An Eventful Evening

Yesterday Cindy went to Oregon to collect samples so I'm home alone at the moment. She had to get up at 3.30 am, meet her colleagues at the geology building then head up to Indianapolis for a 6 am flight.

Last night I had to pick up a friend from the airport to return the favour for her having taken Cindy and me to the airport in May. All day I was reminding myself to keep an eye on the clock knowing I had no one to remind me when it was time to leave. I knew I'd have to leave a little after 9 pm so at about 9.05 I got ready to make the trip (collected my iPod and its car tape adaptor) and went downstairs to the carpark... But I couldn't find my car!

Then I remembered that I had told Cindy to take my car. Not all the way to the airport, but I did insist that it would be much better for her to drive to the geology building than walking across campus at 4 am. I did say that it would be no trouble for me to stroll up there later to collect the car, which I had forgotten to do. So it was entirely my fault that I had to run from our place on 2nd St up to 11th before getting in the car to drive to the airport. Luckily traffic was good and I still got to the airport before my friend arrived. Best of all she brought me 500g of Cadbury chocolate from Canada!

But the excitement didn't end there. When I got back, as I was letting myself in, I heard a voice behind me call, "Hey, neighbour!" Seems the newly moved-in residents of the basement apartment were having some trouble with their lock (they had the key but the lock was broken, it just kept turning and turning). The emergency number was posted in the hall but, having just arrived in town, they didn't have a phone.

So I lent them mine (local calls are free in America). The landlord wasn't all that prompt to respond, it being almost midnight. After some waiting I suggested that they call a 24-hour locksmith themselves but the handyman eventually arrived. He found that they had left a window unlocked (very dangerous on their level), cut the screen, jumped through and opened the door from the inside. I hate to how difficult it would have been had they locked up properly; the handyman reckons he would have taken a hammer to the door (a locksmith he wasn't)!

Fraud!

I just checked my account balances and got the fright of my life when I found myself overdrawn by more than $200. At first I thought that I hadn't left enough money for the rent check cheque but then I saw several transactions that I never made. Over the last two days someone stole $642.92 from me! Most of it was at service stations where you can pay without a pin or a signature. There was another at a supermarket where they usually ask for a signature.

I've already called the hotline to cancel the card. Tomorrow I'll have to go to the credit union to get my money back. (This shouldn't be too hard, Visa has a "zero liability" guarantee on their debit cards.) I might even have to file a fraud report with the police as well. They'll need to investigate who it was and maybe how they got my number. The only time the card has been far from me recently was at a restaurant when the waitress took quite a while to bring it back. But that seems unlikely. And I can't imagine skimming devices on Bloomington ATMs.

Luckily I keep most of my money at another bank so it couldn't be swept into my checking chequing account, so I'll still have something to live off while they do the paperwork.

Update
So I went to the credit union and they sent me to the police to file a report and get a case number. The police said that there had been a spate of card-number stealing a few months ago but that this was the first in a while. After I took them the case number the people at the credit union assured me that I'd get my money back in a few days; but I'll have to wait about a week until they send me a new card. (Luckily the grocery money is on a store card.)

13th August - I got the money back today.

16th August - And now another fraudulent transaction! Another $87.98 backdated to the 9th, again at Louisville.
So I went back to the credit union to sign another form and let the police know.

20th August - Finally I've got a new credit card and PIN. The last of the money has been returned and life is back to normal.

BBQs

Last night I learnt another little American thing that I never noticed myself. For once it was an American who pointed it out to me!

The party last night was both for Cindy's birthday and also because our friend Katie is leaving town. So Katie brought a couple of her other friends whom we've met but don't know well. One started trying to ingratiate himself by asking Cindy, "Which part of Australia are you from?" It's quite amusing for me to watch this sort of exchange in which Cindy has to pause to wonder whether she's understood the question correctly and then try to find a polite way of responding to a question that doesn't really have a correct answer. (Last time one of my classmates, upon hearing that we were going there asked Cindy, "Have you ever been to France before?")

After the Australia questions were redirected to myself, this guy started commenting on how we prefer to barbecue on hot plates, rather than grills. My first reaction was to think to myself, "Well, it's a lot easier when the meat's not falling into the fire. We only use the grill side of the gas barbie if there's so much meat that it won't fit on the plate or you want pretty lines on your steak." And then I realised that all those times I've been to barbecues here, I'd never seen a plain barbecue plate. We've been forced to use a metal grill (and have the burger patties break and fall in the fire) not because the Bloomington parks are too cheap to install decent barbecues, it's because the plate style just doesn't exist here. Our guest then proceeded to tell us about an Australian friend of his who had actually built a brick barbecue for his family so that they could cook more easily on a plate.

Cindy Hates Hugging

Apparently the French never learn to hug Platonically. The whole cheek kissing business makes it completely unnecessary.
(As an aside, there's a very complicated system of cheek-kissing in France. The number varies from region to region, e.g. it's two on each cheek for Parisians but less in most other places. This leads to one French person wanting to continue kissing the other and having to explain, "C'est quatre chez moi.")

Yesterday was Cindy's birthday so last night we had a few friends over for a little get together (featuring a Toblerone cheesecake, a punch bowl full of sangria and many empty bottles). The other reason for the party was that a friend was leaving town. So at the end of the night there were a few goodbye hugs. That's when Cindy remembered that she didn't know how to hug. One friend, as she was preparing to leave, went and hugged Cindy goodbye/happy birthday and in response Cindy placed her hands on the friend's bum! (I did see this and wondered a little but, you know, girls will be girls!)

Coming to her senses and realising that she might be sending the wrong message, she had to observe others hugging and note how the arms are held (above the waist).

Now it's causing her a bit of concern but she can't go around refusing people's affections or she'll offend people (like some Jews and Muslims do when they won't shake hand with the opposite sex). So I have advised her to just avoid the hugs altogether and surprise the Americans by greeting them with kisses on the cheek. I'm looking forward to seeing how that goes over.

Entropy

Cindy's computer has had a hard disk crash, again. (So, if you try to talk to me on MSN, it might actually be her using my computer.)

The guy at the computer shop reckons it's because of the current price war, that all this competition leads the hard disk manufacturers to lower their quality control standards. That makes it pretty cheap for us to buy external hard drives for backups but unfortunately that could be contributing to the original problem.

I can't wait until solid-state technology improves.

Goin' where the weather suits my clothes

I think I've worked out why all the buildings here are over-airconditioned. It's because Americans wear jeans all year around. Even in the heat of summer, when it's 35˙C here in Bloomington, half of the people are wearing jeans. There is a slightly negative attitude to shorts in general but for some reason they prefer denim to even light cotton trousers.

I can't help but think that they need to do the opposite of Jimmy Carter's famous, "Put on a sweater and turn down the heat." by just dressing for the weather. They'd be much more comfortable too.

Monroe County Fair '08

Last night we went to this year's Monroe County Fair. It was very similar to last year's where we saw a rodeo.

This time we started off looking at all the animals. There were exhibits of all sorts of poultry, horses, cows, sheep etc. (In keeping with the rural theme, the ketchup and mustard for the hot dogs was dispensed from cow's udders.) We noticed that, just like last year, at the rabbit exhibition there were different breeds of rabbit, including some labelled as "single fryer", "roaster" and "stew". So I encouraged Cindy to go to the horse pavilion and ask, "If these are all riding horses, do you have separate exhibits for the draught- and meat-horses?" But she didn't want to offend anyone so she refused to do it.

This year we we a little more adventurous with the American carnival food. Last year we tried a funnel cake, which Cindy ordered again this year and we also tried a similar item known as an elephant ear.

But that wasn't the most interesting part. The most disgusting American delicacy that we tried was the deep-fried Oreos (sic.). That wasn't all, there were also deep-fried pickles and deep-fried Snickers on the menu (but we didn't try those)! Suffice it to say, last night we consumed enough saturated fat for the next year.

The scariest food ever

I noticed it for sale in our local boutique grocer. I was looking at the various fancy international chocolates when my eyes fell upon this American abomination -- baconised chocolate.

No, your eyes do not deceive you. This product really exists! I couldn't believe it either so I checked the ingredients on the back; it's not bacon-flavoured bits, it's chunks of real bacon in there!

Here's the rationale:

I began experimenting with bacon + chocolate at the tender age of 6, while eating chocolate chip pancakes drenched in Aunt Jemima syrup, as children often do. Beside my chocolate-laden cakes laid three strips of sizzlin' bacon, just barely touching a sweet pool of maple syrup. And then, the magic—just a bite of the bacon was too salty and I yearned for the sweet kiss of chocolate and syrup, so I combined the two. In retrospect, perhaps this was a turning point; for on that plate something magical happened, the beginnings of a combination so ethereal and delicious that it would haunt my thoughts until I found the medium to express it—chocolate.

From there, it was just a matter of time…and what began as a love of salt and sweet quickly unraveled into an obsession. No sooner could I wait to unveil the royal coupling in solid bar form, a deep milk chocolate with bits and pieces of applewood smoked bacon and just a sprinkling of Alder salt. Really, what doesn't taste better with bacon?

It never occurred to me before that bacon might fall into Dr Nick's chocotastic food group.

Teaching

It's summer break here now and the university doesn't pay me for this time so I've found myself a summer job. I'm teaching forensic science to high school kids through a program called Upward Bound. It's specifically for students from disadvantaged backgrounds: 2/3 both come from low income families and neither of their parents have a tertiary education; the remaining 1/3 either come from low income families or neither parent has had tertiary education. The kids all stay on campus and have lessons and other activities.

This means that they have some very... creative given names. "Kahlúa" gets double points for being both a registered trademark and alcoholic (makes me thing that Cointreau or Drambuie might be good names for a boy, or Sambucca for a girl!). "Xotchil" is the most difficult to pronounce. There's also a couple of names with capital letters in the middle but, believe it or not, that's not so rare here in Bloomington, e.g. Cindy has taken classes with a TreVor.

So far it's been a bit of a challenge, behaviour-wise. Lots of talking and quite a bit of sleeping in class. There was also one incident with a student following his class-mate around the room while discreetly holding a retort-stand by his side. When I approached they both sat down and pretended nothing was going on. When I took the retort-stand from him and let him know how serious the situation was, he explained, "But that's my cousin!" Well, I must admit, I have a cousin who I've tried to kill before but I'm glad I didn't.

Anyway, as part of this program (which is federally funded) they are given a weekly allowance of $20. But if they do anything wrong, the teachers deduct money, e.g. late to class is $2 and disrespect is $5. And there is a tutor assigned to the class who keeps track of all misbehaviour and reports it. Luckily she's a no-nonsense sort of person who let's them know when they're out of line.

French Food

Cindy's been working through a list of meals we can't get in America to eat while we're hear here in France. We've had quite a few crêpes, French-style calzones, pains au chocolat (we call 'em "chocolate croissants" but they're not a type of croissant here because they're not crescent-shaped), rillettes, pâté de lapin and choucroute. (As for choucroute, normally I don't like cabbage but I've found that cooked with enough bacon, ham and pork it can be good.)

Tonight we're having a special, complicated-looking dish - raclette. It's like a fondue only it's poured, not dipped. (It comes from the region of France near the Swiss border.) There's this certain meat that they pour it on, grisons, which is now made from beef but traditionally was made from donkey! Apparently it's almost impossible to find the donkey version anymore but old people will sometimes search for it at their local boucheries chevaline. That's right, they have specialised horse butchers. That's how they do things in France, a charcuterie sells pork (and sausages, like a delicatessen), fish comes from a fish-monger and horse from a specialised butcher. The real surprise is that the market near Cindy's house has three such horse shops!

Last time I commented on French food I forgot to mention that they never drink fresh milk, it's always UHT. Cindy claims that this is because of the strong influence Pasteur had on the nation. I find this ironic given the state of their cheeses, and how they refuse to pasteurise the milk for most traditional cheeses. "That," she explains, "Is good contamination."

On a positive note, I think I've finally learnt to tell the difference between brie and camembert. But I still doubt I'd be able to pick out coulommiers in a blind taste test as it's about half-way between those two.

Catacombs

I knew Paris was an old city and I had supposed that there would be all sorts of planning and infrastructure issues involved with keeping such a city running. The question that hadn't really crossed my mind before is, "What happens when all the cemeteries fill up?" (Being a mainly Catholic country they wouldn't want to turn to cremation.)

Apparently this was a serious problem towards the end of the 18th century so they dug up all the bones and packed them densely into catacombs. In front of each pile a sign was placed stating from which cemetery the bones were taken; but of course no identification of individual skeletons. It's a little strange when the signs say something like, "Mixed in with everyone else are the bones of such famous people as Robespierre and Lavoisier."

Since the 19th century they've been a tourist attraction so this afternoon we went and took a tour (something Cindy hadn't seen before). There were signs at the entrance warning people that the ossuary was a bit intense so I was a little surprised to see quite a few children down there. At first I thought it was good that they weren't hyper-sensitised to mere bones but then I noticed an English woman forcing her kids to pose in front of the various piles of skulls. I thought that was a bit macabre.

Champagne

Today was Mothers' Day in France so we drove with Cindy's parents to visit her brother and his family in R(h)eims. The first thing we did there was take a tour of a champagne cellar at the Pommery winery. In fact, it was quite busy so we had to wait for a tour to start and the next tour in French was so far off that they actually decided to take the next tour in English. Which was easier for me and fine for Cindy but the other six of us had little idea what was going on. The cellars were all converted from Roman-era chalk mines so they were quite deep and a little chilly. As we walked through the guide gave us a little info on the production of champagne and constantly reminded us that it was Louise Pommery who first marketed brut champagne at a time when champagnes were much sweeter. (They're almost all brut now.) This all sounded very classy until a couple of weeks later at the airport I saw bottles of Pommery's newest blend, POP, which comes in small, brightly coloured bottles with a straw attached!

After lunch we went to see Rheims cathedral, where many of the French kings were crowned. It was pretty but they didn't give us a glass of champagne at the end of that tour.

Scotland

We really enjoyed Scotland. Our advice was to spend as much time in Edinburgh as possible and don't worry about Glasgow; we're glad we followed it. Edinburgh is a lovely city to walk around and having a castle in the centre just tops it all off nicely. Having a guided tour made it worthwhile. Seeing the Scottish crown jewels was interesting but while we were there we were lucky enough to see a re-enactment. It was a military policeman arresting a soldier from the Black Watch, which gave them the opportunity to discuss the military lifestyle at the end of the Victorian period. The best bit for the tourists (something I'd heard about but wasn't too sure of) was when the MP decided to inspect the soldier's uniform. He took out a mirror on the end of a stick and stuck it under his kilt then asked a lady in the audience to have a look. Well, the actor was wearing underpants, which mean he was out of uniform (apparently they were allowed but only for mixed highland dancing or highland games) so he made up a medical excuse.

There were a lot of tartan shops but not many touristy things to see apart from the castle. (We didn't see the royal yacht Britannia that was recommended.) But we did visit Greyfriars Kirkyard and saw the statue of Bobby.

After a day and a half in Edinburgh we caught a train through Glasgow to Prestwick (a RyanAir hub; it works out cheaper to buy the train ticket just to get on the cheapest airline) to fly back to Paris. Cindy didn't try to bring any knives on board this time but they did insist on confiscating my jar of English marmalade, despite the fact it seemed quite solid to me. Still, I managed to get a fair bit of Cadbury chocolate (which Pat insists is better in England than in Australia).

The North

So after eventually getting the car we drove east to see Stonehenge, where we only stopped for a little while before turning north.

On the plane from America to France we watched (half of) a new French comedy called "Bienvenue chez les Ch'tis". Basically the whole movie is a series of jokes about someone from the south of France not wanting to move to the cold north where people are backward and talk with a funny accent.

All that made me worry a little about visiting my cousins in Yorkshire. Likewise, on their side they were worried about having a French girl stay with them. "Park your Citroën out in the driveway so she feels welcome," they told their grandmother. But all went well. I've heard enough Yorkshire to cope well with the accent. The only thing for me is that, with no definite articles, every noun sounds like a proper noun; "go to fish shop" sounds like there's a town called 'Fish Shop'. But Cindy found it easier without all those superfluous little words getting in the way of the meaningful part of the sentence. And of course our hostess (my third cousin, twenty-eight times removed) was very welcoming and fed us well so I was very happy that I got in touch with her.

The next day we went to York with her and a grandson. The best part of that town was a mediaeval street called "The Shambles".
And we also went to a Viking history centre to learn about the North's Norse heritage. It was quite an elaborate animatronic ride with commentary in several languages and even smells piped in. The smell was a novelty at first but it soon wore off when they showed us a mediaeval toilet. The straining animatronic face was going a bit too far.

We had dinner at the local pub with plenty of family that night and generally felt like we got a good taste of England.

The last thing we saw in England was Hadrian's Wall. For such a long wall it was hard to find! And once we found it we were a little underwhelmed.

London

Like our visit to Italy last year, we're taking a short side trip from our stay in France, this time Britain.

We had a bit of bad luck with the underground. We chose a motel out in the suburbs of north London but near a metro line. Yet when we arrived that line was closed for repairs. (The same thing that happened to us in Rome!) So we had to walk a couple of kilometres from another station, but we made it.

We had two full days there and managed to see plenty - the Tower of London, with a Beefeater-guided tour; Houses of Parliament; Trafalgar Square; St Paul's Cathedral. We didn't get time to go inside Westminster Abbey but I did get a chance to cross Abbey Road.

On the third day we went to pick up the hire car only to find that Google maps had sent us on a wild goose chase. We wasted an hour or two looking for something else. But at least we got to ride some double-decker buses.

Paris

So I'm in Paris with Cindy's family for a few weeks again this summer. I think I'm getting used to French culture; I'm not so surprised now when I see them dipping bread into their bowls of coffee and eating their mouldy cheese.

This time I'll be doing some work while I'm here, some research in the archives of the Académie des Sciences. In the period I'm working on it was called the Académie Royale des Sciences but Cindy tells me I mustn't ever call it that in front of French people, "We behead our royals," she explains proudly. It's going to be interesting when I take her to London to visit the Queen.

Earthquake!

Apparently there was an earthquake last night. I slept through it. It was 5.2 on the Richter scale; that sounds big but I guess I am a heavy sleeper.

The epicentre was not that far from Bloomington:

They say it was felt widely - all the way south to Atlanta and north to Michigan. But not in my bedroom.

I kind of wish I felt it, I've never experienced an earthquake before.

P.S.
Please, Cameron, no bragging about the size of earthquakes in Japan. Or, if you can't help yourself, at least spare us the numbers - no one really understands the Richter scale, it's just something that geologists tell newspapers so that they can sound scientific.

More things Americans don't have

I have tonsilitis. So I went to the pharmacy, that is to say, to the supermarket. Every supermarket has a small pharmacy built in with a proper pharmacist on duty for prescriptions and a small range of non-prescription medicines etc. Conversely, there are stand-alone pharmacies, not usually shop-fronts in malls but free-standing buildings. Having so much floor space, they are led to stock all manner of snack foods, cleaning products, alcohol, you name it! One of the rare occasions I was in one of those, I overheard someone ask if they sold ping-pong balls, and the shop assistant told them which aisle! Anyway, maybe I should have gone to a huge pharmacy because my supermarket pharmacist had never even heard of Betadine gargle. The only iodine he had was for cuts etc. and I don't feel like risking that. And they don't have anything like Butter Menthols either, so I have to make do with honey-lemon flavoured stuff.

In other news, yesterday Cindy's professor made fun of her for saying "poo"; he seemed to think that "poop" is the only acceptable variation in these parts. A quick Google search confirmed that "poop" is far more common in America but the only site that had these under dialect comparisons said that both are acceptable anywhere. I'll have to run it past my friends next time we're down at the pub.

Cricket

The weather is getting warmer here now so yesterday we went for a picnic in a local park. It was a big open space so I took along a little cricket set I bought when I was in Australia.

The Americans all found it a great novelty. They couldn't quite get the point of bowling (they kept saying "pitching") and I had to keep telling them to hold the bat below the waist but the funniest thing was the way in which they all dropped the bat and ran in an arc to the other end of the pitch!

Another Easter

I've mentioned before how Americans don't eat Hot Cross Buns. You can get them but they're iced and you certainly can't get choc-chip ones. So I made some chocolate Hot Cross Buns myself; two batches, in fact.

I don't know if I've mentioned but they don't have large Easter eggs here. The largest ones are about 10cm tall, most common are the little 2cm ones. Certainly no 1kg eggs. I thought everything was supposed to be bigger in America. Maybe they have 3lb eggs in Texas.

Kingdom of the Crystal Skull

Was it something I said?

Today we went to the Bureau of Motor Vehicles so that Cindy could do her driving test (she passed). While I was there I decided to update the address on my licence. As she was processing it on the computer, the woman asked me the usual questions, "Do you still want to be an organ donor?"

"Yes," I replied.

"Would you like to register to vote?" she asked.

"I can't," I explained, "I'm not a citizen." Then, being too curious for my own good, I asked her, "What would you have done had I said yes? Would you have asked for a birth certificate or would my licence have been enough identification for you to enroll me?"

"That's a good question," she replied as she walked away to confer with her supervisor.

When she came back she informed me that, as an alien, the documents I had brought were insufficient to change the address on my driver's licence. I would need not only the old licence and proof of my new address but also all my immigration documents, despite the fact that they sighted them when giving me my original licence. I never did get an answer to my question.

It'd be nice to get a say in who will be elected king of the world in November this year but I don't think it would be worth the risk of getting deported.

Glossary of Academic Terms

I wrote the post below in normal English but I could also have written it in 'Merkin. Here's some of the differences I've noticed:

American	English
college (abstract)	undergraduate education
grad school	postgraduate education
college (concrete)	institution that awards only undergraduate degrees
university	institution that also awards postgraduate degrees
commencement	graduation
regalia	academic dress
diploma	testamur
B.S., M.S.	B.Sc., M.Sc.
M.D.	M.B. B.S. or M.B. B.Ch.
J.D.	L.L.B.
dissertation	doctoral thesis
faculty	academic staff
staff	administrative staff
school e.g. School of Business	faculty e.g. Faculty of Science
department e.g. Philosophy Department	school e.g. School of Philosophy
department chair	head of school
professor	lecturer of any rank
assistant professor	untenured lecturer
discussion section	tutorial
letter grades: A, B, C, D, F	grades: high distinction, distinction, credit, pass, fail
Fraternity/Sorority	combined residence hall and drinking club
proctor	to invigilate

I Am the Master

I picked up my testamur today. I opted out of the graduation ceremony. Apparently I'm not missing much because they don't even call out everybody's name (not unless you're getting a doctorate).

So after my name I can write: B.Sc., B.A.(Hons) UNSW, M.A. Indiana. More importantly, Cindy no longer outranks me so I don't have to salute anymore. Now I just have too keep working on the PhD bit.

After I mentioned not bothering with the ceremony, Cindy told me that she never got one. They don't have them in France, or academic regalia of any sort. They're missing out on a fun costume party! But she'll get her chance in a couple of years, it can go on the list of American experiences (along with Halloween, rodeos etc.).

We don't have a pool room but Cindy and I were wondering about how to display a testamur without seeming like a tosser. We decided that in a house with a water closet, that would be the best place. But our apartment has the toilet in the bathroom and I don't think shower steam would do it any good.

A Week of Festivities

Living a multi-cultural life means a lot of different festivals to celebrate.

Saturday was the French festival Chandeleur. Originally a Catholic festival, it's now about eating crêpes. So I cooked Crêpes Suzette and some savoury buckwheat crêpes that the French call galettes. Apparently the best way is with ham, Swiss cheese and a fried egg; but blue vein cheese and walnuts is also a popular choice.

Sunday was the Superbowl, which in American culture is as important a moveable feast as Easter. We went and watched it at a friend's place. I know more of the rules now but I still don't understand the appeal of gridiron. Still, a meal with friends is always fun. One instructor was complaining beforehand that he knew that Superbowl meant all his students would do badly on Monday's exam. I overheard another American explaining to some international students, "If your team is in the Superbowl, it's perfectly acceptable to be drunk at 10 am." (Kick-off is not until 6.30 pm.) You probably don't remember that last year's winner was the Indianapolis Colts. Well, apparently in the last 12 months the #1 male baby name has been "Peyton", after the Colts' quarterback. (They then tried to tell me that the top girl's name was "Neveah"; I immediately told them about this terrific idea.)

Today (Tuesday) is Shrove Tuesday. I made pikelets. But here no-one knows what Shrove Tuesday is; Americans don't shrive. (That's right, "shrove" is the past tense of "shrive" but I can't remember what it means.)
Instead, because of the Louisiana celebrations, Americans have Mardi Gras. (I even heard one girl use an English translation, "Fat Toosday"!) With the Louisiana Mardi Gras they eat what they call a King cake, based on the French Galette des Rois (which the Frogs eat on 6th January, the Epiphany). It's the same in that they bake a surprise inside (always a baby Jesus in Louisiana, random trinkets in France) but Cindy assures me that the cakes themselves are very different - almond in France, cinnamon in Louisiana. They're in all the supermarkets so I bought one to try, it was ok.

And this Thursday is Chinese New Year. That lasts a few days so Sunday we're going to a festival on campus with a Chinese friend.

More little quirks

I noticed a while ago that Americans eat a lot of apple sauce. For example, it's in those snack boxes that you can buy on domestic flights (which I never buy). I dunno what they do with it, eat it with a spoon like baby food, I guess. I do know that Jews put apple sauce on potato pancakes (which they call latkes) but when I asked someone why they couldn't tell me. But here's the strange thing: when I commented, 'The only thing I associate apple sauce with is pork chops.', they were shocked. None of the Americans in the room had heard of putting apple sauce on pork! One said, 'I've heard of mint sauce on lamb.' but they don't even eat lamb! How can they, with so much apple sauce around, not have discovered the combination of pork and apple sauce?

Oh, and I got a new number plate for my car in the mail today. Strange, they allow me to renew my rego online -- convenient -- but insist on giving me a new plate, even though the other is less than two years old. Sounds like a waste of aluminium, having just insisted on giving me a new plate when I bought the car. Whatever, I never learnt the old number anyway!
The old one looked like this:

A nice field of corn, with a barn in the background, which is what the state actually looks like. The new one is uglier:

But, better still, there's a new style coming out next year that you can request at no extra cost, which will last until 2013:

I'll probably get it if it's free. But I don't see how it's Lincoln's bicentenary, if he was born in 1816 but the plate can only be retained until 2013. The other question is, "Will the Illinoisans resent it?" because they claim Lincoln too. I think he's on all their plates.

Back in the USA

The time is about the same in either direction but coming from Sydney to Indiana is worse. That long leg across the Pacific leaves you feeling completely buggered just when you're trying to stay away to get on and off planes.

I think it might have been a little longer door-to-door because we had to get to the airport so early. We weren't able to check in online so we got there 3 hours before the scheduled departure. Then when we checked our bags they told us we'd only get seats allocated at the gate because they had overbooked -- they were offering people $800 to come back the next day. So when we got to the gate half an hour earlier than the boarding time, the woman told us to go away and come back at boarding. Worried about getting seats, we kept coming back and asking, which I'm sure annoyed her, but we were worried about overbooked flights.

Oh, and when we were going through security something in Cindy's bag attracted their attention. It was the mini leatherman knife (geologists need these things) she had got for Xmas, she'd forgotten to take it out. We apologised but they weren't worried, they kept the knife and that was all. (I have to wonder what would have happened had we tried that at an American airport.)

So eventually we got into Indianapolis at 11pm, where a friend was waiting to drive us back to Bloomington. That was Monday night so we missed the first day of classes but it was worth it.

More Adventures in Australia

Our holiday went basically as per the schedule below. I think we did quite well to combine my need to see friends with Cindy's need to do touristy things.

Tuesday we went to Muru Mittigar for boomerang lessons etc. We took a little tour of the centre and learnt about uses of various plants. When we spoke to the guy making didgeridoos, he explained that he still uses the traditional method of letting termites hollow out the branches. I figured that he must have grown up in a rather traditional community because he spoke with that stereotypical aboriginal accent. Cindy commented that that the way he spoke English sounded just like the rustic accent from central France!

Wednesday went to Featherdale with Lisa and Jezebel, as planned. So Cindy and the little girl both got to pat all the animals. Cindy was eager to see wild kangaroos too, so we went up to Euroka clearing for those.

The BBQ lunch at Steffan's was great. As well as seeing old friends we ate kangaroo. Cindy said she prefers it to beef (but it's not quite as good as horse!).

Saturday we went to the Opera House to see a carols performance. It was an interesting mixture of traditional, formal carols sung by professional opera singers and some more modern numbers. Erin got all excited about the sleigh-ride song.

Then Xmas day was a big deal. We had all my mother's family and some of my father's over at our place for lunch (17 people in all).

Boxing Day we drove up to Wooli. Traffic was ok, got there at a decent time. But the weather was not great. At first it was just a little rain, but after that cyclone came down the Queensland coast the storms became quite violent. We still managed to swim between showers. We'd go in the water, it would start raining so we'd just stay in until the rain stopped!

Back Home

We're now in Australia.

We left Bloomington, Indiana at 11.30 am local time, drove to Indianapolis, flew to Chicago (waited there a few hours), flew to San Francisco, changed planes and then flew to Sydney. My parents picked us up at the airport then drove us out to Penrith. About 30 hours door-to-door.

After dumping our bags and taking a much needed shower we all headed off to my father's family Xmas party at Bobbin Head (another hour in the car!). It was a BBQ picnic, it was a good spread. Got to see lots of family that we haven't seen in a long time. Everyone seemed pleased to got to meet Cindy and I had to explain some connections that she's surely forgotten.

Then today we did some shopping in Penrith. A lot of little things have changed but nothing major. The main thing I noticed is that I now hear accents on everyone (not just the bogans). I feel like the kid from The Sixth Sense, hearing something no one else hears.

And I'm surprised at just how much of a reflex it has become to drive on the right hand side of the road.

Apart from that, it's been pretty easy to settle back in.

It was snowing as I walked to campus today

Just a little, but it was definitely snow.

Follow the Sun

Those storms on the east coast of North America are not dumping snow here in the Mid-West, but it's almost cold enough. This morning it was -2 ˙C but the wind-chill made it -11! And it's only just starting.

I'll be glad for a few weeks of summer!

13 more sleeps

until we leave for Oz.

Another Thanksgiving

Last Thursday was Thanksgiving here. All our American friends left town so we invited a Canadian friend around to share a Turkey dinner with us. She brought pumpkin pie. It was good.

We went to check out the sales on Friday. Apparently you have to get there at 5am to get the really good bargains. We didn't. We bought some bits and pieces that were cheap, but nothing too interesting.

Not much else to report except that I now realise that I forgot to listen to "Alice's Restaurant". Next year.

Tour Dates

We've just bought our plane tickets for the trip home this December. We'll be leaving on the afternoon of Friday 14th but, because the trip takes so long and because we cross the date line, we don't arrive until the morning of Sunday 16th.

That means I won't be able to make it to Cam's BBBQ. No biggie, I don't like gaspacho anyway.

It'll be a busy time of year and I'll only be in Sydney until Boxing Day so, if you want to see me, you'd better make an appointment, otherwise you'll have to take a number and join the queue. So that you don't request an appointment on a day I already have plans, I've posted a rough schedule.

Nick and Cindy will be appearing at the following venues on the dates listed below:

Sunday 16th December - 7.50am arrive Sydney Airport; lunchtime, Xmas party with my father's family.

Monday 17th - shopping for Australian food; visit grandparents; ad hoc shit with Joel

Tuesday 18th - Muru Mittigar?

Wednesday 19th - morning, Penriff markets; afternoon, Featherdale with Lisa and Jezebel

Thursday 20th - morning, city; afternoon, UNSW

Friday 21st - BBQ at Steffan's; Katoomba

Saturday 22nd - day, touristy stuff in town; evening, Opera House

Sunday 23rd - ad hoc shit with Cameron

Monday 24th - my grandmother's birthday

Xmas - lunch at my parents'

Boxing Day - to Wooli

6th January - back to Sydney

Monday 7th - depart Sydney airport 4.15pm; 10.57pm arrive Indianapolis (no, the flight is not that short, we cross the date line)

(I hope posting this information on the internet doesn't make me too easy to assassinate.)

Mazal Tov

So Saturday morning Cindy and I got up early to drive to Pittsburgh with some friends who were also invited to a wedding there.

We checked into our hotels Saturday afternoon and then went for a dinner cruise on the rivers of Pittsburgh. The Allegheny and Monongahela rivers join to form the Ohio river at Pittsburgh, so they count that as three rivers. (The bride grew up there and seems proud of their having three rivers.) It was nice to get a look at the city that we wouldn't have otherwise, on such a whirlwind tour.

I had never been to a Jewish wedding before so I can add this to my list of American experiences. (I had seen my friend Matt break a glass under his foot in order to spite his Christian father-in-law but that doesn't really count.)

As a groomsman, I had to get there a couple of hours early to practise. All that seemed very normal; groom waiting at the altar (ok, not an altar but a tent; but Christian churches don't have real altars either, so why do we say it like that?), groomsmen escorting bridesmaids in, bride brought in by her father (and mother!). But once the ceremony started the differences became bigger. The first thing they did was sign the marriage contract, which the groom assented to despite the fact that it was written in Aramaic. The rabbi read a little of that out (not too much phlegm at that stage, he only read a few sentences.)

Then he gave a sermon/roast of the bride (everyone was laughing) before saying, I think it was seven, blessings in Hebrew. (That's when it started to get a bit phlegmatic.) And the bride and her mother and (I think) the groom's mother, all held hands and did seven laps around the groom. That can take quite a while in a wedding dress!

The bride and groom had to drink from both the glass of joy and the cup of sorrow (more Hebrew blessings on the wine). I don't know why they didn't just skip the cup of sorrow, that might have saved them some worries later. Then a glass was broken underfoot and there was much yelling of "Mazal tov!"

And after the meal they all started dancing the hora. The bride and groom were hoisted up on chairs and danced about; then the bride's parents; and then the groom's gentile parents, who probably weren't expecting that.

Food and drinks were good and I got a souvenir kippah, inscribed inside with the date of the wedding. Oh, and instead of bonbonnieri our gifts were classic novels; I already had a copy of Ivanhoe, so I swapped it with Cindy for Walden.


I should also mention how hard it is to wear a kippah. I've realised that I tilt my head back when I laugh, because every time I laughed that day, even the slightest chuckle, my kippah fell off. Still, I couldn't bring myself to use the bobby-pins provided.

After the reception we hit the road straight away and got home to Bloomington just before midnight.

Dylan Plays Bloomington

We just got home from seeing Bob Dylan in concert for the second time in just a couple of months. This time, instead of having to drive up to Indy, he came to us for IU's Homecoming Concert.

He played a similar set but with more newer songs than last time. Again, it's interesting hearing his older stuff played in his new style. "It Ain't Me, Babe" fares very well (I think he played that both times), "My Back Pages" does ok, but there's something strange about hearing "Blowin' in the Wind" sung to a halting bluesy beat.

Opening for him was Elvis Costello, whose music I don't really know. Still, I was impressed. He played very enthusiastically and engaged the audience quite a lot with the sort of political comments that go down well in a college town. (Bloomington is a pool of Blue in an ocean of Red.)

Tomorrow morning Cindy and I leave for Pittsburgh for a wedding. It's going to be a big weekend.

I'm jinxed

If I haven't posted anything in a long time, if you haven't seen me on your favourite chat network in a while, it's because I'm bad luck with computers.

I've already mentioned that few weeks ago, just before we left for that conference at Toronto, my computer suffered massive hard disk failure. When the new semester started Cindy bought a new MacBook with the money her dept had given her for academic expenses. I quite enjoyed getting that set up for her and was using it a bit myself. Then last week her brand spanking new computer also died!

Which is why I haven't been online much. I check my email regularly with her PC but I'm not very comfortable with these French keyboards so I'm rarely in the mood for new blog posts.

Life in a University Town

Apparently the first weekend of the semester is party weekend. Cindy and I went to a party on Friday night, held by a couple of the older grad students in my department. It was just a few blocks away but as we walked there we must have passed a dozen other house parties. Now, most of the parties are late night events, starting after 9pm. But Bloomington, despite being a college town, has a "quiet nights" policy that is sometimes policed. So, soon after midnight, when the party was just getting started, a couple of cops came by to chase up on a noise complaint. We were all a bit surprised, being grad students we just assumed that the police would be more busy chasing under-age drinking at the undergrad parties. (Don't forget, this is America, you can't drink until 21 so most undergrads are under-age.) They fined each of the house's residents $50, which is not that high but seems strange that the fine is per occupant. The strange thing was that they then threatened to arrest them if the noise continued! Cindy enjoyed that part of the night, we thought the music was a little too loud anyway, and she'd never been to a party where the cops had come. So she was able to chalk that one up on her list of American experiences!

But I did notice that, after 2 years living in Bloomington, I'm starting to know a lot more people at these parties. I had to chase one guy down there in order to pass on a "hi" that I'd been charged with at the Toronto conference. That's the nice side of living in a college town, you often see people you know; whether it be classmates or professors, at a big party or just at the supermarket.

Back in Bloomington, Back to Work

So we made it back to Bloomington at a reasonable hour on Saturday night. We left London, Ontario Saturday morning and drove along the Ontario Peninsula across into Michigan at Sarnia/Port Huron and then south to Indiana. Before leaving Canada I made sure to stop at a supermarket to buy some HP sauce and look for Cadbury Chocolate, which can't be found in the USA. I only found little chocolate bars but I got 1L of sauce for only about C$5.50, much cheaper than buying it from the British section here. Best of all, I noticed a little green tin in the chocolate milk section. Yes, it was Milo! I haven't tried it yet, so I'm not sure whether it's the real thing but it appears not to be that Singaporean stuff that tastes like Ovaltine.

I've been slow in posting because my computer is still dead. Today Cindy bought a new Macbook, something she'd been planning to do for months. So I'll be sharing this one for a while.

Niagara Falls

On our way to Toroto we had two choices of route, through Michigan or through Ohio and New York. We decided to do both and make it a round trip. So first we drove east through Ohio, stopping for lunch at Springfield. That night we stayed at Erie, Pennsylvania, on Lake Erie.

The next morning it was raining buckets but we made it through New York state and across the border into Canada in just a couple of hours. Once across we made a short detour to Niagara Falls. Once we found a park and started walking around, the weather cleared up dramatically and the light became much better for photos.

Conference

A little while ago I submitted an abstract of a paper for a conference. It was accepted, so I'll be speaking at this conference in Toronto. One of my prefoessor's has been advising me and a couple of weeks ago arranged for me to give a practice talk to a few dept members who were still around in the dead of summer. There were some helpful suggestions that I'm just finishing incorporating now.

The conference is on Friday but I've decided to drive up to Toronto, which means leaving tomorrow. Cindy's coming too, so we can share the driving. Still, it's 2 000 km round trip, which with will drive in 4 days. We'll be hiring a car, because Fenry has no air-conditioning (and might not make such a long trip).

Everything was all planned out. But then, this afternoon my computer died. Not a little hard-disk failure like last time but a complete and utter disaster. Luckily I learnt from last time and I've been backing up my documents far more regularly, on both my external hard drive and my iPod. I am now bringing my files up to date so I can print everything out and give my presentation off hard copies.

Something to Contemplate

A comment by Baden on Cameron's blog recently has reminded me of something I've been meaning to write down before I forget. Baden mentioned that he liked asking people how they described animal noises in different languages. This reminded me of my mother's ongoing quest to learn how to say "belly-button" in as many languages as possible. I must admit that I've been known to help out at times.

So far we have:

English: navel
French: nombril (or, more formally, ombilic)
German: Bauchnabel
Greek: ὀμϕαλός (omphalos)
Hindi: sundi
Indonesian: pusar
Italian: ombelico
Javanese: udel
Latin: umbilicus
Malayalam: pokkil

I guess a straightforward word like that would be easy to look up in dictionaries, unlike Baden's onomatopoeia, but that would be cheating.

Unpacking

The unpacking isn't too much of a chore, because of the air-conditioning. But moving the last of my stuff out of the old place hard and cleaning it will be worse. Just a few minutes in the humidity is enough for me to be soaked in sweat.

I think I underestimated the bits and pieces I'd left there yesterday. I brought a full car load by myself today and I think there'll be another half a load for me to get tomorrow when I go to clean the place.

Living in Sin

Cindy and I moved into the new apartment today.

We had spent the evening packing stuff into boxes and plastic shopping bags. Then this morning we got up early (well, 8 is early for us) to collect the keys and start moving stuff to the new place. We did two car loads of small things ourselves in the morning. Then Cindy went and borrowed a van from her department, and a few friends turned up to help us with the big things. My desk was the biggest and heaviest so we did that first. Everything was much easier after that.

Americans don't move fridges. They belong to the house or apartment so there's always one there when you arrive. You don't get as much choice but there's certainly a lot less work this way. Because Bloomington is a college town, everyone is moving right now - you see a U-Haul truck every couple of blocks. In fact, people are leaving in so much of a hurry that they often don't have time to try to sell off their old furniture and you can find perfectly good stuff just sitting out on the street. A few weeks ago I got an old sturdy book-case and today we were lucky enough to find a very clean-looking sofa in front of my building, right when we have the van to move it. So now there's a bit more furniture to help fill this much bigger apartment.

We stopped at around 2 pm after we got all the big things and the heavy things like books. That's almost everything now; I have just a few bits and pieces to collect when I go back to clean up.

The new apartment is not just bigger than the old one, it's much nicer. There's a lot more windows, tons more cupboard space in the kitchen. The best part is that there is a dishwasher and central heating and cooling (that the landlord pays for)!

If I haven't already emailed you my new address and you need it, let me know.

I'll have to buy myself something cotton

Today's my second anniversary of living in the USA. Just like last year, it does feel like I've been here for a long time, but it's hard to believe that I haven't been back for two years!

The biggest thing on my mind at the moment is how much stuff I've accumulated in that time. When I came here I had only my suitcases (albeit the maximum the airline would allow) and a small box of books I shipped over. It's hard to believe how much stuff I now have. Slowly but surely I bought various pieces of furniture, most of it necessary to live comfortably; and millions of books, most of them necessary for my classes.

Preparing to Move

After two years living on Lincoln St (such an American name!) I'm moving to a new apartment later this week. At the moment my apartment is full of Cindy's junk, so I'll be glad to be moving into a two-bedroom with a much bigger living room, so we can spread out a little.

We're having to move in a little earlier than expected because Cindy has to go on a work trip, so now we're hurriedly phoning everyone to make arrangements to get in to the place earlier, turn on the electricity etc.

I've already helped some friends move so I've got them and others coming to help carry some of the heavy stuff. The worst part is, though, that the forecast for Thursday is 37˙C. And in Bloomington you can be sure it won't be a dry 37, it'll be like a sauna!

The Simpsons Movie

Today's opening day for The Simpsons movie here, so last night I went to the midnight session with a few friends (most of us are night-owls anyway). I was impressed that so many people turned up at such an hour. Sean insisted that we get there an hour early to get a good seat. That didn't seem necessary but by the time the movie started the cinema was full. And it was playing on two screens at that time!

It was a good movie, consistently funny throughout. It's as though they had been saving up all the good jokes for the last few seasons, letting the show go down a little, just to pack them all into this movie. I enjoyed it.

County Fair

Tonight we went to the Monroe County Fair with some friends to get a taste of rural Indiana. Living in Bloomington (a little pool of Blue in a sea of Red) you rarely see people wearing bib-n-brace overalls or cowboy hats but at the fair almost everyone was dressed either as a cowboy or a hayseed. The rodeo riders all wore big white ten-gallon hats and even chaps over their jeans; those showing off their livestock wore overalls, straw hats and chewed on toothpicks.

The rides were pretty good but the one that sticks you to the wall with centrifugal force nauseated Cindy. We got to eat some American style carnival food like funnel cakes and, Cindy's favourite, kettle corn (popcorn with both salt and sugar). We refrained from trying the deep-fried Oreos and Snickers.


Before we left we stopped to watch the rodeo for a little while and captured a few rides on video. It was quite impressive, really. Some stayed on much longer than others, one of the clowns got head-butted by more than one of the bulls. The commentators spoke with quite thick southern accents so Cindy was blissfully unaware of what they were saying while I had to endure their terrible jokes.

Dylan

Last night I drove up to Indianapolis to see Bob Dylan in concert. It was the first time I'd seen him live, even though I've been a fan for a few years now. (Cindy commented, "We're going to see your god!")

It was great. A good mix of old and new tunes. It's always worth seeing Dylan play his old tunes because he always reinterprets them. It was quite interesting to hear old classics like Rainy Day Women, It ain't me babe and Tangled up in Blue played in his current rolling-blues style. But with his now raspy voice, changing the tunes makes them rather hard to recognise. It made me realise how much more Dylan reinterprets his own songs, compared to most of the covers out there that simply try to recreate the original. (E.g. Dylan played another electrified version of "I don't believe you", different again from the Royal Albert Hall version. And his bluesy "Tangled up in Blue" so much more different from the original than The Whitlams' cover.)

He only played guitar on the first few, he then played keyboard for most of the songs, bringing out the harmonica for the old tunes. (The crowd cheered the first time he brought out the harp, because he doesn't use it as much these days.) It was a great night.

The Simpsons

Some of you might have heard that, in honour of the upcoming Simpsons movie, many of the 7-11s here in the US are being decked out as Kwik-E-Marts.

I didn't realise that Bloomington even had a 7-11; turns out it does and while it wasn't completely converted they were selling some Kwik-E-Mart stuff. So, being the good little corporate drone that I am, I bought some Buzz Cola and a Homer cookie. But I didn't pay $2 for a collectable plastic cup for my Squishee, I refer to all such drinks as Squishees anyway. I also could have bought a box of Krusty-Os but I didn't really want to find that jagged metal Krusty-O.

The closest one to me actually done up is in Chicago. That's a fair way and I have no other reason to drive to Chicago but seeing Jasper in the freezer temps me.

Back in the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave

I just got back into Bloomington last night.

The first leg from Charles de Gaulle airport at Paris was delayed slightly because we weren't able to fly over the UK for security reasons. At the time I wondered if that meant terrorism, seems I was right.

Then my next flight, from Detroit to Indianapolis, was 40 mins late to board for the more mundane reason that there was too much air traffic for the crew to get to us on time. So I missed the 8.40 pm bus but got the 10.40, arriving after midnight. I was awake for about 30h, I think. Then I slept for the next 12.

Cuisine Française

Living with a French family for a week allowed me the opportunity to see what French food is like, beyond the frogs' legs and escargot stereotype.

The first day there we went to an Hypermarché (pronounced 'ipermarshay), which in American terms is like a SuperWalmart or in Australian terms is like a Big W and a Woolies combined. Most of the stuff seemed pretty normal. There was plenty of Nestlé chocolate, which is hard to find in the USA, and Cindy was able to stock up on Kinder; Milka seemed to be the most popular but there was none of that disgusting Hersheys. It was the fresh produce section that was significantly different. Snails, horse meat, and the moldiest most disgusting cheeses I have ever seen.

Cheese really is a big thing in France; there's always a cheese course for any large meal. Mostly the large meals are in the middle of the day. And just about every restaurant offers set menus so that you get an entrée, main and then either cheese or dessert. (In Italy, too, there's a lot of set menus with pasta for first course then a meatier main.) And there's always a small, strong black coffee after lunch (but never after dinner). Yet coffee at breakfast time is always weak and milky - café au lait. The weirdest thing is the way they eat breakfast. Yes, a continental breakfast is coffee and pastries but at home they eat in in a funny way. They serve the coffee (or hot chocolate) in a bowl and then dip their croissants, brioche or toasted baguette into it. And Cindy's father, after he's had enough bread, he adds muesli to the remainder of his coffee!

I got to try tons of typical French dishes: various cheeses, traditional crêpes and galettes (a savoury buckwheat crêpe), ratatouille, pastis, cheval and foie gras. That last one was probably the only scary one. They just cut this whole lump of foie gras into quaters for everyone to have a great chunk. I only tried a little bit (partly because it's typically French, partly because it's becoming illegal in many parts of the US), not wanting to force myself to eat something so expensive that someone else would actually enjoy. It was a little better than normal pâté, which I don't like, but not much.

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.