Grateful Dating

Spendy

2008-11-19T08:24:00.001-05:00

Since I've been back, I've gone on a mini shopping spree. Not that I've actually bought anything extravagant: a new cheap watch (the old one broke); aluminum water bottle (half the price I'd seen them for before); antiseptic ointment (maybe that doesn't count); pajamas (too pricey--but on sale); and several pastries (yum!). It's probably a reaction from hanging out with Kent all these weeks. Since he was short on funds, we kept expenditures to the occasional museum, meal or drink. Also, I don't think he's a big shopper under any circumstances, and I'm not either, but it was still fun to go and pick up a couple of things that were semi-needed.

One more item on my list is a new date book. As a treat, I'd gotten myself a nice Moleskine one that covered September '08 thru December '09. I brought it along on our travel adventure and managed to lose it. It was the only thing I lost the entire time--a bummer because, not only did it have lists and addresses and opening hours for all kinds of things I want to do in Paris, I also had my carte de sejour tucked into its inside pocket. Whoops. Let's just hope that I won't have a problem getting back into France after my next trip to London--in two weeks. (It was the temporary card, which means that, someday, the permanent one will arrive, otherwise I'd report the loss to the police.)

On Monday night, with great effort, I dragged myself to an expat happy hour. I was meeting American friend, Nadine, there or I probably wouldn't have made it. Anyway, it was good to see her, and another acquaintance, and mostly the three of us chatted. The place was insanely crowded and the vaulted basement ceiling was so echo-y that I thought I was going to lose my mind.

A young man walked by and half smiled at us. I gave him a full smile and said hi, then he said hi, Nadine said hi and we all started talking. As soon as he opened his mouth, I knew he was Australian (correct!) but he didn't look Australian (his parents are from Sri Lanka, but he's a native).

After spending so much time with Kiwis I have a funny reaction to meeting Australians. First, I want tell them that I've been to Gallipoli. Next, I want to give them a hard time. Now, the piss taking (s**t giving) usually occurs place between men (and not even all men), so I couldn't go there, but, really, what was I thinking? I'm not a Kiwi. What I did say was, "My boyfriend's a Kiwi so I feel like I should give you a hard time." He laughed and said, "Oh, right. Russell Crowe. They don't like that we claim him. But who wants him?"

I laughed too, because he was right. "Exactly what I said--'are you sure you want to take credit for that?'"

He also mentioned that he was looking for people to drink with (he wondered where all the other Aussies were) and I thought it was a shame Kent wasn't there. Later on, Nadine got his number and they're planning to try out the Australian bar in Paris (it has three branches!) sometime. Possibly, I'll even be invited.

PS Did you notice that Kent left comments? That's a first! He's the best.

Grateful for: getting out of the house.

Life in the slow lane

2008-11-17T10:35:00.001-05:00

Since returning to Paris, I've been in a cocoon.

On Thursday night, I met Dara for dinner at 9:30pm. I had actually already eaten since I made a quick grocery run earlier in the day. I just had a salad.

In theory, we were supposed to go to a hear some hip-hop DJs around 11pm. After a good conversation (you know I had some stories to tell), we headed to the nearby club.

When I realized the cover was 22 euros, I decided to call it a night. Luckily, Dara was meeting another friend so I didn't feel like I'd abandoned her. It just wasn't going to work for me--I was exhausted (still) and feeling frugal. Also, hip-hop DJs? I'd say the odds were only 50-50 that I would have enjoyed it. (As Dara and her friend stayed out until 3am, I think I made the right call.)

The next day, I stayed home. I focused on my knitting. I got completely unpacked. I intended to do laundry, but that didn't happen until today.

On Sunday, I met another American friend, Nadine, for a late lunch. We don't know each other well, but we had a good time and I talked her ear off as well.

While it is good to be standing still and have a comfortable warm bed to sleep in every night, I can't help but feel a little lonely. For the last month and a half, I had constant company. And I liked it.

I've always needed a lot of alone time and even when I wasn't choosing to be alone, usually, I didn't mind. But, now, maybe it's a reaction, but I'm feeling lonely. I have plans tonight. I'll have dinner with my landlords sometime this week. I can go to a (hopefully English-speaking) knitting group on Wednesday. I can go to the movies...that would probably cheer me up. In less than two weeks, I'm going to England to see Alicia for American Thanksgiving. I'll see Kent then too. Next month, I have an old friend coming to visit. And so on...but all that isn't making me feel any better.

I also would have hoped that my cold would be 100% gone by now, but it lingers. It's not terrible but I'm awfully tired despite sleeping fairly well the last few night. Soon, hopefully, it will really be gone.

It feels ridiculous to complain at all about being in Paris. I'm still happy to be here. I still like my neighborhood. I'm not looking forward to going home or starting work again. I just would like to have more company in the meantime. Sigh.

Also, please scroll down for some more entries about the last week of my travels. It's not scintillating stuff but Kent said he would read and comment (right--he may not but he said he would), so you might find something a little more interesting there eventually.

Grateful for: the calm.

Ephesus panorama [Flickr]

2008-11-16T02:36:33-06:00

J-Blue posted a photo:

Gallipoli panorama [Flickr]

2008-11-16T02:36:17-06:00

J-Blue posted a photo:

Istanbul panorama [Flickr]

2008-11-16T02:36:06-06:00

J-Blue posted a photo:

IMG_3988.JPG [Flickr]

2008-11-16T02:27:19-06:00

J-Blue posted a photo:

IMG_3987.JPG [Flickr]

2008-11-16T02:27:06-06:00

J-Blue posted a photo:

Home=Paris?

2008-11-14T14:15:00.001-05:00

Just a quick note to let you know I'm back in Paris, had a great trip and I have quite a lot to say but not much energy to write. I've spent most of yesterday and today relaxing and planning my NEXT trip, plus taking care of household chores. Ah, the mundane tasks do pile up when you take off from your regular life for a few weeks! (Even when regular life consists of doing a whole lot of nothing.)

What's next: one or more posts about the last week of my trip. A little bit about the man I've been traveling with--but how much, I'm not sure. And, yes, he is my boyfriend. All of you who predicted I'd meet someone, you were right. I didn't expect it, I wasn't looking for it, but it happened.

That's it for now. Thanks for your patience.

Grateful for: home base.

Turkey: Days 7 & 8

2008-11-12T16:48:00.000-05:00

We arrived at the Istanbul bus station about an hour before schedule, at 6am. After checking on the bus schedules for Sofia (to make sure the guys could get there easily to catch their flight to London), we took a long, crowed tram ride back to the hostel.

Even though, the bus ride was easy, I was still beat. The bulk of the day was spent resting. In the evening, Kent, Tom and I had dinner together. We carried on drinking for a little while, though I stopped after my second beer. I went back to the hostel a little earlier than the guys…but it wasn't a very restful night. I was leaving the next day for Paris and I was sad that our trip was at its end. Even though I knew I'd see Kent again--at least one more time--it really hit me that this was the end of a great adventure. (And that I'd miss him--a lot.)

The next day, we started slowly, but I insisted that we get some sightseeing in before I took off for the airport. Kent half offered to accompany me there but we agreed it was too much (and would have actually interfered with his timing for catching the bus).

We spent a few hours walking around the Grand Bazaar, eating lunch, drinking coffee and going over the last week's events. I haven't mentioned this, but Kent is something of a diarist. He makes an entry for each day, though not necessarily every day--meaning he often plays catch up and makes several entries at once. Sometimes, I'd go over events with him, helping him remember what we'd done or seen on a particular day. His diary is more a record of what happened each day, in contrast to the writing I do, which, while it is also reportorial at times, is more likely to delve into my feelings about what I did or who I encountered. Still, I admired his consistency and I wished I had a little more of that ethic about my own writing. On this day, though, Kent helped me make a few notes about what we'd done each day in Turkey since I hadn't written anything since we left Greece.

After walking around, we went back to the hostel. I was packed and we just hung around a little with Tom up on the top floor, drinking coffee and chatting. Kent worked on his diary and I read a little. Eventually, I had to go catch the tram to the airport (as is my wont, I'd opted for public transportation over a shuttle). Kent carried my bag to the tram stop (the first time I'd let him!) and he waited with me until the next one arrived.

(Aside re: trams. The trams are unlike any I've seen elsewhere. They operated on a "closed" system. That is, in order to get to the slightly elevated platform where you catch the tram, you have to go through a gate that requires a token. You don't pay on the tram.)

Kent waited with me outside the gate and we said our goodbyes. When the tram came, I quickly got through the turnstile and squeezed on--Kent watched and he waved goodbye. I waved too.

The trip to the airport was uneventful, though I was a little worried at the transfer stop. I had to get onto the one subway line, which involved walking a little over a block away--but there were no signs directing me for most of the walk. Still, I knew it had to be near, I'd asked and in the tram the stop was marked as a transfer point. I did ask myself why I had to do it the hard way and why couldn't I just spend four euros on the shuttle? But, I found the subway soon enough and even though the ride was long, it let me out at the airport--no more transferring or shuttling involved.

Security was interesting. The first check point was before I entered the terminal. I'd brought a small paring knife on the trip and they dinged me for having it. I promised to check my bag and they let me through (and I got to keep the knife).

Once I checked in and checked my bag, I still had some time to kill. I spent it mostly spending my last 20 lire--on food.

Going through passport control I was asked if I were going to keep traveling or stay in Paris. I was also asked if I'd been traveling alone. Odd. On the Paris side, no questions were asked.

The trip was fine and full meal service was provided. I even took advantage of the free alcohol and had some wine with dinner.

Getting back to Paris meant another long journey on public transportation--the suburban train (RER) to the Metro and then a ten-minute walk home. But I made it, no problem, and was here, safe and sound by midnight.

Grateful for: home base.

Turkey: Day 6

2008-11-10T09:35:00.000-05:00

We got up early so we could get to Ephesus before the hordes of tourists. We weren't successful, even though we arrived by 9:30am. All the tour groups were German or French--so we couldn't even eavesdrop on their spiels.

Still, we spent a couple of hours looking all around and it was fantastic. Kent and I wandered in to a slightly separate area and somehow got off the official path. Tom was looking for us and, apparently, so was a guard. We were clueless.

We'd gotten a ride there by one of the pension owners but we decided to walk back. The plan was to see some of the sights in Selcuk, take care of travel plans via the internet, and catch the night bus back to Istanbul.

By this point, I'd bought my air ticket to Paris and I was departing from Istanbul on Wednesday. Kent and Tom had hoped to get tickets to London the same day but had run into some snags. In the end, they got to London via Sofia. After we got back to Istanbul, they took a bus to Sofia on the same day I left and flew from there. An exhausting but more economical option than flying from Istanbul.

It was unseasonably warm and we got pretty hot on the walk back to Selcuk. The town was very quiet but everything was open. We got some lunch, did some internet business, and then took a walk around to see the sights.

In the town, there's a big fortress on a hill and some Roman ruins. The fortress, we'd been told, was closed to the public, but we wandered in its general direction anyway. As we walked through the narrow streets of the town, away from the center, we got plenty of stares and were asked several times where we were from.

Quite near the fortress, a group of young guys started talking to us and said they'd show us how to get there. In fact, we were led to a hole in the storm fence that surrounded the place and we walked right through.

Up on the hill, a couple of horses were grazing but it was otherwise still and empty. We had a great view of the town and felt pretty adventurous for getting to see this forbidden place. (Kent took plenty of photos.)

As we were leaving, Tom was talking with our guide, who then proceeded to ask us for five lire each. Fine. We paid. He then tried to get more money from us and I muttered, "We met your price. No more money." We didn't give him any more money.

We hung around town, got some supper, read, etc., until it was time to catch our 10pm bus to Istanbul.

While I worried about the overnight ride, it was one of the easier overnights I had on the trip. I'm not sure why--maybe I was getting used to it?

Grateful for: access.

Turkey: Day 5

2008-11-09T09:26:00.000-05:00

Another long travel day. We thought we could take a bus straight from our town to the next place on our itinerary, Selcuk, which is near the ruins of Ephesus. Unfortunately, when I went to check on the timing in the morning, the bus we were planning to take was sold out. That meant we needed to take a 10am ferry to Canakkale where we could get the 11am bus to Izmir, from which we could catch a mini bus to Selcuk. I found this out at 9:30am.

I went up to the room to tell the guys, but the door was locked. I ran down the lobby and asked the staff where they were, "Internet café!" I dashed across the street to find them…and said we had to hurry.

A note on the internet café: we all had financial and other business to take care of on the internet, which is why they were there. When we first visited the place the day before, we found a room full of 14-year-old and younger boys sitting at about a dozen computers. It was quite a scene.

Since we were all mostly packed, we did manage to get on the 10am ferry and make all the necessary connections. On the last leg of our trip, the shuttle to Selcuk, a young university student befriended us. He asked where we were from and seemed very happy to meet a couple of Kiwis (typical in Turkey) and greeted the American with a more muted enthusiasm. Towards the end of our trip, he engaged me in conversation, asking what did Americans think about Turkey and Turkish people. This was tough to answer because I think, in general, Americans don't think very much about Turkey. I said that and that I thought Turkey was in a tough position, caught between Europe and the Middle East. I'm afraid my subtlety was lost on him.

When we got to Selcuk, it was dark. We had a hostel recommendation but we didn't find the place-- instead we stumbled upon the "Kiwi Pension." How could we not stay there? It was a nice place, though quiet. Cheap, clean and…included breakfast. We were hoping for a little entertainment too, since the place had a very well-stocked video library. Unfortunately, their tv was broken.

While the town wasn't empty, all of the adult male population out that evening was watching a soccer game. We had dinner and went back to the hostel and drank a few beers. Then, goodnight.

Grateful for: another safe trip.

Turkey: Day 4

2008-11-08T08:54:00.000-05:00

Our tour started at 12:30. Kent and I killed some time in the morning eating the complimentary breakfast (more of what they offered at the hostel: feta cheese, another kind of cheese, odd crunchy salami, tomatoes, cucumbers, eggs, orange drink, instant coffee, tea, bread, honey, butter and jam (in little containers)), while Tom stayed in bed. Eventually, we settled in the lobby and met another Australian couple (husband and wife) who would join us on the tour.

I found it so interesting that the Aussies and Kiwis (and to a much lesser extend, the Brits) attached so much importance to visiting this place. They all knew the names of the major battle sites and the general timeline of events. In fact, talking about it with Kent before we got there, I pretty much knew everything our tour guide had to tell us. Seeing the actual sites, the cemeteries and monuments was very meaningful to my tour companions. I know I didn't experience it the same way they did.

I tried to think of something equivalent for Americans. The D-Day beaches? Perhaps, but it's not a place where we make a pilgrimage. This was like a pilgrimage. Maybe DC and all of its monuments? I'm not sure.

We got back to the hostel around 4:30 and relaxed for a while before going for a meal with Tom. We were pretty bored. Kent wanted to go to another hostel nearby to see if they had a book exchange. When we got there, the owner and a few of his old-timer buddies were the only people there and they greeted us warmly. We had a beer at their little bar and, eventually, Kent went back to our place and told Tom to come over. We hung out there for a while and then it was late enough to go to sleep--Tom stayed up a for a while watching tv, though. Kent did get a book (he only read half before rejecting it--I adopted it).

Grateful for: new perspective.

Turkey: Day 3

2008-11-07T08:54:00.000-05:00

Around 11:30am the three of us, Tom, Kent and I headed out of town to Istanbul's main bus station. We didn't have good directions but, with only a little heartburn, we managed to find it.

Where were we going? Gallipoli. Or near there. Gallipoli is the peninsula. When you want to take a tour of this area, you either stay in Canakkale or Escabat. In the hostel neighborhood, heaps of little travel agencies were selling package tours that included bus, one or two nights accommodation and a guided tour. We decided to piece our own trip together and hopefully save a little money. (In the end, our self-constructed tour was a little cheaper than the package.)

We were disappointed to find the bus fare was more than double what we expected (about 20 euros--a little less than $30), but we were committed. We bought the tickets, got some sandwiches and left on the 12:30 bus.

The ride was over six hours but to compensate, we had a steward who brought us water, coffee (or tea) and pretzels.

We got off the bus in Escabat, checked into a cheap hostel and also signed up for their tour. We were tired and hungry and went looking for a meal. Tom had actually already done the tour, so we went to a restaurant he recommended. Dinner was fine but some unintended hilarity ensued when Tom advised Kent to eat the green bean like peppers garnishing his plate (we all had one or two). "Go on. I ate mine. It wasn't so hot."

Kent took a big bite of the pepper. He started to sweat.

I said, "Was it hot?"

He just nodded. Tom said, "It can't be that bad. Let me try." He munch on Kent's second pepper. He looked like he would explode. I started laughing.

Kent said to me, "Here, you take a little bite. So you can see..."

I said, "I don't think so!"

I took about ten minutes and a lot of sweating for the two of them to get back to normal. They didn't try any more peppers.

Back at the hostel, we tried to watch a movie. The "Gallipoli" movie, in fact. The hostel had about six copies, yet not a single one played more than the opening titles and the first scene. In fact, the only movie we could get to work was a copy of "Troy" dubbed into Turkish. A couple of Aussie tourists, a mother and daughter, were also staying in the hostel and they stopped by to chat with us--and ended up watching "Troy." Kent, who had seen the movie once or twice already, did a very accurate (and amusing) on-the-spot translation.

Everyone was drinking beer, but I got to work on a small bottle of ouzo (already half drunk) that I'd picked up in Greece. I'm not sure how it happened, but I got a little drunk and missed the bulk of the translated Troy. I slept well that night.

Grateful for: drinking buddies.

Turkey: Day 2

2008-11-06T14:24:00.000-05:00

Our second day in Istanbul started slowly because Kent was a little hung over. I wish I could have slept later but I reasonably well-rested and ready to see a bit more of the city. I hadn't realized how enormous it was--geographically or population-wise (16 million people!).

We partook of the decent included breakfast (bread, feta cheese, tomatoes, cucumbers, salami, olives, tea and instant coffee) and got a leisurely start on the day. (It should be noted that we didn't see Tom until the evening. He'd stayed up late and slept late.)

We decided to walk to the NZ consulate so Kent could find out about voting. It was a very scenic walk--we chose a path along the water. It would have been lovely but for the extremely aggressive drivers. After walking quite a ways, we got to a main bridge (but not the bridge over the Bosphorus) that connects the two European parts of Istanbul. We'd been looking for a ferry but they didn't run to where we were going. We decided we'd keep walking instead of taking the tram. At the bridge, next to the ferry piers, with tons of people milling around, we each got an excellent fish sandwich for 4 lire (about $3).

After our snack, we walked across the bridge and Kent espied an interesting looking tower (I can't remember its name but a tower of some sort has been on this spot for about 1,500 years, though this one is not that old). We climbed a steep hill to get to it and then paid the silly high entrance fee to go to the top. The tower wasn't very tall but because of its strategic placement, we had an excellent view of the city. We saw the falling apart roofs and innumerable satellite dishes of the nearby houses, the cruise ships docked in the bay, the bridges, the little islands and more.

We continued on our way to the consulate, taking in more mosques, well-fed street cats and very lazy dogs. One dog was so lazy that it didn't bother to eat the piece of bologna someone left right by its head. Maybe it was sick.

We were pretty sure, based on our past experiences, that the consulate would be closed--but no! The office was open, but you couldn't vote there--you had to be at the embassy in Ankara for that or download and mail the appropriate forms. Oh well.

Dusk was falling but we stopped for coffee before heading back to the hostel. We caught the tram back and we were dropped only five minutes from home. We met up with Tom again and had a bite to eat. Tom wanted to go out to a club but Kent and I were too busy plotting our travel plans for the next day so we passed. I was asleep by 1am--plenty late by my lights.

Grateful for: a good look at Istanbul.

Greece and Turkey: Day 1

2008-11-05T10:06:00.000-05:00

When we last left this travel story, I was in Greece and getting ready to board a night train to Istanbul. Our last day in Thessaloniki, we split up and Kent went to the Allied Cemetery and I climbed a steep hill trying to find (and eventually succeeding) a monastery. We met for lunch and then split again to pursue separate exploring. He tried to get to the Military History museum and I spent most of my time on the internet. He missed his window, unfortunately. We went for a drink--beer for him, fancy coffee shake for me--and tried to watch the sunset over the Mediterranean at one of the many harbor-side cafes in town. It was lovely, but just as the sun approached the sea, it was hidden behind a think bank of clouds. Sigh.

We walked back to our hotel and picked up the luggage. We walked the ten minutes or so to the train station, stopping for a bite to eat along the way.

It was my first ride in a real sleeper car. Well, that's not exactly true. When I was in college, I went on an eight-week tour of Europe that included two weeks in the USSR (that was). On that trip, we took two overnight train rides in six (or was it four?) berth sleepers. Even back then in my late teens I don't recall getting much sleep, possibly due to being on an upper bunk and the worry of rolling out.

On this train, we had a two-berth compartment all to ourselves, complete with a sink and non-functional mini-fridge. This time, I got the lower, but I still didn't sleep well. It didn't help that we were awoken at 2am for passport control (Greece) then at 3am (Turkey) and around 3:30am I had to get off the train and pay 15 euros for my Turkish visa. I knew this would happen--I didn't know that Kent, being from New Zealand, would be exempt. I don't begrudge him that since he woke up too, but he did get to stay tucked in to his berth. Oh well.

This meant that when we arrived in Istanbul around 7am, I was exhausted and grumpy (my normal morning state for most of the trip). I was a bit frustrated when I realized that Kent had the name of the hostel where his friend, Tom, was staying but no address other than the general neighborhood, "It's near the Blue Mosque." We got a free tourist map at the station and some directions to the hostel area and started walking. I tried hard to hide my annoyance but I didn't succeed. Luckily, Kent stayed calm and I was able to relax eventually. Getting coffee helped.

We decided to stop coffee on the way since there was no need to rush. The first two places we checked looked open but were closed. Confusing. Finally, we stopped at a very touristy place with some men drinking beer on the patio. At least we were sure it was open.

We took some outdoor seats as well and ordered coffee. That helped.

We continued walking in the general direction of the hostel neighborhood (and it turned out to be the area where almost all of the hostels, of every imaginable level of quality, were located). We passed a stand selling tourist-type goods: carpets, pottery, little glass beads to ward off the evil eye and a young man asked where we were from and where we were going. Kent stopped and talked to him. The man asked if we had a reservation and then Kent asked him where the hostel was…and the fellow gave us directions. I have to say that even though the selling in Istanbul was very aggressive people were also very helpful and friendly.

The directions were good and we found the place easily. Tom, however, was no where to be seen. We checked into a dorm, put our stuff down and hopped on the computer for a few minutes. Still feeling sick and tired, I lay down for about half an hour. Kent came to get me when he was ready to go exploring and we had lunch then took a walk all around the area. Kent took plenty of pics of the buildings and I took pictures of cats.

When we got back to the hostel we asked about Tom again and learned that he was probably still asleep. Somebody mentioned that Tom might be down the street at nearby bar--so we walked over, had some soup and a beer and waited. About an hour later, Tom showed up.

Now, Kent hadn't exactly explained to Tom who I was or that we'd met before. I met the two fellows in Warsaw--something like two months ago now. When Kent introduced us Tom gave me a look and said, "Don't I…didn't we meet?"

I said, "Yes." A few moments passed.

Tom said, "Warsaw?"

"Yes."

I knew he'd remember me when he saw me. I always thought it was odd that Kent hadn't been a little more forthcoming. Tom and I proceeded to give him plenty of crap about it over the next few days.

I could not match the pace of these two fellows when it came to the beers but Kent actually got a lot drunker than Tom even though he didn't drink more. He blamed me--and his lack of heavy drinking over the past many weeks. I didn't feel too bad for him. He felt pretty bad the next day, though. It was no surprise at all that these two spent their first evening together drinking…it was a relief to finally catch up with Tom. The only problem was that he was ready to get the hell out of Turkey but Kent and I were determined to do some sightseeing--and we did.

Grateful for: old friends.

Greece

2008-11-04T09:03:00.001-05:00

Greece. Instead of spending more time in Bulgaria, we decided to approach Turkey from Northern Greece, Thessaloníki to be exact. Ideally, we would take a boat from here but it's way too expensive and not entirely clear if any of the ferries go where we want to go. Instead, we booked the night train to Istanbul tonight. Kent and I are wandering independently today. He's at the War Museum and I'm checking out the internet and trying to write a little. Since time is running short, it will be a very little.

The bus ride here was easy enough and a little amusing. We were told that the bus would leave at 9am but to meet at the office where we bought the tickets at 8am. We went out with some Aussies on Saturday night and even though we didn't stay up too late and I didn't drink very much, I was pretty damn grouchy on Sunday morning. My stupid cold was still playing it's tricks and I felt lousy. Still, we did get moving in a decent amount of time and made it to the little office by 8am. I was desperate to get a bite to eat since my stomach was a little unsettled. The ticket guy insisted that I didn't have time but I ignored him and got a roll anyway. On the bus, I noticed that it was only 8:20. I didn't understand what the big hurry was. Ten minutes later, the bus left. Thirty minutes early. I have no idea what was going on.

We made one stop on the road at a lonely little Bulgarian chain cafe. We and the rest of the passengers took seats at the outdoor tables and without saying a word we were served a sour yogurt drink (like a lassi) and, a few minutes later, some grilled cheese and ham sandwiches. Kent and I shrugged our shoulders and ate up. Was it free? Part of the bus ride? Nope. A few minutes later, a check was put on our table for 3.36 lev--that's about 1.15 euros--maybe 2 dollars. Nice. I really wanted coffee so I asked for it. The waitress looked at me like I was crazy, took the check away and brought us two espressos. When she brought the check back, the charge was exactly the same. Okay. We paid and spent the rest of our lev in the little shop--a beer for Kent and a chocolate bar for me.

The rest of the trip was uneventful. In Thessaloníki, we had a bit of a hunt for the hotel recommended by the guidebook we borrowed in Sofia. A friendly man on the street saw us studying a map and offered to help. He called the hotel for us but got no answer. He guided us to the street where he thought it was and we found it--then he bid us farewell. At the hotel, we were told two rooms were available and asked if we wanted to see the first one. I said yes and the clerk handed us the keys. Kent and I climbed a couple flights of stairs and found the room. When Kent opened the door, a smell came out that was so horrible that I couldn't step inside. He went to the window and looked out and I said, "I can't do it." We walked back downstairs and I told the clerk, "It has a terrible smell." Kent asked about the other room. The clerk shook his head and said, "It's even worse. You will find another hotel on the main street." We thanked him and left. Kent said, "That was pretty grim. It's good you didn't look out the window--that's why it was so bad. The alley was full of all crap. It was never going to air out." Yikes.

We stopped in at another place right around the corner. We were quoted the same price and shown to a small non-smelly room. We took it and spent a couple of pleasant nights there--well, except for the mosquitoes. Oh well. At least there were no bedbugs and it didn't stink of mildew and garbage.

Thessaloníki is big and very densely built--mostly high rise apartments from the 50's-60's-70's with balconies and air conditioners retrofitted. Everything is slightly crumbling due to the sea air and general neglect. Cafes abound and you can see people sipping their iced coffees (frappes) all day and night. It's quite warm here--one could wear shorts though hardly anyone does. The historical parts of the city include several Roman ruins, a lot of an old Roman wall and many, many Byzantine Churches--mostly recently restored but still quite impressive. I could easily spend many more days here, but it's time to move along.

Yesterday, we took a long walk, visited the Archaeological Museum and the Museum of Byzantine Culture. In the evening we went to a free brass band concert--they were quite good, though it was a tribute to someone and we couldn't figure out who or why.

Tonight, we take the train to Istanbul--and we have real sleeping berths reserved! I'm excited about that. It may not be a great night's sleep, but at least I won't be awoken by cigarette smugglers. Heh.

Grateful for: decent accommodations.

Time flies

2008-11-01T11:57:00.002-04:00

Belgrade-Prishtina-Skopje-Sofia

How time flies when you spend no more than two nights in a place and get a raging head cold. I first blamed the smoky Belgrade hostel for my sore throat, but by the next day it was clear that I had an actual cold since I'd practically lost my voice and was full of headache. I am finally getting better but it tends to wax and wane. For example, I spent the early morning hours today (Friday) completely unable to breathe through my nose. Now, I can breathe, but I've lost my voice again. I can't win.

Monday
After Belgrade, we went to Kosovo. I couldn't be more surprised. Prishtina, the capital, is a place I've only heard of and know nothing about. My guidebook only covers Central Europe and buying another was impossible. Plus, I have a love hate relationship with any guidebook. It was not my idea to go to Prishtina, that falls fully on Kent. It's still not entirely clear to me why he wanted to go but I think it was mostly for the adventure. In retrospect, I feel the same way, though I am constitutionally disinclined to visit any place even vaguely resembling a war zone (Kent is my constitutional opposite in this respect).

The bus ride was pretty. The landscape, as much of what we've seen on this trip, reminds me strongly of the Appalachian foothills in the fall. The trees are similar, the mountains are small, with some stone showing, and a few winding rivers. After a mildly hair-raising six-hour bus ride, we were there. But where were we? It was only 6pm but black as pitch. Another American happened to be on our bus and we joined her in grabbing a taxi to one of the few hostels in town. We drove up a large hill and I could see enough to tell that Prishtina is all hills. Other than that, I had absolutely no idea where the bus station was in relation to our hostel (disconcerting).

We were greeted warmly by the proprietor--he was pleased to have two Americans staying with him but he wasn't so sure about the Kiwi (that's Kent). Nevertheless, he gave us a decent price (in Euros, the currency of Kosovo) and we settled in. Rather than going out, we sat and talked to a young Brit and the other American for a few hours. Kent and I shared a bit of the food we were carrying (bread, cheese, fruit) and the Brit tucked in heartily (the American was off to use the very, very slow internet).

Tuesday
After a decent sleep, we got to exploring the next day. The main problem was that I was fairly sick and didn't have much stamina. We walked slowly down the hill, taking note (and a few photos) of piles of rubble that used to be houses and remaining walls and ramshackle structures. Most of the area was built up and looked livable but signs of destruction remain. Our starting point was mostly residential but we passed a number of shops advertising themselves as "Mini Marts" (in English). The stock was about the same as convenience stores back home. We only saw one larger scale grocery store and it was small by US standards. I figure most shopping is done at open-air markets but we didn't come across one (not that I was looking).

As we got further down the hill, the area became more developed and we passed a number of cafes--all of which contained only men drinking coffee. Some cafes seemed to serve only drinks while other had grills. We picked a cafe to eat at that had a board on the sidewalk advertising all of its goods (hamburger, toast, sandwich, espresso) as costing fifty cents. We couldn't quite believe it so we stopped in for burgers and espresso (breakfast of champions). Everything was, in fact, fifty cents. The food was decent and the espresso was strong. The guy made our food on the spot so it was fresh. He asked what we wanted on the burgers and we stood up to point at the right condiments. He handed Kent his burger but he wouldn't let me carry mine back to the table. I had to sit down first and then the grill man placed my burger in front of me.

After breakfast/lunch, we wandered all the way to the bottom of the hill and found a very lively, diffuse city. The restaurants (grills/cafes) were more expensive in the denser retails areas but prices rarely got above 2-3 euros per menu item. We stopped in the Archeology museum, most notable for a large banner complaining that Serbia was illegally holding a few hundred of its artifacts--and for the large KLA memorial exhibit on the second floor--banners of the dead and a whole bunch of guns.

After a bit more wandering and a fruitless search for the bus station, I was ready for a rest. Unfortunately, a very large hill was between me and my bed. After a very slow ascent, I was able to lie down and revel in my illness for the rest of the afternoon. Kent went exploring on the other side of our hill (and still didn't find the bus station--though he came quite near it we found out later) and later that evening we went back that way to get some dinner. We stopped in at a couple of places that advertised pizza but each time we were told there was no pizza. At the second place, we pointed to a big pie (filo dough-like covering folded around ground beef) and were sold two huge slices for--fifty cents each. That was dinner plus some veggies picked up at the small supermarket.

Wedneday
The plan was to get to Sofia, Bulgaria but we decided to make a stop in Skopje, Macedonia on the way. (I should note that we are trying to meet up with Kent's travel buddy but he's something of a moving target. We expected to find him in Belgrade but he had already gone by the time we arrived. He's now in Istanbul and that's where we're heading, though at a leisurely pace.) We took an easy 2.5 hours bus ride from Pristina and got to Skopje as night was falling (it gets dark so early). Being completely clueless about where to stay or even the exchange rate, we took a cab driver up on his offer to get us to a hostel. While he did overcharge us for the ride, the Hostel ("Hostel Hostel"!) was probably the cheapest place to stay in town and full of friendly people--including four (!) other Kiwis (not the first we've met but the largest group encountered yet--three of them were traveling together). I got along well with them and when I found out the next day that the couple in group are coming to DC in January, I invited them to stay with me.

I didn't stay up too late, but, unfortunately, I had a lousy sleep. The room was cold and musty and my top bunk was singularly uncomfortable. I was determined we would only stay one night.

Thursday
We had a good look around on Thursday. We stuck to the old parts of town--the citadel and bazaar. The town is almost completely tourist-free (pretty much the case everywhere since Belgrade), which is refreshing. Communication is mostly pointing and nodding but people are patient and I am starting to feel less foolish.

The plan was to catch the 3pm bus to Sofia. We headed to the bus station with not enough time to spare and we missed the bus. We arrived slightly before three but the bus was full and we didn't have time to buy tickets anyway. The next bus wasn't until 11pm and since the ride is five hours (or so) we'd end up in Sofia in the middle of the night. We went to the train station, right next door, to see if the train was an option. The train left at 8pm, cost about the same and took much longer to arrive since its route is indirect and would take us back through Serbia. We opted for the train figuring it would be easier to rest and getting in around 7am was better than 4am. We hung around the station, ate a little, and changed the extra money we had into Euros.

Our plan was decent but in practice it didn't work out so well. The train was over an hour late arriving--which turned out not to matter since we made our connection without any trouble. In fact, the first part of the ride was fine since we had a compartment to ourselves and were able to spread out and get comfortable. At the transfer point (Nec), we waited nearly and hour before leaving. We got into a compartment with one other person but it was still fairly comfortable since we each could put our feet up. The problem was that a train "official" (not an official at all, as it turned out) rousted us an hour or so into the journey with a lot of words and pointing towards the ceiling. He grabbed my bag and moved it a few compartments down the car and we all had to move. In the new compartment, a woman was sleeping across three seats and she made no adjustment for her new companions. All this, plus my cold, lead to an uncomfortable, restless night.

In the morning, the "official" came and moved the lady to a different compartment and we spread out but it was really too late (early) to get sleep. Sometime before or after this we crossed the border to Bulgaria. (We had a tiny problem with the Serbian border control because we had two entry stamps and no exit stamps. Serbia doesn't recognize Kosovo and they wanted to make sure we knew it. The stamped our passports and returned them to us before making any fuss, though, so it wasn't an actual problem.)

After we had the compartment back to ourselves (and the other fellow who never spoke a word to us), I saw some folks with coffee and Kent went out to investigate. He didn't find coffee but he did see our "official" and some other passengers pulling carton upon carton of cigarettes from the ceilings of the compartments via the light fixtures. Nice. I'm not sure the sleepless night was worth observing a Bulgarian cigarette smuggling scheme but it sure isn't something you see every day.

Friday
The real problem with our train fiasco is that I essentially had two nights in a row with almost no sleep. Arriving in Sofia, I was grumpy, exhausted and sick. We did have a hostel in mind, luckily, and found our way there easily enough. However, we couldn't get into the room until 2pm so an attempt was made at walking around. I didn't make it far before I was almost asleep on my feet. Kent took me back to the hostel, which has a nice big common area, and I lay down on a sofa for a while. After we got in our room, I promptly went to sleep and Kent got out on his own.

Since our hostel provides a simple meal and a glass of beer with the price of the bed, we stuck around for a while in the evening before taking a walk. They had dishes of candy around for Halloween and the two on-duty staffers dressed up (witch and bear). A few jack-o-lanterns were even carved and placed about. Also, one of the guests from Japan did a dance performance for the crowd. He seemed to be an itinerant performer--working for drinks and board (perhaps). I was entertained but it was mostly odd.

After, we took a little walk and bought some supplemental dinner (pizza slices). We drank a couple of beers back at the hostel and made it a (relatively) early night. I slept very well.

Saturday
I woke up feeling better than I have in days. We took a good long walk and I saw most of the highlights of the town. We also went over to the bus/train station and got tickets to Thessaloniki for tomorrow morning. We'll go to Turkey via Greece...though I'm not sure when we'll get there. It's an adventure.

Grateful for: more adventure and a patient traveling companion.

Prague-Budapest-Belgrade

2008-10-26T10:48:00.001-04:00

Where did I leave off? Prague. That was two cities ago. It's a bit of a whirlwind tour we're having. Still fun and our incredible good luck with the weather is holding. Only one cold rainy night so far with nary a drizzle or an overcast sky to be found.

I think I would have liked another day in Prague but I enjoyed what I saw. We walked tons and also drank a lot of good beer. We hung out in local smoke-filled (cough) bars. Due to extreme language incompetence there was much pointing and nodding. People were friendly and easy to deal with, though.

Next stop was Budapest. I liked it a lot. We did run into a bit of drama with our 6:30 pm arrival. It was Hungary's National Day (like Independence Day, maybe?). I'd sketched out a route from the train station to the hostel via the subway. We got some cash and bought tickets, no problem. But when we got on the train, it cruised right past the transfer station. The locals seemed unperturbed but the other backpacker on the train seemed similarly confused. We got off when the train stopped next and got the next one going in the other direction. I figured we'd ended up on an express train by accident. But no. The next train cruised right past our transfer point (the only transfer point in the entire system!) and the next stop too. At this point, we got out.

After purchasing a second pair of transit tickets, we got on a tram. Going the wrong way. I consulted with a map to confirm this and a friendly passenger offered to help us. He told us which bus to catch after we got back to our starting point. We tried to catch it but I noticed the street was closed and the buses were re-routed--and quite a few police were about. We had to walk.

As we walked a few other pedestrians were around but the street was shut down to car traffic. We figured it had something to do with the holiday. A group of beer drinking skin-heads with Hungarian nation flag patches confirmed it. And, as we got nearer the river, we could see a rally in process. Ah.

We eventually found the hostel after about 20-30 minutes walking and luckily they had beds for us. We unloaded our packs, relaxed for a few minutes and then went out to find some dinner. Before dinner, we walked out to where the rally was and espied a huge force of riot police staging about a block away. Full armor, riot shields, the works. A little scary.

Dinner was ok but nothing special. The next day we walked all around the main tourist sights and Kent took plenty of pictures using my camera (his was stolen some time back).

Our second night was quite a lot of fun as we went out on the town with a group of Brits, Irish, Aussie and Kiwis--and one other American. We drank and danced until all hours in an "authentic" Budapest club (one of the hostel workers took us there).

Finally, yesterday, we got on the train about midday for Belgrade. The trip was uneventful and relaxing since we didn't have to share the compartment. We even had a very tasty and only marginally overpriced meal in the dining car.

Upon arrival, we found the hostel easily since it's almost directly across the street from the train station. It's on the 6th (7th!) floor and the elevator is broken and it's ok to smoke--but other than that, it's a decent place. Cough.

Today was spent walking around for a few hours, seeing the fort and a bit of the downtown. I'm exhausted! This city is a bit decrepit and a mishmash of brutal-ist Soviet architecture, glass boxes and more decorative baroque styles. Even though it's a very old city, very little pre-twentieth century remains.

Now I think it's time for a nap!

Grateful for: adventure.

Prague: day one

2008-10-21T09:02:00.001-04:00

Whew, I am tired. It's been quite a while since I've been this tired and it's not merely lack of sleep. Why so tired? Perhaps it's the fourteen hour plus bus ride I took starting yesterday. Did you know there is a system of long-haul buses you can take around Europe? I didn't. Now I do. The trips are significantly cheaper than the train (sometimes by more than 50%) but the travel times are much longer. In this case, we boarded the bus in Paris around 4pm and arrived in Prague around 6:45 (about 45 minutes late--oh, and we were late, in part, because we were stopped by the border patrol who came on the bus and examined everyone's passport or ID card. The just looked at my passport but they took Kent's and a whole bunch of other people's cards away for closer scrutiny. He remained extrememly calm but was a bit miffed that they didn't even give him a stamp as a memento.).

Upon arrival, we found the metro (subway) and went to a hostel we'd picked out before leaving. We had to kill about an hour before they opened so off to Micky D's for coffee it was. Lucky for us, the hostel had a decent, cheap room available. We said that we wanted to leave our stuff and come back but the lady said, "I clean. 20 minutes. You wait." So we waited and got in the room around 9am. I'd say we were both asleep in less than ten minutes. Nice.

After the nap, it was time to start exploring--and exploring we have been for a couple of hours (with a break for coffee and now internet). I have to say, though, that I'm still pretty shattered from the trip. Even a second cup of coffee isn't having much of an effect. I will try and stay awake and alert, though, because this is an exceptionally pretty town--even seen through my sleep-deprived haze. And, I am ready for some good cheap beer. As Kent said, "We're back to normal where beer and meat is cheap and wine and fancy bread is expensive." Indeed.

Grateful for: a decent place to sleep.

Here I go again

2008-10-20T06:10:00.001-04:00

Today, this afternoon, I'm leaving for Prague. It's a bit of an unexpected trip but the opportunity arose and I didn't want to pass it up. Prague was on my list of places I wanted to see but I just couldn't manage the planning and being away for such a long stretch. This is better--another week or so away from my Paris home and I'll get to see Prague, Budapest and possibly a few other sights (the countryside?) along the way. I won't be going solo this time, either, which makes me simultaneously happy and worried. I'm going with my friend from Warsaw, Kent, who is heading back eastwards to reunite with his travel buddy.

The last week has been good. Old family friend, Ethan, came to visit. He and Kent did a good job of drinking a lot of beer while I mostly observed. No point at all in even attempting to keep up with those two!

Ethan's first night here, we went to dinner at Chez Gladines, a very popular, cheap Basque place. We were seated right away, which is almost unheard of, though it was a communal table and we were totally squeezed in--it still worked. Dinner was good and after we went for a wander, which lead to the realization that besides the rue Butte Aux Cailles, my neighborhood is completely dead on a Tuesday night. Walking along one of the major streets in the area we passed a place on the corner called "Atoll 13". I've often wondered what the deal was with this place. It sort of looked like an art center but it was usually closed. This night, the door was open and there was a hand made sign on the sidewalk advertising something but we weren't sure what.

A young fellow, stooped over and leaning on an umbrella, came out and talked to us. Ethan did the talking for our contingent since his French is better than mine. We were invited in to see a "spectacle" and it was free. And the place? A squat. A sort of art center-ish squat.

We walked in, went down to the basement and got one euro beers (small ones in bottles) and watched a make-shift variety show hosted by a young guy in a bald wig with a lot of grey fringe who dubbed himself "George Clooney-Cloon." It was interesting to say the least.

The next day, we took a very long walk to see a more formal arts center called "Centquatre" which is located in the former funeral home center of Paris. It's a huge building that was in use until 1998. The exterior was preserved and refurbished and the interior was gutted and (re?) configured to host about 20 artists' studios. We got to see two that were open to the public.

After Ethan left, things were a little more prosaic. Kent and I went to the movies and watched football (american style!) on Sunday. I know, I know, we're in PARIS. Don't worry: on Saturday, we walked to Notre Dame, strolled on the Ile St Louis, sat by the Seine and ate the famous (Berthillion) ice cream they sell there. We also drank beer at a sidewalk cafe out in the semi-chilly weather like the good faux-Parisians we are.

Now it's time to travel again. I'm excited and I'll try and stay in touch from the road.

Grateful for: travel opportunities.

Here in Paris

2008-10-12T14:56:00.001-04:00

Where do I start? The last couple of weeks have been pretty overwhelming. I'm having a good time being a non-stop hostess but it has thrown me out of my past semi-routine. Actually, I'm not sure I had much of a routine but it's completely different now. No complaints--I haven't been lonely (I haven't been alone), which is very, very good. I haven't had much time for meeting and greeting new people but I have been out and about quite a bit and seeing a bit of the "mainstream" Paris I'd skipped up until now. I've also been cooking more at home (good for the bank account) and hanging out a bit in my lively neighborhood.

Some of the things I've done over the last couple of weeks: visited the Pompidou Centre, day trip to Chartres, walk in Monmartre to visit the wine festival, hanging out at Sacre Coeur at night and watching the drunken revelers, a good look at the Eiffel Tower and Arc de Triomphe (but no accompanying climb), a short walk on the Champs Elysees.

I'd done all of these things before but most of them I'd either been on my own or it was the last time I was here--about 18 years ago--so getting to do these things with friends is a lot of fun and a somewhat new experience. And getting to show people the sights of my neighborhood is really fun.

So, my visitors continue. Amanda and her new husband were here for a few days, my friend from Warsaw has stayed on, and I'm expecting another old friend to arrive on Monday. Plus, tonight, I'm meeting a friend of a friend for drinks. All of sudden I have quite the social life. Not that it was a complete wasteland before but it does feel like what was a lot of work is now easy. Too easy? I bet I'll be pretty lonely when I'm completely on my own again…but I'm used to that. No problem.

On the discouraging side, my bid for employment did not work out. I had to provide a letter from my employer (even though they aren't currently paying me) saying it was ok for me to take other employment. It turns out, I cannot receive any kind of compensation from other governments--and the job was, though indirectly, with the French government. So: no job. (No volunteering either--I need to have status to be in the classroom. But I don't think I would have done it for no pay.)

But, hey, not working is the whole point, right? Not writing, though, is mostly definitely not the point, so I'm going to try and get back to it. Now, if I can only think of something to say….

PS A. is history. If you care to read between the lines you can probably figure out why.

Grateful for: friends, old and new.

Belated update

2008-10-01T09:29:00.001-04:00

The days in Vienna were rainy and uneventful. Talked to several hostel-mates at length: two Canadians, a Brit, a German. I had dinner one evening with a sweet Aussie girl who I may see again when she comes through Paris.

On my first day, I went to the center, saw the Cathedral (Stephansdom). Beautiful but so crowded that I couldn't stand to stay very long. I stopped in an "authentic" guidebook-recommended Viennese café (Café Sperl) and sat for over an hour reading and writing while drinking coffee and eating lunch. I walked through the Naschmarkt, an open-air food and antiques market. All while making good use of my umbrella!

The second day was equally rainy, though it wasn't raining when I left the hostel so I made the mistake of leaving my umbrella. I spent the day hopping on and off trams and finding museums to see. First stop was the Freud Museum. It wasn't great but it was where he actually lived, which was worth the price of admission. Next, I went to the Leopold Museum. Unfortunately, my concentration wasn't great though I really enjoyed the large collection of Schiele paintings. I was particularly intrigued by the landscapes. In fact, I even bought an art book so I could learn a little bit more about his work. I haven't read it yet.

On the way back to Paris, I had a four-hour stop in Munich. I maxed out my walking time but never managed to hit Oktoberfest HQ. Oh well. Plus, rain, rain, rain! Still, it was fun. I bought yarn. [Ed. note: absurd.] It was much nicer and cheaper than what's offered in Paris. I passed a second yarn store on the way back to the train station but I didn't have time to stop.

Exciting news is that I have a potential job team-teaching an English class. It's only three-hours a week (which sounds perfect). It's not clear that they'll actually be able to hire me, but I'm going to show up on Thursday and see what's what. It would be great to have a little tiny bit of structure in my life.

On Saturday night, I joined some American friends to watch the first Presidential debate. Chances are I would NOT have watched the debate if I were back home. As it was, I couldn't help but find McCain likable in his curmudgeonly way. I still won't vote for him but I remain convinced that it won't be a disaster if he wins. At least he's honest. (Not that Obama isn't but I always go into rhetoric overload when I hear him. He did quite well in the debate.)

Since Sunday morning, I've had a houseguest: a great fellow I met while I was in Warsaw. It's a lot of fun having him here but it leaves little time for any private writing-type activity. In fact, he's the first of a series of three visitors I'm expecting! I can't believe that I'm getting all my visitors now after being here nearly four months but I'll try not to complain. I'm enjoying playing tour guide and it's cool to be the person who knows her way around and can order the food (etc.) in French without too much trouble. Paris isn't exactly my city but it's close.

If you don't hear from me for a few days it's because I'm busy with hostess duties. I'll write more when I get the chance.

Grateful for: visitors.

Lost and Found

2008-09-25T12:55:00.001-04:00

Lost

As I mentioned in one of my posts from Warsaw, I bought an umbrella there. It was inexpensive but quite nice. Navy blue, full-size, rubberized handle (the hook kind--essential for ease of carrying) and sturdy but not too heavy. I used it in Vienna and even in my four hours in Munich. I did wonder when, exactly, I was going to lose the umbrella because it didn't fit into my luggage and I kept sticking it into overhead bins in train compartments near but not attached to any of my other possessions. Still, as I got into the train at Stuttgart, where I had my last transfer, it was still with me.

However, when I got off the metro at my stop in Paris, I did not have the umbrella. I'd left it on the train, finally, after arriving in Paris. I even remembered taking it down from the overhead rack and putting it in between two seats. And there it remained.

I resolved to go back to the station the next day and see if I could find it. Heck, even though I have two (!) umbrellas in Paris, I don't have a full size one and I'm sure it will come in handy.

Bright and early on Tuesday morning (ha ha ha ha), I made my way to Gare de l'Est. I asked (in French) at the info both where the lost and found was (I said, "I lost something" and she knew what I wanted). She sent me downstairs and almost without having to ask, the staff knew what I wanted. Again, the transaction was entirely in French.

"What did you lose?"

"An umbrella."

"What kind?"

"Excuse me?" I hadn't understood her.

"What kind of umbrella?"

"Oh. Blue, large…" I held my hands a couple of feet apart.

"Yes. We have it. Nine euros."

"What?"

"Nine euros."

My umbrella was being held hostage for nine euros. The umbrella cost approximately three euros. I was angry. I walked away, muttering in English, about how ridiculous it was. I turned around to look back at them and a man working there gestured to me to return. He tried to explain, unsuccessfully, why they had to charge. But, I'm sorry, I won't pay nine dollars to retrieve something from the lost and found! It's not like they had to ship the damn thing anywhere. Clearly, at the end of the line, they sweep the train of all left items and bring them to some central spot. Of course, if it had been my luggage or something of value, I would have paid, but I sure would have been pissed off. Given that I have two umbrellas in my possession in Paris, I was able to walk away and not pay on principle. But, can you imagine having your valuables held hostage in such a way? Wow.

Found

The rest of the day was kind of a blur. I took the bus home and appreciated the scenery. The light in Paris is amazing--it's a shame I'm not a painter. It was a little cloudy on Tuesday and the play of the shadows on the buildings--well, it's just like in every (well-shot) film you've ever seen of Paris, almost ethereal.

I was relieved to be back in Paris where French is spoken--a language I at least partially understand. Imagine! I wouldn't have guessed that I would have missed hearing and speaking French, given my minimal competence. But minimal is more than zero and it's good to be able to make myself understood without too much trouble.

By the end of my first day back, I had heard from A. and no one else. This left me surprised and sad. A.? Really? I keep thinking things are over with him and he keeps popping up. The text I sent was the least communicative possible, simply, "I'm back. Had a great trip. Hope you're well." He IM'd me later and we got together that evening, though briefly. It was good to see him but I'll wait for him to make the next move (famous last words).

Oh, and I told him the story about my stolen credit card and he was extremely amused by the prosaic nature of the thief's purchases. (Also, it turns out that what I thought was a purchase of lottery tickets was actually another a small grocery store! This thief spent a lot of money on food.) He said, "Why didn't they just go to FNAC [a book/music/electronics store--people pronounce it F-knack] and load up on iPods?" Why indeed! He also said, "Someone should write that story. That would make good idea for a novel."

I said, "Yeah. Maybe I'll get around to that someday."

"Oh? You want to write a novel?"

"Well, in theory…" All I need is an idea and some motivation and I'll be right on that. And how did we not discuss this before? "...actually, I did write about it already…"

"You did? Where?"

"On my blog?"

"You have a blog?" Whoops. I KNOW I mentioned the blog to him. Apparently, what I took for indifference was simply inattention. I've wondered why he never asked me about it…now I know why.

"Yes! I told you. I know I told you." His response: completely blank expression followed by a look of bafflement. "That's why I even responded to your stupid craigslist thing! [His ad specifically mentioned reading blogs!]"

"Oh, well, oh…I, huh."

I told him a tiny bit about it…but mostly that I have several blogs, though most are static holding places for stories (the "worst dates" blog and the Peru and Israel travelogues). I didn't mention content but I think it was clear that I write about my personal experiences rather than some overarching them. He did not ask to see it and I did not volunteer the address. If he asks for it, well, I'll probably give it to him but here's hoping he doesn't. I'd rather not expose the full extent of my craziness to him--the amount he's seen so far is more than sufficient!

You know, now that I'm thinking about it, I told him that I had a blog during our initial email exchange! Ha. I do so like to be right. (I just read the piece of correspondence in question and I mentioned it in my second email! So, it wasn't that he was inattentive, he just doesn't remember everything like I do.) It's tempting to forward him that message but why would I do that? I'll just tell him the next time I see him, if I remember. Or, maybe I won't, since, ideally, he'll forget all about it again (though it's rather unlikely).

By the end of today, I'd heard back from everyone I contacted. Smile! Plus one more person who knew when I was getting back and took the initiative. I really was going to email him today…

A la carte

On Wednesday, I had to go to the doctor. Not the regular doctor (not even sure what that means), but the doctor who would approve me for the carte de sejour. This was the next to last step in a very long process. I was still a bit on the fence about the whole thing--was it worth paying? But I'd come so far and the appointment itself was free so I went.

I was a little worried about communicating in French but it was just fine. When I didn't completely understand words, I got the gestures and I stood where I was supposed to stand and waited where I was supposed to wait. They weighed and measured me and then stuck my finger to get my blood sugar. (Aside: I know they did this because of my weight. It made me think that it does a real disservice to "normal" weight people who may have diabetes and who don't get tested! Also, when I have blood work, I always score exactly in the desired range. I have high good and low bad cholesterol. My blood sugar is on the low side, but not too low. My blood pressure is normal, etc., etc. Aside from all my sports-related aches and pains, I'm ridiculously healthy and meet no criteria for diabetes EXCEPT being "overweight." Luckily, it's not enough to keep me out of France and the boys don't seem to mind.)

After the weighing, measuring and the sticking, I had to get a chest x-ray. I sat in a little ante-room and was told to get naked from the waist up and pile my hair on top of my head (good thing I was wearing it in a pony tail--thus I had a rubber band to do the job). No sheet or other covering was provided so I sat exposed and pretended that I was French and, thus, no big deal.

I was called into the x-ray room and unceremoniously pushed and shoved into a large, flat wall-like part of the machine. The techs, two women, said, "don't move!" (in English) before fleeing from the room and zapping me. When it was over, I dressed and went back to the main waiting area.

A man called my name next and it turns out he was the doctor. We spoke English. He asked me the usual medical history questions and I managed to tell him I had a hietal hernia and a sore knee and shoulder from past sports activities. Why not just keep these finer points to myself? Please talk to the honesty/oversharing gene--it actually seems to be out of my control. He'd seen the results from the blood sugar test, which were on the high end of the acceptable range because…I'd eaten breakfast. (Another aside: in one of the letters I received about the appointment, mention had been made of fasting. My read was that I didn't need to fast. Um, guess I got that one wrong.) The nurse said I should get it test again in six months, just to be safe. The doctor asked if I "was active in sports". I said yes! He said to keep up with the sports and that was the best thing to do. I have to say that even though the only reason they tested me was because of my weight at least they didn't tell me to lose weight. Interestingly, I've never gotten that lecture in the States either, mostly just questions about my activity level. When they find out I'm active, they drop it or encourage me to keep with it. I guess when you encounter someone with as robust and healthful appearance as I (good color, clear skin, strong teeth, good hair, etc.) and who has perfect health according to all the tests, you don't get a lecture about losing weight. Good thing, too, because I would not be amenable to hearing one.

After that, I was cleared to go and sent to the next office. The one where I had to pay. The lady there found my file and sent me to the Tabac around the corner to purchase the tax stamps (all 275 euros worth). So, I went. I felt committed at that point and I had the cash, so I just did it. I went back to the office with the stamps, waited awhile next to a very impatient man, who turned out to be a very frustrated man. He had some kind of argument with the two ladies working in this office and they seemed to blame the misunderstanding on a third colleague who wasn't present (isn't that always the way?). Finally, my lady caught sight of me and I handed her the stamps. She glued them on to the letter I'd received specifying the amount owed, stuck it in my file and handed me a laminated official looking "titre de sejour." Wow! Upon closer examination, it's actually "temporaire" but it'll do. I figure the permanent one will come a few days before I head back to the USA.

I'll admit to being a little impressed with myself for making it through the whole process, despite the quixotic nature of the enterprise. Was it worth paying for the experience? I'm not so sure about that, but I did it and I have to live with it. At least today, I don't have buyer's remorse, so that's something.

Trip

I'll fully update you on the last days of my trip tomorrow, but overall I had a great time. Berlin was fascinating. Spending time with Johanna was terrific. Meeting other folks in the hostels where I stayed was really fun and like revisiting my youth. In fact, since I was mistaken for a 28-year-old that's true in more ways than one. When the guys guessing my age saw I was flattered I was they revised upwards to 33 (I'd had a long talk with one of them and he did some math to come up with that). When I was still flattered, they reacted with astonishment: "how old can you be???" Very, very old, indeed. But, like I always say, my immaturity more than makes up for it. (For new readers and those that have forgotten, my current age is 39. And no, I'm not posting a picture so you can decide for yourself how youthful looking I actually am. Let's just say that I definitely look like I'm in my 30's and 35/6 would be a reasonable guess. But then again, so would my actual age!)

Last, I made one new friend while I was in Warsaw. We've stayed in touch by email over the last several days and he'll be coming to visit soon. Should be great fun.

Grateful for: home.