Vilnius feels like a stimulating marriage of ancient and very modern. Everyone seems to speak English, which is a blessing, as Lithuanian is baffling. It’s one of those orphan languages, not really related to any modern European language. Its roots are in Sanskrit. Yeah, Sanskrit.
About the only bad thing I can say about Lithuania is that there are no good looking men here. It’s a national tragedy. I’m actually very surprised. John and Milana assure me that it’s just a Lithuania thing; that Russia and Estonia won’t be this way. There are plenty of attractive women, however. Whenever you see a couple walking, you think, “Dude. No WAY would you be able to get her any place but here.”
My cousin John, his wife Milana and their daughter Vivienne
Sunday was a great day. We jumped in the car and took a short drive to Trakai, which has two main attractions : A famous local pastry called kibinai, , and the ridiculously photogenic 15th Century Trakai Castle, perched like a jewel in the middle of Lake Galve. On John’s orders I tried another famous dish: a bacon and cabbage soup served in a black bread bowl. It was a tranformative experience.
John and Milana understand and respect my trademark directive to go the movies and to find Mexican food in every foreign place I visit. Today we accomplished both.
Trakai Castle, Lithuania
We went to the local multiplex and saw, alas, Water For Elephants. While its setting should be irresistable – a circus during the depression – the movie falls pretty flat. Its biggest problem is the lead, Robert Pattinson of Twilight fame. He is nice enough looking but has zero charisma and only the most basic acting chops. How, I wonder, did he get past the tough gatekeepers of show business? He doesn’t seem in any way special to me. He didn’t even follow the Ray and Tayler rule – meaning he didn’t get in shape even though he was playing the “hunky” young lead in an A picture. Shame on his charisma-free self.
I didn't take this picture, but I just had to show you the ultracool bell tower of the Vilnius Cathedral.
Also, the movie doesn’t provide a good role for my beloved Reese Witherspoon. She is way too short and stubby a body to look good in circus clothes. It’s just very unfortunate. It’s also not an interesting role. She seems to have the Oscar curse almost as bad as Adrien Brody. I hope she works through it and gets herself into some good movies soon.
The one only two things the movie has going for it are 1) the performance by the dazzling Christoph Walz as the circus boss, and 2) the framing device with Hal Halbrook and the very handsome and very underrated Paul Schneider.
All in all, quite a disappointment.
I don’t know how much longer John and Milana will stay in Vilnius. They’re eager to make a change, either to the States or to Milana’s native Prague. I’m very glad I had the opportunity to visit them while I was here. John is going to try to meet me for my short stay in St. Petersburg at the end of the month, and Milana might try to meet me in Tallinn. Fingers crossed.
I’ve now been on the road for over seven weeks. I’m having a great time but I’m definitely homesick.
Today I fly to Berlin and I’m quite excited about the prospect of six days in a city I’ve long wanted to visit!
Favorite Reese Witherspoon Movies
Freeway
Legally Blonde
Walk the Line
Pleasantville
Average Rating: 4.4 out of 5 based on 185 user reviews.
This morning Cousin John picked me up and took me to the sparkling building where he lives with his wife Milana and new baby Vivienne.
Vilnius was exactly what I wanted it to be. I’ve long wanted to visit the Baltics, and so far they haven’t let me down. Vilnius is a city of 600, 000, and the old town simply sparkles in the clear Baltic sun. It was chilly but not cold.
The city is absolutely crawling with beautiful old churches, mostly Catholic (Milana says that Lithuanians are even more religious than Poles). But there are also the inevitable Russian Orthodox structures as well.
The main Cathedral has the coolest bell tower I think I have ever seen. It looks like what would happen if a tradtional bell tower and a lighthouse had a baby. It’s just not like any campanile I’ve seen before. Tragically, I didn’ tmanage to get a picture of it, so I’m going to cheat and grab one off the interwebs.
I've always had this weird love for "proletariat" art.
We took a lovely walk around town on Saturday afternoon.
Saturday evening we parked little Viv with John and Milana and I went off to the ballet. It was a performance by the Baltic Ballet Group and the piece was called Depeche Mode: Another World. We loved it.
The town turned out with a huge parade welcoming my visit.
Cities with the Best Looking People
Los Angeles
New York
Rome
Milan
Paris
Average Rating: 4.8 out of 5 based on 204 user reviews.
The final factory in the world which was making mechanical typewriters – in Mumbai, India – has announced it’s not going to make them any more. Manual typewriters will go the way of the buggy whip, the slide rule and Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.
I learned to type on a monstrous, heavy, old battleaxe of a manual typewriter of my father’s. By my junior year in high school, I had figured out that touch-typing was a requirement for life as a modern adult, but I couldn’t picture spending an entire semester of school in a boring typing class. So I went to the typing teacher, introduced myself, and borrowed the typing training book from her and took it home and taught myself. One of the smartest things I’ve ever done. Of course, I didn’t get really good at typing until 1984 when I bought the very first Macintosh. Which, by the way, cost $2, 400, had no hard drive and could hardly do anything. But it was SO COOL.
///
Vilnius is wall-to-wall gorgeous churches
Today is my last day in beautiful Brussels! I’ve really enjoyed my time here and I am sure I could spend far more time exploring this lovely, friendly, and easy-to-navigate city.
I’ve also truly enjoyed working with the people in the Brussels office and I hope I get to cross paths with them again!
But now it’s off on the next leg of my adventure. Early this evening I fly to Vilnius, Lithania, were I will spend the weekend with my cousin John, his wife Milana and their new baby. It will be the farthest east I have ever traveled (beating Budapest) but not the farthest north (that’s still Inverness, Scotland).
///
I got into Vilnius, the capital of Lithania, at about midnight. The plane was a few minutes late, and my tired cousin John met me and drove me to my hotel.
John, Milana and Vivienne live in this groovy building in the middle of Old Town.
Most Northerly Places I’ve Been
Quebec City, Quebec, Canada
Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada
Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada
Inverness, Scotland, UK
Average Rating: 4.5 out of 5 based on 289 user reviews.
"Remember all those wild Bible stories I always told you were true? Well, actually, to be honest, it's not very likely that they are true. And I pretended to be sure they were true when I'm really not sure. You see, believing something is true isn't the same as it being true. So that was kind of dishonest of me. Sorry about that."
People think I’m a game freak. This is mostly because I always tell them that I’m a game freak. And it’s true.
I don’t from the truth. I’m proud of being a gamer. I’ve met great people through computer, video and board gaming.
I am convinced I would have gotten involved in gaming much earlier than I did if I had been born five years earlier. Many of the guys who invented the gaming industry are exactly five years younger than me. Men like Richard Garriott, from Houston and Austin, who came up right after I did.
"Hang on . . . I think I've finally figured out what we can call our new energy drink!!"
Why is that five years significant? Because when I was still living at home as a kid, the home video game console industry was still quite primitive. We’re talking Atari. Colecovision. Intellivision. It was easy to ignore.
Then when I moved away from home, I ended up in New York. And in the early 1980s, Times Square had these fantastic video game arcades. I spent thousands of hours in them, playing Q*Bert, Qix, Arkanoid, Crystal Castles, Dragon’s Quest, Space Ace, Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom (“Soon Kali will rule da world”), and others. At this point, the home video gaming systems were getting better.
View from my office window in Brussels
But I didn’t realize it. When I saw the early Nintendo system, and saw friends playing Super Mario Brothers on it, I thought, “That’s a stripped-down version of what I play in the arcades. I’m having the higher quality experience.” And I turned my back on the consoles.
Mistake. The thing is, I was right at the time. But the situation soon changed. Games like the Ultima, Wizardry, Zelda, and Metroid series began to change everything.
But I missed it.
I didn’t get back into gaming seriously until the end of 1998, when I finally got a nice home computer. One hour with Riven: The Sequel to Myst and I was hooked forever.
At first, all I played were adventure games, like Riven. Soon I began expanding to other genres, most notably role-playing games.
The thing is, adventures were the shortest games. That, combined with the feverish pace I played – I literally counted the hours at work until I could run home and fire up Sanitarium or Broken Sword – meant that for the first few years I completed far more games per year than in later years when I was playing a higher percentage of non-adventures. Check out how the numbers dwindle:
Games finished by year
1999 78
2000 69
2001 36
2002 25
2003 25
2004 31
2005 9
2006 15
2007 12
2008 18
2009 33
2010 11
I can’t believe I completedseventy-eight games in 1999. Amazing. Now, because of World of Warcraft, I finish very few games per year. But I still spend a huge percentage of my leisure time gaming in one form or another.
I understand that not everyone can be a game freak like me. But I feel bad for people who refuse to even try them. They’re really missing out. Games now are an extremely sophisticated, interactive, frequently beautiful form of entertainment (and even social interaction). To ignore games completely is like being an American in the 20s or 30s and refusing to go the movies: You’re missing the best popular culture and technology have to offer. So there.
The ONE EXCUSE I will accept is the one my friend Amy gives: “I know if I started playing them I would love them too much and play all the time and my life would be ruined.”
But for all of you Phillistines out there who turn your noses up at a hobby you do not understand – a thrilling, beautiful world of fantasy, science fiction, war, strategy, adventure, and storytelling – it’s your loss, pal. We’re having way more fun than you.
Average Rating: 4.6 out of 5 based on 250 user reviews.
The obligatory Maneken Pis photo. Why is this stupid thing so famous?
I worry a lot about Alzheimer’s. I guess it’s natural at my advanced age. It doesn’t help that I can sense my memory deteriorating daily. A few weeks ago I couldn’t think of word “Toronto” for over an hour. Seriously. “That big city in Ontario . . you know, the biggest city in Canada . . WTF is it called?!” This really actually scared me.
"... take it ..."
Stumbling around Europe, though, I’m getting a surprise boost to my memory morale. How? In my pathetic, yet largely successful, forays into French.
Yesterday I was in a charming little Chinese restaurant where I made friends with a pretty pure white cat named Vanilla. Yes, inside the restaurant. At my table.
Think Belgium, think . . . Don Quixote?
This is not my complaint – I think all business should have pets, and people who are allergic can just order off of the internet.
Anyway, the reason I know the fuzzy one’s name is that I somehow pulled this question out of my ass: “Comment s’apppelle-t-il?” What is his name? Now, this is not at all impressive except for the fact that I haven’t studied French since 9th and 10th grades. And kids, by 9th and 10th grades, I mean 1974 and 1975. Yeah, before the Second World War. I was NEVER fluent in French by any means. And I don’t mean to suggest in any way that my miniature linguistic successes such as asking a cat’s name are impressive on their own. I just mean they make me feel like perhaps my memory hasn’t been completely shot to merde yet after all.
By the way, I went back to the same restaurant today, and was disappointed to learn that Vanilla was sleeping in the back.
I guess we should be kind. The Belgians are juggling so many damn languages, it's unreasonable to expect them to spell everything correctly.
The owner of the restaurant is a very nice Chinese guy, and even though he knows I speak English and he speaks French, when we speak to each other, I use my shaky French and he uses his shaky English. Because we’re just attempting to be polite.
D'oh! I was hoping to see the OLD Europe!
///
Another laptop scare last night!
I forgot that I didn’t have the stupid thing plugged in, and it ran out of power right in the middle of a Very Important World of Warcraft dungeon run. Blast. I plugged in, fired up the computer again . . . and, to my horror, it would no longer connect the internet! Consternation!
Le Grand Place
I didn’t panic. I tried every troubleshooting technique I could think of. I did a system restore. I disabled and enabled the wifi device. I rebooted several times. Nothing.
I sheepishly took the beast in to work today, and as I expected, Bert solved the problem in about two minutes. Now I know what to do if it happens again:
At a command prompt,
Configsys /release
Configsys / renew
The machine was stuck on a bad address. This fixed it. Relief‼
Yes, our tourguide was smoking during the tour.
Other Important Things I’ve Forgotten
. . . huh what?
Average Rating: 4.4 out of 5 based on 279 user reviews.
Back to work! Almost a relief after the hectic three days I had as a tourist. Tourism, at least the way I do it, is very tiring. But, as David Letterman says, it’s a good kind of tired.
Today started a battery of classes. It was fun to get back into the classroom after doing mostly support for many weeks.
Took care of the Attend a Movie requirement for Brussels tonight. I was running out of hope – everything in Brussels was either not in English, or I’d already seen it, or I’d rather drive upholstery tacks into my gums than see it. Then I spied a new Ken Loach film with the curious name Route Irish playing at a multiplex in the center of town. Score.
I recommend the film. I have no idea if it’s even opened in the states, or if it will open. Ken Loach has never done big business there. He’s an angry, frankly political filmmaker. Compared to Ken Loach’s films, Mike Leigh’s movies are Spielberg.
General Rommel ate at this Subway in 1942. Legend has it he ordered a foot long Spicy Italian on wheat.
The market in central Brussels. It's got a titanic history, but is probably most famous for being the place where we made First Contact with aliens from outer space.
This one treads similar ground to the much less successful Green Zone with Matt Damon from a year or two. In fact, the color in the title relates to the title of the Loach film. “Route Irish, ” according to the movie, is a nickname Americans give to the stretch of road in Baghdad which connects The Green Zone to the airport. It’s considered the most dangerous stretch of road in the world.
Mark Womack stars as a Liverpudlian ex-military, ex-mercenary who hears of his best friend’s death on Route Irish. At the funeral, .listening to the fulsome speeches and condolences from the suits of the Blackwater-like organization that his friend worked for, Womack begins to get suspicious. He begins tugging at threads and soon the cover story about his friend’s death begins to unravel.
There wolf!!
I really liked the movie because I like anything that deals with complex moral ambiguity. By the end of the film, there’s no one who’s really innocent. I also must say that, while I’m generally a complete wuss when it comes to depictions of torture on screen (or in fiction, for that matter), it’s used in an extremely smart and nuanced way in this movie. I don’t want to say more, but let’s just say it made the stakes in the movie even more morally messy. Which is a good thing.
Seek Route Irish out if you are up for a gritty, sad, beautifully acted drama about the moral complexities of modern war.
Got home just in time to download the huge new Patch 4.1 for World of Warcraft. OMG tons of new stuff to do!
This is the only actual bodybuilder I've seen on the trip so far, damnit.
Some Good Movies About the Slippery Morals of War
Under Fire
Salvador
Route Irish
Three Days of the Condor
Syriana
Gallipoli
Breaker Morant
Paths of Glory
Black Book
Average Rating: 4.6 out of 5 based on 279 user reviews.
Fun, long excursion day to Bruges and Ghent, the two jewels in the crown of historic Flanders.
Both cities were hugely important for a long time. They were both ports (reachable from the sea by canals) and were heavily involved in the Flemish cloth trade. Then two horrible things happened: Silt filled in their harbors and those damned English figured out a way to make cloth as nice as the Flemish stuff for much less. That and a reprisals from a bit of political disobedience killed both towns. Now they are both sturdy, mid-sized cities who earn a lot of their dough from tourists like me.
Make sure you spring for the most expensive candles; this guarantees that God fast-tracks an answer to your prayer.Okay, I'm firing my cleaning lady
I have one question for the horrible Spanish family who sat behind me on the bus. Why would you take a two year old on a 10 hour bus and walking tour to Ghent and Bruges? Why, oh why? What a shock that he didn’t have a good time. And as everyone knows, if a two year old who’s sharing a confined space with you isn’t happy, ain’t nobody happy.
Didn't have time to climb it. But damnit if Brendan Gleeson can climb it, I can climb it.
I kept looking for an opportunity to push the tot into one of the many scenic canals we visited during the day, but no appropriate opportunity presented itself.
Bruges is the smaller of the two cities, but its historic district is much larger. It is indeed a jewel. I had just the day before ascended the many winding stairs to the tippy top of the bell towers of Notre Dame, so I wasn’t sure if I was up to doing the same thing in Bruges. The clock tower in the center of town figures prominently in the fabulous movie In Bruges, and I really wanted to climb it . . . I think. Perhaps fortunately, the line to climb was long and we didn’t have time during our brief stay. Oh, well.
I enjoyed the picture taking, particularly around the little lake just outside the town center. Also, there’s a lovely Michelangelo statue in the cathedral. He carved it for a church in Siena, but it was acquired by a rich Flemish merchant who brought it home to impress the locals. It’s one of the very few Michalengelos outside of Italy.
One of the few Michelangelos outside of Italy.
After Bruges it was a zip down the highway to Ghent. By this time the squalling espagnol brat had soured my mood somewhat, so I sort of stomped around Ghent checking out the greatest hits. Happily, one of the greatest hits was the magnificent altarpiece The Adoration of the Mystic Lamb, from 1432, on display at the St. Bavo Cathedral. It consists of 24 panels and is quite something.
I guess I don't get the point of black flowers.
Something that had been bothering me to an increasing degree over the week was concerns about having enough walking-around money. In Europe, debit cards are used much less commonly than in the States, and I’d had zero luck using either my debit card or my credit card in getting more Euros out of any ATM. Finally, I scored at a KTB bank ATM in Ghent, rendering Ghent to be an official Wonderful Place.
I guess wherever you grow up feels normal to you . . .
... even if it's not.
Many of these swans are over 600 years old.
The main canal in Ghent
When's the last time you saw an actual hurdy-gurdy man?
Polychromatic facade in GhentYes, Bruges is a pretty town.
A simple but lovely window in the cathedral in Ghent
It's so cool: For Easter, the Ghent Cathedral has the Stations of the Cross illustrated with ACTUAL PHOTOS.
Pigeon towers
Memorable Tours
Walking tour of Nazi Munich, 2006
Bus tour of Ming Tombs and Great Wall, 2007
Segway tour of old mill area of Minneapolis, 2008
Average Rating: 4.9 out of 5 based on 158 user reviews.
I have achieved the Notre Dame bell tower! It wasn’t easy. Months ago when I planned this excursion, I didn’t realize it was to be Easter Week. Paris was a zoo, and the lines for everything were horrifying. On Saturday I gave up on the slow-moving line to climb the bell tower. I arrived early on Easter Morning, got a much better place in line, and got comfortable for my wait.
Ethel Merman posed for this gargoyle sculpture when she was touring Europe in CALL ME MADAM in 1955. "I just hacked away everything that didn't look like Ethel Merman, " the appalled sculptor said to reporters, shortly before killing himself.
Evidently all Scout Guides in Europe come to Notre Dame on Easter Sunday. There were thousands of them, all in uniform. I kept wanting to stop them to find out if they practiced institutionalized discrimination like the Boy Scouts of America did, but I didn’t. I looked it up online later and the answer was more complicated than I expected. The Guides are completely affiliated with the Catholic Church, so there has been a traditional animus against atheist and homosexual members. However, in many European countries, these restrictions have been relaxed or eliminated in recent years.
The best thing about the Scout Guides was that, since they were European, many of them were smoking. In uniform. It was fantastic. I am very sorry I didn’t get a good picture of that.
At last it was my time to climb. I have to say that getting to the top of the bell tower was certainly harder than it was when I was 27, but I made it without too many palpitations. Got some good photeax on the top of the Cathedral. The gargoyles just don’t let you down.
After Notre Dame, I went to that neighborhood the waitress had recommended last night: Butte aux Cailles. Must confess I was underwhelmed. Perhaps because everything, and I mean nearly EVERYthing, was closed for Easter. I went back to my favorite Montparnasse haunt and had a nice ham egg and cheese crepe for lunch. Then headed to the Gare du Nord early.
Statler and Waldorf
If I was a bit let down by my Paris trip, I actually think that’s okay. I still really enjoyed myself, and if it wasn’t as golden as it was in my memories, that’s a good life lesson. Memories are fine, but it’s the present that counts. Maybe after this trip my new favorite city will be Tallinn, or even Moscow. Who knows? The best of times must always be NOW, or else we’re doing it wrong.
The design of the Cite Metro station is very Jules Verne.
No problems on the train returning from Paris. I actually enjoyed my overlong stay at the Gare du Nord. Sometimes, even in Paris, it’s good to just sit still and do nothing. I read, worked on my computer, took pictures, etc.
The famous "Honey Badger" gargoyle
It is impressive to make the 162 miles between the two cities in just eighty minutes.
I love trains. I love everything about trains. I love movies and books set on trains. I like traveling by train better than any other form of travel, by a wide margin. Trains are so civilized.
Lookout
Sacre Coeur is so breathtaking I can't even come up with a jokey caption.
The beauty and majesty of the famous Rose Window in Notre Dame proves that the Judeo-Christian God is actually real.
I love this. The sign says they're never closed . . . except they are.
“See that big sign, with all the trains schedule on it, Son?”
"Everywhere those trains go, there are French people smoking."
"Papa, when I grow up, I want to work in middle management in a drab anonymous office block in Brussels, and then die of emphysema in my early forties."
"You will, my son. You will."
Memorable Train Rides
Menton (French Riviera) to Pisa, Italy, 1987
Los Angeles to San Francisco, 1994
London to Edinburgh, arriving in Edinburgh in a beautiful snowfall, 1998
Montreal to New York during fall foliage, 2003
The legendary Paris institution of higher learning, The Sorbonne. In this very building, French scientists discovered fire more than 130 years ago, changing the course of human history and earning the eternal love of candle makers everywhere.
Hot air balloon caught between the towers of St. Germain-des-PresUnder the Tower
This was a lot easier to climb 24 years ago. But I did it!
Many many scouts!!
I was able to get a piece of the True Cross for the incredible low price of only 7.50 Euro! This proves that the story of Easter is actually true!
Average Rating: 4.9 out of 5 based on 293 user reviews.
Early in the morning, busy Parisians prepare for their day.
One quick word about the view from my lovely hotel room: It was indeed impressive, with a north-facing panorama that included the Seine, Sacre Coeur, Notre-Dame, St. Germain de Pres, and many other landmarks. “Where’s the damned Eiffel Tower?” I kept wondering. And then I realized. The monstrous Tour Montparnasse, this awful black glass highrise monstrosity built five minutes before they passed laws against any tall buildings in the city center, was perversely and precisely between me and the Eiffel, rendering it completely invisible. The only way I knew it was there, apart from the mere fact that I DID know it was there, was its rotating light that I couls see sweep around the city. Oh, well, you can’t have everything.
I don't remember seeing this the last time I was in Paris. They were everywhere. The street, the subway, my hotel room -- but that's a different story.
He may be bored by the view, but I am not.
Anyway, it’s Paris! I’ve been here twice before, in 1987 and 1989. The first visit was for sixteen glorious days. It was my first time in Europe, and I dove into Paris like it was a swimming pool full of Peanut M&Ms. I saw every museum. Every church. Every monumental boulevard. Every landmark. I saw English movies almost every night. I even got flirted with (uselessly for her, poor thing) by a pretty ex-pat American fashion model.
All around Paris there is still evidence of the nearly six centuries France spent under Egyptian rule.
In 1989 I met two friends in Paris after my month in Italy. I basically recreated the highlights of my earlier trip for my friends. Not the best idea, but it worked.
About halfway through my first full day in Paris this time around, I realized that I was trying to recreate my original 1989 trip again!. No wonder I was getting grumpy at the long lines to do things that had had no lines at all 24 years ago. Three hours to get up the Eiffel Tower? An hour to get into Sainte-Chappelle? Yuck.
Latin Quarter alley
Luckily I figured out my mistake and let go, relaxed, and just tried to enjoy the city.
From the top of Notre Dame
If only I still had the endurance I had in my 20s.
I walked A LOT today. From deep in Montparnasse up the Boulevard St. Michel, all around the Ile de la Cite (home of Notre Dame), along the Seine past the Louvre and the Place de la Concorde, up the tony Boulevard George Cinq, along the Champs Elysee to the Arc du Triomphe, then back across town to the Trocadero Palace and across the Seine again to the Eiffel Tour.
A view of two of the greatest museums in the world -- The Louvre and the Musee D'Orsay -- from the top of the Eiffel Tower.
The Seine from the Tower
King Tut personally ruled over Paris until his untimely death by AIDS at age 173.
So I’d already done all of that walking before digging into the three hour line to ascend to the summit of my beloved tower. Yes, my feets was tired by the time I came back to earth.
A little R&R at the hotel followed by Mexican food (Mexican food in Paris! Yay!) in Montparnasse at a place puzzlingly called The Indiana Café. Nice place, though. My waitress was a very pretty brunette with a deadly-sexy French accent. Honestly, if I’d been a straight guy I would have been a goner. She chatted me up and confirmed that yes, this was an area where locals hung out, not just tourists. “Of course, there will be some tourists no matter where you go, ” she said. “This IS Paris.” She also turned me on to a nearby neighborhood called Butte aux Cailles. “It’s like an old-time French village, ” she cooed. I promised her I would check it out.
Notre Dame from the top of the Eiffel Tower. Hooray for zoom lenses.
YOU WILL BE ASSIMILATED
Complete List of European Cities I’ve Visited More Than Once
London
Paris
(coming soon) Munich
Average Rating: 4.9 out of 5 based on 222 user reviews.
The Boulevard St.-Michel greeted me like an old friend: "Christ, Ray, you got old and fat. Mon Dieu!" "Oh, fuck off, Boulevard St.-Michel."
Paris, Texas
April 22, 2011
Distance Traveled Today: 162
Distance So Far: 7538
Well, that was stupid. All week I’d been thinking the departure time of my bullet train to Paris on Friday night was at 8:35. At 6:20 on Friday evening I was in the office and happened to glance at my ticket. I saw to my horror that 8:35 was the arrival time, not the departure time. The departure time was at 7:15. Oh, dear.
At about 6:20 on Friday I was puttering around at work and I absently pulled out my train ticket and glanced at it. I realized to my horror that for the entire week I had been reading the arrival time in Paris on the ticket. The departure time was 7:15. I nearly had a heart attack. I stumbled out of the office, jogged all the way back to the hotel, begged the front desk to get me a cab, ran upstairs and frantically packed. The cab took forever to arrive – the fact that it was raining didn’t help, I guess. He got me to the train with only five minutes to spare. Grr.
Here’s the thing: The ticket was expensive and completely non-exchangeable. In other words, if I had been five minutes later, I would have had to purchase and entire new ticket.
This ancient toilet dates back to the time of Charlemagne, the first Emperor of the Holy Roman Empire. That's also the last time it was cleaned.
Ironically, after rushing to meet the train, we had a delay of an hour getting to Paris.
Except that it didn’t. About halfway through the trip, we got held up by a train in front of us that was having problems. So we ended up being an hour late. That may not sound like much, but consider this: The journey was supposed to take only eighty minutes. In other words, the premium we had paid to be on a fast train was utterly wasted. I’ll give them credit for this, though: As we got out, there was an official with apology/partial refund forms at the ready.
Next: Navigate the Metro to my hotel. Turned out to be not as easy as I expected.
Time to make a few complaints regarding our European cousins, at least the ones in Belgium and France:
Can I haz apartment in this building?
First, there is no fountain soda in Europe. At least, it’s rarer than a funny bit from Dane Cook. I’ve been spending ridiculous sums on tiny bottles of “Coca Cola Light.” Finally, in Paris, I figured it out. I should have tumbled to this much earlier. Where else to go to be my desperately needed fountain-style Diet Coke? McDonalds, of course.
Okay, good. I imagine it won’t be that impossible to find McDonalds anywhere in Europe, so when I absolutely positively need a fizzy, chemical-laden diet drink, I’ll know where to go.
If l had my way I'd wander down the Champs Elysees, going cafe to cabaret
The next complaint is more substantive. When it comes to public access to services, the otherwise smart Western Europeans could use a little help. Yes, the subway system in Brussels is lovely and efficient. And while the Paris Metro is nothing resembling lovely – the cars have seen better days – it’s still extremely efficient and peppy.
The problem? Buying a goddamned ticket.
Political protest over helpless victims of the innumerable Dune sequels
In Brussels, you can only use 1) coins or 2) special European credit cards with some kind of magical EU chips in them. My credit cards, which are otherwise honored most other places in town, simply don’t work. That’s okay, I have cash. Well . . . except that, by cash, I mean paper Euros. Surely the sophisticated ticket machine will take paper Euro notes, right? Wrong. It will only take coins or magic Euro credit cards. No problem, surely there’s a change-making machine nearby, right? No. Absolutely not. So let’s review. You’ve got a machine that basically demands that you be a local to use it. Not very friendly to us Americans who, along with our loudmouth, monolingual ways, are also bringing a lot of American dollars your way. How about cutting us a little break?
Naturellement, the Metro in Paris has the exact same limitations.
John Cleese, a huge gothic architecture fan, sometimes gives impromptu lectures here at Notre Dame. The lectures have become known, of course, as "Monty Python's Flying Buttresses."
I ran into a similar problem trying to connect to the internet at the Gare du Nord. I had some extra time before my train, and I thought, what the hell, let’s see what’s happening on Facebook. Surely in Europe there’s free wifi connectivity all over the place, right?
Well, sort of. There are four or five wifi networks available in the station. Several of them are free . . . if you’re French. In other words, they’re free, but you still have to have an account with some mysterious French company. I couldn’t even translate the pages to try to figure out what I needed to do, because it was impossible to go online to get Google translate. Even if I had wanted to get online bad enough to pay for a session, even that proved impossible. You couldn’t simply fire up the railway internet service, pull out your credit card, and pay for an hour. No, you had to purchase it through one of four French internet connection services that you already had to be a member of. In other words, there’s lots of wifi available . . . as long as you’re local.
Or how about in THIS building?
I realize the Europeans need to feel superior to us, and in some ways I guess they are, but that’s no reason for these types of public services, particularly in cities that survive largely on tourism, to be so opaque and unfriendly.
Speaking of European inferiority, can we talk about the smoking? This, I realize, is not news, but every time I come to Europe I have a foolish optimism that that our EU cousins will finally start to catch up with us in the smoking department. Not so much. Everyone smokes here. Everywhere. People smoke right next to you when you’re waiting in line for things. Nice.
Pierre and I will be married very soon. We hope you can come.
My favorite image in Paris, in fact, were the several Scout Guides (Europe’s version of the Boy and Girl Scouts) who were smoking in uniform this bright Easter morning. I am so sorry I don’t have photographic proof of this, but I was in the achingly slow line for the Notre Dame tower climb, and the scouts were always moving too fast for me to get a good shot. But I saw it, I promise you, more than once.
THE DREADED TOUR MONTPARNASSE, DESTROYER OF VIEWS
Anyway, I finally managed to stumble outside of the terminal and beg a restaurant to make me some change, made my way to the subway and to the garish but very friendly Marriott Rive Gauche. Emphasis on the gauche, but hey, I had a beautiful room on the very top floor with a spectacular Montparnasse-anchored view of Paris. Best of all, it was all paid for with Marriott points.
Notable Examples of Me Misreading Important Dates or Times
When I bought tickets to a Broadway show for a visiting friend, and when she and her mother showed up for the Saturday evening performance, they were told that their tickets were for the matinee which had happened earlier in the day.
When I was in charge of purchasing our tickets to see kd lang at the Hollywood Bowl, and on Saturday morning I realized to my horror that the tickets I was holding were for the Friday night performance.
This performer had a lot of flair.
Getting my audition date for the Yale School of Drama off by exactly one month.
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Vilnius feels like a stimulating marriage of ancient and very modern. Everyone seems to speak English, which is a blessing, as Lithuanian is baffling. It’s one of those orphan languages, not really related to any modern European language. Its roots are in Sanskrit. Yeah, Sanskrit. 
