joy

Century Park, Shanghai

photo by me, June 2005

Wordless Wednesday

take me away

Chijmes, Singapore

photo by me, 2006

Escape with Wordless Wednesday

heaven

South Bank Book Market, London

photo by geekilicious me, 2008

[Technically] Wordless Wednesday

wonderful world

Make a Smilebox slideshow

and then my head exploded

Sculpture by Guy Ferrer, Paris

photo by me, 2008

*post title dedicated to katydidnot

Wordless Wednesday, a work of art

the comforts of our homes away from home

Visit my Flickr page to read the hilarious comments on these photos.

The first row are images from London, specifically the Berjaya Eden Park Hotel at the top of Hyde Park, near Notting Hill.

Second row is Hotel Sully Saint Germain in Paris, on Rue des Ecoles in the Latin Quarter (Left Bank! I felt so expatriated).

Bottom row is the Eden Hotel in Amsterdam, on Amstel. (I totally did not plan that two of our hotels would be named after Paradise; nor did the owners seem to make the connection, either). Though to be fair, our last hotel was quite modern - going so far as to include free Internet in the rooms, a TV with remote & a screen bigger than my hand, plus a generous-sized tub.

I think it's important when traveling to get hotels not too luxurious, otherwise it becomes tremendously depressing to come home. By booking ourselves into places with tiny showers where the curtain is continuously sticking to one's body or where closets cannot fully open because the gigantic [unnecessary] desk chair is blocking the way, we 1) get out of the room and into the city faster and 2) better appreciate our roomy, practical house upon returning.

But I will forever miss someone else making my bed & washing my linens each day. And having fresh warm baguettes with cheese every morning. Sigh.

13 views of my summer vacation

Upon arriving in London

The whirlwind tour with commentary

Left to right:

Globe Theater * London Eye * Turkish Delight @ Borough Market

Street Art @ Tate Modern * Topiary @ Jardin du Luxembourg * Picnic

Flower market in Latin Quarter * La Tour Eiffel * Rembrandthuis

Prinsengracht houseboat * Posthoornkerk * Canal & bike

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Thursday Thirteens around the world

little piece of home abroad

My Grocery Store Hottie has been MIA for many weeks now - so many that he cannot possibly be merely ill or on vacation; it is evident he no longer works for Whole Foods [formerly Wild Oats, which was a far more appropriate name considering why I shopped there]. I have heaved grand sighs about this development (not to mention gone back to shopping the normal once a week, thus saving our family thousands of dollars in gas and random grocery purchases), and felt I had gotten over it.

But when in London, we stumbled across a little cafe off Carnaby Street where I could get a much-desired not-Starbucks coffee. When I went to place my order, I was struck by how much the barista reminded me of my long-lost grocery boy. He was jailbaitish on the young side, had rugged yet boyish looks (two healing black eyes - Edward Norton in Fight Club, anyone?), and most importantly, was absolutely indifferent to me. Even Stu was sympathetic and offered to take a picture of me with him in the background, but that felt particularly desperate and silly I said no thanks. And so all I have is this photo, along with my memory of our single bittersweet non-encounter. Because I swear I did not go back to that coffee shop again during our visit. I didn't even consider it. Really.

This cream-filled blueberry muffin proved a workable salve for my bruised ego.

photo by me @ Fair Grounds, London 2008

i amsterdam

I am not checking passports at the airport & letting everyone wander through customs without question.

I am not taking tickets on the train into town, even after you labored over which ones to buy.

I am continuing a conversation with my coworker instead of offering you assistance.

I am speaking English to you before making pointed remarks in Dutch to my friend.

I am an unexpectedly sincere face in antique stores, coffeeshops, and behind red-lit doors.

I am driving like a bank robber while you try to cross the street.

I am the whiplashed pedestrian anxiously avoiding speeding trams, cars, bicycles & scooters.

I am 750,000 people packed into a 3-mile-diameter city.

I am a conflicted history of strict Calvinism versus joy of the riches from commerce; of tolerance & acceptance at odds with conformity.

I am dirty yet lovely, like an orphan on the street.

I am the dedication of Vermeer, the anguish of Van Gogh, and the bravery of Anne Frank.

I Amsterdam.

ducks (and swans) in a row

Along the Singel, Amsterdam

photo by me, 2008

Wonders of Wordless Wednesday

welcome to bad mom international

Reflections from a weary traveler (methinks my imagination was bigger than my stamina...)

If I ran an airport:

• People wishing to work security must be able to answer the following question without grimacing: Who is your favorite superhero? AND they must be able to produce a genuine smile for five consecutive minutes.
• I would have a gigantic two-sided clock hanging right in the middle of each terminal. And throughout the airport, I would post clocks displaying the time around the world. There would be a fun object on every second hand – something that represents the place, like a Statue of Liberty for NYC time or Big Ben for London; Jerry Lewis for France.
• I would play relaxing music on the loudspeakers until there was need for an announcement; all announcements would be made by Antonio Banderas or James McAvoy. With video accompaniment on giant ceiling-mounted screens.
• I would provide water fountains every 30 yards, with big sinks so people could fill their water bottles. People without their own water bottles could purchase one from a machine next to the fountains and the money would be donated to homeless programs.
• For every high-end expensive store I allow to rent space, I would invite two small local artists or booksellers or bakers to set up shop.
• Restaurants would pay lower rent if they give leftover/extra food to shelters each day.
• I would have recycling bins everywhere and give rent discounts to vendors who use eco-friendly supplies or limit their packaging.
• I would have a display of flyers (recycled paper!) detailing current & upcoming events in the area so people arriving could enjoy some local culture along with the popular tourist attractions. I would have a directory posted featuring smaller restaurants, art galleries, bookstores, and other interesting off-the-beaten-path venues for people to patronize; I would also list such necessities as Laundromats, grocery & convenience stores, antique & thrift stores (for unique souvenirs). These businesses would be encouraged to leave their cards for travelers to take.
• I would have a staff of smartly dressed individuals continually wiping seats & sweeping & checking bathrooms & smiling pleasantly at travelers. They would be smiling pleasantly because I would pay them a living wage with benefits and give them a free flight each year as long as no one complains about them. (Though I would certainly take into consideration the nature & validity of any complaints received; some people like to bitch about everything in order to make their lives complete. Not that I've ever run into anyone like that...).
• I would require all workers to know key phrases (“Hello,” “Welcome,” “How can I help?,” “Thank you,” “Would you like a cocktail?”) in numerous foreign languages, and they must be able to adroitly direct travelers to important places within the airport (bathrooms, restaurants, gates, bars).
• Airlines would be mandated to give chocolate bars (or bags of chips for the crazy people in the world who actually do not like chocolate [hi, Jen, miss you!]) to all passengers of flights delayed more than half an hour. They would have to give drink vouchers when flights are delayed past an hour.
• Artwork & poetry created by local teens would be on display throughout.
• In-chair neck or arm massages would be offered to those who inquire politely and make a donation to a charity of their choice.

And the world would be a happier place.

onward

Tomorrow morning we leave for Amsterdam, via airplane that thankfully did not cost more than my bedroom furniture (and for those wondering - we ended up getting to Paris last week on the Eurostar train; it was a bit cheaper plus much more timely than a flight).

Thank you to those readers who are taking the time to sit through what is essentially a 21st century version of the neighbors' vacation slide show. And you don't even get watered-down drinks & pretzels with it.

I'm not sure what kind of Internet access we'll get in the Netherlands (the country's name leaves me dubious). We were awfully lucky to have a free [if weak & spotty] connection at this hotel; London was a Medieval nightmare where we had to deposit pound coins every 29 minutes in the lobby computer (or surreptitiously use the free Wi-Fi at a nearby hotel).

I still have lots of things to tell that you might find thoroughly entertaining, mildly amusing, or downright idiotic, depending on your state of drunkenness level of medication tolerance for boring neighbors. You may want to bring your own pretzels & cocktails.

eyeful

Peeking at us in Jardin de Luxembourg

Interrupting the urban viewpoint

We approach from a nearby alley

Up-close & personal

Looking up

What vacation is complete without an argument with my husband?

(Surprisingly it was not about the ice cream; it was about yet another pose in front of the Eiffel Tower - you're looking at Take 22)

Le make up

With flowers

The money shot

View after lots of wine

Bonne nuit

we're not staying on "school street" for nothin

Our hotel here in Paris is on la Rue des Ecoles - within a few miles, there is College de France, La Sorbonne, the Jussieu Campus which houses the Pierre & Marie Curie and Denis Diderot branches of University of Paris, among other intellectual-sounding things. There are even a bunch of little Auto Ecoles tucked between brasseries and cafes - tech schools for the French motorheads of the world. But classes are not in session, so no grease monkey hotties wandering around during lunch breaks. Le sigh.

I am surrounded by smart vibes and can't help but reflect on some things I've learned during my visit so far:

1. My French is not nearly as horrible as I imagined (People get me things! And don't roll their eyes too much)
2. I really really like olives
3. The stereotype of baguettes being sold every-fricking-where in Paris is mythology (we walked many blocks before finding a traditional bakery offering a plain loaf of French bread - the street vendors sell fancy sandwiches)
4. The dollar is bloody embarrassingly nearly-worthless against the Euro
5. I can restrain myself from buying $100 shoes and $60 underwear [barely]
6. I really really like wine
7. Wine is cheaper than Coke and sometimes water
8. People here do love their dogs like children (they're often welcome in cafes and on the Metro; not always the same for kids...ha)
9. Smiling as a form of communication (plus repeating "S'il vous plait" and "Merci") usually makes everything better

Now we are off to dinner at La Tour Eiffel (eeeeeeeeEEEEeee!). I am wearing my jaunty brown striped skirt, summery white button-down shirt, and black flats; I feel tres jolie (though no beret; seems like too much and I don't really look good in hats).

Au revoir, mis amis!

another golden oldie

Sorry for the reruns, dear readers (though you ought to be used to them with summer TV and all). I am currently tied up trying to figure out how to get from London to Paris without mortgaging our house and/or selling the children to Nike GAP a third world country. Remember how I was trying really hard to not overplan our trip to Europe? Turns out scheduling the Eurostar online six months ago actually would have been a great idea. Never again will I be sheepish about my OCD plan-ahead ways.

Anyhoo (that's British, I'm pretty sure), read this for laughs while I cry into my fish & chips. [Click on the this; either one]. I'll be back tomorrow, hopefully from France. And not destitute.

rainbow

Notting Hill flats

photo by me, 2008

Wordless (but not colorless) Wednesday

checking in

I have to make this fast because a) we're jacking free wi-fi in the lobby of a hotel that is not ours (the desk clerk keeps making pointed glances at us) and b) I forgot the plug adapter for our charger in the room of our hotel. Plus, oh yeah, I'm in LONDON so there are a few other things I want to do today...

But I love you for loving me, so I will post a couple of details that we have enjoyed so far.

1. Dragging three suitcases, a laptop, two backpacks and a toiletry bag from Heathrow to the city center, which in theory seems reasonable (we saved about $40 taking the tube instead of a shuttle van) but in practice? Let's just say London is a very "fend for yourself, ya pansy" kind of place. Lots of steep staircases and a few gaps to mind, not to mention the looks ranging from amusement to disdain that I tried not to notice on locals' faces.
2. Our rabbit warren of a hotel where, in order to get to our room, we take a narrow staircase up a floor, wander down a [narrow] hallway, take an [unbelievably narrow] elevator down a floor, then follow another [narrow? Why yes, I have gained weight...] hallway around a corner. There are a few fire doors in this journey as well. We're getting pretty quick at getting there & out again without issue, but I still find myself checking the brass plaques to make sure I'm headed to our room number.
3. Water pressure? Forgettaboutit. But it is running water, and it does get warm so I'm not really complaining.
4. Breakfast at the hotel offers a most heavenly muesli mixture (with WARM milk for it!), berries & fruits, warm baguettes and real butter. Kind of makes up for the winding wandering path to our room...

Okay, that will have to do for now. OH - I get to meet Holly today! She is driving into the city to MEET WITH ME! I am so fricking honored. So another reason I've got to go now (besides the increasingly agitated looks we're getting from the desk clerk).

Cheers!

leaving on a jet plane

This is why I'm heading off to London, Paris, and Amsterdam tonight. It's a birthday present to myself, a 40th birthday present. I've been self-deprecating about becoming "old" - lamenting that nobody cards me anymore when I order drinks, or grimacing about how students get a horrified look on their faces when I reveal my age (the good news being they didn't realize I was THAT OLD). But generally, I like to think I'm okay with aging; it seems pretty silly to worry about something that just happens, inevitably. It's natural; everyone experiences it.

Everyone except those who die young. And then I think about that - it is, undoubtedly, supremely sad when someone exits early, but how are they remembered? The only way they possibly can be - as youthful, full of potential, usually beautiful. James Dean, Marilyn Monroe, River Phoenix, Heath Ledger. Now imagine some individuals who have lived much longer: Brigitte Bardot, Marlon Brando. I am in no way trying to diminish what people have brought & continue bringing to the world regardless of their age, and I certainly don't feel the need to clock out of this life because I might become gray and wrinkled (um, check & check, actually) or my boobs will start sagging or I'll have to shuffle because of arthritic hips.

The deal is, although I technically don't want to stress about the number 40 and its association with me, I stupidly can't help but care that I someday soon won't match my own definitions of attractive. It's outrageously vain and impossibly callow; frankly, I'm embarrassed to even admit it. Maybe I hope by saying it out loud [sort of], I will shake my shallow self out of this foolish mindset. Honestly, I would be pleased to have the kind of old age bestowed upon the likes of Sophia Loren or Sean Connery or even the remarkable Ruth Gordon. Okay, any old age would be fine. How could someone possibly complain about being allowed to stay on Earth longer?

I'm being ridiculous; age knows how to book a flight to Europe, too. I think I will invite it to sit by me and share my wine. [Here's hoping I get asked for ID]

good times

Beware the rapid turns of thought in this post. My brain is breaking under the pressure of washing every piece of laundry in the house, packing for Europe (What to take in carry-on? Is three pairs of shoes [just for me] ridiculous? Should I bring my own pillow & blanket?), packing the kids for visiting my parents, printing & double-checking packing lists, cleaning the litter box, watering plants, remembering to pick up daughter from day camp, remembering my dentist appointment tomorrow, and trying not to microplan every second of our trip. I'm a tad scattered. Here we go.
____________________

Yesterday's trip was positively lovely. I enjoyed six hours of in-car-conversation with my very good friend Lisa, offered few occasions for her to jam on the imaginary passenger-side brake, and had relatively positive experiences with the Garmin GPS. All that in addition to meeting Melanie from BeanPaste, Angie from All Adither, Nora Bee from Whopping Cornbread and Stacy from Mama-Om. We gathered at a funky bar in Seattle where we partook of outrageously delicious garlic truffled popcorn (seriously; it was all I could do not to shove my face in the bag) and chatted about everything from writing (surprise!) to families to MILFs until Lisa & I had to get back on the road home. This is the kind of stuff I especially love about blogging - creating & developing these Six Degrees of Separation connections. But I will not start singing "It's A Small World." You're welcome.
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I found this book at Goodwill today for $1.99. Hooray! I mean, Fantastique! It not only has the most relevant information (like, "I'm sorry, I don't speak French.") but also includes pronunciation guides. Hello? [Bon jour?] How is it that other books leave that part out? I am tres contente.

________________________

I ran into a former student working at our fabulous local greasy spoon today. He just graduated and seemed a little self-conscious about having to flip burgers, but I reminded him that I had a similar position for two years - most of us go through those less-than-ideal jobs and come out having a greater appreciation for hard work plus a more vivid vision of where we really want to be (and not be). This kid is a brilliant artist & musician, a sensitive & thoughtful young man; I have no doubts he will go places, do things. Before leaving I showed him my tattoo, at which he sputtered "Holy shit, Mrs. S! It's awesome!" Ah, the poetry in that statement; I beamed.
________________________

Tonight I'm going to a Pampered Chef party at the home of our school secretary. I love that I consider all the other (7) teachers and my principal plus our secretary & counselors & custodian & maintenance people friends; it makes life richer and more pleasant. I wish everyone could have this - I think the level of rage & angst would lower significantly in the world.

Amen, shalom, Godspeed, good night.

it's good to be clean

My house is pristine, a joy to behold. (Except the porches; they are still rather spider & beetle infested, don't look).

After dropping off my daughter at day camp [and buying the Extra Bathroom Breaks-sized Soy Chai Latte], I will be on my way to meet a Very Interesting Person (and perhaps some others) in Seattle with Lisa. We're very excited!

If you are so inclined, because I've left you with nothing but a funny cartoon and a brewing jealousy of my good fortune, feel free to read a past post - perhaps a movie review, something vaguely about fashion, or a brilliant dissertation on sensitivity & raising daughters.

Or not. I let you choose.

Thank you for the comic, Dan Goodsell; you rule.