
23. Gone with the Wind
22. The Shawshank Redemption
21. North by Northwest
20. It's a Wonderful Life
19. To Kill a Mockingbird
18. On the Waterfront
17. Tootsie
16. Pulp Fiction
15. The Apartment
14. Lawrence of Arabia
13. The Graduate
12. Dr. Strangelove
11. Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid
10. The Godfather II
9. Some Like It Hot
8. Network
7. Sunset Blvd.
6. Annie Hall
5. All About Eve
4. Citizen Kane
3. Chinatown
2. The Godfather
1. Casablanca
The Saga
I realized I never quite told the story of our American Airlines adventure getting to/from France. Some of it was bad luck, most of it was exacerbated by the apathy of the employees involved.
Our little adventure started out in Nashville on a stormy Sunday. We had a super tight connection in Chicago to our Paris flight (36 minutes), so we were already in trouble. But it was considerably cheaper so we decided to take the risk. Anyway, the flight in Nashville was grounded by continuous electrical storms. Lightning at any airport means that the workers are all brought in, and no baggage is loaded/unloaded. It quickly became obvious that we were going to miss our flight. We asked the woman at the gate if we could connect to a flight in another city that may be leaving later, but she said we could just fly to Chicago and see what they could do for us.
We should have ignored her. Essentially she was pawning our problem off.
Two hours late, we arrived in Chicago having missed any direct flights to either Paris or Brussels (we were staying roughly ½ way between them). When we got off the plane, they told us that we were re-booked on a flight to Paris 24 hours later. Which would totally have sucked as we were supposed to be going into Belgium on Tuesday and would have involved much running back and forth for everyone on the tour. So we pleaded with a ticket agent and got a flight to London that night with a connection to Brussels that was supposed to get in at 2:30PM the same day we would have gone to Paris. We emailed the tour operator with the flight into Brussels, but not that we would be coming from London. Got on our flight to London… and sat on the plane for 2 hours. We got to London and asked which direction we needed to go. We were misdirected and stood in line for 30 minutes and missed our connection to Brussels. When we didn’t show up on our flight to Brussels, our tour leader thought we were still in the US, so he went back to the gites in France where we were staying. With no phone and no internet. When we got to Brussels around 4, our baggage didn’t arrive. So finally at 8:30 PM, the last bag arrived and we went to take the train to Lille. Except we’d missed the last train, and because of the strikes there wouldn’t be anything in the AM. So Chris asked a taxi driver how much to go to Lille. 250 Euros, he said. Chris said “no” and he adjusted to 200 Euros. Chris still said “no” and another guy approached with 150 Euros. We were running out of options, so we took it.
The guy was a little shady to begin with, but it became obvious quickly, something was wrong. They rushed us through a parking garage, and into a car that was no where near the taxi area. Because of the bike box, they took the bike down, and folded the box up, and handed Chris his pedal wrench to hold. At that point, I relaxed. No way that they would have handed him a weapon if they were going to abscond with us or murder us. So we went off through the Belgium countryside in the shady dude’s car with his father/grandfather/elderly friend snoozing in the front seat next to him. Chris was convinced the whole time that we would end up racing bikes in a basement like they did in Triplets of Belleville. But they dropped us off at the train station as we requested, and all was well. For 30 seconds. Until we started to be approached by drunk/stoned street people, walking past gangs, and obviously not in a good neighborhood.
We finally managed to flag down a taxi and got our first good break of the trip. The guy was WONDERFUL. His car wasn’t big enough to take us, so he called a fellow taxi driver and then waited with us until the other driver arrived. The other driver was super cool, helped us in trying to call the gites (wrong number), and in dealing with the guy we woke up thinking we’d found our gites (who was surprisingly nice, actually). The driver and Chris talked Paris-Roubaix (André Tchmil!), and we arrived with everything in one piece at 11:30PM.
On the flight back, the flight out of Paris left on time, and we had a 1 ½ hour layover in Chicago. Which would have been fine had American not
Had a problem unloading luggage
Had a policy of having to re-check your luggage after customs 45 minutes before the flight was scheduled to leave. (It got delayed an hour, but we found out too late).
So we were re-booked on the last flight of the night. Which had mechanical problems. And cancelled after it was too late to address. Instead of getting to Nashville at 8:30 Tues night, we were scheduled for 1PM on Wednesday. NOT.HAPPY. Then we went down to baggage claim only to find out that we had to specially request our bags and then wait ½ hour to an hour to get the bags. There was a full-scale revolt with the fellow passengers on the plane, complete with calling in the supervisor and screaming at her. Bear in mind this whole time, the AA people were like…eh. Who cares. Who cares that the two businessmen had a day full of meetings in Nashville followed by flights to Little Rock the next day. Who cares that the woman from Copenhagen had to cancel 17 appts with patients (this was not her first delay). And then the supervisor came out and said “I can’t do anything, it’s a process”. After much screaming she walked into the back, and some of the luggage magically appeared. Then Chris and the dr from Copenhagen went back and got the rest of it.
The good news is that the fit Chris pitched at the desk got us into the Wyndham suites for the night, which was a good deal nicer, I’ll bet, than the Holiday Inn and the Ramada Inn that the people around us got. The bad news is when we got to the hotel I made a bolt for the bathroom. Then the next morning several more bolts for the bathroom. Then everything I consumed, liquid or solid, was giving me serious stomach cramps. By the time we touched down in Nashville I was in a lot of pain and was just gritting my teeth to stand up straight. Chris carried my backpack and went to the baggage claim while I went to the little shop to buy Imodium. Which they wouldn’t sell me because I didn’t have US currency, and my only form of ID was in the backpack that Chris had in baggage claim. So I couldn’t use a credit card. Bitch. How many credit thefts involve a $2 Imodium purchase? About two hours after we got to my MILs house, I was running 102 fever.
The whole drive home on Friday I kept praying… “Dear Lord, please don’t let us crash.” It was the only thing left to complete the whole experience.
Lessons learned:
1. Big layovers on international trips are a must. I knew it, but had to be reminded.
2. Don't fly American. If you can't help flying American, don't be Mr Nice Guy. The only way things happened is when we bucked the complacency and when necessary screamed and shouted. Totally against either of our characters, but it was the only way to get assistance.
3. Don't invest in American. That one already has bankruptcy blues worse than any other airlines I've been on. The employees know that the ship is going down, there's nothing to work for long term, and the apathy is overwhelming. Even their flight attendants on international flights don't get a free meal, they have to trot out to the nearest restaurant en flight for theirs. Oh, wait, they can't do that. The signs are REALLY bad.
4. Chris and I are a pretty good team under pressure. We never had a screaming match despite everything, and our individual meltdowns did not occur simultaneously. This meant that one of us was able to handle business while the other rocked in the corner and drooled.
Labels: Travel
Love/Hate
5 reasons I love spring:
- Beautiful flowers
- Warmth
- Sunshine
- Green Green Green
- I love to plant
5 reasons I hate spring
- Sinus headaches
- Terminal lethargy from allergies
- Post nasal drip
- Why aren't there more allergy drugs? Why?
- Did I mention allergies?
Labels: Seasons, Travel
Happy dance!
My brother will spend his summer as a deacon in a parish in our hometown, working with a priest he's been friends with for a while. Given all of the stress of the last few months, this is a welcome reward.Chris got promoted at work and is now a manager. Score!It was sunny and 60 degrees yesterdayMy first day back at work after 2 weeks of vacation was shockingly easy. No one knows I'm here yet!
You would say that
I love
this post by the Archbishop of Canterbury. I liked this segment:
We have become so suspicious of the power of words and the way that power is exercised to defend those who fear to be criticised. The first assumption we make is that we’re faced with spin of some kind, with an agenda being forced on us – like a magician forcing a card on the audience. So that the modern response to the proclamation, ‘Christ is risen!’ is likely to be, ‘Ah, but you would say that, wouldn’t you? Now, what’s the real agenda?’
and this one
‘We know where we stand and we know who we belong to’. Beyond all the history of confusion and betrayal that surrounds a lot of the Church’s history, beyond the power games that we still play in the churches, this one rocklike conviction remains, the conviction that drove the writing of every word of the New Testament. Nothing to do with conspiracies, with the agenda of the powerful; everything to do with how the powerless, praying , risking their lives for the sake of Christ and his peace, are the ones who understand the Word of God. And to accept that is not to sign up to the agenda of a troubled, fussy human society of worried prelates and squabbling factions. It is to choose life, to choose to belong to the life-giver.
Happy Easter
Hard to believe that a week ago (give or take a few time zones) I was at Mass at a tiny church in Cobrieux. It couldn't have been more different than today's Mass at my church:
Cobrieux: Sat maybe 150, only one Mass all day
Here: Probably seats 500, five Masses today (not counting Saturday vigil)
Cobrieux: No pews, only chairs (the kind you'd find around a dining room or kitchen table). Most full
Here: Lots of pews, and because it was Easter, it was overflow crowd
Cobrieux: About 10 elderly people in their choir
Here: About 50 people in the choir accompanied by an organ, drums, and sundry other instruments
Cobrieux: One old dude pulling on the rope to ring the bell calling the faithful to Mass
Here: Recorded bell for the hurry up bell.
Cobrieux: French language
Here: English language
But I liked both weeks. I loved the simplicity of last week's Mass, and lavishness of Easter Mass today. I like that I can go to any country and follow the basic outline of the Mass. Because I know enough French, and am familiar enough with the readings we had last week, I had a feel for what was going on. But there's certainly a lot to be said for hearing it in your own language and understanding the homily!
Labels: Travel
Hing-ca-PEEEEEEE
So all week in France/Belgium, the question was going to be - who was going to win Paris-Roubaix? Would it be studly up and comer Belgian Tom Boonen? Would American fav George Hincapie or his Discovery sidekick Leif Hoste? Would Spaniard Juan Antonio Flecha get to show off his archer salute on the list?
Whereever we went as Americans, when it became clear that we had
heard of cycling, people would tell us their favorites. It was pretty cool, kind of a reminder of what it's like to be in the mainstream. Since we don't follow much football, baseball, basketball, or hockey, these conversations are usually restricted to a select few in the US. The rest of the time we have that golden retriever "HUH?!" look on our face when people ask us about sports.
Our fearless leader, Phil, had procured a VIP pass which allowed us to travel over race roads. So the day of the race we headed down to the Arenberg Forest area, to cheer the racers on two different stretches of pave. First we went to sector 18, then we ran about a mile and a half back to sector 16 to watch the racers come through. The bit of excitement for our group was that Ryder Hesjedal of Phonak had a bit of intestinal trouble and stopped to relieve himself behind our van. And my tiny roll of toilet paper which I never leave home without in Europe was thus sacrificed for a good cause. Then we laid tracks for the Roubaix velodrome. And those tracks included driving approx the last 5K up to the velodrome on the spectator lined course. Chris, Joe, and Hollywood probably set back Franco-American relations 100 years with their enthusiastic flag waving and "Hing-ca-PEEEEEE" shrieks. Funny, definitely a high point, and then we walked into the stadium and George was out of the race.
Sigh.
Karma's a bitch.
We weren't the only ones a little down with the results. The winner ended up being a Swiss rider, Fabian Cancellara, known more for his stage racing than his spring classics riding. Tom Boonen got 2nd only because of a controversial decision made to DQ the three riders in front of him, two of which were members of the Disco boys (Discovery Channel). Bad day for them.
By the way, if you want to see what we look like in the velodrome, we're on the rail in
this picture to the left of the steps. Good luck finding us.
I always feel like somebody's watching me
Yes, I just quoted an 80s tune. Get over it. Anyway, since we've been reunited with Fred he has been glued to my ankle. Apparently
I'm the one responsible for the pack leaving him alone for 10 days with Grandma and uncle Darcy. (Grandma's schnauzer). He's spent the last 1/2 hour lying on the floor staring at me while I work on the computer. I'm not sure, but I think this is the kind of thing that drives people mad.
Labels: Dogs
Overload
So we’re sitting on the plane for the endless flight back, and I’m trying to re-absorb everything that’s happened in the last 8 days. And I’m typing it out while my knees are slammed up against the tray table of the person in front me. Lady, I’m 5’11”, neither one of us will be comfortable with you reclined. Especially not while the dude behind me fiddles with the tray.
Anyway…
A few (ok, many) years ago, I went rafting on the Upper Gauley River during dam release. 5 class 5 rapids. Crazy insane. When we were going down the river, I couldn’t focus on anything outside the immediate here & now. All I knew was that I had to do whatever the guide had me do, and all I could experience was the here and now. I had no idea what was coming up.
That’s sort of how I felt about this trip. Our guides were idea men, and they knew their stuff, but sometimes all we could do as passengers was hang on for the dear life and hope the plans materialized. That can be hard for a planner and a plotter like me. We had so many cool things happen along the way, but without really any clear vision of how the plan was going down. The good news: awesome flexibility meant good rides for Chris and all sorts of cool adventures. The bad news: A few times my heart was in my mouth thinking we weren’t going to make whatever scheduled thing was going on. But we did and all worked out well.
It was also…er…interesting…being the only woman in a group of 7 men. Sort of like getting to hang out in the locker room….for 8 days. The guys were all really nice, but I’ve threatened Chris that the next trip will be a perfume shopping excursion. During the course of the week we’ve discussed women, bikes, beer, drugs, and shit to an extent I could REALLY have done without. So ladies, if you’ve ever wondered what men are thinking… don’t. You really just don’t want to know.
The grocery list of awesome things that happened this trip which I will dissect as my brain settles in:
- AWESOME tour of Brugge with Paul, who was both knowledgeable and passionate about his city
- Riding a tandem bike through Brugge with Chris while paraphrasing Dave Chappelle. “I’m Chris Horner, Bitch!”
- Watching Ghent-Wevelgem on the Kimmelberg, and the subsequent walk we did while our fellow tourists watched the end of the race in the smoky bar at the top. The scenery was Beyoootiful.
-Paris-Roubaix – most of it. Until George Hincapie crashed. We drove down the last 5km of the course thanks to the VIP pass that Pee-wee, our fearless leader got.
- Nabbing Paris-Roubaix signs.
-Hanging out in a French house eating Belgian chocolate and a sand-weesh that I got from a lovely lady in nearby Geneche. Chris has gotten to hear me say “Sand-WEESH” for about 4 days now.
-Dinner on our last night was pretty awesome.
-Baan & Bernard at the Thai restaurant in Cysoing. We liked them so much that we came back a second night. Baan gave me a little rickshaw which I’m praying will make it home. It’s very delicate and wouldn’t fit in my suitcase.
-Bernard’s “Vietnamese Whiskey” poured straight from a bottle that had either two snakes or else a scorpion and a snake. Pick one. Wow, I think it put hair on my chest. I’m also pretty sure he brewed it up in their bathtub. Thank heavens I didn’t have to drive.
-Being able to do some basic French communications. Sometimes better than others for sure. The bad news is the majority of the translating fell to me, and I was sadly under-equipped. But when I succeeded in communicating, it was like winning the superbowl. When I failed, I felt like tucking my tail between my legs and catching the next flight out. Especially the few times we got snippy people.
-Mass at St Amand’s in Cobrieux. Beautiful church, even if I didn’t understand everything that was being said. The order or the Mass was the same, but certain aspects were done differently.
-The Eiffel tower at night. The hotel room by day. Ah, pre-spring in Paris.
-walking through Compiegne and Brugge with my husband. And remembering that we really love just hanging out. Sometimes our conflicting schedules make it hard to spend time together that doesn’t involve getting ready for the next day of work, or re-hashing that day’s travails. So I actually don’t regret waiting a year to take our honeymoon. Very worth it!
Labels: Travel
Vive la...Belgians
So we spent two days commuting up to Brugges in Belgium. It's in the Flanders region of Belgium, which speaks Dutch and English, and the people there could not have been nicer. We were also blessed with an
amazing tour by this lovely gentleman named Paul. I learned so much about Belgium which puts me at just a teensy bit of Belgian history. We also found out that these people have SUPER long memories. There is lots of ill will between France and the Flemish Belgians because of things that happened in the French Revolution. Apparently there were French rampages around that time which destroyed works of art in Belgium. The people in Brugge have neither forgiven nor forgotten. Also, Chris asked one of Paul's friends the difference between
this flag which is the official Flemish flag, and
this one which is the Flemish separatist flag. Apparently the separatists feel that Flanders should be it's own country, and because Belgium has only been a united country for 150 years, it's not a real country. Er...ok.
Anyway, pictures of Brugge will follow!
Labels: Travel
Paris-Roubaix
How about that George Hincapie? Oh, er... Dammit. Wow did it suck to see George out of the race and find out he had a broken something or other between collarbone and shoulder.
We're still here in France, our last day. We had a bit of sun so we walked to the Eiffel Tower & the Champs-Elysees/Arc de Triomphe. It was nice out. Stopped for Crepes along the way. Ahhh, springtime in Paris!
Anyway, we're off to the grocery store for chocolate, more to follow!
Labels: Travel
