Wednesday, November 25, 2009 to Thursday, November 26, 2009
Continuing down the cobblestone streets of Barcelona, Joan’s assistant introduces himself and tells me in a heavy Eastern European accent he’s from Slovakia. I think that’s great and remind myself of the numerous stories I’ve heard of women being trafficked through exactly those countries. The scene from “Taken” where the girl is dancing her way up the stripper pole while men bid on her plays constantly through my mind and I wonder exactly how dad will handle having to be Liam Nielson when he has to come save me and mom. He begins to tell me the outlay of the apartment and I say “It has Wi-Fi, correct?” No, he says. Wooh, hold up. That was the main reason I booked this place. So, now I am in Barcelona, on my way to an apartment with no Wi-Fi, no map and a guy who I don’t even know. Not exactly the way I was picturing Spain. I turn around and can see the fear in mom’s eyes.
We are now in the Baron district and he says “Here we are” as we take a right down an alleyway that is next to a pizza parlor and tattoo shop. I’m pretty sure mom has already had a heart attack at this point, but when he opens the door to a second story winding staircase her patience is shot. He offers to take the bags for us and when he comes back for the second one he’s already winded. After following him upstairs the apartment is modest, Spanish setting, but there are a few things missing that were supposed to be there. For instance, the Wi-Fi signal and the washer and dryer. He goes ahead and asks me for the remaining $170 Euros (I already Pay Paled a $100 Euro deposit) and I tell him that I arranged with Joan to Pay Pal the rest. Soon he’s on his cell phone, which only works while standing on one toe outside the balcony window, talking to Joan in broken Spanish and Slovak only to pass the phone to me, where a man hops on. Where’s Joan? Am I now having to pay to be a sex slave? This is like when I had to pay to volunteer in Ecuador. The guy on the phone tells me cash only and I tell him hell no, because it’s already past 11 at night and I am not getting mugged at the ATM. By now mom is on to their little scam and wants to know where the closest hotel is. Again, I have no map of Barcelona and tonight I would even pay for a Lonely Planet. After 30 minutes of words back and forth a woman finally hops on the phone, she tells me she’s not Joan (he’s busy taking care of her child), but that I have an “attitude” that needs to be changed. I tell her the only thing that needs to be changed is her description of the apartment b/c my mom is about to crawl through the phone and kick her ass. I ask mom what she wants us to do and she says maybe we’ll stay one night. I say “What if this guy comes back to get us” and she replies “Let him try.” I inform Slovak that we are heading out and to call Joan back b/c I want my $100 Euros. One toe and a cell phone signal later Joan tells me that Slovak doesn’t have access to their money and she’s not coming out at midnight to give it to me. I tell her she has 24 hours before I call Pay Pal on her scam; then mom and I lug our luggage back down the winding building and out into the alley. Bye bye.
On the streets mom enters the pizza parlor to use the restroom and I spot two Barcelona Police Officers, so I wave them down and see how far my Espanol will go in Catalan country. They are extremely helpful, but tell me the closest Internet café is 10 minutes away, then draw me a map to a hotel. They tell me it’s about 10 minutes away as well, so after mom comes back out I say we should hop in a cab. I can tell she’s tired, so I think I should maybe be a good daughter now that I have almost sold her to the sex trade. She tells me that’s the best idea I’ve had all day. We hop in a cab and after $3 Euros and a drive around the block, we are back where we started an hour ago when we first met Joan’s assistant. $120 Euros later we’re in a hotel that mom feels is clean enough, has Wi-Fi so she can talk to dad, and beds that roll. Each time I lean back the bed separates from the wall and I take a bench to place in between the end of the bed and the desk so I can prop myself up at night. It’s now past 1:00 AM and we hit the streets of Barcelona looking for food. Around the corner there’s a place called Wok to Walk, a fun little place that cooks it up in the wok and throws it in a to-go container for us. After heading back to the hotel we chow down, then fall asleep until 11:00 AM the next day. A very tiring night indeed.
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Barcelona, Spain
11:00 AM, we wake up and realize there’s only one hour left before check-out. There’s no way we will be able to get ready and pack our stuff in time to get out of the H10 Hotel we are now calling home. So, I go online to see they have a $69 Euro special; much cheaper than the $120 we were charged late last night. I call reservations and we are granted the deal. Since we missed breakfast, they take $10 Euros off our bill last night and we hop into the bathroom to prepare for the day. After getting as pretty as possible, the two of us set out on a walking tour of Barcelona. Down the street to Playa Catalunya we go, passing gothic cathedrals along the way and winding up near the fountains and parks that call Barcelona home. In the Playa Catlunya we meet two men traveling from the middle of nowhere Canada, right near the North Pole, who spend more time on holiday then me. But, I would too, if it was only ice fishing in my front yard. They have just come from Rome where they were robbed, but with $3,000 cameras strung around their necks they don’t need “TOURIST” strung up on their forehead. After chatting with them for a bit, we continue down the path of Las Ramblas. Filled with buskers and beggars alike, white tents also line the way, selling everything from flowers to key chains and we soon veer right into a small alleyway. A tiny shop selling empanadas calls our name and we buy into the three empanada and bebinada special; Happy Thanksgiving to us! Finding our way past the Barcelona Museum of Contemporary Art, there are skateboarders taking over the streets and down at the end we are met by the Naval Museum, along with a tall statue of Christopher Colombus. He is actually pointing East, not West. It’s amazing that someone actually discovered America. The port of Barcelona is right across the way and there are hundreds of sailboats bobbing up and down. The world trade center is across the bridge and as we walk across I stop to ask someone to take our picture. As she does an alarm starts to ring. It sounds like a car alarm, so I don’t really pay it any attention. Mom says “someone’s boat is getting stolen.” I keep shooting pics until I look around and realize we are the only people on the bridge and the Barcelona port worker is shooting me the evil eye, while a large boat moves closer to the bridge. Oh’, crap! We are standing on a drawbridge and about to go up in flames. Run, mom, run! As we get to the edge all the tourist are laughing at us…dumb Americans…. I laugh, too. What else am I supposed to do?
Continuing past the palm trees, Imax theater and some big ol’ submarine that used to float around Barcelona, we enter a cathedral so big that there is a pond inside, with swans squawking about. There is more gold here than pirates have on their ships and priests are holding open confession. Being a sinner myself, I am not sure if I would head to open confession so everyone could see the bad things I’ve done. It’s already hard enough to admit them to yourself.
At 7:00 PM we are back at the hotel and getting ready to meet my friends Ana and Piero. I met them last year on the tiny island of Playa Blanca, Colombia. Now they live in Barcelona and I am very excited to hang out! Down in the hotel lobby mom and I begin talking with another hotel guest, who introduces himself as Simon, originally from London, he begins cracking jokes and has us laughing before Ana and Piero show up. Once we are all there, the wine and beer glasses are raised to “Salud” and the night begins. After a quick drink at the hotel bar, we all head off to a local favorite tapas bar that Ana and Piero like in the Baron district. Past the flame, we head into a small restaurant where the tables are wooden and sit overlooking a balcony. Soon we are surrounded by bottles of wine and more tapas then we really need, but they are oh’, so good! The potatoes and salmon are definitely the best and as we all attempt to enjoy them we are constantly interrupted by the man selling roses. Simon tells him more than once to go away, but finally gives in and hands it to mom. As he hands the man some Euros the price suddenly goes up and a fun war of words ensues between the funny Brit and vendor. Eventually, we all return to our dinner and mom tells Simon how much she enjoys the movie “Love Actually,” to which he replies “That is the redheaded stepchild of films.” He’s also not too fond of Hugh Grant, which also disappoints mom, but we’ll move on. After dinner the five of us continue down the street to the bar section of the Baron district. There we find a nice little dive where shots are ordered and the night becomes very long very fast. From one bar to another the five of us wind up at one of Barcelona’s best dance clubs (I think anyway) and we order a big bottle of champagne. It comes with strawberries and soon the music begins flowing; we move to the dance floor where another bottle of champagne follows us. Piero says good night to us as he has to work early the next day, but since mom and I are on vacation, we continue hanging out with Ana and Simon. After several hours, I suddenly realize I can’t read my watch anymore and we all decide to head out. But not before I am encouraging everyone to continue somewhere else; thank God they said no. On the street Ana and I hug, then ask each other “Did you pay the bill?” A look of horror strikes our face as we believe we just walked out of the bar with a huge tab and I’m afraid the Espana policia will come running after me for walking out on my tab. It’s unclear as to if possibly Simon took care of the bill? He’s weaving up and down the cobblestone streets in front of us as well, not quite responding to the yelling we are doing after him. A few blocks away at the hotel Ana hugs us good night and promises to see us in the morning at 11:00 AM. Then we oh’, so gracefully stumble in to the H10 hotel Barcelona saying “Lo siento” as fast as possible to the front desk employee.
Friday, November 27, 2009
Barcelona, Spain
It’s 11:00 AM and I am not where I am supposed to be. I am supposed to be downstairs meeting Ana, but I am lying in bed, my head pounding and the Spanish hangover from hell. Mom has elected to take a shower first, giving me an extra hour of sleep. At 11:30 AM I hear the phone ring…Ana is downstairs. I send mom down to do my dirty work and tell her I am slightly hungover. Ana tells mom it was a struggle for her today, too. Thank God. I am getting too old for champagne nights out in Barcelona. At 11:45 I drag myself up and into the shower, where I lie there and let the water run over my body until I think I might have enough energy to make it downstairs; afterwards I gather every one of my clothing/vanity articles and toss them into my American Tourister. There is no organization about it. We can’t stay here again tonight b/c the hotel is booked. Of all the days. At a little past noon I head downstairs to seek out mom and Ana, but they aren’t in the lobby. Don’t tell me they actually had the energy to go to breakfast. My stomach churns at the thought. The front desk agent tells me they are on the roof. There is a roof in this hotel? I take the elevator to the 8th floor where I climb some stairs (again…) and find Ana lying on a white lounge chair enjoying the Barcelona view. I want to hug her, but I just can’t walk that far. I want to lie up here all day.
We head downstairs and even though the hotel we are moving to is 1 Kilometer away I say we are taking a taxi. There is no way my body is going to make the walk, plus hauling my luggage. After arriving at the new hotel I crawl into bed, sunglasses still on, and blow Ana a kiss. Ciao Bella; I must now go back to sleep. Mom grabs $21 Euros and tells me bye; she’s off to take the double decker bus tour. Please, don’t let me stop you. I am going to lie here for quite a while.
At 3:00 PM I wake up to find myself slightly better. I place my sunglasses back on my head and stumble down the elevator to the street. There is a Starbuck’s downstairs and I don’t care how much a European latte cost right now, it is going in my body. After grabbing a non-fat Hazelnut latte I begin to feel slightly better and run into mom, back from her first leg of the bus tour. Do I want to join her this afternoon? Oh’, I don’t know if I can stomach that. But, maybe the fresh air will do me good? I don’t want to buy a bus ticket, so when we get to the red machine, I tell the girl in Spanish that I left mine at the hotel and she promptly lets me on. I crawl into the very last seat to take in the view from the top. Soon, we are off and seeing Guadi’s houses, parks, Sports arenas, hospitals, etc. Barcelona is beautiful and I begin to feel better. After stopping for the Olympic Stadium, we elect to not get back off until the end where we head to Barcelona Crepes and I try my first food of the day. Strawberry and whipped cream, along with ham, mushrooms, and cheese. It all taste delicious, then we wonder back along Las Ramblas where Christmas lights have been strung up to invite visitors into the holiday season. Once we get back to the hotel, I opt for more sleep just to make sure.
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Barcelona, Spain to Madrid, Spain
This morning we checked out and headed back to the Barcelona creperie. Mom’s new favorite restaurant. I ordered a large chocolate crepe, covered in whipped cream and hazelnuts, accompanied by a café con leche. It was heaven in a cup. Then, we hopped on the Metro to Barcelona Sants to secure tickets on tonight’s overnight train to Madrid. At the train station I went to three different windows to buy a ticket before I was directed to a small machine dispensing numbers and realized I held number 339 and they were on 322. Time to sit and wait. When my turn came I asked the girls the difference in classes, looking for a bed so we didn’t sit up all night. Mom has some vision of Bing Crosby and Danny Kaye going with us to Madrid, but I thinking more of train bombings. Once the ticket differences are figured out, we elect to spend $10 more Euros so we’ll have a bed on the night train. Then, we hop back on the Metro and head to Sagrada de Familia, the house that Gaudi built. They give me the student price again and mom decides to get the headphones as well, then we pop inside the gates and begin to see the beautiful structure. Inside the church is full of construction and concrete mixtures, up above the windows are panes of blue and yellow, with light steaming on down. We walk around and Guadi’s tomb is inside before I see the white chiseled ceiling with flicks of gold. Down on the bottom we listen to a twenty minute video teaching us about how Gaudi was in the middle of building when he was killed by a Barcelona train in 1926. Leaving the structure we hop back on the Metro and over to the park, which is the closest Metro stop to Guadi’s museum. The tour ticket forgot to mention that we must haul ourselves far up a large hill. After the second set of hills the city of Barcelona has put in a set of escalators, which mom takes but I elect to work off the crepes and foot it up the stairs. Once reaching the park we are granted a spectacular view of the city and pathways leading to Gaudi’s lizard statues. There are hundreds of people in the park enjoying the nice day, playing Frisbee and listening to violin players.
With the sun winding down, we head back to the hotel to collect our bags. Ana joins us and we grab a few more tapas in Las Ramblas before catching the night train to Madrid. Once at the train station there is 20 minutes to spare as we open the doors to Cart 31 and are met by 50 other people attempting to haul their luggage in a hallway spaced 2 feet wide. No one is fitting. Passengers begin to step in and out of rooms, until we head all the way down to the opposite side of Cart 31 where we find beds 75 and 76…they are the top bunks. Each room is 6x6, with 6 bunk beds in each. Tighter than girl scout camp and both mom and I are at the top. Unfortunately, mom can not switch to the bottom because there is a little old lady, about 80, who holds the downstairs ticket. I am laughing as she speaks to me in Catalan and ramble back to her in Spanish. I have no clue what she’s saying, but I do know that all of this luggage and all of us are not going to fit inside this room. I pull the luggage inside and push the old woman down on her bunk. Otherwise, the line of people in the hallway is going to stay backed up. After placing our two bags in between the bottom two bunks, I use them as a ladder to step up on the actual ladder where I reach the top bunk. There is only room to lie down and I have mom hand me our two backpacks, which we can use as pillows, since the pillows provided are nothing more than a stack of Kleenex. Getting situated, we finally pull ourselves back down and decide to wonder through the train. There is the club car, the regular seats, and the room seats that face each other but don’t recline. The toilettes stink worse than port-o-potties, but they’ll have to do tonight. After grabbing a ham and cheese sandwich, we sit in an empty room to watch “Friends” on the laptop. Outside we pass through Spain and can see the country lit up. When we head back to the room a few hours later, the old woman is now playing Sudoku and the cart door is broken. After going on a hunt to find the train worker, he uses a tool to lock us in, so I hope there is no emergency during the night. It’s home sweet home on the top bunk for me. Good night; I will see you in Madrid.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Trienta minutas! That’s what I heard the train conductor yelling as he came through the cart this morning waking everyone up. I stretched myself up after sleeping on the board that was called a bed and put my shoes on as I still lie flat down. Then, I crawled on down the ladder, where mom and I drug our suitcases down the corridor near the opening so we wouldn’t have to fight traffic once we stopped in Madrid. At the train stop I looked for signs pointing us to the Metro, but they led us instead to the street. It was dark, raining, and I had no map; so we jumped into a taxi and I gave him directions to a hotel I had found the night before. Mom wanted to be close to the airport for her flight out the next day, and when we arrived it was the only thing around. After offering us a room for $55 Euros they told us we could pay an extra $12 for all day Internet access and mom said “let’s go somewhere else.” There was one other place next door, the High Tech Hotel, for $75 Euros and we continued walking onwards. After traipsing around in the pouring down rain for over an hour I finally said “We’re getting on the Metro.” So, into the Metro we went and 17 stops later arrived at Calleo in the Madrid city center. After ducking in to a few hotels that were over $100 Euros per night, I stumbled upon the Hostal Besaya, a quaint hotel with clean beds, red comforters, and spotless showers. And, free Internet. We showered and got clean, then grabbed a map of Madrid and set out on foot to see the city. Along the path we came to Plaza Mayor, Santo Domingo and the Palacio Real. Everywhere we turned in Madrid there was another tall building looking down on us, the corners shaped to architecture perfection. I was looking for a restaurant I had read about in the Lonely Planet and when we finally did find it (way down an alley), they were just opening for the day and it was near 1:00 PM. Instead, we headed into a place that had a sign for breakfast out front, but upon sitting down and ordering the waiter told me “No mas desayuno.” Great. A bad lunch of tiny sandwiches followed and then we walked down to the park behind the Prado Museum to find a large lake and huge statues that looked like lions. In the afternoon we visited the Madrid Archaeological Museum and famous Prado where we saw Goya’s masterpieces. There was supposed to be a Rembrandt hanging around, but after climbing numerous stairs and working our way through the crowd, we were told it had been taken off display until December 3 for a temporary exhibit. Outside the night was lit up with Christmas lights and in the Del Sol square a tall green Christmas tree welcomed visitors and locals alike. Down the path near the Cortes Ingles was a movie premiere of some type and Disney characters bounced about while handing little kids balloon animals. Mom and I grabbed dinner at Museo del Jamon and had typical Spanish food, including ham and cheese sandwiches, while standing around the deli bar, then visited the candy shop next door where we filled up on honey and crème filled pastries. Mom grabbed some chocolate covered Euros for her kindergarteners and I grabbed more chocolate for myself, then we had one last look at the Opera house covered in purple lights under the night sky before walking down the famous Via Via, past the Broadway shoes and back to our hotel.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Madrid, Spain
5:00 AM I walked mom down to her airplane shuttle stop and made sure she was safe in the early darkness. After hugging goodbye, I made my way three blocks back to the Hostal Besaya, past the late night hookers and drunkards, crawling back into bed for some more rest. Near lunchtime I checked out and went out into the Madrid sunshine that had found its way to the city. I visited the inside gates and grounds of the Palacio Real, where the King of Spain holds State dinners, then took my time in the botanical gardens and stopped for café and chocolate at every store I passed.
In the afternoon I moved my luggage down the street to the United World Hostel, which charges $2 Euros for towel uses, but is four steps from the Metro stop so I go with it. You have to leave every day from 11-2 for cleaning time and the manager seems to have an attitude problem, but it does have the location I need, so I pay for one night and set up shop. I am joined by a group of Polish girls who are on their way to Morocco and a Belgium boy attempting to hike his way through Europe. After we all share a few stories, it’s night for all. There is no peace and quiet, though, as each bunk bed squeaks if you raise your arm. As I close out my laptop and shut the cover the bed squeaks; it’s going to be a long night.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Madrid, Spain
For my last day in Europe I headed to the Senado building to see how business was conducted in Spain. After coming face to face with the Spanish equivalent of the “Red Hat Lady” society, I pass off my purse to the x-ray technician, then enter the grandiose building and see red draped walls and golden picture frames holding any leader that has ever saved Spain in a war. These tourists are rough and more than once an old lady elbows me out of her way. Finally, I bypass it all and make my way out the exit where I am handed a free bag of Senado goodies; a take home prize! It contains a wooden Senado box, with their logo, and a notebad and pens inside. I don’t even have a US Senate box and I worked there for three years.
Since I still haven’t seen a bullfight (apparently it’s off season), I take the Metro to the bull fighting ring and instead tour the bullfighting museum. They are setting up for a circus and next to the stuffed bulls are real lions and tigers roaming about. I try to take a photo of them in their cage but the security shoos me away. Inside the museum I learn every fact about every famous Spanish bull fighter that ever lived, including all their “moves” in case I am ever face to face with a bull and need to make nice. Their black ballet slippers are the best and I would like to tell them that they might want to invest in some cleats.
In the evening I meet up with the Polish girls and learn that one of them has lost her passport, money and all documents. She is a new girl that just arrived today and in the course of 5 hours seemed to doom and gloom her vacation. I help them find the Polish embassy online and suggest they go to the Police first. While she heads there, the other girls and I go off to meet a CouchSurfer who couldn’t host anyone this week, but wanted to meet while we’re in town. A large group of us all head to a random bar in the middle of Madrid where the wine and beer is $2 Euros each and after we all vow to visit each other’s countries, it’s back to the hostel we go. Each of us has to leave tomorrow and they’re off at 5 AM. Crawling in to my squeaky bed, I am looking forward to returning to the States. My time in Europe was fun, but it’s off to other adventures now; like ‘Home for the Holid
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Paris, France to Geneva, Switzerland to Barcelona, Spain
Monday, November 23, 2009
Paris, France to Geneva, Switzerland
Hopping up after only four hours sleep, I hugged Catherine goodbye and walked down Phillipe August to Nation and onward to the train station. Lugging my 36 pound luggage up and down the stairs of the Paris Metro did nothing to make my morning better. And, after entering the train station, I headed right to the kiosk to print out my ticket to Switzerland, only to have the credit card rejected since it wasn’t a Euro MasterCard. Two information booth stops later, I crawled into line with all the other English speakers and handed the woman a print out of my reservation, where she promptly printed out a new boarding pass and off I went. Grabbing a croissant and OJ, I waited for the platform to be announced and as soon as they lit up “21” I headed to the train. I hopped inside a carriage that I saw labeled on my ticket and assumed it was free for all seating, since I hadn’t noticed a seat number. I chose 46 b/c it was in the middle of the cart and had a table for me to work at. No sooner had I gotten myself comfortable then two men asked me in French to move over since apparently I was taking up their room. I pulled out my ticket and there was obviously a seat number on there that I had somehow missed as I was pulling me and my American Tourister roll-on up the stairs. Lucky me, I was only one seat off, and I scooted over. The train left the station right on time and I leaned back to catch a nap. After an hour or so I woke up to the French countryside and barrels of hay, just like in the movies. Small homes lined the route towards the Swiss border and I waited for someone to jump out singing and dancing just like Roger’s and Hammerstein.
After 3 hours, the train pulled up into Geneva where I de-boarded and followed everyone else, since I had no map of Switzerland and no clue where I was going. Right outside I was met by a friend and together we headed to the place I would be staying for the next two days. Upon arrival, I noticed all the banks lining the river. Now, I know that Switzerland is known for it’s banking business, but to see it in person left my mouth a gap. Once I was tightly tucked away in the comforts of home, I settled into some daily work before taking in a view of Geneva. Strolling along the river I was met by slight rainfall and a cool breeze, while the lights of the Rolex building and Deutsche bank glowed across the bank. Far up a high hill I continued to a small square containing large cannons and red glowing lights. Small children ran through and played as if they were toys. The cobblestone streets were small, only large enough for two mini-coopers to pass by with a few inches in between and in the middle of town I found a large square where a chocolate shop was lit up. Chocolate formed kettles filled the window, in every size imaginable. As eager as I was, they were already closed and I would have to wait until tomorrow to taste the devine dessert. Walking my way back across the bridge, I saw swans floating in the water…so big, I think they were on steroids. Even though it’s only 10:00 PM, there aren’t a lot of people on the street, so I head towards home and call it an early night.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Geneva, Switzerland
I rose early and took the train to the airport the greet mom. Visitors to Geneva ride public transportation FOR FREE the entire time they are in the city. What a deal! And, what a great way to promote public transit. Plus, the train only takes 6 minutes to get to and from the airport, so it was easy and fast. Arriving at the airport, I find mom waiting in baggage claim and back to town we go; of course, we just missed the 8:05 AM train and instead of waiting around for 30 minutes until the next one I say “let’s just take the bus.” Mom tells me she needs to go to the restroom, but inside it costs $1 Swiss Frank and all I have is a $50. On the bus I have no idea where we are going, just that eventually the bus will get us back to town. After riding for several stops, I figure it out and we get off near the train station. It’s raining again and mom stops to get out her umbrella. It is so big, I swear she is Mary Poppins and may float away. Storing her luggage, we head to breakfast where I enjoy a wide variety of Swiss and French cheeses, croissants, jellies, jams, and croissants. I am going to get fat on this trip, but as long as it’s on cheese and chocolate, I don’t care. Next stop, we walk along the river where the swans are back, along with their ducky friends. The trees are manicured into a fun cone-like shape and large silver decorations are placed on them for Christmas. There are river boat cruises you can take for only $23 Swiss Franks, which include all you can eat fondue; however, they stopped for the season a few weeks back and I am very sad. Continuing on, mom begins to tell me that her feet hurt from all the walking and I tell her “Welcome to Europe!” Far up a hill, that was not described on the map, I can finally see the UN building and the blue flag waiving in front. As I cross in front of the UNHCR, there are 20 or so armed military personnel guarding the gates and I keep on walking. Mom tells me “I don’t think we can pass” and I say “Just follow me” I keep walking through a hole in the fence and the security guard waves me through. Across the courtyard we see the flags and broken chair welcoming us to the UN and I head to cross the street. Mom takes off jaywalking and I yell out to her; then a UN military police officer begins to speak to her in French before I can get there and she tells me later she thought she was going to the UN jail. I say “if you’re going to jaywalk anywhere, I guess directly in front of the UN is the place.” In actuality, the guard was just asking her where she was trying to go, so I tell him we’re looking for the visitor entrance and he waves us around the corner. At the entrance it seems that they are about to close up for a two hour lunch, but the x-ray machine technician lets us through and soon I am presented with my very own UN visitor pass. It would look a little more official if I wasn’t so tired and had decided to put make up on today. Then, we head down the stairs where I tell the lady I am a student and she gives the discount; only $8 Swiss Franks instead of $10.
She tells us to head outside and look for building 39, but when I get outside all I see is building 17 and know that the UN is one place I don’t want to get lost. But, I take a chance and swing left where building 39 is right next to 17 and I wonder how matters of world peace are solved here, but not mathematics. The English-speaking tour starts right at noon and our guide takes us to a large board where the outlay of the UN is displayed. We see three conference rooms, but mostly hallways. I am told how the UN building was built…each UN country gave something to help build it, i.e. marble from Italy, ceiling decorations from Spain. I ask what the USA gave and am guided to a small wall with some pictures that look like photos, but are actually drawings. They depict the California coast. Seriously, that is all the USA could come up with? I learn about the money given to the UN and how countries are put on probation; what 6 official languages are spoken at the UN. I learn that Nicole Kidman was not actually here to film “The Interpreter.” That makes me sad. After an hour the tour is over and mom needs a nap. Jet lag is setting in, so we head back.
At night we spa it up and then I open a bottle of champagne. It’s vacation, we should celebrate! After an hour the bottle is gone and we are wondering the streets of Geneva. As we walk, Christmas lights are strung up in the air and locals meander in the streets. The jewels for sale sparkle even more in the dark and I wonder where my hidden Swiss bank account is to buy me all the pretty things I see. After seeing all that Geneva has to offer, we head back to the bar, where drinks in Switzerland are expensive. $24 Swiss Franks for martinis and margaritas, which is pretty much $24 US since the currency is about even right now. I keep it simple with wine and we close out the night enjoying the nightcap. Although nightlife in Geneva doesn’t seem to be a NYC or Vegas, at least they are changing the world here with decisions and world peace.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Geneva, Switzerland to Barcelona, Spain
Breakfast is magical as I lounge around and enjoy the fact that I am in Switzerland. Sipping on my coffee I wonder how in the hell I have been able to not hold a 9-5 job for almost two years, yet still live like a queen. It is good. After packing up and heading out, we spend the last day in Geneva roaming the streets. There is a beautiful church on top of the hill and what appears to be a temple of some sort where a funeral is going on. The river runs right through town and we stop near a merry-go-round to watch kids play and the daily farmers market take place. Crepes and kabobs are for sale as workers hurry in the streets, grabbing food, then perching themselves on a bench nearby. In the park the Christmas lights are going up with great care and I find a tree filled with gold clothing promoting the opera. On the main street mom and I visit the Martel chocolate shop where chocolate is $65 Swiss Franks per kilo. I only wonder how that compares to the going rate for cocaine these days. Which would you choose if given the opportunity? Inside the shop, mom uses all her Swiss Franks to buy chocolate and we devour the goodness before even pushing the door back open into the street. Good. Ness.
In late afternoon it’s time to head to the airport. At the airport the EasyJet kiosk won’t read my American MasterCard, so back into line I go. After printing our boarding passes, I hand the girl my luggage and we go off to security. There is some sign about 100mg of liquids, but since I don’t know how much that is, I throw my Evian in the plastic bin and tell mom to as well. While we are turning the corner a security man asks her in French how she enjoyed her trip to Switzerland. But, she thinks he’s telling her she has some forbidden object and gets a stricken look on her face before he speaks to her in English and we all bust out laughing. At the x-ray machine my water does not make it through, but the Swiss-TSA agent lets me drink it and keep the bottle. So nice of him. I search out Wi-Fi in the airport, but you have to have a Swiss phone number and a text sent to you with the code. Too much work. Although, I realize that I don’t have the phone number of the woman I am renting the apartment from in Barcelona. So, this non-Internet is a problem. I do have my friend Ana’s phone number though and head to the pay phone to call her. The phone dings a busy signal, so I’ll just have to wait until I get to Barcelona.
As we board I realize that this EasyJet is like the Southwest Air of Europe and we somehow end up in the back when I was off my guard. Living on four hours of sleep, I conk out at lift off, then am woken up by the lady in my row who decided to take up shop by the window. Both me, and the guy in the middle, were both asleep and she woke us up. Now, it’s only an hour flight, if you know you’re gonna have to pee then don’t sit by the window. After giving her an “I want to kill you” look, I think she gets the message. In Barcelona a guy two rows behind me pushes and shoves to get two rows ahead of me and is so rude that he knocks off the glasses of another person, then drops his luggage on their head. Out at baggage claim I immediately search for a telephone and am told there is only one, WAY FAR DOWN. I walk that way where it’s out of service, so I continue on to the RENFE station.
I had rented an apartment from someone named Joan. Joan had given me directions to the apartment, which was a few blocks away from my friends Ana and Piero. Ana gave me new directions and told me they were much easier. At RENFE we missed the train by 3 minutes, then sat around to catch the next one 30 minutes later. While waiting I approached various people asking to use their cell phones and they looked at me as though I was going to rip them off. At this point we are 45 minutes late to meet Ana and I still don’t have the phone number to Joan. I have no map of Barcelona and no clue where the hell I am going. As we load up on to the train mom tells me “I miss Daddy hauling my luggage” and think “Lucky Dad!” On the train we are forced to connect at Barcelona Sants and on the second RENFE there is a delay when we are only one station away. After a 20 minute delay we begin to head backwards on the tracks and I notice a guy with an I Phone. He lets me use it and I connect with Ana; she has been waiting over an hour for me. This is not going well. As I talk with her mom and I (and the I Phone guy) are moving swiftly through Barcelona Sants only to find the escalator out of order. Up the stairs we haul luggage as I talk on the I Phone, asking Ana to please call Joan and let her know I am in Barcelona and on my way to the apartment. Ana says she’ll try, but she’s not at home anymore; then advises me to just hop in a cab. This is a great idea, except I am plum out of Euros and must find a bank. Up the stairs and onto the street I spot a bank, hand back the I Phone and begin to feel like Chevy Chase in National Lampoon’s European Vacation. After collecting cash, mom and I hop into the taxi and he speeds away. We are there in a flash and now standing at another Metro station in the middle of Barcelona. I still have no map and no clue where the hell we are.
After approximately two minutes, a straggly looking fellow pulls up and asks if I am Jenifer. Yes, that’s me. He introduces himself and tells me to follow him. He tells me that Joan sent him. He will take me to the apartment. It is dark, I have no clue where I am, and as I begin to walk down the street, I feel like that movie “Taken.” There is an utter suspicion mom and I are about to be sold as sex slaves.
Paris, France to Geneva, Switzerland
Hopping up after only four hours sleep, I hugged Catherine goodbye and walked down Phillipe August to Nation and onward to the train station. Lugging my 36 pound luggage up and down the stairs of the Paris Metro did nothing to make my morning better. And, after entering the train station, I headed right to the kiosk to print out my ticket to Switzerland, only to have the credit card rejected since it wasn’t a Euro MasterCard. Two information booth stops later, I crawled into line with all the other English speakers and handed the woman a print out of my reservation, where she promptly printed out a new boarding pass and off I went. Grabbing a croissant and OJ, I waited for the platform to be announced and as soon as they lit up “21” I headed to the train. I hopped inside a carriage that I saw labeled on my ticket and assumed it was free for all seating, since I hadn’t noticed a seat number. I chose 46 b/c it was in the middle of the cart and had a table for me to work at. No sooner had I gotten myself comfortable then two men asked me in French to move over since apparently I was taking up their room. I pulled out my ticket and there was obviously a seat number on there that I had somehow missed as I was pulling me and my American Tourister roll-on up the stairs. Lucky me, I was only one seat off, and I scooted over. The train left the station right on time and I leaned back to catch a nap. After an hour or so I woke up to the French countryside and barrels of hay, just like in the movies. Small homes lined the route towards the Swiss border and I waited for someone to jump out singing and dancing just like Roger’s and Hammerstein.
After 3 hours, the train pulled up into Geneva where I de-boarded and followed everyone else, since I had no map of Switzerland and no clue where I was going. Right outside I was met by a friend and together we headed to the place I would be staying for the next two days. Upon arrival, I noticed all the banks lining the river. Now, I know that Switzerland is known for it’s banking business, but to see it in person left my mouth a gap. Once I was tightly tucked away in the comforts of home, I settled into some daily work before taking in a view of Geneva. Strolling along the river I was met by slight rainfall and a cool breeze, while the lights of the Rolex building and Deutsche bank glowed across the bank. Far up a high hill I continued to a small square containing large cannons and red glowing lights. Small children ran through and played as if they were toys. The cobblestone streets were small, only large enough for two mini-coopers to pass by with a few inches in between and in the middle of town I found a large square where a chocolate shop was lit up. Chocolate formed kettles filled the window, in every size imaginable. As eager as I was, they were already closed and I would have to wait until tomorrow to taste the devine dessert. Walking my way back across the bridge, I saw swans floating in the water…so big, I think they were on steroids. Even though it’s only 10:00 PM, there aren’t a lot of people on the street, so I head towards home and call it an early night.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Geneva, Switzerland
I rose early and took the train to the airport the greet mom. Visitors to Geneva ride public transportation FOR FREE the entire time they are in the city. What a deal! And, what a great way to promote public transit. Plus, the train only takes 6 minutes to get to and from the airport, so it was easy and fast. Arriving at the airport, I find mom waiting in baggage claim and back to town we go; of course, we just missed the 8:05 AM train and instead of waiting around for 30 minutes until the next one I say “let’s just take the bus.” Mom tells me she needs to go to the restroom, but inside it costs $1 Swiss Frank and all I have is a $50. On the bus I have no idea where we are going, just that eventually the bus will get us back to town. After riding for several stops, I figure it out and we get off near the train station. It’s raining again and mom stops to get out her umbrella. It is so big, I swear she is Mary Poppins and may float away. Storing her luggage, we head to breakfast where I enjoy a wide variety of Swiss and French cheeses, croissants, jellies, jams, and croissants. I am going to get fat on this trip, but as long as it’s on cheese and chocolate, I don’t care. Next stop, we walk along the river where the swans are back, along with their ducky friends. The trees are manicured into a fun cone-like shape and large silver decorations are placed on them for Christmas. There are river boat cruises you can take for only $23 Swiss Franks, which include all you can eat fondue; however, they stopped for the season a few weeks back and I am very sad. Continuing on, mom begins to tell me that her feet hurt from all the walking and I tell her “Welcome to Europe!” Far up a hill, that was not described on the map, I can finally see the UN building and the blue flag waiving in front. As I cross in front of the UNHCR, there are 20 or so armed military personnel guarding the gates and I keep on walking. Mom tells me “I don’t think we can pass” and I say “Just follow me” I keep walking through a hole in the fence and the security guard waves me through. Across the courtyard we see the flags and broken chair welcoming us to the UN and I head to cross the street. Mom takes off jaywalking and I yell out to her; then a UN military police officer begins to speak to her in French before I can get there and she tells me later she thought she was going to the UN jail. I say “if you’re going to jaywalk anywhere, I guess directly in front of the UN is the place.” In actuality, the guard was just asking her where she was trying to go, so I tell him we’re looking for the visitor entrance and he waves us around the corner. At the entrance it seems that they are about to close up for a two hour lunch, but the x-ray machine technician lets us through and soon I am presented with my very own UN visitor pass. It would look a little more official if I wasn’t so tired and had decided to put make up on today. Then, we head down the stairs where I tell the lady I am a student and she gives the discount; only $8 Swiss Franks instead of $10.
She tells us to head outside and look for building 39, but when I get outside all I see is building 17 and know that the UN is one place I don’t want to get lost. But, I take a chance and swing left where building 39 is right next to 17 and I wonder how matters of world peace are solved here, but not mathematics. The English-speaking tour starts right at noon and our guide takes us to a large board where the outlay of the UN is displayed. We see three conference rooms, but mostly hallways. I am told how the UN building was built…each UN country gave something to help build it, i.e. marble from Italy, ceiling decorations from Spain. I ask what the USA gave and am guided to a small wall with some pictures that look like photos, but are actually drawings. They depict the California coast. Seriously, that is all the USA could come up with? I learn about the money given to the UN and how countries are put on probation; what 6 official languages are spoken at the UN. I learn that Nicole Kidman was not actually here to film “The Interpreter.” That makes me sad. After an hour the tour is over and mom needs a nap. Jet lag is setting in, so we head back.
At night we spa it up and then I open a bottle of champagne. It’s vacation, we should celebrate! After an hour the bottle is gone and we are wondering the streets of Geneva. As we walk, Christmas lights are strung up in the air and locals meander in the streets. The jewels for sale sparkle even more in the dark and I wonder where my hidden Swiss bank account is to buy me all the pretty things I see. After seeing all that Geneva has to offer, we head back to the bar, where drinks in Switzerland are expensive. $24 Swiss Franks for martinis and margaritas, which is pretty much $24 US since the currency is about even right now. I keep it simple with wine and we close out the night enjoying the nightcap. Although nightlife in Geneva doesn’t seem to be a NYC or Vegas, at least they are changing the world here with decisions and world peace.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Geneva, Switzerland to Barcelona, Spain
Breakfast is magical as I lounge around and enjoy the fact that I am in Switzerland. Sipping on my coffee I wonder how in the hell I have been able to not hold a 9-5 job for almost two years, yet still live like a queen. It is good. After packing up and heading out, we spend the last day in Geneva roaming the streets. There is a beautiful church on top of the hill and what appears to be a temple of some sort where a funeral is going on. The river runs right through town and we stop near a merry-go-round to watch kids play and the daily farmers market take place. Crepes and kabobs are for sale as workers hurry in the streets, grabbing food, then perching themselves on a bench nearby. In the park the Christmas lights are going up with great care and I find a tree filled with gold clothing promoting the opera. On the main street mom and I visit the Martel chocolate shop where chocolate is $65 Swiss Franks per kilo. I only wonder how that compares to the going rate for cocaine these days. Which would you choose if given the opportunity? Inside the shop, mom uses all her Swiss Franks to buy chocolate and we devour the goodness before even pushing the door back open into the street. Good. Ness.
In late afternoon it’s time to head to the airport. At the airport the EasyJet kiosk won’t read my American MasterCard, so back into line I go. After printing our boarding passes, I hand the girl my luggage and we go off to security. There is some sign about 100mg of liquids, but since I don’t know how much that is, I throw my Evian in the plastic bin and tell mom to as well. While we are turning the corner a security man asks her in French how she enjoyed her trip to Switzerland. But, she thinks he’s telling her she has some forbidden object and gets a stricken look on her face before he speaks to her in English and we all bust out laughing. At the x-ray machine my water does not make it through, but the Swiss-TSA agent lets me drink it and keep the bottle. So nice of him. I search out Wi-Fi in the airport, but you have to have a Swiss phone number and a text sent to you with the code. Too much work. Although, I realize that I don’t have the phone number of the woman I am renting the apartment from in Barcelona. So, this non-Internet is a problem. I do have my friend Ana’s phone number though and head to the pay phone to call her. The phone dings a busy signal, so I’ll just have to wait until I get to Barcelona.
As we board I realize that this EasyJet is like the Southwest Air of Europe and we somehow end up in the back when I was off my guard. Living on four hours of sleep, I conk out at lift off, then am woken up by the lady in my row who decided to take up shop by the window. Both me, and the guy in the middle, were both asleep and she woke us up. Now, it’s only an hour flight, if you know you’re gonna have to pee then don’t sit by the window. After giving her an “I want to kill you” look, I think she gets the message. In Barcelona a guy two rows behind me pushes and shoves to get two rows ahead of me and is so rude that he knocks off the glasses of another person, then drops his luggage on their head. Out at baggage claim I immediately search for a telephone and am told there is only one, WAY FAR DOWN. I walk that way where it’s out of service, so I continue on to the RENFE station.
I had rented an apartment from someone named Joan. Joan had given me directions to the apartment, which was a few blocks away from my friends Ana and Piero. Ana gave me new directions and told me they were much easier. At RENFE we missed the train by 3 minutes, then sat around to catch the next one 30 minutes later. While waiting I approached various people asking to use their cell phones and they looked at me as though I was going to rip them off. At this point we are 45 minutes late to meet Ana and I still don’t have the phone number to Joan. I have no map of Barcelona and no clue where the hell I am going. As we load up on to the train mom tells me “I miss Daddy hauling my luggage” and think “Lucky Dad!” On the train we are forced to connect at Barcelona Sants and on the second RENFE there is a delay when we are only one station away. After a 20 minute delay we begin to head backwards on the tracks and I notice a guy with an I Phone. He lets me use it and I connect with Ana; she has been waiting over an hour for me. This is not going well. As I talk with her mom and I (and the I Phone guy) are moving swiftly through Barcelona Sants only to find the escalator out of order. Up the stairs we haul luggage as I talk on the I Phone, asking Ana to please call Joan and let her know I am in Barcelona and on my way to the apartment. Ana says she’ll try, but she’s not at home anymore; then advises me to just hop in a cab. This is a great idea, except I am plum out of Euros and must find a bank. Up the stairs and onto the street I spot a bank, hand back the I Phone and begin to feel like Chevy Chase in National Lampoon’s European Vacation. After collecting cash, mom and I hop into the taxi and he speeds away. We are there in a flash and now standing at another Metro station in the middle of Barcelona. I still have no map and no clue where the hell we are.
After approximately two minutes, a straggly looking fellow pulls up and asks if I am Jenifer. Yes, that’s me. He introduces himself and tells me to follow him. He tells me that Joan sent him. He will take me to the apartment. It is dark, I have no clue where I am, and as I begin to walk down the street, I feel like that movie “Taken.” There is an utter suspicion mom and I are about to be sold as sex slaves.
Monday, November 23, 2009
Washington, DC to Paris, France
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Washington, DC to Paris, France
Jumping on the Marriot shuttle to Reagan I was met by two guys commenting on how big my jacket was. That was the second time in two weeks I have had a man say something about my clothes. Now, I am not the most fashionable woman in the world, but I’m beginning to think either they are on to something or I am just so hot they can’t find another topic to talk with me about. At any rate, I tell them I’m headed to Paris so I need to stay warm and ask where they’re going. They reply Knoxville. Yeah’, good luck with that. Been there, done that, got Dolly and Kenny to sign my t-shirt.
After checking in I slide on over to the good ol’ US Airways counter where I ask the guy to move me up on my second flight out of Philadelphia and he tells me it will cost me $30. Even though the seats are empty? I can move there myself for free when I board. Walking down to the US Airways special agent counter the lady smiles, bumps me up to row 7 and says “Have a nice time in Paris, Ms. Bubenik.” Now, was that sooooo hard? Leaving Reagan out of gate 35A, which is by far my favorite gate there, b/c it means I will for sure be delayed, I hop into the shuttle to take me to the tar mat. When the jam packed shuttle gets to the tar mat we are told we can’t board the plane b/c the crew isn’t on board. Are you kidding me? I have put up with a lot of shit from US Airways, but never has the crew not arrived on time. Sitting it out for 20 minutes, we wait until three straggling employees roll up and finally we are granted the stairway to hell. Once on there’s another delay, that sends us back 30 minutes and by the time I land in Philly I have 20 minutes to connect to my Paris flight. I am in the F terminal and need to be at A26…a full mile and outside shuttle away. I run down, alerting everyone in my path to get the hell out of the way, then stop at a ticket counter to ask if they can call gate A26 and let them know I’m on the way. He tells me he’s closed for the night. I will deal with him later. I step up into the shuttle and tell the driver “Go, go, go!” Several turns later we are at A1, still far away from my final destination. With my laptop backpack on, I begin sprinting in my new winter boots and down coat down the airport until I have no breath left and realize the two vodka sprites D’Ann talked me into back in DC might have been a mistake now that I am forced to exercise. By A17 I wonder how I ever ran a marathon in my life and at A26 the gate agent replies “You’re FAST” when I tell her I arrived from the DC flight. She might think I’m fast, but my lungs are so winded right now I would pay for an oxygen tank.
Finding my seat the guy next to me does not look please as I make him rearrange and get up. A few minutes later we are in the air and soon I realize my TV doesn’t work. I am supposed to fly across the Atlantic without a TV set? This will not do. So, I head back to row 26 and set up base camp until we land at CHG in Paris when I return to the front and deboard quickly. After getting up to the window at customs the guy smiles big and greets me with a “Como Tale Vu?” and I wish for a second I had taken French back in high school. I have no clue what he’s saying even though this is a pretty easy term and I look at him like “WTF?” He clues in and switches to English before asking me if I’m in town for business or a holiday. Both. But, we’ll pick holiday this time around. He smiles big again and says “Welcome to Paris!” Who says the French are all snobby?
After retrieving my luggage I follow the step by step instructions that my friend Catherine has sent me to find the train into town. She’s spot on down to the details of ATM cards at the Metro kiosk and I find my way to Terminal B where I hop on the train into Paris. After connecting in the bustling mid-town terminal I wind up at Phillipe August and drag my luggage several blocks down to Rue de Charon where Catherine and her fiancé Jerome live. The concierge is supposed to have a key for me, but when I arrive he’s gone to a two hour lunch. I am so tired and dirty and have an hour and a half to kill now, so I head off to a café where I pay $7 for a muffin and Sprite. Ah…welcome to the Euro. They are still paying us back for voting Bush into office twice. Finally, I gather the key while attempting to introduce myself to the concierge in French. He looks at me as though I am speaking Russian and after some charade playing of me pretending to open a door he offers up the key. Entering Catherine and Jerome’s apartment I am met by their dog, Lola, whom I’ve been instructed not to pet b/c she’ll pee all over. Instead I take a shower and clean myself up for the mean streets of Paris.
Taking a look at the map I decide I can walk to Notre Dame b/c it’s only 2.5 kilometers. Down the street I go, but it’s only a few blocks before I am lost and wondering with no real sense of direction. I wind up at a cemetery where there are hundreds of people wondering through, so I follow suit. I have no clue where I am since I can’t seem to find this place on a map, but it doesn’t take me long to figure out that I am somewhere important when there is a directory inside the cemetery. Down the street I find Batiste and home to a famous French prison. Also home to a round a bout and I head down another wrong way, which does lead me to Notre Dame, just about an extra hour later. Finally, I stumble upon the Stein river and there is magnificent beauty before me. I am blessed with sunshine in the middle of November while in France. The light shines down on the river, statues stand high above me and lovers stroll across bridges, their hands and lips locked together. On both sides of me men are pushing artwork for cheap Euro prices, but I continue onward and into Notre Dame. The cathedral is tall and inside the blue stained glass peers down at me with a strange purple glow. Off to the side there are people waiting for confession, but the booth is no longer a booth, but only an office that is almost see through and the priest sits face to face with the parishioner. I’m not Catholic, but I do know that if I was headed to confess some of my most private things I might not want anyone looking me directly in the eye.
Back outside the sun is beginning to set and I have no clue where I’m going. So, I follow the crowd and wind up at the famous Hotel de Ville, which lights up the night sky. In the courtyard the IRCR is hosting an art show and I wonder in. The theme is war over the years and the pictures touch each person in the room as one woman is brought to tears. Afterwards, I am back on the streets of Paris and make it back to Rue de Charone the correct way. It’s much faster without all the detours. Catherine is home from work and when Jerome joins us the three of us head down to a local wine bar where we meet up with a large group to celebrate Beaujolais. There are only two bottles left and the bartender hands us plastic cups to drink out of, but we cheers each other anyway. After one sip I understand the plastic cups, but not the sale out; this stuff is not good. We all look at each other and force it down. Isn’t France supposed to be the home of good wine? When does that part of the trip start? Around 11 PM we call it a night and head home. I have thoroughly enjoyed my first day in Paris.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Paris, France
After sleeping for twelve hours I forced myself to get up. I didn’t come to Paris to sleep the entire time, but my body was calling for me to slow down!!! After putting myself together I decided to have a full on tourist day and walked down Phillipe August to Nation. Along the way I helped myself to a lunch of French bread and Camembert. Delicious. Where else in the world can you eat just a block of Camembert and not feel guilty? Once on the Metro I take it all the way to the Louvre and hop off. I have a small map in the Lonely Planet (oh, we meet again), which isn’t telling me much, so I check out the map provided by the Louvre. It’s completely in French but I believe my good sense of direction will not lead me astray and soon I am inside the most beautiful building I have ever seen. Angels have built this building. From top to bottom it is perfection. Through the courtyard I am met by hundreds of tourist enjoying the glass pyramids which look down into the museum. There is water sprouting up and I need time to sit there and enjoy the magnificent beauty I see before me. Without a real map I just follow everyone else down a long street and see more gardens and the large ferris wheel, which scares the living crap out of me. There’s no way in hell I’m ever taking a ride on that thing. I bypass it quickly and stroll down the most famous street in Paris. White tents are set up all along offering over priced sales items to tourist. Keeping clear of them I veer to the left and find the Air France compound and soon the Eiffel Tower. At the Eiffel Tower there are guys trying to rob you on each corner, miniature tower trinkets for sale- “Only $5 Euros, mademoiselle!” The guy yells as I keep going. There’s a fun band playing; about ten girls dressed up in leftover Halloween costumes. The line to get into the Eiffel tower is about two hours long and the top floor isn’t even open. I take my photos and leave, cross the street to the Aquarium which is covered in large water fountains spewing into the street. On both sides there are staircases leading upwards and I sit down on them to look back at the view. I am met with an exquisite view of Paris, museums, the Eiffel tower, and water fountains fill the background. Tourists walk the streets and locals fill the roads driving through round a bouts. After the short break, I disappear into the Metro, work my way back to Charonne and take a nap.
As evening progresses Catherine and Jerome head home. We welcome the weekend with wine and walk down to a local eatery that specializes in French food. The floors are covered in hay and the owner speaks at least three different languages. There’s a friendly dog that accompanies him wherever he goes and the bar is rockin’ as people kick off Friday night. Catherine talks me into getting some sort of beer that taste like Sprite and afterwards the three of us enjoy a bottle of the best wine the restaurant offers while I order confit and potatoes. It is followed by a chocolate melting dessert and ice cream while we take in the crowd. To my left is a large man, too big for the t-shirt and jeans he has decided to wear out tonight and his shaved head leaves me wondering how Paris became the fashion capital it is today.
Back at home Jerome cons me into trying some Martinique rum that lights my mouth on fire and sends me into a deep sleep for the night. What a great life; all people do here is drink and eat delicious food.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Paris, France
After Catherine and I finally drag our lazy butts up this morning the two of us head down the streets of the 18th district for some errands. We pick up dry cleaning, step into the pharmacy, and gather some croissants to enjoy with morning coffee. At home I devour the chocolate croissant before the two of us clean up and cross the street to rent bikes for the day. There’s a small kiosk near her house that holds about 30 bikes; you can pick one up there and drop it off across town. What a fabulous idea! The machine is touchy/feely with my US credit cards, and Catherine explains to me that in France they use ATM cards for everything. But, my ATM card is only working at the bank. They’ll give me all the Euros I want but forget about bike service. After we get the bikes situated, there are none left working and we run across the street to catch the bus to Batiste. There’s another bike rack there and we punch in our reservation number before heading out. It takes me a few minutes to figure out how to use the kickstand properly but once I’ve got it going we are gone. Busses are nearly touching my sleeves as we peddle away, but this is so fun! Between concentrating on not getting killed and sightseeing, Catherine yells “Take a left” but by then it’s too late and I take a right towards the Opera House. Turning back she’s nowhere in sight and the two of us are now separated. I wait for several minutes but when she doesn’t appear I fear I’ve gotten myself lost on the streets of Paris with no cell phone, computer, and a touchy/feely credit card. Walking my bike backwards, Catherine suddenly appears from around the corner and the day is on track again. After locking up the bikes we take in the Opera House, where they are getting ready for the nutcracker. A few blocks away we shop at H&M and La Fayette; it is decorated in hot pinks and greens for Christmas. This years theme is gingerbread men and each window has gingerbread men dancing in various stages. It is the Macy’s of Paris.
It’s now time for lunch and we sit down at a small café nearby that sells crepes. I decide on the Champigne, or cheese and mushrooms. Catherine chooses us a Rose bottle of wine and as we enjoy it all the café is perfect for people watching. Set in the busy heart of Paris, there is something for everything as I watch small children in their rain boots, young models trying to make it, and tourists shuffling through the masses. Once we are finished it is time for a nap and we fall asleep on the Metro before making it home. Waking up just in time the two of us walk home and crash for several hours before waking up and preparing for a night out in Paris. Jerome’s brother and his girlfriend are in town; we are also meeting up with many other friends. By the time we make it to the restaurant there are 13 of us crowded around a small table built for 8. But, the fondue and wine starts flowing and soon the cheese, meat and bread is mixed into everyone’s dish. All you can eat/drink (Wine!) for $20 Euros. Every time I looked down there was another bottle of wine; where was it coming from? Three hours later we are all pretty drunk and it’s near midnight. The rain has started but that doesn’t deter us from patronizing a bar down the street, on the corner of the middle of Paris. More bottles of wine follow and soon the waiter informs us it is 4 AM and we MUST LEAVE NOW! Ines tells me we must go to Notre Dame and jump across the star, b/c it means I will definitely return to Paris again! Tomas agrees to escort our drunk butts down there and we slosh in our dresses through the rain before seeking out the star in the dead of night. Tomas laughs at us girls as we yell “Where is the star?” Ines swears she knows where it is, but minutes pass before I am finally jumping across like a gymnast on a balance beam. People laugh as they walk by, but I may only be in Paris once…this is my golden opportunity to return. Ines swears. Clamoring back down the cobblestone streets of Paris, it is a miracle I don’t twist my ankle in the 4-inch stilettos I thought were a great idea 8 hours ago when I dressed myself. Now as the group continues to take in the streets of Paris so early in the morning I slip and slide all over the place. There’s really no leader of the group at this point and we all laugh, scream, hug while enjoying the early Paris morning before somewhere near 6 AM I crawl into bed.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Paris, France
Sleeping. Today is sleeping. I wake up and decide that was a bad idea and roll over where I promptly close my eyes again. At 2 PM Catherine says she’s still tired, but will feel bad if I spent my last day in Paris sleeping. I tell her there are worse things then sleeping off a night in Paris. Eventually we throw on some clothing and head out to dinner where we meet up with Stephan and Kim Lee from last night. Stephan tells us his head was aching and hurting all morning. In America we call that a hangover Stephan.
Jerome and Catherine have taken me to an all-you-can-eat mussels restaurant for my last night in Paris. For $15.50 Euros I get all you can eat mussels, French fries and dessert. They are so delicious and I order another bowl. Sorbet follows and finally all of us begin to feel like real people again. Kim Lee gives me a bottle of champagne and tells me to enjoy the rest of my trip, then we all kiss goodbye. Before going to bed Jerome and Catherine drive me around Paris so I can see it all lit up at night. Spectacular and breathtaking; my eyes are spoiled by the sights. At exactly 11 PM the Eiffel tower begins glittering and glows purple. I never want to leave. The streets have chandeliers hanging from them and the Louvre has a large white crystal tree welcoming you to the courtyard. Cartier, Gucci, Rolex all light up the way and one day when I win the lottery I’ll come back to visit the inside of the stores.
Near midnight we roll back home and it is time to call it a night. It has been a great four days in Paris but my train leaves early for Geneva in the morning. I must get some sleep now. I can not believe I finally made it to Paris; each moment was magical.
Washington, DC to Paris, France
Jumping on the Marriot shuttle to Reagan I was met by two guys commenting on how big my jacket was. That was the second time in two weeks I have had a man say something about my clothes. Now, I am not the most fashionable woman in the world, but I’m beginning to think either they are on to something or I am just so hot they can’t find another topic to talk with me about. At any rate, I tell them I’m headed to Paris so I need to stay warm and ask where they’re going. They reply Knoxville. Yeah’, good luck with that. Been there, done that, got Dolly and Kenny to sign my t-shirt.
After checking in I slide on over to the good ol’ US Airways counter where I ask the guy to move me up on my second flight out of Philadelphia and he tells me it will cost me $30. Even though the seats are empty? I can move there myself for free when I board. Walking down to the US Airways special agent counter the lady smiles, bumps me up to row 7 and says “Have a nice time in Paris, Ms. Bubenik.” Now, was that sooooo hard? Leaving Reagan out of gate 35A, which is by far my favorite gate there, b/c it means I will for sure be delayed, I hop into the shuttle to take me to the tar mat. When the jam packed shuttle gets to the tar mat we are told we can’t board the plane b/c the crew isn’t on board. Are you kidding me? I have put up with a lot of shit from US Airways, but never has the crew not arrived on time. Sitting it out for 20 minutes, we wait until three straggling employees roll up and finally we are granted the stairway to hell. Once on there’s another delay, that sends us back 30 minutes and by the time I land in Philly I have 20 minutes to connect to my Paris flight. I am in the F terminal and need to be at A26…a full mile and outside shuttle away. I run down, alerting everyone in my path to get the hell out of the way, then stop at a ticket counter to ask if they can call gate A26 and let them know I’m on the way. He tells me he’s closed for the night. I will deal with him later. I step up into the shuttle and tell the driver “Go, go, go!” Several turns later we are at A1, still far away from my final destination. With my laptop backpack on, I begin sprinting in my new winter boots and down coat down the airport until I have no breath left and realize the two vodka sprites D’Ann talked me into back in DC might have been a mistake now that I am forced to exercise. By A17 I wonder how I ever ran a marathon in my life and at A26 the gate agent replies “You’re FAST” when I tell her I arrived from the DC flight. She might think I’m fast, but my lungs are so winded right now I would pay for an oxygen tank.
Finding my seat the guy next to me does not look please as I make him rearrange and get up. A few minutes later we are in the air and soon I realize my TV doesn’t work. I am supposed to fly across the Atlantic without a TV set? This will not do. So, I head back to row 26 and set up base camp until we land at CHG in Paris when I return to the front and deboard quickly. After getting up to the window at customs the guy smiles big and greets me with a “Como Tale Vu?” and I wish for a second I had taken French back in high school. I have no clue what he’s saying even though this is a pretty easy term and I look at him like “WTF?” He clues in and switches to English before asking me if I’m in town for business or a holiday. Both. But, we’ll pick holiday this time around. He smiles big again and says “Welcome to Paris!” Who says the French are all snobby?
After retrieving my luggage I follow the step by step instructions that my friend Catherine has sent me to find the train into town. She’s spot on down to the details of ATM cards at the Metro kiosk and I find my way to Terminal B where I hop on the train into Paris. After connecting in the bustling mid-town terminal I wind up at Phillipe August and drag my luggage several blocks down to Rue de Charon where Catherine and her fiancé Jerome live. The concierge is supposed to have a key for me, but when I arrive he’s gone to a two hour lunch. I am so tired and dirty and have an hour and a half to kill now, so I head off to a café where I pay $7 for a muffin and Sprite. Ah…welcome to the Euro. They are still paying us back for voting Bush into office twice. Finally, I gather the key while attempting to introduce myself to the concierge in French. He looks at me as though I am speaking Russian and after some charade playing of me pretending to open a door he offers up the key. Entering Catherine and Jerome’s apartment I am met by their dog, Lola, whom I’ve been instructed not to pet b/c she’ll pee all over. Instead I take a shower and clean myself up for the mean streets of Paris.
Taking a look at the map I decide I can walk to Notre Dame b/c it’s only 2.5 kilometers. Down the street I go, but it’s only a few blocks before I am lost and wondering with no real sense of direction. I wind up at a cemetery where there are hundreds of people wondering through, so I follow suit. I have no clue where I am since I can’t seem to find this place on a map, but it doesn’t take me long to figure out that I am somewhere important when there is a directory inside the cemetery. Down the street I find Batiste and home to a famous French prison. Also home to a round a bout and I head down another wrong way, which does lead me to Notre Dame, just about an extra hour later. Finally, I stumble upon the Stein river and there is magnificent beauty before me. I am blessed with sunshine in the middle of November while in France. The light shines down on the river, statues stand high above me and lovers stroll across bridges, their hands and lips locked together. On both sides of me men are pushing artwork for cheap Euro prices, but I continue onward and into Notre Dame. The cathedral is tall and inside the blue stained glass peers down at me with a strange purple glow. Off to the side there are people waiting for confession, but the booth is no longer a booth, but only an office that is almost see through and the priest sits face to face with the parishioner. I’m not Catholic, but I do know that if I was headed to confess some of my most private things I might not want anyone looking me directly in the eye.
Back outside the sun is beginning to set and I have no clue where I’m going. So, I follow the crowd and wind up at the famous Hotel de Ville, which lights up the night sky. In the courtyard the IRCR is hosting an art show and I wonder in. The theme is war over the years and the pictures touch each person in the room as one woman is brought to tears. Afterwards, I am back on the streets of Paris and make it back to Rue de Charone the correct way. It’s much faster without all the detours. Catherine is home from work and when Jerome joins us the three of us head down to a local wine bar where we meet up with a large group to celebrate Beaujolais. There are only two bottles left and the bartender hands us plastic cups to drink out of, but we cheers each other anyway. After one sip I understand the plastic cups, but not the sale out; this stuff is not good. We all look at each other and force it down. Isn’t France supposed to be the home of good wine? When does that part of the trip start? Around 11 PM we call it a night and head home. I have thoroughly enjoyed my first day in Paris.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Paris, France
After sleeping for twelve hours I forced myself to get up. I didn’t come to Paris to sleep the entire time, but my body was calling for me to slow down!!! After putting myself together I decided to have a full on tourist day and walked down Phillipe August to Nation. Along the way I helped myself to a lunch of French bread and Camembert. Delicious. Where else in the world can you eat just a block of Camembert and not feel guilty? Once on the Metro I take it all the way to the Louvre and hop off. I have a small map in the Lonely Planet (oh, we meet again), which isn’t telling me much, so I check out the map provided by the Louvre. It’s completely in French but I believe my good sense of direction will not lead me astray and soon I am inside the most beautiful building I have ever seen. Angels have built this building. From top to bottom it is perfection. Through the courtyard I am met by hundreds of tourist enjoying the glass pyramids which look down into the museum. There is water sprouting up and I need time to sit there and enjoy the magnificent beauty I see before me. Without a real map I just follow everyone else down a long street and see more gardens and the large ferris wheel, which scares the living crap out of me. There’s no way in hell I’m ever taking a ride on that thing. I bypass it quickly and stroll down the most famous street in Paris. White tents are set up all along offering over priced sales items to tourist. Keeping clear of them I veer to the left and find the Air France compound and soon the Eiffel Tower. At the Eiffel Tower there are guys trying to rob you on each corner, miniature tower trinkets for sale- “Only $5 Euros, mademoiselle!” The guy yells as I keep going. There’s a fun band playing; about ten girls dressed up in leftover Halloween costumes. The line to get into the Eiffel tower is about two hours long and the top floor isn’t even open. I take my photos and leave, cross the street to the Aquarium which is covered in large water fountains spewing into the street. On both sides there are staircases leading upwards and I sit down on them to look back at the view. I am met with an exquisite view of Paris, museums, the Eiffel tower, and water fountains fill the background. Tourists walk the streets and locals fill the roads driving through round a bouts. After the short break, I disappear into the Metro, work my way back to Charonne and take a nap.
As evening progresses Catherine and Jerome head home. We welcome the weekend with wine and walk down to a local eatery that specializes in French food. The floors are covered in hay and the owner speaks at least three different languages. There’s a friendly dog that accompanies him wherever he goes and the bar is rockin’ as people kick off Friday night. Catherine talks me into getting some sort of beer that taste like Sprite and afterwards the three of us enjoy a bottle of the best wine the restaurant offers while I order confit and potatoes. It is followed by a chocolate melting dessert and ice cream while we take in the crowd. To my left is a large man, too big for the t-shirt and jeans he has decided to wear out tonight and his shaved head leaves me wondering how Paris became the fashion capital it is today.
Back at home Jerome cons me into trying some Martinique rum that lights my mouth on fire and sends me into a deep sleep for the night. What a great life; all people do here is drink and eat delicious food.
Saturday, November 21, 2009
Paris, France
After Catherine and I finally drag our lazy butts up this morning the two of us head down the streets of the 18th district for some errands. We pick up dry cleaning, step into the pharmacy, and gather some croissants to enjoy with morning coffee. At home I devour the chocolate croissant before the two of us clean up and cross the street to rent bikes for the day. There’s a small kiosk near her house that holds about 30 bikes; you can pick one up there and drop it off across town. What a fabulous idea! The machine is touchy/feely with my US credit cards, and Catherine explains to me that in France they use ATM cards for everything. But, my ATM card is only working at the bank. They’ll give me all the Euros I want but forget about bike service. After we get the bikes situated, there are none left working and we run across the street to catch the bus to Batiste. There’s another bike rack there and we punch in our reservation number before heading out. It takes me a few minutes to figure out how to use the kickstand properly but once I’ve got it going we are gone. Busses are nearly touching my sleeves as we peddle away, but this is so fun! Between concentrating on not getting killed and sightseeing, Catherine yells “Take a left” but by then it’s too late and I take a right towards the Opera House. Turning back she’s nowhere in sight and the two of us are now separated. I wait for several minutes but when she doesn’t appear I fear I’ve gotten myself lost on the streets of Paris with no cell phone, computer, and a touchy/feely credit card. Walking my bike backwards, Catherine suddenly appears from around the corner and the day is on track again. After locking up the bikes we take in the Opera House, where they are getting ready for the nutcracker. A few blocks away we shop at H&M and La Fayette; it is decorated in hot pinks and greens for Christmas. This years theme is gingerbread men and each window has gingerbread men dancing in various stages. It is the Macy’s of Paris.
It’s now time for lunch and we sit down at a small café nearby that sells crepes. I decide on the Champigne, or cheese and mushrooms. Catherine chooses us a Rose bottle of wine and as we enjoy it all the café is perfect for people watching. Set in the busy heart of Paris, there is something for everything as I watch small children in their rain boots, young models trying to make it, and tourists shuffling through the masses. Once we are finished it is time for a nap and we fall asleep on the Metro before making it home. Waking up just in time the two of us walk home and crash for several hours before waking up and preparing for a night out in Paris. Jerome’s brother and his girlfriend are in town; we are also meeting up with many other friends. By the time we make it to the restaurant there are 13 of us crowded around a small table built for 8. But, the fondue and wine starts flowing and soon the cheese, meat and bread is mixed into everyone’s dish. All you can eat/drink (Wine!) for $20 Euros. Every time I looked down there was another bottle of wine; where was it coming from? Three hours later we are all pretty drunk and it’s near midnight. The rain has started but that doesn’t deter us from patronizing a bar down the street, on the corner of the middle of Paris. More bottles of wine follow and soon the waiter informs us it is 4 AM and we MUST LEAVE NOW! Ines tells me we must go to Notre Dame and jump across the star, b/c it means I will definitely return to Paris again! Tomas agrees to escort our drunk butts down there and we slosh in our dresses through the rain before seeking out the star in the dead of night. Tomas laughs at us girls as we yell “Where is the star?” Ines swears she knows where it is, but minutes pass before I am finally jumping across like a gymnast on a balance beam. People laugh as they walk by, but I may only be in Paris once…this is my golden opportunity to return. Ines swears. Clamoring back down the cobblestone streets of Paris, it is a miracle I don’t twist my ankle in the 4-inch stilettos I thought were a great idea 8 hours ago when I dressed myself. Now as the group continues to take in the streets of Paris so early in the morning I slip and slide all over the place. There’s really no leader of the group at this point and we all laugh, scream, hug while enjoying the early Paris morning before somewhere near 6 AM I crawl into bed.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Paris, France
Sleeping. Today is sleeping. I wake up and decide that was a bad idea and roll over where I promptly close my eyes again. At 2 PM Catherine says she’s still tired, but will feel bad if I spent my last day in Paris sleeping. I tell her there are worse things then sleeping off a night in Paris. Eventually we throw on some clothing and head out to dinner where we meet up with Stephan and Kim Lee from last night. Stephan tells us his head was aching and hurting all morning. In America we call that a hangover Stephan.
Jerome and Catherine have taken me to an all-you-can-eat mussels restaurant for my last night in Paris. For $15.50 Euros I get all you can eat mussels, French fries and dessert. They are so delicious and I order another bowl. Sorbet follows and finally all of us begin to feel like real people again. Kim Lee gives me a bottle of champagne and tells me to enjoy the rest of my trip, then we all kiss goodbye. Before going to bed Jerome and Catherine drive me around Paris so I can see it all lit up at night. Spectacular and breathtaking; my eyes are spoiled by the sights. At exactly 11 PM the Eiffel tower begins glittering and glows purple. I never want to leave. The streets have chandeliers hanging from them and the Louvre has a large white crystal tree welcoming you to the courtyard. Cartier, Gucci, Rolex all light up the way and one day when I win the lottery I’ll come back to visit the inside of the stores.
Near midnight we roll back home and it is time to call it a night. It has been a great four days in Paris but my train leaves early for Geneva in the morning. I must get some sleep now. I can not believe I finally made it to Paris; each moment was magical.
Friday, November 20, 2009
North Carolina to Miami, Florida
Monday, November 9, 2009
Miami, Florida
The thing I love about US Airways is that they never make anything easy; especially for their Dividend Preferred members. Because they KNOW that we are just suckers enough to keep coming back for more airline miles since we have nowhere else to go. Yesterday I had to drive all the way back to Raleigh from Charlotte, to get on a flight back to Charlotte today that connected to Miami. Why? B/c the US Airways direct flight from Charlotte was $70 bucks more than flying out of Raleigh. I really hate you, US Airways. By the time I got to the Miami airport, I remembered why I try to fly into Ft. Lauderdale, too, with all the crazy people connecting South America. Perhaps they’ve read what I thought of their countries in my book. At least in Ft. Lauderdale it’s just cruise passengers; here you’ve got cruise passengers and drug dealers trying to push dope through security.
Steering clear of everyone I hopped into a cab and headed straight to South Beach. Once I am there I notice that the palm trees are nearly sideways and turn on the news to find out there is a hurricane of sorts down in the Caribbean. FANTASTIC! I always do love coming to Miami when hurricanes hit. The only thing that could be better is if I was ON a cruise ship right now. I open up the windows to my hotel room to get the true ocean breeze, then toss on my running shoes and hit the SoBe running trail. The wind has calmed down some, but by the time I get done with a few miles my hair looks like it was in a bar brawl and lost. I leave the outskirts of SoBe and look for a Publix grocery store, venturing out to areas I’ve never been to before and find houses where people actually live. In all my times in Miami I’ve somehow only made it into bars and clubs, so the fact that people live here comes as a surprise and I hope to stumble upon JLo shopping for Cheerios with the twins. No such luck and I carry my bags back to the hotel where I realize I have no butter or olive oil to cook my chicken. Improvisation kicks in and I take a scoop of my strawberry yogurt, toss it in the Pyrex and 30 minutes later I have some sort of new dish I call dinner. I get busy with Monday Night Football and have the first relaxing evening to myself in months.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Miami, Florida
I have a love/hate relationship with SoBe. I LOVE the beach. I LOVE the water. I LOVE the sunshine. I HATE the men who work outside of the clubs and make me dress up like a hooker to get inside. Seriously, I know how to play the game…wear short skirts, make my boobs look big, etc, etc, but at some point in my life I have decided that I no longer need to whore myself out for a $20 cover charge. Let the young girls take over. Of all the places in the world, Miami is the worst. At least in Vegas they know who their audience is. In Miami the bouncers seem to think they are God and you are there to praise them. This trip I decide to sit the club nightlife out and just enjoy the beach.
So, today I instead to work on my tan. The hurricane like breezes have moved towards Louisiana and it is a perfect Southern Florida day. I take my beach towel outside and set up shop near some Europeans in their Speedo’s. Might as well have a good laugh while I’m at it. After several hours and a nice Coppertone feel, I head down to promote my book on Lincoln Road. The outside café’s are filled with rich people who have nothing else to do but listen to me self-promote and after two hours I feel like I’ve talked at least three people into downloading the chicken bus on Kindle.
As the afternoon comes to a close I throw the bathing suit back on, relax in the hot tub and put a movie on. Kind of a boring Tuesday night, but exactly what I need after a month of hiking in Utah and traveling back and forth from coast to coast.
Wednesday, November 12, 2009
Miami, Florida to Washington, DC
Veterans Day! Exiting onto the street I stumbled onto a Miami parade, full of local high school bands, fire trucks, and businesses waving flags to support veterans. I walked with them along the parade route until I came upon a park where 500 people were gathered for a Veterans Day celebration. As I held my hand over my heart for the Star Spangled Banner my eyes welled up and I was reminded again why I am so proud to live in the GREAT USA!
Afterwards hot dogs were passed out to the crowd and I walked around thanking as many veterans as I could. Following the kisses and hugs, I hopped in a cab and went back to the Miami airport. I had just purchased some brand new TSA approved carry on luggage when to what to my wondering eyes did appear? This non-TSA, simple security worker on a power trip. I recognized her from the last time I was at this airport and she wouldn’t let me finish my bottled water while waiting for the actual TSA agent to call the line forward, towards the trash can. Perhaps she recognized me, too? So, she tells me that my brand new carry on is too big and I have to go check in…for a fee of $25. I tell her no. She tells me yes. We could do this forever, but I just get out of line and attempt to go back down to a different gate. There are many gates at Miami airport, with no lines, just a TSA agent waiting to look at your ID. However, I am not allowed to go through them (even though they all connect up top), so I am forced back to J where the line is an hour long. This makes no sense to me US Government. Lines here, no lines there. Seeing as how I have time to wait it out and I’m still not paying to check this bag, I sat there for over thirty minutes until the security lady went off duty and then headed to the line. What do you know? The next lady whisked me through and pushed me over to the VIP lane. Thanks airline miles. Sometimes the better woman (and having time on my hands) wins out. Miami may be TSA airport of the year, but their customer service sucks. After finally getting up to the x-ray scanner, I am greeted by some new machine that will scan my body and see if I have any non-approved objects shoved inside my little body. Even newer and more approved than the blower machine, I step in and am completely scanned by what I can only describe as a full body MRI right there in the Miami airport. Approximately three minutes later a little old TSA man tells me the light turned green and I’m good to go.
Down at US Airways I smile and thank how it’s not good to be back. But, I’ve almost got enough air miles for that African safari. Attempting to get on an earlier flight to Washington, DC I am told “there’s room on the plane, but it’ll cost you $50.” I’m sorry, but why? How about you just put me on the flight since you have room? I sit down and wait again. When my flight finally leaves Miami I have a whole row to myself until creepy-Crawler comes and sits next to me. He coughs like he’s carrying the swine flu and I stare down at my laptop ignoring his little ‘under the breath’ comments. Finally he flashes his American Airlines badge at me as though I’ll be impressed and I reply “all my miles are here on US Air.” Go away. But, he doesn’t. And he keeps talking to me about flight patterns and airports…I hate to tell him this but I could probably fly those routes in my sleep, badge or no badge. I don’t know what brings it around to the conversation but somehow we figure out we both went to Appalachian State and he says “Yeah! Class of ’89!” Sorry, buddy, before my time. Finally, I land in Charlotte for my connecting flight where I see my plane is delayed until 11:30 PM. No way in hell. I know this means I’ll really be spending the night in Charlotte; I’ve been down this road before. If they had only put me on the earlier flight as requested, everything could have just been avoided! Glancing up at the flight schedule, I see that another flight is leaving is 20 minutes heading into Reagan (I was scheduled to Dulles) so I sprint to the US Airways preferred people counter and the nice man behind the counter makes the switcheroo. Running into the plane I am THAT person…the last one on the plane…the reason the plane can’t leave. Attempting to place my carry on above me I see two duty-free bottles of rum. Maybe my lucky day? No. I kindly ask the people below me if I can scoot them over so we all have room for our carry on’s, but they aren’t interested. Are you kidding me? After getting the flight attendant involved, they suddenly seem kind hearted, all carry on is put away and I take a seat. I just want to get to DC.
One hour later my wish is granted as I land at Ronald Reagan International airport. A hop, skip and a jump across the street I enter D’Ann and Wade’s house. A crazy day has led me here to peace and quiet. I curl up in the comfy bed and am so thankful for darkness.
Miami, Florida
The thing I love about US Airways is that they never make anything easy; especially for their Dividend Preferred members. Because they KNOW that we are just suckers enough to keep coming back for more airline miles since we have nowhere else to go. Yesterday I had to drive all the way back to Raleigh from Charlotte, to get on a flight back to Charlotte today that connected to Miami. Why? B/c the US Airways direct flight from Charlotte was $70 bucks more than flying out of Raleigh. I really hate you, US Airways. By the time I got to the Miami airport, I remembered why I try to fly into Ft. Lauderdale, too, with all the crazy people connecting South America. Perhaps they’ve read what I thought of their countries in my book. At least in Ft. Lauderdale it’s just cruise passengers; here you’ve got cruise passengers and drug dealers trying to push dope through security.
Steering clear of everyone I hopped into a cab and headed straight to South Beach. Once I am there I notice that the palm trees are nearly sideways and turn on the news to find out there is a hurricane of sorts down in the Caribbean. FANTASTIC! I always do love coming to Miami when hurricanes hit. The only thing that could be better is if I was ON a cruise ship right now. I open up the windows to my hotel room to get the true ocean breeze, then toss on my running shoes and hit the SoBe running trail. The wind has calmed down some, but by the time I get done with a few miles my hair looks like it was in a bar brawl and lost. I leave the outskirts of SoBe and look for a Publix grocery store, venturing out to areas I’ve never been to before and find houses where people actually live. In all my times in Miami I’ve somehow only made it into bars and clubs, so the fact that people live here comes as a surprise and I hope to stumble upon JLo shopping for Cheerios with the twins. No such luck and I carry my bags back to the hotel where I realize I have no butter or olive oil to cook my chicken. Improvisation kicks in and I take a scoop of my strawberry yogurt, toss it in the Pyrex and 30 minutes later I have some sort of new dish I call dinner. I get busy with Monday Night Football and have the first relaxing evening to myself in months.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Miami, Florida
I have a love/hate relationship with SoBe. I LOVE the beach. I LOVE the water. I LOVE the sunshine. I HATE the men who work outside of the clubs and make me dress up like a hooker to get inside. Seriously, I know how to play the game…wear short skirts, make my boobs look big, etc, etc, but at some point in my life I have decided that I no longer need to whore myself out for a $20 cover charge. Let the young girls take over. Of all the places in the world, Miami is the worst. At least in Vegas they know who their audience is. In Miami the bouncers seem to think they are God and you are there to praise them. This trip I decide to sit the club nightlife out and just enjoy the beach.
So, today I instead to work on my tan. The hurricane like breezes have moved towards Louisiana and it is a perfect Southern Florida day. I take my beach towel outside and set up shop near some Europeans in their Speedo’s. Might as well have a good laugh while I’m at it. After several hours and a nice Coppertone feel, I head down to promote my book on Lincoln Road. The outside café’s are filled with rich people who have nothing else to do but listen to me self-promote and after two hours I feel like I’ve talked at least three people into downloading the chicken bus on Kindle.
As the afternoon comes to a close I throw the bathing suit back on, relax in the hot tub and put a movie on. Kind of a boring Tuesday night, but exactly what I need after a month of hiking in Utah and traveling back and forth from coast to coast.
Wednesday, November 12, 2009
Miami, Florida to Washington, DC
Veterans Day! Exiting onto the street I stumbled onto a Miami parade, full of local high school bands, fire trucks, and businesses waving flags to support veterans. I walked with them along the parade route until I came upon a park where 500 people were gathered for a Veterans Day celebration. As I held my hand over my heart for the Star Spangled Banner my eyes welled up and I was reminded again why I am so proud to live in the GREAT USA!
Afterwards hot dogs were passed out to the crowd and I walked around thanking as many veterans as I could. Following the kisses and hugs, I hopped in a cab and went back to the Miami airport. I had just purchased some brand new TSA approved carry on luggage when to what to my wondering eyes did appear? This non-TSA, simple security worker on a power trip. I recognized her from the last time I was at this airport and she wouldn’t let me finish my bottled water while waiting for the actual TSA agent to call the line forward, towards the trash can. Perhaps she recognized me, too? So, she tells me that my brand new carry on is too big and I have to go check in…for a fee of $25. I tell her no. She tells me yes. We could do this forever, but I just get out of line and attempt to go back down to a different gate. There are many gates at Miami airport, with no lines, just a TSA agent waiting to look at your ID. However, I am not allowed to go through them (even though they all connect up top), so I am forced back to J where the line is an hour long. This makes no sense to me US Government. Lines here, no lines there. Seeing as how I have time to wait it out and I’m still not paying to check this bag, I sat there for over thirty minutes until the security lady went off duty and then headed to the line. What do you know? The next lady whisked me through and pushed me over to the VIP lane. Thanks airline miles. Sometimes the better woman (and having time on my hands) wins out. Miami may be TSA airport of the year, but their customer service sucks. After finally getting up to the x-ray scanner, I am greeted by some new machine that will scan my body and see if I have any non-approved objects shoved inside my little body. Even newer and more approved than the blower machine, I step in and am completely scanned by what I can only describe as a full body MRI right there in the Miami airport. Approximately three minutes later a little old TSA man tells me the light turned green and I’m good to go.
Down at US Airways I smile and thank how it’s not good to be back. But, I’ve almost got enough air miles for that African safari. Attempting to get on an earlier flight to Washington, DC I am told “there’s room on the plane, but it’ll cost you $50.” I’m sorry, but why? How about you just put me on the flight since you have room? I sit down and wait again. When my flight finally leaves Miami I have a whole row to myself until creepy-Crawler comes and sits next to me. He coughs like he’s carrying the swine flu and I stare down at my laptop ignoring his little ‘under the breath’ comments. Finally he flashes his American Airlines badge at me as though I’ll be impressed and I reply “all my miles are here on US Air.” Go away. But, he doesn’t. And he keeps talking to me about flight patterns and airports…I hate to tell him this but I could probably fly those routes in my sleep, badge or no badge. I don’t know what brings it around to the conversation but somehow we figure out we both went to Appalachian State and he says “Yeah! Class of ’89!” Sorry, buddy, before my time. Finally, I land in Charlotte for my connecting flight where I see my plane is delayed until 11:30 PM. No way in hell. I know this means I’ll really be spending the night in Charlotte; I’ve been down this road before. If they had only put me on the earlier flight as requested, everything could have just been avoided! Glancing up at the flight schedule, I see that another flight is leaving is 20 minutes heading into Reagan (I was scheduled to Dulles) so I sprint to the US Airways preferred people counter and the nice man behind the counter makes the switcheroo. Running into the plane I am THAT person…the last one on the plane…the reason the plane can’t leave. Attempting to place my carry on above me I see two duty-free bottles of rum. Maybe my lucky day? No. I kindly ask the people below me if I can scoot them over so we all have room for our carry on’s, but they aren’t interested. Are you kidding me? After getting the flight attendant involved, they suddenly seem kind hearted, all carry on is put away and I take a seat. I just want to get to DC.
One hour later my wish is granted as I land at Ronald Reagan International airport. A hop, skip and a jump across the street I enter D’Ann and Wade’s house. A crazy day has led me here to peace and quiet. I curl up in the comfy bed and am so thankful for darkness.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
San Diego, CA to Utah
Thursday, October 8, 2009
My last day of the all you can fly Jet Blue pass. Where should I end up? Boarding the plane I had chosen Salt Lake City b/c I could get a direct flight from San Diego, even though Las Vegas was closer to my intended target of Bryce and Zion National Parks. The plane was virtually empty as I took my seat in the second row and settled back for the bumpy ride. After landing I was met by my CS friend-of-a-friend, Tom who threw my backpack in his red truck and drove us to a fun Irish pub. Things had changed since the last time I was in Salt Lake City; you no longer needed a membership to walk into a bar and order a beer. Utah even had some local brews, so I ordered up and tasted the pale ales of choice. After a few hours we were joined by my Couchsurfing host, Rob. The two of us were headed out to Southwest Utah for several days of hiking and camping, but before we left there was a checklist to go over. Food, check, tent, check, NPS pass, check. We were set and I was ready to roll out into the wilderness.
Friday, October 9, 2009
Today I hopped on the Salt Lake City public bus headed to find wireless Internet. My CS host had told me of a coffee shop, but when I got to that particular corner all I found was a suburban neighborhood; perhaps the Mormons had done away with it? After riding around in a circle on the bus for over an hour, I ended up downtown at the main SLC library, which resembled more of an art institute and was something like 6 stories. Not a bad place to work for a few hours. Afterwards, I meandered around on the streets, which looked totally different not covered in snow and foreigners cheering on their Olympic team. The only thing I really remember about being here in 2002 was having bronchitis while trying to find Budweiser that had a content of higher than 3.2 and buying scalped tickets to the biathlon. Can you shoot a gun while you ski?
Late in the afternoon Rob pulled up in a car the same color as the Texas Longhorns football jerseys and away we went in the burnt orange Chevy Aveo. I soon learned that my CS friend didn't have a map of Utah and after only two hours he missed the exit I informed him to take; therefore, leading us on a six hour trip through the mountains instead of four. At approximately 11:00 PM we rolled into Capital Reef National Park where all the signs said "CAMPSITES FULL." Breaking the rules we popped up a tent next to an RV and I vowed to wake up before the ranger could fine me and revoke my pass. It was late and I was tired, but Rob was determined to blow up his air mattress. So, I helped him move the car to a quiet location, away from people, fill it full of air, then toss it on top of the Aveo and drive slowly back to his tent. Inconspicuous indeed.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
America is so beautiful. And the NPS offers such an amazing glimpse into the beauty. I love being outdoors and appreciating all that it has to offer. After waking up I made friends with the NPS volunteers who decided not to fine me for sharing a campsite, just making me pay the $10 fine. Swarmed with gold one dollar coins from the SLC metro machine, I threw ten of them in a NPS envelope and decided they'd think they hit the jackpot when they checked the money canteen later. The MOON guide had said there were five hikes that were "must do's" in Capital Reef and I had time to hit up two. Starting near the campsite, I ventured through a narrow trailed called Grand Wash, where the canyons went up to 200 feet in some points. It wasn't very difficult, but the rocks and wildlife were worth the effort. Afterwards, I hit up Chimney Rock, simply b/c I love Chimney Rock, NC so I figured why not see what Utah's is like? Beginning the trail the mountains are such a deep red that it takes my breath away. A few hundred feet up the trail I turn and look around. Behind me is a picturesque maze of purples, pinks, reds and blues. I halfway expect John Wayne to come riding up the road. It looks just like out of a movie. After completing the three mile trail I head towards Bryce Canyon National Park and find a campsite just in time.
Across from my campsite is an older lady with long white hair. She has a pit bull with her and a camping set up built for many months at the bottom of the Grand Canyon. I watch as she pulls out a tent bigger than my old San Diego studio, two air mattresses, four bundles of firewood and some rope. Heading over to say hi, she tells me her name is Mary. First I think Mary is homeless, living out of her truck and camping. Upon further observance, I decide Mary is on the run from the law and hiding out in National Parks. I vow to find her on the FBI most wanted list when I'm back in civilization (For the Record, I did look for her, but didn't see her; this does not discourage my conclusion). After setting up camp, I head to Sunset Trail, which offers exactly what it says-The Sunset. A rainbow of fruit flavors come down through the sky and I catch my first glimpse of Bryce Canyon. Hoodoos (like voo-doo) make up the canyon and look like little chess pieces as trails weave in and out. Along with hundreds of other tourists, I attempt to snap the last light of the day. I feel as though I'm the only person speaking English when a tour group of French people show up jibbering on about something this and that.
Back at camp I meet my neighbors who inform me that there is a presentation by the NPS Rangers tonight on the stars. So, we head over to the Bryce Lodge together and began to learn about constallations and such. Meanwhile, my CS host has decided that PBR is his drink of choice and inside the upscale lodge he cracks one open, only to drop it all over the floor. Everyone turns and stares and I wonder how it is possible that only I could end up being hosted by the one progressive Utah guy that has been divorced twice and drinks like a fish. The NPS Ranger then leads us to the visitor center where three telescopes are available to see stars and I like Aurora, which are two stars, a blue and gold one, right next to each other. The Rangers keep talking about starts that are 370 million light years away and I tell them "Oh', is that it!" He does not seem amused that I am joking about his job.
Standing outside I am so freaking cold that I refuse to hang out by anyone's campfire or be social. I just want to curl up in my sleeping bag and go to bed. Which is exactly what I do. It is 29 degrees outside; thank you North Face for protecting me this evening.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
I woke up early and headed to the lodge for some hot chocolate and a warm fire. It is damn cold in Bryce. Everyone in there has on their beanie and gloves. I continuously wonder how I survived four years in Boone. Soon, the sun rises and I head to Sunrise Trail. The hoodoos are now bright pink and orange and after a breakfast of oatmeal and apples we head to hike a 7-mile trail. Beginning with the Queen Victoria trail then ending at the Peek-a-boo Trail, I follow the markers from the bottom of the ampitheater to the top where there are gigantic rocks being held up by the tiniest of formations. From up top you can see all the way to Colorado and the scenery continues to remind me of a Western flick. The Lone Ranger theme plays in my head...
After finishing my hike I end up near Sunset Trail and enjoy some PB&J on a bagel where a little chipmunk jumps up and tries to steal my lunch. He's cute, but not worth the $100 fine, so I take his picture instead. Leaving Bryce we head to Red Rock National Park with colors so vibrant there should be a crayon named after them. Attempting something called the Golden Arch, it is a path so narrow that it only reaches three feet in some spots. I feel like I'm walking in the Middle Eastern desert, as there is nothing else around but sand and in the middle of my journey my breath is taken away by the beauty that is before me. It is definately Purple Mountain's Majesty. The road to Zion is not very busy, but entering the park is a mile long tunnel that was built and opened in the early 1930's; an engineering marvel at the time. Nearby is a checkerboard mesa that greets visitors and offers some of the formations that are to come. Once at the campsite the sign says "CAMPSITE FULL" but the ranger offers me a group camping site for overflow. I'll take it.
Setting up the tent I meet a couple of travelers from Quebec, a group from Germany and a couple showing their three-year old the NPS from Aspen. As the night grows darker we all gather around the campfire and I teach the German's how to make s'mores. They're sold instantly, although their accent isn't kind when it comes to speaking the term. It is much warmer in Zion and I walk around in my flip flops and t-shirt. What a difference a night makes.
Monday, October 12, 2009
The majesty that is Zion. Morning light gives way to gigantic rock formations, green trees, and yellow wildflowers. Every direction I turn offers me a new vantage point for taking photos and relishing in God's beauty. After packing up the tent and saying bye to the other campers I grab a seat on the Zion shuttle and head towards Observation Trail. It is four miles straight up, then four miles straight down. This is the most difficult hike in Zion and I was told a guy just died while attempting to hike it b/c he had a heart attack. As soon as I step off the shuttle I'm going uphill, weaving through fall foilage and a narrow wash. It takes three hours to get to the top where groups of hikers enjoy their lunch and more chipmunks attempt to make friends. After taking a break myself, I head back down, taking precaution with my knee and stopping along the way to drain my Camelback.
Before the end of the day I also take the path to the Upper Falls, which is not really a fall at this point of the year, just a stream of water that looks like the garden hose was left running. Approaching the trail's end I spot a GIGANTIC tarantula and later find out that August is their busy season for running rampant through the park. How did I miss the chapter on tarantula's in the park? I leave while some guy is still debating whether or not to pick up the arachnoid. After four days without a shower, it's now time for me to stop camping. I say bye to my CS host and find a room at the Zion Park Lodge. They offer me a nice little guest house, out back and away from the actual motel. It is quaint enough and has a shower, which is really what a girl wants right now. I enjoy the hot water, get clean, then watch a Project Runway marathon for two hours before falling asleep at 7:30 PM. It has been a long four days.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
I slept for twelve hours last night. What a difference a bed makes. After waking up in a real bed, I threw my hiking shoes back on and boarded the Zion shuttle towards Angel's landing. The second most difficult hike in the park, it involves a little over half-mile of narrow rocks that leave you hanging on to a chain and scrambling across two-feet of trail to the end. Angel's Landing is only 2.5 miles straight up though, so this is like a cake walk compared to yesterday. It is supposed to take four hours to do the round trip, but I complete it in less than three. When you are almost to the end there are 21 switchbacks, called Walter's Wiggles that take you up to the top. Then for the daring, AKA me, you continue to venture across the narrow part, where many people have fallen to their death. Behind me are some Europeans who feel the need to move swiftly and I let them pass as I have no desire to die today. I move slowly and carefully and am scared, but since I have come this far there's really no point in turning back until I am finished. Finally, at the top two girls are perched right on the edge enjoying their lunch, so my picture taking spot is taken and I want to scream "Move Chicas!" I ask a guy from Maine to take my photo and after 7 attempts he still seems to be cutting me off and only getting my shoes. I am doomed to never have my photo atop this mountain and just head back down. I'm tired and need a break.
After making it back to the bottom I take a walk along the river into the narrows and then catch a shuttle back to Springdale. Cleaning up and making myself presentable, I meet up with the Quebec couple to make plans for driving into Las Vegas. Tomorrow the three of us will drive into Las Vegas together, as they are on their way to Los Angeles and I'm going to Vegas for Amy and Ryan's wedding. The National Parks were beautiful and Southwest Utah is a place for everyone to see. Watching the sky darken I declare there is nothing more beautiful than a sunset in the desert.
My last day of the all you can fly Jet Blue pass. Where should I end up? Boarding the plane I had chosen Salt Lake City b/c I could get a direct flight from San Diego, even though Las Vegas was closer to my intended target of Bryce and Zion National Parks. The plane was virtually empty as I took my seat in the second row and settled back for the bumpy ride. After landing I was met by my CS friend-of-a-friend, Tom who threw my backpack in his red truck and drove us to a fun Irish pub. Things had changed since the last time I was in Salt Lake City; you no longer needed a membership to walk into a bar and order a beer. Utah even had some local brews, so I ordered up and tasted the pale ales of choice. After a few hours we were joined by my Couchsurfing host, Rob. The two of us were headed out to Southwest Utah for several days of hiking and camping, but before we left there was a checklist to go over. Food, check, tent, check, NPS pass, check. We were set and I was ready to roll out into the wilderness.
Friday, October 9, 2009
Today I hopped on the Salt Lake City public bus headed to find wireless Internet. My CS host had told me of a coffee shop, but when I got to that particular corner all I found was a suburban neighborhood; perhaps the Mormons had done away with it? After riding around in a circle on the bus for over an hour, I ended up downtown at the main SLC library, which resembled more of an art institute and was something like 6 stories. Not a bad place to work for a few hours. Afterwards, I meandered around on the streets, which looked totally different not covered in snow and foreigners cheering on their Olympic team. The only thing I really remember about being here in 2002 was having bronchitis while trying to find Budweiser that had a content of higher than 3.2 and buying scalped tickets to the biathlon. Can you shoot a gun while you ski?
Late in the afternoon Rob pulled up in a car the same color as the Texas Longhorns football jerseys and away we went in the burnt orange Chevy Aveo. I soon learned that my CS friend didn't have a map of Utah and after only two hours he missed the exit I informed him to take; therefore, leading us on a six hour trip through the mountains instead of four. At approximately 11:00 PM we rolled into Capital Reef National Park where all the signs said "CAMPSITES FULL." Breaking the rules we popped up a tent next to an RV and I vowed to wake up before the ranger could fine me and revoke my pass. It was late and I was tired, but Rob was determined to blow up his air mattress. So, I helped him move the car to a quiet location, away from people, fill it full of air, then toss it on top of the Aveo and drive slowly back to his tent. Inconspicuous indeed.
Saturday, October 10, 2009
America is so beautiful. And the NPS offers such an amazing glimpse into the beauty. I love being outdoors and appreciating all that it has to offer. After waking up I made friends with the NPS volunteers who decided not to fine me for sharing a campsite, just making me pay the $10 fine. Swarmed with gold one dollar coins from the SLC metro machine, I threw ten of them in a NPS envelope and decided they'd think they hit the jackpot when they checked the money canteen later. The MOON guide had said there were five hikes that were "must do's" in Capital Reef and I had time to hit up two. Starting near the campsite, I ventured through a narrow trailed called Grand Wash, where the canyons went up to 200 feet in some points. It wasn't very difficult, but the rocks and wildlife were worth the effort. Afterwards, I hit up Chimney Rock, simply b/c I love Chimney Rock, NC so I figured why not see what Utah's is like? Beginning the trail the mountains are such a deep red that it takes my breath away. A few hundred feet up the trail I turn and look around. Behind me is a picturesque maze of purples, pinks, reds and blues. I halfway expect John Wayne to come riding up the road. It looks just like out of a movie. After completing the three mile trail I head towards Bryce Canyon National Park and find a campsite just in time.
Across from my campsite is an older lady with long white hair. She has a pit bull with her and a camping set up built for many months at the bottom of the Grand Canyon. I watch as she pulls out a tent bigger than my old San Diego studio, two air mattresses, four bundles of firewood and some rope. Heading over to say hi, she tells me her name is Mary. First I think Mary is homeless, living out of her truck and camping. Upon further observance, I decide Mary is on the run from the law and hiding out in National Parks. I vow to find her on the FBI most wanted list when I'm back in civilization (For the Record, I did look for her, but didn't see her; this does not discourage my conclusion). After setting up camp, I head to Sunset Trail, which offers exactly what it says-The Sunset. A rainbow of fruit flavors come down through the sky and I catch my first glimpse of Bryce Canyon. Hoodoos (like voo-doo) make up the canyon and look like little chess pieces as trails weave in and out. Along with hundreds of other tourists, I attempt to snap the last light of the day. I feel as though I'm the only person speaking English when a tour group of French people show up jibbering on about something this and that.
Back at camp I meet my neighbors who inform me that there is a presentation by the NPS Rangers tonight on the stars. So, we head over to the Bryce Lodge together and began to learn about constallations and such. Meanwhile, my CS host has decided that PBR is his drink of choice and inside the upscale lodge he cracks one open, only to drop it all over the floor. Everyone turns and stares and I wonder how it is possible that only I could end up being hosted by the one progressive Utah guy that has been divorced twice and drinks like a fish. The NPS Ranger then leads us to the visitor center where three telescopes are available to see stars and I like Aurora, which are two stars, a blue and gold one, right next to each other. The Rangers keep talking about starts that are 370 million light years away and I tell them "Oh', is that it!" He does not seem amused that I am joking about his job.
Standing outside I am so freaking cold that I refuse to hang out by anyone's campfire or be social. I just want to curl up in my sleeping bag and go to bed. Which is exactly what I do. It is 29 degrees outside; thank you North Face for protecting me this evening.
Sunday, October 11, 2009
I woke up early and headed to the lodge for some hot chocolate and a warm fire. It is damn cold in Bryce. Everyone in there has on their beanie and gloves. I continuously wonder how I survived four years in Boone. Soon, the sun rises and I head to Sunrise Trail. The hoodoos are now bright pink and orange and after a breakfast of oatmeal and apples we head to hike a 7-mile trail. Beginning with the Queen Victoria trail then ending at the Peek-a-boo Trail, I follow the markers from the bottom of the ampitheater to the top where there are gigantic rocks being held up by the tiniest of formations. From up top you can see all the way to Colorado and the scenery continues to remind me of a Western flick. The Lone Ranger theme plays in my head...
After finishing my hike I end up near Sunset Trail and enjoy some PB&J on a bagel where a little chipmunk jumps up and tries to steal my lunch. He's cute, but not worth the $100 fine, so I take his picture instead. Leaving Bryce we head to Red Rock National Park with colors so vibrant there should be a crayon named after them. Attempting something called the Golden Arch, it is a path so narrow that it only reaches three feet in some spots. I feel like I'm walking in the Middle Eastern desert, as there is nothing else around but sand and in the middle of my journey my breath is taken away by the beauty that is before me. It is definately Purple Mountain's Majesty. The road to Zion is not very busy, but entering the park is a mile long tunnel that was built and opened in the early 1930's; an engineering marvel at the time. Nearby is a checkerboard mesa that greets visitors and offers some of the formations that are to come. Once at the campsite the sign says "CAMPSITE FULL" but the ranger offers me a group camping site for overflow. I'll take it.
Setting up the tent I meet a couple of travelers from Quebec, a group from Germany and a couple showing their three-year old the NPS from Aspen. As the night grows darker we all gather around the campfire and I teach the German's how to make s'mores. They're sold instantly, although their accent isn't kind when it comes to speaking the term. It is much warmer in Zion and I walk around in my flip flops and t-shirt. What a difference a night makes.
Monday, October 12, 2009
The majesty that is Zion. Morning light gives way to gigantic rock formations, green trees, and yellow wildflowers. Every direction I turn offers me a new vantage point for taking photos and relishing in God's beauty. After packing up the tent and saying bye to the other campers I grab a seat on the Zion shuttle and head towards Observation Trail. It is four miles straight up, then four miles straight down. This is the most difficult hike in Zion and I was told a guy just died while attempting to hike it b/c he had a heart attack. As soon as I step off the shuttle I'm going uphill, weaving through fall foilage and a narrow wash. It takes three hours to get to the top where groups of hikers enjoy their lunch and more chipmunks attempt to make friends. After taking a break myself, I head back down, taking precaution with my knee and stopping along the way to drain my Camelback.
Before the end of the day I also take the path to the Upper Falls, which is not really a fall at this point of the year, just a stream of water that looks like the garden hose was left running. Approaching the trail's end I spot a GIGANTIC tarantula and later find out that August is their busy season for running rampant through the park. How did I miss the chapter on tarantula's in the park? I leave while some guy is still debating whether or not to pick up the arachnoid. After four days without a shower, it's now time for me to stop camping. I say bye to my CS host and find a room at the Zion Park Lodge. They offer me a nice little guest house, out back and away from the actual motel. It is quaint enough and has a shower, which is really what a girl wants right now. I enjoy the hot water, get clean, then watch a Project Runway marathon for two hours before falling asleep at 7:30 PM. It has been a long four days.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
I slept for twelve hours last night. What a difference a bed makes. After waking up in a real bed, I threw my hiking shoes back on and boarded the Zion shuttle towards Angel's landing. The second most difficult hike in the park, it involves a little over half-mile of narrow rocks that leave you hanging on to a chain and scrambling across two-feet of trail to the end. Angel's Landing is only 2.5 miles straight up though, so this is like a cake walk compared to yesterday. It is supposed to take four hours to do the round trip, but I complete it in less than three. When you are almost to the end there are 21 switchbacks, called Walter's Wiggles that take you up to the top. Then for the daring, AKA me, you continue to venture across the narrow part, where many people have fallen to their death. Behind me are some Europeans who feel the need to move swiftly and I let them pass as I have no desire to die today. I move slowly and carefully and am scared, but since I have come this far there's really no point in turning back until I am finished. Finally, at the top two girls are perched right on the edge enjoying their lunch, so my picture taking spot is taken and I want to scream "Move Chicas!" I ask a guy from Maine to take my photo and after 7 attempts he still seems to be cutting me off and only getting my shoes. I am doomed to never have my photo atop this mountain and just head back down. I'm tired and need a break.
After making it back to the bottom I take a walk along the river into the narrows and then catch a shuttle back to Springdale. Cleaning up and making myself presentable, I meet up with the Quebec couple to make plans for driving into Las Vegas. Tomorrow the three of us will drive into Las Vegas together, as they are on their way to Los Angeles and I'm going to Vegas for Amy and Ryan's wedding. The National Parks were beautiful and Southwest Utah is a place for everyone to see. Watching the sky darken I declare there is nothing more beautiful than a sunset in the desert.
Monday, October 5, 2009
Portland, Maine to Chicago, Illinois
September 28, 2009
Portland, Maine to Chicago, Illinois
6:00 AM came way too early as I waited for the cab to take me to the Portland airport. When I arrived I got in line at security where I downed my Nalgene water bottle only to have a teaspoon left when it went through security. TSA enforcement in full effect, the x-ray technician yelled and screamed that I couldn’t have any liquids even though he had just watched me drink the bottle before passing it off to him and made me go back out, drink the teaspoon, then wait back in the security line all over again. Really? Last week my Coleman camping wrench made it through.
When I finally landed in the Windy City I was met by my CS host, Dan, who drove me towards downtown Chicago and underneath some dark bridge area that was used to film scenes in the ‘Dark Knight.’ Very cool. After turning a corner we drove out to the planetarium and I was treated to a photographic view of Chicago along lake Michigan, with hundreds of sailboats dotting the bay. Once Dan had driven me past Wrigley field and over to his house we took off again and he introduced me to Chicago deep dish pizza. Yummy and filling. I really needed a nap after my long day so far, but there would be no time for resting as we headed off to meet a friend who had just moved in to a condo right on Lake Michigan. His view from the 36th floor provided great aerial coverage of Chicago and I could see the Sears Tower along with the John Hancock building. The guys suggested that we head to dinner and I let them walk me down the street while showing me their town; little Victorian style homes dotted the streets, then you turned the corner and were met by a Starbucks. We settled on Mexican food and after beginning with homemade guacamole so good it made you want to slap your momma three plates of steaming fajitas made their way to the table. After digging in quickly my tummy was full and it was time to go home.
September 29, 2009
Chicago, Illinois
Walking outside I headed down four blocks to the Loyola campus where I was met by old brick buildings and young kids jetting to class. The school is located right in the middle of town, with cars cutting through in each direction. It made me glad that I went to a small school in a little mountain town. As I approached the edge of campus I noticed Lake Michigan and peered around the corner, where I was met by a beach. Even though the sky was gloomy, the beach offered a spectacular view and was accompanied by a pier, so I walked down a little ways where the benches were covered in colored glass pieces and painted by local artists. Then I caught the bus downtown to Randolph and Michigan, taking in the Miracle Mile along the way. Once there I ventured in to the Convention and Visitors Bureau to gain a map of Chicago so I would be able to find my way around and possibly locate Oprah. While there I noticed the Chicago Department of Health was giving away free flu shots, so I lined up along with everyone else and took advantage of the health giveaway. Health care reform!!! It helps everyone!!! Stop the flu!!! Finally, I crossed the street and meandered through Millennium Park where I saw the famous bean, the waterfall figures and so many fountains I stopped counting. Farther down I came into Grant Park where Obama gave his famous speech last year and I saw Tiffany’s flower garden. Soon I landed at the Field Museum and Soldier Field, then went into the aquarium where it was free day! Lucky me! The Chicago aquarium was amazing and probably the best I have ever been to; their exhibit on the Caribbean made me feel like I was actually snorkeling back in Grand Cayman. Outside I strolled beside Lake Michigan and headed up Michigan Avenue where I saw the famous Water Tower that set the city on fire so many years ago. The architecture in Chicago blew me away and all I could think was how well planned out the city seemed to be. Nearby was the Museum of Contemporary Art and it was free day as well! I was making all the right moves today and on the second floor there was a magnificent mural of a beachside with angels hidden inside.
Catching the L outside I headed North towards Wrigley for the 7:05 PM Cubs game. Meeting Dan by the Harry Carey statue we headed inside to see the ‘already out of the playoffs’ team. Sitting in the bleachers I grabbed a hot dog and settled in for the game. Watching the Pittsburgh Pirates made oh’, so many errors, I wondered if I was watching a AAA team or professionals who get paid millions each year. After the score was 7-0, Cubbies, I took off in the 4th and called it a night.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Chicago, Illinois
I said goodbye to my CS host, Dan, early in the morning then headed downtown where I stored my bags at a hotel that I would be reviewing for the next few days. Then I took off in search of Oprah, but along the way got sidetracked at the Chicago stock exchange, Sears Tower and beautiful river walk. Inside the Chicago public library I found an exhibit on Burnham, the man whose 1909 plan set up the exemplary building of Chicago. After taking time to explore the history of the Windy City, I continued on down Washington towards Harpo, but found a lot of construction and just didn’t have the energy to continue on to snap a picture of the building without tickets to an actual show. Instead, I ventured back up Lake Shore drive towards the Lincoln Park Zoo. A free zoo, it didn’t hold up to the World Famous San Diego Zoo, but was worth the effort I put forward as I saw zebras, flamingos, and monkeys flying about. At the zebra exhibit I took particular interest in the zebra who was being watched by officials for epilepsy! I have something in common with the funky animal! Back on Clark street, I passed by fun places like the Excalibur club, Hard Rock Café and famous Newburry Library. Finally at the hotel I relaxed in a warm bubble bath and soaked my tired bones before enjoying dinner in the hotel’s lobby and taking in some music at a tiny jazz club called Wunder Bar. Over the last few weeks I have enjoyed more live music than I have in the past year; it’s nice to sit back, relax and listen to up and coming artists as they hone their skills.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Chicago, Illinois
The best part of reviewing hotels are days like today. Waking up, I ordered room service and then hit up the spa. Enjoying a foot bath, hydrotherapy and deep tissue massage, I was thoroughly relaxed as I enjoyed the rest of my day by listening to more live music in Daley Plaza, a country band doing covers over lunchtime. Then I took the L to a funky part of town where book stores line the way and promoted my book for a couple hours before enjoying the fitness center and sauna where any troubles I still had melted away fast. Finally, I walked over to the Chicago Art Institute, where it’s free after 5:00 PM on Thursday’s and saw Montet’s and Van Gogh’s up close. I had just missed an exhibit outlining the history of wine and I was upset I had not come to Chicago just one week before. Back at the hotel I peeked into the lounge for a nightcap before curling up in the oh’ so comfortable bed and fell fast asleep after my lovely day of R&R.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Chicago, Illinois
10.2.09 That’s the date that all Chicagans had been waiting for. The Olympic announcement. First thing in the morning I hightailed it down to Daley Plaza to join all the locals for the IOC to make their decision. Signs waiving, music playing, TV’s rolling…festivities were high! Then the IOC made the first round announcement and silence filled the air. Everyone was like ‘WTF?’ And that was it. What had been building in the city for days was suddenly over. So happy I raced down and stood out in the crowd. But, now I had a collectible Chicago 2016 sign. Hasta la vista Daley Plaza.
Now that my time in Chicago had come to a close I walked away from Daley Plaza somber. I grabbed my luggage and made my way over to O’Hare to catch my next JetBlue leg to Charlotte. Rain had begun to trickle down on the city and everyone was waiting to hear if Rio would get the bid. They did. Apparently IOC members wanted Brazilian waxes and bikinis instead of Oprah. We’ll get them next time. Until then, Charlotte, here I come.
Portland, Maine to Chicago, Illinois
6:00 AM came way too early as I waited for the cab to take me to the Portland airport. When I arrived I got in line at security where I downed my Nalgene water bottle only to have a teaspoon left when it went through security. TSA enforcement in full effect, the x-ray technician yelled and screamed that I couldn’t have any liquids even though he had just watched me drink the bottle before passing it off to him and made me go back out, drink the teaspoon, then wait back in the security line all over again. Really? Last week my Coleman camping wrench made it through.
When I finally landed in the Windy City I was met by my CS host, Dan, who drove me towards downtown Chicago and underneath some dark bridge area that was used to film scenes in the ‘Dark Knight.’ Very cool. After turning a corner we drove out to the planetarium and I was treated to a photographic view of Chicago along lake Michigan, with hundreds of sailboats dotting the bay. Once Dan had driven me past Wrigley field and over to his house we took off again and he introduced me to Chicago deep dish pizza. Yummy and filling. I really needed a nap after my long day so far, but there would be no time for resting as we headed off to meet a friend who had just moved in to a condo right on Lake Michigan. His view from the 36th floor provided great aerial coverage of Chicago and I could see the Sears Tower along with the John Hancock building. The guys suggested that we head to dinner and I let them walk me down the street while showing me their town; little Victorian style homes dotted the streets, then you turned the corner and were met by a Starbucks. We settled on Mexican food and after beginning with homemade guacamole so good it made you want to slap your momma three plates of steaming fajitas made their way to the table. After digging in quickly my tummy was full and it was time to go home.
September 29, 2009
Chicago, Illinois
Walking outside I headed down four blocks to the Loyola campus where I was met by old brick buildings and young kids jetting to class. The school is located right in the middle of town, with cars cutting through in each direction. It made me glad that I went to a small school in a little mountain town. As I approached the edge of campus I noticed Lake Michigan and peered around the corner, where I was met by a beach. Even though the sky was gloomy, the beach offered a spectacular view and was accompanied by a pier, so I walked down a little ways where the benches were covered in colored glass pieces and painted by local artists. Then I caught the bus downtown to Randolph and Michigan, taking in the Miracle Mile along the way. Once there I ventured in to the Convention and Visitors Bureau to gain a map of Chicago so I would be able to find my way around and possibly locate Oprah. While there I noticed the Chicago Department of Health was giving away free flu shots, so I lined up along with everyone else and took advantage of the health giveaway. Health care reform!!! It helps everyone!!! Stop the flu!!! Finally, I crossed the street and meandered through Millennium Park where I saw the famous bean, the waterfall figures and so many fountains I stopped counting. Farther down I came into Grant Park where Obama gave his famous speech last year and I saw Tiffany’s flower garden. Soon I landed at the Field Museum and Soldier Field, then went into the aquarium where it was free day! Lucky me! The Chicago aquarium was amazing and probably the best I have ever been to; their exhibit on the Caribbean made me feel like I was actually snorkeling back in Grand Cayman. Outside I strolled beside Lake Michigan and headed up Michigan Avenue where I saw the famous Water Tower that set the city on fire so many years ago. The architecture in Chicago blew me away and all I could think was how well planned out the city seemed to be. Nearby was the Museum of Contemporary Art and it was free day as well! I was making all the right moves today and on the second floor there was a magnificent mural of a beachside with angels hidden inside.
Catching the L outside I headed North towards Wrigley for the 7:05 PM Cubs game. Meeting Dan by the Harry Carey statue we headed inside to see the ‘already out of the playoffs’ team. Sitting in the bleachers I grabbed a hot dog and settled in for the game. Watching the Pittsburgh Pirates made oh’, so many errors, I wondered if I was watching a AAA team or professionals who get paid millions each year. After the score was 7-0, Cubbies, I took off in the 4th and called it a night.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Chicago, Illinois
I said goodbye to my CS host, Dan, early in the morning then headed downtown where I stored my bags at a hotel that I would be reviewing for the next few days. Then I took off in search of Oprah, but along the way got sidetracked at the Chicago stock exchange, Sears Tower and beautiful river walk. Inside the Chicago public library I found an exhibit on Burnham, the man whose 1909 plan set up the exemplary building of Chicago. After taking time to explore the history of the Windy City, I continued on down Washington towards Harpo, but found a lot of construction and just didn’t have the energy to continue on to snap a picture of the building without tickets to an actual show. Instead, I ventured back up Lake Shore drive towards the Lincoln Park Zoo. A free zoo, it didn’t hold up to the World Famous San Diego Zoo, but was worth the effort I put forward as I saw zebras, flamingos, and monkeys flying about. At the zebra exhibit I took particular interest in the zebra who was being watched by officials for epilepsy! I have something in common with the funky animal! Back on Clark street, I passed by fun places like the Excalibur club, Hard Rock Café and famous Newburry Library. Finally at the hotel I relaxed in a warm bubble bath and soaked my tired bones before enjoying dinner in the hotel’s lobby and taking in some music at a tiny jazz club called Wunder Bar. Over the last few weeks I have enjoyed more live music than I have in the past year; it’s nice to sit back, relax and listen to up and coming artists as they hone their skills.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Chicago, Illinois
The best part of reviewing hotels are days like today. Waking up, I ordered room service and then hit up the spa. Enjoying a foot bath, hydrotherapy and deep tissue massage, I was thoroughly relaxed as I enjoyed the rest of my day by listening to more live music in Daley Plaza, a country band doing covers over lunchtime. Then I took the L to a funky part of town where book stores line the way and promoted my book for a couple hours before enjoying the fitness center and sauna where any troubles I still had melted away fast. Finally, I walked over to the Chicago Art Institute, where it’s free after 5:00 PM on Thursday’s and saw Montet’s and Van Gogh’s up close. I had just missed an exhibit outlining the history of wine and I was upset I had not come to Chicago just one week before. Back at the hotel I peeked into the lounge for a nightcap before curling up in the oh’ so comfortable bed and fell fast asleep after my lovely day of R&R.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Chicago, Illinois
10.2.09 That’s the date that all Chicagans had been waiting for. The Olympic announcement. First thing in the morning I hightailed it down to Daley Plaza to join all the locals for the IOC to make their decision. Signs waiving, music playing, TV’s rolling…festivities were high! Then the IOC made the first round announcement and silence filled the air. Everyone was like ‘WTF?’ And that was it. What had been building in the city for days was suddenly over. So happy I raced down and stood out in the crowd. But, now I had a collectible Chicago 2016 sign. Hasta la vista Daley Plaza.
Now that my time in Chicago had come to a close I walked away from Daley Plaza somber. I grabbed my luggage and made my way over to O’Hare to catch my next JetBlue leg to Charlotte. Rain had begun to trickle down on the city and everyone was waiting to hear if Rio would get the bid. They did. Apparently IOC members wanted Brazilian waxes and bikinis instead of Oprah. We’ll get them next time. Until then, Charlotte, here I come.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Burlington, VT to Portland, ME
Friday, September 25, 2009
Burlington, VT to Portland, ME
A few years back my friend Jessica visited Maine and after I saw her pictures I made a commitment to visit the state within the next 5 years. Thanks to JetBlue for allowing that to happen sooner rather than later. Leaving Burlington there was only one TSA lane open and two closed. I really love small airports and long lines. After hopping on board I peered out the window and as we touched down in Maine I was given a beautiful view of the Maine coast. At the airport I snuck on to the Holiday Inn shuttle and was carted downtown where I met my old Feinstein colleague, Johann, who was attending a conference at the hotel. After saying hello and leaving my luggage behind the counter, Johann pointed me in the direction of Congress street and away I went. Congress street was littered with art galleries and bookstores, so I went into each one and introduced myself, leaving 'Thoughts From the Chicken Bus' information everywhere I went. The people of Portland were very receptive and want me to send back posters for them to hang up in their stores! I am very excited. Continuing down Congress I found a Public Market where I grabbed a yummy falafel and kept going where Fore connected and stumbled upon quaint shops decked out with lobster aprons, lobster bags, and lobster postcards. Around the corner there was some poor soul dressed as a lobster waving to people and on the back of his costume it read "Eat Me." I high fived him for support. Through the ally-ways I ventured and met up with local fisherman who were bringing in the days catch, then over to the bayfront where I saw tourists lined up to catch a ferry out to the islands that dot the coast. Up a hill was the famous Portland observatory and Sumner Park which provided priceless views of Maine's most populous city. I sat there for a while and enjoyed the silence before joining up with Johann and some friends at Brian Baru's for a non-profit get together.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Unity, Maine
I had decided to visit Maine this weekend because of the Common Ground Festival. In it's 33rd year, I was told it would be full of Maine's farmers sharing their latest harvest, local animals, and fun festivities. A two hour drive from Portland found the roads covered in trees starting to change and lakes everywhere you looked. A long line of cars was backed up on a two-lane country road, so Johann used his I Phone to Google maps us a better way and ten minutes later we pulled up at the fair. Walking into the fair I was greeted to fresh blueberries, bins of garlic, and yummy homemade cheese. Searching out the food stands, I settled on a homemade grilled cheese and beet soup, topped off with yogurt...was this Top Chef out in the middle of a Unity, Maine field? There was an entire tent devoted to political action and justice and walking past I was greeted by a line of war protesters donning black masks and beating on white buckets as drums. The fair promoted all organic and homeade products, including not selling bottled water...throughout the grounds were water coolers and you could fill them up with your Nalgene or other water bottles. I was so happy to see this conservation.
At the end of the day I took in some Maine folk dancing lessons, listened to cool live music and tasted pumpkin ice cream before heading down the road to Courtney's house. Johann's friend, Courtney, had invited us to stay the night near Liberty, Maine and after entering the house we finished preparing a BBQ before gathering around the table to make new friends. Hamburgers, smoked sausage, chicken, corn on the cob, beans, and homemade ice cream were devoured before a campfire was put together and beers sipped on. Stories and laughter filled the air until I looked at my watch and it said 3 AM. Bedtime must be had so I waved goodnight and felt my way up the stairs to enjoy a good nights sleep.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Liberty, Maine
Waking up I was presented with a pretty view of the lake, directly off of the deck from Courtney's home. Rain had come during the night and drizzle lingered as I threw on my beanie and ventured into the cool air. Slowly the house woke up and when we had all gathered enough steam the seven of us headed down the road to a little house, turned restaurant, where breakfast and lunch filled the table. Afterwards Johann drove down highway 1 through Bath, Maine into Freeport, passing lakes and rivers along the way. Trees in Maine had not fully turned yet, but the ones that had reminded me why fall is my favorite season. In Freeport I saw the L.L.Bean compound, five big buildings with anything outdoorsy you would ever want to buy. Inside the camping store I was in heaven and meandered around the tents until we had to leave. Near the hunting and fishing building were two guys decked out in camoflauge, holding on to hunting dogs, and they looked just like an L.L.Bean commercial. Back in Portland we went down to American Flatbread pizza for dinner where the crust was the perfect amount of doughy inside and the oven provided the coziness one looks for on a rainy Maine evening.
Cuddling under my covers at nights end my trip to New England was over. It was beautiful and green as I had expected, but when it comes to fall foliage I think I'll stick with North Carolina.
Burlington, VT to Portland, ME
A few years back my friend Jessica visited Maine and after I saw her pictures I made a commitment to visit the state within the next 5 years. Thanks to JetBlue for allowing that to happen sooner rather than later. Leaving Burlington there was only one TSA lane open and two closed. I really love small airports and long lines. After hopping on board I peered out the window and as we touched down in Maine I was given a beautiful view of the Maine coast. At the airport I snuck on to the Holiday Inn shuttle and was carted downtown where I met my old Feinstein colleague, Johann, who was attending a conference at the hotel. After saying hello and leaving my luggage behind the counter, Johann pointed me in the direction of Congress street and away I went. Congress street was littered with art galleries and bookstores, so I went into each one and introduced myself, leaving 'Thoughts From the Chicken Bus' information everywhere I went. The people of Portland were very receptive and want me to send back posters for them to hang up in their stores! I am very excited. Continuing down Congress I found a Public Market where I grabbed a yummy falafel and kept going where Fore connected and stumbled upon quaint shops decked out with lobster aprons, lobster bags, and lobster postcards. Around the corner there was some poor soul dressed as a lobster waving to people and on the back of his costume it read "Eat Me." I high fived him for support. Through the ally-ways I ventured and met up with local fisherman who were bringing in the days catch, then over to the bayfront where I saw tourists lined up to catch a ferry out to the islands that dot the coast. Up a hill was the famous Portland observatory and Sumner Park which provided priceless views of Maine's most populous city. I sat there for a while and enjoyed the silence before joining up with Johann and some friends at Brian Baru's for a non-profit get together.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Unity, Maine
I had decided to visit Maine this weekend because of the Common Ground Festival. In it's 33rd year, I was told it would be full of Maine's farmers sharing their latest harvest, local animals, and fun festivities. A two hour drive from Portland found the roads covered in trees starting to change and lakes everywhere you looked. A long line of cars was backed up on a two-lane country road, so Johann used his I Phone to Google maps us a better way and ten minutes later we pulled up at the fair. Walking into the fair I was greeted to fresh blueberries, bins of garlic, and yummy homemade cheese. Searching out the food stands, I settled on a homemade grilled cheese and beet soup, topped off with yogurt...was this Top Chef out in the middle of a Unity, Maine field? There was an entire tent devoted to political action and justice and walking past I was greeted by a line of war protesters donning black masks and beating on white buckets as drums. The fair promoted all organic and homeade products, including not selling bottled water...throughout the grounds were water coolers and you could fill them up with your Nalgene or other water bottles. I was so happy to see this conservation.
At the end of the day I took in some Maine folk dancing lessons, listened to cool live music and tasted pumpkin ice cream before heading down the road to Courtney's house. Johann's friend, Courtney, had invited us to stay the night near Liberty, Maine and after entering the house we finished preparing a BBQ before gathering around the table to make new friends. Hamburgers, smoked sausage, chicken, corn on the cob, beans, and homemade ice cream were devoured before a campfire was put together and beers sipped on. Stories and laughter filled the air until I looked at my watch and it said 3 AM. Bedtime must be had so I waved goodnight and felt my way up the stairs to enjoy a good nights sleep.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Liberty, Maine
Waking up I was presented with a pretty view of the lake, directly off of the deck from Courtney's home. Rain had come during the night and drizzle lingered as I threw on my beanie and ventured into the cool air. Slowly the house woke up and when we had all gathered enough steam the seven of us headed down the road to a little house, turned restaurant, where breakfast and lunch filled the table. Afterwards Johann drove down highway 1 through Bath, Maine into Freeport, passing lakes and rivers along the way. Trees in Maine had not fully turned yet, but the ones that had reminded me why fall is my favorite season. In Freeport I saw the L.L.Bean compound, five big buildings with anything outdoorsy you would ever want to buy. Inside the camping store I was in heaven and meandered around the tents until we had to leave. Near the hunting and fishing building were two guys decked out in camoflauge, holding on to hunting dogs, and they looked just like an L.L.Bean commercial. Back in Portland we went down to American Flatbread pizza for dinner where the crust was the perfect amount of doughy inside and the oven provided the coziness one looks for on a rainy Maine evening.
Cuddling under my covers at nights end my trip to New England was over. It was beautiful and green as I had expected, but when it comes to fall foliage I think I'll stick with North Carolina.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
September 21, 2009
Buffalo, NY to Burlington, VT
So, when I booked my flight on JetBlue I asked for Buffalo to Burlington. Could there be two more random cities in the USA? I just had to laugh at myself. I was very sad to leave Buffalo today b/c my CS host was awesome and the upstate NY area was beautiful. However, it was off to Vermont and the land of maple syrup and Ben and Jerry's. Upon arrival I wondered over to the public transit bus stop and waited in the warm sunshine until the #1 pulled up. It took me into downtown Burlington, which was a quirky little environment, reminding me of Asheville. Everywhere I looked there were yoga studios and independent restaurants. I don't even know the last time I spotted a Wal-Mart. Connecting to another bus, I ventured down the Winookski River way to my CS home near the Koffe Kup Bakery. Delightful smells filled the air as I bypassed the doughnut making house. When the driver let me off he dumped me one stop ahead of where I needed to be so I began hauling my 50-pound luggage up the hill and around the community until I received a text from my host telling me where to go and what to do. At the condo building I found that he lived on the fourth floor, with no elevator, and continued to muscle it while wishing I had my backpack instead of this wheeling device.
At my CS house I found four other CS being hosted at the same time. My CS was a 22-year old guy and the first thing he told me was "I have a kegerator in the bathroom." I quickly dumped my stuff and headed back out for sightseeing. On the bus back to DT an older man began to talk with me. When he offered me directions to a lunch spot, I thanked him. When he offered to walk me there, I said sure. When he asked if he could join me, I wondered how I was going to get rid of him. His name turned out to be Pete and he stayed for over an hour telling me his life story...then he asked for my home address and I had to swiftly say goodbye. I have enough problems, I don't need Pete stalking me. In DT Burlington I found Church street which is where the main part of town meets pedestrians. In each direction there were people enjoying the warm autumn day. Perusing around I found City Hall and down the street there was Battery Park and the waterfront. Staring back at me was Lake Champlain in all its glory. Huge and magnificant, I sat on a bench to take it all in before strolling down a bike path to come across a beach known as the North Shore. It was there that I watched the sun disappear behind the Adirondack's and was overwhelmed with what nature had handed me.
Back at the house Ross invited everyone to join him at a CS potluck that evening. We walked up the hill to the party and when we arrived I found homemade tortillas being made and a freezer full of Ben and Jerry's. It is the one thing in Vermont everyone can agree on! As I went around introducing myself to people one guy shouted back "I hate San Diego. I went there once and it was horrible!" Um...okay...what does he want me to do about it? He complained about how cold the water was and how unfriendly the people were. I'll give him the water, but really, unfriendly people. San Diegans are hospitable as hell! When it came time to call it a night Ross packed two air mattresses together, next to a camping cot and his futon. Why did I feel like I was in Animal House?
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Burlington, VT
There are two ways to see Ben and Jerry while in Vermont. One is to rent a car and the other is to take a commuter bus. Car rentals in Vermont start at $40/day without tax so I vetoed that idea real quickly. Waking up at 6:30 AM, I caught the 7:25 AM bus to Montpelier for $4. Along the way rain begins to trickle down and I remember that I need to start looking at the weather now that I'm no longer in a city that is sunny 365 days a year. In Montpelier I connect to another bus that is small, made for the county, and driven by an 80-year old woman named Elna. I wonder how she is still passing the Vermont driving test, but she drops me off in Waterbury and points down a road to the B&J factory, then says "I hope you got your walkin' shoes on.." I do, but before I use them I pop into the Green Mountain coffee shop where I enjoy coffee with an Englishman named Simon. He came over on the bus with me and is traveling through New England for a month. As he talks to some American men they offer us both a ride to our general directions (Simon is going to Stowe), so I scrunch in the back of the Neon and down the road to B&J I go. Once inside the famous ice cream grounds I pay the $3 entrance fee and look around at all their famousness. There is a letter from Joan Lunden about how much she loves B&J and a wall full of patented ice cream scoops dating back to the mid-1800's.
Once the tour starts our guide likes to use words such as "Mooooving" a lot in reference to the famous cows. He shows us a video about B&J and how they've now sold their fortune to live in the Caribbean (or somewhere warmer than Vermont), then takes us into the factory production area. It's actually really boring and you can't see anything else happening besides little pints going down a conveyer belt. Down another set of stairs we are given a free sample of chocolate chip ice cream and then that's it. So happy I came to Vermont to find the secrets of B&J.
Outside I walk a mile down the road back to Waterbury where I find the Winooski river and it is very pretty. There is a guy fly fishing down at the bottom and state workers running around the path on their lunch break. Across town is the Vermont Tea and Leaf company, and the owner offers free samples of tea while I peruse through the store finding lots of tea varieties such as "mint chocolate" and "candy apple." Late afternoon brings the commuter bus back around and I head into Montpelier, which is the only state capital without a McDonalds. People have been telling me this all day and I want to scream back "I get it!!!" At the State House it's after 4:00 closing time, but I sneak in anyway. Upstairs is the house chambers and as I walk in I see four other people but don't really pay them any attention until I go up to take a photo and the woman says something to me about pointing my finger while smiling. It's only then that I realize it's Cloris Leachman and wonder what in the hell she is doing in Vermont. Following her as fast as possible into the Senate Chambers her son is yelling at her "Mother...Mother..." but she doesn't give him the time of day. There is an assistant there from the Gov office and he says "This is the first state capital with..." but Cloris cuts him off and says "That's all I hear in Vermont. This is the first, this is the oldest." I laugh b/c that's exactly what I've been thinking about all of New England. After asking for her photo she takes time to talk with me and her sons are very nice. It was such a random happening that I am completely flabergasted!
Wednesday September 23, 2009
Burlington, VT to Port Kent, NY
A quick Google search told me that Bing Crosby has been lying to me all these years and there really is no Pine Tree, Vermont. Whatever was I going to do now that I couldn't go to one of my favorite places of all time?
I found out there is a ferry that goes to the Adirondacks. Last night I looked up some trails right across the lake and they looked very accessible, even without a car. I asked my CS host Ross, but he doesn't seem to know a lot for a guy that has lived here for 5 years. On the ferry ride over there was a family from Israel traveling and the little girl and I began speaking. She told me all about their trip to the Vermont Teddy Bear factory and B&J and how she learned English from watching Hannah Montana!!! She even sings me the Hannah Montana song. Her family is traveling for two weeks in the USA, but mainly in the New England area. At Port Kent I go to find the information booth, which isn't there like it's supposed to be, and two people I met on the ferry offer to drop me off up the road. Once there I wonder around, but there are no trails to be found. As a car approaches I flag it down and ask for directions. He's an older man about 65 and says he's going that way, would I like a ride? Sure, why not. I open the back door and there are two hunting rifles in the back. He tells me "BTW, I have a couple of guns in the back." Oh, don't you worry, I noticed them already! He is a nice old man and takes me down to a wildlife viewing area that has a trail to loop back around to Lake Champlain. I wave goodbye and began down the trail. Markers are sparse, but I continue onwards. The yellow path leads me to a creek, which I begin to cross until I see that it's five feet overgrown and don't know what kind of snakes might be lurking down there. As I turn around rain begins to trickle down and by the time I am halfway back there is rain beating down hard. It's muddy and as I step forward a snake scurries across my path. I assume he's not dangerous so I stop and take his photo. After coming out of the trail I head back towards the ferry. Rain is pouring down now and I hold my hand up to flag down multiple cars, but no one stops. Just a girl, 5'1, in a pink raincoat...I am pretty threatening.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Burlington, VT
Lake Champlain Chocolates...yum, yum, yum!!! I attempted to go on a tour yesterday but was ten minutes late so they wouldn't let me join up. Today I was three minutes late and they had already started...prompt people!!! But, I joined up anyway, even though they had a sign up telling me to wait. How much could I have missed in three minutes? When I sat down I learned all about cocoa, pistols (a fancy name for chocolate chips), and how they make hollow Easter Bunnies. After she was done the tour guide gave us all we could eat chocolate and I ate enough to make me want to puke before I said it was time to go. Back down the street I revisted Great Harvest Bakery that I had come across the day before and they passed out more free slices of their delicious homemade goodies. In the afternoon I took a bus to South Burlington and the Magic Hat Brewery. Founded by two guys in the mid-90's the Magic Hat Brewery was decked out in Halloween gear and after walking in the girl said "Let's get you something to drink." Well, alright then. Magic Hat Brewery had ten beers on tap, you can try them all, or just one, but they let you drink AS MUCH AS YOU WANT!!! A few beers before the tour, then I followed the guide into the plant where I saw the bottles being filled up, topped off, and packaged. It was very cool and as we were enjoying the tour another guide came through with more beer! After the tour you walked back to the lobby and enjoyed more free beer. The guide told me they had just started selling their #9 Magic Hat beer in Southern California; so if you live there definately check it out!
Buffalo, NY to Burlington, VT
So, when I booked my flight on JetBlue I asked for Buffalo to Burlington. Could there be two more random cities in the USA? I just had to laugh at myself. I was very sad to leave Buffalo today b/c my CS host was awesome and the upstate NY area was beautiful. However, it was off to Vermont and the land of maple syrup and Ben and Jerry's. Upon arrival I wondered over to the public transit bus stop and waited in the warm sunshine until the #1 pulled up. It took me into downtown Burlington, which was a quirky little environment, reminding me of Asheville. Everywhere I looked there were yoga studios and independent restaurants. I don't even know the last time I spotted a Wal-Mart. Connecting to another bus, I ventured down the Winookski River way to my CS home near the Koffe Kup Bakery. Delightful smells filled the air as I bypassed the doughnut making house. When the driver let me off he dumped me one stop ahead of where I needed to be so I began hauling my 50-pound luggage up the hill and around the community until I received a text from my host telling me where to go and what to do. At the condo building I found that he lived on the fourth floor, with no elevator, and continued to muscle it while wishing I had my backpack instead of this wheeling device.
At my CS house I found four other CS being hosted at the same time. My CS was a 22-year old guy and the first thing he told me was "I have a kegerator in the bathroom." I quickly dumped my stuff and headed back out for sightseeing. On the bus back to DT an older man began to talk with me. When he offered me directions to a lunch spot, I thanked him. When he offered to walk me there, I said sure. When he asked if he could join me, I wondered how I was going to get rid of him. His name turned out to be Pete and he stayed for over an hour telling me his life story...then he asked for my home address and I had to swiftly say goodbye. I have enough problems, I don't need Pete stalking me. In DT Burlington I found Church street which is where the main part of town meets pedestrians. In each direction there were people enjoying the warm autumn day. Perusing around I found City Hall and down the street there was Battery Park and the waterfront. Staring back at me was Lake Champlain in all its glory. Huge and magnificant, I sat on a bench to take it all in before strolling down a bike path to come across a beach known as the North Shore. It was there that I watched the sun disappear behind the Adirondack's and was overwhelmed with what nature had handed me.
Back at the house Ross invited everyone to join him at a CS potluck that evening. We walked up the hill to the party and when we arrived I found homemade tortillas being made and a freezer full of Ben and Jerry's. It is the one thing in Vermont everyone can agree on! As I went around introducing myself to people one guy shouted back "I hate San Diego. I went there once and it was horrible!" Um...okay...what does he want me to do about it? He complained about how cold the water was and how unfriendly the people were. I'll give him the water, but really, unfriendly people. San Diegans are hospitable as hell! When it came time to call it a night Ross packed two air mattresses together, next to a camping cot and his futon. Why did I feel like I was in Animal House?
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
Burlington, VT
There are two ways to see Ben and Jerry while in Vermont. One is to rent a car and the other is to take a commuter bus. Car rentals in Vermont start at $40/day without tax so I vetoed that idea real quickly. Waking up at 6:30 AM, I caught the 7:25 AM bus to Montpelier for $4. Along the way rain begins to trickle down and I remember that I need to start looking at the weather now that I'm no longer in a city that is sunny 365 days a year. In Montpelier I connect to another bus that is small, made for the county, and driven by an 80-year old woman named Elna. I wonder how she is still passing the Vermont driving test, but she drops me off in Waterbury and points down a road to the B&J factory, then says "I hope you got your walkin' shoes on.." I do, but before I use them I pop into the Green Mountain coffee shop where I enjoy coffee with an Englishman named Simon. He came over on the bus with me and is traveling through New England for a month. As he talks to some American men they offer us both a ride to our general directions (Simon is going to Stowe), so I scrunch in the back of the Neon and down the road to B&J I go. Once inside the famous ice cream grounds I pay the $3 entrance fee and look around at all their famousness. There is a letter from Joan Lunden about how much she loves B&J and a wall full of patented ice cream scoops dating back to the mid-1800's.
Once the tour starts our guide likes to use words such as "Mooooving" a lot in reference to the famous cows. He shows us a video about B&J and how they've now sold their fortune to live in the Caribbean (or somewhere warmer than Vermont), then takes us into the factory production area. It's actually really boring and you can't see anything else happening besides little pints going down a conveyer belt. Down another set of stairs we are given a free sample of chocolate chip ice cream and then that's it. So happy I came to Vermont to find the secrets of B&J.
Outside I walk a mile down the road back to Waterbury where I find the Winooski river and it is very pretty. There is a guy fly fishing down at the bottom and state workers running around the path on their lunch break. Across town is the Vermont Tea and Leaf company, and the owner offers free samples of tea while I peruse through the store finding lots of tea varieties such as "mint chocolate" and "candy apple." Late afternoon brings the commuter bus back around and I head into Montpelier, which is the only state capital without a McDonalds. People have been telling me this all day and I want to scream back "I get it!!!" At the State House it's after 4:00 closing time, but I sneak in anyway. Upstairs is the house chambers and as I walk in I see four other people but don't really pay them any attention until I go up to take a photo and the woman says something to me about pointing my finger while smiling. It's only then that I realize it's Cloris Leachman and wonder what in the hell she is doing in Vermont. Following her as fast as possible into the Senate Chambers her son is yelling at her "Mother...Mother..." but she doesn't give him the time of day. There is an assistant there from the Gov office and he says "This is the first state capital with..." but Cloris cuts him off and says "That's all I hear in Vermont. This is the first, this is the oldest." I laugh b/c that's exactly what I've been thinking about all of New England. After asking for her photo she takes time to talk with me and her sons are very nice. It was such a random happening that I am completely flabergasted!
Wednesday September 23, 2009
Burlington, VT to Port Kent, NY
A quick Google search told me that Bing Crosby has been lying to me all these years and there really is no Pine Tree, Vermont. Whatever was I going to do now that I couldn't go to one of my favorite places of all time?
I found out there is a ferry that goes to the Adirondacks. Last night I looked up some trails right across the lake and they looked very accessible, even without a car. I asked my CS host Ross, but he doesn't seem to know a lot for a guy that has lived here for 5 years. On the ferry ride over there was a family from Israel traveling and the little girl and I began speaking. She told me all about their trip to the Vermont Teddy Bear factory and B&J and how she learned English from watching Hannah Montana!!! She even sings me the Hannah Montana song. Her family is traveling for two weeks in the USA, but mainly in the New England area. At Port Kent I go to find the information booth, which isn't there like it's supposed to be, and two people I met on the ferry offer to drop me off up the road. Once there I wonder around, but there are no trails to be found. As a car approaches I flag it down and ask for directions. He's an older man about 65 and says he's going that way, would I like a ride? Sure, why not. I open the back door and there are two hunting rifles in the back. He tells me "BTW, I have a couple of guns in the back." Oh, don't you worry, I noticed them already! He is a nice old man and takes me down to a wildlife viewing area that has a trail to loop back around to Lake Champlain. I wave goodbye and began down the trail. Markers are sparse, but I continue onwards. The yellow path leads me to a creek, which I begin to cross until I see that it's five feet overgrown and don't know what kind of snakes might be lurking down there. As I turn around rain begins to trickle down and by the time I am halfway back there is rain beating down hard. It's muddy and as I step forward a snake scurries across my path. I assume he's not dangerous so I stop and take his photo. After coming out of the trail I head back towards the ferry. Rain is pouring down now and I hold my hand up to flag down multiple cars, but no one stops. Just a girl, 5'1, in a pink raincoat...I am pretty threatening.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Burlington, VT
Lake Champlain Chocolates...yum, yum, yum!!! I attempted to go on a tour yesterday but was ten minutes late so they wouldn't let me join up. Today I was three minutes late and they had already started...prompt people!!! But, I joined up anyway, even though they had a sign up telling me to wait. How much could I have missed in three minutes? When I sat down I learned all about cocoa, pistols (a fancy name for chocolate chips), and how they make hollow Easter Bunnies. After she was done the tour guide gave us all we could eat chocolate and I ate enough to make me want to puke before I said it was time to go. Back down the street I revisted Great Harvest Bakery that I had come across the day before and they passed out more free slices of their delicious homemade goodies. In the afternoon I took a bus to South Burlington and the Magic Hat Brewery. Founded by two guys in the mid-90's the Magic Hat Brewery was decked out in Halloween gear and after walking in the girl said "Let's get you something to drink." Well, alright then. Magic Hat Brewery had ten beers on tap, you can try them all, or just one, but they let you drink AS MUCH AS YOU WANT!!! A few beers before the tour, then I followed the guide into the plant where I saw the bottles being filled up, topped off, and packaged. It was very cool and as we were enjoying the tour another guide came through with more beer! After the tour you walked back to the lobby and enjoyed more free beer. The guide told me they had just started selling their #9 Magic Hat beer in Southern California; so if you live there definately check it out!
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