Tag Archives: travel

Day Nineteen, A bird and a Rogue

I’ve had quite an interesting day.

This morning, I was sitting in the bathroom. The window to the apartment was open because it gets quite warm up in here. I was doing my thing when I heard a mild racket at the window. I poked my head out the door and there was a pigeon sitting on the windowsill. She was very interested in checking out the place. I greeted her verbally. I finished my task, flushed, and stepped into the main room without approaching her. We stared at each other for a bit. She got a mind to fly away. It was a surprising and pleasant interaction.

Complaint: The Twisto app that I use to find the nearest bus stop doesn’t update in real time so you have to walk about a half block, tap the screen just to find out you’re not going the right direction. I demand perfection! That’s a lie, but it sure would be nice.

I got to my bus stop barely on time. I mean, I found it, looked up, and there was the bus. Given that I went the wrong way and had to jury rig my directions to make it, I felt pretty proud of myself.

Upon arrival to the last stop on the line, I waited for a few minutes while my client’s wife (An absolute gem of a human) was en route to pick me up. It was 84 degrees outside which is pretty warm. Tomorrow, it’s supposed to be about 66 degrees F. I love cooler weather.

I spent the next couple of hours with my client. One of the activities we do it bounce a ball back and forth 130 times. When I first started working for this family 3 years ago, I absolutely dreaded it because he would insist on counting in French. Bless his beautiful heart that he did. I look forward to it because, unlike in the beginning, I can lead the count all the way past 100! I’m very pleased he insisted even though I wasn’t happy in the beginning.

His wife arrived from the grocery trip she went on and she insisted she drop me at the bus stop. I agreed. As we approached the stop, the bus was pulling away. I said it was okay because I can catch the next one. “Nonsense.” She revved up the engine, passed the bus, and dropped me at the next stop. She went rogue on me! I didn’t expect it from her, but man, that woman can drive!

I got off at the Caen Theatre Quai. I searched for a restaurant nearby. I found a couple of burger joints, but honestly, I haven’t had one since I got here. I just don’t want to eat American food when I’m in freaking France! Instead, I found a Vietnamese place.

Boeuf Loc Lac, a creamy cheesecake, a Vietnamese coffee, and a Coke Zero. That’s a softboiled egg (which I asked to not be included) and a crapload of cilantro which tastes like soap to me. I did some picky eating with this dish.
The menu as clear as I could get it.

I made it back up the five flights of stairs. Since my client is going to have company starting on Wednesday, I won’t be needed for the rest of the week. What to do, what to do…

HA! The Rome2Rio app has a rideshare option. All I have to do is show up at the scheduled time, ride along in the car, and end up at my destination. I’m going to Honfleur, France to paint in a studio on Thursday. I’m so freaking jazzed!

Although I’ve been reading for fun since I got here (think trashy novels and good sci-fi), I wanted to try something I truly love. I don’t think anything makes me happier than when I have paint on my hands. I’ll let you know how it goes and if I’ll be able to find a ride home (not yet, but I’m hopeful).

Remember when I did the professional photo shoot in Paris? They were supposed to send me the proofs in 7-10 business days so I could select 5 of them. Well, that didn’t happen. What DID happen was that she felt so bad that she dropped the ball, she gave them all to me! All 37! To say I was pleased would be an understatement. I would totally recommend Best Pictures in Paris to any tourist. So, where’s the proofs? I’m going to share a few of my favorites with you.

French ducks sleeping!
This wall was SO TALL! I am not. I was on my very, very, very tippy-toes to get this shot. You can’t see the comma, but it says: LOVE, ME

Those are my favorites. I like them because I look like me, not someone posed. I’m so glad I had this experience. I mean, there’s only so many selfies one can take before…bah.

I’m going back to my client’s house tomorrow to exercise with him.

OH! Before I forget. After the calamity of the early morning banging on my door, I’m scared to make any noise at all. I’m living like a monk that’s taken a vow of silence. It’s not as bad as it sounds…ha! See what I did there? Listening isn’t one of my strengths because I love to speak in what I call “layer cakes.” I like for the conversations to be a mix of ideas thrown together, sometimes with frosting, sometimes without. But, this is a practice I’m uneasy with which means I should probably do it and be grateful for the opportunity. Besides, I can speak with my client’s family.

Peace go with you wherever you are. You are loved!

Day Fifteen, Abide

I started out with the plan to go to the Caen Memorial. It’s the number 2 bus from nearby that would take me there. But, I was running a bit uncomfortable in the Euros, so I went in search of a bank thinking that it would be a quick stop, change things out, and I could make my plans happen.

While I was trudging along to the bank, I saw a Pharmacie. Since I’ve been carrying the empty bottle of my thyroid medication around with me for three days, I popped in to see how to go about getting it filled. Luckily the Pharmacie tech spoke pretty decent English. I showed her the empty bottle, explained I wasn’t in immediate need, but would be soon.

She looked genuinely sad when she explained that they couldn’t refill it without a French doctor’s prescription. I explained to her that the pharmacy I use back home filled all but this one that I take every day. No can do. Must see a doctor. Okay. Well where do I find one of those when I don’t reside in this country.

She gave me surprisingly accurate directions to a nearby clinic. I thanked her profusely for being so helpful. Off I went to find the doctor’s office.

I should note to you that where I was is a rather large shopping zone. There is everything you’d want or need within a several block radius. I decided I’d better change out my dollars first. I found the bank.

Did you know that many businesses close between the hours of noon and 2pm? Including banks? I didn’t. As it turned out, I’d seen a shop that was open right around the corner. I explored the multitude of colors, scents, and suggested flavors. I picked up a couple of things as souveniers. I still had some time to kill, so I went window shopping.

I didn’t find anything interesting enough to catch my eye so I headed back to the bank which had just opened the doors. The young woman asked me a question in French.

“English?” I asked pointing to myself.

“No, non.” She replied.

I pulled out Google translate and explained I needed to exchange money.

“No, non.” She shook her head. “Wait here, I’ll go find out where you can do that.” Google translated.

She returned about ten minutes later with an address written on a sticky note. Her ones looked like: ^ (that’s a carot if you can’t see it.)

I verified the address, typed it into Google maps and with a smile and a wave, I went exploring again.

Plus side, I got a LOT of walking in today just running errands. I followed the path religiously until I found the shop. As luck would have it, it’s directly across the street from where I’m moving to on Saturday! Woot! Bustling neighborhood too. Walking distance.

I waited in the queue for my turn. Upon entering, I was in a small bathroom sized room with a screen rolling the exchange rate for various countries. Behind a high counter with glass up to the ceiling, a tray was pushed through the wall onto my side. The man spoke to me, I asked for English, he switched easily into our transaction.

With a bit of back and forth, I ended up a bit lighter than I’d expected, but not too bad considering. Au Revoir! Into the sunshine I went with a feeling of getting shit done. Still some things to take care of, I decided to head back towards the open market where there was a carousel for the children in a gaudy pink.

As I followed the walking map, I noted a clinic on the corner where the pharmacie tech had directed me, several in fact. I crossed the road and went in.

One of the three behind the desk spoke English. I showed them my empty bottle and explained what I needed. For clarity, this clinic had both medical AND dentistry in the same building. I further learned that today was a dentistry day. I’d have to return tomorrow to see the doctor. Would I please bring the bottle back with me when I return? Why, yes! Yes I will.

The woman at the computer asked for my name. I gave her the bottle. She smiled and typed from that. She asked for my birthdate. I recited it in French (THANK YOU MY CLIENT). She laughed at my pronunciation but when she repeated it back, it was correct. Then she asked for my phone number. I also recited it in broken French. She nodded approval at that one, read it back to me correctly and now I have an appointment tomorrow at 1PM, 7AM Knoxville TN time.

I’m 12 and this made me laugh so hard…HA! I mean, dude. This is ripe with blue humor…HA!

Everywhere I go, there are flowers planted. On street corners, on sidewalk dividers, on road dividers, in planters, around street lights. Why don’t we have more of this in America? It’s just freaking beautiful.

A pretty pigeon.
The companion pigeon.
Very pink carousel.

I did not, in fact, make it to the memorial today. My intentions were to do so, but when I finally got done with all of the things I’d accomplished, I was worn out. I walked back to the apartment fighting the urge to hop a bus.

I made it back safely. I fixed tuna with black olives and goat cheese diced in it with a squish of mayo (The French version has dijon mustard in it which is pretty tasty.) I drank the last of my coke zero, gathered clothes for the lavage tomorrow, took a bath after dinner (REALLY!), and now I’m writing for you.

Tomorrow I have to hit the laundry, the doctor, the pharmacie, back to the apartment, catch the bus to Cairon, work, then back home to pack up before I move Saturday. It’s going to be satisfying and busy.

Thank you for reading.

Day nine note

The other day when I went to the grocery, I picked up some delicious things. My plan was to cook for myself, but I kept putting it off. This morning, I got ambitious.

I took out the spinach and put it in the colander and poured boiling water over it. I cut up potatoes into tiny little pieces. I chopped up an onion and put it in the pan with what was sure to be a gastronomic pleasure. I popped in some vegan butter, and tried to turn on the stove.

I was pushing buttons like it was a typewriter, and nothing happened. Nothing. I tried turning it off and turning it on again, but to no avail. I tried for a good 15 minutes to figure out how to work the stove, but no.

The stove was smarter than I and I ended up going to my favorite place for breakfast. They make better coffee than I do anyway.

Day four continues…

After over a two hour delay and having arrived at the stop unwittingly four hours in advance, I’m on my way to Caen, Normandie, France.

It kind of looks like a very green version of Arkansas that I’ve driven through a few times.

There is a bathroom on the bus but it is full and can’t be used. The wi-fi works but doesn’t connect to the internet. 🙄

If you asked me if I’ve been upset at the ridiculous amount of delays so far on this trip, I’d have to be honest and tell you no. Each step of the way, I’ve found reasons to be joyful, comfortable in my uncertainty.

Lost? No problem. How can I solve this issue? Google maps has been a lifesaver. Language barrier? No sweat. Pull out Google translate. Uncertain of what to do for activities? Airbnb has excellent suggestions. Not sure what’s nearby to eat? UberEats was surprisingly easy to use in Paris.

Although I have questioned my navigation skills, I’m still arriving exactly when I need to be somewhere. I’m okay. This is an extraordinary experience. I’m just as glad for the bumpy bits as well as the smooth sailing.

This was the sight I got to look at for several hours while waiting for the 4:55pm bus which didn’t show up until 7:15pm.
This was looking up the street where I waited with good company.
After the bus made it to Caen, I waited for the local tram to collect me and my newfound friend.

Call me foolish, or call me an idiot, but the woman on the left is my new friend Marie France. I saw her ID, no kidding. She and I, along with several other people waited for the same bus to arrive. Each time we’d see a bus, we’d collectively get excited then collectively disappointed.

We talked about what we do for a living and what our passions are, which as you can well guess, death and dying came up. It was a great discussion. Marie bought us all water and refused to accept anything in return. When the bus arrived, we sat in our assigned seats which was sadly not near each other.

However, when we got off the bus in Caen, she asked how I was going to get where I was going. I explained about the tram and the walk from the stop to where I’m staying. She pish-poshed me and told me nonsense. She would drive me home.

Without even thinking about it, I accepted. The picture I took of her is after I told her to give me her beautiful. She laughed out loud and got bashful. She works as a greeter at the hospital in the second picture, but there is rumor they’re going to eliminate the position. She’s not worried though. She said she’ll find something else in the office environment.

Her gray car had suicide doors! She hustled about clearing the front seat for me to ride since my luggage and hers took up the back seat. I practically live in my car too. I reassured her, she was not alone.

At that moment, I thought about human trafficking and freaking A if I didn’t scare myself a bit with that, but it was all okay. She not only made sure I got where I was going and that I was able to get in. The Farside had a cartoon:

This has been me since I got here.

I got the keys, no problem. I got the code right, no problem. The door has a handle which looks like a pull, so that is what I kept doing. Marie, on the other hand, pushed the door open while I, you guessed it, FACEPALM.

She made sure I got into the first floor (second floor in America) apartment. We hugged and she left to go to her own well deserved bed.

I’m sorry I forgot to include this in the original post. It was an invaluable time with a very special person I feel fortunate to have met. She was impressive with her speaking of several languages as natural as a native born. Wherever you are, Bless you for being you, Marie France.

Day Four so far…

I took a bus/train combo according to Google maps. I arrived too late to catch the morning bus to Caen. Surprisingly the trains and the bus were clean although a bit crowded with my luggage in tow. The evening bus leaves at 4:55pm Paris time.
L’arcouest is a quiet neighborhood bar near the bus stop. The bartender didn’t speak a lick of English but I was able to order a double espresso.
This was deeply good. Served with water which I drank separately. People watching glory!

The wheel on my brand new luggage suffered the same fate as my first bag. And man do the French love their steps! I walked down two flights of about 30 steps each to access the correct train. What goes down must go up which made me lift my 50lb suitcase and my 20lb carryon up about 40 steps. Many people helped me with them which was surprising and helpful.

Traveling lesson learned, make sure you have sturdy all-terrain wheels on your luggage. You don’t need everything you think you will. Pack lighter than you think.

More to come…

Day Three

I’m having a hard time believing this is real. I’m really in Paris!

The Weekend has served me The Nectar of the Gods each day. I left them a tiny yellow duck, an Always Beautiful card and a Euro.
Each one of these locks have messages of love on them. Some of them are engraved, some are painted, others have been written on with markers. It was across the river from the Eiffel Tower. There were houseboats moored there.
One of the locks.
It’s a lot taller than I thought it would be.
The Jardin de Troubadour is filled with tourists, myself included.
A small garden had a butterfly enjoying the sunshine and flowers.
This was a sight to behold.
And finally for this part of the day, I took a stroll with a Parisian Pigeon.
Arch de le Triumph was massive. I got lost and ended up taking a taxi to the Eiffel Tower.

Navigating the public transportation has proven to be a challenge, but I found my way back to where I’m staying and most of the way to my meet-up.

The trains are clean and mostly not too crowded. The stops are lit in LEDs so you know where you are. Although I couldn’t figure out how to get on the train at first, I was helped by a tall security guard.

When I got lost, I lost trust in my navigation skills a bit, but, I got to see additional things because of my lack of knowledge. All in all, today has been a win so far.

In the Jardin le Troubadour

Day two

I can’t believe it!
The Afghan restaurant where I ate
Potato and spices served hot in fresh bread. It was served with a sour yogurt, a spicy sauce, tomatoes, cucumber, and lettuce. It was SO good!
Because of this…
This happened. 😑
My view from my room in Paris.
French “Nectar of the Gods!”
Sunrise as I saw it this morning over Paris.

The first plane was broken so they brought a second one on the 13th of September but that one got hit by lightning after most of us were boarded which blew out communications. American Airlines put us up in hotels overnight and scheduled the flight for 3pm on the 14th. We got delayed yet again by windshield issues. Finally took off around 4:15pm!

Day One

Complications happened that delayed my plans. Mechanical issues then a replacement plane followed by a lightning strike that took out communications on the new plane.

I got to stay in a nice hotel with a delicious breakfast and even better company. I ate with a young Parisian woman named Hannah who is a journalist returning to her hometown.

I’m okay with this adventure. The Dude abides.

Winter Mile

There are roads to travel that go on for quite a while

but there are none that go on for quite as long as that

of a Winter Mile

When the light has wrung the last drop from dark beguiled,

there are none quite as somber bespoke as that

of a Winter Mile

Warmest sleep of children deep in coverlet dreaming wild

no safer haven of a lover’s wish be true than that

of a Winter Mile

“Be Safe”

Okay, I’ll admit it. I want to be safe in the sense that I don’t get shot in my house. I want to be safe in the sense that when I walk down my streets at night with my little dog, waiting on her to do her “business”, I’m not going to be attacked. I want to be safe enough that when I follow the road rules, I don’t get in an accident because others also want to be safe, or rather, unharmed.

But there is a part of me that doesn’t want to be safe. Being safe takes a chunk away from the loudness of life. It reduces the voices of exuberant laughter to polite chuckles. It sucks the genuine grief from our deepest fears and distills it into quiet murmuring condolences. It shatters the adventure of stepping one foot outside of your comfort zone by giving the illusion of safety.

But safety, like everything, is an illusion. It’s not real. It surprises us because we expect things to be the same. We expect to wake up, go about our day without incident, return home, eat the same meal we did last week, watch regurgitated shows with different characters but the same stories, and go to bed at the same time. It’s our expectation of safety that, pardon my french, fucks us up.

Chaos and change are the way of the world. If we could control any of it, we’d be reasonable in our expectations, but we do not. We can do our best not to contribute, by following the rules, obeying laws, keeping an eye out for ne’er-do-wells, but being safe is a lie we tell ourselves so we can live with minimal fear.

My Aunt Lizzie and Uncle Dave are driving a different route back from their vacation in Maine. It has places for them to stop that they’ve never been before which means the potential for a fantastic adventure. But in the commentary on their shared pictures, there were all the comments from a variety of people telling them to, “Be safe.” The comments are made with love and not as admonitions, mind you. They are meant with the best of intentions. But I don’t think I’ll wish them the same.

I wish them to be unharmed but in no way to be safe. I want them to have the adventure they’re hoping for on the new route. I want them to have experiences that will give them the best adventure with minimal difficulty. I want them to see things so spectacular it takes their breath away because they chose to stop somewhere they wouldn’t ordinarily get to see. I want them to experience every drop of grandness in the views, every bliss to be had floating on the breeze. I want them to taste the rain as if it were their first time. To have Ruby show them the newborn idea of life heroic in a way that brings them fits of delight. But, I do not wish them to “be safe”.