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filia_belialis made a day trip to NYC today and we met up for shenanigans. It was madness. MADNESS I TELL YOU. I do plan to write a full LJ post about today, or possibly a novel, to take advantage of all the beautiful parallel structure and symbolic shit that went down... but just in case inertia takes over, I just wanna throw it out there that although we got off to a slow start wandering aimlessly in the rain and fangirling in a Greenwich Village café, before long we were almost getting arrested for trespassing on rooftops, I spent the better part of an hour choking in a disgustingly posh café in Little Italy and horrifying the patrons as filia_belialis attempted the Heimlich maneuver and told dead Gallifrey jokes to try to get me to belly-laugh a fragment of carrot out of my windpipe, we both got soaked to the skin, then we went and got plastered at the TARDIS bar in Brooklyn with a couple of guys who'd come all the way from Mexico City to drink there, and due to an extraordinary amount of shit hitting the fan she missed the last Megabus back to Massachusetts and a thrilling three-hour subway chase involving failed time travel, earnest attempts at subway-platform evangelism, and a fair amount of the kindness of strangers ensued, culminating in a Waiting-for-Godot-meets-Monty-Python absurdist farce in the Port Authority bus station at midnight. Eventually all stray plot threads were resolved, she ended up on a 3:30 Greyhound that miraculously transformed into a 1am express, and just to remind the audience that this plot is artificially engineered for a pleasing balance even if that requires coincidences that would never happen in real life, I ran into our Mexican buddies on the A train home. Three hours and several subway lines away from where we'd last met.....and that's the severely abridged version.
filia_belialis made a day trip to NYC today and we met up for shenanigans. It was madness. MADNESS I TELL YOU. I do plan to write a full LJ post about today, or possibly a novel, to take advantage of all the beautiful parallel structure and symbolic shit that went down... but just in case inertia takes over, I just wanna throw it out there that although we got off to a slow start wandering aimlessly in the rain and fangirling in a Greenwich Village café, before long we were almost getting arrested for trespassing on rooftops, I spent the better part of an hour choking in a disgustingly posh café in Little Italy and horrifying the patrons as filia_belialis attempted the Heimlich maneuver and told dead Gallifrey jokes to try to get me to belly-laugh a fragment of carrot out of my windpipe, we both got soaked to the skin, then we went and got plastered at the TARDIS bar in Brooklyn with a couple of guys who'd come all the way from Mexico City to drink there, and due to an extraordinary amount of shit hitting the fan she missed the last Megabus back to Massachusetts and a thrilling three-hour subway chase involving failed time travel, earnest attempts at subway-platform evangelism, and a fair amount of the kindness of strangers ensued, culminating in a Waiting-for-Godot-meets-Monty-Python absurdist farce in the Port Authority bus station at midnight. Eventually all stray plot threads were resolved, she ended up on a 3:30 Greyhound that miraculously transformed into a 1am express, and just to remind the audience that this plot is artificially engineered for a pleasing balance even if that requires coincidences that would never happen in real life, I ran into our Mexican buddies on the A train home. Three hours and several subway lines away from where we'd last met.....and that's the severely abridged version.
Crazy trip of crazy is working out okay so far!
Train out of France (to Geneva) got rerouted because of strikes, so I ended up having to sit in the non-air-conditioned standing room for people who don't have reservations. Not very fun, but at least I got there. Train ride from Geneva to Zürich was GORGEOUS. Night train from Zürich to Salzburg not so fun; all the sleeper cars were booked solid because of the air-travel ban, so I ended up in a not-very-comfortable seat in an over-air-conditioned train, and got into Salzburg at four in the morning freezing my butt off. But all is well, I have a bed in a rather nice youth hostel, and I managed to sort of order coffee in German, which is more than I managed last time I was in Zürich.
Salzburg is... very very Baroque. Okay, I will admit it, I came in here not bothering to think about the cultural stereotype of Austria and mentally correct for it. And due to the shittiness of the American education system and their failure to teach European history, the American cultural stereotype of Austria is "that place that's kind of like Germany, only with better skiing, scarier right-wing politicians, and The Sound of Music." It was a long time after high school that I learned that AUSTRIA USED TO BE A FUCKING EMPIRE back before a united Germany was even a twinkle in Bismarck's eye, so I tend to forget when I'm not thinking with my historian-brain. I don't think I'll ever forget again, not after all these elaborate formal gardens and giant wedding-cake Catholic churches. And yes, all the rococo is rather cute and twee, until you remember that it was the velvet glove over the proverbial fist, and that you DID NOT insult Austria's twee pastel cake-frosting architecture unless you wanted them to come partition your country.
Unfortunately, no Mozart concerts tonight, so I'll have to content myself with just wandering around listening to the Marriage of Figaro on headphones and admiring all the Imperial splendor.
Train out of France (to Geneva) got rerouted because of strikes, so I ended up having to sit in the non-air-conditioned standing room for people who don't have reservations. Not very fun, but at least I got there. Train ride from Geneva to Zürich was GORGEOUS. Night train from Zürich to Salzburg not so fun; all the sleeper cars were booked solid because of the air-travel ban, so I ended up in a not-very-comfortable seat in an over-air-conditioned train, and got into Salzburg at four in the morning freezing my butt off. But all is well, I have a bed in a rather nice youth hostel, and I managed to sort of order coffee in German, which is more than I managed last time I was in Zürich.
Salzburg is... very very Baroque. Okay, I will admit it, I came in here not bothering to think about the cultural stereotype of Austria and mentally correct for it. And due to the shittiness of the American education system and their failure to teach European history, the American cultural stereotype of Austria is "that place that's kind of like Germany, only with better skiing, scarier right-wing politicians, and The Sound of Music." It was a long time after high school that I learned that AUSTRIA USED TO BE A FUCKING EMPIRE back before a united Germany was even a twinkle in Bismarck's eye, so I tend to forget when I'm not thinking with my historian-brain. I don't think I'll ever forget again, not after all these elaborate formal gardens and giant wedding-cake Catholic churches. And yes, all the rococo is rather cute and twee, until you remember that it was the velvet glove over the proverbial fist, and that you DID NOT insult Austria's twee pastel cake-frosting architecture unless you wanted them to come partition your country.
Unfortunately, no Mozart concerts tonight, so I'll have to content myself with just wandering around listening to the Marriage of Figaro on headphones and admiring all the Imperial splendor.
Crazy trip of crazy is working out okay so far!
Train out of France (to Geneva) got rerouted because of strikes, so I ended up having to sit in the non-air-conditioned standing room for people who don't have reservations. Not very fun, but at least I got there. Train ride from Geneva to Zürich was GORGEOUS. Night train from Zürich to Salzburg not so fun; all the sleeper cars were booked solid because of the air-travel ban, so I ended up in a not-very-comfortable seat in an over-air-conditioned train, and got into Salzburg at four in the morning freezing my butt off. But all is well, I have a bed in a rather nice youth hostel, and I managed to sort of order coffee in German, which is more than I managed last time I was in Zürich.
Salzburg is... very very Baroque. Okay, I will admit it, I came in here not bothering to think about the cultural stereotype of Austria and mentally correct for it. And due to the shittiness of the American education system and their failure to teach European history, the American cultural stereotype of Austria is "that place that's kind of like Germany, only with better skiing, scarier right-wing politicians, and The Sound of Music." It was a long time after high school that I learned that AUSTRIA USED TO BE A FUCKING EMPIRE back before a united Germany was even a twinkle in Bismarck's eye, so I tend to forget when I'm not thinking with my historian-brain. I don't think I'll ever forget again, not after all these elaborate formal gardens and giant wedding-cake Catholic churches. And yes, all the rococo is rather cute and twee, until you remember that it was the velvet glove over the proverbial fist, and that you DID NOT insult Austria's twee pastel cake-frosting architecture unless you wanted them to come partition your country.
Unfortunately, no Mozart concerts tonight, so I'll have to content myself with just wandering around listening to the Marriage of Figaro on headphones and admiring all the Imperial splendor.
Train out of France (to Geneva) got rerouted because of strikes, so I ended up having to sit in the non-air-conditioned standing room for people who don't have reservations. Not very fun, but at least I got there. Train ride from Geneva to Zürich was GORGEOUS. Night train from Zürich to Salzburg not so fun; all the sleeper cars were booked solid because of the air-travel ban, so I ended up in a not-very-comfortable seat in an over-air-conditioned train, and got into Salzburg at four in the morning freezing my butt off. But all is well, I have a bed in a rather nice youth hostel, and I managed to sort of order coffee in German, which is more than I managed last time I was in Zürich.
Salzburg is... very very Baroque. Okay, I will admit it, I came in here not bothering to think about the cultural stereotype of Austria and mentally correct for it. And due to the shittiness of the American education system and their failure to teach European history, the American cultural stereotype of Austria is "that place that's kind of like Germany, only with better skiing, scarier right-wing politicians, and The Sound of Music." It was a long time after high school that I learned that AUSTRIA USED TO BE A FUCKING EMPIRE back before a united Germany was even a twinkle in Bismarck's eye, so I tend to forget when I'm not thinking with my historian-brain. I don't think I'll ever forget again, not after all these elaborate formal gardens and giant wedding-cake Catholic churches. And yes, all the rococo is rather cute and twee, until you remember that it was the velvet glove over the proverbial fist, and that you DID NOT insult Austria's twee pastel cake-frosting architecture unless you wanted them to come partition your country.
Unfortunately, no Mozart concerts tonight, so I'll have to content myself with just wandering around listening to the Marriage of Figaro on headphones and admiring all the Imperial splendor.
Despite a catastrophic misadventure involving Parisian Metro and bus schedules that almost caused me to miss my train, all is well and I am in Digne. Digne, it turns out, is a mountain town in the foothills of the Alps. Some of these foothills have snow on their peaks at the end of April, but no matter, clearly I am a silly American who has never seen anything more impressive than the Appalachians.
Digne is also where the bishop's seat is for the region (DUH) which means you pretty much cannot chuck a stone without hitting a current or former convent. They have a street near the Rue de l'Evêché named after Mgr de Miollis, upon whom Hugo based Mgr Myriel; otherwise, unlike Montreuil-sur-Mer, they don't appear to care that Hugo wrote about them.
Did I mention it's in the mountains? My legs hurt from all the hill-climbing we've been doing, which I probably have no right to complain about since I was the one who suggested we go hiking near the river today. The river is unnaturally blue, very low from apparent lack of rain, and so cold it probably just melted last Tuesday.
Anyway, I have postcards! Anyone who wants a postcard from Digne, fill out the poll with your name and address, which are only visible to me. First ten people to ask get a postcard with "Digne-les-Bains" and a pretty picture of the town on it.
[Poll #1552229]
I will do my best to mail them from Digne itself, but the hotel's internet does not appear to work, so you might end up with one posted from Geneva or Salzburg instead.
Digne is also where the bishop's seat is for the region (DUH) which means you pretty much cannot chuck a stone without hitting a current or former convent. They have a street near the Rue de l'Evêché named after Mgr de Miollis, upon whom Hugo based Mgr Myriel; otherwise, unlike Montreuil-sur-Mer, they don't appear to care that Hugo wrote about them.
Did I mention it's in the mountains? My legs hurt from all the hill-climbing we've been doing, which I probably have no right to complain about since I was the one who suggested we go hiking near the river today. The river is unnaturally blue, very low from apparent lack of rain, and so cold it probably just melted last Tuesday.
Anyway, I have postcards! Anyone who wants a postcard from Digne, fill out the poll with your name and address, which are only visible to me. First ten people to ask get a postcard with "Digne-les-Bains" and a pretty picture of the town on it.
[Poll #1552229]
I will do my best to mail them from Digne itself, but the hotel's internet does not appear to work, so you might end up with one posted from Geneva or Salzburg instead.
Despite a catastrophic misadventure involving Parisian Metro and bus schedules that almost caused me to miss my train, all is well and I am in Digne. Digne, it turns out, is a mountain town in the foothills of the Alps. Some of these foothills have snow on their peaks at the end of April, but no matter, clearly I am a silly American who has never seen anything more impressive than the Appalachians.
Digne is also where the bishop's seat is for the region (DUH) which means you pretty much cannot chuck a stone without hitting a current or former convent. They have a street near the Rue de l'Evêché named after Mgr de Miollis, upon whom Hugo based Mgr Myriel; otherwise, unlike Montreuil-sur-Mer, they don't appear to care that Hugo wrote about them.
Did I mention it's in the mountains? My legs hurt from all the hill-climbing we've been doing, which I probably have no right to complain about since I was the one who suggested we go hiking near the river today. The river is unnaturally blue, very low from apparent lack of rain, and so cold it probably just melted last Tuesday.
Anyway, I have postcards! Anyone who wants a postcard from Digne, fill out the poll with your name and address, which are only visible to me. First ten people to ask get a postcard with "Digne-les-Bains" and a pretty picture of the town on it.
[Poll #1552229]
I will do my best to mail them from Digne itself, but the hotel's internet does not appear to work, so you might end up with one posted from Geneva or Salzburg instead.
Digne is also where the bishop's seat is for the region (DUH) which means you pretty much cannot chuck a stone without hitting a current or former convent. They have a street near the Rue de l'Evêché named after Mgr de Miollis, upon whom Hugo based Mgr Myriel; otherwise, unlike Montreuil-sur-Mer, they don't appear to care that Hugo wrote about them.
Did I mention it's in the mountains? My legs hurt from all the hill-climbing we've been doing, which I probably have no right to complain about since I was the one who suggested we go hiking near the river today. The river is unnaturally blue, very low from apparent lack of rain, and so cold it probably just melted last Tuesday.
Anyway, I have postcards! Anyone who wants a postcard from Digne, fill out the poll with your name and address, which are only visible to me. First ten people to ask get a postcard with "Digne-les-Bains" and a pretty picture of the town on it.
[Poll #1552229]
I will do my best to mail them from Digne itself, but the hotel's internet does not appear to work, so you might end up with one posted from Geneva or Salzburg instead.
So when I was joking about "Tomorrow to Calais, then a ship across the sea" I didn't mean it literally! But I did, indeed, get Calais and a ship across the sea, and I did not get Les Mis.
It all started when they closed the Channel tunnel due to weather, see, and my Eurostar train got cancelled. ( Read the whole saga )
What I have to show for all this: two frostbitten feet, a lot of aches and pains from holding and dragging heavy suitcases all across creation, an exchangeable Eurostar ticket, and unused and useless Les Mis ticket, three new friendships forged in the fire of necessity, and bragging rights.
It all started when they closed the Channel tunnel due to weather, see, and my Eurostar train got cancelled. ( Read the whole saga )
What I have to show for all this: two frostbitten feet, a lot of aches and pains from holding and dragging heavy suitcases all across creation, an exchangeable Eurostar ticket, and unused and useless Les Mis ticket, three new friendships forged in the fire of necessity, and bragging rights.
So when I was joking about "Tomorrow to Calais, then a ship across the sea" I didn't mean it literally! But I did, indeed, get Calais and a ship across the sea, and I did not get Les Mis.
It all started when they closed the Channel tunnel due to weather, see, and my Eurostar train got cancelled. ( Read the whole saga )
What I have to show for all this: two frostbitten feet, a lot of aches and pains from holding and dragging heavy suitcases all across creation, an exchangeable Eurostar ticket, and unused and useless Les Mis ticket, three new friendships forged in the fire of necessity, and bragging rights.
It all started when they closed the Channel tunnel due to weather, see, and my Eurostar train got cancelled. ( Read the whole saga )
What I have to show for all this: two frostbitten feet, a lot of aches and pains from holding and dragging heavy suitcases all across creation, an exchangeable Eurostar ticket, and unused and useless Les Mis ticket, three new friendships forged in the fire of necessity, and bragging rights.
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