Ok Go, get out of my mind!

/ Shane / 2 Comments

They did it again! Unbelievable.

I talked awhile ago about three awesome videos (and extremely catchy songs!) by the band Ok Go, and how unbelievable it was that they could continue to make such cool videos for little or no money. Well, I don’t know if they just happen to be on my specific brain-wavelength or what, but they turned out yet *another* video that I happen to think is awesome:

Those of you who have known me for a long time will of course be reminded of the Sledgehammer video from college (I can’t link it because youtube yanked it because of copyright infringement on the song, so you’ll have to take my word for it. Anyway, it was stop action).

Ok Go’s videos always involve extremely long and complicated choreography taken in one shot, so this isn’t so different. However, consider that the shooting took so long that the sky goes from day to night and back to day again before the video is over. I just can’t get over that. And I love that they incorporated the night time into the video.

There’s one other interesting aspect to the video: Orange Bill. As reported here, there was a goose (affectionately dubbed “Orange Bill” for obvious reasons) that just would not stay out of the camera shot. At first they tried to get rid of the thing, but it just wouldn’t leave, so they eventually just ran with it. Watch the video again, you will see plenty of Orange Bill. This might sound crazy to some people, after all, why would a goose want to be on camera or know anything about cameras at all, but actually my cat is the same way. She tries to worm her way into any picture she can. So I can totally believe it. And besides, there is a reason a goose might like to be on camera: instant fame! Check out Orange Bill’s facebook page, or buy an Orange Bill t-shirt!

(Alright, I will admit that I wasn’t too keen on the video with the trained dogs. So maybe we’re not 100% on the same page.)

How about a watermelon to the face?

/ Shane / 3 Comments

You know how long it took me to write this post? Like 2 seconds. And it feels good.

Link via FailBlog

Paris Part 9 – The long road home

/ Shane / 2 Comments

Monday finally arrived, and it was time to start home. And what a day it was.

Part 9A, Apartment no more

Everyone had to get up at 5 a.m. to get dressed and get out the door. The guy showed up at 5:30 and we returned our keys and (::whew::) got our security deposit back.

Side note, when we got home and I checked my emails, I saw that they had sent a few emails during the week saying that we owed them 50€ (about $65) for “early checkout”. Now, this fee was never mentioned at any time, including when we told them what time we would have to leave and arranged for them to get the keys. So 5 days into the trip you’re going to drop a $65 fee on us? I don’t think so. It’s not like we’re talking $10 here. Of course I didn’t have email access so I didn’t see those emails, and he didn’t mention it at all when he picked up the keys. For his sake, I think he made a wise choice there.

Overall, renting the apartment was a good move. It ended up being about the same as what we would have spent on a hotel room, but it was bigger, was in a better, more livable neighborhood, allowed us to do laundry (and thus take less luggage), allowed us to cook supper, was close to 4 (4!) metro lines, let us put the kids to bed in a separate room, and, to tell the truth, felt kind of cool, like I was really living in Paris. So there were many, many advantages. However, buyer beware! There was clearly a lot of shady stuff going on, and could easily have been way, way worse. It worked out well for us, but it just as easily could have gone sour. And nothing that happened in the trip made me feel better to where I wouldn’t worry about it just as much next time.

Part 9B, The race for the flight

After turning in the keys, we had to walk quite a ways to get to the train station. When we finally got there, we walked all over looking for the bus stop that would take us to the airport. We were a little late for the first bus, but we caught the second one. Once we finally got on the bus, but the bus driver told us we should get off at terminal F, which contradicted what we had been told previously, that we should go to terminal 1. We were a bit suspicious about this (how does the same airport have a terminal 1 and a terminal F? That’s not even the same numbering system!) but he seemed confident, so we took his advice. After wandering around terminal F for some time, we finally found a person to ask. She was like, “Why did you get off at terminal F? You should be at terminal 1.”

No problem, just hop on the airport monorail and take it to the opposite end of the line to terminal 1. We were a little nervous, but we just kept telling ourselves, “There is plenty of time, we built time into the schedule for things like this.”

However, when the man with the giant assault rifle told us we had to wait in the hallway until the bomb scare was over, we really started to worry. We would have worried even more if we would have known there was a serious national security threat to Paris that day, but as it was, we were totally disconnected from the news, and didn’t really have any idea until later that day. At the time, we were more worried about the nuisance and making our flight on time.

We debated leaving the terminal and getting a cab to the other side of the airport (that can’t cost that much, right?), but they finally let us through. We had to check in, check our bags, go through security (although, admittedly, French security is a little more lax than in the U.S.), and walk through what felt like half of the airport (the moving walkway was broken of course). Finally, however, we made it to the gate. We had given ourselves 5 hours lead time, and we didn’t even have time to buy coffee, because they had already boarded half the plane!

This time we had a seat behind the bulkhead and a “real” airplane bassinet that bolted to the wall. However, Oliver wanted nothing to do with it. The stewardess asked if we liked it and we were like, “Yeah, he didn’t like it” and she said, “I know, I heard from the back of the plane when you tried to put him in it.” It did provide a nice shelf to set things on, and the extra leg room was *very* nice.

Evie was pretty set for this flight, she watched Toy Story 3 3 times in a row, back to back to back. She kept saying she wasn’t going to watch it again, but then a few minutes later, she’d be hooked. I think she might have slept through the end the first time. Oliver was pretty fussy and we were constantly doing whatever we could to keep him happy (with mixed results). So it was good that Evie didn’t take much effort. Hey, at least they had changing tables in the bathrooms on the airplane.

Finally, after a long exhausting flight we made it. To Newark. Paris travel tip #8: for international flights, DO NOT choose a connecting flight. Fly direct, it’s worth it, even if it costs a little more. We had to get off the plane, claim our baggage, and go through customs before re-checking our bags and re-going through security. So it was like all the bad parts of going to the airport, twice. Not to mention the fact that we had gotten up very early and traveled on an exhausting flight already.

Evie did a good job of holding it together all day, except for one little exception. When we were going through customs, she had an absolute meltdown. This was, of course, the worst possible moment. We’re trying to be all calm and serious and making sure we do the right thing, and she is just screaming like a demon is trying to crawl out of her nose. We strapped her into the stroller and pushed her through the airport, kicking and screaming.

When we got to customs and the guy was looking through the passports, he said, “Is there another little girl down there I can’t see?” Evie immediately answered with something like “RAAAARGH!” It was sort of like transporting a Tasmanian Devil through the airport. Luckily, the guy was very nice and understanding, and he let us through.

I think, at this point, Sara and I were delirious. We were standing in line to go through security, and we realized that we had filled our water bottles before getting on the last plane, but we were going through security again, so we would have to empty them (for the 20 seconds that we went through the metal detector, after which, of course, we could fill them up again). I just remember at one point we were chugging these water bottles and then I dropped all of the passports all over everywhere and Sara and I were laughing so hard we had tears in our eyes. I was probably literally insane at that point (as if taking 2 small kids on a 12 hour airplane odyssey wasn’t proof enough already).

We had 2 hours to make our connecting flight, and it couldn’t have been 1 second shorter or we wouldn’t have made it. Finally we touched down in beautiful, blessed Chicago. The second I stepped off the plane, I was crushed in the face with a big allergy fist. It was weird, how immediate it was.

So now we’re back in Chicago, our long road is ended, right? Wrong. After we got our bags, we had to take a shuttle to the parking lot and then drive all the way home in rush hour traffic. Evie crashed hard in the car and couldn’t be roused for anything. It was a long, long, rough day on all of us, and I couldn’t blame her. Of course we were all up by4 a.m. the next day, but what are you going to do?

Part 9C, The End

So that’s it! 9 posts and over 14,000 words later, our trip is complete. I don’t know which was more exhausting, coming home from Paris, or writing these posts. But it was a good trip, and very complete, much like the aforementioned posts.

So, let’s review, shall we?

You can see parts 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 and 8 here (this, of course, being part 9).

My tips for Paris travel:

  1. Watch what wines the French people buy, and buy those.
  2. Buy a timed ticket for the Eiffel Tower.
  3. Walk to Trocodero for good pictures of the Eiffel Tower.
  4. Dress up a little bit, or you’ll stand out like a sore thumb.
  5. Take advantage of the fresh food options.
  6. Buy a museum pass.
  7. Notre Dame Paris is not equal to Notre Dame South Bend.
  8. Fly direct.

And if any of you are still reading at this point, thanks! We’ll soon be back to our regular schedule of bacon and zombie links.

Paris Part 8 – Coasting into the Finale

/ Shane / 2 Comments

I mentioned that on Sunday most things are closed. So we had to go do the things that actually were opened.

Part 8A, Triumph

For us, that meant we finally made it to the Arc de Triomphe. It turns out that they have an elevator they will let you take if you have a stroller, even though it is supposed to be for handicap use only. However, we didn’t know that, so we took the stairs (it turns out the elevator was broken at the top anyway). We had read that it was supposed to be a free day, but when we got there it apparently wasn’t (either that or some very inventive crooks took in a loooot of money that day).

Everybody had been saying about how the stairs were so big and roomy. Well…I’d hate to see some of the other staircases. I suppose it was roomy in the sense that someone could *technically* squeeze by you if they had to. I still wouldn’t describe them as roomy.

I carried Evie and Sara carried Oliver, and I have to say, the climb wasn’t really that bad. Just when I started to breath hard and think, “Okay, how much farther?” we were at the top. The view was nice, but I’d imagine it would be even better after dark, with the lights in the trees down the Champs-Élysées and the glittering Tour Eiffel.

One thing you do see during the day are a bunch of maniacs driving in the enormous roundabout around the Arc. It’s probably like 6 or 8 lanes wide, with no markings, and there are 12 streets stemming off. So it’s kind of like a big round parking lot, and everybody is just sort of driving whichever way is most convenient for them. The amazing part was that there didn’t seem to be any accidents!

After the Arc, we hit up a supermarket (they’re open on Sundays) to get some food for lunch and then we went back to the apartment and worked on packing and cleaning. We had a lot of bread crumbs to vacuum!

Part 8B, Back for more

After we had the apartment squared away, we went back to the Jardin du Luxembourg. The previous time was when I was working, so this was the first time for me. If you recall, the first time they went the place was pretty much empty. This time, however, it was totally different. Packed. This is where Parisians hide their kids! (For a city the size of Paris, there didn’t seem to be too many kids.) It wasn’t just kids though, there were tons of adults just strolling the park as well. It was quite the scene.

The main reason we were there was to see another marionette show. The first show went so well, that we really wanted to see another one. The one at Jardin du Luxembourg was much more involved. It was more like going to see a play. There was an indoor theater with a ticket seller, stage and curtain, and even an intermission to go catch some refreshments. Therefore, Evie was a little scared.

Being as this was much more of a production, there was actually a storyline, Puss in Boots. The puppets were much larger, the sets were more elaborate (like a spinning windmill or a carriage with moving wheels and puppet horses), and the scenes required several puppet masters, not just one. Evie was looking forward to seeing Guignol, but I was a little nervous maybe Guignol wouldn’t be in Puss in Boots. However, I now know Guignol is in ALL French marionette shows. So we weren’t disappointed there.

It was interesting to see the elaborate puppets and sets, etc. but I have to say that I kind of preferred the first one we saw. It was sort of the “working man’s” puppet show and seemed more authentic to me. It was more straightforward and had more participation from the kids. Evie liked them both, but I think she preferred the first one too. But I’m still glad we saw this one.

After the show, we walked around the park a little bit and watched people play Pétanque (a.k.a. Boules or Bocce ball). This wasn’t just an idle game, this was serious business! There is a coat rack for people to hang up their coats so it doesn’t mess with their throw. People had utility belts with little tools, like a little measuring tape. My favorite accessory was this little magnet on a chain for picking up your balls, so you don’t have to bend over. People were very serious; they had a special stance, special throw, etc. It was fascinating to watch. I would have stayed longer, but they dragged me away.

Evie continued to grab every chestnut she could find, building up a sizable collection. She tried keeping them in her pockets, but she had too many and they kept falling out. Consequently she had full pockets, plus all she could hold in her hands. We told her we wouldn’t be allowed to bring them home with us, and she’d have to throw them away when we got home. She was a little bummed, but not as upset as I thought she’d be. We promised her we could take a picture of them, and we could take the picture home instead. So she proudly posed with her enormous pile of chestnuts in her lap. Later we found out that was only about half of them. She had squirreled them away in every nook and cranny of the apartment, and every bag or piece of luggage we had.

Part 8C, Busking don’t pay like it used to

On the metro, you very frequently see accordion players playing for money. Occasionally it would be other instruments, but there was a heavy emphasis on accordion playing. Evie loved it (me too!). One time Sara gave her a coin to give to one of the players and Evie thought it was so cool. You could tell how big of a deal she thought it was by the way she made nervous eye contact and solemnly put the coin in the cup.

All week Evie had been saving up her “collection” of coins, some of which she found on the ground, some of which she earned by being good. As usual, she wanted to spend this money on ice cream, but we told her she didn’t have nearly enough. So instead she asked if she could give it to “someone playing music on the train”.

On the walk to the train, that money was burning a hole in her pocket. She couldn’t stop playing with it, jingling it in her pocket, or just holding it in her hand. We were worried we wouldn’t see anybody and she would be disappointed. However, right away, there was someone on our train. Her face was just shining.

When he finally finished playing, he came through the car for money. Evie carefully reached in her pocket and pulled out…1 cent. She reverently placed it in his cup, and he thanked her. I’m telling you, watching her face, I almost wanted to cry. The whole scene was so beautiful. Although the man was very nice and seemed grateful, I’m sure he almost wanted to cry too. 1 whole cent. But if he knew how much that 1 cent meant to Evie, he would probably never spend it.

Part 8D, Time to go

Alas, our time in Paris was just about up. Evie didn’t want to leave.

Me: “Are you ready to leave tomorrow?”
Evie: “No. It’s a good life in Paris.”

Evie: “I want to get on your shoulders.”
Me: “That costs 2 smooches.”
Evie: “How much smooches does it cost to live in Paris forever?”

Oliver, however, was ready to go. He did not like being full-body-rash-baby or being stuffed in the ergo anymore. He was tired of the few toys we brought for him. He was tired of being out of his routine. He wanted home.

I can’t say I blamed him.

Paris Part 7 – A rough day

/ Shane / 5 Comments

Part 7A, Sing the bells of Notre Dame

First up for Saturday was a trip to Île de la Cité, an island in the middle of the river Seine, the river that goes through the middle of Paris. Île de la Cité is known as the “heart of the city”, so its no surprise that it is home to “Point Zero” the place from which all distances in Paris are calculated. However, it’s a little more well known for being the home of the cathedral of Notre Dame (Our Lady). Paris tip #7 – don’t pronounce Notre Dame like the University in South Bend! (Correct: Note-re Dahm. Incorrect: Noter Daaame)

The inside of the church was plenty impressive, but it was the outside that was really awesome. It’s kind of like with the palace at Versailles: I’ve seen churches that are similar to the inside, but the outside was unlike anything I’ve seen before. In particular, it is covered with interesting gargoyles. I think I could sit and look at them all day long. Flying buttresses are significantly cooler looking than they sound. This was definitely the best outside of all the churches we went to in Paris.

Sara and I were thinking of putting out a book entitled, “Oliver pukes on the sacred relics of Europe”. It would be a picture book, maybe something nice with big glossy pictures, like a coffee table book. We certainly got a head start on this book during the course of this trip. Notre Dame was no exception.

You can climb the tower of Notre Dame for a good view (like everything in Paris) but we skipped it (as we did with Sacré-Coeur). The thought of all of those tight, cramped stairs with the kids and all of our gear just seemed like trouble. We decided to save it for the Arc de Triomphe, which we heard had a nice wide staircase.

Just outside of Notre Dame is the entrance to the Paris Archeological Crypt. I wouldn’t really recommend it, it’s sort of boring, but it is pretty quick to go through, covered under the museum pass,  and has one other big advantage: buttons to push. There’s nothing Evie likes more than pushing buttons in a museum, and this was the only one in France that we went to with buttons. So she was happy.

We went to a restaurant for lunch, specifically a crêperie because we knew that Evie liked crêpes, and Sara and I wanted some authentic ones. However, Evie’s behavior convinced us not to go to any more restaurants for the rest of the trip. Her behavior was abhorrent; having fits, not listening, obsessing about desert (to the point that she wouldn’t eat anything), spitting out her food, etc. It was a pretty ugly scene (and the waitress wasn’t very nice to begin with). We got out of there as soon as possible.

To top it all off, I was getting a cold, and I was feeling pretty miserable. Specifically a nice little sinus headache was settling in.

Part 7B, Deport me from this memorial

After lunch we headed over to the Mémorial de la Déportation (we had tried to go before lunch, but it had been closed for lunch, so we came back). Basically it is a memorial to the 200,000 people deported from France to Nazi concentration camps. The pictures we had seen looked pretty cool, with a hallway containing 200,000 lighted crystals, one for each deported person.

As we approached the memorial, we saw a lady standing in front of the stairs, a little stick thrust into the bush blocking the way with a little stop sign on it. She stopped each person before they entered and lectured them on the solemnity of the memorial, reminded them not to take any pictures, and telling them not to touch anything.

When it was our turn, she told us that Evie shouldn’t go in. She made us go read the information on the side (which told us nothing we didn’t already know) and told us, after reading it, we could decide if she could go in or not. This of course caused us to reconsider going in. This was about concentration camps after all, maybe there were graphic pictures or something. So we agreed that I would go check it out first, and if it was okay, everyone else would come in.

Here’s the thing: there was nothing graphic in any way. The lady was just concerned whether or not Evie would be solemn enough for her liking. There really was almost nothing to see down there at all. It was just a little stone room with a bunch of writing in French on the walls (they did use a cool font, I will give them that). Anything of interest was behind big, locked gates, including the hallway with the 200,000 crystals! So like, the entire point of the memorial was blocked off, and you had to peek between bars to see it. And why did they close it for lunch, if there was nothing to see or touch or anything?

Well, because the gate keeper couldn’t be there to lecture you and make sure you were solemn enough. I’m sure her head is in the right place. She wants to make sure it is treated reverently. The problem is that, who says her way is the only way to enjoy it? We weren’t there to make trouble or to disrespect anything. So, in trying to make sure the monument is enjoyed “properly”, she ends up making sure nobody enjoys it at all, and misses a great opportunity to educate people (and kids!) about what the whole point of the memorial is.

So I told Sara not to bother and we left. This is probably the only thing we saw in Paris that I would not recommend. It definitely wasn’t cool enough to justify the lecturing (especially not with everything blocked off).

Part 7C, More stuff

Once that was done, we walked over to Sainte-Chapelle (Holy Chapel). There was a long line and we smugly strolled past it, looking for the museum pass line. Unfortunately, when we got to the front, there was a clear sign that said museum pass holders must wait in the line like all the rest of the schmucks. We couldn’t skip the line. Not only did we just get done with a bad experience at the deportation memorial, we had to wait in this long line with misbehaving kids and a sinus headache. Spirits were low.

Just before we reached the pits of despair, a security guard pulled us out and skipped us to the front of the line (I guess because we have kids? He didn’t really explain, at least not in English, and I can’t think of any other reason why we would get to go first). As we got up there, we quickly saw that the line was for security, not to get into the chapel. The chapel shares the building with the court house, so the security was really for the courthouse. There was a separate line to get into the chapel, which we *could* skip with our pass.

Security in Paris is so funny. They peek in your bag, but they don’t dig around or anything. In many cases we happened to have a blanket or something on top, such that you couldn’t see anything in the bag at all, and they waved us through. On top of that, if you set off the metal detector, they just wave you through anyway. Like, “Ah, go ahead, you have kids and about 100 bags, you’re fine.”

Anyway, our mood was perked up a little bit by the unexpected line jumping. Once we were inside, we were standing off to the side to collect ourselves a little bit, and Evie just started jumping off a low stone step.  Oliver thought it was the funniest thing he had ever seen in his life. Every time she jumped, he would just start laughing his head off. We probably stood there for 10 minutes with her jumping. This was just the mood-lift that we needed.

Sainte-Chapelle is kind of an un-church, almost like an unexpected, nondescript little building in the middle of a bunch of unrelated buildings, as opposed to the big gothic structure of Notre Dame. And yet, it had (probably by far) the best stained glass windows of all the churches. I was pleasantly surprised, it was better than I expected. I would recommend a stop here, although I think it is the only church we went to that you had to pay to see (unless you have the museum pass!)

Sainte-Chapelle is just like two rooms, so we were quickly on our way to the Conciergerie, which also ended up being better than I expected (another use of the museum pass here). Conciergerie is an old prison for guillotine victims, most specifically Marie-Antoinette, but it’s actually pretty cool looking inside (at least compared to what I thought a prison would look like). Specifically the vaulted entrance hall is cool and makes good use of lighting. I think maybe it started its life as a palace, so that could explain it. We were hoping maybe to see a guillotine, but there wasn’t one. There was, however, a series of mannequins in cells to demonstrate what life was like in the prison, and Evie liked that a lot. And plenty of talk about guillotines, of course, so she was pretty happy.

Part 7D, Parlez vous espagnol?

When we were leaving the Conciergerie, Evie was again having a fit, strapped into the stroller and yelling “No! No!” One of the guards started laughing and shouted, “Sí! “Sí!” back at her. This was the 3rd day in a row that Evie was mistaken for Spanish. Why?? Does she look Spanish?

I continued to notice that French babies are ridiculously decked out, and everybody judges us ahard core for 1) freezing oliver, 2) putting Evie in the stroller and not making her walk (and/or having a crappy stroller), and 3) when she falls asleep every day people think she has a condition.

Part 7E, Boats and home

Next up we caught a Bateau Mouche, which is like a big flat boat or barge that takes you on a tour of Paris via the Seine river. The tour was okay. It would be good if you had less time in Paris, or if you did it at the beginning of your trip to sort of orient yourself. By this point in the trip we had pretty much seen everything that we saw on the boat tour. I will say this, there were a few good angles for pictures that you couldn’t get any other way than on the river. Still, in our case, it was just okay.

The one thing we saw that we hadn’t seen before was Pont Neuf or “new bridge” which is, ironically, the oldest bridge in Paris. I really liked all the faces or masks around the edge of the bridge.

We got a little turned around coming home and ended up in a fancy chocolate stop, Le Maison du Chocolat. Evie was going to have a fit, but the man swooped in and gave her a chocolate. He’s like a chocolate superhero! We bought the cheapest thing we could find because everything was so expensive, but it was wonderful!

So we somehow ended up being a nice day despite my bad head cold and some of the worst behavior I’ve ever seen on Evie. It was just a long, long day and it’s really not surprising that Evie was due for some bad behavior. We were so far out of our normal routine, and we were pushing long days with a lot of walking and fresh air, every day for (at this point) a week. So I can’t say that I blame her for that. Plus, we usually require good behavior outside of the house, but we can relax when we are at home. Here, we were worried about the thin walls/ceilings of our apartment, so we were requiring better-than-usual behavior, even at home. I think it was a lot to handle for a little girl.

As for Oliver’s part, between his horrible rash and his growing dislike of the ergo, he was declared the saddest boy in France. He wasn’t really naughty (can babies really be naughty?), just very, very sad. But of course his crying didn’t help anything. Again, not really his fault, and being declared the saddest boy in France is something of an honor.

Still, at the end of this day, I was ready to go home.