This is Marcia typing from Wyona's account (my mom). Gabe and I arrived in London 24 hours ago, and a lot has happened since then. I don't know whether to start with the good list or the bad list. Let's do good first, it is shorter.
We saw Life of Pi on the plane. Gabe had never seen it before, it was my second time. We both really enjoyed it. We arrived at the London airport, and we took an express train from Gatwick to London, quite an enjoyable ride.
Wyona had switched things up at the Best Western we are staying at; originally she had a single room on the top floor and we had a double room close by. It has been so hot in London, so she went and checked at the front desk about other rooms available. They had a family room with a double bed and 2 single beds available in the basement. We switched to that instead and it has been fun to be in the same room. When we arrived at 10am she was still sleeping. She had switched to that room the night before because it was 10 degrees cooler than the sweltering upstairs room. Gabe and I checked out the room and really liked it... except for... that will have to wait for the next list.
We had a 3 hour nap while Wyona went to get us show tickets. Then at 2:30pm she and Gabe saw Billy Elliot and I went to Once at 3pm. Oh, Once was so beautiful. What talented musicians/singers/actors. Is it ok to cry in a show when you are by yourself? I wondered if Gabe was crying at all the right parts in Billy Elliot. He loved it and spent the evening singing 'Solidarity'. He also bought a hoody with Billy Elliot London on it, he loves that jacket already.
We met at Trafalgar Square after our shows. There was some big screen Opera event being set up, the crowds were already converging, and we snagged 6 free inflatable seat cushions before going to find a bite to eat before our next show. Always resourceful, those Pilling Aunts! I'm just not sure they will get used before we return to Canada, so far we haven't sat long enough to have sore bums that need seat cushions.
We took a 'rickshaw' ride to our next performance (more on that later), and we saw Merrily We Roll Along. I was pleasantly surprised at how much I enjoyed it. A little too adult-themed for Gabe's understanding, but he still enjoyed the musical numbers. Gabe and Wyona went back to the hotel room during the interval (intermission), he was so tired... he put on a brave face, but with only 3 hours sleep in the past 36 hours, he was fading fast. The best number was in the second half. When they started singing The Blob, I was laughing so hard I had tears in my eyes, yet another show I cried in.
I went to Trocadero on my way home... what a lively place at 11pm! Took the tube back to the hotel room, called home to see how Art, Zack and Audra were doing, then slept soundly until 8:30 a.m. the next morning. Oh yeah, those two were still awake watching Waterworld on tv when I got back to the hotel, so we didn't go to sleep until 1 a.m.
What a wonderful first day... although now for the post about all that went wrong...
Showing posts with label grandchildren. Show all posts
Showing posts with label grandchildren. Show all posts
Friday, 19 July 2013
Sunday, 29 January 2012
Thriller
On sea days Moiya, Wyona and I are looking for something to do.
In the ship’s daily newspaper called the Compass I read, "come and learn to dance the Thriller".
On the list of things to choose that I call “Things I Might Not Do Otherwise”, that item was in the top three. Wyona and I were on the dance floor for the first lesson and Moiya joined us for the second lesson.
We should have known something was unusual when the dance directors wanted to know our stateroom phone numbers and when we were handed out two pages of instructions about the dance moves. At the end of the second lesson they said that the Thriller dance number was going to be peformed before one of the evening events called the Quest, and that we would be getting front seats in payment for our performance.
That is when Moiya and about 8 others of the dancers went to the side saying we/they were opting out. The cruise staff are adept at twisting arms and giving positive feed back: don’t worry, we will be in the front line for you to follow; no one will be noticing you through the smoke and strobe lights; people who have done this before on other ships have said the performance was one of their cruise highlights.
This didn’t seem possible to me. In the first place, I had been on a previous cruise and the participants that time had been given 5 hours of practise, not the 3 that our shortened cruise had assigned for the dance practise. I told Wyona the next morning that I couldn’t sleep all night, waking all night to practise in my mind all of the phrases I could remember – boogie to the left, boogie to the left, swim, swim, turn to the thriller pose, etc., imaging where my feet would be going. She laughed and said she was having nightmares – that she was mad at the cruise dance directors because they had changed the steps and so she had mutinied and got a group of the other dancers to agree with her that they would do it the old way ... against the wishes of the instructors.
In real life, Moiya was absolutely OUT – with every excuse in the world. She folded (but just barely) to group pressure and stayed in, if she were to be allowed the middle spot in the chorus line-up, – thinking that there she would be hidden the most from the view of the audience.
Alex came to the pre-performance practise – in the ice rink where a floor slips over the ice so that there is a place for dancing and for the quest events that were to follow.
Alex filmed us on the video of Wyona’s camera – a clip worthy of u-tube.
Here is the problem for the three of us – we know no Michael Jackson songs – not even Thriller, nor have we watched the Thriller videos.
As Moiya whispered to me weeks later, “Why would I have the lyrics to any of the Jackson tunes in my mind. Twenty years ago I put that music in the category of wickedness that I should never listen to."
The three of us persisted on board, practising our moves in the cabin, pre and post breakfast, lunch and dinner.
When we reached the point of the final choreographic touches to the dance (a place none of us thought the others would reach) Wyona was identified as a confident looking dancer and assigned a place in the back of the line – which at one point turns into the front of the line -- an assignment that made her shoulders slump and her feet stamp a bit and her head shake in disbelief, but what could she do? Look confident! The reward is front line billing – at least when the back line turns into the front and the front to the back.
“Nope,” she said. “We seem to be the only ones in the theatre that are hearing these words for the first time. We are listening cold. The rest of the audience is hot – look at them silently mouthing the words along with the singers.”
After the intermission we were changed. Perhaps it was the Pepsi we drank. But we were actually, entranced. I wonder at this moment what the word transmogrified means, for that word pops into my mind about us. The lyrics, the dancing, the miming, the band, the gymnastics, the costuming, -- magical moments on stage. A fantastic show. Following the audience’s wild clapping and cheering at the end of the show, the cast did a reprise – many more numbers – among them, the Thriller song and the moves that Moiya and I had learned on the boat. People in the boxes were standing, their bodies swaying, doing all of the steps that the cast was doing on stage. Moiya joined in, doing the moves we had learned on the boat, her feet stamping and her hands clapping – the deadman walk, the steps where the head and shoulder meet to simulate a tick, the lion pose – I was crying, I was laughing so hard watching her.
Moiya wants me to mention that Thriller is not really a show with a plot. All they do is play Michael Jackson songs which are both sung and choreographed. There is a child who comes onstage at first, singing one of Jackson’s earlier songs. And there is another figure that looks like Jackson as an older performer ... but no plot line ... just the songs.On the way home in the subway, we began to plan our costuming which is going to go over the top the next time we get on a boat and there is a chance to perform the Thriller dance. In fact, we were five long tube stops past the place we should have alighted to get the Northern Line home by the time we stopped our conversation and tried to think of how we were going to get home. Moiya was right. There is mortal danger in being Michael Jacksonized.
Move on a few weeks – to yesterday. Wyona left Woodside Lane for Calgary. Moiya and I left Woodside Lane for downtown London, wondering which of the yet unseen West End Musicals we could add to our agenda. We slipped into the theatre where Thriller is staged, not believing that we would get a ticket since Wyona has been there many times and she had never been able to get tickets. But the stars were in alignment – we got producer tickets, right in the middle of the theatre, about 8 rows from the front for the very cheap price of £32.50. We warmed up to the ambiance we could feel in the crowd in the first part of the show, though we napped a bit. I turned to her and asked, “Moiya? Do you know any of the songs. Ever heard “Dirty Diana” or “Bad” before?”
In the ship’s daily newspaper called the Compass I read, "come and learn to dance the Thriller".
On the list of things to choose that I call “Things I Might Not Do Otherwise”, that item was in the top three. Wyona and I were on the dance floor for the first lesson and Moiya joined us for the second lesson.
We should have known something was unusual when the dance directors wanted to know our stateroom phone numbers and when we were handed out two pages of instructions about the dance moves. At the end of the second lesson they said that the Thriller dance number was going to be peformed before one of the evening events called the Quest, and that we would be getting front seats in payment for our performance.
That is when Moiya and about 8 others of the dancers went to the side saying we/they were opting out. The cruise staff are adept at twisting arms and giving positive feed back: don’t worry, we will be in the front line for you to follow; no one will be noticing you through the smoke and strobe lights; people who have done this before on other ships have said the performance was one of their cruise highlights.
This didn’t seem possible to me. In the first place, I had been on a previous cruise and the participants that time had been given 5 hours of practise, not the 3 that our shortened cruise had assigned for the dance practise. I told Wyona the next morning that I couldn’t sleep all night, waking all night to practise in my mind all of the phrases I could remember – boogie to the left, boogie to the left, swim, swim, turn to the thriller pose, etc., imaging where my feet would be going. She laughed and said she was having nightmares – that she was mad at the cruise dance directors because they had changed the steps and so she had mutinied and got a group of the other dancers to agree with her that they would do it the old way ... against the wishes of the instructors.
 |
| Jewellery compliments of Seattles Best Coffee Shoppe |
In real life, Moiya was absolutely OUT – with every excuse in the world. She folded (but just barely) to group pressure and stayed in, if she were to be allowed the middle spot in the chorus line-up, – thinking that there she would be hidden the most from the view of the audience.
Alex came to the pre-performance practise – in the ice rink where a floor slips over the ice so that there is a place for dancing and for the quest events that were to follow.
Alex filmed us on the video of Wyona’s camera – a clip worthy of u-tube.
Here is the problem for the three of us – we know no Michael Jackson songs – not even Thriller, nor have we watched the Thriller videos.
 |
| 3 of Royal Caribbean's Independence of the Seas most talented dancers |
As Moiya whispered to me weeks later, “Why would I have the lyrics to any of the Jackson tunes in my mind. Twenty years ago I put that music in the category of wickedness that I should never listen to."
The three of us persisted on board, practising our moves in the cabin, pre and post breakfast, lunch and dinner.
When we reached the point of the final choreographic touches to the dance (a place none of us thought the others would reach) Wyona was identified as a confident looking dancer and assigned a place in the back of the line – which at one point turns into the front of the line -- an assignment that made her shoulders slump and her feet stamp a bit and her head shake in disbelief, but what could she do? Look confident! The reward is front line billing – at least when the back line turns into the front and the front to the back.
“Nope,” she said. “We seem to be the only ones in the theatre that are hearing these words for the first time. We are listening cold. The rest of the audience is hot – look at them silently mouthing the words along with the singers.”
After the intermission we were changed. Perhaps it was the Pepsi we drank. But we were actually, entranced. I wonder at this moment what the word transmogrified means, for that word pops into my mind about us. The lyrics, the dancing, the miming, the band, the gymnastics, the costuming, -- magical moments on stage. A fantastic show. Following the audience’s wild clapping and cheering at the end of the show, the cast did a reprise – many more numbers – among them, the Thriller song and the moves that Moiya and I had learned on the boat. People in the boxes were standing, their bodies swaying, doing all of the steps that the cast was doing on stage. Moiya joined in, doing the moves we had learned on the boat, her feet stamping and her hands clapping – the deadman walk, the steps where the head and shoulder meet to simulate a tick, the lion pose – I was crying, I was laughing so hard watching her.
 |
| Image from Website |
Moiya wants me to mention that Thriller is not really a show with a plot. All they do is play Michael Jackson songs which are both sung and choreographed. There is a child who comes onstage at first, singing one of Jackson’s earlier songs. And there is another figure that looks like Jackson as an older performer ... but no plot line ... just the songs.On the way home in the subway, we began to plan our costuming which is going to go over the top the next time we get on a boat and there is a chance to perform the Thriller dance. In fact, we were five long tube stops past the place we should have alighted to get the Northern Line home by the time we stopped our conversation and tried to think of how we were going to get home. Moiya was right. There is mortal danger in being Michael Jacksonized.
Move on a few weeks – to yesterday. Wyona left Woodside Lane for Calgary. Moiya and I left Woodside Lane for downtown London, wondering which of the yet unseen West End Musicals we could add to our agenda. We slipped into the theatre where Thriller is staged, not believing that we would get a ticket since Wyona has been there many times and she had never been able to get tickets. But the stars were in alignment – we got producer tickets, right in the middle of the theatre, about 8 rows from the front for the very cheap price of £32.50. We warmed up to the ambiance we could feel in the crowd in the first part of the show, though we napped a bit. I turned to her and asked, “Moiya? Do you know any of the songs. Ever heard “Dirty Diana” or “Bad” before?”
Friday, 4 June 2010
Britrail - To the Summit with Snowdon Moutain Railroad
Today’s plan was to be in Chester by 9 am, in Bangor, Wales by 10 and in Mount Snowdonia National Park in the afternoon.
Wyona and I have lightened the luggage.
I can lift the carry-on luggage with one finger now.
For the last three days we have been packing 2 carry-on’s, 2 bags, 2 purses and one camera case.
Each day we bring along a couple of 2 litre bottles of ginger ale in case I get sick – which is better than bringing along a whole medicine kit, but dragging that around all day in our luggage as a preventative measure is only increasing the muscle strength of the person who is dragging the suitcase.
Don’t follow us when it comes to moving through our train itinerary.
We took the Virgin Train Line today, an early morning ride.
We have been travelling the Britrail choices now for 14 days and today we discovered this line serves a beautiful warm breakfast and salad and sandwiches for lunch. I told Wyona that clinches it. Our final day will be all Virgin Railroad trips – I don’t care where the train is going now. I only care that we go in style all day.
“You won’t get there any faster than by going with me.”
That is what the bus driver of the Red Rover told Wyona when she asked for directions on how to get to the railroad.
For the price of £4.80 to him, the two of us could go from the train station in Bangor to Llanoberis, home of the Snowdon Mountain Railroad line.
He was comfortable driving at break-neck speeds around tight corners and comfortable with putting his feet on the gas and on the brake with equal speed, though it was hard to tell how the rhythm of that punctuation between fast and slow would be created.
Wyona was moving the luggage into a secure place in front of our seats when he hit the brakes, and she shot down the isle, one hand remaining on the bar of the cage she was moving the luggage to, but the rest of her body jolting in the isle.
She stabilized herself with one arm and when she quit swinging I said to her, “One more place on your body that hurts.”
“My only solution is to take more pain killers,” she said.
At the Llanberis ticket office was a sign rolling along their electronic marquee: “All trains sold for the day.”
“All trains fully booked” was the text written on the sandwich board beside the ticket wicket as well.
“Any possible chance of a ticket for today,” said Wyona.
“No,” was the reply.
“Then how about tomorrow,” she said. “We have come from Canada to go on this railroad and we have two more possible days. “
“I can give you tomorrow at 12:30 pm,” the ticket master said.
“Fine,” she said. “We can make it back here from London at that time. We did it today. See, it is 12:27, so we can make it."
He picked up the phone and spoke with someone using his Welsh dialect. “Here,” he continued to her. “How many tickets to you need. I can give you two for today at 2:30 pm.
“Are they good seats?” she said.
“The very best. Guard seats.”
So we sat in the front cab with the man who checks that the timing of the train is just right, that it is on the right track and his third job is to keep the loud speaker going that gives the description of what is happening around every corner.
My favourite line?
“You are going to see five kingdoms when you get to the top of the mountain: the Kingdom of Wales, the Kingdom of England, the Kingdom of Scotland, the Kingdom of Ireland and the fifth? The Kingdom of Heaven.”
The train slowed down to a stop when a new lamb whose mother was at its side, only hustled down the track, instead of hustling off of the track.
"They get shorn in July," said that guard who was with us.
The gulls swooped and soared at the top of the mountain.
The gorges were deep, the cliffs high, the valley’s miles, beneath us
One hundred and fifty thousand people take this train ride every year.
“I walked it one year,” said the female conductor.
“I couldn’t walk for one week afterward,” she continued.
I walked it also, said a man – in the winter and we took along a guide dog to help preserve our lives.
Wyona and I had read our guidebooks, the ones that told us to dress for the cold weather. So we had seaters, scarves, gloves, our black all weather jackets and our umbrellas. All of that was a mistake. The weather was lovely and warm.
We peeled off the layering of clothing.
I got a sunburn.
We call the seats we had in the carriage, the royal seating for our view was the view from the cab.
How lucky was that.
Love,
Arta
Wyona and I have lightened the luggage.
I can lift the carry-on luggage with one finger now.
For the last three days we have been packing 2 carry-on’s, 2 bags, 2 purses and one camera case.
Each day we bring along a couple of 2 litre bottles of ginger ale in case I get sick – which is better than bringing along a whole medicine kit, but dragging that around all day in our luggage as a preventative measure is only increasing the muscle strength of the person who is dragging the suitcase.
Don’t follow us when it comes to moving through our train itinerary.
We took the Virgin Train Line today, an early morning ride.
We have been travelling the Britrail choices now for 14 days and today we discovered this line serves a beautiful warm breakfast and salad and sandwiches for lunch. I told Wyona that clinches it. Our final day will be all Virgin Railroad trips – I don’t care where the train is going now. I only care that we go in style all day.“You won’t get there any faster than by going with me.”
That is what the bus driver of the Red Rover told Wyona when she asked for directions on how to get to the railroad.
For the price of £4.80 to him, the two of us could go from the train station in Bangor to Llanoberis, home of the Snowdon Mountain Railroad line. He was comfortable driving at break-neck speeds around tight corners and comfortable with putting his feet on the gas and on the brake with equal speed, though it was hard to tell how the rhythm of that punctuation between fast and slow would be created.
Wyona was moving the luggage into a secure place in front of our seats when he hit the brakes, and she shot down the isle, one hand remaining on the bar of the cage she was moving the luggage to, but the rest of her body jolting in the isle. She stabilized herself with one arm and when she quit swinging I said to her, “One more place on your body that hurts.”
“My only solution is to take more pain killers,” she said.
At the Llanberis ticket office was a sign rolling along their electronic marquee: “All trains sold for the day.”
“All trains fully booked” was the text written on the sandwich board beside the ticket wicket as well.
“Any possible chance of a ticket for today,” said Wyona.
“No,” was the reply.
“Then how about tomorrow,” she said. “We have come from Canada to go on this railroad and we have two more possible days. “
“I can give you tomorrow at 12:30 pm,” the ticket master said.“Fine,” she said. “We can make it back here from London at that time. We did it today. See, it is 12:27, so we can make it."
He picked up the phone and spoke with someone using his Welsh dialect. “Here,” he continued to her. “How many tickets to you need. I can give you two for today at 2:30 pm.
“Are they good seats?” she said.
“The very best. Guard seats.”
So we sat in the front cab with the man who checks that the timing of the train is just right, that it is on the right track and his third job is to keep the loud speaker going that gives the description of what is happening around every corner.My favourite line?
“You are going to see five kingdoms when you get to the top of the mountain: the Kingdom of Wales, the Kingdom of England, the Kingdom of Scotland, the Kingdom of Ireland and the fifth? The Kingdom of Heaven.”
The train slowed down to a stop when a new lamb whose mother was at its side, only hustled down the track, instead of hustling off of the track."They get shorn in July," said that guard who was with us.
The gulls swooped and soared at the top of the mountain.
The gorges were deep, the cliffs high, the valley’s miles, beneath usOne hundred and fifty thousand people take this train ride every year.
“I walked it one year,” said the female conductor.
“I couldn’t walk for one week afterward,” she continued.
I walked it also, said a man – in the winter and we took along a guide dog to help preserve our lives.
Wyona and I had read our guidebooks, the ones that told us to dress for the cold weather. So we had seaters, scarves, gloves, our black all weather jackets and our umbrellas. All of that was a mistake. The weather was lovely and warm.
We peeled off the layering of clothing.
I got a sunburn.
We call the seats we had in the carriage, the royal seating for our view was the view from the cab.
How lucky was that.
Love,
Arta
Tuesday, 18 May 2010
Grandma's Grip in the Grande Place
Charise moved to Belgium when she was 3 months old and moved to Cleveland 3 1/2 years later.
She wondered if going back to Stokelle, visiting the street when she grew up would bring back any old hidden childhood memories.
The trip didn't work as far as the flood of old memories theory went. B
ut it was the reason that Wyona, Alicia, Charise and I took the Chunnel to Brussels for a two-night, three-day visit.
We were an hour late boarding the Eurostar when the difficulty of an on-time departure was explained in terms of a fire alarm in the chunnel along with the words, you can rebook if you like, since we have no idea how the delay will be.
The present travel culture for Canadians has been plane flights with long delays because of the volcanic ash in the air. Before I knew it, Wyona had our tickets stamped for a quick exit and a guard leading us out of the secure area and into the travel centre for a rebooking.
If we had been a little slower we would have been on the train, for the problem was fixed and the train boarded just as we left the secure area. We didn't have a guard to lead us back into the boarding area, so we went through rebooking and arrived 5 hours later than anticipated in Brussels, but we still arrived.
And yes, on the trip through the tunnel we did smell the smoke from a fire.
On our trip we found out that David Pilling and Alicia Bates have something important in common.
They both like meat.
In fact, life is better for them as carnivores.
But in Brussels there is an exquisite frites spot called Maison Antoinnes where the fries are wrapped in paper cones, and the sauce aux tartar sprinkled liberally on top.
Even that event couldn't peak Alicia's interest in potatoes.
Wyona ordered 3 large frits. The servor told her that she couldn't have large, only medium.
"We are four people," she replied.
"Medium is enough for four," he responded in French.
Of course he was right.
And more especially right for we had breakfast that morning on the 9th floor of the NH Hotel Grande Place where we stayed.
This breakfast started out with a silver lining, as you can see from the grey sky in the distance. Still we could see most of the north side of the city from the hotel terrace.
The sound was good as well for we were hearing the chimes calling people to church, the sound of jets going through the grey sky, and the chirping of the birds in the air.
And we practised using our utensils in different ways, holding them first American style and then European style.
Notice the fork in the waffle for the snapshot which I did not see when I was taking the picture.
Which style is that?
I do not want to give people the impression that we are having fun here, when we are not.
For example, Wyona is under strict instructions from Teaque to see that Alicia goes to all of the town squares and museums that he saw when he was young.
So when we got to the Grande Place, Wyona went to the Town Hall and bought the self-guide book that tells what is happening in each of the buildings as far as the guilds were concerned in the sixteenth century. By building number 8 Alicia was loosing interest.
So Charise had to hold the guide book. At the same time, Wyona pointed with one of her arms at the point of interest in which we were to direct our attention. And as you can see from the picture, Wyona held Alicia's arm with her other hand, preventing Alicia's escape from Teaque's assignment for Wyona -- to see everything in the Grande Square that he had probably also been forced to observe.
In the end the stragegy worked for soon we all had our cameras in our hands.
We saw the medallions that told where the bricklayers had their guilds.
We saw the sculpture of Romulus and Remus drinking from a she-wolf.
We saw a plaque commemorating the building where Victor Hugo lived when he had been expelled from his own country.
Behind Wyona's head is the commemorative brass plate -- but now I can't even tell that there is a lady working sewing machine there -- which I thought was appropriate when I was taking the picture. My camera shake must have shook that detail right out of the picture.
Love,
Arta
She wondered if going back to Stokelle, visiting the street when she grew up would bring back any old hidden childhood memories.
The trip didn't work as far as the flood of old memories theory went. B
ut it was the reason that Wyona, Alicia, Charise and I took the Chunnel to Brussels for a two-night, three-day visit.
We were an hour late boarding the Eurostar when the difficulty of an on-time departure was explained in terms of a fire alarm in the chunnel along with the words, you can rebook if you like, since we have no idea how the delay will be.
The present travel culture for Canadians has been plane flights with long delays because of the volcanic ash in the air. Before I knew it, Wyona had our tickets stamped for a quick exit and a guard leading us out of the secure area and into the travel centre for a rebooking.
If we had been a little slower we would have been on the train, for the problem was fixed and the train boarded just as we left the secure area. We didn't have a guard to lead us back into the boarding area, so we went through rebooking and arrived 5 hours later than anticipated in Brussels, but we still arrived.
And yes, on the trip through the tunnel we did smell the smoke from a fire.
On our trip we found out that David Pilling and Alicia Bates have something important in common. They both like meat.
In fact, life is better for them as carnivores.
But in Brussels there is an exquisite frites spot called Maison Antoinnes where the fries are wrapped in paper cones, and the sauce aux tartar sprinkled liberally on top.
Even that event couldn't peak Alicia's interest in potatoes.
Wyona ordered 3 large frits. The servor told her that she couldn't have large, only medium.
"We are four people," she replied.
"Medium is enough for four," he responded in French.
Of course he was right.
And more especially right for we had breakfast that morning on the 9th floor of the NH Hotel Grande Place where we stayed.
This breakfast started out with a silver lining, as you can see from the grey sky in the distance. Still we could see most of the north side of the city from the hotel terrace.The sound was good as well for we were hearing the chimes calling people to church, the sound of jets going through the grey sky, and the chirping of the birds in the air.
And we practised using our utensils in different ways, holding them first American style and then European style.
Notice the fork in the waffle for the snapshot which I did not see when I was taking the picture.
Which style is that?
I do not want to give people the impression that we are having fun here, when we are not.
For example, Wyona is under strict instructions from Teaque to see that Alicia goes to all of the town squares and museums that he saw when he was young.
So when we got to the Grande Place, Wyona went to the Town Hall and bought the self-guide book that tells what is happening in each of the buildings as far as the guilds were concerned in the sixteenth century. By building number 8 Alicia was loosing interest.
So Charise had to hold the guide book. At the same time, Wyona pointed with one of her arms at the point of interest in which we were to direct our attention. And as you can see from the picture, Wyona held Alicia's arm with her other hand, preventing Alicia's escape from Teaque's assignment for Wyona -- to see everything in the Grande Square that he had probably also been forced to observe.In the end the stragegy worked for soon we all had our cameras in our hands.
We saw the medallions that told where the bricklayers had their guilds.
We saw the sculpture of Romulus and Remus drinking from a she-wolf.
We saw a plaque commemorating the building where Victor Hugo lived when he had been expelled from his own country.Behind Wyona's head is the commemorative brass plate -- but now I can't even tell that there is a lady working sewing machine there -- which I thought was appropriate when I was taking the picture. My camera shake must have shook that detail right out of the picture.
Love,
Arta
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