Yesterday was supposed to be a lazy day around the house for me. Angela and Susan went to Limoges to buy porcelain (and believe me, they did, as well as half of an old wine barrel). I woke up and decided I needed to book my flight to Dublin for the conference in June. I looked around and found the cheapest flight I could, but I had to get to Paris to go (it would cost like $450 to fly out of Lyon, and that's ridiculous). So my plan is to use Patrick or Susan's frequent traveler miles to take the train to Paris (they approved this idea). I booked my flight; it was an Air France flight that got me into Dublin around 10 pm the night before the conference and had me leaving in the late afternoon the day after the conference. The problem arose, however, that the plane gets into Paris too late to take a train, I would need a hotel, which would cost me an arm and a leg. So I called Air France to see if I could change to an earlier flight. I get the customer service agent and say, "Est-ce que vous parlez anglais?" (Do you speak English?), she says "Non" (No). So I busted out my French, and it worked. I understood everything she said, and she understood me. The most important fact, however, is that somehow my flight got booked through airfrance.de (that's Air France's website in Germany), and I had to talk to them about changing my ticket, so she gave me the phone number and I called them. This conversation went like this:
Agent: Guten tag (guttural sounds that indicated the man may have been killing a puppy).
Me: Guten tag, sprechen sie Englisch?
Agent: I do.
Me: Oh, thank god.
The good news is, because I had booked the flight less than an hour earlier they voided the whole thing without any charge, SCORE!
Later in the day Patrick and I decided to go to Olympique Lyonnais' final home game. OL as they are called have been doing decently this year (they are in third place, and if they stay there they qualify for the European Champions League), however, they were expected to do better. Many fans are angry about this, but when the French get angry it is a sight to behold. The OL fans blame the manager, Claude Puel. The game began and there were some organized chants and signs being held up asking for Puel to be fired, not too out of the ordinary.
Lyon was expected to win this game easily (they were playing Caen who is in 15th place). As the game continued and Lyon didn't score, the angry fans became angrier. What I witnessed is two things, 1) something one would never see in the United States, and 2) evidence of the stereotype of the French as being fantastic protesters. In the US if a team isn't doing well, the fans stop coming, write angry letters to the newspaper, maybe hold up signs or wear paper bags on their heads at games, pretty mundane stuff.
In France if a team isn't doing well, they begin with the signs. These signs slowly morph into chants. These chants morph into lighting fires in the stands and throwing burning road flares at the field, security, players, etc. At one point smoke billowed across the field and I counted 3 fires burning in various parts of the stands. I am not exaggerating, I actually feared for my life at multiple times during this game and after. I had always thought that if I was going to die at a sporting even it would either be while I was dressed in Mets gear in Philadelphia or if I ever had the opportunity to be at a championship game that any Detroit team wins.
As the game continued OL looked worse and worse, and the fans got rowdier and rowdier (I also have to add, there is very little alcohol sold at these games, these people were doing this whilst sober). The game ended in a 0-0 tie and I turned to Patrick and said, we should leave, NOW!
We left the stadium and moved towards the Metro stop. Near the Metro stop there was a bit of a protest/riot occurring. At least one fire had been set, people were setting of large firecrackers and the police in full riot gear were arriving. One cop slowly strolled up to the riot with two giant guns, one looked like a FAMAS assault rifle, the other looked like it shot either tear gas or beanbags. We quickly entered the Metro and got home. I will reiterate, I actually did think there was a chance I would get killed or seriously injured at more than one point in this game. That being said, it was a blast, like nothing I have ever seen before.
Also, I must add, that the majority of the people at the game were not protesting. They were there to watch the game and enjoy themselves. Overall, I find the French to be a fantastic and friendly people who abhor violence.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Monday, May 16, 2011
Okay, so I'm really far behind.
Okay, I'm about a month behind, sorry. In the middle of April I had to go to London to present at the Political Studies Association Annual Conference. The conference went well, and Angela got a couple of days in Jolly Ol'. We flew in from Nice the night before I was supposed to present. This trip was a nightmare, and I can give you details if you ask, but it's too long to go into now.
We landed at Gatwick at about 7:30 pm. In case you've never been to London, Gatwick is about 30 to 45 minutes outside of Central London. On the flight we bought two tickets for the Gatwick Express which brings you right into Victoria Station. At this point, I want to say that EasyJet sucks, but the Gatwick Express was fantastic. It was the best part of this trip. We were staying in efficiency apartments in the borough of Islington, which is on the northeast side of London. We took the Gatwick Express to Victoria and then got on the Underground to get to our hotel. The Underground took about 45 minutes to get halfway across London. Moreover, the nearest metro stop is about a half-mile from our hotel. This wouldn't have been so bad, but the wheel on our suitcase blew out in Nice. I basically had to drag a 45 pound bag through the streets of London at about 9:30 at night. We got into the hotel and had no food and sure as hell weren't going to eat out in London if we could avoid it. We went across the street to the smallest store I've ever purchased food in and somehow put together a really tasty dinner.
The next day was the conference, which happened to be on the southwest side of the city, as far from my hotel as you can get by metro. At this point I want to say that the London Underground has a reputation as being fantastic, but it is the worst urban transport system I have ever seen in my life. It is slow, unreliable and illogical. We finally got to the conference, and it went fine, which was good.
That night I saw my friend Ana from high school who I haven't seen in a decade and lives in London. This was possibly the best part about England. We went to a pub called Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese, which apparently dates back to the 1500's. The food was decent pub food, the beer was good and the company was better. I would recommend stopping at this pub if in London, it's in the shadow of St. Paul's and was just a nice place.
The next day we went to Stonehenge. I don't know what all the fuss is about. It's a bunch of rocks stacked on each other, but it was another sight I can say I've seen. We got back to London and needed to do some serious sightseeing. We began in Kensington and decided to walk. We walked past the British Museum, but didn't go in as the line was about a mile long. I would have liked Angela to see the Rosetta Stone and the frieze from the Parthenon, but we'll just have to go back. We then walked to Harrod's, which is the most amazing store I have ever seen. It was huge, glitzy and glamorous. There was something called the Egyptian escalator, which was an escalator room that looked like if you had put an escalator in a pyramid. The room with the food was amazing, the flowers in the perfume area were gorgeous, and the wine cellar was unbelievable.
From Harrods we walked down past Parliament, Westminster Abbey and Big Ben. We cross the river and walked along the south side of the Thames, which is the most disgusting river I have ever seen. I don't think it actually has water in, at this point it is free flowing sludge and pollution. We walked down to the Tower Bridge, crossed it and walked up past the tower of London. That night we went home and cooked for ourselves again.
The next morning we had a 7:30 easyJet flight out of Gatwick. This is where the shit hit the fan. We got up at 4:30 am to get to Victoria by 5 and catch the Gatwick Express at 5:15. That would be at 30 minute trip to Gatwick and we would be just fine. Here's what really happened:
4:30 - Woke up
4:45 - Left the hotel
5:00 - Got to the metro stop
5:02 - Realize the metro stop is closed
5:03 - Realize the metro doesn't open until 6:57
5:04 - Bitch and complain, seriously what "Major World City" doesn't open the subway until 7am?
5:10 - Begin to panic
5:11 - Find a bus stop
5:20 - Decide the bus won't get us to Victoria in time
5:23 - Decide to get a cab
5:24 - Realize we have no Pounds left (JUST USE THE DAMN EURO BRITAIN!)
5:25 - Get 20 Pounds from an ATM
5:27 - Hail a cab and ask him how much to Victoria, his response was "About 20 quid." and for those of you who don't speak whatever language it is they speak in Britain that is 20 Pounds.
5:28 - Get in cab
5:38 - Begin to worry as we approach Victoria but realize the meter is about to hit 20 Pounds.
5:40 - Tell the cabby we only have 20 Pounds. He said not to worry.
5:44 - Get dropped off right at the Gatwick Express.
5:45 - Leave for the airport on the train
6:15 - Get in line for our flight. It is important to note that 6 other easyJet flight were leaving between 7:30 and 8 that morning, so we were at the back of about 1,000 people waiting to get on a flight. You know how they say be there at least an hour before take-off, well with easyJet try 4 hours before your 7:30 departure.
7:20 - We got called out of line because our flight was leaving soon. We were put on a slightly shorter but slower moving line.
7:35 - We finally got moved up to someone to check us in.
7:36 - He says, "Do you have your confirmation number?" We say, "No." He chastises us and says, "Next time you should bring your confirmation number." (Trust me easyJet there will not be a next time). I said to his comment, "Next time you don't leave us standing in line for over an hour." At this point he refuses to check us in. Long story short, we got checked in, but easyJet is staffed by the most dickish group of douches I have ever met, never fly them, I repeat, NEVER FLY EASYJET! He tells us that the gate is closing and that we might be able to make it if we run.
7:40 - Get to security and see no one else there.
7:42 - The moronic security "officer" at Gatwick makes Angela unpack her gels and creams because the ziplock bag we have them in isn't one of their identical ziplock bags. My first question is, why do we have to use their bags. This is especially an important question considering no one had made her repack her bag in our many travels in the last 2 months, and what is the difference. Angela said that she had been traveling with that bag for a month already. The security "officer" told her they are trying a new procedure. The best part about this is that it was Easter weekend coming up. They decided at good time to try a new procedure was Easter weekend!
7:50 - We got through security and began walking to the gate, which was no exaggeration, over 1 mile away. Angela had had foot surgery 4 weeks earlier and couldn't move fast, but tried to run. Finally, I told her to walk and that I was going to run and try and talk them into keeping the door open until she gets there (my thought was at the very least delay the flight attendant long enough for Angela to get there). I took off running and lo and behold, when I got there, they hadn't even begun boarding yet. If you remember, the man who checked us in told us the gate was closing. We ran through Gatwick Airport, Angela on two surgically repaired feet, because the douchebag at the counter told us it was closing, when in fact it hadn't even begun boarding. Douchebags doesn't even begin to describe these people.
The plane took off at about 8:15 with us on board. The long and the short of this story is that London is not that great (not that bad either, but not that great). The transportation system is antiquated, the people are nice (although I don't know what language they speak) and easyJet is the worst airline I have ever flown in my life. Please tell everyone you know to avoid easyJet like it was some hybrid form of the plague and leprosy.
We landed at Gatwick at about 7:30 pm. In case you've never been to London, Gatwick is about 30 to 45 minutes outside of Central London. On the flight we bought two tickets for the Gatwick Express which brings you right into Victoria Station. At this point, I want to say that EasyJet sucks, but the Gatwick Express was fantastic. It was the best part of this trip. We were staying in efficiency apartments in the borough of Islington, which is on the northeast side of London. We took the Gatwick Express to Victoria and then got on the Underground to get to our hotel. The Underground took about 45 minutes to get halfway across London. Moreover, the nearest metro stop is about a half-mile from our hotel. This wouldn't have been so bad, but the wheel on our suitcase blew out in Nice. I basically had to drag a 45 pound bag through the streets of London at about 9:30 at night. We got into the hotel and had no food and sure as hell weren't going to eat out in London if we could avoid it. We went across the street to the smallest store I've ever purchased food in and somehow put together a really tasty dinner.
The next day was the conference, which happened to be on the southwest side of the city, as far from my hotel as you can get by metro. At this point I want to say that the London Underground has a reputation as being fantastic, but it is the worst urban transport system I have ever seen in my life. It is slow, unreliable and illogical. We finally got to the conference, and it went fine, which was good.
That night I saw my friend Ana from high school who I haven't seen in a decade and lives in London. This was possibly the best part about England. We went to a pub called Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese, which apparently dates back to the 1500's. The food was decent pub food, the beer was good and the company was better. I would recommend stopping at this pub if in London, it's in the shadow of St. Paul's and was just a nice place.
The next day we went to Stonehenge. I don't know what all the fuss is about. It's a bunch of rocks stacked on each other, but it was another sight I can say I've seen. We got back to London and needed to do some serious sightseeing. We began in Kensington and decided to walk. We walked past the British Museum, but didn't go in as the line was about a mile long. I would have liked Angela to see the Rosetta Stone and the frieze from the Parthenon, but we'll just have to go back. We then walked to Harrod's, which is the most amazing store I have ever seen. It was huge, glitzy and glamorous. There was something called the Egyptian escalator, which was an escalator room that looked like if you had put an escalator in a pyramid. The room with the food was amazing, the flowers in the perfume area were gorgeous, and the wine cellar was unbelievable.
From Harrods we walked down past Parliament, Westminster Abbey and Big Ben. We cross the river and walked along the south side of the Thames, which is the most disgusting river I have ever seen. I don't think it actually has water in, at this point it is free flowing sludge and pollution. We walked down to the Tower Bridge, crossed it and walked up past the tower of London. That night we went home and cooked for ourselves again.
The next morning we had a 7:30 easyJet flight out of Gatwick. This is where the shit hit the fan. We got up at 4:30 am to get to Victoria by 5 and catch the Gatwick Express at 5:15. That would be at 30 minute trip to Gatwick and we would be just fine. Here's what really happened:
4:30 - Woke up
4:45 - Left the hotel
5:00 - Got to the metro stop
5:02 - Realize the metro stop is closed
5:03 - Realize the metro doesn't open until 6:57
5:04 - Bitch and complain, seriously what "Major World City" doesn't open the subway until 7am?
5:10 - Begin to panic
5:11 - Find a bus stop
5:20 - Decide the bus won't get us to Victoria in time
5:23 - Decide to get a cab
5:24 - Realize we have no Pounds left (JUST USE THE DAMN EURO BRITAIN!)
5:25 - Get 20 Pounds from an ATM
5:27 - Hail a cab and ask him how much to Victoria, his response was "About 20 quid." and for those of you who don't speak whatever language it is they speak in Britain that is 20 Pounds.
5:28 - Get in cab
5:38 - Begin to worry as we approach Victoria but realize the meter is about to hit 20 Pounds.
5:40 - Tell the cabby we only have 20 Pounds. He said not to worry.
5:44 - Get dropped off right at the Gatwick Express.
5:45 - Leave for the airport on the train
6:15 - Get in line for our flight. It is important to note that 6 other easyJet flight were leaving between 7:30 and 8 that morning, so we were at the back of about 1,000 people waiting to get on a flight. You know how they say be there at least an hour before take-off, well with easyJet try 4 hours before your 7:30 departure.
7:20 - We got called out of line because our flight was leaving soon. We were put on a slightly shorter but slower moving line.
7:35 - We finally got moved up to someone to check us in.
7:36 - He says, "Do you have your confirmation number?" We say, "No." He chastises us and says, "Next time you should bring your confirmation number." (Trust me easyJet there will not be a next time). I said to his comment, "Next time you don't leave us standing in line for over an hour." At this point he refuses to check us in. Long story short, we got checked in, but easyJet is staffed by the most dickish group of douches I have ever met, never fly them, I repeat, NEVER FLY EASYJET! He tells us that the gate is closing and that we might be able to make it if we run.
7:40 - Get to security and see no one else there.
7:42 - The moronic security "officer" at Gatwick makes Angela unpack her gels and creams because the ziplock bag we have them in isn't one of their identical ziplock bags. My first question is, why do we have to use their bags. This is especially an important question considering no one had made her repack her bag in our many travels in the last 2 months, and what is the difference. Angela said that she had been traveling with that bag for a month already. The security "officer" told her they are trying a new procedure. The best part about this is that it was Easter weekend coming up. They decided at good time to try a new procedure was Easter weekend!
7:50 - We got through security and began walking to the gate, which was no exaggeration, over 1 mile away. Angela had had foot surgery 4 weeks earlier and couldn't move fast, but tried to run. Finally, I told her to walk and that I was going to run and try and talk them into keeping the door open until she gets there (my thought was at the very least delay the flight attendant long enough for Angela to get there). I took off running and lo and behold, when I got there, they hadn't even begun boarding yet. If you remember, the man who checked us in told us the gate was closing. We ran through Gatwick Airport, Angela on two surgically repaired feet, because the douchebag at the counter told us it was closing, when in fact it hadn't even begun boarding. Douchebags doesn't even begin to describe these people.
The plane took off at about 8:15 with us on board. The long and the short of this story is that London is not that great (not that bad either, but not that great). The transportation system is antiquated, the people are nice (although I don't know what language they speak) and easyJet is the worst airline I have ever flown in my life. Please tell everyone you know to avoid easyJet like it was some hybrid form of the plague and leprosy.
Friday, April 22, 2011
I needed a tuxedo
This post must be prefaced with the point that I have always wanted to be James Bond. I have always had this dream of driving to Monaco in an Aston-Martin, going to the casino gambling with millions of the British taxpayers pounds and then possibly killing some Russians. Well, Angela tried to make part of this dream come true for, she took me to Monaco for my birthday. First she bought me an awesome panama hat, then we flew down to Nice and checked into our bed and breakfast. The next day we hopped a train to Monaco and got there at about 11 am, all while wearing my panama hat.
(Me in my hat)
We walked out of the train station into one of the most gorgeous places I have ever seen. We first walked along the water and looked at all the yachts. Words cannot describe these yachts. The best way I can describe them is "floating mansions." They were monstrous. At this point I felt exceedingly poor (this is a theme that would persist throughout this trip).
(Yachts, we couldn't even get them all in the photo they are so big)
As we walked down the water we realized that we were lost. I walked up to a Monegasque (someone from Monaco) and said "Ou est le Grand Casino?" He point in a direction and we walked up a hill (another theme that would persist throughout this trip). We came to a gorgeous staircase that we followed up. There was a building that looked like it might be the casino. Lo and behold, it was.
(Le Grand Casino)
This was the most gorgeous casino I have ever seen. It rivaled St. Peter's Basilica in ornateness. It didn't open until 2 pm so we went and had lunch and spoke to a nice Monegasque man for a while. We then walked back to the casino. As we walked in I was told to take off my hat, which is certainly not a normal occurrence in American casinos. They then checked out passports because the Monegasques are not allowed to gamble in the casino. We paid our 10 euros to enter the casino and they printed our names on the ticket (they are serious about not letting Monegasques gamble). We wandered around the casino admiring how gorgeous it was. Then I decided I had come this far, I can't leave without placing a bet. I found a roulette table with a 5 euro minimum bet, placed my 10 euro note down and got two chips. I placed one on red, and won! I then took my winnings and again placed it on red, and won again! One thing I remember my dad teaching me was quit while you're ahead. I had doubled my money and decided I had accomplished what I wanted. Not only had I gambled at Le Grand Casino in Monaco, I had a winning percentage of 100, and I had doubled my money. I cashed in two of my chips and saved two for souvenirs (which were the cheapest souvenirs in Monaco I might add).
We then took a bus up to the top of the old city of Monaco and saw the most beautiful blue water you could ever imagine. There is no doubt that this is one of the most gorgeous places in the world, if not one of the richest (the sheer number of cars that cost more than $500,000 in this city is amazing).
(View from Vieux Monaco)
The next day we spent in Nice, which I think can best be described as nice. It's a pretty place right on the water. The views are beautiful, however, the beach is rocky and there seems to be little else for Nice to offer. I must add we had a fantastic meal at a Lebanese restaurant called "Adonis." If you're ever in Nice look it up, you will not be disappointed. The next day we left for London.
(Me in my hat)
We walked out of the train station into one of the most gorgeous places I have ever seen. We first walked along the water and looked at all the yachts. Words cannot describe these yachts. The best way I can describe them is "floating mansions." They were monstrous. At this point I felt exceedingly poor (this is a theme that would persist throughout this trip).
(Yachts, we couldn't even get them all in the photo they are so big)
As we walked down the water we realized that we were lost. I walked up to a Monegasque (someone from Monaco) and said "Ou est le Grand Casino?" He point in a direction and we walked up a hill (another theme that would persist throughout this trip). We came to a gorgeous staircase that we followed up. There was a building that looked like it might be the casino. Lo and behold, it was.
(Le Grand Casino)
This was the most gorgeous casino I have ever seen. It rivaled St. Peter's Basilica in ornateness. It didn't open until 2 pm so we went and had lunch and spoke to a nice Monegasque man for a while. We then walked back to the casino. As we walked in I was told to take off my hat, which is certainly not a normal occurrence in American casinos. They then checked out passports because the Monegasques are not allowed to gamble in the casino. We paid our 10 euros to enter the casino and they printed our names on the ticket (they are serious about not letting Monegasques gamble). We wandered around the casino admiring how gorgeous it was. Then I decided I had come this far, I can't leave without placing a bet. I found a roulette table with a 5 euro minimum bet, placed my 10 euro note down and got two chips. I placed one on red, and won! I then took my winnings and again placed it on red, and won again! One thing I remember my dad teaching me was quit while you're ahead. I had doubled my money and decided I had accomplished what I wanted. Not only had I gambled at Le Grand Casino in Monaco, I had a winning percentage of 100, and I had doubled my money. I cashed in two of my chips and saved two for souvenirs (which were the cheapest souvenirs in Monaco I might add).
We then took a bus up to the top of the old city of Monaco and saw the most beautiful blue water you could ever imagine. There is no doubt that this is one of the most gorgeous places in the world, if not one of the richest (the sheer number of cars that cost more than $500,000 in this city is amazing).
(View from Vieux Monaco)
The next day we spent in Nice, which I think can best be described as nice. It's a pretty place right on the water. The views are beautiful, however, the beach is rocky and there seems to be little else for Nice to offer. I must add we had a fantastic meal at a Lebanese restaurant called "Adonis." If you're ever in Nice look it up, you will not be disappointed. The next day we left for London.
Thursday, April 21, 2011
Rome is the most expensive city on Earth
Okay, so this is a little late, but it has been ridiculously hectic here. We went to Rome for Angela's birthday, and had a fantastic time, although I will take this first opportunity to let you know that EasyJet absolutely blows (there will be a post dedicated entirely to EasyJet so I won't go into this right now). We landed in Rome around noon and went to get on our bus to the center of the city. We had read that a company called Terravision was really good, we soon learned differently. We missed the first bus we could have made because it was full. So we waited, and waited, and waited for about 30 minutes. Finally a second bus pulled in. Picking up our bags we were ready to board, that is until the bus backed up and left without anyone on it. Another 30 minutes went by before we finally got on a bus. It took about 45 minutes to get into central Rome and we were starving, so we decided to eat. We had a pretty good, if not expensive meal near the train station and got on the Metro across town.
We checked into our bed and breakfast, RomAnticaRoma, which was 75 yards from the Vatican wall and was fantastic. We immediately set out to see some of the city. We walked clear across the city from the Vatican to the Pantheon to Trastevere, which is across the Tiber River and south of the Vatican. In all, we probably walked about 5 miles, which isn't much, but Angela did just have surgery on her foot about 6 weeks ago.
The next day we got up early and got to the Vatican Museum about 45 minutes before it opened. We got into the museum rather quickly, and took some pictures from one of the most beautiful courtyards I've ever seen. We then made a beeline for the two things that we wanted to see, the Sistine Chapel and the Raphael room. Both were absolutely amazing. After the museum we went into St. Peter's Basilica, which is the most ornate building I think I have ever laid eyes on.
(The Raphael Room)
(One of many pictures of St. Peter's Basilica)
Later that day we tried to go see the Spanish Steps and the Trevi fountain, but it was so crowded we couldn't say anything. So we forgot that idea and went to have a glass of wine at Piazza Navona, which was so much better than the Spanish Steps and the Trevi Fountain. That night we had what may be one of the 10 best meals I have ever had in my life at a restaurant called Virginiae (I would like to post a link, but I can't seem to fine one).
(Piazza Navona and wine)
The next day, Angela's birthday, we got up early to see the Spanish Steps and the Trevi fountain without people. They were both much better when they were abandoned. We saw the Coloseum, the Forum, the Circus Maximus. We then went and had a drink in a rootop bar overlooking the city, had a mediocre dinner by the Pantheon. The next morning we woke up early, got on our flight back to Lyon and our whirlwind trip to Rome was complete. Finally, we had a trip where nothing ridiculous happened.
(The Coloseum)
We checked into our bed and breakfast, RomAnticaRoma, which was 75 yards from the Vatican wall and was fantastic. We immediately set out to see some of the city. We walked clear across the city from the Vatican to the Pantheon to Trastevere, which is across the Tiber River and south of the Vatican. In all, we probably walked about 5 miles, which isn't much, but Angela did just have surgery on her foot about 6 weeks ago.
The next day we got up early and got to the Vatican Museum about 45 minutes before it opened. We got into the museum rather quickly, and took some pictures from one of the most beautiful courtyards I've ever seen. We then made a beeline for the two things that we wanted to see, the Sistine Chapel and the Raphael room. Both were absolutely amazing. After the museum we went into St. Peter's Basilica, which is the most ornate building I think I have ever laid eyes on.
(The Raphael Room)
(One of many pictures of St. Peter's Basilica)
Later that day we tried to go see the Spanish Steps and the Trevi fountain, but it was so crowded we couldn't say anything. So we forgot that idea and went to have a glass of wine at Piazza Navona, which was so much better than the Spanish Steps and the Trevi Fountain. That night we had what may be one of the 10 best meals I have ever had in my life at a restaurant called Virginiae (I would like to post a link, but I can't seem to fine one).
(Piazza Navona and wine)
The next day, Angela's birthday, we got up early to see the Spanish Steps and the Trevi fountain without people. They were both much better when they were abandoned. We saw the Coloseum, the Forum, the Circus Maximus. We then went and had a drink in a rootop bar overlooking the city, had a mediocre dinner by the Pantheon. The next morning we woke up early, got on our flight back to Lyon and our whirlwind trip to Rome was complete. Finally, we had a trip where nothing ridiculous happened.
(The Coloseum)
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Scusi, salami?
Well, Angela and I were supposed to go to the Alps last weekend, but those plans feel through early in the week. On Wednesday Angela came to me with a great idea, we drive to Pisa and Florence for the weekend. I jumped at this opportunity. So on Saturday morning we jumped in the car and began our journey to Tuscany.
We drove into Italy and we stopped at a roadside rest stop. The interesting thing about rest stops in Italy in comparison to the US is that they are fantastic. We each got a cappuccino and a panini (at 10:30 in the morning). They were both delicious. We continued down the road and stopped 2 more times for cappuccino (it's that good), when I noticed that we were approaching Genoa. Now any good carnivore knows that Genoa is world famous for salami. So we decided to stop in Genoa and buy some salami (who wouldn't). The problem that we encountered is that Genoa is a huge city with a metro area of just about 1.5 million people. It's not as if we could simply zip off the highway, find the local butcher and buy ourselves a salami.
We got off the highway and quickly realized that we had no idea where to actually buy a salami. We drove around a bit to the center of the city when Angela suggested we roll down the window and ask someone, but we encountered another problem with this idea, neither of us speak Italian. We gave some serious thought to rolling down the window and yelling at a person on the street, "SCUSI, SALAMI?" And for a second this seemed like a good idea, maybe he/she could point us to the nearest salami (I think there is a law in Genoa that says all people at all times need to know the location of all butchers and sausage makers within a 200 yard radius of them). Unfortunately, Angela didn't actually do what she said she was going to, and we continued driving. We eventually entered into a neighborhood that we most definitely a working neighborhood and we passed by a fresh vegetable, fruit and meat market. Our next goal was parking. After about 30 minutes of trying to park we found a spot and ran in an bought our kilo of salami (for those of you who don't know metric, i.e. almost everyone reading this, a kilo equates to about 2.2 pounds; yes that's right, we bought over 2 lbs of salami).
We got back in the car and continued to an area in a national park called Cinque Terre (thanks for suggesting this Catherine). This is 5 fishing villages right on the Mediterranean, and is freakin' gorgeous. Although it was raining and a little cold we had a good few hours here just seeing the beautiful Italian countryside.
There is also one more thing that needs to be said about our trip to Cinque Terre, but this must be prefaced with a disclaimer that I brain farted this entire trip. We pulled into a parking lot in the town on Montrosso al Mare which is one of the 5 villages. I walked over to the parking meter (which in most European cities is one of the ones where you park, walk over, put in your money and then put a little piece of paper in the window that says how long you've paid for). As Angela is putting on her raincoat I decide to pay for parking. I have almost no coins on me, and the machine doesn't take bills, but it sure looked like it might take cards. The key words in that sentence are "looked like" and "might." It in fact did not take cards, but this didn't stop me. I found a hole in the parking meter that my card appeared to fit in. The next conversation with Angela, still putting on her coat, went something like this.
Me: Babe, I think I did something stupid.
Angela: What?
Me: I think I lost my credit card.
Angela: What?
Me: Do you have tweezers?
Angela: What?
Luckily Angela did have tweezers and I was able to extract my credit card from the machine. CRISIS AVERTED!
When we left Cinque Terre we drove to Pisa and checked into our hotel, which was quite nice and cheap. We had a room on the fourth floor that gave us a beautiful view of the mountains in the morning. We woke up early and went and took pictures of the tower, did some shopping (yes Angela bought a lamp shaped like the tower). We then got in the car and decided to drive down to Livorno for some lunch and over to Florence for two nights. We needed to get some gas, however. At this point I want to say two things, the part of the story cannot get back to Susan just yet (I'm looking at you Betsy) and we were driving Susan's diesel Mercedes-Benz A-class. If you read that last sentence and you think you put together what happened next, congratulations, you're a freakin' genius. We pulled over to a gas station and I started pumping gas. I want to point out that I was brain farting this entire trip. Although I kept reminding myself it was diesel my thought process went something like this;
"You can't pump diesel into a regular engine because the nozzle is too large, therefore the regular pump probably won't fit into a diesel gas tank."
I should have just thought back to when I learned basic shapes. A 2 inch circle can't fit into a 1 inch hole, but a 1 inch circle can fit into a 2 inch hole. I proved this logic correct when I pumped 8 liters of Super into a diesel engine. The ensuing conversation with Angela went like this:
Me: Babe, I did something stupid.
Angela: What?
Me: I accidentally pumped Super into the car.
Angela: What? How much?
Me: Just about 2 gallons.
Angela: What?
Me: Can you look in the manual to see what we should do?
Angela pulled out the manual, I'm guessing looking under the tab of "my fiance is a moron who put Super into a diesel engine, what should I do?" When she did this a ran into the gas station and asked the attendant in a panic, "Do you speak English?" His response was "a little." I said to him, "I accidentally put Super into my diesel car?" He looked down at his computer and said, "8 liter, fill diesel, fill diesel." There was another mechanic standing nearby. I looked at him for affirmation. He threw up his hands and said in a very nonchalant manner, "Fill diesel, fill diesel." I said, "Okay," and left to fill diesel. The attendant thinking that I must be some sort of functioning idiot came out to fill diesel for me. I got back in the car, closed my eyes and started the engine. The good news is that nothing bad happened to the car and there is no longer any Super in the gas tank, the bad news is that Angela and I still need to tell Susan about this incident.
The rest of the trip was relatively pain free. We stayed in very nice bed and breakfast in Florence called Althea Rooms, ate possibly the best meal of our lives at Osteria Santo Spirito and had a great time. On the way back we stopped in Parma and bought a kilo of Parmaggiano-Reggiano and 2 kilos of prosciutto di Parmia, which we just dug into and is delicious. All in all it was a memorable and awesome trip.
We drove into Italy and we stopped at a roadside rest stop. The interesting thing about rest stops in Italy in comparison to the US is that they are fantastic. We each got a cappuccino and a panini (at 10:30 in the morning). They were both delicious. We continued down the road and stopped 2 more times for cappuccino (it's that good), when I noticed that we were approaching Genoa. Now any good carnivore knows that Genoa is world famous for salami. So we decided to stop in Genoa and buy some salami (who wouldn't). The problem that we encountered is that Genoa is a huge city with a metro area of just about 1.5 million people. It's not as if we could simply zip off the highway, find the local butcher and buy ourselves a salami.
We got off the highway and quickly realized that we had no idea where to actually buy a salami. We drove around a bit to the center of the city when Angela suggested we roll down the window and ask someone, but we encountered another problem with this idea, neither of us speak Italian. We gave some serious thought to rolling down the window and yelling at a person on the street, "SCUSI, SALAMI?" And for a second this seemed like a good idea, maybe he/she could point us to the nearest salami (I think there is a law in Genoa that says all people at all times need to know the location of all butchers and sausage makers within a 200 yard radius of them). Unfortunately, Angela didn't actually do what she said she was going to, and we continued driving. We eventually entered into a neighborhood that we most definitely a working neighborhood and we passed by a fresh vegetable, fruit and meat market. Our next goal was parking. After about 30 minutes of trying to park we found a spot and ran in an bought our kilo of salami (for those of you who don't know metric, i.e. almost everyone reading this, a kilo equates to about 2.2 pounds; yes that's right, we bought over 2 lbs of salami).
We got back in the car and continued to an area in a national park called Cinque Terre (thanks for suggesting this Catherine). This is 5 fishing villages right on the Mediterranean, and is freakin' gorgeous. Although it was raining and a little cold we had a good few hours here just seeing the beautiful Italian countryside.
There is also one more thing that needs to be said about our trip to Cinque Terre, but this must be prefaced with a disclaimer that I brain farted this entire trip. We pulled into a parking lot in the town on Montrosso al Mare which is one of the 5 villages. I walked over to the parking meter (which in most European cities is one of the ones where you park, walk over, put in your money and then put a little piece of paper in the window that says how long you've paid for). As Angela is putting on her raincoat I decide to pay for parking. I have almost no coins on me, and the machine doesn't take bills, but it sure looked like it might take cards. The key words in that sentence are "looked like" and "might." It in fact did not take cards, but this didn't stop me. I found a hole in the parking meter that my card appeared to fit in. The next conversation with Angela, still putting on her coat, went something like this.
Me: Babe, I think I did something stupid.
Angela: What?
Me: I think I lost my credit card.
Angela: What?
Me: Do you have tweezers?
Angela: What?
Luckily Angela did have tweezers and I was able to extract my credit card from the machine. CRISIS AVERTED!
When we left Cinque Terre we drove to Pisa and checked into our hotel, which was quite nice and cheap. We had a room on the fourth floor that gave us a beautiful view of the mountains in the morning. We woke up early and went and took pictures of the tower, did some shopping (yes Angela bought a lamp shaped like the tower). We then got in the car and decided to drive down to Livorno for some lunch and over to Florence for two nights. We needed to get some gas, however. At this point I want to say two things, the part of the story cannot get back to Susan just yet (I'm looking at you Betsy) and we were driving Susan's diesel Mercedes-Benz A-class. If you read that last sentence and you think you put together what happened next, congratulations, you're a freakin' genius. We pulled over to a gas station and I started pumping gas. I want to point out that I was brain farting this entire trip. Although I kept reminding myself it was diesel my thought process went something like this;
"You can't pump diesel into a regular engine because the nozzle is too large, therefore the regular pump probably won't fit into a diesel gas tank."
I should have just thought back to when I learned basic shapes. A 2 inch circle can't fit into a 1 inch hole, but a 1 inch circle can fit into a 2 inch hole. I proved this logic correct when I pumped 8 liters of Super into a diesel engine. The ensuing conversation with Angela went like this:
Me: Babe, I did something stupid.
Angela: What?
Me: I accidentally pumped Super into the car.
Angela: What? How much?
Me: Just about 2 gallons.
Angela: What?
Me: Can you look in the manual to see what we should do?
Angela pulled out the manual, I'm guessing looking under the tab of "my fiance is a moron who put Super into a diesel engine, what should I do?" When she did this a ran into the gas station and asked the attendant in a panic, "Do you speak English?" His response was "a little." I said to him, "I accidentally put Super into my diesel car?" He looked down at his computer and said, "8 liter, fill diesel, fill diesel." There was another mechanic standing nearby. I looked at him for affirmation. He threw up his hands and said in a very nonchalant manner, "Fill diesel, fill diesel." I said, "Okay," and left to fill diesel. The attendant thinking that I must be some sort of functioning idiot came out to fill diesel for me. I got back in the car, closed my eyes and started the engine. The good news is that nothing bad happened to the car and there is no longer any Super in the gas tank, the bad news is that Angela and I still need to tell Susan about this incident.
The rest of the trip was relatively pain free. We stayed in very nice bed and breakfast in Florence called Althea Rooms, ate possibly the best meal of our lives at Osteria Santo Spirito and had a great time. On the way back we stopped in Parma and bought a kilo of Parmaggiano-Reggiano and 2 kilos of prosciutto di Parmia, which we just dug into and is delicious. All in all it was a memorable and awesome trip.
Monday, March 7, 2011
Father-in-law, Son-in-Law bonding
Last night Patrick and I attended the Olympique Lyonnais vs. AC Arles-Avignon football (soccer) match. Before coming to France one of the things high on my "to do" list was go to a soccer game. If you are unfamiliar with French soccer it works like other European soccer leagues. There are a number of different leagues (i.e. Ligue 1, Ligue 2, etc). The bottom three teams in Ligue 1 at the end of the season move into Ligue 2 and the top three teams in Ligue 2 move up to Ligue 1, and so on. Olympique Lyonnais last year was second in Ligue 1 (since they can't move up any further they just stayed put). Arles-Avignon was also in the top three last year, the top three of Ligue 2. This year Lyon is sitting in third place in Ligue 1 and Arles-Avignon is, you guessed it, in 20th (last) place. Not only are they in last place, they have only won 1 game this entire season and are 14 points behind the team in 19th place. Suffice it to say, they are bad. They make the North Texas football team look like the Pittsburgh Steelers (minus the sexual assault).
Patrick and I took the subway to the game, which was quite easy. As we came out of the subway I was expecting to see the stadium rise above everything else around, like when you come out of the "el" in the Bronx or at Willets Point. We crested the top of the stairs and there were throngs of people, but Patrick and I both did the same thing; we turned around in circles trying to figure out where to go next. Finally, I noticed what appeared to be a high school football field in Texas and said, "Oh, I think there's the stadium."
Patrick and I walked over to the stadium, which was built in 1930, and looked as if it hadn't been renovated since 1946 (and that's even questionable). But I didn't care, I wasn't going to the game for the stadium, I was going to watch some fantastic European soccer. In fact, the stadium gave it a little character. Patrick and I found our seats in the upper deck (superieur). This is where the size of the stadium really helped. We were in the upper deck and couldn't be more than 150 feet from the playing field It was great!
Now, I don't know if any retransmission, rebroadcast or account of the game without the express written consent of Ligue 1 is prohibited, but I'm going to go ahead anyway. Arles started with the ball, and they had it for about 7.4 seconds before Lyon took the ball away. This kind of set the tone for the entire game. They scored 2 goals within 20 minutes and then proceeded to win 5-0. Nobody would have confused this game with competitive, but I had a blast. This old stadium was moving with the excitement of 35,000 fans screaming and shouting. There were guys waving flags and banging drums. There was face paint, OL scarves everywhere. These fans had so much more zeal than fans at American sports. When Lyon scored a goal (which as stated above was often) the old stadium would literally shake and creak from the screaming of fans like it were struggling just to keep its walls up. In all, Patrick and I had a beer, watched a fun game and had a fantastic time. I can't wait for the Lyon-Marseilles game.
Patrick and I took the subway to the game, which was quite easy. As we came out of the subway I was expecting to see the stadium rise above everything else around, like when you come out of the "el" in the Bronx or at Willets Point. We crested the top of the stairs and there were throngs of people, but Patrick and I both did the same thing; we turned around in circles trying to figure out where to go next. Finally, I noticed what appeared to be a high school football field in Texas and said, "Oh, I think there's the stadium."
Patrick and I walked over to the stadium, which was built in 1930, and looked as if it hadn't been renovated since 1946 (and that's even questionable). But I didn't care, I wasn't going to the game for the stadium, I was going to watch some fantastic European soccer. In fact, the stadium gave it a little character. Patrick and I found our seats in the upper deck (superieur). This is where the size of the stadium really helped. We were in the upper deck and couldn't be more than 150 feet from the playing field It was great!
Now, I don't know if any retransmission, rebroadcast or account of the game without the express written consent of Ligue 1 is prohibited, but I'm going to go ahead anyway. Arles started with the ball, and they had it for about 7.4 seconds before Lyon took the ball away. This kind of set the tone for the entire game. They scored 2 goals within 20 minutes and then proceeded to win 5-0. Nobody would have confused this game with competitive, but I had a blast. This old stadium was moving with the excitement of 35,000 fans screaming and shouting. There were guys waving flags and banging drums. There was face paint, OL scarves everywhere. These fans had so much more zeal than fans at American sports. When Lyon scored a goal (which as stated above was often) the old stadium would literally shake and creak from the screaming of fans like it were struggling just to keep its walls up. In all, Patrick and I had a beer, watched a fun game and had a fantastic time. I can't wait for the Lyon-Marseilles game.
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