The Real Adventure Begins...

Some of you might say that I've already been having adventures, that my Gap Year/Grand Tour is already underway, but it hasn't really felt like that to me, as I've been staying with family and friends in places that I already know (or can figure out pretty easily). I've been in the first world, and able to leave bits of luggage here and there.

But this evening I fly off to Kenya with all my possessions on my back, and the real adventure begins. (Although I have to admit that I am going to be picked up at the airport by a cousin of a cousin and have two ex-pat contacts in Nairobi with whom I can stay.) My malaria pills are now with my toothbrush, and I have packed everything that I will taking with me for the next 6(ish) months in one large and one small backpack. And as soon as I can get the small backpack INTO the big one, I will! (This summer I saw some lightweight compression backpacks at Patagonia for $100 and couldn't understand why anyone would want that... But now I do!) The grand total weight of my luggage right now is 3.03 stones. That is 42.42 pounds. (And Dickie, even WITH all my luggage I weigh less than your two dogs.)

I have to admit that I am freaking out a bit, and the words "What the f*&# am I doing??" came out of my mouth today. But everyone thus far has been extremely kind and generous, so I'm going to assume that it will continue to be thus. And really, not until I am in Thailand am I totally on my own. So more freaking out will come, I'm sure.

But, as it is cold and peeing with rain at the moment, the idea of going to the equator doesn't seem so bad. So here I go...

Let the wild rumpus start!

Rennes

Going back in time a little bit (as I am now back in London briefly before heading off to Kenya tomorrow), I spent a few days last week in Rennes with a college friend and his family. He is teaching at a School Year Abroad program this year, and he dragged his family along with him.

The weather was actually lovely when I was there (they swore it was usually rainy, but I think that is only in England), so we walked about the city a bit. Jim showed me some of the gardens (think park crossed with botanical gardens), which were fantastic. I have to say that they spoiled me for when I went to Paris. I was not terribly impressed with the gardens I saw in Paris, but I've been told that they were designed not for looking at plants, but for looking at other people. In that case, they work quite well.

On election day, since there was nothing to see yet (six hours ahead of EST), we drove up to the coast to Mont St. Michel, which is a big old abbey on an island. It was pretty cool, I have to admit. Jim kept asking what I would do if I had one month to plan a siege on it; how would I storm it? Answer: I wouldn't; I just don't care enough to want to take over a church (although I did have flashes of John Cleese bashing the wall of a castle with a sword). Jim would use guile... or bile. Not sure which he said.

That evening, before we settled in to watch CNN (but nothing really started happening until 1 am, so we all went to bed), Jim and I went out to order a fancy french pizza, and go to his favorite bar while we waited for it. We actually had to go to the bar first, because when we got to the little restaurant, all of the staff were sitting outside having a smoke, and told us to come back in five minutes. So into the bar we went. It's Jim's favorite bar, having once been given a free shot there simply because he was American (the alcohol kind of shot, not the other kind of shot that Americans abroad might get). He went up to the bartender and said something in French, and the guy got down two beer glasses. I asked Jim what he had ordered for me, and he said a Carlsberg. This would be first beer that I have ever been given. I managed about three sips before passing it over to him. (I really can't stand beer.) I am thinking that that may have been his intention all along...

It was a quicky trip there, but it was fun to see them, and to be with them when the election results came out. (Kind of excited to go to Kenya right now!)

Music

Here is what I heard today while wandering around Paris:

My Way, played on a harp
Sound of Silence, played on a double bass
A french guy swearing along with some American (or English) hip hop

And not once while in Paris did I hear an accordian or Ma Vie en Rose (or whatever that stereotypically French song is).

Sigh...

Paris, Day 1

I wandered around Paris today for about 10 hours. It was good, but I had no one to talk to or share my witty comments with, so I will do so now with you. Anything in italics is the running commentary I had going on with myself. Warning, there is likely to be some mild swearing therein.

After a lovely breakfast with my hostess (around 9... I left her a note changing the time, and just told her 8:30 for tomorrow. She looked disappointed, so I assume she is a morning person), I threw my camera, my map, and a lot of euros into my bag, donned my Euro-coat, and hit the pavement. I am staying in Neuilly-sur-Seine, a swanky suburb to the west of Paris. There is a big park near here, so I decided to walk through that towards the Eiffel Tower. This Jardin isn't quite what I expected. Much rougher. Kind of like the woods of Forest Park... That woman isn't wearing very many clothes. Neither is her friend joining her. I thought this was a nice area of town... That woman-- wait, I think it's a man-- getting out of that van isn't wearing many clothes either, and I can see the top of her/his stockings. Where AM I???... It smells a bit like urine... It smells a lot like urine.... Is there a ZOO around here somewhere???... Oh, there's the steaming pile of hay.

Flash forward about 20 minutes, still in the park. Where is that damned tower? I can't see it anywhere. I guess I'll keep going a bit further before I cut over to the little back roads. Another 10 minutes. Okay, where the hell am I? I can't find this little road on my map. I just passed the Italian Embassy... That's a pretty trellis in someone's garden, I'll go check it out... Ooops, that's the Iraqi Embassy. Another 10 minutes, map in hand. How did I get all the way down here? Back-tracking about a mile. No wonder I couldn't see the Eiffel Tower. It is the Eiffel Stump today!

I wandered around the tower (but am saving going up it until it isn't in cloud cover), then headed to the new Musee de Quai Branley (Primitive Art, which they call something like art of the First People). The art was okay, the building was totally cool. There was one object though... What the frig is that? It looks like something from a Dr. Seuss book as interpreted by Terry Gilliam!

From there I went to a chocolatier (it was on my path!), then found some lunch, before heading to the Musee d'Orsay. I thought this was a sidewalk! What the hell is that scooter doing trying to run me over? The museum was nice, until I found the Art Nouveau room, and then it became fantastic. Oh my god, I love this room. I want to live in this room. Who would give up this room to a museum?? I wonder if Dickie can make me this room.

At this point I was getting kind of tired, so decided I needed a hot chocolate. FOUR euros for a freaking hot chocolate???? This better be the best damned hot chocolate I've ever had. I also stopped in at another chocolatier. As it is right here, I might as well stop in and get a few bonbons to compare it to the first place. I continued wandering around various small streets These streets are boring. There is nothing here. Oh wait, I appear to have come across the changing of the guard until I finally came into the Latin Quarter, which seems to be the (window)shopping district. And then something happened to the solidity of the window. Oooh, that is a cute pair of gloves. My hands have been cold... Ooooh, look at that hat. I'll just try it on. I'll just try on all the hats. I'll just try that first one on again. I do have a birthday coming up, and I haven't spent much money (except on chocolate, but no one can prove that I got any chocolate as it is all gone now). And I have been wearing my red apple hat for about 12 years. Maybe I should pretend to be a grown-up.

One new hat on head, I walked out the door. Okay, no more shopping now. I've spent far too much money today, plus look at that. Is that Ben and Jerry's? And there's Old Navy? My shopping time obviously has come to an end-- Oooh, another chocolatier! At that chocolate shop I decided to be abstemious, and only get one chocolate. The guy smiled and handed it to me (no little glacene baggy this time), and said, "On the house." Free chocolate?? This city ROCKS!

I walked on some more, and happened across a (presumable very chic) bridal boutique. Oh my god, if Paris is about 5 years ahead of us in fashion, I can't wait to go to a wedding in 5 years! Seriously, I want to get married, just so I can go in there and try things on... I'd totally get THAT one... And THAT would be my bridesmaid's dress!!!


Past Notre Dame, onto the Ile de Saint Louis I'm home! and to the ice cream shop that was recommended to me by two people If TWO people recommend it, I obviously have to go. Bummer, it is closed. Just going to have to come back tomorrow.

Now it is about 8 pm, and I am beat, so I find the Metro and start home. That 20-something blond woman appears to be American. I'll stare at her for a while... Wow, honey, you afraid of those boobs falling out???? Good god, save some surpises for later! Oh, wait, it's okay, as the old guy with his arm around your waist seems to have his shirt unbuttoned to about the same level.

Maybe tomorrow I'll bring my phone with me, so I can actually have a conversation with someone rather than relying upon entertaining myself. (It could be a loooooooong year!)

Language Barriers

I am in France now, where I, completely unfoundedly, have this perverse belief that I can speak the language. Sure, I was taught French... in second grade. The entirety of my French education was to say "Hello, how are you?" "Very well, thank you, and you?" "Very well." That will get me in the door, but then what?

When I am travelling around, I try my best not to stand out as a crass American. I have this wonderful coat that I got in Rome 18 months ago, and when I wear it I seem to be able to pass myself off as a local. One obviously American woman asked me slowly, "Ou est le Metro?" I happily told her in English that I'd just passed a stop (but whipped out my map just in case). The only problem with appearing to be a local is that people do speak to you in their language. And I open my mouth honestly thinking that French is just going to naturally pop out.

What does come out? German. I haven't been this fluent in German since I was in Rome. The foreign language section of my brain seems to be completely filled with German. (The section must not be that large, because my Deutsch is pretty bad!)

But I keep trying nonetheless. I wandered around Paris this evening, and finally stopped into a little restaurant for dinner at 9:45. (I AM in Europe, after all.) The waiter, who I am sure spoke much more English that I do French, patiently played along with me and spoke to me in French... until I got to the point where I needed to ask for the bill. Mind you by then, after a glass of wine, I would have had trouble asking for the bill in ANY language!

Of course I do have all the French that I really need, though. "Pain au chocolat et vin rouge, sil vous ples." That should keep me going for a good long while!

More about France later. Now, as it is midnight, I must hasten off to bed so that I can be up and functional at 8 am tomorrow, when my hostess is going to be making me breakfast. Very kind of her, but I was fibbing when I said I got up at 8 (I didn't realize that the offer of breakfast would follow the inquiry as to what time I arose), and I certainly don't eat anything for an hour or two after I awake. So I've set my alarm for 7, so that I can at least attempt to be a gracious guest. (Of course she isn't even home from her dinner engagement yet, so maybe I should leave her a note saying nine would be better!)

Voting Day

I am in Rennes, France, visiting a friend from college and his family, and we are all glued to the television waiting for election results. Of course nothing is in yet, but we are watching CNN World News Europe nonetheless. Imagine my delight when, showing how long the voting lines are in such swing states as Missouri, they had footage of the big red doors of New City School!

QP shoot

Every year, my cousins have a "shoot" in the morning and then a bonfire in the evening around Halloween (which happens to be my cousin's birthday, and a few days shy of Guy Fawkes Day, which is the UK's excuse to light fireworks). I've heard about this for years, but this was my first chance to be a part of it... sort of.


Last night was a small dinner gathering (99 people, all catered by cousin Harriet) to celebrate Carol's 60th birthday. It was a lovely event, filled with excellent speeches (including Zuky talking about the family's 'cruise ship'-- a one way passage from Africa to the West Indies-- they used to have a few hundred years ago before someone got morals). Before one knew it, it was one in the morning, and there wasn't even any dancing! So many of the shooters were a bit bleary-eyed when they gathered at 9 am, but off they went down the hill nontheless. I would have joined them, except that clearly I wasn't in dress code. The best part was that they all looked so natural in their ridiculous woolen tweed knickers.

After they had been out for an hour (and I was bored of clearing the tent of the previous night's debris), I wandered down to see what it was all about. Zuky and Harriet were hanging out in a field, staring at the woods, so I wandered over to them, saying I wanted to see something shot out of the sky and chased down by a dog (ducks and pheasants were the goal of the day, although one goose and one rather small bird that shouldn't have been shot also got done in). I said to the two of them that this was my first hunt. "Shoot," they both promptly and firmly corrected me. A hunt is where people in red jackets ride around on horses chasing dogs who are actually doing all of the work in chasing down the fox. A shoot involves men in wellies and tweeds standing in a line stalking birds which are (hopefully) being flushed out of the underbrush by the beaters (aka wives and girlfriends of the "guns"). No one is wearing camoflage, and no one is wearing orange. I guess they assume they won't shoot each other.

At one point the beaters and guns were coming towards us, and a pheasant was pursuaded to fly up, pretty much directly between us and the nearest gun. When he raised his gun, I naturally dove behind Zuky's ATV. Zuky, somewhat surprisingly to me, leapt in front of the ATV and started waving his arms in the air, as if to say "Aim here!" (I think he was trying to suggest to the pheasant not to come our way, but to fly sideways so the guy would have a better shot.) The man did shoot the pheasant... pretty much obliterated it actually, as it was a close shot. The faithful labrador retrieved the remains.

I stuck with it for a little longer, and the gun came up to where I was and we watched the woods together. At one point there were a couple of shots from the woods, and I asked how often people got shot (again, no bright orange anywhere in sight). He said "Quite often." Then it sounded like light rain was falling for a moment, even though the sky was clear, and he added, "We almost just did. Did you hear it? It actually hurts quite a bit when you get hit with falling shot." No kidding.

And that is when I decided my shooting career was over, and I retired to the kitchen, where I was only in danger of gorging myself on pudding (which I proceeded to attempt, of course).