About 4 years ago while living in Japan I posted a picture of myself holding my absentee ballot, pointing my middle finger north and wearing a tee shirt I had made that said, "Fuck you Bush". This offended a ton of posters on the website classmates.com where I had posted my picture. Classmates sent me a notification stating that they would discontinue my account if I did not take the picture down. Fair enough. I took the picture down.
Since that time our country has remained the butt of jokes the world over, our soldiers come home from a war that never should have happened in the first place only to receive substandard medical care (the same thing happened during the last gulf war to our vets just in case anyone out there is paying attention), and our national deficit has grown leaps and bounds.
We now owe about 9 trillion(a portion of this, according to the Government Accountability Office, is due to the fraudulent contracts awarded for the rebuilding of Iraq). The BBC released a documentary regarding the profiteering from the Iraq war. Custer Battles, KBR, Halliburton and Blackwater were all mentioned in the report. Custer Battles was a newly formed company with no experience in the security industry when it landed one of the first contracts issued in Iraq in the spring of 2003 to secure the Baghdad airport. Blackwater is another example, owner Eric Prince interned for Daddy Bush and has been awarded government contracts totaling over $500 million since 2003. Chaney was CEO of Halliburton from 1995-2000. 'Conflict of interest', a logical person would surmise.
Who is going to be held accountable for the fraud in Iraq? The quick answer is the people of the United States of America. The sad thing is that we knew about all of this 5 years ago....how did we allow this to happen and why didn't the so called 'liberal media'(a joke at best) take issue?
Under the Clinton-Gore economic plan which was enacted in 1993 we had a budget surplus of $ 123 billion in 1999 the largest surplus in the history of the United States. What do we have with Bush-Cheney? 9 trillion in debt. I'm just saying...
If Obama makes it in, and I do hope he does, he is going to have one hell of a mess to clean up. As for me I voted for Gore and I voted for Kerry. I voted for a better America. What were the people voting for who voted for Bush the first time....how about the second time? I will never understand.
Saturday 14 June 2008
36 hours in Paris
My cousin Lacey was in town a while back and we took a weekend trip to the lovely city of Paris. Lacey knows an expat who lives in the area with her girlfriend so we were lucky enough to have a place to stay. From the time we got to St. Pancreas to our departure from Gare du Nord I had a blast. I am still nursing a blister from all the walking we did. A minor discomfort as a result of my good time.
Upon our arrival at St. Pancreas in London I was concerned that we would be seated facing backwards on the train a prospect that makes me want to barf just thinking about. Anyone who has had the pleasure of traveling with me via train or auto knows there is no way in hell I can tolerate facing backwards. To me it is the equivalent of traveling in the back seat of a car and reading at the same time. You might as well give me a sick bag and call it a day. The kind French woman behind the counter at the Eurostar ticket window was a doll and made sure we were both facing forward. Upon our arrival at Gare du Nord we managed to flag down a taxi driver who refused to take us to our destination because it was only a mile or so away. We ended up having to wait in a taxi queue for about 45 minutes. During that time we were accosted by a few homeless. One cheeky homeless woman in particular asked us in several different languages what language we spoke. I spoke back to her in broken Japanese. The one language she was not familiar with. Our second attempt at a taxi was great and worth the wait. Our Lebanese taxi driver who, himself, was new to France was a delight, spoke English and got us to our destination unscathed. I did not know this but I soon found out that the Moulin Rouge is very close to G d Nord. We drove by so fast that I was unable to take a picture....bummer as it was midnight and the neon was ablaze...we were in a heavy downpour, it would have been a great picture.
We arrived at our destination near the metro line of Brochant. Meeting my cousin’s friends was a pleasant experience. We were greeted with wine and French bread. Lovely. Nothing quite like French hospitality. We woke up at 7am and were out the door to commence the exploring by 8am. I’ve had the opportunity to live and or visit some of the larger cities in the world. New York, Athens, Rome, Tokyo, London… I think all have their own unique sewage smell. It is the smell of the big city. All of a sudden you’re walking minding your own business and suddenly out of nowhere a waft of shit hits you in the face and curls your nose hairs. The “Who crapped their pants?” reek of the Paris Metro is no different. The moment you step off the train and on to the platform you want to rinse your body in vat of antiba
cterial gel.
Upon our emergence from the filth of the metro our jaws dropped open. The avenue Champs Elysees is well worth a stroll. I regret that we did not walk all the way to the Arc de Triomphe but we did manage to stand in the middle of the avenue risking life and limb just to get some pictures. Nex
t stop Eiffel Tower.
We opted to walk to the tower. It was a great walk as we took the less beaten path of the alley ways rather than the Seine river walk. Worth it. In my opinion to truly get a feel for any kind of city it is important to go through some of the alleyways. Along the way to the Eiffel we stopped off at a café and had our first croissant in Paris. It was a flaky deliciousness.
The Eiffel Tower to the French may just be a bunch of wrought iron but to me it is an architectural bit of wonder. Pictures do not do it justice especially when you are able to see from far away and watch it get bigger and bigger the closer you get. It is just as impressive as it is massive. We spent about 30 minutes hanging around tying to get the best angle for a picture….neither one of us are photogs….but we did our best. On our way to the next metro line we stopped off at a f
ew kiosks to get some souvenirs. Next stop the Louvre….
No time to go inside to actually get a feel for the museum itself and being nearly 40years of age I am not so bold as to do a run through as a tip of the hat to the French film maker Jean Luc Godards. Parish the thought of getting arrested and deported back to America. So we spent most of our time walking around the grounds. It was a beautiful day about 70 degrees with a lovely blue sky and white, billowy clouds. (That would soon change) I don’t think we could have asked for better weather for a weekend in Paris.
We felt like the luckiest two girls on the face of the planet. We spent about two hours just mulling around and taking in the architecture and the grounds.
On our way to Notre-Dame we decided to walk the Seine. I wasn’t so much fascinated with the Cathedral but rather a shop on our way to the cathedral…..an old bookstore called Shakespeare and Co... I saw it out of the corner of my eye and wanted to cross the street and check it out. We had no time to stop in to the shop as we were meeting friends at the Cathedral but it is interesting to note that despite being so small and innocuous it does great business. This little book store is located on the opposite corner of the Cathedral in the Latin Quarter.
If you have to make a choice between the Cathedral and the book store go to the book store. Unique book stores trump cathedrals any day. Word!
We walked down to the Seine and had a very Parisian lunch on the bank of the river consisting of cheese, wine and French bread. Wonderful.
On to the Bastille…
We walked through the Latin Quarter where we were literally caught in a downpour of epic proportions. Running through alley ways, soaking wet, trying desperately to find shelter did not ruin our good time. We still managed to have fun despite the fact that our search for the Bastille was in vain as it was demolished in 1789…a minor detail neglected. We did however manage to get a glimpse of the roundabout monument to the Bastille(not pictured).
Cautionary tale of cheese:
After a nice rest, hoping we could somehow escape the torrential downpour soaking the city, we ventured to the streets and alleyways again this time in search of some really stinky cheese that I could bring home to hubby. As a caution one should not consider buying cheese, wine, or chocolate as gifts as these all taste very different depending on the palate. Needless to say, hubby was not impressed with my selection of stinky cheese.
Darkness was falling so we decided it would be a good idea to get back to the flat at Brochant. Lacey and I attempted to go out and find food. We were disappointed to find that in a city that doesn’t sleep the prospect of finding a diner serving escargot after 11pm is abysmal. I really enjoy escargot so to me this was an offence in the highest order. We ended up settling for a pizza and walked back to the flat feeling utterly defeated, cold pizza and warm coke in tow.
The next day we spent some time on the metro in search of an open air flea market that had been recommended to us. Upon arrival at this flea market we were not feeling comfortable with the surroundings or the people and like two scared little school children lost, we opted for the comfort of the better, and less odoriferous surroundings the metro station had to offer. This was our ‘Ugly American’ moment and in hindsight we were both disappointed with ourselves. With this waste of an hour or so we had little time to go anywhere else as our train was departing at 4pm and it was 11am and we still needed to go to the Basilica of the Sacred Heart.
Basilica of the Sacred Heart is a must see. The architecture itself is glorious and the views of the city below are well worth the climb to the top. There’s an area in the village near the Basilica that is teaming with some impressive painters ready and willing to take your Euros for a portrait. There are also a ton of small sidewalk cafés. In a word it is charming!
Finally we were back in the familiar neighborhood of Brochant. With a few hours to spare we met Lacey’s friends at a café and had a sandwich….still no escargot to my dismay. We went for a nice walk around the neighborhood. We observed a game of Pentanque and it was then I realized that I had completely forgotten about a drink I was introduced to by a French friend I knew when I was living in Nashville several years ago…Pastise. I barely had enough Euros to get a sandwich at the train station for the trip back to London. No Pastise and no Escargot…Merde!
Upon our arrival at St. Pancreas in London I was concerned that we would be seated facing backwards on the train a prospect that makes me want to barf just thinking about. Anyone who has had the pleasure of traveling with me via train or auto knows there is no way in hell I can tolerate facing backwards. To me it is the equivalent of traveling in the back seat of a car and reading at the same time. You might as well give me a sick bag and call it a day. The kind French woman behind the counter at the Eurostar ticket window was a doll and made sure we were both facing forward. Upon our arrival at Gare du Nord we managed to flag down a taxi driver who refused to take us to our destination because it was only a mile or so away. We ended up having to wait in a taxi queue for about 45 minutes. During that time we were accosted by a few homeless. One cheeky homeless woman in particular asked us in several different languages what language we spoke. I spoke back to her in broken Japanese. The one language she was not familiar with. Our second attempt at a taxi was great and worth the wait. Our Lebanese taxi driver who, himself, was new to France was a delight, spoke English and got us to our destination unscathed. I did not know this but I soon found out that the Moulin Rouge is very close to G d Nord. We drove by so fast that I was unable to take a picture....bummer as it was midnight and the neon was ablaze...we were in a heavy downpour, it would have been a great picture.
We arrived at our destination near the metro line of Brochant. Meeting my cousin’s friends was a pleasant experience. We were greeted with wine and French bread. Lovely. Nothing quite like French hospitality. We woke up at 7am and were out the door to commence the exploring by 8am. I’ve had the opportunity to live and or visit some of the larger cities in the world. New York, Athens, Rome, Tokyo, London… I think all have their own unique sewage smell. It is the smell of the big city. All of a sudden you’re walking minding your own business and suddenly out of nowhere a waft of shit hits you in the face and curls your nose hairs. The “Who crapped their pants?” reek of the Paris Metro is no different. The moment you step off the train and on to the platform you want to rinse your body in vat of antiba
cterial gel.Upon our emergence from the filth of the metro our jaws dropped open. The avenue Champs Elysees is well worth a stroll. I regret that we did not walk all the way to the Arc de Triomphe but we did manage to stand in the middle of the avenue risking life and limb just to get some pictures. Nex
t stop Eiffel Tower.We opted to walk to the tower. It was a great walk as we took the less beaten path of the alley ways rather than the Seine river walk. Worth it. In my opinion to truly get a feel for any kind of city it is important to go through some of the alleyways. Along the way to the Eiffel we stopped off at a café and had our first croissant in Paris. It was a flaky deliciousness.
The Eiffel Tower to the French may just be a bunch of wrought iron but to me it is an architectural bit of wonder. Pictures do not do it justice especially when you are able to see from far away and watch it get bigger and bigger the closer you get. It is just as impressive as it is massive. We spent about 30 minutes hanging around tying to get the best angle for a picture….neither one of us are photogs….but we did our best. On our way to the next metro line we stopped off at a f
ew kiosks to get some souvenirs. Next stop the Louvre….No time to go inside to actually get a feel for the museum itself and being nearly 40years of age I am not so bold as to do a run through as a tip of the hat to the French film maker Jean Luc Godards. Parish the thought of getting arrested and deported back to America. So we spent most of our time walking around the grounds. It was a beautiful day about 70 degrees with a lovely blue sky and white, billowy clouds. (That would soon change) I don’t think we could have asked for better weather for a weekend in Paris.
We felt like the luckiest two girls on the face of the planet. We spent about two hours just mulling around and taking in the architecture and the grounds.
On our way to Notre-Dame we decided to walk the Seine. I wasn’t so much fascinated with the Cathedral but rather a shop on our way to the cathedral…..an old bookstore called Shakespeare and Co... I saw it out of the corner of my eye and wanted to cross the street and check it out. We had no time to stop in to the shop as we were meeting friends at the Cathedral but it is interesting to note that despite being so small and innocuous it does great business. This little book store is located on the opposite corner of the Cathedral in the Latin Quarter.If you have to make a choice between the Cathedral and the book store go to the book store. Unique book stores trump cathedrals any day. Word!
We walked down to the Seine and had a very Parisian lunch on the bank of the river consisting of cheese, wine and French bread. Wonderful.
On to the Bastille…
We walked through the Latin Quarter where we were literally caught in a downpour of epic proportions. Running through alley ways, soaking wet, trying desperately to find shelter did not ruin our good time. We still managed to have fun despite the fact that our search for the Bastille was in vain as it was demolished in 1789…a minor detail neglected. We did however manage to get a glimpse of the roundabout monument to the Bastille(not pictured).
Cautionary tale of cheese:
After a nice rest, hoping we could somehow escape the torrential downpour soaking the city, we ventured to the streets and alleyways again this time in search of some really stinky cheese that I could bring home to hubby. As a caution one should not consider buying cheese, wine, or chocolate as gifts as these all taste very different depending on the palate. Needless to say, hubby was not impressed with my selection of stinky cheese.
Darkness was falling so we decided it would be a good idea to get back to the flat at Brochant. Lacey and I attempted to go out and find food. We were disappointed to find that in a city that doesn’t sleep the prospect of finding a diner serving escargot after 11pm is abysmal. I really enjoy escargot so to me this was an offence in the highest order. We ended up settling for a pizza and walked back to the flat feeling utterly defeated, cold pizza and warm coke in tow.
The next day we spent some time on the metro in search of an open air flea market that had been recommended to us. Upon arrival at this flea market we were not feeling comfortable with the surroundings or the people and like two scared little school children lost, we opted for the comfort of the better, and less odoriferous surroundings the metro station had to offer. This was our ‘Ugly American’ moment and in hindsight we were both disappointed with ourselves. With this waste of an hour or so we had little time to go anywhere else as our train was departing at 4pm and it was 11am and we still needed to go to the Basilica of the Sacred Heart.
Basilica of the Sacred Heart is a must see. The architecture itself is glorious and the views of the city below are well worth the climb to the top. There’s an area in the village near the Basilica that is teaming with some impressive painters ready and willing to take your Euros for a portrait. There are also a ton of small sidewalk cafés. In a word it is charming!
Finally we were back in the familiar neighborhood of Brochant. With a few hours to spare we met Lacey’s friends at a café and had a sandwich….still no escargot to my dismay. We went for a nice walk around the neighborhood. We observed a game of Pentanque and it was then I realized that I had completely forgotten about a drink I was introduced to by a French friend I knew when I was living in Nashville several years ago…Pastise. I barely had enough Euros to get a sandwich at the train station for the trip back to London. No Pastise and no Escargot…Merde!
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