Carnival in Venice

While looking up something on the web I noticed last minute getaway packages to Venice for Carnival. Oooh! We had forgotten about Carnival. Venice, like New Orleans, is one of the big Mardi Gras cities. When would be the next time we'd go to Venice in winter to see Carnival? Probably never if we didn't go now. A few phone calls later our weekend is free and cheap airfare+hotel are booked. Our hotel is 4-star and our room is "superior" but we're staying 2 train stops out from Venice-Santa Lucia. I'm quite happy to pay 5 bucks to take the train in. Heck, maybe we should just stay at the hotel and enjoy the grounds... The hotel website "recommends" calling a taxi from the airport. What Wimps! We take the airport shuttle to Venice-Mestre and the local train from there and surprise our hotel with a phone call from the nearby rail station. At our hotel we get a schedule of activities in Venice which we pretty much ignore - we're not going to any $400 balls when the big party is going to be in San Marco Square for free.

We head into Venice and it is mobbed. The mob is very friendly however and it's not so crowded you can't move about. The sun is shining and Venice looks like a sparkling jewel. The steps of the train station are crowded with picnickers and people getting their faces painted. We hadn't expected so many kids dressed in halloween costumes and so few drunk people. A group of families go by where all the kids are dressed as chicks, moms as hens, and the (very few) dads are roosters.

San Marco square is even more crowded with lines of vendors and spiraling swarms of people. It's an odd dance as people in fantastic costumes slowly walk about the square as if they are headed somewhere and the rest of us pretend we're going someplace too and race around frantically trying to snap their picture. Occasionally, a pair will stop and then a semi-circle of photographers quickly forms and reforms as people dash in to take their picture. Then abruptly, they resume their promenade.



After awhile, I announce that we've now got enough pictures to bore people to death and I'm not taking any more. Except, well, one of her and that's it. And, that couple there. And this great big mob of orange-haired clowns, but no more!!



Sigh. It's hopeless. The only way to stop taking pictures is to throw our camera into a canal! Kerplunk! Aaah, now I can relax.

Nighttime is a little better as we try to concentrate on shopping and eating. Our Italian is so weak though! We're both missing being able to fumble through in French. Of course, in Venice they are used to speaking to tourists, but it feels like cheating to go directly to English. It's especially unnerving to accidentally speak French when we meant to speak Italian and have them answer in French. The shopkeepers and vendors are in high spirits. Perhaps it's because it's Carnival, or perhaps because they are making huge wads of money! I think the hardest part for them is keeping the shelves stocked. There's a crowd of people waiting to pay $195/hr for a gondola ride and the canals are so full of boats there are traffic jams.

San Marco square is covered in lighting effects and the narrow streets and alleys have lights strung along them. Ooof! Perhaps shopping on the first day wasn't such a great idea... we're lugging bags of stuff around and tomorrow we'll have no hotel room to keep them in. It feels totally safe, but we're getting tired. We head to the train station and it's still super busy unloading fresh revelers and taking away the exhausted ones.

The next day, we take it easy relaxing by the Grand Canel, eating pasta and drinking wine while we watch people go by. Sitting in the shade of our canopy just a few feet from the bustle of Carnival and the boat traffic as we dally over which flavor of gelato to get, we feel like we've joined the elite. My dahhling, why not get double scoops?

Finally as we board our flight back to Lyon, we hear the familiar phrase "Bonjour!" greet us. Monica nearly hugs the hostess! We're both surprised by how happy we are to hear something familiar - even if we can't always understand what they're saying. I think each time we return to Lyon it feels more like home.

For more Carnival pictures: http://new.photos.yahoo.com/album?c=travelingnuts&aid=576460762390321006&pid=&wtok=5vodHryJv.2VldkKxwZtxQ--&ts=1171883713&.src=ph

French Working Hours

Part of adjusting to French culture is getting used to the working hours in France. We've been to France plenty of times and to other countries like Italy and Spain where everything closes down in the afternoon so we were already used to this as tourists. Now as residents we're learning everything more in depth. For example, remember how 7-11 created a revolution in America by being open, well, from 7 to 11 which was considered early and late. It defined a "convenience store" and now they are open 24 hours a day, along with AM/PM, etc. France now has its own version called 8-a-Huit (eight to eight). Of course, the one we visited in Valloire opened at 9am, but you get the point, convenience is coming.

When my Dad and I first arrived in Bordeaux we went for a stroll on a Sunday evening. The streets were packed with people. The one thing that was strange? All the shops and stores were barred and locked. Hordes of people milling around and nothing open. In America, this wouldn't last 5 minutes before a hotdog stand appeared. Sunday is really tough if you haven't stocked up the day before.

The rock climbing gym here opens at noon on weekdays, so my partner and I go during lunch time. Back at home, the climbing gym opened at 6am and I used to go before work. Eric, my climbing partner, thought this was simply ridiculous. Indeed the gym that I go to is closed when I pass by on my way to work. When I signed up, the staff member proudly informed me "We are open 7 days a week, nonstop." This last word was in English - a sign that this is one of those words that are new to French culture. "Nonstop?" I ask. But they are closed in the morning, what do they mean "nonstop?" This is not 24-hr fitness after all. "Oh, of course we are not open all the time. We open at 9am every day." Now it dawns on me. By "nonstop" he means they don't close down in the middle of the day for 3 hours! This break time for lunch occurs around 11:30 to 2:30 but since sometimes a place will close early or get back late, we just avoid doing anything in these danger hours. My gym is open from the opening bell to the closing bell - without a break. Wow.

I know I'm really getting this concept when the following day I head to work and walk the last stretch. This area is pretty old-school France. Dogs are the popular burglary prevention system. I've learned to walk on the left because there is only one really fierce dog. He's got a heavy chain and barks like crazy, even jumping onto the roof of his doghouse to bark at you more effectively. But, I prefer him to the dogs on the right because they wait until you are right next to them and then scare the daylights out of you. Today though, I'm walking by at noon and he just sits there without barking at all. What's going on? Aha! He doesn't work nonstop!

Pictures with Helen

Our first off-continent visitor, Helen, stayed with us last weekend! The rest of you had better book soon. Those popular summer months will book up! Here are some pictures from her visit. As you can see, our lovely snow only lasted about three days, but it's still chilly.

There are good things about the cold... we got to enjoy some delicious, hot, mulled wine in a quaint cafe. Just the thing after a hard day of sightseeing.

I live here now

So Dave and I are sitting here side by side on our tiny little desk in our miniscule little apartment in Lyon, and he is laughing at me!!! I've been actually trying to post things on our blog for the last hour but my darn internet connection is making this so difficult. I tried to put up a picture, and it took 45 minutes. Then all I wanted to do was cut and paste a blog I wrote in Word, and here I am 20 minutes later still trying to get this paste thing to work in blogspot. It wasn't even giving me a box to put my blog INTO until just a minute ago. Oh yes, and did I mention all my menus have now switched to French somehow! And Dave mocks me. He says smirking, this never happens to me! I don't know why this keeps happening to you. I think I want to wring his neck....or someone's neck anyways! But, as I have heard so many times over the last month, "Welcome to France." Even the French know, you can pay for services, buy whatever you want, make as many phone calls pleading for help as you have the time for, but nothing ever really works quite right here in France. It's a good thing the French have such intellectual dispositions. Otherwise, the rest of us in the world would have to watch out. They'd be in a raging rampage all the time.

I had an epiphany this weekend. A girlfriend of mine from England came down to visit and we were showing her around. We took her to our favorite little creperie, and then to our favorite little cafe, and we walked around the adorable cobblestoned streets of old Lyon, and we strolled along the river Rhone. And it suddenly occurred to me...I live here! This is my little town to show my friend. I'm not just visiting. I know these streets. I have favorite haunts. I can read all the signs!!!! OMG, I actually live here. I think I'm a bit slow on the uptake. I think Dave figured that whole thing out about a month ago. But I guess it's better to realize these things later rather than never.

And so I've spent the last week feeling "at home." Doing things like, having breakfast in with my sweet hubby. Taking bus rides where I know I'll get lost so I can discover a new part of town. And getting mad as H**l at Swisscom for not being able to get my internet connection to work for 6 weeks now!!!! First there was no connection. Swisscom kept telling us help was on the way, but I think their guy got trapped in the Alps. He must have gotten brainfreeze up there too, because he fixed the connection so poorly, that no one in the apartment building can actually use the new connection with any success yet. There has to be a better way to get online! Okay, I'm worn out from all that energetic writing after struggling with our internet connection for an hour, so I'm going to bed. I'll post more pictures and stories later.