Fleur De Lori

Updates coming soon

2008-01-20T03:59:00.001-08:00

Realizing that I just didn't cover some countries, I'm going to be revisiting the back of my mind to fill you all in on the going's on of almost a year ago. Whoa.

Spain is the perfect place to end one´s country hopping

2007-05-12T09:01:00.000-07:00

Especially before returning to france to ride my bike by rivers and eat like, au gratin potatoes and other regional specialties.

But as for Granada .... It´s so hot here! It feels super super nice, the real heat.
Its pretty dry, its sortof crazy. There are at least 4 hammocks in my hostel´s garden courtyard. Legit.

This one gypsy -- after he tole me I was ¨juapa¨--- and invited me to dance or something, saying:

¨there´s flamenco in the mountains--- in caves¨

It was pretty much the most creepy/awesome thing ever said to me, and I was in a good mood bc his friend was a good flamenco singer dude, and I was getting some sun (If i haven´t told you before, I think I´m photosynthetic a little). Still, I was like, yeah, no thanks.... as much as I love flamenco, I´m going to wait until I know spanish, and kung fu, to come to dance flamenco in the mountains.

Actually, I should probably also learn flamenco. Spain´s existance will be a nice inspiration for me to pursue hobbies I had already intended to pick up. I can pretty much fake all the aforementioned things, but that´s just not the same as acutally knowing how to do stuff.

When I was having dinner with the Calderos, who are awesome (and who my friend Julia .. who I´ve known since I was 0-- is going to meet) I mentioned that sure, I´d figured out what I wanted to do, career-wise, but I thought I´d like to learn computer programming or something, too.... and Phillipe, Mr. Caldero to...well to pretty much no one (maybe his math students) said, ¨Lori, you must decide!¨

But I know he was kidding, since he´s a mathematician that likes to play David Bowie on his piano, and was in a one hit wonder band in Martinique in the 80s.

PS Becca helped me to figure out that I probably have some Black Irish ancestors (I´m thinking paternal grandmother) ... which would really really explain why most europeans I meet - when I ask them ¨what¨I look like, since I don´t really know - say....hmmm, you have a very latin face. Its the black irish! Spanish invaders in Ireland! This is why someone at the Methodist Church in kirkwood asked me if I was from South America! It would alsol explain why my dad looks sortof Spanish, especially in my family pictures from when we are young and bouncy blonde german lookin´kids! It really has unfurrowed my brow a great deal, this insight.

Argentina - best restaurant owner Vernazza!!

2007-04-26T03:06:00.001-07:00

Argentina - best restaurant owner Vernazza!!
Originally uploaded by lolololori.

Blythe and I, being naturals at the whole "lets take 7 hours to eat dinner" thing that Italy seemed to have going for it, of course were the last ones to leave Volterra's best restaruant, whose name I have forgotten.
However, if you go there, just ask whoever you're staying with where to find Arge's (short for Argentina) place, and they'll probably know exactly where to find her, and heck, they will probably be related to her, b/c the town is rather tiny.

Arge, generous broken italian interpreter exemplaire, spoke to us about her name, her game and her love of restaruant owning. She is all about just chatting away for no good reason other than the best reason - just because. We spoke to her in english/italian, but by this time of the trip/night/wine bottle I was pretty confident in my italian speaking, and probably even ventured outside of the present tense a few times, hey-o.

The Precioius Georgian Couple were seated in the corner, and slightly impressed with our speaking italian, but my favorite Precious Georgian Couple moment was yet to come. Of course, the Precious Georgian Lady, PGL, had already asked us if we had boyfriends, so she knew we were single ladies (shock!) travelling. Being a true PGL, she was on the lookout for us at dinner, and made sure we knew that the Germans dressed as Fiddler on the Roof Chorus members (who were travelling around the Continent fixing people's roofs, as per some tradition -- they also had a cool walking stick) were "lookeein at y'all!" And then she did a little flapper-esque dance to show that we were single, they were single, hey! It was pretty hilarious.

Anyway, Arge ruled, and my anchovy pie ruled (it was quite inTENSE, but I tried to eat it) And my coffee had foam that looked like italy. It was another night of just chillin' with random people.

Blythe goes medieval

2007-04-26T02:53:00.001-07:00

Blythe goes medieval
Originally uploaded by lolololori.

Earlier that day, Blythe and I decided to go on a crazy hike, b/c that's what you do in Cinqueterre. Blythe had heard that the paths were dangerous, so I was anxious to find out if they were "don't go there when you're drunk b/c you'll fall into the sea" or "roving bandits" type of dangerous.

I think it was the former, b/c I only saw not-quite-open, but awesome-looking cliffside restaurants, and a lot of fun trees to climb (not to mention crazy hiking germans with walking sticks).

Anyway, it was a killer hike - I was really feelin' the nature and it was also somewhat strenuous and painful, but in a good way. The views were crazy, and I only almost fell down once. It was a little misty/hazy for our hike, but that didn't realy affect much - if anything it kept it nice and cool&breezy. We hiked to Corniglia, and I wanted to go further, but part of the trail further had fallen into the ocean, and well, we were hangry and tired so the train we took back to Volterra to have dinner.

Dinner was quite an affair, what with Argentina, the best restauranteuse ever, The Precious Georgian Couple, and some Germans dressed up like chorus members of Fiddler on the Roof -- and some crazy Volterrian specialty that was like an anchovy pizza thing.

Cinque Terre - 5 lands of fun

2007-04-26T02:42:00.001-07:00

cool relic from WWII!
Originally uploaded by lolololori.

After a train ride from Pisa (where we took pictures of everyone pretending to be holding it up, and where we were, like many people, unimpressed with Pisa Proper), we were not sure if we were headed to La Spezia, last stop before going to cinque terre.

So we stayed in a nice hotel rom in La Spezia, watched music videos and generally fell asleep, as we were more tired than either or us wanted to admit.

We wake up, and after the supremely unhelpful train attendants helped us not at all, we had a sandwich and went to one of the 5 cities. We sat around, watch the children play, and decided to go to Volterra (I think) to find a room.

We waded through the cats (so many cats in a fishing village) to find a "camera" and I rang a bell. Suddenly all the windows nearby open and these kind, dried-apple old ladies start waving in every which direction. At last Martina, a younger local, shows us up to her rooms, which are lovely, and smell of saltwater and beachiness. Its great!

I don't remember if we ate in that night or what, but the night we we did go out, we wentdown to where the fishermen in safety orange were having a coffee (so much coffee to be had) and met a swell couple from Georgia, with whom we shared a few words and they helped us figure out where to eat later on that evening. They were awesomely Georgian, and in their southernly way told us about some american who was living with an italian who makes stone fortress/condos/hotel rooms up on the hill and how respected he is buy the community and how his american girlfriend has a baby that her parents havn't even seen. (Secret hidden implication -- they're NOT MARRIED!!! How does that even happen to people?)

Anyway, they were precious as precious can be, and a most excellent travelin' Southern couple.

San Gimangniano days, Siena nights

2007-04-24T06:48:00.001-07:00

Stretchin near San Gimangniano
Originally uploaded by lolololori.

Ok, so we went to San Gimigniano (sic?).

It was the town in Tea with Mussolini where, if you will journey back with me a bit, Judy "the" Dench ties herself and her cute dog to a bomb that the Germans were going to set off on one of the towers b/c she can do that sort of thing b/c she is The Dench. (to me, at least)

So we went and I am a genius, so I accidentally got us INTO the city in Jimmy (who, you should know by now, is our car) and probably drove around on a sidewalk for a bit, doing an Austin Powers-esque U turn on that sidewalk, much to the bepuzzlement of a nice old lady and her daughter carrying some groceries. OOops!

We found parking, where you see miss blythe, stretching (due to our miles long quest to re-find Jimmy, we had to walk a lot, and needed a stretch --- you would, too), and we set off. We saw towers, and we saw olive trees, and I made blythe climb to the top of a lot of stairs a few times. I supposed Austin is not as hilly as Lyon, so I am more thrilled by the prospect of a good stair climb to chill in some monk garden on a hill than she. But we did it, and together.

We were going to hit up a winery just northeast, but decided that we'd rather go get ready for dinner and go to sienna to beging hte 6 hour process of eating.

We park Jimmy next to the Insane Asylum/hospital, since that's the easiest place to RE-find, and set off to wander around (it was walking hour) and to find a place for a prosecco and some munchies. We finally, in all our hangriness (hunger induced anger/moodiness = hanger) decided upon Miami Cafe, and despite its lame name, was cool and local and had some nice little square pizza things that were amazing.

Done with our aperitivo, the great trattoria search began. Why not try BEHIND the big old building in the middle of the palio, we think?

We think right.

The trattoria we go to has books and other totally random stuff lining the walls, and 4 big tables, where they'd sit one couple on one side, and another on another side.

I don't remember what we got - i do remember that the dessert was strangely lemon/lime/merengue/licorice/? tasting, but actually it was a nice finish to things. I was a little concerned that we had an american couple next to us from like, Ohio or something ("crap, we chose a touristy place, this couple does not look cool" = my inner monologue), but luckily they were not awesome like us and only stayed 2 hours (I think we stayed like 5, to be honest, i love eating in Italy) making room for the best table-sharers ever, Gaia and her Husband of German/Austrian Descent! (never caught his name).

Blythe and I were having, as one does, wine fueled and firey conversatoins about life and such, and since its italy, we could be pretty loud and no one would notice b/c italians talk CRAZY loud.

Our table-sharers were nice enough to inquire where we were from, and talk about this and that, and I played the "i speak incredibly broken, but believably earnest italian" and blythe played some other card I probably didn't see and next thing you know it, we are all best friends. !

Gaia had been coming to this place for ages - she said she took her first date here, and now she was taking her husband, so it was super cool for her. Her lovely husband was nice enough to indulge us in some of his (probably way more expensive than our) wine, and it was all lovely, and we all got to try it and then make faces of approval. Gaia was buddies with the owner/head waiter, so he came to sit with us and talk about life. Blythe and the husband and the owner talked about WWII's effect on Italy vs. Germany, and about how Israel isn't necessarily always the good guy just b/c their Israel...blythe got snaps for her international/"person with a brain who uses it" perspective, I'm sure.

Meanwhile, me and Gaia were talking about how you can't stress yourself out too young, and one must travel and learn languages so that you can really live when you are the righ tage to really live. Something like that. it sounded really Profound and True in italian. I really liked speaking italian with Gaia, she was wonderful about correcting me in a very helpful way, and she is now my inspiration to learn Spanish and German. Ha, that reminds me, she was like, Oh, the german people, you must study! So fascinating a people, blah blah. I loved Gaia and her husband.

Mr. Gaia didn't like the strange yellow wine the owner brought out, and when he was away, Mr. Gaia would scoff silently to the girls, saying, "it tastes like Llamma (or some such ridiculous animal) piss." To that Gaia would scoff back at her awesomely drunk husband, and it was just sortof great. Oh man, it was a planetary allignment indeed. All from just STAYING where we were, ready to welcome whatever would be happening. I mean the food itself was worth the rest, but the people too? Wow.

We took a picture together (Gaia, Me and Blythe) at my urging, and being all wined up and whatnot, all the ladies were happy to oblige. Mr. Gaia was ready to give the stage to the ladies, so he's only narrowly in the shot. I was able to email Gaia (cool name, sidenote) the photo, and she emailed us photos of her kids at halloween (they were all dressed up as a famly of pirates!) and her and Mr. Gaia on vacation.

Real friends! I love it! Just thinking about it makes my heart want to tap dance.

Anyway, after reluctantly saying goodbye - closing town the trattoria about 2 hours after everyone else was gone.

It turns out Gaia's father, still a college professor and a writer at like, 90, invented the xray or brought it to Italy, or something totally ridiculous like that. Blythe did a good job of having a real or affected clue about that. I did a good job of being wowed, and talking about how I can't wait to be old and sprightly and wise and have birthday cakes with lots of candles.

After Gaia and her man walked off into the siena streets, blythe and I decided to roll around on the Campo in glee, b/c really there is no other way to express glee, especially not that late at night.

On our way back we ran into some youths, one of whom tried to charm us by telling us his american girlfriend had just broken up with him, so like, he neede comfort, and he had roses for us (Mine's pressed in some book now)....the best part was that the girl of the group kept on telling them that they were full of crap and that their crap would not work on these smart lookin' girls. Well she was right, and it was fun to say goodbye to them, and as we walked away, the "charming" one was nice enough to sing me a little song across tha campo that went a little something like this, "Loooooooooorrriiiiiiiiii."

A good song, but an even better night.

!

DirtyCoast is cooler than StL-Style

2007-04-24T06:02:00.000-07:00

I hate to say it, but DirtyCoast.com is way cooler than her sista up the riva, StL-Style.com.

I am really loving their Crawfish (known to Me as a crawDAD) ...crawSOMETHING shirt. Its cool, and I want to get it for my dad, so he can again be accidentally cool.

Why!? I hope they really use the "everyone loves a good tshirt" (hello Threadless) to the advantage of St. Louis at large, b/c i think they totally could. Why NOT?! New Orleans makes me jealous.

I love the revolving flash banner thing, (Look at the smorgasboarrd over there on the right) whose image changes faster than I change my mind about whether I like StL or NOLA more, and I love the "Be Hot, Be Local" tagline bigtime. I know of quite a few Stlsters who'd be pretty enthused to banner themselves up, not to mention to be hot and local.

Plus Mr. DirtyCoast gave me a nice list of NOLA blogs to read - that was rather kind of him.

StLStyle, you could be such a force for good, and you already are, a little.
Fry the big (craw)fish, already! I just don't think its possible to start up another tshirt company, create dissent, etc... in a town that needs all the unity it could get.

There are at least 20 local foods/traditions/whatever that, with a good design and a clever little somethin', would look nice on anyone's chest.

Sigh.

Indiana Jones, and the Lost Blogpost of Glory

2007-04-24T06:01:00.001-07:00

February Vacation
Originally uploaded by lolololori.

Ok, fine, I promised I'd write more about Italy, and I'm feeling sufficiently content to write it. Expect many sequels (maybe starring Sean Connery! hm, nah)

It's sunny here in Lyon, and I've already had one vacation after the Italy one, and am set to enjoy yet anouther sejour in May. More people should be burdened with such overabundance! As I pack my things to go home, I can't help but feel a little bit of guilt that I have nothing really to give back as gifts to all the people who'd like a little piece of Europe. I do have some rocks. From the Italian Riviera. But still, I'm supposin' that the only way I can give back is to write about all the lovely moments of my trip.

I'm also anticipating sitting at some table in the land of the free (home of the brave) and having to answer the question, "So Lori, how was your trip?"

So its a preparation for me, and a blog for you! Hurrah, it all evens out in the end.

I realize that I have not told you about Siena! Oh Siena, thank heaven for you - you were all you were supposed to be! It's so nice when your expectations are met and exceeded - it is so nice!

Blythe and I arrived at our lovely hostel Fattoria di Something Wonderful, and our lovely host Bernice praised Jimmy the Splint, our specTACular smartcar, and welcomed us into her totally amazing farmhouse. There were even garages for the tractors and whatnot, and the next day at breakfast blythe and I spotted what could only have been Bernice's dad trimming the bushes in their totally glorious garden.

The first night we went to Siena, and found probably the only restaurant open after wandering around in circles, getting kissed at by boys, and walking around at "Italian Walking Around Your City" hour, which is 6. Seriuosly, everyone goes on a walk at 6.

So we walked. I bought the green scarf you may or may not be seeing in all my pictures hence. We found the restaurant, and despite its seeming to have a "west Indies" theme, had some pretty awesome Pecorino cheese appetizer, with some sort of jelly made of heaven to go with it. I believe blythe got some sort of ravioli that blew her mind, and I got the traditional big cylinder spaghetti (the kind that looks like the noodles I made in my Play-Doh press back in the day, snaps to mom for buying me that, b/c i LOVED IT). It was delish, and the house wine was of course amazing as it probably came from the hill over there.

After a little wine and song (and searching for non-existant bars that are open late) we wandered into the suburbs for an hour, only to wander somewhere else, and eventually find Jimmy the Splint, our trusty smart car and drive home. The medieval street plan must have been devised to confuse invaders to death, as we were just that. Were it not for the loving arms of our Smartcar, Jimmy, we might've died of the stress of it all. Luckily Siena is powerfully serene and awesome, so actually we were fine, just tired and confused.

Next day, SanGimigniano!

To those I'm about to link to,

2007-04-24T05:33:00.000-07:00

I salute you!

I've only recently clued-in to the fact that whenever I link to anyone, either here or on my wiki , I may end up with an email from that person, however far away they seem. This is almost always a super cool and uplifting sort of thing (what's better than a few comments from a semi-random person you admire, or an email of snaps for a book i had listed in my Favorite Books on my profile). I really like linking to people/things in my blog (have ya noticed?) and well, I'm going to keep on linkin' onto others' sites, b/c its the frickin' interNET, yo!

I liken owning the fact that those who i link to probs will find me on their reference page (first time that happened, it was with my Boss - and it was sortof funny/awesome) and be like, "hm", to owning the fact that if I say hi to people on the street, they may also go, "hm."

Seems to me that the kind of peolpe who have reference pages, blogs, etc... are the kind of people that wouldn't go "Hm," but would probably go more like, "hey!" or even "right back atcha!" and that is just nice. The internet can be so wonderful.

Mr. V

2007-04-14T05:52:00.000-07:00

Kurt Vonnegut died.

I'm sad about that.

Stay awake.

2007-03-31T15:59:00.000-07:00

Mary Poppins sang those words to those two adorable children when they couldn't go to sleep. I've been having weird trouble sleeping lately as well, and so has Miss. T. So I wrote her an email. NOw, miss blythe is the gal who probs/definitely told me that I should blog, so in thanks and in laziness (which is almost like a double thanks, coming from me, espesh lately - i blame the moon for my lethargy) here's the email I sent her.
See you round the web browser soon!

I've been having "insomnia," too!

I think about all the college boys whose advances I refused. Its totally awesome. I watch house, but he doesn't help.

Insomnia is what people not in Roald Dahl books get when they don't use their brains enough, so you should learn another language/do something really stressful, like flamenco dancing. I could never get to sleep in high school, except when I was taking AP Chem. I worked my brain so hard, that my body could do nothing but sleep.

I was in London all day today, and it was soo cool! Portobello market, or however its spelled, is another thing from my journeys that I will be importing to St. Louis. StL just got a lot more fun as of June 12. I also plan on having metrolink parties. We'll ride it all the way to the airport and back and have a party on a car. I of course got this idea from i website. newmindspace.com i think. I only looked at it b/c the head girl's name si Lori, and I like to check out other Loris on the scene. SHe's cool and I REALLY like what her deal is about. I'd link to her on my blog (ed. oops, I just did), and the to guy whose blog let me to hers, but then they'll start reading my blog and my admiration of them might be all too public. I don't like people knowing i admire them until I think they have a few reasons to admire me. Which I suppose they would. I have traveled a good deal of the western world. THat reminds me! I'm going to be in dublin for easter, and I need to look up what the Easter Rising was.

I picked up a copy of Ulysses. I need to read joyce if I'm going to ireland. So far from the introduction i think Joyce kept it amazingly real, though it seems as though he's kept it that real in his books from like, describing how Leo Bloom (also a character in a Mel Brooks movie/musical...coincidence? Mel Brooks a multifaceted genius? Tcha?) poops. I guess I will find Joyce's violation of the cult of the body refreshingly refreshing. We'll see. Its all an excuse not to read Catch 22, a book that did not cure my insomnia, and makes me go a little crazy. I think that's the idea, to show you how the mind of a soldier is like, all a catch 22 and how its all so inside out and upside down. But geez.

I like VOnnegut's morality, or lack thereof (I'm an intellectual, ps, I use "lack thereof" --- though I did almost not put two L's in intellectual.) --- at least Mr. V's certain about it. THe catch 22 guy makes me crazy. I'm like, man, speak english!

Just checked out the easter rising wiki page. ITs long. IRish people had some troubles. THe introduction of Ulysses compared them to Jews. Correctly so, I suppose. Irish people, generally, seem to be less judgemental about ya. I read in my Rick Steve's travel book, i heart it, how rick met some irish dude in a bar where there's a smoking ban - its everywhere in ireland now -- and he was like, "what's next, no guiness? If we don't die, how can we go to heaven?"

I think you could agree!

Start using your brain more, dude. You'll sleep like a baby.

I might blog this letter, I'm feelin lazy, despite my having a real internet connection. My hostel tomorrow is in SW london. i have to take a light rail to get there! Good? Bad? We'll see. I'm struggling with the blog, b/c I want to get up-to-date with italy, and with march for that matter, but I just can't bring myself to -- I'm usually in too bad of a mood to really do the week of paradise in italy justice. It was just so magical, i should've done it hours within arriving. I don't know if I'll get to go to elenora's this time around...she takes about a month to get a hold of me, and I might want to go stay for free in london and get some shopping in before i head to the Dday beaches, and then home, hopefully to a job (to have metrolink parties!).

Anyway, what I was saying is that I can't seem to figure out if I should return to the italy pages, or re-visit italy (and march)(and belgium)(and holland)(oh, and germany...i'm so worldly) as I go. I think I might revisit b/c the pressure is killing me and the blog be sufferin'!

Ok dudette.
Peace out and goodnight.
Lori

Antwerp - funniest statues yet

2007-02-28T09:14:00.001-08:00

Ahoy, yonder me harken a giant thigh and wee fellers a'gaping!
Originally uploaded by lolololori.

Good local dishes as well, hurrah!

Brussels: beer, chocolate, fries, old stuff

2007-02-28T08:59:00.001-08:00

We're bein' columns
Originally uploaded by lolololori.

Amsterdam for bit

2007-02-28T08:48:00.001-08:00

Cool museum square by bike
Originally uploaded by lolololori.

Grab your bikes and let's go to Amsterdam!

Turn your camera around in Pisa, and the fun begins

2007-02-27T12:46:00.000-08:00

look at the guy on the far right
Originally uploaded by lolololori.

Hello Gorgeous

2007-02-27T12:30:00.000-08:00

Blythe: Vernazza's blond sentry
Originally uploaded by lolololori.

Hey Italy, you don't look so bad, either.

reach out and touch some tuscany

2007-02-27T12:26:00.000-08:00

I don't wanna leave! But I did. But I'll always have the memories, so here are a few. (Sorry for the bullet point mania but I'm French now and I'm already planning another vacation and so need to finish the last vacation before starting afresh...I'll explain later.)
Tuscany:
- We leave Elenora and take Jimmy the Splint to Volterra, up a giant hill, Volterra is cool, and I think I already mentioned this. There was a cool Brazilian lady working at the Gelateria, and tuscany is so incandescent and green and beautiful, even when its cloudy.
- The 4 of us (Including Jimmy, Me, Blythe, and One-Eyed Steve) ... to be continued!

Hello, Italy.

2007-02-27T12:25:00.000-08:00

You're pretty, and kinda awesome, too.

- Going to find Blythe in Stanstead – she was at the pub the whole time and I was stupid not to check! Damn!

- Arriving in Pisa, getting the last automatic car in the entire airport of pisa from some hipster dude at “E@sy C@r” who told us to call a number if we went out and didn’t see our car. Luckily we did see it, and it was the beginning of a beautiful friendship, especially after I christened him “Jimmy the Splint” – a name I later made sense of with the phrase, "...because he always sets us straight..when we're lost." We got lost not as much as i'd expected - snaps to italian signage. Its fun to give inanimate objects, and people for that matter -signifigace or no -- some Runyonesque, boxer/gangster names. Yes I did just use Runyonesque in my blog!

- From Pisa we had the great pisa hostel drama of 2007, but eventually it was resolved with some apologies and an extra bonus pay to the hostel owner for driving to get us at the airport when we’d rented a car already, sending her about an hour or so out of the way. Oops, we’re lame. And then we were lame and way poorer. But the hostel was a magic country oasis, and the house we stayed in was older than America. There were sounds of hunters and their dogs in the hills, the smell of real countryside, and a horse! Wow! It was sortof unbelievable.

- Our hostel owner and her 2 buddies (who worked in film or for a newspaper or i don't know in Milan) hung out with us that morning, and we chilled with her 2 fluffy white dogs, a wild horse, and a dog that looked like a dr. seuss character, and who i think was 100 years old in dog years. Elenora, the owner, told us about how she produces jazz records, and her friends make movies or write or something, and they are just neat people who co-own a country house. Its cool, and everyone should go there. They were such fun to hang out with after all the drama, and it was just so easy to stumble through my semi-italian speech, it was so nice how everyone was so encouraging and like, Oh wow, speak italian! wooo. Makes it easy to practice when you think people want to understand you.

SUPER BOWL in france

2007-02-27T11:45:00.000-08:00

Ok kids, we all saw the superbowl, and we are all full of glee that Chicago got stomped. WHy didn't Prince sing more songs? Remember that time that Chicago scored way too early and we were all worried that chicago would win? Remember that one girl who yelled so loud you wanted to throw a chicken wing at her, but you resisted?
I do.
We're allglad that emilie and I wore coordinated outfits and we're all glad that the one annoying girl with the annoying chicago accent who kept yelling at the TV screen like a banshee (the one who almost got a chicken wing in the noggin'?) ended up crying as the Bears lost like the crap team they are. Remember how you don't like Chicago, just 'cuz? I don't know about football, but I heard their quarterback's sense of direction is so off he could jump out of a boat and miss the water.

Side note!
Before the superbowl Emilie and I had dinner with the Calderos (Best Family Ever) and we sang Grease, and David Bowie with their daughter and it was awesome. Emilie impressed everyone with her mad Pink Floyd skillz. Way to know Pink Floyd emilie, but I will always beat you with my Beatles knowledge. Together we are unstoppable.

Beer pong and flip cup are more fun with foreigners

2007-02-27T10:21:00.001-08:00

Multi-lingual Superheroes

More details to come, but FYI i have not completely lost my touch on the beer pong court. Nor has Emilie, her team made it to the finals! Snaps to Jen and her apartment for keeping the American Dream alive.

We brought along Holly the English Lady, and she really tore up the beer pong circuit. It was excellent for her first time! I ended up losing, but it was close. Somewhere along the night we (and by we I mean me and Emilie) decided to put on our representin' costumes and really fight for something we believed in, like our alliegances to our respective origins, sorta. Hers being sweden, mine being StL, missouri. We both weren't born in either, but hey, i felt the love, and I wanted to share it. I also wanted a reason to wear the StL flag like a cape.

We played flip cup later to much success. Holly even joined (again her first time with the kooky semi-alcoholicness of american drinking games) and she got occasionally confused, but I'd give her a total A for effort. Caroline, my superhero of a friend, who is also french (oh snap!) stopped by later and we went to a gay - but not gay- bar where it was smoky and me and emilie wanted to just go home b/c it was torture.

Holly wandered away to a taxi sometime before this as she is known to do. SHe is tall, so we figured she'd be safe, and she was.

We were greeted by a half-blown-up air mattress and freezing air, but emilie and I managed to sleep a little and laugh a lot b/c it was just such an uncomfortable way to sleep, therefore it was hilarious.

The next day was time for hangovers, needless to say.

But that was not to stop us! Emilie's semi-boyfriend-but-not-really-at-all-like-not-at-all-he-was-just-in-love-with-her-and-whatev was in town and he was going to bring a friend and we were to dine with them. Well, I was like, not feeling all that cute and was a little wary of meeing another french boy and having to talk to him about the war in iraq so I was like, "em i hope this guy is not in the mood for love b/c I am NOT, and I'll bet he is not cute. "

Well that was poetic of me, b/c Emilie's friend's friend was probably one of the most attractive people I've seen in real life. So that was a fun dinner.

And I didn't look cute! I had glasses on, for heaven's sake. Sigh.

Later on in the evening was pretty swell, as we went to this mod lookin' lounge (where they play 60's soul music, hello I am sold) called "Voxx" to hang out with Becky from Cali and her french buddies and then went to 42, this nightclub where they played the frenchest music possible (they played "Champs Elysses, man...anyone who took french class knows that song) and I drank beer and stayed up suuuuuuuuuuper late.

We caught the bus home at around 5am. Emilie and I are too hard-core for our own good, seriously. You want to party with us...but maybe you don't b/c you might be embarrased if you are out-partied by a couple of smiley girls.

The coolest family ever, and the house-party concert time

2007-02-27T09:25:00.001-08:00

I'm sure I've mentioned Phillipe and Agnes before -- Ms. Agnes was my first new friend in Lyon, and she's also sortof my boss. Anyway, she's got a swell family, a really good english accent (though I never hear it, we always speak french -- Agnes cares about my french skillz!) and is really awesome, did I mention that? Her husband, the legendary Phillipe, wanted me to sing at a concert in the city, but after a series of drama and messed up schedules, etc... we ended up having the concert at one of Philippe and Agnes' mathematician friends' houses. It was cute, and the kids got to run around in circles and dance around, and I got to sing stevie wonder and eat pasta at 3 am with a bunch of drunk adults, as is anyones dream, and mine came TRUE. It was awesome, and I'm so lucky to know these people!

I miss them, actually and havn't seen them in a while. This picture is me wearing the guitarist's shoe b/c i added a percussive stomping effect when I sang "Hallelujia I love him so" and there was joking and I ended up wearing his shoe b/c it was funny enough for me. It looks good, i think.

We hung out in the kitchen, where all the gleeful french mathematician/musicians/? made fun of me for almost understanding/speaking french, but it was a happy sort of making fun, like what you'd do to your 23 year old cousin if you were 40 and having a party at 3am and your 23 year old cousin laughed a lot but didn't QUITE understand what you were saying ever. With me? It was probably one of the best nights ever, and you know I loved dancing with the kids as we sang a half-hour version of Yellow Submarine. I also have a secret handshake with the kids now, too. Family time, how I miss you!

There was another gal that sang, but she had this very like, let me scat and be all jazzy sortof style, and I was like, I cannot feel the spirit if I'm babbidy-do'ing all the way to improv boredomland. That's just me.

Its lucky that we didn't end up at some bar in the city, b/c the house party was a much bigger success, and I will say it again, I am so lucky to know this family. yay!

Dinner parties and fending off French Philosophers

2007-02-27T09:18:00.001-08:00

Doris, the Australian One, cooked all the Duchere girls some delicious spetzle before we all went to my favorite jazz club/ray charles listening party (they play ray charles and pretty much ONLY ray charles after midnight) where I got attacked by some dude who felt like I needed to know about philosophy or something. Seriously, dude? I am chillin' do not make me play the brain-card. But play it I did, and I think he went over to educate someone else about like, how awesome Rousseau was or something. Rousseau was NOT awesome, ps.

I do give the philosopher dude snaps for jauntily laying down on the table and pensively biting an apple. I mean, that takes courage.

My jukebox haunts me

2007-02-27T09:07:00.001-08:00

My jukebox haunts me
Originally uploaded by lolololori.

After I climbed the Croix Rousse one night, look what I saw in the window of some Jukebox-r-us store. My baby! I miss my jukebox.

I also miss 24 hour internet, have I mentioned this?

F.P.P: Stay away from Garden City - 34th Street

2007-02-24T08:02:00.000-08:00

Here's the follow up the Tim did to the article I just posted earlier. I am so loving this "blog this" function on the DailyPensylvanian's website. It captures some essences, and just how not-awesome really intelligent people can be... a lot of which I came to discover in that little year, and that youc an discover in this little dialogue.

F.P.P: Stay away from Garden City - 34th Street

ps though I really need to tell you all about my crazy Superbowl week into vacation shenanigans, so this is really only a walk down memory lane, and mostly it is a walk only for my own benefit. But enjoy 19 year old me!
I'm pretty much the same, though that first year at the U of P made me a littttttlle bit more hot tempered, and a litttttttle less patient with people who seem to not be forces for good.

Nobody Likes Tuscan Eggplants Anymore

2007-02-24T07:53:00.000-08:00

Hey guys, remember when I was a baby freshman and my room was "profiled" by 2 kooky guys wandering the freshman doorms? Little did I or they know it, but 2 years later, i would be sitting on a porch listening to their band play, I'm wWiith You by avril lavigne on a child's guitar and I think, a kazoo.

ROOM: Nobody Likes Tuscan Eggplants Anymore - Undefined Section

Tuscan eggplant. Those guys were a breath of fresh air in that hallway, I'll tell you that, and it was even nicer to hear them talk about the visit later on. They too, felt yucky vibes. Luckily, we all survived the ordeal, and they are now my facebook friends, b/c at a time, we were real friends. What's up Tim and Anthony!

I've been thinking about how my love of the StL will keep me from so many people that I think are awesome due to the fact that despite being awesome, most of my U of P buddies are on the East Coast. Will I survive only on homecomings, reunions and Mask and Wig shows alone?

It will be hard.

The week I didn't sleep a lot

2007-02-09T10:39:00.000-08:00

So it all began last tuesday, when I decided to go out until basically Monday.

So bullet points, as its getting late...promise to fill in the blanks ASAP/post vacay:
- friday, emilie arrives, we have a crazy night of Beer pong and flip cup, at one point I decide to wear my St. Louis flag (that I brought, b/c I represent). I also wore blue shoes that gave me blisters as we went to the gay, but not gay club with my french BFF Caro.
- Emilie and I slept on a half inflated airmattress in the cold, and it was so bad it was funny. We were v. hungover and angry the next day and didn't want to move, but we had to get bagels, and then there was more on our calendar....
-Saturday we met with Emilie's friend Meme (Aurelien, but I call him Meme, as do his country friends) and his super super sexy friend Alban (who has a super cute girlfriend, so hey). I was not expecting such cuteness. We ate dinner, talked about toys, it was cute. Not as cute as Alban (nothing is really), but it was a cute evening with french dudes fussing over the quality of the wine and taking charge as boys out to dinner with girls (even as friends) should. Did I mention that Alban was cute?
- We then went to the Voxx, a cool loungy place where they'll actually play soul music from time to time. Excellent! We hung out with Beck and her bf, and some other french couple.
- Then we go to the 42 which is a very very preppy night club/ski lodge moment where they played the FRENCHEST music ever. It was a cliche, and it was awesome.
- Catch the bus at 5:30am to home.
- Sunday we were not as hungover, so we watched Harold and Kumar, and then went to Phillipe and Agnes' to sing, have some tea, and eat a "green dinner" (it was all made of green stuff) and just talk about life, politics, life and america/france. Good times! The caldero's are awesome. Philippe introduced us to some lovely french classics, and Emilie sang pink floyd, and we all sang us some David Bowie Ground Control to Major Tom goodness.
- Then it was Superbowl time. Lots of screamy Chicago types, and we colts supporters kept our cool. It was fun! Football culture rules. I will be frequenting bars for suuperbowls of the future to be sure.
- We stayed up in Jen's apt for a bit, and caught the bus at 5am to home. Monday morning was hard, and it sortof gave me a cold for the whole week.

But it was worth it!
Peace out. See you in a couple weeks.

The Toasted Ravioli's

2007-02-09T09:55:00.000-08:00

I'm starting a band.
I was inspired by many things, but the straws that broke the proverbial camel's back (actually it was 2 pieces of straw) were Sara Bareilles and Raining Jane.

So far...
Schaper: bongos, triangle, tambourine
Lori: acoustic and vocals
Wamble: ivories

We're still looking for an actual drummer, and a bass player -- but really any instrument will do (might even consider the kazoo or the spoons, or the "can filled with beans" as well).

Its exciting!

Also in exciting news, I begin my whirlwind vacation (its supposed to be the SKI vacation in france, but I forgot my skis in mountainous missouri --- man, I love skiing, but like, not gonna happen...I have to live!) beginning with a week under the Tuscan sun with Miss Blythe, of Duchek award (among others) fame.
I'm bringing my St. Louis flag, and we're gonna fly it.
One of my gal pals from Penn, with whom I was lucky enough to co-write and perform the Senior Performing Arts Night Medley, "Suddenly Senior" (to the tune of that ever present favorite, "Suddenly Seymour" from Little Shop of Horrors, naturally --- I choreographed)...well she's got friends in italian places who are researching their Art History PhD's in florence, and well, we're going to drop an StL bomb on her friends, and its going to be fun! It's times like these I relish being a 24 year old college graduate - I know people all over the world who in turn know other people, and we all want to party, essentially. Its great.

Old Man Harig sent me a lovely email of tuscan reccomendations, and we're going to check those out, and while away the hours in Siena, the less american Florence. Excellent. Cinqueterre should be neat, and well, you, loyal reader, will hear all about it's limoncello-fed craziness. I really hope we can meet the art historys, they should ad some local flava to our rambling.
Onto the next leg of the trip its time to chill with the Northern Europeans - Hamburg to see Aubrey, who I've known since Kirkwood Children's Chorale (we'll see if she remembers "We are the Young" - I know she will) and then off to amsterdam for some tourist seeing, bike watching, and eh. I'll end my sojurn in Belgium, where I will eat waffles, have some fries, and hopefully shop in antwerp and see Brussells (OK go is playing on the 23rd, why are they sold out, don't they remember how I was the first Missourian to like them probably?)

Let me know if you want to join my band - all are welcome, even if you're just passing by. Rehearsals start June 07.

Steak Dinners at 3am and annoying 18 year old british punks

2007-02-02T02:03:00.000-08:00

Last tuesday I was lucky enough to get to hang out with my awesome buddy Caroline, her friend Julie, and some rakish bartender dudes (who also somehow knew about some diner-meets-french-bistro thing (!) that has steak dinners with au gratin potatoes (or fries, naturally) served with a background of Phill Collins easy-listening at 3-4am.)

Awesome.

Jen, one of my favorite indianans came along, and we just had a time of it.

The evening started off with a lively concert by what seemed to be a rather skilled, but not too skilled college orchestra. They played some violin pieces for some virtuoso dude, and I was like, um I know a virtuoso, too, though I think we are in a fight. (Are we, J?) Anyway, I was adequately impressed, politely even. They played "an american in paris" by the one and only tin pan alley gangsta George Gershwin- and you just gotta love you some American in Paris.

My buddy Zak decided that they played it in a way that emphasized that Americans are vulgar and only want a hamburger in Paris, and though I agree somewhat on his musical commentary, I disagree that the lovely French musicians were striking a low blow to our giant American egos throught he medium of mid-century orchestral music. Also, the jazzy countermelodies that -- one would speculate -- emphasize the burger-lust are really Gershwin's thing, I bet the orchestra just played'em loud b/c they are Awesome, capital A. They are. They are also very Aerican (re: jazz) and that makes them very special, and something we can all share. And share we did! Oh I love the bluesy part, its just life-giving. I loved it! Live music.

Oh! That reminds me that I simply must tell you about my night o' jazz and laughter with the ever-awesome Caldero family. Wow, it was awesome. I would like to teach the world to sing, and it'd be ok even if the harmony wasn't perfect. Snaps to Anges' daugher Solene for being an awesome 12 year old Saggitarian (December 15th homegirl, to be exact!). I am bringing you Emilie, and we shall sing Grease!

Was I digressing just then? Anyway, mid-chilling at Caro's favorite english pub, we were (un)lucky enough to encounter cocky british 18-year-old "i hate american mannerisms" boy, who for the sake of brevity I shall now refer to as "Baby Spice." Seriously, kid? Mannerisms? Am I back at Penn where people mock me just b/c of where I'm from? Is that where we are again? Clearly it is.

Take me back to the show me state where everyone's from everywhere and at least the semi-illuminati I hang around are willing to sit back and soak up your mannerisms before they decide they hate you and your kind. Luckily (?) I've been par for this predjudicial course before (before France, even) -- labeled as God knows what (actually He does know) and well, though the power of my individuality couldn't withstand say, a presidential election, I was able to shrug of Baby Spice's gutless jabs with out giving a much of a damn. I rolled my eyes just to rub my hateful american mannerisms in his face.

This a kid whose grandfather may have found beside mine in World War frickin' TWO. And he hates me for my mannerisms?

Sometimes I wonder if people are actually for real.

Anyway, he got crazy yelled at by Caro's legit friend from chzechoslovakia or however you spell it, or divide it up into a bunch of "little republics of..." -- Martin the dissenting but convivial eastern european expat basically told Baby Spice to chill. Needless to say, it was frustrating (a girl doesn't like being hated...at least not before I tell you that I thought Napoleon Dynamite was LAME and that Dave Matthews just doesn't move me), but I'm brave enough to be a french fry - take that as you may.

Why always with the "why does everyone hate me, I'm just a nice Missouri girl?" drama? It must be very tiring, being a hater. Anyway, Miss Emilie is coming to town TONIGHT for a weekend of french beer pong, potatoes au gratin, maybe some absurdist french existentialist theatre (how many -isms can YOU fit into YOUR play?), and some superbowl, and probably a baguette here or there. Its exciting!

The saints did none of that marching in stuff

2007-01-22T08:42:00.000-08:00

Gotta bullet point this one, I'm too busy making my own Jackson Pollock paintings and watching old SNL clips to really give this one any literary flava.
- Spent an evening of fun and football with some Chicagoans visiting Lyon for a food convention. Lots of talking about bbq, and I some/most of my drinks are now on someone named Bob's expense account.
- Little danish/french dude fell hard core in love with me, but I told him to go away, b/c he lives in Chicago (where his girlfriend also lives)- he was cute, though. Boys in europe so far are too slutty for me.
- Jen and Karl were excellent football-watching buddies, and Jen is good at keeping me out of trouble
- Met a girl from Penn! She's studying abroad at Lyon II and she's into urban studies! Excellent.

Friday night I went out with some english ladies to see a couple english bands...they were really into cowbell. That joke never made it across the atlantic (the one about more cowbell) and needless to say, the cowbell player spazzing out all over the place and eventually breaking his drumstick on the cowbell was AMAZING. Blue oyster cult, I've gotta fever, and the only prescription is -- you know.

prescription filled.

We went to a party with a bunch of completely wasted americans chugging jager (classy) and the one guy from SLU was like, yo, and I was like, STL!?! but he was off to be bad at beer pong or something, and wear a weird/dumb baseball hat. My buddy Hols totally ignored this Idaho pretty boy b/c he was annoying and pretentious and pretty much dumb, and her efforts to ignore him were in vain, as ther ignoring him and rolling her eyes at him only made him want to talk to her/us more. That's the way it works!
Saturday we went to another party with a bunch of assistants - nothing too amazing, though I did meet a French guy who's just crazy for america, so it was nice hearing about the US from the perspective of someone else who hearts it, but not blindly. He was also living in Connecticut during 9-11 --- whoa. It was fun to hear how he joined in with everyone -- going shopping the week after, getting back into the city and life, that sort of thing that was really cool to experience if you were there, and I bet he's one of the better informed French people as far as the "when and when not to play the WTC card." Anyway, he was awesome, and I really think his name was Camel...maybe spelled differently, and pronounced Ca-mellllle, but that's an awesome name. Speaking of awesome names, I have a student named Swan. I asked him if it was like, Swan Lake, swan prince sortof thing and he was like, "yes." This french teenager is mad proud of being named Swan, and for that I salute him.

I'm bummed about the saints, but I think it will be ok. Salutes to Jen, who inspired me to watch football until 5 in the morning when I had to get up at 8, and also salutes to Jen for generously offering me a place to lay my head for those lovely 3 hours.

Magic hair products, internet lamentations and stuff

2007-01-19T03:15:00.001-08:00

This product is saving my hair from french destruction. I remembered reading - back in 1998 probably -- about how Jennifer Aniston used it, and now I have it, and my hair feels like hair again. Thank you Kiehl's!

In other news, I've spent about 5 hours here at Raconte-moi La Terre (tell me about the earth) Cafe and I am just feeling the pain of not having internet as a part of my everyday life. I can feel myself using internet differently, and I don't like it. I really do prefer intermittent (sp?) internet usage, rather than the desperate mid-day 5 hour binges I go on now - it's just not healthy, kids. I realize this debate just makes no sense to anyone living in america b/c you have Internet integrated into your lives.
well, hey.

I was talking to this english gal, and she's about to move to a place with internet, and we were just talking about how nice it is to look things up whenever you want, but when you don't have internet, you have to write them down, and then when you look them up, its just not as exciting. Sigh. Also, reading all the bajilz of blogs I am into takes some time, but I'm willing, b/c they're good and informative!

I won't give up the fight for internet in my dorm, though I might just try being pragmatic and using my fellow ex-pats internet connections and hospitality (paid back with groceries, booze and friendship of course! a fair trade, i'd say) so that I can get things underway with things.

I'm sure its not the internet itself I miss, but the whole connected and amazing magic of it all.

Sidenote: my buddy Becky was telling me about this show, HEROES and it sounds awesome. I am missing such good TV, huh? I'm getting to see good Cathedrals and foreign stuff, though - I suppose this is a fair trade, too.

My winter vacation is coming up - Blythe is comin' down for some italian back-door galavanting (yay) and then I'm going to northern europe, hopefully with my friend Jen, who is generous enough to come with me! It will be fun, and I'm going to see the WWII memorial, and I'm pretty much stoked.

Maybe I do want to call you on your empty pretension.

2007-01-18T08:58:00.001-08:00

Being from a Show-me state, I'm a show-me person.

I think I would be one even if we hadn't peaced out on gentle Tupelo, Mississippi for stubborn and sweltering Missouri when I was a petit bebe.

France is not a show-me country. And that works for France. And that is good.

The proviseur just came in asking who everyone was in the teacher's lounge a few minutes ago. Firstly, she didn't know her own employees, this should be a red flag.

I didn't have my glasses on (its dumb to wear your glasses at the computer) so I just think, "oh, more professors greeting each other, I will be ignored as usual, good."

So, the Proviseur (the principal of sorts) decides to add me to her game of Guess Who, and she has no clue who I am.

This is the woman who said it would be nice if we had a laundry machine in our dorms. (we don't have one) She didn't even say, "...but...." (?)

Anyway, my super cool stagiare was like, Lori, you know you're supposed to like, be more formal and recognize the proviseur when she comes in the room, etc... and I was like, oh sorry I had my glasses on and I can't see, and ok I'll play that game, sure.

Still, I told her my name, my position, greeted her more or less? It was drill sergeant minimalist, I thought.

I can't help but think about Mr. McCallie here.
Did anyone have to be reminded that he was the principal? If others told you to respect the man, finding a reason wasn't a problem (not for me at least). He was a good boss.

This principal DID NOT KNOW ME, but I'm supposed to have some sortof Proviseur mania on the tarmac of my school whenever her plane rolls in? I'm all for respecting your elders, authorities, etc...but pomp and circumstance for a lady who doesn't know her teachers much less her students? It just strikes my american soul as something a little bit yucky.

Maybe its tradition? That's good, tradition is good. I don't know.

I'll of course apologize for not popping a bottle of champagne and doing a little jig when I noticed that she might notice me...on second thought, I'll just lay low, laissez-tomber, laissez-faire -- its v. french, and I must assimilate!

Mr. Harig used to say, "if you have to say your the big enchilada/kahuna/?, you're probably not."

If others have to remind you to curtsey to you, you're probably not much of a monarch.

Papal house of Pomp

2007-01-18T08:28:00.001-08:00

Visited Avignon, home of the pont (that doesn't go all the way across, and that you have to pay to walk upon) and the gigantic papal castle. A pont is a bridge, by the way.

Overall, Avignon was neat, the food I enjoyed with my wine was totally delicious, wow. Though it was not very provencal-esque (the region in which we found ourselves is called Provence) -- it was fine -- and I ought to come prepared with directions, a map, and heck, reservations if I want to eat at genuinely authentic restaruants, b/c when traveling in a group of 8 girls, there is no other way.

So we ended up eating at a touristy, though delicious, place. Drinking wine with lunch made me feel a moment of alcoholic panic, but then I realized I was in France/Europe, where they're not ashamed of drinking alcohol in broad daylight like we Americans tend to be...right?

And this cool picture of a sassy lady and her fierce fleur de lis dress. You can't see'em, but to the right there are popes looking JEAL-OUS! The palace offered some cool fashions (not pictured -- the swiss guard outfit! love it), interesting and hidden fleur-de-lises, and a REALLY boring guy on the audio tour. They really ought to make museums take themselves less seriously.

I think Snoop Dogg would've narrated the lives of the popes with incredible nuance.

Also, they had all these cool wooden renderings of the papal palace in its many reincarnations, and I say, why not make them removable! Build your own papal palace! People would love it.

Think more Science center and less "crazy stone dungeon with stuff to read."

Exercises in inappropriateness

2007-01-18T08:14:00.001-08:00

My pal Becky just called me to vent about her class discussion on 9-11.

Her first words, after my, "hellooooo?" were, "I just cried in front of 14 high schoolers."

Poor americans, we are so weepy. There's some email joke circulating (or that circulated) showing each county's reaction to Zidane's totallylame headbutt that lost France the world cup, and America's reaction is, of course, thinking its a terrorist threat or something -- I, being american and all, don't really understand.

Its a dillema really, b/c you don't want to be the weepy american who over-importance-izes 9-11, but still, a little bit of you is like, "ow?" I'd be happier if they made fun of New Orleans and all that crap that went down, frankly. (NOLA's going to be fine eventually, though, if you asked me...or these guys. will you buy a shirt already?)

My friend emillie was just hanging out in a bar in the countryside of western france when some girl asked her if she knew anyone who died in the twin towers.

"Yes." she responded. (in french, b/c she's a gangsta french speaka)

Emilie's from quite near new york (in more than just a geographical sense, though her hometown in CT is super close as well) so she really did like, know know people.

"You know it was your fault." responded her kind French inquisitor.

Needless to say, Emilie had not much more to say to that lady.

To be fair, one of her teacher's daughters, when emilie was recounting the tale, said she would've punched that girl in the face. And I in no way am generalizing all of France's baguette-carrying legions of being so rude... in fact, most of them are reassuringly curious, sympathetic, and eager for you to prove wrong their vast misconceptions about the average american.

Still, I got this lovely little drawing (above) done for me by what is admittedly my worst class (as far as attitude, though some are really sweet, its a pity they're in a class full of hooligans, really -- been there before).

When I told them that was a little inappropriate, they, being sassy adolescents (19 years old, does that count?) told me they thought it was beautiful.

What's up with this? This is not where the 9-11 insensitivity stories end (at least in the classroom), but really there shouldn't be a beginning! .

Should I play the Pearl Harbor card? Should I say, would france draw pictures of a couple hundred men entombed in a warship at the bottom of the pacific and tell me its beautiful? Isn't that creepy?

I do realize that Pearl Harbor led to the US joining in the WW2, not some strange "war" on something. This is not an anti-war post, I'm just acknowledging that ww2 does not equal iraq or whatever we're calling it.

Still, the tragic loss of average citizens (and military men and women) just the same is equal, regardless of time, place, context....right?

It's annoying.

Plus, most of america has moved on from 9-11, and is trying to make the world a better place (and succeeding) despite crazy wars that send our friends to sand dunes to play smear the queer with al-quaeda -- or however the heck you spell it.

9-11 is in the past, and that is a blessing - the future is brighter than how the tiny chunk of noisy and rude french, with existentialist malaise and heaven knows what kind of tabacco dependency running through their veins, see it.

Peace in the middle east,
Lori

First week booked, second week up in the air

2007-01-16T02:37:00.000-08:00

Possibly literally with that up in the air business.

I'm going to party it up with blythe in Italy for the first week of vacation. I'm looking forward to it, and most of our flights and hostels are booked and I am no longer having stupid travel-planning malaise...what a silly sort of malaise!
The second weekend I was toying with the idea of going to seville to be a flamenco/sevillianas dancer for a week. I might just peace out to Scotland and Ireland and chill with my english speaking brethren/ancestry, as it seems I will be travelling all by my (not) lonesome.

I'll keep you posted! Blythe and I are gonna have a frickin awesome time, i can feel it. Also, I need to look and see what setting to use on my camera so that my pictures are more clear.

This blog has no purpose, I apologize.

In other news, I have a vacation coming up in April that I need to start planning for! march 31-april 16th or so. Also, Rebecca is coming to visit in May after I finish working to finish up the European touring. Should be fun to go home after that! Meredith graduates on the 27th, so I may be home for that in all reality, as I will surely be Europe'd out by then. The question remains: will meredith want to visit? will she book a flight? I cannot answer these questions myself. Hmmm.

Travel weary

2007-01-11T08:01:00.000-08:00

Mostly, I'm bummed b/c the Castle of Selvole is booked for the time Blythe and I will be in Tuscany. Sigh. Where else to find mom and pop goodness in Italy!?!

I am proud for having booked some flights, but I'm quite exhausted, and really lament not being able to do this internet thing late late at night, when I don't want to be doing things that young people want to do, like go have a cocktail (or 8).

I'm having a little of the travel burnout as the distance from home and that sort of thing becomes more obviously further...also I just got off of a 2 week train-travel binge about 4 days ago...planning all over again is sortof getting annoying! (I know I should not be saying that, b/c after all, I am in Europe, yo)

For those of you about to comment.

2007-01-10T03:21:00.000-08:00

I salute you.

I know my blog just exploded with posts. Expect it to not be so manic in the future. Still, I wanted to shout out to my lovely commenting buddies! Its so fun to discover that someone commented on my blog. I know its just like 6 of us reading, but it's fun to see.

Props.

I have blue suede shoes

2007-01-09T11:31:00.000-08:00

They’re totally cool!!!!!
I still long for some kind of imitation of my brown ones...I wore them with everything! We’ll see how my AWESOME blue suede boots turn out though…blue suede goes with more things than you'd realize. I also have black boots that look just like my brown ones. I have a boot obsession.

I admit it, but boots are so good for modernizing my vintage dresses (98% of which are home in the STL, don’t sell’em mom!)

Cool Solution: I think I’ll go visit Blythe and get me some cool light brown vintage semi-cowboy boots in the ATX. If we get’em on the side of the road, that means the hipsters won’t have marked up the prices ridiculously. How’s July Blythe? Heat up the state for me. I want to try to cook an egg on the sidewalk.

Distance makes the heart grow weirder

2007-01-09T11:28:00.000-08:00

Somewhat off the “hey I’m traveling and soametimes I do cool stuff” subject of the blog, but hey. I read this gal’s blog pretty religiously, (ever since I “randomly” stumbled upon it, I believe me and my laptop were at Kaldi’s, my StLwifi haven) and I gotta say I really like what she’s got going on. I also remember that I emailed her, and she responded nearly immediatly. Snaps! I especially like how her company, Citizen Agency, won’t take clients unless they have a higher purpose. Total duh, but daring!

She’s working in San Francisco (one of the the only big cities that doesn’t turn its residence into pod people…snaps), and there’s a lot of stuff going on there as far as like, start-ups, etc….but I want to work/help in St. Louis and the whole Mississippi valley, right? How does that translate? I’m sure I could figure it out, considering all this translating, in every sense, that I’m doing here in the Big E.

But will I be bored by St. Louis? I wasn’t before, I’m sure its just distance making the heart grow freaked out.

Not to mention, James Brown died! That’ll throw off anyone’s equilibrium. Total bummer, but he lasted pretty long considering he was like, always on drugs I think.

I want to be involved in my community here, but how?

2007-01-09T11:24:00.000-08:00

I’m sure I’ve mentioned it before, but I’d really like to get somehow involved in the community here, furthering the “don’t hate, participate” philosophy…just to keep me sane for the 4 months left here in Wineland. I think my community could really use some action, but it doesn’t look like it knows how to do it. I don't want to say that it doesn't have the mechanisms/mindset in place, so I’m going to ask Agnes when I have the energy.

I would also like to take flamenco dancin' lessons. One step at a time.

Internet adventure – missed caroline, but my pictures are up

2007-01-09T11:23:00.001-08:00

I am an internet nomad. I travel around Lyon with my laptop in search of Wifi.

I have my stand-bys….Fnac, The Black Lion…but I know there are more out there! I managed to find a totally cool wifi bar within MINUTES of arriving in Zurich…why can’t france be the same? I will explore. Might find some cool non wifi bars in the process.

I didn't get to chill with Caro, which was a bummer, but I am Cinderella sometimes, and I have to leave before midnight.

I am awesome, and I got on the wrong train

2007-01-09T11:21:00.000-08:00

So I’m in the train station at Zurich, and I was like, ok platform 16. Then I walk over to the train and I get on -- how nice that I can get on so early! i think.

Then I think, hmmm, this just doesn’t feel like platoform 16.

I get all my stuff down to get off the train to check when suddenly the train starts a’rollin’ about 20 minutes early, and I know I am on the wrong train. I get off at the next stop, see my train going to geneva-lyon in the window, and continue on back to the main Zurich to buy new tickets (only cost me 10 more swiss francs to change).

Go to Geneva, get random hostel…it aint so bad, had internet, creepy people watching that creepy Kevin spacey movie where he dies (I didn’t see bakula), and I actually slept really soundly after covering myself in my scarves, coat, and of course the blankets provided. I sortof felt like Tom Hanks on his first night as a grown up in Big, where he’s like, sleeping by a window and its cold. I didn’t hear any shootings or anything going on or anything (its Switzerland after all) but there was cold air blowing in through the window and that was annoying. Ok, so it wasn’t a lot like Big, but if I had to pick a movie scene that would be it.

Train back to lyon had people speaking some mystery language that sounded like Italian/French/Russian/Czech – who are these people?

A time for us – my love affair with Zurich

2007-01-09T11:19:00.002-08:00

Zurich reminded me of America for some reason. Actually for many reasons, and I feel lame for being happy to be in a town that reminded me of America, but its been 4+ months people! Just seeing that Starbucks mermaid made my heart a little stronger to go on. Also, I shopped. It was a blessing/curse not really knowing the value of a swiss franc. I got the best swatch watch in the land, I also got some kiels silk groom hair magic potion, a fierce red dress from mango…such excellent purchases, it helps to not know how much your money is worth to really be able to spend it…thank you once again, CHF (i.e. swiss franc!)

At the beginning of the day, I climbed the big protestant tower – really wasn’t that hard, and the view was groovy. Later on I went down to the sanctuary, and put on Aretha Franklin singing the Lord’s Prayer on my Ipod. Super geek alert, I know, but it was powerful!

Later on I strolled down the main shopping street, found a cute store, “En soie” – very cool silk stuff…real Connecticut opulence stuff, and I searched and searched for the perfect marigold shirt to someday wear with my cool blue boots, but to no avail.

On my stroll down to see the lake I passed the banking district – the scenery was lovely, the bankers all had matching coats, and it was easier not to find them annoying b/c they were mysterious swiss bankers…not like, fruity tooty NYC bankers.

I don’t know why fruity was my adjective of choice. I’m freestyling here. Anyway, I don’t want to hate on any bankers…bank away bankers! Your job would be very hard for me! So after my lovely stroll listening to the tune of swiss german all day, (like german, but with a Kermit the Frog accent…music to my ears! Sorta funny, too) I returned to my hostel, gathered my things and prepared to leave. Little did I know, I might’ve left my brain back at Wueste.

I wanna sleep so I can spend more time in Zurich!

2007-01-09T11:19:00.001-08:00

Unfortunately, Z’s were hard to come by in the Hostel. I came in at midnight and I was the last one?!?! Hello, I was not out late. I woke up to Germans cussing American pop songs into their jukebox, (Alice, Alice, who the f&*k is Alice?) but they were doing it happily, and singing, too!

So it was more funny than weird.

The pervasiveness of James Morrison

2007-01-09T11:17:00.000-08:00

I heard him on Italian mtv, Italian H&M, rando jewelry store in Zurich…this man is everywhere, and admittedly, I like his bluesy Gavin DeGraw with bronchitis style.

I’m a little suspicious of his not being conscious enough that his name is Jim Morrison (cello, the doors) to change it a bit, just out of respect. I do, however, hope he does not steal Marc Broussard’s thunder…b/c he is a british soul intruder!!!
Come on Marc! Release your new album!
You are the real thing, and I know it.

I resisted starbucks, and was rewarded -- generously

2007-01-09T11:14:00.000-08:00

Please do note, I do not condone starbucks resistance usually, but I am going for a "wow, starbucks, taste of home" whenI return...also, if I drink starbucks, I fear I might book a flight back to the USA the next day...so I refrain....HOWEVER.. Due to resisting Starbucks (probably b/c I was following my destiny) I ventured into the frontier of Oldtown Zurich…and thus, I believe I found a bar in Zurich to match the classy and silly atmosphere found at everyone in the Lou’s favorite bar, The Royale (don’t pretend you don’t totally heart the Royale). It was called Wueste (www.wueste.ch), whatever that means, and they even brewed their own beer – and it was good. My goofy red Tyrolean hat fit right in. Snnnaps!

I heart you, Wueste. Will you be my friend?

You and your beer, and your English speaking bartenders, and your banana’s hung from the ceiling underneath a snakeskin kayak-lamp, your colorful beaded chandelier, your sombreros and gold lamé cowboy hats, your WIFI, your chill and diverse clientele and even your strange techno music from the 90s.

* You know….I know what I want, and I want it now… I want you, ‘cause I’m Mr. Rain (?) I never understood that song. Is it Mr. Rain? Missarranged? I missed a ray? *

If you find yourself in Z-town, finde Wueste at Oberdorfstrasse 7 8007 Zurich

It’s a hotel, too, if you’re a baller. Hotelotter.ch

You will be so not sorry it is ridiculous if you go there.

PS that night I also bought some awesome swiss flag tourist gear (I have a weakness for swiss flags…especially when I can wear them. Also, when they are waving from flagpoles on swiss farmhouses.)

PPS I also bought some blue suede shoes (boots to be exact). They should go very well with everything I own. Hello Elvis connection!

Swiss-tastic Phone booths in Switzerland

2007-01-09T11:08:00.001-08:00

I found myself in a comic book as soon as I opened the phone booth and it started playing music. It was very star trek or something, but I got to chat with mom about various happenings in the StL as I stood under a lovely periwinkle light in a glass cylinder that looked sortof like an old school tylenol. I was prepared to be beamed up somewhere, but alas, Swiss technology has not gotten that far.

Or maybe I just didn’t press the right buttons.

Zurich is super cute

2007-01-09T11:07:00.000-08:00

Zurich is super cute – bought boots and swiss paraphenelia!

Leaving the train station is Zurich is like stepping into Disneyland, but its real. I know I’m all about authenticity, and I occasionally don’t like places that are too perfect, expensive or clean, but Zurch was so easy to plug into (low entrance barriers! Such a plus), and so cute and charming (the scenery and the bankers), that I just have to call it my favorite city so far.

Just so cute! It was authentically Disneyworld in real life.

And it’s protestant, I might add – not that I really really care, but its sorta neat to see a famous protestant church from old-school times for one. Zwigli, represent! I like how his statues always show him holding a Bible. Faith and faith alone, mofos! But I am sure he was not really the most fun guy ever, as most early protestantos were not.

So I manage to get away from creepy snowboarders who aren’t cute in the hostel and go for a walk. I met Oli and Phil, best Americans in Switzerland ever, on the bridge to the Somethin-munster church (I have a feeling that is redundant) and they took my picture with the Chagall windows. I loved them, and Oli’s sister works in Switzerland and they’re from Dallas and they were so effusively kind. They vividly described some bratwurst place that I never managed to find b/c I got too caught up drinking beer at some local bar and writing letters to my buddies. (an excellent suggestion/reason to go to a bar in a strange place to sample the local flava…even if you have no mates with you – mille grazie to miss Blythe for being awesome and doing it first)

Adventures in Interneting

2007-01-09T11:03:00.000-08:00

At doris’ there was really fast internet, and it was in a home. Something I have not experienced for about 4 months. Needless to say, magical. Thanks to the Violands for allowing me to use the computer – I hope I did not seem to be an internet creeper.

I saw something funny on the comedy central insider blog, so I decided to email this fella Chris Locke, who also happens to have been the author of the book I was then reading (and I finished the book and it was awesome). Chris Locke being pretty much asesome and all, emailed me back! Throuch him I discovered that The Daily Show is taking their videos off YouTube…not cool! Chris Locke however, cool. Sortof an amazing moment.

Also, I found a gal who has linked to testimo in her blog…she lived in LA and she loves her some Testimo, so of course I loves me some her. We emailed, etc… it should be a happy friendship…maybe she can give me some insight into the testimo-customer-mind, so that I can write better descrips, and possible blog better when the time comes for the TestimoBlog.

I also discovered on the internet… http://www.elfyourself.com, http://www.photojojo.com, and subway parties, and Mr. Nola dirtycoast.com guy who may or may not be sending me a t-shirt to the Sweetbriar homestead for that kooky little “C-ray” thing I have to the right.

Awesome!

Onto real, not e-life....
On the last night, we watched Coupling, a british sitcom, with Doris’ buddies, and I thought…wwwwaaay too obviously “Friends” in british, but still it was cute. And english, which was very genrous of my austrian buddies.

The next day for lunch we had some “birds” – which were really like, beef wrapped around pork wrapped around a pickle = delish – and I peaced out to Zurich on a lovely swiss train ride.

Seriously, it was super precious, the swiss countryside, and I like it that it’s a mountain fortress. I liken it to the mountain fortress in the movie big, and I feel very safe there knowing that, in the event of an invasion, Switzerland could blow up all access to its country by land. I’m not sure about the planes, but I’m sure they have that covered to. Neurtrality or die! Also, with knives like that, the army has to be good. I think its sortof neato that the army is famous for a knife that they probably never really use, b/c the army never fights (unless there are like, Swiss Jack Bauers…they would use those knives).

Gemutlicheit, yo

2007-01-09T10:59:00.000-08:00

We drove to Germany (crazy huh), to a town called Lindau. It was totally German, and by totally German, I mean it was sortof a lot like Austria. Though we did hear a thing on the radio that said Germans were giving Austrians some trouble for “alledgedly” charging them too much to go skiing on the beautiful Austrian mountains, and that mad Doris mad. I sense a leeeetle bit of rivalry betwixt the Austrians and the Germans.

Austrians call Germans some ridiculously awesome nonsense word and it totally drives the Germans crazy b/c they’re always asking what it means, when in fact it means absolutely nothing, other than, you’re a german and I’m calling you a goofy name that is something like Piffkie.

Don’t call Germans this, word to the wise.

However, if you meet an Austrian, complain about piffkies and they will love you.

Also, apparently, if you tell Austrians you are from California, they will buy you a drink…this I learned from Europe on a shoestring, and though an Austrian did buy me a drink, I don't think i told him I was from California, unless I nodded a yes to an incomprehensible, "are you from california?"… from Europe on a Shoestring I also learned that Austrians are grumpy, which is so not true.

Gemutlicheit! Look into it, Europe on a Shoestring!

They even have a drinking song about Gemutlicheit.

I learned about this lovely word from Rick Steves of BackDoor Europe - he's my travel Guru.

Discover Austria by way of Bregenz – capitol of Vor al Berg-berg-berg

2007-01-09T10:58:00.000-08:00

We hop on the train(s) from Innsbruck to Austria the next day. An old lady got mad at me in Bregenz for no real reason, and I was like, come on lady…keep it light already! I was hoping Herman the Red Tyrolean hat would charm any naysayers.

Though Doris, bless her heart, got some pretty terrible news as soon as we arrived, we still managed to live it up, Bregenz style, eating cool Austrian food.

Some of it was like that corn stuff (its like soft corn…my dad eats it and my mom hates it, and its like soft corn kernels) but with cool tyrol cheese and onions, and Pfiff – the regional beer. I had a lot of those, b/c I cannot say know to regional specialties, whatever they may be. The whole drinkin alcohol whenever you feel like it is pretty neat…I guess the beer brought out the flavor in the food, but I wondered if I was an alcoholic seeming friend – drinking a beer with every meal. But I don’t think so, b/c I was in Austria!

We also ate cool Weiners, that became “Berners” b/c we ate them with cheese.

Fascinating. We then went to explore Bregenz, where Doris bought a crazy awesome snowboarding suit, and used her multi-lingual skills to talk to the swiss-italian store owner, who spoke Spanish b/c his sister in law was from Ecuador. Snaps to doris for recognizing the equadorian accent. NO snaps to me for not understanding anything.

I had weird volcaono dreams that night, along with some strange one featuring Jason Mraz, and airplane, pinching, and a middle aged lady with a Christmas sweater. Needless to say, the next day I was a little weirded out, especially with the whole, Saddam, Gerald, James Brown death triumvirate. We watched CNN b/c it was the only channel in English, and it ended up giving me the serious creeps, as I got worried that my cousins were in the middle of riots in Iraq. They’re not, I later found out, but I told doris my cousin’s might be overseas, and she got worried, so I got worried, and it was just like worry-time.

So what to do?

The Violands, being awesome parents, decided to ameliorate the situation. Sidenote: Mrs. Violand could very well be my mom with all her losing of her glasses, really loving her warm fireplace, and sleeping on couches (not to mention the black pants black turtleneck style she totally rocks…you are not alone, Mom/Johnny Cash!)

Austrian home movies on the old school movie projector. There was hiking, there was skiing, there was interesting Austrian Christmas, there was Doris as a 2 year old (skiing and hiking). It was Austrian-tastic, and though it made me miss home/wish I had an old school projector so I could see the film strips of myself as a toddler, I totally loved every minute.

I am from Austria---Innsbruck!

2007-01-09T10:28:00.000-08:00

"I am from Austria" is a song about Austria, and how it was big, but now it's small, but that doesn't mean it isn't still big on the awesomeness. It’s all in “Austrian” except for the chorus, which is in English, according to Doris - cheekily - so that, “everyone will know"
...that I am from Austria.

New years eve in Austria was super fun! We drank at Doris’ buddy’s place, danced, sang some songs as Toby the German played some mad guitar (he even sang the blues, not bad, not bad at all. Mad props for rhyming "nice" with "think twice."He said that he thinks the English language is the best language in which to sing the blues. I mean, I agree…but what lovely thing to say. Not that I invented the English language or anything, but I was born in Mississippi. Sophistic logic, nahh).

We went to the main square to watch Fireworks, dance the waltz, and to trade hats. (that last one’s not a tradition, but I think it should be!)

My chapeau, Herman the Red Tyrolean Hat (a purchase I had to make earlier that day) made lots of friends, and really suited everyone he found! We then went to a bar, and some Austrian guy tried to make out with me -- realizing/not realizing that I don’t speak ANY GERMAN AT ALL…I guess that’s sexy, the whole insta-dumb illiterate thing – anyway, I was like, eh, peace out. Though he did buy me a beer, and try to talk to me. Luckily, my Austrian buddies told him I was awesomely American, and didn’t understand anything he said. Plus, I barely drank that beer, it was like 2am on new years…I had had enough, and I needed to dance it off (and I did)!

Wave your hands like you just don't care

2007-01-09T08:26:00.000-08:00

We went with Silvia’s buddies to a wine bar on my last day in Italia – where it was quite loud…Italians talk loudly, its sortof refreshing. I will miss Italy, I was just getting the hang of waving my hands a lot and saying, "eh!" alllllmost as well as mom and pop Fedele do.

Oh it was fun to be so expressive -- and I also liked the speaking italian part. I remember the first time I formed a real italian phrase in front of Papa Fedele...it was something like, "I like this gorgonzola cheese, b/c the gorgonzola at my place is too strong."

I may as well have recited the entirety of Dante's Trillogy in perfect old italian, he was so encouraging and impressed. It was a truly proud moment ... Papa Fedele, you are the Jaime Escalante to my italian. From then on, I attempted to stand and deliver all the broken italian I could muster. It probably started working just about the time I left.

Later that evening we then went Celebrità, the awesome Italian nightclub/giant living room with dance floors… full of ambiance and ridiculously good latin dancers doing a dance step I never learned (I should’ve dove in though, I was catching on just from watching). There was also a flooded toilet, and a few rooms….the one we were in was, semi strange, but happy music that wasn’t as bad as techno. Talking (or trying to talk) to Silvia’s friend’s funny and boisterous Italian pals was entertaining, as I tried to speak Italian to them, and they tried to speak English to me.

that = funny

And so the next day I left, with some Pandoro and Spumante (its like Champagne, but it's not Champagne b/c its not from France, celloo) from the Fedele’s, along with Mama Fedele’s delicious sandwiches (lifesaver), to go on a crazy beautiful train ride through N. Italy and lots of snowy mountains, not to mention lots of random old castled on hillsides…crazy!

Mama Fedele, I miss your cooking. I think it is also salient to mention that me and mame fedele both have a crush on Dr. House. (!)

We open...

2007-01-09T08:25:00.000-08:00

in Venice! (yes I did just use a quote from one of my least favorite songs from a 1940's musical, ouch)

Venice was picturesque enough. A little bit on the stingy, dingy side, though. I was a little bummed, though not surprised to find that there were only foreigners in Venice….I was slightly disappointed that when I went to the “non-touristy” part of Venice, there were pretty much NO stores open (like, they were boarded up) and there were just creepy dudes yelling at each other, and dogs biting each other. Quite gothic. Not my favorite local flavor.

Other than that, the Canal’s were lovely, and that was that. Venice is for (rich) Lovers, not random StL girls who really travel for the people and the atmosphere, and not necessarily for the sole purpose of seeing a postcard in real life.

I did totally love the Gondola dudes chatting with each other off Piazza San Marco. That was cool. And San Marco really did look just like that old Banana Republic t-shirt…it’s a cool church, no doubt.

Anyone else noticing an “Italian Cities that start with the letter ‘V’” theme here? Hm.

Verona : forecast Fair

2007-01-09T08:23:00.000-08:00

Let's lay our scene already...

We went to Verona on St. Stephen’s day…too bad we missed dinner b/c Mama Fedele said she was gonna kill the chicken…oh well, my stomach could’ve used a break anyway. So Verona was lovely, we found a great restaurant (snaps to Emma, my travel buddy, for not accepting anything but the best), and the Romeo and Juliet stuff was nostalgic, and I totally lovd the cool Italian trees in the sunset….Emma, who is from Mexico, and I watched the sun set over the Verona rooftops and were like, “Here ya go families in the America’s there’s some sun from us!” Because that’s where the sun is going…west to America. Hope you enjoyed the boxing day sun, Americans.

For a couple days in Novarra, we just chilled, b/c there was crazy fog. Like, crazy fog. Apparently it was not so bad, but I was like, wow – fog everywhere! Still, we watched The Date Movie, and 40 Year Old Virgin (English subtitles for me! A funny way to watch such silly movies, true.)

On with the Christmas posts!

2007-01-09T08:21:00.000-08:00

While I finish some delicious french shepherd pie – which, interstingly enough, is called Hachish – sprinkled with enough pepper that I have sneezed about 3 times (perfection) …I figured I might as well recap some Christmas memories.

I really want to do this as quickly as possible, so I can get back to posting in real time, and therefore be able to add a little artistry to my posts.

Bullet points, why not?

- Thursday before vacation, Doris and I go out drankin’ and she manages to teach me some of her excellent Vor al Berg drinking song before I go and pass out. The next day I get my carte de sejour! IT was another lovely encounter with the French DMV and I’m not even kidding – it was quick and easy. Wow.

- Friday I had to get up suuuuper early, and barely made the bus to Torino. Emma, however, was not so lucky and missed the train. Poor girl, missing trains SUCKS. We arrived in torino and I was able to speak Italian to an Italian in italy for the first time to ask if I was at the right station, and I was.

- Arrived safely in Novarra, had some ridiculously good pesto ravioli (homemade, crazy) with mama Fedele, gave’em the cool American candy from the 50’s, 60’s and 70’s to much praise (snaps to Aunt Lolo), then that evening, pizza at a restaurant with Silvia’s buddies, then was the notte bianchi…this means all the stores are open late on Christmas Eve-Eve and we wandered around the crowds. There were also people offering free hugs, so that was cool, albeit a little bit strange --- everyone knows all hugs are free! There was also the typical Italian posing-dudes in some bar we stopped in…he had really cool jeans and I wanted them.

- Christmas eve brought a giant lunch, and some weird liquor. I drank and ate to my heart’s delight, though not necessarily my stomach’s…but no worries.

- We went to Vigevano with Silvia, Federica (silvia’s buddy) and emma – it’s a totally Italian-tastic town, with a big, super pretty and ornate square, Italians doing the evening stroll thing (it was Christmas Eve), a big ol’ castle, and markets selling Christmas things, and a lot of slippers.

- Christmas Lunch – ridiculous food that was delicious (I wasn’t the BIGGEST fan of the lemon-flavored pasta…crespelle, I believe it was called…but whatever, there was plenty else to drink) the fake cat that silvia’s niece, Laura, got for Christmas was awesome (you could even make it hissss), adorable family, we all got matching scarves from Silvia’s sister, and got to just hang with family…it was great!

- After the Christmas lunch, we went to Silvia’s buddy’s house to play Bingo – some strange Italian version that I didn’t know how to win at….I eventually figured it out, through the blurr of my sugar OVERLOAD — having Pandoro (crazy Italian sugar bread/cake, coated in powdered sugar) with mascarpone 2x in a day, I was like, whoa dudes. My American stomach is freaking out. Later on in the day we went to get tea with Silvia’s buddies (xmas tradition, ok) and Emma and I wandered around Novarra…it’s a cool town! I liked it a lot, and the castle was totally bad-ass, though Silvia seemed to shrug it off as “just another castle” as most European folk are prone to do. Compared to Cahokia mounds, that castle was the BOMB.

Week before Christmas wrap up

2007-01-08T09:43:00.000-08:00

After Christmas, I thought we all were poisoned by the weird Duchere water, b/c everyone was bein’ weird, and feeling weirder, like physically. We went to see this kooky show called Mayumana, sortof like poorman’s cirque du soleil meets stomp. I wanted to die through most of it, but most of the other girls were fairly entertained. It just seemed like a sortof semi-good Penn Performing arts performance of the Rhythmic, bang on trashcans in fluorescnent lights and do annoying clown sketches group to me.
Agnes had a fun party full of singing and eating. It was really fun getting to go over to Agnes’ and hang out with the Caldero family and make cookies. Very Christmas indeed. I accidentally said, “putain” (which I think is some sort of multi-use cussword), and was quite ashamed at uttering such profanity in the presence of family. But I’m a foreigner! I usually only cuss to creepers on the street, anyway.

Solene, agnes’ daughter who shares my birthday, was awesome and kept me company while I tried to make the peanut butter, hershey’s kiss cookies, though I had to improvise, cutting French chocoloates in half, to make makeshift Hershey’s kisses. It was pretty awesome that everyone but me was like, WOW these cookies are so novel! And I know them as the cookies that everyone has all the time and they are soooooooo common and boring and even a little bit annoying to me. How many times did those cookies show up at snacktime, seriously? But in france, this whole, putting the chocolate on the cookie thing was like, totally cool.
So that’s totally cool!

24 = best year ever!

2007-01-08T09:42:00.000-08:00

My 24th birthday was glorious. I got great present from my buddies (guitar strap from Doris, excellent peach soap/lotion basket and moose stuffed animal from emma, and The Blues Brothers DVD from Holly and Silvia), I bought a cool ice-cream Buche de Noel for my birthday cake, Emilie came to town, I got happy birthday sung to me in like, 5 languages (Austrian, Italian, Spanish, Swedish, English, French…ok 6) while drinkin’ wine and eating olive oil flavored potato chips at Silvia’s, 4 of the Duchere girls managed to pass a logically sequenced night together and not get separated (here’s to pre-planning!) ....and I also got to hang with Caro and Hensley, and sing fun songs to the awesome GuitarMan who likes to play at English Pubs around Lyon. It was a great weekend of really getting to go out freely (knowing Emilie was always game for a drink – as long as it wasn’t Carlsburg – and feeling like a real Lyon gangsta, drinkin’ beers and takin’ names.

I also loved that Caro’s boyfriend’s name was Gaultier, and that when some weirdo tried to touch my AWESOME new snowboots and I had to yell at him, Gaultier said not to worry, he would protect me and my boots. Gaultier was tall, too, dude. Like scary giant Frenchman tall = excellent!

2 cheese opinions for the price of one

2007-01-08T09:41:00.000-08:00

Creamy round cheese – like cream cheese, but more exciting…cheesier tasting. Saltier? Tasted really good in my avocado, garlic, tomato salad.

Regional round of Goat cheese – regional goat cheese, this one had that cream cheese, but saucier vibe that I like so much about goat cheese. I like it that its sorta crumbly or like, harder than cream cheese, and its got that really interesting “is it mold?” bubbly outside. Its also really good hot. MMm! Strange cheeses!

ps I will be adding pictures of said cheeses soon, so worry not!

Garlic flavored Goat cheese nibbles - aperatif of champions

2007-01-08T09:40:00.000-08:00

Excellent crumbled on salad, very legit with your drinks (l'aperatif) before dinner. Fun to eat b/c they look like little thimbles and they’re sortof like, crunchy like rocks. Def. liked the garlic flavor more than the red pepper or “herves de provence” flavors.

I like cheese that have pictures of smiling goats on them.

Backbeat, the word is on the street

2007-01-08T09:39:00.001-08:00

That I am no longer 12.

I learned Wonderwall on my guitar, (it’s a pretty easy song to play, but its also pretty easy to forget, as its all fancy finger moves and not memorable chords, durn) and since realized that my students probably do not know this song, as I liked it when I was 13. Oasis is an old band! Geez!

I remember - I met my first net-friend, Wendy from New Jersey, on the Oasis messageboard. Wendy was the shit! She was so fun and sarcastic, and we shared tips about how to make frames on our websites. How geeky, but how awesome...oh the days when I was on the cutting edge of HTML.

In other early net adventures, I also was on some swing music mailing list when the Squirrel Nut Daddie’s song, “hell” (I believe) made it on MTV and people on the list were freaking out. It was pretty cool to be a part of that, no matter how small, when everyone on the list was like, from San Fran, and I was some 13 year old from STL. I am old school.

Its a Lovely Pyrenees Cheese Holiday with Lori

2007-01-08T09:38:00.000-08:00

It had the cool holey consistency, with the added bonus of a black crust...ooo, spooky...and it tastes like swiss cheese/bitter cream cheese in a softer, more bouncy cheese form.

I am not a food critic, so if these cheese confessionals sound like I’m reviewing mattresses, enjoy the humor and give me the benefit of the doubt. I am trying to delve into the gastrointestinal soul of a nation!

There’s no Canada like French Canada

2007-01-08T09:37:00.000-08:00

Thanks to Emilie, my south park ambassador, I now have the south park episode, Christmas In Canada, on my computer. Me and Doris watched it (she is amazing at English, and only needed me to translate Cartman’s crazy English every once in a while) and we agreed that the best part is when the French Canadian guy asks, “Would you like a mooo-stache?”

Annecy cheese is good enough for me

2007-01-08T09:35:00.000-08:00

Melts well, has the cool and intimidating outer skin that looks like bark, has spicy taste at first. I LOVE THIS CHEESE. Its got little bubbles in it and its sortof soft.

I had to seek out this cheese in some random regional goods store in Annecy, France where they have lovely mountain ranges on a lake, and I am glad I did b/c I love it (and I can see that I can buy it at the Atac, which is my french version of Schnucks, though I do miss Schnucks... the store, not the people really!!! Must learn the name of this cheese)

I got you Cheese - Cancouilloute

2007-01-08T09:34:00.000-08:00

Another great cheese. It's sortof the consistency of glue, but in an awesome way.

The best is pink garlic flavor, and it truly makes for great pasta sauce. There is also a song about it, and I like it b/c Phillipe and Agnes first introduced me to it and I totally heart Phillipe and Agnes…so the concouilloute makes me think of their awesomeness.

Annual Cheese Reviews

2007-01-08T09:32:00.000-08:00

Cheese instalments- here's the part where I tell you about all the different cheese I'm eating/trying to eat here in France. I was partly inspired by my boss at Testimo's Brandy, and partly by my love of cheese, and partly by Phillipe, Agnes' (awesome teacher friend) husband, who approves of my cheese discovery endeavor.

I was talking to Phillipe and I told him I always try to buy a new cheese everytime I go to the market and he was like, Lori, if you buy a new cheese everyday, you’d have to stay in France for something like 3 years to try all the cheeses.

Well Phillipe, I don’t know if I can get a cheese-trying Visa (though, if any country were to have such a Visa, France would be the one, snaps) I am on my cheese adventure nonetheless!

President of the Internet book

2007-01-08T09:30:00.000-08:00

I read this book called the starfish and the spider, and it had a sortof incredibly hilarious part where this early internet dude is trying to pitch the Internet to some French business men, and they’re like, “Yees, but who eez zee President?” and the internet dude is like, “well actually there is no president” and the French are like, Sacre bleu, no president? We will not invest. So push comes to shove, and this guy is just like, “I am the President of the Internet.”
Oh, France.

This whole scenario is funny for many reasons, the least of which being that it all happened in France, the most of which being that it’s really really fun to tell people (or yourself) that you are president of the internet. In a sense, we all are! It feels good. Tell someone today that you are the president of the Internet. You are!

The book itself rules. It had a very cool, Tipping Point sortof thing going for itself. I remember that Dr. H told me that he thought Malcom Gladwell was some young punk thinking he knew what was up with the business world writing The Tipping Point. Famous last words, I think. I was sortof stunned to silence by someone thinking you had to be old to write/understand what seemed like pretty simple and compelling points made by Mr. G. I wish I’d told Dr. H that not liking the Tipping Point is sorta lame. Anyway, I totally dug the Tipping Point, and The Starfish and the Spider, while probs not as salient to everyday experience as The TP (haha), was super cool, and thought provoking in a major way. The part about the terrorists was like, whoa. I dug it! Thank GOD for amazon.com used books and affordable international shipping rates!
*Gift idea: Amazon.com gift certifs….so useful to me! *

BAT flights over oceans

2007-01-08T09:28:00.000-08:00

In breaking news, Blythe has booked a flight to come on over to the Big E for the beginning of my February vacay! Bitchin! We shall be renting a car to drive around Sienna, and then we will go gaze at the ocean, drink strong wine and eat fish in Cinqueterra. Miss Blythe has also done a nice job of embracing my attempt to use the wiki to do trip planning. Snaps to you for contributing to the wiki, Blythe! Blythe also writes me letters, and though she doesn’t describe awesome Methodist Halloween parties in them like my Grandma’s letters do, they are amazing in other ways….mega snaps.

Stamped envelope(Paper+pen+thoughts)/my address = letter!
Blythe and my grandma are brilliant mathematicians in this respect.

My grandma, however, probably still thinks a wiki is some weird drink her brother “Buckshot” liked to fix for the Christmas BBQ’s in Pasadena back in 1949.
She has IM’d me, though!

In other news, congratulations to Blythe on finishing her children's book! Bitchin!

my package(s) arrived in the mail!

2007-01-08T09:25:00.000-08:00

My package was awesome, I loved the cards, and I went on a My Name is Earl binge for a good 3 days. It really really made me miss america. (that sentences could be taken 2 ways, the 2nd way is funnier, but makes less sense) I totally heart the Earl team.

It also helped that I had no phone or internet for a whole weekend right after I got my presents. That pecan pie came in handy on Sunday when nothing was open and I was hungry.

Seriously, with no phone, no bus…I was like, is this poverty? Like, damn…people need the buses! I am one of those people! NO wonder people occasionally set fire to cars here – I too felt like I might want to set fire to some cars after 2 days of nothing but me, my blankets, a creepy piece of historical fiction, and not a lotta food (not to mention the perpetually beige-colored hot water here in the Duch).

But I loved my package! Points also to Auntie Lolo for the American Candies of History present … I was able to give that to my Italian hosts (the glorious Fedeles!) and they loved it! Those cinnamon toothpicks were awesome.

I'm still waiting on one from Miss becca S - here's hoping Mr. Postman pulls through!

To my French Friends

2007-01-08T09:24:00.000-08:00

To Hensley and Caroline, I’ve lost your numbers, but I salute you, and I will find you.

I did find you, though it involved a rather roundabout way of reconnection – one of which I am quite proud. A quick breakdown: French dude that’s friends with Caro and Hensley falls in love with Emilie, she keeps the # for caller ID reasons, I get his number, text him and he gives me Caro’s number, connection restored! I was very worried I would not be able to find her! But I did, yesssss. Snaps!

Now if I can only figure out how the French go out, b/c they go out so late and I have to get a taxi and it’s a bitch to pay for a taxi alone, so all in all I always end up being like, Caro, I’m peacing out! Just when she’s like, Hey, what are you doing!?
A little planning and some forethought could solve this problem, I think.

I am not Robin Williams in Dead Poets Society

2007-01-08T09:23:00.000-08:00

I couldn't form a society for dead poets if I wanted to, I don't think.

Carpe Diem or not, I don’t care you lousy kids. Actually, some of my kids I totally heart. To the girls who want to clean up graffiti – I salute you, and I wish I could sponsor a “Graffiti Sucks” club for you to form. We could sell croissants to raise money to buy a sandblaster, and when we got it (grants would be easy to get for this endeavor!)… we would go around Lyon and clean some of this ridiculous Graffiti, and the power of the youth would once again be evident. But alas, we are in France, and I have no idea how to do such things.
Sigh.

Quest for internet

2007-01-08T09:22:00.000-08:00

Francoise, who shares the name (and a country of origin) with a favorite Kirkwood mom of mine, is a teacher who believes that it should not be that hard for me to get internet, really. I have not checked in with her lately, but last time I checked she had asked the computer man -- who is always happy, according to her…and also according to her, and I am inclined to agree, his overt, blatant, unclandestine happiness quite sets him apart from the average teacher at La Martin --- if it wouldn’t be too hard to extend the nurse connection (the nurses office is below me, yes I’ve been researching) into our dorms…he said it’d be actually really easy (!) – all we need is to drill a hole in the floor. The hard part, however, is getting some French mechanic to come and drill the hole. I admit, in the twilight hours when I’ve listened to everysinglesong in my itunes library for the 5th time, I have had dark thoughts of taking to that floor with my blunt butter knife, but I have resisted. Will Francoise cut the red tape and do the diplomacy dance to get internet (I believe it is a right, france believes it’s a nuisance/privilege? No way) to poor teaching assistants? We’ll see.

I am American! I am made to be intrepid and cross rough terrain and discover new things. My ancestors were revolutionaries! I think some of them were Puritans! They cut My people have a long legacy of cutting red tape! Though recently I’ll admit, we’ve been pretty good at creating a bit of the red tape ourselves, also ok, my ancestors did some pretty crappy things too, witch trials and slavery probably the most buzz worthy Ooopsies.

Still -- if the founding fathers could say peace out to a King, I can say, hey crazy French administration and bureaucracy, let’s get some internet in my dorm room that doesn’t even have a phone. So far I can talk the talk, but we’ll see about me walking the walk. I will try to be Ben Franklin and charm the French with my love of wine and song.

In case of the need for contingencies, Plan B is becoming friends with the nurses (should I develop a chronic some sort of illness?), and getting them on my side/getting them to give me the key to the internet.

-- ps I can sneak onto the 2nd floor, but sadly, the office with internet is locked. Ok, its not sad, b/c offices need to be locked, but I would like to check my email … I am an American! --

Plan C is to somehow steal a key to the nurses office and then sneak in there to use the internet and do terrible things like, talk to my mom! Its times like these where I really wish I did have the super spy skills I have always dreamed of aquiring.

Its amazing all the time I have to think since I don’t have internet. Most of it I use to think of ways to get the internet.

Hey there lonely girl

2007-01-08T09:19:00.000-08:00

Cell phone loss = solitary weekend...it wasn't cool when I felt like I was sortof experiencing poverty first hand, but it was cool when I tried to pretend like I was abraham lincoln. Though I did have electricity.

I think karma was trying to tell me something the Friday b/c that’s when I left/lost my cell phone somewhere in Lyon. That sucked. What also sucked was that the next day there was a bus strike, so I couldn’t really get ANYWHERE, and was stuck on my ghetto, but more importantly – my not very vibrant hill for a whole day.

I think I read a LOT of Pillars of the Earth, which is a book I really didn’t like very much…sorry to friends and family that liked it, I will never get those 1000 pages worth of my life back! But it did offer me a nice distraction from cell phone loss panic and utter boredom. I probably could’ve profited more from practicing the guitar so I could move up the skill ladder to being mediocre, but I read that frickin book. By about page 600 or so I realized I sorta hated it for various reasons (the main one being that the characters were too one sided, and predictable…the other reason having something to do with way graphic gratuitous rape scenes, euw) – but you can’t very well quite 600 pages in! Anyway, I have since released it on bookcrossing.com on my birthday, but I think it died in the rain.

Air Force water polo california dude and other Austrians for dinner

2007-01-08T09:16:00.000-08:00

I came home from wherever I was on Friday evening to find doris’ 2 friends and their cool water polo player friend, who was from California! How exciting!

He’s some air force academy drop-out, who plays water polo but really wants to be a writer or something…I can dig it. I remember saying specifically that when I was talking to him, “I dig” I think is what I said – and Doris was like, what’s that mean? And I felt sortof lame/awesome for unconsciously using the verb “dig” in everyday conversation with another American. I use weird words. Anyway, we had some lovely noodles, and some lovely pink wine drinks, and we were off to see the light show.

I personally was like, wow to the lights, but I wasn't super impressed. Agnes, my awesome teacher friend (that's her official title), says 4,000 or something people come (maybe it was million, but thats crazay) to see the lights and that this year she wasn't so impressed. I just thought I wasn't european enough to appreciate them, but apparently they were just not that appreciable this year. This is good, b/c I felt bad not being impressed!

Fete des Lumieres - Festival of lights!

2007-01-08T09:13:00.000-08:00

Good times with Holly, the Italian duo of silvia and Carl, who I found out went to washU, holla! Represent! I heard he wants to move back to new york = lame! But its home to him, so its ok.

As for the lights, they were cool, but they were a little bit eurotastic. So I figured that the fact that the light display with the techno music and bubble sounds on a super old fountain was pretty much just sorta neat to me was b/c I am American and vulgar and used to super special effects when it comes to light shows…that are usually, if not always, to the tune of great hairbands of the 80s, namely Aerosmith, or like, Bon Jovi. So to the cathedral in lights with techno sounds an monks chanting coming out of the speakers I was mostly just reminded of how awesome that laser light show about recycling was at the “new” St. Louis Science center.

Though the cathedral lights were cool, but I think I should’ve done some drugs or something to fully enjoy it, and unfortunately for the light show, I am not big on the drugs. Being high on life didn’t help either!

But the whole light theme was to thank Mary (as in Jesus' mom) for saving Lyon from "la peste" which, from my best guestimate, was the Plague! oooo, spooky. But well worth the gratitude, albeit gratitude in the form of crazy euro lightshows.

Purpose?

2007-01-08T09:11:00.000-08:00

I think I have found my purpose somewhere in between gonzo-pinko marketing and New Orleans. These sorts of thoughts aren’t for this blog, but its pretty exciting to have a purpose, more or less.

I just finished The Cluetrain Manifesto and Gonzo Marketing, and I gotta say, I am picking up what those cats are putting down!

Montbelliard - archeologists and dreamy prince people

2007-01-08T09:00:00.000-08:00

Dear Montbelliard, France:
You and your Christmas market were sortof an interesting antidote to my hangover. Though I had to carry my laptop all through you, I thank you for bringing me and the Leather Pouch Prince together for brief eye contact. I sorta got lost in his big French eyes when I first saw him, it was a little shocking. He is probably the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen in person (Emilie agrees), and now I own a leather pouch he made, and its super useful! He really did look like some sort of dark prince or something, but like, he would eventually meet a princess and they would have a festival, etc…but really he was just a leather man! When he called me mademoiselle, it was something truly special. I am really stumbling with expressing how cute this French dude was. Just imagine…he was like, fairy tale, hellooooooo. But he just made leather pouches (damn nice ones, ps, and at a reasonable price).

Montbelliard was home to a famous anthropologist, but I was more into their cool pizzas, and how the whole alsacian + French genepool concept had really done wonders for montbelliard, which would make me dare to call it the most attractive city in france, thus far. Everyone looked like princes! Even the old dudes eating interesting cheese sandwiches in the Christmas market tent.

I saw a statue I decided looked like Emilie’s dad, I got some cheese potatoes that were sorta gross, but sorta good, we talked to funny weird pizza makers who were very friendly and funny (yay, normal funny and friendly people) and we had some beer, b/c hey, Montbelliard is near Germany.

The singing Marseilles football hooligans was really just an added bonus, though I was a little overwhelmed by them when I was like, hungover and carrying the laptop and like, sorta angry in general at the air for being so hard to breathe, etc…..Still, Emilie and I decided that our pretty much fav thing about Europe that you really can’t find in the states is their propensity to sing whenever possible, and their stock of songs for most every (drinking) occasion. Sure, we’ve covered the xmas tune market, and the pop music, sure, but for old fashioned drinking songs (and the real embarrassment-free willingness, if not enthusiasm to sing them…) there’s not place like the Big E.
I heart you Montbelliard. If you’re out there leather pouch prince, I sortof heart you, too.

I need to write me some drinking songs to sing in the USA, dude. My buddy doris even knows a drinking song about her region…from what I know of it, it rules. I want a regional song to sing when I drink! The Missouri waltz could do…I should learn it.

I want this shirt

2007-01-02T16:43:00.000-08:00

And a lot of others, too.

dirtycoast.com

I was worried about America today.

There's been too much drama going on in the states, and I hope we don't pass out from it all - that's all I've got to say to that. I would welcome some news updates from my homies...an email from a friend is way better than some creepy youtube video linked from a Slate.com article.

Mad shout out to the Violand's of Austria - who have internet access and have thus enabled me to talk to my sister and friends and family!
I salute you!
Gemutlicheit is my favorite german/austrian word ever, ps.

Morteau - land of watches and cows

2007-01-02T03:56:00.000-08:00

And Emilie!
We had a lovely time in foggy Morteau! I arrived late thursday night, after I left early from the class that drew me a lovely picture.

Needless to say, another 10 minutes with those hooligans - 10 minutes that might make me late for a cheese drenched weekend in the french/swiss/german/alscace countryside - was really not on my to do list. So i left! And I got to Morteau in the fog and we went to the Terminus bar --- its called the Term if you are in the know like Miss Emilie. We chilled in the smoke-laden air, but before my contacts began to feel like Morteauciean sausages on my eyeballs, we met some locals!
Score!

They were nice dudes, and very encouraging of my not so perfect french, and keen to listen to emilie's pretty much perfect french.

The one guy who introduced himself awkwardly apologized for being of arab descent, which was a little weird b-c at first me and Em had no clue why he was apologizing and when we realized why he was apologizing....well, we still had no clue why he was apologizing.

A beer later we went back to Emilie's dorm and I passed out while she had to get up for class in the morning...yuck. But it was worth it, as now we had some local homeys.

After delicious morteauacien specialties with her buddy Ruven - "Groovy Ruvy" in some circles - we went to play board games like taboo and Uno with Emilie's teacher friend/colleagues. This one french dude kept on cussing like all the time in french and for that, I loved him. He was funny. What was his name Emilie? I tried some Pastis, and it looked like slime and tasted a little bit like licorice soap, but its something that I am not ashamed to say, I could enjoy from time to time with very little grimace.

The next day, we went for a walk? Did we? I can't remember, but it was a totally awesome walk. Hills and little houses, and random fountains and the obligatory WW1 memorial statue. And chickens, too!

I´m Back

2007-01-01T10:54:00.000-08:00

Does anyone get why that title is particularly resonant? I´ll tell you why! Bc Im in Austria! And guess who else is from Austria???
Arnold Schwartzennegger, dudes.
I spelled it wrong, but i am not going to google the governator just so make sure i spelled it right.

I´m bummed at myself for slacking on the updating...I hope you will be ok if I go out of chronological order. Blogs are better with the short and frequent posts, I know. If I were in america wondering what I was doing, I would be very mad at myself for not just taking some time to update!!!
I had so much to share before xmas time, and now Ive been in like a million places and seen a million things and definitely heard a million (or more) words that I totally did not understand.
Also, Im going to start using the map feature on my flickr account, get excited!!! This means that you will be able to see exactly where the picture was taken on a map! Internet!!!!!
Anyway, since we last talked Ive been to the countryside of france, where people are cuter, and its very quaint and full of cows, Ive travelled to Italy - Novarra, Milan, Verona, Venice... and now I am in Austria, Breggens to be exact and I had an old ladz get mad at me in german bc I walked too slow, and I spent new years eve in Innsbruck, Austria, which is really pretty and in the mountains and I got a cool Tyrolean Hat! I never knew what Tyrolean meant, but now I do!!! I also think that tyrolean hat wikipedia entry needs some TLC courtesy of me.
So yeah, Ill see you blog readers soon(mom, blythe, who else? If you feel like lettin´me know you read my blog, lay a lil' comment on down, I'll be able to tailor my entries to your whims more easily if I know who "you" are)!
Happy 2007!
Wooo! Best year ever!

Internet fun

2006-12-12T08:18:00.000-08:00

Ok, I think that blogs that devolve into lists of links are sortof on the lamer side,but I want those who want to know to...um, know what I know. As far as websites are concerned.
So, in lieu of actually posting about some of the shenanigans I've been up to (not too much, but I have been to see some cool french mountains/people) ...here are some fun websites i've been lookin' at of late.

http://stlschools.org
this is neat. Forces of good are good!
http://www.threadless.com/product/383/The_Communist_Party
also neat, fun shirts galore on this site, and I think they're a force for good somehow, though I havn't figured out HOW specifically. Props, though!
http://wikilou.com/wiki/index.php/Highway_44
I'm pretty proud of this.
http://www.zappos.com/n/p/dp/19284384/c/88882.html
Dream Boots
http://www.myspace.com/jasonmraz
I love Jason Mraz's cover of Winter Wonderland
http://www.like.com
helped me to find my beat up target boots only higher quality, though I think the price is too high -- I would show you pictures but the computer says, No. I tried uploading fun screen captures to flickr, but until my computer and I take a field trip to one of 2 nice internet cafes (wah wah, europe is not like America...duh, its just annoying sometimes), no dice, homeslice. Poet! Anyway, go on like.com, its pretty fun actually.

I would like to link them all here : http://ma.gnolia.com/ but that could prove hard, and I don't know if my computer (I.E. the only computer in all of this high school with the ability to process a USB port, I.E. the only computer I know of with MicrosoftXP - i kid you not) can take it, really.

Ok, 'tis all for now! More soon.

Pepe Le Pew - suprisingly accurate portrayal?

2006-12-11T08:48:00.000-08:00

Oh french people - you do not really act like Pepe LePew - the influence that led to my studying french... speedy Gonzales just was not as charismatic as Pepe, face it (though he was speedier) -- , but sometimes when you sortof do(especially you creeper french dudes), its makes all fans of WB cartoons pretty stoked.

The 6th one seems to be a quite accurate scripting of many a creeper french dude's inner monologue.

“You are my peanut, I am your brittle!”

“Where are you, my little gumbo of chicken ? Your French fried shrimp is sizzling for you.”

“Permit me to introduce myself, I am your new lover.”

“Where are you, my little object of art? I am here to collect you.”

“Is it possible to be too attractive?”

“You know, most men would get discouraged by now fortunately for you, I am not most men!”

“You stop resisting me, bebe, and I’ll stop resisting you.”

“You are the corned beef, and I am the cabbage. The corned beef is nothing without the cabbage.”

“The game of love is never called on account of darkness, my little midnight snack."

“You may call me Streetcar, because of my desire for you.”

Remember how cool Pepe was? Did he ever capture that cat/capture her heart?

The Croix Rousse -

2006-11-21T10:50:00.000-08:00

Its really a big hill! Lots of fun European steps – I’d like to chill here more often.

Doris and I spent some time singing and whining about what a yucky day it is today (it was totally raining like, all day) so we decided hey, museum! We decide upon the Contemporary art museum up by the parc. I totally hated this museum. It was all cliché pictures of downtrodden urban folk, and then the very best part was anime watercolors in graphic sexual scenarios with vulgar captions! I did like the giant room of thread with lots of mirrors, and I didn’t mind the giant anime skyscraper room where all the buildings had faces of anime girls. That was ok. The pee wee’s playhouse esque display that was mocking art’s descent into the banal was sorta cool, but like, duh. It was just old kitchy things all thrown into a room. Pee Wee did it way better. And the rest of the muse, I hated a lot. So Doris and I decide to go to a movie, since it was right next door, and still raining.

We saw scoop, it was a delicious morsel of Woody Allen (someone who, Emilie and I decided, is on the list of “People not allowed to Die”….b/c he’s just too cool). Scarlett Johannsen, I know the Woodster loves her and thinks she’s all sensual and stuff, but I really don’t see the wow factor. She’s pretty, and she seems to fit with the Allen dialogue stuff and is a good straight man for classic Woody neurosis, so ok. Hugh Jackman was smoldering, and I particularly liked how they had like, ghosts and mystery, and the Grim reaper and stuff incorporated in the whole film. It was funny, and it definitely awoke in me my life long dream of being a crime solving sleuth. So I was happy, when I saw that I’d left my hat in the theatre and was locked out, to have the opportunity to sleuth it out. I found it, and I was so proud.

Anyway, then Doris and I decided, since it was no longer raining, to just walk. And walk we did! We walked down the Rhone, and up the croix rousse. Check out these stairs, man. We walked around there, I made some notes about some places I’d like to return, and we eventually ended up at the original Martiniere, which is much more centrally located, and a building that inspired this lovely picture – whose background goes too far into the non-PC side of life (a much more fun side of life) for me to go into detail upon it.
Anyway, this walk inspired Doris and I to discover Lyon on the weekdays and to peace outta there on the weekends. May this blog soon become the guide to Europe it was meant to do. No longer will I feel bogged down by my lack of internet and uncentrally located place of residence! France is as centrally located as is necessary.
I’m excited for upcoming itineraries.

I have to cancel two classes tomorrow b/c I have to go to the French Official doctor to make sure I’m healthy enough to remain in this great country.

I now have to plan a lesson or two.

I leave you with a quote about the France from “What Makes the French so French - 50 Million Frenchmen Can’t Be Wrong” – maybe it will enlighten you as to the origins to my complaints/compliments… and maybe it will enlighten me! It looks like fun cultural studies/ethnography stuff that I really like:

“ Imagine a country where people work 35 hout weeks, take seven weeks of paid holiday a year, take an hour and a half for lunch, have the longest life expectancy in the world, and eat the richest food on the planet. A people who keep alive their local shopkeepers, who love nothing better than going to the public market on Sundays, and who finance the best health-care system in the world. A people whose companies are the least unionized and most productive among modern countries, and whose post-industrial consumer society ranks among the most prosperous in the world.

You are now in France.

Now imagine a country whose citizens have so little civic sense that it never crosses their mind to pick up after their dogs or to give to charity. Where people expect the State to do everything because they pay so much in taxes. Where service is rude. Where the State is among the most centralized and pervasive in the world, and where the civil-servant class amounts to no less than a quarter of the working population. Where citizens tolerate no form of initiative of self-rule, where unions are so pervasive that they virtually dictate the course of government and even run French ministries.

You are still in France.”

It would all seem so much more quaint if I were connected to the internet or had a land line and got to actually speak to my loved-ones more than once a month, though.

In other news, I still get really mad whenever I see BORAT posters. I just really hate him for that whole Throw the Jew in the Well business. It was just wrong on so many levels. I suppose those who like the sortof “omg I am so uncomfortable with these sad people” that produced such US hits like Napoleon Dynamite will really like it. I’m not hating, I’m just hating Borat. If you like him, laugh out loud and clear, but I really just don’t think he’s good for business.
PS everyone over here thinks Borat’s American, and that he’s like and American critiquing his own country. He’s English!

PPS I’m really tired of defending my country to everyone. I won’t tell people I’m Canadian, I will represent, but I really really really am tired of telling RANDOM PEOPLE that I meet on the street that yes, I have friends who vote Republican, and no I will not tell them that they are an asshole as you have requested, French-person-with-no-manners (b/c they’re my grandmother, and other such lovely and civic-minded people). I’m really at the point where I’ll just tell’em I’m a Republican and have them just deal with me being a good person nonetheless. Hey Republican friends, I represent for you. You are good people. Should I just refuse to talk politics? This book I’m reading talks about how France can’t be defined on any terms but it’s own – I think its safe to say that the same goes for the US of A, God bless it.

PPSS I’m going to try to wake up earlier from here on out so look for me on the I-net at around 11pm-12am and later your time, central time zoners.
PPPSS I think I’m going to go to Scotland for my birthday! !!!! yayyyy!

PSA – don’t drink more than one Carlsburg if you want to stay out more than an hour

2006-11-21T10:49:00.001-08:00

Attention enterprising party people :
Carlsburg beer has 2+times the alcohol of normal beers, and if you try to be very legit and drink it like you’d drink normal beers, you will be sorry. I give you props for being hard core and considering doing such. You are truly legit to even think of it. But -- have one and you’re ahead of the game, sure. Have two, and it’s not going to be you having a Carlsburg, but rather it will be Carlsburg having you.

You will not know how you got so tipsy on 2 beers and you will be very angry. Just bear this in mind, and consume Carlsburg in moderation. I care about you, I don’t want you to have to learn the hard way about Carlsburg and the possible implications Carlsburg abuse could have on your social life.

Thanks where thanks is due

2006-11-21T10:47:00.000-08:00

It’s around that time where we all give thanks for that with which we are blessed, and I wanted to get in on the action. I got to thinking about those I left behind, and felt the need to express my thanks for a certain something that’s been there for me since high school, and that doesn't usually get the thank you when we make the rounds on the T-Day table.

Dear white vintage pumps,

I remember the day we met at the vintage haberdashery – I was so young. I was really excited to find vintage shoes in my size, and in such a versatile color at that! I wore you to friendship dance Junior year, but that was really only the beginning. You go with everything, and the fact that we always receive such glowing compliments when we are together only further strengthens my belief that we were truly meant to be together. With you, I can truly be myself. What we have is real.

I left you in St. Louis so that you would not be over-used and destroyed by European cobblestones. You are too precious to me, and your composition too delicate, to accompany me on such a dangerous sojourn. I could not live with myself if you were to come to harm on the rough streets of the Old World – but I wanted you to know that I still love you though I am far away, and plan on spending many more well-dressed days and nights with you.
Don’t forget me while I am gone.

Yours always,
Lori

Friday night wine parties and Hunting

2006-11-21T10:32:00.000-08:00

Holly’s friends had a Friday night wine party, and we really brought it – literally and figuratively:

- I played baguette ball to honor STL’s world series play

- teaching doris (that's her on the right, there) all the words to Penn's excellent drinking song "drink a highball" and she taught me something in austrian
- making my shoes cuss (b/c they’re broken – the sole is detached, so I can make them talk, and I taught myself a lot of French cuss words…combine these two facts, and its comedy magic)
- weird jammers playing like, the Charleston (the guitar dude was plumber) and other such hits from the 1920s
- telling daria to only speak to me in Italian
- 3 bottles of wine somehow
- meeting the crass girl and Hensley at Flemmings (ugh Long Island)
- trying to get a taxi, being too aggressive, losing taxi to un-gallant French boys --- FYI in america, we walk in the middle of the street and no one gives a shit except us if we get hit by a car

Saturday: hangover
went to Macdo (they have beer on tap), had crepes and tea at Savannah in Vieux Lyon

( I had the Davy Crocket, it was good -- its ham, cheese, and eggs, yes!)

As we were headed to the bus, I crossed the street, almost got run over by a motorcyclist, and met some French dudes who asked me if I hunted (or so I thought, I really had NO IDEA what they said, but I’m almost certain they were speaking to me), and I mentioned Louisiana (I was wearing my Marc Broussard Tshirt, heyo!), my name, Lorie the pop star, my age, and that I am older than Lorie, and I had her name first, but his accent was like, incomprehensible, but he was cuteness and sophisticated worthiness…nice shoes, too. The only way to tell if it’s a creeper or not, I have to look at the shoes.

Boys are different everywhere, have you noticed this? OMG!

US guys would not stand up to my shoe test, but I can see behind the eyes of US boys better – frenchies its like, hm. One can never play hard to get with enough zeal in FR, considering what a commitment it can be to give anyone your number. It’s practically asking for a week-long of stalking if you give out the number....but not always...my number is in the phones of some lovely French, don’t get me wrong! But its all quite fun, b/c you really can try out those coy ice princess type moves here. I digress.

Anyway, the boys didn’t get our number, but they did say they’d see us later, and who knows if you take that literally in France. I told them, I don't hunt, but bye!

Gotta love weird awkward moments where no one’s creepy or mean -- its like falling down on the ski slope as long as you don’t get hurt or lose a ski – its just so free and funny, I love it!

Being lost in translation is sortof hilarious.

Somebody cut the red tape!

2006-11-21T10:29:00.000-08:00

My encounter at the Prefecture -- the French equivalent of the DMV -- was actually pleasant, well planned out, and the lady that helped me actually laughed and was cheerful enough so as to not make me feel bad for being alive. I did accidentally happen upon where I think you have to go if you're an immigrant and you want papers, or something, and it wasn't too pleasant, and it was like, outside...and it seemed sortof DMV-torture-esque. Still, I give my experience, thanks to the French Dept. of Education, two American thumbs up !

Not so excited that I have to wait until the 22nd of December to get my Carte de Sejour, but hey, life’s a give and take.

La Commedia Italiana

2006-11-21T10:24:00.000-08:00

Silvia, our Guinness-loving Italian, keeps it real when her new roommate Missouri Michael asks her if b/c she is Italian, is she therefore Communist???

“Yes Michael, I will make you red pasta, and I only drink red wine.”

She's a funny lady.

Some other points:
French guy took off his clothes in Johnny Walsh’s – the French way apparently, is to remove your clothes at any moment where it would seem gratuitous…at least that’s what Emma’s undressing soccer player friend said when she asked him why he was changing for soccer practice in front of her…. “it’s the French way!”
?

Mexican food in lyon – is that Swiss cheese on my burrito?

STL thought of the moment : How cool would a Shuttle system be for St. Louis?

Holly got eaten by a spider, we went to the Pharmacist, and she is now ok.
There was an old lady who swallowed a fly, I don’t know why she swallowed a fly – I guess she’ll die.

French people doing things I don’t understand moment:
They will not stop making out
- Especially weird when they come up for air, this one the girl starts singing “I’m your Venus” relatively loudly. Hmm?
- there's this one girl who rides my bus occasionally and she wears a rat. A LIVE one. Now, I'm all for people being able to express themselves through fashion, even if they choose bizzare ways. To those who overly judge the popped collar and the "legging" I say - hey, leave the people alone, maybe it works for them. Rats, however, I cannot condone, b/c really live rats are the one trend that I would be in danger of wearing AS WELL were such a fashion victim to pass me by and the rat to jump on me. When people with leggings walk by me, there is not chance that in that moment (though at other moments I have chosen the legging, with no shame) I too will instantaneously be sporting the legging. With rats, there is a chance.

Therefore, I do not support the wearing of rats as accessories.

Some more Points of Interest (POIs for the uninitiated)

2006-11-21T01:16:00.000-08:00

I feel like teaching my kids strange movie monologues from Waiting for Guffmann (Saving silverman’d be next). I’ll let you know how it goes. I guess its sortof like how my parents dressed me up like a detective when I was a baby. Make it funny/fun or its sortof torture.

La Stage : our lovely introductory meeting.
It sucked, and the former assistant they chose to speak to us about her experiences was a girl from the most chic school in Lyon.
She was like, well if your kids misbehave, just tell them to stop. Yeah, ok. What a vapid-tastic answer.
Completely unhelpful, and useless meeting.
There wasn’t even free coffee and donughts at the beginning. It’s the little things you miss about the USA. We’re like, you cannot call an early meeting of any official capacity and NOT have free coffee and doughnuts (dunkin doughnuts, anyone?). Its just unheard of. I was offended (and uncaffinated).

The Bellecour city guide festival! It was called the Lancement du Petit Paume --- how does this translate? They had this giant festival in the largest square in Europe to hand out free copies of the cool Petit Paume city guide…it doesn’t have shopping, but it has a lot, and the Lyonais listen. Still, I visited Petit Paume’s website, and they don’t have a blog!?! 52nd city anyone? Though their festival is the shit, their website is sortof shit. Pardon my French! Ha. Bummer, though. Someone needs some silicon valley help.

On the subject of them not listing shopping - are there 2nd hand shops in this country? Must I be satisfied with my batman rollerskates as my sole 2nd hand purchase? I still try to believe that Lyon, like St. Louis, requires of its pioneering visitors a little effort, snooping and research before it can be fully judged as a sortof lame city without any 2nd hand stores and only 2 legit Wifi cafes. I wait before I decide the verdict.
Case not closed.

I think I'm going to go to paris this weekend.

Madrid – a return to coherence,

2006-11-16T01:57:00.000-08:00

and to authenticity!

*note the similarity between me and that bottle dude on the upper right .. hey-o!*

and to discount food and drink consumption!

(and eventually to Lyon!)

I manage to grouch the hostel breakfast fascist into giving us 2 croissants though we were 3 minutes late to breakfast. Take that! I have lived in France, I can grouch my way to what I want with the best of em. I used to nice my way…but I have learned that when in Rome…give the facists enough attitude that they’ll give you a frickin’ croissant! (that reminds me, there’s a student in my class who’s last name is Croissant. Someday he’s gointg to be Mr. Croissant! Can we just think about that?)

Then we go to Placa Del Sol, the main placa in Madrid. Madrid is, by the way, not on a grid system, so its really anyone’s best guess how to get one place to the other. We pretty much stuck to our neighborhood, and a lovely neighborhood it was! And we didn’t do so bad getting’ around, having somewhat navigated the streets of Old City in philly. We tried to go to Placa Real, the big old palace in Madrid…also known as Placa Real(ly Boring and really expensive to go inside), so we took some pictures outside and then wandered to elusive Chatas, a bar recommended by Claudia, but it was closed. So we get little toasty things somewhere else. I specifically asked for tap water, but I actually thought I saw a sea monkey in it. Whatever! Emilie really liked “salomorejo” that was on one of our toasts.

We then wandered to Placa Santa Ana, which I believe is where Hemmingway used to chill. We had beer, and I ate some olives (and they were SO GOOD). We sat next to some guys that Emilie decided were from the Netherlands, or they were Flemish. Emilie’s better at those kooky northern European Nordic languages. I was like,.. ?

Next up was fun with the Hapsburgs at the Prado. Emilie’s history teacher in high school was apt enough to point out that all the Hapsburgs were sortof pasty inbred mutant lookin’ people(come to think about it, did my history teacher mention this? I feel like he would’ve), and there were Hapsburgs to spare at the Prado – and the Hapbsburgs did not disappoint. Also saw the painting that Picasso re-did a million times called, something I forgot. There was a baby Hapsburg prominently featured! In a weird and rather unimpressive twist of fate we saw an old frat guy we both knew from Penn. It was unimpressive b/c he was not and is not awesome, so we were like, hey, fancy meeting you, yeah, peace out creeper. Anyone else we would’ve been like, hey, come jump on our magic carpet ride!

When we left the Prado it was rainin’, but that was ok, b/c bad guys don’t like rain! And we took Huertas back and we found the famed Sanabresa restaurant on the Via Del l’amor di dio or something - recommended by Claudia. We went home, had a beer, I wore the same thing and went to Sanabresa for a meal for 2 including a bottle of house wine for all of 19 euros (I tipped like, 3 euros, too – b/c at 17 euros for 2, I can afford to be a baller!)

Here’s what we had (all of which was delicious, btw):
Lori:
Paella Valencia (there were little baby crabs in it! ?)
Veal and French fries
Tarte helado (ice cream tarte, hey-o!)
Em.
Fried aubergines (eggplants)
Garlic chicken with French fries
Flan with cool little thick sweet whipped cream scoops on either side

We talked, we took our time, we drank our wine, it was just pretty much totally lovely.

We leave and we wander. We take a left. We take another left. We’re probably on huertas. It’s raining. My instincts told me to go to this little place in the middle of a somewhat deserted street, next to a Spanish tailor (I think) storefront.

Turns out this place is awesome, and by far my favorite place of the whole trip pretty much. Its sortof a bull fighting theme, but its not intentionally themed, just looks like the owners like bullfighting, and cool barfronts….unassuming, but cool. Oh I was so loving it! I made Emilie, who was anxious about her outsider status only briefly, order us up some beers. We ended up drinking a couple more sangrias (that they made up in front of us – wine, whiskey, orange juice and some fruity fruits…intense, man) and we soaked up the ambiance. I spotted some Zara-clad lady just kickin’ it with some impromptu flamenco and I knew I had found a good bar.

Though it was mostly a stand around and chill bar, there were dudes busting some virile flamenco moves in between sangrias, and drunker guys just sitting at the bar broodingly clapping to what I imagine was a flamenco rhythm (I KNOW the music was flamenco, but thats about it), though I have yet to understand how that time signature works. Who cares!?

I perfected what I like to call the “Spanish I-have-a-boyfriend face” and only had to use it a couple times and always to good result. Emilie ended up making friends with the two bartenders who loved her, just as I’d promised her when she was worried about our outsider status...what’s not to love about a blonde sweedey sweede who speaks Spanish and her not Spanish (nor Spanish speaking, but I did have a cool hat) friend just inconscpicuously chillin’ all incognito-like? There is no choice but to love that. The drinks were so CHEAP.
It was just really cool.

We wandered away before the place closed, and found the hostel, where Emilie had creepy dreams about the creepers in Goya’s painting of people renouncing Jesus. That painting, and others at the Prado, were fodder for some creepy nightmares, so it was bound to happen.

Ok, so its Friday and we were going to be leaving on a plane for Geneva in the mid afternoon so we wandered to Pull and Bear (like a Spanish urban outfitters) an other places.

Some highlights from English phrases on Spanish shirts include, “Life is short – Live it – Love it – Make it Worth,” “ Retro Explotion” and “Hair New Sound Imagine.” You gotta love that. After this linguistic adventure through the back doors of fashion, we tried to go to Chatas, only to find that it was closed AGAIN. When do Spanish people frickin’ eat lunch? It’s a mystery, it really is.

So instead we went to Taverna de Tirso Demolina…it was a challenge, but it was open, and after some debate amongst our hangry selves (hungry+angry=hangry) --- and after the waitress continuing to speak to me in super speedy Spanish even after Emilie was like, she does not speak Spanish, nada (in Spanish), and I was like, saying god knows what in Fritalian -- we decided on some seriously delicious dishes - ground chorizo peccadillo in some delicious spicy oil something, some fries with an egg on them, and some way good mushrooms in a delish salty oil sauce. Mmm. Hearty, and really the first excellent hangover food I’ve had since arriving on this, the fine continent of my ancestors.

We get back to the hostel, and head for the plane. It took some doing to get to the right gate, but we got there, and we were on the plane! I had tomato juice! Instead of taking 22 hours on a bus/train – it took us 2 hours to get to Geneva, and then only about 1 more hour from Geneva straight to Lyon.

One more night out in Lyon found us drinking extremely alcoholic beers and watching Texas play Baylor in football, meeting some crazy swiss germans, Emilie being adorably but completely wasted at Flemming’s – a place I love b/c the beer is SO COLD, its like wow, Emilie rallying after having consumed 1,000 glasses of water and after having sung some songs of the 80s classics and of the obscure Swedish band persuasion, meeting Hensley and Caroline – best friend friends ever, went to some party where we drank some more wine and danced around vintage Lori-Emilie style, went to French people sing-along/jamming and rock-out time at “Atmosphere” and then bonding with Caroline b/c she was really excited I was sortof southern (! – I love caro, she’s super cool) at “Le Bec de Jazz” – some sortof jazz club where they play Ray Charles and other ray charles-esque artists…where was Otis, I ask?, telling 2 french guys to stop talking shit IN FRENCH (arête de dire tes conneries – so gratifying, even if not altogether grammatically sound)…they got the point/were shocked (one was like, she just said that ?!?) into shutting up about how George Bush this and Iraq that…seriously make it stop, Em had some french DJ named Clement – who felt the need to tell her that he respected women for some reason -- fall in love with her, and somehow Em and I disappeared out the door, wandered into a cab with relative ease (that never happens), made it home safe and we sang a song Emilie wrote about Carlos and Emilie passed out on my floor with her cell phone in her hand.

A night well spent!
What a vacation.

Halloween and the morning after aftermath

2006-11-16T01:56:00.000-08:00

Emilie and I chose to return to our ancestral roots – she was a Viking, and I was a Founding Father (more specifically Thomas Jefferson, though I do not believe I am related to him, but I have American revolutionary war connections, so hey, what’s up now?).

We met some girls from Fairfield county who knew Leigh and Lauren (my mom’s best friend from high school’s daughters who also reside in Fairfield county) and they also knew some of Emilie’s friends since they were all from the Conn.
The Fairfield Ladies were dressed as smurfs.

We went out with the oregoonies briefly with their slutty canadiennes and Australians this time around (who were in truly slutty costumes. I think they were dressed as sluts? Nurses? I was like, yeah, not gonna dress up like a slut on a street where I had, a couple nights before, seen actual prostitutes). We tried to get silent brazilian Barbara to wear Halloween sunglasses, but the concept of Halloween was lost on her. She looked like Viola from the incredibles. Emilie meowed in the street on her hands and knees once b/c she said, “mine.” She faced her sentence like a trooper, duh, and I think the oregoonies were quite taken aback and puzzled by her abundance of A game, once again. It was boring, and we weren’t going to bars and Emilie and I got so angry that we decided to
purchase a bottle of Jack and just split it. Which we did.

We wandered in an out of the hostel, talked to some smurfs, met a guy named Kenny who talked in Spanish like he was some sort of Mexican caricature. We told him that, and he may’ve been a little taken aback/confused by our frankness.

The night ended with us being rounded up and herded back into the hostel – after some wandering, and some exchanging of laughs and some Dane Cook jokes with a boy smurf on the street – by one of what we think was an employee of the hostel who was dressed like a pimp.

We found the Oregoonies – who we’d lost – at the hostel, and em and me discussed irish topics with the irish dude (who looked sortof like the KG from tenacious D, but wasn’t as funny/cool/skilled at the acoustic guitar, I would imagine, and was a redneck for Halloween….no points from me….especially not when he asked if I had any southern in me, to which I responded yes, to which he responded anyway, “well how’d you like some southern IN you tonight?!?” ugh. I think I told him not to talk to any Southern Lady like that, and I sortof killed our friendship with my poor reception of he poor taste in jokes. But then he went around yelling in some bastardized southern accent all about how he liked to bomb iraq or some crap. Oh Europe, where are you getting this crap?). Anyway, Irish got all the dates wrong (even I knew that…I can imagine Emilie was like, hello I’m a history major) and I told him that I thought the Irish Civil war had to be a lot like the American one. I think I had a bit of a drawl at this point in the evening, as sometimes happens. We ran in to some French dude in the hall who would have no part of our revelry. I got angry b/c the Oregoonies were monopolizing Emilie in their hostel room doing god knows what (it ends up they were just passed out)…so after talking to the Fairfield Smurfettes in the bathroom, Lori and Em pass the heck out, our bloodstreams most likely 50% whiskey at this point.

The next day’s breakfast was easy enough, and I should’ve known it was too good to be true. We made it to the bus station with little difficulty…

off to Madrid we went!

On the bus ride to Madrid, I’ll just say we met some creepy canadiennes who creeped the crap out of us, and I will also mention that my stomach got VERY ANGRY from all the mountain movement motion sickness and air pressure changes and omg it was terrible, not to discount the fact that there was whiskey somewhere in there, too – though I had no way of seeing any of that coming, unfortunately. It was one of the longer 7 hours of my life, and probably made the 7 hours last a little longer for those on the bus with me.

I tried to think of Don Quixote fighting windmills (would you believe me if I told you I almost put down treadmills instead of windmills?) whenever I felt like any dream was an impossible dream.

It really was a crazy landscape. Very Arizona. Spain, what a concept!

In the meantime, Emilie, the Sancho to my Don Quixote (or maybe it was the other way around) went on an enviously day-long chorizo binge.

After some feeling like we were going to die in many senses (b/c of the creepy canadiennes and their belief that they were being followed by creepy catalunian thieves, and b/c I, stripped of many electrolytes, was like, peace out coherence), we, thanks to Emilie’s metro skillz, made it to the hostel which used to be a cool villa. There we met Joanne the cool polish Californian who had been wandering Europe for 4 months alone, and we wandered together all about until we found a really cool restaurant where we ate some chorizo and a lot of grilled meat (chicken and kabobs, wow). It was almost like BBQ and it was also almost like heaven.

MEAT paradise. Wow. The restaurant’s subtitle was something like, “eat with no restrictions.” OK!

We wandered around the somewhat deserted streets of where it was sortof really scary, and then went back to the hostel where Romanians tried to talk to us but they could speak no language except Romanian (problem…it was also a problem that they were not cute), and I was like, leave me alone I am sick. Then we met some other girls who liked to tell us all about how they’d been attacked by crazy men in Europe and so had all their friends, but how they were ok now and now they just know they must try to be safer and take more cabs. WTF. What were they doing before to get such attacks? See the creepiness?

We had a late night on the hostel internet, and were generally angry b/c of our long bus ride so it was definitely time to pass the heck out in our Spanish villa hostel.

Sagrada Famiglia - you are the bomb

2006-11-16T01:54:00.000-08:00

Ok, no hangover Tuesday!

We went to see the Sagrada Famiglia, and it was just so frickin’ beautiful.

I was like, emotional looking at it. I mean, I am a lover of beauty, I am -- but very rarely does beauty make me sorta get all teary eyed. Maybe it was the religious, aspect and that it wasn’t done. It just seemed like what cathedrals are supposed to be – they make you feel so small, but connected to all the other small people. They also make you feel awesome because you are there. All the hangovers of Barcelona were worth seeing the Sagrada Famiglia. The church is so PRETTY! And cool!

And it sortof had a sense of humor, too. Gotta love high art that laughs with you.

There’s a little puzzle on the back that the sculptor just put there b/c he thought people’d like to see it and try to figure it out. There were workers still working on it. It must be the coolest thing ever for artists in this age to be able to work on a cathedral. I think it is wonderful that it is being built. It’s really just being built just because. How great is that! We spent some time there – I wish someone would write/find me a super detailed book about this place, as I would just love to know all about the architecture b/c it was just soooo cool. I got nothin’ but love for the sagrada famiglia.

Maybe I do wanna be a chicken!

You can't spell Barcelona without....

2006-11-16T01:50:00.000-08:00

Later that evening, we were to experience the spectrum of charm to creeptasticness that makes up the rainbow of culture that is the Barca, for better or for worse. (dare I say you cannot spell Barcelona without BAR?)

Before heading home, we went to the Mayor’s square, where I’d read that people dance in the streets in some sort of Catalan dance. I was right! There were all these old people in white shoes dancing in a circle doing some sort of tappy toe tappy toe step step step jump and be awesome dance.

The dance was forbidden in the Franco years, and you could just tell that these older people were rocking their feet off to this dainty little dance, repping their Catalunianness. The music was super cool (there was a full band in the square as well, and I gave’em a Euro…represent international civic-mindedness!) and I was happy to see some young people doing the dance as well. Things like that I just hope go on forever. If I were a Catalunian family, I’d be like, ok family, time to go dance in the square! It’s rep your heritage through vernacular dance time! And the children would rejoice, as they had grown to associate dancing with love. And I would even make my 13 year old son do it, b/c one must learn to represent one’s people through the art of dance at a young, even pubescent age!

Anyway, it was just so charming. I loved the sassy jumping old ladies. I seriously loved them. I could just feel how proud they were to be sassily jumping and tappy toe-ing! Dancing!

Made me wish that people did the St. Louis Shag in the street.
They probably used to.

Vow to myself to have authentic street dancing children? Made.

Anyway, after some napping, we went out to an excellent tapas restaurant called Taller de Tapas, where we got free champagne, the best tapas ever, felt very fancy, and had a wonderful waiter who used to live in Santa Fe (he recommends a visit…duly noted!) and who spoke English with the inflection of a game show host. How cool is that.

One bottle of wine later we went to Jamboree, the hip hop club just below our hostel. We met Colin, our favorite ginger kid, just trekkin’ his way around, as well as Kofi the American businessman who works in London, and his friend from Chicago. I celebrated as much as possible the victory of the Cardinals (or was I just dancing so that they might be infused with my good will as they were on their way to victory? I don’t know, at some point, I’d drunkenly discovered that the Cardinals had won) with every Nelly song that played…there were 2, and the dj even played Kanye for me…though most people had left for the other room by then. Met some Irish Bartender and he invited me and Emilie for a “party” (his friend and some Mexican girls and me and Emilie…interesting definition of party) and after making it through the mean streets – yeah there were prostitutes on Las Ramblas…that was a first -- we made it to the “party” and he told us all about how Sunday Bloody Sunday should be Ireland’s national anthem. Yeah, ok.

I think I made Emilie pledge that she would never pronounce Missouri the wrong way (no I don’t mean miz-ur-uh, and of course not miz-ur-ee…I mean Miss-ooohuur-aaauh and Miss-oooohurrr-eee. Sacrilege!) , and we of course had to defend our country against European public opinion that Americans are all of the breeding that produces the “stars” of the hit TV series, COPS or Prison Break, Desperate Housewives, and every Michael Moore movie known to movie screens. Don’t get me started on Borat. All my French students think Sascha Baron Cohen is American. French newspapers think he is a british comedian in the vein of Monty Python.

I think Borat is partly funny, and mostly very very impolite.

Returning to barca, in short, I said I wanted to leave the party so naturally there was passing out on the couches at the party for the night, and then we wander the morning/afternoon streets of barca back to our hostel so we can get ready to go to the beach. I’m a little hungover/angry, but we go to the sea, and I totally fell asleep on the Barcelona Mediterranean shore, as well as got a bit of a tan, despite my anger/hangovertasticness. Emilie went swimming b/c of some sort of “always swim” pledge she made with herself – but she’s Swedish, and her Viking blood, and lack of anger (unlike myself) helped her to enjoy the frigid Mediterranean waters….though it was quite hot outside at the end of October in Spain. Upon my return to the hostel, I pass out and Emilie meets our Oregon friends, who really had the potential to be awesome, but actually were not all that fun, but they were good to throw around.

Ok, we had crappy paella, but got to make our own awesome tomato bread by rubbing pink garlic (best garlic ever, seriously it is AWESOME) and tomatoes on a piece of toast. We discussed many things including how, geez, Barcelona was kicking the crap out of us. Seemed like every time we were like, no, tonight we will be calm and get in at a sensible but still late enough hour as to not be too Puritanical, we ended up just like, not coming home at all and walk-of-shaming through the afternoon streets of Barca. So before we set out for the beer drinking room of the hostel we decided to go for some reverse psychology and pledged to each other that we would attempt to become impregnated by the end of that evening.

We made it back to the hostel for some drinking games the likes of Beer goggles, one frog, Hoe Down (with the Billy Ray) and other such, if you say “mine” you have to do 5 star jumps (Jump up and say, “I’m a STAR!”) and the repeat game where if someone repeats what you say, you get to flick them in the head…all with the Oregoonies and some dutch girls and slutty Canadiennes. Emilie got to flick the one cool Oregoonie in the head b/c he repeated “I’m not an ambiturner.” I have a feeling the boys were not ready for 2 girls who could giggle and bring their A game to drinking time and actually compete. Everyone kept on being like, hey, she’s smart, she went to UPenn…she was a HisSTORY major, hahah. Ok? Anyway, Emilie lost some bet, or must have, b/c she had to spoon with the irish dude later on. I was chaperoning, no worries. We actually went to sleep (not passed out) that night, so that was nice.

Take that Barca! Score -- reverse psychology :1 Barca: 3-5

MUSE in Spain, but not in spanish -- and aftermath

2006-11-16T01:48:00.000-08:00

Before heading to MUSE, I used my shoe radar to find Emilie some green fake nike tennis shoes, we went home, changed and got a super gourmet kebab and some delicious sangria, and sipped on our Fanta-vodka cocktails until we arrived at the MUSE concert…where outside of the line the ground was LITERALLY covered with about a foot of trash – empty bottles, full bottles, plastic, glass, what-have-you.
These Europeans sure know how to litter.

Muse was lovely. That guy sure can play the piano. Emilie and I safely rocked our faces off to his lovely lead vocals. I mentioned that he must eat a lot of Power Bars to have so much energy on stage, and yet he must burn it all off – for his is oh so thin! Emilie mentioned he may just be on speed. I will consider this possibility.

I even spoke Spanish at the concert “dos!” to the beer lady right before the band went on. It was at this concert that emilie met her mechanical engineer, one Carlos Casanovas (yes that was his name) – and I will take credit for finding her such a lovely dance partner and escort for the evening, as I told her he was cute when she couldn’t see him. We met Carlos’ sister, Anne, a totally cool Spanish girl, (who he had lost at the concert, which was why he was standing near us) and after dropping her off at a birthday party we went to some crazy multi level dance club that only played like, Franz Ferdinand b-sides, and bands that I would classify as Junior Varsity The Strokes and the like. It was sortof awesome. There were movie screens. There were dudes dancing on blocks. I was like, where is Kanye once again, but I guess the European people aren’t so rhythmically picky.

We drove back, I passed out in the hostel, and Emilie and Carlos took a little Spanish stroll where he told her she “wouldn’t need a hotel” next time she comes to Barcelona, and other such Spanish-english gems like, “I’m so haeeeppy I lost my seee-stir.” All of which Emilie did an excellent job of imitating...I may not remember Carlos sounding like Speedy Gonzales, but I did not go on a Spanish love stroll with him so I cannot pretend to know.

I woke up the next morn to Emilie talking to a couple of juniors from the Alma Mater who she recognized from their Wharton shirts. They’d seen my Penn flip flops, but in true Penn fashion, they chose not to investigate. As Emilie and I are U of P girls (I like call UPenn U of P, b/c its more old-school and the title represents what I (and grandpas who wear plaid newsboy caps, I would imagine) would like to think/remember about dear old Pennsylvania), we stick our necks out for our comanches, be they young, old, not really all that cool, or super awesome. Benjie Frank would be so proud – U of P has taken the globe over indeed. In a nice, community serving way – at least on my part. I’d like to start a Junto when I get back in America and move back to STL or Memphis or NOLA...charleston is too tame. I would like to give stl a shot for a bit and take this Testimo thing to fun places. Hell, who knows.
I digress!

I am very dumb to have forgotten that T’estimo is a catalan word, and I have since found out that my boss’ husband’s family owns a cheese business in Barca! I could’ve been feasting on cheese. Sigh! I did get to see some sights he recommended. Excellent guidance, Xavier.

So right, Sun day Emilie was sortof hangover dead and everything was making her angry, but that did not stop us from wandering around EVERYWHERE until we’d walked off her hangover and had and ice cream (its really good and plentiful in the Barca!) and had found a super authentic bar place where I had seafood stuffed Avocados (magical avocados, I love them) and Emilie had Barcelona sausage that may or may not have been slightly raw. But it was pretty much awesome, and there were people in all their Catalunyan glory, eating strange looking salads, anchovies and of course olives. We tried to be authentic, but the waiter (who didn’t ever usher us to leave, not even 4 hours into some sort of conversation about something – Emilie and I always manage to have something to say to each other) gave us an English menu, so we couldn’t order the mysterious Catalan menu. Maybe it was for the better. It was authentic, so I was happy. There was even a crazy vagrant lady across the street wearing leg-warmers for shoes who would buzz like a bee at passers by. Excellent. We somehow managed to wander to the mayor’s square that we somehow always managed to happen upon at least 2 times a day

Next up, Gaudi park. Emilie got a fanta, and she was happy, though slightly dead.

It was a pretty cool park – one rooftop nearby said something like, “if its tourist season, why can’t we shoot them?” I was like, hey, not cool. I just ate a stuffed artichoke very peacefully at an authentic bar. Don’t hate the tourists. It furthered the creepy vibes of spain in general.
But whatever!

Bus to Barcelona

2006-11-16T01:40:00.000-08:00

Spain. The Extended Version.

We arrived there by bus… all 11 hours of it. It was a lovely ride, with a fair share of creepy people, and cute kids making rhymes in French. Emilie and I caught up, drew pictures, played blind pig, and I tried not to laugh too loudly so as not to draw attention from the creepers whose presences you can just FEEL when you’re in Spain. Which is a shame, b/c it’s a pretty cool country, and in retrospect I think I had my creeper radar on too high a setting, being such a savvy lady as I am. But you can never be too careful.

Anyway.
We got into Barcelona at the bus station, Emilie used her mad Spanish skillz to hail a cab, and we hopped in. Our cabbie proceeded to – out of goodwill, I’m certain – scare the living daylights out of us with is tales of delinquents who loiter near our hostel, located just off of Las Ramblas, one I would later not hesitate to call one of the more seedy streets I’ve EVER visited. But it ended up we were scared for nothing, as it was just like, party people and probably the occasional creeper, but Emilie and I had bought hats at H&M in order to give us a true don’t-mess-with-me edge.
We get into our 20-person room, I pass out on a mattress on the floor and Emilie is kept awake by sounds of drunken revelry within the room, as well as by a young gent outside who took it upon himself apparently to serenade the entire square with an acappella version of “(ooo wooo woo) I Wanna be Like You” from the classic Disney Cartoon musical (one that I could never watch too much b/c I thought the end was too sad) THE JUNGLE BOOK.

Maybe I do wanna walk like you, talk like you do.

In brief, we woke up the next day, got an ice cream (top notch in the Barca) and proceeded to get lost in the winding labyrinthine streets of Barcelona’s Barrio Gotika trying to find the Picasso museum. It was very Auberge Espagnole (that movie did a good job of capturing the Barca vibe…walking around I was like, yes – I feel it. Not the same for like, when I visited Boston and tried to be in my own version of Good Will Hunting…though don’t get me wrong, good will hunting is an excellent movie). We eventually met some baby art students outside the Picasso Museum, and we proceeded to spend about an hour or two longer than them inside this Picasso museum. We are art students of life!

I only sortof understand how Picasso went from Point A to Point B, but I get cubism now for the most part, and it’s cool! Emilie and I liked his bajillion versions of some painting from the Prado (one that we SAW in person later….we also saw an old slutty frat boy from our U of P days in the same museum – on a weekend sojurn from some fancy NY-See-how-important-I-am finance job to visit his lady on her semester abroad in Madrid … how ‘bout them apples!?).

Emilie opened my eyes to one particular red dude that Pablo had painted, and we thought we were pretty funny the rest of the trip when we were trying to recreate live in person how Picasso painted him. Live Cubism! Example 1:

Example 2:

So yeah, Picasso was a little bit of a slut (his prostitute pictures were like, who Master P, you are a perv), but he was a funny guy. Some of his sketches – particularly of dogs – were just funny. Him an his friends had a real fun thing going at the 3 Cats Café, where they’d all hang outs and think of new and pervy ways to be funny and talented. V. excusable, even encouragable! Girls didn’t seem to be invited though to his fun cafe time – ‘cept as girlfriends – so like, no fun.

Enough about Senor P.

Spain - where even dudes like flamenco

2006-11-15T11:11:00.000-08:00

subtitle: The rain in Spain stays mainly in Madrid.

I congratulate myself for sneaking around in Html land so that I was able to find out how to post photos from Flickr! There has to be an easier way, but the way I figured out ain't so hard. Gotta brush up the blogging skillz!
I'm on feedburner, too - and no I don't really know what that is yet, but hey. Soon I will.

ANYWAY: At last, the time has come for me to regale you with stories of my time in Spain! Spain:
Barcelona - party-crazed tourists
Madrid - flamenco dancing Spanish dudes sipping sangria in between passionate claps

Guess which one I liked more?

But its not important.
Ok, more to come...

So much dairy, and so much time

2006-11-15T04:38:00.001-08:00

In the time its taking me to upload my photos and pledge to write to you about the great country of spain, I've been eating a lot of cheese lately, and I'm drinking so much milk you'd think I was in my "prevent osteoperosis" phase that I went through when I was 13.

In some/most villages in france, cows outnumber people (goats must count in there, too...lots of goat milk stuff here), and the water here is weird (look at my pictures, I my hair has french-water-induced weirdness) - so milk is where it is at.

America votes - Nov. 7th.

2006-11-09T11:19:00.000-08:00

*this post is from November 6th (blogger is being weird), and I'm happy that my cries of "tout va changer" were not in vain!*

I am sorry that I am not around for the ridiculous non-presidential elections that are going on. I am not sorry, however, that my sister is totally clued in. I hope those who need to are keeping it classy enough so as to bring to light those that are in no way keeping it classy (much less keeping it unsacreligious), and that everyone goes out to vote tomorrow and that you all continue to use youre machetes to cut through red tape and the like.

And so the blog will turn to more european discussions, as there is much to recount!

Some things worth noting:

2006-11-08T08:38:00.000-08:00

Though I've fallen behind the running commentary of Europe and Europeans through the eyes of Lori, in addition to promising to not fall behind no mo', I thought I'd put some snippets of what I've noted en lieu of an actual post.

Promises that an actual post is coming soon.

Berrachon – best chocolate in france in the 6eme... this is really just for me to note.
Yes, I called the Royale to ask what kind of whiskey was in a Senator. Yes I was in France, but no I didn’t mention it. No, I am not ashamed. No, I have not found Powers Whiskey in Lyon (Jameson is not the same!). I thought the lovely Roayle employee said "palace" so maybe I CAN find Powers whiskey. This whole whiskey love affair makes me feel like a tweed-wearin' irish literature professor who walks with a cane. I can dig that.
I tried to make a wireless network through concrete walls of my 60's era school building and across a courtyard with a wireless router and some detarmination. Apparently I sorta broke the computer for a day, and many french teachers were mad. Though they did not know I did it b/c it was night! And now the computer is fixed, though I have no wireless still. Sorry I broke your computer, french people, but my American comanches invented it (with a swede, i think), so I was only doing my patriotic duty by fighing for my rights by sneaking around at night, Boston Tea Party Style. Internet is v. important, ps, and everynight when I must leave it I die a little.
I have gone on a "Notebook" binge. Its the only movie I brought to France, and I think I've watched the director's commentary so many times I secretly think me and Nick Cassavettes are friends. It feels like it!
European websites are struggling. By struggling, I mean they are bad. Very bad. Completely unnavigatable. Maybe not all of them, but the important ones (trains) are.
Cool flea markets in Lyon : I mistakenly thought they were called "Villes de Grenouilles" - which means "Frog Cities" ( I mean, crazier names have happened)...but they're actually called "Vide Greniers" which means something like, Empty the Attic! I'm glad someone emptied their attic, b/c check out what I got for 10 euros:

Batman Rollerskates!

merde, sadly, Raconte-moi La Terre, my wifi hotspot of choice tonight (out of like 5 in the whole friggin' city...what gives) is closing, so I'll check back later with ya. Flip side!

In other news, the Rebeccas are going to see Marc Broussard tonight! Wow.
I remember when I first saw him, a year ago yesterday. Sigh.
I remember emailing my friends to tell them that my life had been changed for the better by sweet soul music. Lives are usually changed by little else. Since then my life has been pretty exciting and changed, come to think of it -- trials and tribulations included!
May they take many a video, and possible get a signed forearm out of it!

In case you are puzzled, that's Mr. Broussard's signature on the right, and Chuck Berry's on the left.

The Grapes Couldn't Protect Scott from being Awesome

2006-10-23T03:34:00.000-07:00

AHHH!
Scott's aim is true.

Even an ocean away, and 8 or so years past my purchase of his seminal first album, my heart goes on for one Mr. EC. If he didn't exist, someone would try to invent him, holla!

Scott is a daring papparazzi-type-hero-of-mine!
It was enough when I made him dress us as Mr. Costello as a condition for getting to escort me when I was on the Winter Dance Court senior year of high school...or so I thought! Though Lindsay Lockhart won, and she is lovely, I feel as though Scott and I are well on our way to winning the Winter Dance Court of life, as chance encounters with bad-ass rock&roll pioneers could only indicate.

4 Continents!

2006-10-18T09:38:00.001-07:00

Just got news today that, thanks to Jennie -- my suprisingly bilingual friend, currently tangoing her way through all the garages of Lima, Peru -- Fleur de Lori now boasts a 4 continent readership! Sure, I think whoever read it in Australia only stayed on the site for 2 seconds, but just the same! Its exciting, people!
Just another way the internet is awesome.

Speaking of worldliness and awesomeness, perhaps you'd like to send me a letter?

N'hesitez pas! as they say in froggish.

Lori White - Assistante d'anglais
La Martiniere Duchere
300 Avenue A. Sakharov - CP 417
69338 Lyon CEDEX 09
FRANCE

Tag on a little "airmail/par avion" to ensure its speedy delivery.