One of my neighbors is apparently having a party this evening. That is fine. They are not loud and obnoxious, although they did not invite me. They bought the house last fall and completely renovated it. I can certainly commiserate. I remember her. She was a student in one of my classes or else dated someone in one of my classes a few years ago. A nice girl - it looks like life has turned out well for her.
They are displaying some excellent fireworks. What I have seen so far would be more than adequate for any town or small city. I hesitate to think what they must have paid for them. I actually wonder if someone there works for a fireworks company. They have been going nonstop for over two hours. Not a single one is little. I am sure they must have taken out a second mortgage. These are fabulous!! There are Roman candles. Some of them change colors in the air. Some have second and third stages. Not too many boomers. They are exactly what I like. Just pretty. Some of them are a bit close to the neighbor's roof, and a few have even drifted over my roof. So far so good. My house insurance is paid up. The neighbors are away for a few days so I will keep an eye out for the dogs.
This evening reminds me of when I was little. Very little. I wasn't in school yet so I must have been four or five. My dad took us to the Mall in fromt of Independence Hall in Philadelphia with a picnic supper and a blanket. The three of us sat on the blanket for quite a while. More and more people were arriving until it was wall-to-wall blankets. The Mall is a huge expanse of grass. Lots of Revolutionary re-enactments are presented here. When I was little it was gigantic. There used to be a law in Philadelphia that no building could be taller than William Penn's hat. That kept the flavor of the early settlers in mind all the time. That law has since been rescinded and I have watched skyscrapers built right next to the historic buildings. The new buildings have taken the timelessness out of those rebels. William Penn is now dwarfed by several new banks and office buildings. It just isn't the same. It must be the reactionary in me. It just isn't the same.
We sat on a blanket on the lawn and ate our supper. We stayed while I chased lightning bugs. I came back with a few fireflies cupped in my hands. Finally, it was twilight. The transistor radios were being turned off. Conversations ceased. A hush penetrated the crowd. We waited. It wouldn't be long now.
Finally, a huge boom. The sound of the first rocket being launched. The sky behind Independence Hall exploded in a rainbow of sparks. I lay on the blanket looking at the sky as it filled with dancing sparks. A slight hint of gunpowder wafted across the Mall. I could imagine the MinuteMen careening onto the battlefield to secure America from the British. They would have fought bravely to secure their liberty. I can almost see Patrick Henry on the steps, belting out, "Give me liberty, or give me death!" for all to hear.
It is impossible to have fireworks in the city today. First, the Fire Marshall would never give his ok. Then there is the issue of being able to see. The tall buildings would obfuscate the view making it impossible to see. It is an entirely different place today.
I love fireworks, pareades, and the Fourth of July. The fireworks tonight remind me that i have not been here for some years to celebrate Independance Day. This year I will be flying into Bucharest at 12:30am and then heading to the train station for the seven hour night train to Gura Humorului. It should be an exciting trip this year. I want to see where I am going to spend the next year.
Saturday, June 30, 2007
Friday, June 29, 2007
Fun With Passports
It all started when I realized I was running out of time for getting an international driver's license. It was on my To-Do list, but not very high. It takes about six weeks to obtain - or at least that is what they said at AAA a few weeks ago when I called to inquire. It dawned on me this afternoon that I would need to get the paperwork started before I left for Lithuania or I might not be getting one at all.
I really have no intention of driving in Europe at all, but it seems like a good idea to have a back-up. It is one thing to decide not to drive for three or four weeks; it is another altogether to decide not to drive for over a year. How will I survive? I will certainly miss my little green Mustang. Apparently, it is absolutely not a good idea to drive while under the influence in most European countries. In Romania, the first time one is stopped and it is determined one is under the influence the driver's license is yanked, never to be seen again. There is no slapping of the hands, no first offense leniency. I see where it may come in handy to be in a position to drive if the need arose.
I also think that given time, I will come to understand the rules of the road on that side of the pond. I have never driven over there, but I have managed to be involved in four accidents so far - one in a tour bus! I want to see much of Europe while I am there and it seems that I might find a friend to drive with and sharing the driving is always an idea.
I thought about all of this at 4pm on Friday afternoon. I called AAA to see if it was possible and the lady said they would be open until 6 and it "only takes a few minutes." That sounded good, so I headed for Ann Arbor. Two passport-type pictures and $28. later, and I am filling out a form to get my license. Interesting questions they ask. Like my phone number. I can not afford an international phone and I imagine I am not alone. Why would the authorities ask for the number for a phone that, in all liklihood, will be left in the states and will be absolutely useless in the case of an emergency?
Why do passport pictures always look like mug shots??? Thank heavens this license is only good for a year. Maybe I can spruce up for my picture next year.
Upon returning home, I thought I should put this new document in with my passport for safe-keeping. I have kept passports and birth certificates in a cookie tin for about thirty years. The same cookie tin. My grandmother gave me the tin and I guess that is why it has never been lost. So I open the tin to put the new license in and my current passport is not in there. My college passport is there. I actually looked pretty good in that picture. My hair was to my waist then and I wore it loose. It was quite a mane then. My passport from a quick trip to Chicago one day thirteen years ago was there. I ran into the photo shop across from the passport office at 8AM after driving since midnight. The picture looked awful - I can see why that person would have been "chosen" every single time she was at the airport. Nick and Jon's passports were in the tin. But where was my most recent, actually valid passport? The one I needed on Monday morning? In light of recent issues with US passports, I actually got a bit nervous. Where could my passport be? I had it out to check the expiration date about three weeks ago after talking to another teacher who had to make the trek to Chicago to get a new passport on the spot. Six weeks and fifteen weeks are apparently similar time frames for the passport office. I can't imagine how they will ever get the passport issues cleaned up if they ever get caught up. I am sure they never realized how many passports they were going to have to issue with the new law.
As I leave for the airport at 8:30 on Monday morning, I really don't have time to make an emergency trip to Chicago. Had someone actually broken into my house and stolen my passport? That does seem a bit ridiculous. How would that person know where to look? If someone were to do that, it would seem that I would see the detritous of the search, but I had seen none. I have never advertised where I keep them and so to find them immediately seems a stretch. I am trying to keep it together. I remember thinking that I should start accumulating everything for the first trip. I remember putting it in one of those zippered pouches from a conference I attended this year. It was black and had a neck string. The bag had been in the top desk drawer. It wasn't there now because it was in a new, safe place. Oh, how I despise safe places.
I searched every room in the house. It had to be on my desk somewhere. As the desk has been a repository for some time, I had a monuental task ahead of me. It was at least a foot high everywhere, and much of it was closing in on two feet.
It took a few hours but I can now see the desk surface. There is only a single pile of things to do when I return later in the month. Still no passport. I am still relatively calm. I had seen it not too long ago. The only place it can be is in a box in the garage or in Jim's barn, or else in the trash. Neither of those are god options so I think again about where I had it last. I look around the office. Then it dawns on me. Did I put it in with the Fulbright bag when I went to Orientation in Cleveland two weeks ago? I have searched everywhere and that has to be it. Low and behold, I had packed it with the notes and files I took to Cleveland in case I would need a copy of it for my files.
I really needed to clean off my desk, but that certainly wasn't how I wanted to get it done. I am more organized now. Everything is filed away to take with on this trip, the next trip, or for next year. It feels really good to have that done and to have found my passport.
I really have no intention of driving in Europe at all, but it seems like a good idea to have a back-up. It is one thing to decide not to drive for three or four weeks; it is another altogether to decide not to drive for over a year. How will I survive? I will certainly miss my little green Mustang. Apparently, it is absolutely not a good idea to drive while under the influence in most European countries. In Romania, the first time one is stopped and it is determined one is under the influence the driver's license is yanked, never to be seen again. There is no slapping of the hands, no first offense leniency. I see where it may come in handy to be in a position to drive if the need arose.
I also think that given time, I will come to understand the rules of the road on that side of the pond. I have never driven over there, but I have managed to be involved in four accidents so far - one in a tour bus! I want to see much of Europe while I am there and it seems that I might find a friend to drive with and sharing the driving is always an idea.
I thought about all of this at 4pm on Friday afternoon. I called AAA to see if it was possible and the lady said they would be open until 6 and it "only takes a few minutes." That sounded good, so I headed for Ann Arbor. Two passport-type pictures and $28. later, and I am filling out a form to get my license. Interesting questions they ask. Like my phone number. I can not afford an international phone and I imagine I am not alone. Why would the authorities ask for the number for a phone that, in all liklihood, will be left in the states and will be absolutely useless in the case of an emergency?
Why do passport pictures always look like mug shots??? Thank heavens this license is only good for a year. Maybe I can spruce up for my picture next year.
Upon returning home, I thought I should put this new document in with my passport for safe-keeping. I have kept passports and birth certificates in a cookie tin for about thirty years. The same cookie tin. My grandmother gave me the tin and I guess that is why it has never been lost. So I open the tin to put the new license in and my current passport is not in there. My college passport is there. I actually looked pretty good in that picture. My hair was to my waist then and I wore it loose. It was quite a mane then. My passport from a quick trip to Chicago one day thirteen years ago was there. I ran into the photo shop across from the passport office at 8AM after driving since midnight. The picture looked awful - I can see why that person would have been "chosen" every single time she was at the airport. Nick and Jon's passports were in the tin. But where was my most recent, actually valid passport? The one I needed on Monday morning? In light of recent issues with US passports, I actually got a bit nervous. Where could my passport be? I had it out to check the expiration date about three weeks ago after talking to another teacher who had to make the trek to Chicago to get a new passport on the spot. Six weeks and fifteen weeks are apparently similar time frames for the passport office. I can't imagine how they will ever get the passport issues cleaned up if they ever get caught up. I am sure they never realized how many passports they were going to have to issue with the new law.
As I leave for the airport at 8:30 on Monday morning, I really don't have time to make an emergency trip to Chicago. Had someone actually broken into my house and stolen my passport? That does seem a bit ridiculous. How would that person know where to look? If someone were to do that, it would seem that I would see the detritous of the search, but I had seen none. I have never advertised where I keep them and so to find them immediately seems a stretch. I am trying to keep it together. I remember thinking that I should start accumulating everything for the first trip. I remember putting it in one of those zippered pouches from a conference I attended this year. It was black and had a neck string. The bag had been in the top desk drawer. It wasn't there now because it was in a new, safe place. Oh, how I despise safe places.
I searched every room in the house. It had to be on my desk somewhere. As the desk has been a repository for some time, I had a monuental task ahead of me. It was at least a foot high everywhere, and much of it was closing in on two feet.
It took a few hours but I can now see the desk surface. There is only a single pile of things to do when I return later in the month. Still no passport. I am still relatively calm. I had seen it not too long ago. The only place it can be is in a box in the garage or in Jim's barn, or else in the trash. Neither of those are god options so I think again about where I had it last. I look around the office. Then it dawns on me. Did I put it in with the Fulbright bag when I went to Orientation in Cleveland two weeks ago? I have searched everywhere and that has to be it. Low and behold, I had packed it with the notes and files I took to Cleveland in case I would need a copy of it for my files.
I really needed to clean off my desk, but that certainly wasn't how I wanted to get it done. I am more organized now. Everything is filed away to take with on this trip, the next trip, or for next year. It feels really good to have that done and to have found my passport.
Northwest Airlines
Every year it is a challenge to get airline tickets to Vilnius from Detroit without having to also procure a new home loan. One hears of fantastic ticket prices from others and those rates are advertised everywhere, but there is always some part of the fine print that prohibits me from being able to enjoy those same rates. I have been flying NorthWest almost exclusively since 1969 when it was NorthWest Orient Airlines. I can still sing the ditty that they used in their advertisements. The mind is a curious thing. I have racked up enough frequent flyer miles to trade in for an around-the-world ticket, but apparently, not enough for a great rate.
I have been flying EuropeByAir.com for the past few years. It never ceases to amaze me that if I try to book through NWA it is about $1700. But if I book to any hub in Europe and buy two EuropeByAir tickets for $99 each, it is about $1200. We are talking about the exact same flights and probably the same seat assignments. How is this possible?? It is possible to book tickets through an intermediary that are $300 cheaper than booking them through NWA. It just makes no sense.
This year I have an added agenda item - I want to visit Romania on the way to Vilnius. It shouldn't be difficult. An extra jaunt to Bucharest. How hard can that be? Apparently, one can't get there from here, no matter how hard one tries. I have spent hours on the Internet, on the phone, and at the travel agent's trying to make this reasonable. I am even willing to pay a premium to get in and out of Romania but I didn't really want to give up my first-born son in the deal. I have spent three or four hours a day for weeks pouring through the airline websites to make this work. It seems that for a mere $2000. I can do the trip I want to do. And this is months before I am planning to go when there should be all sorts of deals I should be able to get my hands on. The best I was able to find was using Dublin as a hub. Aer Lingus is beating all the airfares by hundreds of dollars this year. A few years ago it was Iceland Air. Every year it is some place different. I rather like that as I get to see different places this way.
I nearly booked the Aer Lingus flight a few times, but I did not have either my credit card or vouchers with me and so kept planning" to do it tomorrow." It is now a week from the date I need to be there and still no tickets. We all know that if waiting too long will result in paying full price no matter what, which is now well over $3000. Not wanting to get stuck, I made my reservations at 10:27 on Sunday night. Not like I was cutting it a bit close. This year I can earn an extra 15000 points for flying from Detroit to Brussels or Dusseldorf and the rates are the lowest. I clicked Send and nothing happened. At this late date, I resort to calling NWA. Their number is on my speed dial. Seriously, that's true. I talk to a very nice woman who gets me set up on the flight I want and takes my voucher, leaving me with a balance of just over $600. Not bad!!
While I am on the phone with this agent, I ask about the jaunts around Europe that I want to make. It is only three flights - how hard can this be? Those three little trips are up to $1600. now and I just can't see paying that much for them. Maybe I will rent a car. I say goodbye and hang up. Back to the drawing board.
I finally look into a Eurail Pass. That would be fun. It would be great fun. I could meet new people and learn about where they are from. It was going to be 42 hours of great fun to get to the little town that is my destination. I was willing to do that, but I could not find a price for the last leg into Lithuania because Lithuania is not a part of the Eurail system. Clicking the Purchase Tickets button seemed like a bad idea with no final price listed and so I hesitated. It is getting closer and closer to the date I will arrive in Dusseldorf and I still have no idea how I am getting around. I am actually stating to get nervous about this. Usually, I wouldn't worry because things have a way or working themselves out, but this one had me flummoxed. I just wasn't getting through the barrier.
I am going to arrive in Dusseldorf with bags complying with international flights and will then want to go on domestic flights - trains - donkeys - whatever conveyance I can find - with all my huge bags. I can already see the red flags. I have been "chosen" at airport security checkpoints too many times. How can I look like a terrorist? What terrorist lugs armloads of books and gifts and lesson plans??? I really need to get serious. Back to the travel agent. She can do it for $3500.+ and that is only the three internal flights. This is looking bleaker and bleaker. Where is it that I am going to spend the next academic year? It is more and more obvious that I am not going to be getting out and about. Back to the Internet. NWA is not even taking calls. Their phone volume is so high that the recording suggests I try another, less busy time, like next week. Are they kidding? I need to get these tickets now!
I am at lunch with my mom and she is in the rest room. She is 83, bless her heart, so that can take awhile. I figure I can take a 41-hour train ride to Gura Humorului and then a 46-hour ride to Vilnius. I will be able to spend one day in the town. I am leaving for Europe six days early so that I can spend less than 24 hours there. This just makes no sense. Back to the travel agent. Can she get me a Eurail Pass? Yes. OK, go for it. Of course, she is with a customer and will call back. Probably one who thinks it is fine to pay over $4000. to fly around Europe. I leave a message asking her to get me the Eurail Pass.
My mom is not back yet. One more try to NWA. The phone is answered after only three rings and almost immediately I am switched to a real, live agent. I actually asked her if this was NWA. Maybe I punched in the wrong speed dial code. She really worked for NWA and was ready to make this work for me. This must be my lucky day!
I explain what I am trying to do and the difficulties I am running into. I explain about all the deals I have registered for that never seem to work out. I tell her I am a poor teacher and doing this as a volunteer and that volunteering should not cost so much. She agrees with everything I have said and wants to make this work. She is a fairy godmother and she is smiling today!
I had registered for a deal that allows you to fly around Europe for $40 to $200 per leg depending on the number of flight miles as many times and you want as long as you take at least three jaunts. I have searched on the NWA website and can not figure out how to actually get that rate. She has never heard of this deal. No surprise there. I can not remember the name of the deal. I tell her it is much like the EuropeByAir.com vouchers. She has never heard of that either. I remember that all of my flight research is in the car and ask her to hang on while I go get it. Thank you Verizon for cell phones. We talk while I trudge to the car and wrest my files from the back seat. This is post shopping and so it is crammed with those big shopping bags with string handles that get all tangled up with each other. The agent is such a patient lady. I find what I need and tell her the program is called SkyTeam Europe Pass. She looks it up and voila! she finds it. She reads the pages of fine print and asks me to be patient while she does. She talks to the rate department and asks if I mind waiting. She routes the flights according to the fine print. I am now flying through Prague - a city I have not visited before but I am sure will be interesting. I will even get to spend the night in Dusseldorf to see what I can find to do there. She keeps checking in with me to let me know she is still working on the flights and the rates. I am starting to wonder how much longer my cell phone battery is going to last. Even though I had just recharged it, it has been awhile.
Meanwhile, the waitress arrives and we order lunch. The salad arrives. It is delicious. A friend stops at our table to wish me a Bon Voyage. We talk for a few minutes while I hold the phone to my ear. She heads off for the rest of her day. Our sandwiches arrive. I forgot to tell the waitress that I didn't want any mustard but the honey Dijon is fabulous on the sandwich. I might even start adding it myself. (The lunch ladies back at the high school will probably wonder if I have taken leave of my senses.) Mom and I talk about the shopping we have accomplished and she wonders if my sister will invite her out to the club so she can wear her new hat and outfit. She really looks cute. The waitress is bringing me the third glass of peach iced tea. It is really delicious. Mom wanted to sit inside in the air conditioning but I insist that we sit outside. We are sitting on the patio at Max and Erma's overlooking the duck pond. There is a breeze in the air and it is about 80 degrees. What could be more perfect?
Mom and I talk about her options. She is in rehab but she wants to come home although she is not sure if she is ready. I tell her I am leaving in three days and that moving her home will be quite a bit of stress at this point. I mention that I will not be here to be of any assistance if it is not the right decision. I think she should wait a bit before she comes home. She agrees. Then she thinks that maybe in a week or two. I suggest that if she waits three weeks I will be back and can make it all go so much smoother for her. She sees the logic there. This does mean that she has to live with the woman who wakes up at 4am screaming for everyone to leave her house and go home. When I met her on the first day, she kept yelling that I should "Get the hell out of here!" She is not an easy woman to live with. She has sent her two daughters home crying several times so far. It is such a sad thing to see what happens to us as we age maybe more than our bodies are supposed to. She is perfectly healthy, but her mind is in another place. It must be terribly frightening to not really understand where she is and whom all these strange people are that are milling about. Poor Mom. Three more weeks of her. The waitress reappears asking if we want dessert. I order ice cream and Mom orders the banana cream pie. What a delightful place to sit in the afternoon while we wait for glasses to be made. The agent comes back on the line and tells me that she has it all figured out and they can make those reservations at the fabulous price of about $600. I am ecstatic! I knew it could be done. Who says waiting until the eleventh hour doesn't work!?
We wind up the financial details of the trip and say goodbye. I have another travel voucher but this trip can not accommodate any other finagling. I am going to enjoy my trip to Europe this summer for a little over $1200. Much, much better. Now I will be able to enrich the Lithuanian economy as well as teacher's minds this July. Does it get any better than this?! Mom and I toddle back to the mall to get her glasses, which seem to fit perfectly and then I took her home. A wonderful day all around.
Enough grousing because Northwest has come through, using my car for a file cabinet works, the battery on my cell phone lasted, the food was fabulous, and Mom enjoyed the afternoon.
I have been flying EuropeByAir.com for the past few years. It never ceases to amaze me that if I try to book through NWA it is about $1700. But if I book to any hub in Europe and buy two EuropeByAir tickets for $99 each, it is about $1200. We are talking about the exact same flights and probably the same seat assignments. How is this possible?? It is possible to book tickets through an intermediary that are $300 cheaper than booking them through NWA. It just makes no sense.
This year I have an added agenda item - I want to visit Romania on the way to Vilnius. It shouldn't be difficult. An extra jaunt to Bucharest. How hard can that be? Apparently, one can't get there from here, no matter how hard one tries. I have spent hours on the Internet, on the phone, and at the travel agent's trying to make this reasonable. I am even willing to pay a premium to get in and out of Romania but I didn't really want to give up my first-born son in the deal. I have spent three or four hours a day for weeks pouring through the airline websites to make this work. It seems that for a mere $2000. I can do the trip I want to do. And this is months before I am planning to go when there should be all sorts of deals I should be able to get my hands on. The best I was able to find was using Dublin as a hub. Aer Lingus is beating all the airfares by hundreds of dollars this year. A few years ago it was Iceland Air. Every year it is some place different. I rather like that as I get to see different places this way.
I nearly booked the Aer Lingus flight a few times, but I did not have either my credit card or vouchers with me and so kept planning" to do it tomorrow." It is now a week from the date I need to be there and still no tickets. We all know that if waiting too long will result in paying full price no matter what, which is now well over $3000. Not wanting to get stuck, I made my reservations at 10:27 on Sunday night. Not like I was cutting it a bit close. This year I can earn an extra 15000 points for flying from Detroit to Brussels or Dusseldorf and the rates are the lowest. I clicked Send and nothing happened. At this late date, I resort to calling NWA. Their number is on my speed dial. Seriously, that's true. I talk to a very nice woman who gets me set up on the flight I want and takes my voucher, leaving me with a balance of just over $600. Not bad!!
While I am on the phone with this agent, I ask about the jaunts around Europe that I want to make. It is only three flights - how hard can this be? Those three little trips are up to $1600. now and I just can't see paying that much for them. Maybe I will rent a car. I say goodbye and hang up. Back to the drawing board.
I finally look into a Eurail Pass. That would be fun. It would be great fun. I could meet new people and learn about where they are from. It was going to be 42 hours of great fun to get to the little town that is my destination. I was willing to do that, but I could not find a price for the last leg into Lithuania because Lithuania is not a part of the Eurail system. Clicking the Purchase Tickets button seemed like a bad idea with no final price listed and so I hesitated. It is getting closer and closer to the date I will arrive in Dusseldorf and I still have no idea how I am getting around. I am actually stating to get nervous about this. Usually, I wouldn't worry because things have a way or working themselves out, but this one had me flummoxed. I just wasn't getting through the barrier.
I am going to arrive in Dusseldorf with bags complying with international flights and will then want to go on domestic flights - trains - donkeys - whatever conveyance I can find - with all my huge bags. I can already see the red flags. I have been "chosen" at airport security checkpoints too many times. How can I look like a terrorist? What terrorist lugs armloads of books and gifts and lesson plans??? I really need to get serious. Back to the travel agent. She can do it for $3500.+ and that is only the three internal flights. This is looking bleaker and bleaker. Where is it that I am going to spend the next academic year? It is more and more obvious that I am not going to be getting out and about. Back to the Internet. NWA is not even taking calls. Their phone volume is so high that the recording suggests I try another, less busy time, like next week. Are they kidding? I need to get these tickets now!
I am at lunch with my mom and she is in the rest room. She is 83, bless her heart, so that can take awhile. I figure I can take a 41-hour train ride to Gura Humorului and then a 46-hour ride to Vilnius. I will be able to spend one day in the town. I am leaving for Europe six days early so that I can spend less than 24 hours there. This just makes no sense. Back to the travel agent. Can she get me a Eurail Pass? Yes. OK, go for it. Of course, she is with a customer and will call back. Probably one who thinks it is fine to pay over $4000. to fly around Europe. I leave a message asking her to get me the Eurail Pass.
My mom is not back yet. One more try to NWA. The phone is answered after only three rings and almost immediately I am switched to a real, live agent. I actually asked her if this was NWA. Maybe I punched in the wrong speed dial code. She really worked for NWA and was ready to make this work for me. This must be my lucky day!
I explain what I am trying to do and the difficulties I am running into. I explain about all the deals I have registered for that never seem to work out. I tell her I am a poor teacher and doing this as a volunteer and that volunteering should not cost so much. She agrees with everything I have said and wants to make this work. She is a fairy godmother and she is smiling today!
I had registered for a deal that allows you to fly around Europe for $40 to $200 per leg depending on the number of flight miles as many times and you want as long as you take at least three jaunts. I have searched on the NWA website and can not figure out how to actually get that rate. She has never heard of this deal. No surprise there. I can not remember the name of the deal. I tell her it is much like the EuropeByAir.com vouchers. She has never heard of that either. I remember that all of my flight research is in the car and ask her to hang on while I go get it. Thank you Verizon for cell phones. We talk while I trudge to the car and wrest my files from the back seat. This is post shopping and so it is crammed with those big shopping bags with string handles that get all tangled up with each other. The agent is such a patient lady. I find what I need and tell her the program is called SkyTeam Europe Pass. She looks it up and voila! she finds it. She reads the pages of fine print and asks me to be patient while she does. She talks to the rate department and asks if I mind waiting. She routes the flights according to the fine print. I am now flying through Prague - a city I have not visited before but I am sure will be interesting. I will even get to spend the night in Dusseldorf to see what I can find to do there. She keeps checking in with me to let me know she is still working on the flights and the rates. I am starting to wonder how much longer my cell phone battery is going to last. Even though I had just recharged it, it has been awhile.
Meanwhile, the waitress arrives and we order lunch. The salad arrives. It is delicious. A friend stops at our table to wish me a Bon Voyage. We talk for a few minutes while I hold the phone to my ear. She heads off for the rest of her day. Our sandwiches arrive. I forgot to tell the waitress that I didn't want any mustard but the honey Dijon is fabulous on the sandwich. I might even start adding it myself. (The lunch ladies back at the high school will probably wonder if I have taken leave of my senses.) Mom and I talk about the shopping we have accomplished and she wonders if my sister will invite her out to the club so she can wear her new hat and outfit. She really looks cute. The waitress is bringing me the third glass of peach iced tea. It is really delicious. Mom wanted to sit inside in the air conditioning but I insist that we sit outside. We are sitting on the patio at Max and Erma's overlooking the duck pond. There is a breeze in the air and it is about 80 degrees. What could be more perfect?
Mom and I talk about her options. She is in rehab but she wants to come home although she is not sure if she is ready. I tell her I am leaving in three days and that moving her home will be quite a bit of stress at this point. I mention that I will not be here to be of any assistance if it is not the right decision. I think she should wait a bit before she comes home. She agrees. Then she thinks that maybe in a week or two. I suggest that if she waits three weeks I will be back and can make it all go so much smoother for her. She sees the logic there. This does mean that she has to live with the woman who wakes up at 4am screaming for everyone to leave her house and go home. When I met her on the first day, she kept yelling that I should "Get the hell out of here!" She is not an easy woman to live with. She has sent her two daughters home crying several times so far. It is such a sad thing to see what happens to us as we age maybe more than our bodies are supposed to. She is perfectly healthy, but her mind is in another place. It must be terribly frightening to not really understand where she is and whom all these strange people are that are milling about. Poor Mom. Three more weeks of her. The waitress reappears asking if we want dessert. I order ice cream and Mom orders the banana cream pie. What a delightful place to sit in the afternoon while we wait for glasses to be made. The agent comes back on the line and tells me that she has it all figured out and they can make those reservations at the fabulous price of about $600. I am ecstatic! I knew it could be done. Who says waiting until the eleventh hour doesn't work!?
We wind up the financial details of the trip and say goodbye. I have another travel voucher but this trip can not accommodate any other finagling. I am going to enjoy my trip to Europe this summer for a little over $1200. Much, much better. Now I will be able to enrich the Lithuanian economy as well as teacher's minds this July. Does it get any better than this?! Mom and I toddle back to the mall to get her glasses, which seem to fit perfectly and then I took her home. A wonderful day all around.
Enough grousing because Northwest has come through, using my car for a file cabinet works, the battery on my cell phone lasted, the food was fabulous, and Mom enjoyed the afternoon.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Zagare
Who'd a thunk it!? Those of you who know me, know that my ears perk up when I hear Road Trip. I have traveled to many places on the globe, but I certainly have a whole lot more to see. There is so much out there. It is an entirely different experience to go somewhere in person than it is to read about it or Google it.
A few years ago I was in Zagare, LT exploring the town with a lovely lady. She is a teacher at the school and has made preserving the iron crosses of the region her mission. It is the school project to collect them and build a museum around them. Currently, they are being housed in a delightful wooden church at the top of a hill just outside of town. The church sits atop a knoll that is the graveyard. I have never seen anything quite lke it. Each grave is set off in its own rectangle. Someone, I imagine it is the remaining family, tends to the spot. Each grave has its own personality in the flowering plants and arrangement of the area. It is certainly not a graveyard as we know them in America. No freshly-mown green grass with gravestones all in rows. Each plot here is stikingly individual.
We walked to the top of the knoll through the graves until we reached the church. Inside the nave are pictures of many of the crosses and where they came from. The iron crosses are displayed throughout the church with some of their histories. No pews were evident but services continue in this tiny church. The altar was at the far end of the church. The altar cloths had been preserved from a bygone era. They were from before Soviet times, and yet they were still beautiful. They had not disintegrated, but looked fresh as the day they were made.
After a bit, we went upstairs to the choir loft. The stone staircase had been built ages ago to accomodate tiny people. I am not that tall but I could not stand up in this stairway. It was a circular stairway with stone steps that had huge halfmoons from many years of use. I began the ascent. It was like climbing up a waterslide - about as slippery and certainly treacherous. I had to lean on the walls to make the turns. I used the flash from my camera to see where I was going. One of the things I love about Lithuania is the complete disregard for public safety. There are no cocoons, no safety nets. It seems that Lithuanians assume that you are intelligent enough to see that it is dangerous and will act accordingly. I like that about them. The EU is changing all of that. It is probably a good thing but it certainly shows what morons we can be, but that is another discussion entirely.
At the top of the steps is a fabulous pipe organ. Thank you, Curt, for teaching me about pipe organs so many years ago. I could appreciate what I was looking at. The organ had been there for many years. It had to be at least pre-Soviet, which is 17 plus 50 years ago minimum and I would guess it was older than that even. It was still in good working order. The bellows were in fine shape, still supple. Every Sunday it is played for those who come to services at the church. The keyboard had two ranks and quite a few extra keys for variety. You organists will appreciate what that means. Imagine finding such a thing in a little village on the border between Lithuania and Latvia. Even more amazing is that it still works well and is tended to regularly. Many of these organs in the States have been abandoned because of the cost of maintenance and that there are so few who still know how to maintain them.
Amazing as the organ was, it was not the highlight of the visit. Behind the mighty organ was the choir loft. We walked around the organ to see the pews for the choir. They are still there and in their midst was a huge kettle drum. It was obviously old but had been taken care of. There was no dust to be seen. The teacher told me that the drum had been there for safe-keeping for some time. We all know the story of Napoleon and his failed march on Russia. His retreat took him through Lithuania. Apparently, Zagare had the pleasure of hosting his visit on the way back to Paris. His little drummer boy hoisted the big kettle drum to the choir loft along with other instruments so that Napoleon could enjoy an evening service. Napoleon asked the priest to take care of his drum until he returned for it. It may be that many of his soldiers were sick and dying and there was no one to carry it. It has been in the choir loft ever since.
I just stood there, in awe. It had been painted a military blue, a sort of deep blue and had been gilded with gold, probably the real thing and then lacquered. The drum is over three hundred years old and yet it still resonates. She asked if I would like to play it. I was speechless. My first thought was Museum! Do Not Touch! Oils on my hands! I can vividly remember those words screaminng through my mind. Then I came to my senses. Would I ever have a chance like this again? Of course not, and so I hesitantly reached out for it. It was smooth to the touch. No dust here. I ran my fingers over the skin. It was still supple. I imagine it could still be played. The body was solid and smooth. I tapped it a few times and it sounded like a drum. I tapped a bit of a tattoo that I could remember and it sounded great. OK, remember that I am not a musician so it probably sounded horrendous in terms of music, but it was awesome that it sounded like a drum to me. To be that old and in such a remote place and to be still a viable instrument made my skin tingle.
A salute to the teacher and her determination to save the heritage of her town.
A few years ago I was in Zagare, LT exploring the town with a lovely lady. She is a teacher at the school and has made preserving the iron crosses of the region her mission. It is the school project to collect them and build a museum around them. Currently, they are being housed in a delightful wooden church at the top of a hill just outside of town. The church sits atop a knoll that is the graveyard. I have never seen anything quite lke it. Each grave is set off in its own rectangle. Someone, I imagine it is the remaining family, tends to the spot. Each grave has its own personality in the flowering plants and arrangement of the area. It is certainly not a graveyard as we know them in America. No freshly-mown green grass with gravestones all in rows. Each plot here is stikingly individual.
We walked to the top of the knoll through the graves until we reached the church. Inside the nave are pictures of many of the crosses and where they came from. The iron crosses are displayed throughout the church with some of their histories. No pews were evident but services continue in this tiny church. The altar was at the far end of the church. The altar cloths had been preserved from a bygone era. They were from before Soviet times, and yet they were still beautiful. They had not disintegrated, but looked fresh as the day they were made.
After a bit, we went upstairs to the choir loft. The stone staircase had been built ages ago to accomodate tiny people. I am not that tall but I could not stand up in this stairway. It was a circular stairway with stone steps that had huge halfmoons from many years of use. I began the ascent. It was like climbing up a waterslide - about as slippery and certainly treacherous. I had to lean on the walls to make the turns. I used the flash from my camera to see where I was going. One of the things I love about Lithuania is the complete disregard for public safety. There are no cocoons, no safety nets. It seems that Lithuanians assume that you are intelligent enough to see that it is dangerous and will act accordingly. I like that about them. The EU is changing all of that. It is probably a good thing but it certainly shows what morons we can be, but that is another discussion entirely.
At the top of the steps is a fabulous pipe organ. Thank you, Curt, for teaching me about pipe organs so many years ago. I could appreciate what I was looking at. The organ had been there for many years. It had to be at least pre-Soviet, which is 17 plus 50 years ago minimum and I would guess it was older than that even. It was still in good working order. The bellows were in fine shape, still supple. Every Sunday it is played for those who come to services at the church. The keyboard had two ranks and quite a few extra keys for variety. You organists will appreciate what that means. Imagine finding such a thing in a little village on the border between Lithuania and Latvia. Even more amazing is that it still works well and is tended to regularly. Many of these organs in the States have been abandoned because of the cost of maintenance and that there are so few who still know how to maintain them.
Amazing as the organ was, it was not the highlight of the visit. Behind the mighty organ was the choir loft. We walked around the organ to see the pews for the choir. They are still there and in their midst was a huge kettle drum. It was obviously old but had been taken care of. There was no dust to be seen. The teacher told me that the drum had been there for safe-keeping for some time. We all know the story of Napoleon and his failed march on Russia. His retreat took him through Lithuania. Apparently, Zagare had the pleasure of hosting his visit on the way back to Paris. His little drummer boy hoisted the big kettle drum to the choir loft along with other instruments so that Napoleon could enjoy an evening service. Napoleon asked the priest to take care of his drum until he returned for it. It may be that many of his soldiers were sick and dying and there was no one to carry it. It has been in the choir loft ever since.
I just stood there, in awe. It had been painted a military blue, a sort of deep blue and had been gilded with gold, probably the real thing and then lacquered. The drum is over three hundred years old and yet it still resonates. She asked if I would like to play it. I was speechless. My first thought was Museum! Do Not Touch! Oils on my hands! I can vividly remember those words screaminng through my mind. Then I came to my senses. Would I ever have a chance like this again? Of course not, and so I hesitantly reached out for it. It was smooth to the touch. No dust here. I ran my fingers over the skin. It was still supple. I imagine it could still be played. The body was solid and smooth. I tapped it a few times and it sounded like a drum. I tapped a bit of a tattoo that I could remember and it sounded great. OK, remember that I am not a musician so it probably sounded horrendous in terms of music, but it was awesome that it sounded like a drum to me. To be that old and in such a remote place and to be still a viable instrument made my skin tingle.
A salute to the teacher and her determination to save the heritage of her town.
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