How to make a long story...long

What we did in Istanbul- day by day, taken and expanded from notes Rich wrote in my little Mulberry notebook.

Friday March 30…I want Iskender.

Flew from Oslo to Istanbul, arrived at hotel and given a sales pitch for activities and apple tea on rooftop of hotel. Decided against taking hotel sponsored tours at overinflated prices and instead took the tram to Aksaray district and ate at Sait Iskender, where I had had amazing food when I stayed with Mom and Dad at the hotel across the street lastOctober. Aksaray District is kind of rough, rumored to be all Russian Mafia run, but once you’ve been there you aren’t scared anymore and it’s fine. I think Rich wigged a bit, though. Defintiely not a touristy area.

Saturday, March 31 Rain, Fish, the Orient Express and a Broken Ass.

Busy Day. Also very cold, rainy, windy. Crap weather. We saw Hagia Sophia and Basilica Cistern, walked around area, had lunch at local restaurant, Karadeniz, which ended up being one of the best cheapest meals we had there. Went and saw tomb of Sultan Ahmet, local ladies very rude to me. Walked around the Hippodrome, then wandered through Cavalry bazaar (old stables behind the Blue Mosque). Were going to go in to the Blue Mosque but I fell down hard on uneven pavement outside and decided, right, that’s it, bugger this tourist shit, I need a break. (If I was 70 or so that fall would have been a hip breaker).

Went back to hotel for brief rest and to sooth my bruised self. Glad I fell on fat part of hip and not the boney part. Did wrench my arm fairly well, though. Ow.

Took ibuprofen, and carried on via tram to Sirkeci station, to the old train station that used to be the end of the Orient Express. Had beer in the old very beautiful restaurant there. Rich said that when he was a baby he and his family took the orient Express Train from France to Istanbul. Cool.

Carried on from there to the Galata Bridge and then had dinner at pne of the many fish restaurants under the bridge. I don’t necessarily recommend them. The fish is fresh but the pricing is a bit strange and they are definitely out to screw you so you have to be VERY aware of prices and hidden charges. This is the biggest overall problem with Istanbul…everyone will screw you out of your money in the nicest way possible. You have to ask the price of everything you touch, eat or look at and then bargain hard. Never order food without first asking the price.

Sunday April 11, 2007 Palaces and More Fish

Weather started off crappy, but got better by afternoon.

Went to Blue Mosque, I did not fall, so that was fortuitous.

Saw the Baths of Roxelana, a very very beautiful hammam that is no longer in use, but is instead a fixed price carpet shop run by the state. They have left the hammam in its original state, however, and it is a shame that it is not still in use as it is exquisite. The rugs were decent prices, though. We both would have liked to have bought one, but apparently have opposite tastes in carpets (he wants brown and I don’t) so never settled on one. We were both united in our desire to NOT buy a rug from a traditional carpet seller. I was just not in the mood to bargain and did not want the hard sell. Strange, I was generally not in a shoppy mood the whole trip.

Went to Topkapi palace, waited forever to get into the harems. Breezed through rest of palace, too crowded to see the jewels, however, and no matter how impressive I am not willing to wait in a line that long.

Had lunch at Konalyi Café, on the back side of the Topkapi, overlooking the Bosphorus. Day was sunny and our overpriced lunch very satisfying.

Walked through Gulhane park, Great flowers. Tulip season, tulips are very popular in Turkey and Turkish art.

Tea at Cafer Aga Courtyard, an old medrese (Islamic school). Very nice, sunny, warm and not overpriced, huzzah!

Rested at hotel.

Tram across the Golden Horn to Beyoglu for a wander and fish dinner. Very fresh fish. Great atmosphere. Tea and dessert at one of the pasaji that are popular, got ripped off by waiter by forgetting cardinal rule and not asking price of dessert. Charged us 4x usual cost of baklava and tea. Grrr.r….

Walked back down very steep hill past Galata Tower (Genoese, 15^th Cent.) and across bridge back to hotel. Saw largest rat I’ve ever seen. Cats everywhere, but this rat was a beast. The Cat Killer.

Monday April 2 Cruisin’

Took Bosphorus Cruise…10 turkish lira round trip for all day boat ride, great deal. Boat stops at Anadolu Kavagi for three hours, so we had a nice fish lunch and took a ‘short walk’ (according to guidebook) up to castle on top of hill. “Short Walk” is a bit of an understatement, more like “giant fucking uphill hike” but we made it and had views of the Black Sea and the Bosphorus. Then clambered back down where lunch was highly deserved. Gorgeous day.

After boat tour, ended about 4:30, went to New Mosque (new as in 15^th century), the Egyptian Bazaar, the pet market outside there, Rustem Pasa Mosque (gorgeous little jewel of a mosque) and then wandered around the alleyways behind the Egyptian Bazaar. Many alleyways all bustling with activity and shops. Took tram back to Sultanahmet area and had dinner at the Sultanahmet Khoftesi, the original one, where you get a great basic meal for cheap. Yum. Once again the cheap places are the best. Crashed at about 10pm.

Tuesday April 3 Shop til you Drop

Rich geeked out at the Archeological Museum all morning and most of afternoon. Saw some Byzantine ruins (many of those around) and then wandered through Gulhane Park where he had tea.

I went to the Grand Bazaar, where I bought some beautiful Iznik style plates and bowls and house hold stuff. (I wanted new dishes.) I had a nice lunch at the Bazaar guided by my new friend Mustafa, who sold me some of the plates I bought. I had met him on my previous visit. He remembered my parents. I was also offered portage services by men who apparently were so blown away by my touristy green eyed beauty they could just not resist calling to me (or was it my wallet they called?) I didn’t mind being called ‘Elizabeth Taylor’, though.

Rich and I met back up at 3pm, went back to the Beyoglu district and walked all the way up Istiklal Caddesi to Taksim Square. Ate at a brew pub style restaurant, that was nice. Decent beer. Found a Starbucks, a treat as we don’t have them in Norway. Tried to see Galata Tower, closed, so called it a day and trammed back to hotel.

Wednesday April 4 The Bad Day, or You People Suck

Took Tram to Beyazit, negotiated back streets to find Suleymaniye Mosque. I was not allowed inside, even though I wore a scarf over my hair, thick black leggings (pants, really) and a knee length dress. They made me wear an extra skirt. I was pretty annoyed and frankly embarrassed, not helped by fairly severe PMS, and the knowledge that I had made an effort to cover myself when i dressed that morning and indeed only showed skin at ankles and wrists. How come I was not considered decent when bleach blonde Russian girls were going in and out in skin tight jeans and their bellies were showing? Anyhow, I didn’t think that mosque was as nice as the New Mosque. So there.

After that we went and wandered around the back streets behind the Grand Bazaar for a bit where I was continually eyed and stared at by men (WHY WHY WHY????) and Rich studiously ignored my obvious discomfort and pleas for him to please stick close to me. He was too busy being photo auteur. I was very glad to reach the Grand Bazaar where they were more used to red headed green eyed tourists. We ate lunch there, not so great, were overcharged yet again by a baby faced restaurant waiter, and then wandered over to the Mozaic Museum (interesting, hard to find). Shopped a bit in the Cavalry bazaar, then rested at the hotel for a bit before having some beers at a restaurant around the corner. All in all it was not a great day for me, the cultural differences were too harsh and I felt very, very foreign.

Thursday April 5 the Good Day, or You People Rule!

The thing about Istanbul, and, I bet, Turkey, is just when you are ready to tell everyone to go fuck themselves and you didn’t want to visit their stinky old country anymore anyway and you are just going to stay in the hotel and eat worms because nobody likes you, something happens and all the nice people in town come out and make you feel better. After that crappy day before, I met so many nice people everywhere. (Ok so we did have one incident where a cab driver kicked us out of his cab after we questioned whether he was using the meter or not.) (This by the way is always a legitimate question and it was just him being irascible that he was trying to get something by us and we caught him.)

It was a rainy day and we went out to see St Savior Church in Chora, a beautiful jewel like Byzantine church with some of the most remarkable mosaics in the world. It had been converted to a mosque and all the Christian mosaics were whitewashed over , which preserved them for 500+ years until they were rediscovered in the 1860’s.. They glittered and glowed and were stunning. The church\mosque is now a museum. Which was a relief for me as I did not want to have a repeat of the previous day’s experience, so it was nice to just pay and go in and not remove shoes or cover up or worry about cultural differences or anything.

After that I bought a couple of hot rolls from a really nice woman in a wonderfully aromatic bakery, then we bought some things from a guy who sold gorgoues well priced ceramics, then we caught a cab back to Sultanahmet area. (This cab driver did not kick us out.) Near our hotel was a church that was even older than Hagia Sophia, called SS Sergius and Bacchus (now a mosque) or Little Hagia Sophia, and that was such a nice experience. The guy who watched over the mosque was very nice, he put our shoes carefully on shelves inside the mosque, and let me go up the stairs and all over. The place was ancient in the extreme (5th century!) but perfectly maintained and lovely. No mosaics, that I could see, but just clean airy space and thick arched walls. The stone floors were a little worn under the carpets, making for uneven walking upstairs, and the stairs were built for giants, but oh what a place. I took lots of pictures. We had tea in the courtyard (mederse) outside. Many cats.

Rested and had late lunch at a restaurant we had found the night before near our hotel.

I went back to the Calvary Bazaar to consider buying this gorgeous Iznik patterned bowl I saw the other day. Rich went to the Museum of Turkish and Islamic arts, but found it too crowded, so ended up at the bazaar as well. I did end up buying the bowl, after spending a good half hour talking to the shop owner, who was the son of the former Imam of the blue Mosque. We talked about how it was being a ‘preacher’s son’ in the US vs being an Imam’s son, very similar. And we talked about traveling and stuff. Rich was in a shop nearby, negotiating over an oil painting of the Bosphorus and Golden Horn he liked. That day we both sort of shot our wads on things we had seen previously. We went back to the carpet store but could not decide again. Grr.

I went back to the hotel ahead of him, and stopped to talk to one of the guys who worked at our hotel. Told him we saw about a million churches and mosques that day…and he asked did I want to see one more…just under my feet? I said sure, warily, so he took me into a carpet shop, down some stairs into a basement, and there, in situ, were mosaics from an ancient church. Down another floor and there were arches and a bit of painting left and a tiny spring filled with the clearest, stillest water I have ever seen. Down in a basement, under a carpet store, in a nondescript building right next door to our hotel! A 5^th century church! Holy crap! I did not have a camera, and Rich was not with me, so I feel like it was my little secret that only I knew about. So cool, as he did not need to take me down there and did it on his own free will. This day totally redeemed my opinion of Istanbul, like somehow Karma knew I had been beaten enough the day before and I needed to see a better side of things.

We finished the evening, Rich and I, with an excellent dinner at the Orient Express restaurant in the old train station and a beer at a ‘British Pub’ that most Istanbullus would never be able to afford.

Flew back to oslo the next morning early early. Slept.

London part two, electric bugaloo

I totally cannot type when I have had wine. So srry if this is rife with error. (Ok, I can remember words like 'rife' but can't rememebr how to spell sorry? jeez.)

I got my hairs cut yesterday. Remember that movie, Edward Scissorhands? Well, it was a bit like that. The hairdresser, a cool guy named Michael, is like the Curly Hair God and he totally made my hair his bitch. (He has a salon, called Unruly. It's good. A bit wierd to find the first time, but an awesome place in this sort of Creative Idea Building, the Westbourne Studios, full of designers and stuff. cool. Very vibey. He also has a blog, go here for that.) Anyhow, at one point he had me stand up and he stood behind me and just scissored bits of my hair off my head. I was the hedge, he was the gardener. Just like in the movie. I saw my hair flying in every direction. A bit unnerving, but it totally worked, he cut off about three pounds of hair but he cut off just the RIGHT hair and I really like the cut i got. I will totally visit him again.

After the haircut and some shopping (I found the most awesome dress at Zara) I went to see Spamalot at the Palace theatre. That is THE show to see if you are a Python fan. Good fun and hilarious as hell. I totally want to see it again. Ohmigod it was HILARIOUS. I had to pee the whole time, and not from my unusually small bladder, but from laughing. It was THAT good. I met up with Martin (a coworker and friend of Rich's who is in town) and his daughterAimee for it, they just made it in time for the show after driving over half of England that day. God I laughed my ass off. At the end of the show, a confetti shower was unleashed from the ceiling of the theatre all over the audience and I had a metric ton of it in my cleavege, which I am saving as a souvenir. I took pictures of it, on the floor of the hotel, as I got undress it showered out of my dress and even I was amazed at how much got into my clothes,. I think I will make a dress out of it. Or maybe a shirt. Not sure how much I have. but there is lots.

Anyhow, Martin and I went out for drinks after the show (Aimee had to catch a train back to her grandparents) and we managed to stay out until 3:30 am. We went to a bar on Dover street full Hooray Henrys and posh blond women. Good wine, though. I, in a fairly stunning example of grace, took a cab back to the hotel and as the cab driver stopped suddenly outside the hotel, I flipped ass over applecorn onto the floor of the cab, my ass in the air and my wallet and coins all over the floor. This is easy to do in London cabs as the back seats are fairly roomy and if you aren't prepared at a sudden stop, you take a tumble. (Is anyone surprised when I say this is not the first time I've taken a tumble in a London cab?)I was giggling madly as I tried to get my dress off my face and my legs back onto the floor. Luckily it was just me in the cab, I had dropped off Martin at Victoria Station to catch his train back, so no one saw my ignominy but me and the cab driver. I got to bed at 3:30 and did not get up until noon, which put a damper on my Extreme Shopping Day I had planned. Instead I just wandered around King's Road with a massive and progressively more intense hangover, to the point where I gave up and went to a pub and had a warm beer in front of a cold fireplace. I did get some cute silver sandals, though.

This evening i met up with my cousin Edward at a restaurant called (and I will btucher this but never ye mind) Le Relais de Venise, in Marylebone (huh huh she said bone) Street, which serves only one dish: entrecote and fries. (Beef and taters.) And wine. Weeeeee! So we had beef and taters with special sauce and chatted and laughed. Both my young cousins are very handsome young men and Edward in particular is quite the style maven, very sleek in his Ted Baker suits and city pinstripes. We had a nice time, ending the evening at a sort of sad pub with strange drunk people singing tunelessly and loudly, with too many vowels and not enough consonants. There was one annoyingly poncy guy there who was from Miami, but spoke with a Brrritish accent, as he had lived in london for 10 years. Dude, sorry, but you don't pick up accent just cuz you live in Britain. Urg. If that weret he case, I'd be speaking English with a Norwegian accent!

It#'s 10:30 and i am going to crash now, I need my beauty rest.
Back to Norway tomorrow.

London is wierd

I don't know y'all. It's either me or it's London, but wierd things always happen to me when I am here.

Like last night? I went out to see my aunt and uncle and coming back to the hotel afterwards, the route I took was to get off at Mansion House station and then cross the Southwark Bridge on foot. As I was crossing the bridge (it's a big wide bridge, not a little namby pamby one) (and why am I using the term 'namby pamby?') I kept hearing this strange noise. Sort of rhythmic, snorty, strange. Like there was atroll or something following me. I looked around (it was night after all, a girl has to be careful) but saw no one. I looked over the bridge, and way down, at the foot of the bridge, in a doorway along the Thames Path, was a homeless guy asleep and SNORING loud enough to wake the dead. Or, in my case, loud enough that I could hear him over the traffic! WOw! I could kinda see why he might need to sleep outside, then, as a snore like that cannot be contained by any mere four walls.

Then, today? I got serenaded by a Tube employee. I asked him a question, something about my ticket, and he asked me if I was from San Francisco. I said, no, as one does when one is not from San Fransisco. I told him i wazs from Texas. He then said, "Oh well then you will know this gentleman" and proceeded to sing me an Elvis song. I told him that Elvis was not from Texas, but from Mississippi, to which he replied "Oh". Then he went off and sang Roy Orbison. After Roy he did some Johnny Cash. All the while he was singing to me there was this queue of people witing to ask him a quustion, and I tried to indicate that there were people waiting, but he was too busy singin' the blues. He was pretty good, though.

And i had a moment of complete bliss today too. Do you ever have those? Where you are just so fucking happy you get teary eyed? Itusually happens to me when I travel. You know, a MOMENT. (I've had many moments, everything from one when I was in Oxford when I was 20, to going to Moroco and being so excited I got verklempt, to seeing the Piazza San Marco in Venice for the first time. Good moments indeed.)
Today's moment was when I was walking across the Millenium Bridge. It was brilliantly sunny and briskly cold, with a very strong biting wind. Around me were all the monumental buildings of central London, and directly in front of me was St Paul's Cathedral and directly below me was the legendary Thames. As I walked the wind was so strong that I actually edged away from the sides of the bridge for fear of being blown off. But I have this THING for wind, it makes me want to holler and scream and jump and spread my arms wide and yell "I'm King of the World!" (I actually did do that on the Hill of Slane in Ireland, when the wind was so strong that you could lean into it and not fall over, it held you up. THAT was cool. A definite WAHHOOOO! moment.) I refrained from that, but my smile was so big that people walking past me smiled too. (Maybe they just htought i was nuts.) An added bonus was that wind did GREAT things for my hair, and I had a total wild flowy mane thing happening. (Typical, as I am getting it chopped off tomorrow, that i would have a really good hair day the day before.)

Then i went to Spitalfields Market and bought some cute and cheap street clothes, and had my favorite ever street food at this Indonesian stand in the market. I have it every time I go there. Then over to Covent Garden, for a bit of St Patty's day celebration, but it was so crowded I lost patience and hung out at a pub instead. THEN I wandered over to the National Portrait Gallery to see this exhibit called Face of Fashion. They should have called it 'We Love Kate Moss' because I figure about 30% o the photos were of her, and I personally can't stand the little crack ho so I was a bit dissapointed. Plus it cost 8 pounds to see it and it took all of 10 minutes to breeze through. The only bit I liked, besides the odd picture of Madonna and others, was this great portrait of Tilda Swinton, on whom I have a massive girl crush. She fascinates me.

After that I did a London Walks tour of 'haunted London' which was hilarious as it was mostly attended by a group of 15 year old girls from Kansas who were determined to get scared, though it was not scary at all, and I am now nostalgic for my silly 15 year old self who would take pictures of the tour guide and scream at nothing. Cuz I would SO have done that too.

Back to the hotel, in Southwark. If it is your first time in London I would not recomend it as you might think the area was a bit scary and the Tube is not directly nearby. Once you've been here about 30 times (as i think I have) it's great because you get to learn a new area of London, it's not scary at all AND the hotel has this awesome top floor bar where you can drink beer and blog. Which is what I am doing. And it's making me damned happy.

Tomorrow: Haircut. Spamalot. High Street Ken shopping and a side trip to Sloane Street.

My life rocks right about now.

stuff that happened in Paris

I feel like bullet points on this one.

• Everywhere we went we saw the entourage of the visiting President of Mongolia. He was driven around at a fast clip in a navy blue Peugeot, followed by 5 more of the exact same car. In the lead were at least 6 motorcycle cops and following behind all the motorcycles and Peugeots were two largish vans with big windows, filled to overflowing by the faces of desperate Mongolians taking pictures of everything they could as Paris whizzed past their windows. I think all their pictures must have been a blur. We saw them fly up to Notre Dame, then race past the Eiffel Tower, and then later the next day I saw the whole crowd shooting up the left bank of the Seine, sirens whining, Peugeots Peugot-ing, lights blinking and desperate cameras flashing plaintively at whatever they passed at street level.

• Our flight arrived in Paris at 9:15 am. I wanted to take a walking tour at 11am. In order to do this, I had to ask Rich to please take our luggage on ahead to the hotel while I ran to catch the tour. He very kindly did so, which enabled me to join a wonderful tour of the fashion history of Paris, taking in two century old shopping arcades, the Palais Royal and the legendary shop owned and run by Didier Ludot (on the premises that day and very tall and distinguished looking indeed)(scroll half way down the somewhat pretentious link for good photos and info). There are no prices in the window, it is very much the sort of place where if you have to ask you can't afford it. It is also by appointment only. Bummer, I would have loved to have checked it out. The owner was in and was rearranging his windows with the most marvelous dresses. We paltry tourists were ignored with nary a glance. We also went to Marc Jacobs new shop, a few doors down, and I scored a t shirt (ironically it says "London" with an image of a double decker bus on it) and a canvas bag. I figure I'll get a "Paris" t-shirt at Marc Jacobs when I go to London. The people in that shop were very nice and I got teased by the other ladies (ALL ladies) on the tour for my guerilla style of shopping. Hey, years of practice with an impatient husband has made me fast.

• Was that the longest bullet point ever or what?

• On that tour I was recruited to join a ladies expat social group by a British lady in a strange hat. I was flattered, but also mystified. It's a legit and fairly highbrow group, I have no idea what they want with a tattooed, trash talkin', beer swillin' Texan like me. anyhow, she made me SWEAR that if we ever move to Paris (the chance exists) that I look her up.

• After the tour I walked allllll the way from the Palais Royal, past the Louvre, and the Place Concorde up the Champs Elysees to the Arc de Triomphe, near which was our hotel. I realized as I finished that it was maybe a bit too much for me, having not walked that far in months, and wearing my cute, comfortable- but- not- for- 7- mile- walks, knee high black leather pirate boots. My feet were KILLING me.

• Rich and I met at a cafe near the hotel after my walk where we proceeded to start an evening of wine drinking that ended in about 6 bottles downed between the two of us. I also had a "when in Rome" moment and bought some smokes. Hell, I was drunk, we both smelled of cigarettes anyhow, and I WAS in Paris. Rich was tolerant of my smoking, something he generally would NEVER be. Must've been all that good wine.

• Every person we dealt with, whether at a restaurant, a shop or wherever, was extremely nice and we were not treated rudely once. I attribute this to the fact that we were both fairly well dressed (no jeans or sneakers for Rich, me all in black all the time and carrying my FAB purse) and we both made sure to bon jour the hell out of everyone we met wherever we went. The French always will greet you and acknowledge your entry into a place, and say "pardon" for every real or imagined infraction of space or etiquette. I found it very refreshing after living for so long in Norway where you might get a "beklager" (sorry) but only if someone knocks into you really hard.

• The first day and a half were relatively warm, the last day and a half were cold, but only because I did not dress warmly enough. Whenever I leave Norway I get this mindset that "I'm not in Norway, it won't be that cold" and then end up freezing my ass off as it IS cold, or at least cold enough to warrant more than the light jackets I bring. It also drizzled alot, but we were both armed with parapluy's.

• Our hotel room was so small that one of us had to sit in the middle of the bed if the other wanted to move around the room. The bed was not very big either. Luckily the front desk girl was extraordinarily sweet and moved us into a junior suite our last night (of three) and that made a huge difference. She would have moved us earlier but the place was fully booked.
  

pictures because words are too tiring

I'm going to write about our trip but I am swamped at work and then when I get home the last thing I wanna do is use a computer, think, write or be awake. I will write soon, but will you maybe put up with pictures instead?

No, je ne regrette rien....view from a tombstone at Pere Lachaise. Someone left a heart made of chestnut seeds on the crypt stone...it was very evocative, both sad and lovely.

Notre Dame at night. Beautiful from every angle.
Me in St Severin church. I think that was my favorite of the churches in Paris. (I saw four on Monday....yes four churches in one half day!) It has a colorfulness (amazing stained glass) mixed with age that I found very comforting. The area around was just twisty with medieval streets and passageways, great to wander and explore.

The courtyard outside St Severin. It was spooky at night. It's looking at the charnel house, a spooky word in itself. Can't you just see a ghost monk flitting through that yellow light?

Ducksembourg palace

In the gardens at Luxembourg Palace...isn't this the most arrogant looking duck?

rosey memories

Me in Paris in the gardens of the Hotel de Sully.

Gay Paree

Ah Paris. The memories....the good times....

Though I must admit, whenever I go to Paris, at some point I end up being really, really drunk. I think it's mostly because the wine is so good, so cheap and so everywhere. Actually, forget mostly. It's just because. I just can't resist good wine.

The first time I went to Paris, I went with my friend Julia, whom I have known since I was five. We were 17 that time. We went with a busload of German tourists from Hamburg. (I spoke neither French nor German, so relied on Julia to translate German when I needed it, which taught me to never trust your German best friend when climbing mountains, but that is another story altogether. ) I discovered rose' wine and drank alot of it one night. Pink wine! Cool! I was rather fond of the new (to me) idea that wine could be bought by the liter in these cute carafes and they would just refill them whenever you wanted. And it was cheap! And I was 17! And the waiter was cute! Woo!

That night I ended up quite wasted. I vaguely remember falling out of the elevator at our hotel when it got to our floor. The elevator landed an inch or so below floor level, I tripped over the height difference and did a face plant, landing giggling on the floor of the hall. Julia gamely picked me up by my armpits and dragged a laughing me back to our room. That night a windstorm blew through Paris and I distinctly remember being woken by the sounds of windows slamming and doors rattling and an American voice ringing out "Auntie Em! Auntie Em! It's a twister!" I giggled, then groaned at the discovery that 17 is not too young to have your first hangover, and went back to sleep.

The second time I went to Paris was in February 2005. You'd think I would be smarter after 18 years, wouldn't you? Hell no.

This time I went with my friend Karen. We went for a long weekend. It was cold and wet and rather bleak, but still, Paris worked its charm on me. I was a bit apprehensive to go, I will admit. I had some wierd experiences there that first time I went that I did not want to repeat. But, the people were nice, the food excellent and, as would be expected, Karla got drunk.

This time Karen and I went to this restaurant that was all inclusive, one price, including all the wine you could drink. ALL THE WINE YOU COULD DRINK. To someone living in Norway, this is not an offer, this is a dare. This is a life goal. This is nirvana.


So I drank. And drank. And drank. I vaguely remember the meal, something meat based. And then I drank some more. Sitting next to us at the restaurant were two nice guys, a little older than us (two years maybe, ok, but I still feel 23, so any guy who looks 40 to me is an older guy, I know I KNOW I'll grow up some day). They genially watched us drink our way through carafes and carafes of red wine. We chatted with them and found out they were pilots for Fedex. Nice guys. All of us were married except Karen, so it was not a pick up sort of situation, more like some Americans just saying hi in a foreign place. I got a definite "nice guy" vibe from them.

Anyhow, they said they knew a bar around the corner that was nice and would we care to join them for a drink. Yeah, like I hadn't heard THAT line before, but being drunk, and there being two of us, so we felt a bit safe, we said "Yeah, sure". So we went to a bar to have some more wine. I had an inkling that maybe I was three sheets to the wind when, on the way, I totally racked myself on one of those iron posts that they imbed in the sidewalks to keep cars off them? I learned that a) those things are exactly crotch height when you are almost 6 feet tall and b) girls can, in fact, nut themselves severely in the jumblies. OW.

Anyhow, drunk as I was I realized fairly soon that maybe it was time to get back to the hotel. I was shutting down and losing the ability to be charming (if I ever had it). I was a bit worried, also, about how to get the guys to not follow us or whatever. I mean, they had a very polite vibe but you never know.

Turns out, my impressions of people are pretty right on. And that my belief in the inherent goodness of people is always reinforced.

The two guys from FedEx were, in fact, born again Christians and were only walking us back to the hotel to make sure we were ok! There was brief talk of soul saving, but I think even they realized that might be a discussion wasted on two women who, at that point, were high-fiving each other for managing to get one foot in front of the other and snorting in laughter when one said the word "tree" and the other thought she said "pee".

We made it home safe and sound. The hangover the next morning, however, was definitely punishment from whatever God we had refused to have save us the night before, and his vengeance was severe.

That next day was also memorable because when we were walking around Montmartre and the Sacre Couer, a freak thunderstorm occurred and I saw a huge bolt of lightning hit the church steeple. Then there was a fierce hailstorm and everyone ran for cover under awnings and whatever we could find. The hail was marble sized and larger. And it was COLD. And WINDY. I was expecting frogs at any minute.

So, twice I've been to Paris, twice I've gotten way to drunk for my own good and twice freak wind storms have hit while I was there.

I really wonder if I should warn them before I come this time? Seems prudent.

snow, buns and travel

It's getting cold outside. Winter is now here, finally. Earlier this week I ventured out in a skirt with no tights and a t-shirt and sweater, it was quite warm. Now the cold is coming back and according to the news, it's gonna be a doozy. Rrrgg.....

Last fall I gave away my two warmest coats because I thought we were going to move to Dubai. Occasionally, as now, I sort of regret doing that. But I still have my puffy full length parka that I call The Duvet. So not sexy, but I could sleep outside in it and be fine.

In other news, color me confused. I think I have mentioned my addiction to boller. Oh yummy, yummy yeasty goodness sweet buns. They come in two forms, with and without raisins. I prefer without. The ones with raisins always make me feel like there is a bug in my bun, y'know? All brown and lurking.....

So this morning, giving in to the craving (I have gone a week now without a boller, and it's been DAMNED hard, let me tell you) I went to get me a bun, and they only had the ones with raisins. Fine, fine, but when I asked if they had any without raisins, they said they were 'out of them' until tomorrow. Out of the ones without raisins? Until tomorrow? And yet they still make the ones with?

Um, can't they just make up a batch of the dough, but not put raisins in and poof they have boller without raisins? Does this seem strange to anyone else? How can they be out, when it is simpler to make the damn buns without the raisins anyhow? Of course, to suggest that to the baker, you get a look that says, "But these come with raisins. I don't have any without." I felt like I was talking to that guy in Spinal Tap who insisted his amp "Goes to 11".

Plus, I always notice that the ones without raisins sell much faster, yet they always make more with. What the hell is up with that?

Dammit, this annoys me. I make space in my day to indulge (after a week) my craving and I am thwarted by a dunder headed baker who can't just leave the raisins out?

And it still snows.....

I have had some folks ask me about upcoming travel. I mean, it HAS been a month or more since I've been anywhere, last trip was to Tallin at New Year's.

Obviously, January was a travel free month, bummer.

But, coming up, I've got three trips planned. These are all places I have been before, but two of them I have never been to with Rich, so that will be new.

We'll go to Paris for a late Valentine's day trip. I've never been to Paris with someone I could actually, um, make out with, so that will hopefully make it even more interesting than my other trips. Not, of course, that I did not enjoy those, just that now I have someone to mack on.

Rich will have to go to the US for some family stuff in March, so I will take a long weekend in London while he's gone. I've been needing some things from Boots and definitely need a pub visit, or three.

Then not long after that, we will go to Istanbul. I really think Rich will like it, alot, and I feel like I have unfinished business there and that there is so much more to see.

We also looked at Barcelona for a trip, as neither of us has been to Spain, but Oh. My. God. the hotels were so expensive.....so that might have to wait a little, like, after Easter when prices drop a bit. It's expensive to travel around Easter, a big holiday in Europe. Everyone leaves.

In which the world reminds me how small it is

In the morning, on the way to work, I listen to news podcasts. Generally, I'll listen to NBC or ABC and if I can fit it in, the KUT podcast. KUT is Austin news.

Imagine, then, how happy/gobsmacked/amused I was this morning to hear the voice of my dear friend Oliver being interviewed on KUT as I listened to this morning's podcast. Oliver is the husband of my (also) very dear friend Lindsay.

It's just so strange to be on a train in a completely different part of the Earth and be taken straight back home by a voice which is so familiar to you.

This has happened before, of course. Maybe not quite as personally, but many times I've seen things that are based in Austin, or are from Austin, in totally different parts of the world.

Like the time Rich and I were in Budapest and an old movie filmed in Austin came onto the TV in this tiny little traditional wine bar we were sitting in. So strange to see that familiar landmark, the Texas Capitol building, there on the TV when you are in a completely foreign place.

The time I was in Turkey, hanging out in a youth hostel in a town near the ruins at Ephesus and met a guy from Austin with whom I have mutual friends.

When someone I know is mentioned in the media or a band from Austin plays in Norway and everyone acts like it's the second coming of Christ. (Texas music is WAY popular here.)

When you see someone you know, and you are both in different cities, way far away from home, and you're both like, "Whafuck? What are YOU doing HERE?"

And, of course, the vice versa when something from Norway comes into my consciousness when I am in Texas. Like when that bar named Oslo opened in Austin (it has since closed) and everyone I ever knew in Austin was all like "Have you been to Oslo yet? Is it like Oslo?" (Answers are Yes and No.)

Anyhow, in case you have forgotten or have just not thought about it lately, the world is a very small intimate place. And oddly enough, the more you travel, the smaller it gets.

More pictures of Tallinn

We did manage to get some shots of Tallinn in daytime.....

This is the outside of Contrevento, a really REALLY good Italian place. I mean, REALLY good. I was like Meg Ryan in that scene in "When Harry Met Sally" when I was eating my steak. It was REALLY good. Rich, of course, preteneded he did not know who that moaning orgasmic woman was at his table, but once I made him taste the steak, he sort of got why I was so vocal. And the pasta did not suck either. The restaurant, by the way, is in St Katerine's Passage, this ancient alleyway by the old city walls that has become home to artists. The Artist's Guild is there and there is lots to look at and buy.


A monk who reminded me of Rasputin, walking down the street.

I got an email out of the blue from some folks who run an educational website. They want to use some of my photos as aids for teaching about cultural geography. I checked them out, they are on the up and up and it's a really big and interesting website, and I am flattered as now I am a professional (albeit unpaid) photographer!

More photos of Tallinn below, plus do check the bighead blog for some other ones involving either my or other's large craniums in beautiful settings.

tallinn winter sunset

tallinn winter sunset, originally uploaded by karlakp.

We caught the evening (well, 3:30 pm) sunset at just the right time. This is a view from Toompea Castle walls overlooking Tallinn and the Baltic.

me and two old queens

me and two old queens, originally uploaded by karlakp.

Well, it's actually one queen, but still....this is in Kadriorg Palace Museum, Tallinnn.

Church exterior in Toompea castle, Tallinn

Church exterior in Toompea castle, Tallinn, originally uploaded by karlakp.

I love the black and white and the starkness of the church and the trees in winter sunset. I think this is a Lutheran church. Toompea Castle sits on a bluff overlooking the rest of Old Tallinn.

Beer

Some pictures of beer drinking in Tallin...........

At the Beer House.

Big glass of yum.

Can I have this to go, please?

Beer as big as yo' face.

And Ye Olde Crapper....for when ye've had too much o' the brew.

Why was I the only one who noted this?

On our flight to Tallinn on Norwegian Air, every seat had a little advertisement stuck to the tray tables. It's a new ploy to make some money, which, hey, that's fine with me, but I wonder who vets these ads, because maybe, just maybe they should sort of edit them first for appropriate placement?

So, I get into my seat, see the ad and bust out laughing. It's an ad for a new album by Norwegian singer Morten Abel:

Yeah, the title of the album was "Some of Us Will Make It".

And they put this ad on a PLANE!? A plane that's VERY FULL? In front of EVERY SEAT?

I dunno about you, but I don't want just SOME of us to make it, I want ALL of us to make it because if we don't it's gonna be one damned uncomfortable flight.

Nobody else on the plane saw the irony of it. I pointed it out to this one girl, and she just said, "Yes, it is a new album by a famous Norwegian singer". And I'm all, "Uh, yeah, but don't you think the title is a bit strange to be on an ad in a plane?" and she just shrugged and said "It's a good record". She totally didn't get why I was sniggering and taking pictures.

Is it just me or is this really funny? I still giggle thinking about it.

Night shots of Tallinn

Since it gets dark early this time of year, we took alot of shots at night while we were in Tallinn. This was in addition, of course, to the drinking and eating.

My camera takes AMAZING night shots. I don't know why or how, but as long as I hold it still enough, it sort of does the rest. I love that.....

Anyhow, following this are some shots of Tallinn at night. The moon was half full, so it also makes an appearance. It was so gorgeous.

This is looking down a little side street into the main square of Tallinn. Behind the tree is the Town Hall.


The main square at night. There was a guy sitting under the tree, playing didgeridoo. It was a big didgeridoo, and the sound was deep, round, primal and sexy, yet also timeless. It bounced off the walls and shivered on my chest. It was incredible. I got chills. I should also mention that didgeridoo is one of my favorite musical instruments, I love the depth of the sound and the rythmic nature of it. How wierd to have a traditionally aboriginal sound being played in a town that probably never saw anyone from that part of the world until the early 20th century, but how cool, too.

dusk sky in tallinn

blue sky moon over steeple, originally uploaded by karlakp.

The sun was almost set and the moon was up. It rested on the church spire for a while before it continued its journey. I think it might have been tired. Tallinn is STUNNING in every way.

cloudy moon over tallinn square

cloudy moon over tallinn square, originally uploaded by karlakp.

I love the way the moon is playing in the clouds...

3 days drunk...how're you?

Woo! I like Tallinn! I've done nothing but drink, eat and walk for three days. Woo! I'm fat, happy and have muscular calves.

So yesterday we found this cool little wine shop in a 14th century building. The owner was a fairly young guy whose "hobby" was wine, so he opened a wine shop. He had a couple of tables in there, wedged into this tiny shop filled with shelf upon shelf of wine, and offered wines by the glass. He also offered great conversation. What a charmer! We had a few glasses of vino each, and ended up talking to him for a couple hours. He also gave us some rather large samples of champagne..yum! We bought some bottles of it from him....I would always rather buy from a person who not only enjoys what they sell but also enjoys people. If you ever go to Tallinn, go to In Vino Veritas, and have a glass of wine and a chat with Michael, the owner. You won't be disappointed.

After that we had dinner reservations at an Italian place called Controvento. It was in a 14th century warehouse. (Notice a trend?) OHMYFUGGINGGOD I had the best steak I have ever had there. A really nice filet in a mushroom sauce...holy crap it was good. Washed it down with more wine. Yummy yummy wine...numm.....

So today it was a bit hard getting up, but we managed. We went first to the Kadriog park, where there is a palace built by Peter the Great for his mistress, a slave of war who got traded around as war booty until she ended up married to him and crowned as Queen Katherine. The palace there was not too large, rather cozy and lovely, and had a great collection of art from countries other than Estonia. Some nice Dutch artists and a decent collection of portraits. We wandered around the park briefly but it was too cold, so we headed back into town for...you guessed it...more food and drink. This time courtesy of the Olde Hansa, a medieval theme restaurant in a 14th century warehouse that is the be all and end all of tourist places, but actually manages to be authentic, charming, tasty and fun. The decor is phenomenal, the toilets were a hoot (I took pics, but you have to wait as I can't upload from this computer) the food was good and the whole place was lit by candlelight only. Gorgeous. For the boys, there's comely wenches galore, for the girls, there's boys in tights....what's not to love?

Tallinn is seriously one of the most gorgeous olde worlde townes I have ever seen...and did I mention the beer and the food?

Two local beers are widely available: Saku and A le Coq. They both have a good variety of flavors, my favorite always being the darker versions. At this one pub we went to, Hell Hunt, they also have a great selection of beers from Europe, all the ones I like including the Czech ones (Krusovice), Belgian wheat beers (Hooegarden) and similar yumminess. None go for more than $4 a pint.

There are lots of other good pubs, too....and believe me we hit as many as we could.

MMM......mmm...yummm.....weeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!