language gaffes, part "le meltdown"

well, i guess it was only a matter of time before i started in on the french way of doing things, that certain je ne sais quoi that makes you just want to stay in bed eating nutella with a spoon and watching reruns of "friends" dubbed in french... it's sort of like waking up to find yourself in a kafka novel or, worse still, a beckett play: no longer a client at the internet store or a foreign resident seeking legal immigration papers, you become hopeless characters, forced to repeat mindless activities and use language void of meaning in a world that is as absurdly amusing as it is profoundly pessimistic.

case in point: it is nearly impossible to open a bank account without official proof of your residence. a simple phone bill will do. but as it turns out, you can't get your phone set up until you've opened a bank account. riddle me that, friends.

the infuriating, brain-melting, and marriage-testing experience for K and LB came not at the bank or with the phone company, but in trying to set up their internet service. i'll spare all the dirty details about the hours spent waiting for, watching the antics of, and cleaning up after the company's technicians; i'll also forego details on the service clientèle, encounters with which nearly saw ol' LB lose her merde. instead, i'll get right to the climax: after being told a third time to patienter (her words said "bear with us" but her tone was all "hold your horses, lady") just another 24 hours before the network would surely connect but discovering after a long day at the library that there was still no connection, K calmly packed up the modem, cable, jack, blah blah blah, and walked out the door.

on the way to the boutique, the two irate americans agreed that LB would do all the talking. though K generally has superior people skills, LB's french is arguably better. but as they walked in the door, a mere 3 minutes after closing time, it was K who lost his merde (what follows is an approximate translation):

S (salesperson): hello sir. i am very sorry, but we are closed.
K: NO. it is I who sorry. one always waits one week no internet! bullshit! three technicians always still wait no internet! our apartment!
L: umm, babe...?
S: [laughs uncomfortably; looks furtively at female colleague, who is standing in the corner – totally bewildered and slightly amused]
K: three technicians... one always waits... no internet!
S: we open at 9 a.m. au revoir.
K: [turns and leaves in a huff]
L: [mortified, has already left]

now, where's that jar of nutella?

untitled, 11

jardin du luxembourg, 18 octobre 2008

untitled, 10

quick explanation: every year paris puts on a nuit blanche ("all-nighter") in early october. they open up all the museums, libraries, and public buildings, hold concerts, and invite international artists to do their thing... until dawn! and - bonus - the whole thing is free (can you imagine? we're not just talking a projector for the city planetarium here!). naturally, the parisians love it and come out in droves. old folks that we are, knox and i stuck to the happenings in the 14th - in walking distance - and ended up checking out only two events before we got tired of the crowds.

floating sky installation at the local pool - cameras at different positions across the planet projecting the sky onto the surface of the water


everyone had to take off their shoes to get in, which was unfortunate

light installation at the tour montparnasse

complete with "ooh-ooh-wa-wa-wa" style music - it was awesome

our new pad

8, rue Severo

a few of you saw our old apartment in the 5th - the closet-sized kitchen, the two burners that couldn't go at once because the whole place would blow, the shower in the bedroom, the smurf-sized sofa that was purchased at some point in the early 50s... some of you even slept in the "loft" even though you couldn't sit up in bed or go pee in the middle of the night without risking serious injury... all that, we figured, was a small price to pay for our proximity to the river and the best bakery in town.

but get a load of our new digs! we're in the 14th arrondissement this time around (see map below), which is further south and not as metro-convenient, BUT the place is awesome. knox and i can actually be in different rooms and not know what the other is doing!

la cuisine

la salle de bain (the toilet closet is over by the front door)

la chambre

le salon

a lot of reds and yellows in the decorating, which is a new experience for us "dirt-color" people. it's nice to have a real coffee table though, instead of the miniature bench we used in in the 5th or the army trunk we had in our santa monica place.

enfin, paris!

fall colors in the jardin du luxembourg with the panthéon in the background

we spent another week in texas after our week in florida, hanging mostly with my family, before heading on to paris. as with most of our sojourns in big d, we each put on at least 5 pounds what with all the tex-mex, steak, and home cooking. in addition to a delightful habachi dinner in plano with my mom and frank (when was the last time you went for habachi? seriously, it's delicious and so entertaining!), we made a few discoveries:

1) it is worth braving the scene at the porch on henderson to get a taste of their roast beef and barbecue.
2) avila's on maple has, without a doubt, the best enchiladas in dallas.
3) libby barnes is magic in the kitchen. that woman can cook! (this we actually already knew)

and so, it was with heavy hearts and in tight-fitting jeans that we boarded american flight 48 to paris last month, not to return for 10 months. if ever.

ahh, paris... we are thrilled to be back, not so thrilled to be jetlagged again so soon, thrilled to rediscover our wine and cheese rituals, not so thrilled to discover how rusty our french has become, thrilled to get settled into our lovely apartment, not so thrilled to be dealing with surly bank employees, sloppy internet technicians, and inexplicably complicated french bureaucracy.

and though we've already compiled a lengthy list of restaurants to visit, we've only been out for dinner once: bistrot d'henri. we love this place. tucked away down a small street near saint sulpice in the 6th, bistrot d'henri is a tiny, family-run restaurant that serves up excellent food for reasonable prices. of course, with the exchange rate being what it is, i'm not sure how reasonable reasonable is anymore... but as i'm on the french government's teet this year and knox has miraculously squeezed some money out of england, we figured we could take the hit every once in a while. now, this is one of the only places i know where they don't offer a prix fixe menu, which means you could save a little by skipping out on the first course. but i've never actually known anyone to skip the first course...

for you foie gras fans, knox assures me that their recipe is top notch. he usually has that or the salad with sauteed chicken livers. not a big fan of liver, stuffed or not, i stick to the lighter fare. this time i had a the fresh chèvre with black olive tapanade on a bed of frisée. for the main course, knox had poulet fermier à la crème et aux champignons (farm-raised chicken with a cream and mushroom sauce) with potatoes au gratin (which means the same thing here in france as it does on the betty crocker box!). and i had the duck in honey. i never knew how delicious those little birds could be until i tasted them slow-cooked in their own fat and slathered in honey. mmm! we washed it down with a pot of the house red, okay 2 pots, and then went on our merry way. the whole meal set us back 72 euros.

but the very next night i made at least 2 meals' worth of minestrone out of the veggies i got at the local market for less than 10 euros, so it all evens out.

yes, it's good to be back.

florida family fun!

j & j peden - the hosts with the mosts

things really picked up after we left amarillo. we hit DFW around 4 the next afternoon, had dinner with our favorite friends in fort fun and made it home to dallas in time to shower and have a beer with dad and libby before passing out in a real bed! no time to waste though, because the very next morning we were back on the highway, still heading east, this time to the florida panhandle.

that's right, friends, time had come for the long-anticipated peden family summer vacation! this vacation had been in the works for years, and we were all really excited to be finally on our way. knox and i were particularly thrilled because we were driving in jim's ride, which is SIGNIFICANTLY nicer than our own. we made it to florida in two days, surviving the drive on "bloody 98," otherwise known as "meth alley" (yikes), the nasty carpet at the comfort inn in jackson, ms, and many a poopy-diaper stop (leigh and chris, knox's sis and bro-in-law have three little ones in diapers, two of whom still take bottles, none of whom has much road tripping experience... those two deserve medals!).

and then, the pay off.

navarre beach!!


vacation headquarters


sam and harry totally get it - i think we've got some beach bums in the making...


dang, that's pretty!

it was pretty much all beach all the time, interrupted by occasional breaks for beers, naps, and/or ice cream...

i think i ended up with more ice cream on my face than walt did on his.

you know what? drinking beer at 11am makes me sleeeepy!

knox and i celebrating two years of marital bliss at juana's pagoda, the local watering hole (red stripe, believe it or not, is a sentimental beer for us - if only because we got blitzed drinking it together on the champs elysées in 1994! now that's romance!!)

it was as any summer vacation should be, though the party did end a little early with the news that ike was going to tear up texas. we were beginning to see the outer effects where we were and decided to bail out a day early so as to avoid any inclement weather on the road.

knox confirms that the weather is indeed taking a turn for the worse

the wind picked up, the waves rose higher, and the beach all but disappeared


leigh, knox, sam, and harry headed for the pool - 30 mph winds weren't going to stop them... (get a load of sam's hair!)

we all had a blast, so much fun that i think jim and jennifer fear they've blown the lid on their summer retreat!

kamping in america

LB admiring knox's handiwork

after trying unsuccessfully to talk knox into a camping adventure with bob in bryce canyon, utah, i insisted that we stay at the KOA on our way from denver to dallas. the bryce canyon marriott was nice enough, but for $26, the KOA was definitely more my scene. of course, it was only after we got in and set up (knox put the tent up in record time by himself (quite an improvement over our april trip to joshua tree, where we almost killed each other in the 45 minutes it took to get it standing!)) that we discovered why it was such a good deal... location, location, location! and not simply the fact that the texas panhandle is hardly prime camping real estate. no, the amarillo KOA is special: it sits on a barren lot nestled between the amarillo airport, which is surprisingly active despite the small size of the city, a pornography studio, where the magic actually happens (knox kept waiting for the lost porn actress to arrive at our tent looking for a place to "crash"), and a texas state prison. according to the very helpful material posted at the campground entrance, campers are advised to call KOA security should the prison siren sound. but i don't know, if the state prison security isn't up to snuff, i can't imagine the KOA peeps are going to make much of a show.

but the night air was brisk and we were happy not to be in the pathfinder, so it didn't take long for us to come to terms with our situation. plus, there was a lovely older german couple in the site next to ours, and they didn't seem to be worried about escaped cons or wandering porn stars. but just as we settled in, zipped up our bags, and turned out the lantern, we discovered one last snag: the campground is practically sliced in half by the railroad, which is also surprisingly active – the train came barreling through our campground no fewer than 8 times that night. apparently, this campground was originally built in the 50s on what used to be route 66, and access to the railway travelers was key. not so essential anymore, i reckon.

but given that you pay $89.95 + tax a night for roadside hotels with cigarette holes in the sheets and dead bugs smeared across the walls (the best western in el paso, tx comes to mind), i'd say this wasn't too bad a deal.

bye bye bob

knox drowns his sorrows in a coors at the biker bar down the street from the coors brewery in golden, colorado

on september 3, 2008, bob the cat began his year-long stay in denver with our pal janet. i was pretty determined to take bob to france with us this year – and thought knox was too – until one day last spring when janet called to check in, and all that changed. knox hung up and came in to tell me that janet had offered to give our little kitty a home. i later learned that there are two very distinct versions of the conversation that took place that fateful afternoon...

knox's version:
J: what will you do with bob while you're gone?
K: well, you know, we missed him so much last time that we're thinking of taking him along this time.
J: oh? but i'd really like to take him for the year.
K: really? well, i don't know... we missed him so...
J: oh please! i promise to take good care of him, and you know it would be better for him... cats die at 30,000 feet!
K: well, maybe you're right. let me check with leslie about this and we'll get back to you.
J: oh, swell! thanks knox, you won't regret it.

janet's version runs a little more like this:
J: what will you do with bob while you're gone?
K: well, we're taking him with us, no doubt about it. cats don't live forever, and we just can't bear to miss any more of his precious little life.
J: of course, i understand, and they say that cats do just fine in airplanes. it's funny though, i was thinking that if you needed a place for him, i might be able to take him in...
K: really?? oh, this is perfect! we'll just drive through denver on our way to texas and drop him off. and bonus, we'll get to hang with you for a few days.
J: uhh... um, okay. but don't you want to talk to leslie?
K: nah, she'll be fine with it. done and done. how does september 1 sound for you?

bob on a new perch, denver, co

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on the road again!


we stupidly drove right past bryce canyon, but this wasn't bad either


we're a long way from rice paddy out here...

bye bye 16th street

can you believe this? there are no words...

this is a little better, though not much

not much to say about the six days of mad packing that served as the intermission to our six-week summer vacation... except that it was nuts. unpacking from two months in viet nam, packing for a year in paris, a road trip, and a week at the beach, and boxing up the rest to put into storage... all this while still essentially unable to construct a coherent thought... honestly, it is nothing short of a miracle that knox and i made it to paris with underwear! i would not have been surprised to open my suitcase here to discover it filled with sheets, cutlery, or our george foreman grill.

we packed for almost one solid week much to the dismay of bob the cat, who wanted nothing to do with any of it. he knew something was up, probably knew it involved his riding in a car (cats, i have learned, do NOT like to road trip), and attempted to escape by blending in to his surroundings...

"they'll never find me in here!"

many of you already know that bob's favorite song is "twinkle twinkle little star" and that he comes running whenever he hears it. he really does - it's incredible. but not this time. he's not so easily duped! it broke our hearts to take him out of his little kitty eden, but it had to be done.

anyway, thanks to all those who helped us pack up (that's you, jacob) and who came out to wish us bon voyage. we were sad to leave l.a. behind us, but we'll be back eventually... if only to visit our storage facility.

untitled, 8 (a day in hoi an)

"local da nang"

from ha noi we flew to da nang, where we spoiled ourselves with a few days at furama, a very nice resort on china beach. although i think it was among the first 5-star resorts built in viet nam and could probably stand a few updates here and there, i highly recommend it. aside from one day trip to hoi an to have a couple of suits made for knox, we spent most of our four days in the central region hanging out on the beach. and for good reason:

i've been to some fine beaches in my day - shoot, i spent the last four years in southern california - but i've never been this enchanted. this very spot, under this very sun, floating in this very water, next to this very guy...

...who was in heaven, by the way. he got one look at the ocean and was like: "what dengue fever?? can i have one of those great big blue cocktails with an umbrella and some pineapple?!" i should have known...

my only complaint is that it truly felt as though we'd left viet nam at furama, and after two months spent trying to immerse myself, it made me a little antsy to be so forcefully removed. the food was mostly western (and boring, sadly), there was no rice wine or bia hoi, no karaoke, no sitting around chatting over tea, no real recognition even that i could converse in vietnamese. the separation was really driven home though by the invisible but imposing wall between the resort beach and the local beach, where one afternoon a tragedy of sorts occurred. knox wouldn't let me go stare (which is what all the locals were doing - i would've fit right in!), so we couldn't tell what had happened, though in the end we surmised that someone had drowned. and when knox went to inquire with the beach staff at our resort, some of whom we'd already confirmed spoke fine english, all he got was a stone-faced refusal to answer. some pretended not to know what crowd of upset beach goers he was referring to, looking the other direction down the beach, while others just played the language card: "sorry, my english no good. you beach here." or more disturbing, "you no worry. they local da nang. you no problem."

"local da nang," as though this somehow meant that we could not understand or did not experience the same sorts of tragedies, as though grief and pain were not universal... or stranger still, as though this was meant to reassure us that the ocean was only dangerous on that side of the beach, that somehow our privilege protected us (doesn't it though?). it was weird. and it reminded me that though i love traveling, i hate to be the tourist. particularly in the developing world, where you are constantly questioning your motives, asking yourself why you are there and what good you're actually doing there, if your money really benefits "local da nang" or just the global conglomeration developing the hell out of what used to be local da nang.

i'll say this - it sure is hard to work on your tan when you're worrying about expropriation and the flows of global capital.  

untitled, 7 (still in ha noi)

monument to vietnamese martyrs

old quarter pagoda, detail

eastern gate to the old quarter