Suz travels the world and finds all the answers

The travelling-home plans

nobody@vox.com(Mlle Susanne) — Sat, 21 Apr 2007 08:26:59 -0700

Figured it was time to tell youse guys what I'm up to on the homeward voyage, so here it is:

May 1 (possibly earlier): leave Vancouver, go down to Seattle.
May 2: Seattle -> Chicago to meet my dad.
May 3-6: Hang around in Chicago w/Dad, then he flies on on the 5th, and I hang around a bit more.
May 7: Fly to Toronto.
May 8-9: Hang with Janet, who I met on tour of Spain, in Toronto.
May 10: Cait arrives in Toronto and I move to the hostel with her.
May 11-14: Do Toronto stuff, visit Niagara etc.
May 15: Toronto -> Ottawa.
May 16: Ottawa -> Montreal.
May 17-22: Montreal + Quebec City.
May 23: Montreal -> Boston.
May 24-25: Boston + Salem.
May 26: Boston -> Vancouver via Toronto (bye Cait! ;_; who is going to Cuba from Toronto, as you do).
May 27-28: Vancouver again. Picking up some stuff, final look at the fair city.
May 29: Vancouver -> LA (Anaheim)
May 30-31: DISNEYLAND with friend Jen.
May 31: LA -> Sydney (losing a day on the flight)
June 2nd: Sydney -> HOME.

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Twenty Firsts

nobody@vox.com(Mlle Susanne) — Tue, 10 Apr 2007 09:15:07 -0700

Hi everyone, thank you for the birthday wishes... it is indeed my 21st birthday today (or, yesterday in Australia). I'm sorry I haven't been keeping up with the blog; it's because I've hit Vancouver, and I don't really know what I can say to make you love this place as much as I do. I know a lot of you aren't North America people, and some were slightly baffled by why I decided to come to Vancouver when I could go to far-flung climes unknown, but the thing is, I love it here. And I could live here. And I haven't yet found the words to convey that. But hopefully eventually I will.

Anyways, other places we have been:

- Calgary, Alta.
- Golden, BC.
- Panorama, BC.
- Victoria, BC.
- Seattle, WA.
- Chilliwack, BC.

And rest assured, accounts of those will follow at some point.

Also, at the end of April, term ends here, and I am heading off travelling again, via: Seattle, Chicago, Toronto, Ottawa, Montreal, Boston and Salem (in that order), then back to Vancouver, possibly via LA, and home. I get home currently on the 1st of June, but I'm going to change my flight most likely, which means it could be the 31st May, the 1st June, or the 2nd June.

But definitely, DEFINITELY before the 3rd June, which is Elise's birthday!

Ciao for now... I haven't forgotten this blog and I swear I'll update it again soon.

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Officer, Arrest that Mad Australian!

nobody@vox.com(Mlle Susanne) — Mon, 26 Feb 2007 11:45:44 -0800

Look! Only one day after my previous post, I RETURN to continue my GRIPPING NARRATIVE.

SAN FRANCISCO.

Suz and Natalie, HARDENED CRIMINALS

As I believe I'd mentioned, after our delicious breakfast Mary, Natalie and I hopped in Mary's SUV and drove up to San Francisco. I'd expressed a desire to go out to Alcatraz, so that was what we did first, hopping on a ferry and going out to see the island. It was great--very creepy, and the audio tour (I am sporting the sexy headphones in one of the pics) was excellent.
I was feeling kinda ill again (not nauseous, though), so after our visit to Alcatraz, we

Alcatraz Prison

went down to the pier (um... the famous one), and sat down for Clam Chowder in a cute little restaurant. It was excellent--I am not sure if I've had Clam Chowder before--I probably have--but this was very good clam chowder. I also ate a lot of bread.
After that, we walked up the street to the tram turnaround place. Um... the San Francisco trams, when they reach the end of the line, they literally turn them around on a but turntable, with two guys pushing it. It's pretty cool.
We sat around and chatted for a while, then walked a little way up the street to the Ghirardelli (sp?) store. Apparently it's a pretty famous chocolatier, although I'd never acually heard of it. At the door, the lady was giving away free samples of their dark chocolate + caramel range, and apparently I am veyr nondescript, because she kept on offering them to me. I figured it would be impolite to refuse, so I accepted, like, three

View from Alcatraz.

free chocolatesbefore she finally twigged that it was the same person. Woo!
I bought a small thing of chocolates for my hosts in Seattle, and then we headed back to Mary's place. I was dead tired, and all I wanted was a rest. Alas, this means I did not see San Francisco as extesively as I could have even in the one day I had, but I'll definitely go back there sometime and visit properly.
At Mary's place, we watched the episode of Supernatural I'd missed whilst travelling, since she had it on tape. That was awesome.
Around 8pm, Mary packed me lots of food for the trip, and we drove back to San Francisco, because I was getting back on the Coast Starlight to Seattle. The train was (big surprise) about two and a half hours late, but the shuttle coach to the train station was ontimeish, so I bid farewell to Mary and Natalie, thanked them profusely, and hopped on the shuttle in San Franfisco that took my to the rail station in a town about a half hour out. Then I had a long, boring wait until the train FINALLY decided to show around midnight (it was supposed to come in around 9.30, I think).

NOCAL, OREGON AND WASHINGTON, OH MY.

Snow in the mountains, northern California.

I hopped on, and dammit, was stuck with an aisle seat. Nonetheless, I managed to sleep like six hours (i told you I was tired), and when I woke up, I grabbed my stuff (my

Crater Lake, Oregon (I think).

suitcase was checked again, so i only had carryon stuff) and headed for the lounge car I mentioned earlier. The one with the powerpoint. Yeah.
The train hadn't made up any time during the trp, so we were still running several hours late, and I got to see some of Northern California spinning past.
I chowed down on all the food Mary had provded me with, sandwiches, diet coke, fruit, fruit bars... it was awesome. When all that was done, I headed for the snack bar and chowed down on their food. Also awesome, albeit microwaved.
I claimed one of the powerpoints and plugged my laptop in, proceding to marathon most of the first season of Heroes. Periodically I had to wrangle with a stupid train person (stewardess?) who kept telling my to unplug my laptop so people could use the powerpoints. There were two, I was only using one, and only when the battery ran right out. Nobody was using the other for most of the time. Nonetheless, she kept telling me to unplug and I KEPT EXPLAINING that there was no need for me to do so because a) "there's a free plug" "but if people see your laptop

Prospect from a speeding train, somewhere in N. California or Oregon.

plugged in they may not realise" b) "IT'S NOT ACTUALLY PLUGGED IN RIGHT NOW" c) "I need to charge my laptop too, you know". Cue vast amounts of eyerolling, but oh well.
At some point, we crossed into Oregon, and the trip continued at a slightly lower altitude and with less snow. I really have no idea when we crossed over into Oregon, except we were still running about two hours late, and I think it was around midday.
There are a bunch more photos from the train trip uploaded. All in all, it was a pretty amazing train ride. It was frustrating how late it ran, because I was being picked up in Seattle, but if you are in no hurry, I highly recommend it. The trans are well-appointed. They have sleeper cars, which I believe are quite excellent and include two meals in the dining cart, but the seats are actually quite large and spacious, recline a lot and are fairly easy to sleep on, and the lounge car is brilliant.
The trip up from LA to Seattle is roughly 34 hours, which I did as 9 hours from LA to San Jose, and then 24 hours from San Francisco to Seattle (it takes about an hour by train to get from SJ to SF), and I'd do it again.
Anyway, eventually, it got dark again, around southern Washington, I think, so I didn't get to see much of that state, but honestly, once it got dark I went back to my seat and napped until Olympia anyway. At Olympia, my seatmate got off, and I phoned my hosts in Seattle to say I'd be in around 11.30pm rather than 9.30 as previously expected. Fortunately, they are night owls. Family friends, who lived in Brisbane for a while and were helped out by my parents.

SEATTLE.

It was, by this time, late evening on the 5th of January. Ian picked me up from the train station and took me back to theirs, and I crawled into bed and slept until like 10am.
The next morning, Arian (Ian's partner) dropped me into downtown Seattle (well, to the Space Needle because I wanted to see it again). I wandered around that area, surprised by how familiar it looked (considering it's been six years since I was there last), then hopped on a shuttle downtown and wandered around the shops. I had to buy sheets for my bed at college, and I figured it'd be easier to do that in Seattle. I also went down to the Wharf (which, again, I recognised and it was crazy--kinda like going home) and had some food, wandered aorund Macy's and Nordstroms (found Brass Plum on the top floor and almost bought some stuff. Again, I RECOGNISED the Brass Plum section of Nordstroms). Arian had said it'd get dark around 5pm and given me directions to get back to theirs by bus, so I hopped on one and found my way back, bus then a bit of a hike, without too much drama.
There was no-one home when I got back because Ian had gone skiing with their son, their daughter was with a friend, and Arian, as I discovered when she got back about ten minutes later) had taken their dog for a long walk.
Anyway, everyone was going to be out that night, so I got the house to myself. I settled in on the couch downstairs and watched A Good Woman, which was interesting but I kinda wish I'd watched Scoop instead.
Ian and their son got back at some point and fed me dinner (WOO), and then I went to bed.
In the morning, Ian dropped me back to the train station, which was where my coach up to Vancouver departed from. I was panicking a little about whether I had all the documents to get into canada, because I didn't have proof of funds and I'd looked on the consulate website that morning and they'd been a bit ambiguous about whether I'd need them and in Australia I'd decided I didn't, but oh NO what if I did?
Ian wasn't particularly helpful, being all, "well, if it happens, you can come back here, but you should be fine... right? here's my mobile number, just in case... I know sometimes customs officials can be a bit funny about these things, but don't worry, you should be okay. Probably. Right?"
They did lend me a quilt though, woo! We have to supply all our own linens (bar a pillow) at college, and I was so not digging the idea of buying a quilt.
Anyway, off went the coach, and I bid farewell to my beloved city of Seattle, but I'll be back down there once, hopefully twice, before I leave North America, so I don't mind too much.
The coach ride was... well, coachy. At the border, they got us all out with all our bags and sent us through customs. The customs guy was directing people who needed clearing across to immigration. He asked me my purpose, I said study, he asked for my study permit, I said I didn't need one (I don't), he said, ok, off you go. I was like, huh? I don't need... to be stamped or something? Uh, apparently not.
Baffled (he hadn't even asked to see my letter of acceptance to UBC) I snuck back into the immigration line (what?? I wanted to do things right!) and asked the immigration officer about it and explained I'd thought they might be interested in, you know, the proof that I had a place to study or whatever. She said they'd cleared me for six months in Montreal and I was fine and she didn't need to see anything else.
So, all that worry for nothing. I need to stop panicking about immigration. I keep vastly overestimating their care factor. I did the same thing entering the USA.
Anyway, we hopped back on the coach, and an hour and a half later, arrived in...

VANCOUVER.
(I know, FINALLY)

I have to admit, I was not entranced by my first sight of the city, but in my defense, I was tired and cranky and had just been on a three hour bus ride. I hopped in a taxi and we headed for UBC proceded to get very lost driving around the campus looking for Place Vanier. I should explain, there are two residences at UBC that have meal plans etc: Totem Park and Place Vanier. The others (eg Marine Drive, Fairview and Gage Towers) all have kitchens. I'd opted for a meal plan out of sheer laziness (shhh), which turned out to be a decent idea, because the meal plan food is actually pretty awesome. And if I were cooking for myself, it would be coffee and instant mac&cheese for every meal.
Anyway, the taxi driver managed to find Totem Park, and I was like, NONONO that is not MY residence (already keying into the rivalry between Totem and Vanier on which I will speak more later, no doubt). So he called a friend who drove UBC more often and the friend directed us to Place Vanier.
I thanked him and paid and probably left him an inadequate tip (I DO NOT speak tipping, and what's more, I

My room! Note sad bare walls, and also already-established state of mess.

OBJECT to it) then headed into the commonsblock and checked in. They told my my building and room numberand sent me off with a key and a mailbox and an orientation package. Thank GOD, only two of the buildings in Vanier have lifts, and mine is one of them. I was NOT in the mood for bag-drag stairclimbing. I probably would have thrown a tantrum.
Anyway, I found my room, and proceded to mess it up as much as possible, then wandered down to investigate the food options, which, as I said, were impressive. I made my first Vanier friend, a Mexican girl named Lis who was also on exchange, and we had dinner together, then I went back to my room and SLEPT A LOT.
That was the Sunday. The Monday morning at 9am I had my first class.
Oh yes, they throw you in the deep end.
My first class was Canadian Literature in English, and it was, well, classy. Very similar to Australia. We had to discuss what made up Canadian Identity, though, and since I'd only been in canada for, oh, THREE DAYS I was a little stumped and said as much. The class was very understanding. :p
My second class was Governance of Canada (yes, my MWF timetable is a BARREL OF LAUGHS) which is simultaneously difficult and easy. On the one hand, it's a first level class (that I get advanced credit for, WOO), so all the stuff about "what is politics" and "this is how the Westminster system evolved" is child's play for me. On theother, the actual Canadian aspects, I know absolutely nothing about. Who was the last Prime Minister? I have no idea. What are the parties? No clue. What do Canadians vote for? Beats me. What are the major issues? God, please just ask the next guy.

So now I am in SUNNY VANCOUVER (/sarcasm), I'm going to take a break and pick up the narrative later. Watch out for GALA Orientation, more FOOD, some TOURISTING and BUYING OF CLOTHES, and a bit more whining about classes. I KNOW. RIVETING.

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Rocks and Mountains, Rides, Snow.

nobody@vox.com(Mlle Susanne) — Sun, 25 Feb 2007 22:35:55 -0800

Okay guys, you twisted my arm, so I've sat myself down and am going to type up the rest of my adventures of travelling. At some later date I'll update about Life in Vancouver (it's BRILLIANT) and my Reading Week shenanigans.

But first, I believe I was on a plane bound for...

BOULDER.

After all the drama of the previous days, I arrived into Denver in style, first class, wearing a fabulous (if slightly slept-in) outfit, and ready to face the day!
I wandered down to baggage claim, hoping desperately that my bag had made it in similar style. I knew that it would be put on the first available flight to Denver, and to my knowledge, mine was the first that had touched down, so I was really hoping that my bag would be on it. Soon, the carousels started going, and bags from here there and everywhere began coming out. They were organised by the flight number they SHOULD have been on, so I checked my ticket and was keeping an eye out for my flight number, but it didn't appear.
About a half hour later, my lovely friend Liana (with whom I stayed in Boulder) came to find me at the baggage claim. I explained to her the situation, and we settled down for a long wait monitoring the baggage carousels. After another half hour, my bag still hadn't appeared, but I realised that there was, in fact, an earlier SCHEDULED flight from DFW that had been delayed and consequently we'd left before it had. But, it would have been loaded first.
Anyway, eventually, THAT plane made it in, and started producing bags. I assured Liana that though my bag was "black, about yea high", I would know it the instant I saw it, an she just had to trust me.
It took a while, but eventually Ten Tonne Tessie did indeed appear out of the little shute. A tearful reunion followed. I may or may not have called my bag "darling" and informed it that "I was so worried you wouldn't make it! I missed you so much!" Fortunately, Liana already knew I was nuts, so she wasn't too taken-aback. I don't think.
I was actually quite surprised and relieved at how little drama attended the retrieval of my bag. Sure, they held it hostage for a night in DFW, but they sent it along on the first flight to Denver like they promised, and there it was reuinted with its loving Mama directly upon landing on the carousel.
Anyway, we headed out of the airport (me stll murmuring sweet nothings to my luggage) and hopped into LIana's car. Liana and I had so much catching up to do it wasn't even FUNNY, but in the end I spend most of the drive to Boulder (which is about 45 minutes from Denver, towards the mountains) just giggling about how we were on the wrong side of the road. I think it was pretty much the first time on this trip I'd been in the "driver's" position on a LHD car, so it was like, "I'm sitting in the driver's seat, doing nothing, and the car is going! THIS IS LIKE A RIDE!! HEEEEEEEE."
Upon getting back to Liana's apartment, I met her roomie and then basically we all camped out in front of the television with our laptops and wireless internet for the rest of the day.
Bicycles, covered by SNOW!

Eventually my inner tourist kicked in and I dragged Liana out to see Eragon (which was slightly dreadful) and then we went to the Safeway (SHUT UP this qualifies as touristing) and bought (among other things) Spaghetti-O's.
Then we went back and sat around hanging and watching TV and stuff until around midnight.
The next day was NEW YEARS EVE and I'm no ashamed to admit Liana and I didn't leave the apartment until around 6pm, at which point we ran out of Spaghetti-O's and went to the store to get more. You think I'm joking. I'm

Li and Suz IN THE SNOOOOOOOW.

not.
We watched Merlin, then Peter Pan, and towards the end of the latter people started arriving as Liana and her roomie were hosting a small NYE get-together (WIN).
Upon the New Year, we partied a bit, then sat down to play a board game and watch Arrested Development.
I crawled into bed around 4am, then got up around 9.30am (I don't really do sleeping in), and watched some more Arrested Development.
We went to lunch with Liana's parents, and I had a very delicious and hearty meal!
After that Liana took me for a drive up the mountain, and we frolicked in the snow and discussed the possibility of sledding, but alas there was too little daylight left and Liana didn't actually know anyone with a sled or anything. So, we went back and watched Phantom of the Opera and part of Batman Begins.
After three fabulous, relaxing days, which were exactly what I needed at this point in the trip, because I was

The road to mountains!

exhausted and touristed out and really just wanted to hang around in the warmth with friends, the next day I was flying to LA. But I realised my flight actually left at 6.20am not 7.20am, which meant leaving Boulder at 4am at the latest. By this time it was already around 11pm, so I went to bed.
At 3.15am the next day, I got up, had a quick shower, then dragged Liana out of bed to drve me to the airport. :D
At the airport, I discovered that the check-in queue was absolutely huge, and I had about 1.15 before the flight went. I was a little panicked, but thankfully they did call my flight and put us through an accelerated queue around ten to 6. I checked in, went through security (SECONDARY SCREENED AGAIN; THANKS FOR NOTHING, AA) and pretty much walked onto the plane.
We flew over the Rockies, then over Nevada before entering California. The sky was completely clear until aorund Las Vegas, so I had the amazing experience of watching from the sky as the sun came up over the Rocky Mountains. There aren't really words to describe how beautiful that was.
It was roughly a two hour flight, over a one hour timezone change, meaning I got in at 7.20am. Depsite this, AA DID NOT SERVE BREAKFAST, oh no. They served drinks and if we were hungry we could buy a cookie. ... QANTAS would have served breakfast.

LOS ANGELES (DISNEYLAND).

I claimed my bag, fervently thankful that I had no more flights to do, and headed for my hotel, which was quite near the airport and had a shuttle service. I discovered that at some point in the myriad things I paid before I left I'd prepaid my room! Yay! They also assignment me a pre-cleaned room, so I could check in around 8.30 instead of at 2pm. Once there, I phoned my friend Jenny, to say, "YAY I GOT OUT OF COLORADO," because, of course, I really thought a blizzard was going to strand me there, I was going to have to switch to UC:Boulder and I'd never see my family again.
We agreed to meet at Disneyland in around an hour and a half, because I thought that was how long it would take me to get there. Turns out it took a little longer because the shuttle I took made a few inventive detours, but eventually I got dropped at the main gate. Turns out Jenny was late too because of drama involving lost wallets, so in the end I didn't keep her waiting long. We met at the C A L I F O R N I A sign outside the park, and then headed inside. By this time it was around 11am, I think, and I'd been up since around 2am (3am Colorado time).

Jack Skellington at the Haunted Mansion.
Jenny has a season pass to Disneyland, so she let me pick the rides, and explained the Fastpass system (I am now officially A GURU WOO). We got fastpasses for Space Mountain (which were for 7.20pm to 8.20pm I think) then headed off to do other rides. I can't remember all the rides, but I know we started with the Star Wars motion simulator, which HASN'T CHANGED since the last time I rode it when I was 13. Then we had something to eat and went on... hm... this is out of order, but the Matterhorn, Pirates of the Caribbean (complete with Jack Sparrowwhich, bleh, I can understand the logic of including him, but I'm a purist), Big Thunder Mountain, Snow White's Scary Adventures, and the Haunted Mansion over the course of the day. The Haunted Mansion was still decorated for Christmas, with Nightmore Before Christmas characters taking ovr the decorations. They were pretty cool, like, scary presents in the dining room and Oogie Boogie in one of the rooms, but I don't know, I would kinda have liked just to have seen the original ride. Guess I'll have to go back down to Disneyland before I leave the continent! :D
Over the day, I'd started to feel a little ill in the stomach, but I was ignoring it because, DUDE,Disneyland. We sat down and had dinner, and I felt a bit better, and then we had a Fastpass ticket for Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom for around 6pm, so we went to that. Somewhere in the queue, I started feeling very, very sick, like I was going to throw up. i popped an antacid (which I'd been keeping with me, yeesh my stomach acted up on this trip, but then, I was treating my body pretty bad) and hailed the attendant to let her know I might presently throw up. she pointed me towards a garbage bin, so fortunately my gorge went away again and I was fine--actually better on the ride than standing in the queue--until we got out. It was almost time for our Space Mountain tickets, but I was petrified that I'd get sick again, so I said it might be better if we didn't do Space Mountain. I felt a little bad, but mostly for ME because I really wanted to go on it!! Jenny and her friend (I forgot to mention there were three of us) had bth been on Space Mountain a kajillion times, so they didn't mind too much, I hope.
However, Jenny very kindly dropped me back to my hotel. I fell asleep in the car on the way back to LA and woke up just in time to be absolutel useless giving directions to the hotel. Eventually we got back, and I collapsed into bed moments later. My day at Disneyland was seriously one of the funnest on the entire trip. I just WISH it hadn't had to end like it did with me dead tired and sick alseep in the car. Hah.
Anyway, it was probably good that I was back at the hotel because about an hour later I woke up and emptied my stomach in the toilet. After that I felt much better.
The next day I got up in a leisurely way, checked out, and headed for the airport, whence I caught a shuttle to LA Union Station. I had a bit of a look at LA on my way to the station, but it is not a particularly entrancing city.
At the station, they made me unpack my bag and take my shoes out so it was under 50lb before they'd check it. That, and various other annoying extingencies made me fairly irritated when I got on the train. It was the Coast Starlight from LA to Seattle, but that night (I think we're up to the 3rd of January?) I was getting off in San Jose.
My seatmate was a very chatty Californian who was heading up to, um... *squints* Salinas (about an hour south of San Jose). she was lovely, and we chatted about the area and its history (John Steinbeck's Of Mice and Men was set in the area--one of my tutoring kids studied it last year), and she bought me cookies and pop; I'm not sure why.
The Cast Starlight, btw, has a dining cart 9which I didn't use) a snack bar (which I did--the food was decent) and a lounge car which had seats facing outwards and large windows. It also had powerpoints, as will be significant later.
My chatty seatmate informed me that the Coast Starlight is ALWAYS late (though it's worse foing South than North) because it uses the freight train lines and consequently is constantly pulling off onto sidings to let freight trains overtake. It was about an hour late leaving LA; by the time it got to San Jose this was more like 2.5 hours late. I was being met in San Jose, so I had to message her and tell her to sit tight and I'd get there EVENTUALLY.

SAN JOSE.

I did get there EVENTUALLY (around 9.30pm, I think), my usual effervescent self. My host, my friend Natalie, met me and we drove back to the hotel she'd booked, being not from San Jose herself. It was a nice hotel. It had cookies, and the beds were SO SO comfy, especially after napping on the train.
We got to sleep around midnight, I think, and in the morning we hopped in the car and headed for, um... Rose-something? It's one of the small cities around San Francisco, which is where my other host, Mary lived. She took us for delicious breakfast, and then we drove up to...

SAN FRANCISCO.

Which will have to wait, because I am knackered. I swear I'll get to it soon. Scout's honour.

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DON'T FLY AMERICAN. THEY SUCK.

nobody@vox.com(Mlle Susanne) — Sun, 14 Jan 2007 14:45:57 -0800

MONTREAL
•   Mum and I got up at the crack of dawn (in fact, a good hour before dawn) and flew on a tiny wee plane (I’ve been on bigger tour buses) up to Montreal, where it was snowing like there was someone sitting in the clouds shredding tissues. So no white Christmas for me, but at least a white Boxing Day! It wasn’t too cold though; colder than New York for sure, but the temperatures weren’t down to freezing.
•   We got to our hotel around midday and then made our way to the underground city, which is basically a network of shops underneath St Catherine’s Street, which is the main shopping street in Montreal. It was way, way warmer down there. The shops got manic around 1.30 or 2pm (having only opened at 1), and by 4pm we gave up and returned to the hotel. A bit later, mum decided to go back and find a bookstore, whilst I stayed in the hotel and typed up some of my travel journal (seriously, you ungrateful wretches, maintaining this thing is a full-time job!).
•   After mum got back, we went out and found a restaurant for dinner. It was on St. Catherine’s Street, and done up like a retro diner. Both of us really enjoyed our meals. Then, for dessert, we got “Tarte aux Pommes Hollandaise” (Dutch-style apple tart). Apparently the Dutch REALLY like their cinnamon, that’s all I’m saying.
•   The next day we went to the McCord Museum of Canadian History, which was just down the street from the hotel. In this museum, there was no mention of anywhere in Canada except Quebec, because apparently French Canadians are a little precious about the vexed issue of being a part of Canada.
•   After that, around midday, we hopped on a three hour tour of Montreal. Our tour guide took us to famous churches, Olympic parks, and mountains, whilst also managing not to say the C-word (“Canada”) once in three hours. When we were in a park over near the Olympic stadium, there were three flags flying, which our guide identified as the flag of Montreal, that of Quebec, and “that one… I don’t know.” This last was, of course, the, oh, CANADIAN flag.
•   That evening, we went back to the same diner for dinner; although we’d planned to eat at the hotel restaurant, the diner was cheaper, and I suspect the food was better too.
•   On the 28th, I spent the morning exploring the shops landside (as opposed to underground) with a friend and bought a dress and two tops.
•   After that, we headed to the airport (mum had a flight booked back to New York for an hour after my flight to Denver via Chicago). Alas, it turned out that the second leg of my flight (Chicago to Denver) had been cancelled due to a blizzard closing the runways in Denver International Airport (DIA). Okay, after a moment or two’s discussion, we decided it would be best if I flew back to New York with Mum. They were able to get me onto her flight, and booked me onto a flight to Denver the next day, via Dallas-Fort Worth (DFW), in Texas. I said I preferred to go via DFW rather than Chicago, which was ironic, given the events of the following day.

BACK IN NEW YORK (WHAT THE HELL)
• So, we flew back to New York, and it turned out there was an earlier flight doing the same run that I was booked to do he next day, so I switched to that. It flew out of La Guardia at around midday, and I was on it, having bid a (Second) sad farewell to my family.

AND OFF TO DALLAS (WHAT THE HELL)

•   So, the flight to Dallas was uneventful, until we began our descent and found ourselves in a cloud bank of epic proportions. We were told that there was a storm on the ground, and air traffic control wasn’t letting people land. We did a holding pattern over DFW for about an hour, and the pilot began talking about rerouting to Tulsa, Oklahoma, before the plane ran out of fuel. It didn’t come to that; there was a break in the storm long enough for the plane to land. Then, we had to sit on the tarmac for almost another hour while the lightning passed over. This was because while there was lightning they wouldn’t put the ramps down so we could disembark, because of course the ramps are metal and therefore we or the ground crews could get fried if lightning hit it. This isn’t an issue with the planes for some reason I am not absolutely sure of; I just know I saw at least one bolt of lightning hit the wing of the plane, and we didn’t even feel it.
•   Anyway, we eventually got off the plane and into the terminal. I immediately made my way to the nearest departures board, and confirmed what my suspicion was: that my flight to Denver had been cancelled. I went to the rebooking counter and asked them and they said that they could put me on standby for the next flight, and I could phone some number and try to get a confirmed ticket.
•   They also said that my bags were going to Denver whether I did or not. I had had some idea of just retrieving my bag and heading back to New York, and calling the whole Colorado malarkey a bad deal. But because they had so, so many bags on the tarmac, they pretty much laughed at me when I asked if they’d go find my bag.
•   Anyway, the only phone I had on my (that worked) was my Australian phone, which has international roaming on it, but DUDE is expensive. So I phoned mum, and they were out, so I sat down at an internet terminal and I didn’t have any American money on me, so I just swiped my credit card. The terminal proceeded to freeze, and I had to phone (on my Australian phone) tech support just to get them to restart the terminal so I could be sure it wasn’t like… keeping my credit card details. After that, I found an ATM and pulled out some money, which I used to buy a bit of internet time and e-mail Liana who I was staying with in Colorado and my parents telling them to CALL ME when they got home.
•   Then, I sat around for a bit with a bunch of other people who had been stranded there… it was around this time that I found out that they had basically closed the airport… not because of a blizzard in Denver—as near as we could tell, flights were going in and out of Denver just peachy. No, on the contrary, DFW Airport was closed… because that storm we were getting was part of a TORNADO moving across the middle of Texas.
•   It was about this time that I phoned and got ahold of mum, who’d just got my e-mail. I filled her in, and she told me I should go find a hotel, but I was threatening to spend the night in the airport. I moseyed out into the rebooking queue (even though I was on standby for the flight going out at around 10pm, I was pretty sure it would be cancelled, and, indeed, about a half hour later, it was), while mum got on the phone and booked me a hotel that had a shuttle service to/from the airport. I did feel much better knowing that I would be going back somewhere to sleep.
•   In the rebooking queue, I met a couple of guys from… Pennsylvania I think. They were brothers, and the elder’s name was Jordan and the younger’s… Ben or something? I’ll call him Ben. Anyway, they were a bucket of laughs. They were both I’m pretty sure stoned, and like five minutes into our epic wait they got rebooked on a flight via the rebooking hotline, but they hung around in the queue with us anyway until their dad showed up a two and a half hours later to pick them up (they were from Dallas).
•   Jordan, at one point, made a handmade sign that said “Approximate wait from this point: 2 Hours” and actually stuck it up at the beginning of the roped part of the queue (there was a good hour’s word of people waiting before that point), and everyone was like, “whee! It’s like Disneyland!” We were all such comrades in this queue, I swear. In Australia I think everyone would have been pretty reticent and sticking with people they knew, but we were like having a slumber party, young and old, and seriously, it took about four hours to get through this queue so it was a LONG slumber party.
•   Jordan, Ben and I also made friends with a woman named Karen who was trying to get to Florida, and she ended up booking a room in the same hotel mum had booked me into, so we figured we’d take the shuttle together.
•   Oh yes, Jordan and Ben (and this was about the time I became pretty sure they were stoned off their faces) derived endless amusement from the “don’t take this stuff on the plane” cabinet, which had like… drano, and a CHAINSAW and that sort of thing in it, and we were speculating about whether they were actual confiscated goods, like someone had actually tried to take a CHAINSAW in their hand luggage and had it taken off them.
•   Anyway, about three hours in, the brothers were finally picked up by their dad, and Karen and I had about eight people in front of us in the queue. It was by this time about 11.30pm, and the shuttle to the hotel stopped running at midnight, but we kinda thought we’d be through to the front by then.
•   We weren’t. At 11.45pm, mum rang again (and she was an hour ahead, so it was the wee hours of the morning for her), and said that the holding time on the rebooking hotline was about six minutes and would I like her to just book a damn flight for me. I said yes, and that I’d phone her if I got to the front of the queue and she’d get the call-waiting beep and know she should hang up because I’d book my own.
•   She phoned back just before midnight and said she’d got me on an 11am flight to Denver the next day. We had about four people in front of us, so I figured Id wait it out and just confirm with the desk lady and get her to print me an e-ticket so I had PROOF DAMMIT that I was getting on that goddamn flight.
•   It took another half hour to get through that queue. There were these two girls who were at the desk yelling at the desk guy for literally HOURS, and as soon as they got done, we all CLAPPED and he ran for the employees only door. I bet he was MEANT to go home at like… 10pm or something. Anyway, these girls then proceeded to another line to see if they could get their bags pulled and took ANOTHER HOUR yelling at that guy about something NEITHER OF THEM could help. So we clapped again when they finally just gave the hell up and went away.
•   I got to the front of the line and went up to the lady, and she confirmed I had a seat booked, and printed me off an e-ticket, and I said thank you very much, and about ten minutes later Karen was done and we headed for the taxi rank (it being 12.30am by now, the shuttle wasn’t running).
•   Finally, blessedly, we got to the hotel and crashed in our respective rooms—me around 1am.
•   Bright and early the next morning, I was up and had a shower and got a call from mum saying that the flight she’d booked me on, which was coming from Atlanta, Georgia, had had the Atlanta-DFW leg cancelled—I theorise this was because the, oh TORNADO that had shut DFW down the previous night had moved east. She said, and I agreed, that I should get to the airport ASAP in case I had to rebook again.
•   So, I had a quick breakfast of bagels and hopped on the shuttle back to the airport. The check-in line was HUGE, but I made the pleasant discovery that what I had thought was an e-ticket was, in fact, a boarding pass, so I got to skip that queue (my checked baggage, recall, was being held hostage on the tarmac and going to Denver whether I did or not) and head straight for security.
•   I also discovered that my ticket said I was flying first class—they must have randomly upgraded me when mum booked the ticket. I was pretty convinced at this point that I wasn’t going to get on this plane, because Murphy really had it in for me, and traveling first class seemed a bit too lucky.
•   They SECONDARY SECURITY SCREENED ME to get into the airport, and I’m going to digress for a moment to have a rant about that. I got on FOUR planes originating in the States over a two-week period. And on EVERY SINGLE DAMN ONE they did a secondary screening when I went through security. NY to Montreal, NY to Dallas, Dallas to Denver, and Denver to LA. Every. Single. One. A secondary screening basically involves their going through your stuff and testing it for bomb materials in a lil’ machine, and getting patted down, so it’s not too bad, but it’s annoying, and I hate having people in my stuff, so by the time I got to DFW I was tired, cranky, convinced I was never going to get to Denver or see my bag again, and so I got a little irritated when they yet again herded me to that SPECIAL line.
•   The guy said that it was the airline who picked the SS people—it’s actually printed on the ticket. So. Dear American Airlines: I HATE YOU. I HATE YOUR SECONDARY SCREENING. I HATE YOUR RUDE AIR STEWARDS. I HATE THAT YOU CANCEL FLIGHTS AND THAT THEY’RE ALWAYS DELAYED. OH YES, AND YOUR MEAL SERVICE SUCKS. NO LOVE, Susannah.
•   Anyway, got through to airside about two hours after my flight was scheduled to go. This account is getting quite long-winded, so I’ll fast0forward a couple hours to the point where I was sitting in the lounge watching, the news sories on which cycled between: 1. Death of Saddam Hussein. 2. Death of Gerald Ford. 3. Death of James Brown. And 4. TORNADO IN TEXAS. Mmm, yes, cheery.
•   So yes, there I am, sitting there, and the PREVIOUS flight meant to leave from our gate hasn’t gone yet. A lot of people don’t realize this and think it’s our plane, but I, being a cheery sort, immediately disillusion them. Then, miracle of miracles, that plane actually GOES. And, not only that, but we get an announcement over the PA that OUR flight, OUR FLIGHT TO DENVER, has a plane, it just hasn’t arrived yet.
•   I, jaded and beaten down by my recent experiences in American air travel, was skeptical, but sure enough, a plane taxied up and then, a half hour later, they actually called us to board! I was flying first class, so I boarded first, and then phoned my dad and said, “Um, hi… I’m on a plane to Denver, and I… think it might actually take off!” I had to get him to e-mail Liana in Colorado, because my phone wasn’t loving hers, but other than that, it was actually looking good for me to be actually going to actual Denver.
•   Of course, then I started having visions of being TRAPPED IN COLORADO FOREVER and having to like… transfer to UC Boulder, and never seeing my family because blizzards kept the airport and the roads shut 24/7. But that is a story for another heading, because despite all my fears, the plane took off, and we were bound for…

BOULDER (COLORADO).

Dude, this post is almost 3,000 words. You don’t want anymore right now.

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It's a hell of a town!

nobody@vox.com(Mlle Susanne) — Sat, 13 Jan 2007 19:14:18 -0800

Yes, hi everyone, I am alive and well and livin' it up in Vancouver, British Columbia, CANADA WOO.

Since I am anal-retentive about doing things in order, it may be a while before you get to find out about my Canadian hijinks, but for now, enjoy the rousing tale of New York, New York, with Montreal, New York (AGAIN) and Dallas to follow shortly!

NEW YORK

•   After I flew in, I met my parents and brother at JFK, as their flight from Australia had got in around the same time as mine. They had Slight Baggage Issues, in that apparently the bags had to be driven from Australia; they took long enough to emerge onto the carousel.
•   Eventually, we got into a taxi which conveyed us to the apartment on Manhattan (W 70th St; right near Central Park). We got there to discover that the apartment had no elevator and we were on the 4th (top) floor. I was slightly underwhelmed with joy at this as Tessie (the bag, in case you’d forgotten) was had clocked in at 27kg for the flight across the Atlantic, and I subsequently had to haul her up all four of those flights of stairs.
•   We had a New York Style (or what I’m going to assume is New York style) pizza for dinner, which was huge and basically tasted like someone had spread bolognaise sauce over the base and covered it with cheese. It was frankly delicious. As soon as I get home I am making Pizza Bolognaise. Every night.
•   The following day (and it was quite late by the time we got to the apartment, so this was our first full day of doing anything, and, for those playing along at home, the 21st of December (it’s been a while since I’ve provided an actual concrete date). Had proclaimed it for myself a lazy day, because as Elise will affirm, at this point we hadn’t had a single day off from mad touristing, and I was quite frankly exhausted, even notwithstanding the fact that I had spent three hours in the airport and eight hours on a plane the previous day. This day, in the morning, I managed to update the blog to I think Paris? Thus maintaining my admirable standard of being between one and two weeks behind!
•   After a lazy morning, however, my cohabitors were keen to be out exploring the city, and the first thing that popped up on their list was the Museum of Natural History, which was actually just down the street. I went along, avid touristing being by now hardwired into my brain, and we enacted stereotypes by splitting up along gender lines: Dad and the Bro went off and looked at animals and dinosaurs, whilst Mum and I headed for Peoples of the World and the gemstones.
•   We also watched a show in the planetarium—Cosmic Collision—which was very fancy and narrated by Robert Redford (iirc), but also made me motion-sick.
•   That night, we watched Supernatural in its home timeslot of 9/8C, on the CW (which is, imo, the most amusing channel on American TV; c.f. later comments about Yule Log!). It was a repeat, but I hee! hee!ed anyway.
•   Having had Pizza Bol for dinner the previous night, we had the more traditional Spag Bol for dinner the second night.
•   The third day (we’re talkin’ the 22nd, incidentally), we caught the subway to Chinatown and had Yum Cha (aka Dim Sum) for brunch.
•   Then we walked from there through Little Italy and down to Park (I think) Ave, and eventually found 34th St and Macy’s, which was huge and absolutely packed, it being two days ‘til Christmas. Ihadabitofashop and bought a top and a pair of jeans, a bag, and a whole ton of toiletries since I had either lost or run out of shampoo, conditioner, cleanser and moisturiser.
•   That afternoon, I did laundry woo.

NEW YORK PART 2
(Helpfully broken up for less frighteningly long blocks of text)

•   The next day, Christmas Eve Eve, the 23rd, and a Saturday, we caught the subway down to eyeball the Statue of Liberty, which looks really kinda weeny from the end of Manhattan Island. I believe it looks less weeny if you get up close to it, but I wouldn’t know, having not actually managed that. After our touristic stairclimbing activities in Paris, I am actually quite city-panoramaed out.
•   Then, we headed back to the area around 23rd St, and had lunch in an All American Diner Whee! I had a buffalo burger not actually because I was being nauseatingly touristish and trying the weirdest thing on the menu, but actually because we had had buffalo steak way back in Madrid on the tour, and it had been delicious. I am a total convert.
•   After lunch, I bought that puffy jacket you may have noticed in some of the later photos. It was from GAP, US$29.99, and has been an absolute lifesaver, because it is so so warm.
•   Anyways, we got home from that at around 3pm, then around 4.30pm, my lovely friend Nathalie, a New Yorker born and bred, came and met me at the apartment. She took me to a restaurant called (iirc) Gyuu Kaku, which was a Japanese restaurant where you order meat and veg and sauce, then you grill it yourself on a grill in the centre of the table. Nathalie prevailed upon me to try Gyuu Tan (cow’s tongue), which was very tasty but has a slight squick factor (but was nonetheless very tasty), and I had some chicken and some zucchini too. For desert, I had… s’mores. Which, for my Australian and consequently unenlightened readers, basically comprises a graham cracker (a wheat sort of cracker that tastes vaguely like digestive biscuits but has a more crumbly texture), a square of chocolate, and a toasted marshmallow. So anyway, I ordered the s’mores, and they delivered to me four graham crackers, four squares of chocolate, four marshmallows, and a toasting fork, and I then proceeded to roast my own marshmallows over the Japanese-style grill.
•   We had to hurry along, though, because that night, the family and I were seeing…. THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA at the Majestic Theatre, on Broadway. Nathalie took me back there, getting impressively un-lost.
•   The staging was absolutely spectacular (although, apparently, they haven’t actually changed it since the musical was first performed in the eighties, and speaking of which…), THE MUSIC WAS SO FABULOUSLY EIGHTIES ELECTRO-ROCK. I adored it.
•   The most notable difference between the musical and the recent film was that the Phantom was acted very, very differently. Very differently.
•   Afterwards, we waited around for Nathalie to come retrieve me again. She’d gone to a friend’s house, and was gonna come back so she could take me back to hers for the night. While we were waiting, The Producers let out across the street, and I had a minor celeb sighting, of Tony Danza, hose name you may no know, but you’d know his face (as I, indeed, did).
•

Nathalie and Suz, windswept

Anyway, Nathalie came back, and we caught the subway (which became the abovegroundway somewhere after Manhattan), and her mum and uncle came to meet us at the station.
•   Then, we stayed up until all hours watching silly videos on YouTube. I showed her a couple of clips from the Chaser (the “Ad Roadtest” of the Nicorette ads… “no Gary no!” and “First in the USA”), for lols.
•   The next morning, we got up quite late (by my standards, anyway), and I played The Sims 2: Pets (because I hadn’t tried it before) on Nathalie’s computer while she slumbered on. TS2:Pets was pretty boring, so we went and had breakfast (Nathalie’s mum made PANCAKES), and then I watched Nathalie play this playstation game called Guitar Hero where the console is actually a guitar thingie and you have to try to play songs of varying difficulty.
•   We headed back down to Manhattan and met up with one o Nathalie’s friends for a relaxing afternoon of shopping and wandering and drinking of coffee and more wandering. I boughta couple of books, and then around 4.30pm we headed back to the apartment and Nathalie and I had a PHOTOWAR (hence all the pics of her I uploaded).

CHRISTMAS (STILL IN NEW YORK)

•   New York really failed me by now snowing. In fact, they had a snow free December, and the temperatures were in the balmy high 50’s to 60’s range (FAHRENHEIT not centigrade!).
•   Malcolm and I were the first up, of course, so we turned on the TV and sat down to watch the Yule Log. The CW, one of the American networks, actually broadcasts someone’s hearth with a log crackling away merrily in it for THREE HOURS on Christmas morning. With a soundtrack of Christmas Carols. On Christmas Eve I think they had a docco on it called something like, “The Yule Log: A Log’s Story”, which I sadly did not watch.
•   Around midday, we went for a good long walk, across Central Park, along 5th Avenue (the swanky bit), then down to Times Square and back around to our apartment. It took a couple hours, but the New Yorkers were out in force, and it was really enjoyable.
•   For dinner, we had turkey, then we turned in quite early, because the next morning, Mum and I had an early flight to…

MONTREAL
(coming soon!)

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Lille and Brussels and London, oh my.

nobody@vox.com(Mlle Susanne) — Sun, 31 Dec 2006 09:57:21 -0800

Since people are hassling me (shucks guys <3) and I am seriously 2 weeks behind again (boo), I'm going to be a good Suz and update. For the curious, I am currently in Colorado, under 2 feet of snow, and I saw Eragon last night. If you're considerng seeing it, don't. ;)

Anyway, two weeks ago! We went from TOURS to...

LILLE

Which is a town in northern France, about an hour by train north-east of Paris, in the region that is called Flanders.
We arrived around 2pm, and since the tourist office was a trek from the tran station, I sent Elise off to find us accomodation whilst I guarded the bags and continued to soldier through my Massive Loaf o'Brioche.
The tourist office in Lille, however, was exceptional in that it would not book hotels for us, so Elise had to trek all the way there, and all the way back to the hotel she chose, which was 1* but still damned expensive, and then back to me, which took her over an hour. I, meanwhile, was sitting on my bag collecting security guards with DOGS, who wandered up and stood about ten metres away talking. There were two there when we finally headed for the hotel, casting me amused looks while their PITBULL and GERMAN SHEPHERD eyed me like dinner (yes, I exaggerate; shut up, who's telling this story, you or me??).
Anywho, we found the hotel and then headed back to Lille's famous mall, the Euralille, to shop. It is right between the two stations, and it ain't all that. It had some of my favourite shops: Zara, H&M and Bershka, but alas, not Sfera, which was my FAVOURITE, but I think it's a Spanish brand exclusively. But I bought a lot of Sfera stuff in both Madrid and Barcelona.
Once we were done with Euralille (and I think the only purchase was Elise buying eyeliner because I had at this pont absolutely no idea how much money I had left in either of my accounts and was consequently very edgy), we headed down a street lined with life-size fake elephants to the Christmas markets, which were swingin'.
We were hungry, and there were a number of stalls selling food, so we had: Poelee de Noel (with a ton of accents I can't be bothered finding), a sort of curried pork stuff in bread, mulled wine, a frankfurt (me), leek soup (elise), and waffles (aka gaufres in French) dipped in ohgodchocolatesoooooogood, and a cup of hot chocolate to finish off. And I think everyone now understands why I've gained 7 kilos, yes? Then, having perused the stalls selling items other than food, we staggered back to our hotel to diiiiiiiiiigest.
Before dawn (ie, about half past seven :p), we got up to catch a train up to Brussels, Belgium, which is actually

Elise, freezing cold in Brussels

only a half hour train trip.Everything was closed and it was BLOODY FREEZING when we got in, so we thought since we both really needed to, that we'd find an internet cafe. But, alas, even they were closed, so we spend a very cold couple hours until 10am. then headed in to the main square type thing. In the way, in the middle of a metro station, we found an internet cafe and did housekeeping things like printing off e-tickets and booking flights.
Then we went up into the main square which I should remember what it's called but I DON'T. There was a fog over Brussels and most of northern Europe, I believe, that didn't clear up for several days. From roughly this point until when I flew out, I don't think I saw clear European sky again . Oh Europe. Anyway, Brussels was very pretty with its gothic architecture and its overpriced beer useum and no, not even Belgian beer can make me like the stuff. It is yucky.
Finally, around 11am, the Christmas markets opened and you know where this is leading, right? It is leading to more eating. Of a funny potato carbonara (me), a mushroom poelee thing (elise), waffles with whipped cream (possibly chantilly cream; we're not sure), halva (me) and bargain truffles.
Then we wandered around the central district for the rest of the day, browsed shops and saw the Mannekin Pis, a little statue of a boy pissing that is, for some reason, a famous Belgian icon.
Around 3.30pm, we caught a train back to Lille, where we'd left our bags, then another an hour later to ...

CALAIS

THE MOST BORING TOWN IN FRANCE. Seriously. Both my and Elise's guidebooks were basically like, "skip it", but we wanted to catch an early ferry to Dover and thence to London, so Calais was the best place for us.
We hunkered down for a supermarket dinner in an odd little 1* hotel we found by dragging our bags along what was I think the main street.
Then, we went down to their restaurant (well, brasserie) on the bottom floor, which was filled with fowdy older folker. Elise ordered some wine, and I ordered hot chocolate, but the guy wa slike, "no, no hot chcolate," so I was like, "wah," but when he bought Elise her wine, he took pity on me and made me some anyway, much to the amusement of the patrons.
In the morning, we bag-dragged back to the train station to find a bus or something out to the port, but it was All Too Difficult, and we ended up taking a taxi. We arrived 20 minutes before a ferry was due to depart and were SPED through ticketing and English customs (NOT helped by an irritating English lady going "hurry up hurry up they'll leave without you!") and ran aboard. The ferry didn't end up leaving for like... another 1.5 hours anyway.
I should clarify: I say "ferry", but it was huge and cushy, with a bar/restaurant and a department store, and several levels.
The crossing took a couple of hours, then we disembarked in Dover, on English soil, wandered around a bit in a lost and confused fashion and found our way to the train station. Where a surly Engllishman sold us tickets, then warmed up enough to say, "just don't mention the cricket!" Elise and I were in despair! We'd spent ten days being mistakenly loathed in France because people thought we were British; we get to Britain and are correctly identified as Australian, and we're in the poo for it.

LONDON

The train delivered us into Victoria Station in the midafternoon, and we headed straight for our hostel, the Globetrotter Inn, which I do recommend, even though I only stayed one night. Elise stayed longer, and I think she liked it a lot.
Having dumped out bags, we headed into town to have a look around, walked from the Monument (erected by my main man Charles II) to the Tower, which we were going to go into but it was EXPENSIVE and I realised that the Victoria and Albert museum was free, so we went to that instead.
Alas, a suspicious package at South Kensington station closed down our train line, so we had to walk from the previous station (Knightsbridge), but that was ok, we walked past Harrods and lots of other fancy shops. I really only wanted to see the costume section of the V&A, so we swung through that, which was amazing and cool, then headed back to the hostel.
We had some dinner there, then went out to a bar where we met some funny Croatians and got chatting. After that, we found the Globetrotter cinema and wandered into a screening of Muriel's Wedding (of all things--did I mention the hostel was 80% Australians?).
In the morning, dragged selves out of bed, had breakfast, and then got on the train for Heathrow (lovely Elise came with me to see me off), because I had to catch my plane to the US of A. Heathrow was a shambles (worse than usual, I mean :p) because that fog I mentioned in Brussels? Had basically shut down flights in and out of northern Europe. consequently, there were a lot of people milling around watching ther flights get more and more delayed, and for some unfathomable reason, they were putting all the big USA flights through on one check-in zone, even though the others were practically empty.
Anyway, eventually I got through, and bid tearful farewell to Elise, my travelling partner of a month (and we did travel very well together; surprisingly well), before walking through security. Because the check-in had taken so bloody long (almost two hours once the check-in zone was announced), I had only about a half hour to wait on the other side before the plane boarded.
And because of all the domestic flights and Europe flights being cancelled or delayed, about half the people registered for our flight didn't make the connection and the plane was half empty. I used to put a qualifier on this saying, "far be it from me to gloat about other people's misfortune..." but the weather gods have evened up my travelling karma in the last couple days, so sod it.
Anyway, hopped off the other end in New York, made my way through immigration and the Americans generously allowed me into their great nation, and met my family at JFK Airport (they were flying in from Australia via LA and their plane was supposed to arrive about 30 minutes after mine) with surprisingly little drama (some slow luggage was about all), then we piled into a cab and made our way to our Manhattan apartment.

And that was Europe!

This is where my handwritten notes end, on about... the 20th of December, so I'll need to write up the rest and make sure I haven't forgotten anything before I continue. I may not get that done before I fly out of Denver on the 2nd, in which case you might not hear from me until the 7th or 8th when I am in Seattle/Vancouver.

It's early on the 31st here, but I gather already new year in Australia, so whether it's 2007 already or only almost, HAPPY NEW YEAR, everyone!

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Journeys in France

nobody@vox.com(Mlle Susanne) — Mon, 25 Dec 2006 16:04:11 -0800

BORDEAUX

As noted, our next port of call from Paris was Bordeaux. Although it seems like quite a trek on a map, the TGV (high speed train) got us down there in about 3 hours.
When we got to Bordeaux, we headed in to the Tourist Office and proceeded to discover neither of us really wanted to be there. I had throught Elise wanted to go there, because when the Friendly French Bateaubus Employee suggested it she had been enthusiastic, and when, later, I said several times that we could stay in Paris if she really wanted to see the Pompidou, she didn't even consider it. She, in turn, thought I really wanted to go there; I am not sure why (we'll find out if she ever updates! <3), and had thought I kept trying to cancel it because I was being a martyr (moi?). I, however, do not like wine. So Bordeaux was not my dream destination.
However, we were there, so we decided to make lemonade and we booked into an Introduction to Bordeaux Wines thing on that evening. Then we dashed off to check into our odd little hotel (we were on the 2nd floor and it turned out there was no elevator, and my bag--dubbed "Ten Tonne Tessie"--was approaching 25kgs at this point) and then dashed to the Musee des Beaux-Artes because a source informed us there was a Caravaggio there. There was, and having gazed upon that, we returned for our Introduction to Bordeaux Wines. I emerged, not entirely sold on wines, but definitely sold on the complimentary (and complementary) cheeses they provided us to keep us from being unsightly drunk at 5pm.
Bordeaux was rather a lot colder than Paris, so we donned extra layers of clothing and went to wander around the Christmas markets. It was around this time that I decided I was glad we had come to Bordeaux anyway. It is really a gorgeous town, with

The Cathedral at Bordeaux

fabulous shopping that we unfortunately didn't get a chance to exploit, beautiful buildings, and very friendly residents (in stark contrast to Paris where wave upon wave of English tourists have filled the entire population with bitterness). Anyway, the Christmas Markets. Drunk Frenchmen tried to sell us puzzle toys. We tried Canelés which... I can't describe, but they're pretty tasty. In small doses. I bought some very expensive but mind-blowingly delicious truffles.
The next morning, we got up and packed very early, so we had time to go for a dawn walk through Bordeaux. We found the Cathedral, and a bakery that had beautiful, fresh pastries and croissants, and a street market that sold fruit more delicious than any we'd had since Barcelona and the Mercat Boqueria. The cherries, especially, were divine.

TOURS

Tours is back up near Paris, so it took us just over two hours to get back up there. We had wanted to stay in a B&B, but after a large amount of bag-dragging, we gave up and stayed in a 2* hotel a little nicer than our usual instead. This turned out to be a good decision. It cost 58 euros for the night (for both of us), and was called the Hotel de Manoir, just around the corner of the tourist office. Probably my favourite of our places to stay, and not just because the room was nicer--clean, good bathroom, all those things--read on to discover more!
We headed out just before dusk (ie, around 4pm) to have a look around Tours, which we were really just using as a base so we could see a couple chateaux on the following day.
We found an authentic Touraine (the region around Tours) sweet shop and bought flavoured marshmallows and some other things--Elise bought gingerbread and I bought something but I forget what.
We had authentic Touraine cuisine for dinner. It was delicious, but then, I do love my French 3-course set menus. This one was cheaper than the one we had in Paris, and also disagreed a lot less with Elise's stomach, so I consider it a success!
As I mentioned, we were using Tours as a base, so the next day we caught a (very) early train to...

AMBOISE

Made famous by its passing mention in the movie "Ever After", it is, in fact, slightly closer to Paris than Tours, and the proud possessor of its very own chateau! Which I took photos of but have somehow failed to upload.
Anyway, upon arriving in Amboise, we hung around for a while then caught the only bus the entire day that went out to the chateau at Chennonceau. Chennonceau was one of my favourite chateaux and one of the few I actually remembered from my last visit to France, but it was wonderful to see it again. It has such an interesting history, and the gardens and rooms are beautifully maintained.
When we got back in to Amboise, everything (including the chateau at Amboise) was closed for an hour or so. so we wandered through a Christmas food market. One of the stalls was selling snails, and since Elise had sworn to try them while we were in France, she was eventually persuaded to buy a plate. Then, we moved on to a stall that was selling all types of French bread, and while I was admiring an absolutely ginormous loaf of brioche (a kind of sweet French bread--sorta like croissant without all the butter), Elise was preparing to try one of her snails. This agitated the Brioche lady, who spoke in rapid foom-over-my-head French and eventually grabbed a passer-by who fortunately spoke English who explained to us that the snails needed to be COOKED first--you shouldn't EVER eat snails raw. This posed something of a problem to Elise and I as we lacked an oven, but we figured we'd work it out.
Anyway, I bought the brioche, and we also bought some Terrine of Duck something-or-other--possibly liver? Because Debbie and Sam (Elise's parents) apparently kept telling her we should definitely try terrine.
After that, we walked to Clos Lucé, aka, Da Vinci's house (he lived the last years of his life and died in Amboise--also as per the movie "Ever After"!), but it was too expensive for me to be inclined to go in.
By this time, the chateau was open, but Elise and I ended up splitting up, and I wandered the chateau for a couple hours while Elise amused herself I think in the glassblowers and then back in Da Vinci's house.
The chateau at Amboise was beautiful; from the ramparts I was actually able to watch a stormcloud literally descend upon the city, and the architecture and decoration was very different from Chennonceau. I actually walked through it twice.
We met back up and trudged back to the train station through that storm I had previously watched descend.

TOURS AGAIN

Elise needed to do some laundry, so that beguiled the evening, and we mostly stayed in because I was nursing another cold (which fortunately wa sjust a baby cold and really didn't knock me around at all in the end) and ate our spoils from the Christmas Market. The brioche served us well! The terrine was yummy, but the smell (dogfood) was really off-putting.
The lady who ran the hotel saved us on the snails; she let us use their microwave to cook them and stood around to make sure we didn't mess it up. I should note, most of the french people we met thorught we were insane re the snails. Then she gave us some jam to have with the brioche. In fact, she was lovely. Which is why I would recommend the hotel.
Anyway, I was not actually even slightly inclined to try the snails, so I had only one, while Elise chowed down on the other eleven. They really just taste like garlic and butter (the obligatory dressing), but the yuck factor of eating snails has not left either of us. Yuck.
The next day we packed and wandered through Tours looking for a supermarket, but it was Sunday, early, and absolutely bloody freezing, so nothing was open. Defeated, we returned to the hotel and checked out. There was a different woman on desk, but she had heard the snail story and had a bit of a yarn to us about how much she disliked snails.
After that, we got on the train to Lille, via Paris!

And, once I manage to type up Lille, I have only Brussels, Calais and London to go before I finish the Europe leg. Of course, by the time I get that done I'll have New York and Montreal I have to write up. *faints* Will this task never cease??

I certainly hope you're all enjoying it! Don't forget, you can e-mail me at shiny_pointy_objects@hotmail.com . I am a very well-behaved correspondent. Also, if you want a postcard from somewhere in the states, e-mail me with the subject line "address" so I don't lose it in the flood of messages my extreme popularity causes.

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Paris, City of Staircases.

nobody@vox.com(Mlle Susanne) — Mon, 25 Dec 2006 14:15:23 -0800

Happy Christmas to all... I am taking another WELL-DESERVED rest-day, having painted the town red (well, perhaps not red, but definitely a particularly bright shade of orange) with Nathalie, my fab New Yorker friend, yesterday. Today, my family and I celebrated the Yuletide by watching three hours of the Yule Log on television (no, seriously, the CW, one of the TV networks, actually broadcasts a crackling yule log in a fireplace for three hours straight. It is absolutely fabulous), then went for a long perambulation around Manhattan.

But, if you are relying on my dot-pointy account, you are currently scratching your head and thinking, but wait! Wasn't she in Paris with her fabulous and attractive best friend? What's this about New York and a perambulating family?? Well, rewind with me... back to the 10th of December, a cool, rainy, unremarkable day. At approximately 9am, a train carrying two fabulous, attractive Australians, pulled into the Gare du Nord in...

PARIS.

The Opera Garnier

The first thing we discovered in Paris was that a Cafe au Lait (the French edition) was roughly two euros moreexpensive than a Cafe con Leche (the Spanish edition of the same). I, at least, was dubious as to whether thisextra expense was worth it, and immediately switched to espressos. Elise merely cut back her coffee intake.
We went into town for a quick walk--past the Opera Garnier (according to "Let's Go Europe on a Budget" the siteat which the original Phantom of the Opera is set, but I am sceptical), then down to the Place de la Concorde and along to the Louvre, just to have a look at it; a bit of a recreational Parisian loiter under the pyramids (and alas, no sign of Mary Magdalene DAN BROWN YOU LIED).
After that, we went to Les Sans Culottes, a restaurant in Bastille that was particularly recommended by "Let's Go Europe on a Budget", which served an absolutely delicious 3 course set menu which blew my mind entirely. Unfortunately, it also blew Elise's digestive system, and let's just say she reconsidered her dinner later in the night. Fortunately, since the hotel had a shared bathroom, I was able to cunningly blame the resulting mess on unknown troublemakers. Elise probably doesn't appreciate my sharing this story, but since she insists on relying on my accounts of our shared adventures, she'll just have to cope. Love ya, Princess.
Fortunately, in the morning, she was right as rain. We were able to compare her rightness with that of the rain as it was, in fact, raining at the time. We broke our fast at one of the cafes near the Gare du Nord, then headed back to the Lou vre with the admirable intent of perusing its contents. Upon discovering that a number of the Italian rooms would be closed that day, however, we changed our minds and instead went for a walk along the Seine, through the Tuileries, and then doubled back and walked along the other side. About halfway to the Ile de la Cite (an island in the middle of the Seine on which is located Notre Dame Cahtedral), we hitched a ride with the Bateaubus, a ferry that runs up and down the river.
We did a couple of loops on the Bateaubus, whipping out the Eurail map and trying to decide where we were actually going to go after we left Paris. There was some discussion of going down to Nice and Monarco, but eventually (with the help of a French Bateaubus employee whose friendliness increased exponentially when he discovered that we were, in fact, Australian not English) on a night in Bordeaux, two in Tours, one in Lille and then one in Calais before we went to London.
Eventually we hopped off the Bateaubus at the Ile de la Cite and went for a wander through Notre Dame. Elise made me climb the towers, thus inaugrating a great Parisian tradition of touristic stairclimbing. The staircases in Notre Dame are not very much fun as they are narrow and circular and enclosed in a tower with occasional windows, thus activating my lack of fitness, claustrophobia, and vertigo more or less simultaneously.
The view was absolutely wonderful, though, especially as our climb brought us to the top around dusk.
After we climbed down, I dragged Elise off to the Conciergerie, which is also on the Ile de la Cite. It was a prison, where Marie Antoinette spent her last days before she got the chop, and was appropriately creepy.
We headed back to Bastille after that, because our Friendly French Bateaubus Employee had also told us there were a couple cinemas around the Opera Bastille and we had us a fancy to see a movie in French.

Suz clashes with the sculpture garden at the Louvre
We had a bite of food, then a nutella crepe (actually, nutella seems to be a traditional food of France. Street vendors were basically slathering it across anything--crepes, waffles, funny sugared buns with banana...), then headed off to see Babel. In retrospect, this was not the brightest movie to see, as it is, in fact, not only in English but also Spanish, Japanese and Moroccan. And the subtitles for the afore-mentioned languages were, of course, in French. But, it was surprisingly good. What I actually understood of it. Highly recommended.
The third day, we hopped straight on the train out to Versailles, that most famous of French chateaux. We strolled around listening to the compulsory audio tour, but in the end elected not to visit the grounds or the Trianons, which cost extra.
Instead, we came back into Paris and had an overpriced but frankly delicious lunch in the region around the Arc de Triomphe.
After that, we walked up to the Arch and caught the subway from there to Montmatre because Elise had a hankerin' to see the Moulin Rouge. The metro stop was right near Sacre Coeur, so again we found ourself enjoying a spot of touristic stairclimbing just as dusk was upon us. We ran away from the men with string, because apparently they just tie it arolund your wrist and charge you to untie it or something. We saw one guy get caught while we were there.
After that we went to the Moulin Rouge and took the obligatory photo.
That evening, we decided to go to the Opera! We flew back to the hotel and changed into what passes for respectable clothes in our travelling wardrobe, and caught the metro back to the Opera Garnier, which was showing Giselle. We asked a few people and they seemed to think the show was sold out, but there was a scalper selling two tickets, and Elise and I, having never been scalped, were vaguely curious as to the experience. We ended up buying his ticket for (I'll admit frankly) quite a lot more than they were worth.
We

Contemplative gargoyle, Notre Dame

headed into the Opera, which is worth a look, as the foyer alone is absolutely spectacular, and I had a look at the tickets (yes, this was the first time either of us had looked at the tickets, and also yes, I expect you all toLEARN FROM OUR MISTAKE) and realised they were on the 5th balcony and had "visibilité reduite" which, yes, means what it sounds like it means. So, it turned out they were pretty much the worst seats in the house, practically in the ceiling, with a view of maybe half the stage. On the upside, they were in this funny little wooden box that Elise and I had to ourselves.
Not entirely overwhelmed with joy at the badness of these seats, I decided to go down and sweet-talk the usher on a lower level to see if they could find us better seats. Wewere in luck, and managed to upgrade ourselves to the centre balcony on the lower floor, with full, excellent view of the stage; seats which were probably worth actually what we paid for ours, so it all ended well enough. The ballet was absolutely beautiful too, I should add.
The next day dawned, cool and cloudy. It was our last day in Paris, and we had failed to do a number of arguably significant Paris activities such as, oh, the Louvre and the Eiffel Tower. We remedied the former that morning, wandering through the Italian section, shuffling past the Mona Lisa and (me) staring rapturously at the three Caravaggios for about half an hour. We also wandered through some other sections, Elise communed with Reubens, and I enjoyed the scupture gardens in that way where it made me feel like I was in the White Witch's castle in Narnia.
We had intended to do the Musee d'Orsay and the Pompidou Centre that afternoon, but when we emerged from the Louvre we found that the sky was clearing and decided to seize the blue sky (pretty much the first we'd seen over Paris) to climb the Eiffel Tower. We paused on the Champ de Mars to watch a take of some strange French movie about dogs in handbags, and aged people doing Tai Chi (hey, I don't know

Suz, classing it up at the Opera Garnier

either; I only describe what I saw) and then headed up the tower. It was by this time around 4pm, so we managed to continue our tradition of touristic stairclimbing at dusk; however, following this climb, I basically piked on the other two museums because it was colding and darking and my feet hurt.
We had intended to do the Pompidou the next morning before catching our train to Bordeaux, but unfortunately it didn't open until eleven, so that was not possible. We got on the train without dramas, and thence proceeded to...

BORDEAUX.

But that is a story for another day.

It is time for Christmas Dinner!

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