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Posts Tagged ‘Travel’

Cut loose in the Crescent City

Posted in Grammar, etc., Random, tagged , , , on March 26, 2012| 2 Comments »

It’s good to have friends you’ve known for decades. You can be your unvarnished self and they still like you. My unvarnished self spent the weekend in New Orleans with my friend Julia, whom I’ve known since eighth grade. She was there for a conference* so I used frequent flier miles to join her. My cost for transportation and hotel: $10.

Savannah has been called a small New Orleans. It’s more like this: Savannah is the girl with “a reputation” who still dresses up every day and goes to church on Sundays. New Orleans is her trashy older sister who whores herself out to buy heroin.

To report everything that we did and saw will take more than one post (and I’m not sure I want to incriminate myself or Julia). I’ll just share with you some visual highlights.

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* This is what happens when people get older and have jobs and mortgages. When they are desperate to get out of town, they join up with friends who are going to conferences for work (read: free hotel room).

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Sign here

Posted in Random, tagged , , , , , , on December 11, 2011| 2 Comments »

Our journey through France, Switzerland and Germany taught me plenty. It was because I was open to all the signs, of course.

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Vacation, all I ever wanted …

Posted in Random, tagged , , , , , on November 30, 2011| 1 Comment »

The Griswolds have nothing on us. Our European vacation was not quite as catastrophe-filled as theirs, but hijinks still ensued. Here’s a slideshow of the best and the worst.

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Love letter to Lacoste

Posted in Cultural differences, tagged , , , , , on November 23, 2011| 5 Comments »

Dear Lacoste,

It’s going to be hard to say goodbye. You’ve meant so much to me over the past 10 weeks. And although we’ve had our differences — I like to walk normally, and you like to try to break my ankles with your cobblestone streets at 60-degree angles; I like to sleep, and you like to let the clock tower chime three times every hour — we’ve gotten along splendidly overall.

I regret the time I cheated on you with Paris. I admit that I felt dirty in the City of Light. Yes, the week of having access to world-class shopping, restaurants, landmarks, artwork and entertainment was wonderful, but I thought about you the whole time.

You know I also cheated on you with Apt almost every weekend; L’Isle Sur La Sorgue on a number of Sundays; Fontaine de Vaucluse and Bonnieux four times; Avignon, Ménerbes and Lumières three times; Gordes, Ménerbes, Oppede le Vieux and Roussillon twice; Cavaillon, Carpentras, Coustellet, Saignon, Lourmarin, Nîmes, Aix-en-Provence, Marseilles, Milan and Turin once. But they meant nothing to me. I always came back to you.

You are like sleep-away camp for grown-ups. I enjoyed being a camp counselor and didn’t even mind being on call all day every day. I may never again have the opportunity to discuss a grade on a paper while scooping potato balls onto my plate at dinner. Or hear students coming back from the Café de France at 4 a.m. I love your isolation that enables and requires close connections with others who are also enjoying your charms.

You are intense. You are immersive. You are insulated. You required me to work closely with other professors on a variety of projects and field trips. I might not have had that chance otherwise. You required me to practice my stick-shift driving skills in rickety nine-passenger transit vans on narrow, winding roads. Never before have I had to fold in my mirror so that I could safely pass a La Poste vehicle on a dirt road built for one car. You required me to rethink my idea of space and material goods. I lived quite happily in a small centuries-old apartment with few personal items and no television.

You are not the sleepy, hilltop village everyone thinks you are. You are a locus for plenty of activity — much of it mental — that results in a life-changing experience.

While I have to say goodbye — I was actually cheating on Savannah with you — I want you to know that I won’t forget you. Thank you for everything.

Love,

Beth

Things I will miss about you:

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Standin’ in the doorway

Posted in Random, tagged , , on November 14, 2011| 1 Comment »

As my adventure in Lacoste comes to a close, I’ve been thinking about the future. I see this experience as a pathway to new ones — ones to be revealed later.

It’s probably why I’ve been obsessed with making photos of windows, doors and paths.

Here are some (potentially) postcard-worthy photos (finally).

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La pioggia in the Piedmont

Posted in Random, tagged , , , on November 8, 2011| 2 Comments »

Getting out of Lacoste is a little bit of a challenge. To meet up with 36-hour Tina in Turin, Italy, this weekend, I had to fly in this from Marseille to Milan.

Only 18 seats on that puddle jumper.

A train or a car would have taken about seven hours, so I dealt with it.

And a weekend with my friend was worth it. (I should rename Tina as we spent a whole 60 hours together this visit.) It rained the entire time, but we still had fun (eating, mostly).

I also had fun watching a little Italian television in our sweet 1980s living room.

Yes, that's red velvet.

 

Here’s what I saw on Italian television:

  • A “Starsky and Hutch“-style overdubbed show from the ’80s (to match the couch)
  • An infomercial where a woman in sparkling white pumps demonstrated the cleaning power of a vacuum cleaner. Look! It sucks up cigarette butts from an ashtray! (Why couldn’t she just dump the ashtray’s contents into the trash?)
  • An infomercial for a water-purifying faucet that comes in a variety of festive colors, such as burnt plastic.
  • Three men dressed in drag seated at a desk reading something off clipboards.
  • News delivered by women wearing lingerie.
  • No fewer than four channels devoted solely to cars.
  • A close-up shot of a man using a pencil carved from a tree branch as a pointer to read through each headline in that day’s newspaper.
  • A participatory talk show featuring the host dressed in a George Washington get-up.
  • A “Welcome Back, Kotter“-style high school drama featuring a fat, pasty Johnny Depp wannabe and a kid with too many teeth in his mouth.
  • “C’è posta per Te” (loosely translated as “you’ve got mail”), a Maury/Sally Jesse/Montel type of reunion show.
  • What can only be described as the “Understanding Art Channel.”

All of the above employed the production quality/values from the ’80s and ’90s. It was like a time warp.

Outside the ’80s bubble, plenty was happening in Turin. One of the biggest things was the SilverSkiff, an annual regatta on the Po River. It’s why Tina was in Turin in the first place. Unfortunately, she and the other rowers made the pilgrimage for nothing: The organizers cancelled the race because of the effects of the torrential rain.

We still had a great time, though. Here are some photos (not postcard-perfect, as usual) from the weekend adventure.

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Things that go buzz in the night

Posted in Random, tagged , , , , on September 27, 2011| 4 Comments »

The fan gently hummed. The clock tower five feet from the headboard of my bed chimed the hour of four. I was tucked into crisp white sheets under a fluffy white duvet. I was about to slip back into slumber when I heard it.

Buzzzzz.

Too loud for a fly or a mosquito. This was a healthy, robust buzz. Powered by what I didn’t know, and wasn’t sure I wanted to find out.

I turned on the light. Hovering four feet above me was a massive winged creature. Like a yellow jacket that sampled the “Alice in Wonderland” cake. I squelched a squeal. (It wouldn’t do to yell; it is a very small village, and a noise like that surely would have awakened my coworker next door, or the students in the apartments across the narrow street.)

I grabbed a sweater and whipped the sleeve at it, Indiana Jones style.

The beast dropped out of the air. And disappeared. Completely. Like Michael Myers after Dr. Loomis shoots him over the railing.

There was no way I could go back to bed without knowing where it was, dead or alive.

I got a book and waited.

After about 10 minutes, I heard the tell-tale buzz (Poe had nothing on this). The winged devil rose from the floor on my left, a foot from my head. I sprang to my sweater. It flew out of the bedroom into the living room.

For about 10 more minutes, the beast and I created a spectacle straight out of a Looney Tunes cartoon. I finally trapped him in the folds of the sweater and flung him outside. He clung tenaciously to the fibers and demanded to come back in. I cursed (quietly) and shook harder. His creepy little legs at last released my cardigan.

Before I could close the window, he flew back inside.

At this point, I was really thankful no one could see in my windows. With renewed vigor (and while choking back a panicked gurgle), I sweater-snapped him again.

He stopped, dropped and rolled.

I pounced again with the sweater, gathered him up, tossed him out the window again, and shut it quickly.

I have no idea if he lived, but I know I didn’t go back to sleep.

Addendum:

After posting this account, I did some research (prompted by a comment on the post). I think I tangled with a European hornet, or Vespa crabro.

And perhaps I need to change the pronoun in the story to “she.”

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Fauna of France

Posted in Chickens, Random, tagged , , , , , , on September 18, 2011| Leave a Comment »

Anyone can post postcard-perfect pictures. (And yes, I will too.) In the past two days, though, I’ve been more interested in capturing critters.

A puny French version of the late Trish the Chicken

Puny Trish has a friend.

A literal version of "pigeonholed"

 

From birds to beasties (the praying mantis, that is, not me)

There's a whelk on that there limestone! (Say that with a Southern accent, please.)

Flowers? No.

Snails!

Apparently, if you put them in saltwater, the snails leave their shells. Then you put them on salad. Um ... yum?

Un escargot grand

Un escargot grand avec des amis

Next post: flora of France

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Peeping at Tom

Posted in Random, tagged , , on September 16, 2011| Leave a Comment »

Eddie and I visited Lacoste in 2006. I found out Tom Stoppard lived here. I took pictures of his garden. I hoped to casually run into him on Rue Saint Trophime. I went home disappointed.

Five years later, Tom has moved on. One of Lacoste’s local characters has a connection to Tom’s place, though, and I got to go inside. I saw what he saw and where he sat.

The starstruck aspiring screenwriter in me squealed at this: the desk where he wrote “Shakespeare in Love.”

I imagined him taking writing breaks to walk through his garden or lounge in his pool.

I imagined him eating brie on a baguette while sitting on his terrace.

That's not Tom.

I imagined him gazing up at the Marquis de Sade’s chateau, seeking inspiration.

I imagined myself writing this blog post as an ode to a former Lacoste resident whose work I appreciate. Sadly, this post won’t lead to any Oscars.

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Foyer, doux foyer

Posted in Random, tagged , , , , , on September 13, 2011| 7 Comments »

Home, sweet home.

This is my temporary home in Lacoste, France:

My street and apartment

I left my real home on Sunday with tissues stuffed in my bra to help me through the emotional experience of leaving Eddie and the kids. After many hours breathing recycled airplane air (three planes), wrangling suitcases (one large, three small), and enduring the wrath of Sue Sylvester serving as flight attendant on the longest flight, I made it to my final destination in the south of France.

It has been an action-packed 20 hours since I arrived. I’ll spare you the play-by-play. Here are the highlights:

  1. I live 10 feet away from the clock tower. It chimes twice per hour.
  2. It is scorpion mating season. Here’s one that won’t mate again.
  3. It is harvest season. Carl, another professor here, shows off the goods.
  4. The village’s hills will be assets as I whip my own assets into shape.
  5. The place has interesting little cubbies everywhere. Here’s a cool hobbit potty, for example.

One of the best parts of the town tour today was an impromptu peek into Tom Stoppard‘s former residence. I’ll share the photos later.

For now, though, je suis fatigué!

À bientôt!

 

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