Rich got this shot during a ride on the vaporetto.
Its what you expect of a photo essay about Venice, gondoliers and the bridges on the Grand Canal.
Ah but there is so much more....keep scrolling down and you will see.
Thursday, June 16, 2005
Gondoliers and the Rialto Bridge, Venice
me across from the "House of Gold"
Across the Grand Canal is the Ca d' Oro, or house of gold. It used to be ornately painted and gilded on the outside.
Where I was standing was the outer edge of the fish market, one of the most beautiful markets I have ever seen, still in use every day.
Like my dress? I was feeling very artsy and girly that day.
blue boat and narrow alley, Venice
I think this is my favorite of all the pictures I found on Rich's camera. (All the ones I am posting today are taken by Rich, except the Cafe Florian one.)
I love the structure of it, with the blue boat the bottom and the long narrow alley balanced by windows. Really cool.
That alleyway is maybe 5 feet wide, probably more like four. Sometimes we would see rooftops touching over the alleys.
cafe florian
I grabbed Rich's camera away from him to take this picture. It's the famed Cafe Florian, on the Piazza San Marco. It's been there since the early 1700's. Room after gilded room of tables, frescos, velvet and very expensive coffee. You could also sit outside, where you paid even more, to soak in the atmosphere of the plaza (and smell of pigeon shit). In the evenings they had small orchestras play for the customers. Crowds would gather to hear. Free show for passers-by!
It was very crowded, very international and very overwhelming.
me and the miracle bridge, venice
This was a private bridge that went to someone's palazzo.
It was so amazing, so light looking,and yet it had been around for centuries. No visible means of support.
reflection laundry and boats
A picture of a "typical" Venetian residential area. This was a quieter area, off the beaten track, and apparently we hit laundry day. I guess dryers are hard to get in Italy. What do you do if you laundry falls into the water?
Anyhow, I love how much is going on in this shot...laundry and boats and buildings and water. Level upon level.
Wednesday, June 15, 2005
Piazza San Marco
Phome cam picture of Piazza San Marco.
If you are wigged out by birds, you will be ducking alot when you walk around there. The birds are everywhere...crazy. I was always afraid they would land on me.
The Piazza has not changed in 300 years...It was awe inspiring and I admit I got teary eyed on my first view of it. It's one of those elemental sights, where you go, "Oh, yes, I know this", because you have seen images of it so many times. It's in your brain already. To finally see it in person is overwhelming. I was definitely whelmed. Rich laughed as I wiped away the tears, then put his arm around me, like "Yeah, my wife's an emotional dork".
Incredible.
Back from Venice
We're back.
Our house is intact, the car not broken into. (We always grit out teeth when coming to the car after a trip...one too many vacation break ins.)
Huzzah!
Venice...ah, La Serenissima. Here are words to describe Venice:
Gorgeous, stunning, beautiful, infuriating, crowded, surprising, expensive, colorful, decadent, textural, frustrating, overwhelming, annoying, uplifting, rip-off, friendly, rude, modern, ancient.
All those words apply, and we felt them from minute to minute.
Venice is really something to see. It's just like in the Canaletto paintings. The water is a bluey-green shade. The buildings are all different colors, and like Rich's mom described the town, the ornate windows and shapes resemble lace. They all have stone windows and Gothic elements. Just gorgeous. You can't stop looking at the buildings. The town is ancient, basically unchanged since the 18th century. It was first settled in the 9th. Many many buildings still in everyday use are 14th and 15th century. The upkeep on these buildings is tremendous. It's basically, to be honest, a town that's dead on the water. Like an old ship that's listing, and through monumental effort (and charging tourists outrageous prices for EVERYTHING) they manage to keep it afloat. They say not to go in August, when heat coupled with moisture make it quite smelly. I can see that, as you can see many buildings decaying before your eyes. Gorgeous death.
We did not see ONE car from the minute we left the airport (by boat.) There are NO CARS on Venice. None. No bikes or mopeds either. You can't use wheeled vehicles there, because all the bridges are up and down steps. You either walk, or take a vaporetto (water taxi), but you mostly just walk. And walk. It's a small town, but very convoluted, so you can't get anywhere in a straight line ,and you most certainly cannot navigate the town without a map. We got lost many times and ended up in a completely different part of town than the one we were aiming for. Best way to get around is to get a vaporetto, and then tunnel into town from the drop-off point.
The hotel was pretty nice, well located right by Piazza San Marco. The bed was HUGE. We slept well in it. The room was small, but adequate, though decorated in what can only be called "Ventian Whore", all red drapes and wallpaper and green painted furniture. Four poster bed, lovely, but with sticky-outy bits that I was constantly running into. I am bruised all over. Ouch.
While the hotel and rooms were decent, the evening desk clerk was the most obnoxious person I may well have ever met, and really did his best to ruin the experience of Venice for me, by among other things, giving me the wrong room key one evening, then insisting he was right and I was wrong. (Like, I KNOW my room number, and this AIN'T it, buddy.) He finally looked up our room in his records, saw I was right, and then could NOT FIND our room key. I was worried, like was there someone else in our room? (And he never apologized for the mistake or his assumption I was wrong. Just tossed the key at me.)
This was the same guy who would not give us an extra blanket when we called down for one on a cold night ("There is no one else here"), gave me some serious attitude when I commented on a piece of art in the lobby, and then, at the end, actually made me cry when I was checking out. (Their credit card machine was not working properly, and he blamed me and my card....that I had just used not 10 minutes before. He was AWFUL about it, like I was trying to commit fraud. Made me feel defensive and with my back against the wall. Offered no solutions, didn't even try calling the bank, just told me to find a way to pay. ("There's a cash machine around the corner". Yeah, because I have THAT much cash just sitting around to pay you, asshole!) He was a Class A, Grade One Woman Hating Jerk. Don't stay at Hotel Torino if you don't want to be annoyed by the smarmy night clerk.
I will get pictures from Rich tonight, and I have a few rolls to develop, myself, and will post some of them in the next day or so. As well as more descriptions of things including: good food, bad service; there is no such thing as "free" in Venice; why Norwegians and Italians should not mix; the Venice Biennale and the Trendsters; and why we did not take a gondola ride.
I will also offer advice for travelers that you really should know about....there's some interesting bank scamming going on.
Our house is intact, the car not broken into. (We always grit out teeth when coming to the car after a trip...one too many vacation break ins.)
Huzzah!
Venice...ah, La Serenissima. Here are words to describe Venice:
Gorgeous, stunning, beautiful, infuriating, crowded, surprising, expensive, colorful, decadent, textural, frustrating, overwhelming, annoying, uplifting, rip-off, friendly, rude, modern, ancient.
All those words apply, and we felt them from minute to minute.
Venice is really something to see. It's just like in the Canaletto paintings. The water is a bluey-green shade. The buildings are all different colors, and like Rich's mom described the town, the ornate windows and shapes resemble lace. They all have stone windows and Gothic elements. Just gorgeous. You can't stop looking at the buildings. The town is ancient, basically unchanged since the 18th century. It was first settled in the 9th. Many many buildings still in everyday use are 14th and 15th century. The upkeep on these buildings is tremendous. It's basically, to be honest, a town that's dead on the water. Like an old ship that's listing, and through monumental effort (and charging tourists outrageous prices for EVERYTHING) they manage to keep it afloat. They say not to go in August, when heat coupled with moisture make it quite smelly. I can see that, as you can see many buildings decaying before your eyes. Gorgeous death.
We did not see ONE car from the minute we left the airport (by boat.) There are NO CARS on Venice. None. No bikes or mopeds either. You can't use wheeled vehicles there, because all the bridges are up and down steps. You either walk, or take a vaporetto (water taxi), but you mostly just walk. And walk. It's a small town, but very convoluted, so you can't get anywhere in a straight line ,and you most certainly cannot navigate the town without a map. We got lost many times and ended up in a completely different part of town than the one we were aiming for. Best way to get around is to get a vaporetto, and then tunnel into town from the drop-off point.
The hotel was pretty nice, well located right by Piazza San Marco. The bed was HUGE. We slept well in it. The room was small, but adequate, though decorated in what can only be called "Ventian Whore", all red drapes and wallpaper and green painted furniture. Four poster bed, lovely, but with sticky-outy bits that I was constantly running into. I am bruised all over. Ouch.
While the hotel and rooms were decent, the evening desk clerk was the most obnoxious person I may well have ever met, and really did his best to ruin the experience of Venice for me, by among other things, giving me the wrong room key one evening, then insisting he was right and I was wrong. (Like, I KNOW my room number, and this AIN'T it, buddy.) He finally looked up our room in his records, saw I was right, and then could NOT FIND our room key. I was worried, like was there someone else in our room? (And he never apologized for the mistake or his assumption I was wrong. Just tossed the key at me.)
This was the same guy who would not give us an extra blanket when we called down for one on a cold night ("There is no one else here"), gave me some serious attitude when I commented on a piece of art in the lobby, and then, at the end, actually made me cry when I was checking out. (Their credit card machine was not working properly, and he blamed me and my card....that I had just used not 10 minutes before. He was AWFUL about it, like I was trying to commit fraud. Made me feel defensive and with my back against the wall. Offered no solutions, didn't even try calling the bank, just told me to find a way to pay. ("There's a cash machine around the corner". Yeah, because I have THAT much cash just sitting around to pay you, asshole!) He was a Class A, Grade One Woman Hating Jerk. Don't stay at Hotel Torino if you don't want to be annoyed by the smarmy night clerk.
I will get pictures from Rich tonight, and I have a few rolls to develop, myself, and will post some of them in the next day or so. As well as more descriptions of things including: good food, bad service; there is no such thing as "free" in Venice; why Norwegians and Italians should not mix; the Venice Biennale and the Trendsters; and why we did not take a gondola ride.
I will also offer advice for travelers that you really should know about....there's some interesting bank scamming going on.
Friday, June 10, 2005
Leaving you somethin' purty to look at
While I'm in Venice, here's something purty to look at.
It's a shot I took from a graveyard in Edinburgh, overlooking Holyrood House.
I may have mentioned my obsession with graveyards before?
Enjoy.
Or not. Whatever floats your boat.
It's a Tie!
The wierdest thing happened.
I clicked back onto the blog, to see where the stats were at, and there it was, big
Ten Thousand.
Right in mid whoop, as I'm whooping and hollering, Rich called me, saying, "Hey! I think I am number 10,000! When I went on-line, to check your blog, it said 10,000!" Wow, that's CRAZY, right, that he would be the one? (Besides being the One one, you know what I mean.)
Then Eileen posts a comment, that SHE was 10,000. Hmm. What's up?
So I checked the sitemeter stats, and I'll be damned if you guys did not go onto the blog at the EXACT SAME SECOND.
And now it seems stuck at 10,000. So you BOTH were ten thousand, though, when I go back to the Sitemeter thingy, it does say that officially Rich gets 10,000, wtih Eileen being 9999. Which is actually cooler than 10,000, in some ways as it's kind of like 6666 upside down, which is WAY evil. Eviler than evil, all things being evil.
So, Eileen, you get Extra Special Evil Minion status.
Because I think you broke my counter thingy. See? Evil already. Evil from afar. Ooouuh, are you in league with Kjersti to overthrow me so soon?
Rich, you get......well, maybe I won't mention what you get, it's not appropriate for a family blog such as this. But you'll always be my 10!
Ahem.
I clicked back onto the blog, to see where the stats were at, and there it was, big
Ten Thousand.
Right in mid whoop, as I'm whooping and hollering, Rich called me, saying, "Hey! I think I am number 10,000! When I went on-line, to check your blog, it said 10,000!" Wow, that's CRAZY, right, that he would be the one? (Besides being the One one, you know what I mean.)
Then Eileen posts a comment, that SHE was 10,000. Hmm. What's up?
So I checked the sitemeter stats, and I'll be damned if you guys did not go onto the blog at the EXACT SAME SECOND.
And now it seems stuck at 10,000. So you BOTH were ten thousand, though, when I go back to the Sitemeter thingy, it does say that officially Rich gets 10,000, wtih Eileen being 9999. Which is actually cooler than 10,000, in some ways as it's kind of like 6666 upside down, which is WAY evil. Eviler than evil, all things being evil.
So, Eileen, you get Extra Special Evil Minion status.
Because I think you broke my counter thingy. See? Evil already. Evil from afar. Ooouuh, are you in league with Kjersti to overthrow me so soon?
Rich, you get......well, maybe I won't mention what you get, it's not appropriate for a family blog such as this. But you'll always be my 10!
Ahem.
13
13 to go to 10,000.
Whoever is reading this post and is 10,000, let me know, ok? I'll have a general idea, but give me specifics.
Not only will you automatically be an evil minion, but you will be an extra SPECIAL evil minion.
I'm just sitting here, listening to this, my new addiction, and obsessively, yeay, even geekily, watching my counter.
Tick tock tick tock.
Whoever is reading this post and is 10,000, let me know, ok? I'll have a general idea, but give me specifics.
Not only will you automatically be an evil minion, but you will be an extra SPECIAL evil minion.
I'm just sitting here, listening to this, my new addiction, and obsessively, yeay, even geekily, watching my counter.
Tick tock tick tock.
In which the evil are brought low
Rain and thunderstorms are forecast all weekend in Venice.
I will use the term "atmospheric", ok? It will be ATMOSPHERIC, DAMMIT!
Yeah, atmospheric.
(sniff)
I will use the term "atmospheric", ok? It will be ATMOSPHERIC, DAMMIT!
Yeah, atmospheric.
(sniff)
I can finally talk about it!
To say I'm excited about going to Venice is like saying a kid is excited on Christmas Eve. It's Just. Not. Possible. For me. To Be. More. Excited.
Oh yeah, and Rich is psyched, too. Ahem.
I mean, seriously? Even the trip from the airport to the hotel is cool..the whole thing is by boat! And the boat is called the Alilaguna. Say it out loud to yourself. The Alilaguna. Don't you suddenly get all Italian and start saying it like "Ah-lee-lah-GOO-nah". 'Eh?
Getting the tickets for the trip was no problem, once I managed to find tickets that a) fit into the time slot Rich had free from work and b) were affordable. I spent two days looking at Dubrovnik, Riga, Istanbul, Greece, blah blah blah, but could never really get it to work out, so when I finally found affordable tickets to Venice (direct on Norwegian Air) I grabbed 'em.
Ah...then the hotel. No problem, I thought. Uh, yeah, Problem.
Ever hear of the Venice Biennale? It starts on the 12th. When I would call for hotels, they would literally laugh and say,
"You want a hotel this weekend? For the 12th?"
"Uh, yeah?"
(muffled sounds as hand goes over phone, explosions of mirth as in the background Guido and Giuseppe the Hotel Guys bust out laughing 'hey this American lady wants a hotel room for the Biennale!' hahahahahahahah!!!!)
(comes back to phone, mirthful giggles in background) "No, we aint'a got no hotel room. It's the Biennale!"
"Oh. Um....any suggestions who I might call?"
"No, it'sa kinda late. You might try down the street."
"Um....what street? Maybe you got a name of the hotel down the street? I'm calling from Norway."
"Oh...NORWAY, eh? Hmm. You sound American".
"Yes, I know." (It's best to let them think what they want to think in cases like this.)
"I been to America once, but I never been to Norway."
"Oh." pause. "It's nice". pause.
Then he would rattle off some hotel names, that I could never understand as he spoke so fast. And on it went. For about 30 calls to Italy. They speak good English in Venice, that I can say.
I finally managed to find a hotel on line. It looks ok, it's very central. Three star tourist class. No I won't post the name (yet) as Mr. Nosy Guts Richard will instantly google it to see how much it cost. As I bet you all would, too. (Here is where I plug Trip Advisor. Use it for hotel recomendations. It rocks.)
The hotel is on the Piazza San Marco. This is a picture on the hotel's website.
< >
Yeah, so it's a bit pink but whatever. It's in the "new" part of the hotel, which, by the descriptions, is 200 years old. The "old" part? 16th century.
So now I have to go pack. My wardrobe this trip will purely consist of romantic dresses, floaty skirts and a straw hat. La Dolce Vita, y'all. La dolce freakin' vita.
Also, I have found a way to post pictures to my flickr page (my ID on flickr is karlakp) via my camera phone. If I can get it to work in Italy, that is. So check flickr this weekend, and if all goes well, I might have a few things up.
Oh yeah, and Rich is psyched, too. Ahem.
I mean, seriously? Even the trip from the airport to the hotel is cool..the whole thing is by boat! And the boat is called the Alilaguna. Say it out loud to yourself. The Alilaguna. Don't you suddenly get all Italian and start saying it like "Ah-lee-lah-GOO-nah". 'Eh?
Getting the tickets for the trip was no problem, once I managed to find tickets that a) fit into the time slot Rich had free from work and b) were affordable. I spent two days looking at Dubrovnik, Riga, Istanbul, Greece, blah blah blah, but could never really get it to work out, so when I finally found affordable tickets to Venice (direct on Norwegian Air) I grabbed 'em.
Ah...then the hotel. No problem, I thought. Uh, yeah, Problem.
Ever hear of the Venice Biennale? It starts on the 12th. When I would call for hotels, they would literally laugh and say,
"You want a hotel this weekend? For the 12th?"
"Uh, yeah?"
(muffled sounds as hand goes over phone, explosions of mirth as in the background Guido and Giuseppe the Hotel Guys bust out laughing 'hey this American lady wants a hotel room for the Biennale!' hahahahahahahah!!!!)
(comes back to phone, mirthful giggles in background) "No, we aint'a got no hotel room. It's the Biennale!"
"Oh. Um....any suggestions who I might call?"
"No, it'sa kinda late. You might try down the street."
"Um....what street? Maybe you got a name of the hotel down the street? I'm calling from Norway."
"Oh...NORWAY, eh? Hmm. You sound American".
"Yes, I know." (It's best to let them think what they want to think in cases like this.)
"I been to America once, but I never been to Norway."
"Oh." pause. "It's nice". pause.
Then he would rattle off some hotel names, that I could never understand as he spoke so fast. And on it went. For about 30 calls to Italy. They speak good English in Venice, that I can say.
I finally managed to find a hotel on line. It looks ok, it's very central. Three star tourist class. No I won't post the name (yet) as Mr. Nosy Guts Richard will instantly google it to see how much it cost. As I bet you all would, too. (Here is where I plug Trip Advisor. Use it for hotel recomendations. It rocks.)
The hotel is on the Piazza San Marco. This is a picture on the hotel's website.
< >
Yeah, so it's a bit pink but whatever. It's in the "new" part of the hotel, which, by the descriptions, is 200 years old. The "old" part? 16th century.
So now I have to go pack. My wardrobe this trip will purely consist of romantic dresses, floaty skirts and a straw hat. La Dolce Vita, y'all. La dolce freakin' vita.
Also, I have found a way to post pictures to my flickr page (my ID on flickr is karlakp) via my camera phone. If I can get it to work in Italy, that is. So check flickr this weekend, and if all goes well, I might have a few things up.
Thursday, June 09, 2005
Secret's Out
I told Rich where we are going for his birthday tonight. I wasn't planning on it. I was actually going to post it here and then let him read it at work the next day.
But.
I had a margarita and have just eaten, I have a tummy full of food, and am hat and fappy. So, when he asked, for the thousandth time, where we are going, I finally gave in. I handed him four travel guides (one each for Istanbul, Dubrovnik, the Baltic States and Venice) and told him to pick the one he thought we were going to. (We will eventually get to all of them, which is why I bought all those books.)
Finally, his last choice was the correct one.
Venice.
Yee--fucking--ha! In the top ten of my personal "must go" places. Equally high on his list as well.
So, Richard, for your big 4-oh, we go to Venice.
Happy Birthday. I love you. We'll open your presents when we get there, ok?
But.
I had a margarita and have just eaten, I have a tummy full of food, and am hat and fappy. So, when he asked, for the thousandth time, where we are going, I finally gave in. I handed him four travel guides (one each for Istanbul, Dubrovnik, the Baltic States and Venice) and told him to pick the one he thought we were going to. (We will eventually get to all of them, which is why I bought all those books.)
Finally, his last choice was the correct one.
Venice.
Yee--fucking--ha! In the top ten of my personal "must go" places. Equally high on his list as well.
So, Richard, for your big 4-oh, we go to Venice.
Happy Birthday. I love you. We'll open your presents when we get there, ok?
Wednesday, June 08, 2005
If the Pope was really smart....
...judging by the effect a truly beautiful church has on people, if the Church (whether Catholic, Church of England, or whatever) was really smart, they'd have a guy at the front entrance, holding a large sheaf of "nun-papers" (or "priest papers" if you are a boy) whereby, when you are caught up in the spirituality and beauty of the church you have just entered, you sign away your soul and all your earthly possession just because you are so emotionally overwhelmed by the beauty around you.
I say this because I STILL remember, from 1987, a trip to St. Paul's in London. Julia and I walked in, and somehow we were lucky enough to be there when the choir was practicing just before a service. The main chorus guy (excuse my lack of knowledge of technical terms) invited us to sit in the choir seats during the service.
So there I was, all of 17 years old, sitting in the choir of St. Freaking Paul's Cathedral in London, listening to the most beautiful choral music I have EVER heard, and bawling my eyes out. During a service. With priests and dudes in dresses and all that stuff.
I mean this literally, if someone had handed me nun papers, it woulda been a done deal. I'd be wearing a wimple. (Well, let's be honest. Me? EVIL! And REALLY bad at chastity. And humility. And isn't there something about poverty? Eww. So I would been kicked out by now, but still, they would have gotten at least a few months of fervent nun-ness out of me. I am nothing if not enthusiastic.)
The best part of the nun-papers scheme is, that, when people realize what they have just done, the church could also have anti-nun-papers standing by, whereby, for a smallish fee, you can get back your soul and all your earthly possessions. I say a smallish fee in the most general of terms, of course.
Man, the church should totally hire me. My evil minions and I, we would totally rake in the buckage.
I say this because I STILL remember, from 1987, a trip to St. Paul's in London. Julia and I walked in, and somehow we were lucky enough to be there when the choir was practicing just before a service. The main chorus guy (excuse my lack of knowledge of technical terms) invited us to sit in the choir seats during the service.
So there I was, all of 17 years old, sitting in the choir of St. Freaking Paul's Cathedral in London, listening to the most beautiful choral music I have EVER heard, and bawling my eyes out. During a service. With priests and dudes in dresses and all that stuff.
I mean this literally, if someone had handed me nun papers, it woulda been a done deal. I'd be wearing a wimple. (Well, let's be honest. Me? EVIL! And REALLY bad at chastity. And humility. And isn't there something about poverty? Eww. So I would been kicked out by now, but still, they would have gotten at least a few months of fervent nun-ness out of me. I am nothing if not enthusiastic.)
The best part of the nun-papers scheme is, that, when people realize what they have just done, the church could also have anti-nun-papers standing by, whereby, for a smallish fee, you can get back your soul and all your earthly possessions. I say a smallish fee in the most general of terms, of course.
Man, the church should totally hire me. My evil minions and I, we would totally rake in the buckage.
my favorite church
St. James Church in Picadilly, London. By Christopher Wren.
I'm not a religious sort, but I do love this church and this is where I go to light candles and think about stuff. My own version of prayer, I guess.
Wierd, but when I was there on Sunday, for some reason I just started weeping and boohooing,and had a hard time getting myself together. Maybe sometimes it's better to not think too much.
Anyhow, this is a very powerful place for me. It has a nice sense of community, and I just like the vibe.
Wildest Imaginings
Wow.
On June 17th it will be my one year Blogiversary.** When I started this blog, it was basically a way for me to consolidate my stories about my traveling for my friends, all in one place, so that I would not have to email all the time. I also wanted a place to put pictures, and the occasional snarky comment. I basically just wanted an online diary, for my own fun, and others, should they choose to read. I had no idea how addictive it would become, and honestly, how necessary for my sanity. I think blogging has gone a long way to making me a little more satisfied with my expat experience, something with which I have been struggling with over the past few years. I feel connected, now, and maybe a bit more understood, too. There are others who feel the way I do. Thank you for your support, it has meant so much.
I think it has turned out the way I envisioned it, this personal adventure of blogging. I certainly have learned that blogging, with its quick commentary, the short "slice of life" story, is ideally suited to my writing style. I like that some folks think I am funny.....*I* think I am funny, of course, but then the voices in my head tell me many things. So it's nice to have outside confirmation that at times, yes, I can be funny.
What has blown me away, and this was something I never expected, is that it looks like I might reach the 10,000 readers mark by my one year anniversary as well.
THAT blows my mind.
Ten Thousand Hits. Here. To lil' ol' me? Wow. I know, I KNOW I am small fry as far as blogs go, but 10,000 was my big, bad "Wow what if?" number. Ten frigging thousand.
Do me a favor: If you are checking the blog, and the number 10,000 comes up when you are on here, leave a comment, ok? Tell me where you are reading from and who you are (you can send an email if you prefer to be private) and I will celebrate you and your being number 10,000 somehow....ok?
**Um, in the interest of marital happiness, I suppose I should mention that June is also a big month for two other reasons: my 12th wedding anniversary, which is the 26th, and Rich's 40th birthday, which is the 13th. I am whisking him off for a surprise for his b-day, which I cannot post about yet, as he obviously reads this blog. Damn nosy husband......
On June 17th it will be my one year Blogiversary.** When I started this blog, it was basically a way for me to consolidate my stories about my traveling for my friends, all in one place, so that I would not have to email all the time. I also wanted a place to put pictures, and the occasional snarky comment. I basically just wanted an online diary, for my own fun, and others, should they choose to read. I had no idea how addictive it would become, and honestly, how necessary for my sanity. I think blogging has gone a long way to making me a little more satisfied with my expat experience, something with which I have been struggling with over the past few years. I feel connected, now, and maybe a bit more understood, too. There are others who feel the way I do. Thank you for your support, it has meant so much.
I think it has turned out the way I envisioned it, this personal adventure of blogging. I certainly have learned that blogging, with its quick commentary, the short "slice of life" story, is ideally suited to my writing style. I like that some folks think I am funny.....*I* think I am funny, of course, but then the voices in my head tell me many things. So it's nice to have outside confirmation that at times, yes, I can be funny.
What has blown me away, and this was something I never expected, is that it looks like I might reach the 10,000 readers mark by my one year anniversary as well.
THAT blows my mind.
Ten Thousand Hits. Here. To lil' ol' me? Wow. I know, I KNOW I am small fry as far as blogs go, but 10,000 was my big, bad "Wow what if?" number. Ten frigging thousand.
Do me a favor: If you are checking the blog, and the number 10,000 comes up when you are on here, leave a comment, ok? Tell me where you are reading from and who you are (you can send an email if you prefer to be private) and I will celebrate you and your being number 10,000 somehow....ok?
**Um, in the interest of marital happiness, I suppose I should mention that June is also a big month for two other reasons: my 12th wedding anniversary, which is the 26th, and Rich's 40th birthday, which is the 13th. I am whisking him off for a surprise for his b-day, which I cannot post about yet, as he obviously reads this blog. Damn nosy husband......
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
Four Costumed Krauts
I was walking thru Hyde Park, and right there, on the big roundabout was a large stage set with a full orchestra. Hmm, interesting. Playing Beethoven. OK, so I'm not used, in general, to seeing orchestras on roundabouts, but hey, it's London, they do strange things sometimes.
Then I turned around and saw these guys. Four guys dressed as 18th century German gentleman. They seemed happy, just sitting there all in a line, in the sun in their wigs, waistcoats and buckled shoes.
I curtsied (my skirt was long and full) and asked if I could take a picture. They said "Of course, Fraulein", and I snapped them with my camera phone.
They got up and bowed.
Just another normal London moment.
ggggrrrraaarrrgg!!!!!
Still no success on the software/drivers/getting pics off my camera and into computer issue. I have no idea what else to do. Even Rich has looked at it, and no luck. I am also EXTREMELY annoyed with the place I bought the cable/software, as I asked for the Nokia cable, and instead of giving me the REAL Nokia cable, the one that works with the Nokia software that I found online at the Nokia site, I instead have a fakey generic one that works with...nothing. And cost me over $50 to boot.
It's like asking for a Rolex, getting a Rilex, but they tell you it's the same thing. Pig fuckers. And I got it in London. So I can't return it. I tried calling them, to express my dissaatisfaction ("Why did I not get the Nokia cord and instead was given the generic one? Why did no one tell me there was more than one option? Why would they not assist me, as I obviously had many questions when I bought it and I was relying on them, the 'experts', to give me all the info? Can I send it back? Why would they sell something so substandard?") Don't, whatever you do, shop at The Link, ok? Fuckers.
My mom emailed me and said I use the word "fuck" too much.
It's like asking for a Rolex, getting a Rilex, but they tell you it's the same thing. Pig fuckers. And I got it in London. So I can't return it. I tried calling them, to express my dissaatisfaction ("Why did I not get the Nokia cord and instead was given the generic one? Why did no one tell me there was more than one option? Why would they not assist me, as I obviously had many questions when I bought it and I was relying on them, the 'experts', to give me all the info? Can I send it back? Why would they sell something so substandard?") Don't, whatever you do, shop at The Link, ok? Fuckers.
My mom emailed me and said I use the word "fuck" too much.
fucking software!
All I want to do is make the pictures from my cell phone get onto my computer.
IS THAT TOO FUCKING MUCH TO ASK?
Rat Bastard Kondor software.
Rat bastard Windows.
Rat Bastard Nokia.
Two hours into it and not a fucking thing is working. God I hate this.
Now to the Kondor site to get the fucking whatever I need to make this fucking software fucking work!
I thought I was evil...now I know, I am merely an amateur. It's the software and drivers people who are the evil ones.
IS THAT TOO FUCKING MUCH TO ASK?
Rat Bastard Kondor software.
Rat bastard Windows.
Rat Bastard Nokia.
Two hours into it and not a fucking thing is working. God I hate this.
Now to the Kondor site to get the fucking whatever I need to make this fucking software fucking work!
I thought I was evil...now I know, I am merely an amateur. It's the software and drivers people who are the evil ones.
Back from London
Hullo. I'm back from London.
For some reason my neck is out of whack, and I can't really move my head, which is vastly annoying when trying to nod yes or no. I guess I'll just stare straight ahead and say "maybe". Anyhow, while I go take a hot bath, do some stretching and get Rich to rub my neck, here is a hilariously wierd website for you to check out:
Rent A German.
My new cell phone (the one I had to buy to replace the one that got stolen) has a camera in it. I messed around taking pictures in London, and I am really quite pleased with the shots I got. Well, pleased, at least, from what I can tell from the 1 inch square screen on my phone. If they look anything near as good big as they look small, this phone cam thing will be my new obsession. I bought a scarily expensive USB cord (comes with software by Kondor, eek) to use to download the pics from phone onto my computer. I will go fuss around with that for a few hours or so, get frustrated, have my neck sieze up, and go have a margarita in frustration and pique.
So, there's my day all planned out. And how are you?
Ah, and Tracey tagged me, but it's one that I have already done, so, please excuse me for being a lazy bastard, but here is a link to the post for the previous tagging. Nothing has really changed, except the last CD I bought (well, Rich bought it but I told him to) was the new NIN and the new Moby. And my first concert? Don't laugh. Quiet Riot. I tagged Bookhart on that previous posting, and I think that tagging will still stand, as she now has a blog and can do it. Plus her musical taste is so much cooler than mine.
For some reason my neck is out of whack, and I can't really move my head, which is vastly annoying when trying to nod yes or no. I guess I'll just stare straight ahead and say "maybe". Anyhow, while I go take a hot bath, do some stretching and get Rich to rub my neck, here is a hilariously wierd website for you to check out:
Rent A German.
My new cell phone (the one I had to buy to replace the one that got stolen) has a camera in it. I messed around taking pictures in London, and I am really quite pleased with the shots I got. Well, pleased, at least, from what I can tell from the 1 inch square screen on my phone. If they look anything near as good big as they look small, this phone cam thing will be my new obsession. I bought a scarily expensive USB cord (comes with software by Kondor, eek) to use to download the pics from phone onto my computer. I will go fuss around with that for a few hours or so, get frustrated, have my neck sieze up, and go have a margarita in frustration and pique.
So, there's my day all planned out. And how are you?
Ah, and Tracey tagged me, but it's one that I have already done, so, please excuse me for being a lazy bastard, but here is a link to the post for the previous tagging. Nothing has really changed, except the last CD I bought (well, Rich bought it but I told him to) was the new NIN and the new Moby. And my first concert? Don't laugh. Quiet Riot. I tagged Bookhart on that previous posting, and I think that tagging will still stand, as she now has a blog and can do it. Plus her musical taste is so much cooler than mine.
Sunday, June 05, 2005
In which Karen gets a date
We went to Toto's for dinner Friday night. It was good. It's in a building which used to belong to Lady Clementine, Winston Churchill's wife. The showpiece of the restaurant was a huge fireplace surround, carved wood, dated 1559, which had been given to Churchill by the Dutch government. Itwas too big for her house, so she left it there for the restaurant, as she was their landlady when it first opened. It also has a very beautiful huge murano glass chandelier, which I took a camera-phone picture of and will post when I get home.
I had a lobster pasta, it was very light, just tomatoes and spring onions with bits of lobster. Karen had a veal something. We both had a buffalo mozzarella salad, and shared a bottle of wine. It was a good meal and the service was perfect.
So perfect, in fact, that we shut the joint down and were invited to join the manager for a glass of champagne after closing. The waiters are an international lot, being from Brazil, Morocco, Italy, etc. None that I saw were British.
The manager is from Sicily and sounds exactly like what you would expect a Godfather to sound like. A very philosophical man who loves the ballet and opera.
Karen got a date with him. She's such a stud. They are having lunch on Tuesday at Scalini's, another very posh Italian place. I figure at the rate she's going, she might well have all her food needs taken care of until she leaves London at the end of the month.
Today we are going on a London Walks tour of "Subterranean London" and thence to try to get into Spencer House.
I had a lobster pasta, it was very light, just tomatoes and spring onions with bits of lobster. Karen had a veal something. We both had a buffalo mozzarella salad, and shared a bottle of wine. It was a good meal and the service was perfect.
So perfect, in fact, that we shut the joint down and were invited to join the manager for a glass of champagne after closing. The waiters are an international lot, being from Brazil, Morocco, Italy, etc. None that I saw were British.
The manager is from Sicily and sounds exactly like what you would expect a Godfather to sound like. A very philosophical man who loves the ballet and opera.
Karen got a date with him. She's such a stud. They are having lunch on Tuesday at Scalini's, another very posh Italian place. I figure at the rate she's going, she might well have all her food needs taken care of until she leaves London at the end of the month.
Today we are going on a London Walks tour of "Subterranean London" and thence to try to get into Spencer House.
Friday, June 03, 2005
Stream of Consciousness Bullshit
I'm still in London. Today we (me and Karen) did a walking tour of Soho, had a very acceptable burger at Hamburger Union, and then walked all the fuck over London. Damn, that Karen is a SLAVE DRIVER. My feet are killing me. From Soho, we walked to St. Paul's, thence south to the Tate Modern (awesome) and then alllll the way down to St. James, past Buckingham Palace and over to Shepherd's Market.
I'd never been to Shepherd's Market or the Tate Modern, so that was cool. We had a couple of beers at Shepherd's Market, and after that at a chocolate shop I bought the world's most expensive cookies. Two cookies cost 4.50£. Yeah, that's like $8 for two cookies. They looked better than they tasted. Good chocolate, but at $4.00 per cookie, I pretty much expect an orgasm the second I bite into it.
That did not happen. Damn.
Tonight we are going to Toto's for dinner (Italian). I'm starving. Out reservations are for 8:30, which is early for Europeans and damn late for a Texan who is already cooking dinner by 5. Ah well, when in Rome.....eat Italian.
Tomorrow the fabulous Ben and I will go shopping (Rich, don't worry, Ben will buy stuff and I will be advisor.) Then in the evening we might all hit Soho and some bars. I like bars.
Anyone who knows me might have noticed I have had a few glasses of wine already tonight. Ahem.
Karen and I have reached the epitome of laziness. When one of us says something the other doesn't like (which is every other utterance), instead of actually physically flipping each other off, we will just say "finger". If Karen embarks on yet ANOTHER boring story, I just say "yawn". If my story grosses her out, she says "barf". If the music is good, and it moves me, I just say "dance". We think it's a new, improved way of communication. The wave of the future. "Bullshit".
But, like I said, I've had some wine. God I love London.
I'd never been to Shepherd's Market or the Tate Modern, so that was cool. We had a couple of beers at Shepherd's Market, and after that at a chocolate shop I bought the world's most expensive cookies. Two cookies cost 4.50£. Yeah, that's like $8 for two cookies. They looked better than they tasted. Good chocolate, but at $4.00 per cookie, I pretty much expect an orgasm the second I bite into it.
That did not happen. Damn.
Tonight we are going to Toto's for dinner (Italian). I'm starving. Out reservations are for 8:30, which is early for Europeans and damn late for a Texan who is already cooking dinner by 5. Ah well, when in Rome.....eat Italian.
Tomorrow the fabulous Ben and I will go shopping (Rich, don't worry, Ben will buy stuff and I will be advisor.) Then in the evening we might all hit Soho and some bars. I like bars.
Anyone who knows me might have noticed I have had a few glasses of wine already tonight. Ahem.
Karen and I have reached the epitome of laziness. When one of us says something the other doesn't like (which is every other utterance), instead of actually physically flipping each other off, we will just say "finger". If Karen embarks on yet ANOTHER boring story, I just say "yawn". If my story grosses her out, she says "barf". If the music is good, and it moves me, I just say "dance". We think it's a new, improved way of communication. The wave of the future. "Bullshit".
But, like I said, I've had some wine. God I love London.
Thursday, June 02, 2005
Greetings from London. I love being evil in a different country. Today's humorous guy-begging- for-money quote: "I'm not homeless and I'm not hungry, I just want drugs, man!"
My Swedish blogging pal FoFuSa has tagged me with some questions. I think she's a nosy bugger, but whatever, I guess I'll answer. (Actually my husband called me all excited and he was like "Hey, that Snafu blog has a bunch of questions on her blog you are supposed to answer", like it was really important homework or something. Fo, I think he has a crush on you. He reads your blog RELIGIOUSLY.)
Answers, forthwith. Fofusa wants to know the following about lil' ol' me.
1. How are you able to travel so much? Trust fund? Lottery winnings? Selling your body on the street?
Yes. To all. I am a trust fund lucky bastard whore. The whoring? I just enjoy it, don't really need the money, what with the Trust Fund and the lottery winnings.
2. What do you like most about living in Norway?
The water. The color of the sky, when it's blue. The quality of the light. This dinner in a box meal kit by Toro, Indisk Chicken Curry, that rocks my world.
3. If you had to choose which would you give up? Computers including Internet or Television?
Bitch. That's a hard question! I guess TV. Computers and internet are my lifeline to home, friends and family now. Surpasses the phone. Plus I get almost ALL my news of the 'net as well.
4. What color of underwear do you have on right now?
Leopard spotted with pink lace trim. They itch, though.
5. Write a rhyme about you and me.
This girl in Sweden
Some answers was needin'
About Karla, who she met
On the internet.
The girl was FoFuSa
With hair like Medusa
A wit that was sly
And a humor that's wry.
So here's your damn poem
Though I'm a long way from home.
See how I'm dedicated?
Though maybe I should be medicated.
(Just so you know, I wrote that poem, one draft, no pauses, and right off the top of my goofy fuzzy head. Yep, that's talent.) (And the quip about Medusa? Not an insult, really, you have long curly mop head like me. We can tease each other, right?)
I don't have time to think up questions for other folks, but will do some once I get home on Monday. Wonder who my victims will be? BWAH hahahahahaha.
PS Dave, tomorrow I wear the Bad Monkey t-shirt, photos to come. Will look for Elizabeth Hurley.
My Swedish blogging pal FoFuSa has tagged me with some questions. I think she's a nosy bugger, but whatever, I guess I'll answer. (Actually my husband called me all excited and he was like "Hey, that Snafu blog has a bunch of questions on her blog you are supposed to answer", like it was really important homework or something. Fo, I think he has a crush on you. He reads your blog RELIGIOUSLY.)
Answers, forthwith. Fofusa wants to know the following about lil' ol' me.
1. How are you able to travel so much? Trust fund? Lottery winnings? Selling your body on the street?
Yes. To all. I am a trust fund lucky bastard whore. The whoring? I just enjoy it, don't really need the money, what with the Trust Fund and the lottery winnings.
2. What do you like most about living in Norway?
The water. The color of the sky, when it's blue. The quality of the light. This dinner in a box meal kit by Toro, Indisk Chicken Curry, that rocks my world.
3. If you had to choose which would you give up? Computers including Internet or Television?
Bitch. That's a hard question! I guess TV. Computers and internet are my lifeline to home, friends and family now. Surpasses the phone. Plus I get almost ALL my news of the 'net as well.
4. What color of underwear do you have on right now?
Leopard spotted with pink lace trim. They itch, though.
5. Write a rhyme about you and me.
This girl in Sweden
Some answers was needin'
About Karla, who she met
On the internet.
The girl was FoFuSa
With hair like Medusa
A wit that was sly
And a humor that's wry.
So here's your damn poem
Though I'm a long way from home.
See how I'm dedicated?
Though maybe I should be medicated.
(Just so you know, I wrote that poem, one draft, no pauses, and right off the top of my goofy fuzzy head. Yep, that's talent.) (And the quip about Medusa? Not an insult, really, you have long curly mop head like me. We can tease each other, right?)
I don't have time to think up questions for other folks, but will do some once I get home on Monday. Wonder who my victims will be? BWAH hahahahahaha.
PS Dave, tomorrow I wear the Bad Monkey t-shirt, photos to come. Will look for Elizabeth Hurley.
Wednesday, June 01, 2005
Packing and bitching
I'm STILL pissed off about that article about the Texas legislature. Especially the part about how the two leaders were BOTH Republicans and they STILL couldn't get their shit together. Oh man, y'all. I really fear for the US. It's going back in time, to the 50's or so. Abortion will once again be illegal, and the people segregated this time will be gays. And it will be illegal for gay people to adopt all the babies that women are forced to have because abortion is illegal, but those pig fuckers who enacted the laws are also to OLD and too SELFISH to adopt these babies themselves. They certainly won't make birth control or morning after pills easier to get, because that's just immoral, isn't it, and you bad, evil women should practice abstinence like all the good Christian men do. (God save those innocent men from those sexual cheerleaders!) And there will be all these moms with kids they can't afford to take care of or give good health care to, because GUESS WHO CUT SOCIAL BENEFITS? But hey, at least gas is still pretty cheap! And the chuck wagon is the state vehicle!
OK, forcibly removing self from soap box. (Yes Dad, your daughter is a Damned Liberal. But she still loves you.)
So, I'm packing for my trip to London, and have decided, come hell or high water (though in London, this would be cold rain...and rain) that I am bringing sandals to wear. So I dig out my favorite pair of sandals. (You can see them on my feet in the link.) I love those sandals, from Aerosoles, when I used to buy Aerosoles shoes by the half dozen pair (buy 5 get 6th 1/2 off!) at Barton Creek Mall. They are brown, soft and oh so comfy. (I got them in black too, but those pretty fell apart while on my feet.)
And I realized...that trip to Egypt last August was the last time I wore them. They still have Egyptian sand and camel shit on them.
And I am packing them just as they are, sand, shit and all. How cool to walk around London with camel shit from Egypt on your feet? (Well, cool and also kind of gross, but still, in a literary Hemingway-esque way, really cool.)
Now I just have to find my favorite floaty skirt...and I wonder if I should pack the djellaba? Hmm...I sense ethnic motif in my packing this time.
OK, forcibly removing self from soap box. (Yes Dad, your daughter is a Damned Liberal. But she still loves you.)
So, I'm packing for my trip to London, and have decided, come hell or high water (though in London, this would be cold rain...and rain) that I am bringing sandals to wear. So I dig out my favorite pair of sandals. (You can see them on my feet in the link.) I love those sandals, from Aerosoles, when I used to buy Aerosoles shoes by the half dozen pair (buy 5 get 6th 1/2 off!) at Barton Creek Mall. They are brown, soft and oh so comfy. (I got them in black too, but those pretty fell apart while on my feet.)
And I realized...that trip to Egypt last August was the last time I wore them. They still have Egyptian sand and camel shit on them.
And I am packing them just as they are, sand, shit and all. How cool to walk around London with camel shit from Egypt on your feet? (Well, cool and also kind of gross, but still, in a literary Hemingway-esque way, really cool.)
Now I just have to find my favorite floaty skirt...and I wonder if I should pack the djellaba? Hmm...I sense ethnic motif in my packing this time.
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