- Secured an apartment (thank you, Martina Sebeg and Century 21 in France)
- Secured necessary insurance for apartment (who knew?)
- Bought a mobile phone (if you want my number, send me a note)
- Received the box I sent to Priscilla for me from the US (hey, you never know if it will make it!)
- Bought a pillow and pillow case (decided in furnished apartment, this would be a necessity)
- Opened bank account (thank you, M. Orsini and HSBC France)
Sunday, August 31, 2008
Progress on the Other List - Updated 3/9
So, as those who know me well have observed, a good list is worth it's weight in gold for its ability to calm the nerves and get oneself organized. Organizer extraordinaire that I am, here, for the record, is how I am doing with the list entitled: Settling Down in France.
A Swim in the Mediterranean
Saturday morning was the chosen day for my first swim in the Mediterranean. Actually, I doubt it was my first time in this particular sea, because I’m sure that previous swimming experiences in Greece and Croatia qualify as having been in the Mediterranean. I got up early, put on my black one piece bathing suit, my black running shorts and my grey Capitol Hill Classic 10K t-shirt, put a towel in a plastic bag, and by 8 a.m. was headed down the hill to the beach. When I write that I was heading down the hill, that’s exactly what I am doing – the location where I am staying is on a significant grade, such that even I am deciding to walk up the final 50 meters to the apartment after a 30 minute run – this, from a woman that enjoys running up hills!
Suffice to say that my muscles are getting a workout these days. The 15 minute walk down to the beach was quiet and fairly quick. The Promenade des Anglais was already active with runners and joggers and bikers on their Saturday morning workout. The sun was fairly high in the sky even at 8:15 in the morning, and there was a smattering of a crowd on the beach. I walked down to one of the public, supervised sections, across the surface of small (and large) smooth grey stones, to find a spot close to the water. Those already on the beach were set up along the water line – largely older citizens, with umbrellas and chairs, greeting one another with kisses as they set up their seats and settled down for the morning. The water was not crowded at this hour, and after taking off my shorts and shirt and sandals, and setting down my towel, I headed toward the sea.
Ouch! Man, I have not done any walking around in bare feet this summer! I was extremely unsteady on my feet as I tried to navigate across the six feet to the water without embarrassing myself completely (trying not to fall down in pain and/or complete lack of balance). The water temperature was lukewarm, but not bathwater; it felt good. I was still trying to keep my balance, walking into the water, but finally succumbed and sat down on the stones and slid into the small waves.
Ah, the saltiness of the sea! After quite a bit of swimming this summer in chlorinated pools, the rough salinity of the Mediterranean was a welcome change (and I can finally float!). I did my trademark crawl towards the open water, with a lookout for the jellyfish that I heard were liable to be in evidence. But I felt nothing, so continued my strokes back and forth along the shoreline for some time. Swimming has been a muscle relaxer after my long bike rides and runs this summer; the ameliorative effect of the water on my legs has convinced me that being near water is an important element in my sporting life. (In Arlington, I kept thinking about signing up to join the nearly pool at Washington and Lee HS, so I could swim there during the winter, and not just during the summer in my condo pool – which was only an elevator ride away, but never quite got there.)
After the runs and hill climbs of the past four days (gosh, has it only been four days!), the current of the sea felt great on my legs and body generally. I should do this on a regular basis…
After about 15 minutes – I’m not good at judging time in the water, but I know I wasn’t trying to be in there for 30 – I swam back toward short and climbed carefully out of the water back on to the beach. I headed toward my sandals before walking up the beach to the public showers at the breakfront. “Take a shower after swimming in the Mediterranean!” Priscilla warned; doesn’t everyone take a shower after a pool or ocean dip today? Entre chlor et pollution, il n’ya pas une difference de la substance!
I came back and lay down on the beach in the morning sun for a while, listening to the groups of older folks talking and just enjoying being in France, by the water, and feeling energized (and a little tired) by my swim.
One item on the list crossed off!
Suffice to say that my muscles are getting a workout these days. The 15 minute walk down to the beach was quiet and fairly quick. The Promenade des Anglais was already active with runners and joggers and bikers on their Saturday morning workout. The sun was fairly high in the sky even at 8:15 in the morning, and there was a smattering of a crowd on the beach. I walked down to one of the public, supervised sections, across the surface of small (and large) smooth grey stones, to find a spot close to the water. Those already on the beach were set up along the water line – largely older citizens, with umbrellas and chairs, greeting one another with kisses as they set up their seats and settled down for the morning. The water was not crowded at this hour, and after taking off my shorts and shirt and sandals, and setting down my towel, I headed toward the sea.
Ouch! Man, I have not done any walking around in bare feet this summer! I was extremely unsteady on my feet as I tried to navigate across the six feet to the water without embarrassing myself completely (trying not to fall down in pain and/or complete lack of balance). The water temperature was lukewarm, but not bathwater; it felt good. I was still trying to keep my balance, walking into the water, but finally succumbed and sat down on the stones and slid into the small waves.
Ah, the saltiness of the sea! After quite a bit of swimming this summer in chlorinated pools, the rough salinity of the Mediterranean was a welcome change (and I can finally float!). I did my trademark crawl towards the open water, with a lookout for the jellyfish that I heard were liable to be in evidence. But I felt nothing, so continued my strokes back and forth along the shoreline for some time. Swimming has been a muscle relaxer after my long bike rides and runs this summer; the ameliorative effect of the water on my legs has convinced me that being near water is an important element in my sporting life. (In Arlington, I kept thinking about signing up to join the nearly pool at Washington and Lee HS, so I could swim there during the winter, and not just during the summer in my condo pool – which was only an elevator ride away, but never quite got there.)
After the runs and hill climbs of the past four days (gosh, has it only been four days!), the current of the sea felt great on my legs and body generally. I should do this on a regular basis…
After about 15 minutes – I’m not good at judging time in the water, but I know I wasn’t trying to be in there for 30 – I swam back toward short and climbed carefully out of the water back on to the beach. I headed toward my sandals before walking up the beach to the public showers at the breakfront. “Take a shower after swimming in the Mediterranean!” Priscilla warned; doesn’t everyone take a shower after a pool or ocean dip today? Entre chlor et pollution, il n’ya pas une difference de la substance!
I came back and lay down on the beach in the morning sun for a while, listening to the groups of older folks talking and just enjoying being in France, by the water, and feeling energized (and a little tired) by my swim.
One item on the list crossed off!
Saturday, August 30, 2008
A List of Things to do in France
Composed in no particular order while sitting on the beach along the Promenade des Anglais:
Swim in the Mediterranean (completed this morning)
Bike as much as possible
Visit towns/cities: Monaco, Cannes, Antibes, Marseilles, Paris (with Joanne), Stuttgart (Uli, Claudia), Italy (Don), Sicily (Chelsea’s suggestion), Corsica (with Priscilla), Vienna (with Chris)
Visit in Nice: Musee des Beaux Arts, Opera House, Musee d’Art Moderne et contemporain, Musee et site Archeologiques
Find a track to run on in Nice
Find alternate running routes (other than the Promenade des Anglais)
Find a church
Study and practice my French!
Fall in love
Sail
Watch team sports
Buy new clothes
Try new cheeses and wines
Swim in the Mediterranean (completed this morning)
Bike as much as possible
Visit towns/cities: Monaco, Cannes, Antibes, Marseilles, Paris (with Joanne), Stuttgart (Uli, Claudia), Italy (Don), Sicily (Chelsea’s suggestion), Corsica (with Priscilla), Vienna (with Chris)
Visit in Nice: Musee des Beaux Arts, Opera House, Musee d’Art Moderne et contemporain, Musee et site Archeologiques
Find a track to run on in Nice
Find alternate running routes (other than the Promenade des Anglais)
Find a church
Study and practice my French!
Fall in love
Sail
Watch team sports
Buy new clothes
Try new cheeses and wines
Anxiety Produces Nothing Good - Lesson 2
There are two places in my body that are my vulnerable spots. One is my throat, which, according to most astrologists, has something to do with me being a Taurus. I’ve learned over time that wearing something around my neck in both the cold weather and hot (there’s always air conditioning, it seems) will go a long way to protecting my throat from the soreness that heralds the onset of a cold. Earlier in August I had gotten a cold – starting in my throat – which brought me down for several days. (See Anxiety Produces Nothing Good, below).
My other vulnerable spot is my stomach. My stress naturally goes there. There was a period during my early years of management consulting in which I had more than one visit to the doctor (and once to the emergency room) complaining of stomach pain. (Dehydration was the diagnosis for one; I received drugs the second time.)
The excitement of making it to Nice, finally, after 8 months of planning, was pretty uplifting. And I wanted my first morning in Nice to be perfect. I did my run along the sea, came back and picked up breakfast from the patisserie, and set up a picture-perfect meal. Little did I know that a few hours later I would be regretting the abrupt change in my eating habits. And I think my own stress level didn’t help.
There were two things on my list that I hadn’t accomplished before I got on the airplane to Nice: making progress on finding an apartment and getting health insurance. I had initiated both; I had begun looking at the internet site that Christiane had suggested that allowed one to search for apartments by selected criteria, and I had completed an application for insurance coverage. But my application for health insurance was rejected (for what seemed like a pretty specious reason) and the distance between the US and France seemed an overwhelming obstacle at the time for looking for an apartment. That being said, I knew I would get to them both once I got here (well, one might question my planning given my health crisis described above).
So I surmise that perhaps the looming question of where I was going to live in Nice may have had an accretive impact on my health that second day. I went into the city in the early afternoon and spent some time at two Internet cafes (the first one wouldn’t let me access my Yahoo account, strangely). After doing some blogging and emailing, I was planning to look at the realty site, but my stomach was heaving a bit. And by the time I was heading home, I was feeling extremely nauseous. I hate getting sick, and did everything I could to keep from retching on the sidewalk. This was NOT the day I was planning, for sure. Once back at the apartment (arrived at without incident), I told Christiane I was not feeling well, and headed off to bed.
I got up several hours later that evening, and ate some yogurt and honey; the only other food I’d had that day was my breakfast and a package of peanut butter crackers saved from my Century ride a few days before. But I was just pretending to Christiane that I was feeling better…back in bed, my stomach was tied in knots. I sweated for a few hours before finally giving in and taking two aspirin. I’m a purist; I love it that I can reply “none” when questioned about my medications on a health form, and think the fewer manufactured drugs I put in my body the better. The aspirin must have helped, though, because I awoke the next morning feeling no nausea. I was hungry and had some breakfast (yogurt, banana and muesli), but still wasn’t feeling great. I went back to bed and lay down. Delaying the inevitable, perhaps?
Christiane called me from her computer a little while later, and asked if I wanted to look at apartments online. She had pulled up a site that has lots of listings across France (the same one I had spent a little time on), and we put together criteria I was looking for and set up a search. She was great, getting me to stay focused and look for what I wanted. I wrote down a bunch of telephone numbers, and then she sat down with me as I made two calls. I asked each of the realtors if they spoke English, but ended up speaking a mixture of French and English with both of them. And set up two appointments to see apartments that afternoon.
I went back to my room, feeling better. After later that afternoon, after walking through the apartments (a small one bedroom, first floor flat, and then a huge two bedroom second floor apartment with a balcony), I felt much better. I was speaking French (and some English), and I was actually getting going on doing this apartment search. Anxiety level down, stomach feeling better.
We all need a little help from our friends.
The apartment hunt continues.I can’t wait to have my own place. It is lovely to have a room with Christiane, and I don’t mind visiting and being a visitor, but I look forward to setting up my new home. And to welcome my own visitors!
My other vulnerable spot is my stomach. My stress naturally goes there. There was a period during my early years of management consulting in which I had more than one visit to the doctor (and once to the emergency room) complaining of stomach pain. (Dehydration was the diagnosis for one; I received drugs the second time.)
The excitement of making it to Nice, finally, after 8 months of planning, was pretty uplifting. And I wanted my first morning in Nice to be perfect. I did my run along the sea, came back and picked up breakfast from the patisserie, and set up a picture-perfect meal. Little did I know that a few hours later I would be regretting the abrupt change in my eating habits. And I think my own stress level didn’t help.
There were two things on my list that I hadn’t accomplished before I got on the airplane to Nice: making progress on finding an apartment and getting health insurance. I had initiated both; I had begun looking at the internet site that Christiane had suggested that allowed one to search for apartments by selected criteria, and I had completed an application for insurance coverage. But my application for health insurance was rejected (for what seemed like a pretty specious reason) and the distance between the US and France seemed an overwhelming obstacle at the time for looking for an apartment. That being said, I knew I would get to them both once I got here (well, one might question my planning given my health crisis described above).
So I surmise that perhaps the looming question of where I was going to live in Nice may have had an accretive impact on my health that second day. I went into the city in the early afternoon and spent some time at two Internet cafes (the first one wouldn’t let me access my Yahoo account, strangely). After doing some blogging and emailing, I was planning to look at the realty site, but my stomach was heaving a bit. And by the time I was heading home, I was feeling extremely nauseous. I hate getting sick, and did everything I could to keep from retching on the sidewalk. This was NOT the day I was planning, for sure. Once back at the apartment (arrived at without incident), I told Christiane I was not feeling well, and headed off to bed.
I got up several hours later that evening, and ate some yogurt and honey; the only other food I’d had that day was my breakfast and a package of peanut butter crackers saved from my Century ride a few days before. But I was just pretending to Christiane that I was feeling better…back in bed, my stomach was tied in knots. I sweated for a few hours before finally giving in and taking two aspirin. I’m a purist; I love it that I can reply “none” when questioned about my medications on a health form, and think the fewer manufactured drugs I put in my body the better. The aspirin must have helped, though, because I awoke the next morning feeling no nausea. I was hungry and had some breakfast (yogurt, banana and muesli), but still wasn’t feeling great. I went back to bed and lay down. Delaying the inevitable, perhaps?
Christiane called me from her computer a little while later, and asked if I wanted to look at apartments online. She had pulled up a site that has lots of listings across France (the same one I had spent a little time on), and we put together criteria I was looking for and set up a search. She was great, getting me to stay focused and look for what I wanted. I wrote down a bunch of telephone numbers, and then she sat down with me as I made two calls. I asked each of the realtors if they spoke English, but ended up speaking a mixture of French and English with both of them. And set up two appointments to see apartments that afternoon.
I went back to my room, feeling better. After later that afternoon, after walking through the apartments (a small one bedroom, first floor flat, and then a huge two bedroom second floor apartment with a balcony), I felt much better. I was speaking French (and some English), and I was actually getting going on doing this apartment search. Anxiety level down, stomach feeling better.
We all need a little help from our friends.
The apartment hunt continues.I can’t wait to have my own place. It is lovely to have a room with Christiane, and I don’t mind visiting and being a visitor, but I look forward to setting up my new home. And to welcome my own visitors!
Friday, August 29, 2008
Barack and Me
Well, I had my first taste of being far away from home this morning, as I watched the early morning coverage here in Europe of Barack's speech last night. Via CNN, BBC and SKY News, I watched as much as I could. The little of the speech I did hear gave me goose bumps. I already had had some late night emails from friends indicating the strength of the oratory, and I expected nothing less.
I began supporting Obama with my dollars back in January 2007. I believed in his message from the first time I heard him, and haven't been disappointed since. He's also got a great team working for him, the sign of a good leader, and I think he's got the chutzpah to win this election.
But he's not going to win unless we all make it happen. Don't wait for miracles! Talk your friends into going to the polls and voting. And voting Democratic, even if they have some issues with Barack. He can't be anything like the Bush-Cheney debacle of the past 8 years. I'm a strong fiscal conservative, but I'm willing to bet that Barack would not be able to do anything as bad as build a trillion dollar war budget that doesn't even figure into our fiscal budget.
Obama is basically my age, graduated from the same university as I, went to law school, and didn't follow the grain by going to work for a big law firm - that makes two of us. I think I understand where he's coming from, and I fully support whatever gut feel he has for making decisions about the direction our country should be headed.
I hope you will support him too. Vote Democratic. Vote Obama! (Oh yeah, Biden too.)
I began supporting Obama with my dollars back in January 2007. I believed in his message from the first time I heard him, and haven't been disappointed since. He's also got a great team working for him, the sign of a good leader, and I think he's got the chutzpah to win this election.
But he's not going to win unless we all make it happen. Don't wait for miracles! Talk your friends into going to the polls and voting. And voting Democratic, even if they have some issues with Barack. He can't be anything like the Bush-Cheney debacle of the past 8 years. I'm a strong fiscal conservative, but I'm willing to bet that Barack would not be able to do anything as bad as build a trillion dollar war budget that doesn't even figure into our fiscal budget.
Obama is basically my age, graduated from the same university as I, went to law school, and didn't follow the grain by going to work for a big law firm - that makes two of us. I think I understand where he's coming from, and I fully support whatever gut feel he has for making decisions about the direction our country should be headed.
I hope you will support him too. Vote Democratic. Vote Obama! (Oh yeah, Biden too.)
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Wednesday Morning in Nice
Finally, I have arrived! Priscilla welcomed me to France at the Nice Cote d’Azure International Airport at 2:30 yesterday afternoon, after a painless and seemingly short overnight flight from Dulles International via Paris Charles de Gaulle airport. All my luggage arrived with me in good form, and we were able to fit it all into Priscilla’s small Honda without too much trouble. We drove to Christiane’s apartment in the city, where I will be staying until I find an apartment, and spent the afternoon catching up with each other’s lives since we were all last together in April.
After a lovely and simple salad and baguette dinner on Christiane’s balcony, Priscilla headed home. Christiane and I sat out on her balcony over a glass of wine for awhile longer, as the sun went over the hills, but soon I was longing to get to bed. As I have written here often, I have not been sleeping well (for more than five hours a night) for a good long time, and I was hoping that my arrival here in Nice, after 8 months of planning) would mean that my mind would finally relax.
Indeed, it did. I went to bed around 8:30 p.m. and slept until 2:30 or so, drank some water and headed back to bed. I woke up again around 7 a.m., as the sun was hitting the hills across from the apartment (seen through the sliding glass door in my bedroom), but I stayed in bed (and fell back asleep again) until 8. Almost 12 hours! Excellent. I was ready for a run. I put on my new black running shorts, happy to find that they had two front pockets for my keys. On the list of things to do before I left on Monday, I finally checked out Pacers Running Store in Clarendon to buy some shorts that didn’t look as baggy on me as the ones I have been wearing for two years. I had not tried them on however, in my race to finish all the things I had to do that day. Putting on my sunglasses and a 10 Euro bill in my pocket, I headed down the hill toward the sea.
It is a brilliant day on the Riviera. The sea was shimmering in the sun, and there were many people in the water at 9 a.m. The beach was already fairly crowded – the public beach, that is. There were rows and rows of beach chairs and parasols set up on the private beach clubs along the water, but at this hour, they were empty. There were many people walking, running and biking along the Promenade des Anglais, which hugs the seaside, seemingly from the airport to the West (I’ll have to do a longer run to confirm this) to the port on the east side of the city. I headed east, toward the old port, which is where I think I’d like to live, but more on that later. It is the end of the summer here, but there were still tourists and visitors in evidence as I ran along the Promenade. I love the water, and the beach, and the sun. This week is expected to be sunny and warm, so I will definitely be heading to the beach, and planning to spend some time in the water too.
On my way back to the apartment, I stopped by the corner market to pick up a Nice-Matin newspaper (Madonna did a show in Nice last night – four pages of pictures in the newspaper!) and some water, and then found a bakery next door to buy a pain au chocolat and some croissant for breakfast. Soon I was on the balcony, with breakfast of coffee, banana and pain au chocolat, reading the morning newspaper, while looking out at the Mediterranean. Dreams do come true!
Now the reality sets in, of course, too. My morning reading matter included the local circular, with apartment advertisements. My job for the next few days will be to find a place to live. But for the moment, I am enjoying the luxury of having somewhere to stay and exhale while I become accustomed to my new surroundings.
After a lovely and simple salad and baguette dinner on Christiane’s balcony, Priscilla headed home. Christiane and I sat out on her balcony over a glass of wine for awhile longer, as the sun went over the hills, but soon I was longing to get to bed. As I have written here often, I have not been sleeping well (for more than five hours a night) for a good long time, and I was hoping that my arrival here in Nice, after 8 months of planning) would mean that my mind would finally relax.
Indeed, it did. I went to bed around 8:30 p.m. and slept until 2:30 or so, drank some water and headed back to bed. I woke up again around 7 a.m., as the sun was hitting the hills across from the apartment (seen through the sliding glass door in my bedroom), but I stayed in bed (and fell back asleep again) until 8. Almost 12 hours! Excellent. I was ready for a run. I put on my new black running shorts, happy to find that they had two front pockets for my keys. On the list of things to do before I left on Monday, I finally checked out Pacers Running Store in Clarendon to buy some shorts that didn’t look as baggy on me as the ones I have been wearing for two years. I had not tried them on however, in my race to finish all the things I had to do that day. Putting on my sunglasses and a 10 Euro bill in my pocket, I headed down the hill toward the sea.
It is a brilliant day on the Riviera. The sea was shimmering in the sun, and there were many people in the water at 9 a.m. The beach was already fairly crowded – the public beach, that is. There were rows and rows of beach chairs and parasols set up on the private beach clubs along the water, but at this hour, they were empty. There were many people walking, running and biking along the Promenade des Anglais, which hugs the seaside, seemingly from the airport to the West (I’ll have to do a longer run to confirm this) to the port on the east side of the city. I headed east, toward the old port, which is where I think I’d like to live, but more on that later. It is the end of the summer here, but there were still tourists and visitors in evidence as I ran along the Promenade. I love the water, and the beach, and the sun. This week is expected to be sunny and warm, so I will definitely be heading to the beach, and planning to spend some time in the water too.
On my way back to the apartment, I stopped by the corner market to pick up a Nice-Matin newspaper (Madonna did a show in Nice last night – four pages of pictures in the newspaper!) and some water, and then found a bakery next door to buy a pain au chocolat and some croissant for breakfast. Soon I was on the balcony, with breakfast of coffee, banana and pain au chocolat, reading the morning newspaper, while looking out at the Mediterranean. Dreams do come true!
Now the reality sets in, of course, too. My morning reading matter included the local circular, with apartment advertisements. My job for the next few days will be to find a place to live. But for the moment, I am enjoying the luxury of having somewhere to stay and exhale while I become accustomed to my new surroundings.
Departure Day
August 25th. I woke up around 6:00 on Monday morning, after a Sunday evening of socializing with Tagrid, Theresa and Angie and her daughter Ella (women with whom I played on the Speed Bumps soccer team), and doing some last minute emails and packing.
I had spent Sunday on my bike participating in the Reston Century with my friend Tom. Tom and I had ridden the Potomac Peddlers Historic Century (our first 100 mile ride) last September, and had planned to do it again (actually we had talked about doing three centuries this year – well, Tom did), but my plans for France interfered with that plan. So I found the Reston Century, which was scheduled for August 24th, the day before my plane to Nice, and suggested we ride that one instead. I have to say everyone thought I was crazy to do a long bike ride the day before my departure, but good planning allows for one to take advantage of all sorts of opportunities. Besides, being completely goal-driven, I didn’t want to waste all my training of the past several months - including training rides with my sister Chris, my friend Becky, and of course, Tom.
Sunday morning I was up at 6 a.m. to ride down to catch the 6:43 5A bus at the Rosslyn metro (the bike rack in front of the bus made this possible), which would drop me off at the Herndon-Monroe Park and Ride by 7:20. I biked over to Reston Town Center (a few miles) to meet Tom. It was a bright sunny morning, and the Town Center was packed with bikers. We stood in a long line to register our appearance that day (we were pre-registered, but this check-in allowed us to pick up a t-shirt later) and headed off with our cue sheets by 8 a.m.
The sky was cloudless all morning, and though the sun was warm, biking along at about 14 miles an hour, we didn’t notice the heat too much (up in the 80s most of the day). The large numbers of bikers meant that we were often biking near others, which has not always been the case for the two of us. Camaraderie is a helpful thing as you tackle interminable hills and long stretches of flat roads. It was a good course, at least 30 miles on the Washington and Old Dominion Bike Trail, and the rest in the towns like Hamilton, Taylorsville and Waterford. There were a good number of challenging hills and fast and long downhills; we biked past rolling fields and herds of cows, horse farms, housing developments and small towns. We made three stops at the well-supplied Rest Stops, where water and Gatorade were available, as well as picnic tables full of bananas, oranges, granola bars, peanut butter sandwiches, cookies, baked goods, M&Ms, and other candy bars.
We finished the ride about 4:30, pretty exhausted, as the last 15 miles on the W&OD trail were slightly uphill; a punishing finish after 90 or so miles on the bike. (In an ironic twist, the Reston Century was not 100 miles, it was 104 miles! Well, I guess it’s hard to design the perfect route.) There was a free buffet meal being served to the bikers on the RTC plaza post-ride, but we headed over to the sidewalk tables at Clydes for a Sierra Nevada beer instead. I sent a text message to my friends and family, letting everyone know I had finished the ride – and was now ready to head to Nice!
Afterward, Tom drove me back to Tagrid’s home, so I would be there for the 6 p.m. ladies gathering Tagrid had organized.
Back to Monday. I awoke early, and decided to blog my morning thoughts (see On the Verge, and Barnard - Second Generation Begins) though I was feeling pretty good, I knew I wanted to go swimming in Tagrid’s backyard pool; the water is great for sore legs. The thought of having a wet swim suit in my luggage made me ask Tagrid if there was a swimsuit requirement for the pool. Of course not, she said. You might as well get in practice, she said. So I had a lovely swim in the pool, au natural, with their two new puppies running back and forth around the pool as I swam laps.
First on the list to do that morning was a trip to the post office, to send off two boxes – one to my friend Bonnie (maternity clothes she had lent to me during my brief expectant period) and another to Priscilla, with those things that I wanted with me in Nice, but that I didn’t need immediately. Happily, the cost of sending the box to France was not exhorbitant (I was weighing the option of not sending it, if so), and it should appear here in 10 days.
After dropping off a few things at my storage unit (the first of three trips that day), Tagrid took me with her to visit the Obama headquarters in Ballston. She had brought with her bagels and fruit for the office; we organized and cleaned up the small “kitchen” in the office, and set up a breakfast spread for the volunteers. We were there just before 10; there were a few people in the office when we arrived, a few young people listening in to a morning call, it appeared. By the time we left, the rooms had started to hum, as volunteers began to appear to begin the day’s work.
Tagrid dropped me off at my condo, so I could complete the cleaning of the rooms for my renters. I still had some left-over toiletries to drop off at Miriam’s Kitchen (they provide them to their clients) and needed to drop off my absentee ballot at the Arlington County offices at the Courthouse metro. I did some cleaning and then got on the metro to Courthouse, dropped off the application, hopped back on the Metro, and headed to Foggy Bottom and Western Presbyterian. At the church, I chatted with Shenella, the church secretary and caught up on the latest, left my garage key for Bill, and made some copies of my birth certificate and other important papers – intending to send them home as a necessary back up in emergencies. I dropped off the toiletries and headed back to the Metro to meet my friend Tim for lunch in Ballston.
On the way to lunch, I received a call from Chris, Chelsea and Nathan, who were in the midst of eating their box lunches in the quad at Barnard with hundreds of other families and newly arrived Barnard freshmen. They had finished moving Chelsea into her new dorm room that morning (not wanting to wait for the moving carts, they had carried everything to her fourth floor room – it made them think of me, Chelsea told me, who would have done something just like that). It was good to hear from them; I told Chelsea I’d call her later that day.
Tim and I met at Grand Cru, a wine store/restaurant in the Ballston neighborhood (good food and wine, but not a place to go if you are in a hurry – the service leaves a little to be desired). I hadn’t seen Tim in a long time, but we had recently reconnected, and we had a good time catching up on our respective lives.
After lunch, I was headed back to the condo. On the way, I stopped in the Ballston mall to get a copy made of the key to the bike storage closet (I had promised my renter that I would provide him a key so he could store his bike), and then found a Boxes Etc. location (I think that’s what it’s still called) to buy a manila envelope to send the copies of my papers that I had made at the church. I had just enough postage (in the form of stamps) to cover the cost of sending the envelope back to Amherst. Back at the condo, I picked up another few things to bring to my storage unit, and headed back to the metro. It was a really hot day, and I had been doing some walking already; I still had a metro card with a lot of money on it (courtesy of Fannie Mae), taking the metro from Virginia Square to Clarendon seemed the right thing to do.
Off the metro, I walked into the Pacers Running Store to buy some running shorts and then walked a few blocks to my storage unit, to drop off the two bags I had with me. I then headed over to Tagrid’s, walking through my old Lyon Park neighborhood, and past my former home on 1st Road, a little walk down memory lane. I needed to get my bike back to the condo, where I would store it. I was getting down to the last few things on my list.
After checking in with Tagrid, I hopped on my bike – deciding to take a small detour on the way to see Beth and Reilly’s recently completed renovation of Reilly’s family home in the Ashton Heights neighborhood. I had seen the construction last spring; the completed home is lovely and fits lovingly in amongst its neighbors.
Back at the condo, the final tasks included scrubbing down the tub, wiping down the refridgerator interior, as well as the surfaces and cabinets in the kitchen. I scrubbed out some obvious spots in the carpet and did a final vacuuming. The vacuum was left in the basement for some fortuitous person.
While cleaning I also put a call into HSBC International Bank, to check on the status of my application to HSBC France and the Nice branch. I was told the application had been reviewed and was now in France – progress! I’ll check in with them next week to see how it is progressing.
My friend (and ride to the airport) arrived at my condo to help me with the final cleaning, the final stop at my storage unit to drop off my toolbox and then off to get my luggage.
Back at Tagrid’s, I did my final packing, which meant storing my computer, and putting the last of the clothes that I had been wearing in my suitcases. Tagrid had also had me try on a dress and a skirt that she had that she thought that I could wear (both fit) and I packed them too. Soon I was doing my good byes and heading out to the airport with my friend.
I spent the minutes before getting on the plane online sending last minute emails and on the phone with my mom and dad. I was ready for this adventure finally to happen. And it was time.
I had spent Sunday on my bike participating in the Reston Century with my friend Tom. Tom and I had ridden the Potomac Peddlers Historic Century (our first 100 mile ride) last September, and had planned to do it again (actually we had talked about doing three centuries this year – well, Tom did), but my plans for France interfered with that plan. So I found the Reston Century, which was scheduled for August 24th, the day before my plane to Nice, and suggested we ride that one instead. I have to say everyone thought I was crazy to do a long bike ride the day before my departure, but good planning allows for one to take advantage of all sorts of opportunities. Besides, being completely goal-driven, I didn’t want to waste all my training of the past several months - including training rides with my sister Chris, my friend Becky, and of course, Tom.
Sunday morning I was up at 6 a.m. to ride down to catch the 6:43 5A bus at the Rosslyn metro (the bike rack in front of the bus made this possible), which would drop me off at the Herndon-Monroe Park and Ride by 7:20. I biked over to Reston Town Center (a few miles) to meet Tom. It was a bright sunny morning, and the Town Center was packed with bikers. We stood in a long line to register our appearance that day (we were pre-registered, but this check-in allowed us to pick up a t-shirt later) and headed off with our cue sheets by 8 a.m.
The sky was cloudless all morning, and though the sun was warm, biking along at about 14 miles an hour, we didn’t notice the heat too much (up in the 80s most of the day). The large numbers of bikers meant that we were often biking near others, which has not always been the case for the two of us. Camaraderie is a helpful thing as you tackle interminable hills and long stretches of flat roads. It was a good course, at least 30 miles on the Washington and Old Dominion Bike Trail, and the rest in the towns like Hamilton, Taylorsville and Waterford. There were a good number of challenging hills and fast and long downhills; we biked past rolling fields and herds of cows, horse farms, housing developments and small towns. We made three stops at the well-supplied Rest Stops, where water and Gatorade were available, as well as picnic tables full of bananas, oranges, granola bars, peanut butter sandwiches, cookies, baked goods, M&Ms, and other candy bars.
We finished the ride about 4:30, pretty exhausted, as the last 15 miles on the W&OD trail were slightly uphill; a punishing finish after 90 or so miles on the bike. (In an ironic twist, the Reston Century was not 100 miles, it was 104 miles! Well, I guess it’s hard to design the perfect route.) There was a free buffet meal being served to the bikers on the RTC plaza post-ride, but we headed over to the sidewalk tables at Clydes for a Sierra Nevada beer instead. I sent a text message to my friends and family, letting everyone know I had finished the ride – and was now ready to head to Nice!
Afterward, Tom drove me back to Tagrid’s home, so I would be there for the 6 p.m. ladies gathering Tagrid had organized.
Back to Monday. I awoke early, and decided to blog my morning thoughts (see On the Verge, and Barnard - Second Generation Begins) though I was feeling pretty good, I knew I wanted to go swimming in Tagrid’s backyard pool; the water is great for sore legs. The thought of having a wet swim suit in my luggage made me ask Tagrid if there was a swimsuit requirement for the pool. Of course not, she said. You might as well get in practice, she said. So I had a lovely swim in the pool, au natural, with their two new puppies running back and forth around the pool as I swam laps.
First on the list to do that morning was a trip to the post office, to send off two boxes – one to my friend Bonnie (maternity clothes she had lent to me during my brief expectant period) and another to Priscilla, with those things that I wanted with me in Nice, but that I didn’t need immediately. Happily, the cost of sending the box to France was not exhorbitant (I was weighing the option of not sending it, if so), and it should appear here in 10 days.
After dropping off a few things at my storage unit (the first of three trips that day), Tagrid took me with her to visit the Obama headquarters in Ballston. She had brought with her bagels and fruit for the office; we organized and cleaned up the small “kitchen” in the office, and set up a breakfast spread for the volunteers. We were there just before 10; there were a few people in the office when we arrived, a few young people listening in to a morning call, it appeared. By the time we left, the rooms had started to hum, as volunteers began to appear to begin the day’s work.
Tagrid dropped me off at my condo, so I could complete the cleaning of the rooms for my renters. I still had some left-over toiletries to drop off at Miriam’s Kitchen (they provide them to their clients) and needed to drop off my absentee ballot at the Arlington County offices at the Courthouse metro. I did some cleaning and then got on the metro to Courthouse, dropped off the application, hopped back on the Metro, and headed to Foggy Bottom and Western Presbyterian. At the church, I chatted with Shenella, the church secretary and caught up on the latest, left my garage key for Bill, and made some copies of my birth certificate and other important papers – intending to send them home as a necessary back up in emergencies. I dropped off the toiletries and headed back to the Metro to meet my friend Tim for lunch in Ballston.
On the way to lunch, I received a call from Chris, Chelsea and Nathan, who were in the midst of eating their box lunches in the quad at Barnard with hundreds of other families and newly arrived Barnard freshmen. They had finished moving Chelsea into her new dorm room that morning (not wanting to wait for the moving carts, they had carried everything to her fourth floor room – it made them think of me, Chelsea told me, who would have done something just like that). It was good to hear from them; I told Chelsea I’d call her later that day.
Tim and I met at Grand Cru, a wine store/restaurant in the Ballston neighborhood (good food and wine, but not a place to go if you are in a hurry – the service leaves a little to be desired). I hadn’t seen Tim in a long time, but we had recently reconnected, and we had a good time catching up on our respective lives.
After lunch, I was headed back to the condo. On the way, I stopped in the Ballston mall to get a copy made of the key to the bike storage closet (I had promised my renter that I would provide him a key so he could store his bike), and then found a Boxes Etc. location (I think that’s what it’s still called) to buy a manila envelope to send the copies of my papers that I had made at the church. I had just enough postage (in the form of stamps) to cover the cost of sending the envelope back to Amherst. Back at the condo, I picked up another few things to bring to my storage unit, and headed back to the metro. It was a really hot day, and I had been doing some walking already; I still had a metro card with a lot of money on it (courtesy of Fannie Mae), taking the metro from Virginia Square to Clarendon seemed the right thing to do.
Off the metro, I walked into the Pacers Running Store to buy some running shorts and then walked a few blocks to my storage unit, to drop off the two bags I had with me. I then headed over to Tagrid’s, walking through my old Lyon Park neighborhood, and past my former home on 1st Road, a little walk down memory lane. I needed to get my bike back to the condo, where I would store it. I was getting down to the last few things on my list.
After checking in with Tagrid, I hopped on my bike – deciding to take a small detour on the way to see Beth and Reilly’s recently completed renovation of Reilly’s family home in the Ashton Heights neighborhood. I had seen the construction last spring; the completed home is lovely and fits lovingly in amongst its neighbors.
Back at the condo, the final tasks included scrubbing down the tub, wiping down the refridgerator interior, as well as the surfaces and cabinets in the kitchen. I scrubbed out some obvious spots in the carpet and did a final vacuuming. The vacuum was left in the basement for some fortuitous person.
While cleaning I also put a call into HSBC International Bank, to check on the status of my application to HSBC France and the Nice branch. I was told the application had been reviewed and was now in France – progress! I’ll check in with them next week to see how it is progressing.
My friend (and ride to the airport) arrived at my condo to help me with the final cleaning, the final stop at my storage unit to drop off my toolbox and then off to get my luggage.
Back at Tagrid’s, I did my final packing, which meant storing my computer, and putting the last of the clothes that I had been wearing in my suitcases. Tagrid had also had me try on a dress and a skirt that she had that she thought that I could wear (both fit) and I packed them too. Soon I was doing my good byes and heading out to the airport with my friend.
I spent the minutes before getting on the plane online sending last minute emails and on the phone with my mom and dad. I was ready for this adventure finally to happen. And it was time.
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