Trip through France

(Note: this written december 12th while riding the TGV high speed train. I was unable to post it until today)

So, here we are. Zipping along at about 300 km/hr. That’s about 180 mph for you Americans out there. It is a dull gray day here on the TGV (France’s high speed train) and there is not a lot of interesting scenery out there. And if there were, I couldn’t just ask the conductor to pull over for a photo opportunity.

We just left Paris, the one in France, this morning. I am (we are) physically spent after walking for hours at a time. I will have pictures to share if any wants to see them. I find that photos are primarily memory triggers and if you weren’t there, it really doesn’t mean a whole lot except to say “wow, you must have had a great time”.

So we started this journey by landing at Charles DeGaulle airport after flying all night from Dallas. A rather non-eventful flight except I had trouble sleeping sitting straight up. We had been number three and four on the upgrade list, but there was only room for one and two. After landing we walked the length of the terminal 2 to get to the RER railway which eventually, after a stop and transfer, took us to Gare St. Lazare. Please note that Paris has 6, yes count them SIX, train stations, all of which will send you off in a different direction. We found our train and headed off to Bayeux, a small late medieval town near the coast of Normandy. We found out there that they are strict adherents to the restaurant schedule of not serving before 7 in the evening. The wait was worth it however: at a small family café, we had fish and scallop dishes that made our tongues and tummies very happy.

Of course, we also took the opportunity to walk around the town. My wife translated a bit for me until I began to attach French words to Anglo meanings. She collects church visits like some folks collect stamps or coins. So, we spent a while out of the cold and wind in the local Church dedicated to Notre Dame.

Let me also interject here that the sun sets a whole lot earlier than one normally expects. If you are outside after 1730 or 1800 (Europeans use the 24 hour clock mostly) you will be navigating by lamplight. I am sure on the opposite side of the calendar, you may be up very late to see a sunset.

On Sunday, a guide named Sophie drove us around the Normandy coast. We started at Arromanches and worked our way west to Utah beach after a stop in St. Mere-Eglise. She was able to explain a few things that my history teachers never told me. We did also stop at the American Cemetery. I saluted those of the Brotherhood who have gone before us. It was raining while we were there, which covered the moistening of my eyes. It was a “bucket” thing that I feel is still in my “bucket”. It is a thing that should be on every military/ex-military’s list.

We came back to Paris on Monday. After settling in at the hotel, which, by the way, was located facing the Seine and across from the Louvre, we set out to find the visitor information center. To do so, we had to walk past the Louvre, the Carrousel, and down Rue des Pyramides. After getting our museum passes and getting the wife’s questions answered, we set off to find something to eat. Nothing really struck our fancy until I saw a street creperie. Since my daughter had gone off to France with her mother years ago, she told me I HAD to experience this. So I did. A ham and cheese crepe. It satisfied my light hunger and we went back to the hotel for a good night’s sleep.

We got tickets on the bus for the OpenTour bus. It drives around Paris and allows tourists to get on and off at pre-designated stops. We scheduled this so that we could be at the Eiffel Tower by 1130. We had reservations at noon for their service in restaurant 58TourEiffel. Luck was with us as they seated us by a window overlooking the Trocadero. The food was excellent. We spent the next two hours wandering around the tower and I even went to the top and had a flute of mid-quality champagne. It was a thing to do. The wife was not excited about the distance from the top to the ground, besides which she had been there several times before. That night we took the bus to Montmarte and watched a Mass at Sacre Couer. Afterwards, she sought out a restaurant called La Mere Catherine. She had wanted to eat there since she was a child and got to fulfill a long-time dream. My chicken was slightly freezer burned on the edges, but otherwise good. We found out how far away the Metro station is from there and how far underground we had to go to get there. Over 200 steps from the surface.

The next day was a Big Hike. We went to Ile de Cite, visited Notre Dame Cathedral, found the Church of St Nicholas (one of the wife’s collection of churches), toured the Museum Cluny with pre medieval ruins, and hit the Louvre. Yes, I got to see Mona Lisa, but I don’t know what all the fuss is about, I found it less than spectacular. It was one of the first works of art placed there, one of twelve. It also travelled extensively with Napoleon. But there were more impressive works there: The Coronation of Napoleon and the Wedding at Cana stand out or at least they are names I remember. We only spent a couple of hours there, as we had tickets to a night-time Lights of Paris tour, both on the river and on a bus, followed by another visit to the Eiffel Tower.  Traffic delayed us some but we did complete the tour.

Thursday was also an endurance test. We took the OpenTour bus to the Arc de Triomphe. Taking the elevator to almost the top because of wife’s broken toes, I climbed the last 46 to view Paris, and especially the Champs Elysee from the top of the monument. At the end of the Boulevard de Grand Armee is La Defense. If you Google a photo of it, you will see a tall building with no center. I am told the wind accelerates through there at times due to venture effect. Oh, twelve streets radiate from the Arc. Champs Elysee and Boulevard de Grand Armee are on opposite sides from one another.

I will interrupt the narrative here to let all those reading that my wife is a “former” teacher of French, both language and culture. I use the quotes because there is nothing “former” about her approach. I was being constantly lectured about the history of this and the meaning of that. Even when she had told me about it the day before. And the day before that. She also takes great pride in her mastery of the French language. She spoke at great length to many of the local vendors and guides and a lot of the other locals. They were impressed with her ease of conversation in French. I never mentioned to them she is at ease in conversation at length in any language.

Then we took the bus around to have lunch at a department store that took up three buildings in the market district, Lafayette something or other. As we entered the lowest floor of the necessary building we were met with a plethora of the big names in perfume, jewelry and other feminine fashion. The girls behind the counters were well-dressed and sort of plastic makeup looking. Even the guys were pretty. The restrooms are on the fifth floor. I only note this because wherever we go, I am in charge of finding a potty for my wife. For some reason, probably age and three huge babies, she feels the need to use the toilet more than anyone I know. She asked three different people where the facilities were located (in French, of course) and I had it figured out by the second response. Besides, there were signs hung from the ceiling.

It was a wonderful lunch, cafeteria style, but better food. And then we spent, or at least she spent, another hour or so shopping for “a little gift”. I waited in the aisles wondering if I should go back to get that raspberry gelato in a cone.

Then it was off to find the bus stop again. I followed her as we left the building, but had to lead the way to the correct street.  The bus took us along its precharted course, and we eventually arrived at the Musee d’Orsay. This building used to be a train station, but because the coal fired trains blackened everything in the area, the stations were moved out from the center of town. It was a few things afterwards, but now I am glad it houses what it does. Although we were quite tired we agreed we could split up and meet at the reception area after two hours. Fortunately, this museum was not going to close until 9PM. With the 30-45 minutes for a quick bite to eat, I spent about four hours or so walking from exhibit to exhibit as quickly as my brain could take in what I was witnessing. I spoke with several people after this experience and they agreed Orsay was their favorite museum in Paris as well. I left when I did only because my legs and feet were so sore, I had concerns about making it back to the hotel.

So now we are on the TGV, on a cloudy day, heading to Stuttgart and then transferring to Nuremberg. But first, I am told I must find the restroom. And I will, because I have to use it as well.

changes, the only constant

IN the movie Fiddler on the Roof, the main character, Reb Tevye, who is the father to three girls, is forced to go through a series of changes in the way he relates to life. Because he has no real control over what is happening, he has to adapt to those changes whether he wants to or not.

At his funeral, I referred to my father as having gone through all the same stuff. He was uncomfortable with his daughters growing up in the sixties and experiencing all the "freedoms" they thought they had. He was able to relate to me because I followed the path he set for me, with no confrontation.

I am now experiencing the same "Oh-my-gods-what-the hell-is-going-on-here" part of my life.

My sons have grown and moved on their own. One in the Navy, now out in the Gulf of somewhere, putting airplanes back together after pilots find ways to abuse them. The second son is living nearby, is married and has supplied us with the cutest granddaughter we could ever hope for. She is growing smarter and stronger every day. There may be talk of another, but I am not privy to their decisions which are rightly theirs to make.

My daughter. She is the college graduate with two degrees from Texas Tech. She is beautiful, strong of body and character, and quite intelligent. She went off for a year and a half to teach English to Korean children in their public school system. It was her dream job and she loved it and grew more self assured as she worked there.

But now she is home, living with us, working for a school principal that is not supporting her well. Part of that is because she didn't tell her she was pregnant when she hired on. And she is teaching in fifth grade which is a testing for school evaluations level.

Yes, pregnant. Living with us, with a whole room devoted to the gonna-be-here-any-day son. I can not disparage of her living with us. It's a daddy-daughter thing. I am having problems with the fact that the little girl I taught to read and play soccer and learn karate and encourage her musical talents is now about to put another life under my roof. That life will require feeding, walking, rocking, total everything care for the next few years. Somewhere in my psyche, I was ready to just settle in, tolerate the one sided discussions from my wife, go to work occasionally, mow the lawn as necessary, walk the dogs every night, And drink beer while watching football.

I realize this kid is something special. He busted a condom and got past the chemistry of "the Pill" to become a zygote and has grown ahead of schedule for the last 35+ weeks. The only problem now is the mother has insanely high blood pressure and the doctors will induce on the 29th or 30th if there is no effacement or dilation occurring before then.

My wife, when she isn't taking her medications as prescribed, is worse than I am some days. She goes off on me about things I have no control, things the daughter/new mother has to decide. And some I should be responsible for, like cleaning the house that she is unable/unwilling to do. And the new mother also wants the house clean for her baby, and while we went on vacation, she and her brother cleared out a lot of stuff.

Like Tevye, and Joe Yak, I want things to be like they were. I want to challenge my sons, but cuddle my little girl. My sons are now Men who have evolved into their own lives and families. My daughter is now abut to be a Mother herself. I am sad that I cannot go back in time. I realize deep inside somewhere that life goes forward, that life will find a way to be. That all things, all people have to grow and evolve and change. That sometimes my heart and my brain have a disconnect.

Once again, I refer back to the great philosophers: The Beatles. It was a terrible song, but the words still ring true: "Ob-la-di, Ob-la-da, Life goes on...."

Been a while....

Yeah, I haven't posted anything in a while.
Things are in a tizzy here at the Casa Yak. Daughter is 8+ months preggers, wife and I are going on a vacation to Europe that she has had in her bucket list for some time, I've gone semi-retired at the Orange Box, and the glorious season of Cold is trying to make a showing.

And it IS that shitty season of catalogs and caroling. We have started getting a whole lot of mail-order catalogs from folks we haven't ordered from in ten years. Then Cal Farley wants us to support his Boy's Ranch, and the Salvation Army is ding-a-linging at Wally World. I selected this particular part of the year to vacation so I could get away from the thirteen songs of Xmas sung by pop stars of the forties and fifties being played over and over again. It has worked somewhat. I did turn on the local oldies-now-playing-Xmas music station for the wife. She loves this season. We will be gone on the aforementioned trip from December 5 to the 23rd. She wants to decorate the house. The aforementioned daughter-with-upcoming-grandson wants none of it. 20+ boxes came down from the attic so Wife could look at the ornaments and other shit. So far 15 have gone back up.

Work has been a little weird as well. I have been working in the hardware department, or at least assigned there for the last few months. There are things I can do there that no one else in the store seems to be able to do. This area encompasses power tools, hand tools, fasteners, door hardware, and safety equipment. Unfortunately, during the last couple of weeks, I was "cross-clocked" back into the flooring department, where I realized that I had dismissed from my brain all the computer procedures for setting up a carpet sale. Fortunately, there was no call to qualify and sell anything via the computer. But I may require some retraining when they do that to me again.

Getting older has had its downsides as well. I am not so eager to take my boxers "on patrol" as I am in the warmer weather. I sleep less well. When I do sleep well, it is always just before I have to wake up early to do something, like go to work at 6 in the darkness of night. My eating cycle has gone to hell as well. I'm not hungry at mealtime, but right after I am either uncomfortable from what I just ate or ravenously hungry for whatever will fit in my mouth. When I am at home, I have to fight off the afternoon nap syndrome. I often lose the fight.

The Wife is falling apart as well. She has had up to four broken bones in her foot. She had a molar with a split root that had to be surgically removed. There are small sores inside her mouth that come and go, unexplainable by the doctors she sees. She sees a chiropractor, an acupuncturist, an internist and some other doctor, as well as an occasional specialist. And several dental workers: dentist, oral surgeon, and orthodontist.

Getting old is not for the faint of heart.

A GOOD Thing: Got to see the sonogram of my grandson. He will be (or is) Marek Hye-Seong Yakabowskas. Daughter is the mother, daughter gets to name him. Neither name would have been in my top ten thousand, but they were her first choice, and that is what it shall be. My name was determined by the outcome of a lobster race after a fifth of scotch. The scotch was consumed by my father and Uncle Carl. The lobsters were skittling across the kitchen floor. Dad said his lobster just gave up halfway across  even though he was ahead.. The Marek is due to show up on December 31. I have been designated childbirth coach by my trusting, loving offspring. I am only slightly terrified. It has been 27 years since I did this last. And she was the reason I was coaching then.

I am now being summoned to help the Wife with stuff she needs to do before the Trip Across the Pond. This is stuff I told her to do three weeks ago. We will do them now, just before leaving.

Pray for me.