WHAT I AM READING (With Apologies To Nick Hornby)

There is a magazine I read called The Believer (which I somewhat prematurely and optimistically labeled the new New Yorker) and one of my favorite columns in it has been written by Nick Hornby, the guy who wrote Hi Fidelity. The column was called “What I Have Been Reading” and the guy reads a lot and has turned me onto some good books. In fact some very good books. But Hornby is moving on from the column and the magazine so with imitation being the best form of flattery I give you the St. Louis Diner Review version of “What I Have Been reading”.

Michael Chabon: “Yiddish Policeman's Union”
Harper Collins 2007
416 Pages

Chabon is one of the writers that Hornby turned me on to. I think i did not think i would like him because it sounded like he had a French name and well... we hate those people. I like it when my instincts are wrong because you often find something new, and they were very wrong here.

Chabon invents a whole new world historically where after world war two when the state of Israel is started that the Arabs and Palestinians push the Jewish re-settlers into the ocean. The U.S. for reasons that are never quite clear through Secretary of State Seward offer the Jews a 50 year homeland in Alaska and 10s of thousands of Jews settle and prosper there. Like any ethnic group this band of wanderers has it’s share of normal people and crazies and the politics of Jewish Alaska are.... convoluted at best.

Our hero and narrator is a detective and he is living post divorce in a seedy hotel where someone else murdered. The investigation of the murder is complicated by the fact that the 50 years is up and most of the Jews are being forced to leave and those that stay are not necessarily welcome or being offered jobs in the new administration AND his ex wife has gotten the job as his boss.

The gentlemen who was killed also was expected at one point in his life to be the chosen one who would lead the Jews to their right place in the world and perhaps bring on Armageddon and the last days. I think Sarah Palin would have been in favor of this. Anyway, it is NOT a murder mystery but is a book deep in relationships and it is beautifully written if slightly long. This guy can just flat out write and like my earlier review of his book “No Map No Legend” this book is a highly recommended read.
Wikipedia has pretty good entry on it:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Yiddish_Policemen's_Union
Among other things it tells me that the book is in pre-production for a film by the Coen Brothers.
*****
Will Self: “Liver”
Penguin Viking 2008
277 Pages

OK....I love this guy. It does not make me a bad person but it does make me think a little sickeningly about the things I find pleasure in. Self reminds me of Will Sheff of my favorite band Okkervil River. In a recent Paste Magazine Interview he said:
“What I’m hoping is that people walk away from the songs feeling … a subtler kind of violence,” Sheff says, “that they feel uncomfortable and like a lot of their feelings have been stirred up and they’ve been entertained—but in a way that made them feel a little sick.” read the whole thing at: http://www.pastemagazine.com/articles/2008/09/river-of-screams.html
I think Self goes for the same thing. This is actually not a novel but a collection of novellas which are tied together as near as I can tell by the following:

1. Alcoholism
2. Liver Maladies (some caused by Alcoholism).
3. The complexity of the human psyche
4. A Soho bar called “The Plantation Club”
The stories are in no small part, beautiful, depressing and creepy. The inhabitants (becuase they spend almost all their waking hours there) of the Plantation Club make you yearn for their demise, timely or untimely. One of Self’s gifts is to display peoples weaknesses and fragility while still making them obscenely unlikable. It is not at all important that the novellas have anything in common. All four of them are well written and compelling. I got a British Hardcover of this and it is beautifully bound with no dust jacker. Very nice.

!!!!!!!!

H.P. Lovecraft: “Call of the Cthulu”
Penguin Classics 1999
419 Pages

In reading Jonathan Lethem and Michael Chabon I became aware of the work of H.P. Lovecraft and what a powerful influence he has been on both of their work. Because I am a completist and like to find ways to spend idle hours I decided to check him out. Also becuase I am a Mountain Goats fan and they had a song that really kicked it on their last CD called “Lovecraft In Brooklyn”. The Mountain Goats song paints a bleak picture:

“woke up afraid of my own shadow
Like, Genuinely afraid
headed for the pawnshop
To buy myself a switchblade
Someday somethings coming
From way out beyond the stars
To kill us while we stand here
It will store our brains in mason jar
And then the girl behind the counter asks "How do you feel today?" and I say "I feel like Lovecraft in Brooklyn!"
----Mountain Goats “Love craft In Brooklyn” 2008.

I thought this was something I needed to do, to read, to explore. From my perspective I was clearly wrong. Lovecraft did not really write a lot of books. He was a pulp writer for magazines and that resulted in a lot of short stories and novellas. These have been put together in various collections all of which start with a short biography of the guy and other then the fact that he lived with his aunts, liked to write letters and hang out with Robert Howard (Conan The Barbarian Creator) he did not seem compelling. I did find out from the biography that he was almost paralyzed by xenophobia and when he lived in Brooklyn found himself totally alienated and despising the mass of society.... and especially minorities and strangers. Though this might have gotten him a cabinet position with the Bush administration it seems an unhappy life. Here is the Wiki on him: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hp_lovecraft.

“Call of the Cthulu” is the main story in a group of novellas and never having read him before I was amazed at how relentlessly black all of his characters and prose are. There is no joy. There is not even a fake smile. His characters amble through these barren historical and imaginary landscapes and ultimately get to glimpse ultimate horror or ultimate evil before suffering grizzly death or a life a s a recluse from being scarred by what they found out.

It is not much different from being a lawyer.

You do not need to read Lovecraft’s stuff. better to read about him.

%%%%%%%

Ethan Canin: “America America”
Random House 2008
458 Pages

This was a beautiful book. Canin has long been a favorite of mine. I distinctly remember reading his book “Blue River” while I was taking the Missouri Bar Exam. The night before I was reading and finding comfort in his prose before spilling my guts on the exam the next day. My memory is of course totally suspect in that I took the Bar Exam in 1987 and the book was not published until 1995. So much for my bogus memories.

At that time Canin was new and had not really developed his style but since that time he has cranked out several books to universally critical acclaim. He is good and this book is just simply GREAT. It is a Richard Russo type effort set in upstate New York in a thriving, dying, thriving, dying town. A rich and political family adopts a lower class but hard working young man. He becomes acquainted with the ways of the rich, and their daughters. he gets sent to prep school and then to college while working around their house.

During this period, set in 1972 the family is supporting a Presidential Candidate who is running as a Democrat against Mc Govern, Muskie and Humphrey. It looks like he is going to win but there is a scandal and our narrators benefactors are right in the middle of it. Throughout the book as he benefits from the families largesse and connections there is always a sense that he is being used (and perhaps abused) in ways we do not understand.

He grows to be the local newspaper editor and attempts to adopt a protégé in much the same matter and the book is a retrospective as he tells her the story which begins looking back from the funeral of the politician. The book is heartwarming, heart wrenching and achingly well written. If you love the myth of American politics it is a must read, or if you just like someone who really knows his way around language and storycreft. Do not miss this one. It also would make a great gift for anyone you know who reads.

&&&&&&&&

Kurt Vonnegut: “Armageddon In Retrospective”
Putnam 2008
233 Pages

I continue to be very sad that this guy is dead. There is a picture of him on the back of the dust jacket taken by one of his kids or grandkids in front of a door and surrounded by some flowers with boat tennis shoes on. He looks simpatico.
The great thing about Vonnegut is that he was never simpatico. He was questioning, tortured, profoundly disillusioned with humanity and especially government institutions and yet.... he still found a way to love, raise a family and produce some beautiful, beautiful books. Even through disillusionment, depression and despair he always loved people, while seemingly despising what people, especially groups of people, especially groups of people organized as governments.

this book is really just a collection of his wartime writings. Vonnegut was a late arriver in Europe in WWII and was almost immediately captured by the retreating and declining german Army. He was put to work cleaning the streets of Dresden which the allies had left alone because it had no military factories but in the waning days of the war, for one reason or another the Allies, the U.S. decided to firebomb it and level it. He gives that experience the whole book in “Slaughterhouse Five” and his stories here all dance around it. His experiences in the war, as a prisoner, as a survivor of the firebombing and as a liberated prisoner are what make up these stories. All fiction heavily colored by his own experiences.

The stories are short and easy to read and are a sweet glimpse into a young author. the forward written by his son is as revealing as anything written about the man. Families and people are complex and beautiful. War sucks and is dehumanizing. Always. Simple messages by a sweet, brilliant, confused man.

The Trip....Day VIII: An American In Paris

Day VIII
Well today was rainy and cloudy and cooler and... probably one of the best days on the whole trip, which is saying a lot. We got up and Sandy had messed around on the internet the night before and found a place that was about a twenty minute walk from the Hotel called “Breakfast In America”. It was perfect and charming complete with booths, a counter, a complete diner breakfast menu and.... ICED TEA! In France! With lots of ice! It was awesome. Our waitress was a sweet English girl who sounded like she was from Chicago. She was evidently used to dealing with grateful tourists. When we entered there was a group of French kids...early twenties... who had clearly been out all night. they were watching baseball playoffs while eating. We ordered, had a perfect little breakfast (other then the hashbrowns which were really the dreaded potatos Obrien. By the time we were done the place had fellied up with a nice eclectic mix of people. It was a great start to the day.

Next we took a train to the Musse’ D Or’. I like art but have no appreciation for it and as I might have said before the religious art leaves me a little cold. This place however was full of the impressionists and most importantly some Van Goghs. It was awesome and a pleasure just to wander around. We spent a LOT more time there then at the Louvre. Some of the art there was of the kind that just moved me.

On the way back we hit the Cathedral of Notre Dame. there was no hunchback (very disappointing) but we inadvertantly went in while worship services were going on. This was a little odd and disjointed as tourists walked around the edges of the Cathedral while about 500 people worshiped and took communion. What a beautiful place. Unbelievable stained glass and architecture. Going to church there would have been nice. I like Catholics, good liturgical worship.

As a special accomodation to me we hopped on the Metro and went up to Père Lachaise Cemetery. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Père_Lachaise_Cemetery. There are Metro stations on two sides of it both which have floral shops next to them so that people can buy flowers for the graves.. It is also the final resting place of the late Jom Morrison. I have always liked the Doors hits but must admit to not owning a single Doors CD though you have to have respect for the body of work and the fact that we did not have to watch him grow old like so many 60’s rockers. How much better is a dead Jim Morrison then a live David Crosby? A lot is the answer. Morrison’s grave is in dierepair and was fenced off. I sat down on a grave next to it and we got yelled at so we went off to oscar Wilde’s grave. Anyone who was imrisoned, reviled, exiled and loved by the French cannot be all bad. He has a really pretty grave.

We went back to the Hotel and napped.

We got up and walked around the Latin Quarter which as I said seems a little like a good boardwalk or Dayton strip. It was a trip just people watching and walking around in the light rain. Paris is beautiful and we ended up getting some more pizza and drinking another bottle of wine and life was good.

After dinner we went to La Cave de la Huchette based on my desire to go watch jazz in Paris. We went in, paid a cover and walked downstairs into what truly was a cave. it appears that a lot of the basements in the latin quarter are carved out of the rock. The room was almost empty and we came in and sat and I went upstairs and got some...BUDWEISER! I had not seen a bottle of Bud in Europe up until that time. Eventually the place filled up and a lady began singing American standards like “Stormy Weather”. The band was tight but what was so much fun was the couples dancing and having an awesome time and between the beers, the music and the dancing it was a delightful evening. In fact it was a perfect day. But the trip was rapidly coming to a close.

The Trip....Day VII

Day VII

Saturday. Another travel day. Light rain. Baguettes and sandwich purchases before heading to the train. I got some pastry with chocolate in it. Very sweet. I have become addicted to the Herald Tribune and to a lesser extent The Guardian. They put our St. Louis Post Dispatch to shame. Seriously. great reporting and covering of issues in about 15 pages of print. If our economy was not heading into the tank I would subscribe. We rode the train to Dijon (no mom I did not get any mustard). Then headed to Paris. I was struck again by how awesome quality rail service is. Handling your own bags, and spreading out on a train is such a great way to travel. Figuring it out is stressful but once again it just seems so much more sustainable then our current batch of airlines going broke. I read in the Herald Tribune that falling fuel prices may allow airlines (other then Southwest) to post a profit. I will hold my breath.

My wife has been generally unimpressed by my contributions to planning this trip. I basically sat it out. This is for several reasons:

1. She is much smarter then me and much more detail oriented.

2. She likes things done in a way that she understands.

3. She always takes my feelings and preferences into account.

This leads to a certain disengagement. So she was pressing me for what I wanted to do. We hit town in the early afternoon after a short cab ride to our hotel on the Ile St. Louis. I thinkl the hotel was called Lettuce’. The female Consiere was cute and we checked into the first room on the whole trip that my wife was “disappointed” by. She seemed to feel that for 180 Euros a night we should be entitled to charm. I agreed but... what the hell. We were in Paris and right off the Latin Quarter.

So in order to make things right we went on a 10 mile Blitzkrieg of Paris. We hit the Louvre (two hours), walked the Champs De Lyse and then walked up to the top of the Arc De Triumphe. (284 steps after a several mile walk) I had no idea that it was so tall, or that people went to the top of it and used it as a lookout. It was very impressive with the longest spiral stairway of my experience. No one died though a Parisian working there screamed at us for not understanding the cue system (there was not one).

On the walk up we noticed some big aeronautics show and at the Arc, when we came down they were flying two large flags and had about 400 military people all tricked out in full regalia. I am sure it was charming but brought to mind every banal joke ever told regarding the French military prowess. From there we took an elongated hike to the Eifel Tower (I thought it was black but it is rather a muddy brown) during which time my feet began to blister and my wife acceeded to my demands that we not go up in the tower, and that we take the Metro back to near our hotel rather then walk the final two miles.

The Metro is cool and scary like all big city mass transit and it remains in my mind the defining difference between big cities like Atlanta, L.A. and Miami and real major cities like NYC, Philly, Chicago, Paris, London. Just my opinion, but what a great way to gt around. Though they do constantly warn you of pickpockets and i could see how at night it could get....sketchy. But still, there is nothing like the feeling of mastering the system and getting yourself around th city without a cab.

Sandy had read about about a great inexpensive place to eat called Polenis and it was both. I cramped place with communal tables out front and in back, but in back seemed to be for people in the know. We sat our front with two other couples sharing bread and water and just people watching. The two main servers looked like they were 50-60 years old and sisters. They bustled and the place was packed and the food was good and fairly cheap for Paris. I had a little rumpsteak with pepper sauce and Sandy had some chicken thing. Naturally we killed a bottle of wine. They did not take credit cards and I nearly had to leave Sandy there. I think that would have been....awkward.

We walked home through the latin District at night and it was seedy, tacky and fun with barkers out front of a lot of places trying to pull you in. there was a lot going on there on a Saturday night and we decided we would return tomorrow to check it out.

The Trip.....Day VI: Beaune Palin!

Day VI









So Thursday night where you are watching the debate at around 8:00 CST we are in Beaune and my wife decides prior to bed that we should stay up and watch it. I know it will come on around 3:00 A.M. and as I said we had killed a bottle of wine. Instead she decided to set an alarm and we went to sleep with me confident that the alarm would go off and we would turn it off and go back to sleep. I was wrong. Alarm went off and she turned on the debate (missing the first 10 minutes) as I lay there trying not to listen, and failing.

I hate Sarah Palin. Let me say that from the outset. I do not know why but I think it is her morally superior rhetoric of small town America and her scolding tone when speaking of those who do not line up behind Senator Mc Cain. I think she was an awful choice, not just because I do not like her, but because she will sink the ticket. She comes off to me as uninquisitive and not too bright and havent we already done that for 8 years.

Anyway. She did a nice job in the debate and she won from the perspective that she did not sound stupid. She still was heavily scripted and when she did not like a question she just talked about something she had memorized like energy and high taxes. She did a good job and did not sound stupid, so she won. Biden did a much better job then her and lost nothing. certainly on a debate team scorecard he won. I am not a huge Biden fan either. He has lined up with big banks and MasterCard at every turn and was key in getting the awful Bankruptcy Reform Act passed in 2005. He takes money from the banks. I do not like him as i said. But he did a good job and is certainly in a position to be President if something awful happens to barrack. She is not. I listened to the talking heads for a few minutes when they were done and went to sleep.

We slept late and got up and had hot baguettes and butter and some hot tea. heaven. then we set out to explore the wine caves. This was a cool experience. We paid like 9 euro dollars each and for that got a little silver plated sommelier cup and were set lose in this catacombed, cavernous stone basement/celler to walk around where they would have a barrel and on top of it a bottle of wine and a candle. You were admonished to only take one taste of each wine. It started with the fruitier whites and worked their way up through chalkier whites, to lighter reds to the big hearty bergundys. One of the cool parts was that there were all kinds of vintages represented. By each bottle there was a barrel to spit your wine into so as not to foul your pallet. I did that a couple of times. We drank our way through, came out the other side and bought a nice Pomard.

We then went to a little place for a kebab. A gebab appears to be a sandwhich on a bakery fresh piece of sourdough cut like a pita. It looks and tatstes a lot like a gyro but without the tsitsi sauce. It was average and expensing and the service sucked. One of the things i have learned in England and in France is the general indifference of servers. I think it is because tips are not normally expected since evidently they get paid a living wage to serve but everything is soooooo slow. I think I said that in an earlier entry but I want to emphasize...slow. In a place where you are eating quickly, ask for the check when the entree arrives.

We hit another Wine cave as it started to rain and drank our way through the ritual with some unpleasant german family. In the prior cave we had been following around some American wine snobs and now were treated to their teutonic equivalent. Not pleasant. But the wine was good. In this one you were directed to the cellar and then had a winding walk of about a 1/4 mile through different chmbers and walls divided by tens of thousands of bottles of wine being stored down thiere. It was creepy but cool.

Afterwords I went to find some more cigars. Sandy went to the big grocery store in town called Casino in order to get some wine glasses so we could....drink more. Now to know my wife is to experience many joys. It is not enough to go to a French grocery and just negotiate the process with awkward smiles and nods for sympathy. Not Sandy. She had to find some glasses and decide to self check. In the self checking process she found the glasses scanned higher then marked and then decided to put them back in the aisle and get another cheaper set. She had a woman chase her and yell at her telling her she needed to bring back the set to erase the sale. There was much yelling and although she ended up being friends she was still made to feel a criminal.

It had gotten cleared up and so went home, drank some more and napped for a while. Or rather she did. I sat out on the back porch and drank wine and played on the internet and read with a blanket on. It was a great afternoon in the sunshine with another nice Cuban to smoke. It was awesome.

We then looked around a lot and as it got colder and colder we decided on a nice restaraunt with a huge fire place which they also used to cook their steaks. It was awesome and warm. I had a great little steak in bernaise sauce. We had another bottle of wine. We went home and passed out. We really like wine.

The Trip.....Day V: Aneccy to Beaune

Day V
Travel day again but not until the afternoon. Woke up and got wife a croissant and I grabbed a baguette which i chewed on. We bought some Gruyer cheese which I nibbled on as well. We had seen a huge, well lit church on the mountain behind the town so started to go exploring. At that edge of the town there is a huge (8 story) chateau which just kind of looms up behind some shops but it also blocked the view of the church so we started walking up guessing in the general direction. Very long, steep hike... several wrong terms. Chateau looked boring so we did not even stop....just kept going up...and up... a little sweaty. On one narrow street we hit a narrow stairway cared out of the hills and we see part of church at the top. We went there and it is this huge cathedral, “Our lady of the Visitation” sitting on this hill with a commanding view of the town, the lake and the lakes valley. Worth the walk. There is a bus of English tourists. There is a man begging at the door. There is stained glass. There are 2345 images of Mary and Jesus. It looks to me like an old church. But what a view. Maybe we could tear it down and build condos? Or a miniature golf course?

I of course am an ugly American. Based on my own review of my behavior there is a chance that I invented ugly American. I think it would be funny to get a t-shirt which said in French “Stupid, Ugly, American.” At least there would be no surprises for anyone. It is a much slower and gentler life. The thing I am impressed most about so far is the sustainability of the lifestyle. The stores do not open til nine. They close from noon to two for lunch. They stay open till when they feel like. They seem to go to the store and buy what they need for that day. They seem to eat locally a lot. So maybe if we put a big amusement park
We then ran back to the hotel and grabbed some baguettes to eat on the train. The first stop we Lyon which was a major train station. Lyon seemed a little scary from our angle but we hung there for an hour and figured out how to head for Beaune. I read of lot of newspapers and was able to get the most recent Guardian and Herald Tribune which made for a sweet ride. As we got out of the Alps the trip looked more and more like a ride from St. louis to KC on Amtrak through Missouri’s wine region. Not a bad trip, but not beautiful and awe inspiring like the Alps. Apparently the palin/Biden debate is this evening. Much speculation..

We hit Beaune...pronounced like Daniel Boone. The station was not much and the town looked like even less from that vantage. We got our bearings with a map and then started lugging our bags the kilometer or so to our hotel which also did not inspire. Happily it surprised. We had a delightful room, with CNN in English and a working internet connection. We had a little back porch and went exploring the town which is deep in the heart of the Burgundy wine region. The whole town sits on top of these wine caves full of Burgundy. The town itself is a total tourist trap but tastefully so.

All along the way I have been buying and smoking various Cuban Cigars. Generally these are purchased at news stands with a TABAC sign and are somewhat suspect as to how they have been stored. The Cuban Partagas brand is my favorite. Nice salty wrapper from that carriebeann rain off the ocean. In Beaune they advertised cigar “caves”. These turned out to be that same little cabinets I saw in Aneccy and Genva and Cambridge. Cuban cigars are not generally the treat that they used to be. Post communist Russia I think they mised a step and there are so many knock off’s that the percentages always favor a good dominican. Still, a real Cuban Partagas knocks me on my ass.

That night we had dinner at Bleu... something or other. I was expecting some signature meal with Bleu Cheese but was instead treated to being bathed in an aquamarine, swimmin g pool like light theme which was...odd. Food was good and I had chicken coquette and I do not remember what Sandy had. We did polish of a nice bottle of burgundy though. Which was sweet. We made some calls reminding people to TiVo the VP debate.

The Trip.....Day IV Aneccy!

Aneccy is a beautiful town in the Alps on a huge lake (about 20 miles around. It is crystal blue. The town itself is charming with lots of blocked off streets in which to roam. We slept till like 11:00 which is always cool. I have given up the idea of a hot breakfast on the continent as well as giving up on ever getting iced tea. We went to a patisserie and sat outside.

One thing I have noticed is how American eating on the go is a non-existent principal in France. You sit, waiters smile at you, you sit (sometimes for 10 or 20 minutes) before they wander over. You order some drinks or tap water. They bring it ten minutes later. You order your food. Sometimes it comes suspiciously fast, sometimes a lot longer. They come back and ask if you want coffee. You ask for the check. In ten minutes or so they bring it back. You look at it and try and hand them a credit card as they walk away. They come back ten minutes later and take your card. They swipe it on a little machine they carry. You sign. You leave. An hour and half has passed. You try and tell yourself this is cool and relaxed and continental. The bile for having sat there so long roils your stomach as you walk away.

That patisserie was nice. I ordered a croissant and a coke with ice. What is it about other countries and ice (for I have noticed this in Mexico and Canada as well)? They brought our drinks and I had a nice can of Coke with a cute little drug store soda fountain glass, and three little tiny pieces (to call them cubes would be like calling saying my penis was 10 inches long) of ice. Sandy laughed. I drank my slightly chilled Coke. Seriously, what is it about the ice? Is a cold drink a crime? It seems more precious then gold in these countries. Am I ice obsessed? Probably, but I think they do not have iced tea because they cannot figure out that it takes a lot of damn ice.

We looked around the town and then began walking on the lake on a bike path, and we kept walking ultimately ending up in another town a couple of miles down the road called Sevrier. We split a bottle of wine looking out over the lake sitting at a smaill table on a lawn. The only other table was filled with some 20 something aged French boys who came, greeted one another with two kisses on each cheek and then drank from the same bottle of Absinthe. We walked back and napped.
France seems to have lovely people but either the goth thing, or Johnny Cash has had a huge influence on these people. Why so much black...why all the time. The kids are all dressed from a “Les Miserables For Kids” collection of expensive clothes meant to look bleak and poverty stricken. My theory on all this blackness.... lack of enough ice. We had pizza for lunch on one of the canals around town. Did I mention the canals? they are lovely. No punting here, or gondaliers. I think we could have taken a boat ride on the river but we were out of season. The pizza is good. Northern Italian. Nice.

Before dinner we decided to walk up to the “Casino” on one of the tips of the lake. Our hotel proprietor was VERY concerned regarding us walking 1.4 Kilometers. He clearly did not understand that my wife has been walking us a minimum of 8 miles a day, just on general principal. So we walked up the lake and it was lovely and then got to the “casino” which was in a little hotel up there. We walked up to the entrance and he asked for our passports and then slyly told us that asking for passports was just their way of making sure that the dress code was abided by. We passed. The “casino” was three small levels filled with slot machines. We kept looking for gaming tables to no avail. I dropped 10 euros (approximately $143,004.32 U.S.) and then we left.

The Trip.....Day III

Day III





Tuesday was a travel day. We awoke to the cell phone alarm and my wife stated she did not sleep well for worry that it would not work. We went downstairs to call the cab and upon opening the door of the TV room were confronted by a rodent. A reasonably large rodent. It seems that my son’s housemates (geniuses all) had elected the night before to take a hedge hog in as a pet. Although this one seemed fairly docile (it ladi by the door as of dead), it was still a disconcerting thing to confron at 6:45 A.M. in Cambridge England. We got a cab. The hedgehog stayed.

The train ride out from London to Cambridge was very uneventful and pleasant and we were looking forward to a ride in with a newspaper and a croissant and perhaps a sausage roll for a leisurely hour long poke into King’s Cross at 7:30 in the morning. We are of course...idiots. I believe I have mentioned that fact before. &:30 on a Tuesday is rush hour. We got to the train station in plenty of time an I bought a sausage roll and she a croissant and then we stood towards the wall keeping our bags out of the way as the platform in front of us filled 8 deep. The train was delayed by a few minutes and when it came there was a crushing press and rush for the few available seats. We barely managed to squeeze on with our bags, standing by the door in a press.

That was bad because it was so unexpected, yet so foreseeable. We were traveling into one of the biggest cities in the world during rush hour. The hour long trip became more nightmarish when at every stop (5 in all) more and more people pressed into our little space. No one moved down the rows to create more space and the people who were seated were careful never to make eye contact with the rest of the crush in much the same manner as I imagine the German guards did not make eye contact with the prisoner loaded onto rail boxcars. It was also hot, and got hotter with each new stop. It was also eerily quiet. I have never commuted on mass transit in a big city and the lack of communication among the masses was disquieting and depressing.

We made King’s Cross and got off the train with our bags once again stupidly attempting to get out of the way of the crowd and let the commuters pass. We stood there for a solid 5 minutes as they thronged by before rolling our eyes and giving up and dragging our bags into the terminal with many “excuse me’s” along the way. It was at best a nightmare as we eventually found the Picadilly Line for Heathrow 123 and 5. No one ever explains what happened to Heathrow 4 and one imagines it is the dark secret of the Picadilly Line. I am thinking it might be the terminal which jets people off to Hogworts Academy. That train too was packed and we could not sit. Standing in the sweltering mass I watched one man get bonked on the head by the closing door in a manner that seemed violent.

We eventually made Heathrow terminal 5 which is obviously some modernist’s cruel joke on London, England and the traveling public. A nice lady at British Airways (very nice airline and it is hard to believe they have anything to do with American Airlines but they are part of the “one world” evil alliance) got us checked in. We went to the security gate and were stopped as the first ones to not get through and told they were closing that checkpoint, and we were directed to the other end of the terminal (about 1/2 mile walk).

We negotiated security fairly easily. There is something about post 9-11 security I have always found vaguely disquieting. It is the sense that I am guilty of something that they are tasked to find out, or perhaps that they presume such guilt and as such are entitled to ex-ray my bags, swipe them for bomb detritus and anally probe me if they deem me a threat. Anyway, we made it through though I did have to take off my belt, but I did not have to take my computer out of it’s bag. This Terminal 5 is a garish, sense offending place of bright lights, loud noises and useless eateries. Again a Starbucks with no iced tea and a duty free shop the size of Macys. I picked up a couple of papers to learn that the U.S. Congress in an act of political spinelessness which should no longer be surprising had voted against the 700 Billion Dollar Bailout Plan.

This plan might not be a good idea. But if these institutions fail we will all be poorer, quicker then if they are not propped up. I do not care what the terms are, they need to be harsh and draconian but to cow tow to the angry voters back home 5 weeks before an election when the world economy is dancing on the brink seems pathetic on so many levels. It is as I said kind of an embarrassing time to be an American. Every paper which discusses their own nations bank problems sites the “toxic debt” sold by the American banks. I do not know if it is true or not but our investment bankers were given way too much money and when they got a “historical model” of making their points with loaded dice, they thought they could rely on that model and then borrowed everyone’s money to make their bets. But who are the “winners” here. The casino analogy seems to fall because where indeed is the house? No one has been able to answer that question for me.

We boarded the plane and once again, other then a crappy sandwich BA is an excellent airline giving us a pleasant flight to Geneva. On the ground we were ushered through customs not being able to be stereotyped as drug dealers or fugitive investment bankers. here is where the day falls to shit. We believe we need to be in another train terminal (there is one hooked up to the Geneva airport) and we get on a train to the main terminal 5 minutes away. We get off and look for out train to Aneccy but cannot find it and conclude it leaves out of another terminal. No one speaks english and the train people are not remotely helpful. Finally a ticketing agent (who was trying to explain that we were in the correct terminal) acceded to our demands and handed us a card for “tram 16” to get us to that terminal.

In the mean time the clock is ticking down as we have 25 minutes till that train departs. Sandy is convinced that there is only one train to Aneccy and if missed we will be staying in Genva for a night. She is frantically looking on maps inside the bus for the hint of a train station. She picks a stop and we hop off and begin frantically asking directions of people who speak no english and... miraculaousy, we find a train stattion 3 blocks away. Miraculously it is the one my wife was looking for. Miraculously... our train was supposed to leave from the main terminal and we were missing it as we spoke to the agent. Miraculously...he could get us on another train which with one stop, would get us to Aneccy 1/2 hour earlier. We sat for a 1/2 hour. I bought a bad sandwich and admired the grafity of the somewhat sketchy area the train was in.

The ride and swithching trains was uneventful accept for the unrelenting beauty of the Alps. We got into the station, Sandy got her bearings and we headed to the Hotel Dejun, checked in and rode a tiny elevator to our room which was significantly better then the Cambridge dorm accomodations. We walked around. We had Fondu. We argued about tipping. We went to bed. Not a bad day to have survived.

The Trip....Day II

Cambridge evidently was founded as a bridge over the river Cam. Who knew? Not quite a “Bridge Over Troubled Waters” but certainly a bridge over dirty, somewhat pretentious (or at least well educated) British waters.

All in all let me say it. A lovely town. And we had great weather. Two nice days of weather after what they said had been a miserably wet summer and early fall. We closed out night one after like 40 straight hours awake at a little French place that was lovely. I had to explain to Jon that the French restaurants generally use crappy cuts of beef and then hide them in sauce and this place was no different but it was still good. Then we went back to Valpo’s Cambridge residence and crashed.
I was worried I would wake up too early but when I finally cam to my wife told me it was 10:30. We were sleeping in little single things that felt like monks beds. The bathroom and shower were both down the hall but we got moving and walked about a mile to an open air market that had intrigued us.

I of course am obsessed by iced tea. I did not really comprehend that England, land of tea would not accommodate me but evidently in a tea culture, iced tea is an abomination. Once again, who knew? Still hope reigns eternal and I walked into a Starbucks and confidently ordered a Vente Black Iced Tea and the girl (American) said “I am sorry, we do not do iced tea”. I asked plaintively whether there was any place in England to get iced tea and she told me sadly, and with utter confidence...”no”. Still I persevered and walked down to Mc Donald's but did not even ask. On the board of drinks they had tea but it was away from soft drinks and next to coffee and they had no urns saying “sweet” and unsweet” I did not let this despair overtake me however.

We ate some meat pies which were pastries with a some cheese and sausage and “swede”. Swede i came to find out is turnip and rather then refusing to eat (the Becker natural reaction to anything different) I muscled through it and found it tasty. We bought some fresh squeezed orange juice at the market. It was delightful. We toured the market (boring) and then took our own walking tour of the town trying to find a noodle bar that had grabbed Sandy’s eye. We found it, “The Dojo” and decided we could live without it. We looked in a bunch of stores and bought Laura a puzzle.

We then bought tickets and went into The King’s College Cathedral. That was pretty awesome but could not figure out how to turn my flash off so could not take pictures inside. It was interesting listening tot he tour guides however and read the stuff on the construction. It was started in the 1400’s by Henry the 6th, one of the first Tudor Monarchs who was trying to legitimize himself through such spending. It has a lot of dragons in it in homage to St. George. It was an awesome church and it would have been nice to take some pictures of.

I went to a cheese monger (high point of trip) and bought some gruyere and some cheddar. They were life changing. We went back and got Jon who was now done with class and went down to the river Cam. They have these flat bottomed boats and they move along the river like gondolas but they pole them. We took a nice trip (having bought several beers to drink along the way, and then the Punter told us all about the history of the various colleges on the Cam including St. Johns, Trinity, King’s College and Queen’s College etc... They have all been there a very long time. All in all it was very cool with all the history and all the intellectual snobbery. If you go to Cambridge, go when it is warm and go Punting.

We then went to the grocery store and stocked our boy up with necessities and then went to a Spanish tapas place which seemed average to me but which he and my wife liked. We then went to a pub called Sir Issac Newton’s and I stood a drink for he and all his housemates. We came home and Sandy did the whole houses dishes and then we sat in bed an read and were kept awake for quite sometime by one of the young ladies in the group Skyping with her parents and then her boyfriend till all hours of the night. Then I passed out.

25th Anniversary Trip

D-Day...Stage 2









As you all might or might not know Obama has sent me to Europe to lay
the groundwork with the heads of State and the Papacy to bring back the
title of Holy Roman Emperor, which he will assume after his elected in
November, It is... quite and honor and as you might guess I am kind of a
really big deal.

We flew out of St. Louis at 5:00 on Saturday, hit Chicago for a short
layover and then flew all night arriving in at 9:10. Although my wife
slept, rather then talk to me I stayed awake all night watching "The
Incredible Hulk" and "Baby Mama" and literally feeling my waning
intelligence ebb yet again.

We took a train to the Kings Cross Station where we ran into our son Jon
who was just going to kill 4 hours in Piccadilly till he was supposed to
meet us.  This was the cause of much celebration as "running into"
someone you know in London is highly unlikely and the Kings Cross Train
Station has slightly more people who are passing through there at any
one time then the State of Alaska (sorry Sarah).

We had a shitty lunch at The Black Bear in Leicester.  I at least ate
bad Fish and Chips but Jon was stupid enough to order the Sunday Roast
Dinner which was a smallish (thankfully) piece of "top round", about 6
new potatoes, some bad vegetables and some bread curling all around it.
What the meat lacked in flavor it more then made up for in toughness.
The fish was just not that good but it was not toxic.  I did think that
someone had puked on my plate but before I sent it back my wife told me
that the pukishly green stuff were "smashed peas".

It makes it very, very easy to understand why every quality person has
left this somewhat god Forsaken country.  I was totally exhausted and so
Sandy decided we should do a blitzkrieg of London "since we are only
here for a day".  That meant that we saw, Trafalgar Square 10 Downing
Street Changing of the Horse Guard Westminster Abbey Buckingham Palace
The Tower Bridge And about 8 other places.  We saw them all through the
auspices of the "underground" but still managed to walk about 10 miles.
We then when back to King's Cross Station and took the hour long train
to Cambridge.  Jon is living in a house with 6 girls and two boys and it
looks... like he has fallen into something good again. When he found us
he was just coming back from a weekend in Ireland... not that I am
bitter.

I think the plan is to see how long I can go without sleep.  I think my
wife's ancestors did a similar "interesting" experiment with the Jews.

Pray for me