Prologue: Since one is able to edit a blog at any time, I have decided to insert new subtopics that come to mind. I realize that most of the time when I write these blogs, it is late at night. I am tired and a few days later I think "I should have written about that other think that happened." Also I am alone now. Last night while out at a restaurant I wrote four pages in my journal about an event that took place within an hour. One other thing- I have been able to download some of my pictures, so I will be able to post more pictures. I will add those photos to previous blogs where relivent. So go back and check if you like.
After a wonderful last few hours with my wife at Covent Gardens, then a stroll along the Themes, we parted for our respective destinations. Donna was taking the train to Heathrow to go back to California. I was to take a flight to Helsinki by way of Gatwick Airport. We both had to spend the night in the airport. I was lucky. There were slightly cushioned seats in the waiting area and I joined about 30 other sleepers, each taking a bank of seats as a bed. For the time that I slept, I slept well, but every 15 minutes a proper English voice came on the loudspeakers- and these were LOUD SPEAKERS. "This is a very important message. Please check your luggage for liquids and creams..." You get the idea. I got up at 4 AM and occupied myself in a variety of pleasurable airport activities- walking from one end of the waiting area to the other, reading, browsing the shops, people watching and finally a little breakfast.
Downtown Helsinki is dead. I mean empty of people, except tourists. It is a shock after the massive crowds in London and Paris. It is empty because of a holiday the Finns call Midsummer. I am not sure how long that the holiday lasts but just about every person goes to the country for a holiday. As I understand it, Friday night was Midsummer Eve and there was a gigantic bonfire on a quaint and historical island Suomenlinna.
There are a few places open- a coffee shop here and there and a restaurant or two. I ate at a traditional Finnish restaurant- Zeton's last night. It was decorated in period chicken decor- farm implements, chicken wire, country signs and of course stuffed chickens. I like to try different things and the roast reindeer looked great but since it was €28, I decided to opt for the reindeer casarole.(Spell check is not helping me here.) Braised reindeer and gravey over mashed potatoes and (I assume) red gooseberries with two warm pickles. It was quite delicous. Today I take a bus tour of Helsinki. I will let you know how it goes.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Bonne Jour
If you ever go to France, the two most important words that you will ever need to know are "bonne jour". It is a must in French conversation for anything. If you need directions, if you get on a bus, if you are ordering in a cafe, if you must ask any kind of question for any kind of reason, you must begin your words with bonne jour. Actually I knew this. But despite it, I found myself in several situations where one can detect the difference in the way that the French treat you.
We were trying to get to the train station on time and could not figure out how to work the ticket machine. I went to the man at the ticket counter and asked in my best French- which is not all that good- How can we get a ticket? His reply: BONNE JOUR!!! emphatically, like that. His meaning was obvious. Say hello, asshole American- and I felt like an asshole American, because I knew better.
Most Parisians know enough English to help you out. They would love it, if more Americans spoke French, but this really is not that important to them. They just want you to say hello before initating a conversation. So if you go to France, remember to begin every conversation with these magic words. I guarantee that it will make a difference.
My apologies- I do not know if jour is masculine or feminine. I could use that French Spell check about now.
We were trying to get to the train station on time and could not figure out how to work the ticket machine. I went to the man at the ticket counter and asked in my best French- which is not all that good- How can we get a ticket? His reply: BONNE JOUR!!! emphatically, like that. His meaning was obvious. Say hello, asshole American- and I felt like an asshole American, because I knew better.
Most Parisians know enough English to help you out. They would love it, if more Americans spoke French, but this really is not that important to them. They just want you to say hello before initating a conversation. So if you go to France, remember to begin every conversation with these magic words. I guarantee that it will make a difference.
My apologies- I do not know if jour is masculine or feminine. I could use that French Spell check about now.
Cafes Abound
Cafes abound in Paris and Donna, Bill and I love to visit them often. There is a little place just below our apartment where they heat up the croissants and make wonderful espresso. Trouble is that we found in almost all of these cafes, they serve only croissants, not the kind of sweet things I like in the morning. Now across the way is what is said to be the best boulangerie in Paris. They serve amazing escargot de raisonne- raisin snails and tart de pomme - apple tarts. But one has to sneak in the pastry to enjoy the expresso with the pastry.
Another problem with cafes is that we want to visit them too often. Since we walk about 5 hours a day, we should be losing weight. I have not seen any evidence of that on myself, but Donna claims that she is gaining. Bill on the other hand has a noticeable sweet tooth, especially for what they call glace or ice cream. As you may guess their ice cream is incredible, always with some kind of flourish. I think that I am ready for desert.
Another problem with cafes is that we want to visit them too often. Since we walk about 5 hours a day, we should be losing weight. I have not seen any evidence of that on myself, but Donna claims that she is gaining. Bill on the other hand has a noticeable sweet tooth, especially for what they call glace or ice cream. As you may guess their ice cream is incredible, always with some kind of flourish. I think that I am ready for desert.
Blogging from overseas
I found an Internet cafe the other day, right near the Panthenon- a place where the greats of French history, art and literature are buried. I paid 3 Euro for one hour. He asked me- with a French accent of course- Do you want laskdfjoawi or wlfmvoi? Three times I asked him to repeat it. Then he said, "Just take any computer that you want." I went to the computer and started to log in. It was not working. I looked down at the keyboard and suddenly I understood what he meant. It was not a QWERTY keyboard. I guess there are other styles of western keyboard and the one I was sitting at was the one that they use in France. Suddenly I knew what he was talking about. So I searched around for a QWERTY keyboard and found one.
Now I am in Finland- and it has all kinds of letters with single and double circles over the A and misplaced keys abound. The regular letters are fine, but when I have to find a question mark, a parentheses, quotation marks, dashes, @ sign, all kinds of symbol keys, I just have to hunt for it. Now supposed I tried to type it with the keys that are here, I am find until I have to say0 uh dash I_m fine or am I: question mark. Do you see what I mean:
hmmmmmmm!@#$%^%&&(*_))_|":{?>|
Now I am in Finland- and it has all kinds of letters with single and double circles over the A and misplaced keys abound. The regular letters are fine, but when I have to find a question mark, a parentheses, quotation marks, dashes, @ sign, all kinds of symbol keys, I just have to hunt for it. Now supposed I tried to type it with the keys that are here, I am find until I have to say0 uh dash I_m fine or am I: question mark. Do you see what I mean:
hmmmmmmm!@#$%^%&&(*_))_|":{?>|
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Paris Overview
The last time that I was in Paris was three years ago. The last time Donna was in Paris was thrity years ago. At Bill's suggestion we took a bus tour- only three Euros more for another day. Imagine seeing the Eiffel Tower, Place de la Concord, Tuileries, Notre Dame, the Arc de Triomphe, Musee du Louvre, Ecole Militaire, Champ de Mars, the Louvre (at least the outside) and many other sites all in one day. My memory was of walking down the long, long Champs Elysees on a hot day feeling that I would never arrive at the Arc de Triomphe. This bus transports us all over town, viewing from the top of a bus and free to jump out and explore whereever we wish. It is the first time that I feel that I have a geographical handle on some of Paris's more famous sites.
Uh, the "Your time is almost up." sign has just come up. Better go.
Uh, the "Your time is almost up." sign has just come up. Better go.
Ah Paris!!!
Ah Paris or C'est bonne. What could be better? It was enough just arriving with our heavy bags and settled down a bit with the help of Stella Artois. Bill, Donna's father in law (beau pere) arrived the day before. He arranged with a friend from the Alliance Francaise to rent a small apartment in the Moufftard. The Moufftard is in the Latin Quarter, fifth Arrondisement and one of the oldest neighborhoods in Paris. It received its name from the French word for skunk- Mouffe. It became a dumping place for garbage in the neighborhood, and supposedly stank to high heaven. Now it is one of the most enchanting little areas of Paris and still unknown by most tourists. (Rick Steves will tell us about it soon.) It is a fairly narrow street lines with resturants, cafes, fruit sellers, cheese shops, wine merchants, boulangeries, and gormet chocolate shops. The street has the look of a classic French neighborhood, a neighborhood that really does not exist anymore in Paris, except on the Moufftard.
Bill had a wonderful little snack waiting for us in our quaint and lovely apartment- 2 kinds of cheeses, fresh baggette, wine and cherries- all from the market. We are in Paris and what could be wrong?
Bill had a wonderful little snack waiting for us in our quaint and lovely apartment- 2 kinds of cheeses, fresh baggette, wine and cherries- all from the market. We are in Paris and what could be wrong?
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Another forward- this is our last day in London. I am sure that there are people out there trying to live the vacation life in Europe vicariously, but I am not being much of a help. For those who want to know where we went and what we saw here is a quick synopsis- being that this is the last day in London.
Tuesday, June 9: a walk along Bankside, a tour of the Globe Theater with a special look at the blacksmith's mermaid on the Globe gate, created by Donna's brother- Liam Denevan; A tour of the excavation of the Rose Theater (locked tight underneath a modern building); Scavenging on the banks of the Themes; the Tate Modern (Donna found a nice comfortable couch there to take a three hour nap. A night cap at our local pub in Kensington, the Castle.
Wednesday, June 10: First day of the Tube Strike: Walked to St. Paul's Cathedral ( Check out Holland Park, London to St. Paul's for distance- I don't know, but boy, were my dogs tired!. A stop at Buckingham Palace; Fleet Street; St Bride Church with Roman, Saxon and Norman ruins included; a lunch of pasties; Covent Gardens; Westminster University and a wonderful dinner at the Academie Resturant in our own neighborhood of Holland Park.
Thursday, June 11: The Tower of London and a play at the National Theater: "Death of a King".
Friday, June 12: Ed does Holland Park, South Kensington and meets Donna in Regents Park then to a wonderful percussion concert at the Royal Academie of Music. Maybe Joey can go there. Ed and Donna split up again. Ed spends several hours at the National Academie of Art.
Saturday, June 13: Portabello Road Market, Buying flowers for our hostess, Jean; then a short look at the Victoria and Albert Museum.
Ah, Saturday, June 13- Our train, the TGV or Eurostar to Paris was to leave at 4:26 from St. Pancras station. We left Holland Park in what we thought was plenty of time. We had to do just one transfer to the Victoria line north to St Pancras. Although I like to travel light, I have to admit that I am a bit overburdened this time and had to pack an extra small shopping bag. I ended up putting my leather jacket in it. My leather jacket contained my passport, my Russian visa and our train tickets to London. All seemed to be going well until as we made the turn in the tube to go to the Victoria Line, it was closed! Sealed up, I assume temporarily. We paniced a bit because the instructions to get to St Pancras were a very complicated alternative. We rushed through several corridors and up a long escalator, when I realized that I had left my bag back at the detour. (yes, passport, train tickets and all). I asked Donna to wait at the top of the escalator. I rushed back- but what a maze of tunnels and corridors. I could not find the place where we had stopped. I found a train attendant- or guard and told him of my problem. He was fast on the job. I descibed to him the place but he still was not sure, and we tried a couple that were not the ones. Finally he said he knew which one. We went there, and just as we turned the corner, another guard had my things in his hands- miracle of all miracles. Now we had to catch the train. We needed to take a taxi but I had only five pounds. Donna hailed a taxi and told him our dilemma. Oh, I had five pounds, five Euros and two dollars. He said he would take us "for that amount".
Fortunately for us he was a native cockney who loved Americans, Country Music and the American Civil War. We chatted about all three on the way to the train station. At the train station we still had to go through customs and we were hearing them announce- "Last call to board Eurostar to Paris- 4:26 PM train" Our train. Customs went quickly and we had to rush up a long ramp and saw the train huffing and steaming as they do just before they leave. I showed one of the staff our ticket and he said "Car number fourteen."-- way toward the end. We ran and jumped on in time- barely. And so this was the way that we got to Paris.
Tuesday, June 9: a walk along Bankside, a tour of the Globe Theater with a special look at the blacksmith's mermaid on the Globe gate, created by Donna's brother- Liam Denevan; A tour of the excavation of the Rose Theater (locked tight underneath a modern building); Scavenging on the banks of the Themes; the Tate Modern (Donna found a nice comfortable couch there to take a three hour nap. A night cap at our local pub in Kensington, the Castle.
Wednesday, June 10: First day of the Tube Strike: Walked to St. Paul's Cathedral ( Check out Holland Park, London to St. Paul's for distance- I don't know, but boy, were my dogs tired!. A stop at Buckingham Palace; Fleet Street; St Bride Church with Roman, Saxon and Norman ruins included; a lunch of pasties; Covent Gardens; Westminster University and a wonderful dinner at the Academie Resturant in our own neighborhood of Holland Park.
Thursday, June 11: The Tower of London and a play at the National Theater: "Death of a King".
Friday, June 12: Ed does Holland Park, South Kensington and meets Donna in Regents Park then to a wonderful percussion concert at the Royal Academie of Music. Maybe Joey can go there. Ed and Donna split up again. Ed spends several hours at the National Academie of Art.
Saturday, June 13: Portabello Road Market, Buying flowers for our hostess, Jean; then a short look at the Victoria and Albert Museum.
Ah, Saturday, June 13- Our train, the TGV or Eurostar to Paris was to leave at 4:26 from St. Pancras station. We left Holland Park in what we thought was plenty of time. We had to do just one transfer to the Victoria line north to St Pancras. Although I like to travel light, I have to admit that I am a bit overburdened this time and had to pack an extra small shopping bag. I ended up putting my leather jacket in it. My leather jacket contained my passport, my Russian visa and our train tickets to London. All seemed to be going well until as we made the turn in the tube to go to the Victoria Line, it was closed! Sealed up, I assume temporarily. We paniced a bit because the instructions to get to St Pancras were a very complicated alternative. We rushed through several corridors and up a long escalator, when I realized that I had left my bag back at the detour. (yes, passport, train tickets and all). I asked Donna to wait at the top of the escalator. I rushed back- but what a maze of tunnels and corridors. I could not find the place where we had stopped. I found a train attendant- or guard and told him of my problem. He was fast on the job. I descibed to him the place but he still was not sure, and we tried a couple that were not the ones. Finally he said he knew which one. We went there, and just as we turned the corner, another guard had my things in his hands- miracle of all miracles. Now we had to catch the train. We needed to take a taxi but I had only five pounds. Donna hailed a taxi and told him our dilemma. Oh, I had five pounds, five Euros and two dollars. He said he would take us "for that amount".
Fortunately for us he was a native cockney who loved Americans, Country Music and the American Civil War. We chatted about all three on the way to the train station. At the train station we still had to go through customs and we were hearing them announce- "Last call to board Eurostar to Paris- 4:26 PM train" Our train. Customs went quickly and we had to rush up a long ramp and saw the train huffing and steaming as they do just before they leave. I showed one of the staff our ticket and he said "Car number fourteen."-- way toward the end. We ran and jumped on in time- barely. And so this was the way that we got to Paris.
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