Happy New Year
Just wanted to be the first to tell you.
Coming home tomorrow.
Monday, December 31, 2007
On our Block
We're around the corner from the supposedly famous rue Cler market and close to the Eiffel Tower and the Gold Dome church where Napoleon's coffin is, so it's pretty busy, though there isn't anything on this street itself. What there is is a Chinese restaurant, and every day at lunch and dinner times there are several buses double-parked across the street dropping Chinese tour groups.
Good street entertainment on rue Cler today. Three women- one playing the accordion and the other two singing. I bought a large bag or carrots, because the carrots here are terrific and some shelling peas from Morocco. My last shopping expedition. Kind of sad. I could definitely live like this.
We're around the corner from the supposedly famous rue Cler market and close to the Eiffel Tower and the Gold Dome church where Napoleon's coffin is, so it's pretty busy, though there isn't anything on this street itself. What there is is a Chinese restaurant, and every day at lunch and dinner times there are several buses double-parked across the street dropping Chinese tour groups.
Good street entertainment on rue Cler today. Three women- one playing the accordion and the other two singing. I bought a large bag or carrots, because the carrots here are terrific and some shelling peas from Morocco. My last shopping expedition. Kind of sad. I could definitely live like this.
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Tres cher
They tell you Paris is a really expensive place. Here's a couple of examples:
Tonight we didn't want to go out so we just got take-out things- a rotisserie chicken and potatoes and a mushroom pizza. The chicken was $9, not that bad, half pound of potatoes, about $5, and the mushroom pizza, medium US size, $27.
Earlier, we went for ice cream, at supposedly the best ice cream place in the city. Four of us each had 2 scoops, which combined would be one Ben and Jerry's scoop, of excellent ice cream, and to drink we had 3 coffees and a bottle of water. What do you think? $55.
It's very hard to have lunch for 4 without spending $75 and it's easier to spend $100. And dinner? I'll leave it to your imagination. It's a lot better, of course, if you buy things at a supermarket and prepare it yourself, and the bread is very cheap (a baguette is about a buck), and it's all really good food, so it's hard to get too upset, but you really can't do anything cheaply here.
They tell you Paris is a really expensive place. Here's a couple of examples:
Tonight we didn't want to go out so we just got take-out things- a rotisserie chicken and potatoes and a mushroom pizza. The chicken was $9, not that bad, half pound of potatoes, about $5, and the mushroom pizza, medium US size, $27.
Earlier, we went for ice cream, at supposedly the best ice cream place in the city. Four of us each had 2 scoops, which combined would be one Ben and Jerry's scoop, of excellent ice cream, and to drink we had 3 coffees and a bottle of water. What do you think? $55.
It's very hard to have lunch for 4 without spending $75 and it's easier to spend $100. And dinner? I'll leave it to your imagination. It's a lot better, of course, if you buy things at a supermarket and prepare it yourself, and the bread is very cheap (a baguette is about a buck), and it's all really good food, so it's hard to get too upset, but you really can't do anything cheaply here.
The Louvre
I've been to the Louvre before. It's a big honkin' museum in the middle of Paris and you can't miss it. It used to be a palace, and if you came in one end and wanted to see something on the other end, you had to walk about a mile all the way around. Then some architect built a big pyramid in the middle of the palace and connected the 3 buildings and they all lived happily ever after. Venus de Milo, Mona Lisa, and a bunch of pictures of Jesus and Mary, all under the same roof.
So the other times I was here we had time to linger and spend time with the paintings we liked and search the incomprehensible guide for what we couldn't find. This time it find the greatest hits and get out. After all the buildup, everyone was ready to be disappointed by the Mona Lisa and it really wasn't that small, or that dirty or that impossible to see. There were, however, a ton of Japanese tourists ignoring the signs saying don't take pictures, with flash yet.
Venus de Milo I'd never seen before and it was very beautiful, though I'm not sure exactly what the big deal is, as compared to all the other amazing statues we saw. I'll have to do some research. I must note that the Greeks didn't have a goddess named Venus, she was called Aphrodite.
It was kind of strange seeing this amazing art with someone who was more concerned that the Sephora in the concourse might close before we left. It never occurred to me that one could spend 11 days in Paris and not experience it at all, but I can attest that it's possible. It's sad though.
I've been to the Louvre before. It's a big honkin' museum in the middle of Paris and you can't miss it. It used to be a palace, and if you came in one end and wanted to see something on the other end, you had to walk about a mile all the way around. Then some architect built a big pyramid in the middle of the palace and connected the 3 buildings and they all lived happily ever after. Venus de Milo, Mona Lisa, and a bunch of pictures of Jesus and Mary, all under the same roof.
So the other times I was here we had time to linger and spend time with the paintings we liked and search the incomprehensible guide for what we couldn't find. This time it find the greatest hits and get out. After all the buildup, everyone was ready to be disappointed by the Mona Lisa and it really wasn't that small, or that dirty or that impossible to see. There were, however, a ton of Japanese tourists ignoring the signs saying don't take pictures, with flash yet.
Venus de Milo I'd never seen before and it was very beautiful, though I'm not sure exactly what the big deal is, as compared to all the other amazing statues we saw. I'll have to do some research. I must note that the Greeks didn't have a goddess named Venus, she was called Aphrodite.
It was kind of strange seeing this amazing art with someone who was more concerned that the Sephora in the concourse might close before we left. It never occurred to me that one could spend 11 days in Paris and not experience it at all, but I can attest that it's possible. It's sad though.
Long Walk
I got up a bit early today and went for a long walk in a big circle. I probably went 4-5 miles in all. It's very nice out today, clear and not too cold. I find that I can walk almost endlessly without getting tired. Standing in one place isn't as good, but walking is fine.
I never had the chance to do the whole romantic Paris thing, because the only time I was here with a girl we had no money and fought most of the time. But I certainly buy into the whole beautiful Paris thing. It's impossible to walk for a block without seeing something worth looking at. Yesterday we went to see the department store windows for Galleries Lafayette and Au Printemps, the big department stores. It was an absolute mob scene. It's amazing I still have my wallet, and it was practically impossible to move around, but the windows at Au Printemps were really cool. We never got to Galleries because it was just too crowded, but the even there, once you got across the street, the lights were amazing. If you look in the other direction, you see the Opera house.
Everything's not that spectacular, but everything has at least some small pleasure.
I got up a bit early today and went for a long walk in a big circle. I probably went 4-5 miles in all. It's very nice out today, clear and not too cold. I find that I can walk almost endlessly without getting tired. Standing in one place isn't as good, but walking is fine.
I never had the chance to do the whole romantic Paris thing, because the only time I was here with a girl we had no money and fought most of the time. But I certainly buy into the whole beautiful Paris thing. It's impossible to walk for a block without seeing something worth looking at. Yesterday we went to see the department store windows for Galleries Lafayette and Au Printemps, the big department stores. It was an absolute mob scene. It's amazing I still have my wallet, and it was practically impossible to move around, but the windows at Au Printemps were really cool. We never got to Galleries because it was just too crowded, but the even there, once you got across the street, the lights were amazing. If you look in the other direction, you see the Opera house.
Everything's not that spectacular, but everything has at least some small pleasure.
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| More Paris |
Saturday, December 29, 2007
This and that
Or ceci and cela for all you Frankophiles. I don't think it's really spelled that way.
We ate at a large restaurant the other night and the waiter brought us the wrong appetizer, and when we complained the maitre d' walked over quickly and pulled a red card out of his pocket and called out "carte rouge!" like he was ejecting someone from a soccer game. He said he keeps it around for whenever a waiter makes a mistake.
All the pharmacies in town have condom vending machines outside.
I've been aware of what I call the inflation of superlatives. Once, "great" would do as a superlative, but it was eventually eclipsed by "amazing," "incredible," "awesome," and more recently "sick." Now what I'm hearing is "insane," as in "there's an insane number of calories in this dessert." I don't know where this trend is heading but I'm fairly sure it's nowhere good. It was bad enough taking the credibility out of incredible and the awe out of awesome, but now we're taking the insanity out of insane.
Finally, in the realm of all conversation leading to obscure music references, earlier today during one of out "Friends" mini-marathons (the apartment owners generously left seasons 5 and 6 on DVD here) we had a small technical problem and the dramatic child called out "Why?" and Ronnie and I both replied, "Why, because we like you." Many people would not know that reference but I won't spoil it for those who can enjoy it in peace.
Didn't do much today, but minimal drama. It's late. I'll put some more photos up tomorrow, especially since I'll be touring a famous cemetery in the morning while the girls are asleep. And then we'll be doing the Louvre.
Or ceci and cela for all you Frankophiles. I don't think it's really spelled that way.
We ate at a large restaurant the other night and the waiter brought us the wrong appetizer, and when we complained the maitre d' walked over quickly and pulled a red card out of his pocket and called out "carte rouge!" like he was ejecting someone from a soccer game. He said he keeps it around for whenever a waiter makes a mistake.
All the pharmacies in town have condom vending machines outside.
I've been aware of what I call the inflation of superlatives. Once, "great" would do as a superlative, but it was eventually eclipsed by "amazing," "incredible," "awesome," and more recently "sick." Now what I'm hearing is "insane," as in "there's an insane number of calories in this dessert." I don't know where this trend is heading but I'm fairly sure it's nowhere good. It was bad enough taking the credibility out of incredible and the awe out of awesome, but now we're taking the insanity out of insane.
Finally, in the realm of all conversation leading to obscure music references, earlier today during one of out "Friends" mini-marathons (the apartment owners generously left seasons 5 and 6 on DVD here) we had a small technical problem and the dramatic child called out "Why?" and Ronnie and I both replied, "Why, because we like you." Many people would not know that reference but I won't spoil it for those who can enjoy it in peace.
Didn't do much today, but minimal drama. It's late. I'll put some more photos up tomorrow, especially since I'll be touring a famous cemetery in the morning while the girls are asleep. And then we'll be doing the Louvre.
Friday, December 28, 2007
More Profundities
One of Jerry Seinfeld's best known (and unfortunately most repeated) lines if "There's no such thing as fun for the whole family." Everyone laughs because if they've ever traveled as a family they know it's true. In general, traveling with one or more companions is very much more difficult and stressful than alone, and it really doesn't matter how close you are to the people you're traveling with. I've traveled extensively with all of my best friends at one time or another, and if the trip goes long enough you are absolutely guaranteed conflict. The key is what you do with the conflict.
Between my Junior and senior years of college, I went on a 7 week cross-country road trip with two good friends from college. I'll spare the details, but one of the guys is still my best friend, and I pretty much haven't spoken to the other one since.
Here, because it's intrafamily stuff, it's even more magnified. Every little thing takes on huge meaning somehow, even if it isn't really meaningful. So do you work through it or does it escalate or do you keep banging your head against the wall and nothing changes? Or perhaps all of the above. Sorry, no dirty laundry tonight, but let's hypothetically say that one family member, acting on a previous agreement, wakes everyone at 10:30. When is everyone ready to leave? Let's just hypothetically say it's at 1:45 PM. And then, hypothetically, after the family goes downstairs, the member who initially woke everyone remembers that they need to run back to the apartment to get something, which takes about 90 seconds. So who's the object of scorn here for delaying the outing? I'll never tell.
One of Jerry Seinfeld's best known (and unfortunately most repeated) lines if "There's no such thing as fun for the whole family." Everyone laughs because if they've ever traveled as a family they know it's true. In general, traveling with one or more companions is very much more difficult and stressful than alone, and it really doesn't matter how close you are to the people you're traveling with. I've traveled extensively with all of my best friends at one time or another, and if the trip goes long enough you are absolutely guaranteed conflict. The key is what you do with the conflict.
Between my Junior and senior years of college, I went on a 7 week cross-country road trip with two good friends from college. I'll spare the details, but one of the guys is still my best friend, and I pretty much haven't spoken to the other one since.
Here, because it's intrafamily stuff, it's even more magnified. Every little thing takes on huge meaning somehow, even if it isn't really meaningful. So do you work through it or does it escalate or do you keep banging your head against the wall and nothing changes? Or perhaps all of the above. Sorry, no dirty laundry tonight, but let's hypothetically say that one family member, acting on a previous agreement, wakes everyone at 10:30. When is everyone ready to leave? Let's just hypothetically say it's at 1:45 PM. And then, hypothetically, after the family goes downstairs, the member who initially woke everyone remembers that they need to run back to the apartment to get something, which takes about 90 seconds. So who's the object of scorn here for delaying the outing? I'll never tell.
Thursday, December 27, 2007
A day of two days
We got up early this morning to catch a train to Reims, capital of the Champagne district. It's about 200 km from Paris, so by TGV it's a 45 minute very fast ride. These puppies really fly.
The city of Reims is pretty nice. It's old, and has a spectacular cathedral with a gorgeous rose window and a chapel with Marc Chagall stained glass windows. Funny, Chagall painted the ceiling at the opera too. Busy guy.
Before seeing the cathedral, we went to the Taittinger champagne cellars (caves, actually) for a tour. Apparently, when the Romans were in the area they had great need to the gypsum that's abundant under the surface there. They dug hundreds of holes, starting with a small square hole until they found what they wanted, then widening out in a square pyramid shape until they were about 50 feet below the ground. Centuries later, after the Romans had returned to Rome, the monks at the monestery above discovered the caves and built connecting tunnels and used them to store their primordial champagne. The caves are deep enough to keep a constant temperature, and the chalky walls (you can carve your name in them with a fingernail) absorb moisture and let air seep down from the surface. Very cool looking. Then of course we tasted the champagne. I like champagne.
After lunch we walked back to town, toured the cathedral, which as been there since the 13th century (and parts of it sure look it) and where every king from the 13th century to the Revolution was coronated. It's a very beautiful building. Then to Mumm's for a more modern kind of champagne tour and tasting :)
By that time, we needed to go to the train, and the second day of today began with an outbreak of let's say "drama." By the time we got back to Paris we were in no mood to go out to dinner and so I availed myself of all the treats the the Rue Cler market around the corner has to offer, including pate', rotisserie chicken and potatoes, cheese, baguette and fresh veggies. Tough life, I know.
Here's some pictures from the past few days:
We got up early this morning to catch a train to Reims, capital of the Champagne district. It's about 200 km from Paris, so by TGV it's a 45 minute very fast ride. These puppies really fly.
The city of Reims is pretty nice. It's old, and has a spectacular cathedral with a gorgeous rose window and a chapel with Marc Chagall stained glass windows. Funny, Chagall painted the ceiling at the opera too. Busy guy.
Before seeing the cathedral, we went to the Taittinger champagne cellars (caves, actually) for a tour. Apparently, when the Romans were in the area they had great need to the gypsum that's abundant under the surface there. They dug hundreds of holes, starting with a small square hole until they found what they wanted, then widening out in a square pyramid shape until they were about 50 feet below the ground. Centuries later, after the Romans had returned to Rome, the monks at the monestery above discovered the caves and built connecting tunnels and used them to store their primordial champagne. The caves are deep enough to keep a constant temperature, and the chalky walls (you can carve your name in them with a fingernail) absorb moisture and let air seep down from the surface. Very cool looking. Then of course we tasted the champagne. I like champagne.
After lunch we walked back to town, toured the cathedral, which as been there since the 13th century (and parts of it sure look it) and where every king from the 13th century to the Revolution was coronated. It's a very beautiful building. Then to Mumm's for a more modern kind of champagne tour and tasting :)
By that time, we needed to go to the train, and the second day of today began with an outbreak of let's say "drama." By the time we got back to Paris we were in no mood to go out to dinner and so I availed myself of all the treats the the Rue Cler market around the corner has to offer, including pate', rotisserie chicken and potatoes, cheese, baguette and fresh veggies. Tough life, I know.
Here's some pictures from the past few days:
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| More Paris and Reims |
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Opera
Yes, opera. last time Ronnie and I were in Paris, we had Opera tickets, but we misread the time and showed up half an hour late. The theater was completely locked up and we were really upset. We found out the next day that the musicians were on strike and the performance was canceled. This time, we got our tickets and got in a taxi 45 minutes before the 7:30 curtain. Mind you, had the ladies not been wearing high heels, we could have walked in about 25 minutes, and the Metro would have taken 15 or 20 minutes, but a taxi it was, and a disaster it was. The driver got in a traffic jam and would not turn out of it. Finally I summoned up enough French to start saying, un autre route. Fine for a block, then into another jam. Finally at 7:30, he suggested that we get out because the Opera was around the corner. We ran, as best as could be accomplished under the circumstances, and got into the theater to a classic French chorus of disapproval, with each ticket checker rolling their eyes and reminding us that it started at 7:30. I'm not kidding, the usher actually rolled her eyes. She didn't even try to get us to our seats, but folded out 4 jump seats in the aisle (guess they're not too strict about the fire laws here), sat us down and the lights dimmed and the show began.
We didn't stay for the whole thing. In our defense, let me note that the performance was 4 hours total and I should also mention that it wasn't my idea, and that the plot was, even in the liberal context of opera plots, incomprehensible. I read the synopsis 3 times and still couldn't follow it. Here's a piece of it:
So we went for desert across the street and took the Metro home. Off to Reims tomorrow to visit Champagne producers and ride the 200 mph train.
I'll post some photos tomorrow.
Yes, opera. last time Ronnie and I were in Paris, we had Opera tickets, but we misread the time and showed up half an hour late. The theater was completely locked up and we were really upset. We found out the next day that the musicians were on strike and the performance was canceled. This time, we got our tickets and got in a taxi 45 minutes before the 7:30 curtain. Mind you, had the ladies not been wearing high heels, we could have walked in about 25 minutes, and the Metro would have taken 15 or 20 minutes, but a taxi it was, and a disaster it was. The driver got in a traffic jam and would not turn out of it. Finally I summoned up enough French to start saying, un autre route. Fine for a block, then into another jam. Finally at 7:30, he suggested that we get out because the Opera was around the corner. We ran, as best as could be accomplished under the circumstances, and got into the theater to a classic French chorus of disapproval, with each ticket checker rolling their eyes and reminding us that it started at 7:30. I'm not kidding, the usher actually rolled her eyes. She didn't even try to get us to our seats, but folded out 4 jump seats in the aisle (guess they're not too strict about the fire laws here), sat us down and the lights dimmed and the show began.
We didn't stay for the whole thing. In our defense, let me note that the performance was 4 hours total and I should also mention that it wasn't my idea, and that the plot was, even in the liberal context of opera plots, incomprehensible. I read the synopsis 3 times and still couldn't follow it. Here's a piece of it:
ACT I
Scene 1. A deserted spot surrounded by hills
Bradamante, disguised as her brother Ricciardo, and her tutor Melisso have been ship-wrecked and cast ashore while searching for her lover Ruggiero. They meet Morgana, Alcina's sister, who falls in love with the disguised Bradamante and promises to take them to Alcina. With a clap of thunder the hills part and Alcina is revealed, surrounded by her court, including Ruggiero and a young boy called Oberto. She receives the travellers graciously and tells Ruggiero to show them the sights of the island.
Bradamante confronts Ruggiero, who recognises her as Ricciardo but denies any interest in Ricciardo's sister - he is the faithful lover of Alcina.
He runs off to find her and Oberto asks the travellers if they have seen his father Astolfo. They too had been cast ashore by a storm, but his father, after a welcome from Alcina, had disappeared. Bradamante suspects that Astolfo has been changed into a wild beast, like Alcina's other victims.
Oronte, Alcina's commander-in-chief, rightly suspecting the constancy of Morgana, whom he loves, charges Bradamante with having stolen Morgana's love. Morgana defends Bradamante and insults Oronte. Bradamante tries to calm their mutual recriminations.
Got it? And the action flows naturally from there. This is just the first SCENE. And there were naked guys onstage for that scene too, though it was impossible to glean their purpose. To add to the confusion, back in Handel's time, the "female" characters were played by castratos (I checked and it's not castratoes). Thankfully, there were not available for this staging, so they used women to play women pretending to play men. And let's not get into the enchanted wild beasts part of the plot, which doesn't happen until act 2. I think it has a happy ending though, except that Alcina herself is somewhat dissatisfied, but not enough to call it a tragedy.So we went for desert across the street and took the Metro home. Off to Reims tomorrow to visit Champagne producers and ride the 200 mph train.
I'll post some photos tomorrow.
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Notre Dame on Christmas Day
We missed Christmas Eve at Notre Dame because it was just too cold, but we did go there today. I've been there before, but that doesn't diminish what an amazing place it is. We stood on a 100+ yard long line to get in, and more and more and more people kept pouring in, but it still managed to hold them all. It was crowded, but not uncomfortably so. There was an organ concert going on, which was cool. A lot of the sound felt like it was coming from a couple of hundred feet up, which I guess was the case. One oddity- the creche had a projection screen behind it that showed a beach scene and the ground was very definitely sand, and I don't remember that Bethlehem is on the beach. And I've been on a lot of beaches and forgetting about the whole Jesus thing, don't remember seeing cows, or goats, or for that matter wise men there.
Oddities aside, it's incredibly beautiful and awe-inspiring in a good-scary kind of way. I like seeing the old churches more than the others in our little party. Afterwards we had crepes on the street, which was fun to watch the guy make and very nice to eat on a cold day.
We missed Christmas Eve at Notre Dame because it was just too cold, but we did go there today. I've been there before, but that doesn't diminish what an amazing place it is. We stood on a 100+ yard long line to get in, and more and more and more people kept pouring in, but it still managed to hold them all. It was crowded, but not uncomfortably so. There was an organ concert going on, which was cool. A lot of the sound felt like it was coming from a couple of hundred feet up, which I guess was the case. One oddity- the creche had a projection screen behind it that showed a beach scene and the ground was very definitely sand, and I don't remember that Bethlehem is on the beach. And I've been on a lot of beaches and forgetting about the whole Jesus thing, don't remember seeing cows, or goats, or for that matter wise men there.
Oddities aside, it's incredibly beautiful and awe-inspiring in a good-scary kind of way. I like seeing the old churches more than the others in our little party. Afterwards we had crepes on the street, which was fun to watch the guy make and very nice to eat on a cold day.
Monday, December 24, 2007
What we do in Europe
We're pretty secular at home, but when we're in Europe we always want to go to the Jewish area, maybe because the Holocaust seems so much closer here than at home. Unlike in some of the other cities we visited, parts of the Marais are still Jewish, though much of it is gay and trendy. I had a French bagel and we had great falafel (sign outside, "Lenny Kravitz loves it.").
There were plaques memorializing people who had lived in the houses and had been taken to concentration camps. It was very sad to think about, no matter how many delis and bakeries and mens' boutiques there were, and there was a Starbucks around the corner too.
Earlier in the day we went on a huge ferris wheel right at the end of the Champs Elysees. That was a cool view. Paris is just a series of great views from anywhere. You can always catch a glimpse of something great.
It's Christmas Day here. We shopped some last evening. I always find it kind of cute and pathetic when I see people scurrying around buying presents on Christmas Eve (though not as pathetic as the guy running out of Acme with a bunch of flowers at 2PM on Mothers Day). Here it seems just cute. Everyone is relaxed, kind of mellow and happy. This is a very Christian place and a very commercial place, but the way they treat the holiday is very low key. I also like the way they say to each other "bon fete." Good festival, or good feast literally. We did have a good dinner last night, and though we continue to work through the drama, it's a good holiday.
We're pretty secular at home, but when we're in Europe we always want to go to the Jewish area, maybe because the Holocaust seems so much closer here than at home. Unlike in some of the other cities we visited, parts of the Marais are still Jewish, though much of it is gay and trendy. I had a French bagel and we had great falafel (sign outside, "Lenny Kravitz loves it.").
There were plaques memorializing people who had lived in the houses and had been taken to concentration camps. It was very sad to think about, no matter how many delis and bakeries and mens' boutiques there were, and there was a Starbucks around the corner too.
Earlier in the day we went on a huge ferris wheel right at the end of the Champs Elysees. That was a cool view. Paris is just a series of great views from anywhere. You can always catch a glimpse of something great.
It's Christmas Day here. We shopped some last evening. I always find it kind of cute and pathetic when I see people scurrying around buying presents on Christmas Eve (though not as pathetic as the guy running out of Acme with a bunch of flowers at 2PM on Mothers Day). Here it seems just cute. Everyone is relaxed, kind of mellow and happy. This is a very Christian place and a very commercial place, but the way they treat the holiday is very low key. I also like the way they say to each other "bon fete." Good festival, or good feast literally. We did have a good dinner last night, and though we continue to work through the drama, it's a good holiday.
Sunday, December 23, 2007
Where we are
We really didn't want to stay in a hotel in Paris, so after a bunch of research on the internet I found a two bedroom apartment on the Left Bank, near the Eiffel Tower. It looked very nice from the pictures and the location was great, so we took the plunge.
It's not as nice as the photos (though some things in Paris are nicer than the photos), but it's a pleasant, small, well-equipped apartment with 2 very small bedrooms,a kitchen, a decent size, bright living room with a TV and modem, a little dining nook, 2 bath (actually shower) rooms and a single toilet. So far, it works pretty well. It's nice and warm, which isn't something you can count on and which is very much appreciated after walking around in the cold, and very convenient to the Metro, the Eiffel Tower, and a very nice neighborhood. All in all it's a good thing. I think it's just nice having a room that's not the room you sleep in, and I like having a kitchen.
We really didn't want to stay in a hotel in Paris, so after a bunch of research on the internet I found a two bedroom apartment on the Left Bank, near the Eiffel Tower. It looked very nice from the pictures and the location was great, so we took the plunge.
It's not as nice as the photos (though some things in Paris are nicer than the photos), but it's a pleasant, small, well-equipped apartment with 2 very small bedrooms,a kitchen, a decent size, bright living room with a TV and modem, a little dining nook, 2 bath (actually shower) rooms and a single toilet. So far, it works pretty well. It's nice and warm, which isn't something you can count on and which is very much appreciated after walking around in the cold, and very convenient to the Metro, the Eiffel Tower, and a very nice neighborhood. All in all it's a good thing. I think it's just nice having a room that's not the room you sleep in, and I like having a kitchen.
Traveling
Let me put this as delicately as I can. Traveling with a bunch of females is an experience. The fact that two of the females are in their teens only serves to improve the level of drama.
I am (or at least I think I am) a pretty easy traveler with a couple of exceptions. I get very caught up in the logistics- getting to the airport, seats on the plane, getting to the hotel, being satisfied with the hotel (or apartment in this case)- that stuff, and can get irritable quickly if that doesn't go well. But once I arrive anywhere I'm happy happy happy. I can just walk around a new place aimlessly and endlessly and find something or nothing to do and look at and be completely entertained and content.
I'm sure there are women who are easy travelers, I think my mother was one, but the women in my life are not among them. And I'm not trying to pick on anyone. Women are more complicated creatures than men, and complicated doesn't do easy. Lots of things that don't matter at all to men matter a lot to women, and I'm not just talking about physical appearance. Everything from getting up in the morning to eating to a day's activities to going to bed is more complicated for women. One of the annoying/endearing qualities of traveling with teenage girls is that all of the internal turmoil that all women live with but adults generally keep to themselves is right there on the surface. I am now quite familiar with what a girl who's concerned about her weight goes through every time she sits down to eat, and though I don't enjoy living through it, it's enlightening.
Let me put this as delicately as I can. Traveling with a bunch of females is an experience. The fact that two of the females are in their teens only serves to improve the level of drama.
I am (or at least I think I am) a pretty easy traveler with a couple of exceptions. I get very caught up in the logistics- getting to the airport, seats on the plane, getting to the hotel, being satisfied with the hotel (or apartment in this case)- that stuff, and can get irritable quickly if that doesn't go well. But once I arrive anywhere I'm happy happy happy. I can just walk around a new place aimlessly and endlessly and find something or nothing to do and look at and be completely entertained and content.
I'm sure there are women who are easy travelers, I think my mother was one, but the women in my life are not among them. And I'm not trying to pick on anyone. Women are more complicated creatures than men, and complicated doesn't do easy. Lots of things that don't matter at all to men matter a lot to women, and I'm not just talking about physical appearance. Everything from getting up in the morning to eating to a day's activities to going to bed is more complicated for women. One of the annoying/endearing qualities of traveling with teenage girls is that all of the internal turmoil that all women live with but adults generally keep to themselves is right there on the surface. I am now quite familiar with what a girl who's concerned about her weight goes through every time she sits down to eat, and though I don't enjoy living through it, it's enlightening.
Saturday, December 22, 2007
Fear of heights
We went to the Eiffel Tower today. A very impressive piece of business. Tall, made of metal, that kind of thing. The lines were long but not ridiculous. I'd been there before but only walked up the stairs to the first level. The view from the top was amazing, and it wasn't nearly as scary as one might expect. I'm not really afraid of heights, but I'm not overly fond of them either, and the view looking up from the middle level, while beautiful, was shiver-inducing.
When I see things like this (not that I can really think of anything else like this) I always wonder about what people thought when they first built it, in this case in 1889. What would be just as amazing now? And could you go to the bathroom up there like you can now? I know that Eiffel was a genius, but did he really have indoor plumbing in mind when he built this?
By the time we got down and had a late lunch (we're still kind of on US time, 6 hours earlier) the tower was sparkling with strobe lights. Great stuff. This city really knows how to do it up for the holidays. The Champs Elysees was also lit beautifully, with all the trees either sparkling of having a kind of falling start effect, and many of the streets have their own special decorations.
We went to the Eiffel Tower today. A very impressive piece of business. Tall, made of metal, that kind of thing. The lines were long but not ridiculous. I'd been there before but only walked up the stairs to the first level. The view from the top was amazing, and it wasn't nearly as scary as one might expect. I'm not really afraid of heights, but I'm not overly fond of them either, and the view looking up from the middle level, while beautiful, was shiver-inducing.
When I see things like this (not that I can really think of anything else like this) I always wonder about what people thought when they first built it, in this case in 1889. What would be just as amazing now? And could you go to the bathroom up there like you can now? I know that Eiffel was a genius, but did he really have indoor plumbing in mind when he built this?
By the time we got down and had a late lunch (we're still kind of on US time, 6 hours earlier) the tower was sparkling with strobe lights. Great stuff. This city really knows how to do it up for the holidays. The Champs Elysees was also lit beautifully, with all the trees either sparkling of having a kind of falling start effect, and many of the streets have their own special decorations.
 |
| Paris first two days |
Things I've Learned (or remembered) So Far
If you're trying to push a door open and everyone keeps calling out "Tirez! Tirez! then tirez must mean pull.
There's no mention of anything called "cafe donc" in any guidebook, and it's just coffee and hot water soaking in a little copper pitcher, but it's delicious.
Cheddar cheese is suitable only for putting on hamburgers.
They sell little hot packs shaped like teddy bears. They're cute, but the idea of heating a teddy bear in the microwave just doesn't sit right with me.
More to come...
If you're trying to push a door open and everyone keeps calling out "Tirez! Tirez! then tirez must mean pull.
There's no mention of anything called "cafe donc" in any guidebook, and it's just coffee and hot water soaking in a little copper pitcher, but it's delicious.
Cheddar cheese is suitable only for putting on hamburgers.
They sell little hot packs shaped like teddy bears. They're cute, but the idea of heating a teddy bear in the microwave just doesn't sit right with me.
More to come...
Friday, December 21, 2007
To Paris
In all the trips I've taken recently there's been one constant, the airlines suck and a large percentage of the people who work for them should never be allowed to interact with customers. Let me just say that everything ended up fine and we are safely inhabiting out little apartment neat the Eiffel Tower.
The night before the trip, US Airways (Formerly known as US Air or more frequently US Scare) sent an e-mail suggesting that I check in in advance. I started to do so and was given the option of upgrading to first class for a modest fee. I was concerned because there were 4 of us and I wanted to sit at least in pairs so I called the reservation line. The very nice woman there said there were 4 seats and that although she couldn't guarantee the exact seats, that there'd be no problem with us sitting together. Needless to say, the next evening at the airport the ticket agent, known only as William R (they are smart to not put their last names on their tags) could not have been nastier, more sarcastic, or less sympathetic as he sat us in 3 separate places.
I come from what you'd call a client service background, the basis of which is having a true understanding of your customer and being able to translate that into whatever action will bring them satisfaction. If it simply isn't possible, you do the best you can to sympathize with and assuage their feelings of disappointment and frustration and perhaps suggest ways they can improve their situation beyond what you personally can do. Let's just say that William R lacked the necessities to do this. Again, it turned out fine, we got other passengers to switch so we could sit together. Then we got to Paris airport.
Have you ever gone down an escalator when there's a big crowd at the bottom and you get a little scared that you're going to get squashed into them by all the people behind you? Well, that's what we go as we made out way to Passport Control. I'm sympathetic to the airport people. After all, who could have anticipated that several large airplanes would arrive at the world's 6th busiest airport during the busiest travel week of the year? Two, count 'em, two agents at a window in a very small area with a moving walkway disgorging a constant stream of people. Disaster was averted only because people started crawling under barriers and because the intrepid passport control agents ceased to actually exercise control. Stamp 'em and move 'em through.
Anyway, here we are. We had a nice walk down the Champs Elysees and a pleasant dinner and now it's time for bed. Not many pictures yet but I'll try to upload some tomorrow.
In all the trips I've taken recently there's been one constant, the airlines suck and a large percentage of the people who work for them should never be allowed to interact with customers. Let me just say that everything ended up fine and we are safely inhabiting out little apartment neat the Eiffel Tower.
The night before the trip, US Airways (Formerly known as US Air or more frequently US Scare) sent an e-mail suggesting that I check in in advance. I started to do so and was given the option of upgrading to first class for a modest fee. I was concerned because there were 4 of us and I wanted to sit at least in pairs so I called the reservation line. The very nice woman there said there were 4 seats and that although she couldn't guarantee the exact seats, that there'd be no problem with us sitting together. Needless to say, the next evening at the airport the ticket agent, known only as William R (they are smart to not put their last names on their tags) could not have been nastier, more sarcastic, or less sympathetic as he sat us in 3 separate places.
I come from what you'd call a client service background, the basis of which is having a true understanding of your customer and being able to translate that into whatever action will bring them satisfaction. If it simply isn't possible, you do the best you can to sympathize with and assuage their feelings of disappointment and frustration and perhaps suggest ways they can improve their situation beyond what you personally can do. Let's just say that William R lacked the necessities to do this. Again, it turned out fine, we got other passengers to switch so we could sit together. Then we got to Paris airport.
Have you ever gone down an escalator when there's a big crowd at the bottom and you get a little scared that you're going to get squashed into them by all the people behind you? Well, that's what we go as we made out way to Passport Control. I'm sympathetic to the airport people. After all, who could have anticipated that several large airplanes would arrive at the world's 6th busiest airport during the busiest travel week of the year? Two, count 'em, two agents at a window in a very small area with a moving walkway disgorging a constant stream of people. Disaster was averted only because people started crawling under barriers and because the intrepid passport control agents ceased to actually exercise control. Stamp 'em and move 'em through.
Anyway, here we are. We had a nice walk down the Champs Elysees and a pleasant dinner and now it's time for bed. Not many pictures yet but I'll try to upload some tomorrow.
Friday, December 14, 2007
A Long Week
It feels like forever since I last posted. After everything last week I was exhausted, and then we had our annual neighborhood Chanukah party, which involves a lot of housekeeping and shopping. that was Monday and the rest of the week was a blur.
Here's a quick roundup of what's been going through my head:
Regarding the steroids in baseball happening, I really could care less. If anybody was serious abut trying to clean up, all the sports, professional and "amateur," would band together and pool money and come up with a system that at the very least would make it expensive and difficult to cheat. It's like anything else, you can't make your car impossible to steal, but you do whatever you can to make it require specific skills and/or equipment so that any old idiot can't do it. If it cost a lot, most people couldn't afford to do it. The current patchwork system is just stupid.
Saw a terrific movie on DVD. It's called The Lookout and it's one of the best things I've seen in a while. Good story, excellent acting.
Getting ready for vacation. Of course the main thing that one mostly does to get ready for vacation is work, because that's what makes you need the vacation in the first place. The craziest thing about making a packing list thses days is the number of chargers you need. I made a list off the top of my head and had about a half dozen things, but it keeps getting added onto. We have 4 cameras and a video camera (ugh, ugh, ugh!) and every single one of them needs its own stupid battery charger. Plus cell phones (rented because Verizon phones don't work where we're going), computers, ipods, maybe a portable video player or two. Then of course the whole thing has to be adapted to foreign electricity. And I'm sure there's something I'm not thinking about.
Had parent conferences at school this week. I like parent conferences, though that may not be the majority view. I think the main complaint is that we have to do a full workday and then do anywhere from 10-20 meetings in the evening, but since I usually try hard to understand all of my students, meeting the parents is a helpful step.
It feels like forever since I last posted. After everything last week I was exhausted, and then we had our annual neighborhood Chanukah party, which involves a lot of housekeeping and shopping. that was Monday and the rest of the week was a blur.
Here's a quick roundup of what's been going through my head:
Regarding the steroids in baseball happening, I really could care less. If anybody was serious abut trying to clean up, all the sports, professional and "amateur," would band together and pool money and come up with a system that at the very least would make it expensive and difficult to cheat. It's like anything else, you can't make your car impossible to steal, but you do whatever you can to make it require specific skills and/or equipment so that any old idiot can't do it. If it cost a lot, most people couldn't afford to do it. The current patchwork system is just stupid.
Saw a terrific movie on DVD. It's called The Lookout and it's one of the best things I've seen in a while. Good story, excellent acting.
Getting ready for vacation. Of course the main thing that one mostly does to get ready for vacation is work, because that's what makes you need the vacation in the first place. The craziest thing about making a packing list thses days is the number of chargers you need. I made a list off the top of my head and had about a half dozen things, but it keeps getting added onto. We have 4 cameras and a video camera (ugh, ugh, ugh!) and every single one of them needs its own stupid battery charger. Plus cell phones (rented because Verizon phones don't work where we're going), computers, ipods, maybe a portable video player or two. Then of course the whole thing has to be adapted to foreign electricity. And I'm sure there's something I'm not thinking about.
Had parent conferences at school this week. I like parent conferences, though that may not be the majority view. I think the main complaint is that we have to do a full workday and then do anywhere from 10-20 meetings in the evening, but since I usually try hard to understand all of my students, meeting the parents is a helpful step.
Friday, December 07, 2007
Strange Days
If you're interested in the details, this is how everything unfolded.
Wednesday afternoon I wasn't feeling well, so I went to sleep until around 6:30 with the phone turned off. I didn't notice that the voice mail light was flashing when I got up, but I don't always check it even if it is. I don't like talking on the telephone.
Thursday morning I'm in the middle of a class when I'm suddenly told that there's an emergency and I need to take a phone call. My wife says that there were 2 voice mail messages from Wednesday around 6PM, one from my sister and another from a family friend, saying my mother had had a heart attack and was in critical condition. I called my sister and she said that she'd called my cell phone twice and left voice mails. The voice mails were there, but my phone hadn't rung all day (thanks, Verizon). She said things looked grave.
I got the next train to Connecticut and as I was arriving in Stamford, my sister called to say that, much to everyone's surprise, my mother was conscious and seemed to be doing better. I got to the hospital a few minutes later and she was in distress again, which continued for a couple of hours until the doctors got things under control and she fell asleep comfortably.
After that I hung around and had several hours of small talk with my father and sister and brother. By midday today things seemed stable and there wasn't a compelling reason to stay and I wanted to sleep in my own bed. So here I am. I'm exhausted, but it's the weekend. This was my second trip to the hospital in 5 days, so who knows what will come next. It's just wait and see.
If you're interested in the details, this is how everything unfolded.
Wednesday afternoon I wasn't feeling well, so I went to sleep until around 6:30 with the phone turned off. I didn't notice that the voice mail light was flashing when I got up, but I don't always check it even if it is. I don't like talking on the telephone.
Thursday morning I'm in the middle of a class when I'm suddenly told that there's an emergency and I need to take a phone call. My wife says that there were 2 voice mail messages from Wednesday around 6PM, one from my sister and another from a family friend, saying my mother had had a heart attack and was in critical condition. I called my sister and she said that she'd called my cell phone twice and left voice mails. The voice mails were there, but my phone hadn't rung all day (thanks, Verizon). She said things looked grave.
I got the next train to Connecticut and as I was arriving in Stamford, my sister called to say that, much to everyone's surprise, my mother was conscious and seemed to be doing better. I got to the hospital a few minutes later and she was in distress again, which continued for a couple of hours until the doctors got things under control and she fell asleep comfortably.
After that I hung around and had several hours of small talk with my father and sister and brother. By midday today things seemed stable and there wasn't a compelling reason to stay and I wanted to sleep in my own bed. So here I am. I'm exhausted, but it's the weekend. This was my second trip to the hospital in 5 days, so who knows what will come next. It's just wait and see.
Ambiguity
Well, it looks like my mom is going to pull through again. This is the second time in a week that we've had major incidents that made us feel like this might be it. My mom has had ALS for 9 years. There's no cure and the effects are irreversible. The average prognosis from onset is around 5 years.
In a case like this, one can be excused feeling a bit torn. I don't really feel like expounding on the meaning of life at the moment, but I can't help thinking about it a bit. On one hand, life is precious and even the shadow of my mother that remains is a big part of my father's life. On the other hand, she was such a vibrant, active person that I can't imagine that she'd want to continue in this state indefinitely. Life versus death is about as clear a distinction as can be made. However, a person reasonably take the view that life should be extended as long as possible and just as reasonably take the view that it would be a blessing to everyone if it was just over. I don't find the existence of two diametrically opposed views so interesting. What's interesting is that I can feel them both simultaneously.
Well, it looks like my mom is going to pull through again. This is the second time in a week that we've had major incidents that made us feel like this might be it. My mom has had ALS for 9 years. There's no cure and the effects are irreversible. The average prognosis from onset is around 5 years.
In a case like this, one can be excused feeling a bit torn. I don't really feel like expounding on the meaning of life at the moment, but I can't help thinking about it a bit. On one hand, life is precious and even the shadow of my mother that remains is a big part of my father's life. On the other hand, she was such a vibrant, active person that I can't imagine that she'd want to continue in this state indefinitely. Life versus death is about as clear a distinction as can be made. However, a person reasonably take the view that life should be extended as long as possible and just as reasonably take the view that it would be a blessing to everyone if it was just over. I don't find the existence of two diametrically opposed views so interesting. What's interesting is that I can feel them both simultaneously.
What's Going On With Me
My mom is stable and they're preparing to move her out of the Coronary Care Unit to the Intensive Care Unit, which is just down the hall, pending approval of the attending doctor. All the signs are at least not negative. If things stay stable I'll come home, because this could go on indefinitely. My father's been living with this kind of roller coaster for quite a while now, but I want to sleep in my own bed.
I'll expand on the whole experience when I'm not so tired. I really appreciate all the kind messages I've gotten.
My mom is stable and they're preparing to move her out of the Coronary Care Unit to the Intensive Care Unit, which is just down the hall, pending approval of the attending doctor. All the signs are at least not negative. If things stay stable I'll come home, because this could go on indefinitely. My father's been living with this kind of roller coaster for quite a while now, but I want to sleep in my own bed.
I'll expand on the whole experience when I'm not so tired. I really appreciate all the kind messages I've gotten.
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
Sunday, December 02, 2007
Beacon
If you follow news about the Internet, or if you use Facebook, you may have heard of Beacon, their new advertising system. Thanks to this system, Facebook is watching you even when you’re not looking at Facebook. If you buy something from Overstock.com or movie tickets on Fandango or shop at a few dozen other sites, Facebook will notify your friends as part of your news feed. You can say no, but as of this moment you have to say no every time you shop at these places.
All I can say to you is, if you’re going to keep using Facebook, and after a stunt like this I’m not sure it’s advisable, you need to be aware that your every move is being tracked and analyzed as a way to extract money from your bank account. Facebook is no longer something fun and cute. It is now a huge corporate enterprise that’s under constant pressure to raise profits and you are the ones they’re going to be making those profits from. Also, if you’re buying presents for people, be aware that they may be getting news about what you’re buying.
Just remember that Internet privacy is oxymoronic.
If you follow news about the Internet, or if you use Facebook, you may have heard of Beacon, their new advertising system. Thanks to this system, Facebook is watching you even when you’re not looking at Facebook. If you buy something from Overstock.com or movie tickets on Fandango or shop at a few dozen other sites, Facebook will notify your friends as part of your news feed. You can say no, but as of this moment you have to say no every time you shop at these places.
All I can say to you is, if you’re going to keep using Facebook, and after a stunt like this I’m not sure it’s advisable, you need to be aware that your every move is being tracked and analyzed as a way to extract money from your bank account. Facebook is no longer something fun and cute. It is now a huge corporate enterprise that’s under constant pressure to raise profits and you are the ones they’re going to be making those profits from. Also, if you’re buying presents for people, be aware that they may be getting news about what you’re buying.
Just remember that Internet privacy is oxymoronic.
Train Blogging
It’s Saturday morning and I’m on the train. I’m going to Connecticut to see my mom, who’s in the hospital again. She has advanced ALS (Lou Gehrig’s disease) and can neither move nor communicate. She got terribly sick a couple of days ago and spent a couple of days in a kind of coma, but she’s out of it now and though I’m already tired and this is an exhausting experience, I’m going to say hi and give her a kiss and hold her hand and tell her what I’m up to.
At the train station this morning, in addition to learning that this is National Elevator and Escalator Safety Week (who decides these things anyway? Is anybody checking to see if this is really the case or could I just say that next week is National Duct Tape Appreciation Week put up signs in hardware stores and everybody would just say, “Yeah, okay, duct tape is pretty cool, I guess” and move on unquestioningly?) I was in one of the 7 places in the station where you could buy coffee and a bagel and the loudest alarm I’ve ever heard went off in the store. It was coming from the fire alarm, and though I neither saw nor smelled a fire, I quickly exited in case the sprinklers suddenly came on. Amazingly, nobody else in the store even moved. They kitchen workers glanced around, but kept at their routines. The customers sat at their tables. Mind you, aside from the fact that an alarm is intended to induce, well, alarm, there was a 110 decibel (a logarithmic scale, by the way) high pitched shriek that was even loud on the other side of the concourse. Maybe we need a National Alarm Alarmedness Week.
The train, as it heads north out of New York, provides a spectacular view of Manhattan. It parallels the Triboro Bridge and crosses Randalls Island. I see the fields where I used to play softball and the place where we’d huddle under the bridge if it was raining. The island also has a mental hospital on it, and something called Icahn Stadium, named after the corporate raider, Carl Icahn, presumably by himself. But I see nothing resembling a stadium. Just a football field with lights and metal bleachers.
There’s no internet on the train, but if you leave the network sniffer on, you see networks appear and disappear as you pass through neighborhoods.
I’m reading an article about a famous avant-garde stage piece called Einstein on the Beach, by Philip Glass and Robert Wilson, which I saw back in 1984. It’s an extraordinary piece of business, over 5 hours long without an intermission, and things happen so slowly and repetitively that even if you take a ten minute break at any point, you’re unlikely to miss anything. There’s no story and no consistent musical theme, just a bunch of tableaux. The one I remember best is The Train, where a woman stands on a platform on the back of a train and a man stands off to the side. It’s possible that they are singing to each other. What they’re singing is a series of tightly timed and subtly changing numerical phrases. To get the flavor of it, try singing the numbers 1 to 3 to yourself, very quickly an rhythmically and then after about five minutes, adding 4 for about 3 minutes, then just 1 and 2. Occasionally change from 3/4 to 6/8 time. All the while the train is moving very very very slowly toward the back of the stage. At least you think it is, but it’s so slow you can’t be sure. This goes on for about 20 minutes and then stops for no apparent reason. It also has dance pieces that are equally long and repetitive. The dancers do get to go offstage for a minute here and there. I remember one piece where they were doing some kind of circular pattern, then one of the dancers disappeared and returned 5 minutes later with a ace bandage wrapped around her knee, then disappeared again, not to return.
I’m writing this as I travel, but I can’t post it mid-trip. I’m now on my way home. I just need to mention a little bit of rental car haggling that took place when I got to Stamford. I only needed to go a short way to the hospital, but the taxis in Stamford…Not so bad during the winter, but during the summer my seminal taxi experience was walking up to the lead cab and the guy is in the driver’s seat, shoes off, clipping his toenails into the street. All of the cabbies there are Haitian, and while there may be many fine people in Haiti, those who emigrated to Stamford, CT are not. Plus it’s hellishly expensive. So it costs basically the same to rent a car.
So I go into Avis having reserved a subcompact, and the guy asks me if I want to upgrade to a midsize for only $6 extra. I say no thanks, I’m only going a few miles. He says, how about a small SUV? I say, I’ll take a bigger car but I’m not paying any extra. He says okay, I’ve got a subcompact for you. He fills in the contract and gives me a key and says it’s a G6 in space 9 and I know instantly that he’s been trying to scam me. The G6 is a midsize. They don’t have any subcompacts there, and he’s just trying to squeeze the extra 6 bucks out of me. When I return the car it’s a different guy and I tell him what happened and he just smiled and said yeah, we’re supposed to do that.
The Stamford Transportation Center, as it’s called, is a train station. They seem to think that because there’s a bus stop across the street on one side and a parking lot on the other side and I-95 next to it that it’s some sort of multimodal hub, but it’s just a monstrously ugly train station, sitting over the tracks on some concrete pillars. I’ve taken the train from Stamford to Philadelphia more than 50 times. When you get there, the board always says it’s on time and it never, repeat, never is. Three minutes late is the best I’ve seen, but more normally it’s between 10 and 30. This is comforting if you’re late, but annoying if you’re not.
These have been two completely uneventful train rides, easy and timely. Very unusual, I must say. My mom is doing pretty well, but they still don't know what caused this episode.
It’s Saturday morning and I’m on the train. I’m going to Connecticut to see my mom, who’s in the hospital again. She has advanced ALS (Lou Gehrig’s disease) and can neither move nor communicate. She got terribly sick a couple of days ago and spent a couple of days in a kind of coma, but she’s out of it now and though I’m already tired and this is an exhausting experience, I’m going to say hi and give her a kiss and hold her hand and tell her what I’m up to.
At the train station this morning, in addition to learning that this is National Elevator and Escalator Safety Week (who decides these things anyway? Is anybody checking to see if this is really the case or could I just say that next week is National Duct Tape Appreciation Week put up signs in hardware stores and everybody would just say, “Yeah, okay, duct tape is pretty cool, I guess” and move on unquestioningly?) I was in one of the 7 places in the station where you could buy coffee and a bagel and the loudest alarm I’ve ever heard went off in the store. It was coming from the fire alarm, and though I neither saw nor smelled a fire, I quickly exited in case the sprinklers suddenly came on. Amazingly, nobody else in the store even moved. They kitchen workers glanced around, but kept at their routines. The customers sat at their tables. Mind you, aside from the fact that an alarm is intended to induce, well, alarm, there was a 110 decibel (a logarithmic scale, by the way) high pitched shriek that was even loud on the other side of the concourse. Maybe we need a National Alarm Alarmedness Week.
The train, as it heads north out of New York, provides a spectacular view of Manhattan. It parallels the Triboro Bridge and crosses Randalls Island. I see the fields where I used to play softball and the place where we’d huddle under the bridge if it was raining. The island also has a mental hospital on it, and something called Icahn Stadium, named after the corporate raider, Carl Icahn, presumably by himself. But I see nothing resembling a stadium. Just a football field with lights and metal bleachers.
There’s no internet on the train, but if you leave the network sniffer on, you see networks appear and disappear as you pass through neighborhoods.
I’m reading an article about a famous avant-garde stage piece called Einstein on the Beach, by Philip Glass and Robert Wilson, which I saw back in 1984. It’s an extraordinary piece of business, over 5 hours long without an intermission, and things happen so slowly and repetitively that even if you take a ten minute break at any point, you’re unlikely to miss anything. There’s no story and no consistent musical theme, just a bunch of tableaux. The one I remember best is The Train, where a woman stands on a platform on the back of a train and a man stands off to the side. It’s possible that they are singing to each other. What they’re singing is a series of tightly timed and subtly changing numerical phrases. To get the flavor of it, try singing the numbers 1 to 3 to yourself, very quickly an rhythmically and then after about five minutes, adding 4 for about 3 minutes, then just 1 and 2. Occasionally change from 3/4 to 6/8 time. All the while the train is moving very very very slowly toward the back of the stage. At least you think it is, but it’s so slow you can’t be sure. This goes on for about 20 minutes and then stops for no apparent reason. It also has dance pieces that are equally long and repetitive. The dancers do get to go offstage for a minute here and there. I remember one piece where they were doing some kind of circular pattern, then one of the dancers disappeared and returned 5 minutes later with a ace bandage wrapped around her knee, then disappeared again, not to return.
I’m writing this as I travel, but I can’t post it mid-trip. I’m now on my way home. I just need to mention a little bit of rental car haggling that took place when I got to Stamford. I only needed to go a short way to the hospital, but the taxis in Stamford…Not so bad during the winter, but during the summer my seminal taxi experience was walking up to the lead cab and the guy is in the driver’s seat, shoes off, clipping his toenails into the street. All of the cabbies there are Haitian, and while there may be many fine people in Haiti, those who emigrated to Stamford, CT are not. Plus it’s hellishly expensive. So it costs basically the same to rent a car.
So I go into Avis having reserved a subcompact, and the guy asks me if I want to upgrade to a midsize for only $6 extra. I say no thanks, I’m only going a few miles. He says, how about a small SUV? I say, I’ll take a bigger car but I’m not paying any extra. He says okay, I’ve got a subcompact for you. He fills in the contract and gives me a key and says it’s a G6 in space 9 and I know instantly that he’s been trying to scam me. The G6 is a midsize. They don’t have any subcompacts there, and he’s just trying to squeeze the extra 6 bucks out of me. When I return the car it’s a different guy and I tell him what happened and he just smiled and said yeah, we’re supposed to do that.
The Stamford Transportation Center, as it’s called, is a train station. They seem to think that because there’s a bus stop across the street on one side and a parking lot on the other side and I-95 next to it that it’s some sort of multimodal hub, but it’s just a monstrously ugly train station, sitting over the tracks on some concrete pillars. I’ve taken the train from Stamford to Philadelphia more than 50 times. When you get there, the board always says it’s on time and it never, repeat, never is. Three minutes late is the best I’ve seen, but more normally it’s between 10 and 30. This is comforting if you’re late, but annoying if you’re not.
These have been two completely uneventful train rides, easy and timely. Very unusual, I must say. My mom is doing pretty well, but they still don't know what caused this episode.
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