it's been awhile

"i intend to blog about my daily life"

sure. right. that happened, huh? well, i'm a little late, but i'm back. i have a lot of stuff to catch up on, so here's the bullet list...

*got back in july, early july. came home just in time for the fourth of july celebration/bbq at my folks' place. good times! we played in the pool, had some kalbi ribs and a lot of fun, and got some sun on my white, white skin.

*the following sunday was my mom's birthday. i don't think we did much, i think i just went over there and had some time with the folks. we celebrated the next friday night.

*ah, the dreaded monday. back at work. i went through all my emails and got caught up with the whole bunch of nothin' that was going on.

*the next friday...this was a good day, actually. not only did i get to go have supper with my mom, older sister, and younger sister (with family), but i was also informed that i was selected as the nominee for the ambassadorial scholarship award for district 5510! i was also informed that the paperwork is not due to rotary international headquarters until september. but, for $24k, i can wait!

*the rest of july was normal, i guess. plenty hot. i'm not a fan of hot. just so you know.

*let's see, what's next...august was filled with ups and downs. jury duty. the evening? a call to tell me that my grandma died. rough.

*highlight of august? my birfday! holy cow was it great. many of my friends, my mom, and older sister all came over to sam's house for a celebration. that in and of itself was enough to be fantastic, but the gifts i got were outlandishly spectacular: alky (always good - vino and jack, can't go wrong), season tickets to the cardinals, and a signed first edition copy of fight club.

*a signed. first. edition. copy. of. fight. club.

*the first of september i received news that my roommate was going to put in notice on the house. that month was spent looking for someplace new. how stressful.

*after the first cardinal game, g suggested i cruise by this one place.

*we moved into that one place the first of october. moving is also stressful.

*november, hot. i hate the heat. good month, though. oh - and i got to buy new tires and register my truck. woo.

*we hosted another hold 'em poker charity fund raiser tournament, raising almost $2300 for toys for tots and save the family. good times.

*starting the 7th of december, i attended a difficult week-long to understand training for information technology. good times. i passed the test, that's what was important. barely. but i passed!

*after class on monday i received word that i was approved for the ambassadorial scholarship and rotary told me that my first choice, instituto de empresa in madrid, spain, was just fine.

*i. got. the. ambassadorial. scholarship.

*now, christmas is breathing down my neck and i have zero gifts. zero. here's to procrastinating!

travel day

well, i guess all of these are travel days, but this was the longest travel day ever!

we wake up and get ready. we leave the hostel around 9:30, lugging our bags down the four flights of stairs. after checking out, we go straight to the metro stop (which was oddly vacant, unlike the day before) and make our transition to the metro line that takes us to the airport.

the train is hot and muggy, but we found a spot in the back where we could stack our luggage and sit by ourselves. for the first time on this trip, a guy stands up and plays the violin. after a couple of songs, he walks down the train with his hand out, then past us to the next train. shortly thereafter, another guy hands out gum and a card, setting it on people's laps or on the seat next to them.

as i see this, i comment to the girls that i saw this all the time on my prior trip and especially in mexico. i also crack wise: "that guys blind or deaf...he drops the gum off, then walks back by and, collects either the gum or a donation for the gum."

other than that, our train ride is uneventful. kelli or erika make an observation about the graffiti, which we saw plenty of in italy. once we arrive, we disembark and enter the gigantic building that is charles de gaulle airport. we make our way to the northwest check in line, grateful that we got there as early as we did because the line was not moving very quickly.

once to the checker-inner guy, he asks us if we want to spend another evening in paris. we'd be put up in a hotel that evening and they'd give us some cash. maybe even another ticket too, but i didn't hear this part.

"no. i want to go home!" kelli blurts out, almost before the guy finishes telling us.

"nope. gotta go to work," erika quickly states in short succession.

"now, wait a minute... another night, eh?" goes through my mind. i am not anxious to go home, as these ladies clearly are. now busted broke, i'm thinking about the wad of cash they'd give me (probably at least a hundred euro, enough for my meals...maybe), another ticket to come back, and the fact that i'd be in paris another night! i really, really, really want to take this dude up on the offer.

then reality sets in: kansas city airport is 60 miles away from kelli's house. they'd be going there earlier in the day and wouldn't be coming back for my ass later that night, meaning i'd have to get a hotel. that's not that big of a deal, but the fact that my phone and some other belongings are still at their house is! i reluctantly drop it, but think about it until we get on the plane.

we get a bite to eat at the airport and then board. i was lucky and scored an exit row. in my luck, i was unlucky and scored the window seat. which actually wasn't that bad, there was a pocket (which was hard to manuever around when sitting and getting up, but it held my ipod and shades nicely).

no one takes the seat for a good long while. this always frightens me. who likes to take the exit row? one of two people: little jerks who think like to kick their tiny little legs (which they can easily do in normal seats) or big people, like me, who actually need the space so that their legs are not in contorted positions for the next nine hours. the longer i don't know, the bigger this dude gets in my mind. at least he has the aisle on one side, i've got the plane on my side!

then i hear, "that's our seat," a grumpy lady and, i'm assuming, her daughter. uh oh. then barbara springs forth, a little blond cutie. what a relief! my seat-partner's no 7'11" behemoth requiring two seats, not like her fly-mate for the chunk of her life. she has room to spare, right?

i did what i probably should've done with the guy flying over, and starting talking with her. that makes the whole "you're flying with someone really, really big, which will probably make this flight very uncomfortable" thing a lot easier to palate. -ish.

we even engaged the grumpy flight attendant that sat in front of us. he was hilarious. an actor by trade, he didn't really give a good answer why he was a flight attendant, but he said that he hated it. he was quite the prima donna. he had gone out partying the night before, so he was hungover. he corrected barbara - she wasn't going to new york, she was going to jersey, which he said with such disdain.

anyhow, we talk about a myriad of topics. she lived in shanghai for a year, speaks a number of languages, has a killer apartment on a hill in paris, is a graphic designer consultant. you know, shit like that. pretty interesting and, more importantly, quickly passes the time. i was really glad to meet her, and, in that moment, thought that i made the right decision. after all, had i flown the next day, i might've been sitting next to king kong, and that would not have been pleasant, for me or him.

about halfway into the flight, we run shy of topics. so, we discover our video screens and go to our movies. "run fatboy, run," "chaos theory," and a part of "flawless," were my companions for the rest of my flight.

passing through customs took awhile. a long while. but, the length of time was somewhat expected and we had plenty of time to make our gate to catch our connecting flight to kc.

we were talking about where we were going to eat once we got in to kansas city. i may have had a craving for this place called jack stack since kelli's husband, dan, told me about this bbq joint (if you don't know by now, bbq is my favorite food). he told me in great detail about its crown prime rib beef ribs that were the best he's ever had. their sides were allegedly very good as well. we were supposed to eat there the saturday that i got in town, but the girls had to practice, so we went closer to home instead. but we agreed to go there for supper - which is why none of us even got a snack in detroit. mmm...i was hungry for it, too!

that's when i talked with my first fan - kelli's stepmom, who she called to check in with (here's me giving you props, martha!). of course, i received lots of comments and encouragement from y'all, but hearing the excitement in her voice was very encouraging.

the call was cut short because we were boarding. that was when we stepped into hell.

we board the plane. easy enough. we wait. we didn't know this at the time, but they were waiting for two people to board. they kept calling their names in the airport. finally, they gave up the seats to a couple flying standby. unfortunately, they botched the seats, giving one of the seats that was already filled to the wife. the husband sat next to a kid (he was in his 20s) who saw his life flash before his eyes. when they sort it out, a grumpy lady from the desk points to the open seat in first class and directs her gaze to the frightened boy, "you, sit here, you," looking at the wife, "sit there. done," and quickly walks away. "you owe me big," the wife says as she sits next to her husband.

once all the commotion settles down and we're about to push back, a storm rolls in. "well, folks, looks like we have a delay. this storm looks to be moving pretty quickly, so we hope to be in the air in a half-hour. stay in your seats, though, 'cause if we get the okay before then, we'll push back from the gate and be on our way. thanks for your patience."

there was some lightning in the storm, so this made sense. but that half-hour moved by pretty quickly (it only took about 30 minutes). no announcement. the storm was still coming on strong. 7:00 pm in detroit is 1:00 am in paris. not late, but sitting around waiting or flying for most of that day is extremely boring. and with bbq on the brain - it's time to go eat, damnit! don't these guys know?

the girls were talking about whatever they were talking about, and my name popped up, but my focus was on the cockpit. how could they tell us that we'd be in the air in 30 minutes and then, once we hit that mark, not give us an announcement? i mean, come on! and airlines wonder why their approval rating is lower that george bush's! i was stewing, man, paying no mind to whatever the girls were slinging my way.

after an hour, they get on the horn. "yeah, we don't have approval to take off yet, so we're just going to hang tight. we'll keep you posted," yeah, right, "we're still hoping to be on our way soon, though. thanks again for your patience."

the flight attendants start handing out water. people get on their phones. "oh, there's golfball sized hail in kansas city? well, shit - why didn't they tell us that it's not the storm here, that it's because we can't land there? this is stupid," a girl behind me says into her phone. "i guess we have a terrifying drizzle out there and can't take off," a guy says, then recounts his travel experience, which started long before ours did. another hour passes by.

"looks like they're going to start sending flights out in the direction we're headed here soon, so we just need to hang tight for a little while and get the thumbs up. we should be out of here in no time."

the door was still open to the plane. we were connected to the gate, but the air was hot. poor erika, sitting next to me, experiencing the fear that i described with that open seat next to me, was starting to feel ill. we were connected to the gate, though! they didn't put on the air or anything. the storm had died down. kelli's looking out the window and tells us about a plane that is parked, coming off the runway, but not unloading.

not only that, but, by now i start to believe the horrible news that kelli has been saying for the last hour and a half: we're not going to make it to jack stack tonight. nooooooooooo!!! my agitation is jumping. wait for it...

after about 30 minutes, we get the following announcement: "this flight has been canceled. head to gates a38 and a39 to get further instruction. please take all of your belongings as you will not be returning to this plane. thank you."

what! you mean - you held us on this plane for 2:30, and now we're getting canceled? this is bullshit!

i can feel the blood in my face, i'm hot. not acting-out hot, but i'm definitely angry at this whole situation. i understand that the delay is weather, but, what're we going to do? because it's weather, they're just going to tell us that we're screwed and have to hang out in the airport until the flight takes off at its rescheduled time. right? i mean, it's an airline - do they care about the consumer really? well, maybe we can get a bite to eat at least. we hadn't eaten since a sandwich and strawberry sorbet (gross strawberry sorbet that i didn't eat) about an hour and a half before we touched down. we get our stuff and start heading up the jetway.

"it's not canceled. go back down." this was somewhat exciting news, but, by this time, we're all irritated by the circumstances, so the gentleman who said it had the tone as though he was rolling his eyes as he said it. we turn, but there's a plane full of people heading our way. we at least stop, and a different lady comes down the jetway to dispel the rumor that the flight's canceled. we stand around for another half-hour or so, then get back on the plane and find our seats.

shortly after we get situated, the door closes. we get pushed back. now there's a line of flights in front of us, but at least we're heading towards the tarmac.

we take off. at 11:30. we were supposed to take off at 7:30, landing at 8:20 (time difference), providing ample time for some bbq beef ribs, goshdarnit!

i cash out. kelli wakes me once, telling me that i'm snoring real bad. unlike her overexaggerations throughout the trip, i really believe her this time. but then i go back to doing it the rest of the flight. erika told me after that she tried to wake me up too, but didn't succeed. my throat hurts from snoring. everyone must hate me on the flight, and i don't blame them, but i don't care, either.

we had been on a plane for 15 hours. more than a quarter of which was completely unproductive. just sitting there. not doing a damn thing. on a plane. this is not a place where i want to spend four hours of my life if i don't have to. but, i had to.

luckily, the baggage claim was just out the door. dan picks us up. we get to their house at 1:10 am. had i stayed in paris, i would just be waking up after a restful night's sleep at the hotel of the airline's choice. at this moment, i wished that i would've taken that offer and stayed in paris.

i go to bed around 2:00 am, exhausted. but, i'm back state-side and can text and call all my friends now. that's my silver lining...everyone i love.

so, there you have it. the daunting trip back from the lovely trip to europe. sure, it had its ups and downs, but it was awesome. eye-opening in many regards, i loved the experience and can't wait to go back...in the meantime, i'm dreading my return to 115 degrees in the desert...

dread. -ing.

last day in paris, last day in europe

well, last full day in paris, last full day in europe.

if you know anything about me, you would know that this does not make me happy. i woke up a little early, cold, suprisingly, listening to the traffic four floors below. the only thought running through my head was: this is my last day in paris.

i laid awake for a little while before the girls woke up. then, they had to get ready. do you know how long it takes girls to get ready? well, kelli took a little longer 'cause she had to straighten her hair. we went to the bakery for some breakfast bread, then off to the musee d'orsay. we had bought some tickets off norbert before the end of the tour. this saved us quite some time with the line.

we walk in, then go to the top. the impressionist floor. monet. manet. van gogh. renoir. matisse. whistler. a bunch of 'em. my favorite was one called "la nuit," or, "the night." i forget who it was by, but i took a picture. better believe you'll see it later.

we roamed around here for a few hours, then headed to lunch back by notre dame. while the girls went to the crêpe shop i visited on saturday afternoon. as we walked up, i realized i was out of cash, so i headed for a bank. by the time i got back, they were almost done. so i went to find another place to sit and have a bite while they shopped. i found a place that served some onion soup. well, we might call it french onion soup, but when you're in france, it's just called onion soup. this soup was better than the night before and would end up being better than the stuff i ate later that night. i had a pepper steak, some fries, and some fruit salad for dessert.

when i got done, i needed to pick up a couple of souvenirs myself. we shopped for a few minutes, then headed to the sacré cœur - the last of the three things we wanted to do, taking it easy. the metro took us to, what i could summise, the closest stop to the basilique. 365 steps later, we arrive at the top of the mountain. many of them just in the metro stop. when the girls go inside, i find the other stop on the map that i couldn't find, the funiclaire. i can only imagine that it takes you from the metro stop we were at to the top of the mountain (i dare not mention this to the girls, by the way, just smile to myself as i notice it.)

at the top is a little artist community around the church. the view is tremendous. you can see the entire city from up there. around the front of the church is a guy play the diggery-do and across the street is a guy with a guitar and a little amp playing to the crowd on the steps. he's singing reggae-ish. his buddy comes up later to sing cover songs, stand by me, when the lion sleeps tonight, roxanne.

after we get our fill of the wonderful view, we get a small bite to eat. i get onion soup again, the girls share a panini. the waiter was a funny guy, rapping with us in plain english. then, it's back down the hill.

we get back to the hostel to pack. the girls, or "poopers," as i like to call them, decided that they were too tired to go to the river and have a couple of drinks. so, i get everything ready to sneak in that night and go down to the internet cafe. that's when i tried to check in online, but failed 'cause i didn't have my information with me (who knew that they needed a confirmation number? pshah!).

running low on cash, i get a couple cans of beer and go to the river seine. i just plop down, dangle my feet over the edge, watch the water, and drink some beer. heineken and 1664. the reflection of the light on the water reminds me of a van gogh painting, short brush strokes moving quickly over the canvas of the black water. i see some people in the distance, on the bank, and a ferry boat that was moored at the side with music booming. behind me, it looks like a few people are hanging out at a table, which i thought was odd and out of place.

i sit there for, maybe :30 or :45, just enjoying the cool air and the sight of the river. this is, after all, my last night. i see a ferry boat, a dinner cruise, really, pass me, from east to west. my thoughts are my own, thinking about the trip, thinking about me, thinking about so many different things. i'm not excited to come home. the girls are, but i'm definitely not. i could stay. i could definitely stay. i'm not bummed, i'm not depressed, i'm not really even sad. i know that i have to return the next day, and i know that i will. so, i enjoy the moment. i enjoy my last minutes in paris, in europe.

shortly thereafter, that ferry boat comes back my way. i see it turn in the water, just past me. there are a handful of men standing outside the dining room, and one lifts his glass to me. i, of course, respond in kind. in moments, i find out that they're going to park that son of a bitch right in front of me, spoiling my view. but this is still interesting...for sure. i don't move a muscle - now, instead of watching the river, i'm watching the people on this boat.

the windows are cracked slightly, so i can overhear some of the conversations. most of it is in english, but i can also hear some in french and, i think, german. but i can't hear anything too well.

there's one table in particular, in the back, that has about five or six men sitting around it, with a woman at the back of it. i see them looking in my general direction. they're chuckling and carrying on. who knows what they're talking about? maybe about work, maybe about one of the people that were sitting in the table across the room, maybe about some show that some of them attended. i'm watching, amused. i have a half-smile cracked on my face, and i'm trying to figure out what they're talking about. then i see one of the guys start pointing at his chin. now i'm starting to get a better idea of what they're talking about. they're almost blatantly talking about me! i'm listening attentively, but can't hardly hear anything more than a couple of words. they're speaking in english.

the girl waves at me! i wink back. the guy sitting to her right says, "he just winked at you!" i thought they were just having some fun or whatever, but now i realize that they're insulting me. i sure bet they didn't know that i could hear them. what's so funny about me!?!

some of them get up to go on the other side and have a smoke. then the others get up and start to mill around, her one of them. she's cute-ish, in a frumpy kind of way. glasses, her hair is pulled back in a pony tail and she has long bangs. her dress is black with a wide belt around her waist, the huge buckle in front. this is a semi-formal event. she goes to one table, and is laughing and talking with the people there. then to the table in front. then i hear, as clear as day, "i'm a little afraid of the strange guy outside." i chuckled to myself. i reached in my bag and pulled out my journal book. i scribbled out, "don't be afraid, i'm not scary. just american."

by the time i got done, most of the people were sitting again, getting their salad. i look up, but the freak show is over now. no one looks up and i can't get her attention. just in case, though, i scribble out a new message, "be nice. i'm not strange, just different."

the more i thought about it, the more ticked i got. i mean, how am i strange for sitting at the bank of the seine watching the water and enjoying a beer? don't get me wrong, i get the whole bald-headed, long goatee thing as unusual to clean cut, regular joes. but i didn't do anything to this woman or these people? they cut off my view!

unfortunately, i was never able to get her attention again, and they were called into a different room to conduct a business meeting. the guy said it would take an hour or an hour and a half, and it was already midnight. oh, well, my fun was over.

i walked back to the hostel, stopping for a kebab sandwich on the way. then, a refreshing shower and my day was over.

my last day in paris, my last day in europe.

me and the girls in paris

we decided not to have too much of an agenda - i mean, sure, there were things that we wanted to see, but we didn't want the tight schedule. we'd get to what we got to and would leave it at that. the things that we had left were the musee d'orsay, napoleon's tomb and the army museum, and sacré-cœur basilica. three things to see, two days in which to do them. no problem.

this monday, we're on our own, so we get up when we darn well please (around 9:30 am) and go have breakfast. kelli and erika go see if we can squeeze two more nights at the group rate out of the hotel, to no avail. luckily, while i enjoyed the eiffel tower on friday night, they were seeking out a place to stay and found a hostel in the area. only 25€ a night! well, plus a sheet and a towel at 2€ each, so 54€ total for each of us - not too bad considering the other hotels were charging around 200€ a night...

anyhow, we leave our comfortable hotel rooms for our quaint little hostel around the corner. in all actuality, i think the hostel is much more my speed. there are no frivolous luxuries, community bathroom and shower, just a room with three beds and a sink. i do like the fact that i was sharing the room with people i know and trust, as packing bags and taking them down the four flights of stairs - and back up again - every day would suck ass. but, it was enough. warm, for certain, because one of those frivolous luxuries is air conditioning (okay, so that part i lied about - i would have liked the room to have a/c), and filled with noise from the street, but just fine.

we can't go up in our room until 3:30 pm, but they have a little secured area for us to put our bags. afterwards, we head out for napoleon's tomb and the army museum. being the expert of the metro system as i am (well, maybe not expert, but i get it and have been getting us around much better than i did when we were in italy), i get us there pretty easily.

originally, this was not the tomb of napoleon, as he wasn't alive at the time that the sun king had it built. but it serves well as his final resting place. beautiful and ornate, each wall has a different stained glass window. the colors were immense, orange, signifying the sun king, and others of blue and green. the chapel, which was not open as it still serves as a chapel, had flags of conquered tribes and peoples hanging along the walls.

the tomb itself was enormous, and quite the tribute to such a little fellow with a huge ambition. the french really respect him, rightfully so. his greatest pride being his code of conduct.

after we finish there, we go to the armory and see some of the most ornate and beautiful armor and weapons ever created. this stuff is high quality, "luxury armor," it was called. for the horses, for the men, and, also, for the children. different than the things i saw in the doge's palace in venice, but awesome, nonetheless. again, as i was going through it, i was thinking about all the geeks at work that would be creaming their shorts in this place.

then we went to lunch. we walked the streets for a little while until we found a local restaurant. 7,50€ for a sandwich, drink, and dessert. we all had ham and cheese, i had an orange sodey (so tasty in europe - way better than ours here with their high fructose corn syrup) and the girls had waters. erika had a rich, delicious brownie with walnuts, and kelli and i each had an apricot or peach cake. the owners didn't speak hardly any english at all ("sandwich? hamcheese?"), but we communicated just enough to get what we needed. we thanked them graciously and headed to the musee d'orsay.

the streets we walked were not the tourist ones that we were used to walking. there was the hubbub of business as usual. there were retail shops, but they were not filled with the camera toting visitors that we were on for the trip with the tour.

the museum was strangely vacant. well, i guess it wasn't that strange as it turned out to be closed. so, we just opted to head back to the hostel, get our bags up to the room, then have a bite to eat for supper.

getting back there was a different story. we went to the right metro stop, but just after we got there an announcement blared over the speakers. in french, of course - i mean, it just makes sense that it's in french, as we're in france, but it didn't do us any good as we had no clue what it meant. a lady, speaking in english in front of us to her daughters, said, "they just stopped the trains for an accident or something, i don't know what, but they're not running anymore."

we went our way, trying to find a different route back to the hostel. up the stairs again, down the street. we stop for a minute on a bench so i can review the map - not much help with the smaller streets. but we're right by the national assembly stop, it's not too far to the invalides stop. as we're walking behind the joint, a bus stops at the back of the building, that reads, "assemblee national musique," and there were about 20...not soldiers, but men - and a woman - in uniform, alighting the bus (that's what they call disembarking, hehe), the rear two with snare drums.

they line up in two lines, marching in step. the gate to the back garden opens up, and to the beat of the drum they march in through the gate.

that was that - then we went to the metro and then to the hostel. i lugged two bags and a backpack up three flights, kelli came down and met me, then went for the rest. one of the girls came down to help me carry the backpacks or bags up the rest of the way. we settled in a little bit, then i went down to the internet cafe. (had to write to the masses, of course.)

i met them at a local little bar where the waiter was being rude to the girls, evidently. still had a couple of beers - had to catch up to those drunken hussies - and we shared a croque monsieur (a ham sandwich topped with cheese and toasted). we were going to eat there, but they stopped serving food just as we were asking for it.

so, we walked up the street and found a nice restaurant. we were reminiscing about the desserts we enjoyed when carolyn and john interrupted, telling us, basically to shut up 'cause they were starting to crave all of that deliciousness. they had just got in and were having dinner that night. the next day they would travel to the south of france for some wine, then enjoy a free apartment for the following week.

for dessert, we stopped for dessert, having crêpes. i was going to get the one with sugar and berries, you know, sucre-beurre. the girls opted for that one too, getting it first. um...beurre does not mean "berries," like i thought...it means butter. and they were subsequently turned off from the crêpes immediately. i had one with sucre-limon. i liked it - not as much as the nutella, banana, and coconut, but i think they should've had another one with some chocolate, but they decided not to give them another chance.

after that, they went back to the hostel and i blogged. boy, writing about our events sure was expensive! i spent about 70€ or better on internet cafes and such. last time i was in europe, i had no problem getting either free internet time at our hotels or cheap cafes. this time, it was five or 10€ a pop.

aftering typing on that messed up keyboard for awhile, it was midnight. i went back to the hostel, took a shower, and crashed. going to sleep was much easier in that warm room after cooling off in the shower, but my mind was racing a mile a minute. just thinking about everything, the winding down of the trip and all...it'll all be over soon. too soon...

last night in paris

and i'm not too happy about it, but i'm definitely living it up!

i probably won't see a computer until late tomorrow, so i'll get things caught up when i have the time...expect one a day or every two days until that happens.

thank you all for reading my nonsense. i really appreciate the feedback and all of the comments. i will be continuing to blog about my experiences and such after this trip, so...stay tuned!

i read your comments, but didn't really have much time to respond to them. for now, here's a general thank you to everyone. i'll follow up with you individually.

anyhow, it's my last night - i need to go see somethin'§

peace!

group's last day

but it didn't bother my plans any!

those suckers had two concerts, one in the morning and one in the evening. that means that i had the day for tourist-y junk, you know, like the louvre...

i didn't get to say goodbye to everyone as we (me and two other non-clankers, cathy and carol) were unexpectedly dropped off right at the louvre instead of having to hoof it from the church. anyhow, i was up late, journaling (in this blog, of course) the night before, so i made it down to breakfast in time to make a sandwich, scarf a thing of yogurt, and eat my sandwich on my way to the bus.

we get dropped off, then i go kick it with my boys, you know: michelangelo, vermeer, da vinci, raffaelo, rembrandt, canova, david (i saw some of his stuff at versailles the day before, too, exactly the same stuff, really)...oh, and there was some hellenistic sculpture too...anyhow, it was ass-kicking. no really, a little over-whelming, even. and i saw a mummy. a real, live mummy (it only walks around at night, after closing, so it was resting when i was visiting). but it was a really long day as well.

the two ladies and i almost closed the place, leaving just before 6:00, but that gave me some time to shave my noggin - a duty i neglected in the morning because of staying up so late the night before.

supper is just across the plaza at a halfway decent restaurant. we gave norbert and gerard their thank you card (and a decent tip as well, they both kicked ass). after supper, 12 of us went to, you guessed it, the eiffel tower. it was just about 9:00, which, in my estimation, would be enough time to go all the way to the top.

this is our group: carol (kelli's mom's aide from her work, not the lady i spent the day with at the louvre), roy (kelli's step'dad), saskia (the young girl, remember?), bob (her dad, keep up), terry (his wife, her step-mom, you didn't know that yet), liz (met her yesterday), stuart (you know him from his birthday), erika (if you don't know her by now, you're screwed), kelli (same with her), steve and sue (the couple i had drinks with in brugge), and me. they want me to lead this motley crew over the seine to the metro stop there then to the tower. whew. it's a lot of responsibility...

but i succeeded! admirably so, in my estimation. not only did we get there, but we got in the shortest line, and made it up to the very top of the eiffel tower! i did have to endure the same questions by the two same people the entire time...feel my pain:

"how much does it cost to go to the top?"
"12€."
"can you climb the stairs up there?"
"no, you can take the stairs to level two, but then have to take an elevator up to level three."
"can you take an elevator all the way up to the top?"
"well, yes, but, you really have to take two, one to the second level, then wait in line for the next elevator, which will take you to level three."
"you have to take two elevators to get to the top?"
"yes, or climb the stairs to the second level but there is no stair access to the third level."
"oh, you can't take the stairs to the third level?"
"no, there's an elevator to go there."
"you can take an elevator all the way to the top, then?"
"yes."
"so we don't have to get off the elevator, we can just take it all the way?"
"no, you have to get off the elevator at the second level, then wait in line for the elevator to the summit."
"there's two elevators?"


this goes on for the duration of the line at the bottom of the eiffel tower. by the end of it, i hate myself and am contemplating throwing myself off the top of the frickin' tower once i get there. this is literally torture. excruciating pain. i can feel my eyes glazing over and a look overcoming my face that is weary of this retarded question/answer session with two people. as soon as i answer one of them, the other asks a very similar question. they have this look on their faces like they just don't understand. i have this look on my face that my patience is tiring and i'm ready to kill someone. grr.

but, we make it through the first line. our group gets split up, but we immediately get in line. the sunset, at just after 10:00 pm, is amazing from the eiffel tower. the line moves fairly rapidly, but is still more than :30. we start cutting up and joking in the line. you can tell that we've been traveling for awhile and the travels, for some of us, are coming to a close. if everyone was this comfortable for the duration of the trip, the trip would've been way better. instead, there were nerves and unsuredness (is that a word? assuredly it is now! eh, maybe i should've used "uncertainty." screw it, unsuredness it is!) and uncomfortable moments, but it all came together at the very end.

our group reconnects with a couple of people joining us further up the line. we all cram into an elevator and go to the tippity top of the eiffel tower. now, just a night prior, the four honeys with whom i was flirting told me that the top of the eiffel tower was not worth the trip. that they have a grate blocking your view and that it gets in the way of your pictures. that the view is just as amazing from the second level. pish posh! those girls, although amazingly cute, know nothing about city views! the top is far different than the second level. the view is so beautiful!

i stake out a spot because, in :2o, the eiffel tower is about to become all sssparkly. i want to know what it's like to have it all sssparkly when you're on the tower, so i wait. there is a bit of a chill, well, for those of us that don't enjoy the feeling of fresh, cool air (read: i wasn't cold, i enjoyed being up there). steve and sue take off because her feet were hurting (oh, and the group was leaving at the ass-crack of dawn in the morning), and roy bailed with them (hehe, i was talking to him, and he said, "yeah, i've seen plenty of places off the top of high towers, like the seattle space neele, and..." whatever else - but it wasn't the eiffel tower in paris!!!). the other troopers hung out.

there is a grate separating you from the rest of the world, but the squares are fairly sizeable. in fact, saskia says, "hey, look! i can put my head through it!" that set off a series of picture taking - and a number of people sticking their heads through the grate...well, everyone but me. yeah. even with no hair, my huge melon couldn't squeeze in there. we had a great time, though, and i think the event was a good exclamation point on the last eight days of traveling with these weirdos (which i mean in a very loving way).

after the tower sssparkles for a little while, we head down. by the way, being on the tower when it sssparkles is pretty anti-climactic...the view is better when you view it either from the base or afar. for some reason, no one else wants to take the stairs down after we get to the second level (you know, because you can't take the elevator from the very top to the bottom, there's a second elevator that you have to take - no, really, it's true). we agreed to meet in the middle, and off i go...

there are almost 700 steps from bottom to the second level. that's more than two towers of pisa! but, going downstairs is way quicker (and easier) than going upstairs. unbeknownst to me at the time, they were timing me to see how long it took to get downstairs. they took :10 to get to the bottom, between waiting for the elevators and the actual ride down. by the time i got down, i thought they had already left, because i didn't see anyone...a few minutes later, here the come, spilling out of the exit. "oh, man, i should've gone down the stairway!" "i knew i should've gone down the steps!" blah, blah, blah - you had your chance!

unlike the first time i went to the eiffel tower, the metro was still running. we got back, made the trek over the river, and said our goodbyes. then, while i was tucked away in my bed, sawing logs (actually i was blogging, but, eh), they were packing their bags...

gay paree

after all of my after hour partying, getting up in the morning is no easy task, especially for me. but, i always make it to breakfast about 10 minutes before we're to leave, grab something, then run to the bus. i know i'm pushing my luck, but there's so much more to see than what's just on the tour agenda!

well, we're staying at the hotel mercure, which is in the accor chain of hotels, like the ibis, but supposedly nicer. allegedly. the room is spacious enough, two twins pushed together, but it's no ibis. breakfast at ibis is a lavish, albeit expensive, buffet spread of local breads, fresh meats and cheeses, delicious juices and milk, all of this. here, we have a group area to meet for breakfast and it's a stripped down version of this, but way, way shittier. the eggs look like they're made from a mix, the meats are undercooked bacon and sausage, and the selection is very limited. i'm not impressed, even if i am on the verge of being late.

but i'm not even the last one on the bus this morning, luckily. after everyone loads up, we head to the palace at versailles. we take the tour through the palace, used during the reign of three or four king louie's...blah, blah, blah, oh, look! a kick ass garden! oh, wait, it's 8€ and we're leaving in :20...oh, well, another thing to see when i come back...

after versailles, we get dropped off in the latin quarter (or quartier, as the signs say) for lunch and some free time. the group has practice tonight in the american church in paris, but we have about four or five hours to do as we please and are close to the notre dame.

one of the interesting things, to me, about traveling with such a large group, is where everyone decides to eat. quite frankly, most of the restaurants are rip offs with maybe mediocre food. but you get to pay a lot for it! i'm not too hip on this idea, so i head off to find a sandwich or panini or something instead of paying these exorbitant prices. and, boy, howdy, did i luck out! i found a little crêperie on the street. money. for 4,50€, i got a ham, cheese, and egg crêpe. talk about scrumptious too!

after i got it and had started munching on it, sarah, liz, and stuart stop at the same place. now i have partners in crime! they belly up, get whatever they got, and we head across the street to eat in the park. after that crèpe, we go for a dessert crêpe. mine is nutella, a whole banana, a sprinkle of coconut, and, i didn't see him dose it with this, but i could certainly taste it, a bucketload of deliciousness.

with crêpes in hand, we head down the road to the notre dame. this is cool, not as cool as the one in amiens, but it's cool. we try to enter, but it's closed for a special ceremony. liz needs to buy some souvenirs, so we stop in a shop and start walking around. we get to the sainte-chappelle, a church that norbert told us about (located in a police station, the security is tough, but it has some beautiful stained glass and is worthwhile).

while waiting in line, they decide to go shopping because they don't have enough cash for it. we don't know how much it costs, so i decide to tough it out. we make arrangements to meet in front of the notre dame at 4:30, when it opens again.

this chapel is so beautiful. the room is buffeted on all sides by stained glass that seems to go from floor to ceiling. the colors are predominantly blue and red. there is strong evidence of the sun peeking out from behind the clouds. they should've spent the couple of euro to hang out, it was definitely worth it.

i go back to the front of notre dame to meet them and, of course, the line is outrageous, stretching all the way back across the square. i walk the line twice, from back to front to back again, and don't see them anywhere. so, i take my spot at the end of the line and figure they'll find me (i'm not small, should be easy, right?). i found out much later that they found an opportunity to sneak in, cutting much of the line, so they ditched me. jerks.

after wandering through the church (again, beautiful, but not as pretty as the one in amiens), i pop out the back to see about going up the stairs to the top. the line was about an hour to an hour and a half long, and we were leaving in two, so it didn't seem like a wise choice. unbeknownst to me at the time, the three of them were in that line, waiting to go up.

instead, i use my time meandering through the streets. i saw a ton of crowds, some killer architecture, and some interesting people (more to come on that in a minute). one of the caricature draw-er guys singled me out for my goatee and asks to use me as an example.

note about street vendors abroad: all these guys want to do is make a sale. if they can get the product in your hand, get you to participate in their scheme, or get you to talk to them, they have a chance. usually, they start with a sale of something. then they "give" it to you as a gift, asking for a donation of whatever you would like. if that doesn't work, then they try to guilt you into giving them money. the easier you are to be manipulated, the more cash leaving your pockets.

i oblige and take a seat. he goes through and does a half-way decent drawing of me (better than some of the other guys, for sure). once he's done, he shows it to me and i take a quick picture. it's an example right? rrrrright. "come on, i give you good price. i tell you what, i give it to you, you pay me what you want." "no, thanks, i was doing you a favor. thanks for using me as an example." i get up to leave. "you americans." "we love you americans," one of his mates chimes in. "see you guys. thanks again." "here. i give it to you for nothing, since you americans are so poor." "oh, yeah? thanks so much! that's such a great gesture." yeah, right. don't scam a scammer, buddy. i'm on to you...

so i totally score that caricature of me in paris. (and i don't feel one iota of guilt about it, either.) not too shabby. i've got a little over an hour before the group goes to practice at the american church in paris. after they get done, we're riding a boat down the seine to tour the sites on either side of the river. while they do their thing, i plan on finding an internet cafe for the hour and a half or two hours and then meeting up with them after. i head back to where we got dropped off.

now, here comes the part when i come clean...see, when we got dropped off, norbert told us that we might have a problem with the bus because of the parade that was planned for the afternoon. i really wanted to see this parade, but i wasn't sure that i would make it, but it ended up i could...anyhow, when i get back up the hill, i hear the music...

dooge, dooge, dooge, doon, doon, dooge, dooge, dooge, doon, doon

booming.

the street is covered in confetti and just up the street is a huge party. "so this is what they mean by 'gay paris'!" i think to myself, and i run to catch up to the biggest, gayest parade i've ever been to (admittedly it was my first, but still!), and it was in paris! i went flying up the side of the parade, walking the entire route, trying to take as many pictures as i could.

the floats, each of them booming music with their "acts" aboard (one of which was the bear float that's side proclaimed, "we are not teddy bears,' with all the guys baring their chests). the transvestites (all of which were topless, of course). the drag queens (including the older one, in her mid-50s, probably, dressed up all elizabethan style, fan and umbrella included). the dancers (even tried to get the picture of the five- or six-year old kid on the balcony dancing to the techno music like a professional). and as many of the crowd i could.

what a time! i was trying to represent. as e said, she's more butch than me. oh, and because i didn't plan for it, no, i was in my walking shoes, not like anyone would notice my flashy toes anyhow.

then, it was over. i met up with the group, went to the church, left the church for unsuccessfully seeking an internet cafe with saskia (our youngest member, at 13), her dad bob, and stuart, the second youngest (and quite possibly nerdiest) member of the crew. they ended up wanting to get something to drink, so i continued my search then joined them. i endured stuart's stories, although it was kind of cute, sort of like talking with some people at work. except that he hasn't come into his own yet, he's still all over the place.

we get back at the end of an evidently tense practice then head to the boat. after breaking through the crowd, i head to the top to save some seats for our group. after about :10, i figure i'd be scoping it out on my own, then sarah appears. phew. at least i won't be alone.

we go up and down the seine, not being able to hear the "tour," which is announced in a number of different languages and hardly a murmur over the crowd. sarah gets frustrated at her camera, but i get some good shots of the eiffel tower, even as it sssparkles. that's when the girls behind me start chatting me up (they just want the pictures that i was taking as their camera sucks ass; it was their last night anyhow). the two sisters, tara and taylor, are sitting behind me, io, their korean counterpart that was forced upon them by contiki (who they do not recommend as a tour group, by the way), and megan, their cousin. anyhow, i flirted with them until the ride was over. what's a guy to do?

finally, this day is over. but, what a day! there were so many memories created in this single day, definitely building my love for the city. at the end of it all, i will miss being here. just because i was there first, paris reminds me a lot of washington dc...they even have something that looks like the white house here (just 'cause we modeled it when we built the white house)! well...except for that "everyone speaks french" part...maybe if i learn it, it won't be so daunting...

on the road again

i woke up a little early, but rolled back over. when i did, i noticed that it was overcast. being on the inside of the hotel, my view did not look out, so i couldn't really see the sky. when i went downstairs at 8:45 (of course), i saw the downpour! finally, the sky let loose, and dropped it in buckets. after i got done eating, my bags were already loaded, as were almost everyone else's.

then we were on the road. we head to amiens, where there is another notre dame, our lunch, and...a toilet? (that last part is a hopeful question, by the way.) we find our way out of the bus, then go to where the bathrooms are. except the door is closed. and today is small bladder day. at least for me it was. i had to piss like you wouldn't believe.

15 minutes later, when we find the information office, we find out that the sewer overflowed or something like that, and then we have to find another bathroom. the office is ever so helpful and directs us to the toilette a little ways down the road.

these toilettes are little one-headers that make life difficult for 25 people who all have to pee really, really bad. you're supposed to go in, do your business, pop out, let it do its business (it sprays the entire bathroom down after each use), and then let the next person go. the stupid americans as we are, decide to send one person in after the other until six people have gone and the "water" is almost to the top of the bowl. (luckily, i had no part in this, norbert scouted out another one like this, and i was over there the whole time they were breaking this toilette. god's honest trust. really.)

we lose about an hour with this, so are set free for lunch. some of the group (kelli, her mom and dad among them) want pizza. this slays me. i mean, how much pizza can you have on one trip? then again, have at it - it's vacation, after all. i just want a quick sandwich and to be on my merry way, which is what i get.

my merry way included a croissant-like thing with chocolate and some cream, by the way. and some milling around to kill some time with erika and karen.

then we meet up with the group and norbert tells us about the notre dame in amiens. this notre dame is bigger than the one in paris. it's really cool, too. supposedly, john the baptist's noggin is in there. and i got a picture of his alleged skull! how all of these biblical relics ended up in europe, i'll never know, but, even if it's not true, a great many people believed it and the catholic church got richer and richer, so...god bless 'em!

we load back up and head for paris. as we're driving along, i'm noticing a building excitement within myself. amsterdam was cool, the row houses on the canals were very beautiful. my last day in holland, however, i was starting to be bummed because sitting in churches listening to bells was not what i signed up for (then why are you on a bell tour, dummy? - the answer's simple: more free time, except that we landed in some obscure places where there was nothing happening! that means downtime, not free time!). brugge kicked ass, though, and my spirits started to swing there.

and the french countryside is definitely something to see! holland, to me, was rolling meadows, pretty in its own right, but a little boring (don't let norbert or gerard read this, they'll gang up on me!). i couldn't keep my eyes off the country on the way to paris, though. different crops roll by, red potatoes, flax, corn, strawberries, etc. we go through small towns. a ruin sitting in the distance, maybe bombed out from either of the world wars. little cemeteries marking bad memories on either side of the road. an excitement was building inside of me, and i couldn't put my finger on it.

then we get to the peripherique, the ring road around paris. then everything comes crashing down. it's friday afternoon and the traffic is atrocious. we have an hour, are trying to check into our hotel, then make it to supper on the other side of town by 7:00 pm, otherwise we won't be served. we end up cutting out the hotel check in, and make it just under the gun. gerard can't eat with us, though, because he has to park the bus a good distance away.

now, for starters, the city is really pretty. as we're driving along, i notice that it's the color that my mom likes her coffee: blond. everything's a cream color. this uniformity is oddly comforting as well. so, here's the part where i have to give my pops some props. remember when i was in venice and talked about his two favorite cities? well, paris is tops, in his humble opinion (yeah, right - humble, hahaha), and with good reason. this place is so very nice! now, it still doesn't trump florence, for me, and i'll probably need a month or so to re-evaluate, but it's a great town, and i like it very, very much.

supper is an appetizer of ham and cheese quiche with salad, a leg and thigh quarter over egg noodles with a barbecue-ish sauce, and a piece of flan for dessert. quick, easy, tasty. can't complain.

then we go to our hotel, seeing a couple of sites along the way. as we pass the eiffel tower, i overhear one of the ladies behind me say, "it's pretty on the tv." are you kidding me!?! i really hate traveling snobs, but what i hate more is traveling with people that can't appreciate what they're seeing! we unload, check in, and then some of us start rounding up others for, what i thought was, going to the eiffel tower. i mean, we're in paris. what else do you do on your first night?

i was way off! "nah, i'm too tired." "i'm not wearing the right shoes." "i'm just going to whine and complain and maybe not even see it." grr. oh, well, i head off on my lonesome around 10:00 pm (the sun was just starting to go down!). i have to cross the river to get to my metro stop, walk around 'til i find it, pay the euro fifty for my ticket, and then get off on the right stop. it's actually easier than it may seem, although it took a little while. i probably hit the line a little after 10:30 pm. of course, i want to go to the tippity top! there are three levels, you can climb the stairs up to the first two but then have to take an elevator to the top.

while i'm waiting in line, it seems as though there's a lightening storm above...or fireworks, but it was pretty silent. instead, it was the tower putting on a spectacular light show for the next 10 minutes. all of these lights start to flash, sort of a strobe effect, but it's amazing!

as i'm waiting in line, the updates on the screen in front of me change, the summit is closed. i'm bummin' pretty hardcore, but, hey, i'll still drop the cash to get to level two and see what i can see. after all, i'm here by myself, so the likelihood of coming back, maybe even a little earlier is great, maybe even with someone else. maybe.

anyhow, i make it to the top of level two, and i enjoy the sights and scenes and remarkable views for about an hour. there, i realize that i'm a sucker for city views. they're good contemplation spots. i go down to level one to walk around. at midnight, the "flashy, flashy, flash," as norbert explains it the next day, goes off again. then i start making my way down. there were about 700 steps between the two levels.

on the ground, i take some more picture, then make a break for the metro. i'm stopped by these guys behind me who ask, in broken english, if they can take a picture with me. who am i to stop my fans from immortalizing themselves with me, really? and that's how i meet alex and spiro, from kazakhstan. they're mixed martial arts fighters on tour (and their real job is personal security). spiro is taking alex and my picture first. i pick the little fellow up to quite the shocked expression. after the first picture, spiro's about to take another, and i ask alex, "like a baby?" he didn't know what i meant. so, i went for it, about to pick him up like a little girl. hahaha. he didn't go for it, but it was funny. then alex takes my picture with spiro. then i get their pictures with me on my camera.

anyhow, they end up staying at the same hotel and ask me if i want a drink. again, if the masses want you, go with the masses. eh, that theory doesn't really work all that well with peer pressure, but, what the hell. we go back to the metro stop, which is closed, so we take a cab back. we get an suv-like cab, higher off the ground, but only three seats in the back seat. poor alex has to ride bitch, he's the bigger one of the two. the ride seems to take forever, but we're cracking up talking about little things (you know, "wife?" "where you from?" stuff like that).

there's nothing really open around the hotel, but we find a little market. we each grab a couple of beers - and i get some water - and we head back. out front, there are some homeless guys, one a black man with dreads playing on his bongo drum, which, evidently attacted the others. they're drunk and dancing and having fun. alex walks over and dances...kind of. then spiro has to play the drum, poorly. but it was fun nonetheless. then, it's bedtime...

so, yeah - what a day, right? seeing a beautiful notre dame church (which was not even close to being crowded), then being up in the eiffel tower, and just driving around the beautiful city of paris...very nice. we'll see what tomorrow brings...

don't hit me! i brugge easy!

today is gerard's day off. the bus can't move at all today. so, we go on a walking tour of the town of brugge (pronounced like brooj). our morning starts at 9:00 - well, the group's starts at 8:00 for breakfast, but i hit that breakfast bar around 8:45 or so, but we meet out front at 9:00. norbert has a local lady take us around brugge, where we learn about the town's importance in the 16th century, as a merchant town, and there were about twice as many inhabitants then as there are now (about 24,000 today).

we saw the apothecary, the madonna and child statue carved by michelango (which was supposed to be for a family in venice, i believe, but they didn't want it so a family in brugge bought it; it's only been removed twice, by that jerk napoleon and that other jerk hitler; both times it was returned), and the hospital in the town. the hospital museum was not stellar, but cool to see how things were done back in the day.

after that, our guide split, and we had some free time. now...when you're in rome, you do as the romans do. when you're in amsterdam, as i illustrated in my last blog, you do as the amsterdam-ian-ites do. so, now that you're in belgium, guess what you do, kids? go hunting for chocolate. damn straight.

we found a shop with some cock-olate (that would be chocolate in naughty formations), so, of course, kelli wanted to go there. we tried some (not in the perverted forms), and found it to be not great. we shopped around some more, checked out the lace shops and stuff, but then just met up with the group to walk back for lunch. nothing too exciting, really.

lunch was pretty tasty, back at our hotel. we started with an asparagus soup then had chicken with a buttery sauce (hard to explain, but it was good), croquettes, and a small salad, and a delicious strawberry tart. then we were set loose to do as we pleased until the group met back up for the next concert, in a town hall building across the city.

i took a nap. the group headed out, and i went shopping for chocolate (not that other stuff that we already found), i was really afraid of getting lynched by my friends and family if i didn't bring some back. the walk was nice, and i saw much of the little town. i'm not going to say whether or not i found what i was looking for, but i was back at the hotel within an hour or two.

what else do belgians do? well, they brew beer. now, i wasn't going to brew any beer, but wanted to help them drink it. i've also been thinking about some things at work (i know, i know, i'm on vacation) that i wanted to hash out, so, might as well combine the two things. makes things go easy, don't-cha-know?

i go to the pub two doors down, and am greeted by two guys sitting at one of the bar tables. one's a little short dude, average and pretty unmemorable. the other guy is a page out of the trailor trash book - black socks, shoes, gaudy and terrible swim trunks, tucked in gray shirt. then he has the pervy 'stache and is unshaved for the last couple of days (and i don't feel bad for writing about him 'cause i saw him eyeing me up and down and making some cracks about something that i don't know what it was with his twerpy little friend; maybe they were talking about solving the worldwide poverty problem...i still don't feel bad). the other patrons all seem to know these guys - and everyone else in there. so, i feel good about this choice.

i grab a menu and look at my drink options. the only beer i recognize on the menu is jupiler, and only because i've seen the signs around town. so, i get that. i belly up to the bar, and the bartender is standing behind the bar, pouring drinks, of course. she's tall and skinny.

by tall, i mean that she's taller than me. maybe 6'8", 6'9" tall. and by skinny, well, she would obviously be skinner than me, maybe 160 pounds. she's surly, but she serves me my beer. spain and russia come on the television screens a little while later, the audio switching from terrible '80s music (that everyone was singing to, unfortunately) to the game. i drink a few beers, write out some stuff for work (which i hope to implement soon!), drop my last 20 euro to cover that which i drank, and walked out trying to find the group that should have returned a half-hour to an hour earlier.

and they had. i ran into one of them who told me that the group was across the square at a restarant. i waited for them to come back before going to eat, and now i realized that i waited too long to eat! i went in the restaurant, and they just stopped serving. the waiter directed me to another place, but it was closed as the owners were on holiday. so, i find another place. steve and sue are looking for another drink, so they come with me. luckily, the place took credit. unluckily, it was expensive as hell.

we caught up, steve telling me their life stories and such, i had some chicken, green beans, and salad, and then we headed to the hotel to crash.

while we were doing this, the rest of the group had found ice cream, which was placed on a, you guessed it, belgian waffle. they said it was the best ice cream they had ever eaten. i'm partially jealous and partially glad. well, 'cause i won't know if it was better than the gelato i had on lido or not. ignorance is bliss!

last day in holland

first of all, sorry for the break. it's tough finding internet cafes sometimes!

the day after my last blog was our last day in holland, and stuart's 16th birthday. the choir had a concert in the morning in downtown amsterdam and one in the evening in a little town between amsterdam and brugge, belgium. before the concert, we went a couple of houses down from the church to the anne frank house.

as i have said on many occasions about this trip, wow. a term that, for me, at least, is not losing any steam anytime soon. the way of life, the detail, the explicitness, the reality of it all...wow. if you're ever in amsterdam (ma, pa), come see the frank house. well worth the eight euro or whatever it was to go through it.

after that, i had to do laundry. i found a little dry cleaner shop a little ways down the street. i think i got taken on it (iman, my buddy originally from egypt that has been in amsterdam for the last 18 years originally told me it would cost eight euro for me to do my load, then charged me 15 - i still paid, 'cause i wanted the clean laundry - but, dang!), but at least i'm not as smelly as i could be.

afterwards, i had to do what the netherlanders do (it's the whole "when in rome" thing, of course): went to the red light district and kicked it in a coffeeshop. certainly, both of these things were merely for the opportunity to say that i did them, i didn't get a contact high or even slightly aroused by the women working behind the plexiglass windows, but, hey - i walked the red light district and kicked it in a coffeeshop! who's jealous now!?!

that was actually much more difficult than one may imagine...i had about an hour or an hour and a half and was given general directions. unlike the westerkerk, where the group was playing, there were no signs saying, "red light district, three blocks." i had to meander my way there - and back, another fairly amazing feat, by 2:00 pm. and, i'm happy to say, i did so. champeen, that's what i am!

the group wraps up and we head to...some little town. once there, we unloaded the bus and the group had a little time to practice. i tried to snooze, but, shortly thereafter, martin came through.

now, martin is an interesting little fellow. he's working with, i think his name is cole porter, but i have not been upholding my end of the bargain when it comes to names, the bell ringer from here. first about the bell guy, whatever the hell his name is. he has three cases of bells that are combined to create an organ-like instrument that plays bells. i'll get some pictures in here sometime soon. hopefully. anyhow, the cases are pretty heavy (as i was walking up to the church after the anne frank house before doing my laundry, "cole," martin, and some lady that was helping them - maybe his wife? - were unloading this case, i happened upon them and they asked for my help; little did they know that i was traveling with the opening act!). he plays them beautifully, which is quite a sight to see and a sound to hear.

back to martin. he's wearing jeans, a camo shirt that says something about holland on it, and is generally quiet. his hair is parted down the center, a little overdue for the black coloring that's starting to show his natural colors at the roots in the part, falling almost to his shoulders. after he starts talking, i noticed that he is a little weird, a little awkward, but still a cool guy. we end up having a conversation about metal (music) later and are quick friends...-ish...

so, when he strolls through the church, we talk for a moment. "cole" is finding a parking spot, and soon i will be helping with these heavy ass bells. my nap is cut way short, but, alas, that's cool. i like being useful, so this works out well. for a moment, we thought that we may not be able to bring them in as the stairs were far too steep and those silly architects didn't build the church with an elevator back in the 1300s or whenever the hell it was that this church was built. jerks. we found a way around it, then brought in the bells.

after practice is over, we walk across town to have supper. chinese food tonight. we sit down at one of the three tables, and they start bringing out dishes. omelette with a red sauce (tomato-y, kind of), szechuan beef?, almost a sweet-and-sour-chicken, fried pork, chop suey, a terrible satay chicken, a salmon dish of some sort (i even tried it - not too bad), and a shrimp and mussels plate (i think - i did not try that). with the rice and noodles (in separate bowls), we had a very filling meal. dessert was not included, so we had a beverage as well. i had a heine, of course, the rest of the crew had sodeys. mostly.

back to the church. the group gets changed. i read my book. concert starts. there's about 35 people in there. not too bad for such a small venue! afterwards, they give norbert an offering of 300 euro and compliments abound for the group. many people are interested in these bells! unfortunately, we have little time as we have to drive to brugge, belgium, which will take about an hour and a half to two hours, and our driver (whose name i butchered, it's simply gerard, but pronounced much harder than that with a strong "h" sound, as though saying the "j" in spanish) has little time before he has to park the bus.

we make it brugge (on the way, i finish my third book on this trip, thank you very much!), gerard parks the bus at his time limit on the dot, and we get settled in. even though the day was almost over, we still wanted to celebrate little (and weird, the boy is very, very weird) stuie's 16th birthday. we got some clarification from norbert on the drinking rules over here (at 16, kids can have beer and wine, the hard stuff has to wait until 18), so we meet up in the lobby to go for a beer.

we have about 15 people that head out to find a bar a little after midnight in the small town of brugge. everything is quiet, but, luckily, there was still one place open across the plaza from our hotel. we get there, and kelli's step-dad goes in with norbert to order the first round. not a hit. we're drinking bavaria and, woe is me, i have to finish about three of the beers. forced to. not by choice, of course.

well, this is stu's first beer. his mom, an admitted "beer snob," thought it was a good beer, but everyone else disagreed (not tops, but it was alright, in my humble opinion, of course). stuart, on the other hand, only got about halfway through his beer. i caught his mom stealing a sip, and gave him hell for it (hey - it's his first drink, the yungin had better be able to choke it down!). we all laughed at his expense. now, isn't that what friends are for?

i was in the north sea today

no, really. the cold one? yeah, really far up north? i was in it! today! well, not today, really, but yesterday...

we got up in the morning and came down to breakfast (it's like our breakfastses in germany, sam! meats, brotchens, cheeses, fresh juices, nutella!), then loaded up around 9:00 am. this morning, we're going to delft, where they make the delftware pottery. well, where they should be making the delftware pottery. we get a tour of the factory (which is amazing, the master painters can paint a plate with intricate detail in about an hour and a half), then spend an eternity in the gift shop while everyone picks something up.

after everyone finally finishes, we go to...leiden? i don't remember, but it's differentiated because it has two churches, an old church and a new church. the old church was built in the 13th century and the new church not so long ago, in the 14th century. we get to scope them out, and they're beautiful, of course. then have some time for lunch.

for some reason heineken is pretty prominent here. i have to say, drinking a heine at 0 degrees centigrade is a mighty tasty endeavour. lunch takes a long time, is decent, but takes forever. i had two beers. two delicious, perfectly frosted beers...mmm...

we load up again, and, i think, we go someplace that is escaping me right now. after that, we roll up to the north sea. here, we have a few hours of free time to enjoy some dinner. a gang of us tried to throw a couple of euro away at the casino, but none of us wanted to pay the 3.50 euro cover charge to drop a euro or two in the machines so we could say we gambled in holland.

that's when i break from the group. i go to the grocery store i saw, bought some asian food from the deli (which was not very tasty, by the way - and more expensive than i thought it would be) and a six-pack of, you guessed it, the beer they had: heineken and went to the beach. the sand there is very soft, norbert tells us that it gets destroyed every year, so every year they dredge sand from miles out and deposits it to create the beach. there are restaurants there on the beach as well, temporary buildings that also get reconstructed n an annual basis.

i plop down in the sand, which is very fine, soft, and does not stick to you. a nice attribute, no? i eat my meal while watching the families and lovebirds and everyone. after, i walk down and let the water lap up over my feet (with my slut red toes, no less!). brrr! that water is damn cold! then i go back to my spot, wathc te naked baby run around a bit, listen to the screams of the young ladies that feel the freeze of the cold water, and watch the runners and surfers enjoy their craft.

the six-pack didn't make that much of an impression on me, so, when we head back to the hotel, i talk kelli into coming down to the bar for a drink or two. well, there's this thing that the choir does, sort of a tradition. it's a card game called "phase 10," made by the makers of uno. the others find out that we're heading that way, so, before you know it, there's 14 card players, me, and one other non-player.

kelli and i are rapping with the bar tender and we ask if a 15-year old, liz's son, can hang out with us in the bar area. the guy tells us that they have their first beer at 12, so it's no problem at all. kelli then asks liz if the yong chap can have a drink. she asks him, he's actually a bit tentative, but reluctantly agrees. the order on tap: malibu pepsi. i ask him later if he enjoyed it, and he said that it tasted very good. i doubt that he felt any of the effects of it, but it put a smile on his face. today, a drink, tomorrow the red light district? eh, his mom probably doesn't want him to grow up that much on this trip!

i end up drinking some cognac from france that is pretty tasty. when i go up for some more, three young gentlemen are up there and ask me how i'm doing. i figure they're practicing their english, and i'm not far from the mark. we have a pleasant conversation. one of them lives in los angeles and sells tulips, from here, over the internet. he had to get his annual europe fix, so he's here for a little while. but, he has to get to work, so they take off.

i was talking with the bartender, when a lady compliments me on my goatee. she's a half of one of the two couples there, celebrating her friend's husband's 60th birthday. her friend, the other lady, asks me how to say it in english. i tell them goatee. she asks, "like from a goat?" "i don't know, but that's what it's called. it can have a mustache too, but when it's shaved on the sides, it's a goatee." "what's this called, then?" she asks, pointing at ther husband who has a little bit of a scruff, but a mustache long enough to curl the edges. i say, "a beard with a fabulous mustache!"

after the phase 10-ites scurry to their rooms, kelli and i end up hanging out with these two couples and the dutch gentleman with the english accent, as he lives there now. he's a little rambunctuous, flirtying with kelli, who disarms him gently but easily. we laugh with these guys for a good long while, then go our separate ways for some rest...ahhh, rest! i'm going to get some of that now!

two days' worth

alright, so i finish my gelato, the last little bit of deliciousness from italy, and get a 1.5 liter bottle of water. i walk out and start heading to the boat stop to go to the train station. who do i meet? my lovely companions, sitting at the very next restaurant, in plain view of my fountain escapade...

i walk up and pull up a chair. they're cool, but something's amiss. kelli's quiet, while erika endulges me in the small talk i was making. uh oh. that can only mean one thing: trouble.

"so, i notice that you paid a third of the balance, not of the bill. i told you last night that i paid a 20% deposit." shit. of course she had, and, of course, i had forgotten. i'm not a malicious man by nature, but, by her tone, i was this morning! her and my agreement, before the trip, was that i would cover the traveling expenses and she would cover the hotel/hostel expenses and that we would make it all right at the end. erika was to pay me her portion of the travel expenses at the end as well, and then all would be well. right?

unfortunately, after erika pulled some money out of the bank initially, it wouldn't allow her to pull any cash out of the bank after that. (editorial comment: after this experience and my previous experience with bank of america, never bank there; pull your money out and find a nice little credit union or reputable entity that is not wells fargo and enjoy your banking experience, but never go to b of a.) the girls made an arrangement that superseded the arrangements that i had with them, which was fine,

but unknown until after their agreement had been made. and now they wanted to settle everything up. the problem that i had with that is that i'm putting the travel portion of this trip on my credit card and having an extra 200 euro will not help me pay off my credit card. (after much frustration and three international calls lastng at least 15 minutes each, erika was finally able to sort everything out and can get cash from the atm all is well, rest assured.)

the 15 euro that i didn't cover got under kelli's skin, and this was the conversation we were having, i figured out that i had goofed, which raised this point of contention, we talked it out, and now we have it sorted out...i hope.

after they had their cappuccino, we split up the huge hunk of milk chocolate from the night before that kelli didn't want melting in her pack for some odd reason. we threw some away, 'cause it was too much. then we walk to the boat stop to return to the train station.

when we get there, we decide to head to the airport sooner than later. this cuts into our ability to see much more of venice, but at least we get to the airport on time. earlier than expected, even.

at treviso airport, which is in the little town of treviso, italy (beautiful little town, really), we get through security and into the cattle call area of the gate. we load up. a little over an hour and 300 advertisements later (thank you, ryanair), we arrive in charleroi, brussels.

the girls made a friend who needs to get to the charleroi train station too, so he helps us through baggage collection to the bus stop. andrew is fresh out of college, lives in brussels, and has worked for the european union for the last two months. he's picking up french, but his accent is terrible (i got to hear him at the train station). he was quite friendly.

luckily, the train we needed was running late, so we got to ride it :20 after it was supposed to depart. we make an extra transfer that we didn't need to, and had to listen to the cussing that the nederlander made in the row ahead of us when he found out that the netherlands was losing in the euro cup (thanks to the little cutie that clued us in about the announcements made in dutch over the intercom). but, we get to schiphol, the airport of amsterdam. about an hour later, the hotel bus shows up, and we go to spend the night in ibis.

now, i have fond memories of hotel ibis, of the accor chain. the rooms are modern and nice, nothing great in size, but sufficient. this ibis is much the same, only older. the girls all pile into one room, leaving me to myself. i fall asleep around 2:15 am...we have to meet downstairs at 8:00 for the shuttle back to the airport to meet the group.

and we do. they come around, many of them wearing the purple t-shirts that kelli's mom tried to get for me too (but thankfully failed), and we load up. our tour guide's name is norbert, and he's an older gentleman, very kind. english is not his first language, but he speaks it very well. our driver, hergaart (i'm making that up as i go along, but it's how his name sounds, with a very strong h sound to kick it off) is also good-natured, although his handle on the english language is minimal at best.

after a couple of jokes about the red light district and the pot shops, we go to the van gogh museum (we've been saying his name for a very, very long time...) and have an independent lunch. after, we go back to the airport to pick up some others, then head to downtown amsterdam.

amsterdam is a beautiful town, with 88 canals running through it. the homes that line the streets and canals are like brownstones, multi-leveled, no side yard, and absolutely beautiful. the facades are all different, but they're very nice. we have a few minutes to walk through one of the tulip markets downtown
, then head out to sossenheim, where we're staying for three nights.

with the newly jet-lagged, we have some free time before supper. there's not a damn thing to do here, though, so we're all confined to our hotel rooms, basically. i get internet tv set up, some of the clankers practice...

supper was nice. starting with a delicious vegetable soup, the main course was a wienerschnitzel with mushroom sauce (a little dry, but otherwise good - well, for everyone but the mushroom-opposed), a side plate of skillet-fried potatoes, green beans (sliced diagonally into thin strips with an odd spice on top, maybe nutmeg or allspice), and french fries. we finished supper with a piece of apple struedel and homemade whipped cream. delicious.

after the meal, well, i blogged. then crashed...yesterday was a whole new day...


(and, if you would like to follow along on their adventures, kelli's mom started a blog after finding out about this one: http://campanillasdelsol.blogspot.com/. have at it, kids!)

my last italian meal for 2008

after blogging, i walk to find the girls. i can't find them, but i walk to find them. with that intent, at least. maybe they went on to catch the 51 boat from lido back to the venice train station. maybe they're hiding under an umbrella somewhere, enjoying a leisurely lunch on this leisurely street. regardless, i walk to find them. it is lunchtime, now, so, if i don't find them, i'll grab a bite at the end of the street.

i arrive at the end of the street, and haven't seen the girls. this place, from which i'm getting lunch, is just a little kitchen in a trailer that's parked on the side of the road with coolers flanking the bar and a seating area under a thatched roof. not big at all. yesterday, walking by, i saw these two delicious-looking sandwiches being handed across the bar. they looked like burgers, but, this is italy. there aren't burgers in italy.

i sit down at the bar. the guy to my right has a glass of water, and asks the waiter/owner/barkeep for a splash of wine in his water. odd, sure, but, when in rome, right? or venice, as the case may be. well, lido, more accurate...anyway, the waiter pulls a sandwich off the panini machine, halves it, sets it on a wooden plate, and then hands it to the guy. looks good.

"how's the panini?" the broken english answer i get back is that it's good. "what's on it?" a list of different things. "i'll have that. with everything." i wave my hand for effect, sweeping it through the air from below the bar to the sky. his eyes bulges. "everything?" he asks, incredulously. "sure, what the heck - just no tomatoes." "just three things," his grumpy partner in crime says from the meat slicer in the corner, with which he is using to slice tomatoes. "this boorger, real good-a. big-a." hmm.

i'm no advocate to eat good god-fearin' american comfort food abroad. that's not my style. and i want to punch everyone in the face who says, "i just couldn't wait to get to a mcdonald's." and not just once, either. but i start justifying this in my head. "burgers aren't really american - they're from hamburg, in germany. maybe it'll be alright. i mean, hamburguesas in mexico are nary similar to that which we enjoy in the states. besides, we're not clickin' on all cylinders here, our communication. give it a shot."

"alright! with everything - but tomatoes."

he breaks out a burger and throws it on the panini machine. then he sprinkles two different kinds of dried spices on it. he doesn't bring the top down to the meat. he pulls out a good-sized roll and cuts it. then starts to decorate it with vegetables. lettuce. onion. i think pickle too, but i don't remember. then he gets out the roll of mozzarella cheese and takes off three hunks. he drops them on the burger, then brings the top down so it's just millimeters away from the cheese. from the little fridge, he breaks out the ketchup, mustard, and mayonnaise, squirting them individually on the other half of the bun. he promptly replaces them, then checks the burger. almost done. when it's ready, he sets it on the vegetables on the bun, then sprinkles the dried spices over it one more time. he closes it up, wraps it in a bright yellow napkin, sets it on a wooden plate, and hands it to me.

wow. i need to rethink my whole philosophy about american comfort food abroad. the flavors are so different. sure, the components are the same, but the flavors are different. much like the hamburguesas of mexico. the bread is something of legend, the condiments carry a sweeter flavor, and the cheese is not our traditional cheddar, something wildly different. simply different, but wildly different all the same. and that little sprinkle of dried spices? wow. this sandwich is simply...awesome!

but that whole mcdonald's thing? oh, yeah - right in the face!

but i'm a man on a mission. i have to find the girls. they might be at the gelato shop from yesterday. they know i'm going back. it's on the same side of the street, so i decided to scope out the restaurants along the way. to no avail, of course. but i did happen upon that gelateria with the home made gelato. i order up three scoops for my last gelato of the trip: cocco, stracciatella, and torrone. cocco, of course, 'cause it's my favorite, stracciatella, because the girls had it the day before and were raving about it, and torrone, the hazelnut toffee-ish one made, to my knowledge, only here.

i explained the deliciousness factor in a previous blog. i don't think i described the grittiness of the gelato that scraped gently across my tongue as i licked it off the top of my cone. or the sweetness of it all. how creamy it was. like homemade ice cream on a warm and humid summer's day. the nuts are crunchy and hard, a contrast with the creaminess of the rest. the toffee blending with it and the frozen dairy for a sumptuous flavor. the chocolate, obviously drizzled in before freezing to a crisp. and the perfectly flavored flakes of coconut and cream for one of the best treats i ever had.

i walked with it. then stood in the shade, watching young children play in the fountain. a baby girl, maybe three, stripped down to her bright blue knickers as she got herself soaked. the two boys with arms soaked o their shoulders. the parents hollering about, calling their names, setting them back in the right spot. that's where i stood, tasting my delicious final bites of my last meal in italy.

oh, yeah, the girls...i buy some water in the store on which i was leaning, turn to walk to the boat stop, and here they are. sitting there in sight from where i stood, eating my gelato whle they were finishing their last meal, wrapping it up with a sip of their final cappuccino...

have you ever been scared?

no, i'm not talking about the someone-just-jumped-out-from-behind-you-and-startled-you scared. nor am i talking about the how-far-down-is-it-from-here?-oh,-heck,-i'll-jump-anyway scared. and i'm not talking about the did-that-car-almost-hit-me? scared. i'm talking the shit-your-pants,-"i-know-it-was-in-here-a-minute-ago,-what-the-hell-happened-to-my-wallet-with-all-my-money,-credit-cards,-and-passport ?scared.

yeah, that scared.

ain't fun, man. ain't fun at all.

i set off from the hotel a little early so i can blog. i pay my part (or what turned out to be 20% less than my part) of the hotel bill stroll for the internet cafe just down the way that we found the day before. as i'm walking, i enter the street to walk around the four or so people waiting for the bus. i have my sling bag around my neck and am dragging my suitcase. i hear something hit the ground. i stop, my water bottle is on the ground. i check the ground for anything else. nope, all's well. carry on.

i walk the rest of the distance to the internet cafe, about maybe less than a quarter mile. there is a little market set up, selling fresh produce, people stopping by on their bikes, others are having some cafe on the patio of a small coffee shop, chatting about this and that. it's a leisurely morning. i walk into the internet cafe, and the owner of the shop is occupied by the lady at the counter. the morning is nice, i'm not even sweating yet. the shop has little trinkets and stuff, and computer equipment. things like travel mice and connectors and that kind of thing.

i was there for about a half minute, then figure that i'll get my cash ready as i'm about to meet up with the girls in about an hour, and i need to get my writing done (and check my account balances and all that jazz). my wallet's not where i usually put it...

i look under the water bottle, under my journal. it's not there...

maybe, when i paid the hotel bill, i stuffed it in the wrong pocket. it's not there...

no, i never misplace things like this...let me triple check the other pocket, where i always put it. it's not there...

oh, shit.

ma'am, sorry to interrupt - can i please leave my bags here for a moment? i think i dropped my wallet.

not there, around the side, so it's out of the way.

please be there. please. it must've been under my suitcase when i turned around. it'll be there. it's only been moments. please be there. please. it has to be there. please.

in this fear, your foot doesn't hurt. it's not just that you'll lose the passport with your stamps in it, or the almost-$400 in euro you took out yesterday, or your credit cards, or your driver's license. you'll lose your freedom. what can you do? sure, you want to stay in italy, but how will you get around? where will you stay? no, your foot runs just fine. your breath even holds out until you run that almost-quarter mile back to the bus stop. as you come up, you see something in the shadow. something setting there on the ground. you don't get your hopes up. i mean, if you breathe that sigh of relief for a leaf on the ground, you're f'ed, man. don't waste that sigh of relief! you have to know first.

luckily, the sigh of relief gets exhaled. luckily, on this lazy morning on this little island, luckily, full of relaxed locals and busy tourists alike, luckily, your wallet is sitting on the pavement, just where it fell, out of sight, under your duffel bag that you were rolling along. luckily, you don't have to discover the adventure of calling your credit card and bank to tell them you lost the cards on this trip. you don't have to find the u.s. embassy to figure out how to get a new passport when you're supposed to be leaving in less than five hours to go to another country.

no, luckily, today, you called in some karmic wonder that you did years ago. maybe you had done something really nice and unwarranted for your sister. maybe you gave someone a couple of bucks when he or she needed it the most. maybe you were there for a friend, being that shoulder to cry on at the perfect time. maybe you shouldn't be so stupid and check your bag when something falls out of it in the future.

eh, either way. be grateful. smile...now you have a story to tell...you know, the day you shat yourself?