Michigan Photos added to Flickr

At some point I need some tech training. I know there has to be an easier way to upload photos AND to keep their descriptions. New sets from the August and November 2011 trips to Michigan are titled: Around Calumet, Fire Fighter Parade, Fire Fighter Tournament and Finale, Historic Calumet, Keweenaw Nat’l Park Visitor’s Ctr., Ojibwa – Heritage Celebration, and Ontonagon County Fair.

I felt both lucky and honored to attend Calumet’s annual Heritage Celebration this past summer; the year that the Native People of the region were first included. Each year a different ethnic group of the area’s historic past  is honored so that people can learn about and celebrate one of the cultures. Finally including the Ojibwa People was/is a big deal. A formal ceremony to add the Tribal flag to those already displayed at the Heritage Center was well attended. It is not customary for Native Americans to fly a flag but they created one for purposes exactly such as this. Later in the week a drumming and dancing event was held outdoors at the Coppertown Museum.

You may think that I should have edited down the number of photos from the U.P. Volunteer Fire Fighter’s Tournament, held this past summer in Calumet and Laurium, but I want to show (and remember) just how seriously the locals take these events. The parades were painfully long with long stretches between entries but there was some guy starting them off who had a clear sense of how these things should be done and I doubt there would be any way to convince him otherwise.

A lot of the guys showing up for the parade are older – the ones most able to be away from home for the full three days of the tournament.

There are always a few jokers at the tournament but for the most part, each group set out to win. The Finale was the third parade of the tournament. I did NOT come into town for the 10pm pajama parade held after the traditional evening in the bars! First parade: serious, in dress uniform. Second parade: drunken silliness. Third parade: themed for fun. This year it was about fighting fires during winter.

The new Visitor’s Center museum was a treat. They did a beautiful job restoring the building and presenting artifacts and photos. There were several multi-media displays. One included the voice of my grandmother’s best friend, deceased some time after the recording was made.

I didn’t take any pictures of the Michigan Tech University Copper Country Archives, but did bring copies of a lot of documents home. Getting to sift through 100 year old employment records from Calumet & Hecla Mining Co.  was pretty darned exciting, in a history geek sort of way.

In case you find yourself wondering why there is a picture of my boot in the set “Around Calumet” — it is next to a bear’s footprint. I was visited out at the lake at least one night by the bear, who came by to check out the suet treat I’d left out for the birds and squirrels.

Two other odd photos – empty corner lots in Laurium. My great grandmother’s uncles owned a bar there circa 1910. And yes, football legend “the Gipper” grew up in Laurium so there is an athletic field named for him.

 

Proof that it wasn’t all crepes and wine

I’ve just posted two new pages: Sabbatical Readings, and Sites Visited.

I still plan to update this site with stories and photos of my Michigan adventures; August and November, 2011.

A frustration I have with this blog is that I can’t just link a document to it, such as the PowerPoint I created for my presentation to colleagues and students this past week. In my copious spare time (see my eyes rolling?) I may cut and paste to create another new page here. Please don’t hold your breath waiting for it! <winking>

 

When Plan B bites

Planes ready to go, but passengers held up in security

Sometimes the traveler is just stuck due to events beyond one’s control. That happened to me a couple of times in 2001 when I went to Greece on my last sabbatical. It was Easter Sunday and cab drivers didn’t want to drive to the airport because they had a delicious lamb dinner and family celebration coming up. They only wanted local fares. So we (my traveling companion Todd and I) found our way to the airport bus and crammed ourselves and our luggage aboard with all the other people who couldn’t get taxis (in addition to those already planning to take the bus). We arrived at the airport before the plane was scheduled to take off but after the official time that the flight was “closed.” We promised we could run for it. Nope. They wouldn’t allow us to check-in. We’d have to wait in the airport for 6 hours for the next flight to the island of Samos. Since earlier that morning when we’d caught a glimpse of some Greek soldiers cooking whole lambs on spits over open fires we’d been happily anticipating our own lamb dinner on Samos. Our only meal option at Athens’ then brand-new airport was McDonald’s. A brand new, two-story McDonald’s. Not what I’d ever choose for a holiday dinner. So we waited, we groused, we napped, we took walks, we ate Big Macs, we groused and waited some more. When we finally walked up to the front door of our hotel on Samos at about 9pm we could smell it: aroma of lamb. Mmmmmm….  I’m not even a big fan of lamb but I was hungry for it. Sorry, the innkeeper said, this is a private party and there is no extra food. Not even a small plate the two of us could share? No. No lamb for you. But he directed us to a local restaurant a few blocks away and we trudged off into the darkness. It turned out to be a fabulous experience. There wasn’t much food left, but the two old Greek men  who made room for us at their table (who spoke no English) shared some of their lamb with us (and offered us cigarettes, which we politely declined, trying to not cough from theirs) while we waited for some attention from the kitchen. We were late to the party; people had been drinking and feasting for hours. There was live music, singing, dancing and general merriment for whole family. Nobody spoke English. We accepted whatever morsels of food they could scrounge up. It was probably the best Greek Easter dinner we could have had.

Several days later, at the other end of our Samos trip we were stranded again but this time its because we didn’t make travel arrangements in advance and there were no seats, not even standing room left on any plane or ferry boat back to Athens. It was the end of Easter break and everyone was going home. So there we were, stranded on Samos for a few days, knowing we wouldn’t get time to tour the Peloponnese. More than once a helpful person suggested that we use the time to take a little trip over to Turkey to visit Ephesus. Good thought. But wait, we’d just come from there. Oh well. Worse things can happen than being stranded on a beautiful Greek island. We walked the hills and took buses to unknown villages that hadn’t been on our itinerary.

My stranding today has no upside as far as I can tell. I boarded my plane in Montreal, knowing I’d have to change planes in Toronto. What I didn’t know (why would I?) was that the U.S. has a deal with Canada allowing a U.S. Customs center in the Toronto airport for people flying into the U.S. (instead of actually going through customs AFTER you’ve arrived in the U.S. — who does this arrangement serve?).  So instead of walking from gate 135 where my Montreal flight arrived across the way to gate 134 where my LAX-bound flight was already waiting, I had to walk down a very long hallway, go up an escalator, wait for my luggage to show up, lug my luggage (no carts were available), have my passport and boarding pass looked at AGAIN, stop and fill out a U.S. Customs form (you know, the ones they usually give you on the plane so you’ll have it all ready when you get into the Customs line), stand in line to see a U.S. Customs agent (who lives in Canada and may not even be a U.S. citizen) who also looked at my passport and boarding pass, then stand in another line to go through airport security screening (AGAIN, I’d already been screened in Montreal). Yes, of course, they wanted to see my passport and boarding pass too, even though we’d all been virtual prisoners since we came off the escalator where the luggage was deposited. Interestingly, I was “randomly” selected for special screening at both Montreal and Toronto. I think its the flying pigs; a middle aged woman traveling with two toy winged pigs must be up to something nefarious. Or maybe its just my lucky day.

All of this was plenty annoying and I became increasingly concerned that I was going to miss my flight. I overheard someone say that her friend was over there and they weren’t even boarding yet, so I was hopeful for a time. But then the line just stopped. I looked behind me: about 100 people and growing. I looked ahead of me: about 150 people also not moving.  And there I was with a middle group between U.S. Customs and Canadian Security with about 50 people. A regular Toronto-U.S. flyer said this was unusal. Finally I came across a lady who’d called her travel agent to see what was going on and learned that there was a worker slowdown on the part of the Canadian security agents; some sort of labor dispute. Flights were delayed because they really didn’t want to leave without a majority of their passengers. Some people just had to miss their flights and be rescheduled onto later flights. Guess which category I lucked into? Every once in awhile Air Canada staff would ask for people to raise their hands so they could tell how many people in line were late for upcoming flights. I didn’t hear any call for the LA flight. When I finally got to see the staffer she said “I called that flight” but I wasn’t up to the place in line where you could hear the loudspeaker when she’d been calling. At least she got me an exit row seat on the later flight. Five and a half hours later.

Urgh.

After a lot of walking around in the secure area I did finally find food that wasn’t fried. The airport has free WIFI and after a bit more walking around I’ve found a place to plug in to recharge my computer and phone batteries. But I must say that I was tempted to go into the Duty Free shop, buy a bunch of chocolate and liquor and drown my sorrows in it. But I didn’t.

I also didn’t cough into the faces of the Canadian security screeners (I’ve been traveling with a cold); I only thought about it. Then I asked my higher power to send them some love. I find it handy to ask my higher power to do nice things for me when I’m not feeling very nice. It takes the pressure off. I can be less cranky.

Although…there is still another hour to go before the originally scheduled departure time for my new flight and nobody knows how long this flight will be delayed. <Sigh> So…remembering what I said about loving Canada in my post last night, I must also remind myself that nobody’s perfect. I’m not expecting to see a bright side to this annoying delay but I’m doing my best to refuse to let what I can’t control to control me. Although I will admit that when I was in the middle of that mass of line standers it did feel like the terrorists had won.

 

More photos added – Montreal!

I will catch up next week about my travel adventures and thoughts about how it all relates to my sabbatical goals. In the meantime, new photos have been added to my Flickr sets including my night Seine River cruise, a few from Montreal in general and my first two museums in Quebec. Not sure if I’ll have time to get the rest of the Montreal Botanical Garden photos up before its time for my plane to leave for Toronto where I change planes for LAX.

I love Montreal and look forward to coming back. I was sad to leave for Trois Rivieres and Quebec City but as it turns out, Quebec City is beyond charming and I’d love to return there as well. So many fabulous places to travel and so little money to make it happen!

In general, I like Canada more each time I visit and with most things I learn about its society. And watching Canadian News on TV suits my taste much better than the “info-tainment” we get on the U.S. local stations. And here was a bonus to staying up to watch the late news last night: The John Stewart Show came on right after the news! Loads better than Letterman or Leno! Too bad the winters are so long and summers so short. Although I say the opposite about LA, with its long summers and barely winters. It has been cold here and I’ve been wearing all of my layers. You just don’t care about how you look when the wind gets going. It got down to 3 C last night and its still only 7 C in Toronto, according to the airport report. Brrrrrr. Quebec City and Montreal look and then figure out how to post them online. I have really missed that autumn display since moving from Michigan in the 70’s.

 

En Français

My original schedule, the one in which I use Rosetta Stone software to study French for a couple of months before actually traveling to France, made sense. But then there was the invitation to share a hotel room in Paris for a week for free in September. And isn’t autumn a better time for travel than the beginning of winter? So off I went with not much vocabulary and some grammatical practice without any explanation. Rosetta Stone just models what you are supposed to do and the student is supposed to just pick it up…naturally, over time. Don’t get me wrong. I believe in the product, it just isn’t for a traveler in a hurry to learn some useful phrases. Thank goodness for Google Translate and my handy Beginner’s French English Dictionary. I’d have done much better to just take a regular college class the semester prior. But of course, I was too busy. I’m always too busy, but that is my personal rather than my cultural psychology.

My goal in studying French wasn’t just to learn some useful phrases, it was (still is) to get a feel for the culture by getting a feel for the language. As I was struggling to make the sounds that would please Rosetta stone (the word “garçon” pronounced correctly, moves my face muscles a lot more than I’m used to), I did start to get a feel for the appreciation the French have for their language and why they guard it so closely. They have a prestigious government entity, the Académie Français, with members who serve for life. They are called “the immortals.” http://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/europe/elderly-guardians-of-french-choose-another-immortal-451100.html

If I had to describe my experience of the French language in just one word, it would be “nuance.” But maybe that’s just because I’m a beginner and I had to hear and repeat a lot of words and phrases multiple times for Rosetta Stone to give me the green light to move ahead. But there is also that “romance language thing” they have going. The music that is the French language is sensual, deliberate and a bit mysterious. Yummy.

But they are also syllable droppers and consonant haters. Why have a consonant if you’re just going to ignore it? You have to put them in writing but you barely hear a lot of them. Reminds me of how irritated I was when I first learned to spell “dumb” and “lamb” in the first grade.  Take ” au revoir” for instance. Sounds kind of like “oh vwah” — where are the r’s?   You barely hear the n in bonjour or bonsoir but it does make itself known to the trained ear. It’s…gentle, teasing. My favorite when doing the writing assignments was the phrase for “what are you doing?” Qu’est-ce que vous faites? The ce is not spoken. “Faites” sounds like “fay.” P luralizing is another challenge. My untrained ear really struggled to hear a difference between il mange and ils mangent (he eats; they eat).

Just something to appreciate and get used to…over time. Frustrating to me at my current level of understanding the language is that I haven’t deciphered all of the pronunciation rules so even if I can see the word, I can’t necessarily make anyone understand me when I speak it. Google Translate helped me find the phrase for “can you help me?” but I’m not sure how to pronounce “m’aider” – the most important word in the phrase. And I did great with all of the words in the sentence for “Do you sell batteries” except for the word for batteries (des piles) – Ha!  If “filles” (girls) sounds more like “fee” than “feels” would piles, which has only one l sound similar? I just brought my camera with me so that I could show them the type of “pile” I needed. Creativity is the friend of necessity. I can’t tell you how happy I was that “duct tape” is “duct tape” in Quebec even though Google Translate says ” du ruban adhésif.  You can’t always trust Google Translate.

What HAS been helpful is that a lot of words are similar to those in Spanish. Its amazing how much Spanish I didn’t know that I knew. Both Kathie and I found ourselves accidentally blurting out Spanish words in Paris when we were searching for the French words. Its like your brain searches in the category of “foreign language” and comes up with whatever it can find first. Perhaps I’ll apologize to Todd for laughing at him when he did that during our trip to Greece awhile back. I totally get it now.

Meanwhile, my Argentinean-American amor Alejandro is laughing as I get a taste of what he went through when he first came to the U.S. not speaking any English. A lot of cross-cultural understanding is knowing something of the struggles of “the others” because you’ve experienced something like it.

Here in Quebec, the locals are making it too easy for me to speak English. They would rather just speak to me in all English rather than slow down to my very limited level of French. And they seem a bit confused when I offer a simple merci or au revoir. I did read that Canadians tend to NOT be bilingual (expect for those in the tourist biz) even though their country has two official languages. For most Canadians, its French OR English.  It was different in France where the locals appreciated my efforts and offered to help me get it right. When I told French people that I was traveling next to Quebec they immediately said something about how “they speak something very different over there!”  Something a Brit might say about Americans I imagine.

For those Québécois that I encountered in Trois Rivieres  who spoke little English, they were embarrassed and frustrated with their inability to speak English so I made a point of doing the apologizing for not speaking French. It was kind of funny though when the woman at the bus station (gare autocar) cafe couldn’t remember the words for “heat it” or “hot” so she kept pointing to a microwave beneath the counter that I could not see. I finally figured out that she was asking if I wanted my chocolatine heated.

WHY DON’T WE HAVE CHOCOLATINES? We have croissants. Come on, people.

My final rant: numbers. Its all good until 70, 80, and 90. They don’t have real words for those numbers. Seventy is sixty plus ten (soixante-dix). Eighty is quatre-vingts (four twenties). Ninety is quatre-vingt-dix! Now you know that “the immortals” are just messing with your head because they can.

The one most useful phrase for the traveler? ” Je ne parle pas Français.” Of course in France, all you have to say is “Je ne parle pas.” It appears to be a given that if you don’t speak French, you don’t speak. <wink>

 

Au Revoir, France!

I actually went to France. How cool is that? “I’m really tired…just flew in from Paris.” Yeah.

I’m back across the pond, in Montreal. Such a nice surprise that my hotel turned out to be REALLY NICE. And then to top off my happiness, they upgraded me from a standard King Bed room to a Junior Suite. I guess its a quiet weekend in Montreal? Or they just realize how important it is to please me. That must be it.

AND I’ve already enjoyed the spa.

I’m resting just a little after my hectic pace in France. I have a sinus “thing” that needs attention. What better place to get some rest than my palatial abode just down the way from Montreal’s Notre Dame Cathedral? (hee hee hee)

la-la-la

Eiffel Tower at night

 

La Nature

I like to keep a list of animals I see as I’m traveling. Its not quite as weird as taking pictures of my feet, or the flying pigs…

Chiens, chiens, and more chiens of every size and breed. One could do quite the photographic study of people and their dogs.

Cheveaux, of course, at the big equestrian event at St. Jean de Monts. And more near the St. Emilion train station. And even more, with riders in Montignac (near Lascaux II).

Cows (la vaches)

Les Chats (feral and townies)

Sheep (le mouton)

Pigs (la cochon)

Hawks, crows, pigeons, sparrows, finches, something that looked like it might be a robin, magpies, ducks, a swan begging tourists for food at the Temple of Love (Le Petit Trianon, Versailles), swallows …

A mouse (la souris)

*A life-sized orangatan made of chocolate in le magasin de chocolat

Taxidermied critters at the antiques flea market — fox, hawk, several weasels, pheasant

Small lizards (only in Les Eyzies)

Flattened squirrel – RIP

Horse between vineyards

 

Food Update

Everywhere I’ve eaten, even in train stations, the food has been fresh and tasty. No wilted or overcooked vegetables. Freshness and flavor matter.  My only less than wonderful experiences have been at a couple of Italian places. There was Chartres where they tried to give me a raw egg to mix into my pasta carbonara (and the pasta itself was pretty wimpy). Loved the trois fromage (one of them was bleu) pasta in Les Eyzies so much that I went back there for dinner. Giant salad crudite for cheap but the chocolate, banana, and chantilly crepe was really boring – my first “who cares?” chocolate experience. No wonder this place wasn’t on the list recommended by my hotel. Although I’ve not been thrilled to see fried potatoes so often, I must say that they are quite good. The oil is light and must be changed often. Taste matters, even for fries.

Salad dressing. If my experience is representative (and it probably isn’t) there is only one basic salad dressing in France; a sort of light mustardy dressing atop every type of salad.

Portions are small. Why DO we super-size in the U.S. I have yet to go away from the table here hungry. And I do like having plenty of room for dessert without stuffing myself. Psychologist Clotaire Rapielle writes about differences in ways that Americans and French perceive and consume food in his book, The Culture Code. He’s absolutely right that the cheese IS more flavorful in France and mostly quite “dead” in the U.S. (Yes, yes, you can go to specialty cheese shops in the U.S. for the good stuff.) And he wonders why a nation so wealthy eats as if it doesn’t know when or where its next meal will be. He supposes that its related to sexual denial; naturally…he is classically trained in psychoanalysis. He might be right though. Something to ponder.

Since portions tend to be small, you are expected to finish what is on your plate. This is unlike many parts of the U.S. and in some other cultures where it is considered polite to leave some food on your plate to indicate that you’ve had enough; you are full. But since in France, food is all about pleasure, who wouldn’t want to enjoy every bite? The point of eating is not to fuel the human machine, it is to enjoy life.  I’ve seen very few overweight French. Note to self: investigate obesity and diabetes in France.

Most people that I know who aren’t very familiar with French food (nor was I) assume its all covered in rich sauces. Au contraire! Rich yes, but there are many ways to make a dish flavorful. Other than my salad, very few meals have come covered in sauce. And when they were it was a complement to the plate that made me swoon with pleasure — like the carmelized apple stuff that was served not atop, but beneath my fois gras. Mmmmmmmmmm…….

My creme brulee was simply creme brulee. No other surprise flavors that I didn’t order. Same with my chocolate. The menus always tell you what to expect; you just have to know enough French to understand them!

Now I’m wishing I could remember in what context one of our tour guides was saying something about the Puritans leaving for America and please don’t send them back!

I was trying to explain to “daughter” one evening at dinner that French children DO indeed get exposed to wine quite earl (she brought it up), but that it is often watered down and they are only given a taste to learn how it integrates with various foods. I could tell that she was about as far from “grokking” the concept as one could be.

I like to NOT be rushed out of a restaurant. If I’m in a hurry all I have to do is let the server know that I want my bill right away. The staff is not about moving people in and out efficiently like cows at the slaughterhouse. Know how some restaurants in the U.S. are too chilly? Its no accident; makes you want to hurry up.

Nutella. Everywhere for breakfast, and at almost all of the crepe places. If you don’t know Nutella yet, it is hazelnut butter with chocolate. I like to believe that it is a significant source of protein but I’m probably kidding myself. I don’t want to look it up. BTW, you can get Nutella at CostCo and some grocery stores. Beware: its easy to get hooked on the stuff. In Greece (2008 Study Abroad) I ate a little nearly every day. Well, I had to finish the jar before going back home didn’t I?

House wines. Always good. Even at the more ordinary lunch/dinner places. Don’t be afraid to drink Rose again! Or Chablis. But of course reds are my favorite and I haven’t been traveling in white wine country.

Its okay to eat on the trains and the Metro. You’ll notice that nobody leaves a mess. Behaving in a civilized manner is of great importance in French society, ingrained in children from the earliest ages. Somehow trash makes it into the trash cans. Why can’t Americans manage that? The French are individualists to be certain, but they do care what others think of them and nobody wants to be accused of being “mal eleve” (ill mannered).

For the record, I have seen a couple of other people photographing their food. Okay, just deux. A couple. What I really wanted to photograph were all of the dogs that accompanied their humans to the restaurants. One poor old toy poodle looked like he just wanted to go home and curl up in his favorite sleeping spot but he had to wait for Madame to finish her meal. How boring. He just lay flat on his side staring out into space for a bit. “Oh bother, another long wait under the table.”  Imagine being taken to these places where the sight and smell of food is everywhere and none of it is for you. Humans have no manners sometimes. A German couple in Chartres had fun interacting from time to time with their chocolate lab who kept moving about under their table, otherwise they were very sophisticated and serious.

If you’re concerned that French restaurants are dirty because of the presence of dogs, think again. Dogs are on leashes, sitting quietly beneath or beside the table. They do not wander into the kitchens and (almost) nobody is petting them. So hands are clean and fur is not wafting about. They’ve apparently been trained to do their “business” out on the sidewalks and never in the immediate vicinity of an eating establishment — my observation. Others may vary.

I know, I know…you want to go off topic here and ask why they don’t pick up after their dogs or at least guide them to the curb. Maybe because its messy, dirty and just plain gross to deal with? Maybe because there are people whose job it is to clean it up? The small army of men in green uniforms do a wonderful job of keeping the streets and sidewalks clean and the trash cans emptied. If Americans aren’t willing to pay for that service they’ll just have to do it themselves and/or put up with filth. There are always choices, and the choices are made from a cultural perspective of what is appropriate.

Main Course: filet mignon

 

 

Hello again from Paris! My trip south was delightful but brief. I’m checked into my tiny little room near Hotel Des Invalides that isn’t a hotel at all. And I’m off in a few minutes toward the Eiffel Tower and the Seine, hoping to get a night boat ride on the Seine to view the city of lights one more time, but this time from its source of life: the river. Tomorrow I’m off to Montreal.

Grapes - St. Emilion

I have lots of pix to upload later tonight (Versailles, a flea market in Paris, St. Emilion, and Les Eyzies). Stay tuned.

Merci Beaucoup!

 

I know there is an easier way

to organize and upload photos but I haven’t had time to figure it out yet. There’s just too much France to absorb. At dinner tonight, I reached my all time high ratio of dogs to people. All well-behaved, of course…except for one little growler belonging to Brits. Hey, I just report what I observe. And so far I’ve observed that French dogs and French children are very well behaved.

Versailles photos are finally up. Plus a category called Travel, Hotels and Food.

I’m loving the small towns. Les Eyzies is super small, but has been popular for many thousands of years. Visited Grotte de Rouffignac and Lascaux II. Had to take a taxi. Nice driver; glad to give her a big earning day. But next time I’ll reconsider international driving. Museum of Prehistory in the morning before I board another train and leave this lovely countryside.

Bonsoir — another big day for yours truly tomorrow.

P.S. In case you’re wondering, “Cro-Magnon” translates to Mr. Magnon’s hole (where the skeletons were found).

Some of the creatures of Lascaux