Nice if you like chocolate, watches, diplomacy and all that.
I won't be posting any pictures though. I have a new camera and haven't yet learned to monitor the battery level, meaning I couldn't take daytime pictures of the beautiful lake or old town because I killed the battery trying to take a long exposure night shot of a swan in the lake. Which in hindsight had no chance of being a good picture.
End of October already. Oi.
1. In Paris, on the subway: a gentleman steps onto the train wearing a beret and scarf, and sporting a thin mustache. He is obviously the Frenchiest French guy ever. And then he speaks. In English. With a strong southern accent. WHAT?! This isn't something I can understand.
Consider the opposite: an overweight guy wearing a trucker hat drinking Busch Light in a truckstop in Alabama. But he is somehow French and only speaks French. It doesn't happen.
2. What world is Todd Helton living in with that World Series goatee? There is simply no way of explaining that away.
3. The worst city in the world to have a head cold in? My vote is Paris on a cold, rainy day. At least until they institute the smoking ban.
As you know, my parents were in town. And then we were collectively out of town on a pretty grueling road trip through Italy. And then they continued on to Belgium and Holland before returning to London, while I came home and recovered from walking 10 miles or so per day.
They're good fun, those two. There is nothing pretentious about them, which is something I've always admired. But that may lead to the occasional bad joke and some silliness that aggravate the French. Thankfully we were in Italy.
Good old dad. He lost a bet in Cinque Terra and had to dress in drag for one day. He looked good in a skirt.
For being a teetotaller, he sure does look drunk in a lot of pictures.
Bless them. I miss 'em already.
P.S. I'm out of town from tomorrow through Monday night, on business in Paris and Geneva. I added some pictures to my London, aye? and I walked 500 miles posts to keep you occupied during my absence.
Tomorrow I'm going to Rotterdam for the day, which is just as cool as it sounds.
So no post tomorrow but back Wednesday when I'll try to post some pics.
With my parents in town, I finally saw some London sights. First time I've seen Westminster Abbey and the Houses of Parliament (or at least made a point of noticing them).
I also rode the London Eye. It was a bit expensive at about $30 for a 30 minute ride (it's a humongous Ferris wheel that goes really slow -- you just go around once). Excellent views and yesterday was a nice sunny fall day so the timing was good.
The stats on the London Eye are that on busy weekend days 12 - 15,000 people ride. That's cash flow homie.
Last night I FINALLY saw a good representation of Broken Social Scene in concert. To be fair, it was a kind of convaluted version of the band -- it was a portion of the band playing Broken Social Scene songs in addition to most of the new album by one of the band's founding members, Kevin Drew. (For a better history of BSS -- read this.)
So the name of the show was Broken Social Scene Presents: The Spirit If... by Kevin Drew.
And that new album is phenomenal. And they did play a decent amount of classic BSS stuff. Cause = Time was a highlight, Lover's Spit was a highlight, Emily Haines coming out for 7/4 Shoreline was a highlight. I was just happy to be there.
Broken Social Scene is the music best representative of my 20s. I'd say Dave Matthews Band was the band of my 10s, if we're putting things into decades.
If we were to split it into 5-year increments, I'd say:
10-15: Boyz II Men
15-20: Dave Matthews Band
20-25: Ryan Adams
25-30: Broken Social Scene
If I had to guess which bands will define my next stages, I'd guess:
30-35: Wilco
35-40: Harry Connick Jr.
40-45: Backstreet Men
45-50: Men II Old Men
I've always had the bad habit of leaving things until the last minute -- when meeting up with people, leaving for work, arriving at the airport, etc.
This adds minutes of free time to my life, but also adds back an equivalent amount of stress.
Here are two recent Hall of Fame type instances.
1. Train to Dorset leaves at 11:20am. I leave my flat at 10:45, with no ticket and no real idea how best to get to the train station, which is on the opposite side of London. I arrive in the train station at 11:18am, buy a ticket on the train, and sit down as the train begins to move. I'm seated across from my colleague Oliver and friend Maurice. Oliver has just finished betting Maurice that I will appear and sit down just as the train is departing.
2. Rental car due at Rome's Ciampino airport at 1pm. We depart Siena for Rome on a quarter tank of gas at 10am. For the first portion of the trip, I decide to navigate us on the scenic route through Tuscany. This is a beautiful drive, but at 11am we're still at least 2 hours away from the airport, to which I have only basic directions. At 12:50 we're 10 minutes from the airport, and the gas light has been on for 20 minutes (thankfully you can return the car with the tank empty). We pull into the airport at 2 minutes till 1pm, park the car, find the Avis counter and return the paperwork. "Is the tank full or empty?" "Empty." "How empty?" "Empty."
It's a gift.
Or is it a curse?
