- Observations of a Freelance Writer
I almost didn’t write this. Heck, seems like everybody’s seen it already. But, in case you haven’t (and how are things there on Mars?) here’s my (as usual) succinct take on the movie.
It really is good. Keep your eye on Hulk ’cause he has the best lines. The Official Page.
Never reviewed this before. Saw the 70th anniversary showing on the big screen last month. Here’s the review:
This is the best movie ever made.
I’ve had a link to TopFive.com since forever, but in the last week I got nothing from there. Hmmm. Too bad if it disappeared as the owner even occasionally publishes some lame humor or other of mine. Shows his mental weakness, I suppose (his name rhymes with “Chris White” and he lives in LA, in case you’re wondering.) Then today I got the explanation (Xplan8on for you texters) and it seems somebody made him an offer he couldn’t refuse. After cleaning up the horse blood from his bed he sold the Top Five domain to someone wanting to use it for something else entirely. Then he started up a new domain called Humorlabs, from which he intends to continue publishing various people’s lame humor. All subscriptions will be honored. Or so he says. Haven’t seen a thing yet. Hmmm. I did revise my link to TopFive with the new name and the ever so clever “nee TopFive” next to it. Boy howdy, huh?
Seriously, then, TopFive is now Humorlabs, and it’s a great site for original humor, much of which is available only to subscribers, such as the “certified filthy” versions of some lists. Lists alternate with Ruminations, which is where I’ve had a few things published. Everything on the Internet is permanent, right? Sure hope I don’t regret any of them later!
Right. Later, gator!
S.
Been getting an unusual (for me) amount of comments lately. Some were obvious spam so they’re gone forever. Some I’m not sure about. One person will never come back because of spelling errors (?). If that’s legit, good riddance. For one thing, I spell pretty deliberately, but then I do try to be a “creative writer” not an English teacher. But I left that one and a couple of others. I looked at them with the WordPress editor and didn’t see any odd codes or script in them, but do remember that I didn’t write ‘em and I’m not responsible for the content. For the record, if I approve a comment, I did *not* edit it first, so what you see is what they entered.
I haven’t seen the movie, although I’d like to. The book though, now that’s different. I decided to read it after all the hype about the movie. I haven’t started book two because, frankly, I have other stuff I need to do. I’ll get to it in a more slack time. No wonder this is a popular book: it’s a fantastic story and extremely well written. I can only imagine the amount of work the author put into it, and I congratulate her on her success. If you like reading books written in English, you’ll love this one!
Here’s a link to an article in the Review-Journal about a new effort aimed at aiding start-up business in Las Vegas. Not government, either. I’d quote the article, but the R-J is pretty pissy about that sort of thing.
http://www.lasvegassun.com/news/2012/mar/27/zappos-buys-old-motel-strikes-deal-bring-more-youn/
Another reason Las Vegas is more than the Strip!
I recently had the opportunity to see Roman ruins in three places: Barcelona, Paris, and London. In Barcelona some of the Roman construction is still a part of buildings in use today, which is sort of fun to consider. But it was in London and Paris that I learned some things that really were a bit thought provoking.
First, at the Museum of the City of London the second gallery concerns the Roman city. (First is about the area during “prehistoric” times.) The Romans named the place probably using a name from a local tribe. But being Romans they threw up not only a still famous bridge but a typical Roman fortified town. Londonium then served as the hub of trade for the province of Britannia until the Romans pulled out several centuries later. No big surprises there, but what struck me was the dioramas the museum has of daily life in those days, and the artifacts that have been unearthed in London over the past few decades as the city has been rebuilding for the 21st century.
The Romans used technology that, other than firearms, was pretty much identical to the technology used by the residents of colonial America. Same sort of utensils, same sort of kitchen knives, same sort of pots and pans and stoves and wall ovens. They carried trade goods over thousands of miles of roads using covered wagons. Covered wagons not only kept the goods dry and clean, but offered a measure of protection when travelling in a caravan. A wagon train, if you will. The amazing thing here is that, through the eighteenth century and a chunk of the nineteenth, the technology used by Romans was still in common use. The Industrial Revolution literally changed everything! A lot of what we use today was known at least theoretically in the nineteenth century. For instance the prototype fax machine was demonstrated in 1846, if you can believe it. But before then, essentially nothing. Even firearms, which were an old idea by the eighteenth century, have been improved almost beyond measure by Industry. So my thoughts are not about Romans, but about how the Industrial Revolution of the nineteenth century, and the electronics revolution of the twentieth, really and truly did make the world different. Ride from St. Joseph to Portland in a covered wagon? Whattya think I am, some Roman?
In Paris I was struck by what I learned in the crypts below the Plaza of Notre Dame, on what in English is known as “City Island.” That’s where the City of Paris was born, named for the Parisi, the tribe that lived in the area. But that was not the original Roman city. First, on what is now known as the Left Bank, they founded Lutitia Parisii, with no fortifications whatsoever. This was during the famous “Pax Romanum” when things in the empire were, apparently, pretty good. They didn’t feel the need to put up a wall to protect the town, and in fact the bulk of the town was in the open and pretty much undefendable. Hey, so is Lincoln Nebraska, if you think about it. Just like modern America, for a time there Rome had a good thing going. Part of Lutitia was on the Ile de Cite, so when the empire started falling apart people moved to the island, which is pretty defensible to this day, and literally tore down the South Bank town for materials to build the new place they just called “Paris.”
What struck me about the exhibit was the fact that, as time went on, there wasn’t any “stop” situation to the Roman empire. It was just that bit by bit the barbarians, notably the Franks, stepped up their harassment so bit by bit people hunkered down, built barriers to keep the strangers out, and without even knowing it, sunk into what we call the “dark ages.” They weren’t all that dark, but where would you rather live, behind thick walls where you need to expend lots of resources just to keep the barbarians out, or in a open city like, oh, Lincoln Nebraska? I’ll give you a factoid to help you decide: in Lutitia most people were more or less well off. In early Paris, most people were more or less poor. The Roman Empire didn’t just fall to the barbarians, it was more like the people of the Empire just decided to hunker down and try to preserve what they had rather than try to move forward. The results speak for themselves.
I have no agenda in this post; I just find those things interesting to think about. To me, it’s always seemed like the Romans almost got it right, but they didn’t realize just what they had, and it all just fell away. Sure am grateful for the Nineteenth Century!
My recent travels may be why I went ahead and used the “Cities I’ve Visited” app on Facebook. Turns out, it’s a lot. Here’s the map:
Yellow pins are places I’ve visited, green pins where I said I’d like to, and the stars indicate favorite places. Yes one of my favorites is where I live. Nice, that. In fact, I’m not sure I could live in all of my favorites, although I did live in Minneapolis for eight years. I may never visit all those green pinned places, but I’d like to!
Hasta luego, Au revoir, and later,
S.
Phew! Went over space and into a fourth post! Well, it was a long trip and no mistake. I’m going to start back in Paris on the way to the Gare du Nord. “Gare” is what they call a train station in Paris, but I have no idea why. You want someone who speaks French, visit your local high school or college. This station, the “North Station”, is the one where trains to and from England depart and arrive. The nicest of all these trains is the Eurostar, which is faster than greased lightening and very comfortable. Most of the station is pretty ordinary for a train station, and recently updated so it’s clean and nice looking. The Eurostar berths behind a security wall of glass and border guards. In fact, I have entered and left France many times. In 1976 I was in and out of France about five or six times, and I’d landed in France on this trip, but never ever had any French customs agent or border guard so much as showed up, much less looked at my passport. To board the Eurostar I had to get a French border guard to stamp my passport. Anybody can come in, but woe to him they don’t want to let leave, I guess. And, talk about convenience! The English border turned out to be right there the Gare du Nord. There’s a nice waiting lounge but it was almost time to board so we didn’t linger.
Trains are so damned much nicer than airplanes to travel on there’s hardly any comparison. And some, like the Eurostar, go about 150 mph so they get you where you’re going pretty quickly. In fact, given the distance between London and Paris I’m pretty sure that with the time to get to the airport, go through security, check in, and mess around at the other end retrieving luggage and into town that the train is quite a bit faster over all. We put our luggage in the luggage compartment right in our car, took our reserved seats, and waited about ten minutes until the train almost imperceptibly started to move. Within ten minutes we were out of Paris and into the Northern French Countryside, which was fairly flying by (ironically, since you can’t see anything when you’re the one flying.) Northern France looks a great deal like Southern England and the Midlands too. All of those places look remarkably like Seneca County Ohio where I grew up. And that, I suppose, explains the attraction the place had for my ancestors: it looked homey. Does to me, too, even though I live out in the Mojave. Our train arrived at St. Pancras station, right in the heart of London. A short ride on the Underground to Paddington Station, a short walk and we were at our last hotel. It was a lovely place, and a room on the second floor (it would be the third floor in America) with no elevator provided some much appreciated aerobic exercise getting the bags up and down. We had reservations for a posh French restaurant (heh) in Notting Hill, but we were too tired to make the trek, so we ate at a Garfunkels. Don’t think it’s owned by Paul Simon’s sometimes partner, but that’s the name. It would play in the US; I had a cheeseburger.
In the morning we checked our bags at Paddington Station (’cause that’s where the train to Heathrow takes off) and went on an open-top bus tour. There are a slew of tour companies offering such things, and we both wished we had done ours on our first day, not our last. We learned all sorts of neat stuff, such as there is “London” the metropolis, and the “City of London” which is a lot smaller, and guarded by Griffins.
The Reverse Side of a Griffon on Guard at the City of London
Here is the rear end of one just inside the city limits from the City of Westminster. Westminster is the home of the Queen, Westminster Abby, and Parliament. The Tower of London is, as you might expect, in London proper. Westminster refers to a monastery that used to be there, the West Monastery, which in the English way got chopped and mashed into Westminster. I’d always wondered.
On the day of the tour, Starbucks was giving away free Lattes in London. The tour stopped at the ‘Tower of London for half an hour, so I stopped in and, shazam! they gave me a free tall latte. I don’t normally even care for Starbucks, but at that price I’ll say it was the best coffee I had during the entire trip!
The plane was leaving at 3pm so when the tour was about over we walked across Green Park outside Buckingham Palace (her majesty was at home but didn’t wave at us) into an Underground station (marked “Metro” as in the other two cities but nobody calls it that) and rode back to Paddington to take the train home. It was sad that the vacation was over, but honestly, I’m not sure I’d have lived through much more. There is absolutely, positively no place like home. We had lunch at Heathrow airport, which is better than you’d think, and boarded what was to be a pretty uneventful flight. Right next to us sat a bevy of bride and bridesmaids headed to Vegas for a bachelorette party. I may have been sad when the perfume they’d drenched themselves in wore off, but I don’t think so. It was over ten hours, so I watched a couple more movies and read a book for a while. After landing we got to go through customs again, but for the first time in the short line! Woo-Hoo! Long before the wedding party had their bags, we were riding home, the last two miles of a long, tiring and rewarding journey.
Afterwords
A story about a rental car in England: We rented a car from an agency near our hotel in London in order to drive to Brighton and Stansted, which we did. Driving on the left is no problem, but sitting to the right to drive is. I’d done it before, and at least caused no physical damage to anything (unlike a previous adventure.) A couple days later, in Barcelona, I got an email statement that said I was being charged 800 pounds for damages! I didn’t see any damage so I asked for an explanation. It came back quickly: I’d put diesel in a petrol car! Huh? Never did such a thing in my life. Somebody at the rental agency was running a scam, but how to prove it? Well, friends, I’d saved that receipt. We called the station at Stansted, which confirmed that I’d bought unleaded regular. Then, as Tami’s firm has a London office, she contacted a colleague there, who transmitted the (bad to somebody) news that we could prove we were innocent. Yesterday I got the email apologizing and telling me of my full refund. They get 58 pounds, no more. And the pound has slipped against the dollar meanwhile, so it actually ends up costing less than it originally would have. Hah! I’m virtually certain that the scam was by some employees, and not in any way the policy of the company. As I said in part one, you don’t see too many out and out scams in England.
We did a lot of travelling about, but honestly that may not be the best way to go about it. Another time I’d consider getting a place to headquarter and maybe taking trains or driving for day trips. Be a lot less tiring, I imagine.
And finally, why I like Las Vegas best of the four cities I mentioned in part one. Put simply, it’s in a country where absolutely anyone is free to leave any time from any port they like. We don’t have border agents checking people leaving. I have no idea why anyone does have such agents. That’s pretty cool. Also, Las Vegas is a heckuva place for entertainment and food. I know places where I can get literally the same local foods we ate in each of the three cities, and it will be authentic, too! I don’t need a passport for anything at all. I know where everything is (mostly). And it’s fun to watch people here. The first time I was in Europe I thought people looked kind of weird. Now, not at all. You’d have to go to some extremes to make a Las Vegas resident think you look weird. In fact, I’m not sure you could do it. Come visit and give it a try: kudos if you get on the news! And teenagers in Spain and France dress just like teenagers here, which is to say terribly. In England they make them wear school uniforms, so I don’t know exactly what they wear at home, but if it isn’t exactly the same stuff I’ll be surprised.
Honestly, I’ll bet France is the greatest country in the world if you’re French. The United Kingdom is the greatest country in the world, if you’re a citizen. And Spain is a great country too, best anywhere, if you’re a Spaniard. But, know what? I’m none of those things. I’m an American, and this is where I like best to be. In a lot of ways, my favorite part of the trip was when the border guard at McCarran said, “Okay, have a nice day!” and waved us on. I love foreign travel; I always learn some good stuff and enjoy the people and food, but boy oh boy, there’s no place like home!
I left us in Barcelona going to the airport. The hotel staff got us a taxi at a quarter to five in the morning and off we went. Remember that forty Euros it took us to get to the hotel? Getting back to the airport cost us over fifty. I was pretty sure that driver was going the long way, but I didn’t know the town well enough to tell him what was the right way. (That’s what works in Vegas.) Well, phoo!
I told you about Stansted Airport being a long way from London. When we landed in France we were at Beauvais, home of a famous cathedral and about 75 kilometers (45 miles) North of Paris. There’s no train. So, after over a hour on a bus, we found ourselves about twenty Metro minutes (Paris calls its subway “Metro” just like Barcelona) from the station nearest to our hotel. Only it wasn’t really. So, after a brisk hike in the Parisian countryside (the countryside looks amazingly like a cityscape in that region) we finally found our Holiday Inn Express. We were not all that far from the Flanders Gate, which is odd because the other side of that gate (or “porte”) is just more Paris. We were hungry so we went out in search of an authentic Paris restaurant in which to sample some authentic French cuisine (the word “cuisine” means “kitchen”). That’s why we ate ravioli at a pizza joint. Aaaah, Paris! That night we did even better and I had a McChicken at, well you know where to get McChickens, don’t you?
Not exactly haute, but it was hot.
A cool thing we discovered is that, at least on weekends, the Avenue de Flandres has a flea market along the median strip. They were selling all sorts of stuff, from Sinatra records (got one) to Wall ovens. We also bought some mid-century drinking glasses. They may have been made in Hoboken for all I know but they fit the theme of our “cuisine”.
Next day after breakfast we went to a local laundromat (Paris is crawling with them) and then hauled our stuff to our “real” Paris hotel, which was the Hotel Windsor Opera. It’s the hotel we liked the most because, in addition to everything I’ve said about the Vincci in Barcelona, it had nice a nice cushy soft bed. It is near, well what do you think it’s near, eh? The Opera. The closest Metro stop is Bonne Nouvelle. Bonne Nouvelle is a dining and entertainment strip for locals and tourists alike. I took a picture of a movie theater marquee along Bonne Nouvelle because I thought it looked cool. Here it is, now!
The Rex Theater on Bonne Nouvelle Boulevard in Paris
Also along that lovely boulevard is a Post Office, which was just one whole heck of a lot like a Post Office in the USA. Except for the stamps, of course. Even their logo is sort of similar.
A WORD ABOUT the impolite, nasty, unhelpful French: I got lucky. The first time I landed in Paris off of a boat train from London I was given a lesson in French manners by a woman in a change booth. (Change as in change money, I mean.) I took it to heart, and if I ever meet her I’ll have to thank her, because I’ve never found French people to be in any significant way Meaner (or nicer, to be fair) than people anywhere else, be it London, New York, San Francisco, Las Vegas, or Tiffin, Ohio where I grew up. The secret? You say “Hello”, “Goodbye”, “Please”, and “Thank You.” In French those are “Bonjour” (literally meaning “good day”), “Au Revoir”, meaning “until next time”, “Sil Vous Plait” meaning “if you please”, and “Merci” meaning “thanks.” If you’re in France it is nice if you attempt them in French. You can listen to other people and probably say them well enough. But even if you can’t, you can do them in English and you’ll be accepted and even loved (because you are, after all, a tourist bleeding money, just like our fine and lovely tourists here in Vegas.) It seems a bit stiff and formal, but every time you go into a shop the clerk will say “Bonjour” and you need to say that back. When you leave they’ll say “Au Revoir” and you need to say that back. “Please” and “Thank you” in any language should explain themselves. Consider that you are a guest, albeit an invited one, in someone else’s home (their home country.) You want to do right by your hosts, right? Well, now you know the rules for doing right by a French host. Apart from those four words, French manners are about the same as in America, and French people are really quite lovely when treated with “proper manners.”
I’ve thought for years that Paris is one of the most beautiful cities you could ask for. Happily, that hasn’t changed. Our first night we took a bus tour to see the city with its lights. (In summer it leaves at 10PM!) Narration is in a whole slew of languages, including ever loving English. We took another tour on our final night, on the famous Bateaux Mouche, which as it turns out is pronounced “bat-o-moech.” French spelling, I swear. Either tour, or both, is a good way to get to know Paris better.
One of my favorite places in Paris is Shakespeare & Company. Yes, that’s not only an English name for the place, it’s American. Shakespeare & Company is an American bookstore on the left bank across the channel from Notre Dame cathedral. If you just really really need a bit of home in Paris, there it is. When I say American, I mean it. The clerks greet you in English (but properly) and the books are all printed in English. They only take Euros, though, so you could possibly take the “American” thing too far, I suppose.
Shakespeare & Company, Paris, France
Shakespeare & Company also affords you an excellent spot from which to photograph Notre Dame cathedral, which will be celebrating its 850th anniversary in a year or two. We didn’t go up to the bell level, but I’ve been there before, and if you’re feeling ambitious, climb on up and meet the gargoyles in person. Here is the picture you can take of the cathedral from Shakespeare & Company’s front stoop:
Notre Dame Cathedral, Ile de la Cite, Paris, France
We also toured Notre Dame, of course, and the archaeological exhibits under the plaza. Next day we went to the Louvre, mainly to see herself, the Mona Lisa. She’s in Salon 6, if you’d care to drop in. She takes visitors pretty much every day, a lot of them. Last time I visited Paris we skipped her because of the crowd, but this time I figured I owed it to myself to see her once. So, just to show you that I’m not kidding, here she is:
Mona Lisa, Salon 6, Louvre Museum
Yep, there she is, looking just like herself. Nice, but frankly she doesn’t look any different hanging on the wall as she does in any reproduction I’ve seen. But, what the heck, it is the original (maybe) so drop on in. She’ll have a smile for you!
The best thing about the Louvre, that is new since I was there in 1976, is the I.M. Pei designed entrance under a glass pyramid. You can go from there into your choice of the three wings of the museum. We saw Napoleon III’s living quarters (which were there, you know) and a few of the (mostly still missing) crown jewels of France.
And I think that about wraps up our visit to Paris. We did the Bateaux at night, so not only was it cold but we didn’t get a lot of steady pictures due to slow shutter speeds. I won’t burden you with a blurry photo, but the boat ride is comfortable and interesting and you get a free language lesson with every tour: French, English, Spanish, Italian, Japanese, and Chinese.
We didn’t fly back to London, we took the Eurostar. And I was wrong: this is going to be four posts. So, check back next time, won’t you? Au Revoir!
