My Blog Has Moved!

You can now find me at www.glamourgeek.com

Global Warming

Skiing 2007
Originally uploaded by GlamourGeek.

I had finally made it to the Alps on a skiing vacation, and there was such an extreme lack of snow that they could only open lifts where they have made the snow. Here you can see a ski lift that was just used in the 2006 olympics, but in only a year the snowfall has dropped this dramatically.

Shopping in Bangalore made easy

Shopping in Bangalore made easy
Originally uploaded by GlamourGeek.

If you ever visit Bangalore do not, I repeat DO NOT, go into the silks shops. Even if, as in my case on the previous two trips, the taxi drivers basically kidnap you and take you to the silks shops instead of where you want to go. Which is Kids Kemp, pictured here. You will never appreciate price tags more. They have almost identical items, but at reasonable prices that don't make you feel cheated and angry about your purchases.

Cobras and hooves

If only I weren't too timid to take photos.

Last night we went to dinner with one of our distributors, which none of us wanted to do as we would have preferred to shop and sleep, but we had to be diplomatic. The distis took us to Isys, branded as "newage indian cuisine", where they must have been trying to get a rise out of us. Normally when I am in India, I eat only vegetarian food, so I don't worry when someone else orders for me. These distributors, however, were not vegetarian and they ordered a soup for us contianing sheeps' hooves. I am quite ill this morning after only eating a little bit of it.

This morning, as I was in a taxi to the office, a child ran up to the car when we were stopped and knocked on the window for money. Normally I ignore them or wave them away. Shaking your head 'No' doesn't work here as it means 'yes' to the locals. This child then pulled out his piece de resistance by opening the small round basket in his hand to reveal a cobra sleeping among flowers. The cobra woke up and flared its' head, at which point I had to give some rupees to the boy. If only I had taken a photo. Then his siblings ran up to the car and I had to wave them away, which made me feel very rude.

Greetings from India! (again)

I have been scolded, and quite rightly, for not keeping this site updated.

I am in Bangalore again this week, for the third time in the past year. Not bad for someone who had never left the US beofre spring of 2004. Bangalore is less and less of a culture shock each time I visit. The smells of sewage (from open sewers and trash dumped on the side of the roads) and moth balls (ubiquitous in the shower and sink drains) bring this city to mind. It amazes me how great the drivers here are, because in this chaos there should be a lot more accidents. For an accurate indication on what traffic is like in India, watch the video clip at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kcpJS8MRhKk and try to imagine what that traffic is like at rush hour in a monsoon. There are no lanes in the road, no traffic lights or stop signs or pedestrian crossings, no concept of right-of-way, and the horn is used as an indicator. I am at least to the point where I no longer close my eyes when in the taxi. But you'll never catch me driving here! Trying to cross the street on foot was terrifying enough.

What else is a girl to do but to buy gorgeous silk salwars. Today I am wearing a bright turquoise raw silk tunic with cream coloured raw silk trousers. The people in the office have approved, and isn't approval what we are all searching for?

Morning commute

Morning commute,
originally uploaded by GlamourGeek.

One of the benefits of having a pilot for a sister is that morning commutes can transcend cool. On this particular morning Neil and I had to travel from San Jose to Irvine for meetings. Rachel has a job where she flies a plane around the western US giving demo flights to potential buyers and to flight instructors. She is able to arrange her schedule as she wishes, so when I come to the States, she is often able to book flights wherever I am scheduled to be. It means that not only do I get to spend time with the lovely woman, but I get personalized travel in the most jet-setting way I can imagine.

Charles Darwin's house

Darwin's house,
originally uploaded by GlamourGeek.

This is the house that Charles Darwin grew up in. It is over the River Cam in Cambridge. When you visit Cambridge, you can punt down the river andpass right underneath this house. Or for those people who don't wish to go punting, you can sit at The Anchor pub which has the same view as this photo.

Visiting India

fountain in Bangalore India,
originally uploaded by GlamourGeek.

Thanks to a slight change in my role at work, I have had the opportunity to visit our office in Bangalore. It was my first time in a developing country, and I admit the first few days were a bit of culture shock.

GETTING THERE
I flew via Virgin Airlines from London to Mumbai (formerly Bombay) and caught a connecting flight via Jet Airways to Bangalore. Jet Airways provides some of the best service I have ever seen on an airline, particularly on short domestic flights. Before we took off, they walked down the aisles with bottles of water for everyone followed by a very refreshing lemony damp face cloth. After take-off, we received a bottle of fresh bottled lime water followed by a full meal with proper metal utensils and lovely cloth napkins wrapped in a matching silk cord.

TAXIS
In Bangalore, the taxis are for the most part in the form of auto-rickshaws. These are open-air one or two person rickshaws attached to what appears to be the front end of a scooter. Our hotel had arranged a taxi for us, which was particularly nice because it was a proper car (sub-compact) with tinted windows. When we departed the airport, there were about forty taxi drivers, all dressed in white, crowding around the exit trying to solicit fares. In the taxi on the way to the hotel, I experienced what can only be described as absolutely terrifying chaos. There are no lanes painted in he road and very little traffic control. The cars and lorries (trucks) and auto-rickshaws are not driving in straight lines, nor are they allowing more than a few inches between them and other cars. The drivers honk constantly so that there is a cacophony of noise that takes a few days to get used to. Pedestrians do not have crosswalks or signals, so they wait for traffic to come to a stop, or at least slow down, before they squeeze between the masses of vehicles to reach the center median. Here they wait, balancing on the four inch wide median between speeding traffic, until the traffic in the other direction slows down enough for the pedestrian to attempt the remainder of the crossing.

THE HOTEL
My coworker and I checked into our rooms at the Grand Magrath hotel, which was very inexpensive compared to the hotels Westerners usually stay in (£40 a night) and the room was large with marble floors, air conditioning, dark furniture, and very nice decor. One thing that was difficult to get used to was the toilets. In India they do not use loo paper the way Westerners do. Instead they have a little hand-held shower head next to each toilet. This was probably the most difficult thing to get used to. Also, this hotel had a bit of a hot water shortage that affected my coworker more then me, but it is something to keep in mind. And with the beautiful marble floors, sounds tended to echo from the hallway and from the room directly above, so there were occasional problems with noise.

THE FOOD
For the first three days, I remained in my hotel room and ordered room service for every meal, often not knowing what I was ordering. While the hotel was very helpful in providing the option of eggs and toast for breakfast, I soon became brave enough to try Indian breakfasts. It is surprisingly nice to have spicy curry in the morning. And the Idly was a very pleasant flour-based dish. Indians tend to eat with their right hand (never the left), using the bread (naan, roti, or similar breads) to scoop up the food. Many restaurants will provide a bowl of warm scented water at the end of the meal for washing the right hand. I found that the vegetarian meals were the most interesting. Particularly Dal Tadka, a flavourful and occasionally spicy dish made of yellow lentils and cumin, and Mutter Paneer, a dish made with what they call cottage cheese, but is not even remotely like westerners' idea of cottage cheese; it is more similar in consistency to tofu and is a major source of protein in this predominantly vegetarian diet.

THE SHOPPING
There came a point suring my trip that I began to believe Indians are born salespeople. I have never seen more effective or more adamant salespeople. When I walked into a shop, the salespeople would quickly get a general idea of what I was looking for, and even when I insisted I was only looking or didn't want help, they would start pulling items out of the shelves and spread them out for my perusal. I admit, the colours and fabrics can be almost intoxicating, but not to the point that I forgot to negotiate. After hearing horror stories of westerners spending an absolute fortune on items, I was determined to never pay the asking price for an item. Fortunately, Srini and Divya from the office were kind enough to take me to Commercial Street and helped me judge which prices were fair. I ended up buying incredible silk saris for 800 rupees (£10 or $18) and a beautiful Salwar for 720 rupees.

THE PEOPLE
One of the factors that will keep me returning time and again to India is the people. I have never been in a group of people as genuine and kind as the Indians. The people in the office were so willing to take my coworker and I out to restaurants after work, giving up their own free time to help us enjoy Bangalore. There were many smiles that helped me feel very welcome.

THE DICHOTOMY
Bangalore is neither third-world nor first world. There are high-tech buildings surrounded by abject poverty such as I have never seen. Walking from the hotel to work, I spent most of the journey walking on dirt pavement with piles of rubbish and the open sewer, passing men openly urinating in front of me, passing ox carts and five lanes of traffic honking their horns and spewing exhaust that made Los Angeles look clean. There were communities of people living between buildings, doing their cooking and cleaning without a second thought. The tea stands with ten year old boys working every day with no time off foonlyly 900 rupees per year contrasting with the expensive technology offices was a bit difficult to grasp intellectually.

Theme Park English-style!

Alton Towers Theme Park,
originally uploaded by GlamourGeek.

Leave it to the English to create a world-class theme park on the grounds of a medieval titled estate! Alton Towers, former seat of the Earls of Shrewsbury. My favorite ride, pictured here, is called 'Air' and positions the rider into a flying position. Another ride called 'Rita' goes from 0 to 60 in 2.5 seconds. It was better than a facelift!

British patriotism

Neil (might be patriotic),
originally uploaded by GlamourGeek.

So, every year the BBC hosts a classical music festival lasting the entire summer in London. This usually takes place in the Royal Albert Concert Hall, but on the last night of the Proms, as they call it, there is a stage erected in Hyde Park across the street from the concert hall, and huge television screens show the concert from inside the concert hall, intermixed with live shows. This year we saw Andrea Boccelli (sic) and a Queen tribute band among many others. I have never seen these somewhat cynical Brits completely let loose like they did on this night. There were 50,000 people from all walks of life with their elegant picnics and boxed wine, waving british flags and various other flags from within the UK while singing along to 'Bohemian Rhapsody' under the threatening rain clouds. By the end of the night, with all of us soaked through and our union jack facepaintings dripping down our cheeks, we launched into 'God Save The Queen' (not the Sex Pistols version) for which I will undoubtedly be given an honorary UK citizenship.

Hurricane Katrina - ways to help

In the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, I have been searching for ways to help despite now living abroad. I have been hesitant to do the blanket donation to American Red Cross, which seems to be the only heavily-pushed charity for catastrophies like this, because after 9/11 they proved to be very disappointing.

I have recently come across the Habitat for Humanity website, and it struck me as the perfect solution. These people need homes. Whatever homes are still standing are going to have such bad mold problems that they will be uninhabitable. So join me in donating to Habitat for Humanity and getting these houses built.

http://www.habitat.org/

And to find people who might be missing or to let people know you are ok, visit http://katrina.earthlink.net/

Ireland photos online!

*sniff* eeewww....,
originally uploaded by GlamourGeek.

I have just completed a ten day trip around Ireland. Me and four guys in their mid-twenties. We went to two different caves. One prehistoric tomb. A volcanic formation on the Atlantic Ocean/Irish Sea coast. Areas of active civil unrest in Northern Ireland. Gorgeous castles. 800 year old abbeys. A nightclub that was also a hotel. And we kissed the Blarney Stone (without sterilizing it first).

Tea and bisquits.... amid sheep?

DSC01686,
originally uploaded by Neil Rickards.

Neil and I joined his friends for a weekend of country pursuits. Neil took the train down to West Wycombe the day before my arrival where he joined Dom and Mel for a regatta. The men worse suits and the ladies wore dresses and hats. Unfortunately I was unable to attend, but later I joined them for the remainder of the weekend.

First, on saturday we went to the EJ Churchill shooting club for some clay-pigeon shooting. It turns out that shooting at a clay pigeon flying through the air with an immense shotgun that did not have sights like the rifles and pistols I have shot in the past is quite difficult. I kept leaning back while shooting which caused the kickback of the gun to tenderize my shoulder like a steak ready for barbequing.

On Sunday we walked through a sheep field on the way to the Hell-Fire Club caves. The caves were built between 1720 and 1754 for Lord Francis Dashwood on his land in Berkshire. After a few years of bad harvests, farm workers were left unemployed so he hired them to dig caves into the chalk hills on his land. The chalk was used to build roads between West Wycombe and High Wycombe and again to build a road to Oxford. The caves were then used for the secret club that Lord Dashwood founded called the Hell-Fire club. Benjamin Franklin visited (before the revolution) and was quite impressed.

We then walked up a very steep hill to the Dashwood mausoleum, a hexagonal open-air crypt of sorts where generations of Dashwoods are buried. Above this is the church, designed after a 3rd century temple in Damascus, that has a golden globe at the top from which Lord Dashwood used to signal his friends across the countryside.

On out return from the visit to the Dashwood Estate, we happened upon an awning with a table and chairs in the sheep field. Some girls who live in a house adjoining the field were trying to raise money for their school trip to Morroco, so they baked lemon cakes and flapjack cakes as well as making real lemonade. They printed up and laminated a menu and were very industrious all around. The six of us stopped and had a snack while some of the sheep became very nervous and tried to sneak past us to a water trough while their mother sheep stood her ground protectively.

Paris on a Segway

DSC01441,
originally uploaded by Neil Rickards.

Last weekend Neil and I went to visit his friend Steve who is finishing up his MBA in Fountainebleu. Neil convinced Steve and I to go on a Segway tour of Paris, which ended up being the highlight of a very very nice trip.

I will write more about the weekend soon, so check back!

Playing with fire

DSC02938,
originally uploaded by GlamourGeek.

At my BBQ, Dave was giving us a demonstration of his fire playing things. I can't remember what they are called.

My first BBQ

DSC01321,
originally uploaded by Neil Rickards.

Last night I had my first BBQ, with some of the strictest BBQ critics in England. Fortunately I passed the test!

My first Stephen Hawking sighting!

DSC01199,
originally uploaded by Neil Rickards.

Last night I finally saw Stephen Hawking! He lives in Cambridge and has a chair (Fellow of the colleges) at Cambridge University and I have been hearing stories for months about how he likes to try and run people over in his wheelchair. He was talking with his nurse via the computers on his chair while they were walking along the River Cam.

My garden

DSC02872,
originally uploaded by GlamourGeek.

So, the house I am renting has this beautiful garden in the back. The owner is a prolific gardener, and everytime I go out there I see new and interesting flowers. The other day I came across these striped roses.

Oldest pub ever

Old pub ever,
originally uploaded by GlamourGeek.

This pub, built in 1189, is built into the rocks below Nottingham Castle. Many of the rooms are built in the rocks. I bet Robin Hood himself drank here! Oh, and this place has surprisingly good food.

Nottingham Castle

Nottingham Castle,
originally uploaded by GlamourGeek.

This castle was built into rocks. The castle itself is no longer standing, but these tunnels that used to be under the castle are still intact. There are doors lining the rock wall that I guess lead into said tunnels.

Nottingham Castle

DSC01166,
originally uploaded by Neil Rickards.

I know, it's silly. I was trying to see if my house key, which is a big old-fashioned skeleton key, would open the tunnel doors into Nottingham Castle. Is that so wrong?

Terminology Revisited

The longer I live here in the UK, the more I am expected to speak 'correctly'. As mentioned in an earlier post, there are different terms and words for things in the UK vs. the US. In that vein, I am documenting a few more translations for those who prefer to be understood when visiting the UK.

AMERICAN TERM ............... ENGLISH TERM
Sweater ............... Jumper
Garbage ............... Rubbish
Prawns ............... Shrimp
Tiny Shrimp ............... Prawns
Eggplant ............... Aubergine
Zuccini ............... Courgette
Cell phone ............... Mobile
Truck ............... Lorry
Bicycle ............... Pushbike
Sprite or 7 Up ............... Lemonade
Idiot ............... Tosser
Candy ............... Sweets
Wrench ............... Spanner
Apartment ............... Flat
Pharmacy ............... Chemists

Yesterday I actually said 'rubbish bin' to mom, then had to correct myself and say 'garbage can'. That earned my grins and thumbs-up from two gentlemen who feel it is their civic duty to tell me every time I say something 'incorrectly' (you know who you are).

New Olympic Sport: Extreme BBQing

One of the traditional activities in Cambridge for both locals and visitors is to go punting. A punt is a flat-bottom boat that is powered and guided by someone standing at the back of it with a very long wooden pole used to push against the bottom of the river.



One of my boyfriend's friends suggested a punting trip from Cambridge to Grantchester with a BBQ in a field in Grantchester before our return punting trip to Cambridge. The weather forecast looked beautiful, and the group was up to about 20 people. Little did we know this trip was going to inspire the new British sport of Xtreme BBQing. Let me just say, if you are planning on moving to the UK, buy loads of waterproof gear first and never leave home without it.

The walk from my boyfriend Neil's house to the river started out badly. Like a silly foreigner I had worn summer clothes after seeing the forecast. We got caught in a massive hailstorm on the way there, and we were all soaked to the skin and absolutely freezing. Once the rain and hail abated, we were leaving puddles wherever we walked. At one point Neil's roommate Rich said to Neil "You've just stepped in a puddle" and Neil said "The puddle is from my shoes".


After waiting out the storm in front of the fireplace at The Anchor, a lovely pub on the river, the group of us loaded into the punts. As we were filling the punts with the BBQ stuff, the rain started to fall again. Five of the people decided to stay on land and go straight back to the pub, while the rest of us decided that it would clear up eventually and loaded ourselves onto the boats.


The punt ride was very enjoyable, with beautiful dappled sunlight filtering through the trees. We tried to send a message in a bottle to the other punt requesting more wine, but they missed the bottle. Someday years from now someone will find the bottle and wonder if we ever received our wine.


Another tradition while punting is to bridge jump. This involves one or two crazy people from each punt jumping onto a bridge as the boat passes below, then jumping back onto the boat from the other side. Some of the guys made it look easy, but I was still so wet and cold that I was not even going to attempt it. Neil ended up helping one of the girls, Sarah, up onto the bridge by pulling her up with one hand. *sigh* he's so strong.


Okay, enough of that. So once we got to the BBQ site (which we decided upon long before reaching Grantchester) we unloaded the disposable BBQ grill and the food from the punts and lit up. Suddenly, as the food was being laid on the well-lit grill and my socks were almost dry, the skies opened up with a vengence.


Hailstones larger than I have ever seen them began pelting us so hard that all we could do was cower under whatever cover we could find. My shoes were still off because I had been trying to dry my socks, and I thought I was getting frostbite on my toes from all the ice piling up on them. In true British fashion, a group was huddled around the BBQ covering themselves up with blankets while making a makeshift roof out of the blankets to keep the BBQ from getting wet. Rich stayed huddled on the ground tending the BBQ, breathing in massive amounts of C02 while cooking the meat to perfection. After a very long time the hail finally subsided and we were able to enjoy our BBQ. Drenched and soaked, but well fed.

After another smaller hailstorm, which quite handily put out the BBQ fire when we were finished with it, and a couple of very close lightning strikes, we decided to head back. Emily was kind enough to remove the bulk of the piles of hail from inside the punts, and we enjoyed beautiful weather for most of the return punt trip. There was more bridge jumping as well as some strange inter-punt fights (mainly between Prue and Rodolph). Upon returning to Cambridge, the rain began to fall very hard again and we unloaded the punts while wrapped up in whatever soaking wet blankets we could find.

Two days later I am still sore from the constant seven hours of shivering, but at least I feel a little more British. No wonder they have such great senses of humour over here. It is the only way to cope.

Driving in mirror image

Well, today marks the fourth day of me behind the wheel of a british car. The wheel is, of course, on the wrong side of the car and the driving lanes have me driving on the left side of the street instead of the right. Already millions of non-british folks have achieved this seemingly insurmountable task, but let me tell you, I was proud to have survived intact! And today I haven't even driven into any curbs! Fortunately the British rental car companies include insurance in the daily rental price. Haven't killed anyone yet, but the night is young, and tonight it is raining! There are many cyclists in Cambridge, and the roads are more narrow than the cars (maybe why there are so few SUVs?) and the bicycle lanes that the city planners put in don't actually give the cyclists their own lane but rather just take a bigger swathe out of the driving lanes. The great thing is, I am staying in a house called 'The Cottage' on 'Old House Road' (yes, that is the entire address) and I drive through gorgeous countryside on my entire ten minute commute to work. It is truly the best of everything - high technology company in countryside, with a city two minutes further down the road.

I miss my US friends terribly, but I don't miss the 405, the 101, the 110 or even the 10! LA folks know what I mean. Dontcha?

UK Resident Week 3 Journal

Well, I for one am exhausted!

It is 28 degrees outside. I have just finished my third week at the new job. After not working seriously for years, I am finally settling in to sitting in front of a computer for 7.5 hours a day (no 8 hour work days here) with other people on computers all around me. The job is becoming more managable, or at least I am understanding the product and my role in it a bit better. Knowledge, it turns out, is a great stress reliever. I have been going through the tutorial for our product, getting through about one page per two hours, and finally get the general idea. Duh. You connect to a target (the chip) through an interface (Trace or ICE), load an image onto the target that contains the RTOS (Realtime Operating System) that you wish to run on the chip, and then run through the code looking for errors. When the original chunk of code is compiled, the level of the optimization controls the amount of original code left in the end build. So if I am debugging a highly optimized build, then the errors might not point me to the exact spot in the software with the problem, but if I use a low amount of optimization, then I can usually find the area in the code that I want to test. So that explains why Microsoft Word is such a large size, becausse if they were to optimize the compiled build into a smaller sized executable, then there would be more difficulty in the developers finding the sources of bugs.

Whew.

Ok, so if learning everything in that preceeding paragraph weren't enough to completely rock my world, I am also househunting. With no car. In the cold. This means that every morning before work I have been taking the bus somewhere to look at houses, and every lunch time I do the same. Generally, the busses that run every ten minnutes don't arrive for at least thirty minutes when I am in a hurry. And since it has been 32 degrees each day, I have been loading up on cashmere before going out the door. Aftger looking at many homes that were absolute pits, I finally found one right across the street from work that is gorgeous! But now the owner, whom I met and got on well with, is saying that he may want to sell the house instead. Ugh! Tht would mean at least another week of this dreadful househunting.

Other than the growing pains of adapting to a new country, job, etc., I have been getting out and having a little fun. Bern and I went to a fundraiser for Prince's Trust, Prince Charles' organization which helps people start businesses and helps teenagers or young adults with unsavory pasts get a new start in the arts. The party was in the Master's Lodge at Magdelene College (part of Cambridge University). The Master (I can't remember his name) said that no one normally gets to enter the house. It was beautiful. And the attendees of this benefit were some of the 'Gown' set (each town here seems to have it's own 'town' and 'gown' set) and it appears they all wore black or dark red blazers. I was in a pink sweater set. Stood out like a sore thumb.

UK Resident Week 2 Journal

Wow. Moving countries is hard work!

I have been staying with my friend Bern, who had set up his study as a bedroom for me. Unfortunately, it was so quiet that I couldn't sleep, and the sofa bed was too short for me. He lives in a village outside of Cambridge called Balsham that is really nice, but the buss ervice that is supposed to run there doesn't really exist as far as I can tell. So, in order to get some sleep and be in Cambridge itself with proper bus service, I moved into temporary housing at www.cambridgeapartments.com. It was difficult to feel like I had made the right decision when I didn't even have my own space, but now everything is improving rapidly.

To add to the fatigue of starting new, I already went on my first business trip to our office in a place between London and Oxford called Maidenhead (heh heh... heh heh... shut up Beavis) to meet with some of my new team. The trip from Cambridge to Oxford or anywhere along that M14 Corridor requires a train ride into London, a subway (Tube) ride from one train station to another, then another train up towards Oxford. In all it takes 3.5 hours. Maybe some day they will put in a direct route, but until then it looks like this may be a leftover of the thousand year Cambridge/Oxford rivalry.

UK Resident Week 1 Journal

Well, I have survived my first week as a resident of Britain. The worst part is over, beginning a job for which I am grossly underqualified. The company that hired me designs embedded systems (the chips that run our cellphones, cars, gaming consoles, etc) and I am just this little automated GUI validation engineer surrounded by big bad hardware engineers who talk binary and unix and theoretical mathematics. whoa.

The most trauamtic moment of the week would either be the morning when I bought what I thought was an apple turnover for breakfast and discovered it had a mystery meat product inside, or when the unix geek next to me was helping me get my computer on the network, and when he said "Go to the system control panel" my mind went blank and I said "huh?"

Anyway, it is freezing here and I am looking forward to that first weekend trip to Spain or Italy. That is what life is about.

Info for your first Paris visit

When visiting Paris, there are many cultural differences, the knowledge of which can help ensure a more enjoyable stay. I recommend buying phrase books and dictionaries. Also, the best language learning tool I found is the Dr. Pimsleur lessons available on CD or tape or MP3 from iTunes.com.

POLITE BEHAVIOR

The French are a very polite society. The majority of the reputation they have for being rude can be traced back to these cultural differences. They actually think that Americans are more rude than anyone, so obviously there is a misunderstanding taking place. Americans try to make up for their lack of knowledge in french politesse by smiling a lot, but that is akin to smiling at a wild animal who takes it as an invitation to attack. Imagine someone being blatantly rude to you and smiling the entire time. This is how we come across in that culture.

So here are some guidelines to the french rules of conduct. First, when a person enters a cafe, bar, restaurant, shop, or any other place of business, the person first pauses to locate the shopkeeper or an employee and makes eye contact and says 'Bonjour' (or, after 6pm 'Bonsoir'). Then they go about their business. This sign of respect is repeated when they leave as well. At the door, the person pauses, turns and makes eye contact again, and says 'merci, au revoir'. These steps will show the shopkeeper or waiter that you understand their culture and are willing to adapt. In France there is no class system. In the French Revolution in the 18th century, they beheaded the aristocrats. Because of this the waiters and shopkeepers are as respected as the doctors and celebrities. The say excuse me (excusez moi), pardon me (pardonez moi), please (sil vous plait), and thank you (merci) quite often out of respect for each other. Also, they never say "I want" ('je veux) but rather "I would like" (je voudrais). I was told that only the king says "I want" and the last king was beheaded, so no one says it.

Most restaurants have their menu printed in English. Because there are so many different languages represented in Paris, the waiter cannot automatically know that you need an english menu, so politely ask. Also, one of the biggest pet peeves for french waiters is when an American (other cultures don't do this, except maybe the british) walk in and start speaking english. The french have no reason to speak english, so when Americans start speaking quickly and then get upset at not being understood, the french quite rightly will feel a little put-off. The way to do it is to slowly ask if they have an english menu. If you are feeling brave, ask for it in french by saying "excuse moi, avez vous une carte l'anglais?" Then, when ordering, ask if the waiter speaks english. They may say no right away, but that is usually attributed to their not being comfortable with their level of english. If you have a smile in your eyes and show your respect for them, they will usually come up with enough stilted english to help you understand the menu.

EATING IN RESTAURANTS

The dining experience in France is another cultural difference. A cafe does not always server food. Every restaurant or cafe will have their menu posted next to the front door. Look on the menu before entering to see if the food is something you would like (it is beyond rude to wait until after you are seated and reading the menu to then get up and leave). The hours of food service should be posted on that menu by the door as well. Often the cafes don't serve food between 2pm and 5pm, but you can always find one that does. Keep in mind that the french word 'entree' is an appetizer. For our 'entree', the main course, the menu will say 'Plat'. The order in which food is ordered is also different.

The traditional french meal begins with a drink order. Usually this is red wine, even at lunch time. They take their food and wine very seriously, and feel that mixing coca cola with a meal ruins the taste buds and makes the meal unpalatable. Generally the red wine is a house wine, cheaper than anything else on the menu, and is better than the most expensive wine in America. Order the small glass. Trust me. You will want to work your way slowly to the carafe of wine. Also, it is perfectly reasonable to ask for water, but they usually won't bring it if you don't ask. To do this, you say "Une carafe d'eau, sil vous plait?" Next you order you main meal. Feel free to ask the waiter's opinion or for clarification. When ordering, keep an american/french dictionary next to you, preferably one geared towards the menus. It makes a huge difference.

Some of the french specialties include Confit du Canard (fatty duck leg) (yummy!!!), pave du entrecote (cheap steak), and pave du saumon (roast salmon). Generally if you order a salad, the dressing will be predetermined. They do not ask you what dressing you would like. After the main course is finished, they will ask if you would like dessert. Go for it. The french are all about living well. They believe cheese is good for you because it has calcium. Since they live long healthy lives, I think they are on to something. After dessert, it is time for an espresso. The waiter will ask if you would like a cafe. This is espresso. If you order a cafe creme, it is usually much more expensive and I found that espresso tasted better.

The american way of dining, where we are given so many choices, is not relevant in Paris. The dishes are prepared very specifically by the chef, and it is considered an insult to try and customize your dish. I have found that eating meals the way the chef determines is best has taught me so much about how different flavors can be combined. And the first time you order a steak and red wine and combine the two flavors in your mouth, you will understand.

PAYING THE CHECK

The most important thing to know in a french restaurant is that they consider it extremely rude to bring the check to the table before the customer asks for it. As you can imagine, this creates many uncomfortable moments for americans who sit there waiting and waiting and thinking the waiter is being rude. In fact, it is just the opposite. To ask for the check, make eye contact with the waiter or raise your hand slightly for him to come to the table, and say "L'addition, sil vous plait?" pronouncing l'addition like "la dissyon". When tipping, remember that most waiters are very highly paid and get a percentage of the check automatically. It may be uncomfortable for you at first, but only leave 5% tip and that will be a high compliment to them. Most french will leave a few coins, maybe 40 cents. France is a cafe culture. You can go and sit at a cafe for hours over one espresso. The chairs at the cafe are all facing out because people watching is a great past time.

TRANSPORTATION

If you don't already have transportation lined up from the airport, you can take the RER (subway for the larger Paris region) from the airport into the city center. Look for the ticket agent and tell them you need to go to city center. They will usually be helpful about telling you which stop is closest to your hotel. Remember you will need your ticket (billet) to get out of the RER as well. Depending on where your hotel is, you can get off on the Saint Michel or Chatelet stop and connect to the metro that would take you closest to your hotel or get a cab from that stop. Keep in mind there are many many stairs in the train and subway stops, so pack lightly. The RER and Metro from the airport to city center will costs about 7 euros each person. A taxi will be about 40 or 50 euros total.

The subway is a great way to get around town, although walking is still ideal. In winter, though, walking may be too cold. To take the subway, look for a sign saying 'Metro'. The metro lines are very convenient and you can get around the city very quickly once you get the hang of it. A metro map can be found at http://www.paris.org/Metro/gifs/metro01.map.jpg and one of the first things you should do, when checking in to your hotel, in look on the brochure stand for a Galleries Lafayette brochure (white with red letters) which is actually a great walking map of Paris with the metro map on the back. The buses and subways are all clean and are the prefered method of transportation for people from all walks of life. They run until 12:30am. Taxis are not too expensive either, and you usually tip them about 10%.

SIGHTSEEING

Paris is broken up into 20 districts (called arrondisments) starting at number 1 in the middle of town and spiraling out to 20 on the outskirts. These also correspond with the postal code. For instance, if your hotel is in postal code 75008 you are staying in the 8th arrondisment. If youa re staying in a single digit arrondisment (1 - 9) you will be able to walk most places in town. Some of the places to visit are the Musee du Louvre (allow two days and try to go on a weekday), the Musee d'Orsay (beautiful old building - used to be the train station), and my personal favorite, Musee Cluny which is the museum of the middle ages. Don't waste your time with tourist traps like Moulin Rouge, which is in the seediest neighborhood in town and doesn't really give you the feel of old Paris like it promises.

At night, the buildings along the Seine are lit up, and you can walk along the river the get lost in the beauty of the buildings. On the left bank (Latin Quarter), you will also have a wide selection of bars and restaurants until about 2:00am since that is the biggest tourist area. Every hour between dusk and 1:00am the Eiffel Tower will begin twinkling for ten minutes. Also, at night, if you get turned around and can't figure out which direction you are going, look for the rotating spotlight from the top of the Eiffel Tower and you can usually figure out your general location.

SAFETY

Paris is an extremely safe city. They cannot conceive of the violence to which Americans have become accustomed. This means that you can walk around the city day and night without directions and feel quite safe. The worst crime there, and a very prevalent crime, is pickpocketing. Keep your cash and credit cards in an inside pocket, or wrap a wide rubberband around your wallet. Pickpockets cannot pull a wallet out of a pocket if there is a rubberband because of the friction against the cloth.

FAVORITE PLACES

- Luxembourg Gardens (there is a great internet cafe on St. michael across from the gardens that has american keyboards)
- Musee Cluny (on St. Michael and St. Germain in the middle of the Latin Quarter)
- Jardins du Tuileries (Large gardens leading up to the Louvre)
- L'Opera (Garniers, not Bastille) (do the English-speaking tour)
- Musee D'Orsay

FAVORITE RESTAURANTS

For lunch, Le Circle (across the street from Luxembourg Gardens)
For these next two restaurants, follow these directions: (take the metro to La Madeleine, follow the Rue Tronchet exit, turn down Rue Tronchet to the next little street and take a left)
- Cafe Sud (more upscale southern french food with a lovely restaurant manager named Bruno)
- Chez Papa (Less expensive, more traditional southwestern french food)

BON VOYAGE!!!

My new dream vacation!

Okay! Now that I have finally realized my lifelong dream vacation of spending months in Europe, I have been worried about not being able to come up with another dream vacation (Tahiti and Italy don't count - they are nice, but dream vacations are big). But it has happened! Any of you who are familiar with my volunteer activities cleaning up lion poop at the Wildlife Waystation in Los Angeles will know that this new volunteer vacation will be right up my alley. Anyone want to join me there in August?

http://www.enkosiniecoexperience.com/MakalaliGameReserve.htm

Short list of translations

There are many ways to get in trouble with language differences, even in another english speaking country. Here are some translations of common terms in Britain:

AMERICAN TERM ............... ENGLISH TERM
Pants ............... Trousers
Underwear ............... Pants
Bum ............... Vagrant
Bottom ............... Bum
Rude ............... Cheeky
Sausage ............... Bangers
Chips ............... Crisps
French Fries ............... Chips
Toilet ............... Loo
Mail ............... Post
Vacation ............... Holiday
Bus ............... Coach
Thanks ............... Cheers
Friend ............... Mate
Coworker ............... Mate
Fellow Bar Fly ............... Mate
Stranger ............... Mate
A**hole Driver ............... Mate

Some other cultural differences include the men using cloth hankerchiefs rather than disposable kleenex. I got used to this very quickly (seeing it - not doing it) and now I realize just how much garbage and how many trees I go through using kleenex.

Also, they seem to cook fresh food, and are really very good cooks, not even using prepackaged foods. I have had some of the most amazing meals made from scratch including chicken curry, pad thai, roast lamb, potato and parsnip soup, and more. All made from completely fresh ingredients. No wonder Americans tend towards obesity more. We cook prepackaged as often as possible, or eat out. Did you know that a chicken curry takes as much time to make as macaroni and cheese? And it has zero fat and lots of nutrients.

Household chores in England

The way most Europeans do household chores are a bit different from the way we do in America. I had to get used to hanging my clothes to dry, which it turns out makes the clothes last longer, and it is usually unnecessary to iron them. The whites stay white, and the cloth doesn't fray. The washing machines here are very high tech and usually sit in the kitchen next to the dishwasher. One of the dangers of hanging clothes to dry, however, is that you see the knickers/pants/bloomers/Homer-Simpson-Underwear of your neighbors...

The view from Indigo Cafe in Cambridge

The colors of history and nature meld into a beautiful, complex tapestry. On a cottage rooftop in Cambridge, the dark clouds in the background cast the roof of the cottage into stark contrast as the low sun warms the roof covered in moss. The reds and browns of the ancient roof are covered in the greens of the moss. Next door is a copper roof that is bright green with age. In the foreground, a wrought iron fence is hanging open at the pathway leading to a little church. Old bicycles with wicker baskets are tied to the wrought iron fence, and the lamppost that was once gas is sitting as a sentry, keeping watch over the proceedings.

On the bus from Oxford to Cambridge

I am on the bus now form Oxford to Cambridge, and as we were driving down the highway, I looked out over the farmland and saw a huge jet flying low suddenly eject eight parashooters. The chutes were automatically deployed and were the slow round ones, so it must have been a military exercise. Either that or Swindon is being attacked. It was a beautiful and eerie sight, with the ubiquitous rain pouring down. I found myself wondering how many people on the bus saw them. Was it only me? Was it real or was it just a memory of watching Band of Brothers last night?

Autumn in (Old) England

Autumn has arrived in England. The brick houses in Oxford are covered in ivy of such a vibrant red that it almost hurts the eyes to gaze at their beauty for two long. In Cambridge, as the temperature drops and the rain falls incessantly, the punting company representatives are not as prevalent as in the summer. Usually college students with clipboards harassing passersby. They seem to be in competition to sell the most rides, and after a while even the most patient person may become tired of saying “no thank you.”
The colleges are no longer available to visitors, so pedestrians on the cobblestone avenues can hope for a glimpse at best of the immense central courtyards of the 33 colleges that make up Cambridge University. King’s College is the largest courtyard, and they have a chapel that is open to the public. An amazing experience is to listen to ‘Glorias’ by the St. John’s and King’s College choir while walking through the incredible cathedral. It is the largest college cathedral in Cambridge.

A few comments about London

In London, there is quite a bit to do if you have a large budget. There are also some very lovely things to do while visiting on a tight budget as I am. For example, many of the museums are free or donation based. They are subsidized by the government which means that people of limited means can visit. Yesterday I went to the Natural History museum and saw fossils discovered all around the world. There was a wonderful exhibit on the various types of volcanic materials, as well as an enticing dinosaur exhibit. This museum also had wuite a few places for people to sit and rest. The bird exhibit was a bit disturbing since there were hundreds of stuffed birds collecting dust behind glass. This is the museum where my friend Michael and I went to the Harry Potter premiere after-party.


The pub culture in England is unlike any other. France has their café culture. New York their bar culture. Belgium their moules et frites culture. But in England there are pubs on every corner. They have intriguing names such as The Dog And Duck, The Goat, or one I just drove past called Take Courage. I seem to think the pubs are named by the owners putting many words into a hat and picking out two. They add an ‘and’ between the words, and there is the name. For instance, how many Horse and Hounds are there? Also, there are countless Boar’s Heads, Churchill Arms, Fox and Hounds, and White Stags in each town. Speaking of Churchill Arms, there is one in London on Kensington Church Street between Kensington and Notting hill that has some of the best thai food around. Evidently the thai food phenomenon in pubs is quite common. This pub also has pulled draughts, which means the beer is stored in the basement in the original oak barrels, and the draught pulls at the bar actually pump the beer directly from the oak barrels.

Escape From London

Well, London isn't the city for me. I am leaving that loud, busy, noisy, gray city and heading towards the oasis of John in Oxford. After staying in a hostel for the first time in my life, and wandering the streets virtually homeless in search of an affordable hotel, I am finally taking a bus to one of the many inexpensive B&Bs in Oxford. After a night there, I will stay with John, whom you may recognize from the Woodside party photos.

There is something about the university towns in England that are very calming. Maybe it is the feeling of permanence from the buildings in which students have been learning for a thousand years. Maybe it is the general air of distraction that chronic academia lends to it’s people.
There is a bus, the Oxford Tube, that travels between London and Oxford many times per hour during the day, and the bus, a double-decker luxury coach, has power outlets at each seat. One can imagine, then, how many people have their laptops booted up for the trip. There is also a surprising number of iPods and Powerbooks. These Brits obviously have style and class when it comes to electronics.
Normally when I use my Powerbook on a bus, particularly on the top deck of a bus, I get miserably motion sick. This time, however, I planned ahead and dug out of my luggage some lozenges that I bought while in Zug, Switzerland with my friend Jared. The lozenges contain ginger and mint, and sure enough they have done away with my motion sickness. Hence I am able to write this story.
The sun is setting over the London suburbs, our coach (bus to us Americans) is driving slowly past a group of kids and a dad playing football (soccer) on a patch of grass between apartments. What they don’t seem to realize is that at the front of the grass there is a sign saying “No ball games”. Football takes precedence over rules in this land.

Switzerland july 3, 2004

Well, here I am in the Swiss Alps. Living the hard life, let me tell you. The latest destination in my ongoing european adventure is the Hotel Therme in Vals where my sister's friend Jarod invited me to join he and his friends Beth and Harold.

This after spending last week in Provence with my friend Martha where we went to Avignon (only ok) and Tarascon (totally fun) and visited a village made of ochre, a village made up of 2000 year old stone igloos, and a village carved into high cliffs. On the train back to Paris, we sat with a woman and her daughter from my hometown of Portland!

I now have four different types of currencies on my purse (US Dollars, Euros, British Pounds, and Swiss Francs) and have dealt with French, English, Dutch, and now German keyboards in addition to my japanese keyboard on my iBook.

Harry Potter Premiere - London May 31, 2004

As the line of matching silver sedans pulled up to the street in central London, near the Odeon theater, the streets were lined on both sides by thousands of barricaded fans trying to glimpse the celebrities behind the tinted windows. Feeling a bit like we were in an invisible fishbowl, Michael and I were shellshocked and suddenly nervous about the crowd. We were arriving for the Harry Potter Prisoner of Azkaban premiere and Michael had just finished a crazy week of publicity in London and Scotland. He has become a bit of a celebrity in the UK during the past week, being stopped by fans on the London streets to such an extent that Warner Brothers hired a security detail for him. One headline called him the 'Cult Hero of the People'.

As we arrived at the beginning of the red carpet and the car doors were opened for us, there was a loud roar from the crowd to the point that Michael and I could not hear each other speak. Screams of "Gunther" erupted and Michael was quickly overwhelmed by autograph seekers. He was then ushered to the press line and spent a bit of time being interviewed while I stood a little ways behind him waiting with a publicist, my legs shaking from that strange sensation of being watched by thousands of people while I have no specific role to play. After it took us over half an hour to get past the fans and press and into the theater, we were seated and waiting for the movie to start. The movie screen was showing the red carpet, and the stars of Harry Potter as they arrived were immediately whisked in to the whirlwind of autograph signings and assembly-line press interviews. Emma Watson, who plays Hermione, was flitting back and forth like a butterfly in front of the barricades of autograph seekers, signing so quickly that her arms were a blur. The young stars handled the press and fans with such elegance that there is no doubt they are born professionals.

As the stars were finally allowed to come into the theater, they were introduced on the stage along with the current director and the director of the previous two movies in the series. Once they returned to their seats, the movie started. This movie was a bit darker than the previous two in the series, and it was very evident that the new director focused more on the action of the story rather than on the characters as the previous director had. It was remarkable to watch the movie with the cast and director sitting mere rows in front of us, and Michael and I enjoyed ourselves immensely.

After the movie, we were corralled towards some coaches to take us to the party at the Natural History Museum. On the way to the busses, Michael introduced me to the president of Warner Brothers. After the bus took a very circuitous route to the museum, in order to escape any followers, we departed and entered the museum which was decked out in full Potter regalia. There were owls from the movie on either side of the entrance while their handlers presumable developed fatigued arms. Owls are very heavy. The entrance to the museum was lit up with orange lighting, casting the architectural detail in sharp relief, and there were torches guiding us in to the huge doors. Once inside, we were ushered into the VIP area for food catered by Jamie Oliver (or so I heard). For the next few hours, while Michael was being mobbed by fans, I rubbed elbows with Alan Rickman, Gary Oldman, Chris Columbus, Katie Holmes, Claudia Schiffer, and almost all of the stars of Harry Potter (but where was Ron Weasley?). I watched as Daniel Ratcliff was so mobbed by people that he didn't get 20 feet into the room during the entire evening. He looked a little frazzled and overwhelmed but was still quite charming and attentive to everyone.

Paris Journal April 21, 2004 - Stalker Alert

I can't really say my first French stalker, but that's another story...

So there I was today, leaving the Metro station at Place St. Michel, and as I was walking up the stairs to street level, there was a gentleman walking down the stairs into the station that made eye contact with me. Think the brunette guy from Kids in the Hall, only taller. I thought nothing of it, until I had walked a little ways and stopped to look in the window of a shoe store. I noticed him slowly walking past me looking the other direction, and I thought "well, maybe he forgot something and decided not to get on the subway." Then I walked further up Blvd. St. Michel to St. Germain and noticed him behind me again. I turned the corner and went down a pedestrian street to my favorite little internet cafe and spent 15 minutes checking email (deleting spam) while he stood outside on his cellphone. Okay, I thought, I can walk back towards the Metro station and stop off at St. Severin cafe where the waiters know me. Well, of course this guy is following me again. It has been 20 minutes out of his day now. A little strange.

Of course, I am a crazy American girl who ended up having coffee with him. He is Patrique, an art director originally from Geneva who doesn't speak much English.

The next day he professed his love over text message. I said Thanks. That was the easiest rejection I have ever given.

Paris Journal April 18, 2004

Well, I have been here five days, and the weather has run the gamut. Today it is freezing and raining, but two days ago the sun was shining and it was a very comfortably 66 degrees. The trees are beginning to sprout leaves, and the tulips have been planted all around town.

I am staying in an affluent suburb of Paris called Maisons-Lafitte and I walk a mile each direction for the train. The homes are very old, with a few unattractive modern apartment buildings thrown in. At least they don't allow anything above six stories here.

Dominique and I are painting our new apartment and trying to figure out how to economically get rid of the ugly carpet. Think 1970s bank carpet. Unfortunately the wood floor underneath is covered in carpet glue, so I think we will wait to see if we decide to live there more than a few months before making an investment in refinishing the floor or installing a new carpet. Since the apartment is on what is effectively a 7th floor walk-up, these decisions are not to be made lightly.


One of the brilliant things about Paris is the refined decadence, particularly with cuisine. When visiting France, it is important to eat the food and drink the beverage as recommended by the waiters. Steak for lunch never tasted as good as with a glass of Bordeaux. Sip between every few bites, and the flavors intermingle beautifully. Try the same trick with a créme brulée and an espresso. Food never tasted so good!

Last night I went to see On The Waterfront with french subtitles. What a great movie! Go rent it soon, and watch it with someone. And repeat to yourself "I coulda been a contender". Then go out and be a contender.

My going away party

bonvoyagefriends
Originally uploaded by GlamourGeek.

Here are some of my closest friends from LA, the HSX crowd, at my bon voyage party in April, 2004 before I moved to Europe.