The Magic Shaking Can and the Lie of the White Pills

My world is spinning.

One day, I'm curling up with my buds, Ben and Jerry. The next, it's so hot I can't move and there's boxes everywhere. My life is turning into a mess.

I was having a great time at my new home, finally getting along with Ben after weeks of hissing and posturing. I learned about how tasty potato chips and cheerios are. I got to hang out outside on the porch watching birds and squirrels flutter about and watching clouds float lazily by.

Then my two 'owners' (that still sounds so funny. They 'own' me? Ha!) came back. At first it was just like old times - cuddling, petting, treats. Then things went crazy.

A couple days ago (or maybe weeks ago, who knows anymore), I was having a nice sleep. Then I was awaken by the shaking sounds of the magic can. I should have known something was up; it was still dark out.

Next thing I know, I'm accosted and put in this giant 'truck.' All of a sudden everything is shaking and things are moving by at light speed. I couldn't walk 3 feet. It was all I could do not to throw up all over Kimberly. So I did what any sane cat would do - I crawled under the seat into the warm comfort of the dark.

I kept trying to tell them that I was unhappy and was feeling a little green. I told them over and over and over and over and over and over, but they wouldn't listen.

They tried to pacify me with some treats, the normal yummy ones and some new bad tasting white things. Then everything melted. I couldn't stand. My eyes were glued shut. The world was a blur. I couldn't move, or even talk. I was lost.

Every night, we were holed up in a new cheap, sleazy hotel. Every day, I was tricked into another 'treat'-induced stupor by that damn magic can.

I used to be a respectable cat. Look what they've done to me.

Then when the downward spiral finally stopped, we're in a new, weird place. Boxes everywhere. Heat like you've never felt. No mountains to stare at. Chaos all around.

To show my displeasure, I tried to poop on PEter's (again, with that spelling. Enough already, huh?) clothes, but Kimberly caught me in the act. That was awkward. She wasn't so happy with me, but fortunately she didn't force me to have another white treat.

Things have slowly been settling down. These two finally got the heat under control, thank Garfield. My old bed is back, so I've been spending a lot of time sleeping on that. I have a nice big window where I can watch the birds and some big dumb dogs who are tied up outside (although I feel a little bad since they look real hot - I winder why? It's nice and cool in here).

Overall, things are good. Kimberly's been cuddling lots. PEter's been brushing me. I think this place might be ok.

If not, I'll poop on PEter's pillow.

Down With Central Time

You know when you watch TV, and they say: "The Simpsons; Sunday at 8, 7 Central." Know what that means?

It means I miss The Simpsons.

You know why? Because I apparently now live in the Central Time Zone.

I really shouldn't be surprised, since we saw the 'Now Entering Central Time Zone' sign somewhere in the middle of Nebraska. And I've been hearing the old 'This Show on Day at x, x-1 central' spiel ever since I remember (I watched a lot of TV growing up).

But for some reason I never believed them. Why would a show start an hour earlier, just because we live in a different time zone? I mean, on the West Coast, they start all the shows at their normal time (except live things, like sports (but not awards shows, like the Oscars) which are shown live, but early for the local time). And I'm pretty sure it's the same way in the Mountain Time Zone.

In this modern era, with these fancy things called computers, you'd think they could set up some sort of delay so shows are shown at their normal time. I don't want to have to start cooking and eat dinner at 4 so I can be sure to be finished in time to watch a 'Prime Time' show starting at 7. I don't want my '10 o'clock News' to be the '9 o'clock News.'

I'm sure all the locals would argue that they're used to watching their shows an hour early (they would probably argue that I want to watch the shows an hour late, damn logical thinkers). If they changed the program schedules now, the whole midwest would probably go crazy. Imagine, a whole extra hour of free time in the evening, when the temperature is actually not painful to be in. They could double their corn output.

I've been trying to watch less TV, so maybe this confusing time zone TV schedule will help. But I won't go easily.

Although, as with any cloud, there is a silver lining: the Daily Show is on at 10, meaning I might actually be able to watch it live and still wake up in the morning.

So It Begins

Well, we've arrived. We left Portland Monday morning at 5:20 a.m., beat the traffic through downtown, and were on the open road before most people were hitting snooze for the first time. We rolled into Iowa at about 5 p.m. Wednesday.

One thousand, nine hundred, thirty-six and one-half miles; thirty-four hours; seven tanks of gas; endless stretches of good-ol'-American countryside.

There's nothing like driving across country, or half way across country, to make you realize just how big, how empty, and how flat this country really is. Once we hit The Dalles and got out of the Gorge (an hour into the trip, mind you) the landscape went unchanged for huge stretches of time.

Eastern Oregon on one long stretch of high plains desert, with big skies, lots of sage brush, the occasional tumble weed rolling by, and no trees. Having known mostly western Oregon in my time there, I am always amazed at how different the eastern part of the state looks. Billy the Kid could ride by chasing Crazy Horse while Doc Holliday robs a stage coach and I wouldn't be surprised. At least there's some mountains in the distance.

Idaho, Utah, Wyoming - all pretty much the same. Loooooooooooooooong stretches of high plains desert. Except for the mega-metropolis that is Boise. I've heard great things about that City, but I didn't even know we were there until Kimberly told me. Looks like a small town.

Anyways, lots of long stretches where the road doesn't turn and it looks like you're driving to the edge.

There was a stretch when we got on I-80 in Utah, where we went through an amazing canyon with rock outcroppings, and pillars, and beautifulness. Kimberly tells me Zion and Bryce Canyon National Parks are even more beautiful, so we'll have to go some day.

So on our first day, we drove for 15 hours and went through 4 states. Four. Back east, they call that your morning commute. But we made it half way to our destination.

Day two: 10 hours, 2 states. All of Wyoming (man, it's big) and half of Nebraska. I think some of these states need to do some dividing. It would make me feel like I was making better progress.
Back when I lived in Seattle, I used to go to Nebraska for work occasionally. Well, I-80 was my old stomping ground, so I was familiar with North Platte, Cozad, Kearney, and all the others on this stretch.

We ended up eating in a small diner in Cozad called the Green Apple. Breakfast, served hot and quick by a 70-year old woman, for $10. Perfect.

Then, Kimberly had her first experience with the Arch Monument in Kearney (actually, located over I-80). She could hardly contain her excitement. I couldn't.

On Day Three, we finished up Nebraska, enduring a closure of I-80 between Lincoln and Omaha because of an overturned truck, and entered Iowa.

It was very anticlimactic. I was expecting bells or fireworks or flashing neon. All we got was a sign.

The past day and a half, we've been settling in to our apartment. It's a little small, and straight out of the 'not aesthetically appealing' school of design, but it's perfectly fine. We met our neighbor, who was very nice and immediately proceeded to give us 4 ears of corn; no joke, the first day we are in Iowa, and we got corn as a gift. You can't make this stuff up.

We met some of Kimberly's 'co-workers' and they were also super nice. Everyone is sncouraging us to go to the State Fair, which started today and is supposed to be the best in the country (even better than the Minnesota fair). We're not sure if we're going; lots of unpacking to do still, and Kimberly is busy all next week. It's also really hot. Really hot. 'No one goes outside' hot.

What was really funny is that all of them, upon hearing that we were from Oregon, and I was originally from Boston, said 'Well, this will be culture shock for you.' Not too encouraging.

But all in all, so far, so good.

To top it off, this is how the sky looked our first night here; not sure if this is beautiful or an approaching tornado. That's probably an important distinction.

Goodbye Oregon

We'll miss you.




The driving begins tomorrow. We'll check in from The Middle.

Shakara

Last night we fell asleep to the soothing voices of the BBC. In that magical time right as your eyes are closing and the sandman is coming to visit, I was awoken by an interesting story.

Today is the 10-year anniversary of the death of Fela Kuti.

I first heard Fela Ransome Kuti and the Africa 70 when I was living in Boston on the wonderful WERS (Emerson College Radio) afternoon show, the Gyroscope (which due to programming changes, they no longer play, which makes me sad). I was immediately captivated by the Afrobeat sounds, which is kind of like 'Big Band Funk.' The often 10-minute long songs have endless beat loops, hypnotic chanting, and lots of dance-cause-you-have-to energy.

The stuff I've read about Fela has always been interesting - he was a polygamist, he never played a song he had previously recorded live in concert, he told Paul McCartney to go fly a kite when he tried to steal Fela's musicians - and always makes me wish I knew more about him. As is usually the case, the most interesting music is made by people with the most interesting back story.

Anyways, I thought I would take this opportunity to let all you out there know about the music of Fela Kuti. I think in the 7 years that I've listened to his music, I've met 3 or 4 other people who knew his name and listened to his music; I think more people should know about him.

If you get a chance to listen to some of his music, I can't give it a high enough recommendation.

it's just like riding a bike

So, it turns out that driving is just like riding a bike, you don't forget. I drove around like crazy today picking up prescriptions, stopping by the drugstore (and yes, these were different places, sigh), and the funnest of all, taking miles to the vet. It seems that his rabies vaccine was due for a booster, and since our new home town requires it, it seemed easier to do it now than to add it to our list of things to do there.

I found out during our travels that indeed, you don't forget how to ride a bike. Twice during our trip we rented bicycles and did our sightseeing on wheels. Our first try was in Lucca (also the site of Peter's illness). Lucca still has its original city wall and it has been turned into a city park. You can rent bikes and ride them around the top of the walls, a 4 or 5 kilometer loop. I was a little nervous about the bikes because, well, I can't actually remember the last time I rode a bike. I'm pretty sure it was sometime BEFORE my freshman year of HIGH SCHOOL (for those doing the math, yes this means 16 years ago). So, I think I was a bit justified in my nervousness. It turns out that yes, I could still ride a bike, I just couldn't balance very well. Once I was up to speed, I was fine, but the slow part, particularly the starting and stopping parts (major parts of bike riding I understand) were a bit more tricky.

We also rented bikes in Munich, Germany through an outfit called Mike's Bike Tours. This time, we actually had a guide and were on city streets (a bit) instead of entirely on paths without cars. Needless to say, I was a bit nervous about my starting, stopping, and balancing abilities. Our trip was great, I didn't hit a car or person, and I even managed to stay on my bike after our stop to drink a half liter of beer. So, I'd say that my skills have even improved!

I guess this means that it's time for me to get a bike (I hear that the Middle is nice and flat, so it should be nice to ride around). There's no good reason why I hadn't ridden a bike in so long, it just worked out that way. Now that I've ridden in two foreign countries, I might as well ride in my own.

MILES!!!!! We're home (for now)

Yes indeed, we've ended the flying portion of our trip. We're back in the lovely Rose City (although for some reason it's 90 today!). Miles and I are reunited and there's cat hair everywhere. A few days of seeing family and friends (have we written this post six times already?) and doing errands and then we're off to the Middle.

The current plan is to pack on Sunday (we'll be looking for loading volunteers... hint hint) and then hit the road bright and early Monday morning. We have a place in The Middle lined up, thankfully, and will hopefully arrive Thursday am.

And then the fun begins...

Are We There Yet?

Another day, another long day of travel. We're heading West to pick up our stuff. Then the real adventure begins.

Tell Miles to get the Purrrr-ing machine warmed up, Kimberly's coming and she's looking for snuggles.

Sometimes, I Smell Them

I wonder where they could be? It's been so long. I wonder if they will ever come back?

I think I'm wearing out my welcome here. I even heard 'Mom' tell that other girl that she can't wait to get rid of me. As long as Ben keeps his distance; I wouldn't want to have to take a chunk of his ear.

I hope they come back for me soon. Sometimes I smell them in the other room and I think they're hanging out in there, but every time I make my break for the room, I get cut off at the pass. I hope this isn't some elaborate joke, or weird science experiment; I'm pretty sure they haven't gotten 'Cat Subjects' approval.

I could go for a snack. Shake magic can. Shake.

Music Part 2

Being home, we now get to listen to the radio, as well as listen to our music on our computers and online. Its quite nice. Kimberly really missed NPR. The soothing voices calm her down.

I think this song here, posted by our friend Seth several months ago, feels appropriate as a 'welcome back' song. I don't think I could ever get sick of the Talking Heads.

And as Seth says: David Byrne dancing with a lamp = Genius.

This song is actually good, so check it out.

Music Part 1

One of the things about traveling is that you don't hear too much music. We brought our iPod with us initially, but sent it home after 2 weeks when we realized we weren't listening to it and it just took up space.

For those first 2 weeks in Italy we had a car, so were able to listen to some Italian radio. Then for a weird 2 week period in the middle of the trip, we had a TV and were able to watch Mtv.

Every once in a while we heard a snippet of a song at a restaurant, or in a bar, or at a hotel.

This song above is hands down the most heard song from our trip. On the car radio, on Mtv, in bars, everywhere. I thing we may have heard it on average once a day while traveling.

I don't know if it became popular here in the States, but I can only hope it didn't.

Unfortunately, it kind of became the 'song of the trip.' It's a terrible song. And a terrible video.

If you last through the whole thing, congrats, you just listened to a terrible song.

If you want to pop your ear drums half way through, just think that we heard this song probably almost 60 times.

(I don't think there is anything offensive in the song, except the terribleness of the song itself.)

...And We're Back

We're back in the Boston, relaxing at my mom's. Decompressing. Doing laundry. Unfortunately, the Red Sox are out of town all week.

I think Kimberly is working on downloading some pictures, so you might get some surprises later on. Keep your eyes on this space.

I hope everyone enjoyed some stories of our adventures in Europe. Stay tuned, as the real adventure is about to begin: The Middle beckons.

Auf Wiedersehen, Deutschland...and Europe...

This is a message from the future.


If you are reading this, we are probably somewhere above the Atlantic Ocean. Kimberly has probably finished the Harry Potter book and discovered that my theory was correct (I have a whole theory about the ending of the Harry Potter book that I was going to post about here, just so everyone knew I knew, but I ran out of time at the last internet point. After I read the book, I´ll let you know I was right).


I am probably asleep.


Soon we´ll be landing in the USA. Seems strange.

One of the weird things about travelling is that you feel like Austin Powers waking up after sleeping for 30 years - you miss a lot of news. If you want to let us know anything good that happened while we were away, leave it in the comments.

Some pressing questions:
-did we win the war in Iraq yet?
-did Tony Soprano get whacked? (I don´t really want to know, I´ll watch it)
-who won the NBA Championship? Did the Blazers get a good draft pick? How many refs actually fix basketball games?
-are the Red Sox still in first place?
-any good weather? Any tornados in the middle?
-is Paris Hilton still in jail? Has Britney overdosed yet? Lindsay?
-did Jim dump Karen to get together with Pam?

And most importantly, who died in the Harry Potter book? Ron? Hermoine? Did they get Voldemort? Was Dumbledore right about Harry? And what about Neville (the Sam Gamgees of the Potter series, in my opinon)? (I´ll know soon enough)

See you in the new world...

...Guten Tag, Deutschland

We arrived yesterday to reasonable temperatures, cool rain, and orderly lines at the supermarket.

Arrivederci Italia...

Tomorrow, we leave Italy.

After 8 weeks and 3 days of trekking about in this sometimes chaotic, sometimes sublime, but always beautiful country, we present:

Things we´ll miss about Italy:

• Our morning coffee, usually an espresso, followed a few hours later with our mid-morning cappuccino. We´re like coffee-hobbits. Hobbits addicted to caffeine and running around in circles;
• Prosecco: in the US, champagne and other sparking wines are expensive. Here, prosecco flows like water. Just ask Kimberly;
• The abundance of wine, and more specifically, enoteca, which are wine bars. They´re everywhere, and generally pretty inexpensive;
• Trains, for their convenience and relative inexpensiveness;
• Kebab: not an Italian food, but a Middle Eastern thing. But they don´t sell them in the US, so we have to eat our fill of them while overseas;
  
• Never feeling rushed at a restaurant: except for a handful of instances in the more touristed cities, we have never felt rushed at a restaurant in Italy. If you want to sit for hours, savoring the last glass of wine, no problem. The waiter doesn´t even bring the check until you´ve asked for it;
• Food, in general: if you didn´t notice, we eaten pretty well on this trip. More specifically, prosciutto. And the wonderful selections of salami and cheese as we moved from region to region. More to come on the eating in future posts;
  
• Pedestrian-only zones. In pretty much every City in Italy, the central area is pedestrian only, which allows for lots of strolling while eating gelato and wonderful people watching;
  
• Gelato: Italian ice cream. Especially Kimberly;
• Cheap hotels\pensiones, with clean, efficient rooms and friendly staff. We went cheap most of the time, so we could spend our money on eating, and for the most part it worked out well;
• The Italian bar\cafe: if you want an espresso, a beer, a cocktail, a pack of cigarettes, a piece of pizza or a panini, these places do it all. And well, somehow;
• Italians: often warm and friendly;
• Friends and family, old and newly discovered.
  

Things we won´t miss about Italy:

• People smoking, everywhere. I really don´t care if you smoke, but eating dinner while the person next to you blows smoke in your face is something I pleaently forgot about while living in the states. And people throw their cigarette butts on the ground, no matter what, often times still burning. Very strange;
• Weaving while walking: I´m not sure if all Italians have an inner ear infection, but no one here can walk in a straight line. It is physically impossible for them to do so. Walking down the street in Italy is one of the most difficult things I have ever had to do;
• Crossing the street, especially in big cities: not only do you need to watch out for cars and buses, none of which slow or stop for you, but also the bikes and mopeds, which are sometimes cars and sometimes pedestrians, depending on the light cycle. Fear is not strong enough of a word for crossing the street in Rome;
• Bike riding in the pedestrian areas: would it kill you to walk your bike through heavily congested pedestrian areas, instead of riding up my ass, over my toes, and grazing my legs;
  
• Sciopero: we´ve said enough about these. But guess what, even though there is less than 24 hours left in Italy for us, the sciopero may rear its ugly head one more time. We´ll let you know;
• Cheap hotels: for their non-air conditioned rooms, hallways smelling of smoke, and shared bathrooms that smell like someone cleaned a salmon in;
  
• Trains, for their un-rigid schedules, lack of signage, and for their sometimes crowdedness;
• Temperatures in the mid to high 30´s in C (90 - 110 in F). Too hot. Sweating constantly. Kind of gross. Makes Kimberly irritable and Peter smell;
  
• Italians: sometimes self-centered and rude
  

And if you think we haven´t posted enough about our travels while over here (thanks, mostly, to the poor quality of internet cafes), stay tuned. We made a list over our morning coffee and we have at least 30 posts waiting to be written, not to mention the hundreds and hundreds of pictures to sort through and post.

And don´t forget, we have 5 more days of wackiness and fun left over here in Europe, so who knows what will happen.

I Guess We Aren´t in Italy Anymore, Maybe?

I´m not sure how it happened, but it appears we left Italy some how. We were in Verona, drinking espresso and saying ciao, when we got on a train to head to north to Bressanone, in the Dolomites. We weren´t planning on leaving for Germany until Saturday.

Then as we went north, we noticed the train station signs were in Italian, with German translations below (usually they are in Italian, with English translations). Then, the signs were in German, with Italian translations. Then the houses looked a little German, and less Italian.

Then we got off the train, and we were in Bressanone, but they call it Brixen. Everyone greets you in German.

Even the keyboard is in German. You can´t see it, but the Y-key ia a Z, and the Z-kez is a Y. And they have umlauts, like this Ö and Ä (I hope those show up). And this, ß, which is double s.
______________________
Bressanone/Brixen actually is in Italy; it was ethnically and culturally Austrian for a many centuries, and somehow Italy ended up with it early in the 20th century, after World War 1. So people here are still very Germanic in their customs and speech.

It´s a good thing we´ve been practicing our Italian the last 2 months, because nothing up here is in English - German first, Italian second.

What We Did Last Night is Illegal in America

Come on, get your mind out of the gutter.

All we did we eat some horse meat, which is fantastic in a red sauce. (The US Congress, in an act of brilliance, outlawed the sale of horse meat after the greatest horse in the history of horses, Barbaro, was hurt in the 2006 Preakness and subsequently euthanized).

After the horse meat, we ate a some ass.

Come on, you´re terrible.

It was just some donkey, which is also a wonderful meat to include in your red sauce.

In the Land of Canals

We made it to Venice. I was worried, sometimes, about going to Venice. I get this way whenever people gush about anything. Will it live up to those crazy expectations? Will it have tarnished or faded?

Venice is a complicated and intense place to visit. It is overwhelmed in parts by massive, crushing crowds. It's confusing, awkward, and expensive.

you can some of the crowd here, as a tour approaches

here, in St Mark's Square (this is actually tame)

and kind of here, if you zoom in along the water (crazyness to the fullest)

But Venice is charming. It's unlike any place I've been. We arrived with the crowds on a train from Parma and stood outside the train station trying to decide which of the many "bus" tickets made sense. We negotiated our way through the crowds and onto our first bus, actually a vaporetto, sort of like a small ferry. And then, we were riding our way down the canals of Venice to our hotel.

Venice is amazing. Our photos won't do it justice, because none can. The water laps at the steps of the first floors of the old mansions. Businesses and hotels have photos inside of the past floods (kinda like in Tillamook, but 3 or 4 feet). There are city maps that plot out the high areas and routes to take to get around during the ever present floods.

But for a city defined by water, Venice is a lot more. On the back alleys (actually alleys, not canals) Venice looks a lot like other old Italian cities. Old buildings, tiny grandmothers, laundry hanging on the line, no tourists. In fact, we liked these areas a lot. We wandered around for most of our 2.5 days and got lost, unlost, and lost again. Luckily I married a compass and he always found our way home.
We were able to see two of the four main sights we set out to. The Peggy Gugenheim museum of modern art and Saint Marks. Saint Marks rates as my favorite big church. Mosaics everyone on the ceiling, with beautiful inlaid floors. We attempted, but will have to visit next time Saint Donato's church in Murano (the island of glass). It's know for having blown glass chandeliers and also the bones of the "dragon" slain by St Donato (possible whale bones...). We also missed the cemetary due to our shopping and the sciopero. Next time.

I can't say I'd recommend Venice to everyone- the crowds are frustrating, the tour groups are enormous, and the prices are high. But Venice is unusual, and if you can summon the patience to elbow your way through people, and avoid the Gucci, Prada, and other fancy stores, Venice is lovely. The last night of our trip we took the vaporetto bus home after dark. Gliding past the mansions, some falling down, others beautifully kept, I saw Venice's magic.

Yet Again

So, we've been in Italy for about 7 weeks now. That's a pretty good long time. On a trip that long, you have to expect some problems, especially in Italy. Maybe a power outage, or some security issues in another European country. Maybe a train strike. Maybe even a gas station strike.

But this is getting ridiculous. (You know what's coming, right?)

As we approached the vaporetto station in Venice (a vaporetto is a boat that is a bus, because in Venice, they don't have cars, or streets, they have canals), we saw this sign:
So, if you have been reading this blog, you kow that sciopero means; strike. And if you look at the date, it is translated as: Friday, 13th of July. HELLOVENEZIA my a$$.

On FRIDAY THE 13TH, the entire local transportation system for Venice (with some exceptions, none of which helped us) shut down for 7 hours in the middle of the day. I have to say that it's a small miracle that Italy is one of the 8 largest economies in the world. With the number of strikes here, I can't believe they get anything done.

Anyways, guess what day we needed to get from our hotel, located on the southern end of Venice, to the train station, located on the northern end. Yup.

So yesterday, on by far the hottest of our three days in Venice, we straped our bags on, heavy with some new acquisitions, and started walked through the narrow alleys and over the canals of Venice. 60 short minutes later, I thought Kimberly was going to pass out as we reached the station.

But we wouldn't let this little setback ruin what was otherwise a great time in Venice. Like true Italians, we just gave a little shrug, and rolled with the flow.

And if you're counting, this is 3 sciopero's that have directly influenced our lives, with a 4th that very much almost did. One strike for every 2 weeks of travel; not a bad ratio.

My Birthday in Italy

While all of you got to celebrate my brithday, and coincidentally the 4th of July, with some nice fireworks, and maybe some burgers and hot dogs over a hot BBQ, I was stuck in this horrible place:
I know, I know, it was rough, but we made it through.

Also, in an earlier post, Miles was kind enough to wish me a happy birthday. Thank you Miles.

However, in her comment, Kimberly stated that I had been making friends with new cats in Italy, behind Miles' back. Well, I provide this picture as proof that she is slandering my name to protect herself:
I'll let him be the final judge.