Day 6, Avignon.

Confusion alert: as I was reading through the post of the first and second days, I caught a few errors I tried to fix. The fix itself deemed successful, however it reposted as the newest post. My apologies. From now on no matter how tired I may be, a final proofing is in order before the "publish" button is struck.

Ok! That's out of the way. Here is what I love about Avignon:

1.) The weather-- 85 degrees today with a breeze off the Rhône = heaven.
2.) The coffee & croissants. We stopped at two pain au chocolat today...two EACH, that is.
3.) The people. Every place they are more than nice and very helpful. And they give me an endearing smile when I say anything in their mother tounge.

Our full day in the city included round one of cafe au lait and a pain au chocolat, where TJ proceeded to put the whole croissant to his mouth to take a bite. We may be in France, but we are American! There'll be no ripping of petite bite size pieces here!

We routed our trip with our tourist map to the Palais Du Papes, where we walked through a thousand year old alley to the sound of accordion music bouncing off the ancient brick. TJ had a lovely sentiment about the city as we strolled past some Roman ruins: this city smells like a perfect mixture of flowers, cigarettes and poop. He's right, pretty much.

We wandered our way through and up to the top of the Rocher Des Doms. Basically an English style garden on the north side of the Palace of Popes, leading us right to the Pont D'Avignon. I think this was my day's high light. Got to walk all the way out on it, which stops half way through the river. The whole time singing, "sur la pont d'Avignon...l'on y danse l'on y danse!"

We decided to take a pit stop before actually entering the pope scope. Originally stopping for ice cream and coffee, it quickly turned into veal tartare and an espresso. Quite a lunch, and I'm proud to say we cleaned the plate. Truly it's hard not to when they practically serve you a side cup of melted extra salted butter sauce. I'll eat anything with that on it. Including a pile of raw veal.

After a rejuvenating 10 minutes in our air conditioned room, we hit the palace. And apparently, so did about a million other people. What a sight to behold though! What amazes me the most of monuments like these is the man power it took to build it. There was no computer program to make sure everything was going to work, or a crane for heavy lifting. These buildings are a miracle! I'm always impressed with such work.

We hit a church called the St.Pierre on our way to get a glacé after the palace. The church was typical of whatever era it was built, with statues and a lot of gold plated items. We put in 2€ in the slot and each lit a candle. Mine for those I've lost, TJ a candle for himself. I don't know if he got it. But that's fine.

I got in some speed shopping after walking Teej back to the room to sit in our human sized meat cooler with a comfortable bed and television. It was fun to do a little self wandering, that's always a high point for me in my travels. No one to ask but yourself, where you want to go or what you want to do.

We finished our evening early tonight, with a bed picnic of divine cheese, dried meat, a baguette, red wine for me, Orangina for T (or orange-vagina as he calls it), and the second round of pain au chocolat. I attempted a shower, but ended up just sitting in the tub with the shower sprayer and a glass of wine. It's uncertain the level of cleanliness that was actually achieved, but I feel clean, and that's good enough.

It's 11:30 pm, there is a French documentary about Mozart on tv and the sound of Tj playing Angry Birds in only underwear is the secondary noise.

Tomorrow is the train to Nice.

Á demain!

Day 5, Avignon.

Today I am not gently lulled to sleep of the Rhône River, although we've traveled several hours and are still only a few blocks away from it. Non non, tonight is the gentle lull of the air conditioner in our hotel room because it's 9:30 pm and 80 degrees plus humidity outside. It's hot. It's muggy. But it's France, so I'll take it.

We left the Alpen village of Blitzingen at 7:37 this morning. It was 2 train changes and 7 hours until our destination of Avignon in Provençal France. We might have turned the air con off by now if I hadn't lead us one mile in the wrong direction out the gate of the train station (on foot and with suitcases in tow), only to walk back to the train station so we could take a taxi. We were drenched upon arrival, but the hotel lady made up for it with lots of tips and pointers around the city.

We started in to wander, and thank heavens for a medieval wall around the city center (albeit quite a large circumference)--because once again I lead us in the wrong direction and we ended up walking at least another mile. But it was fun, and at the end was outdoor French dining and a white wine from the Rhône Valley itself that was magnifique!

As I'm working on this project, TJ is researching our current city and the things we may search out tomorrow. Time to find some Provençal linens and copper products! And ps- sur la pont d'Avignon....

Day 4, Blitzingen.

Holy balls. I'm not quite sure where to start...

We left the house at 9am and didn't return until nearly 7. What a day. We Drove one half hour through the hair pinniest roads you can imagine (all at what seemed fast speed to me) and got on a train in a small village called Eyholz. We rode this regional mountain train for one hour until we reached Zermatt, the town at the end of the Matter Valley, which is home to none other but the Matterhorn himself. I'd been here once before, when I was an exchange student. But if there is something that 40 teenagers do when they are traveling together to an organized meeting of students is pay attention to their surroundings.

The mountains were stunning. And guess what was a close second? Food. And food. And food. We took the extreme mountain rail up to a look out point called Gornergrat. I guess it could be considered more than a loon out point. It has a hotel, and a restaurant among other things. We had lunch here, and I won't go into details but I'll express my joy through photos, see below the pictures of food.

We wandered the souvenir streets of quaint Zermatt, before sitting down for one more coffee before we got on the train. Of course, when I say we ordered coffee, I mean that I ordered the largest beer they had. And I ran out of time, which means I had to chug it. By this point in time it had become quite warm where we were outside, to which I thought removing my jacket and long sleeves revealing my dress would be appropriate. I forgot to wear a camisole under my dress today. It's low cut. And i'm afraid I've become unaware of how large my breasts a actually are. So, imagine if you will, me in a low cut black sleeveless cotton dress, hair in two long braids, boobs a plenty, chugging a liter of beer, that is sort of spilling all over my chest. All this while my friend Rita and TJ have already headed toward the train were supposed to be boarding. It's a nice image.

Adventure two: Swiss grocery store. Rita had to stop for a few things, and we needed comestibles for our 7 hour journey to Avignon tomorrow. Not a lot to say except that it was awesome, but these pictures might help to convey hilarity. Foreign super markets are always a good time, and it's a low cost activity.

Keep your fingers crossed for free wifi in the hotel tomorrow!

Day 3, Basel --> Blitzingen

As I brainstorm how to come up with something witty and clever to sum up our day, I'm lulled to sleep by the sound of the Rhone River outside of the open window. Tonight we sleep in the alpen hüsli ( little mountain house) of Edy und Rita Marbach.

Once again I was wide awake at 5am, and was ready to get my show on the road. We didn't actually get any shows on any roads until 9:30, when we went to have a little coffee on the veranda with Sibylle and her parents.

After a quick stop at the Coop Pronto for what might be my favorite combination of foods between two slices of pretzel bread(any guesses?), we boarded our train to the Berner Oberland. Many tunnels, two trains and 3 hours later, we arrive in Blitzingen.

An Alpen village of 75 people. The Marbachs live in roughly 300 year old house, the kind you might see on a typical postcard of Swiss mountain life. After a zip around the bustling streets (joke), we stopped in at a place called, Zum Guten Freunde where we enjoyed a mound of air dried (not smoked) meats, Wallis spezial käse, and Rivella (red, naturally).
For dinner, Rita prepared a quiche Lorraine that was out of this world, and strawberries with real full cream. Uh. May. Zing.

Here's what I love about Switzerland: food tastes good. All the time. Maybe food just tastes better when you're on vacation. Maybe it's just when you're on vacation in Europe. I can't say. I just know that cheese, milk, cream, all meats and even potato chips taste like a million bucks. Maybe I'm a fatty. Maybe I'm a foodie. Maybe both. It's worth it to gorge yourself to bloatation when you're in this country. Trust me.

Day 2, Basel.

So remember when I said that the dinner when we arrived was fancy? Turns out that was merely pig slop compared to what went down our gullets yesterday...for TWELVE straight hours.

We attempted der Flohmarkt, without success. Because it is also a holiday weekend here in Switzerland, everyone is out of town, which meant 98% of the normal folk selling their crap wasn't there. I did find one thing. And I'll leave it at Olin Freedom Nelson will not be disappointed!

We instead roamed the city and tried to drink a substantial amount of coffee, which is hard when they serve it to you about one and a half ounces at a time. But even if they sold it to you in half ounce servings it would have been worth it. It was beautiful and the coffee was the best. In the whole world. Ever. Eat your heart out, Starbucks.

Allow me now to paint a picture of this wedding:

We step of the number 15 tram at Wettsteinplatz. The church bells are ringing. We are nearly late and the Swiss are a punctual people. The I side of Theodoreskirche is modestly decorated. How do you spruce up something built in the the 1100? After the ceremony, I'm pretty sure I died and was in my personal heaven. DA, you were on my mind. Servers upon servers with champagne on trays, the sound of the corks popping in the distance. Fois gras far as the eye can see. And for my meat loving friend, meat balls. And spring rolls with the best dipping sauce assortment you've ever had. This pales in comparison to what comes next.

We are ushered down the stairs to the bank of the Rhine River, where a small river boat zips us around for ten minutes before our final dock on the other side of the river. We are greeted as we step off with healthy pours of Prosecco. Good thing. My levels were getting low. Up the stairs to street level, and enter the 5 star hotel, Les Trois Rois. Crystal chandeliers, more amazing aperitifs. My life keeps getting better. And it kept getting better, after that moment, too. Curry soup with a fish medallion, steak that was nearly raw with a truffle sauce that will make you cry real tears of joy.

As you took your slice of hochzeitstorte, or wedding cake, there was a also a cheese buffet. And then my life was complete.

This was by far the grandest display of wealth and fanfare TJ and I both had ever experienced. Oh, and he'd like me to add that we're pretty sure they played a round of Wait, Wait! Don't Tell Me! All in Swiss German. We had fun. End of story.

One more thing-- it's 10 am on Sunday right now. I've spent 20 minutes typing this out, all to the tune of church bells ringing in the distance. I love the old country :)

Day 1, Basel.

First offical morning leading to the first official day in die Schweiz. Local time is 6:43 am. Birds singing, sky clear. Switzerland smells amazing. I'm so glad we're here. We were fetched from the airport yesterday evening and after a quick tour through the city of where the wedding of Chantal and Cyril will be held, came back to Arbeddostrasse 15 for a superb meal of ratatouille, calbsbratwurst, currywurst, lamb chops, and veal. Yum. Fancy dessert cups and dinner with Fritche's nephew. Good wine/company. An exciting thing to be here again.

Today I'm planning us an adventure to the Petersplatz Flohmarkt, or Flea Market that I used to frequent with my Swiss bestie Sybille, who flies in from Germany to see me, today! She's on the agenda for tomorrow.

All this, before we head to what I've reason to believe will be the craziest wedding (in a fancy, exciting way) that I've ever attended. Details to follow.

A gruess uus Basel!

Questionable Goods

There is a new show on my radar, which is impressive because I watch a total of two channels.  The news, and PBS.  And when it's the latter, I'm at the mercy of the channel.  It might be NOVA.  It might be Doc Martin.  But I will tell you what it's not: Girls.  I. Love. This. Show.  

In other news, I was working my mall panty job today at the Kohl's department store in Marysville.  After helping a quirky 60-year-old Tulalip Casino cocktail waitress into a bra and recommending a pair of fabulous support shorts, I overheard a mom telling her young son with one of those monkey leash backpacks that he "couldn't have that shirt" that it was a 'girl' shirt.  It got me thinking.  Mainly about how I'd like to re-enroll in some classes at UW and write a few papers on the assignment of gender to clothes/toys and the people that really buy into it...like the mom at Kohl's who said no to the 'girl' shirt.  An author whom I adore, Peggy Orenstein, has a new book out called Cinderella Ate my Daughter.  I haven't read it yet, but it's indeed on my list.  She's your typical feminist writer who's works you'd come across in any number of women's studies courses (which is where I first discovered her), or on my bookshelf next to Betty Friedan and the like. 

So this feminist crap is all well and good, but really, what I want to know is why the lady at the store didn't want her son to have the shirt.  I mean, at a certain point, and I think that point is a 1 on the number line, it's not about the boy, it's about her, and what it means for her son to like the girl shirt.  On the contrary,  recently I saw a mom at Target letting her 6-year-old pick out the Barbie he wanted.  I saw them two or three times around the store, Barbie in hand.  Initially I had processed it as a boy picking out a gift for his sister (sexualization of toys at its best! Working on me when I consciously try not to!).  An hour later I saw the pair at  the grocery store down the street.  He was still holding his Barbie now out of the package.  I was excited for him! I loved Barbies as a kid. And yet, I still found myself staring.  Is it possible to un-train the brain to things you're exposed to, even if you are brought up with an open mind?  I find it a most difficult task.