Leaving Paris With My Heart

Posted from Paris

                                   

(Considering my last post was about toilets you have to figure this post will be better.)

My impressions of Paris are mixed. I want to love it. My heart says this is a beautiful city and I feel I am being courted to fall in love with it. My head wants to know what the attraction is and encourages me to move on.

The iconic landmarks are intact but graffiti is over everything else. The quaint bicycle riders are everywhere but so are the insanely prolific and crazy motorcycle riders. And I do mean CRAZY. They weave in and out of traffic in such close proximity to your vehicle that I am surprised we don't end up with some riders in our car with us. (And this topic makes me sad because I think of a certain Princess that should be holding her first grand son in her arms at this very moment were it not for crazy Parisian  motorcyclists.) The median age where we have been seems to be 20 to 30'ish, unless we are touring. Then it rises to 50 to 60'ish. Cigarette smoking is very prevalent and, maybe it's my imagination, people don't smile a lot. 

And then there's the heat, possibly the reason why there are few smiles. Air conditioning in buildings hundreds of years old? No. Thank goodness our hotel is not one of them. Now if someone, maybe those efficient Germans, can figure out how to air condition the outdoors it will make touring more of a delight. As it was I'm not sure how much about Louis the Thirteenth, Fourteenth, and Fifteenth I remember while touring Versailles today. I tried to move through the palace as quickly as I could so no one could trace the puddles of sweat to me. How in the world did Marie Antoinette stand around in corsets and bloomers on these hot summer days? 

So while I think as a young rebellious person I would have yearned to indulge in a Parisian lifestyle.......oh heck, who am I kidding? I was NEVER a young rebellious person and had I been introduced to Paris in my early years I wouldn't have known what to do with her. 

Tomorrow I leave Paris with my heart intact.

    

There's Flush And Then There's FLUSH!

   

                                       

I am not even remotely tempted to post a picture of my water closet at home, but here? Yes. Not to be impolite but these Germans have the toilet process figured out.

Mr. Y is still getting used to driving a manual gear shift in our rental car. Almost all cars here have manual gears because how are you going to zip around the Autobahn in an automatic? Now I've discovered there are two gears on our toilet, or toilette. There is the "Seriously, why are you bothering to flush?" gear, and SERIOUSLY, you need to flush!" gear. No automatic, sensored hurricane behind you as with airport toilets. At first I thought this was just a nifty feature of our Air Force Base accommodations, military efficiency and all that, but that is not the case. This flushing feature has been at every public restroom I've been in and there have been several. (What about traveling dehydrates a person SO much that they have to drink liters and liters of water every day!?) Pushing the small circle generates a moderate amount of flushing water, pushing the big circle gives you flushing on steroids. It's a great system. 

The other bathroom perk is attendants in most of the public restrooms. You walk into the restroom, hand the attendant a small coin, and you are guaranteed to be "taking care of business" in an immaculate, sterile, and aromatically freshened stall. This is because as soon as you emerge she is right back in there spritzing and fussing and getting ready for the next guest. I can tell you that some of our restrooms at Grand Central could use some of their attention.

So, that's my ode to German technology and courtesy at it's finest. 

Flush on!

Thank Goodness

Posted from Spangdahlem Air Force Base, near Trier, Germany

Thank goodness we have a serviceman in the family. We get to wake up to "Reveille" every morning at our base accommodations and we listen to "Taps" each night. 

Thank goodness European countries require their school children to be proficient in two, and sometimes three, foreign languages. One of them is English. 

Thank goodness for fun family members to travel with. The fact that the BBIL was convinced that Damen (women) in German means Mensroom is a story for another time. 

Thank goodness for "Inga" our GPS. She is directing us around the Germany without too much "Recalculating". Today she told us of a real time 'stagnation' on the highway and provided a beautiful detour. She's a keeper.

Thank goodness for good ol' Pizza Hut Express when you get back to the base late and everything else is closed down.

Thank goodness German people have a good sense of humor. The buildings are so close to the streets and the streets so narrow that it's hard to tell the them from sidewalks. And I do believe we drove down a sidewalk to find a breakfast place to eat this morning. (Inga?) As we emerged we had several tables of locals smiling and shaking their heads. 

Thank goodness we have speed limits in the USA. Driving on the Autobahn with cars zipping by at over 100 MPH is a wee bit nerveracking.

Thank goodness cigarette vending machines are a thing of the past back home. They are quite commonplace here.

Thank goodness a fondness for flowers is universal. Here I feel like I've died and gone to "Flower Heaven". Window boxes are growing on me (no pun intended).

Thank goodness taking vacation pictures and sharing them quickly has taken the place of sitting in someone's darkened living room for a slide show on "How I Spent My Summer Vacation".

                               

                                       Looking out at vineyards on the Moselle River

Ready To Meet The Queen

I am prepared to meet The Queen. Granted, she may be busy cooing at her new great grandbaby by the time I get there but nevertheless, I'm ready to be presented. I don't have a ball gown or 6 inch stilettos, and my hair needs to be jazzed up BUT my manicure and pedicure are sparkly and fresh.

One of the nice things about living in the city is the plethora of nail salons. These aren't 5th Avenue salons but when I can perk up all twenty digits at a shop in the neighborhood for less than $25 I think I can at least go that distance to look presentable. 

I'm headed to the airport in less than an hour. My iPad has turned out to be a less than optimum way to post but I'll give it my best shot while out of the country. The last thing I need is a thousand dollar data bill waiting when I get home. 

In the meantime I will be figuring out how to curtsy with my best foot forward.

DEJA VU

The conversation was beginning to sound all too familiar.

Me: Are you taking your hair dryer?
K: Well, I thought I would

K: Should we be checking into calling plans for our phones?
Me: Definitely, but we will be using WiFi in most places.

K: You know pickpocketing is rampant over there?
Me: So I've heard, especially around The Louvre. But what are you going to do? Not go?

Seems like yesterday I was having similar trip planning conversations with my Alaskan friend, now it's my sister.

For whatever reason, and believe me I would like to go back and examine the process, Mr.Y. and I planned back to back trips this summer. The European trip we leave for on Saturday will include my younger sister, K, and my Best (and only) Brother In Law or BBIL. It was to have taken place last year as a celebration for a couple of our party turning 50. Those two will be 51 by the time the trip is over and a third one of our party has turned 50 in the meantime. Woo hoo for the Century Birthdays! (I am carefully avoiding the premature celebration of entering my next decade next year. No reason to muddy the waters with too much celebrating.)

Me: Did you print off all your hotel confirmations?
K: Yep, done.

K:  We are going to want to sleep on this flight because we arrive in Luxembourg at 10:00am and we won't want to go to bed and waste a day.
Me: Well, considering I will have had a ten hour time zone swing in the last week I figure it's a sure bet I won't have a problem with that. Then again........
K: I'm bringing something to help me sleep.
Me: Probably a good idea.

We each had a specific request when planning this trip:
Germany (Mr. Y: I want to take my Air Force son stationed there on a tour of the places I haunted when stationed there. )
France (Me: Can we hit Monet's Garden?)
Normandy, France (BBIL - If I could go to any one place I'd like it to be the Beaches of Normandy.)
England (K: I just want to see castles. Any chance we can go to Downton Abby?)

So, the planning is done, the hotel reservations are made, the car is reserved, and the clothes are starting to be pulled out of the closet in preparation for packing. Again.

K: What's the temperature over there?
Me: Hopefully anything cooler than here.

Yes, this all seems very familiar.

Alaska Wine

"Did you know that Alaska has a wine?" our tour guide in Denali National Park asked a couple of weeks ago.

I had opened the bus window just a crack to enjoy the cool, fresh mountain air and began wondering what type of wine Alaska would produce. A hint of blueberry and pine with notes of salmon? 

"Yes," he continued, "the Alaska wine starts around November and sounds something like this," and he proceeded using the voice of a tired cranky five year old.

"It's cold here. When can we go to Arizona?"

"I'm tired of the snow. Is Hawaii in our budget this winter?"

"When is it going to start warming up?"

Ah, yes, the Alaskan w-h-i-n-e.

I know the feeling. Only now that we are back in NYC my "wine" sounds more like this, 

"It's HOT here. Can we go back to Alaska?"

"Do I HAVE to walk to the grocery store? It's too hot."

"Is it fall yet?"

I think I'll just grab a good Pino Noir and sit this week out in front of the air conditioner.

                        

Packing

Packing at the end of a vacation is always a mixed bag. No pun intended. In a way you are happy to be returning home but in another way, especially if you have enjoyed a home exchange like this, you are sad to be giving up some amenities. Like an outdoor grill, flower pots outside the window, a BIG washer and dryer instead of a stackable unit, and a view from the dining room window that a mother moose and her twins scampered by while we were eating dinner the other night. These are things I will not have in NYC. But then again I am taking a few new things home with me.

I always, always pack too much when I am going away. I return home with clothes not worn and bath "essentials" not used. Really? I had to pack that specific bath gel and THAT many moisturizers? Not hardly. And I always say I am going to leave room for items I know I'll purchase while away and will want to stuff in unused corners. So as I pack today I am having to add room for the following items:

                          

*An Alaska Starbucks mug. I've used it every day since I purchased it in Wasilla (nope, could not see Russia from there) and it makes a great addition to my collection.

* Four pair of socks because, of course, I forgot to pack any when I left NYC. It wasn't as if we were going HIKING or anything. But in my defense, it was very warm when we left the city and who wants to think of cool weather items when it's hot?

*An Alaska ice cream scoop because we love our ice cream and did you know that Alaskans consume more ice cream per capita than any other state? Go figure. As explained to us by one of the ice cream store clerks at a nearby store touting a sign that says they have "The Best Ice Cream in the World", you can go outside in Alaska on most any given day and your "ice cream does not melt" ! Okay then.

*I purchased a used copy of James Michener's Alaska when I arrived and I lived, breathed, slept, and ate with this book the entire time I was here. I could not have read it anywhere else. I loved it.

*Socks for The Wee One. What little guy can resist socks with trains on them? He'll probably never wear them because by the time we have sock weather again he will have outgrown them. But that's not the point.

*My most pathetic purchase. Replacement scrubbers for my dishwand. If there is any store in NYC that carries these things I have not found it. Plus I have way too much fun looking for these in any store that has aisles as wide some streets I've been on. Which happened to be the case at the Target over in - you guessed it! - Wasilla.

Back to packing. Let me see. Maybe I need to wear two sweaters on the plane because I'm not sure I'm going to get these in.................

Advantages Of More Daylight Hours

                          

Last night we drove to Anchorage for dinner. It just so happened a buddy from Mr. Y's Air Force days lives just outside Anchorage and they wanted the opportunity to reminisce about the good ol' days. It was a lovely meal with memories of being in the service as 18 year old boys rehashed from their now adult perspectives. We said our goodbyes around 9pm and I decided I wanted to pack in one more stop. The Alaska Botanical Gardens. 

I looked up their website and discovered that during the summer they are open "During Daylight Hours".  Knowing that it was still light outside after midnight I decided to take them at their word and headed that direction. 

We arrived to an empty parking lot. No gardeners were about. Everything was still. It appeared a gate had been drawn across the entrance to the gardens themselves but upon closer inspection there was a large metal door to the right of the gate that was unlocked. Into the gardens we went. The website stated there was an admission charge and sure enough there was a self pay pedestal just inside the gate for those late daylight hours when no one is around to sell tickets. What a wonderful idea not to restrict visitors to a typical schedule of open hours when the location has the unique capability of sharing the garden for so many daylight hours outside of that. 

A botanical garden is a peaceful, quiet place to begin with but when you realize you are may be the only ones in the entire gardens it becomes the most relaxing place in the world. A leisurely stroll through the perennial garden showed me peonies just beginning to bloom and bleeding hearts still on their stems. We spent about thirty minutes wandering along what appeared to be newly paved paths enjoying an herb garden (What BIG nasturtiums you grow here!) and native Alaska plantings. We only encountered three other people in the gardens, tucked away in Perennial Garden II taking the opportunity to snap family pictures in a lovely setting with soft evening daylight.

Unfortunately monster mosquitos were also enjoying a garden visit and began feasting on our arms and face or we might have extended our stay. As it was we still had an hours drive to get home and eventually it was going to get dark. But what a nice way to spend our extended daylight hours.

Every garden seems to come with a different set of challenges.

                                                 

The Great One

                                  

When we knew we would be spending two weeks in Alaska we immediately made plans to travel to Denali National Park. For three days we would look in awe at the highest peak in North America and be in awe. Denali - or Mt. McKinley, as two senators in Ohio continue to insist is it's official name - rises 20,300 feet into the air so it would be hard to miss. The Great One. The mountain that rises above all others and has claimed the lives of many a climber. This would be a sight to remember. Or so we thought.

Early last Wednesday we stood at the rail depot in Wasilla (yes, THAT Wasilla) anticipating a train ride that would give us views of exotic wilderness wildlife and snow capped mountain peaks. Spending the extra bucks to ride in the glass roofed rail cars would give us a big advantage over those on the bottom levels who would see only the lower branches of trees and a glimpse of the ground squirrels so common in these regions. We would be seeing moose, and bears, and caribou from our level. Or so we thought.

Onto the train we went. Good seats. Smiling attendants. Refreshments and a dining car with lots of options at our disposal. Heavy cloud cover was overhead and there was a chance of rain in the forecast.......wait. What? Clouds? Rain? No view of mountains? No view of THE mountain on this train ride? Well, thank goodness we will be in the park for three days, and have an all day tour into the park scheduled so that tomorrow we will see The Great One. Or so we thought.

Thursday brought more clouds. A twelve hour bus ride into and back out of the park with our binoculars gave us views of Grizzly bears, moose, caribou and mountain goats but no clear view of the mountain. Our guide for the day is now telling us if we manage to see The Great One we will be very lucky. Only one to two percent of visitors to Denali manage a good view of the mountain as it is only out twenty percent of the time. Seems The Great One likes to create it's own weather at the top and good pictures are elusive. Disappointed not to be part of "the view" lottery winners we figure we have the bus ride back to Wasilla to catch a glimpse of the peak. Or so we thought.

Friday's trip home we craned our necks to look back and wait for the clouds to break. The bus even stopped at a viewing area so we could unload and stand from afar to see the mountain range with The Great One towering over the smaller peaks but it was just not to be. Even though the sun was shining where we stood the mountain peaks looked like they were enshrouded with enough clouds to produce snow. Sadly this was our last chance. We lost out. The Great One eluded us. The closest we were going to get was a picture of the mountain on a cloth bag as painted by nearby elementary school children for a fund raiser. Or so we thought.

Yesterday, the day before we knew we would be packing for the plane ride back to NYC, we decided to hike near our temporary Alaska home. We drove up to a place called Hatcher Pass and stepped out of the car to walk up a small bluff to see what we could see. On the horizon appeared a range of mountains. 

                                 

Oh my gosh! There it is! There is a view of The Great One we were missing. Which one is it? The one on the far left? Must be. It's the tallest. Or so we thought. 

A chance encounter on our hiking trail with a young lady who lives in Wasilla told us that we were not looking at The Great One. You are looking at The Alaskan Mountain Range she told us. You can't see The Great One from here but you MIGHT catch a glimpse of it if you go thirty miles to the west to a place called Willow she told us. You mean the same Willow we passed through on our way back from Denali Park the other day? Yes, that Willow. So off to Willow we went.

 

And there it was.

Count us among the lucky ones. From over one hundred miles away we could see the grand peak on a beautiful, clear sunny day.

 

 The Great One. 

Yellow Tags

 

                                      

                                    

There are only Alaskan's here in Alaska. 

I have come to that conclusion after looking at all the license plates in the parking lots, on the highways, and curbside for the past week. The bright yellow Alaska license plate is everywhere but there is nary a Florida, Nebraska, or Vermont tag to be found. Granted, Vermont tags are rarely seen anywhere anyway either because it's that small of a state or it's residents don't venture far from home. But that's beside the point. My point is that really, truly the only tags you see here in Alaska are Alaska tags.

I've spent many a highway road trip where passing the time meant seeing who could identify, call out, and take credit for a state's license plate we had not yet come across. Hey! There's a Florida tag! Do we have that one yet? No? Tally one for me then. 

Of course, that was back when a state only had ONE tag. You could spot that peach on a Georgia tag from two miles back, or the brightly colored New Mexico tag, or the green Colorado tag that had, of course, mountains on it. Then states started issuing multiple tags. What the heck? Now we have to tally the five different California tags out there? The Hawaiian tag with the rainbow on it was a real find and oddly enough Alaska tags were very hard to come by. Now I know why.

Everyone who lives in Alaska stays in Alaska. Their tags are all here. I kid you not. I talked to a group of tourists at a glacier the other day who said they were from Houston. They SOUNDED like they were from Houston, they even looked like they were from Houston - tall, friendly, big smiles. But when I went to the parking lot was there a Texas license plate on any of the vehicles? There was not. Only Alaska tags.

Okay, so now I know the rental car companies are making a killing. Who in their right mind DRIVES to Alaska? Apparently not even people from Washington or Oregon because I have yet to find one of their tags around these parts either. So they are flying in or cruising in and their first stop is to rent a car with an Alaskan tag. Or possibly visitors are lucky enough to have gracious hosts who loan you cars with Alaska plates on them like we are. 

And maybe that's what I like about all those yellow plates. While we're in Alaska we're not from North Dakota, Mississippi, or Kansas, or New York.

While we are in Alaska we are Alaskan. My yellow tag says so. 

Peaceful Place

   

                                       

 (Inhale deeply. Hold. Slowly release.)

Look at all this freshly mowed green grass.

(Again. Inhale. Hold. Release.)

These geraniums are the prettiest color of red? pink? coral? I can't quite place it.

(Close your eyes. Focus on the quiet here.)

A perfect chair placed for the perfect view out of the second story window.

(Feel your pulse start to slow.)

Windows frame Nature throughout the entire house, including the shower.

(Pause, eyes still closed. Listen to the birds, the water cascading from the back of the still pond.)

This is what a place of Zen feels like.

(Open your eyes, drink in the hues of the all the flowers planted with thought and care around the perimeter of the yard. Go to the container under the stairs and pinch off a basil leaf. Bring it to your nose and enjoy the aroma.)

This is C's home. A place of peace. We are so lucky to call it home these two weeks in Alaska.

(Lay back in the deck chair. Close your eyes. Fall asleep.)

                                     

    

Walking On Ice

                                 

I am not a big fan of walking on ice.  I rank "Don't Have To Venture Out In Icy Weather" near the top of my Top Five Reasons I Love Retirement. It's right up there with "Don't Have To Set Alarms" and "Did I Mention I Don't Have To Set Alarms?".  So what would possess me to pay someone to LET me walk on ice?

Yesterday Mr Y. and I took a scenic drive to Matanuska Glacier. This glacier is twenty six miles long and four miles wide. We saw it from a distance coming up the highway and it is beautiful. For 10,000 years it has been moving through an existing valley. Very slowly. And that's how I chose to walk on it. Very slowly.

Much of the glacier area we walked over is covered with dirt and rock but there were areas where the ice was exposed and crossing it was the only way to get closer to the core area.  Trickles of water running down to larger melting streams were frequent and steel panels were laid over some of them for easier crossing. Others routes we were left to to figure out the best way to cross on our own. The fact that there were children navigating the ice and one young man wearing flip flops to higher elevations than I reached did not boost my confidence level one bit.

I enjoy being out in nature. I really do. But there are some parts of nature that I can watch documentaries on and be quite content. Swimming with sharks for instance or walking rope bridges from one edge of a canyon to another come to mind. While the glacier was very interesting and I ended up doing just fine I would have been just as happy to take pictures from an overlook and called it good. Ice is not my thing.

                                        

 

      

From Midtown to The Last Frontier

It is a looooooong way from Midtown to The Last Frontier. Despite shortening our layover in Seattle to accommodate an airline's snafu, we spent twelve travel hours from the time we shut our apartment door in NYC to opening the garage door at my friend C's home in Alaska. (Without our luggage, of course, because when you accommodate an airline they are obligated to lose your luggage. But it was recovered, delivered and we're moving on.)

Let me just say travel hours are like regular hours only it takes at least three regular hours to recover from one travel hour. I'm not sure why we thought traveling all night after being up all day was going to be a good idea. Adding a four hour difference in our time zones (seems Alaska has their OWN time zone) meant we were crawling into bed when we should have been getting up. Later that same day we were yawning and preparing for bed again shortly after dinner. And by shortly after dinner I mean 5:30pm. Weirdly enough that meant we were ready for breakfast at 1:30 in the morning. The good news is it is already light outside because it NEVER GETS DARK here and that means we don't have to fumble around for the lights so we can see to pour milk on those Cheerios.

A resident here told us you can garden at midnight because there is still THAT MUCH LIGHT. I immediately thought of Emily Dickinson who gardened only at night wearing all white. I think she would have been thrilled with this accommodation. Unfortunately I didn't think of packing my all white gardening outfit. But it IS strange, even after waking up in the single digit morning hours to bright city lights for the last year, to look out the window and see a natural dawn-light glow outside at 2AM.

We've been here for almost forty eight hours now and our time zone/lack of darkness fog is starting to lift. I figure if we wear ourselves out enough during the daytime light that the nighttime light isn't going to keep us awake. We've already discovered people grow ridiculously large vegetables here because of the long summer days and they don't have to do it on cramped balconies or rooftop gardens like in the city. We've explored a glacier that is twenty seven miles long, and I had trouble finding a bag of crushed ice in the city. We're driving a car which only make stops where we decide to stop instead of on a bus making stops every two blocks to pick up or let off passengers.

It's a long way from Midtown to The Last Frontier but definitely worth the trip. Just let me get a couple more hours of sleep.

11pm. It didn't get much darker than this before midnight.