Road trip no. 1, or Mini in the snow

Well I suppose we should've expected it -- snow in Vermont just before Easter that is. Susan and I left Dick and Dorothy's house about 9 a.m. Wednesday under cloudy and chilly skies with a hint of rain in the air. After our requisite stop at the Barnes & Noble in Ingleside just off the Mass Pike and on I-91, where we browsed and lingered before heading back north. We had generally smooth weather with a few showers. Of course this being Vermont that was about to change.

By the time we crossed the state line into southern Vermont we saw our first wet snow swirling around the little Mini. And by the time we reached Ludlow and the Green Mountains the roads had become coated with wet, icy slush amidst the driving wet snow, and north of town as the route 103 climbed the mountains traffic slowed to a crawl.

We saw no plow trucks anywhere but between Ludlow and the edge of Rutland we saw one car flipped off the road and a truck that had also lost control and run into a power line. Pretty nasty to be sure.

Lacking snow tires or chains the little Mini handled the snow just fine -- better than I did that's for sure -- and we were soon pulling into the city where the roads were, for the moment, just wet. But we soon started to hear reports that more snow predicted for later that night. And of course the predictions proved right.

Our original plan had been to stay with our friend Winnie Wednesday and Thursday nights but by the late afternoon Wednesday it was clear the weather had taken a very nasty turn. And since Winnie lives way up in the wild mountain fastness of Chittenden where the roads can frequently disappear for days on end beneath tons of snow we opted to spend the night in the city. So we got a room at a nearby Best Western (the old Hogge Penny from our Chittenden days).

And snow we got -- Winnie said the next day they received 14 inches up in Chittenden and Rutland probably got a half a foot or so. The snow continued as showers off and on throughout Thursday so we decided to just stay at the hotel through Friday morning.

The weather notwithstanding our 48 hours in Rutland went quickly: we cleaned out our safety deposit box, dropped the computer off with Billy D to have him do some preventive maintenance, we both paid a visit to the dentist, Susie visited the hospital and spent some time catching up with old friends there, and of course dropped by Mr. Twitters to see Becky and Joe.

We also too the opportunity to eat at two of our favorite places: Little Harry's on Wednesday evening where we met with Jack and Pat Facey, and caught up on lives in transition; and then on Thursday at Countryman's Pleasure with Winnie -- always the source of wonderful stories and lots of laughs. What a smile she keeps on her heart. The food was good, the company great and the weather cold and wintry. But it's Vermont after all.

Friday morning dawned clear, very cold with a blue sky and hints of overcast lingering among the mountains. We showered, dressed and checked out of the hotel and drove a couple of kilometers to Sugar n' Spice where we met our old friend Harris for breakfast. It was great catching up with him -- his life too is in flux as he moves toward realizing a lifelong dream of sailing and living in the Caribbean. A wonderful man and always an enjoyable companion to spend a little time sharing a few moments of life.

It was strange being back in Rutland. I'm not sure how exactly why. It seemed as if we were visiting a place we were only familiar with in a broadly general sense, a place we had traveled to often in the past but only in a casual way. Plenty of memories hovered around the edges of street names to be sure but we felt almost as if we had just been on an extended vacation here of a dozen years, just passing through.

And so we were.

Steve

Leaving Paris and a new car

On 2 April, we borrowed Dick's car and drove first to the insurance agent in Whitnsville, then to Peabody Mini north of Boston where we took delivery of a new Chili red Mini Cooper. Here's a quick peek:

Ciao,

Steve

Limbo

Douglas, MA. -- Susan and I spent the better part of Sunday and Monday adjusting to the time difference and to our surroundings; the one much easier to achieve than the other.

It was nice to be among familiar and friendly faces to be sure and without a doubt Dick and his wife Dorothy have made our transition from Europe to the US that much easier. They spent the next 48 hours of their limited schedules seeing that we were fed, watered and bedded down in comfort and style.

Sunday began with a promise of gorgeous weather and we just hung out enjoying the warmth of a bright sun in their new sunroom (very aptly named). The rain began later in the evening and the weather pretty much remained chilly, damp and dreary through Monday.

After our respite on Sunday we began our process of reintegration bright and early on Monday: we were going to pick up our new car. I took Dick to school early so that we could use his car to get to the car dealership located north of Boston in Peabody, Massachusetts.

A little after 9 a.m. Susie and I headed off in a persistant light drizzle to meet with Dick's insurance agent in Whitinsville, MA. Since we were buying the car in MA, we needed MA plates and MA insurance and, well, for the time being we actually do live in MA.

Here's where it gets a tad confusing. Last week I called our bank in Vermont to set up the process for transferring money to the car dealer so that we could purchase the car. (Funny they actually wanted money!) I gave the pertinent information over the phone, and since we were going to be traveling and didn't have ready access to a fax but the our new insurance agent in Whitinsville did and since we were going there first thing Monday, the bank faxed the form to the agent's office so that we could sign it Monday and fax it back so the money could be transferred. Whew! I get tired just thinking about it. (photo below: Wiersma Insurance Agency in Whitinsville, MA)


Everything went off like clockwork. At little after nine we showed up at Wiersma Insurance Agency and met with one of their agents Carolyn who was very nice, and kindly allowed us to use their faxing facilities. The insurance business took about 20 minutes, we signed and faxed the wire transfer back to the bank, and called the dealer to let them know the money was on it's way and so were we!

Since we had a little time to kill before the transfer was processed we stopped at a nearby mall to check on our mobile phone options -- we need phone service here of course and decided we'll go strictly mobile for the time being. We'll keep one of our present unlocked GSM phones to use when we go back to France and Italy, but will have to spring for new phones with whichever carrier we decide to go with. It's always something with the phone company -- and why do they have so many programs and so many different "products"?

Anyway for the moment we've put off making a firm decision on which carrier, although that will probably be resolved sometime Tuesday.

So we drove over to Peabody Mini and met Steve Macateer, the guy we've been dealing with online. He walked us through the paperwork and then the basics of the car and less than two hours later we drove out in a brand-new Mini Cooper.


It was just about this time in 2002 that Susan and I have the good fortune to spend Easter that year in Rome. While we were strolling through the city we couldn't help but notice these new small cars whizzing around the streets -- come to discover they are the brand-new Mini Cooper produced by BMW. Since we were then in the market to downsize our cars -- and our life we hoped -- as soon as we returned to the US we did a quick online search, hoping against hope that we could find those babies here. But sure enough we could, and we did and although we sold the blue one some time back we now have a new red Mini for a new life.

Stay tuned.

Wish you were here,

Steve

Departures and arrivals

Douglas, MA. -- Last Saturday (just last Saturday?!) we said au revoir to Drea, her apartment on rue Poliveau and trudged our bags downstairs to await our shuttle pickup. Drea had come by about 11 a.m. and the three of us went through the formalities of letting go of our home, a proposition that would turn out to be somewhat more melancholoy than we expected.

We had no sooner taken our bags outside than the driver from Blu-Van shuttle service walked up and asked if we were going to Charles de Gaulle and we said yes. He turned and disappeared around the corner and then a few moments later returned with the van, loaded our bags and off we went down the streets we had walked so often in the past eight months.

Traffic was light and less than 30 minutes later we were pulling up to Terminal 2B, home of British airways, our air carrier of choice. Sad to say but CDG is not our airport of choice -- confusing in it's layout, poorly designed and showing it's age (whatever it is), but the staff were helpful and we zipped through passport control, and dropped our bags off (after a flurry of agent confusion over where we were supposed to check-in) at a fast-drop desk (we had printed our boarding passes and checked in online the night before).

No gate was posted for our flight since we had arrived a bit early (OK a lot early) and in any case we soon discovered that at CDG you have to know your gate to go through security and once you've done so guess what? No bathrooms! Yes that's right folks, the same country that gave us the mind of Victor Hugo, the drama of the Eiffel Tower and the eyes of Edouard Manet, also gave us the idea that once a person passes through security all bodily functions cease until the aircraft has reached a comfortable cruising altitude.

To pass the time we found a cafe at one of the ends of the terminal where we had a baguette sandwich of "jambon/emmenthal", our last in Paris and indeed in France. It was accompanied by a perky little white wine from the previous Wednesday's vintage. Not the best meal to have in Paris -- but then again maybe it was exactly the right meal to have, one way of easing ourselves from the place we have called home to wherever home may be.

Eventually we boarded the aircraft, found our seats, buckled in, took off and it was time to land! The trip to London only took about 45 minutes -- although we circled the city twice before landing -- and soon we were on the ground at Terminal 4.

Miracle of miracles! Every time we have flown through Heathrow we have had to switch terminals (usually from 1 to 4 and of course back again) but not this time. We landed at T4 and took off from T4.

Of course we had to go through British security -- frankly not terribly secure we discovered aside from all the serious looks and harrumphing going on around us. A little knife as well as several small vials of liquids (Oh no! NOT LIQUIDS!!) in our carry on bags had actually gone through the scanner. Not to worry though. I'm sure eventually they will be strip searching everyone, you know, just in case. . .

We had time enough for one glass -- or rather half bottle actually -- of champagne before we headed off to the gate. (They stick the flights to the US out at the end of the Victor Zone which looks rather like the main terminal at Da Nang and was about as comfortable. But hey they had two large-screen TVs blaring gibberish so not all was lost!)

The flight left the gate on time but sat on the tarmac for an additional 45 minutes while the air traffic controller came back from the WC and we eventually became airborne, remaining that way for about 6 hours and 45 minutes.

The flight was uneventual, food not bad (I had ordered the vegetarian which was an Indian dish that was quite tasty with lime pickle in fact!) and Susan had the chicken curry. She swore it was good and frankly it looked it. The meals were accompanied by a white wine from Bordeaux, a light, dry, fruity, innocuous one with no hint of chalky lactation.

Susan watched Breaking and Entering and I tried rewatching Casino Royale but switched to surfing the channels. Later in the flight I did settle down with the very funny Stranger than Fiction.

At one point Susan got my attention and pointed out that the flight data software, which one accesses on channel 1 of the in-flight entertainment system, a software package that hasn't been updated for more than a decade (same static, boring graphics) had us arriving at 9:10 p.m. local Boston time -- even though our original ETA was 9:35 and we were already running at least 45 minutes late! Hmmmm. If this stuff isn't giving us cattle in the back the right data what about the people driving this bus?

Not to worry of course because they got us to Boston just fine, found the airport OK even though it was dark, landed the place smoothly. And about a half hour late.

The good news was we disembarked quickly and moved through the maze of hallways quickly until we reached the place where the doors of the United States remain shut tight until everyone is screened for terrorist leanings, funny headgaear, acne, whatever. We ended up waiting in the US resident line for nearly an hour to go through passport control. As we inched forward we couldn't help but notice the "other" line for non-residents of the US. Everyone was being photographed and finger-printed like a common criminal -- the assumption being of course that we are all criminals until we can prove otherwise.

I know there are many folks in the US that feel OK about such procedures because it makes them feel safe and secure:

"Here Mr. Customs Man with the gun take my 16-year-old daughter and strip search her if you need to. I just want to feel secure."

But where do we draw the line we wonder?

Yet not one terrorist has been caught through such draconian methods. No sirreee, in fact what catches terrorists is really good intelligence: three words that are oxymoronic in the present administration.

Well we got through unscathed and picked up our bags, found our way to the exit (we actually knew where it was) and there was Dick, Susan's brother, waiting patiently for us to arrive.

The seven us left the terminal (Susan, Dick, me and four bags) and a few moments later we were whizzing around downtown Boston, heading for the peace and quiet of Douglas, Massachusetts.

The next leg begins.

Mini pickup in Peabody, MA

We drove to Peabody Mini outside of Boston in a light drizzle and overcast skies -- not the most optimum day to take delivery of a new car but we hey it's a new Mini -- and life is full of tradeoffs.

We got to the dealer, met with Steve Macateer who walked us through the paperwork.

He then gave us a tour of the car. (They had to bring it in from the rain so we could spend some time going over the features most likely to confuse us.)



We paid the bill, took the keys and said goodbye to Steve M. and the rest of the crew at Peabody. After climbing inside we started the baby up, pointed it down the road and began the next phase of our life as we hit the road: first up north then we're going out west, down south and who knows where before we find a place to live.

But for the moment we drove back to Dick and Dorothy's house where our stuff is stored at least for the moment. We've got a couple of days to get our act together before we embark on the first major road trip, which will take us to Vermont and Maine and back to Massachusetts.