Another Indignity

The time is drawing short and there are only two days before we leave here, headed for Spain and our next Viking cruise.  We are getting things done.  I still have to lay in treats for Ashley and her husband, who live here when we are gone.  I did get all of my mail finished and sent.  I got my laundry folded, which almost never happens.  Walt has put a stop on the mail and the newspapers and harvested our pomegranates for Ashley and David.

I have been trying to get out to the nearby outlet mall to get a new bum bag and some clothes. 

Bum bag.  We used to call it a fanny pack until Peggy came here and told us that in Australia "fanny" is the term for "vulva," so Australians refer to it as a "bum bag."  We started calling it bum bag in case we should run into Australians some day.  But when I went to the luggage store today I reverted back in terminology to be understood and said I was looking for a fanny pack and the clerk told me they aren't permitted to call it a fanny pack any more.  Now it's a "hip hop" (though "fanny pack" seems to be prevalent all over the internet). 

I also found these fun synonyms on Wikipedia:

A fanny pack, belt pack, belly bag, buffalo pouch, hip sack, phanny pack, waist bag, waistpack, butt pack (US), waist wallet (Canada), hip pack (UK), belt bag (Philippines), bum bag (UK, Ireland, South America, Australia, New Zealand) or moon bag (South Africa), is a small fabric pouch usually secured with a zipper and worn by use of a strap around the hips or waist.

But anyway, I did get a new bum bag, which was a necessity.  I have one that I have used for years, but it is somewhere buried in the "50th anniversary clean up" boxes.  Besides, it was probably time for a new one anyway.

Then I went to the fat lady store to see if I could get some pants that aren't sweat pants, as that is about all I wear any more.  I did find some that I like and was so discouraged to discover that (a) the largest size on the rack fits just fine, but (b) I'm now too short for regular slacks.  Yes, the average size pant is perfect from the waist down to the knee, but when you get to the cuffs, they drag on the ground.  I found one pair in a short and those were fine, but they didn't have any other paints I could find in that large a size in a short length. Harumph.  Hell to get old! But at least I have one new pair of pants, and no energy to go looking in another store.  And I have a couple pairs of "good" pants that I wear for dress up and then the sweat pants.  I'll take the ones that show the least wear.

Then I have to choose among my many t-shirts and other shirts trying to figure out how dressy an ocean ship is compared to the casual river cruises we are used to.  Which political message do I want to wear throughout Europe?  Elephant conservation? Compassion kids? "I love 'Outlander'"? or just silly stuff?

I did clean out two drawers yesterday and found a ton of things I'd forgotten I had, and that was good.  I also freed up space, which was also very good.

Tomorrow is the 95th birthday of the venerable Arthur Sullivan (the other one) and we are happy to be sharing the day with him and lots of our Lamplighter friends.  I still have to do one more washing for my mother and get all of her pills for the next 3 weeks ready for her.  I've talked with the woman at Atria who has promised to look in on her every day to make sure she has taken her pills.  But things in the Mom Department are pretty much taken care of, thank goodness.  I'm almost but not quite starting to disengage for the time we are gone.

I still have to do all the computer stuff, setting up things on flash drives (so I have backups if the first one crashes) and remembering all the cords I need to bring and remember to check that I still have the plug that you need to convert wattage.  And I need to modify the look of this page to represent the "Mediterranean Odyssey" pages.

While I am doing all of this stuff, Walt is cleaning, vacuuming, mowing, washing, repairing, and all the things you do to take care of a house as well as making sure all our travel plans are in order and that we have the proper currency for the trip.  I'm on the computer and checking the recordings on the DVR for while we are gone, and watching Benghazi reporting.  I am a bad person.

My Infamous Tour

A few weeks ago, I had an e-mail from someone I'd "met" on Facebook, saying that she and her son were going to be in San Francisco and wondering if we could meet face to face. Naturally I offered to give them my San Francisco tour.

So today I drove down to the Holiday Inn, a few blocks from where I grew up, along Fisherman's Wharf and I met Nicole and Benjamin and we started our day together. Benjamin, 14, had worried that I might be an axe murderer, but I promised his mother that I would leave (most of) my knives at home.

Not only did I leave my knives at home, though, I also, unfortunately, left my camera at home, and so this report does not come with the usual collection of photos, only a few that I took with my cell phone.

It was kind of an odd day even before I left Davis, because I had received an e-mail from Char saying she had just made reserations for her and Mike, Walt and me, on a cruise in China next year and that a deposit must be made by tomorrow. We hadn't really discussed this trip, other than very peripherally. She said she would call me in an hour ("to let the shock wear off"). I e-mailed back that I would be gone, but that she should call Walt, who would be waiting for her call.

So Nicole, Benjamin and I set off on our tour, down along San Francisco's Marina, up Doyle Drive to the Presidio and down to Fort Point, under the Golden Gate Bridge, then out the Presidio through Sea Cliff (and past Robin Williams' house). As we were leaving Sea Cliff I had a call from Char, saying she had talked to Walt and that we were set and that she thought she had talked him into the extension trip to Hong Kong. While I was talking to her, Walt called, so I pulled over at a Golden Gate Bridge view spot to talk to him while Nicole and her son took some photos.

When I got off the phone, we had decided to do both the China cruise and the extension to Hong Kong. Since we hadn't even thought about China before this, that was one snap decision. It's nice that we have Char around to plan our lives for us. She does such a good job of it!

My little local tour group continued on past the Palace of the Legion of Honor down to the ocean beach and past the Cliff House. We stopped for lunch at the Beach Chalet Brewery and Restaurant. This place is a definite viable alternative to Greens, which is closed on Mondays. It has a spectacular ocean view and the food is quite good.

I had--what else?--Crab Louis, which was delicious. Benjamin had fish and chips that were huge and looked fantastic. For dessert I had a creme brulee while Nicole and Benjamin shared the Chalet's apparently signature "castle" dessert, which was a study in chocolate indulgence, with a pathway of chopped peanuts leading up to the castle itself.

While we ate, we tried to figure out if that animal in the parking lot was a cat or a fox. With no camera, I wasn't able to zoom in and check it close up.

When lunch was finished, we continued the tour through Golden Gate Park, the Haight-Ashbury, and up to Twin Peaks, though by this time the fog was so thick you could barely see the road, so scenic views were totally lost. But we went down the other side, and through the Castro District to Dolores Street, where I showed them the old Mission (first building built in the city), then down Market St. to Filbert and up past Davies Symphony hall, the opera house, and City Hall, up Geary St to go past the washing machine agitator that is St. Mary's Cathedral, out Geary St to Divisidero and then up and down one of the steep hills (it's always such an impressive hill that I never warn the guests that I have an ever steeper hill farther on!) and to the Palace of Fine Arts.

And then we headed for Lombard Street and the crooked street, which was totally mobbed by tourists today. Up Leavenworth St. to point out the flat where I was raised and then around again to Filbert Street, the steepest hill in the city (a 31.5% grade--there is another hill in the city which is the same steepness, but none steeper), and then down to Columbus Ave and back to their hotel.

I had a marvelous time and found Nicole and her son to be delightful people. I'm batting 1,000 with meeting friends from the Internet!

After I left them, I went home over the Golden Gate Bridge, expecting to hit pockets of rush hour traffic, since it was 5 p.m. but I didn't hit heavy traffic anywhere. I was almost disappointed, since I'm so close to finishing my latest Diana Gabaldon novel (audiobook version) and would have enjoyed being stuck in traffic for awhile!

Fortunately, I had thought to do a crock pot dinner, so I didn't have to cook after I got home. And then I had the evening free to check out the itinerary for our next trip! (Did I mention that we're going to China next May?)

Reunions Are Fun

The nice thing about the Europe group was that we genuinely liked each other and so having two reunions instead of just one was just dandy for all of us.

Actually, Jeri had set the date for our reunion shortly after our return. She asked if we could make it August 30, because she would be out here then. Everyone enthusiastically agreed, but then it turned out we couldn't wait that long to see each other again, so Diane and David hosted a reunion a couple of weeks after our return. Several people didn't come to that one because of other commitments and knowing we would have the chance to see each other on the 30th. Today was the 30th and so we gathered at Char's daughter Dana's home and everybody was very happy to see everybody else.

(Jeri pointed out that it was her first anniversary and she was sharing it with us and not with her husband!)

I had, of course, brought the puppies and everybody was interested in watching me feed them, even the ubiquitous Bongo.

This is Higgins and as I was feeding him, he was pooping out the other end. When I finished feeding him and started to take him to the carrying crate, he did something he had never done before -- he pooped on my foot and on the floor. One of the women offered to hold him while I cleaned up and then he pooped on her! This is the pup who ate so much yesterday he gained 3-1/2 oz, so I think we don't have to worry much about Higgins fading any time soon.

Everybody had brought food to share and I again made my pesto lasagna, which I liked so much in Portofino and had made for Cousins Day. It turned out pretty good and I don't think I'll be making pesto lasagna again in the near future--I may have OD'd by now!

But there was plenty from which to choose.

People also sat around checking through each other's photo albums...

...or watching slide shows on one of the two laptop computers or the big screen TV.

Tavie had put together a card of appreciation for Jennifer, our tour organizer, with input from everybody in the tour troup.

Char had received an e-mail from our tour guide, Ian Graham, and everybody read that and it sparked a round of "memories of Ian," amidst much laughter.

I remarked at how much better it was tonight than it had been at the pre-trip "getting to know you" dinners, and how much easier it was to talk with everyone, and how genuinely happy we were to see everyone who was able to come to the gathering (I think there were only 2 people who didn't make it).

It's too bad the trip was so darn expensive. This would be a great group to travel with again, though I think Jeri and I shot our wad with this trip!

The Return of Bongo

It was so nice to see Bongo again tonight.

When we were on our trip, we talked about having an "after party" to rehash the trip and to share photos (though many of us have already posted them on line). With no date chosen, Jeri took the bull by the horns and suggested we have the party on August 30, when she will be in town and can attend. Everybody agreed that sounded like a great idea, so the party is set for August 30.

But some people decided that was way too long to wait, so an interim gathering was set for tonight. Thing was that not everybody could make it tonight, but Sheri, Ashley and Bongo came so I took the above photo to send to Jeri, so she wouldn't feel left out. He's sitting next to a container of prosciutto and melon that I brought as my contribution to the dinner. I think I may finally have gotten prosciutto and melon out of my system!

We enjoyed sitting around our hosts' gorgeous back yard, overlooking Mt. Diablo

What a difference it was this time vs. the pre-trip parties. This time I wasn't uncomfortably standing around trying to get to know strangers I would soon be spending two weeks with, I was sharing memories with old friends who had survived the Bataan march together. I was hearing about how Kathy and Russ's trip to Spain had gone and what other people thought about the hell that is DeGaulle Airport security. It was remembering Ian and laughing about the time David posed with the statue of David.

It was remembering the gelato and the chocolate croissants and the Big Head and Jennifer's trip to the doctor and all the other things we enjoyed together. It was sad that only about 10 of the group could make it, but fun that two of them, who were supposed to be at a party somewhere else, had to stop by for a few minutes because they couldn't stand not to see us when we got together for the first time. But I think almost everybody will be there on the 30th, when Jeri is able to join us.

At Cousins Day, Kathy asked what the state of the economy was in France and Italy and I replied that we stayed in 4-star hotels and you really didn't get a sense of that (or at least I didn't because I wasn't looking), but we were talking tonight about how few other guests there seemed to be at most of the other hotels (except the one in Paris, which I learned is owned by the same corporation that owns Motel 6 here). Once we left Paris, there were no other tour groups, no tour buses and in a couple of hotels, we never saw any other guests. The guy at our last hotel, outside Florence, said business was terrible and that not only were they not getting any customers, but the U.S. was no longer ordering their wine, which had been a huge financial blow to them, since it's their wine exports that pay for the upkeep on the hotel. (Makes me wish, now, that I had bought a bottle of wine, in addition to the olive oil I bought!)

I'm looking forward to getting us all together next month, when Jeri is here. We are now old friends who survived the 2 week tour and share memories we will never have with anyone else, though the chance of me seeing most of the others again is slight!

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SPECIAL LAWSUIT ALERT: Ned has been posting old Lawsuit videos (because, of course, there are no new Lawsuit videos!) on the "Lawsuit Music Channel" on You Tube. If you were a fan and are missing Lawsuit in your life, or if you just wonder what the magic was all about, by all means check it out!

Health Again

I woke up without a fever this morning, though still feeling weak, since I'd spent 3 days pretty much doing nothing but sleeping. However, by mid-morning, after a real breakfast (I'd eaten almost nothing for 3 days), and actually walking around, I felt human again.

I finally got myself upstairs for the first time since I'd been home. I hadn't really felt like I wanted to climb stairs ever. ever again, so, especially since I was sick, I hadn't even taken a shower (no wonder the dogs stayed away). But having had a bath and washed all the grease out of my hair and getting dressed for the first time in 3 days, I felt so human, I even went to the store.

It was the pesto and the croissants which drove me. I really needed chocolate croissants and was eager to make pesto for the trofiette we'd bought in Italy.

Something happened to my system on this trip. I found that I craved greens and fruits and really didn't go for the pastries as much as I thought I would (except for the breakfast croissants). I also ate at regular times and was too busy wiping sweat from my face to eat between meals. Since I've been home, I've noticed my appetite is much less than it was before I left. I've been drinking more water (I vowed that I'd never be thirsty again!) and eating less food. The 3 days I was sick, I ate hardly anything at all.

I bought chocolate croissants which we will have for breakfast tomorrow morning but, you know what? I was literally appalled at how big they were. They are easily 1-1/2 times the size of the ones we had at the hotel. No wonder we're such a fat country, she says, sitting here drooping fat off the sides of her chair. Apparently Europeans don't deny themselves treats like flaky pastries because the pastries are just enough to satisfy the appetite and not overstuff the stomach! We are not only the nation of "supersize me" but also the nation of "eat all your food...there are starving children in Bangladesh (or the country du jour)" So you can't just eat half of one of these enormous croissants or some child in Bangladesh is going to collapse from hunger.

I've been noticing how I feel the past couple of days, with respect to food. Oh, I know that it won't take long at all for me to forget everything I've learned subliminally on this trip, but it's interesting to notice that I do, for one brief moment, feel different about food.

Tonight I finally cooked the trofiette that we bought in Margherite Ligure, and I made pesto (even bought pine nuts, which I never put in pesto, even though you're supposed to), and I used the "good" olive oil. Then since I was craving melon I bought some cantaloupe and prosciutto. When dinner came, I served myself less than half of the past I would normally have served and then only had a few bites of that. The melon and prosciutto filled me up.

Our dinner tonight

It would be lovely if I could keep up the momentum, but I know me and it will only take a few days to get back into the old habits, but it's been an interesting food experiment.

Someone on Facebook asked me what "ACIS" was, so I went looking to see what the letters stood for (I never did find out--it's the group that booked our trip). I did, however, find an interesting description of their adult trips:

• Itineraries that are moderately paced, with the perfect balance of free time and inclusions that appeal directly to adults' sense of exploration.

• A theme-based Limited Edition trip crafted by our team of expert tour managers themselves, a Classic trip that offers a new perspective on some of our favorite destinations, or an At Home trip that allows for deep immersion into the daily life and local culture of each destination.

• Sample hotels provided for every city on your itinerary, with double rooms standard.

• Wine with meals and hotel porterage built in.

• A welcome reception and special farewell dinner to extend our hospitality.

I want to know where those "moderately paced" trips are that give you so much "free time that appeal directly to adults' sense of exploration."

I also want to know where the wine is with meals. We got wine a couple of times, but most times we had to buy our own wine. And you'd kinda think that if you're going to spend $6,000 on a trip, they wouldn't pass the hat to make you pay the 5 euros for the subway, would you?

I filled out the evaluation form for the trip today and while I loved being there, loved the hotels, loved everything I saw, I did say I would not recommend this trip to anybody else and aired a few complaints, specifically relating to pace and time to explore and the wine with meals (even though I generally drank water anyway, it still seemed cheap to give us a meal and make us buy our own drinks).

Note that all photos are now posted to Flickr and I've started going back to the original entries and redoing them, adding more details and lots and lots of photos. Not that I expect anybody to re-read anything--they are more like a scrapbook for me. But in case you're feeling masochistic. I've only gotten that part of the project finished up to the 26th, so I have several more days to go of the project.

The Trip Bug

Jennifer and Carol, both reading "Guernsey Literary and
Potato Peel Society" at the Florence Airport

Carol got it first. Jennifer, our tour organizer, is a French teacher at a high school and Carol is the school's counselor. They spent a lot of time together, so I don't know when it was that we became aware of the fact that Carol wasn't feeling well. I think it was on the last day in Paris. People were pooling the meds they had brought to see if they could find anything that would help her feel better.

The day we left for Italy, I asked Jennifer if she was feeling all right. She looked terrible. She is a very quiet person and she said she thought she was feeling sick. She went with us to Cinque Terra and even got off to hike around, but she skipped the trip to Portofino for dinner that night and sent Ian out to buy pasta for her.

When we got to Siena, she was feeling so sick that she skipped our welcome dinner in Florence. Ian and Antonio took her -- on the bus! -- into Siena to see a doctor and get meds. I think she skipped the day in Florence entirely (I don't remember her being on the bus), but by the time we left Florence, she was feeling OK again.

After I returned home, I had e-mail from two other members of our group who had come down with it when they got home.

I was feeling pretty cocky. I had gotten home, Walt was in Santa Barbara and I spent the day unpacking, organizing, and starting to look at my photos. I didn't go to sleep until 11 p.m. and, with one brief interruption to move from the couch to the recliner, I slept all night until about 7 a.m. I had licked the "jet lag" thing and was already back on California time and feeling just fine.

Walt returned home the day after I did and all was well, but around 9:45, I was feeling sleepy, so decided to go to sleep. I woke up, wide awake at 1:30 a.m. and since I was so into the photograph thing, I sat up until 5 loading pictures into Flickr. At 5, I was feeling sleepy again, so I climbed into the recliner and went back to sleep until 9. When I woke up at 9, I had "the bug." My chest was tight, I couldn't breathe, I had no voice, and I felt awful.

I spent almost the entire day in the recliner napping. I would get up to start another batch of photos uploading to Flickr, but since it takes a very long time to upload a lot of photos, I just crawled back to the recliner while Flickr did its work. I hardly ate anything and Walt went out to get dinner, which I had just a little of.

I had to review a show last night and could barely stay awake through the lively Thoroughly Modern Millie. Walt must have poked me 100 times to wake me up (he said I was moaning off and on!). When we got home, I went straight to the recliner and was asleep almost immediately. I woke up a couple of times, but went right back to sleep again. As I write this (5 a.m. -- I finally got up because I really had to get the review in right away), I know that I am probably going to spend most of today in the recliner too. The chest isn't quite as tight as it was, unless I cough. But now I have a sore throat to add to the other symptoms. I'm hoping that the five of us who caught this thing are the only ones who get it...now I understand why Jennifer looked so bad the day she got sick!

Yesterday I said I would talk about getting home from Florence. Lemme tell you, ain't nobody gonna sneak anything by security in Paris!

The day started at 4 a.m., loading the bus. By 4:15 we were on the road. The hotel had packed breakfasts for us to take with us. We got to the Florence airport where most of us were flying out within the hour. Ian was taking the train to the north of France, Char and Tavie were flying to Belgium to visit relatives, and Jeri, since she was going to Boston instead of San Francisco, was to get her connecting flight in Berlin instead of Paris. We said our goodbyes and left the others standing there as we climbed the...yes, stairs again...to the security area. After we went through security, we went downstairs again to the waiting area and eventually boarded a bus to take us to the plane to Paris.

I was very glad that I had upgraded my seat for the flight to SF because my big butt did not fit in the seat and I felt just horrible about intruding on Carol's space (to say nothing of the pain in my rear for the hour and a half flight!)

It seemed like an hour would be plenty of time to catch our connecting flight, but the Paris airport is crazy. I don't know if this graphic helps.

We flew into terminal three and were leaving from 2E, gate 72. To get to 2E, you had to board a tram that took out OUT of the airport and round and round the parking lots, which meant that you arrived at Terminal 2 and went back in again, which means going through security again. I've lost track of exactly what we did. You take a huge long escalator up to the departure floor, then line up, Disneyland-style, in switchbacks with everyone else in Europe. There is a first guy who tells you whether you should go to the yellow line or the green line. I don't know what the determination is, since half of us were yellow and half were green.

Then you go to the examiners, who are in booths. They direct you to where your gate is. Not bad at all, I thought!

Well, the terminal directs you to gates 21-76. We were in gate 72, which tells you how far we had to go. You catch a tram to take you to 51-76 and Jennifer herded us all on the tram, only to decide at the last minute we were on the wrong tram. She pulled two of us out and yelled at the others "Don't forget--gate 72!!!" We took the next tram and discovered that when we got there the others were already there waiting for us.

Now were in another switchback line that stretched forever. Jennifer tried to get someone to let us cut in since our plane was leaving so soon, but was told to wait in line. This is where you take off your shoes and practically disrobe.

From there it was only 20 or so gates to the plane (somehow I thought there was a third switchback line, but I can't remember where it was), and the moving walkways weren't all moving. It was like being back in Florence again without the 90 degree heat. I think I was the next to last person to board the plane, but once I'd gone through the two screenings at the gate, I knew I was home free.

I had chosen a seat on the aisle when I checked in the night before, which was very smart because I could stretch my bothersome leg out into the aisle without problem. The only problem was that the guy in the window seat seemed to want to get up every hour at least, so I spent most of the ride getting up to let him in or out.

But the food was good, I was able to watch a movie (in English, even--I watched Doubt in French coming over because I couldn't figure out how to get it in English!), I finished one book and started another and the time really did almost "fly."

I was never so glad to see anyone as I was to see Mike, Char's husband, who met us at the airport. Since the trip began, I had expanded from two suitcases to one and I couldn't even see where to catch BART and the idea of schlepping all the luggage on BART, a city bus, and the train was almost like doing Florence all over again.

It was so good to be home again!