A Journey into the Past - April 28, 2010

A journey into the past…
Alright folks, I’m finally recovered enough to start writing this blog. These last days I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I’m going to combine my family history research here along with the regular travel type blog you are used to. I just don’t feel like writing it twice and it was an integral part of the journey. So, here goes :

As most of you have already heard, five days before we were set to fly off to England, the Icelandic Vocano erupted, spewing an ash cloud which brought down all flights to a standstill in Europe. Our flight was supposed to leave from Lyon to Gatwick on Sunday night, April 18th. We of course started hearing about the UK flight closures on Thursday. We had the pleasure of sitting in our own home while it destroyed our travel plans, but it was nonetheless a difficult wait to see if there may be a re-opening so we could fly. After watching and reading every possible notice, on Saturday we decided to enact Plan B. Plan B was to drive to Caen (a seven hour drive north) and then to sail the English channel overnight (another seven hours) and then arrive in Portsmouth Harbor, England at 6 :30 A.M. on Monday morning. So, thankfully we were able to book our seats online for the ferry. Turns out when we actually sailed, there were a thousand fellow travellers and we were lucky to have assigned seating. Most people had booked after there were no seats left and ended up sleeping in hallways and such.

So, our flight was finally cancelled Sunday morning. At 7 A.M. I requested a refund from easyjet and we packed the car and set off for Caen. The drive was long but beautiful because in the Spring the fields of Colza are in bloom all over. Colza is a plant cultivated for oil and it has a bright yellow flower. We drove through the regions Beaujolais, Dijon, Macon, Auxerre, Bourgogne (Burgundy), Ile de France (Paris)and Normandy. Basically bisecting France from south to north. We arrived in Caen/Ouistreham around 3 P.M. and checked out the ferry dock. It was what Stephane and I like to call , « Le Clusterfuck ». There were several displaced travellers whose flights had been cancelled, now boarding the mid-day ferry. We decided to get out of there pretty quickly after asking a guy where we should park upon our return from Omaha Beach. He said there was no pay parking anywhere in Caen and our vehicle would be safe just about anywhere we could get a spot. So, we headed out down the coast in search of the American Cemetery at Omaha Beach, and one of the landing sites for Allied invasion during the second World War. We got to the site only 45 minutes before closing. We headed down the hill to see the beach and also the cemetery. It’s pretty astounding when you stand there and look down at the beach, which has been repilcated in movies and see all of the graves of the soldiers. I took anly as many pictures and video as my time allowed. Then we grabbed a bite to eat and set off back to find parking at the ferry.

The guy we had asked about parking said we should show back up fairly early in order to check in, so we returned around P.M. for a six hour wait until he ferry disembarked. A lot of it was annoying, but we met a nice drunken Austrian woman who was waiting with her family. While I desperately tried to avoid having wine spilled on me, I listened to their horror story about being trapped in Austria on a skiing trip, and taking trains and buses to get back to Caen for days, in order to get home to England, where they lived now. Finally, it came time to board the huge ferry and be on our way. Our seats were comfortable (kind of) but I still had a hard time sleeping. At one point, after everyone was asleep, I got down behind our seats and crashed on the floor for about three hours of uncomfortable shut eye. I was exhausted by the time we reached port at 6 :30 A.M.

As we were docking I got to see the Isle of Wight, which is where some of my ancestors are from. And in fact, back in those days, they had to come off the island to baptize their children. Portsmouth was where they baptized five of their children although I didn’t know where and we only had time to grab a quick breakfast before heading out by train to Horley, England. This is where some of my Butcher ancestors lived. At Ten A.M. we pulled into Horley after a train ride where we saw a lot of the southern English countryside including lots of rabbits and pheasants from the windows. Beautiful !
We called Peter Cox, one of the Horley Historians for a tour of the two places the Butcher’s were known to have lived in Horley. He drove us to, and walked us down the street where they appeared on the 1861 and 1871 England Census. Now, on the census, the road was still « New Road » and offered no street address. However, at the time, there were only five houses on the block, so he showed those to us as the only possibilities they could have lived. The road is now called Lumley Road. This is the original reason I had contacted the historical society in Horley, to try and pinpoint « New Road » as it may be known now. Peter was generous enough to offer to take us on a tour at that time. So, after walking Lumley Road with him and hearing all sorts of stuff about Horley history, he then took us to the other place they were known to live in the 1851 census. A place called « Cinderfield ». In the census there were shown to be five families (including the Butchers) at the location. Now it is just one cottage. We went to the gate and introduced ourselves to the woman living there. At first she was a bit wary of three straingers pulling up, but once she realized we weren’t selling anything, she promptly let us through the gate and gave us a personal tour of the grounds and the cottage. Her and husband were both very nice and had also done some research into the history of the home. They too, had in fact, found several families living at « Cinderfield » in all the previous censuses they looked at. So, we all came to the same conclusion that there had been outerlying buildings on the property where other families lived. So, that being said, it’s unlikely the Butchers actually lived in this particular cottage on the property but at least we still got to see what it looked like inside and had the opportunity to meet the current owners. The man who lived at this property was named George Butcher. His occupation was a « Jobbing Gardener » and I couldn’t help but think he may have helped to cultivate some of the plants growing on this property. His wife eventually gave birth to Albert Butcher, my Great Great Grandfather, whose son was the immigrant who brought the line into Rensselaer County, New York.

After the tour and before heading out of Horley, Peter took us to the oldest church in Horley and we walked the grounds and the really old and neat church graveyard, just for fun. I knew none of my relatives were buried there because eventually they moved to Kent where George went from being a gardener to being a Methodist Evangelist Preacher who had ties to the Wesleyan Society, one of the earliest Methodist sects. But since I’m obsessed with graveyards, I still was thrilled. Unfortunately, we did not have time for a trip to East Grinstead, where the Butchers were originally from, as we had an appointment to keep that afternoon in London. So, Peter dropped us off at the train station and we gave hima little thank you gift and were on our way to Victoria Station in London. We bought our Oyster cards for the Tube and set off towards our hotel in Islington Burough, which is in the North of London. We stayed at a bed and breakfast called « Charlie’s Hotel ». Fitting I thought, since it’s both my father and brother’s name, and after all this was a trip into my family history as well as my honeymoon. After checking in, Stephane decided to stay behind at the hotel while I went off for a tour of St. Luke’s Old Street church in downtown London. I can understand as we were both exhausted from the travel already. But I wanted to keep this appointment.

So, if you had seen my posting about St. Luke’s, you would already know that this is where 9 members of my family were baptized in the 1800’s and also it is no longer a church, but an education center, rehearsal hall and venue for the London Symphony Orchestra. As the church was derelict for a number of years, with no roof, the LSO bought and rebuilt the church into what it is today. The family whose children were baptized here were the Mackmins. In Rensselaer County, Albert James Butcher, the immigrant I spoke of before, married Florence Alice Mackmin and brought the two families together in my family tree. The immigrant in this family was George Theophilus Mackmin. He was Florence’s grandfather and he was on of the children baptized in this church. His father John Joseph Sumner Mackmin had two wives, Frances Anna and Amelia. Two of the four children from his first marriage were baptized here and all of his children with Amelia, as well. This was quite an experience for me. Robert Gent, who is the events planner at the LSO St. Luke’s, took the time out of his busy day to give me a one hour tour of the location. We discussed family history, the history of the church and the current goings on in St. Luke’s. It was a pleasure and he had several photgraphs to show me of what the church looked like during the renovation.

After our tour, I took a walk down to Finsbury, about eight blocks to the south to see where the Mackmins lived and were buried. I took a walk down Tabernacle Street, which used to be Tabernacle Walk and Tabernacle Row, back in Old England. Differant family members had lived at 31, 48 and 51 Tabernacle Row for a number of years during the 1800’s. I photgraphed all of the addresses and then headed off to Bunhill Fields (a short distance away) where some of the Mackmins are buried. I was slightly disheartened because it was clear I would never find them in this graveyard. First of all, most of the stones are unreadable. Secondly, this is a non-conformist burial ground, and the non-conformists did not believe in marking their graves with a stone. Adding to this is the fact that when I wrote to the Parks department, who now runs this burial ground as a city park, to inquire about the burials, they told me some graves were seven deep and only the top body would have been on the stone. Anyway, I visited it and paid my general respects to the family buried here. Here is a list of the burials in Bunhill Fields.

Amelia Eliza 10w Jan 1837 (a child of John Joseph Sumner Mackmin and Amlia Dore)
Ann 35 May 1811 (JJSM’s Mother)
Augustus 1 May 1831 (a child of JJSM and Amelia Dore)
Elizabeth 62 Jul 1846 (JJSM’s Step Mother)
Frances Anna 33 Nov 1825 (JJSM’s first wife)
Frederick 4m Aug 1827 (a child of JJSM and Amelia Dore)
John Sumner 73 Apr 1849 (JJSM’s Father)
Mary Ann 7m Jun 1808 (I do not know who this is, and do not think it’s a relation)


After visiting Bunhill Fields, I grabbed some dinner for Steph and I and headed back to the hotel. We ate and passed out at 8 o’clock.

In the morning, Stephane and I ate the heart attack English breakfast at the hotel and headed into Soho to pick up some books he had ordered online at a bookstore named Foyle’s. We then took a short stroll around Soho, which is also the theater district. Then we headed out to Westminster, to Abbey Road studios. You cant’ get in, obviously, but I got some shots of the outside and the street where I think the cover of the Beatles album, Abbey Road, was taken. While the visit wasn’t all that exciting, I couldn’t help being thrilled that I was anywhere near this place, being that both The Beatles and Pink Floyd had both recorded here. After Abbey Road, we headed down to Green Park and then to Buckingham Palace for the changing of the guard, which happens at 11 :30. Yet another bad scene. So many people and police on horseback telling you to not block the gates. However, even if it was a mess, we still got to see the changing of the guard. From there we headed down to Grovesnor Park to wait for our tour bus to pick us up and take us to Stonehenge.

Around 1 :30 we were picked up for the two hour drive to Wiltshire to see Stonehenge. On the ride, the loudest people were the Americans ! Not me, of course, but it was clear this may be why people in Europe can’t stand us. :)

They drove me crazy the entire trip and it was freezing on the bus. Finally we made it to the site. I’m sorry to say, it’s very much a tourist location now. I got the pictures and visited, but I was a little disheartened by the feel of it all. It seemed very canned and not so spiritual of a place anymore. I did bury something of mine out there, in the outskirts of the large circle, just so I could feel a part of it. You can’t get anywhere near the actual monument, which makes sense. I would have liked to walk among the stones, but I understand preserving the sanctity of the place. I just wished everyone would go away and I could take a moment to just feel the energy of the place. Sadly, there was no way that was happening. So, in turn, I bought my Stonehenge magnet at the shop selling everything Stonehengish outside the gate and Stephane and I proceeded to steal a better seat for the bus ride home. Since we still had some daylight left, we decided to disembark the bus at Hyde Park. Hyde Park is where Floyd last played together on stage at the Live 8, and also performed several free concerts back in the day. Also several bands you know and may love have played here over the years. The Who did their , « The Kids are Alright » video here, which is horribly lip syncned. They also played several times here back in the day.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=siVodkpxhac

Not only was it beautiful, but it does hold a lot of Rock and Roll live concert history. I was thrilled to be there and to watch a beautiful sunset before heading out for a late dinner with Steph across the street. After dinner we headed back to Charlie’s and went to bed.

In the morning, we headed out to visit the churches that my family were wither baptized or married at. We also stopped by two places to get photgraphs for a distant cousin of mine in Canada. He is a descendant of JJSM’s first wife, Frances Anna. Our first stop was St. Giles without Cripplegate church. This was a stop for Shaun, my distant cousin. It was where one of his relatives was baptized (I believe). It actually was a very cool place to visit because it is right next to the Old London Wall. There are still pieces of the wall nearby and I guess this church stood very close to the inside border of the original Old England. Plus, there were some pretty neat waterways nearby. It was a cool little oasis in the middle of one of the busiest sections of London.

Our next stop was Christchurch Newgate/Greyfriar’s where John Joseph Sumner Mackmin (JJSM) and Amelia Dore were married on March 25, 1826. The old church was destroyed in WWII bomb raids and the tower was the only thing left standing. The church part is a few walls left. From there we visited St. Sepulchre without Newgate. This is the church where JJSM married his first wife, Frances Anna. I went here for Shaun because it is a ten minute walk from the other one. What’s also interesting about this church is that John Smith, the guy Pochahontas saved from the Indians, is buried here. I did not see is grave because it’s probably inside and I couldn’t get inside any of the churches. Also, this church is known for it’s bells, which would toll in time with the criminals being executed at the Old Bailey Courthouse, which is directly across the street. I also got some pictures of that on our way down to the church where JJSM was baptized in 1775, St. Benet , Paul’s Wharf church. Turns out this is known as the Welsh church of London. I’m not sure if that’s significant. As far as I know this family orginally comes from Scotland. Anyway, since this is directly next to the Thames River and what’s known as the Millenium Bridge, we decided to take a stroll over the footbridge to the replicated Globe Theater on the other side. We decided not to go inside because the ticket cost too much just to go inside a fake Globe Theater. We had lunch by the Thames and then headed back over to the Tube station. From there we visited St. Botolph Aldgate Church, where JJSM’s parents, John Mackmin and Elizabeth Sumner were married on November 21, 1771. This church is still standing and in great condition. It’s also right next to the Gherkin, a huge pickle shaped building in London (see pics). Then we headed back to the hotel for a brief siesta before heading out to Abney Park cemetery in Stoke Newington to try and find the burials of the other Mackmins.

Turns out, we found none of them. The place is so overgrown and we eventually found the sections they were buried in but found no stones . I had written the cemetery trust a few weeks before going and never heard back from them…until the night after we got back searching through like crazy and finding nothing. Turns out, only one grave was marked. That of Shepherdess Mary (a daughter of JJSM and his first wife, Frances Anna) , her husband and one other family member. They included a picture of the grave for me. Would have been great to know there was no other markers, PRIOR to searching for three hours in underbrush, for nothing. Regardless of actually finding anything here, it was an interesting experience. Seems the lack of upkeep has made it a hangout for all sorts of people, including now being a local pick up spot for the gay community. I saw several men and no women except me and one other woman with a family. I was starting to think it may be a gay hangout and then I was assured when I saw two men together, one zipping up his pants behind a tree and some headstones. Doesn’t bother me, just an interesting side note. We also, on our way out, saw a huge fire someone had set near the old Chapel, since derelict. It was not controlled and seemed to be burning itself out fast. We searched for someone to tell and founf no one. Later on that day, when I finally recieved the late email from the cemetery trust , I told them about it, in case they needed to check it out.

We headed back to the hotel with a dinner of fish and chips, wrote out our postcards before passing out after another long day. In the morning, I was having a cig before breakfast on the front steps of the hotel. I saw what looked like a dog passing behind the bushes. Turns out, it was a fox. He came around near the opening to the front walk, peeked at me and then took off. He stayed for only about Five seconds, but for me, the experience was super cool. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a fox up close and never in such a residential area.

This being our last day at the hotel, we ate and handed in our keys and set off for the Islington Local History Center for an appointment at Ten. Stephane read in the library while I met the local historian. Seems that I had more information than her regarding the family, so it went pretty quickly. It was kind of a let down because they claimed to have several pictures indexed by street and I thought they may have some photos of Tabrnacle Street back in the day. The earliest pictures they had were in 1973. It looked exaclty the same as it did today. They also did not have any other information to help me. My next stop was the London Metro Archives, which is a few blocks away. Stephane stayed behind at the library to read while I researched some genealogy there. I found the internment record books for Bunhill Fields, which didn’t give me too much more information on the burials than I already had, but a little. In about 1860, JJSM started listing his occupation as a Linen Draper AND an Undertaker. Prior to that on the census, he was only known as a Linen Draper. I was always confused by this becuase Undertaker could have meant someone who « undertook » special requests, say in a tailoring capacity. Another distant cousin of mine also thought this to be the case. But it turns out he actually was an Undertaker, in the sense we know that term to mean now. In fact, on the Bunhill Fields Internment records, the last column lists the « Undertaker’s name and Address » for the burial of the person. Turns out, JJSM was not only an undertaker, but undertook and prepared, not only his father’s body for burial, but also his three young children who died before the age of two. Sad, but I guess he knew he could take the most care and probably did not trust those things to anyone else, seeing as he knew the trade. Still, pretty sad when you think about it. Other than that, the only other information I found was three fire insurande policies from the 1800’s , for a relative on my Mom’s side of the family. His name was William Wright and he was a Confectioner and Baker. I thought it was pretty cool to see the insured contents of his home, which included, silver tableware, musical instruments and glass stemware. His estate total was £1200 in two policies and £900 in an earlier policy. So the candy and confection business must have been good to him. I think it’s pretty cool that I have an ancestor who held the same trade as myself (when I worked that is).

:)


After that we sat in Green Park together after lunch just waiting for our train back to Portsmouth Harbor to head home. After the lazy afternoon in the park, we walked passed Buckingham Palace again and down to Victoria station and headed out of London, by train, to start our long journey back home. We sailed again overnight on the Channel and drove seven hours to get home in the morning.

Now, you can see why I need a few days of rest before writing this blog.

Overall, it was a long bunch of travelling, followed by long days of walking all over London. However, despite the fact every day we were truly exhausted, we did everything we had planned to do, regardless of the situation regarding the Volcanic ash. I can’t express to you in words how much it meant to me to visit these places and to tour around where ancestor’s of mine lived, married, gave birth and died. Thanks to Stephane for allowing our honeymoon to really be all about what I wanted to do. We had some romantic moments amidst all the running around, but I won’t be blogging about that.

;)

Crazy Germans, Immigration and Stravinsky - February 23, 2010

Alright, haven't written in a while so I thought I'd catch you guys up. On January 12th I flew back to France with my Visa finally in hand. This was the next step to obtaining a Carte de Sejour which is like a residence permit. I applied at the immigration office upon my return and had to wait a month for my appointment but I went the other day and I am now in posession of the Carte de Sejour. Finally! I have to attend two more day long classes. One on "Life in France" and one on the "Government in France" and also I will begin to attend free French lessons on a path towards obtaining a French Language Diploma. This is good because I'm not all that good about doing my Rosetta Stone. I've come a long way though and I think they will assess me at a higher level than absolute beginner. In the meantime, Steph and I took a trip to the Black Forest in Germany. It's actually right over the border into Germany. It took us five hours and we crossed the Rhein river. Which was nothing to write about, at least where we crossed it. I booked our hotel online in a city called Furtwangen. A small mountain city in the Southern middle of the forest. It was a pretty scary drive for me because the roads were high and covered in snow. Anyone who has ever driven in a car with me in those conditions will know just how annoying that must have been for Steph. But alas, despite my constant whining we made it safely to our hotel in Furtwangen. All of the traffic lights were out in the town but it didn't matter since we only saw about five cars driving in town. We made it inside and checked in. They told us that we had arrived in time for the Fastnacht festival, which they described as a Carnivale. We saw several very large German men, and a few German women dressed up and wandering the streets with instruments. While Stephane was parking the car, I watched them at one of the pubs down the street and they were playing "Tequila". Funny shit to hear Germans singing Tequila. Anyway, we checked in and found that there was a parade being shown on TV in our room. Apparently, since this was such a small town, it didn't have too much going on. But on the TV they were in a much larger city and we watched several Germans in lots of costumes: cows, penguins, dogs, cats, tigers, bears, pigs, bees and other "court" type outfits. I eventually looked it up online and found it was the celebration (similar to mardi gras) where the townspeople chased the Winter spirits from the town and brought in the coming of Spring. Directly translated "Fastnacht" is something like Fast Night. The time before lent when you eat all the fat, because you'll be fasting or something. Well, here in this town though, it was merely another reason to get drunk and party. In the hotel lobby that night they hosted a party for the people. We went down for a drink and found several large German men (and one manly looking German woman) singing and drinking in the restaurant. This is an old school hotel. Something you can imagine being in a story about travelling through the forest, in need of lodging , and finding a warm, dimly lit hotel/restaurant to eat, drink and sleep. Very cool. Well, they were very loud, as you can imagine (see video) and eventually we retired back to the room. I had packed us enough food so we had a dinner in the hotel room while watching the Olympics in German and eating at the window (in our underwear) overlooking the town and forest. We also had picked up some "Kirschtorte" which you know better as Black forest Cake. Yum! In the morning, we had a breakfast in the hotel of various charcuterie, including Black Forest ham, cheeses and really excellent coffee. Then we headed out on a mission to the see what is called the tallest waterfall in Germany (not true, BTW, because I googled it). Anyway, Triberg Falls. We found an entrance to the falls that was unfortunately blocked off. And since my paranoid ass didn't want to take the hill marked 12% grade, down to the other entrance, we did not see the Falls. We took two different short hikes though, through the forest and enjoyed the rest of our time in there. I took a couple videos, you can check them out and also a few shots in the Albums. Not too many though because you can only take so many pictures of the snowy forest before it gets downright boring. We returned home that day but it took considerably longer because we decided to cut off part of the highway driving (toll roads) and hit the countryside. Ugh, I think it took seven hours. But finally we arrived home tired from the car ride and the hikes through the forest.

This past Thursday we attended a concert, which was a gift from Steph's parents for Christmas. The Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra playing some selections from Bruckner and Stravinsky. First part was Stravinsky's " Le Sacre du Printemps" or the "Consecration of Spring".

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Rite_of_Spring

Stephane read the program to me (it was in French) and he told me that this particular selection of his, was like an ode to Nature (pagans all over) and was meant to be the antithesis of normal orchestral music format. It was meant to have less design and more of the feel of nature. Well apparently, when it was first performed in Paris , people called the police because people in the audience rioted. It was crazy.

Next part was Anton Bruckner's "Wagner Symphony"

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Symphony_No._3_(Bruckner)

Much more normal musical composition and style.

Since the concert I've been focused on choosing a guitar, buying a guitar and learning the guitar. I have not yet received my guitar in the post, but Steph showed me some stuff on the bass and I've been mentally learning online, while I wait, rather impatiently for mine to come. I'm also awaiting my letter from immigration which will direct me to a school for French language.

Hope you enjoyed this update.

A day in the Life - January 12, 2010

So, as many of you know I left Newark , NJ on Monday around 5:45 pm to fly back to Europe. I had booked a flight through Geneva, Switzerland because it was cheaper and closer to my house in France. When I picked up my visa AFTER making the trip plans they told me to make sure I got an entrance stamp upon my return to France. Of course, when they said this I worried because since the Schengen agreement (which releases almost all border control between the countries in the European Union) I knew there were less border officers to come by. The plan was to fly into Geneva and hop a train to Lyon. There is a border control checkpoint in the train station down it's own little seperate hallway because Geneva is a major port of entrance into France. In all my time coming back and forth, borders were a huge deal. Mostly, trying to avoid them was what I was doing. Well of course this time, when I wanted and needed a border stamp, there was no one to be found at the border in the train station. Everything up to this point went fine. Of course, the very last thing on a list of about a hundred things I did in the last three weeks, did not work out. I did not make the first train even though I was on time, because I was busy searching for an immigration officer. I knew I didn't want to just leave and enter France without this stamp so I decided to have a croissant, two huge coffees and several cigs. Besides , Stephane was lecturing until after ten anyway. Turns out my computer was low on batteries so I could only try to call him until my battery went dead. I just wanted to try to figure it out before I left. I was freezing and exhausted and couldn't get a hold of him. I decided to just take the next train into Lyon and say the hell with it. I have an entrance stamp into Geneva and I also have the validated train ticket from Geneva to Lyon. Stephane is going to call this afternoon to the immigration office to find out if this is good enough. I mean clearly, I entered France, I just don't have a stamp to prove it. If they say I need a stamp, Steph and I will drive to Geneva tomorrow, cross the border in our car, turn around and demand an entrance stamp. Ugh! Finally boarding the train I erupted into tears. I'll chalk it up to stress, PMS, utter exhaustion from jetlag and potential frostbite on my toes. I was a sniveling mess. The Frenchies were all staring at me. Whatever, I had had enough. Finally I regained my composure and the feeling in my toes and enjoyed the beautiful landscape of snowy Alps Switzerland. Of course I had left Stephane a message at home to pick me up when the train arrived. Luckily he had stopped home after lecture to check messages and was there to meet me. I broke into tears again because all the stress of everything came bubbling up to the surface. So he lugged all my crap to the car while I blubbered and complained and he drove me home. He had food and presents waiting for me. I'm so happy to be home. It was also bittersweet because seeing my friends when I was home and having to say goodbye for real this time was really difficult. I mean this visa gives me the right to be here now. My next planned trip is not until August. Six whole interrupted months in France. Even then the trip is likely to be short as Stephane will likely be with me and we will stay for a couple of weeks, if that. So, I sit, still exhausted, sad for leaving and happy to be back. Smoking cigs while wrapped up in a warm blanket with my kitty by my side and writing this to all of you. Stephane had to go back to work for the afternoon. I told him it was likely I'd be sleeping when he returned. So that's all for now. I'll let everyone know what happens with the stamp and the immigration office.

*snore*

2010, The year we make contact - January 3, 2010

I figured my birthday was as good a day as any to write a note about what's been going on in my life. As most of you already know, for the past 15 months, I've been going back and forth from here to France. Originally I had applied for a visa but was denied and was forced into tourist status. This means I could be in France for three months, then I had to return to my native soil for another three months before I could return. Except for the one time I snuck into France through Geneva, Switzerland for a month, this is how it's been for these fifteen months. Well, finally Stephane proposed and we were married at the beginning of December. Of course, being that I was still officially on tourist status, I was forced to leave my husband after only ten days of being married to return to the states to get my papers in order. I arrived on December 15th. First order of business was to change the name on my passport to my married name. Had I not done this first, I would have my visa in my maiden name. So, three days after I got here I sent that out, paid them a lot of fucking money to have it expedited, and started the waiting game. In the meantime, I had my license renewed in my married name, with the intent of tranferring it to a French license upon my return to France. Fuck you DMV! I'm free of a lifetime of dealing with you! Also, a French license is good until you die. We should really enact this amazing idea. License for life. I was in New London, CT for the first week I was home and then travelled to New York to see my family for Christmas. I ate cookies, talked to my Dad about football and hunting and just relaxed. Christmas was nice. I got to see my brother Chris (who gave me an awesome camera) , my aunts and uncle, my cousin and my great aunt Pearl, who is 60 years older than me. She's still kicking and is an amazingly funny individual. On the day after Christmas, I got my new passport in the mail and promptly made the appointment for the visa. I awoke at 4 AM Monday morning and travelled to NYC by train to make a 9:30 appt. Everything went fairly smoothly and they told me to return to collect my visa in a week's time. It's still not in hand yet, so I'm trying not to get too excited, but everything should work out. After I was done with my appt, I visited the Metropolitan Museum of Art. I was only there about an hour. I've been there several times and after going to the Louvre several times I was quite bored. Plus they STILL do not have the "Great Wave off Kanagawa" on display. Same as last time. I made my way back downtown for a two hour wait inside Penn Station. Finally making it home around 6:30 PM, I showered off the scents of the city and crashed like I have never crashed before. A few days later I travelled back here to New London, CT in time for some more snow. Here I am waiting for the weather to hold off long enough for me to make it to Boston to visit with Philly before I go. I fly out January 11th back to France by way of Geneva again, although this time, I'll have a visa. I'm very much looking forward to being back with my husband and eventually planning our London Honeymoon. I'm glad I've been able to spend time with my friends here in the states and my family. Those of you I couldn't see, I apologize. It's just not possible to see everyone, everytime. Special thanks go out to Raquel, who let me use her car for over a week to go back home to NY. Life saver. A heartfelt thank you goes out to Shawn , who helped me run around a bit when I arrived in New London and also thanks for the fantastically warm and pretty black trenchcoat you gave me. Thank you my friend. Thanks to Terry for booking me that awesome room in the city my first night home. I never wanted to leave. I got to see the Ruddy's, who I will never go so long without seeing again. Thanks for always being so open to me and still being part of my life, even after all this time (it's been 13 years). Thanks to Lolo and Allo (and Krissy) for opening your home to me and also for the birthday dinner and cake. Yum! And thanks for taping Ghosthunters on the DVR for me to watch when I come back here.

I'm thinking that's it for now, as I'm tired and want to go to sleep. Looking forward to Boston and perhaps seeing Jenny Frey before I head out. I'm so excited to be able to go back to France for good now and to throw down my thick American roots in the French soil.

Happy New Year!

Final weeks in the States and my return to France - September 17, 2009

So , I left New London on Labor day and travelled by train to Boston for three nights. Philly and I made a bunch of yummy food (like usual) and also we went to Walden Pond. I had no idea where Walden pond was. I only knew it from hearing about Henry David Thoreau and even that knowledge was brief. So, we strapped Sylvie to Philly's chest and went out for a hike. We had packed our lunch and had a nice little picnic by the lake in the shadow of some trees near the original site of HDT's cabin. We continued our hike and saw a bunch of fish, swimmer's and also some cute chipmunks and frogs. It was perfect weather and both of us regretted not bringing our swimsuits. So, after three nights of eating and visiting, I boarded the train to Albany. I took a rather indirect route on the "Lake shore limited" Amtrak. It really was a beautiful ride through the woods of Massachusetts and into Rensselaer county NY. I was picked up by my step mom Sandi for three nights in Albany. I got to see my brother Christopher twice which is always a pleasure. I also saw Julie and Julia at Crossgates mall. Finally! I'd been meaning to see it the entire time I was home. I'm now obsessed with Julia Child and plan to get her cookbook and cook my way through it. I also bought her autobiography, which I'm now reading. Also I decided while in Albany to gauge out my first earring hole. I just love all these cute wooden earrings I see and I started the process. I went to Spaulding on Central Ave and picked up my first set of gauges. I went with 16 gauge at first and popped them into my ears. They were quite tight at first but I should be able to move up a gauge within about another week. I also decided I would go back to Lark Street tattoo for some work on my wave tattoo. I went in, had a consult with the guy and booked an appointment for saturday night at 5. Tirns out this guy is a dope and made my appointment for Sunday when I was already going to be gone. I didn't realize this until I looked at the card right before the appointment. So, I ended up finding a place called "Hooligan tattoo" in Latham near Hoffman's. I talked with this guy Travis on the phone and told him what happened and he took me right away. I just wanted work on the shading part of the tattoo so I figured anyone could do it. Turns out he charged me 50 bucks less than Lark would have and he was nice and did a good job on the tattoo. I recommend him if you need a tattoo. Shading hurt like a bitch and I was definately feeling exhausted after the tattoo. I just went home and my brother Chris came over. Next day, I left to head downstate by bus to see my friend Terry. Terryis an old friend of my Mom's and a truly awesome individual (Hi Terry). Terry and I had some dinner at a nice restaurant in the lovely riverside town of Newburgh, NY (LOL) and then headed back to her house for some RnR. We awoke in the morning and had a relaxing breakfast and then drove up to the original site of the Woodstock Music Festival, forty years ago. It turns out the museum was closed because of stupid winter hours and so we could just go to the monument. The monument overlooks the hillside where the original stage was. Really cool to actually be there where something so unique happened. Terry said she had seen some shows there and so they now have regular music events there. Which is neat. So we just drove around the site a bit and then headed back to her place for some yummy Turkey Chili and then she drove me down to stay a night in a hotel near the JFK airport. I spent my last night chilling with Shawn, who came down to visit me in the city. He brought me a huge bag of popcorn to take with me, which was awesome. So, I said my final goodbyes and in the afternoon I headed off to JFK to get rid of all my heavy shit for a short period of time. I made my weight limit which is totally amazing! No extra luggage fees! woo hoo! Travel back to Paris was very nice. I had a seatmate who was a very nice lady and we chatted throughout the flight. Pretty good airline food and a swift flight, which ended up arriving half an hour early to Paris. I arrived in Paris at dawn on a foggy morning. I had an easy time getting through customs and retrieving my baggage and settled down for a three hour wait for my train to Lyon. I got to practice some of my French, sort of, because it seemed everyone was asking me for help. I couldn't really help any of them becasue my French is not that good, but it's nice to know I no longer look like I have no idea what's going on! LOL I hopped the train just after 9 to head for Lyon. I arrived in quick fashion on the fast bullet train to find Stephane smiling and waiting just outside my train car! We hugged and kissed for about ten minutes and then headed home. So, I've just been getting settled and finding it nice to be home and pet my kitty, who still wants nothing to do with me unless I have food. Good to know some things never change. When I got home, I ate some lunch and then passed out for several hours until a late dinner, then again went to sleep around 10 to find myself wide awake at 3 AM. Gotta love that fucking jetlag! So, today is Steph's birthday and so we will go out for a birthday dinner of sushi and find a yummy cake at Les Halles of Paul Bocuse, which is right across the street. That's the plan.

Happy to be back home in France but sorry to say goodbye to all my friends in the states, for now. Don't worry, you'll never get rid of me completely! ;)

Two nights in Paris - February 6, 2009

Okay, so Stephane had to go into Paris for work and you all know that means some days on the town for me. I decided this time I went to Paris, I was going to see the things I hadn't been able to see the last couple times we went. We decided to stay in Chinatown because it was near where he had to go for work. And we love Pho! But you may already know that because I write about it everytime I go to Paris. We stayed in a hotel called the "Arian Hotel"! LOL It wasn't a palace but it was cheap and fortunately our maid was not Hitler. Anyway, our plan for the first night was to go see some sights together. But when we arrived we quickly realized that it was the Chinese New Year and we were in Chinatown. Stephane literally dragged me to the parade. But, I'm glad he did because it turned out to be great! I got some pics from the street and pics from our sixth floor window. Check them out in the photo section. I guess it is the tradition to have a parade and also to bless the stores and restaurants. This blessing is done with drums, and two like "Dragon Dogs" things. The shopkeeper or restauranteur comes out of the front door with an "offering" of food for the Dogs (The Gods) and the Gods (Dogs) take the offering and in turn give them a blessing for a prosperous New Year. To add to the drums and the excitement of the Dogs, they also light firecrackers off to seal the deal. And I mean a lot of fucking firecrackers! The streets were lined with red remnants of paper from them. So after we had something to eat at a restaurant with crappy seating but good food and took a nap after. We then went out to Stephane's families house for dinner and a little Wii. Just wanted you all to know that on the Wii, as in my real life, I am a kickass bowler. LOl I have been made fun of for this before, but gosh darnit, it's true. I will whoop your ass at bowling! The Frenchies were very impressed. We spent the evening with them and then went home around midnight. Stephane left early in the morning nd I slept until ten. My plan was to go to the Louvre and attempt to meet up with my friend Crystal but it ended up she was unavailable to meet so I ended up going by myself. It only costs 9€ to get into the Louvre. I saw the Egyptian artifacts section this time and walked the Greek and Roman sculpture rooms again. I decided to walk across the Seine river and try to go to the Musée d'Orsay but it wasn't open. Last time we were in Paris we had passed a cute little area with lots of shops near the Musée. This time, I decided to check it out. Totally awesome little area near the Rue Du Bac Metro Station. After this I was pretty cold and decided to just go back to the room, check my email and rest until Stephane got back. Then we went out to eat PHO! Hells yeah! We ate, wandered a bit and then came back to the hotel to crash. In the morning, Stephane and I got up and had breakfast at a McDonald's (I'm not gonna lie) and then he went off for work and I had another day in Paris. This day was blue skies, but freezing cold! I was on the hunt for beads and Valentines gifts for Stephane. It was freezing but I shopped my ass off! After an unsuccessful search for beads I decided to hop on the Metro to check out the so-called "Dreadhead " section of Paris at Metro stop Strasbourg/St. Denis. Turns out you can only buy hair extensions, cosmetics and ugly shoes in this section. No Beads. After this I headed to find Notre Dame. I swear you are gonna think I'm retarded when you read this next part. Now you can see Notre Dame from the bridges over the river. It is huge! I took the Metro to the Cité station which puts you right on the island where Notre Dame is located. I got off the Metro and just followed the tour groups. I looked in both directions and saw what I thought was Notre Dame. Turns out, after thinking it was lame, taking photographs of it and giving up on waiting in line, later on Stephane told me it in fact WASN'T Notre Dame, but some other cathedral. I had just mistaken it because it was on the island and there were millions of tourists. The real Notre Dame was located on the other side of this extremely small island and happened to be somehow "hiding" behind these other buildings in the square so I didn't see it. I felt like an ass when he told me. LOL SO, next time I am in Paris, I am going to go to the REAL Notre Dame and then post some pics. What a jackass! Okay, so, after an unfortunate mistake with Notre Dame, I travelled across the river again to a street called the Rue de Seine. On this street was supposedly a bead shop (anyway I need beads for my dreads I'm getting next week - hence the exhausting search for beads in Paris) which turned out was not open. But they had some really cute shops, tons of art galleries and outdoor cafes (of course). I decided to have a cup of tea in one of the cafes. What is great is that it's totally normal to sit by yourself in Paris restaurants. Okay, so after that I decided to head to the Pigalle section of Paris for some more shopping and lunch. I ate at a sidewalk cafe. I sat outside and basically froze my ass off just so I could smoke. I was there for like over an hour, but again, this is completely normal for Paris. After my lunch I walked the streets of Pigalle which are quite interesting. I bought a hat, a necklace and also two scarves. I need two scarves like I need a hole in the head, but they were cute and cost a total of 10€ together. I also got Stephane a couple gifts which I cannot mention because he will read this and hasn't yet received them. :) It was cold and getting late and I was exhausted but I still had a couple hours before meeting Stephane at the station to go home. I decided to just hang out in the train station for an hour reading (across from a woman with SEVEN little Paris Hilton lap dogs in bags) then headed to a restaurant across from the station which is our rendevous point always in Paris. We met up at 6 and headed home to Lyon, which is a two hour train ride. It's Friday night. In eight days I'm heading home to the states for a month ( itinerary posted in last note). Next Wednesday or Thursday, I'm getting synthetic dreadlocks , which has been a hippie fantasy of mine for years! YAY! I'll post pics when I get them.

So, most likely my last blog for a while. Hope to see some of you on my trip home.

Marocco, Noël and everything after - January 28, 2009

Okay, so, any of you that may be following my blog probably now realize I never finished writing about Marocco. I think it's because nothing really more happened except that we went to a couple markets (souks) and I bought Maroccan spices and we got hassled by some vendors. Also, by the time I left there, I never wanted to go back. My lily white American ass has no place in a country like Marocco I guess. Sounds closed-minded, I know, but you just go there and tell me what you think after two guys follow you around town and everything sucks. AND you can't drink the water. And for any of you that don't know, I started smoking again in Marocco. I say it was the stress and maybe that's true, but now I am relishing the cigs I smoke knowing that someday soon, I have to stop again. What an evil bitch that is (puff puff)!!!

Onward.

Christmas in France is a completely different experience than in the United States. At least in my family. Not really for any specific traditions being all that different. But you see, Christmas in France is about family and eating. Now, I hear you saying, that's exactly what Christmas is all about , but no. It's different. It's not about how many presents are under the tree, or just seeing your family for as long as you can stand. It's about a few thoughtful gifts and plenty of time spent with the family. In fact, we spent four days with Steph's family. When he first told me that we were staying that long, I almost puked. The idea of my entire family getting together for four consecutive days was an awful thought. Not that I don't love them, but seriously...It's what I would call "a recipe for disaster". But as it turns out, it was actually pretty nice. It got a little tough for me because they all speak French to eachother. His brother speaks well, his woman a little less and his sister also speaks some. But it's their language and , despite their and my best efforts, I often got left in the dust. No fault of anyone's, it's just the way it is.

Now, the food is something else. I decided I would make gingerbread cookies and also to bring the makings of a gingerbread house to make with the kids. It was very well-received and we had a lot of fun putting it together. Stephane's Mother is a great cook! There was no ham, potato salad, maccaroni salad or sweet gerkins on the table. There was plenty of cheese, in fact, a little mesh HOUSE of cheese. There was homemade pumpkin soup, langostines, avocado and caviar, wine , wine, wine and more wine, all from before I was born, homeade spirits made by his Dad, bread, bread and more bread, sausages in bread, sausages without bread, fois gras and the traditional La Buche de Noël.
When I say I ate a lot, I really mean, Stephane had to roll me to the car when we left. I was stunned and amazed at how much excellent food she made. It was a foodie's wet dream! So, after the four days we came home and stopped eating for days. LOL Well, not really but it definately was way less.

Since Christmas, we have just been living. I met a new friend, Barbara (Hey Barbara!) and she is very nice. She is married to a French guy but she is half German/ half Philippina and speaks english. I think she is great, even though I don't know her very well. I also hung out with my friend Rhian again too, also awesome (Hi Rhiann!). We went to Perouges Medieval city and also a place called Les Marmites des geant, or somthing like that. After I am done writing this blog I will post some pics. Stephane and I also had dinner with two of his colleages and their significant others (Hi Laurent and Laurent!). I will lovingly call the night, Fondue with the French Fags! LOL Please don't be offended if you read this. I'm saying it that way out of love and admiration! LOL So, they made us an awesome dinner of French fondue and salad and an awesome dessert of Pears with chocolate sauce. Totally awesome guys. And all of you out there know what a fag hag I am, so this should come as no surprise!

I also have been planning my next trip home along with a trip to Paris for three days before I leave. Stephane has to work up there and I am going to buy a Paris Museum pass and see the city, including Notre Dame, Eiffel tower, Louvre (again) and other sights. After we return from Paris, I am getting my hair done in synthetic dreads. I can't wait! I can finally be myself (LOL) ! Not having a job means you can dress and look however you want without any rules! It's fantastic! SO after many years of wanting dreads, I'm finally going to have them! Yay!


My trip home is loosely planned like this:

Fly out of Switzerland into NYC ( Feb 14TH)
Spend three days in or around NYC
Fly to San Diego, CA (Feb 18TH)
Spend two days there
Fly to Colorado to see my brother's family (Feb 20TH)
Fly back to San Diego (Feb 22)
Rent a beach house for a week
Try to see my Aunt in LA for at least a day
Fly back to NY (Mar 2ND)
Spend a day or two with my Mom's best friend from childhood
Take a bus to Albany to see my Family for a day or two
Take a bus to Boston to see Philly and her baby bump (Mar 5TH)
Take a bus to New London for a few days
Maybe go to Block Island, maybe
Fly out of NYC back to Paris ( Mar 12TH)
Train home

That was exhausting to write, now I only have to get through it in real life!!! LOL So if anyone wants to see me, please let me know and I will work you into the plan!

Mad Marocco - December 21, 2008

I guess the only way to tell this story is to start from the beginning. When we first arrived in the airport to set off for our flight to Morocco, we were greeted with an hour and a half delay. Yay! I should have known this would be a harbinger of things to come. I felt like I was still recovering from my jetlag from returning home from the states on Sunday. We met up with Stephane's colleague at the airport. First Russian man I ever met. Very nice guy. So, finally we boarded the plane and took off towards our destination of Casablanca, Marocco...and then on to a town to the north of Casa called Mohammedia. Stephane had to give a lecture at a university there. So, the plane ride was the first of many strange and somewhat scary experiences I would have over the course of the next few days. We made friends with a Maroccon woman sitting next to us which was nice. She gave us some pointers and also provided her telephone number, should we make it to Rabat where she lived. She promised to give us a tour if we ever come there. It was really very nice. She was going home to visit family but she actually lives about an hour away from us in France, so maybe we will get a chance someday to see her again. So, about halfway through the flight the attendants went through with the cart of duty free merchandise. Apparently a customer sitting near us was not happy! He proceeded to get up in the aisle and YELL very loudly in Arabic at the flight attendant. Thankfully, our new Arabic friend was giving us a translated play by play. Apparently, the guy was being a fucking pain in the ass the entire flight and the attendant refused to sell him cigarettes for some reason. It was quite scary because you never really knew how far it was going to go. Like they were standing chest to chest and yelling in the aisle right behind our seats. It was by far the scariest thing I have ever witnessed on a flight. It turns out the argument never went to blows and the attendants continued to ignore the pain in the ass as he kept hitting the call button for the rest of the flight. The attendants were funny because they would just walk by and switch the light off not paying him any mind. So, a student from the university picked us up at the airport which was very nice. My first impression of Morocco was that the weather was beautiful and there were tons of palm trees and Muslims. Obviously. It was then that I came to the realization that I was entering a third world country. After all, I am not known for my prowess in geography. Along the road to the airport there were many people walking. In fact, they were several people walking on every single road we ever drove on. It's much different than anything I have ever experienced (except Block Island in summer for those who know) . At one point, a farmer herded his cows onto the airport road and we had to stop abruptly as not to him them! I asked if it was normal, and the guy said , "In Morocco, anything is normal". I thought....alrighty then. He also mentioned that there were no rules when it came to driving. I could tell this anyway but he was good at manuevering through it all. He decided to take us on the road through the center of Casablanca so that we could see everything, rather than to take the road straight to Mohammedia. He said it would be an extra ten minutes! This was a huge mistake as it was rush hour and a huge cluster fuck. When I say that, I'm not even sure it conveys accurately in words what the situation was like in reality. There are 8 MILLION PEOPLE in Casablanca, or at least this is what the student told us. Well, eventually we made it to Mohammedia approximately two hours after we had arrived. UGH! And , we basically had enough time to put our bags down before we had to go out again. The student wished to show them the university campus and then we were all going out to dinner. Campus was nice and the student was confused and thought I was part of the group of professors that had come from the other University in France. ("Yes, this is Professor Butcher, who holds her various specialties in Cooking, 80's Pop Culture and water pipes") ROFL But Stephane set him straight and then we all headed out to dinner. It was Stephane and I, the student, Stephane's two colleagues (both Russian) and a Moroccon professor from Lyon. We ate at a very nice resturant near our hotel. And I'm not going to lie, I smoked cigarettes in Morocco. About ten of them! EEK! and bad bad bad, but I fucking did it anyway, even though I shouldn't have. We drank some Moroccon wine, a Cabernet...which was quite good. Me and the Russians were drinking the most but everyone helped finish three big bottles. We also had a classical Moroccon dish called "Tajine". It comes in many different styles. I had Poulet avec Citron et Olives (chicken with lemons and olives) and Stephane had Poisson avec pomme de terre et carottes (Fish with potatoes and Carrots). It was very good and came in a neat little Tajine pot and was steaming HOTTT! So, after a night of drinking with a bunch of crazy mathematicians we retired for the evening. Stephane had to be up early to leave for the conference so I decided to get up with him and have breakfast since it was included in the rate. After he went off to the conference, I decided to get a sandwich and set off on a wonderful day of taking photographs and wandering around beatiful Morocco for the day. Well....that's not exactly the way it turned out. As I was leaving the Boulangerie (bakery) I noticed two men looking rather suspicious behind me. At first I thought I was just being paranoid and decided to just keep walking. I started to walk towards the ocean where I saw the previous night they had a park with benches. I still saw them behind me so I decided to sit on a bench for a while and see if they would leave. Nope! They just sat down on a bench further away and started smoking cigarettes. They weren't really looking at me, but it was almost like they were trying not to look at me. I figured I just had to wait them out. Well, I sat there for a full half hour like frozen in fear. I wasn't going anywhere and they weren't either. After I got up enough courage I decided to just maybe go back to the hotel for a while and figured they wouldn't follow me since it would have been so obvious at that point. Nope! They got up shortly after I passed and started following me AGAIN!!! I was so fucking scared at that point that I started to cry and got back to the hotel as fast as I could. They followed me the entire time. This is probably the first time that I have ever been scared to walk alone in my life!! AND it was a bright sunny morning at around 9:30, not a dimly lit alley at midnight. When they followed me from the park to the hotel I knew that I wasn't delusional. But I never really got a good look at them, so I then was afraid to go back outside for the rest of the beautiful day. I was so upset. For the first hour I was at the hotel I just cried. Then the maid knocked on my door to ask if some workmen could come in and fix the AC, and I took that opportunity to go down and sit in the hotel lobby. It kind of sucked that day because Stephane didn't get back from the conference until after 8. I was just sitting with nothing to do the entire day except read and watch people walk by, which was actually fairly interesting. Moroccan stooping, as it were. When he got back we talked about what happened and he said I had done the right thing by coming back. I mean , it did totally suck being trapped in the hotel all day but I also didn't get kidnapped or raped, so I'll call it a good decision! ;) LOL SO that night after I cried a little more with him we ate dinner in the room and then went to the lounge for some Moroccan beer and music! They had a live player whose instrument was a keyboard. Surprisingly enough it was not cheesy!!!! I swear. And the beer was good too. I smoked more cigarettes too! (bad bad bad) We were calling it Moroccan karaoke because several times another guy got up to sing a few notes with him. It was a really neat atmosphere. This lounge at the hotel is actually a major attraction in the area so there were people there who were not guests at the hotel. It was dark and the curtains are dark and you definately felt as if you were in another world. So after we just retired to the room for the night. Stephane had off the next day so we decided to go back into Casa to check out a hammam and also the souk (market) at the ancienne medina (or old city center). Now, if you have never heard of a hammam, then google it. It's like a bathouse and sauna and spa. The one we went to is at www.hammamziani.mr We paid 300 dirham a piece for the full special of everything they have. 300 dirham....sounds like a lot eh? LOL nope, it was like 26 euros or 35 US dollars. This package included a bag of things to take home, including the gumming glove they use to remove the skin and a pouf. It first begins with you going into a steam room, pretty hot and you can't see shit. Stephane told me to wear my bikini bottom so I did. The other women were just wearing underwear. It's funny because these are the same women who cover themselves completely in the streets, and here I was seeing there boobies and everything else through their wet underwear! I told Stephane I wanted to yell in the streets to the Muslim men, "Hey I just saw all your wives tits!!!" LOL So anyway, while in this steam room my "helper" , who was the biggest Moroccan women ever, gave me some black olive oil soap and had me rub down. Then she washed me off and took me out to the main room which is basically equipped with three marble tables with handles and many basins in a row for the water. It's also a steam room but larger and not so hard to see anything. She got my slippery ass up on the marble slab and proceeded to scrub the living shit out of me using this black glove. I read that this process is called 'gumming'. I could not believe how much dead skin she got off me!!! It was totally disgusting and totally fucking awesome at the same time! Then after she scrubbed me to the bone, she had me stand up and rinsed me off again. Then she told me to take off my bikini bottoms, which I had no idea what the hell she was saying at first, and got me back up on the slab face up. She then proceeded to rub hot mud and seaweed all over me from head to toe (only one tiny spot she didn't get ) and then wrapped me like a burrito in plastic and left me to marinate for the next twenty minutes. At one point I had an itch and moved to scratch it and almost slid off the slab!!!! LOL But I didn't. She came back FINALLY and unwrapped my cacoon and helped me stand up. Then she rinsed me again and had me wash my hair, then rinsed me AGAIN! She gave me back my bikini bottoms and took me into the third room, a massage room. She again helped me onto a marble slab and gave me about a 20 minute massage which included cracking my toes, ankles, fingers and doing some weird stretching to my shoulders and back. I felt so good after. It was steamy and she rubbed me with some strong smelling lavender oil and washed me AGAIN! I felt so clean when I left there. Then she rubbed an awesome lotion all over me (including my boobs...lol...first time for everything!) and gave me a robe and sent me to a relaxation area to rest and change at my leisure. I just want you to know that when I was home in the states I had an 80 minute swedish massage at the Mohegan Sun spa and spent over $200 US dollars! I mean they let me go in the steam room and shower and drink tea too, but this hammam was three hours worth of pampering for one eigth of the price!!! I tipped the shit out this tall Moroccan woman! I mean she scrubbed my tits down after all, she deserves a tip! LOL then Stephane and I met to leave, since both areas for the sexes are COMPLETELY separated, as it would be inconceivable for a man to see these Muslim women like that! I asked if the hammam had scrubbed his balls down and he said, "NO NO NO"!!! LOL So after the hammam we had a very humbling experience. I experienced, in the streets near the ancient medina, the mid-day call to prayer on Friday, the weekly Muslim holy day. When the fuck have you EVER knelt down in the dirty streets with everyone around for miles, on a ragged sacred carpet to pray to your God? Me, never! Some people should seriously be ashamed of themselves if they've ever claimed to truly worship their God! You should have seen this! At one point we had to stop and go around because there were so many men and women outside the mid-town Mosque that we had to go three streets out of our way , lest we walk right in the middle of the prayer. At one point, I came around a corner and I was standing in the direction of Mecca and realized that I had no less than hundreds of eyes on me. I was an intruder. I felt a way deeper understanding of worship and a belief in your God. I'm far from a Muslim, but after experiencing that , I feel like I should pray a little more to the Goddess, because I've been neglecting her! After that experience, and checking our email at an internet cafe with a picture of a scantilly clad Angelina on the wall, we went in search of the popular Moroccan mint tea. Before we found this place we had unsuccessfully tried to get a cup two times at other places. Mint tea is to Morocco like Budweiser is to Block Island! This should not have been this difficult to find, but alas, it took three tries! Honestly, I wasn't impressed. It's green tea with mint and sugar. woo woo Stephane says this waiter didn't do this whole crazy stunt like in "Coctail" , like the waiter he had in Marrakech ! I had higher hopes but really it was just tea. Oh, and I had cookies with a very fine and dark Moroccan black hair included. Mmmmmmm...spicy!


I'm actually going to stop there and call this PART 1 of the Morrocan saga.....

Stay tuned, because there's more.....

I didn't take hardly any pictures but I will post the ones I did take when I finish Part 2...but it may not be for a few days. Because let's face it, I have better things to do.

Tara Butcher- World Traveler - December 16, 2008

Tara Butcher: World Traveller, at least that's what I am called on my plane ticket stub. So, for those of you who may not have been graced by my presence , I just got back from a three week trip home to the states. I left here November 24th, spent Thanksgiving in Boston like usual, then moved down to Connecticut for the remainder of my "holiday". LOL I live in Europe now, so I can call my vacations "Holidays". I guess you could call my entire life a vacation now. What a crying shame! So anyway, I left JFK after spending a freezing cold day in the city, on December 13th. Raquel and I saw "Wintuk" by Cirque de Soleil down at Madison Square Gardens. I flew to London , Gatwick airport and had a short layover. I stopped at an ATM just so I could get some poundage and set off to find a souvenir of my brief stay in London. I ended up buying a "GB" sticker to put on my nalgene bottle. I guess it doesn't truly count (this time) that I went to London, but hey...let's call it halfway. Then I flew out to Geneva, Switzerland ! Let me tell you, flying into Geneva airport on a snowy winter morning, and the views of the Alps, was a truly religious experience. I was awestruck. Despite the constant chatter of the Brits on the plane with me ("Look Mummy, it's an airplane up in the sky...") the descent into Lake Geneva was awe-inspiring. I now think the Swiss Alps are the shit, well, I thought that before too, but now, seeing them from the sky, I'm madly in love with the Alps. SO, Stephane picked me up and we drove home to Lyon. Yep, folks, that makes four countries and two continents in less than a day. Totally awesome. Being home is so great. Stephane had several lovely things waiting for me when I arrived, including roses and yummy food from the market. I love him so much! I have been randomly falling asleep throughout the day because of the jet lag, which prior to this was just a myth to me. Currently it is 4 AM and I am wide awake, drinking coffee and blogging. Needless to say, my sleep schedule is totally fucked. I am just starting to recover from the jet lag and have finally unpacked my suitcase and now, today (tuesday) I have to pack my bag again for a three night trip to Morocco! Stephane has a conference and is giving some lectures there at a university in Mohammedia, which is a coastal town about 20 miles from Casablanca. While he is working, I plan to wander around (safely I hope) and check out the medinas, souks and hammams! (city centers, markets and moroccon baths). What a life! While my man slaves away for our money. LOL I looked up a hammam in Casablanca, and found that for the whopping price of 300 dirhams (or 25 EUROS) I can get the full package deal, everything they offer at the spa. I'm totally there! I just hope that it is easy enough to get around and that nobody terrorist bombs the hammam. Probably not, as it is Moroccon and not American. I'm a bit frightened, or should I say wary, because on the US Government website for country alerts, Morocco has had some terrorism towards Americans, and there are some tourist warnings. But everything I read in travel blogs tells a different story of Morocco and I am really excited , however wary this site made me. I'm just going to try to get by. I'm also going to try to get some henna art done on my body while I'm there. Moroccon henna tattoos are all about floral designs! Can't wait. I gotta find some place for that after they scrub the shit out of me at the hammam! SO, stay tuned for another travel blog from Morocco soon. When we return, it's almost straight to Toulouse for Christmas with Stephane's family. I can't wait!

If I don't end up writing before Christmas, Have a wonderful holiday everyone!

Toulouse, Tecou and the Midi-Pyrénées Region- November 12, 2008

So, like I said our drive down south took us very near the Spain border. Lots of fruit trees and some cactus and beautiful mountains. Stephane's parents live outside of Toulouse in a village named Mons. Very cute and very nice houses. As in most villages in France, the chapel is the middle and then the village surrounds it. Stephane's parents and sister were all very nice to me. His sister speaks some English and may read this (Bonjour La Puce!) since she has been my friend on facebook for a while now. Stephane's mother is such a great cook. Having been born in the south of France and living there her whole life, the southern French cooking style was apparent in her cooking. SO good! She is a better cook than me and I have a culinary degree. For dessert the one day she made Provençal pears poached in sweet wine with homemade chocolate sauce. Needless to say , I kissed her twice goodbye. Now Stephane's Dad seems to have four great interests. First, his wife, second, making honey, third growing all sorts of vegetables and fruit and fourth making plum (and other types) MOONSHINE! LOL I'm not kidding, this man has an honest to goodness wine cellar with so much good aging wine and so much pure alcohol. I think they may have been wondering why I wanted to spend so much time in the basement! He gave us two bottles to take home. We have an apertif before dinner sometimes of this stuff. I guess he just takes the plums from his tree and throws them in this big barrell all season and then carts it off to some guy who distills it for him. HELLS YEAH! SO, after eating and drinking with the family, the next day Stephane and I took a long walk around Mons to check out the church and the neighborhood and then we all set off to visit his 88 year old Grandma in Tecou. She lives in her childhood home. She lives in the ancient part and then they have since built on a new edition which is ultra modern. It's a very large farm next to some vineyards that I guess her family used to own. I guess a while back there was a virus and the government paid people to destroy the crop of grapes and at that point they decided to be rid of them for good. Now , the virus is gone and the grapes are being grown and harvested by another local. But people seem to be less worried about property lines here. Or more respectful, however . you want to look at it. No one has fences up or anything. It's just like everybody has respect. We were able to walk through and Stephane said we could even pick some grapes if they were left, but the only ones we found were moldy because of a wet spell they'd had. So Stephane's parents and Grandma both have their own gardens. These people LOVE onions! LOL and they just love to grow all sorts of stuff. We were sent home with 5 jars of honey, two bottles of plum alcohol, a gallon size container of cherry tomatoes, 2 shu-shu's (an odd veggie I have never seen), three bunches of grapes, a buttload of fresh figs, 3 pumpkins (for carving) and three huge onions! We definately hit the jackpot of fresh produce. I had to cook all day, every day for three days when we got home to use all this stuff up. I actually made a "figgy pudding". I thought to myself, what the hell am I going to do with all these figs!? So, I remembered that christmas song about the figgy pudding and wanting it RIGHT NOW and decided it must be pretty good. My advice to you is, don't bother. It took me oh, like 3 hours from start to finish. three step process including a water bath, for something that was not remarkable but ok. I think any squash bread is extremely similar. But , hey, it was something to do with the figs and now I can say I made a "figgy pudding". So, after a night at Stephane's parents and a night at the Grandma's we were headed home. Once again we decided to take the back roads home so I could see the countryside. We were driving at one point through the mountains called Massif Central and it was shortly after dusk and I thought it looked rather birght out in the field but I knew the moon wasn't full. I said "I think there's snow on the ground" and sure as shit we drove right through a snowstorm for the next hour or so. It was quite scary as it was night time, we were nto expecting it and Stephane's car is NOT an SUV! But we made it fine. We stopped for dinner in a place called Le Puy En Velay. It is a valley town where the two focal points are these two huge igneous rock formations standing high in the middle of the valley. One houses a chapel and the other a very large statue of the Virgin and Jesus. All lit up and looking down upon the village. Pretty cool looking in the evening with all the lights. We plan to make a trip back there sometime for a walking tour. So, finally we made it home after the six hour drive and after carrying all the vegetables and fruit and alcohol up the stairs , fell into bed. Next morning we woke up and went to the animal shelter to adopt our new cat Zig Zag. He is so cute. see pics in the albums. What a lover!!! Then later that night we had Stephane's first pumpkin carving experience! Can you believe it?! I told him it was one of my favorite things to do and now I think it may be one of his. So, thanks to Stephane's parents for the great pumpkins! Next day we went on an excursion to a place called "Les Dombes". Which is a region where they have a bunch of natural and man made ponds. Estuaries, farms and countryside. Very beautiful! I took a video too. Actually I took two from our drive. Not great quality but you can get a feel for France hopefully. SO anyway, that completes the blog for last week. Next blog will be about our trip to the Alps. You know, those huge mountains that start in France and go into Switzerland and border the top of Italy! So HUGE and gorgeous! Pics are up if you want to sneak a peek prior to reading the next blog.

Stay tuned.....

Screwing around in the South of France - November 7, 2008

Hey hey! Ever hear of Les Côtes-du-Rhône? Ever wonder where this magical place is? Well, much to my surprise, it just means "Grown on the sides of the river Rhone". Once again, proof that everything sounds better in French. On a foggy Sunday morning, not so early, we set off to follow the Rhone river all the way to the delta which opens into a region called Le Camargue. We passed by huge windpower mills, at least two huge and horrible looking nuclear power plants, riverside villages and awesome views of the Rhone valley. We stopped at a rest stop is Montelimar which is where "Nougat" comes from. You know, like the inside of a Three Muskateers bar?! Except this is the real deal...which is quite different. Classic style is white nougat with pistachios in it. YUMMY! So after a nice lunch and some nougat we were back on the road towards a city called Saintes Maries de la MerIt's a famous religious site for Roma gypsies who make a yearly pilgrimage there to dip a statue of a black Saint Sarah into the ocean for purification or some such thing. I didn't see any gypsies (other than myself)but I guess it was the wrong time of year ;). So, the Camargue is wild and huge and beautiful. They are totally into horses (and I'm totally not) and there are bird sanctuaries, roadside vendors with local products and lots of seafood. So, when we first arrived we went down to the sea....the Meditteranean sea. Now, officially I have had my feet in two oceans and one sea. So, we collected shells, took some pics, watched crazy people swimming and just laid in the sun before we checked into our hotel at 3. We stayed at an adorable hotel called Mangio Fango, which is just fun to say, try it. When we checked into our room we were greeted by a serpent on our back porch leading out to the Croquet (I shit you not) field. Since Stephane is deathly afraid of snakes he pretty much stayed off the grass and porch for the entire rest of the visit. So, after resting for a little while we decided to go back into town and find a nice restaurant to eat at. It was not a difficult decision as it is the off season and there were only like two open. We chose the one named "Le Fournelet", and we definately made the right choice. Okay, so, when we first walked in the smell was incredible. Like crab boiling and butter. Fucking YUM! We passed a table of a family who had ordered this "Tower o' Seafood". I swear I had to put my hand in my pocket to stop from plucking a shrimp off of it as we walked by. They must have seen me drooling because they looked at me kind of funny. SO, we were seated in a quiet alcove (love it) and ordered white wine. I never drink white wine because white wine is for pussies, but I drank it that night! Oh boy did I drink it! It was the first white wine I have ever tasted that I truly loved! So, I guess I'm a pussy now too. So, after perusing the overwhelmingly yummy menu and staring down our fellow diners choices, I decided on a four course menu of Tourteau avec Aioli (Boiled and chilled HUGE crab with mayo), Homard de grillade (Grilled Lobster) a cheese plate and dessert of Profiterole (which was a HUGE dessert) and like I said, plenty of white wine. Stephane got a fucking awesome Boullabaisse ( and might I mention a "real" one) with a whole small fish, langoustines, chunks of other fish and scallops. I also ate some of his dinner because I LOVE food! (as if the size of my ass doesn't give that away) LOL After Stephane rolled my drunkin ass out of the restaurant we decided that we both needed a walk after that meal. While we were walking along the boardwalk of the Med sea we saw night fisherman, boat lights and a HUGE wild cat. That's right, you heard me right, a huge wild cat. Now, I'm not talking mountain lion here. I'm talking, someone's little Fluffy escaped and has gone on a wild foraging fest resulting in the LARGEST domestic cat I have ever laid eyes on. When I first saw it slinking around by the garbage pail I thought it was a raccoon. So, after that we returned to the hotel for some shut eye before waking up in the morning for some exploring in the Camargue and then a drive to Toulouse to meet Stephane's family (EEEK!). So, in the foggy ocean morning we ate breakfast, packed our things and then went out on a picture finding and wildlife seeking mission. We stopped at one of the roadside markets and bought local wild rice, Saucisson d'tareau (bull sausage....mmmmm...spicy) and some wine (of course). We saw horses and egrets and herons and wild flamingos. Totally awesome nature viewing. After a while we left the Camargue for the drive to Toulouse. We decided to take mostly backroads so that I could see the Provence region and the Midi-Pyrenees region on the way to Toulouse. I bought "Herbs d'provence" in Provence (you know I loved that shit) and some yummy pears. I swear I don't make Stephane stop at every stand on the side of every road in France, I swear. Just the ones that are open. :) So , we stopped in a village called Vauvert for lunch at an adorable place called "Le Romarin" (rosemary). It was so-called because of the huge amount of wild rosemary growing in the drive way. We had the plat du jour (plate of the day) and it was typical Provencal Poulet avec rice (provencal chicken with rice). Good shit. And guess what else? Come on... you know....WINE! So, after that our drive took us less than an hour from the Spain border and past the Montagne Noire (Black Mountains) and also past a neat medieval castle , Chateau Comtal in Carcassonne.Finally, we arrived in his parents town of Mons which is a village in Toulouse. Seeing as how I've been typing forever, I'll finsih this blog sometime soon. You can hear all about dinner with the family and an excursion to Stephane's 88 year old French grannies farm in Tecou.

Stay tuned!

Bordeaux Wedding - November 1, 2008

Hey Hey everyone! It's about time I wrote this blog. I'm one blog behind my adventures so I'll try to keep up better. On October 11th we woke up early in the morning and drove through the morning mist of the Rhone to the airport in Lyon. Our flight for Bordeaux left at 9 a.m. for the wedding of Adrien and Armelle. Adrien and Stephane met when they both first came to Lyon about ten years ago and have remained friends ever since.

So, we got there with enough time to eat some grub before we got on the plane. The plane ride was short and sweet to Bordeaux, basically up and then down again. Flying into Bordeaux is very pretty with the Garonne river winding around and shining in the sun. Stephane had no idea who was supposed to pick us up from the airport but he knew it was someone :( but eventually when we landed and picked up our bag he saw the future groom waiting outside for us. He had come himself instead of sending someone else. That was very nice and he speaks English actually so this helped a lot. He actually speaks English, French, Polish, Hungarian and German. I feel so inept even just writing that. I can't even get my hair cut if Stephane isn't with me. So anyway, we also had to pick up another colleague of theirs who had arrived early and was waiting in downtown Bordeaux to be picked up. I thought I would not see any of Bordeaux because I thought we would be inside the whole time with the wedding. But actually, by the time the two days was over, I ended up seeing I think just about all of Bordeaux. LOL Going back and forth across town for everything.

So, Bordeaux is actually a short city. Most of the buildings I saw were not above 3 stories. I say this because it's not like that in Lyon or Paris. It actually reminded me a lot of like a California suburb. Best way I can describe it. Low buildings, lots of little stores and even a few strip malls (I swear) and lots of fruit trees in peoples yards and yucca plants. Very much like southern California. Ok, so we went to pick up Thierry near a fountain by the river. I guess this huge fountain is the sister fountain to the one in the Place de Terraux here in Lyon, where we live. Don't know why. Perhaps they had a surplus huge fountain and no where to put it. I did not get a picture. It was down by the river so we got to see that for a little while but then it was time to go back and do the meet and greet at his future wife Armelle's family home. I was scared shitless. Not just random French people I didn't have to interact with , but someone's entire family who we were going to eat with and then go to the wedding with later. When we arrived , I asked Stephane to tell them that I didn't speak French, but he never did. He kind of just let everyone ASSUME it. I told him later that I thought I looked stupid the entire time because I was virtually silent the entire time....for no apparent reason. I think it was fine and that I didn't offend anyone or anything. It's a rare and difficult situation for me to not be able to express my personality. I'm pretty outgoing as you all know and just picture me, sitting quietly and smiling like a fool the entire time and nodding and laughing but having no fucking idea what was going on! LOL Not a pretty sight. So , for the first time in my life, I was thought of as a quiet person!!! L O fucking L! So, lunch was great but then when we went to get dressed we realized that our suitcase had been in the car still. The car that was now at the hairdressers with the future bride. YAY! So now, while everyone else was getting dressed we got to sit around with stupid looks on our faces and wait for the bride to return. Her dress was still there so we knew they would be back. But still. Then we had approximately ten minutes to hurriedly get ready while also contending with the bride for the bathroom. Of course, Stephane doesn't give a shit because all he has to do is put on the suit and shoes. I, on the other hand, had just enough time to pull on my dress and fix my hair but no time for makeup or new deoderant or anything. I could have killed him for not getting our stuff out of the trunk before they left for the hairdressers. But Mercury was in retrograde so what do you expect. After all of these shenanigans, the other parts of the family began to arrive. Must be some sort of tradition or something to come and watch the bride leave the house and all travel behind her to the Town Marie (Mayor). While at the house Stephane had told me that Adrien's Mom was Polish and his Dad a Hungarian. So, it was a French/Polish/Hungarian wedding. Some of the younger Polish people spoke English and thankfully they were seated at our table for dinner later. I was referring to them as the "Polish Mafia" because they were all young and very European looking and dressed extremely well. At one point they were sitting together and I wish I could have taken their photograph because seriously, they looked like an ad for "The Sopranos". It was certainly interesting all day and night to watch the French and Polish people interact. Polish people (at least these ones) seemed outgoing and loud and quite colorful. The French people were fairly reserved with children and Grandma's and just kind of watched everything happen. Very friendly but very reserved.

Okay, so in France, you have to get married at the Marie (Mayor) before you go to the religious ceremony. In fact, you don't even have to have a religious ceremony at all, they just had chosen to. Much like America I guess. So, we went to the Marie in a cavalcade of cars. The session is short but the room is big enough to accomodate all the guests. There was a picture of President Sarkozy on the wall ans someone had pulled a shear curtain over it. I don't think he has high favor among the French. Kinda like another President I know. SO, the cermony is short and then we travel next door across the street to the church for the religious service. Cute little church in the center of town. Everyone sits and we are welcomed by a priest who looks a lot like any drunk uncle you know. Stephane said the priest had warned that under no conditions were we to take pictures while he was giving his sermon. But after that was fine. LOL Demanding bastard! So anyway, the service was fucking dreadfully long. Stephane got up and read something and so did Thierry. It was up , down, up , down and then up again. I was so annoyed, I just sat for the whole last part. My feet hurt and I was sick as a dog, did I mention that? Yeah, a couple days earlier Stephane had the sniffles and I said, "don't get me sick". Sure as shit, he got me sick and then wasn't sick himself (mother *$cker) :) I mean, I love you baby. So, yeah my feet hurt and I sneezed about ten times during the service and my nose was beet red from all the random crap I was using to blow my nose. So, finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the service was over. We then proceeded to drive all the way across town to a park where there were pictures to be taken. Really pretty place. I don't think I actually have posted those pics yet, so I will after this. I only have a few. So, we were at the park for , oh, two hours! I was so hungry and sick of being on my feet. It was getting boring waiting for all the pictures (totally normal). Finally, the bride and groom appeared sans gay French photographer and we were on our way to the hotel where the reception and dinner were to be held. Also the place where we would finally get in to check into our room. We followed an uncle with a GPS and guess what? The GPS took us in some huge roundabout way of getting there and we were the last two cars to arrive. However, we did drive past like all of Bordeaux, beeping our horns. It's a tradition when you are in the wedding party cavalcade to beep your horns whilst driving all over town. Totally annoying when your not in the cavalcade but totally fun when you are. So, we arrived last and were greeted to a really beautiful reception out on the back deck of this hotel. Really nice area with trees and tables and chairs set up. Lit by subtle lamps. I was happy to see that the dance floor was wicked tiny, so, little chance of getting pulled up to dance. Besides, I think Stephane is like me...meaning he only dances when he's totally wasted. Since his stomach was bothering him, he wasn't drinking, so I was safe from a dance card invitation...from him. Okay so, we snuck away during the reception to pay for and check into our room. Then we took a brief break and returned to the party. It was about that time that everyone had started moving inside to sit for dinner. It was about 7 or 8 by then. Now, in America, they kind of rush you through your Prime rib and chicken and just get you to the part where everyone gets drunk and dances. In France, it's much different. On the menu board, there were something like six courses. Starting with a salad with Magre duck breast slices. A terrine of fois gras. Roasted potatoes with onions and mushrooms. A ton of awesome wine, which I drank quite readily. I could barely breath, or communicate, so what the fuck else do I do but get drunk. I am turning into a wino here and it's awesome! So, the main course was not memorable but after the main course we had a cheese plate, dessert and then more wine. I was chit chatting with the "Polish Mafia" whilst getting wasted and poor Stephane really was not feeling well. SO, during the last three courses for dinner they were having like periods of dancing and also some toasting. But mostly the DJ (who was totally getting drunk with the waiters in the kitchen - I saw them) was trying to cater to both the French and the Polish sides of the family. The first stint of dancing was for the Polish people. Apparently they like to dance to old fifties songs from America, Twist and Shout, I think was in there and of course, a POLKA!!Woo hoo! They got totally crazy on the dance floor. Especially the younger ones. So, then there was a break for the cheese course, then it was the Frenchies turn. The Frenchies started out with a waltz and then proceeded to dance like fools to keyboard eighties music. So, let me recap. Polish people (who were totally wasted) dancing to Oldies/Polka and Frenchies (mildly intoxicated) dancing to keyboard eighties music. It was really quite the scene. SO, I was so exhausted that right after the desert and champagne, we excused ourselves and hurried off to bed. I was so tired of running aorund for the last few days in Paris, being sick, not understanding hardly anything all day, all the terrible travel connections and being drunk, that I fell asleep so fast, apparently in the very center of the bed so Stephane couldn't sleep. :) Oopsie! Well, I was drunk and sick so, whatever.

We awoke right before the noon checkout and were whisked away to the French side of the family's brunch. Totally awesome food again which we had to eat rather quickly before going off to catch our 3 p.m. plane back to Lyon. A salad with Langoustine. Magre duck again, with some type of beef. More wine, of course, which I imbibed readily. A cheese course, which the bride's mother insist we did not skip and a dessert of profiterole, pastry puffs with creme anglaise and some cookie thing. Then we said our Au Revoirs to everyone and were outta there. The groom Adrien, took some time away from his new Bride to take us quickly to the plane and then rush back. SO, the plane ride back was totally un-eventful and then we were finally home to relax. Well, I got to relax but Stephane had to go to work the next day. So, not easy for him. But I needed to recover from being sick and tired and he needed to focus on work now. He had to write up this evaluation on the lab in Paris and get a bunch of other things done. Two weeks has passed since then and we went on a holiday finally. Stephane has had the last week off. SO, now I am caught up on writing the blog. Beginning of the week I will write all about the adventures in the south of France and meeting Stephane's family. Check out the albums for a few wedding shots!

A bientot!

French Givers! - October 24, 2008

Can you believe this???!!!! We just got our cat two days ago, not even. The couple who gave him to us had four cats and were giving away three because they are going to have a baby in the coming year. Well, the guys MOTHER calls us today and asks for the cat BACK because apparently he is distraught!!!! I have never heard of something so absurd in my life! So, what's really upsetting is that Stephane and I had gone to the animal shelter TWICE looking for cats and failed (one time we were too late and the other time everyone had reserved all of the cats under 2 years old before we got there. He also took me to a pet store, all, with no cat! Then a girl at the petstore had given us a website we could try (kinda like craigslist.com the French version) and we had hope again. This cat was older than I even wanted but I decided to settle because we had failed trying to get a cat three times already.

So this is just really upsetting. Stephane told them they could pick him up either later tonight or tomorrow. What a fucking drag!

Dali, the Catacombs and Paris - October 21, 2008

Okay, I just wrote this whole blog in the myspace window and then hit some key on accident and deleted everything I wrote. I am now typing in Microsoft word so that doesn't happen again and to ensure Stephane's computer does not get thrown out the window . I'll just cut and paste when I'm done. Anyway, I forgot to mention in my previous days blog that I had gone to an exhibition of Salvador Dali's sculptures and sketches/simple drawings from the late 60's and 70's. I actually cannot believe I had forgotten to write about this, but that's why I save all my ticket stubs and flyers so I can remember everything. Anywho, they did not allow pictures so unfortunately I cannot show you any of what I saw. But I will add a link for you to peruse if you should desire. http://www.daliparis.com/english/index.html I actually, until seeing this gallery, did not realize that Dali had done so many sculptures. I had only know of his sculpting abilities regarding his moustache, but never about the long legged elephants, women with drawers extending from their legs, and droopy gold clocks hanging on trees. It's mostly stuff from his famous drawings. But the sketches were what really excited me . Seeing an artist's sketches is like seeing a cross section of their creative drive, I believe. Some were clearly early sketches of later masterpieces and some were just déjà vu of his previous stuff. Some were crude and some were really detailed and magnificent. The Romeo and Juliet sketches were there which is some really cool colorful stuff. It was really neat being so up close and personal with his work. Until this point I have only seen one of his paintings in person and that is the one at the MET. Which is a shitty pointillism piece that I actually can't stand. Now , I feel I can hold off a while before going to Spain to see his original studio. It is right over the border into Spain, so it will happen soon. It was really a treat for me to see this and it was pretty random. I saw the flyer at the hotel we were staying at. I had no idea it was in Paris. But it is a permanent gallery so I would have thought I would have known about it.



Okay, next day, Friday, The longest day of the trip. I had some time after Stephane went to work to sit around and collect myself before having to check out of the hotel. While I was cruising through email I noticed a slideshow on the yahoo main page of the « Scariest Places on Earth » . So while I was scanning through it , I had one of those « AHA ! » moments. One of the « scariest places » was the Catacombs in Paris. I thought « ooh scary » and then « OMG I'm IN Paris and can go there ! » Well, it turns out this was possibly the worst idea I have ever had. I got dressed and got our stuff together and went off in search of the Catacombs. It turns out it was only like 3 Metro stops away from our hotel. I got there and was standing on line reading the signs next to me on the wall. Turns out there was no tours that day, apparently, they just let you wander around down there. Well, this kind of sucked because I was planning on touring because I was alone. I figured even if it wasn't in English I would at least be WITH other people down there. Well, not today. Some of the other signs read, « Not for children », « Not for people with respiratory issues », « Not for people of a 'nervous disposition' » (which really should have read « Not for big pussies like you Tara ! ») Also, it says that you enter the catacombs at this point , walk for 45 fucking minutes underground (unguided) and then emerge on the surface at some other place in Paris. I proceeded to ignore all of the tell tale signs and purchase my ticket for 10 € and try to stick with the people in front of me who were bringing their BABY and stroller into the catacombs. I figured, ok for baby, okay for me. Well, as it turns out, they were the fastest couple in the world with a stroller and were quickly out of sight by the time I was done buying my ticket. So, I gave my ticket to the guy and he kind of looked at me funny like I was crazy for going alone but I just hurried by him so I could stick with the stroller couple. They had completely disappeared into the stairs. So I started walking….and walking….and descending into the depths of hell….and walking…..down down down….soon I started to smell the stench of death (or so I thought) and not being able to breathe. I stopped to fumble with my camera for a minute and let some people pass by me. These are extremely narrow stairs too ! You know, stupid me, I thought it was just a touristy part of the catacombs where you go down with a tour guide and it's not really scary. Yeah right ! I never knew I had any claustrophobia until this day. SO, after fumbling with my camera, finding it difficult to breathe, I continued walking…..and walking….and walking…I swear I walked for five minutes straight ! I decided that I was TOTALLY WIGGED OUT and that I had better turn around before there was an episode down in the catacombs which included, running, gasping and crying ! So, I tucked my tail between my legs , put my camera back in my bag, and started to ascend the staircase. I passed several people on their way down and just avoided their eyes. Finally I reached the top of those hellish steps and went to pass the ticket taker. He said « ça va ? » which can mean several different things in French, but in this case, I'm sure it meant « Are you ok ? »… I said « NON ! » and pushed past him and others in line out into the fresh (LOL) and open air on the streets of Paris. I swear to fucking god I was going to kiss the ground ! Or a tree. Or a person. I was so excited to be out again. So, now, I bet some of you are probably thinking this sounds nothing like the Tara you know. Not afraid of anything right ? Well, I was TERRIFIED ! I dare you to do it, alone ! LOL So, I have the ticket stub for the catacombs but in fact do not have any other story to tell other than this one. Perhaps I will try it again in the future, but I will arm myself with 1) A buddy 2) a dust mask or scarf to cover my mouth and 3) Valium. I did learn one thing, though. I do agree with those people at yahoo who made that list, The Catacombs of Paris ARE one of the scariest places on Earth (and I didn't even go down there) ! So, now all of you know my secret that I am just a big fat pussy !

After the aforementioned harrowing experience, I decided to proceed with my original plan and take the Metro into downtown and go to the Paris Botanical Gardens and be around living things. What is really awesome about most natural type places, is that it's free or extremely cheap to get into them. This place is huge, it has the Museum of Man in it, Museum of Natural History, a zoo, a labyrinth and some geologic history of France which is laid out in huge rock pieces all around the park. At the zoo there was a really awesome temporary photographic exhibit on Aldabra http://www.aldabrafoundation.org/index.php Really awesome ! So, in addition to this they had HUGE old turtles lazing around outside the exhibition hall. Really neat. SO, I spent most of my day here going to the museums and looking at old whale bones and exotic plants, and amazing photographs and geologic formations from France. Pretty awesome for the geek in me. I spent a total of 15 € the entire time I was there and that includes my lunch.

After that I still had some time to kill before I was supposed to meet Stephane at a restaurant across from the train station. So, I wandered around the shops and walked along the Seine river and just enjoyed some time alone in Paris. I went to the cafe to meet him and grabbed something to eat. It was important that we got this train because we had a tight schedule between our connections. Stephane's birthday was at the beginning of this month and he received two tickets for a classical music concert that night. Basically, even if we got this train, we still would only have a half hour or so to get to the concert in time. Well, for reasons beyond his control, he could not meet me on time. I was very worried and I had left the restaurant at ten minutes before the train was supposed to leave to go up to the station. I thought I had made a mistake and he would be waiting for me at the train, but no, he never showed and I watched our train leave. I did not know what else to do and went back to the restaurant to wait for him. He showed up about ten minutes later and we were able to get back up there and get on the next train. But there were no seats available. So, I had paid for a first class ticket and ended up sitting on some stairs outside the bathroom on the trip home instead. Fucking awesome ! So, I had been on my feet the whole day and was exhausted. We still have this concert though so I decided to just drink a small bottle of red wine and relax. The train takes two hours, after all and we now only had approx. 15 minutes to get to the concert. We figured we would just hop a cab and be on our way. Well, when we arrived, the first cabby would not take our fare!!!! I just about strangled him. I told Stephane to ask the next guy. They both denied our fare because they felt it was too close to drive us there !! My head just about split open and I'm pretty sure in any language my disdain for them was clearly expressed. After all, I am from NY and we have hand gestures and dirty looks that get the point across. SO now, we had 10 MINUTES and a heavy bag and some distance to cover to get there. Well, as it turned out, we got there with minutes to spare and found our seats. Both totally sweaty and gross. I could see our seatmates inching further away by the minute. LOL but hey, at least I got to use the arm rest ! So anyway, the concert was very nice. I actually love live classical music. See, you really didn't know the real me before you read this blog ! But in fact, along with Metallica and Slayer in my iTunes, I also have some Mozart, Bach and Beethoven. The concert was two players. One Dutch violinist, Janine Jansen. And one Lithuanian pianist, Itamar Golan. Totally awesome ! She actually was tearing it up and his piano was great ! They played a series of music from Stravinsky, Prokofiev and Beethoven. I cried a little. Probably from the stress of the day, but let's say it was the music. So, after that we went home. Which included yet another walk with the heavy bag back to our car. But this was not the end of the night for us. We still had to unpack and repack our bag for the following day, when we were to awake early and fly to Bordeaux for the wedding of a friend and colleague of Stephane's. But I have been writing for what seems like hours and that story is another long one . So I will quit now, and write the blog about my first French wedding at some later time.



I hope you all enjoyed this blog.