Back in Paris

Back in Paris I got to see some more of the French lifestyle. Somehow I lost the photos I had taken earier of the Notre Dame Cathedral so Cindy and I went back briefly. I noticed that there were a lot of gendarmes in a different uniform, wearing a soldier's cap instead of their usual képis. Then we saw that there was a demonstration in progress. Didn't think much of it, seemed rather peaceful being in the centre of town and all. But later when we came out of a shop we saw clouds of black smoke and decided that we should walk in the opposite direction. Cindy said that they probably hadn't overturned any cars yet, that they were probably just burning a few old tyres (as you do) but it seemed better to steer clear all the same.

Where the king goes to be alone

Of the four places Cindy and I stayed in Italy, three (in Florence, Rome and Naples) had bidets in the bathroom. I felt a little like Crocodile Dundee! And no, I didn't do as the Romans do, I used the paper.

While we're on the subject, I've been meaning to mention to those who haven't travelled that toilet paper varies between countries. I first noticed when I came to America: whereas the sheets are arranged portrait on an Australian roll, they are landscape in America. Italy is like Australia. But in France, some families use loose-leaf paper; that is, sheets folded in half and interlaced like tissues, stacked in a dispenser. Très exotique!

Driving in Italy

From Venice Cindy and I hired a car to drive through Bologna, Florence, Pisa and then down the coast to Rome. We paid for the smallest possible (which in Europe means microscopic) but hey gave us something slightly larger, a Renault Megane. That is, a nice little 5-door 6-speed [sic.] diesel.

Even more interesting than a sixth gear was the fact that it had no key; you insert a card and push a button.

In Italy (as in France) the top highway speed is 130 km/h. Unfortunately there were a lot of traffic jams so I only got a to enjoy that speed some of the time.

We left the car at Fiumicino airport, on the outskirts of Rome (at the ancient port of Ostia, for you history buffs), because neither of us wanted to risk driving into the city. But when we got in there the traffic really wasn't so bad; we were able to cross streets without too much trouble. The same can't be said for Naples! The traffic there was absolutely insane! (Much, much worse than Bali.) Never mind the fingersmiths, just crossing the street in Naples means taking your life into your hands.

I must also mention how many of these little three wheel utes I saw in Italy. I vaguely remember having to learn the word for this vehicle in Mrs Pipio's Italian class but I can't for the life of me remember. (Baden, Wade? Anyone?) But we never realised how small they are - they only take a single person who drives with motorbike handlebars. Whatever it's called I want one. I can just see myself driving around Indiana in one of those!

Rome

Rome was a little more difficult than other places. After we left the car at the airport, we went to catch a train into the city. The directions for our hotel said that it was directly opposite a Metro station, so I tried to get combined tickets to that station. Now, the guy wasn't as rude as New York subway staff, but he wasn't too helpful. Fortunately there was a nice Englishman just in front of me who heard where we wanted to go and informed me that that station (Manzoni) had been closed (for two years!) and that I should get off at San Giovanni. Easier said than done: that whole Metro line was closed for late night repairs so we just walked from the central station.

Despite all that the hotel was great. We managed to find a Best Western in our price range. It even included a huge buffet breakfast. I think it was aimed at Americans judging by the breakfast sausages and the presence of Tabasco sauce and even catsup next to the scrambled eggs. But there was plenty of pastries too and a cappucino machine, so I had a little of everything. That was a good way to start the day!

Pisa

Pisa was really just a lunch stop with a great landmark. You're allowed to go up the tower now (they must have succeeded in stopping it from leaning any further) but there just wasn't time. It's a shame; I would have liked to drop two balls of different weights off the side to see if one hit the ground before the other.

Florence

We left Venice the next morning and drove through Bologna (where we had Tagliatelli Bolognese, not spaghetti, for lunch) to Florence. After a bit of searching we were able to find our hotel without a map.

There was still a few hours of daylight left so we went into the town to see the sights.

Florence is a lovely city but doesn't have many tourist attractions, just the Ponte Vecchio, the Duomo and Michaelangelo's David. We stayed only one night.

Venice

So Cindy and I flew from Paris (actually, from Beauvais, a little town outside Paris' suburbs with an airport that serves Paris) down to Venice on a cheap little Irish airline. We caught a bus from the airport into Venice itself and, after asking about five locals for directions, we found our hotel. The next day we did a lot of walking around the tourist district centred on la Piazza San Marco. Bought a lot of souvenirs and tried to communicate with waiters in Italian.

The smattering of Italian that I've remembered after studying the language for five years at high school is actually quite helpful. But speaking certainly doesn't come as naturally as reading.

Parc Astérix

Today Cindy and I went to Parc Astérix with a couple of her friends. The roller coasters were small but intense. And we got to meet Astérix and Obélix!

Paris

So now I've really seen Paris. Today Cindy and I went up the Eiffel Tower. (We also saw the Sacré Coeur Basilica and Moulin Rouge but those photos don't include berets.)

We're not in Kanzas anymore

Well, I've arrived in Paris safely. The 9 hour leg from Detroit to Paris was bad but not nearly as bad as that 14 hour flight from LA to Sydney.

Got in just before noon so I didn't do anything much but go to the supermarket [in a stupour] and try to understand the things Cindy's parents are trying to say to me in French.

I'll definitely take lots of photos in the next two weeks. I'll try to post a lot of the, because it's much easier than typing on a French keyboard!

En route à Paris

I'm leaving for Paris this evening. I've been packing this morning and printing off all the documents I need. I have my travel insurance, I've checked in online and I think I'm ready to go!

I have a layover in Detroit then a 9 hour flight to Paris. I'll arrive midday Friday, their time. I'll let you know once I'm there safe and sound.

Another one bites the dust

I've just had a hard disk crash today. The second in just over a year. (At least this time I didn't have a paper due just a few hours later.) Luckily I have hard copies of everything that's due for my French class and back ups of most other vital things. Except I'll lose quite a bit of what I've downloaded and all the music that's not on my iPod.

C'est la vie!

Addendum - 2007/6/11
I've now resurrected the internal hard disk. Although I no longer trust it, I'll continue to boot off that volume but will keep all my important things on the 250GB external disk I've bought (only US$80, not bad).

The good news is that I had backed up 99% of a homework task for my French class that I thought I had lost as well as 3/4 of a translation I was working on.

J'irai en France

Well, Cindy and I finally bought our tickets to France a few days ago and are now booking flights and hotels for the Italian leg of our trip. There will be plenty more interesting posts coming in the near future.

I'm not too worried about the touristy thing. I was able to bumble around Montréal with barely a smattering of French and still manage to buy simple things, so long as I didn't try to ask about anything. I'm sure it will be the same in France and, of course, Cindy can always translate for me. But what does concern me a little is that we'll be staying with her parents, who speak barely a word of English.

My French class is going pretty well. (It's a second year undergrad class, so I can't take too much pride in the fact that I'm beating unmotivated frat boys. Seriously, the majority of undergrads here are about as motivated to learn as year nines; they're only there because their parents want them to be.) The other day my teacher paid me a big compliment by asking me "What are you doing in this class? Where did you learn to speak?" and telling me that my phonology is good. I was tempted to tell her about my secret weapon (a French girfriend) but instead I told her about the French table I go to every Tuesday evening. But now that we're learning more tenses - the future, conditional, future past and past conditional - it's starting to get a bit challenging for me too. But today I got to score a few participation points by correcting the teacher's spelling (there are a lot of homophones in French!). At least, I think it was in good humour when she said "Bravo, Nicolas!" and asked if I wanted to come up the front and teach!

First Amendment in Action

I saw something a little strange on the way home today. Now, on the edge of campus there is always a pair of Mormons holding a sign saying "Ask the missionaries any question" (I haven't yet had a chance to ask them the wind-speed velocity of an unladen swallow). Certainly these quiet Mormons are much more agreeable than the Mormons at UNSW who stand on Anzac parade accosting people as they try to cross the street.

Anyway, today there was another guy holding a sign that said "Warning: Your rights are about to be violated - seat belt check ahead." I was only a little surprised that there would be a seat belt check, that is something that a lot of Americans are quite lax about. More surprising was that someone would go to all that effort so that a few people can continue to not wear their seat belts.

But most astonishing is that there was a cop standing just 20m behind this guy, just watching him alert the traffic to the trap. Now, as I understand it, in Australia it's highly illegal to flash your headlights to alert other drivers about RBTs, ostructing the course of justice or some such thing. But this cop was just watching that guy with his sign. I can only assume that his right to free speech protected him. All the same, it's quite surprising that they didn't try to shuffle him off into a free speech zone.

Summer time, and the living is easy

I've just submitted my last paper for this semester and poured myself a strong drink. I'm now on holidays for three months. And by three months I actually mean three days, because I'm taking a summer class, which starts Tuesday.

Just like last summer, I'll be spending my time learning French. Although I did well enough last year to fulfil my department's language requirement but, while my reading skills are ok, my speaking skills are rather poor. So I'll be working on that, but not too hard.

Anzac Day Again

Another Anzac Day in the USA. This time I've made Anzac Biscuits to mark the occasion. The recipe seemed pretty easy except that you can't get golden syrup here. Not even treacle. Only a molasses that is as dark as pitch. (I think that's why it's Br'er Rabbit Brand.) In fact, they don't even know the word treacle, except for one of my classmates who had read it in Harry Potter! So I just used brown sugar instead of white and they taste the same.

Grey Bombers off Target

As we were getting into the car on our way home from the orchestra last night, Cindy pointed out an envelope under my windscreen wiper. I had received a parking ticket! (The first traffic ticket I've ever received.)

I didn't understand how, seeing as I was in a proper carpark. The ticket explained that I could contest the fine, so this was the explanation I submitted to the website:

Because I do not have a permit I was looking for a pay-parking space in the Jordan Ave parking garage. As I proceded to the lower level in search of a space I noticed that the boom gates were up and, as it was after 8pm and the booth was empty, I inferred that parking was free for the rest of the night. Had the booth been staffed I surely would have paid but, before I had a chance to pay, I received this ticket. The ticket states that I was in an A permit zone, however I was in a pay-parking garage. There were no signs indicating that any sort of permit was required.

It's all true. I really did believe that I was legally parked!

I still can't quite work it out. If by some chance I missed a sign on the way in saying that only permit holders were allowed, why would there be gates and a toll booth? And how could I not have seen it all the other times I've parked there when going to the orchestra?

I really don't want to pay the $40 but now they know who I am they'll be able to dock my pay! I briefly considered just ignoring the ticket, given that it's campus parking, not the real police. But I have heard that they can and do contact the Indiana Bureau of Motor Vehicles to track you down from your rego number. Damn!

Update - 2007/4/20
Good news! My appeal was successful. In less than 48 hour I received this reply:

Thanks for your appeal. I just wanted to let you know that the citation has been voided, and there is no fine due. If you are a student and the fee has been transferred to your Bursar account, a credit will be issued next Thursday; look for it to post by early the following week.

Hurrah! My faith in the system has been restored.

Buona Pasqua a Tutti!

So, today I finally get to break my chocolate fast! What a shame that it's so hard to find good quality chocolate here. And even the low quality stuff doesn't get sold as eggs very much. They've been in stores for a while now but it's mainly little ones, very few egg-sized eggs and absolutely no 300g, 500g or 1kg eggs available here. (Nor is there the great variety of flavours we have in Australia. Cadbury Creme Egg is the only interesting one.) I think it must be true what the Australian newspapers report every year, that Australians take their Easter chocolate more seriously than any other country.

Nor are there hot cross buns. I have seen just one or two packets of rather nasty looking buns with custard crosses and white glaze, not what we're used to. And none of those terrific chocolate hot cross buns you get from Baker's Delight or Woolies. (I wonder how long they would last in the freezer. If Erin bought me some now, would they still be good when I visit in December?)

But the strangest thing I have to share with you is that in France, they don't have an Easter Bunny. Instead, their Easter eggs are brought by flying church bells! I thought Cindy was having a lend of me when she told me that. But then I saw this on French Wíkîpédïà:

En Belgique et en France, ce sont les cloches de Pâques qui apportent les œufs de Pâques. Depuis le jeudi saint, les cloches sont silencieuses. On dit qu'elles sont parties pour Rome, et elles reviennent le jour de Pâques en ramenant des œufs qu'elles laissent tomber à leur passage.

In Belgium and France, it is Easter Bells who bring the Easter eggs. From Maundy Thursday the church bells are silent, so it is said that they have left for Rome and that they return on Easter Sunday filled with eggs, which they let fall as they pass.

Strange but true.

Cold Again

After a few weeks of warm weather (mid-20s Celsius) it's turned cold again! Yesterday and the next four days we have top temperatures <10˙C.

And last night it started snowing again! There was a little more this morning but the flakes are so few and far between that I don't think it will accumulate at all.

Crazy! (Even the Americans are complaining about Indiana weather.)

My First Passover

Last night I had another traditional American experience - I participated in a Passover Seder dinner with my Jewish friends.

Before dinner we had to do a few ceremonial things. Sean lent me a kippah and we sat around the table to hear explanations of why the various things were eaten. I forget why we ate parsely dipped in salty water; something to do with tears, I think. The bread has to be unleavened because the Hebrews were in such a hurry to leave. I thought matzo would be like pita but it's more like a big cracker. Before the actual dinner we had to eat a matzo sandwich with horseradish and another with charoset, a mixture of diced apples and dates in wine. (For some reason they were refering to the horseradish as a "bitter 'erb", even though it's clearly a root, not a herb.)

The dinner itself was turkey, not Paschal lamb, it being America and all. It was pretty good, latkes with applesauce make an interesting side dish.

There were a few songs in English and various chants in Hebrew (my throat's quite clear now, thanks for asking) between which we had to drink four cups of wine. Unfortunately it had to be kosher wine, most of which is increadibly sweet. (I managed to buy a bottle that tasted like normal cab sav but the Manischewitz and every other bottle was really quite syrupy.) It was certainly an eye-opener to see my friends reading Herbrew so fluently (in their American accents) and recounting childhood stories steeped in traditions I've never heard of.