Day 18: Passports!

We woke up for the day of our flight, still no passports in our hands. The tracking showed that my passport has left Ellicott City’s post office, and Julia’s passport has left the post office in Baltimore.

Julia drove to her sister’s house in Baltimore to wait for hers, while I stayed in her parents’ house waiting for mine.

Express mail is guaranteed to arrive by noon. At half past twelve I was already engaged in a pointless conversation with the post office (me: “where is the envelope that I was supposed to get by noon?!”. Lady: “sir, we just got it today!”).

I called Julia, to see how she was doing, and as we were both sighing on both sides of the line, she started yelling “somebody just knocked on the door!”. A minute later she called me and reported live the opening of the envelope and the revealing of the visa page in the passport.

She came back to her parents’ house and we had lunch with her parents who were working from home in order to take us to the airport, but it was already two o’clock, and my passport’s location was still a mystery. In an act that I interpret as “I can handle my daughter leaving, but not leaving her terrible boyfriend in my house”, Julia’s mother called the post office and started yelling at them. Turns out that the envelope was left in their mail box. Julia and I ran outside and obtained my passport. Let me say this one last time: we had the two passports six and a half hours before we were moving to another continent.

So I’m writing this from the airport in Washington DC, and we fly in one hour. We stop in Iceland for an 18 hours layover. The plan is to rent a car and drive a little bit, and then continue to France. We can’t believe we made it. Really, we can’t.

There are, however, two more days of adventures until we finally settle down in our new home in Paris. Stay tuned.

I will leave you with something to think about – take a look at the sign for the chapel house in the airport. Is it just me, or does this sign portrays a child preparing to give a blow-job?

Day 17: Train wreck

We were both a nervous wreck when we woke up. We fly to Paris the next day, and we still don’t have our passports. We called lady B, and she said she didn’t go to the consulate to look for our passports, since they haven’t returned her email. This was one of those times when my implosive Israeli side has to battle his well-trained American counterpart. “It was my understanding that you are not waiting for their response, and just planned to go there. Our flight is tomorrow. I’m not sure I communicate well how stressed we are.” Let me translate to this my Israeli friends: “would you get your fat ass up and MOVE!”. As you can see, I have learned a lot during my two years here.

Lady B. had a brilliant idea – she would cancel her meetings and go to the consulate. Duh. An hour later we got the report: Julia’s passport was sent the day before. That’s already weird and distrurbing, since we can’t track the envelope on-line. Please don’t tell me they have lost it. The good news about this were that lady B read to me the tracking number as was given to her by the consulate, and it was the same number we had, so somebody had a visual on that envelope at some point. Well, whatever. Where’s MY passport?

“Ah,” said lady B. “I have it! They didn’t want to sign you visa because.. (something about a missing document) so I told them it’s OK, they approved it, and gave me your passport which I will send you right away!”

The fascinating thing here is that if we hadn’t insisted the she goes herself, that morning, without waiting to be invited, to the consulate – I would have never known there’s a problem. My passport would have not been sent to me, with or without a visa. I would just be sitting like an idiot in Baltimore waiting for something interesting to happen. I couldn’t believe it.

So now we wait for the envelopes. In the meantime, we went to the Baltimore railroad museum:

Lot’s of trains, lot’s of history of trains, two very big mode train layouts. Not enough technology to my taste, but it’s still a pretty cool place:

In the afternoon we checked our envelopes trackings, and it was bad. My envelope was already tracked, but Julia’s wasn’t. It’s either somebody in the consulate is just being lazy taking the box with letters to the post office, our that the envelope is indeed lost. We called lady B. again. She was getting impatient, which really annoyed me, because patience and support were exactly the things I needed. She said that if the passport doesn’t show up by noon the next day, I should fly alone, and Julia will join me when the passport shows up. Very saddened, we started adjusting ourselves to the idea.

And just as we were about to turn the lights off at night, I decided to try just one last time. We couldn’t believe it – BOTH envelopes were tracked! Making their way to Maryland, and should be in our hands by noon, less than nine hours before the flight.

Day 15: Corning, NY

We started the day and went straight to the Corning Museum of Glass. Holy crap, that place is huge. There’s a contemporary art exhibition, a history of glass exhibition, an entire area dedicated to the science of glass and so much more. There were some live demos of artists, including two glass blowing demos. In one of these demos, kids submitted pictures and the staff made it for them. We got to see them make a lady bug – the kid was so happy!

Well, here are some pictures, naturally of glass musical instruments:

and finally, a glass chess board and pieces – Hasidic Jews Vs. Roman Catholics:

Other side:

On the Jewish side, please pay special attention to the dude waving a chicken over his head (Kaparot for Yom Kippur) anb the Mohel (the one circumcising a baby).

We practically had to force ourselves to leave. We started driving towards Baltimore. We got hungry pretty late, and local restaurants in… whatever town we were, were already closed. We decided to pop my KFC cherry, and yes, it hurt pretty bad. Who eats that crap, and why?

We spent the night at the Comfort Inn in Bethlehem PA. That’s pretty much it.

Day 13: Julia Joins

I woke up early and drove to Deer Isle. Julia packed her bags and the pieces she made during the workshops, we said our goodbyes and left. We stopped at Searsport for lunch, and we also bought a piece of blueberry pie which we ate an hour later as we were pumping gas. We then drove to Boston. Well, Julia was driving. I slept.

First stop in Boston was the Media Lab. We returned the camping equipment I borrowed, the stove and the cooler, to their rightful owners (thank you Andy B.! Thank you NovySan!) and then we drove to our old apartment, to fulfill the secret mission.

Before leaving Boston, We hid four boxes with our stuff in the basement of our building, and we made copies of the keys, so we can access the basement and get our stuff as we travel from Deer Isle to Maryland. I couldn’t take these with me on my first trip there simply because there was not enough room in the car. So there, this is the secret mission.

Sadly, it was raining when we arrived to Boston, and by the time we were carrying our stuff from the basement to the car, it was pouring. We were finally done with that, but the came the hard part – installing the bike-rack on the back of the car. By the time we were done, we were soaked.

It was pouring two years ago as well, when I arrived to Boston in the middle of the summer. Back then I was surprised. This time I just went like “yeah, thanks a lot, fucking Boston. Goodbye to you too!”.

We drove for about an hour in our wet close until we had enough. We pulled over in a service plaza, changed our clothes in the bathrooms. We drove some more until we hit Sturbridge MA. We found a cute restaurant called the Whistling Swan, where there was a guy singing with a guitar. The food was great too. We went back to the hotel and went to bed.

Day 12: Portland, Maine

I woke up at Gorham. When I talked to Julia on the phone on the previous night, she suggested I drive to Portland ME, and so I did. As I checked out from the motel I realized that a substantial percentage of the motel owners I ran into were Indians. I wonder why.

I passed this sign, and thought to my self that it is a small world, after all:

Portland was really cool. Very artsy, with very interesting people on the streets – I saw a group of youngsters, probably around their twenties. They had backpacks, sleeping bags and guitars. They were dressed in militant/cartoonish/apocalyptic attire, like dusty cargo pants and torn tank tops. Pretty much the way I used to dress when I was their age. One guy had on his shoulders a cat on a leash. I just had to follow them. They went off the main street into an alley that led to a parking lot. There they got into a tiny backyard of one of the building, where they stopped for water and smokes. I had to stop following them and move on. Oddly, I saw some more of these nomads later, some actually had frying pans dangling from their backpacks. Maybe there was a Mad Max fans conference. In town.

I passed by a bong store. One of the contractors/artists whose works are sold in the store also had this glass laser gun for sale:

Then I stopped at Monument Square in the downtown area, where a live music show was starting. They band was really good, and the guitar player reminded me of the guitar player for the Girafot, Mr. Erez Russo. You be the judge:

I then left Portland. On the way, I passed this gas station. Something was just ending there that looked like a modified cars expo. Everybody was getting ready to leave, but I still managed to get some pictures:

I drove some more until I got to Belfast ME, which is just a couple of hours away from Deer Isle. I got a room at the Gull Motel, and then drove downtown, where I got some beer and food and watched the Korean women’s volleyball team getting their asses kicked by their American counterparts live from the London Olympics.

Day 9: Meeting at the consulate

We woke up early and drove to the train station, where we took the train to the Back Bay in Boston for our meeting in the French consulate. We were so disappointed to see that we waited all this time just so we can give our forms to some clerk. My fantasy of getting our visas on the same day was shattered. The clerk said that we might get our visas on time. Might. I was so frustrated.

We took the train back to Needham and started driving back to Deer Island. Well, Julia did most of the driving. I fell asleep.

We got back to Haystack just in time for a session in which the assistants showed and talked about their work, which I think are awesome. Then I stayed for a while to watch Julia blow glass. I can’t believe I haven’t done this until now. I tried taking some pictures, but also stay out of the way, and also I was so intrigued by the process, so most the pictures that I took were pretty bad. Maybe except this one:

I left after about an hour, and drove to Bucksport, this time without getting lost. I got a room at a motel there, and decided to check why the car smelled funny. Indeed, I forgot a piece of cheese in the cooler. The ice melted and dissolved some of the cheese, so now the contented of the cooker was a lot of cheese water, a swollen chunk of rotten cheese, three bottles of beer covered in cheese water, and some disgusting plastic bags. There’s something symbolic there, with the disappointment at the French consulate and the rotten cheese in the car. I took the cooler to my room, where I cleaned it with dish soap, took the rotten cheese chunk and threw it in the forest behind the motel, washed the bottles of beer and packed the plastic bags in a clean trash bag. The hazard was now contained. I took that bag with me as I drove into Bucksport to look for a pub. I couldn’t find one, but I threw the hazard into a trash can on the street and went back to the motel where I watched trash TV until I fell asleep.

Day 4: Made it to Baltimore!

Today I mostly drove. I had a lot of driving to do in order to make it to Baltimore on a reasonable hour.

I’m not completely sure whether this is due to missing a turn or not, but I did end up driving through NYC. Manhattan, to be more specific. Of course I got stuck in traffic, and then I noticed that I’m not doing very well on gas. The fact that the gas meter was dropping rapidly while I was on a narrow, one lane bridge caused me a minor heart attack, but somehow I made it through, got out of NYC, and stopped for fuel at Paterson, NJ. It didn’t seem like the best place in the world, but I still wanted to park and hang out. Only when I realized I don’t have any quarters for the parking meter, I decided to drive on.

I stopped for lunch at Newark, NJ, in a Jamaican, well, place. they sell food and tickets for Reggae concerts. I had brownstew (?) chicken with rice and beans and some cabbage salad. That was pretty good. It was fun watching everybody play “don’t-stare-at-the-bald-white-guy”.

Next, I left the highway to visit Bethlehem PA. No special reason. turns out there’s an awsome music festival there soon. Other than that everything I ran into was closed. Maybe I didn’t go deep enough into the city, but I didn’t find it too exciting.

The rest of the drive through Pennsylvania was beautiful. I passed through small place like Kutztown, which looks just as cute as its name sounds. There’s a fair there on the 13th, which means we might catch it on our way from Maine to Maryland right before our flight.

I stopped for some coffee, ehem, somewhere, which was good since I got to witness this little place:

Witty, isn’t it?

And about an hour or two later I made it to Julia’s sister’s place in Baltimore, MD. Since her sister was not back yet from work, I took a seat on the bar in Dimitri’s Tavern, right around the corner. They serve peanuts, but there are no bowls for the shells. People just use the floor:

Also, a beer is only 1.75! I had three beers, and then went to Julia’s sister’s place, where I unloaded our stuff. Success!

Day 3: Goodbye Boston

Today, was so stressful… I slept so bad last night, mostly because I went to bed drunk, but also since I had to sleep on the old sofa. Arggghh! The damn sofa! As I was waiting for Eyal (also known in the Lab as “the OTHER Eyal”, since I got to the lab first) I found in may email inbox some good news - we have a contract for the apartment in Paris. The bad news - I had to pay the fees to the agency, and my credit cards would not let me spend that amount. So I made some phone calls and sent some emails and hopefully by tomorrow morning it will all be resolved. Why do I deserve all this stress?!

One noteworthy call was with my bank, as I was asking them to allow me to charge my visa with more money that I have.

- “Sir, you have a $1000 limit on your card.”

- “I know, that’s why I’m calling. I need more.”

- “Well, I can transfer money from your checking account to your Visa account”.

This is totally not the way things work in Israel. I’m so confused.

- “I think that’s exactly what I want”

- “How much do you need ?”

- “Like 900 something Euros.”

- “Sir, I need an exact number.”

- “Hold on, I have the email… I need 994.09 Euros.”

- “Sir, I can also transfer US dollars”

- “O.K., so however that much it is dollars”

- “Sir, I don’t know how much it is.”

Is she kidding? also, if she calls me “sir” one more time….

- “hold on, let me google that for you.”

I was so pleased with myself…

I was then comforted by some more good news - we have an appointment at the French consulate on Monday. We actually have one appointment for the both of us, which I think is a good sign: it means that the French dudes understand the urgency of our case.

The other Eyal came and helped me take the stupid sofa to his place, form where he’ll get rid of it on garbage collection day, basically saving my ass. In Israel it would have been so much easier getting rid of a couch. I’m not sure what that implies about Israel. Or America.

Now the apartment was finally empty, and it was time to return the keys to the landlady. I also gave her a cup Julia made as a present, and in return she gave me some fruit for the road:

I really don’t know what the small things are. She said they’re Chinese. I believe her (Edit - they turned out to be lichees, with a peel that is much darker than I’m used to).

I started driving towards Maryland. I stopped for lunch at Harry’s, in Westborough, MA. I got the “Boneless chicken breast deluxe”, also known in Israel as Schintzel.

Then I drove some more - a lot more actually. I made a stop in a visitor center, right at the border of Connecticut. There I saw a gate that said “Please close gate behind you”. That means you can go through! I went in to discover a catch-and-release trout fishing area. Being the only only one around, I started walking along the riverbank, and after ten minutes or so sat down, got a book from my backpack, and read for a while.

Yeah, I know it’s very pretty. I was also thinking how in Israel, a place like this would be a big thing: ooh - water! and green trees! and we’d probably have some stories about this place from the time of the Romans, and the crusaders, and the war of Independence, and they would fence it and charge money at the entrance. Here, in America, it’s just a stream where you catch trout.

After getting tired of reading and getting bit by mosquitoes, I continued driving and ended up in Danbury, CT. After checking in at the local Super-8 motel I went to the Molly Darcy bar. It’s an Irish pub, with the heavy wood and the Irish bartender with heavy Irish accent complaining about his Irish health - the whole deal! Had a couple of beers and the spinach salad while I was watching the Olympics. In fact, two TV screens were showing the Olympics games - men basketball and women football (soccer, if you’re an American). on two other TV screens were more American sports - baseball and poker. The differences in the  appearances of the participants is astounding - everybody is so fit in basket ball and soccer. I don’t need to describe baseball players, football players, or, god forbid - poker. Makes you think, doesn’t it ? Are baseball and basketball more popular in America because you can play them even if you’re fat, or were these sports invented for an obese nation?

While we’re at it, am I the only one who finds it absurd that McDonald’s and Coca Cola sponsor the American Olympics teams?

How did I get into this mess?

The original plan seemed perfect: Julia goes away to a two-weeks glass blowing workshop in Haystack, a craft school in Deer Isle, Maine, while I go on a road trip. When we are done, I will pick her up, then we drive to her family in Maryland, and then fly to Paris, where we  both have four-months internships waiting for us, as we both graduated from the MIT Media Lab. Lovely, isn’t it?

Well, not exactly. somebody messed up. In fact, several people did, and as a result, we still don’t have our visas. worse - we don’t even have appointments in the French consulate to apply for visas. You are supposed to have your appointment at least two weeks before your flight. today is July 31. Our tickets are for August 15.

And so the new plan is:

1. drive Julia to Maine and drop her off
2. drive back to Boston and return the keys to the landlady, thus officially becoming homeless
3. drive to Maryland with our stuff to drop off at Julia’s sister’s place
4. hopefully, have an appointment by then
5. drive back to Maine, and pick up Julia
6. drive to Boston and apply for visa at the French consulate
7. drive to Maine, drop off Julia back at the workshop
8. drive around the states until the workshop is over
9. drive to Maine, pick up Julia
10. drive to Boston, for a secret mission, to be revealed here when accomplished
11. drive to Maryland, where we will stay for a couple of days
12. fly to France
13. live happily ever after

I will try to post here at least once a day, and since this is the second day of this adventure, this post doesn’t count, I owe you two more posts. here we go.