We returned from July's China adventure a little over a week ago. It is a misery to try and publish blogs through the Great Firewall, I will try to remedy the lack of entries sometime. A summary: It was wonderful to be in China again. I found a new luscious dried fruit tea. I rode a camel. I had few hours of really good sleep. Mattresses even in high end hotels are like bricks. Our test if we can go it alone in China while in Beijing was a mixed success. We need to take a basic course in Mandarin. We still haven't figured out how to contact the church community. We ate too much. We walked the skin off our feet. We visited places where few Western faces have ever been seen. We survived the challenge. In other places we were hosted generously. We saw amazing things; we traveled overnight on a train. We saw 1000 years of Buddhist art tucked into mountain grottoes. We saw the edge of the Gobi. We got upgraded to business on the way home and had possibly the worst food and beverage service ever suffered. Himself had a royally wonderful time science wise and is all fired up about Sabbatical planning.
Since I finished every last bit of the washing and ironing yesterday, and had a wonderful trim found in Beijing for next to nothing that was asking for a linen to go with it, I bused in to Amersfoort to the market as a little treat for myself today. Amersfoort has a rather good number of fabric and notion merchants on Friday morning. For once the sky was clear, the sun was out, it was dry, not too cold, so I packed my little shopping cart on wheels and set off.
I love walking Amersfoort. It is an ancient walled town that has enjoyed the bustle of trade by water for centuries- though I don't know if it was on the Hanseatic route. It still has canals and walls and robust number of preserved ancient buildings to delight me.
But it was when I passed through the shadowed pathway to the market square that I realized again how I appreciated my adopted country and it's lifestyle. The bells were telling the hour from the churches nearby, and the carillon from the city hall added more music. Rainbow flags were in abundance because it's that week again, and the coffee and tea establishments were busy; the outside tables were full of folks enjoying the first decent day we have had for a while.
The fruit and veg stall-keepers were vying with one another; their bellows competing with the belfries. Flocks of customers lined up for fresh fruit, veg, bread, and cheese at one section of the market square, others crowded through the clothing stalls looking for a bargain. Still others rummaged the fabric stalls for just the right bit of stuff.
Into this bustling cacophony went I gladly.
So interesting, so Dutch, so....home.
Friday, July 31, 2015
Sunday, July 5, 2015
And Away We Go Fourth of July 2015
Someone asked me what I was doing to celebrate the Fourth of July. My answer: "flying to China. " And so it was.
Preparing for this departure was different in that I was so organized that we did not have last minute meltdowns, although it was so blasted hot in Cheeseland the last week, I did have my moments where I thought the weather would win. The biggest challenge, because we will be traveling internally on smaller airlines, trains and cars, was packing small. We packed about 4 kilos of food, water purifiers, hot water kit, extra medicines and heath care needs none the less. We are going to be in places where we have no idea what is available, nor if we can communicate adequately. On the other hand, most of the time, we will be in the academic community, so our needs are all arranged for us....but we plan for contingencies.
Jade House will have caretakers in and out. We locked, barred, cleaned and cleared our way out the door. I just have to trust the gods to protect our place from evil, but there is a new hasp lock on the car port just in case. I see a day where we actually have a full security system, especially if the plans for a new housing community goes forward across the street. Summer holidays in Cheeseland is when the burglars strike.
Saturday morning Himself took the last load to the dump and fetched the Boy at the station. Boy was our driver to the airport. We even left early- the Tour de France and the heat affected traffic patterns so we erred on the side of caution. As it would happen nothing awful happened, and we were in the KLM Lounge with hours to kill.
The Schiphol lounge is comfy, quiet, and allows Himself to work uninterrupted, Also has decent free food.
We chose fancy economy to fly out, which seat had a laarge empty space in front of me, so I could stack my bag with a pillow to stretch my legs. I was happy, alhough 10 hours in an airplane is one long flight.
Our layover was in Hangzhou airport. By this time, the time difference was kicking in. We both were looking forward to a little food and a comfy place to wait for the next leg of the journey. UGH. Let's just say the toilets were clean and the seaing had padding. Not in the top 10 gold class flyer's lounges of the world. Then the plane was delayed an hour.
We finally got in the air, had a miserable meal, and dozed our way to Changchun airport where we found one bag had been fairly squashed (but luckily it just looked bad.) We easily found the student greeters' big sign welcoming Himself to the conference and were loaded into a new smelling car to be ferried to the Sheraton. The driver got a little lost but we finally arrived to be greeted by more student hosts. At this point we were gone from home 24 hours. We really thought we would unpack, have a wash, ( and I was hoping room service in jammies) and a good sleep.
Our good hosts though, had planned a dinner. Starting at that moment. We had not even seen our room!
They gave us 10 minutes. We tore upstairs, tipped the porter, checked the battered suitcase innards, opened the other, rummaged for a clean dress, used the loo. freed my feet from the compression stockings, applied lipstick and flew back downstairs.
Dinner was actually very nice and quite laid back from the usual too much food affair we expereinced in Beijing. No watermelon!! In fact, after we ate, the hostess suggested we go on up so we could gracefully retire while everyone else visited after dinner.
We unpacked, and Himself went off to the pool and sauna while i took a bubblebath and soaked. I was never so glad to see my jammies.
My firt impression of Changchun is billboards. Everywhere. Tree lined boulevards. Big fancy housing development behind fences, and the miles on miles of high rise apartments. In other words, welcome to modern China.
Happy 4th of July.
Preparing for this departure was different in that I was so organized that we did not have last minute meltdowns, although it was so blasted hot in Cheeseland the last week, I did have my moments where I thought the weather would win. The biggest challenge, because we will be traveling internally on smaller airlines, trains and cars, was packing small. We packed about 4 kilos of food, water purifiers, hot water kit, extra medicines and heath care needs none the less. We are going to be in places where we have no idea what is available, nor if we can communicate adequately. On the other hand, most of the time, we will be in the academic community, so our needs are all arranged for us....but we plan for contingencies.
Jade House will have caretakers in and out. We locked, barred, cleaned and cleared our way out the door. I just have to trust the gods to protect our place from evil, but there is a new hasp lock on the car port just in case. I see a day where we actually have a full security system, especially if the plans for a new housing community goes forward across the street. Summer holidays in Cheeseland is when the burglars strike.
Saturday morning Himself took the last load to the dump and fetched the Boy at the station. Boy was our driver to the airport. We even left early- the Tour de France and the heat affected traffic patterns so we erred on the side of caution. As it would happen nothing awful happened, and we were in the KLM Lounge with hours to kill.
The Schiphol lounge is comfy, quiet, and allows Himself to work uninterrupted, Also has decent free food.
We chose fancy economy to fly out, which seat had a laarge empty space in front of me, so I could stack my bag with a pillow to stretch my legs. I was happy, alhough 10 hours in an airplane is one long flight.
Our layover was in Hangzhou airport. By this time, the time difference was kicking in. We both were looking forward to a little food and a comfy place to wait for the next leg of the journey. UGH. Let's just say the toilets were clean and the seaing had padding. Not in the top 10 gold class flyer's lounges of the world. Then the plane was delayed an hour.
We finally got in the air, had a miserable meal, and dozed our way to Changchun airport where we found one bag had been fairly squashed (but luckily it just looked bad.) We easily found the student greeters' big sign welcoming Himself to the conference and were loaded into a new smelling car to be ferried to the Sheraton. The driver got a little lost but we finally arrived to be greeted by more student hosts. At this point we were gone from home 24 hours. We really thought we would unpack, have a wash, ( and I was hoping room service in jammies) and a good sleep.
Our good hosts though, had planned a dinner. Starting at that moment. We had not even seen our room!
They gave us 10 minutes. We tore upstairs, tipped the porter, checked the battered suitcase innards, opened the other, rummaged for a clean dress, used the loo. freed my feet from the compression stockings, applied lipstick and flew back downstairs.
Dinner was actually very nice and quite laid back from the usual too much food affair we expereinced in Beijing. No watermelon!! In fact, after we ate, the hostess suggested we go on up so we could gracefully retire while everyone else visited after dinner.
We unpacked, and Himself went off to the pool and sauna while i took a bubblebath and soaked. I was never so glad to see my jammies.
My firt impression of Changchun is billboards. Everywhere. Tree lined boulevards. Big fancy housing development behind fences, and the miles on miles of high rise apartments. In other words, welcome to modern China.
Happy 4th of July.
Monday, February 9, 2015
A collection of impressions and notes on Saturday and Sunday
Saturday was affected by arriving in the wee hours and not getting enough sleep. Himself managed to get out for a couple of walks while I shook out clothes, steamed his suit, and stowed our belongings in a convenient way. I don't mind setting up house in a hotel for long stays. Ironing out the quirks of the room takes doing, for instance, one has to figure out the electricity in this place and what switch does what, where the best light is...oh man, lighting in hotel rooms....Although this hotel is really very fine and goes against all the warnings in the travel guides, we were not glad to see that the pool and sauna are under renovation: Himself could have used some steam bath and swimming. I wish hotels would tell you before you arrive.
And this hotel does not have clothes drawers. Six desk drawers, narrow and shallow, and two lingerie drawers in the closet; so undies sit in one suitcase, personal gear in the other. Boy, am I happy I bring extra hangers. But it's a workable accommodation. There's a restaurant open all day as well....
When He was ready to take walk number three, I went too. Next door is a sari emporium. We took a look. Two floors of the rainbow fairy's cavern of delights. I wish I was brave enough to ask to have one draped on me just to see. Goodness me, the fabrics and colors and sparkly bits are just enchanting. On our walk, we found a grocery and bought water and fresh ginger for my already suffering tummy.
We like grocery stores in other lands. It is interesting to see how alike/not alike the shelves are. As small as this emporium was, it had a wide variety of items; the British influence is still apparent.
The heat started to affect us so we toddled back to our room, stowed water, rested some, and had dinner with our student who had arrived Saturday afternoon fresh from a 40 hour train trip from up north. He's been in land for two weeks "doing" India all by himself. Brave kid.
Our coughs and congestion made sleeping unusually poor that night.
Sunday we went to church. We found there are more than one units in Bangalore. One is just 5KM away in Richmond Town district. It's a big building with CES offices and Family History facilities. And amazingly, completely in English. Huh. Lots of younger men and women. I was not aware of many children, but on our way out we peeked into a children's class busy singing away, so there are families. The chairs are a misery so we did not stay the entire block of meetings...two days of poor sleeping takes its toll. The women wear traditional dress and look so vibrant compared to what I am used to. The colors! The sparkly bits! No two saris or shalwaars are the same. Just multiply that by a couple million and think of the textile genius it takes to make so many splendid combinations. it boggles my mind. A feast for the eyes.
Our conference host provided us with a car and driver for the day, which is wonderful, but the poor driver had nothing to do for long periods of time. He, as every driver so far, was excellent in negotiating the traffic. It defies description. No apparent rules or lanes. constant tooting. It takes nerves of steel. And I hear that the Bangalore traffic is nothing compared to other places.
In fact, Bangalore, they say, is much different than other cities. Cleaner, less crowded, traffic less chaotic (???), less smelly. Huh. I guess it is a good introduction for folk like me.
Because we had a couple of hours, we asked to be driven to a local market. No tourists. It was grand. Saw fruit and veg I have never seen but read about in books. We were offered jackfruit, which He tasted, but after I saw the bugs, I declined. The babies are so cute. We found a fabric store which had pre selected lengths in a pack for the making of shalwaar: top , pant, wrap. Again, no two alike. Since I would never wear some of the combinations in staid Netherlands, it took a little convincing but the man found some neutral combinations of which we chose two. I see some nice tropical weight two piece outfits with wrap for the summer in China....not Indian style though.
Sunday night we were expected at the University for registration and dinner. It was disorganized, chaotic, boring, long and time wasting. I had my knitting and my book. am always prepared.
I finished this entry Tuesday morning. Monday deserves its own post.
And this hotel does not have clothes drawers. Six desk drawers, narrow and shallow, and two lingerie drawers in the closet; so undies sit in one suitcase, personal gear in the other. Boy, am I happy I bring extra hangers. But it's a workable accommodation. There's a restaurant open all day as well....
When He was ready to take walk number three, I went too. Next door is a sari emporium. We took a look. Two floors of the rainbow fairy's cavern of delights. I wish I was brave enough to ask to have one draped on me just to see. Goodness me, the fabrics and colors and sparkly bits are just enchanting. On our walk, we found a grocery and bought water and fresh ginger for my already suffering tummy.
We like grocery stores in other lands. It is interesting to see how alike/not alike the shelves are. As small as this emporium was, it had a wide variety of items; the British influence is still apparent.
The heat started to affect us so we toddled back to our room, stowed water, rested some, and had dinner with our student who had arrived Saturday afternoon fresh from a 40 hour train trip from up north. He's been in land for two weeks "doing" India all by himself. Brave kid.
Our coughs and congestion made sleeping unusually poor that night.
Sunday we went to church. We found there are more than one units in Bangalore. One is just 5KM away in Richmond Town district. It's a big building with CES offices and Family History facilities. And amazingly, completely in English. Huh. Lots of younger men and women. I was not aware of many children, but on our way out we peeked into a children's class busy singing away, so there are families. The chairs are a misery so we did not stay the entire block of meetings...two days of poor sleeping takes its toll. The women wear traditional dress and look so vibrant compared to what I am used to. The colors! The sparkly bits! No two saris or shalwaars are the same. Just multiply that by a couple million and think of the textile genius it takes to make so many splendid combinations. it boggles my mind. A feast for the eyes.
Our conference host provided us with a car and driver for the day, which is wonderful, but the poor driver had nothing to do for long periods of time. He, as every driver so far, was excellent in negotiating the traffic. It defies description. No apparent rules or lanes. constant tooting. It takes nerves of steel. And I hear that the Bangalore traffic is nothing compared to other places.
In fact, Bangalore, they say, is much different than other cities. Cleaner, less crowded, traffic less chaotic (???), less smelly. Huh. I guess it is a good introduction for folk like me.
Because we had a couple of hours, we asked to be driven to a local market. No tourists. It was grand. Saw fruit and veg I have never seen but read about in books. We were offered jackfruit, which He tasted, but after I saw the bugs, I declined. The babies are so cute. We found a fabric store which had pre selected lengths in a pack for the making of shalwaar: top , pant, wrap. Again, no two alike. Since I would never wear some of the combinations in staid Netherlands, it took a little convincing but the man found some neutral combinations of which we chose two. I see some nice tropical weight two piece outfits with wrap for the summer in China....not Indian style though.
Sunday night we were expected at the University for registration and dinner. It was disorganized, chaotic, boring, long and time wasting. I had my knitting and my book. am always prepared.
I finished this entry Tuesday morning. Monday deserves its own post.
Sunday, February 8, 2015
The rest of the Outbound Journey
Charles de Gaulle airport is one we love to not like. One disembarks and runs up and down escalators just to arrive at a jitny bus which drives a slow serpentine path to another entrance. More escalators and long walks through immigration (to leave the EU) and finally to departures. The priority lounge at CDG is lovely. Quiet. Restful. On to Bengaluru.
When the time came to cue for the departure gate, Indian style procedures prevailed. The longest priority line I have ever seen, and every document and visa was examined. It took ages.
However, everyone managed to get on board (as opposed to the unfortunate no-shows off loaded from the first flight in the grey Amsterdam morning.) Off we went for nine hours in the air.
Air France, how you have fallen. The inflight magazine was one long dull advertisement. The food was embarrassing. If this was the first introduction to Indian food for the novice traveler, it was a shock. Cardboard, nasty, uninspired. Breakfast was some sort of gucky wrap thing...I used to look forward to Air France flights. The food was so good.
The staff was polite and pleasant; but gave us a black and white photocopy of the customs form instead of a colored original. "This is unacceptable,"says the worker bee with a head bob that made me wonder if he was going to burst into a Bollywood routine. Thus we had to rewrite our forms...but it seems not one other soul had to; I am still baffled. Then there was the meat. In cans. From home.
We were honest. Yes we had tuna and ham with us. a few cans. So we went to the Declarations. and waited. and waited. and waited. Remember it is 1:30 in the morning. we waited some more.The single clerk was busy in a molasses sort of way over a boxed LCD screen. We had our little bag of eats all ready. Finally, a man without a uniform wandered up and asked if we were waiting. We explained. He took our declaration slips over to a uniformed fella on the other side of the wall, conversed, and came back to tell us to cheat. To change our forms to nothing to declare and go away. Otherwise the mountain of forms for us to fill out for 4 cans of tuna and one canned ham would keep us there til dawn. We scribbled and left. But I know in my bones they would have scanned our bags and found the cans if we had been dishonest. Then all sorts of hellish events transpire.
Our host had arranged a taxi for u. We were, without a doubt, grateful for not having to fuss with transport at 2 am in a strange land. We got all loaded in and drove through the night to our hotel. In the dark Bangalore looks like any other city around the airport. Uninspiring. Not one OOOO Look!
But maybe we were too travel worn to care.
Smooth registry at our hotel, and a huge comfy bed. We fell into bed about 4am and set the alarm for breakfast. Day one is finally ended.
When the time came to cue for the departure gate, Indian style procedures prevailed. The longest priority line I have ever seen, and every document and visa was examined. It took ages.
However, everyone managed to get on board (as opposed to the unfortunate no-shows off loaded from the first flight in the grey Amsterdam morning.) Off we went for nine hours in the air.
Air France, how you have fallen. The inflight magazine was one long dull advertisement. The food was embarrassing. If this was the first introduction to Indian food for the novice traveler, it was a shock. Cardboard, nasty, uninspired. Breakfast was some sort of gucky wrap thing...I used to look forward to Air France flights. The food was so good.
The staff was polite and pleasant; but gave us a black and white photocopy of the customs form instead of a colored original. "This is unacceptable,"says the worker bee with a head bob that made me wonder if he was going to burst into a Bollywood routine. Thus we had to rewrite our forms...but it seems not one other soul had to; I am still baffled. Then there was the meat. In cans. From home.
We were honest. Yes we had tuna and ham with us. a few cans. So we went to the Declarations. and waited. and waited. and waited. Remember it is 1:30 in the morning. we waited some more.The single clerk was busy in a molasses sort of way over a boxed LCD screen. We had our little bag of eats all ready. Finally, a man without a uniform wandered up and asked if we were waiting. We explained. He took our declaration slips over to a uniformed fella on the other side of the wall, conversed, and came back to tell us to cheat. To change our forms to nothing to declare and go away. Otherwise the mountain of forms for us to fill out for 4 cans of tuna and one canned ham would keep us there til dawn. We scribbled and left. But I know in my bones they would have scanned our bags and found the cans if we had been dishonest. Then all sorts of hellish events transpire.
Our host had arranged a taxi for u. We were, without a doubt, grateful for not having to fuss with transport at 2 am in a strange land. We got all loaded in and drove through the night to our hotel. In the dark Bangalore looks like any other city around the airport. Uninspiring. Not one OOOO Look!
But maybe we were too travel worn to care.
Smooth registry at our hotel, and a huge comfy bed. We fell into bed about 4am and set the alarm for breakfast. Day one is finally ended.
Thursday, February 5, 2015
Off we go
Yes, the visas finally came. Our vaccinations are in order. Yesterday we packed and cleaned. Himself found the travel pillow that was exactly where it should be -and we already bought a replacement. So now we have two sizes. That is ok. Sweetpea came and took the perishables and 40 pounds of other sundries to stock her own larder. Off we drove at dark o'clock; poor little Fannie May car was surprised to be on the road so early, packed to the gills.
We left car and coats in the care of daughter dear at Schiphol. We discovered only one set of keys made it to the airport so plan B of the return to pick up car had to be implemented. But everything else is where it needs to be. We are having breakfast in thee Priority Lounge (there is a benefit to all the frequent trips of Himself. ) We have braved one security check.
Now it is time to hike to the gate. First tstop Paris, Charles de Gaulle, one of the less favorite hubs in the world, but there you are. :)
We left car and coats in the care of daughter dear at Schiphol. We discovered only one set of keys made it to the airport so plan B of the return to pick up car had to be implemented. But everything else is where it needs to be. We are having breakfast in thee Priority Lounge (there is a benefit to all the frequent trips of Himself. ) We have braved one security check.
Now it is time to hike to the gate. First tstop Paris, Charles de Gaulle, one of the less favorite hubs in the world, but there you are. :)
Saturday, January 24, 2015
Incredible India; the first big trip of 2015
For which preparation is fraught with irritation
and Himself gets really cranky
When Himself looked winsome as he suggested I come to India with him in far off February 2015, I looked into those twinkly blue eyes and gave in. My inner conversation was this: Yes, it is crowds of people. Yes, it is noisy. Yes, it is overwhelming. Yes, it is hotter than hell. But yes, it is the right time to go. I am healthy enough, and if there is a next time, I might not be. And he LOVES the place. I love to see him so excited to go, even if the real reason is work. India, you see, was not high on my bucket list, if there at all.
So I left him to the planning, which grew to include a trip to this thrilling place: http://www.junglelodges.com/kabini-river-lodge, where it is rumored that the tigers are populous in February. But elephants and all sorts of wild things we usually see in zoos are there so it promises to be amazing.
He made the reservations for the round trip flight using most of our saved airmiles for my ticket, hotel one, the conference venue, hotel two, the hotel closer to General Electric where he is invited, the reservations for the safari park....but at this writing, the reservations for hotel three for the last night and day of our stay in Bangalore are still unclear. But that is nothing. We may not yet be going.
Why? You might ask, at this late date, are we not completely sure of departure. In one word, VISA.
I never in my life thought that Indian bureaucracy extended to the green, flat shores of Cheeseland, but boy-howdy, mama, they do. About two weeks ago, we had our passport photos taken to make sure we had light background, 51 by 51 cm photos. Then Himself sat before the computer and spent a couple of hours entering forms and collecting various data, making copies and collating it all for both of us. He needed a convention visa. Since he has done this before and knew it was a tangled mess, he was able to get his visa info in a tidy, thick stack in a couple of hours. For my visa, a simpler tourist request was filled out. Mind you, simple does not mean short. My parents, my life history including education and reason for ever thinking I'd want to visit India included, and that just to visit the country for 10 days.
I promise I am not going to suddenly decide to live there illegally. I will probably kiss the floor of the airplane on the return leg.
With his schedule so booked, it was a little messy to find a day to drive all the way to Den Haag ( which is a truck filled crazy highway awful drive that I hate with every fibre of my being.) but Tuesday he carved out some time and we arrived at the Embassy well before the 11:30 closing time. We followed the signs for Visa and Passports down the drive to the basement. Upon entry there was no one manning the window so we sat down to wait. Minutes dragged by and other patrons appeared; finally someone shouted through the window to see if anyone would respond. A woman issued forth. We lined up. We approached with our thick stacks in hand only to be informed that the office for visas is around the corner and down the street now...this was not news shared on the website where Himself got the visa information. ugh.
Leaving the car in a rather illegal parking spot because there just isn't anywhere to park around the embassies, we walked to the visa office and joined the line of supplicants. The nightmare began.
While it seemed previous experience had netted a good application for Hubby, my application was sadly flawed. The back ground of the photo and my hair are close in color. It gave the officer some pause, but he finally passed it. Then, suddenly I needed a conference visa even though I won't be attending any of it. Baffling. And the worst was the name. I use ( as many Dutch wives do) a hyphen in my last name. Family-Maiden. It's normal and cultural. The software for India visas does not allow for hyphens and eliminates it with no space between the names. But, my USA passport uses a carat between the names down in the code line, thus a space needs to be inserted for the name on the visa to match the name in the USA passport. There was no space between the two last names. ( Got all that?) It did not end there. My first name is a double name, like Mary Ann, or Bobbie Jo. I started putting the two names together, no space, as an adult because helpful folks misspelled my name so often. Hubby is used to that. So there was no space between my first names. It did not match my passport. On top of all that,we needed a copy of our marriage license. Visa application failed. In a major way. We had to come back with all new papers for me and the marriage license.
Hubby went back to work in high dudgeon. Two or so hours of administration, two hours of travel for nothing. My good hearted, patient, slow to anger man was furious. He was ready to shut down the whole project. BUT there was a window in his really complicated awful schedule where he could go the next afternoon between meetings. He came home Tuesday very late from an inland conference, reworked my visa application, copied the marriage license and we fell into bed after midnight. At least another hour of filling in and copying. (and being unhappy.)
Wednesday we really had to high tail it ( down that crappy horrible highway) to get to that office before it closed at 2:30. But we squeaked in the door with a minute to spare, and got in line. The worker bee took one look at my form and that was it. There was no middle initial in my name. My name had to match the passport. In my passport is a middle initial. In my birth certificate there is not. In between was my infant baptism at which the Catholic priest refused to baptize unless there was a Saint's name. Thus my then recently deceased maternal grandmother's name became my middle name. It depends on the document whether the middle initial is there or not. No one has ever gotten that picky about an H in the history of man.
I burst into tears because I knew Hubby was on the verge of cancellation and I really wanted him to go even if I could not, and he would not go without me. He is not only one of the organizers of this conference, but he is the keynote speaker. ...It was too late in the day to even go somewhere to get it fixed. On the other hand, this worker bee decreed that a tourist visa was quite enough for me. That is nice because it costs half of what the fancier visa does. But still we left the office very sadly.
There was only one tiny ray of hope. There was a couple of hours on Friday morning before he had an afternoon chockablock with meetings. If we left predawn and hurried, we could get to the office and back in time. Monday the visa office was closed. Any other day til we left, he was too booked to go back. It looked pretty bleak.
But that is what we did. It took us an extra 30 minutes in the thick fog of the early rush hour to get there, the line was nearly out the door long, but we did it. We even had two perfect forms filled out: one tourist, one conference because who knew which worker would be at the desk. It was another long wait to pay: we chose to have courier service so no more horrible trips to Den Haag. Another long wait and our faces and fingerprints were digitized. Easy when you know how.
On the other hand the visa will not get here until 2-3 days before we leave IF the visas are granted. There still is that hurdle. Any joy in this journey has been sucked right dry. Watch this space.
Friday, November 28, 2014
Madrid: day two
and why we prefer home-tels.
After coffee, yogurt and an orange, Himself was up and away in the dawn drizzle, only to be quite early. That's the hazard when you don't know the city. Sometimes the walk looks like 15 minutes, but it goes straight up and down so it takes twice as long. Madrid is hilly. The closest Metro is a puffy climb to the hotel. The one further is a pleasant loop through a park and along some interesting shops. Poor Himself not only got dampish but the meeting was not all that constructive. Even lunch wasn't great.
On the other hand, the meeting ran out of steam an hour early, so he was delighted to hear I had targeted this as the sop to the miserable grim weather: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chocolater%C3%ADa_San_Gin%C3%A9s.
So off we went by foot. I felt like we were walking through Chinatown. There are multiple small stores all run by folk who make it seem like Beijing's neighborhood around the Geoscience University campus. The other preponderance of stores all have Spanish cured hams as their theme. It makes it look like the only meat here is ham. Not true, but you have to go find a poultry shop. And tapas. Makes you wonder how folks stay in business--all the shops look the same to me. Apparently, people here must shop in a secret place for herbs and spices. It took four tries to even find salt in a small take along recloseable package. Teach me to forget the condiments.....
After gorging on delish-i-ous thick dipping chocolate and churros, we decided to walk to Mercato Anton Martin: http://www.mercadoantonmartin.com/. We saw lots of Madrid life on the way . Many Christmas markets are ready to roll this weekend, even though it isn't December yet.
We never found the mercato due to some wonky instructions on a tourist site, but we did find pig's foot for Oma in a side street shop.. Wearily we turned to home base, successfully figured out the Metro, and with only three interesting shop detours return to the home-tel for dinner. One detour was the jambon shop next to our apartment. We have found that few folks speak any English in this area...but they forge on in Spanish and just hope something sounds familiar to us. This shop was the real deal. Here is where the neighborhood comes to hang out. Not one fancy up scale detail. But ham is all it's various very expensive glory from every angle. I have no idea what our knife wielding server was saying but he gave Himself directions on which hams to photograph...while he sliced away on a ham with hoof still attached. This is not Kansas. Bearing our booty, back to base.
Ah, the joys of self-catering. Fresh cooked food we enjoy, in our socks; relaxing on the sofa while things simmer. Yes, indeed, well worth the search to find short term apartments. The fridge is bigger than the usual hotel bar fridges for our food finds. A regular dinner table to spread out maps and information to study. No maids in and out unless we ask. Much bigger rooms with comfy sitting instead of having to struggle with close quarters and using the too low bed to share information. Very happy.
Tomorrow we walk through royal Madrid , meet friends and move on to their home.
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