I am full of much anger today!

This could be it -- the day we all knew was coming, the day I finally snap and hurt a Frenchie.

Our TV, Internet and phone have been turned off more than a month early as we prepare for our international move. I sit here impotent and full of rage. Alex has called and yelled some French words at them and has received a heartwarming response -- there's "nothing they can do."

Posse, you best airlift me out of here before I end up in prison.

In happier news, I just spent two of the best weeks ever with several of my best friends ever. I'd love to tell you about it but I'm about to go blind typing my worldly correspondance on an iPhone keyboard.

I'll be back somehow, though -- right after I dole out some final much-needed knuckle sandwiches.
MJ

Cold drinks with the most beautiful view

Here I go again.  Vacation post with all the rambling and the pictures.  You're going to need a large chunk of time and several coffees -- or you can just say "screw this" and ignore me until I start writing about Paris again.  I won't mind either way.  Baby, I could never be mad at you.

Croatia was a perfect vacation, an exclamation point to end our European travels.  It was calm and relaxing but also full of debauchery and insanity and much nudity.  I'll talk about that much later even though it's probably the only interesting part of the whole trip.

We were picked up at the Dubrovnik airport by Miho, a cheerful early-twenty-something who owns and manages the apartment we rented the first few days.  Miho is in the right business; I've never met someone so eager to help people.  He smiled constantly, told us where to eat, what to see, who to meet.  We mentioned we were going to the sparsely populated island of Mljet in a few days but didn't know where we were going to sleep.  Before the end of the sentence, Miho grabbed his phone and reserved us a room in a private home plus a pick-up at the ferry.  Miho was a rock star -- a rock star who lives in flip-flops.

As we enjoyed the view of Old Dubrovnik from our balcony, Miho knocked on the door and tossed us a few cold Croatian beers -- our "welcome drinks" he said.  We drank them and deemed Croatian beer "not too bad!"  Then we turned on the TV to see if we could find some English-speaking news and discovered 400 channels, half of which were porn and the other half which were someone reading The Bible.  We concluded Croatians must be struggling with some conflicted feelings.

We have Seattle friends who've been to Dubrovnik.  They advised us to look for a sign posted high on a wall in the Old Town that said, "Cold Drinks with the Most Beautiful View" and to follow it to the ends of the earth if necessary.  We did as instructed and ended up with Cold Drinks and the Most Beautiful View!  I love it when signs don't lie, unlike that "Best Crepes in Paris" sign in our 'hood whose pants are on fire.

We ate seafood for dinner, right next to the docks where gray-haired whiskery fishermen untangled their fishing nets.  The waiter plunked down a huge kettle full of all types of seafood and we dug in like animals, ripping sea creatures apart with our fingers like the barbarians we are.

It's about then Alex and I started saying "That cat's a dick."  It was in reference to a cat who wouldn't leave us alone with our bucket of seafood.  He was all up on our table like "gimme a shrimp" and we didn't like it one bit.  After that, every cat we saw (and there were a ton roaming the narrow streets of Dubrovnik) Alex or I would say "That cat's a dick" and then we would laugh and laugh.

I made the unfortunate mistake of saying "That cat's a dick" out loud, with Alex nowhere near me, while standing next to a large group of American tourists.  Several heads quickly snapped my direction -- heads with question marks for eyes.  They were like, "Whaa?  You said whaa about the precious kitty?"  I just walked away because I like to keep people guessing.

Here are some pictures of beautiful Dubrovnik, just in case I haven't yet convinced you to go there on your next vacation, what with the ambiguous nudity claims, and the cats who are dicks, and adorable Miho who wears flip-flops...

 

 

 

Although it's certainly not in keeping with my usual irrelevant subject matter, I can't gloss over the war that happened in those parts twenty years ago.  There are still visible signs of the conflict -- shelled buildings that were never rebuilt, bright orange roofs in stark contrast to the original, not destroyed, more muted ones, the signs posted throughout the town detailing what happened when the Serbian/Montenegrin forces invaded, and memorials to those who died.

The shelling of Dubrovnik was gratuitous.  It's a small town, off the main roads with no port.  It demilitarized itself in an attempt to save itself but to no avail.  It was shelled for no "good" reason other than to terrorize and destroy.  We watched news footage of the attack in the wartime museum and it was hard to reconcile the wartime footage with what was outside the museum doors -- a vibrant place full of the smiliest people we've had the pleasure of meeting in our European travels.

You should have left it alone, Milošević

Alex and I went to spend the night on Mljet, one of the Dalmatian Islands between Dubrovnik and Split.  It's rumored to be one of the most beautiful islands in the world; in fact Odysseus himself got stuck there for seven years or something, though I'm not clear if it was because of the beauty of the place or because he was being held prisoner.  We hoped the "stuck for seven years" thing wouldn't happen to us, especially if it was the prisoner reason.

Mljet is a common daytrip for tourists in the summer, not so much in the off-season.  There was no one around. We were thankful Miho booked us somewhere to stay.  We were not thankful to learn the ferries had switched to the winter schedule so the only one leaving Mljet the next day was at 5:55 in the goddamn morning.

We headed for the beautiful lakes in the center of the island and rented bikes.  There wasn't much time before sunset so it was fast, dangerous, hot dog bike riding.

I almost killed myself taking this picture, not to mention seriously injuring Al when I nearly plowed into him.  I hope you enjoy it.

Finding a spot for dinner was a challenge because everything was closed and there were no people around.  Finally Alex spotted what looked to be a restaurant across the harbor so we headed for its promising glow.  It was a restaurant all right, with a nice fire going to boot.

Alex ordered grilled squid.  A woman came out, moved some embers around on the fire, and started grilling squid over them.
  

When the squid were done, she turned around and put them on Alex's plate.  They were so good, we started rethinking the whole "stuck for seven years" thing.  Odysseus must have really liked squid.

After dinner, a couple glasses were placed before us. "Grappa" said the gruff waiter.  "We didn't order grappa" we said.  "You get grappa. Everyone gets grappa" came the answer.  So we drank our grappa.  The German couple next to us also dutifully drank their un-ordered grappa.  Grilled squid lady drank grappa.  Gruff waiter drank grappa.  It was fun, right up until we woke at 4:30 the next morning to catch the 5:00 a.m. bus to the ferry dock.  Then grappa (and life in general) sucked pretty badly.

The bus driver looked shocked to see us standing there pitifully by the side of the road.  I don't think he gets too much business at 5:00 a.m. in October.  He smoked a ton of cigarettes and listened to Neil Diamond on our way to the dock.  Here's what it looks like to ride a bus through a sparsely populated Croatian island at 5:00 a.m.  Sing "Forever in Blue Jeans" while sticking your head in an ashtray to get the full experience.

Here's what it looks like to wait for the ferry at 5:15 a.m. --

Here's what a Croatian sunrise looks like from the ferry --

100% worth it

Now here's a travel tip.  If you're ferrying through the Dalmatian Islands and you feel like pointing to one of them and saying to your significant other, "If I was on that island right now, I would go all the way up that mountain and stand on the tippy-top" -- resist.  Don't do it.  You will sound like a stupid child, something that will only become obvious to you after the words have left your lips and Alex is looking at you funny. 

I've got my Seattle ladies coming Wednesday.  Then after them, Chicago O.  I'm pretty damn excited about all that.  I'll be back soon, though.  I know I have to finish writing about Croatia -- all this babble and I still haven't mentioned any debauchery, lawlessness, or nudity.

Thanks for bearing with me as I try to sear Croatia into my memory forever.

Slobodan Milošević was the real dick, but those cats were a close second,
MJ

Dobar Dan, Luka

Well hello there. I am on vacation and am very happy.  I originally intended to post a few pictures while on vacation and let those of you who don't know where I am guess where I am, but since I forgot the cable for my camera, I will draw you a picture instead.

Here I am in front of a beautiful sunset.  It matches my orange hair nicely, yes?

My being off-center is an accurate representation of the pictures currently stuck in my camera.  Alex can never quite figure out how to include my entire body, or even the majority of it, in a photograph.  It's a good thing he's a business guy and not a photographer guy because we would be in big trouble.

Another clue to where I am is the language -- we're saying lots of "Dobar Dan" and "Hvala" here.  I was instructed by my friend who's been here before to "speak like a Russian gangster -- all round sounds in the front of the mouth" so I've been trying hard to do that but suspect I sound like a mentally deranged woman with a mouthful of marbles.  No matter -- my efforts have been appreciated and lots of people seem to like me because they smile and clap me on the back.  It's a nice change from being in Paris.

So far on vacation, we've done a lot of looking at water and sighing deeply.  I am also doing a lot of man-staring.  I may be married, people, but I ain't dead.  The combination of dark hair and light (sultry, brooding) eyes makes me weak in the knees so I'm falling down a lot.  Alex sighs when I start talking about the beauty of the men so I've tried to stop but I can't.  How can I stop when so many of these guys look like Dr. Luka Kovac?

(Here is where it should be noted Alex has dark hair and light, sultry, brooding eyes.  I have a type, OK, people?)

Alex and I took a cable car to the fort above our mystery location.  There's a wartime museum up there, and the war was recent, so our vacay hasn't been all fun and games.  Some seriously real stuff happened here, stuff I remember watching on television, which is kind of nuts.

We decided to hike down from the fort instead of take the cable car because we wanted to look at the view, and contemplate what we'd seen in the museum, which was so at odds with the peaceful view spread out below us.  After about an hour on the trail, we remembered you should never start a hike unless you're pretty sure you know where the hike is going to end.  Our hike ended far, far away from where we wanted to be.  It ended in the middle of nowhere as it was getting dark.  There were no streetlights nor means of transportation.  So that got pretty exciting. 

As we picked our way along in the darkness, we comforted ourselves by saying things like, "We never would have done that hike with the kids!"  Because even though we were lost and in the dark, the fact we had the FREEDOM to be lost and in the dark if we felt like it was a great triumph. 

WE COULDN'T DO THIS WITH THE KIDS became the rallying cry for the rest of our vacation and led us to do some dumb things late at night, such as drinking grappa with a couple locals, just because we could. 

I will be sad to leave mystery location at the end of the week.  It's a beautiful place with a fascinating history.  We've enjoyed its food, the warmth and helpfulness of its people, and the scenery -- both of the natural island type and the man type. The dudes. Jesus Lord.

I'll be back next week with some pictures, and some tales of vacation MJ-n-Al style, which basically means we did more dumb stuff and made many people feel very uncomfortable. 

Hvala, posse,
MJ

P.S. I'm in Croatia.

Bones, sexy and unsexy

I went to the catacombs with Virginia Mom Saturday.  The line was long which surprised us because who in their right mind wants to spend a beautiful Saturday morning underneath the city in dark scary tunnels with piles of skulls and femurs?  I mean, besides us?

The line advanced slowly because they only let handfuls of people enter at a time.  As we stood there awaiting our turn to descend into the depths of hell, I noticed a sign posted next to the entrance.  It warned visitors the catacombs may not be suitable for "those of a nervous disposition."  Ruh-roh.  It was like the catacombs were pointing at me, talking straight at my face -- "yeah YOU, the jittery one."

The problem is I can't tell the difference between having a nervous disposition vs. having ten coffees every morning before 8:00 a.m.  Do I have a nervous disposition or just a heavily caffeinated one?  We will never know because I'm not going to stop. 

The catacombs didn't make me nervous but if you're claustrophobic or don't like being dripped upon in narrow subterranean tunnels, it may not be the place for you.  It will be worse if you start picturing the water dripping on your head as slimy dead people bone water, so definitely don't do that.

The bones, which kindly reminded us we're all gonna die someday, were arranged very artistically.  Bravo, bone arrangers.

After the bones, we went to M.P. Samie.  M.P. Samie is the place in Paris for cheap French porcelain.  You can buy Apilco serving platters or Limoges bowls for 8 euros -- the same ones available at Williams Sonoma for 50 bucks or more, suckers.  We always leave with a bunch of stuff we never expected to buy.  Sometimes it's stuff for which we can't even identify a purpose but squeal, three euros!

I like going there with Virginia Mom because she cooks more than I do and knows stuff I don't.  She'll point at a shallow dish and say something like, "Oh, that's really useful if you need to do an egg wash or something" and I'll nod dumbly beside her like, "yep...egg wash....exactly what I was thinking...."

(What the f*ck is an egg wash?)

After buying a ton of porcelain and beginning to lug it painfully home on our persons, we stopped for lunch at a creperie near Montparnasse.  Two American tourists sat next to us and were so wonderfully American in their chattiness with strangers, I missed my homefolk.  We chatted a bit and witnessed them try their first glass of Breton cider.  Mr. New Jersey said, "Hmm, that' ain't bad" and was promptly awarded the Understatement of the Year award.

Back to the subject of bones for a minute.  Lucien is drawing a lot of dinosaur bones recently but unfortunately (or fortunately?) they all look like penises.  He follows me through the apartment with his unintentional penis drawings and says things like, "Mom, you like the bone?  Is it a good bone? Do you want the bone on the refrigerator?"  I alternate between laughing uncontrollably and telling him to stop being so goddamn inappropriate.

Lucien also lost another tooth.  The first time he lost a tooth he had a very awkward conversation with a homeless man.  This time, as he was holding his tooth in his hand, he dropped it on our shag area rug and lost it for real.  We've since combed through the rug and shaken the rug but the tooth is firmly entrenched somewhere inside and it ain't coming out.

A very upset Lucien then drew the Tooth Fairy a dinosaur (an Apatosaurus, his favorite!) and asked me to transcribe a message to her.  I'm pretty sure he'll still get his euro.  At least he didn't draw her a penis.  

I might as well talk about the people across the courtyard who are always in their underwear.  There used to be a hot drywall guy over there but now the apartment is all fixed up, our new neighbors have moved in and they don't seem to like their clothing.

The first day they moved in I said, "Hey, Al, there's a lady in her bra across the courtyard."  He got excited until he realized maybe she wasn't his first choice of all the French ladies to see in her bra -- but bra pickin's are slim around here so he pulled up a chair and I popped him some popcorn.

We've seen both man and woman in their underwear many, many times since.  More chairs, more popcorn. They're not the most attractive people in the world but what the hell, we don't have anything better to do since our cable TV still -- even after three years of complaining -- loses the sound every five minutes.

Here's a picture of my head.  It's not possible to capture the brilliance of this new haircolor in a photograph.  It's red, but with dazzling areas of orange and blonde.  I have no idea what it looks like on your computer monitor, but trust me when I say in bright sunlight I look like a candle wearing a scarf and skinny jeans.

I'm going on vacation in a few days.  I hope to check in with the posse during vacation because I want to show you pictures of where we are, and pictures of the guy's couch we're going to have to beg to sleep on for a night or two because we're going to an island with no hotel and few inhabitants.  I love traveling without children -- we can be all "who gives a crap where we sleep or when we eat" again. 

Ima go egg wash something!
MJ