When our friends asked what our Easter traditions were, my immediate reaction was, "total exhaustion, following a glorious church service for which we had a good deal of responsibility, and into which we had put an enormous amount of time in preparation. That was the truth for many of our favorite Easters, and it left little time and less energy for other traditions. We had some, such as decorating eggs, having an Easter egg hunt (though not, as had been in my childhood, with the decorated eggs, as in Florida the real, hard-boiled eggs spoil too quickly in the often hot Easter weather), Easter baskets full of candy (jelly beans for me, SweeTart eggs, chicks, and bunnies for the girls, and chocolate for everyone; I couldn't interest anyone in marshmallow chicks). More often than not, we shared the day with friends, in not-too-energetic pursuits. As far as meals go, my family's Easter tradition was ham, and Porter doesn't care for ham, so we never really settled on anything in particular. "Easy" was a good criterion. (More)
Having slept off our Thanksgiving dinner-style museum orgy, and packed our suitcases for departure, we were ready to indulge in another museum, this time the Musée d'Orsay. The Orsay begins where the Louvre leaves off, covering more recent (but not too recent) art. You know, Rodin, van Gogh, Gauguin, Cézanne, Monet, Manet, Matisse, Homer, Renoir, and the like. Being a converted train station, this museum is not as user-friendly as the Louvre; that is, it was much easier to get stuck in the middle of a hoard of other tourists. I didn't mind so much waiting my turn to get in front of a painting, but when most of the people both ahead and behind me seemed impatiently intent only on snapping a photo with their cell phone cameras, it got rather annoying. Besides, I'm not much better with crowds than I am with heights.
Still, it was a great visit (and free with our Museum Passes). Even this much smaller museum has 'way too much to take in on one visit. Paris would be a great place for a homeschool year abroad! (More)
Ah, to wake up in Paris, and eat breakfast in the café next door! So what if croissants/bread, orange juice, and tea/coffee/hot chocolate for three cost $40? When you stay with friends rather than at a hotel, you can afford not to worry too much about the meals. It was a lovely breakfast, and the orange juice was squeezed from real oranges seconds before being brought to the table. The orange juice was part of the package, or I wouldn't have ordered it, since I'm a Florida snob who believes that the only real citrus juice is not only "not from concentrate," but hasn't been pasteurized, and that's impossible to get at a restaurant—unless the juice truly is fresh-squeezed. So this was a delightful surprise. (More)
Transition! We took the tram to the train station, where we bought drinks to go with the food we had bought yesterday to eat on our trip to Paris. Janet knew exactly what to do and guided us to the train—it helped, too, that the signs were clear and the station logically organized. "Did you notice the border control?" she asked, as we neared the train. Well, no, we hadn't, unless you counted the big sign labelled "FRANCE," and that was her point. Apparently we were technically in French territory at that point, but no one had asked for our passports, nor did they when we reached Paris. Eventually the conductor did take our tickets, but that was all. (More)
I thought our Sunday was exciting, until I read about the Daleys'!
It was Sunny on Sunday here, too, at least for the morning. Porter put our bikes on the back of the car and the skies were blue and clear as we headed out for 8:00 church. The service was glorious, with lots of great hymns—we needed to double up on the hymn board! The 8:00 service at Messiah rocks! (Though not literally.) Afterwards there's always a great breakfast, at which we fortified ourselves for our adventure. (More)
In case you'd like a professional writer's view of Basel, this article was in Pittsburgh's Post-Gazette this morning.
I'm glad she didn't find what she was expecting. "Bling" does not sound like something particularly desirable in a city.Today Janet was feeling the pressure of work to be done, and she decided we knew enough to be let out on our own for a while. So—even though our stock of German comprised little more than "zwei Tageskarten," "bitte," "danke," and of Basel Swiss German merely "greutzi" and the word for thank you, which sounds passably enough like the French "merci"—off we went.
Janet's version is here. (More)Janet's version is here.
Today we made the most of both our tram passes and our Basel Cards, the latter providing us free admission to most of the museums (Janet used her Swiss Museum Pass) and various other discounts. We began with the Kunstmuseum, which has a collection of art that is quite impressive, at least for people who have not been to the Louvre in 40 years or so. In many ways I actually liked this better than the Louvre, because it is limited enough in scope that we felt we could devote as much time as we wanted to particular pictures. You can take your own tour here. (More)We slept late this morning but otherwise showed more effects from all our walking yesterday than from jet lag. Janet gave up her bedroom to us and is sleeping on the couch, so she awoke early with her host family, but had no trouble falling back to sleep. Fortunately she was awake when the call came from the airport: Porter's suitcase had arrived and would be delivered between ten and eleven this morning if someone would be here to receive it. Janet handled the entire conversation in German, by the way.
This is what I didn't know about the Swiss yesterday at the airport: They don't deliver an item "sometime tomorrow between 8 a.m. and 8 p.m.," and when they say someone will arrive between ten and eleven, he will. In this case, right at 10:30. (More)
As I mentioned before, we recently returned from a delightful two weeks in Europe, visiting Janet in Switzerland and some friends who live in France. There were other friends we wanted to visit, but there's only so much you can do in two weeks and remain sane, so we'll just have to make a return trip.
It was nearly as perfect as such a vacation can be. We had a tense moment or two in Paris, for which I take much of the blame by not having planned the program sufficiently. It is very hard to leave the agenda open when you're trying to take into account the desires of three people, none of whom enjoys making decisions and each of whom will only be happy if the others are happy first! But we got over that, and the rest of the trip was idyllic. Much credit goes to our hosts in Switzerland and in France, and most especially to Janet. As in Japan, she was an excellent tour guide and rarely showed how worried she was that she hadn't done enough to prepare. It was enough! It was perfect! Now she can start worrying that our next trip can't possibly live up to the high standards set by this one....
As you can tell, I've been posting a lot of random stuff lately—mostly because it's much easier than buckling down to the job of editing pictures and preparing this trip journal. But here's a start, with more to follow. Be sure to check out Janet's version (this post and following), if you haven't already. And remember that the pictures are only previews that do not show the complete scene; click on the preview to get the full picture. (More)We just returned from a dream vacation in Europe—hmmm, that sounds a bit pretentious, doesn't it? But it's true. It had all the earmarks of a great vacation—visiting with family and friends, wonderful weather, awesome food, more to see and do than we could take in—plus a view of other countries and cultures from the inside, and a stay at at fairy tale castle to boot!
Li'l Writer Guy went quite crazy, having so much to say and no time nor opportunity to say it. I trust he will be able to deciper his hastily-scribbled manuscripts and produce both chronological description and commentary while I'm unpacking and trying to catch up with "normal" life. In the meantime, here are some random thoughts inspired by our trip. Bear in mind that we only experienced small parts of France and Switzerland (and a minuscule portion of Germany), though I will occasionally use the terms "Europe" and "European" for convenience. (More)
I had an incredible experience recently. Having been transplanted, through the woders of modern aviation technology, from our unseasonably warm Florida home to some of the coldest Connecticut weather of the season, I was a little chilled. Our kind hosts provided a fire in the fireplace and a space heater in our bedroom, so we weren't uncomfortable, but going outside was an adventure, despite heavy coats, hats, gloves, and scarves.
That is, until I found it desirable to take some pictures of the low Old Saybrook tide. Leaning gloveless (I had to operate the camera) against a stiff, steady blow that pushed the wind chill-modified temperature below zero, I was beyond cold. But when my hand finally thawed, something inside me snapped—or more accurately, some internal fire ignited. For the rest of the week, I was warm! Forget the hat, scarf, and gloves; if all I was doing was going from building to car to building again, my coat—and that often enough not even zipped—was sufficient.
On our sledding adventure, I condescended to don hat and gloves (and zip the coat), and the chill never reached me. What a glorious feeling, to feel the cold without being cold!
Alas—though probably all for the best—my internal fire was quenched by returning to Florida's tropical temperatures. Our current cold snap (presently 47 degrees outside) has me feeling quite chilly, even though it's above 60 degrees in the house. I think I'll go fix some hot cocoa while the rest of you laugh at me.
We were in Old Saybrook for what in my personal expert assures me was the lowest tide in his nearly 80-year-old memory. (We forgot to think about tsunamis.) (More)
In Pittsburgh it can be faster to take the bus to the airport than to drive, because there are special bus-only lanes that sneer at rush hour traffic. Not so in Orlando, where the trip takes 45 minutes by car and more than twice that by bus. Today was actually my first venture onto Orlando's public transportation system (such as it is), if you don't count the downtown freebie Lymmo service (which actually counts for quite a lot; it's pretty handy). Anyway, I ventured from home to the airport and thence to a Thai restaurant where we met some friends for dinner, just for the experience.
The driver was friendly and helpful, the cost only $1.50 ($3.50 buys a pass good for unlimited trips in one day), and the bus itself was fine. But the total time—walking from our house to the bus stop (35 minutes), waiting for the bus (20 minutes), and stopping at nearly every one of the multitude of stops on the way to the airport (100 minutes)—made for a long afternoon. Still, I proved it's possible to get to the airport without benefit of car, at least if one doesn't have too much in the way of baggage.
And the Thai food was good, too.Terrorism? War? Disease? Crime? Not being able to communicate? For the places I'm likely to go, the biggest danger is none of these, but in being an Ugly American. An Ugly, Ignorant American.
Consider, for example, the experience of a friend, who recently returned from East Africa. (More)
