My new computer is here! I'm blogging from my much faster, not-randomly-shutting-down, with-working-USB-ports, not-critically-out-of-disk-space machine. I'm excited.
And now a moment of silence for Caravaggio.
-moment-
Farewell, old machine. You served me well. Sometimes. But then you fell apart, and I replaced you. (At least you're recyclable.)
Friday, August 29, 2008
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Free stuff!
It turns out that we will have (some) furniture for our apartment after all. The church's music department is getting rid of some old couches and whatnot, and thus one purple sofa and one chair/ottoman pair (with, as my mum describes it: "small checks that're blue and gold and cream and pinkish"...aka "ugly") have been bestowed upon us. Aesthetically unappealing, but very affordable! That's how first furniture is supposed to be, anyway, hey? I think I would feel like I was missing out on part of the apartment-getting experience if the furniture was actually attractive.
But anyway, now, if you ever come visit, we'll actually have a place for you to sit down. Yay.
Now the hunt is on for a coffee table...
But anyway, now, if you ever come visit, we'll actually have a place for you to sit down. Yay.
Now the hunt is on for a coffee table...
Monday, August 25, 2008
Flashback #2: Check your tickets
So, Julie and I finally found each other in Frankfurt (see Flashback #1).
We were in the Frankfurt Airport, which is attached to the Frankfurt train station, which is convenient when you're landing only to catch an overnight train to Prague. While the whole not-finding-each-other thing did eat up some of our time buffer, we still had plenty of time to sit, devour some trail-mix, attempt to communicate with the train people regarding how to get my rail pass validated, and stare glazedly in post-adrenal stupor at the train arrival/departure board (one of those exciting ones that still uses the flippy letters which spin through with a satisfying whoosh every time they're updated).
Our train was to leave at 10:20pm.
At 8:45pm we continued to be mesmerized by the train board.
At 9:00pm I joked that after the ordeal of finding each other, it would sure be horrible-yet-funny if somehow we were at the wrong train station or something. Ha ha ha.
At 10:00pm we finally noticed that our train number was still not showing up on the pending departure board. Nor was any other international train. And that this might be a bad thing.
At 10:01pm we looked at our tickets. Again. More carefully this time.
At 10:02pm we were frantically dashing to the taxi cabs parked outside the airport, hoping that one would magically be able to get us to the international train station in downtown Frankfurt in enough time for us to get to our boarding platform before the train left. In fifteen minutes.
At 10:07pm we were being laughed at by the cab drivers for even imagining such a thing was worth asking.
At 10:24pm I was remembering my 9:00 quip as we settled into our luxury sleeping quarters, stretched out on the airport floor, awaiting morning and the cab that would take us to the international station and the 6:00am train to Prague. Ha ha.
We were in the Frankfurt Airport, which is attached to the Frankfurt train station, which is convenient when you're landing only to catch an overnight train to Prague. While the whole not-finding-each-other thing did eat up some of our time buffer, we still had plenty of time to sit, devour some trail-mix, attempt to communicate with the train people regarding how to get my rail pass validated, and stare glazedly in post-adrenal stupor at the train arrival/departure board (one of those exciting ones that still uses the flippy letters which spin through with a satisfying whoosh every time they're updated).
Our train was to leave at 10:20pm.
At 8:45pm we continued to be mesmerized by the train board.
At 9:00pm I joked that after the ordeal of finding each other, it would sure be horrible-yet-funny if somehow we were at the wrong train station or something. Ha ha ha.
At 10:00pm we finally noticed that our train number was still not showing up on the pending departure board. Nor was any other international train. And that this might be a bad thing.
At 10:01pm we looked at our tickets. Again. More carefully this time.
At 10:02pm we were frantically dashing to the taxi cabs parked outside the airport, hoping that one would magically be able to get us to the international train station in downtown Frankfurt in enough time for us to get to our boarding platform before the train left. In fifteen minutes.
At 10:07pm we were being laughed at by the cab drivers for even imagining such a thing was worth asking.
At 10:24pm I was remembering my 9:00 quip as we settled into our luxury sleeping quarters, stretched out on the airport floor, awaiting morning and the cab that would take us to the international station and the 6:00am train to Prague. Ha ha.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
A new home!
It's official...we signed the lease papers today, and are moving into our new apartment one week hence. (Pictures will follow once we've taken some. It's a great little place.)
Extra bonus: it got me out of jury duty, because I'll no longer be a resident of Washington County on the day I'm called to report. Booyah.
Extra bonus: it got me out of jury duty, because I'll no longer be a resident of Washington County on the day I'm called to report. Booyah.
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Slideshow Woes
So, I'm making a video/slideshow/photo album of my European travels, and I'm having problems with the music. I just can't seem to find the right sort of playful-yet-not-obnoxious music that isn't a love song (creepy) and captures the combination of goofing off and beautiful sights shown in my pictures. People don't write good songs about friends. Just really, really sentimental ones. At least usually.
I have "We're Going to Be Friends" (either the White Stripes or the Jack Johnson version), "Via Con Me" by Paolo Conte, and "A Paris" by some old French guy, but there are still a few holes (currently in Vienna and the Cinque Terre). Maybe some more Jack Johnson? They Might Be Giants (selectively)? Iron & Wine? Alli Rogers?
Bah.
I have "We're Going to Be Friends" (either the White Stripes or the Jack Johnson version), "Via Con Me" by Paolo Conte, and "A Paris" by some old French guy, but there are still a few holes (currently in Vienna and the Cinque Terre). Maybe some more Jack Johnson? They Might Be Giants (selectively)? Iron & Wine? Alli Rogers?
Bah.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
More Pictures
My mum has now posted her pictures from our Europe trip, if you're interested:
http://flickr.com/photos/harmsfam/sets/72157606799089013/
http://flickr.com/photos/
A place to call my own...
I was officially approved for my apartment today, and the move-in date is set for the end of the month! Yay!
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Flashback #1: Should Have Had a Back-Up Plan
So, after about twenty-two hours of traveling and thirty minutes of sleep (not counting that twenty-minute zoning-out nap-type thing in Heathrow which almost made me miss my connecting flight...brilliant), I arrived in Frankfurt to meet Julie. At least we had the foresight to arrange our rendezvous ahead of time; we devoted a whole thirty-second phone-meeting to it as Julie packed for her tour and we scanned the Frankfurt Airport online map for a meeting place, landing on the most recognizable symbol for native Northwesterners: Starbucks. (I'm almost ashamed to admit that. But it was sort of fun to throw casually into conversations: "No, sorry, I can't work that Friday. I'm meeting Julie at Starbucks...in Frankfurt." (Bwa ha ha ha.)).
Anyway, the Starbucks was conveniently located between the plane terminals (me) and the train platforms (Julie), so it seemed like a good choice. And we had a good four hours to kill before our overnight train to Prague, so we could do with some coffee anyway.
So I found it and sat down on my backpack and waited. And waited and waited and waited. I'm not generally one to worry, but as it approached an hour past our scheduled time, then passed the hour mark, I was admittedly concerned (the whole sleep-deprivation thing wasn't exactly helping with the nerves, either). Did she miss her train? Did she get on the wrong train? Did her train derail? Had she been kidnapped? Arrested? Blighted with some horrible disease? Was she--as is the risk of all people in our over-caffeinated world--waiting for me at a different Starbucks?
Here's where the back-up plan would have come in handy. Should I stay there? Should I wander around and look for her? Send airport security after her? Hug a tree?
I called my dad.
Okay, actually I did a loop of the whole area between the train platforms and the Starbucks, talked to the information-booth people about whether there were any other Starbucks in the airport (no), sat some more, asked them to page Julie (which they claimed to do, although I didn't hear it), paced a bit, and then called my dad.
Or tried to call him. I then experienced the humiliation of realizing that I was incapable (apparently) of figuring out German pay-phones. (Again, we'll blame it on the sleep-deprivation.) So I found an email kiosk, and tried to write a very fast (aka expensive) email on a German keyboard that would sufficiently convey my desire for help without causing my parents undue alarm. How they could help, I'm still not entirely sure. But it seemed like the thing to do at the time. Then I paced some more.
Finally I went over to the information-booth lady (in sight of the Starbucks), asked her to tell any distraught-looking American backpackers named Julie who enquired that I would be back soon, and headed back towards the trains one more time. I was on the hunt. On the hunt for an average-height blonde backpacker in an airport full of German travelers. Hm.
I was just despairing of the hunt when I happened to see a familiar-looking back-of-head standing at a pay-phone (dang, she was smart enough to use them). Eureka! Success! Julie! I thought she was going to faint with happiness when she saw me standing there. (I thought that I might faint, too, but that was more because of the lack of sleep, ravenous hunger, and limb-exhaustion from all that pacing and looping with my thirty-pound pack...)
Apparently some airport guy had misdirected her, so she ended up in a hallway that required a boarding pass for entry (which she didn't have, obviously). So she thought she was stuck at the trains. And didn't have a way to tell me. And no back-up plan. And thus spent a very similar two hours pacing and wondering if I was stranded, kidnapped, arrested, blighted, etc...
Seriously. It's all about the back-up plan.
But we found each other. And it was much more entertaining this way (even at the time, but particularly in hindsight).
Of course, even with more than an hour to spare after our reunion, we still managed to miss our train. But more on that later...
Anyway, the Starbucks was conveniently located between the plane terminals (me) and the train platforms (Julie), so it seemed like a good choice. And we had a good four hours to kill before our overnight train to Prague, so we could do with some coffee anyway.
So I found it and sat down on my backpack and waited. And waited and waited and waited. I'm not generally one to worry, but as it approached an hour past our scheduled time, then passed the hour mark, I was admittedly concerned (the whole sleep-deprivation thing wasn't exactly helping with the nerves, either). Did she miss her train? Did she get on the wrong train? Did her train derail? Had she been kidnapped? Arrested? Blighted with some horrible disease? Was she--as is the risk of all people in our over-caffeinated world--waiting for me at a different Starbucks?
Here's where the back-up plan would have come in handy. Should I stay there? Should I wander around and look for her? Send airport security after her? Hug a tree?
I called my dad.
Okay, actually I did a loop of the whole area between the train platforms and the Starbucks, talked to the information-booth people about whether there were any other Starbucks in the airport (no), sat some more, asked them to page Julie (which they claimed to do, although I didn't hear it), paced a bit, and then called my dad.
Or tried to call him. I then experienced the humiliation of realizing that I was incapable (apparently) of figuring out German pay-phones. (Again, we'll blame it on the sleep-deprivation.) So I found an email kiosk, and tried to write a very fast (aka expensive) email on a German keyboard that would sufficiently convey my desire for help without causing my parents undue alarm. How they could help, I'm still not entirely sure. But it seemed like the thing to do at the time. Then I paced some more.
Finally I went over to the information-booth lady (in sight of the Starbucks), asked her to tell any distraught-looking American backpackers named Julie who enquired that I would be back soon, and headed back towards the trains one more time. I was on the hunt. On the hunt for an average-height blonde backpacker in an airport full of German travelers. Hm.
I was just despairing of the hunt when I happened to see a familiar-looking back-of-head standing at a pay-phone (dang, she was smart enough to use them). Eureka! Success! Julie! I thought she was going to faint with happiness when she saw me standing there. (I thought that I might faint, too, but that was more because of the lack of sleep, ravenous hunger, and limb-exhaustion from all that pacing and looping with my thirty-pound pack...)
Apparently some airport guy had misdirected her, so she ended up in a hallway that required a boarding pass for entry (which she didn't have, obviously). So she thought she was stuck at the trains. And didn't have a way to tell me. And no back-up plan. And thus spent a very similar two hours pacing and wondering if I was stranded, kidnapped, arrested, blighted, etc...
Seriously. It's all about the back-up plan.
But we found each other. And it was much more entertaining this way (even at the time, but particularly in hindsight).
Of course, even with more than an hour to spare after our reunion, we still managed to miss our train. But more on that later...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
