KatieTheKat

It was very odd when I boarded the plane in Paris and suddenly most of the people around me spoke nothing but English.. at first I resisted the return to anglophone culture by asking for "jus de tomates" instead of tomato juice, but given that there were two Anglophones sitting beside me, this seemed to confuse the flight attendants, even though they spoke French perfectly well. As the 12 hours in the airplane progressed, I slipped back into the easy but rather boring realm of communication only in English. I still have moments where it seems peculiar that just about everyone I see now will speak to me in the same language and virtually no thought will be required on either side of the conversation.

The plane ride was largely unexceptional, except that I did get a few nice glimpses of glaciers on Greenland as we flew over. Also for some reason everyone broke into applause when we landed in Calgary (though there were never any frightening moments in the air). No one clapped when we landed the second time, in Vancouver. It was really nice to come back to the west and see familiar mountains stretching off into the distance.. and by the time the plane touched ground, the trees dominated the view even though we were right next to Vancouver.

After some gelato and a little catching up in Vancouver, I came back to Nanaimo last night. There I was greeted by my mom, Bruno, and Spatz, not to mention some delicious blackberry-peach crumble. mm mmm!

I have reprogrammed my mobile phone with a new Nanaimo number - if you are on my Facebook, it can currently be found there, otherwise send me an email and I will send it to you.

Adios until the next adventure!

kat

ok, sorry, I haven't gotten to describing the hike Brenda and I did in the alps which involved crossing the border between italy and france 4 times within 3 days, eating a tasty meal in an italian refugio, a bit of via ferrata with large packs on, a tasty tartelette aux mytilles from a french refuge, homemade ricotta, a cacophony of cow bells, a crazily windy pass, an old salt trading tunnel, and bougetins! Realistically, the chances are I won't get to it. But you can ask me or Brenda about it :)

Plus there have been several other fun things in the interim - the highlights include the following:
- Becoming healthy and sweaty, Swedish-style
- A carpet of flowers
- Quatro gatos
- A Belgian skeet shooting, swimming, and feasting party in the land where people take their goats for walks
- Crepes et glaces et tartes delicieuses
- les Moules
- Following in Tintin's footsteps to Nyon (a visit to Switzerland)
- food in tubes
- pukkelpop
- sidewalk chalk portraiture in paris

.. but the adventure that I would like to describe now took place just yesterday, and it all began with a small street in Nanaimo.

As Greg will attest, Nanaimo is known to have some rather peculiar street names (in fact I found some limericks someone wrote about them online yesterday). One such name is "Bergen-Op-Zoom Drive" (although actually I always thought it was just "Bergen-Up-Zoom", but that is incorrect according to google maps). Anyhow, so on Monday evening I was taking a look at a map of the Brussels area and I happened to notice that just across the border in the Netherlands there is a place named Bergen-op-Zoom. Wow! I thought it might hold the key to the mystery of the aforementioned street in Nanaimo. I decided that I would take a train to Antwerp and bike the 40km to Bergen-op-Zoom for the following reasons, which I emailed to Brenda's friend Guillebert, hoping he would be convinced to accompany me:

1. c'est dans les "Netherlands", ou je ne suis jamais aller
2. c'est pres de la mer
3. il y a une rue dans la vie ou j'habite qui s'appelle "Bergen-Up-Zoom", et
peut-etre qu'il y a un lien avec cette ville
4. c'est environ 40 km d'Anvers - un bon distance pour un petit tour a velo
5. c'est un lieu inconnue alors qui sait ce qu'on va trouver...

The following morning, we met at the train station at 9am, and thus the adventure began..

When we arrived in Antwerp (Anvers to the french, Antwerpen to the flemish), we opted not to seek out a map and instead starting weaving our way through the streets in a haphazard manner that generally led towards the north. This is perhaps not the best way to see the best sides of a city - I got the impression it was a rather ugly city and Brussels started to look much better in my eyes. We seemed to be making decent progress for a while, but as we twisted and turned and the sun still failed to really reveal itself, I started to doubt my sense of direction and we consulted a map on a bus stop. We saw that the water should be to our west and decided to head towards it as a good landmark to follow - we needed only to keep the water on our left. This strategy worked, and we soon found ourselves on a "piste cyclable" following well, not actually the water, but a highway buzzing with large trucks next to the most enormous port I have ever seen. It was not exactly the pleasant voyage along the shores of the North Sea that I had been anticipating. There didn't seem to be many other options, however, given our lack of cartography, so we continued on and on with the big trucks, the stacks of containers, the large giraffe-like machines, and no sign of water to our left.

Finally, there was a fork in the bike path, and we decided to turn east for a while where the landscape looked much more green and quiet and calm, hoping that we would find a route that headed north before we went too far. Though I find ports interesting, it was wonderful to get away from the busy gray road and into the countryside. And yet.. the road we chose to head north on, though pretty, was horrible to ride on! It was a cobblestone track leading past farms of oignons, chevals, and corn. But I felt so shaken up by the vibrations that my whole body hurt, especially my head. Oy. Luckily, after about a km or two, the quaintness of cobblestones gave way to smooth concrete. Soon we found ourselves on the official network of biking pathways that I hear can be found throughout Belgium, or at least the Flemish part of it.

After riding through a lovely forest and making a few wrong turns onto hiking trails, we arrived on the outskirts of the town of Putte. Guillebert found this to be incredibly funny. (This might help to explain why). A few minutes down the road/path, we crossed the border and I began my first visit to the Netherlands.

After our lunchtime picnic (baguette with filet d'anvers, gouda, and tomatoes), we looked at the time. Eeps. It had taken us 4 hours to get to there, and I wanted to be back in Antwerp about 3 hours later in order to make it back to brussels for some Friskis & Svettis action. We decided to continue for about 20 mins to look for a worthy destination then to turn back.

Well, 20 minutes turned into about an hour and a half because just a few minutes from lunch we saw a sign that told us Bergen-op-Zoom was only 10km further - it would be such a shame to turn back when we were so close that we decided to go for it. If it had not been for my taking a picture of an odd painting on some kind of electric box and Guillebert's examining of a Dutch mailbox, our visit to Bergen-op-Zoom would have been very ho hum. Luckily, fate smiled upon us. I asked Guillebert whether what he was looking at was a mailbox. He replied in the affirmative. I mentioned that it was a pity I didn't know anyone living on Bergen-Op-Zoom in Nanaimo, as it would have been nice to send a postcard. Guillebert had the brilliant idea that I *could* just make up a random address and send a postcard anyhow. !!!. Though the town didn't appear to be touristy (despite the sign at its entrance claiming it won the prize for #1 Binnenstad in the netherlands - me having no clue what a binnenstad was), we decided to look for a postcard. We found a shopping centre with a small newstand that did not have postcards, yet did have a large assortment of cartoony cards saying various things in dutch - and all of them said something about Bergen-Op-Zoom on the front. I think some were get well cards, others birthday cards, and some I had no idea. I selected one and wrote a message inside to explain why I was sending it, then addressed it to "Whoever lives in the first house on the right on Bergen-Up-Zoom" in Nanaimo, BC, CANADA. No postal code and as it turns out I got the name of the street wrong. I am very curious to see if it makes it to its destination and whether it will actually be read even if so. I sure hope so!

Sending this card was an adventure in itself, and luckily so. You see, I suggested that we go back to the mailbox we had initially seen, but Guillebert said it was marked "TNT", which he knew as a courrier company - not a normal postbox. We asked a fish vendor in the mall's parking lot, but he didn't speak English well, he wasn't from town, and he was useless with information - he told us he didn't know where to find a mailbox, but that they were red (the TNT one we saw was orange). We asked him the best way back towards Antwerp and he pointed in the opposite direction to the one we ought to take. So we headed off down the main road and asked a few other people, most of whom also didn't really speak English or French, where to find a mailbox. We found it very hard to believe and to understand why everyone gave such vague answers and seemed to have no idea where to send a letter from. At least they did all seem to point us in the right direction - to the end of the main road, they said. It was about then that the rain started to pour down. The reason I say all this was lucky is that when we did finally get to the end of the road, soaking wet, we found ourselves actually in the centre of town, and in fact it was quite a nice place after all. Had it not been for the quest for the mailbox, we likely would have missed it altogether. Anyhow, we finally got some more precise directions to a postbox - precise enough that when we got to the right spot and saw another orange TNT box, we realized that this must, in fact, be just a normal mailbox. So off went the letter, and, mission accomplished, we turned back for Antwerp.

This time the ride was super-speedy since we managed to follow a marked bike path all the way back to the city. We avoided the ride along the port altogether.

The only unfortunate thing is that we missed the last train that would have gotten to Brussels in time for Friskis & Svettis. But on the other hand, we did have time for ice cream.

While in Antwerp I learned that it is the diamond capitol of Europe because of its former colonizing of the Congo and its enormous port. After Guillebert pointed it out to me, it was hard to understand how I had not noticed that every store across the street from the train station was a jeweler's. I also learned that Antwerp is home to one of the biggest zoos in Europe and that its entrance is right in the middle of town also next to the train station. And that, horrifically, Belgium once housed a "Zoo" showcasing african tribespeople. This apparently did not last long, however. Hmm, actually after doing some research on this, it seems that there have been numerous examples of humans showcased in zoos in the history of Europe and the US. Not all are as horrendous as it may sound, but very much morally questionable nonetheless.

Anyhow. Bergen-op-Zoom. Nice place. I'm still not sure what the connection is to Nanaimo, but if I hear back from whoever lives in the first house on the right, I will be sure to post an update.

kat

ps. pics are in my gallery here

Part 1: Paris to les Alpes

I arrived tired. Somehow I managed to make it to the hostel at which I was to meet up with Brenda on only vague recollections of metro station names and an address. I was relieved when Brenda arrived that, like me, the first thing she wanted to do was to take a nap. The extra few euros for a non-dormitory room were entirely worthwhile for that hour and a half of much-needed rest. Later, feeling much refreshed, we headed into town to buy a couple of CDs for the road, to eat some fantabulous gelato (I forgot how good it can be, as I hadn't sought out gelato in Montreal nor had I - amazing though it is - eaten much in the way of ice cream for close to 2 weeks), and to chat before our dinner rendezvous with Ian and Melinda. It was great to see a distinguished-looking Ian and a very pregnant Melinda. Dinner was very tasty indeed -- particularly the perfectly pleasing potatoes (no, that is not what they were called on the menu).

The next day Brenda and I used some Velib bikes. It is a great system! Bikes were available all over the place. We pedaled along the river in the hopes of picking up a few treats for the road at a morning Marche, but unfortunately it was no longer morning by the time we got there and everyone had closed up shop. Instead we found an open grocery store (rare on a Sunday here in Europe) and picked up a few things there for a picnic in the park. The marinated artichokes from the deli were pretty tasty but failed to satisfy a growing craving for a REAL artichoke that started while discussing favourite foods with friends in Montreal. Finally it was time to pick up the rental car and to experience the thrill of driving out of Paris... which was rather disappointing really. It wasn't particularly difficult, even after missing a turn and having to invent our own route out to the Peripherique. Well, there was that point when I had to reverse to avoid taking the wrong onramp - but there was hardly any traffic and it was certainly the manoeuver that any real European driver would have done. The rest of the day consisted primarily of driving driving driving. I also realized that I had forgotten to buy any travel insurance prior to leaving Montreal and started to have some concerns about that fact. Brenda had the brainwave that I could probably just buy it directly online, and it was that thought that led us to dine late in the evening at a fast food joint somewhere between Lyon and Grenoble. Apparently the majority of McDo's in France have free WiFi, and we were hoping we might find the same service at the Quick we stopped at. This was not the case. Though I must admit my tandoori chicken sandwich didn't taste all that bad.

Though dinner was quite late, it was not the end of our adventures for that evening. We spent a considerable amount of time in the quiet streets neighbouring the fast food restaurant practising Brenda's standard driving skills. By the time we figured out which highway we were supposed to be taking to get to Grenoble it was very dark. And it was then, after performing an about face after taking a wrong turn, that we had the incident of the headlight-flashing. It was a large blue-and-red truck. We passed it, following the speed limit, and it started to flash its headlights at us. At first I thought maybe it was just bouncing a little on the road (I have been deceived by this perceived headlight-flashing before). But the road was smooth and straight and still it continued. Brenda and I worked through a list of possible reasons: speed - too fast or too slow? no - we were going about the same as others; lights - not on? nope, they were definitely lighting our way in the front, and I could see a red glare on the road behind us in the rearview mirror; something on the roof? no, surely not; maybe something was sticking out of the trunk a little? I thought I had checked for that when we last stopped. We started to get anxious. We scoured the instrument panel for a clue as to what might be wrong. We started to imagine that we smelled our engine smoking. I decided to pull over on the shoulder so we could take a look at the outside of the car. The truck passed by without transmitting any further information about why he had been flashing us. We could see nothing amiss. We began to suspect that the truck driver was playing mind games with us. Maybe he was just bored. We hopped back on the road and soon passed the truck again. AGAIN, the flashing headlights. Now we were really quite concerned. We pulled in to the next rest area for a thorough inspection of the vehicle. When I went to get out, I noticed, as I had noticed at our last stop though I had then dismissed it as being unimportant, that the car was beeping at me in the same way it does if the headlights are left on -- and yet, the headlights were off. FINALLY, the clue we needed. I looked through all of the buttons and switches and eventually found one that, if I pressed it, stopped the beeping. The symbol on the button looked like it had something to do with lights, but neither Brenda nor I recognized it. Brenda stood behind the car while I pushed it a few times, but she saw no effect. We pulled out the instruction manual and, though it did not make it easy, eventually found that this button in fact controlled the "feux de brouillard" - the fog lights. We were finally able to resume our route. I think we both harboured a hope that we would pass the same truck again just to show him that we finally figured it out, but that was not to be. By the time we found a campsite at the edge of Grenoble, we were both exhausted and quickly fell asleep.

The next day we had a pretty late start. We had some supplies to acquire. We did, in the middle of the day, find a McDonald's where we borrowed some Internet access in the parking lot and I bought myself some travel insurance. Just in case. We had a beautiful drive through the mountains in the afternoon. We made it to the parking lot near the small town of Abries near the French-Italian border probably around 7pm. From there we started our hike, but the map wasn't entirely making sense until we realized that there was, in fact, a farther parking lot (the one we thought we had parked at) - but given we had already covered half the distance, we left the car where it was. It was dusk by the time we reached the actual trailhead, and we didn't get very far before we were in desperate need of a stop for a sandwich (we hadn't really eaten since breakfast that morning, other than a few little snacks in the car). We ended up camping that first night on a grassy patch on the banks of a roaring stream. We were still about 4km from the actual route of the "Tour de Mont Viso" which we were planning to hike.

next installment: the hike itself, and how a loop became a figure eight.

pictures

.. the story will come later.

First, I need to find me some gaufres!

kat

Bonjour de Briancon en France! Brenda and I just completed a fantastic 3-day figure-8 hike in the vicinity of Mt. Viso in the French/Italian Alps. I expect to say more about it shortly, but this is just a brief message to say that it was great and that we're done and now off to further adventure of an unknown description for the next few days before we go to Belgium.

Ciao!

Kat

I made it.. exhausted, lucky enough to find the hostel based on vague recollections of the name of the metro station it was close to.. now I am just waiting for Brenda to arrive! It is far less summery here than it was in Montreal. That is all for now. Like I said, I am really exhausted and would be napping in our room right now if only I could enter it before 3pm. I can't believe I am really here!

Wow, le temps s'ecoule vite! My two months in Montreal are ending today, as I board a plane this evening for Paris. I have been far too busy lately enjoying my last days in the city to update this blog and even now I don't have much time. It has been wonderful, and I am sorry to leave so soon. On the other hand, it is amazing to think that tomorrow evening I will be dining with Ian, Melinda, and Brenda in Paris! And then off for a hike in the Alps! A la prochaine!

kat