I often find myself dissatisfied with the inefficiencies of others. This is usually the case when I depend on others for a service. Phone and internet companies are the main source of my discontent, and telemarketers shortly after.
Today I encountered two situations where I had to simply let go of my irritation in order to continue on with more important things. But I'm too exhausted to actually write about them, so I'm gonna call this part 1 and write about them tomorrow. In the meantime, consider in your own life (the 3 people who read this blog) when you've actually been face to face with situations where you've had to ask yourself, should I bother?
Tuesday, 28 May 2013
Thursday, 23 May 2013
Europe Day 13
I'm exhausted, because I've been in the car all day navigating. We left Venice at the usual late departure time (around 10 am or so, almost 45 minutes later than expected) and we expected to arrive at the hotel in hours. I did not know where the hotel was located, someone else punches in the address. This time, the address punched in was incorrect, and we ended up driving to the wrong city of Thoiry in France. Apparently there are two Thoirys, and while the hotel specifies postal code, the GPS does not use postal code to verify direction. It ended up taking us a lot of extra time to get to the hotel, and my Dad and I were exhausted upon arrival from driving and navigating respectively. I wish my Dad would just let me do some of the driving, but that's what happens when I'm not paying for the vacation, I don't get the final say on things and, so far, 75% of the suggestions I've made throughout the vacation have been opposed.
Despite our exhaustion and our 6 pm deadline for returning the car rental in Paris tomorrow (Paris, the shithole of driving, one of the worst places in our vacation in which to operate a motorized vehicle), the 3 women in our party are still intent on going to Geneva tomorrow and seeing the place. This can only go poorly.
Today I told my Dad to go to the roundabout at a rest stop so that he could backtrack and park at the eatery, but instead he turned and went 200 metres the wrong way in a one-way lane and in the wrong direction on another roundabout back to the eatery. I told him not to do that again, and explained to him why he should have just listened to me, and he didn't say anything after I finished talking, just put the car in gear and set off back down the road. We all started talking 10 minutes later or so, but there was no apology for not listening, for driving the wrong way in traffic, nothing. My Dad has a long history of not apologizing, and I love my parents and fully acknowledge that others' parents are far worse, but I have to try my best not to repeat their mistakes, because when they make these mistakes, it is difficult for me to just let go of them. I snapped at my mom again today because I had a 2-second window to tell my Dad not to turn somewhere and she yelled out "No, turn there" from the back seat. I wish she would just understand that she has very little experience in GPS navigation and should therefore just be sitting there quietly. My mom is the reason I remember the way I do, but her situational processing and ability to adapt is poor. She doesn't think on her feet nearly as much as I thought she did as a child, and it's quite difficult to watch my parents down shift in these areas. All I can do is ensure that my down shifting is not as dramatic for my children to experience. Either that or get all the vacations out of the way before I can't navigate by car through a foreign country on my own.
Despite our exhaustion and our 6 pm deadline for returning the car rental in Paris tomorrow (Paris, the shithole of driving, one of the worst places in our vacation in which to operate a motorized vehicle), the 3 women in our party are still intent on going to Geneva tomorrow and seeing the place. This can only go poorly.
Today I told my Dad to go to the roundabout at a rest stop so that he could backtrack and park at the eatery, but instead he turned and went 200 metres the wrong way in a one-way lane and in the wrong direction on another roundabout back to the eatery. I told him not to do that again, and explained to him why he should have just listened to me, and he didn't say anything after I finished talking, just put the car in gear and set off back down the road. We all started talking 10 minutes later or so, but there was no apology for not listening, for driving the wrong way in traffic, nothing. My Dad has a long history of not apologizing, and I love my parents and fully acknowledge that others' parents are far worse, but I have to try my best not to repeat their mistakes, because when they make these mistakes, it is difficult for me to just let go of them. I snapped at my mom again today because I had a 2-second window to tell my Dad not to turn somewhere and she yelled out "No, turn there" from the back seat. I wish she would just understand that she has very little experience in GPS navigation and should therefore just be sitting there quietly. My mom is the reason I remember the way I do, but her situational processing and ability to adapt is poor. She doesn't think on her feet nearly as much as I thought she did as a child, and it's quite difficult to watch my parents down shift in these areas. All I can do is ensure that my down shifting is not as dramatic for my children to experience. Either that or get all the vacations out of the way before I can't navigate by car through a foreign country on my own.
Europe Day 12
The drive day was incredibly standard, not even worth mentioning. Day 12 began with the worst breakfast so far in Europe. Bread comprised more than 90% of the actual breakfast, and most of it was pre-packaged convenience store-bought ready-to-eat junk snacks that I watched the server open out of the plastic package and empty right onto one of the breakfast buffet trays.
I told my parents I wasn't interested in the half-baked plan of going to the bike rental place and "seeing if there were any cancellations", so then my cousin came up with another half-baked plan which I went through with mostly because I knew it would cut down on my overall amount of walking time for the day, and also because I knew it would reinforce to others in the vacation party how pointless it was to go on vacation in Europe. Her plan was for me to sit at a bench at the roundabout near the hotel and wait for the cyclists to go by, and then ask them where the nearest bike rental place was. We ended up getting the address of a bike store (NOT a rental place) and when we finally got there (took an hour, driving on slow countryside roads) the store owner said he didn't have bikes for rent. The only other minute positive aspect of that trip was that my Dad finally got an accurate figure on how much my road bike at home cost ($660 and not $1200 like he thought).
We set off for Venice, and it took us about 25 minutes to walk to the San Marco square, which my mom insisted on us seeing. Since she was so insistent on seeing the square, my Dad rushed us along every time my mom, sister or cousin wanted to stop and buy something (my mom often makes plans on vacation with no time management whatsoever, and my Dad always overcompensates by constantly worrying about time, another reason why going on vacation with my parents is very stressful). After we got to the square, my mom, sister and cousin quickly stood in line (which shocked and amazed me) to see the church. I thought all the lines were over, and I straight up refused to stand in line or go inside the church. I sat outside, watching everybody go by and watching people play with the pigeons and musicians performing at the upscale restaurants etc etc etc while the rest of my family saw yet another church.
Upon completion of this endeavour, my sister, cousin and I went to find out details for the ferry to Murano, the island of Venice where all the glass factories are located. We were told it would take 10 minutes to get there, so we gathered up the rest of our party and set off for the boat. What we later realized is that the woman meant it would take 10 minutes to get from the tourist info booth to the ferry stop. It took an hour to get to the murano glass factory, and this ate into our time considerably, so much so that we later had to choose between an 80-euro gondola ride and having enough time for shopping. For me, spending 80 euros for 30 minutes on a boat would have made this a no-brainer, but my sister and cousin were extremely keen on this whole gondola thing and acted almost blind to the unconscionable gouging of tourists for money, in return for basically nothing. We went on the gondola and fast-walked back through the city to find most of the stores closed, probably for the better anyway. We did very little actual walking that day and I did almost no standing in place for a prolonged period of time, so I was not in severe pain and felt much like I did that day I ditched my family to go around Rome by myself.
At the Murano glass factory, everything was overpriced and everyone was eyeing us carefully because they didn't want us to steal or break anything. They were charging 5 euros just for us to be able to stand behind the rope and watch the glass figurines being made. Then we happened upon three guys who were making glass, and despite having closed for the day, they put some into the oven and we watched as a man turned an amorphous blob of 800-degree sand into a glass horse. For 9 euros, we bought two horses that were already made and cooled from them, basically for half the price at which we'd buy them in stores. These three men were the nicest men we have met so far in Europe, although I would have to say that, in my personal experience, they were probably edged out by the man who threw 12 cents at the cashier to pay for my shopping bag.
I told my parents I wasn't interested in the half-baked plan of going to the bike rental place and "seeing if there were any cancellations", so then my cousin came up with another half-baked plan which I went through with mostly because I knew it would cut down on my overall amount of walking time for the day, and also because I knew it would reinforce to others in the vacation party how pointless it was to go on vacation in Europe. Her plan was for me to sit at a bench at the roundabout near the hotel and wait for the cyclists to go by, and then ask them where the nearest bike rental place was. We ended up getting the address of a bike store (NOT a rental place) and when we finally got there (took an hour, driving on slow countryside roads) the store owner said he didn't have bikes for rent. The only other minute positive aspect of that trip was that my Dad finally got an accurate figure on how much my road bike at home cost ($660 and not $1200 like he thought).
We set off for Venice, and it took us about 25 minutes to walk to the San Marco square, which my mom insisted on us seeing. Since she was so insistent on seeing the square, my Dad rushed us along every time my mom, sister or cousin wanted to stop and buy something (my mom often makes plans on vacation with no time management whatsoever, and my Dad always overcompensates by constantly worrying about time, another reason why going on vacation with my parents is very stressful). After we got to the square, my mom, sister and cousin quickly stood in line (which shocked and amazed me) to see the church. I thought all the lines were over, and I straight up refused to stand in line or go inside the church. I sat outside, watching everybody go by and watching people play with the pigeons and musicians performing at the upscale restaurants etc etc etc while the rest of my family saw yet another church.
Upon completion of this endeavour, my sister, cousin and I went to find out details for the ferry to Murano, the island of Venice where all the glass factories are located. We were told it would take 10 minutes to get there, so we gathered up the rest of our party and set off for the boat. What we later realized is that the woman meant it would take 10 minutes to get from the tourist info booth to the ferry stop. It took an hour to get to the murano glass factory, and this ate into our time considerably, so much so that we later had to choose between an 80-euro gondola ride and having enough time for shopping. For me, spending 80 euros for 30 minutes on a boat would have made this a no-brainer, but my sister and cousin were extremely keen on this whole gondola thing and acted almost blind to the unconscionable gouging of tourists for money, in return for basically nothing. We went on the gondola and fast-walked back through the city to find most of the stores closed, probably for the better anyway. We did very little actual walking that day and I did almost no standing in place for a prolonged period of time, so I was not in severe pain and felt much like I did that day I ditched my family to go around Rome by myself.
At the Murano glass factory, everything was overpriced and everyone was eyeing us carefully because they didn't want us to steal or break anything. They were charging 5 euros just for us to be able to stand behind the rope and watch the glass figurines being made. Then we happened upon three guys who were making glass, and despite having closed for the day, they put some into the oven and we watched as a man turned an amorphous blob of 800-degree sand into a glass horse. For 9 euros, we bought two horses that were already made and cooled from them, basically for half the price at which we'd buy them in stores. These three men were the nicest men we have met so far in Europe, although I would have to say that, in my personal experience, they were probably edged out by the man who threw 12 cents at the cashier to pay for my shopping bag.
Monday, 20 May 2013
Europe Day 10 night
They're "sold out" for May 22nd in Venice at the bike rental shop. Why should I have expected any different?
Europe Day 10
Breakfast as usual, left at 1030 am as usual, but today I split up with the rest of my family on the subway line to have my own day in Rome. No sightseeing, no historic monuments (not by foot anyway, signed up for a bike tour), nothing else. Just me and the city. Or at least me and the cheapest bike shop in the city. I arrived there at the spritely time of 1125 am, to fond it closed. Then I found out, after walking to a second bike shop that was also closed, that bike shops open at 4 pm? Maybe they were open in the morning, who knows. So now I have a bit of a problem. The bike shop opens at 4, but the tour of unusual sights in Rome starts at 3, so now what do I do? The bike shop is only a priority if I'm renting a bike in Venice, but the guy hasn't emailed me back yet with a quote. What do I do now? I asked around for the nearest internet cafe (never pulled out a map, wouldn't have helped me anyway) and checked my email. No email from him. Options? I see telephone booths, so the guy tells me it's 30 centi/min to call a cell number. I do, and after a bit of trouble I manage to get him on the phone. His mother is dying, he hasn't responded to over 300 emails about rentals in the past week. He says if I just send him one more email with the subject "spoke on phone about bike" or something like that (his english wasn't perfect) then his brother would be able to send me a quote. I was apologetic for harassing him and he insisted it was okay. Then I went back to the email (this time for 6 minutes instead of 15 minutes, saved myself an extra 20 centi that would later be put toward an orange soda in exchange for a street-side seat), and I emailed him about the bike. Then I called the tour people and cancelled. I'm going to buy those shorts and I'm going to fight tooth and nail for my vacation, my way. This time, I'm okay with it not working out, but I have to negotiate this until it works out for me, one way or the other. I'm sitting in front of that orange soda snack bar, outside at a small table with a small chair, waiting for 4 pm to roll around.
-----Update-----
I bought the shorts, and now I'm sitting in the hotel lounge area, feet and legs recovering, blogging in the dark. They emailed me back! The bike rental people, that is. A man e-mailed me back and asked for my height and inseam. I don't know my inseam off hand, but I told him the make and model of the bike I last rode and that it was a 50 cm bike, and I told him my height. Hopefully that will take things somewhere, and hopefully this rental doesn't cost an exorbitant amount of money because he has yet to tell me the price of the rental. Nothing is set in stone, but at least there's a dialogue going. I may have my rental by the 22nd yet, we shall see. I will continue to be optimistic, and I will not be let down by failure if it occurs because this is just how things are in Europe. Fine.
I hate that I've been in a lousy mood every time something went wrong with this vacation, most of the time it's probably a better idea to be more complacent when problems arise on holiday and to just try to have a good time. However, if I were always naturally like that, something to which I sometimes aspire, I may have long ago accepted that my GPA was too low, and I may have given up and tried to pursue something else. Because I bitched and complained and, to put it more politely, negotiated and persevered my way toward whatever it was that I so badly wanted, despite many telling me I wasn't wanted, needed, or even adequate, (inhales slowly while everyone reading this prepares to roll their eyes), I'm somebody now.
-----Update-----
I bought the shorts, and now I'm sitting in the hotel lounge area, feet and legs recovering, blogging in the dark. They emailed me back! The bike rental people, that is. A man e-mailed me back and asked for my height and inseam. I don't know my inseam off hand, but I told him the make and model of the bike I last rode and that it was a 50 cm bike, and I told him my height. Hopefully that will take things somewhere, and hopefully this rental doesn't cost an exorbitant amount of money because he has yet to tell me the price of the rental. Nothing is set in stone, but at least there's a dialogue going. I may have my rental by the 22nd yet, we shall see. I will continue to be optimistic, and I will not be let down by failure if it occurs because this is just how things are in Europe. Fine.
Sunday, 19 May 2013
Europe Day 9
Breakfast on the first morning in Rome was quite nice. There was a selection of cereal for those who would choose to eat healthy, and for me there was a selection of meats, cheeses and chocolate croissants and other pastries. I ate one of each thing, tried not to be to voluminous with my breakfast because I'm currently not exercising at all. The orange juice looked fresh pressed but when I tried it I could tell it had been moderately adulterated like so much Chicago heroin. I've always worried whether or not my opinions on the weblog (basically my journal) would offend people, and I'd find it quite funny if some heroin dealer got on here and started an argument like "hey man our shit is 85% who the hell are you to judge" and I can't say I've ever tried heroin or any other street drug for that matter, so I really couldn't honestly judge. I guess if that actually happened, we'd have conclusive proof that there is at least one person who doesn't find me funny. Then again this isn't an advertised public weblog, and I don't plan to make it one, so the chances of that happening are very unlikely. Maybe the two people in Russia who keep reading this thing supply the heroin to most of Chicago, and when they read this the say "what the hell, they're chopping our shit out there, get on the wire" but I would think that to be equally unlikely.
For the day, we decided to do exactly what my Romanian friend suggested we not do. My Dad suggested, and everyone agreed, we should take the subway from one attraction to the next. I agreed because this is a vacation where most people around me are only interested in seeing historic monuments, or at least in covering those first, and this way I am saved of a lot of walking. The train took a long time to come, but it was Sunday, and it was Europe.
When we actually arrived in Rome, the story changed completely. I thought we were going to walk briskly from one thing to the subway to the next thing to the subway to the next thing. I didn't know everyone wanted to go INTO the Vatican (on Sunday, with loads and loads of people there, and we didn't actually end up being allowed to enter) and then INTO the Coliseum (50 minutes in line for 30 minutes of sightseeing inside), so by the time I got to the Roman bathhouses (and we didn't take a tour guide so I had no idea what anything was about) I was completely fed up with the whole sightseeing aspect of the day. I basically hate standing in line or having to wait unnecessary amounts of time by choice for things, I just feel that life is too short. If I were doing this my way, I would have bought us advance tickets to be able to bypass all these bullshit lines and I would have found out when the Vatican was freely open to the public, but I'm not in charge of all this stuff and I'm not interested in seeing more than half of it. This dated back to the last family vacation I went on in Las Vegas where everyone desperately wanted to sign up for a 6 hour bus ride (one way, 12 hours total bussing on the day) for a 1-hour visit to the Grand Canyon. I wanted to see the Grand Canyon, but I wasn't so desperate that I'd murder a whole day that could be spent relaxing or seeing a show or basically doing any other fucking thing, being crammed into a bus driving through Nevada and then Arizona, I think.
I want to see the Sistine Chapel, but only the Sistine chapel, not all of the Vatican. If it means having to go and see all of it, and if it means fighting off ridiculous crowds of tourists, and if it means having to do a whole second day of sightseeing, I'd rather opt out, and that's what I did. Tomorrow, I'm going to wake up whenever the hell I wake up, I'm going to go into Rome and walk around for a bit and eat something, maybe two or three hours tops, then go back to the hotel. There's no sense in ruining everyone else's vacation by complaining in line. I snapped at my parents again today, first my Dad thought he could take a short-cut through some other street to get us to the subway faster, then we got lost at a five-point intersection and my mom randomly suggests without looking at the map at all that some road she points to "should" get us to the subway, and I yell out "There is no 'should'!" People shouldn't guess things at random like that, you either know where you're going because you've read the map, or you haven't read the map so you know nothing. It's something to which I will have to acclimate myself, because in reality everybody guesses wildly all the time, I suppose it's only in professions like mine where someone gets called out on a daily basis for absurd guesswork with no information whatsoever. And that asshole I sent the email to hasn't replied to my email about renting a bike. Does nobody in this continent want my money more than the black people and brown people selling garbage on the street?
Saturday, 18 May 2013
Europe Day 8
I was quite concerned when, upon pulling into the parking lot next to the leaning tower of Piza, we noticed several African and Indian vendors, one of whom actually walked all the way up to our car and followed the car until we parked it. I thought to myself, why would anyone buy from these people? If only everyone were like me, none of these souvenir vendors or street hawkers would be around. I believe photographs are the best souvenirs. Photographs are:
1) An accurate visual representation of the visit or landmark, albeit two-dimensional
2) Free (cost of physical photo paper notwithstanding)
3) Readily available in unlimited supply (assuming a life-long quality camera)
4) Digital for many people, and therefore
5) 100% portable
Add souvenir shops and street vendors to the list of people who would go broke if everyone were like me.
We arrived in Rome by 9 pm (4 stops) and I found the hotel to be better in quality than any other I have stayed in so far this trip. Tomorrow will be interesting with transit to and from Rome (the hotel is 20 k from Rome) but I'm most interested for now in the road bike rental in Mestre, I must hound that man a bit more tomorrow to see if he will reply to my e-mail with a quote on my rental. I shouldn't have thought about it any further, but alas, I allowed myself to dream that one thing in this vacation may actually go my way. More tomorrow.
1) An accurate visual representation of the visit or landmark, albeit two-dimensional
2) Free (cost of physical photo paper notwithstanding)
3) Readily available in unlimited supply (assuming a life-long quality camera)
4) Digital for many people, and therefore
5) 100% portable
Add souvenir shops and street vendors to the list of people who would go broke if everyone were like me.
We arrived in Rome by 9 pm (4 stops) and I found the hotel to be better in quality than any other I have stayed in so far this trip. Tomorrow will be interesting with transit to and from Rome (the hotel is 20 k from Rome) but I'm most interested for now in the road bike rental in Mestre, I must hound that man a bit more tomorrow to see if he will reply to my e-mail with a quote on my rental. I shouldn't have thought about it any further, but alas, I allowed myself to dream that one thing in this vacation may actually go my way. More tomorrow.
Europe Day 7
On day 7, we found out that parking in the hotel garage is extra and some other bullshit, honestly I stopped listening after a while when the receptionist continued to explain how awfully snobbish her hotel was, charging for laundering towels and for "opening the phone line". I thought i could at least get my bike ride done, so I went to the bike rental store (~30 min. walk, no free cabs) and found out they wanted a credit card to be able to reserve the bike. Then I walked back to the hotel and my parents urged me to try again, this time with their credit card, so we all started walking down the promenade. My dad and i continued on while my mom, sister and cousin stopped to sit by the pebble beach, and when him and I finally made it back to the rental place, we found out it was closed. From 12 pm to 3 pm in the afternoon. What a bunch of lazy sons of bitches. The one thing I was looking forward to doing in Europe and I didn't get to do it, and now I'm gonna get dragged on to Rome and Venice and all these other places to go around "seeing" things that I don't really want to see because it would just be unbearably exhausting to do so. I know I sound like I'm whining, but the honest truth is that I don't actually have the stamina to walk all over Paris (or Rome, for that matter) in a day just to see these historic things that I would read about in books or watch documentaries about on TV. I barely know anything about them. I would be content to get a map, cross out the supposed "bad areas" and then just go walking through the city, and of I stumble upon something then fine, if I don't then fine. On the way back to the hotel, I stopped by a bike store (something the rental place told me did not exist around here, what a bunch of morons) and the bike shop owner impressed the hell out of me. The manager of my bike shop in Toronto is obese, always concerned with whatever is going on at his computer, and doesn't look or sound like he has done a lot of riding either recreationally or professionally. He's a good guy and he's tried his best in the past to hook me up, so i respect him for having those qualities for sure, but he's not this guy. This guy looks like he's put back a few hundred thousand miles on his custom carbon bike (which was hanging in the shop, i instantly picked it out as being radically different from the other stuff he had hanging there), and he actually admitted that the French aren't as into cycling as they would like to believe. He said that the functionality of cycling, the attitude toward cycling, and the style of riding in France has not impressed him at all when he compared it against that of two other countries in the Union: Holland and Germany. Looks like those are where the next European vacation should be. Or I'll just not go there because this vacation was so shitty. He showed me his bike, and one thing of which I can be proud is that, when he asked me to guess the weight of the bike, I was off by only 200 grams, (i said 6.8 kilos, he answered that it was 7). I went back home to a dark empty hotel room, resting my feet on a sofa bed. At least nothing bad can happen if I don't try to do anything.
I eventually regained the energy to go back out, and ended up buying goat cheese, caviar, prosciutto, black tapenade, smoked salmon and crackers at a nearby carrefour. I made an assortment of hors d'oeuvres in the room, and my family was presently surprised upon returning to the hotel. Later that day, after the internet connection was made, I sheepishly searched on the internet for a bike rental place in Mestre, the town in which we are staying which is near Venice. I found one, and fired out an e-mail. The next day (Day 8), I called and actually got someone on the line, and he said he would get back to me with a quote by the end of the day. He has not yet done so, but still, there is hope. In these parts, that sort of unconditional hope can be a terribly dangerous thing.
At the grocery store, I wanted a plastic bag and asked for one, and the cashier answered that it was 12 centi. The man in line behind me offered to get it for me. That was, quite literally, the highlight of my day. That and guessing the weight of that retired pro's bike. That cannot be taken from me. As under 15 lbs. is the unofficial, unspoken yet understood standard for any race bike, that I guessed correctly is also honestly worth basically nothing.
Europe Day 6
I got a fresh taste of French assholery on Day 6 when my waiter told me I couldn't sit in the back of the restaurant because it was, and I quote, "for dinner". Two sets of doors were open, despite it being 9 degrees Celsius outside (to the one american who views this blog multiple times a day, I'm not sure what that is in dog years). He directed me toward a table that was directly in front of one set of open doors, and I asked if he could close the doors. Then he said that he would close the other set of doors, but not "these doors", and I think this may have had something to do with evil spirits the waiter encountered on his vision quest because, hell, I'm telling the story I can spice it up if I wish. Then he collected orders from the five of us and forgot mine, just took all the menus and started walking away. Being sick of Europe 120 hours prior to this event, I yelled out "Excuse me!" and he turned around, along with everyone else in the restaurant. Then he took my order, prick French bastard. I ordered tapas again, and fresh-squeezed orange juice. Apparently I am now one of those stuffed shirts who prefers his orange juice fresh squeezed, and preferences are not welcome in my comparatively-low-income (family medicine not opthalmology) 4-child-family future. My wife is going to be so angry with me. Why do we have to occupy counter space with a press that only makes one type of juice, she'll nag. Because the other stupid juicers aren't as easy to clean, I'll yell from my bike repair station in the basement.
My mom wanted to buy a commemorative plate with our picture printed on it. I know, right? That delayed our trip from Lourdes to Nice significantly. We also stopped by a couple of souvenir shops, much to my father's chagrin because it was decided, after our little uphill scare, that I cannot drive the car because I am "not trained at manual driving" and may incur the same minor repair-not-needed problem that I incurred on Day 5. My Dad doesn't handle distance driving as aggressively as I do (stop only to fill gas or urinate, eat in the car, bring coffee and get it done) so we made a couple of longer stops for food and for toilet/coffee, and we ended up getting into Nice a good 2 hours later than the GPS said we would arrive. Then the GPS got confused in Nice because all the roads are very close together and turnoffs are in abundance. My Dad basically can't read road signs at all at night, and for some reason refuses to wear his glasses while he's driving (not that we suggested at the time, I'm just assuming this because he didn't have them on) and he also has exactly zero experience using a gps on his own to get around, so I was navigating us the whole time, and on the hill to the hotel there were two turnoffs and I ended up directing him into the wrong one. Now my Dad went into a tight downhill next to the hotel and had to be directed back up, but he got into this inexperience-related problem of the car rolling downward every time he tried to reverse uphill. This was very concerning for us as the downhill was, for some reason, lined by large metal poles and other small cars. When we finally made it back up the hill, I delayed directing him toward the turn for the hotel beecaaaauuussseee the gate was closed. I went up there and found out the reception closes at 7 pm. Luckily someone else was already there trying to get into the hotel, and actually owned a French phone, so she called the emergency line and they said that we had to park on the street for the night because they didn't know the code to open the "big gate" but we could open the "small gate" and get ourselves and our bags into our rooms. This whole process took 45 minutes.
Upon entering the hotel, we found out that the internet costs 5 euros, "opening" the phone line costs 5 euros, and using any of the towels given to us wrapped in plastic cost some unspecified amount of money as well. There were also no easily accessed open restaurants, because we didn't want to move the car from the spot we had found and we didn't want to walk "30-35 minutes" to the beach restaurants, or so one passer-by estimated. We dined on sugary treats that night and I went to sleep thinking well, at least I get to rent that bike tomorrow.
My mom wanted to buy a commemorative plate with our picture printed on it. I know, right? That delayed our trip from Lourdes to Nice significantly. We also stopped by a couple of souvenir shops, much to my father's chagrin because it was decided, after our little uphill scare, that I cannot drive the car because I am "not trained at manual driving" and may incur the same minor repair-not-needed problem that I incurred on Day 5. My Dad doesn't handle distance driving as aggressively as I do (stop only to fill gas or urinate, eat in the car, bring coffee and get it done) so we made a couple of longer stops for food and for toilet/coffee, and we ended up getting into Nice a good 2 hours later than the GPS said we would arrive. Then the GPS got confused in Nice because all the roads are very close together and turnoffs are in abundance. My Dad basically can't read road signs at all at night, and for some reason refuses to wear his glasses while he's driving (not that we suggested at the time, I'm just assuming this because he didn't have them on) and he also has exactly zero experience using a gps on his own to get around, so I was navigating us the whole time, and on the hill to the hotel there were two turnoffs and I ended up directing him into the wrong one. Now my Dad went into a tight downhill next to the hotel and had to be directed back up, but he got into this inexperience-related problem of the car rolling downward every time he tried to reverse uphill. This was very concerning for us as the downhill was, for some reason, lined by large metal poles and other small cars. When we finally made it back up the hill, I delayed directing him toward the turn for the hotel beecaaaauuussseee the gate was closed. I went up there and found out the reception closes at 7 pm. Luckily someone else was already there trying to get into the hotel, and actually owned a French phone, so she called the emergency line and they said that we had to park on the street for the night because they didn't know the code to open the "big gate" but we could open the "small gate" and get ourselves and our bags into our rooms. This whole process took 45 minutes.
Upon entering the hotel, we found out that the internet costs 5 euros, "opening" the phone line costs 5 euros, and using any of the towels given to us wrapped in plastic cost some unspecified amount of money as well. There were also no easily accessed open restaurants, because we didn't want to move the car from the spot we had found and we didn't want to walk "30-35 minutes" to the beach restaurants, or so one passer-by estimated. We dined on sugary treats that night and I went to sleep thinking well, at least I get to rent that bike tomorrow.
Friday, 17 May 2013
Europe Day 5
Day 5 is Europe was much slower than the other days, which was a welcome change. We woke up in Lourdes and, for breakfast (brunch) I ate a full plate of French tapas which, according to these people, is an assortment of cheese and meat. This is the same thing I plan to offer my Romanian friend in exchange for helping me load my "valuables" into the truck before I head off to Pittsburgh.
We then began the ceremonial taking too much time in the souvenir shops, and this time my strategy was airtight. I was to find a chair in each and every tourist shop and occupy it until I heard an irritated "come on we're leaving" from any member of my party. The first shop had no stool or chair, but we were not in there very long because there was this one woman who kept hovering over my mom expecting her to decide quickly what she wanted to buy and vomit up sales for the shop. I didn't quite notice that, because I was too busy reacting to the bitch who tutted when I brushed one of her glass cases (empty glass cases) in her tiny aisles, and then when I apologized, she had the dirtiest look on her face and shook her head. I left, promptly. My mom joined me later and I found out that she wanted to "only look at things" in the shop after she was hovered over, but all the same she didn't actually leave the shop outright.
The next shop had a sofa on which to sit, which was a very good thing indeed because we were there for literally 40 minutes. Many euros were spent overall on souvenirs in Lourdes. Having to see the grotto in pouring rain was very uncomfortable, because I completely forgot to pack a rain jacket.
At some point in Lourdes, we wanted to go and see some caves, so I figured well, this is an excellent time for me to try out the little I know of manual transmission driving. It was going quite well, until we got to this massive hill and I floored the car unnecessarily while holding on to the clutch, and that precipitated this funny smell from the engine. We stopped on a hill after encountering this smell, and then upon popping the hood we noticed a light smoke. Everybody started the customary freakout based on complete lack of knowledge of how a car, let alone a manual car, actually works. There should really be seminars for this sort of thing. After determining, mostly by guesswork, that it was safe to drive, we drove it home and then to the nearest mechanic, who did not speak a word of English. I did not get the meaning of the word "embrillage" and I still haven't found it, but rest assured that I will look it up soon enough.
I realized on day 5 that I need to start being more relaxed about things in general. I can't metaphorically put all my eggs in one basket for a week's vacation time every 3 months in residency, because what happens if the week is lousy? Then am I to be angry for the subsequent 3 months? It doesn't make sense. Also, my sister explained to me that this was probably the last vacation we would have as a family, so I should try to take whatever little joy there is to be had out of that whenever possible. My sister is enjoying the vacation a lot more than I am. Perhaps she is the more patient one. It's more likely that I'm the one who actively avoids situations such as the one I'm currently in. I hear Barrie is nice this time of year.
We then began the ceremonial taking too much time in the souvenir shops, and this time my strategy was airtight. I was to find a chair in each and every tourist shop and occupy it until I heard an irritated "come on we're leaving" from any member of my party. The first shop had no stool or chair, but we were not in there very long because there was this one woman who kept hovering over my mom expecting her to decide quickly what she wanted to buy and vomit up sales for the shop. I didn't quite notice that, because I was too busy reacting to the bitch who tutted when I brushed one of her glass cases (empty glass cases) in her tiny aisles, and then when I apologized, she had the dirtiest look on her face and shook her head. I left, promptly. My mom joined me later and I found out that she wanted to "only look at things" in the shop after she was hovered over, but all the same she didn't actually leave the shop outright.
The next shop had a sofa on which to sit, which was a very good thing indeed because we were there for literally 40 minutes. Many euros were spent overall on souvenirs in Lourdes. Having to see the grotto in pouring rain was very uncomfortable, because I completely forgot to pack a rain jacket.
At some point in Lourdes, we wanted to go and see some caves, so I figured well, this is an excellent time for me to try out the little I know of manual transmission driving. It was going quite well, until we got to this massive hill and I floored the car unnecessarily while holding on to the clutch, and that precipitated this funny smell from the engine. We stopped on a hill after encountering this smell, and then upon popping the hood we noticed a light smoke. Everybody started the customary freakout based on complete lack of knowledge of how a car, let alone a manual car, actually works. There should really be seminars for this sort of thing. After determining, mostly by guesswork, that it was safe to drive, we drove it home and then to the nearest mechanic, who did not speak a word of English. I did not get the meaning of the word "embrillage" and I still haven't found it, but rest assured that I will look it up soon enough.
I realized on day 5 that I need to start being more relaxed about things in general. I can't metaphorically put all my eggs in one basket for a week's vacation time every 3 months in residency, because what happens if the week is lousy? Then am I to be angry for the subsequent 3 months? It doesn't make sense. Also, my sister explained to me that this was probably the last vacation we would have as a family, so I should try to take whatever little joy there is to be had out of that whenever possible. My sister is enjoying the vacation a lot more than I am. Perhaps she is the more patient one. It's more likely that I'm the one who actively avoids situations such as the one I'm currently in. I hear Barrie is nice this time of year.
Wednesday, 15 May 2013
Europe Day 4
Day 4 was quite possibly the worst day I have ever had on vacation, in the history of history. We went to pick te car up early that morning (because we were in a mad rush to leave the house) and we found out the car was a manual. Seriously. We were almost ready to cancel the rental when a quick 40 seconds of processing led us to the conclusion that it would be impossible to continue the trip without the car. I could have sworn i saw an automatic gearbox in the car I was shown that day, but having a rental agent put the exact sane car in front of ou tends to make you doubt yourself. Apparently "manual would be difficult" in Paris means "manual is 100% impossible". Then we had to drive a car that was incapable of flight through the streets of Paris, on a quarter tank of gas, which was simply unimaginable. it is needless to say that we couldn't find parking at the hotel, and then when we did, the parking meter wouldnt take coins so there was this added frustration of my dad not wanting to use his credit card in paris.
All this built up and resulted in me 1) not eating breakfast and 2) not being able to call my bike rental place. Then i had to navigate my dad to a gas station, without having any exact directions as to how to get to one. I stepped out to fill gas, and then the attendant basically mumbled to himself while looking at me when i asked him if i pay first or pay after filling (because the pump didnt initially work). I got even more steamed with all this and so you could only imagine my anger when my mom asked "so how did it go?" I said "not well" and then she asked "so you didnt fill gas?" indicating that she was completely oblivious to what was going on in the car around her. I snapped and yelled at her "Of course we filled gas!" My dad insisted i calm down, and this was the point at which i realized that my mom has basically zero capacity for filtering the questions she asks. She doesnt give any forethought as to what the answer could be or usually is, she never pays attention when she doesnt have to, and she relies on others whenever she wants to in order to process information for her. It saddened me to discover this, or rather realize the extent to which it occurs with her, because it showed that, all the times when i've tried politely to explain why her questions were unnecessary, she has completely ignored me.
Then there was this long, painful drive to Lourdes (painful because I wasn't driving) and that night was the absolute worst night because i wanted to skip things the next day and sleep in, but my mom essentially wouldnt allow me to not partake in things. We were in Lourdes, and i am an atheist, so was not at all interested in seeing the grotto or random caves. I went to sleep pissed on day 4. I banged my hands against a bathroom wall in anger and i ended up injuring my wrists. It was not a good day, because i realized that i never want to go on vacation with my family again. Whenever i go on one of these trips, there is just too much of what everyone else wants to do, and not enough of what i want to do, and there's barely enough time in which to do it. I wanted to relax before residency began, and so far i havent achieved that in Europe at all. Bullshit.
All this built up and resulted in me 1) not eating breakfast and 2) not being able to call my bike rental place. Then i had to navigate my dad to a gas station, without having any exact directions as to how to get to one. I stepped out to fill gas, and then the attendant basically mumbled to himself while looking at me when i asked him if i pay first or pay after filling (because the pump didnt initially work). I got even more steamed with all this and so you could only imagine my anger when my mom asked "so how did it go?" I said "not well" and then she asked "so you didnt fill gas?" indicating that she was completely oblivious to what was going on in the car around her. I snapped and yelled at her "Of course we filled gas!" My dad insisted i calm down, and this was the point at which i realized that my mom has basically zero capacity for filtering the questions she asks. She doesnt give any forethought as to what the answer could be or usually is, she never pays attention when she doesnt have to, and she relies on others whenever she wants to in order to process information for her. It saddened me to discover this, or rather realize the extent to which it occurs with her, because it showed that, all the times when i've tried politely to explain why her questions were unnecessary, she has completely ignored me.
Then there was this long, painful drive to Lourdes (painful because I wasn't driving) and that night was the absolute worst night because i wanted to skip things the next day and sleep in, but my mom essentially wouldnt allow me to not partake in things. We were in Lourdes, and i am an atheist, so was not at all interested in seeing the grotto or random caves. I went to sleep pissed on day 4. I banged my hands against a bathroom wall in anger and i ended up injuring my wrists. It was not a good day, because i realized that i never want to go on vacation with my family again. Whenever i go on one of these trips, there is just too much of what everyone else wants to do, and not enough of what i want to do, and there's barely enough time in which to do it. I wanted to relax before residency began, and so far i havent achieved that in Europe at all. Bullshit.
Europe, Day 3
I'm sitting on a mall bench at Forum des Halles, an underground mall in Paris. My parents are convinced that they need to buy sweaters if they are to enjoy their vacation, as the weather in Paris has been inclement of late in the sense that it isn't 25 degrees hot here.
Day 3 began at 8 am, I took my 5 hours of sleep like a champ and was ready to leave in 15 minutes. However, nobody else was as quick to get ready, nor were they in any hurry to leave for breakfast. There was a dynamic change of plans this morning based on one thing; availability. The initial plan was to take a maxi cab to the Louvre and then back home later. Upon calling the maxi cab station in the morning, we found out that all the maxi cabs were booked until noon (who knows how far in advance we'd have to call to get a cab.) once again Europe has let me down. The remaining option is to take a bus and train, so following a quick concensus on the only options we have as non-painfully-in-advance tourists, we decided to plan the day a bit in advance to avoid getting lost on the commute. We then tried to set up a boat tour, only to find 1) most tours are full-day, 40 euros in cost and upwards, and include a dinner or bus ride, all of which is totally unecessary to us. After dancelling the boat tour, the entire day blew wide open, somewhat anyway. We had a nice cheap (and mostly microwaved) breakfast (the best part was the fresh-squeezed orange juice) and we headed to the louvre.
The Mona Lisa is the most overhyped, underwhelming painting in the history of art. What a joke it was to see literally 70 people concentrically crammed in front of this thing with cameras shooting photo and video, most not even knowing whose wife was in the oicture or why the picture is famous. I don't pretend to be a skilled art critic or art historian, but as my romanian friend mentioned, there were a great many paintings and art works in the museum that seemed vastly more impressive than the Mona Lisa. We went through the miseum so quickly that we didnt see an entire third of it, and honestly the artworks we saw didnt seem to be on a profiundly higher level than thag we would find in the Royal Ontario Museum or the AGO, save perhaps for a few oversized canvasses in the italian section.
Following the Louvre (again, all hype), we went to Notre Dame, which was surprisingly close. once there, though, i was once again thoroughly underwhelmed. I thought the ceilings were high, but € 8.50 just to climb to the top? And the towers were closed by the time we got to them? And my family spent 45 minutes in the thing while I was chilling outside? All a bit excessive in my opinion.
The third day ended with more only-in-Paris bullshit. Only in Paris would a boat ride only run a segment that goes to four places, two of which cannot be stopped at because of high water, one of which is closed. For € 19. With no information on the tour, just a quiet ride around. My cousin was really keen on it though, so while we had to abandon it that day, I am really going to push for it on the day when we loop back to Paris, simply because it sounds like a phenomenal last day (sitting).
We ate dinner at a tourist trap, but we did eat a decent amount of french food, which made it okay. My sister thought her fish fillet was duck. She ordered duck, got a fish fillet, and everyone at the table forgot that she had ordered duck. It really was quite classic.
We got lost on the subway ride home. Nothing bad happened, i just...didn't need the extra fatigue from seeing all that was seen that day.
I ate a full jar of caviar on day 3. Most for pre-breakfast breakfast and the rest for dinner. I forgot to mention that the freshest OJ on Earth (the best part) was part of a €5 breakfast on day 3 morning, which was liked by all.
Day 3 began at 8 am, I took my 5 hours of sleep like a champ and was ready to leave in 15 minutes. However, nobody else was as quick to get ready, nor were they in any hurry to leave for breakfast. There was a dynamic change of plans this morning based on one thing; availability. The initial plan was to take a maxi cab to the Louvre and then back home later. Upon calling the maxi cab station in the morning, we found out that all the maxi cabs were booked until noon (who knows how far in advance we'd have to call to get a cab.) once again Europe has let me down. The remaining option is to take a bus and train, so following a quick concensus on the only options we have as non-painfully-in-advance tourists, we decided to plan the day a bit in advance to avoid getting lost on the commute. We then tried to set up a boat tour, only to find 1) most tours are full-day, 40 euros in cost and upwards, and include a dinner or bus ride, all of which is totally unecessary to us. After dancelling the boat tour, the entire day blew wide open, somewhat anyway. We had a nice cheap (and mostly microwaved) breakfast (the best part was the fresh-squeezed orange juice) and we headed to the louvre.
The Mona Lisa is the most overhyped, underwhelming painting in the history of art. What a joke it was to see literally 70 people concentrically crammed in front of this thing with cameras shooting photo and video, most not even knowing whose wife was in the oicture or why the picture is famous. I don't pretend to be a skilled art critic or art historian, but as my romanian friend mentioned, there were a great many paintings and art works in the museum that seemed vastly more impressive than the Mona Lisa. We went through the miseum so quickly that we didnt see an entire third of it, and honestly the artworks we saw didnt seem to be on a profiundly higher level than thag we would find in the Royal Ontario Museum or the AGO, save perhaps for a few oversized canvasses in the italian section.
Following the Louvre (again, all hype), we went to Notre Dame, which was surprisingly close. once there, though, i was once again thoroughly underwhelmed. I thought the ceilings were high, but € 8.50 just to climb to the top? And the towers were closed by the time we got to them? And my family spent 45 minutes in the thing while I was chilling outside? All a bit excessive in my opinion.
The third day ended with more only-in-Paris bullshit. Only in Paris would a boat ride only run a segment that goes to four places, two of which cannot be stopped at because of high water, one of which is closed. For € 19. With no information on the tour, just a quiet ride around. My cousin was really keen on it though, so while we had to abandon it that day, I am really going to push for it on the day when we loop back to Paris, simply because it sounds like a phenomenal last day (sitting).
We ate dinner at a tourist trap, but we did eat a decent amount of french food, which made it okay. My sister thought her fish fillet was duck. She ordered duck, got a fish fillet, and everyone at the table forgot that she had ordered duck. It really was quite classic.
We got lost on the subway ride home. Nothing bad happened, i just...didn't need the extra fatigue from seeing all that was seen that day.
I ate a full jar of caviar on day 3. Most for pre-breakfast breakfast and the rest for dinner. I forgot to mention that the freshest OJ on Earth (the best part) was part of a €5 breakfast on day 3 morning, which was liked by all.
Europe , Day 2
I woke up at 8 am as planned. Now it's 8 45 am, and I'm waiting until 9 30 for the rest of my party to be ready. Of course the first thing I think of is journal writing.
Day 2 began with a lot less sleep than I expected, but enough to tide me over and not make me regret coming to Paris entirely (as if the previous day hadn't done that already).
We ate breakfast downstairs at the hotel, and while we felt that certain things were uniquely French, we were decidedly surprised when 1) the breakfast was not included as told earlier on and 2) priced at €14.50. We were granted the breakfast as free as a courtesy and would be charged for any susequent breakfast (which never happened). I talked to the front desk, and they planned to air out the room until night and then switch me if i found the room unsatifactory (basically the guy on dity at night was a complete dick). Then we took the subway to the Eiffel tower. The subway ride wasnt bad, and then we looked at it a fair bit and took some photos. It wasn't as tall as the CN tower, and we didn't have a tour guide woth us so I honestly didn't know what was special about it, but it did look nice.
We then went to L'Arc de Triomphe, which was quite nice. However, the trip then took a turn for the much-worse when we decided to search the area for lunch. My family and I are (thankfully) decidedly frugal when it comes to eating out, and I don't believe that 20+ euros is a reasonable price for a meal. Unfortunately, many restaurants on the Champs Elysees are overpriced (per us anyway) and we ended up walking 25 minutes just to find a decent place at which to eat lunch. We ended up at an Italian place, eating some more pizza as we had done the day before for dinner. The frenchest thing i did that meal was to order a cappucino.
Following the lunch, we wandered toward a souvenir shop and the war musem, and that somehow killed three jours. My waiting for a public bathroom in France was a 40-minute affair (apparently they auto-clean) but it was totally worth it since i then found out the "two storey" climb up the eiffel tower was 700 steps. I was not at all prepared for physical activity that day, though I do at times fancy myself a bit of an athlete.
The top of the eiffel tower was wonderful. But it was crowded, and it was cold. I realized once again why Paris has such a negative attitude toward tourists ( from what I've. Seen anyway ). The wait for the elevator down was also unpleasant. It took an hour and 20 minutes total to descend the eiffel tower, and 40 minutes of that hour and 20 were spent outside in the cold, damp May Paris weather, which was quite unappealing. Then we had to take the subway home, which I simply did not want to do at the time, but tolerated fairly well. By then i started to realize that I couldn't honestly say I enjoy the "let's walk 8 miles a day and see everything" vacation. Anyway, I came home tired and went to bed. The room didn't smell. Day 2 was better than day 1.
Day 2 began with a lot less sleep than I expected, but enough to tide me over and not make me regret coming to Paris entirely (as if the previous day hadn't done that already).
We ate breakfast downstairs at the hotel, and while we felt that certain things were uniquely French, we were decidedly surprised when 1) the breakfast was not included as told earlier on and 2) priced at €14.50. We were granted the breakfast as free as a courtesy and would be charged for any susequent breakfast (which never happened). I talked to the front desk, and they planned to air out the room until night and then switch me if i found the room unsatifactory (basically the guy on dity at night was a complete dick). Then we took the subway to the Eiffel tower. The subway ride wasnt bad, and then we looked at it a fair bit and took some photos. It wasn't as tall as the CN tower, and we didn't have a tour guide woth us so I honestly didn't know what was special about it, but it did look nice.
We then went to L'Arc de Triomphe, which was quite nice. However, the trip then took a turn for the much-worse when we decided to search the area for lunch. My family and I are (thankfully) decidedly frugal when it comes to eating out, and I don't believe that 20+ euros is a reasonable price for a meal. Unfortunately, many restaurants on the Champs Elysees are overpriced (per us anyway) and we ended up walking 25 minutes just to find a decent place at which to eat lunch. We ended up at an Italian place, eating some more pizza as we had done the day before for dinner. The frenchest thing i did that meal was to order a cappucino.
Following the lunch, we wandered toward a souvenir shop and the war musem, and that somehow killed three jours. My waiting for a public bathroom in France was a 40-minute affair (apparently they auto-clean) but it was totally worth it since i then found out the "two storey" climb up the eiffel tower was 700 steps. I was not at all prepared for physical activity that day, though I do at times fancy myself a bit of an athlete.
The top of the eiffel tower was wonderful. But it was crowded, and it was cold. I realized once again why Paris has such a negative attitude toward tourists ( from what I've. Seen anyway ). The wait for the elevator down was also unpleasant. It took an hour and 20 minutes total to descend the eiffel tower, and 40 minutes of that hour and 20 were spent outside in the cold, damp May Paris weather, which was quite unappealing. Then we had to take the subway home, which I simply did not want to do at the time, but tolerated fairly well. By then i started to realize that I couldn't honestly say I enjoy the "let's walk 8 miles a day and see everything" vacation. Anyway, I came home tired and went to bed. The room didn't smell. Day 2 was better than day 1.
Sunday, 12 May 2013
Europe : The first 24 hours
I'm in a hotel in Paris, it's 2 am, and I just had to blog. I knew that, if I waited until the end of the trip, I wouldn't get in as much detail as if I staggered my entries. So here we go.
The plane flight was uneventful, except for when the crew gave some poorly timed announcements regarding the in-flight equipment ie. through turbulence. "Attention all passengers, we seem to be having a slight technical problem-(PLANE SHAKES)- "...with the video entertainment system. We can't reset it and we've tried three times, so there will be no video entertainment on tonight's flight. We do apologize for the inconvenience." First thought ? I should have packed my survival kit.
The moment we got into the airport in Paris, I began to see why coming to a country where the locals are fatted with tourism was a major mistake. We all arrived at the Avis car rental booth to learn that the car available to us was one with manual transmission, not automatic transmission as promised over the phone. After being ensured the rental would be refunded, we cancelled the rental and tried to rent at the other booths, and then promptly found there was no car of the size we required at any rental areas available in automatic transmission from any of the other booths. The Hertz rent-a-car agent actually insulted us over the phone with his colleague, and he immediately assumed in doing so that neither of us know French (I'm bilingual). I could ascertain that hWe then decided to hire a cab to take us to the hotel while we planned our next move. Then the cab agent counted wrong and we had to wait 30 minutes for a cab that carried 5 people plus a driver to arrive. I manage to find humour in the oddest places, and this was one of them. Hiring a cab from the cab stand was a huge production for a party of five travellers such as ourselves, and I was reminded of the movie "Taken" where the two girls are asked by their future kidnapper if they would like to "Share a cab" at the airport cab stand because "It's cheaper". I joked with my family that, if someone like that came up to us, we would immediately acquiesce, and then the would-be kidnapper would spend more time trying to find a cab that would fit all of us than they would spend kidnapping us.
Our cab driver was wearing a bomber jacket, designer jeans and nice sunglasses. Basically, the man looked like a runway model. He did not make any conversation whatsoever. The hotel misbooked our three- and two-room quarters so I ended up getting a third room to myself, on the house. I later found out that someone had smoked in my room, but we'll get to that later.
We went to search for a large, automatic car rental, and ended up walking around Paris for about 30-35 minutes. We had to wait until the receptionist had found us directions to the rental place because the hotel wi-fi did not work in the rooms. It was tiring to walk to the rental area from the hotel, but not as much for me as for my parents, who are completely out of shape and made no effort to improve on their physical activity prior to this trip, knowing full well how much activity it would include. I've decided to stop trying to convince my parents to exercise and eat well, as my advice is falling on deaf ears. Anyway, on the way back, my mother got winded walking up a gentle grade for a distance of about 200 metres. That's about the time I decided to stop trying to convince them that they need exercise.
We hire a car and the trip is slightly better as a result, but now we're still horribly jet-lagged and sleepy and hungry. We stop at a French-Italian restaurant (of which we have found many in Paris) and ate our fill, and had more left over for later.
Upon returning to my room, I noticed the smell of smoke and, upon notifying the receptionist of this, he blankly said "There's nothing we can do tonight, it is forbidden to smoke in the rooms (even though they have no smoke detectors so there's no actual way of enforcing this forbiddance) and we cannot change the room now because we are all full." This man clearly does not care at all that I have rented a room, and was unwilling to even move from his seat to verify the smell of smoke in the room. At that point, I had just about had it with Paris. I was convinced that nobody should ever come here on vacation, because the city is so overrun with tourists that nobody even cares whether or not a tourist dislikes their business.
It's 3 am now (I spent a while planning a bike route through Nice) so I'm going to bed. My vacation became much more enjoyable on the second day, but I will back-write about that tomorrow. I need to wake up at 8 am tomorrow to see the Louvre.
I did forget to mention one thing. When I boarded the plane, I looked at the stewardess who was greeting all the passengers and said "If there are any medical emergencies on this flight, please let me know" and she smiled and, as she was pulling out her pen , said "Thanks so much, and you are a...?" I replied "I'm a doctor." and she said "Doctor, awesome." She wrote my seat number on the palm of her hand for reference. Why? (Inhales slowly while everyone reading this prepares to roll their eyes) Because I'm somebody now.
The plane flight was uneventful, except for when the crew gave some poorly timed announcements regarding the in-flight equipment ie. through turbulence. "Attention all passengers, we seem to be having a slight technical problem-(PLANE SHAKES)- "...with the video entertainment system. We can't reset it and we've tried three times, so there will be no video entertainment on tonight's flight. We do apologize for the inconvenience." First thought ? I should have packed my survival kit.
The moment we got into the airport in Paris, I began to see why coming to a country where the locals are fatted with tourism was a major mistake. We all arrived at the Avis car rental booth to learn that the car available to us was one with manual transmission, not automatic transmission as promised over the phone. After being ensured the rental would be refunded, we cancelled the rental and tried to rent at the other booths, and then promptly found there was no car of the size we required at any rental areas available in automatic transmission from any of the other booths. The Hertz rent-a-car agent actually insulted us over the phone with his colleague, and he immediately assumed in doing so that neither of us know French (I'm bilingual). I could ascertain that hWe then decided to hire a cab to take us to the hotel while we planned our next move. Then the cab agent counted wrong and we had to wait 30 minutes for a cab that carried 5 people plus a driver to arrive. I manage to find humour in the oddest places, and this was one of them. Hiring a cab from the cab stand was a huge production for a party of five travellers such as ourselves, and I was reminded of the movie "Taken" where the two girls are asked by their future kidnapper if they would like to "Share a cab" at the airport cab stand because "It's cheaper". I joked with my family that, if someone like that came up to us, we would immediately acquiesce, and then the would-be kidnapper would spend more time trying to find a cab that would fit all of us than they would spend kidnapping us.
Our cab driver was wearing a bomber jacket, designer jeans and nice sunglasses. Basically, the man looked like a runway model. He did not make any conversation whatsoever. The hotel misbooked our three- and two-room quarters so I ended up getting a third room to myself, on the house. I later found out that someone had smoked in my room, but we'll get to that later.
We went to search for a large, automatic car rental, and ended up walking around Paris for about 30-35 minutes. We had to wait until the receptionist had found us directions to the rental place because the hotel wi-fi did not work in the rooms. It was tiring to walk to the rental area from the hotel, but not as much for me as for my parents, who are completely out of shape and made no effort to improve on their physical activity prior to this trip, knowing full well how much activity it would include. I've decided to stop trying to convince my parents to exercise and eat well, as my advice is falling on deaf ears. Anyway, on the way back, my mother got winded walking up a gentle grade for a distance of about 200 metres. That's about the time I decided to stop trying to convince them that they need exercise.
We hire a car and the trip is slightly better as a result, but now we're still horribly jet-lagged and sleepy and hungry. We stop at a French-Italian restaurant (of which we have found many in Paris) and ate our fill, and had more left over for later.
Upon returning to my room, I noticed the smell of smoke and, upon notifying the receptionist of this, he blankly said "There's nothing we can do tonight, it is forbidden to smoke in the rooms (even though they have no smoke detectors so there's no actual way of enforcing this forbiddance) and we cannot change the room now because we are all full." This man clearly does not care at all that I have rented a room, and was unwilling to even move from his seat to verify the smell of smoke in the room. At that point, I had just about had it with Paris. I was convinced that nobody should ever come here on vacation, because the city is so overrun with tourists that nobody even cares whether or not a tourist dislikes their business.
It's 3 am now (I spent a while planning a bike route through Nice) so I'm going to bed. My vacation became much more enjoyable on the second day, but I will back-write about that tomorrow. I need to wake up at 8 am tomorrow to see the Louvre.
I did forget to mention one thing. When I boarded the plane, I looked at the stewardess who was greeting all the passengers and said "If there are any medical emergencies on this flight, please let me know" and she smiled and, as she was pulling out her pen , said "Thanks so much, and you are a...?" I replied "I'm a doctor." and she said "Doctor, awesome." She wrote my seat number on the palm of her hand for reference. Why? (Inhales slowly while everyone reading this prepares to roll their eyes) Because I'm somebody now.
Wednesday, 8 May 2013
How I bought a car and rented an apartment in 48 hours
I searched the internet extensively for a new car and a new place to stay in Pittsburgh. I searched in the usual places (autotrader and craigslist) and found some problem with each different apartment. I had never bought a used car before, so at the time I didn't see any problems with the cars I was viewing on the website. I rented a car from budget (a chevy spark, very unimpressive vehicle) and got there about 7 hours later. There was a lot of unnecessary traffic, people are just very greedy on the road nowadays. Luckily, I had my podcast (Stuff you should know) to keep my mind occupied and to avoid highway hypnosis.
I arrived at the hotel and found, for the first time, a front desk representative with a wicked sense of humour. I had seen this sense of humour before, but never up front. It was quite refreshing to say the least. I got to my room and set up, tooled around a fair bit, and then went to sleep. I went in for my pre-employment physical the next day, before my showings. The physical took a bit longer than expected, but it didn't change the fact that I had decided after booking showings in a certain area of town that I didn't want to live there at all. I ended up cancelling four showings in a row in order to get some extra time together with which to go check out what was at the time my dream car, a used 2008 honda civic with black exterior and leather interior. I made it to the used car dealership and discovered that nothing could be further from the truth. The honda had already been sold, despite being in the used car lot for flood damage, and most of the cars in the lot were declared total losses because of flood damage. Ten thousand dollars for a flood-water car? Seriously? Unfortunately I didn't get out of there quickly, as I spent a while on the phone while walking around the lot, trying to figure out what exactly was going on. I left as soon as I realized that none of the cars on this lot could be considered suitable for me to drive problem-free.
I showed up to the rental showing, and there was an elderly couple waiting at the door for me. The house was two floors, and in the top floor lived their son, a radiation technologist at some hospital, with his wife. On the bottom floor would potentially be me, with my two bedrooms, living room, dining room, kitchen, and bathroom. The first problem I noticed about this place was that the kitchen had no fume hood. No vent over the stove, no exhaust to suck in all the smoke generated from frying and baking. This was distressing to me as I normally aim to cook almost all of my meals when living on my own. The lady mentioned "but there is a window right next to the stove," which, to me, meant absolutely nothing. I walked into the bathroom, and noticed the commode (throne, shitter, water closet) was flush against the wall. This would mean that anyone looking to do the necessary would have to sit at an angle. The tour continued to the bedroom where I came upon a stuck wardrobe door (stuck meaning the rollers wouldn't roll properly on the tracks) and that's when the man said that he was going to fix the door before I would move in. I then asked who handles any electrical or plumbing-related repairs in the house, and the wife immediately gestured to her husband and said that he handles them. This was the last utterly displeasing aspect of the visit. If someone rents out a living space, they should be prepared to hand over complex repairs to a team of professionals, instead of wasting time by messing with things themselves. Furthermore, what guarantee do I have that an aging man will show up promptly to the house when something is wrong? He may be a bit of a handyman, but so am I. That doesn't mean I'm going to volunteer to fix every single problem that occurs with my rental property, it doesn't make sense and I wouldn't trust myself to do so efficiently. If he's taken this long (i.e. not even when there's a showing) to fix a wardrobe door, how is this guy going to do when my lights go out and it's not a simple breaker reset?
I asked if they would consider putting in an exhaust fan for the stove, and the man said "Forget it", so I forgot all of it and left. The day seemed like one sad disappointment after the next, and I went back to the apartment and booked another day of hotel stay (I had come all the way to Pittsburgh and had managed to find neither a car nor a home). I then ventured out for a burger and, on the way back, happened upon a Honda dealership. I strolled in and could tell the difference in professionalism between this dealership and the previous "wire fence, flags around the yard" used car dealership to which I had travelled. These guys didn't deal in wreck vehicles and they didn't hand you an itinerary and leave you to your own devices with their inventory. These guys were professionals, and they paired me up with a salesperson who took me individually through almost every car in the lot. The man wasn't pushy at all, he just wanted to get a good idea of the type of car for which I was looking.
We stumbled upon a 2007 toyota camry with a clean title. I did a small amount of pre-test drive haggling and the price went from 12,900 to 10,815 (the "website-listed price") and then I went back to my apartment to talk to my Dad. I talked to my friends as well, and they told me they'd be able to find me a used honda for much less money and that I shouldn't try to spend too much on a car. My Dad had an entirely different assessment of the situation. He said that I needed to buy a car that was a good deal, not necessarily one that cost very little money, and that I needed a car fast and not just on the cheap. He put into perspective the paucity of free time available for me to use for shopping around before the start of my residency. My father is, at times, very frugal, but he is also the reason for which I will at any point in the future be any good with money, so I decided to heed his advice. I went back the next day, moaned and whined a bit, and picked up the car for 11,500 out the door. I booked a showing the next day for an apartment, and ended up signing for that as well. I picked carefully and I increased my expected rent, and the apartment was still quite a good deal for the area considering that the rent included water, sewage and garbage (which apparently aren't always covered for in Pennsylvania).
I travelled home a champion on Tuesday night. Today was spent mulling around in ikea looking for furniture for my place. Here are my selections:
I haven't yet found chairs that match with the norden which are also reasonably priced (I do not believe $70 to be reasonable for a chair). I'm looking for something that folds, is made of wood, and matches. Perhaps someone on here will be able to point me in the right direction.
In case any of you are wondering why I'm seemingly burning money on furniture here when I should be living with less, consider that there's only so much furniture that can be done without. Living without a sofa (or in my case a futon), for example, would negate the inviting of guests. Living without a gateleg table means wasting space by placing a permanent table in the room.
I finished my to-do list for tomorrow (or rather, whenever I wake up) a while ago. How much of it I get done tomorrow remains to be seen, but I'm certainly going to try. My senior advisor just e-mailed me back hinting at the possibility of being able to commute to work by bicycle. Perhaps it is sometimes okay to dream after all.
Tuesday, 7 May 2013
No I haven't forgotten about the blog
It's just been a tiring couple of days. Tomorrow I'm going to write a long, drawn-out post about how busy the last few days have been, and I'm obviously going to include how busy tomorrow will have been. Writing can be tedious at times, but I want to live on after I'm dead, and I understand that, as time moves on, human beings leave less and less of themselves with the world, but I figure I should give figurative immortality my best shot while I'm alive. This is quite literally my best shot, unless I invent some profound new way of thinking or possibly of quitting sugary diets. Time will tell.
Saturday, 4 May 2013
Being a confidant
What do you do when one friend tells you something and tells you not to tell anyone else, and then another friend tells you pretty much the exact same thing and tells you not to tell anyone else? Simple. You write about it in the vaguest way possible on a blog that nobody reads, even though you have told both of then about the blog, because you are so dead sure that they still have not nor will ever read it at all. Sometimes the general disinterest people have toward life can be used to one's advantage.
So friend A tells me he knows person B who has divulged to him thing X. He calls me and tells me thing X but he says that he cannot reveal person B. I say okay. Then friend C calls me and tells me thing X. I ask him where he got his info, and then he says friend A. I say okay, trying to act like I didn't already know. Then friend A calls me back and tells me thing Y and Z, and reveals the identity of person B, and I'm all "oh, okay", trying not to act surprised. I'm sworn to secrecy as usual, firstborn sacrificed if I tell, the usual blood oath type stuff. Then friend C gets on the horn to me and tells me he was talking to someone and that someone revealed things X and Y, and that's when he realized the identity of person B from whom friend A was telling him all those things!!! Once again i act surprised, and ignorant, and here's the annoying part; since I'm a confidant for both these people (for some reason they trust me, dont ask me why) i have to swear a whole separate spit shake blood oath with friend B not to tell anyone about anything. I consider this an amazing exercise in keeping my mouth shut, which apparently is a virtue and a highly-prozed skill in today's world. It's still okay to blab about it on a blog though, especially since, the way i went about it, it's highly likely that neither of those people would even understand this post if they read it.
So friend A tells me he knows person B who has divulged to him thing X. He calls me and tells me thing X but he says that he cannot reveal person B. I say okay. Then friend C calls me and tells me thing X. I ask him where he got his info, and then he says friend A. I say okay, trying to act like I didn't already know. Then friend A calls me back and tells me thing Y and Z, and reveals the identity of person B, and I'm all "oh, okay", trying not to act surprised. I'm sworn to secrecy as usual, firstborn sacrificed if I tell, the usual blood oath type stuff. Then friend C gets on the horn to me and tells me he was talking to someone and that someone revealed things X and Y, and that's when he realized the identity of person B from whom friend A was telling him all those things!!! Once again i act surprised, and ignorant, and here's the annoying part; since I'm a confidant for both these people (for some reason they trust me, dont ask me why) i have to swear a whole separate spit shake blood oath with friend B not to tell anyone about anything. I consider this an amazing exercise in keeping my mouth shut, which apparently is a virtue and a highly-prozed skill in today's world. It's still okay to blab about it on a blog though, especially since, the way i went about it, it's highly likely that neither of those people would even understand this post if they read it.
Thursday, 2 May 2013
Big in Japan
I was listening to, for lack of better ability to differentiate between subgenres of dance music, a "dance song" today called "Big in Japan" by Martin Solveig, and I managed to find an association between the song and my getting into residency. I'm not really sure if this is one of those posts where some idiot tries to relate his life to every song he hears, or if I genuinely feel that the meaning behind this song in particular can be interestingly transposed to interpret my life, but here goes.
The woman in the song says that she enjoyed herself too much the previous night, and then the following day (which I assume to be a distorted version of real time) she found herself to be famous somewhere other than her native country (Japan). There's a lot of poppy, energetic chanting and then she mentions that others are interested in her music and she took an opportunity that came along, and was later "big in Japan".
The song, as far as I can understand, consists of a woman singing some advice to other artists that they should not give up on their dreams because they could be recognized for their talent elsewhere.
I was 13 when my family decided that, for higher education such as medicine, I should travel to Canada. Upon completion of my undergraduate studies, I found it would be impossible to continue with medical school in Canada (or the United States for that matter) because my grades were far too low. This did not, however, stem my desire to be a physician. I sought out the Caribbean for medical school, and I took the opportunity as it came. The last 4 years went by seemingly in the blink of an eye, and I understand that to be the normal perceived progression of time when someone has many duties and many things with which to occupy their time during a set time frame of days, months or years. Upon gaining a residency, I have a salary to which to look forward, the residency is offering to pay for my electronic device and for my books and to move there, and as far as the United States medical boards are concerned, I'm a big deal. Looks like I'm Big in Japan too.
The woman in the song says that she enjoyed herself too much the previous night, and then the following day (which I assume to be a distorted version of real time) she found herself to be famous somewhere other than her native country (Japan). There's a lot of poppy, energetic chanting and then she mentions that others are interested in her music and she took an opportunity that came along, and was later "big in Japan".
The song, as far as I can understand, consists of a woman singing some advice to other artists that they should not give up on their dreams because they could be recognized for their talent elsewhere.
I was 13 when my family decided that, for higher education such as medicine, I should travel to Canada. Upon completion of my undergraduate studies, I found it would be impossible to continue with medical school in Canada (or the United States for that matter) because my grades were far too low. This did not, however, stem my desire to be a physician. I sought out the Caribbean for medical school, and I took the opportunity as it came. The last 4 years went by seemingly in the blink of an eye, and I understand that to be the normal perceived progression of time when someone has many duties and many things with which to occupy their time during a set time frame of days, months or years. Upon gaining a residency, I have a salary to which to look forward, the residency is offering to pay for my electronic device and for my books and to move there, and as far as the United States medical boards are concerned, I'm a big deal. Looks like I'm Big in Japan too.
Wednesday, 1 May 2013
First day back on the bike
I hadn't been cycling for two months while preparing for board exams, and now that they finished I decided it was high time I got back into it.
I put my gear on, which fit a bit more awkwardly than before, and I jumped on and headed out. Little did I know how out of shape I was, nor did I realize the back brake was misaligned and rubbing against the wheel. I fought every single hill, and my heart rate was in the 180s for most of the time. Definitely doing a spot check before the next ride. My legs are quite sore right now, and I'm hoping that sleep will rejuvenate them because I have 4 hours of cycling planned tomorrow. I'm going to cycle by myself for two hours tomorrow at an athletic pace (an athletic pace for me, anyway) and then my non-cyclist Romanian friend is going to join me for the other two hours.
I saw a movie a while ago called "The Flying Scotsman" documenting the achievements of one Graeme Obree. According to the movie, Obree failed his first attempt at beating the world one-hour record for cycling but insisted he have another attempt at it the following day. Since he had rented the velodrome for the entire day, the committee could do nothing to prevent him from pursuing the record, but were very confused as to how someone could exhaust their one-hour muscular endurance twice in 24 hours and expect to beat a world record. The night before the second attempt, Graeme supposedly woke up every three hours during the night to drink a full glass of water. This was apparently supposed to keep his muscles from cramping up. I'm not going for the one-hour record tomorrow, but I just took down a significant amount of water, so I'm really hoping I don't have to wake up in the middle of the night to urinate.
I fixed the back brake. It appears that my friend isn't escaping tomorrow's outing. I'll take it easy on him. Maybe.
I put my gear on, which fit a bit more awkwardly than before, and I jumped on and headed out. Little did I know how out of shape I was, nor did I realize the back brake was misaligned and rubbing against the wheel. I fought every single hill, and my heart rate was in the 180s for most of the time. Definitely doing a spot check before the next ride. My legs are quite sore right now, and I'm hoping that sleep will rejuvenate them because I have 4 hours of cycling planned tomorrow. I'm going to cycle by myself for two hours tomorrow at an athletic pace (an athletic pace for me, anyway) and then my non-cyclist Romanian friend is going to join me for the other two hours.
I saw a movie a while ago called "The Flying Scotsman" documenting the achievements of one Graeme Obree. According to the movie, Obree failed his first attempt at beating the world one-hour record for cycling but insisted he have another attempt at it the following day. Since he had rented the velodrome for the entire day, the committee could do nothing to prevent him from pursuing the record, but were very confused as to how someone could exhaust their one-hour muscular endurance twice in 24 hours and expect to beat a world record. The night before the second attempt, Graeme supposedly woke up every three hours during the night to drink a full glass of water. This was apparently supposed to keep his muscles from cramping up. I'm not going for the one-hour record tomorrow, but I just took down a significant amount of water, so I'm really hoping I don't have to wake up in the middle of the night to urinate.
I fixed the back brake. It appears that my friend isn't escaping tomorrow's outing. I'll take it easy on him. Maybe.
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