San Francisco in 2 Nights - Mission District, Bernal Heights & City Hall

"Artists not only document social change; they promote, inform, and shape it. Whether through music, plays, graphics, paintings, songs, films, media, architecture, textiles, jewelry, photography, poetry, sculpture, pottery, landscapes, written word, dance - art is powerful ... For art is the intellectual underpinning of social change; nowhere is there more potential and more need for art than now." ~ Maria X. Martinez  from "The Art of Social Justice"

"Indigenous Eyes" by Susan Kelk Cervantes

When I think of some of the things that I truly miss about living in San Francisco, I often come back to the sense of community found in the various neighborhoods of this densely packed 47 square mile city. Each district in the city has its own personality and its own reputation. I wrote last year about the Tenderloin in "San Francisco in 2 Nights - Tenderloin, Financial District, Russian Hill & Telegraph Hill," and this year, I was lucky enough to spend two nights in the Mission District. In the early 1990's, I didn't spend a lot of time visiting this neighborhood. My trips were limited to pretty specific endeavors. One was thrift store shopping -- that was easy -- get off at the 16th & Mission BART station and proceed to Thrift Town. The other was in search of  a swankier laundromat. In our early years together, "Where should we do our laundry tonight?" was akin to, "Where do you want to go out tonight?" We've had some memorable laundromat dates. There was the night that we won the raffle at the Clean-X-Press in the Tenderloin, and we got a Clean-X-Press clock. Sadly, that location is gone now, but we still have the clock. Another night, we were at a laundromat glued to the TV while O.J. drove his white SUV around the Los Angeles freeways -- I thought we would never get home, but we still remember it like, "Where were you when JFK was shot?" One of our favorite laundromat dates was doing the laundry on Taraval Street and getting dinner at El Burrito Express. There is nothing like a San Francisco El Expresso (wet) style burrito on a foggy San Francisco laundry night. This became a ritual for us, and I feel that it was a contributing factor as to why we never felt the need to venture into the Mission District for Mexican food. The exception to this rule occurred after I took a San Francisco history class at SFSU and learned that San Francisco was key in the popularity of the tamale, and there was one lone tamale restaurant, Roosevelt Tamale Parlor, left in the Mission District (it is still there -- been there since 1919!) Yes, the first "tamaleros" were sent from San Francisco to the Chicago World's Fair (Columbian Exposition of 1893.) After that success, a tamale cottage was opened up at the Midwinter Exposition in San Francisco in 1894. I'm going to plug my professor's book, The Fantastic Fair, (which doesn't seem to be in print anymore), along with the only recent article I can find about San Francisco's tamale history (but it's an awesome article): "When We Were Red Hot: S.F.'s Tamale Industry Once Ruled America" by Gustavo Arellano. So another laundromat date included dinner at Roosevelt Tamale Parlor with their big, round tamales smothered in dark red chili sauce, and then topped off with a trip across the street to Panaderia La Mexicana for dessert where you grab tongs and a tray and select cute little Mexican pastries out of the bakery case and wash them down with cinnamon-infused Mexican coffee. Yes, this place is still here -- hooray!

So as I began planning our trip, I was discouraged to find that much of what I thought I knew about the Mission District was blanketed by all of the Yelp descriptions of Mission "hipster" joints -- a term that I just recently discovered does not mean a type of women's underwear. Yes, there is a new cash flow that has come into this neighborhood; however, the unique culture has been largely preserved by its public artists. San Francisco has over 800 public murals -- many of these are quite famous: such as, the murals in Coit Tower and those by Diego Rivera at the Art Institute, City College, and the City Club. But out of these 800 murals, 328 of them are currently located in the Mission District. I love that so much of the history of this neighborhood is chronicled right out in public for all to experience: from the Ohlones to the Franciscans that founded Mission Dolores (San Francisco's oldest building) to the dairy farmers to the German and Irish immigrants post-Gold Rush to earthquake cottages at Dolores Park to Latin American immigrants -- art tells the story of these social changes everywhere in the Mission District. Murals to me are amazing. For all that think that art and the study of art history is a bourgeois pursuit, look at murals out in the open for all to see! We forget that some of our most famous works of art are largely considered murals; for example, Michelango's Sistine Chapel ceiling and the Creation of Adam could be considered a mural, as well as the ancient Roman wall art found in Pompeii as far back as 200 BC. It's true, however, that most people view modern murals as political statements. When I told friends that I was going to learn about murals during my San Francisco weekend, I think the image that conjures is more evident of the Berlin Wall or Keith Haring or graffiti. I think murals are all of that and more and a great way to rejuvenate a neighborhood. I think I'll go ahead and share some photos of what I experienced during my weekend with a brief trip log and links on how it can be organized over a 3-day weekend. For me, blogging about my trip is just a way for me to collect my thoughts all in one place, set the example for my homeschooled kids to write stuff, and perhaps expose my readers to another way of seeing a touristy destination.

Saturday at 1:30PM - Precita Eyes Classic Mission Mural Tour (24th & Alabama)

Precita Eyes Muralists working in Balmy Alley located between 24th & 25th Streets and between Treat & Harrison

"Naya Bihana" by Martin Travers in Balmy Alley depicting the struggle for freedom in Nepal

 

"Things Fall Apart" by Janet Braun-Reinitz in Balmy Alley with a quote from the poem "The Secong Coming" by W.B. Yeats

"La Virgencita"by Patricia Rose who is also the artist standing in front of the mural. She doubled as our Precita Eyes tour guide. I don't think she was trying to look like the Virgin in the mural in this photo, but she was explaining to us that it was okay to paint on the street pole because it is a private alley. I love that she is also wearing roses on her sweater :-) She is wonderful!

Utility box depicting actual neighborhood residents.

"500 Years of Resistance" by Isaias Mata on St. Peter's Church

24th & York Playground & Splash-pad (right next to Panaderia La Mexicana for an afternoon snack)

Tile murals at the Mini-park

"Quetzalcoatl" mosaic play structure (his tail makes the splash area)

Plantains for sale at the market

Neighborhood flower vendor

Saturday at 4:30PM - Hiking Bernal Heights Hill (from Folsom & Bernal Heights Blvd.)

The view from the top with the Bay Bridge and Treasure Island in the top right

Saturday & Sunday nights - The Inn of San Francisco (Van Ness & 20th Street)

The parlor of this gorgeous home

Saturday night dinner - La Traviata (Mission & 24th Street)

Sunday at 11:00AM - San Francisco City Guides Mission Dolores Neighborhood Walk (Church & 20th St.)

The fire hydrant that saved the Victorian homes of the Mission District from the 1906 earthquake and fire

Dolores Park

New Mission Playground Water Play Area

Soon to be re-opened Mission Pool with "New World Tree" mural by Susan Kelk Cervantes 

Lone earthquake cottage 

The Pirate Store at 826 Valencia - a great organization that assists kids with writing skills. Watch the TED talk:  

Very cool metalwork tree across from the plaque signifying the first site of Mission Dolores at  Camp & Albion Streets

Mission San Francisco de Asis (Mission Dolores)

Sunday at 1:00PM - a walk through Clarion Alley (between Mission & Valencia and 17th & 18th Streets)

The grittier murals on Clarion Alley

Sunday at 2:00PM - Brunch at Foreign Cinema (Mission & 21st Street)

Sunday night we went to an amazing wedding, but if you want to follow in our footsteps and don't have the invitation, I would recommend an evening in the garden and the hot tub of the Inn of San Francisco :) My son has written a post about visiting San Francisco City Hall which could be done the following Monday of a long weekend trip. My daughter has written a creative writing piece as an assignment for her writing group that involves a muralist lost in San Francisco City Hall which was inspired by her visits to both places. They both are excited to publish their pieces so I'm including them here in one family blog post. Enjoy!

San Francisco City Hall Review 

by Patrick

Over Labor Day weekend, we went to San Francisco and learned quite a lot about the city and its buildings. We started at the City Hall building in the city’s Civic Center. We learned that the City Hall was built in 1915 to replace the old City Hall which was destroyed in an earthquake in 1906. It was renovated after the 1989 earthquake and reopened in 1999. The building is 307.5 feet tall at the dome making it the tallest dome in the United States and the fifth tallest dome in the world. The city hall building was designed primarily by Arthur Brown and John Bakewell. The two architects designed the dome with a French baroque style similar to les Invalides in Paris. They built the rest of the building with a Beaux Arts style, which is a blend of French, Roman, and Greek architecture. The City Hall building is very interesting, and I would definitely recommend visiting it. While we were there, we saw the mayor’s office and a bust of Mayor George Moscone who was assassinated in his office along with Supervisor Harvey Milk in 1978. After exploring City Hall for a little longer and running into about twelve people in Lederhosen outside of the County Clerk’s office (possibly there for someone getting married), we left City Hall and crossed the Civic Center park to the San Francisco Public Library to see its recent remodel.

Trapped 

by Rebecca

            The dense fog hung around me as I walked. Coils of it wrapped around my ankles and made me slow down. I could barely see twenty feet in front of me, but I knew where I was going. Everyone knew how to get to San Francisco City Hall.

            Earlier that day, as I watched the daily fog spill over Twin Peaks, I thought about how it would make a marvelous subject for one of my paintings. I would need some more gray paint though, and whenever I bought a gallon of new paint, it felt like I was paying with a couple years off my life. Was it really such a crime to be an artist that I have to starve myself? I was eating something, of course, but, surprisingly, a can of Spaghetti-Os every day isn’t a sufficient diet.

            I felt trapped in my life, stuck in a downward spiral towards bankruptcy, unable to escape because, let’s be honest, no sane employer would hire a person with minimal education and no job experience, who has spent their life as an amateur painter. Well, at least not a sane employer from a place where I could actually make a living. The only reason I have those Spaghetti-Os is from the small paycheck I get from working at Burger King.

            I really don’t make much money from my art; only on very rare occasions will someone want to buy one of my canvases. I mostly try to get the city to pay for me to paint a mural on one of their public buildings. I’m good at painting murals, I’m very tall, and I like to add miniscule details to things. It’s easier to do that when you have a larger “canvas.”

             As I turned a corner, I could just see the grandeur of City Hall through the obscuring fog. The shape was quite similar to the Capitol Building in Washington D.C., but San Francisco’s City Hall is taller and has more gold on it.

            I came up to the front steps and began to walk up them, holding the notebook that had my sketch of the hopefully future mural inside it, close to my chest. I came through the doors and passed through the metal detector without trouble. I kept walking straight until I came to the rotunda. It was a large hexagonal room with golden street lamps at every corner, beautiful carvings into the walls, and a marble centerpiece, the staircase. I stopped for a second to look around. Above my head, one could see the walls arching in to meet the dome, the inside of which was fully visible from the rotunda, with the four medallions, Equality, Liberty, Strength, and Learning, each on their own corner of the room. Across from the staircase, a depiction of Father Time was placed on the wall above a clock that surprised me as I read the time. Only ten minutes until the Hall closes!

            With the sudden need for speed, I climbed up the staircase, turned a corner and climbed the stairs that I saw in front of me up to the fourth floor. When I got to the top, I realized that I was a mess, and there was no way that anyone from the city planning department would seriously negotiate with me about getting a wall to paint if I looked like this. I located a bathroom and went inside to wash up at the sink. I soaked a paper towel, then dabbed it at my face and on my neck, brushed my hair, and straightened my clothes. I probably wasn’t going to be able to actually get a permit today, but maybe I could at least schedule an appointment.

            I had just come out of the bathroom, when every light in the building turned off. I stood there for a moment with complete darkness surrounding me. I let my eyes get adjusted to the light before I walked in the direction of the planning department office, holding my arms out awkwardly in case something was in my way.

            I knew how to get to the office, but I wasn’t sure if I could make it there in darkness without falling over the banister that looked down to the very first floor. So I tried to keep to the wall because the other option would most likely turn out very, very bad.

            I stopped at a big wooden door and put my face right in front of the plaque on the wall next to it. In the poor lighting, I could just read “City Planning Department.”

            I considered ripping out one of the pages in my notebook and leaving a note, but it was likely that no one would see my note if I slipped it under the door, and I didn’t have any tape with me for attaching it to the door or wall. I actually don’t have any tape in general. Also, even if I did have tape, then what? I knew from previous news stories that when the Hall closed, they locked both the inside and outside. So if you were stuck in the Hall at night (like I am) and were planning on stealing some valuables (like I am not), you wouldn’t be able to take the out of the building because you were locked inside. Basically, I was stuck in City Hall.

            So, with no better option, I took off my jacket and balled it up. I then lied down on the floor, with my jacket under my head, curled up, and fell asleep on the floor in front of the City Planning Office.

            The next morning, I was nearly skipping down the street in excitement to get home to gather up my supplies. After looking at my sketch, the city planners decided to permit me to paint on the wall of a park. Not only that, but they agreed to pay for the paint and pay me for painting the wall. They were letting me be free of my current predicament, both metaphorically and physically. And they gave me a scone!

                 

Europe Diary - Post #17 by Kathy

We're home now, and I just wanted to finish off the Europe Diary which has been our labor of love for the last month. My daughter asked me today if we could now start writing about our Arizona to Alaska By Land & Sea (no flights) trip in 2009, and our From Yurt to Yurt Trip along the Oregon Coast in 2008 -- haha! I need a break for awhile, but I'm glad she enjoys writing and traveling. My intent with this blog has been twofold: to encourage my kids to write and to encourage my readers to travel. I'm somewhat amused by my dear friends repeatedly telling me that I'm "having the trip of a lifetime!" Surprise -- I didn't go anyplace new! I just tried to pick a few new venues and cities to add to the roster. For example, although I have been to Spain numerous times, I had never been to the Basque region which I thought was so lovely and green without losing any of the Spanish enthusiasm for life. Likewise with Italy, I have been to Rome, Florence, Venice, and the usual Italian tourist highlights, but this is the first time that I just enjoyed the Italian seaside and good life, and I have to say that I probably had the most enjoyable meal of my life in Manarola when I wasn't trying to see or do anything.

Every trip is the trip of a lifetime. When I was 13 and I made my first trip to Europe, a similar sweeping trip that went from Holland to Portugal, upon return I was told over and over that I had "made the trip of a lifetime!" Since then, I have lived out-of-country twice, and traveled to countless places, and I still feel that each trip has been uniquely special. The hardest part of travel for me has always been the "reorientation phase." The coming home and seeing your friends and being torn with what photos and stories to share without coming off like a pompous jerk. I sincerely hope that our little online diary has only served to motivate you to get off your butt and live your dreams before you're dead. For me, I can't get enough of new places, new food, new people, and new experiences so I hope that transcends in our blog and in our *numerous* facebook photo albums :)

The only other thing I thought I'd add to this last wrap-up post, is my basic recipe for visiting a new city which almost always involves some form of public transportation, a self-guided walking tour, usually grocery shopping (even if it's just for lunch items), and never an organized tour since I find groups of tourists packed together to be the most annoying thing on the face of the planet. As a bonus, I thought I'd add a few of my own personal city walking tours. These are walks that I devised long before we left for Europe when I was in the planning stages of the trip. We then used the walks as a springboard for studying European History, which has been the primary focus of our homeschooling life for the past year. I'll try to be as brief as possible (!!) about the sights along the walks, and tell you where we had to change things due to time/weather. Just click on the title of the walk for a link to the map. Enjoy! And if you ever have any questions about this trip, traveling as a family, or European travel in general, then feel free to ask!

PARIS - MONTPARNASSE WALK
This walk begins at the Denfert-Rochereau metro/RER station. From here you walk to Montparnasse Cemetery to see the graves of some famous Parisians with a view of Montparnasse Tower in the background (tower is the best view in Paris and the best view of the Eiffel Tower at night from 57 stories up.) We highlighted Jean-Paul Sartre, Simone de Bouvier, Charles Baudelaire, Guy de Maupassant, Samuel Beckett, Susan Sontag, Jean Seberg, Tania Rachevskaia, Constantin Brancusi, and Charles Cros. From the cemetery, walk to the corner of Blvd Raspaill and Blvd du Montparnasse to check out Auguste Rodin's "Monument to Balzac" which was Rodin's last public sculpture that took him 7 years to complete and for which he received tons of criticism. From this corner, you can look out at the famous Paris cafe, Le Dome, which was one of the gathering places for famous artists and writers: such as, Hemingway, Gauguin, Khalil Gibran, Kandinsky, Miller, Nin, and Picasso. From the statue, walk down to Luxembourg Gardens and follow the path indicated on the map to see the Statue of Liberty (currently being renovated), the chess ramada, St Genevieve (the patron saint of Paris), and the Medici Fountain (many more, but these are the ones we highlighted.) You will also pass by Luxembourg Palace which houses the French Senate. From the gardens, walk up to the Pantheon where many famous people are interred. We highlighted: the Curies, Victor Hugo, Voltaire, Emile Zola, Rousseau, and Jean Moulin. From the Pantheon, the Cathedral St Etienne du Mont is right nearby, and I kind of like it better than the over-touristy Notre Dame. It is also a Gothic church begun in 1492 and dedicated to St Genevieve. My map ends here, but we ate at a delicious and super-friendly (rare in Paris) Chinese restaurant (yes, Paris is a very international city) called Mandarin Sorbonne on Rue Cujas. After that, we walked down Blvd Saint Michel, past the Sorbonne and the famous Fontaine Saint Michel. Our walk then crossed the river to Notre Dame, and then we walked along the Seine via the quay to go under the Pont Neuf and up the stairs to the point of the Ile de la Cite. From here, we walked all the way to the Musee de Orsay, across to the Tuileries Garden and the Orangerie, and then to the Louvre. I'm not suggesting you walk all that way, but it was quite enjoyable! We did take the metro to the Eiffel Tower and exited at Trocadero to get the elevated view.

BILBAO WALK
This walk can be started from the Calle Navarra bridge near where our apartment was or from the train station that is right there as well. We generally followed the route as shown on the way to the Guggenheim Museum, but after visiting the museum, we crossed over the pedestrian bridge just northwest of the museum. This route allowed us to photograph some great shots of the Guggenheim with the river in front of it, but more importantly, this re-route took us to the BEST CREPES we had in all of Europe at Don Crepe on the north side of the river, past the university, across from the museum, and just before you get to the big car bridge Espainako Printzeak. We just wandered in because the food at the museum was way to expensive, and we were thirsty and hungry at 2:45, and we knew that everything would be closing at 3:00 for siesta time. Enrique the owner/cook was playing his guitar when we walked in to this little art-filled hole-in-the-wall, but he quickly fixed us up with his delicious crepes. Enrique is also super-friendly, originally from Portugal, and gave us all kinds of tips about Bilbao in our short time with him before he needed to leave to go pick his daughter up from kindergarten. We carried on after our lunch and took the funicular up for a great view over Bilbao. On my map this is where our walk ends, but we finished it off by crossing over the Zubizuri pedestrian bridge and then wandering the streets of Bilbao on both sides of the river. The Casco Viejo is a great place to get lost on a Thursday evening after everyone comes out after work to shop. Bilbao is surprisingly un-touristy compared to other cities in Europe, but I would go fast before that changes!

GEORGIAN DUBLIN PLUS THE BOOK OF KELLS
(Just FYI, we watched the cartoon movie "The Secret of Kells" as part of the preparation for this walk. I think it was a nice, easy introduction to this topic.) This walk begins in Temple Bar at the corner of Anglesea and Fleet Street. You could also start this walk at the O'Connell Street bridge because that is the first place we went -- we needed to pick up an all day, family bus pass (only 11 Euros) at the Londis on the west side of the road since rain looked imminent, and we wanted to go the Guinness Storehouse after the walk. Walk down Westmoreland Street and turn east to walk through the arched doorway to enter Trinity University. From here there are signs pointing you to Trinity Library and the Book of Kells. After the library, you will walk through the campus and exit on Lincoln Place jogging over to Merrion Square. The first house on the left on Merrion Square North is Oscar Wilde's former home. If you cross the street and go south just a little bit on Merrion Square West, there will be an entrance to Merrion Square Park on the left. If you stay left on the path through the park, just a little ways down the path is a statue of Oscar Wilde on a large granite boulder. We continued east on this path through the park, but took the first left exit so I could get back on Merrion Square North and continue photographing the Georgian doors and famous architecture of this area. Turn right on Merrion Square East and walk one block to Lower Fitzwilliam Street. After crossing the street, the first house on the left is Number 29 the Georgian House Museum. The house visit starts with a short video history of Dublin, and then you get a guided tour of the house. We all really enjoyed this visit. After we came out, it looked like it was about to rain so we did not finish this walk through St Stephen's Green, St Patrick's Cathedral, and Christ Church Cathedral. Instead, we jumped on a double-decker Dublin city bus, sat in the front seat, upper deck, and rode to the Guinness Storehouse during a hail storm only to have beautiful sunny skies from the Gravity Bar by the time the tour was over. Crazy Dublin weather!

LONDON - SOUTHBANK WALK
We did this walk after a morning visit to the British Museum so we started the walk at the Waterloo tube station. After exiting the train, we followed all signs pointing us to the London Eye. If you've followed the right signs, you will be rewarded with a stunning view of the London Eye on the right side of the road after exiting the station. Unlike my map route, we turned right immediately after spotting the London Eye, and headed towards the Jubilee Gardens instead of the Florence Nightingale Museum by the hospital. My kids are huge Doctor Who fans so they wanted to go to the London Film Museum in the old County Hall building instead. The London Film Museum was pretty interesting, if only for the history of the building which they explain right upon entering near an exhibit about "The Iron Lady." After the museum, we turned right along the Southbank river walk with views across the Thames of Parliament and Big Ben, and we headed east as described in the map. We passed the various bridges each with their own history, and also made a stop for a tour at Shakespeare's Globe Theatre, right along the river. I think this walk makes a great case for the enormous changes in London over the last 20 years (since I last visited and lived there) as you are constantly faced with images of the very old against the very new. We stopped to eat at Mango Tree Indian restaurant after the Globe Theatre, so instead of going all the way to the Tower Bridge along the Southbank walk, we crossed over the Southwark Bridge and were able to get pictures of the London Bridge and the Tower Bridge from the Southwark Bridge, and then from the river walk on the north side before reaching the Tower.

Europe Diary - Post #16 by Mike

I'm sitting on a ferry on my way to Ireland and I just realized that we haven't discussed the car we were able to get to do this trip, the real work horse of this family vacation.

To say we were a little disappointed, when we found out we couldn't take a rental car on the ferries we had planned, would be a huge understatement until one of the rental companies recommended that we lease a car. "We want to visit Europe for a month, not move there!" was our initial response to that statement, but it turns out that several of the European car manufacturers have a "short term lease" option; you get a car for several weeks (4 in our case) then they sell the car again as "gently" used. So, we do more research and come up with the Renault Kangoo. A square, little box of a car that should fit 4 people, 4 suitcases and the backpacks.

Our arrival in Amsterdam and our "contact" for the lease company have already been discussed earlier in the blog. We finally get to see the car we have been pinning the hopes on for getting us around Europe, and, as advertised comes a brown box on tiny wheels. I got a very brief introduction to the GPS system, how to set the cruise control, a packet of manuals (all in French), and a very condescending reminder that "other Americans have put petrol in a diesel... It is very expensive to fix," then we loaded up and were on our way. Except, that it has been a few years since I've driven a stick, so within the first 10 minutes, I stall it.

They only give you a couple of liters of diesel when you get the car, so I get another introduction to European life, filling up. In Europe, you pump first and pay after. Don't try leaving without paying because even the most out of date station has cameras on you and your license plate. The other thing was the presence of plastic gloves, the kind you find in food service places. I learned (the hard way) that even the nicest station's pump handles usually have a thick layer of oil on them and, if you don't use the glove, your hand smells of diesel for the next few days.

Our first couple of days were wonderful. We found that the Kangoo has shelves. Yes, shelves. Right above the driver and passenger seats, and, if you don't secure things properly up there, thing will fall on the passenger, the driver or both. It makes driving exciting and unpredictable. The kids have the life in the back seat. They have fold-up tray tables like you find on an airplane and overhead bins as well as under the floor storage. As a result, the kids get to do things like make and serve lunch and snacks for the rest of us on the longer legs of our trip. Most of the displays are pretty self-explanatory except that they are in French. I just found out how to change the odometer about 4 days ago. There is one for fuel efficiency, how long before you need an oil change, and, my favorite, how many kilometers until you are out of gas.

About 4 days into our trip, we were in Heidelberg when the remote to the GPS wouldn't sync up. We were able to get ourselves to the castle we had been trying to find, then, with the help of and old fashioned road map, get ourselves to Stuttgart. We had left our car parked while we were in Stuttgart, and decided on our way to the next destination to get the GPS fixed. We called our "contact" about the problem and were treated to a very brisk, "take it to the Renault dealership!" then he hung up. The only Renault service I could find put us on a long winding road that took us up mountains and down valleys. Near sheep fields and on one-track roads. I did this without leaving Stuttgart or using a functioning GPS. We finally found the service in a very small garage that I had accidentally driven by. I backed up and found a man we called Doctor Renault. We called him Dr. Renault because of is white hair and long lab coat. He didn't speak much English, but he understood, "Navi, Kaput!". Our thoughts on what could be wrong were that the remote was broken and needed to be replaced or the system just needed a reboot. Dr. Renault pressed a couple of buttons on the remote, then stated that he could not help us, but that his colleague down the hill might have the part we'd need. As it turns out, his colleague was in the same area of Stuttgart as the hostel we stayed in.  There we met Christian. He was in his late 20s and spoke very good English. He came out to the car, removed and replaced the batteries, pressed combinations of buttons, tried turning the car off and on, and even disappeared with the remote for a while. I assume to try it on other cars. He came back about a half-hour later and stated that it wasn't the remote. It was the GPS itself which is integrated into the dashboard and gave me my first insight into the magic number of European car service; 2 days. Everything you'd ever need or want for a car was going to take 2 days to get in stock and replace. We were in Carcassonne, France when we were filling up at what just happened to be a Renault dealer and a very large one to boot. 4,000 miles is a long time to be with out any music and the only way to plug one of our 4 iPods into the Kangoo's stereo was a couple of red and white RCA jacks.We had been looking in other service stations for the elusive cable and even in the MediaMarkt, where we eventually found the replacement GPS, without any luck. I thought, with the size of this dealership, they must have it. I asked the station attendant, who sent me to Marciel, who sent me to Raphael, who looked up part numbers and asked around to other people and finally, a half hour later, found another guy. They had a conversation in French and Raphael interpreted to me that the part he had was not the correct part (more French.) The correct part was not in stock, but could be here in (more French) 2 days. We had to give credit to Christian in Stuttgart. His discovery of the problem with the GPS prompted a long exchange between the Renault Eurodrive people ourselves about whether insurance would pay for a portable GPS or not. This part of the story takes about an hour and a half with many calls back and the Eurodrive people talking to us, talking to Christian, to us again, waiting for calls back, waiting for the "guy who speaks German (we don't know why they needed this guy because Christian's English was very good and, according to Christian, his German was very bad.), and finally the call that would pay for the GPS. We never got that call back. We just went to MediaMarkt and got our own. We finally did get the in-car GPS to work. Outside Bilbao, Spain, the car was in dire need of a wash and the attendant made sure we took off our antenna. I was sitting there bored and just playing with the remote and it started working again.

I have always loved driving and as such, I find myself in awe at particular moments in this trip, especially when I realize things like, "I am driving in Amsterdam" or Paris or Spain. It makes me realize how good this little car is. I guess it could have more cup holders or a little more cargo space, but as for the main thing; it gets us where we are going with no real issues. I haven't found a parking space it can't fit in or have any engine or transmission issues (knock on wood). Lets see how the Kangoo and I do on the wrong side of the road!

Addendum:
We are now safely home and I wanted to get this post out that I had already written. Unfortunately, as the driver, I did not get the net-book time everyone else got to get it posted. It has been a strange transition back to driving at home. The Kangoo only did metric and I realize now what 100 km/hr means (its about 65 mph). Also, I keep trying to shift the automatic transmission. It means a lot to me to get this posted as I found driving in Europe easier than I thought it would be. Even driving on the wrong side in Ireland and Great Britain was not as hard as I expected. Crossing the street was harder (which way do they come from first?). With the price of taking the trains through Europe getting more and more expensive, it turns out that driving is very economical. I only had to fill up the car 6 or 7 times and even returned it with a quarter of a tank even though we'd been driving for about 4 days. I think we got to see more of the countries we'd visited and got to meet the people that lived and worked there than with any other form of transportation.

Europe Diary - Post #15 by Rebecca

We’ve now left the southern countries of Europe and relaxing, slow part of our vacation. We’ve returned to France and I can officially say that it feels like I’ve seen every part of this country. We started off by staying one night in a nice little hotel in Blois. They gave us free coupons to multiple nearby restaurants and the breakfast was great (warm, fresh-baked croissants, yum!), but I was a little weirded out by the fact that the floor, walls, and ceiling were entirely made of plastic. I later realized that, because there was no designated shower spot (you could literally shower from the toilet), this was so that nothing gets ruined by water. Don’t leave your clothes on the floor!

That same night, we drove a little deeper into the city to find the chateau (French for castle). Apparently, there are a couple of castles in Blois, but we were able to find the right one and plug the address into our GPS. Her name is Serena, my mom hates her, and my dad calls her “babe.” She’s okay, but occasionally she puts us on a direct route to our point of interest which sometimes involves crashing through walls and plowing through fields. In her mind, it’s easy to get to the chateau; you just drive down this street, then that street, and then drive along the sidewalk for 0.3 kilometers. I don’t think she’s a licensed driver.

Anyways, after a little misunderstanding at the ticket counter (I look older than eighteen?), we made it into the castle to see the sound and light show. It was neat, the techniques they used with lighting were amazing and we heard beautiful French music throughout the production, but I couldn’t understand what was going on. You see, the sound and light show is like a dramatization of the history of the castle except you only hear what’s happening, like an audio book with disco-lights shining on the courtyard of the castle in sync with sound. (That’s the best description I can give. It was a really odd evening.) The thing is, they only have the English show on Wednesdays and we weren’t there on that day. I tried to translate, but I’ve only been taking French lessons for a few months and I had a feeling that they were saying more complicated things than “I was walking to the market and saw a big, red chicken in the forest.”

On our way to Paris the next morning, we stopped to see the Chartres Cathedral. It was extremely magnificent with arches raised at what feels like a mile above your head and colorful stained-glass windows just everywhere. Unfortunately, part of the Cathedral was closed off for renovation. The Cathedral Cleaners were trying to make it white again.

But the most interesting part of the Cathedral wasn’t the Cathedral. It was a book we bought at a dollar store back home about the Cathedral: Chartres Guide to the Cathedral published by Houvet. Inside was everything you’d ever need to know about it including a thorough description of every last window. But, again, this wasn’t the interesting part. I was moved by the introduction. It was written by the custodian of the Cathedral and I realized, after the first sentence, that this Shakespeare-inspired janitor was thoroughly moved by their cathedral. Or possibly possessed by it. I have no words that can explain this person so I will let you read some of it to understand why we were feeling so giddy during the car ride:

"Our Lady of Chartres is one of the finest churches raised to the Glory of God and the Virgin Mary. Its structure is solid without heaviness, its proportions perfect, its magnificent steeples like an invitation to prayer, and the severe beauty of its west facade seeming to scorn vain ornaments.

"What strong emotions uplift the soul from the instant we enter the nave with its harmonious lines! We do not, however, in any way have the impression of being crushed by the stone blocks suspended some 115 feet overhead, for massive, but elegant, piers support them, and there is about the whole building a reassuring robustness and balance.

"Then one walks on as if clad in a garment of gems which fall from our unrivalled windows; their soft light runs along the walls and floods the pavement; the colouring changes with the season and the hour, and, of an evening, when the last rays of the setting sun creep through the transparent mosaic, it is as if the walls were strewn with golden dust.

"Did some medieval magicians want to carry us away to dreamland? No; artist merely tried to represent what the mystic city is, in which man's soul can meet with God; their ambition was to make of the church a dwelling worthy of the Virgin whom they worshipped." My new favorite author, everyone!

We did a lot in France, so I will let Patrick take over from here with his impressions of Paris. It has been an exciting and historical adventure here in France and will probably come back. You should visit this lovely country, too, if you want. In the meantime, make sure you do what I do when you’re sad, read a passage from our favorite custodian! I must now make myself with my “Doctor Who” book as I try to ignore the crazy French middle-schoolers that have taken over the “Oscar Wilde.” Later, I must devise a plan to recruit a large enough army to reclaim the ship . . .

Europe Diary - Post #14 by Kathy

Another laundry day and I’m sitting outside the laverie in Vernon, France, the neighboring town to Giverny and Monet’s beautiful gardens. A woman in high-heeled black boots and excessive make-up and jewelry for laundry day just came in to try to wash her comforter while my four big loads are churning. She asked me for help, in French. Having become a pro at the French launderette, I could probably have shown her how to select the wash cycle and put her euros in the correct numbered slot on the opposite wall to start her machine. However, I probably couldn’t have explained it any different or better than the very detailed explanation on the wall. She was just panicking because she had never done before what she was trying to do – use a laverie. Besides, I don’t speak French. And here’s my thought on this episode – much of our interchange in life involves non-verbal communication as we take cues from our surroundings. I have done an entire ER triage on a deaf person without a word spoken – the message can convey. I’m not sure if it’s my skills as an ER nurse enabling me to quickly size up a situation with limited information, or just my willingness to learn new things that allows me to get through countries without speaking the language. Right now I’m parked in front of the laundromat in a spot marked “payant” with a “P” machine at the end of the block. I think I can figure out that I need to pay the parking meter. I feel very lucky that I’m able to show my kids how we get along in the world. Mike and Rebecca just returned from the patisserie with an apple tart for me. Apparently, most all of the shops in Vernon are closed today because it’s Monday. Rebecca was able to get this information with her limited French, the baker’s slow explanation, and her father’s charm. Later, someone will ask me: “Don’t you think you’re sheltering your kids by not sending them to school?” Yeah, right, I love that.

I didn’t finish this post because I was enjoying my apple tart, and then my laundry was done. It’s been a busy couple of days staying in a French farmhouse, visiting the Caen Memorial to Peace, the American Cemetery, and the beaches of Normandy on V-E Day. I am now on a 17-hour ferry ride headed from Cherbourg, France to Rosslare, Ireland. The free wi-fi has been out in every place we’ve stayed, including this ferry, for the last week so we’ve been limited to quick email and facebook checks in free wi-fi cafes. I’m starting to feel blissfully out of touch with life at home, finally, after three weeks into my month-long trip! I did want to say Happy Nurse’s Week to all my co-workers! You guys are the best!!! I actually miss work and the hospital environment. I really love being around all the different people there. I highly recommend an extended vacation for all my burned out co-workers. I think Intel has it right with this one and giving their employees sabbaticals. It keeps them fresher. Just in case my work has replaced me, I did identify my back-up plan in Bilbao, Spain. I think my next career will be as the pedestrian-only area Bilbao street-sweeper J Here I am:

Europe Diary - Post #13 by Patrick

Both my parents are extroverts, and they love to talk to people. It is also very necessary for the type of traveling that we are doing. For example, you could take a guided tour and not say a single word; however, since we are driving through Europe, we have talked to or made friends with people almost everywhere we’ve gone. In Holland, we met the owner of the Orion Hotel in Kaag, who my dad nicknamed Hansel because of his resemblance to the Bugs Bunny character. He also served us pancakes after we searched the island for places to eat and found everywhere either out of our price range, or strangely vacant. The next day, my dad managed to stain his jacket while having a picnic in the Keukenhof Gardens, permitting us to meet Lisse’s only dry cleaner 45 minutes before closing time, and watch him frantically put my dad’s jacket before everything else in order to get it done before he closed. These 45 minutes gave us just enough time to write and mail post cards, and my dad enough time to become friends with the lady running the store after going in five or six different times to get more post cards, get more stamps, and then mail the post cards.

While driving into Stuttgart, we had to use a map because our GPS had broken. By using such antiquated technology, we managed to get majorly lost and had to stop at a gas station to get directions. Both my parents went in and about 15 minutes later they came back out waving at someone inside. When I asked who that was, they said he had helped them and said “I helped you, next time you help me.” Before we left Stuttgart, we decided to try to get the GPS fixed, so after driving over mountain roads to find a tiny little Renault dealer that sent us to a proper Renault dealer minutes from where we just left, we met a technician named Christian, who helped us argue with the people who gave us the car, and convinced us to buy a portable GPS, which has been a huge help that we never would have found Switzerland without.  

On the day that we were driving into France, we were running majorly late and called the hotel we were staying at to inform them of this. When we called, the man that answered said he spoke very little English and he didn’t seem to understand that we wouldn’t be there until 8:30. He eventually said “fine no later than 8:30,” and hung up angrily. However, when we got there my dad and he acted like best friends. They were shaking hands, and the manager, who we nicknamed Homey (for the French word homme which means man,) gave him a tour of the restaurant while it was closed.

We were walking around Bilbao yesterday, and we decided to stop at a store to buy some bread and milk for breakfast. Then we saw the milk machine. It was quite simply one of the coolest machines I’ve ever seen that we had no clue how to operate. What you are supposed to do is stick a milk bottle under one of the nozzles and push the cow figure to fill the bottle. After several minutes of trying to understand it which included filling the bottle with water we got the cashier to help us. All she did was push the cow figure and the bottle started filling with milk. We all laughed at how simple it was. After we got the milk and were walking back to the hotel, we stopped in a park where a priest was praying. As he was walking past us, my dad called out “Buenos tardes Padre.” The priest then proceeded to ask our names and where we were from in Spanish before walking into a nearby cathedral.

The best part of all was when we were driving from Spain back into France, and we decided to stop for gas. We had just pulled up to the pump when we saw through the very bug splattered windshield what we thought was a car wash, although it was hard to tell because everything was written in Basque and had lots of n Xs and Ks. We then got to see my dad with lots of hand motions and pointing ask for a car wash. Minutes later, he came back with a little plastic card to start the car wash, and a little orange bag of lavender. Much better than American gas stations where you can barely get the cheesy paper air fresheners, and even they cost extra. When we went through the car wash, we had to take the antennae off the car, and when we put it back, the built in GPS started working again. We still aren’t sure what was wrong with it.

Traveling in a tour group has the advantage of not having to converse with locals, but I feel that meeting the people is the most interesting parts of traveling.

Europe Diary - Post #12 by Rebecca

Since I last posted in Switzerland, we’ve driven through Italy, France, and Spain. These days have been more of our “vacation of our vacation.” We’ve had a good few days of rest and relaxation before we hit the center of France.

We didn’t see much of France; we just stayed a few nights in an abbey in Carcassonne on our way from Italy to Spain. It was nice seeing all the old historical buildings, but this is a very touristy city. We visited the castle on the night we arrived, and I felt it was a much better experience because the crowds that consisted of half of France and their entire extended families were gone. This made it easier to see the castle, but harder to take pictures.

In the Cinque Terre, the thing that struck me most was how it was just so incredibly beautiful. The whole city of Manarola, where we were staying, was built on a cliff face. The city also came right up to the sparkling, blue Mediterranean Sea. The pastel houses looked beautiful against it. There were hiking trails everywhere that took you through thick grass dotted with wildflowers. Most of the trees were citrus, and the smell, mixing with the sea air, was sweeter than the scent of our food. Mostly because everyone but myself got seafood when we went out to dinner at Trattoria dal Billy on our first night there. I don’t like seafood. My pesto was great though!

I’d probably say that Spain has been my favorite place we’ve been so far. I consider myself to be a very urban girl and Bilbao is the perfect city for me. Don’t get me wrong, though, this isn’t one of those cities with gas-polluted air, traffic backed up three blocks, and LED lighted signs everywhere like LA, Las Vegas, or New York. Bilbao has hundreds of little shops lining their walking-only roads which we walked in the beautiful, cloudy weather. It also has little parks with lots of trees nestled between intersections. It has a very interesting mix of old and new in its art and architecture. It also has the perk of the new Guggenheim Bilbao. I saw many stores for independent fashion, interior, chair, and rug designers plus a few others that have slipped my mind. It’s a very artsy little town. I was also impressed by the street musicians. One person was playing their soprano saxophone on a bridge when we were walking one morning -- a perfect start to my day. Everyone I saw seemed happy and I couldn’t blame them. I was also one of those happy people after I visited Bilbao. I’m glad we took the detour to see it.

It’s been a nice break and we’re heading to France now. I’m not sure that I’m quite ready for the excitement of Paris, but here we go! In the overall of the things we’ve done on our little weekend, I’ve realized that I must go back to Spain.