London Road Observation

PJ once told me of an article in Wired magazine (which I subsequentlylooked up and have since tried to enlighten the fraternity of man with) about a revolutionary type of street intersection that waspioneered in The Netherlands - it did away with all signs, and markings, even the demarcation between the footpath and the street - everyone, cars, bikes and people all thrown in together with a maximum speed of 25km an hour, the speed at which it is possible for motorists to make eye contact with each other and hence interact in order to maximise traffic flow. Apparently it worked with a reduction in total traffic time and a drop in accidents - London streets ar the complete opposite of this - there are so many different lines and signs, multiple fences that break up already too narrow streets, even double pedestrian crossings on individual streets. I've certainly experienced the traffic problems in the city and i've been told that there ar lots of accidents - this city certainly seems to enjoy a bit of social engineering and I'm thinking it could certainly benefit from an experiment with the dutch roundabout.

Have noticed that there are thousands of bikes on the road in London - every time one stops at a traffic light there ar usually at least two or three bikes there. i've been told that there has been a big jump since the terrorist bombings on 7/7 (as the papers like to call that particular day) but it's always been like this - apparntly since the bombings there have been lots more accidents as a lot of the people who now ride through the city don't have the experience to deal with the traffic (it's my belief that the cyclists who end up having the most accidents are the ones with the most experience who just don't obey the rules [like me ...]). Another thing that i've noticed is that although there's so many more bikes on the road everybody seems to wear their normal clothes on their bikes (not that there's anything wrongwith that) and hardly anyone seems to wear helmets (and there is something with that) - i've never seen so many people riding bicycles wearing suits or skirts - it does look faintly ridiculous. But then again, I wonder how many people think that about people wearing lycra ...

Once again, back in London

5 September - I don't know how but I managed to get all of my things into my bag - my possessions increased significantly during my stay in Slovakia and my rucksack was overstuffed with presents from everyone that may not have weighed very much but were rather bulky - i'm definitely going to have to abandon some things before I head to Canadia. Irina fed me for the last time and took me out to the airport - I really did not look forward to going back to London just then but the trip must go on.
Flew in a real (jet) plane back to Prague and this time I made my connection. I'd forgotten to ask for an emergency exit this time and had flashes of Vietnamese buses as my legs severely cramped on the second leg - I managed to relocate myself to an empty aisle seet halfway through (hope I didn't look too suspicious moving around on the flight). Very quick and easy passport check and I was back in the UK.

More Reunions

6 September - Once back in London I got in touch with young James Templeman who was celebrating his new position as GM for a trendy bar and restaurant in a trendy area of London (i'm not sure if he was happier about getting the new job or leaving the old one). Had a small reunion with the CAmberwell household and had to recount my depressing marathon experience a few times but I was also reminded of how wonderful the Slovakian experience was so that offset the black mood somewhat but then I headed out to Swiss Cottage to see James and some of his expatriate friends (one or two i'd met before in Australia so that was pleasant to catch up again - made me feel slightly more at home to here some Australian accents). The night was slightly alcohol fuelled and I ended up crashing at Jame's very nice Primrose Hill house - twas a very large and comfortable couch that was my berth this time.
The next day went back to Camberwell and had a rather average café brunch (i really was spoiled on the food front in Slovakia) and then went to an Internet café to do some organising things - finally managed to purchase some SkyeOut credit so I can now fully exploit the solution.
Also in the afternoon I met up with Walber, a London based brazilian who i'd met in Chang Mai. He'd offered me a temporary place to stay while I was in London (traveller's are very nice like that) - very nice flat in Islington (very nice flat!), we headed out there from the west end on his moto - first time i've been on the back of a motorbike since THailand and it was a very different experience - still weaving in and out of traffic a bit but it's a far different experience when everyone on the road at least pays token attention to the rules. However, I was certainly feeling a far stronger connection to my own mortality than I did when I was in Bangkok. It's far more comfortable being on a moto with a helmet and clothes that could actually afford a little protection than shorts and sandles.
After this I headed out towards my old place of work/residence in Hampstead, the King William IV pub. The place hadn't changed at all - I don't even think they'd cleaned the carpet since I was there last. There was obviously nobody behind the bar that I knew (one would have to be pretty unambitious to stay there for eight years) but there were a couple of vaguely familiar faces holding the bar up - none worth knowing unfortunately. Did get chatting with the bar manager though, a Polish guy named Jaczek living over here, and he was very hospitable (discounting rounds and generallydrinking on my side rather than serving on this, he also excitedly demonstrated the bluetooth version of modern gaydar flirting) - later we were also joined by some beautiful Czech girls and our clique spent the majority of the night commiserating about how much we missed eastern europe compared to London. I am very glad to be back in London but there is something about Slovakia that has put its hold on me, maybe it's just that it was nice to be around such close family after such a long time (long for me) but i've got to get prepard for the next step and that step will be Canada.

Impressions of my pre-stepmother

I'm really not looking forward to returning to London now - six days of not even being allowed to take a plate back to the kitchen and being fed some of the best home-cooked food i've had since ... I can't even remember when (although mum did cook me a mean seafood stew sometime earlier in the year).
I'm not sure if it's her Russian heritage or her extended Slovakian lifestyle that has made her into such a determined cook, in the time that I was there I ate:
Day 1 - D - Slovakian vegetable soup and hungarian goulash with apple and coconut cake (all home made)
Day 2 - B - Slovakian sausages with toast
L - German pork chops topped with scrambled eggs, peanuts and cheese with mash (possible one of the best dishes i've ever had)
... Then I went to Bardejov and ate very well but that is for another tale as I returned for the pasta party and the less said about that food the better ...
Day 4 (Marathon) - Ham and eggs and toast (as irina said, you eating cereal and I do not think that is so good)
L - at a restaurant which was okay
D - Siberian pelmene (giant ravioli) with mustard sauce (i not like to eat at restaurant, I make at home so much better [and she does!!])
Day 5 - B - Eggs scrambled with onion mushroom and bacon and toast
L - Chicken soup and Slovakan capsicum filled with meat, rice and onions
D - jewish chicken (kosher?) with bulgarian salad
...
I can't cook for myself after this - what were M&D thinking allowing me to stay over here for so long? And I always get servings twice as big as hers and more besides - when she gives me two pieces of cake, if I try to push one onto her because I simply can't eat anymore she gives me a look as if i'm crazy, 'I cannot eat this, I cannot, you must!'
And it didn't just stop at food, i'm not allowed to help with washing up (i think there are jobs for the man and there are jobs for the woman) or do any of my own ironing (she just laughed at me, Ironing? You? That is good, it is a joyke [joke]) ... If she was an older babushka like Aunty Maria (and the world would be a far, far worse place without babushkas like Aunty Maria) this kind of behaviour would be condoned and even welcomed but she's completely glam (the bathroom is a bit overwhelming for me and she owns more pairs of shoes than mum does if that's possible!) due to her Soviet fashion technology training (?) and fashion orientattd career - she's just a little red-haired superwoman.
Admittedly, there have been moments of tension on my part (she's a worse channel surfer than the male Cucvaras and every room in the house has a large ticking clock including one that chimes throughout the entire flat every hour) and on hers (she get very angry at the fact that Kitsunya, the long haired slug with a cats face, spends too much time in my room and has threatened to send her off with me (if she spends time with you I don’t love her anymore and I get rid of her!)) but on the whole it's been a fantastic week.
Before I left I stayed at Chez Collins and was woken up in the morning by the wonderful Kate bearing gifts of pastry and coffee and I exclaimed how utterly fantastic it was and Kate remarked, 'Yes, Sax, you need a wife!' and I heartily agreed at the time but I think a pre-stepmother will do ...

Recovery - Day Number 1

4 October - Woke up in pretty bad condition - my legs were aching and I had a bit of a rash from my running shorts and was still pretty annoyed from yesterday's events. One thing I forgot to do before the run was trim by toenails and the tips of my toes were very bruised and a bit bloody - everything will heal in good time though. Small thing I didn't mention in yesterday's commiseration was a great thing that the locals did with cheering people on - some of thm were carrying the registration list and as runners approached them they looked up our numbers and then cheered us on by name - I did a bit of rubbernecking as I heard people yelling out 'Go Sax, Go!' (in Slovak so I presume it was 'go', maybe they were shouting 'Faint Sax, Faint!'), and there were also the local drunkards giving people slurps of their beer as they ran past (maybe if i'd indulged I wouldn't have had the same result) ...
Had to have a pretty quiet day so me and Irina headed out to a few of the shopping malls so that I could take advantage of the all-powerful Australian dollar's buying power and I got a few small things (i don't know if i'm going to be able to fit everything into my bag with all the bits and pieces i've accumulated from the family but hopefully I won't be leaving anything behind).
Got a call and email from the insurance company regarding my medical claim which I couldn't do - the cost of the ambulance, ECG and other tests totalled up to 350 SK or around about $AU15 (good place to collapse during a marathon, I suppose) - which is far less than the excess I would have had to pay.
Later on we went on a small tour around town and up a small mountain where the air was clear and the view was of the beautiful local ... Kosice US Steel factory, but it was very nice. Also when we returned to the flat one of Irina's neighbours gave me a suspicious look and asked Irina who I was (younger man perhaps???), Irina told her and she laughed because she knew dad from 36 years ago.
Stano and Natasha dropped around with a video he'd made up of my time here - most of it was from when he'd hidden the camera in a corner and none of knew he was filming but there was also my embarassing performance at the foosball table and, of course, the inevitable footage of the marathon. It shows all of the athletes running through the start, then me at several points during the race (looking okay, as far as I can tell) including the 36k mark where I run off into the distance never to be seen again and then it ends with Slovak Prime Minister Dzurinda crossing the finishing line in triumph (actually very depressing to watch).
Later that night I also met Mrs Zara Djuberova, who's husband was a colleague of dads and she had a photo of a very young Joe Cucvara (age 25) to give me. She was very excitable but didn't speak that much English - but she did make it clear her consternation that I was planning to spend such a long time away from my mother. Irina told me that many of the building's inhabitants were long termers who knew dad when he lived here and all of them were quite excited about my presence there - pity I didn't meet more of them to find out about dad's (presumably) unsavoury past. But then again, they all seem so happy to see me so i presume must have made a pretty good impression on them all prior to '69.

All The Pain and None of the Glory

2 October - Woke up today after a good sleep and was given a good high protein, high fat breakfast by Irina before we headed down to Kosice for the marathon. We first met with the Sestaks including Aunty Maria before I headed into the holding pen for the start. It was a very bright and sunny day, stark contrast to the grey weather we’ve had thus far. We were given what I presume must have been an inspriing speech by the PM (who was also running). The first off the ranks were the inline skaters at 957 before we had our count down and we were off. There was some very inspiring classical music as we headed through the start and made our tour through the city. I was feeling pretty good for the first half (i had a very good time when I passed the 21k mark of about 89m), helped by my large following who I saw at various intervals throughout the race - as I reached the 30k mark I was starting to really feel the impact on my legs as well as the heat (as is pretty normal if Sydney was anything to go by as a yardstick) - I passed my supporters at the 36k mark and was feeling a little delirious but around 37.5 I had a disaster - I was running at a good speed when I fainted, collapsing on the road - I crawled over to a tree and pulled myself up then collapsed again. As I was trying to get up a couple of officials ran up to me and forced me to sit down on a park bench and gave me something to drink. I tried to stand and keep on going but they wouldn't let me - I begged them to at least let me walk but before I knew it an ambulance had arrived and I was being bundled up into it - when I was lying down my head became completely messed up and I think I started to hallucinate a bit - sweat started to pour into my eyes (with contacts) and I was desperate to go to the toilet (no 2 unfortunately) but I had a lot of trouble communicating with the paramedics who didn't speak much English. They blasted the sirens and took me to Kosice hospital (first time in an ambulance so I suppose that was a plus). Whilst I was lying down my legs started to cramp up severely and I had to lift them to try to stretch them out, the nurses and paramedics mistook this for me trying to escape (which, admittedly I wanted to do) and they tried to restrain me. Eventually managed to get them to realise my dire need to go to the toilet (only distance runners actually know how awful going to the toilet is after a long run - everything gets shaken around and it's very painful). I had a slight gash on one knee from my initial fall and they dealt with that pretty early on and I was also given an ECG (in my mental state I thought that they were going to give me electro-shock therapy and it was pretty scary) and a few other tests. Nobody spoke any English and it took a while before they realised I was Australian (for some reason they were convinced I was german). I kept on trying to tell them that my family were waiting for me (indeed they'd ended up going to the polce) but eventually I got them to call irina (which they didn't tell me). They also tried to get me to sign a statement confrming that i'd pay for the ambulance and treatment, I wanted to talk to my insurers first but there was little chance of that. However, someone from the Marathon came so I went with them (also, no english); he took me back towards the finishing line and as we were coming back I recognised Viktor's unruly head in a car leaving - ii managed to stop the car and was reuinited with the fams. They already knew the basics of the story but I had to go to the finish line to drop off my chip so I ended up doing the last few hundred metres of the marathon in my bare feet (my feet were a bit swollen for wearing shoes) and I crossed the line a bit under five hours (admittedly only having run 38k). I didn't want to accept the finishing medal but they insisted and I was approached by one ammazed looking man asking me if i''d done the marathon without shoes, I had to dispel his awe reluctantly. Very disappointing about the run because I couldn't even claim that 'at least I finished' AND I fell over, breaking one of the three cardinal rules. The one thing that made my bruised ego feel better was that I never stopped running (short of one brief toilet break early on) - even when I felt like death I never walked and I ran until I dropped which is a sign that i'd reached my limit that day. And there's no shame in not completing a marathon. However, it also means that i'll have to come back in 2007 because i'm not going to let this track beat me.
Had some pep-talks by everyone around me (including dad - twice!) but pep-talks only ever make one feel worse because they come from pity and afterwds we had a nice late lunch at a Slovak restaurant with the family - was also given a wonderful Siberian pasta dish from Irina that night (am really getting over over-eating so much though by now).
In hindsight i've no idea why I collapsed - i'd done enough training and i'd not had a bender the night before - on the TV the guy who came second said it was the hardest the Kosice Marathon had been for him (the guy who came first was a Kenyan and probably didn't speak slovak) but I don't think there were many others who didn't finish so ... FUCK.

The Moment Of Truth

31 September - It is now the moment of truth - by which I mean that i've been lying for the past few months ...
Couldn't sleep last night at all and when I finally did pass out I woke up from one of the most horrific nightmares I can remember having - I was subjected to kidnapping and terrible mind games - absolutely awful - although when I woke up in the wee morning hours the whole thingseemed patently ridiculous and I was baffled that I could even have conceived that it was real even though it was a dream. When I got up near half eight Maria gave me a very large Slovak breakfast (too much meat but very delicious) with Jamesons whiskey as an apeterif (???) and I made the mistake of looking in the phone book for any Cucvaras - I found one and tried to ask Paul and Maria if it was a relation - I don't know what happened after that but they were making phone calls and talking to me at a hundred miles an hour in Slovak - I'm still not sure what they thought i'd asked but I managed to get them to stop in their quest to answer my unknown question. The rest of the family came over later on (everyone including Eva this time - who hasn’t aged at all in 8 years) and Maria performed one of her baffling food spells - feeding 11 people from the tiniest galley i've ever seen - very nice, but every time I finished any part of the meal she'd give me more - despite me telling her no, eventually I finished everything without having more food secreted on my plate and I gave my plate to her in triumph - IT'S OVER!! Then she gave me a complete replacement - I was feeling very quesy by the end of it all.
The rest of the family and I went for a tour of the old city and the local spa which was quite nice - Natasha bought me a very cheesy souvenir t-shirt and my younger cousins taught me a lesson in foosball that I wasn't going to forget (very embarassing, especially after i'd told them of my prowess back at home). We got back to Maria's and she asked me if was hungry - I said, Not at all, and she said okay, and brought out some food. I cannot understand how her family manages to all be so thin with the amount of food that they consume - it doesn't make sense to me.
I had the marathon Pasta Party to go to in Kosice so Stano and Natasha took me back to town (with Viktor in tow) - we were running a little late but it wasn't that urgent but that didn't stop Stano speeding back at 170km a hour at one point (it doesn't feel that fast until you take a slight corner and my overstuffed stomach lurched across the car). Irina was waiting for me, having not only done all my washing but had bought me a jacket and jumper while i'd been away and before I could protest had bundled me out of the house and escorted me to the party (the quality of the hospitality is getting ridiculous - I almost wish I had dad here to fend them off, they just don't listen to me) - the party was actually pretty crap - apparntly the prime minister was supposed to be there but I couldn’t find anyone who spoke a word of english and the pasta was pretty disgusting - I took my free beer and soon returned home. Upon arriving Irina interrogated me about tomorrow's plans - corrected me when I said somethingshe didn't agree with, gave me tomorrow's menu and ensured that my outfit was completely laid out. I always seemed to cope when I was on my own on this trip - but now that i've had people waiting on me hand and foot the past few days i'm not looking forward to resuming my personal duties.
Anyway - tomorrow is the marathon so i've got to try and get some sleep ... i've got a bit of an audience and I really hope they don’t have any huge expectations but it should be fun (at the beginning and at the end anyway) ... So, good luck to me. It should be okay as i've followed most of my motto thus far ... Get Your K's up, Keep Your Glukes Up and Don't Fall Over (two out of three isn't too bad).

Registration Woes and Cheerful Reunions

30 September - Woke up and was given a traditional (Russian I believe) breakfast and, not too much later, a traditional (could have been german) lunch by Irina - the lunch was preceded by an apeterif of a different flavoured vermouth (i think it's going to be difficult to reveal the fact that I think that vermouth is absolutely undrinkable), we also spent a fair amount of time going through her photographs (some of her early days with dad and some others - fascinating stuff) one interesting factoid I found out that her current apartment was actually the one that she used to share with dad many years ago, and there were some photographs of the dad in the same room we were in when he was pretty close to my age ... it was kind of spooky (it has to be said that the apartment bears no signs of dad's spartan design aesthetic. It is nice to be able to speak to someone who has a different insight into the old guy (without him there to contradict it!) - i'm sure Maria, his sister, has the best information but unfortunately it is hidden by a wall of languages which can only be broken by me learning my new native tongue (because I have a feeling that she's not going to learn English) - after this we headed down into the rainy Kosice town and found our way to the marathon registration. Went to the counter and was told that my name wasn't on the list (a good thing I had Irina there because their English was pretty poor - damn Eastern europeans didn't have the courtesy to learn my language, the nerve of thm!!!) - we were told to come back n 20m when the manager arrived. I wasn't really worried although it would have been an interesting travel tale to come halfway across the world to run and then be told that my registration wasn't completed properly and I wouldn't be allowed (maybe in the soviet era it would have been like that although some palm greasing could have solved that particular problem). Anyway, after a nice Turkish coffee we returned only to find out that we'd been in the half marathon desk and everythingwas right with the world. I think i'm the only Australian doing the run (the girl was very surprised that I was from so far away) so i've got a grave responsibilty not fuck it up ... too much. Got a very cool souvenir bag as well, much better than the sydney marathon. After this and a short trawl around the shops we were met by Stano (cousin by marriage) and Maria (cousin) and young victor (first cousin once removed), who had grown up from a little eight year old into a long haired extreme sportsman specialising in fixed gear racing and downhill biking (his hospitalisation stories were quite revolting). We returned to Irina's and had a short whiskey (you want to drink alcohol before the marathon??? I'm not sure what kind of an introduction dad has given the family over here but they seem to think that i'm a hard core puritan olympic level athlete - i'm feel a little guilty disabusing them of the notion. Afterwards we headed over to Bardejov, the old home town. On the way I realised that i'd presumed that Victor was stano and maria's son - I mean, a couple arrived with a kid, you're naturally going to presume that it's theirs, aren’t you? It turns out Victor was brought because he spoke the best english (stano's is pretty good tho), - the slightly awkward moment was shrugged off without too much embarassment though - i'm entitled to make a few mistakes I think (it has been eight years). Anyway, a great reunion at the dushenko household - nothing has changed except the fact that the kids had all grown about a foot on me and they're all verging on adulthood now. A very nice dinner (Slovakian food is so carb-heavy though and I again shocked my hosts by taking wine with dinner, (ALCOHOL?!?!) - I was also reminded of how the laws of physics cease to operate in Maria's kitchen - it is absolutely tiny yet such enormous quantities of food come out off it - she definitely has the magic of a slovakian babushka. Afterwards Viictor was put to hard work translating between the family and me - the Slovak/english dictionary was still needed however - quite reminsent of Alice's labours in France. I'm a bit worried about the run on Sunday though; there were lots of little pastries served after dinner which were very nice bbut unidentifiable - after the sixth one I finally managed to find out what it was - opium (well, poppy seeds). Hoping I don’t get a ny drug tests because it'll probably still be in my ststem by sunday (i know it's in two days time but they're very nice and i'll have to have some more tomorrow). I have also been informed that dad would be calling again tomorrow morning (i kind of miss being in the third world where they couldn't track me down so easily).

Greetings Citizen!

29 September - A city welcomes its newest son. last time I walked through the narrow streets of the stronghold of Kosice in the Republic of Slovakia it was as a foreigner, a stranger in a strange land; I have returned after eight years of hard labours not as a stranger but as a citizen (albeit one travelling on a foreigner's passport) and not just any citizen but the 5,189,283rd citizen (or thereabouts).

Back in Town

30 September - Finally got on the plane at Prague after six hours of wandering, reading and rereading the paper and eating crappy airliine food. The plane was a dinky little 30 passenger thing with propellors (the last time I flew in a plane with propellors was eight years ago when I flew to Slovakia) - I remember reading in Thailand that Air Phuket was recently forced to ground all of its propellor planes because they were so old (i hope they're different planes to these ones). The flight was actually pretty smooth - very budget but it was fine - I think I was the only non-Slovakian speaking person on the plane (we were all Slovaks you see) yet they still repeated every Slovak announcement with one in English (would the French do that for one passenger??? Maybe they would if he was blind ...) - the UK and the US might have some pretty high tech fire power when it comes to passport control but it's nothing compared to Slovakia's glower power - the policeman took my passport glared at it, glared at me , stamped it and then let me through - that's the kind of border control I love ... I was met by Irina at the airport and was quickly whisked away to the town if Kosice - it was night time so didn't really have much of a chance to see the town but she had everything prepared for me ... Before dinner she asked me the unthinkable, 'Do you drink alcohol?' DO I DRINK ALCOHOL??? Yes (what has dad been saying about me behind my back - that i'm a puritan?), so we had an apeterif (any excuse for a drink over here) unfortunattly Irina is 'an old woman' (her words not mine) and therefore she drinks vermouth ... Therefore I drank vermouth but I grinned an bore it.
I was given explicit plans for what i'd be doing the next couple of days and despite having eaten all day (there's not much else to do in an airport) I was given a rather large Slovakian dinner (which I ate because i'm a collosus - I have a feeling i'll be doing a lot of eatingwhilst over here) ... Earlyish night (i was up at 4:45 you see) only marred by Irina's beautiful persian cat's spooky glowing eyes glaring at me all night long ...

The Terminal

29 September - Got back to London from Paris yesterday - had trouble working out where I needed to get the bus from Waterloo to Camberwell - wandered around for a bit and one thing led to another and I ended up walking all the way (not very far though, London really isn't that big) - had an early start the next day so me and Kimberley went out to the local cinema in Peckham and saw 'Pride and Prejudice' - I have to admit that I did like the Bridget Jones prequel BBC version that from a few years back but costume dramas are always a bit hit and miss. I think I just find the characters so damn repulsive - they don't do anything! Romancing and dancing and playing stupid mind games on each other ... and living off the labours of the working poor - i'm really surprised that the English didn't have a bloody revolution to send all those fops to a premature end. Still, it was kind of fun.
This morning I woke up at 4:45 and made my way to Stansted Airport, had no trouble getting there and was early for my flight. However, once we got on the plane we were informed that there was something happening at Prague and we'd be slightly delayed - no problem I thought. However, as we neared our destination I realised that my flight was due to depart whilst I was still in the air - we touched down and I ran out to my gate, I saw that my connecting flight had been delayed a bit anyway and was still boarding, however, by the time I arrived at the gate the girl told me, 'You are late!', I replied, 'No, you were late!' but there's not much you can do when the plane is already in the air.
Went to the transit desk and told them my predicament - they were pretty good about it (i think it must happen pretty often around here) and they gave me a refreshment voucher, a new plane ticket and they let me make two phone calls - unfortunately Irina's number (dad's ex wife) was answered by someone who spoke no ENglish (i think the number I had was off by a digit), I then got through to Stano (first cousin by marriage) i'm not sure if I properly conveyed the facts of the situation but passed on a message to Kosice airport and hoped for the best. Managed to squirm my way into the business lounge and had to buy credit to use the wifi there (very upset about having to pay for it, it goes against my whole philosphy of wifi) but sent off some emails and Skyped M&D who promised to make some calls to let everyone know the score. Have now got a couple of hours to kill in the transit section of the airport but had some dodgy Czech airport food to keep me going for a while (as well as a bottle of Jamesons which was going to be used at the other end but I feel i'm entitled to have a crack at it) ... I have to conclude though that airports ar actually very dull places when you;ve got to hang around them for any real length of time ...

Back To Paris

26 September - Had a very nice time in Lesches but needed to get back into Paris to tick some more things off the list. Papi Mueller had kindly offered to give me a lift into the station (he also kindly suggested that it would be proper if I shaved beforehand) - but i am a traveller and no blade shall touch my face until I am standing in front of my own mirror in my own residence somewhere in Canadia. I couldn't quite pass this philosophy onto him but I hope he was not too disappointed.
First thing upon arrival was to visit Notre Dame, which was packed full of people and despite being very grande was not terribly interesting. Perhaps i'm just still suffering from temple fatigue from Asia and Angkor Wat is still as good as it gets when it comes to temples (and you can climb on them and actuallydo stuff rather than be shuffled around by standoffish french tour guides). After that I went of to the Natural History Museum and looked at the recommended paleontology department which was outstanding - I think there are about a million skeletons on display there (admittedly some of them are exoskeletons and don't require as much work to set them up) but it was very impressive. Every animal you could conceive including dinosaurs on the second level - it's amazing how similar we are to all the other creatures when you take off the outer shell. If I had a complaint it was that there was absolutely no English translations there but still most of the tanimals were easily identifiable. One interestingaspect were the sculptures of all of the animals organs - obviously the various apes and mice and dogs had been vivisected and there were expressions of agony and terror on that of the apes - very disturbing and very noble of the artist to recreat tthat aspect of their feelings. also slightly dodgy pricing practices - you have to apy for every section of the museum - that's one thing I love about UK - they ar so proud of the fact that they have free museums and they're open to everybody.
After that I went sync up my avantgo on the wifi at the local mcdonalds - one thing i've noticed about the differences between australia and france are the little things - you see, in mcdonalds in oz they have wifi but you need an account from Optus to use it but in france it's free, also, they don't have a quarter pounder with cheese, they've got the metric system so they call it a royale with cheese ...
Also went to see Tour Montparne - one of the tallest buildings in Paris and one of the absolutely most touristy thing to do - great view of the city and has the advantage of actually having the ability to see the Eiffel Tower (unlike when you’re on the Eiffel Tower you get to see Tour Montparne (which is pretty ugly). Also finally managed to get to Pare Lachaise cemetery - final resting place of lots of famous people - Jim Morison's grave still loaded down with flowers and looking muc like it did at the end of the movie "The Doors" (apparently their is talk of moving his body to the US because of the riff-raff it attracts to the cemetery) - also a highlight was seeing Oscar Wilde's grave - I recommend anyone going to see it to remember to bring a stick of bright lipstick so you can leave your mark on the gravestone, thousands of lipstick marks payingtheir respects (although I don't think the people who run the graveyard ar too keen on tourists doing that) - I also recommend anyone going to purchase a map outside because you can't get one inside as I realised when I got lost in the middle of it. i'm out now anyway.
My big heart also got the better of me - I was making a few phone calls at a payphone when an older couple net to me asked for some help with their phonecard - theirs wasn't working - I told them to use mine - they said it was international and that they couldn't do it - I presumed they were italian so I insisted and telling them that I was leaving paris very soon they finally relented - while the woman was talking on the phone I spoke to her husband and found out that they were actually from Argentina - and later when I tried to call alice for a pickup I found that I didn';t have enough credit and there was nowhere to buy a phone card (Disneyland station had closed and the woman running the information desk was beinga right bitch about it) - managed to convince some locals to let me use their phone and all was well. Had a final farwell from Alice and Marcel that night (they left tfor work before I got up) - will definitely miss staying here but it's time to move on - tomorrow night I’ll be in Paris for my final night before back to the land where I can understand the language ...

Back to E London

28 September - After waking up with the worst hangover i've had for quite a while I abused the included breakfast from the hostel (with what they charged for the room i 've no guilt for what I ate in the morning) and then headed off to Musee Rodin for a bit more culture before I had to shuffle back to the uK - an absolutely stunning museum that used to be a grand old house (built by a financier in the early 1700s I believe) - it starts with a tour of the garden and then goes into the house - very good way to end the visit to Paris (althouh it almost extended my visit because I lost track of the time and had to sprint back to my hostel to get my bag and only just caught my train in time) - tried to get rid of my euros at the duty free but was just short of the amount to get anything nice (hopingi'll be able to get somethingat the other end but it's doubtful ...)

Le Goodbye Lesches

27 September - Papi drove me into the station again and I said my goodbye - he's a very lovable old guy, everyone in the town seems to know him and show lots of respect, probably has a good posse to roll with him when he wants to go on a rampage (but, like CJ, don't want to get on his bad side). When in Paris I checked into MIJE, a hostel near St Paul, and I dumped by bag before going for a bit of an exploration. I headed out to one of the best museums i've ever been to, Cite de Sciences and de L'Industrie, a bit like the Powerhouse Museum or the Questacon in Canberra - it had loads of permanent exhibits, light, mathematics, world population, geograhy, astronomy, cars, sound and technology, and most of them were all completely interactive including a very cool flight simulator where I had to take off a plane and then land it, my instructor spoke English but with an outrageous French accent so I was really flying by wire - a lot of the exhibits had English translations but not all so it was a bit difficult to work out what some of them but there was so much that it didn’t really matter (interestingly enough there were sometimes just English and sometimes English and Spanish translations and occasionally other languages but there was nearly always a translation in Braile - rather nice of the Frenh to be so consideratet to the blind but it's interesting that they prefer to cater to that small group rather than their neighbours across the channel) - lots of school excursions were out there and I could have spent a few days there - as it was I spent the entire day.
After the museum I wandered the streets a little before finding myself near Café de la Paix, a café of note near the Opera which my mum was quite enamoured with many year ago, so enamoured in fact that she went to it by herself and not so politely told me not to joinher when we were visiting last. I wanted to know what the fuss was about so I plopped myself down and hoped that my ragged appearance wouldn't result in getting chased off the premises - I ordered a coffee which was alright and then the waiter came back with the bill and I realised what the fuss was all about - 7 euros for a coffee!!! That's like ... I don't even know what it is in Australian dollars because i'm too scared to look up the exchange rate - I just hope that the Australian economy has been booming in the last couple of weeks. Headed back to St Paul to get to my room - MIJE is supposedly a youth hostel (and there were a lot of utes there) but quite a few of the people were really pushing it - my roommate was an old Frenchman (must have been about 50) and judging by his reading material that he'd left on his table he was a communist (maybe he was on the run from something) - the hostel was actually very nice, very clean and the room was quite large - I was on the mezzanine where there were two beds (i was the only one) and a shower and my red friend was on the ground floor with his own shower - far cry from the hostels I stayed in when travellingEurope 8 years ago. Headed out for a drink and found myself in a bar talking to a very Italian Italian - we decided to get something to eat and went to an Italian restaurant he knew (bit disappointed in myself for eatingItalian in France), which was delicious and he knew the owner so we got a prtty heavy discount (which helped because it was super expensive) and we ended up drinking grappo for a few hours with the owner and a couple of locals - he and a Frenchman also had a very heated discussion about the ethics of dropping nuclear bombs.
I got back to the hostel just on my curfew (i felt like a child havinga curfew) and woke up my neighbour as I stumbled into the room (i also woke him up later that night when I tried to find the exit to go to the bathroom and I woke him up again when my alarm went off at half seven) - I hope I haven't ruined his opinion of Australians ...

JDJ

A husband and his wife advertised for a live-in maid to cook and do the housework. They hired a lovely young lady for the job.She worked out fine, was a good cook, was polite, and kept the house immaculate. One day, after about six months, she came in and said she would have to quit."But why?" asked the disappointed wife.She stammered around, finally saying she didn't want to say why. The wife was quite persistent, however, so the young lady finally said, "Well, on my day off a couple of months ago, I met this good-looking guy and ... well, I'm pregnant."The wife said, "Look, we don't want to lose you. My husband and I don't have children, and we'll adopt your baby if you will stay."This plan was agreeable to everyone involved, so the maid stayed. The baby came, a boy, the couple adopted it, and all went well.After several months, though, the maid came in again and said that she would have to quit. The wife questioned her, and found out that she was pregnant again. The three adults decided that since the arrangement was working out so well, they would simply expand it to include the new baby. The baby girl was born and life went on as usual.The young mother went back to work, and all was well for nearly two years, until the day she approached the wife and said, "I am definitely leaving this time."The wife was aghast. "Don't tell me you're pregnant again?""No," she said, "I just can't stand your fuckin' brats!"

Australian Fever Pitch??

Synced up and was reading the Sydney Morning Herald today and was very pleasantly surprised to see that the Sydney Swans have snagged the grand final ... Cup or whatever it is that they get when ty win the AFL. Feel partly responsible for their victory because my last Sunday in Oz was sppent at my first game (which the swans won) - the ending of a 72 year losing streak is pretty significant - it would have to comparible to the Boston Red Sox ending of the Curse of the Bambino - Also, I think it's high time that Australia produced a decent movie about sport - there hasn't been any for years and none about AFL since The Club decades ago (there was a dodgy one a few years back about race relations but I didn';t see it so it doesn't count) - there's already a story out there which has been run out twice to make a decent sports rom com - Nick Hornby's Fever Pitch - the first time was his semi-autobiographical account of the story leading up to the breaking of Arsenal's 20ish year drought and then the American version which put it against the backdrop of the Boston Red Sox winning the World Series Baseball - if it's been done twice, what harm can it do to make it three times?

Evil Cheeses

25 September - Another easyish day - slept in again - it was raining so I didn’t go for a run in the morning. Went in to a town near Paris to have lunch with Alice's family (her father, half sister and grandmother) - everyone was very nice although had to struggle a bit to understand the conversation. Lunch was a very extended affair including a Moroccan style cous cous stew which was very filling followed by a simple salad and some cheeses which must have been from Satan's unholy fromagerie ... Lionel (alice's dad) explained to me that pasteurised cheeses were not real cheeses but just chewing gum - the cheeses we had were a camembert, a brie, a goats cheese and another hard cheese - all similar to the fromages i've eaten in god's country - but these ones were eye watering - I didn't want to seem weak so I finished what I took but it was powerful stuff. Later on in the afternoon after we came back to Lesches I went for a run and found everything repeating back on me (the stew, wine, cake, and especially the cheese) - I managed to keep everything down with difficulty but it was not easy. On the run I had a bunny rabbit cross my path and I also spooked a pheasant that I passed (another first) - interesting to see the random wildlife of foreign countries. the one conclusion I can come to about the european countryside is that it's just very, very tame. The hills and bushes ar controlled and pruned and all of the dangerous animals have been run out of town - the scariest thing i've come across thus far is a squirrel that jumped out a garbage bin and gave me a bit of a shock ... I know that the cryptozoologist's probably maintain that there ar panthers and lions and plesiosaurs still roaming the countryside but i've yet to see them yet ...
that night I also met marcel's daughters, Amandine and Manon - both of them extremely cute although a little shy ... Unfortunately they don't speak english so conversation was limited - however the way I always see it the sooner children can talk to you the sooner they can talk back. It's also quite funny being with people with children - thus far when i've been with marcel and alice its felt like we are contemporaries - because we are mostly the same age - but when the children are there and they're doing parental things they seem a lot more adult like and I feel more like a teenager than an adult. Tresting anyway - maybe if I ever have a child i 'll act like a proper grownup - until then we'll see.

Les Sches

24 July - Slept in today, which was very pleasant before heading off for a run. Alice kindly drew me a map of the local area and gave me vague directions to get to a local resort with a lake I could run around. The area is quite sparesely populated so running through the town means just going past a couple of dozen buildings - a few places it was a bit delicate because there was nowhere to run on the side of the road and the cars were going a bit fast. The resort was quite interesting - lots of hills and a few lakes - apparntly it was originaklly a quarry, it was then was turned into a dump and the quarry was filled - then, the locals decided it wasn't very nice having the area used as dump so they dug it all up and turned it into a resort. Natural progression really. Think I might be coming to the end of my training, I think - i've only got a bit more than a week to go so I may have one or two runs in Paris just to say i've done it before packing it in - i'm certainly not going to get any fitter and the onlything that can happen is that I hurt something i'm going to need.
When I got back I saw a red squirrel in the garden stealing walnuts (never seen a squirrel before in my life until Hyde Park [there are grey ones there] and now i'm seeing them everywhere) - ALice says that there are also pheasants, deer and wild boar in the area (am really hoping to see some of them but it's doubtful i've been told). There are also two very cute but very naughty french bulldogs living at the house, Petula and Gizmo. They get alongvery well excpt when they're trying to kill each other (they often draw blood). I went out in the garden and found a pine cone - I threw it to Petu who took it and then wouldn't drop it. With the long pine cone in her mouth it looked like a she was smoking a fat Cuban cigar and she was the spitting image of Winston Churchill. If I still had a camera I would have taken a photo with it bui don't so I had to use my camera - am not sure how well it turned out but will see when I workout how to get the pictures of my camera.
Also met Papi Mueller in the afternoon (the patriarch of the French connections) - the quintessential French gentleman, very gallic in every way, fought in the resistance, made loads of cash afterwards, doesn't speak a word of English. I introduced myself with 'Bonjour Papi, je suis Sax, Diana's filles, qui est ce' - I am aware that something may have been lost in translation. I stayed out in the garden helping a bit with a wheelbarrow but the conversation was limited - he did try 'Sprecken de Deutsch?'(there are probably spelling mistakes here) and I had to reply, 'Nine!' However, he still gave me a tour of the well appointed house and Alice eventually rescued us by acting as translator (she has been a bit o a godsend, I really wouldn't like to be the only one who speaks both languages with thwo foreigners - it can get a bit tiresome I would expect).
That night Alice, Marcel and I headed out to Meaux to see an all-female music festival - unfortunately the town was rather dead and most of the acts had already finished (Marcel had predicted this) so we started to head into Paris then decided that Disneyland would be a better option (much closer). Not exactly what I expected from my first night out in Paris - we were just in the village which is pretty much exactly like Fox Studios (noiw I know what it's modelled on) but had a great time with the company. Very nice day.

Straight Dope on Ethanol Fuel

Is alcohol in gasoline good or bad? Is there a difference between ethanol and methanol?

16-Jan-1987

Dear Cecil:Stopping at a local gas station and seeing a large banner announcing "Alcohol Free!" reminded me that there was some controversy surrounding the use of ethanol versus methanol in gasoline. What are the differences between these two octane boosters? --Danglin' Dave, Garland, Texas

Cecil replies:It may be OK to dangle out there in Garland, Dave, but here in the big city we'd prefer that you buttoned up. As for alcohol, there are some differences between ethanol (made from grain) and methanol (made from methane). But the real question is whether you want to use gasoline laced with alcohol at all, since it tends to screw up your engine.Many refiners began putting up to 10 percent alcohol (usually ethanol) in their gasoline in the 70s, producing what's known as gasohol. It's most commonly available in the Midwest, particularly in Farm Belt states where it's subsidized in the form of lower taxes, but you can also find it in the West and South and occasionally elsewhere. Alcohol has two advantages: it's a renewable resource, unlike petroleum, and it boosts octane, meaning you'll get less pinging and knock. Methanol has the added advantage of being quite cheap.In fact, alcohol would be just about perfect were it not for the fact that it can soften hoses and gaskets, dissolve your carburetor float and other plastic parts, and corrode metal. It can also cause vapor lock and hot-weather restarting problems, and it tends to lower your gas mileage. Methanol is the more serious offender, but ethanol will give you trouble too.Unfortunately, it's not always easy to tell whether gas contains alcohol. Amoco used to put decals on some of its pumps saying "Pure Lead-Free, No Alcohol Added," but now the no-alcohol line is being dropped, in part due to protests from gasohol advocates. Amoco pumps that do have gasohol are prominently labeled, but this is not necessarily the case with all retailers.Most major refiners that sell gasohol use ethanol rather than methanol. ARCO (Atlantic Richfield) for a long time was the exception, but the company eventually discontinued the sale of its methanol blend. You may still wind up with some of the stuff, however, because unscrupulous service station operators have been known to cut their gas with methanol in order to chisel a few extra bucks. If you've been having inexplicable problems with your ride lately, try filling your tank at a different joint.
--CECIL ADAMS

Gay Paree

24 September - Eurostar was not the most enjoyable journey i've had thus far - slightly reminescent of Vietnamese buses in terms of leg room but there was the rather unusual headrest which curved right around one's head - this means one actually gets some limited neck support and I almost dozed off once or twice. Still, an amazing journey - get on the train smack bang in the mddle of one city and get off in the middle of the other - and the customs is ridiculously easy as well. Had left my Parisian guidebook back in London so purchased the TimeOut magazine which seemed to have all the same things in it (and had the bonus of not looking like a guidebook so it was only my rucksack, complete lack of ability to speak French, Fat Pizza t-shirt (which everyone in London and Paris seems to love) and vacant expression of the perpetually lost that gives me away as a tourist.
First thing first was get rid of my bag in the left luggage and then I got out of that station and went to the first boulangerie I could find and had a very tasty croissant ... I wandered around for a bit and then I had another one. And then I had a brioche ... I had a coffee and then I had another croissant. Then I sat down because I didn't feel so well.
According to my magazine Paris is a walking city so I decided to walk. I went to The Louvre and got one of the audio guides (very good system, all the commentary is digitally recorded and is played back by punching in a code on the exhibit (although a lot of the paintings that you want commentary on tend not to have a code and a lot of jars seemed to have codes)) and went right through it. The statues were probably my favorite - there was a very impressive slightly obese Hercules and a wonderful Eros and Psyche statue (a few of them actually). There were also lots of paintings and some very edumacatinal displays about the history of the museum/gallery. And, of course, there was the Monna Lisa with her enigmatic(TM) smile - which was not disappointing (because i've been warned so many times how unimpressive it actually is). Was very glad to have seen it and ticked it off my list (as were the other thousands of people who also saw it today must have been). For some reason I avoided the museum last time I was here but i'm very happy to have closed off that particular mission.
Wandered down through the city, randomly eating things as I went, made my way towards Champs Elysee and the Eiffel Tower. Unfortunately the crowd was a bit offputting at the tower so I didn't head up (i'll be back in paris to do a few more things later on) and just kept to general sightseeing (and eating) for the day. Because I was in the main part of the city (and the toursist trail at that) I found myself surrounded by the most beautiful buildings - paris seems to be far more interested in maintaining its old grandeur compared to london, which is embracing some very different styles to prove itself a modern city. I have to say that constructions like the london eye and the gherkin are certainly not what you'd ever expect to see in paris - it was hard enough for the parisian people to muster up enough support to keep the eiffel tower.
Afterwards headed back to the train station to pick up my bag and then make by way towards Marne Le Valley (near Euro Disney land) - a bit of an effort working out where I had to buy a ticket and what train I had to get on (there was a transfer required), finlly got to the platform to get on the train and tried to call Alice (my step-cousin??? I think that would be our technical relationship) but found that there were no payphones available - asked some cops who sent me upstairs, asked some more cops but realised they were roughing up some young kid so I gave them a wide berth - finally asked a very nice parisian woman if I could use her phone and she was very helpful. Was met at the other side by Alice who took me back to Lesches - I met her partner, Marcel (not her husband though!!!! Scandalous!) and we had a very nice but earlyish night - will do some exploration of the countryside tomorrow I expect.