The Roughhausers: MAKE, GO, DO

The Many Faces of Scotch Wichmann

2011-09-17T16:15:00.000-07:00

So, yeah. In case you thought the wacky acting was limited to the stage, NOT SO MUCH. It's like having Comedy Central on 24/7. Especially when there's wine involved...or beer... or tequila. Or a camera. There's no greater gift than a partner who makes you laugh. Well, except Rioja.

xo-
kd

Meating Madrid

2011-09-17T12:02:00.000-07:00

Reluctantly, we parted ways with Rioja and headed toward Madrid. The 4-hour drive meandered through gorgeous, rolling countryside that ranged from forest to desert...

...until we hit Madrid traffic: an army of scooters and motorcycles and buses screaming around roundabouts before squirting into one-way narrow unnamed streets lined with posts that threatened to lop off our bumpers at every turn.

We made our way into the maze of tiny streets toward the car rental dropoff office, and as usual, our GPS cut out just as we neared our destination, and with a parade of honking & crazed taxi drivers right on our tail. By sheer luck we made a correct turn and found the office, only to discover there wasn't any parking in front....dripping with sweat, I said screw it and managed to squeeze the car between some posts and onto the sidewalk, partially blocking both cars & baby strollers, but by that point, I didn't care, which meant I was practically already a local. We were early, so waited for the office to open, then realized that the garage entry where I needed to return the car was up the hill of this busy one-way narrow street where I'd parked, so like a good Madridian, I got into the car, drove it off the sidewalk, and proceeded to back up the wrong way up the street, stopping traffic (during the chaos, one guy saw our French license plate and yelled to another driver in Spanish, "HE DOESN'T KNOW WHAT HE'S DOING, HE'S FRENCH!"), until I reached the garage entry, which I discovered to be a steep 60-degree incline. If you haven't tried doing reverse with a sloppy 4-cylinder diesel engine up a 60-degree grade with the garage walls practically touching both the passenger and driver doors, let me tell you, it is a brakes-smoking, fun-filled time! The car was freaked out by the time I got it to the top---the dashboard was lit up like a Christmas tree with lights indicating hot brakes, hot engine, and that I was stopped too close to a wall, but being in Madrid, I just smiled, inhaled the burnt exhaust, and parked it.

I won't lie: Madrid isn't my favorite. I'm not a fan of hot and muggy and stress. There is great history and scattered beauty....endless squares with statuaries to kings, yes, but they're sandwiched in-between comparatively unattractive & graffiti-strewn brick buildings that look ready to fall over. Like San Francisco, Madrid also has its own brand of homeless problems...while on a 2-story tour bus, we passed this guy, and even though we were on the top deck, could smell him from 20 feet away, no joke:

And maybe it was the temperature, but nobody looked happy to see us; the shopkeeps and people on the street looked positively miserable, and we had moments of that as well...I'll cop to the schaudenfreudian fun of watching angst-filled tourists struggling to drive the streets without getting plowed by a taxi or construction truck....

But there were high points:

A statue of (appropriately) Don Quixote of La Mancha:

The Puerta de Alcalá t Plaza de la Independencia, where Mr. King Carlos III built the city's newest gate in 1769:

A wide selection of delicious meats:

Plaza de Cibeles (c. 1777 and named after Ceres, the Roman goddess of nature, one of Madrid's favorite symbols):

Crosses, both religious and technological:

A man performing as a baby:

And finally, the "old town" area around our hotel, where we happened upon a lovely lesbian bar and downed our share of mojitos:

And then, it was off to the airport, where we only managed to lose 2 bags en route to Los Angeles, but gained what was easily one of the greatest vacations of my life to date, thanks in full to my partner in crime. ;)

xoxo

--s

Aloha to Rioja

2011-09-17T11:47:00.000-07:00

Digging through the photos, I found a few more of San Sebastian. First, candy stores were everywhere (the locals had to do something when they weren't drinking or smoking or snorting pinxtos) as evidenced by this wall of brittles:

And as mentioned earlier, the streets were packed with colorful characters excited about the regatta....

From San Sebastian we drove to the Rioja Alavesa valley nestled at the foot of the Sierra de Cantabria Mountains, and home to KayDee's favorite wines in the world:

We met up with Gentzane, our guide....

...and got busy with the business of touring and drinking. Our first stop was Tierra Agricola Labastida, whose organic, old-vine, handmade wines I could drink for days....I'm pretty sure KayDee will elaborate on our tasting experience there. The owner Carlos picked us fresh tomatoes from his garden and gave us a tour of the grounds....

...where we learned that most castle-type houses and wineries in Rioja are built atop caves dating anywhere from 2AD to the 10th century, and Tierra was no exception; my jaw hit the floor when Carlos casually gestured to a wall covered with 10th century knives and farming tools that his workers had uncovered while planting the fields...no big deal...hahaha...our guide Gentzane later confided that many of her wine-making friends have uncovered ruins, Roman-era caves, and relics, but keep the findings secret, lest the government infest the vineyards with hungry archeologists.

Our next stop was the Ostatu family winery dating back to the 18th century....

The wines didn't blow me away and the operation feels industrial compared to Tierra's, but it was fun to see how oak barrels are cleaned by a machine that sprays hot water and sulfur inside:

Fabulista was our last winery stop. (I laughed at the self-inflated name, only to learn it actually means "writer of fables" in the Rioja native tongue). Here, again, I didn't feel that the wines held up to Tierra's, but the labyrinthine caves were something out of Indiana Jones or Dracula, minus the table cloths....

One of our last stops with the guide was one of my favorites: a 2BC sarcophagus, likely Roman:

...then it was on to the old town of Laguardia; founded in 1164, it is the capital of the Rioja Alavesa region with heart-stopping vistas over vinyeards, impossibly narrow streets rife with medieval symbols of fertility (see the vines coming out of the mouth below), and plenty of raisined old ladies....

xoxo
--s

Flight of the Conchords - Baguette!

2011-09-16T22:34:00.000-07:00

If you are unaware of my love of FotC then you and I probably shouldn't be friends... even on facebook. Imagine my delight to discover this in Avignon.

Similarly, imagine Scotch's dismay at having to take this picture of me. And also at dealing with me referring to myself as "the future Mrs. Jemaine Clement" for the rest of the day.

if you need a FotC refresher: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DscfH2ZMR2g

xo-
kd

Home, swee..... um, well, Home

2011-09-16T16:39:00.000-07:00

We're back in the wonderland known as Los Angeles. We've got a few more blog entries coming and we hope you'll stick around!

Madrid

2011-09-14T01:38:00.000-07:00

we made it to madrid but internet is spotty so cant upload photos or type much of length...will post once we get better connection...have dozens of great rioja photos...2000 year old roman caves...vineyards...sun...was harder to leave there than any other location on the trip...more soon...off to a madrid tour....ole!

--s

Oh, Rioja Alavesa, how I adore you...

2011-09-13T01:16:00.000-07:00

Getting ready to head out from Laguardia (in the Rioja Alavesa region) and onward to Madrid! Spent the entire day yesterday on a private tour of wineries with stops for a tasting menus for lunch and dinner -- ammmmmmmazing. The people were so warm and giving and our tour guide was incredible. Pics of Rioja soon!

xo-
kd

Some pictures from KayDee

2011-09-11T13:48:00.000-07:00

flowers in the Provence market. Martha Stewart sheds a tear.

the natural history museum in Provence was ADORABLE. We met a relative of Scotch and a cute guy who just always seems to be saying, "hey guys! wanna go get a cup of coffee?"

our first Spanish wine list -- holy heavenly crap, we didn't know ANYTHING on it. conveniently, spanish wines are the nectar of the gods, so everything we had was delicious.

We're staying on La Concha Beach - beautiful sands and a huge marble promenade. LAP. OF. LUXURY. (once you get past all the screaming regatta fans and the blasted vuvuzelas!)

One of the lovely promenade lamp posts at night with the curved beach to the right

Too bad the sunset was ruining our evening with it's hideousness...

Coming soon! blogs about FOOD! WINE! SCOTCH!

xo-
kd

Slackers in San Sebastian

2011-09-11T12:50:00.000-07:00

i know, i KNOW, i've slacked, and now have to write a whole book to catch up.... we're presently in the warm beach town of san sebastian on the west coast of spain, about to leave for the rioja wine region, so this will be fast and furious....

but first, i found more photos of provence! we visited the open air produce markets....

check out the eggs...so pure they don't need no fridge...

a table of endless curries piled high....

more perfect-looking fish than i could eat in a year....

and stall after stall of organic produce....

we also visited the town's rinky-dink natural history museum (kaydee got more photos--look for those soon--hilarious), where i spotted some fossilized dinosaur eggs...

we then headed for toulouse...

...where the town is nutty about 1. brick structures (see photo above), and 2. violets. we passed lines of violet shops filled with violet candy, booze, candles, you name it...if it was purple, it was there....

we caught the tail of a wedding down the street...click on the photo to zoom in as usual....

another highlight was the basilica of saint sernin--an interesting story. sernin was the first bishop of toulouse, and was accidentally martyred in 250 AD after being dragged through the streets behind a sacrificial bull...whoopsie. so in turn, the locals built the largest romanesque church in the world for him. his body rests here, along with a long list of holy relics sent by rome. (the first photo below is his gold tomb, which predictably holds a higher place of stature in the nave than the cross....).

we then headed west for san sebastian, a 3-hour drive. the GPS drove us crazy (and by us, i mean navigator kersten) because just when we'd hit a critical intersection or freeway change, we'd lose the satellite signal. it didn't ruin the scenery, though, as we were passing over the lovely pyrenees--low-slung green mountains with corn farms, vine-covered stone houses, and fields of white cattle sandwiched in-between. we saw several snow ski resort signs, which was hilarious, given how flat the "mountains" were--downhill skiing looked like it wouldn't be an option. we also passed signs advertising viewing spots for the tour de france--the race must climb the hills at some point, though we didn't see any cyclists along the route.

a few miles before the spanish border, we drove past the tiny river town of pau ("po"), which held special meaning for me. the morning we left for europe, i learned the shocking news that clay young, my good friend, college roommate, and performance art partner of the 90s, had passed away suddenly at 41. a hilarious, red-headed, freckled, skin-and-bones 6'4" francophile who'd always had his nose in a french dictionary, clay spent a semester abroad in pau around 1992, and we'd been dedicated penpals accordingly, sending each other postcards like crazy. i know it's out of chronological order for this blog, but while in paris i had the hotel front desk print out a photo of him so i could take him around the city--you can see a photo of him at the eiffel tower below, which i know he would've enjoyed. i've had to grieve in little bursts along the trip, so it was a wonderful coincidence that we got to pass pau.

and now, san sebastian: sun, sand, and ocean surf a few stories below our hotel room windows that open to pink sunset light and the breezy views of the santa clara bay. this is basque region, so most of the signs and menus are in the euskera language--the "spanish" that really doesn't look much like spanish with all of its T's and X's. the town is famous for its tapas (a.k.a. pinxtos...say "peenchos"), which vary ridiculously from bar to bar, making each dining experience a new humbling adventure in pointing at food and trying to eek out some semblance of meaning with my high school spanish. i tried throwing in some french, but they weren't having it.

as luck had it, we arrived on one of the busiest weekends of the year: the town's annual regatta, which brings thousands of crazed & drunken, boat-rooting, euskera-screaming mobs to san sebastian's old town--which also happens to be where the best food is located. we were insanely lucky last night with a meal from spanish heaven (kaydee will tell more i'm sure), but today the streets were so jammed with craziness (see photo of mobs below) that we had to escape down to the beach (poor us) and forget about trying to find locate more pinxtos.

besides the bay, my favorite sebastian views were inside the basilica of st. mary, which is situated at the center of old town. the gothic 15th-18th century sculptures were incredible...

...but the church isn't stuck in history: as you enter its doors, there are no votive candles in sight, which is odd because most catholic churches we've visited have offered them in spades--you can pay 2 euros and light a candle for a saint or loved one...but not at st. mary's, where instead, you'll see an array of light bulbs; drop a quarter in a slot and a faux candle light bulb comes on to represent the recipient of your prayer. it was a little unnerving, but it probably won't be long before even the bulbs are replaced by an iphone app.

tomorrow we drive to la guardia in the rioja region for a half-day wine tour. yesssssss....

--s

Well, that was...relaxing?

2011-09-11T11:02:00.000-07:00

First, let me clarify that the massage portion was in fact totally relaxing. Trying to naviagte through a spa in a foreign language, not so much.

The woman at the reception desk spoke some english... enough to explain to me that I would be going to see someone else to have all of the procedures explained to me. Turned out the explantion woman spoke NO english whatsoever. She did however speak French to me TRES slowly and TRES clearly as though that might help. There was a lot of pointing and she handed over several items; a bathrobe (a SPA bathrobe that would replace the hotel bathrobe I was required to wear in order to enter the spa), a pair of flip-flops made of foam that magically turn into mini ice-rinks when you've been sent out of the massage room oiled up, a plastic bag (I assume for wet swimwear? or maybe to take home some spa water?) and, lastly, a tiny cup. She mimed that I would use this to drink from... I guess so I wouldn't return with a urine sample for her.

I wandered around the locker rooms until I found locker 4 and proceeded to give thanks that the instructions for coding the lockers were in picture form. So, I locked my things up and wore the officially sanctioned robe and flipflops to the almost warm waiting area. I flipped through some magazines but the only words I could understand were celebrity names and "anti-fast food". I don't know why this country would ever need fast food... isn't a wheel of brie fast enough for you? But given the number of McDonald's, KFC, and Subways we've seen here I can certainly understand the anti-fast food sentiment. If Le Jared had spent as much time walking in France as we have he wouldn't have needed to subsist on the subway diet in order to go from grand to petit.

My service, not my name, was called by my therapist and I only knew to go to her since there was no one else in the room. Given that, in fact, it may have made more sense for her to just approach me instead of calling out my service loud enough to wake the dead in a tiled echo chamber of...one. But we got past all that and she took me to my private mini-hut, which, again, was nearly warm, nothing relaxes the muscles like shivering. She spoke enough english to put me at ease, tell me to hang up my robe and bikini then put on the supplied hair band and "string", while miming putting on pantied. So, I unfurled the paper "string" and was confronted with something akin to an oversized surgical mask. uhhhhh... I stood there contemplating it for a moment (or several) before realizing if I just turned it sideways it suddenly made sense. Am I getting to dumb to get massaged?! For my hair it was less "band" and more lunch lady hair net -- tres chic.

I laid down on the massage table and burrowed my nose through the 7 layers of paper sheeting so I wouldn't suffocate, albeit a very hygenic suffocation. The massage itself was fine, nothing much to speak of though she used enough massage oil to make BP blush.

When we were done she released me back into the hut maze which I, thankfully, escaped without incident despite slipping and sliding inside my shoes. I went to the steam room immediately so I could sit and unwind from my harrowing massage experience!

xoxo
kd

More Aix!

2011-09-07T15:32:00.000-07:00

More pics around Aix-en-Provence (by the way: Aix = "Aches"):

A pig fountain throwing up water...

And lions doing the same...

Hot spring roman baths from 2 B.C....incredible....

Aix's St. Sauveur cathedral--built mostly during the 14th-17th centuries, but with a baptismal font dating to 4 A.D.

Sauveur's 4 A.D. baptismal font (more of a spa, really...the thing is huge)

a typically narrow Aix alley...THIS IS WHAT WE DROVE TO OUR HOTEL, PEOPLE!

laundry, Aix-style

more laundry

and more laundry...Aixers like clean clothes, apparently

and finally, a weird stone and green blob intended as an art fountain that burbles up the same water Romans bathed in during the early A.D. years. Lovely, if you like potatoes.

xo
--s

L'Oink

2011-09-07T15:20:00.000-07:00

I've decided that France shall henceforth be called The Great State of Pork. It's amazing that the sidewalks aren't paved with ham, frankly, as they add various forms of salted pig to everything. It's heaven. I had a salami and butter sandwich. SALAMI AND BUTTER. And I didn't order it like that (who am I kidding, I can barely say that I don't speak French in French, much less "how can you make that baguette as fattening a possible?")... it just came that way. Because butter is the appropriate condiment for everything in T.G.S.O.P. Can I get an Amen?

The upside to eating in France is the French food. The downside is having to sit near French people... well, any people (the American man behind us last night spent the better portion of his meal dredging wet masses from deep in his lungs...gagggg). The French seem intent on stinking you out by either just dousing themselves in eau de old lady, or just generally wandering around smelling of an old shoe, or smoking smoking smoking. I mean all right, so you don't allow smoking indoors anymore, one small blessing. But then the entire streetside restaurant wall opens and is packed with outdoor tables so everyone sits there and their smoke blows back indoors the entire meal. Scotch and I are considering taking our meals right IN the kitchen since those seems to be closed off.
But then again they're probably full of sweaty stinky chefs!

We are in Aix-en-Provence today and it's gorgeous. Once you're not driving in the streets, those cobblestone bastards seem downright charming. Unless, of course, you're almost being run over by an Aix driver who isn't remotely concerned about pedestrians. I think Priuses should be outlawed here (though we've only seen a couple in all of France) as they would just be silent killing machines. I think the sound of diesel engines keeps many a local smoker alive.

Our hotel is attached to a spa that makes use of the natural hot springs below and my sweet boy booked me a massage and some spa time tomorrow. As you can imagine their menu is in French but they do have some of the services translated to... English? If you like you can have a facial (I believe) which includes, "the perfect make-up removal, rinsed with the hot and scented gloves, exclusive Gumming 'cabin' applied under vapour, to finish by the Massage of Alarm clock." And while that does sound relaxing if you want more of a full-body massage consider the one that, "After stimulation of the zones reflexes to eliminate toxins and greases, the fabrics are unchoked ad the cellulite disloged by kneading and fold-to roll". It's truly hard to decide, isn't it??

We might try the local vegetarian restaurant tonight which means total kitchen chaos in T.G.S.O.P. I can only assume they have many fine plant-based dishes with the essences of ham wafted over it. All I know is that if the menu is sans buerre then it will also be sans KayDee.

Tomorrow is a big day for the foodie in me as it's Market Day. They have markets all the time but apparently Tues, Thurs, and Saturday are the big ones. I'm hoping we have time to hit the food, flowers, and antiques markets but it's going to be a crunch since they're only open from 9-12:30 (plus I have to get back in time for my massage where they.... ummmm... stimulate the zones and hit me with alarm clocks?).
xo
kd

Photos: Scotch clinging to side of castle wall in Tournon; French beer for OPD at Avignon; the Rhone; wine tasting at M. Chapoutier in Hermitage; carousel in Avignon; fountain in Aix-en-Provence; haunted house in Tournon-Sur-Rhone; spider party; the bread killing machine.

Strange Drives

2011-09-06T15:38:00.000-07:00

it feels strange to write that this morning we got up, had breakfast, then drove a little way down the highway to chateauneuf du pape (one of my favorite wine regions) to visit vieux telegraph (one of my favorite wine makers) like it was going to the corner store. it's a maddening that such old vines & viticultural talent are present everywhere here with a nonchalance that's so genuine it's shocking.

afterward we drove to avignon, a 14th century walled cobblestone medieval city that housed various catholic popes during papal squabbles with rome over taxes and power. the papal castle is immense--photos can't do it justice--even the sacristy alone is large enough to house several churches. we took a little kiddy-style train ride through the city to see the sights, and encountered a fresh band of gypsies that tried to pull the same deaf stunt as the one we encountered previously in paris, complete with the same fake forms, clipboard, and pen. we clamped down on our pockets and slinked past them glaring....

a 2-hour drive later, we arrived in provence. our hotel doubles as a spa with a pool, manicured grounds, and a fancy-looking restaurant, which is a nice change after the tiny excuse for a room we had in tournon, and we'll *need* a spa after the drive into town from the highway, which involved navigating an increasingly narrow maze of medieval-torture alleys that seemed only a foot wider than the car, and didn't leave much room for the bicycles, dogs, mothers with strollers, and scooters that clogged the streets...we didn't "drive" so much as force our way through seas of crowds a few feet at a time...i still have no idea how i managed to avoid running over a foot, or make the 90-degree turns that would've been impossible in anything larger than our VW jackrabbit or whatever it is we're driving. we finally found a parking lot near the hotel, and i'm gritting my teeth at the thought of taking the car out...a $100 taxi ride to the idealized version of provence we want to see--farm-fresh produce plucked from soil and cooked tableside in sun-drenched vineyards--you know--sounds like a bargain right now.

this area of provence is known for its roman bath ruins, so everything here is named after water, and there are fountains everywhere. there's a hot spring spa beside the hotel that's built atop ancient ruins...it almost killed me when i heard that because i'm a sucker for archeology and the thought of installing a modern fiberglass tub over a 2nd-century stone bath just so some rich lady with a poodle can give her silicon tits a rinse hurts me to my indiana jones core...but we might try it tomorrow. hahaha. my tits can't wait.

Photos: a typical street in avignon (the street around provence are narrower than this...); a grotesque protecting a building from intruders; the gate outside the papal fortress; spy view of tourists at a cafe from atop the papal castle (with my 300mm telephoto fully extended); carved wood snake figure inside the castle that supports my theory that signs of pre-christian snake worship are still found in judeo-christian architecture, history, and liturgy; low angle of the castle's carved stone archways; and, a view of the thick medieval walls that once protected the popes from invaders.

--s

I Moan for the Rhone

2011-09-05T14:35:00.000-07:00

We explored the L'Ermitage/Hermitage and Tournon-sur-Rhone region today on foot...every hill appeared covered in wine vines set at impossible angles...Napa's a slacker by comparison. L'Ermitage ("hermet") is one of southern France's oldest wine regions, with royal production starting around the 16th century, but traceable back to the 1400s or so. We clopped down medieval cobblestone alleys, climbed a 16th century castle & towers, crossed the Rhone on the world's first suspension foot bridge, and tasted slippery varietals at M. Chapoutier, a local Ermitage winemaker whose vineyards are open for exploring, no appointment needed--just walk into the dirt at your leisure--the vines are everywhere.

Photos: looking north up the Rhone toward Crozes-Hermitage; vines on rocky soil above Tournon; my favorite girl creeping into the vines at M. Chapoutier; Chapoutier vines up close with their purple grapes, and in the distance, more vines up the hill; more vines; favorite girl looking Hollywood atop the Le Chateau de Tournon, a castle and prison dating back to 1570; another view from the chateau over Tournon; and, finally, one of castle's two guard towers in the background, set in more vineyards. C'etait fantastique! Tomorrow: Chateauneuf du Pape et Avignon!

--s

Au Revoir, Paris....

2011-09-04T15:43:00.000-07:00

We hit Crazy Horse (original R-rated burlesque/tease club on Champs-Elysees dating back to the 1950s) to celebrate KayDee's 35th. The interior was red, gold, dark, and plushy, with patterned lighting effects that were able to make the dancers look like they were wearing costumes even when they weren't wearing anything--undulating through the light, a woman could go from almost-nude to being draped in a leopard-print skin in a blink. It was fun sitting amongst the Parisiens and Japanese tourists...after a little champagne, they were easily impressed.... The show was more hilarious than sexy, with the high point being the 2 relief male jugglers whose main schtick consisted of passing 3 batons between them nonstop while stripping down to underwear from 3-piece suits, swapping suit parts, then redressing, all with a single dropped baton--amazing, considering it took 5 minutes at high speed. The female acts were (mostly) entertaining with generous cheese--lots of synchronized leggy moves, mirror effects, shimmery curtains, though they became a bit repetitive--the women looked idential--underfed Robert Palmer clones, with the exact same Rockette legs, faces, blonde wigs, and size B-cups bouncing, right down to their same shades of nipple...the show would be much more interesting if it added some variety: curves, differences in height, and especially, personality...but of course, take that for what it's worth, coming from a recovering performance artist...I'd replace the mirrors and faux leopard skin with a tsunami of liquid honey, midgets in coyote fur jumpsuits, 14-inch stilettos scrabbling for balance on a stage full of marbles, and a jackhammer soundtrack...that's my idea of sexy.

Today we rose early, rented our car (an automatic, luckily), and hit the road south for Tournon, a medieval town in the Rhone-Alps that's part of the Hermitage/St. Joseph wine region. We passed rolling farm towns, hills, white cows sitting in the sun, finally arriving around 6:45PM. We'll post pics soon--the area's gorgeous--valleys of vine-draped stone villages embanking the blue Rhone below green, steep hills that are covered in wine grape vineyards so steep they look impossible to harvest without soccer cleats--no machines possible here, which explains (in part) why Hermitage/Rhone wines are so expensive.

For dinner we darted through rain to Tournon's Chateau Hotel--a random pick--which turned out to be a geriatric resort...we were the youngest couple in the restaurant by about 45 years, but the food was mostly excellent...bass after a gelee-sardine appetizer, chocolate mousse, game hen, cinnamon tarte.... We drank a red Jaboulet, whose vines were visible on the hills across the Rhone through the restaurant window--incredible.

12:27AM...must sleep. Photos below: Crazy Horse, KayDee and me on her big night, me in a taxi trying to make a skeleton face, and tonight's wine in the geriatric setting, minus the canes and oxygen tanks....more soon.

xo
--s

KayDee's review of Paris (through a bottle of champagne)

2011-09-03T16:46:00.000-07:00

Pics: First kiss at 35 (midnight at Notre Dame), yellow rose @ Tour Eiffel, Scotch looking at the Tour, My birthday present, Scotch doing his very best French Impression, The Eiffel's light show via our night tour bus, the control panel for the Printemp's toilet, scent bottles @ Fragonard Musee, us @ Sacre Cour, Scotch being, you know, Scotch @ Le Hotel Notre Dame, flowers behind the Musee Rodin, Scotch in the gardens @ musee Rodin, the locks of lovers on some damn pont, the world's most amazing hot chocolat, macarons, us on a pont somewhere in Paris.

Ok, here it is (with typos because I'm too tipsy and tired to proof read). When visiting Paris you MUST: go to Notre Dame late at night when no one is there, it's the only way you'll truly experience The Rats. Pixar was NOT effing around about Parisian rats. Those SOB's do not give a f*ck. They were all over the grounds of Notre Dame, squeaking and... you know, gettin' it on. Seriously, I have photos. As if that wasn't enough, Scotch kept trying to get me to go to Paul for a croissant. This should be simple as there are like, 80+ Pauls laying around town but we could never find one when we needed it. Then one night, well after it's closed, we happen upon a Paul, and I'm about to agree to go the next morning until I see a mouse running through the front window. I'm not usually racist, but damn, the front window?! Get the mice out of there and I might consider it. Mr. Wichmann, on the other hand, who wouldn't dream of entering an LA restaurant with less then an A rating, turns to me and says, "well, at least it wasn't in the kitchen!"

So, as I write this it's just barely into September 4th which means that all of yesterday was devoted to celebrating my birthday. As all days should be. We went to the Pairs flea market aka Les Puces (the flea) which was an adventure to say the least. When we arrived we walked into.... hmmmm... let's call it Los Angeles. It was stalls and stalls of clothes made by Levii's and Guci and Dolce and Banana (the last one is delicious, by the way) and it was scary and crowded and, like all Americans, I do not like to be touched. And I was being touched from every direction. BACK OFF, BARGAIN-HUNTING FRENCHIES!! Fortunately, due to my innate sense of the more expensive things we found our way to the antique portion of Les Puces and proceeded to not buy everything we wanted. That was fairly easy since I reek of American and most shop owners wanted absolutely nothing to do with me. Hurrah?

Anyway, we finished the evening by going to dinner and seeing a cabaret show at The Crazy Horse Paris. To clarify, cabaret in French means boobies/ b cup if you're lucky. It was a really fun show and dinner was divine. Obviously, it was french. I tried duck foie gras. Did I feel cruel? yes. but I used my vintage mink stole to wipe away my tears and hid the remaining evidence in my rabbit muff. As a side note, I probably wouldn't order duck foie gras again, but I would order a giant vat of French butter even if someone told me it was made of baby unicorns.

Scotch mentioned in his previous post that he's been having trouble with The Gypsies. This is all true. It's amazing to behold and no matter how many times I say "no" (but in French, so, "no") and try to drag him away he continues to fall for their wily ways. He once told me of a friend of his who was robbed because she fell for the old "look at what's down my pants!" trick that a gypsy supposedly pulled on her. I used to mock that person every time I heard the story but now I'm beginning to believe that if you're a kind enough soul you will fall for that crap. Needless to say, they haven't bothered me in the least.

We also went to the Musee Pompidou today which was incredible, structurally, as well as the art it held. I could do without the hippies trying to sell me crap out in the courtyard though. Seriously, the older I get the less patience I have for this bs. Do I care that you managed to string together some 3 cent beads with a piece of dental floss while stoned out of your mind? no, no I do not. Scotch, on the other hand, has some lovely new handi-craft jewelry.

You MUST have noticed the shoe photo, and yes, they're Italian. Did it seem wrong to buy Italian shoes while in France? DID I JUST EAT AN INNOCENT DUCK'S LIVER?! Sacrifices must be made, people. And so, Scotch made a sacrifice and I now own the most incredible pair of shoes I've ever laid eyes on. Karl Lagerfeld for Fendi for Paris Fashion Week...Carrie Bradshaw eat your heart out.

It didn't really matter what size the shoes came in because they just had to fit on my leg stumps. What the hell? In Pairs you walk a lot. But here's the thing -- you're walking, let's say, 100 meters to get to the next Chocolat Marche... but in reality you're walking 300 meters because of all the effing "locals" you need to veer around to avoid being run over. These people DO NOT CARE. They're not going to take on one additional meter. They can't afford to as their lungs would collapse from that much additional walking on top of all the CIGARETTE SMOKE. Lung Cancer be damned, really. If anything, a Parisian is going to die of being appalled by my presence well before they can get the big C.

Ok, seriously, I have to go to bed. It's 1:30 am here and we get on the road tomorrow to drive to Aix-en-Provence. At least the freaking cars drive on the right side of the road. More pics and "stories" soon. Thanks to all who've wished me a happy birthday and most of all thanks to Scotch for giving me a birthday I could only have dreamed of and will cherish for the rest of my life.

xo
kd

A crazy pair in crazy Pairee

2011-09-02T11:31:00.000-07:00

paris has been a fun but exhausting whirlwind...we've walked and taxied miles, narrowly escaped sunstroke, and gobbled more bread than i've eaten in the past 12 months. our hotel is on the rive gauche near the popular shakespeare & co. bookstore, and across the street from the notre dame, so the whole area is 12 months pregnant with rabid tourists scrambling between trinket stands in search of anything gold featuring an eiffel tower.

notable stops included the fragonard perfume museum where we sniffed ancient fats and oils; champs-elysees, where i snapped a photo of a hip-hopping white homeless wino (see below); my favorite, the rodin museum (see the dark solo figure in photos who looks ready to pick up a pair of kettlebells for a workout...he's got quite good form); the eiffel tower and its mile-long ticket line to the top; a risque museum in the pigalle red light district, along with the moulin rouge; a nighttime open air city bus tour; the sun-beaten sacre coeur basilica overlooking the city; and, deux maggots, the bar where hemingway and other modernist writers & artistes guzzled absinthe & gin.

our most insane encounter here so far was during the visit to the sacre coeur. after touring the inside, we were meandering along the cobbled backstreets behind the basilica when a young man and woman approached us. they pointed and gestured to their ears to indicate they were deaf, then showed us a pair of official-looking forms on clipboards that we could sign to promote their cause, and officially register any donation we wanted to offer.

at first i thought the pair seemed legit...i even started to write my name down...but as their ear-pointing and gesticulating and attempts to hug us went on, something seemed a little off...the pair were trying too hard. suddenly a woman yelled out, "THEY'RE GYPSY PICKPOCKETS! THEY'RE FAKE! DON'T GIVE THEM MONEY!" the "deaf" pair shook their heads and tried to shut the woman up, but by then the game was up, as they'd reacted to the woman's voice. i was partly amused, but also irritated that i'd let pickpockets get so close to me--some security "expert", eh? haha. both pickpockets had touched me several times, probably to determine where my wallet was. it all happened so fast...luckily we lost nothing and got out of there....

...but then, about 5 minutes later, we turned a corner at the top of a hill and ran into them **again**. whether the pair didn't recognize me, or just decided to have another go at me, i'm not sure, but the young man headed straight for me with his infernal clipboard. i shook my head and told him in french that i knew he could hear me. he smiled and tried to hug me. i pushed him away. he came at me again, all smiles and hugs, and wouldn't let me pass. i saw red and decided to play devious right back. i smiled and shrugged, as if to say, what the hell, sure, i'll sign your clipboard and give you some money. the man grinned and handed me his pen...which i proceeded to throw about 50 feet away. he threw me a dirty look and took off running after the pen while swearing pretty good for a deaf guy.

afternote: i almost got taken again today...ARGGHHH...we passed a gypsy woman on one of the bridges...she smiled at me...i smiled back as she and i passed...then suddenly i heard her voice: "sir, did you drop this?" i turned around and saw her picking up a men's gold wedding band off the ground. i said no, it wasn't mine. she grabbed my hand, folded the ring into it, and said, "this is yours--you keep it! good luck!" as the woman walked away, i stood there thinking, "hey, i can't keep this...whoever lost it will surely want it back," when suddenly the woman stopped, turned, and came back to me. "you give me some money for giving you the ring?" she asked. it was only then i realized it was a scam...i'm slow, i realize. if i'd been thinking faster, i would've tossed the ring into the water, or vanished it with slight of hand, maybe turned it into a penny with a laugh, but instead i just folded it back into her hand and said, "no, you take it, good luck for you," and we walked away. a frenchman passing us told us the woman was a pickpocket, which confirmed my (albeit, late) gut feeling about her, but no matter, she'd managed to mess with me anyway, because for the rest of the day, i couldn't stop checking my pockets to make sure my wallet was still there.

--s

Paris!

2011-09-01T00:52:00.000-07:00

Sorry it's been a while since the last post! We're about to head out to breakfast...
Paris is unbelieveable!

the good: the architechture is amazing, the food is all 95% butter and everyone eats ice cream all day every day, and the women here are stunning... at every age.

the bad: my legs are now only 2 feet long after being worn down to stumps while walking... walking...walking, most of the things I can understand on menus are things I don't really want to eat such as foie gras, tartare, and pigeon, and our hotel "toilette" is farcical... I would assume that at any moment Ashton Kutcher is going to punk us but since there's not room to put down so much as a bar of soap, cleary they're not storing a 6 ft american idiot in there.

the awesome: DID I MENTION THAT THE FOOD IS ALL BUTTER?

xo
kd

Robert the Bruce, Melrose & Rosslyn Abbys, and Lowlands

2011-08-29T14:28:00.000-07:00

We skipped the ghost tour last night, opting instead for dinner at the Witchery, a dark gothic restaurant near Edinburgh Castle that's supposedly haunted after witch burnings at the site in 1722. Our seating was for 11pm, so service by then was slow, but KayDee went for the haggis and loved it, even corrupting me into trying a bite....ok, it was good, even though it looked like an animal organ made from rotted blue cheese.

Today was crazy--we boarded a small tour van with about 10 other tourists, some of whom didn't get the memo: 1. please wash the vile, sour-smelling mildew out of your clothes before getting into a van with unsuspecting victims. 2. please hang up your cell phone, especially when the tour guide is trying to talk--nobody gives a shit that you're loud and from Italy. 3. when exiting the van, let people seated in front of you exit first, rather than ramming them with your ass as you push past. 4. if you smoke, don't exhale your last drag after you've re-boarded the van, jackass. 5. when the driver says to reassemble at a specific time, don't show up 5 minutes late in the parking lot talking to yourself, only to stop 10 feet from the van like you've completely forgotten that you're supposed to be getting on it--and if you DO do this, don't do it TWICE...what the hell are you doing? just get on the damn van so the poor driver doesn't have to get off and grab you. hey, maybe save the extra meds for when paying tourists aren't waiting on you.

other than the above, the tour was fantastic, thanks in full to the tourguide, who was a sharp-tongued, fast-witted, well-read scot who suffered no fools (in government, history, or the van) lightly. he had a lead foot too, racing us through green valleys and heathy glens past sheep, dogs, cattle, geese, crows, goats, castles, and terrified oncoming drivers.

the tour departed just steps from edinburgh castle. notable stops included the stunning arches of melrose abby, where the heart of robert the bruce (liberator of scotland, and kaydee's ancestor) is supposedly buried; the rosslyn abby, which figured prominently in the da vinci code (we found some templar knights, but no holy grails, mails, or rails); the scott lookout, where sir walter scott would pause when driving his horse-drawn carriage to overlook the lowland valleys where 13th-14th century scots regularly defeated english armies several times their size (some of which were immortalized in the historically inaccurate film that was braveheart); a massive statue of knight sir william wallace; a mystery pair of women's shoes in a bush; and, finally, a tour & tasting at the glenkinchie scotch distillery, where i discovered that i'm not a lowland scotch man--must have more peat. oh, and kaydee found a black baby bunny in the woods beside a cemetary--she'll tell you all about it.

gotta go crash now--j'ai une 6:15 am trip to an avion bound for pairee. um...maybe i should practice my french before we arrive?

--s

WE ATE HAGGIS...

2011-08-28T17:27:00.000-07:00

and it was good!

more tomorrow... (updates, not haggis)

xo
kd

PICTURES!

2011-08-28T12:36:00.000-07:00

In no particular order: KayDee with Mr. Bagpipes...a boar in a stroller...KayDee in the Whiski Pub on High Street...the Scotch Experience whisky tour, showcasing the largest collection of scotches in the world (CRAZY)...me hovering in the show's final cardboard illusion called "the closet"..."vegetarian breakfast" at Snax in Edinburgh with eggs & beans (just ok)...smoked sausage on potato fritters with cheese (heart attack)...the Scott Monument (dedicated to Sir Walter Scott, and the largest monument in the world dedicated to a writer)...KayDee on the street near Edinburgh Castle...and a condom dispenser in a pub restroom offering scotch-flavored rubbers...if I had a reason to put a condom in my mouth, I would've bought one for sure. ;)

--s

Finally... ACTUALLY on vacation!!

2011-08-28T12:32:00.000-07:00

Holy Crap was it nice to spend an entire day worrying about the show -- did we remember everything, will people laugh, can we get out of the building afterward?

Originally the plan was to spend the day driving around and exploring the countryside but since the show has consumed nearly every minute we have we opted, instead, to stay in the city and explore some of old town.

It was surprisingly cold and rainy today. I wasn't that surprised but the shop keepers seemed to be, as they kept commenting on it. It was the perfect excuse, though, to buy a cashmere scarf. Also, it was a great reason to go take a whisky tour. This one was as if Walt MacDisney had created it. You ride along a track in a giant cask learning about how whisky is made. Then you go into a room that has hundreds of bottles of whisky... a shrine if you will, all locked down behind glass. I spent most of the time in there wiping off the marks Scotch left trying to lick through the glass to the sweet nectar. We did get to taste several whiskys and while my brain has a greater appreciation for the stuff my palette does not, they all made me gag. Writing about it making me gag, is making me gag. Whisky, we are not friends.

We officially had Scottish food today. Scotch had a semi-traditional breakfast (no meat) which meant he was served a plate of eggs and beans with several other items all of which seemed to be a form of starch in various shapes and no discernable flavor. Then for lunch, between the 2 of us we ate like one real Scot. He had beer (and salmon) a I had the steak and ale pie (with red wine). Neither were terribly impressive though I think it's because we were eating in the middle of the Royal Mile.

Tonight we've got reservations at The Witchery (a famous restaurant) and tomorrow we're off on some kind of official tour to look at castles and abbeys which involves piling into a bus and letting someone else drive. Which is ideal because I spent about 15 minutes today touring the same 2 roundabouts trying to figure out which direction I needed to hurtle out of it while trying not to hit the oblivious pedestrians and avoiding the oncoming double decker. Scotch crawled into the backseat and curled up into the fetal position until he knew we were home.

xo
kd

The second show...

2011-08-28T02:21:00.000-07:00

was a great closer for our run. The audience was quiet for the first third, but began to warm by the end of the first comedy section, so by the midpoint, we had them laughing. No magic flubs this time. KayDee blew the crowd's mind with her mind-reading trick (a spectator writes down a name on a piece of paper, holds it tightly folded, and KayDee still manages to know what it says from 20 feet away), then I had my turn when I knelt and the crotch fabric of my pants ripped open in plain view, leaving a gaping hole (among other things), which became a running gag for the rest of the show (the HOLE, people, not the other things...). Afterward we hung out with a high school friend of KayDee's, got drinks with the crew at a pub where it was singles night (we were each given a name tag and encouraged to speed date, which was awkward because KayDee wouldn't let go of my hand...hahaha) then ambled with our post-show highs to a late nite fish-and-chips joint called Barracuda. By then it was 2am, which seemed like the perfect time to shave off my beard, so I did. More on all of that later, plus Beowulf, and more, with photos...we just got up and are running to find breakfast, and maybe a ghost tour because we love Scots, alive or dead. --s

CROWD WAS AMAZING!

2011-08-27T03:33:00.000-07:00

every seat was full last night, thanks i'm sure in part to ewan, the sweet marketing chap we hired to pass out flyers...the show was technically imperfect, which made it perfect, at least for last night...there were a couple of missed musical cues...an early reveal of the final illusion's secret...dropped coins and cards...me flopping like a fish during an impromptu interpretive dance...kaydee rolling around backstage trying to escape from her corset for a costume change until she finally had to saunter out and let me untie it for her on stage...a pair of women in the front row laughing so hard they couldn't speak...a guy spit out some beer during a joke...the stars aligned, somehow. it probably helped that we were crazy with nerves and flubbing parts of the acts, which only added to the hilarity of the chaos...fast and loose with riffing is the way to play the show for sure, at least with these supportive & smart scots who appear game for anything. more details & pictures to come...running out to catch some of the city and a show this afternoon: a musical adaptation of beowulf, one of my favorite stories. i hope it's in olde english. god dæg! --s

This is What 1am in Edinburgh Looks Like

2011-08-25T17:08:00.000-07:00

we got up, found a supermarket, fixed eggs, then drove down to the Out of the Blue Drill Hall theater in the nearby town of leith. if you're looking for a great crew and multi-stage black box experience for a show, this is it. it's the Blue's first year at the finge festival, and from the look of it, it won't be its last.

the drive *should have been* only 10 minutes, but the GPS that we got from the car rental company (enterprise can SUCK IT) enjoys sending us down 1-way streets and dead-ends. we would've tried google maps via phone, but data rates with t-mobile are something like $1500 per second, so we settled for just getting lost repeatedly...if you try every address, you're eventually bound to get there by brute force.

we started our tech run and prop prep at 3pm, and didn't finish until 11pm. setup was murder. the props involve a complicated set of precisely cut wardrobe-sized cardboard boxes that are used in the show's final illusion, and cutting/taping them together takes foreverrrrr. when we finally finished and went to leave, we discovered that everyone else in the theater was gone, and we were locked in...how tres bad sitcom. luckily we had the stage manager's cell and he lived nearby, otherwise we might've had to camp out....and i might've been forced to drink all the beer in the kitchen as revenge....

we saw our first green hills today...crazy green...i can't wait for sunday when we'll take a drive through the country to the castle ruins where robert the bruce, scotland's first king and kaydee's forebear, was born.

it's 1am and i feel perfectly awake. jetlag rocks!

--s

We're in Scotland? I didn't notice...

2011-08-25T16:41:00.000-07:00

Aside from today being the first that I drove on he wrong side of the road... we did nothing at but work on the show. It was productive but if someone asked me to describe Edinburgh I would tell them it looks like the inside of a theater.

As we worked we overheard a few of the other shows. 3 second review: o-ver-wrought.

If you're keeping track so far for dinner we've had Tapas, and Italian. Just like all good Scots.

Tomorrow is opening night for us. People are constantly incredulous that we'd "travel all this way and only do 2 shows!" I find it odder that people perform for 28 days in a row... not as odd, however, as the fact that someone can be speaking english to my face and I can't understand what in holy hell they're saying.

xo
kd

Travel... you can go to hell.

2011-08-25T16:32:00.000-07:00

whoever said it was the journey and not the destination has clearly nevere traveled in a post-9-11 world.

the good:
arrived in Scotland and saw a field xoof bunnies by the airport
saw a rainbow OVER A FREAKING FIELD OF BUNNIES -- COME ON!

the bad:
had to navigate from the "passenger" side of the car while in rush hour on no sleep through the middle of the Fringe

the ugly:
london heathrow CAN KISS MY ASS!! we almost missed our connecting flight b/c some "undervalued" nitwit felt that the only way to feel important was to make us sit around for no reason... except to make us almost miss our connecting flight. The walks were endless, the customs dude was full of jackassery, and the people were SO BLOODY SLOW. did I already mention that heathrow can shove it?

xo
kd

made it!

2011-08-25T01:48:00.001-07:00

plane ride was cramped but pretty easy except food not fit for human consumption. waiting on 1 bag that hasn't made it yet. apartment is close to central edinburgh. architecture is ancient and lands are green. can't understand fast talkers, especially when they mumble, which is often. not jetlagged--amazing after no sleep for 24 hours. off to find brkfst and start building our set for tomorrow's show. driving is crazy---drive on left, with wheel on right makes for some hairy turns---almost took out a bus. no haggis yet, lots of performers ambling the streets in makeup. more soon.--S

Leave Tuesday, Arrive Wednesday

2011-08-22T11:50:00.000-07:00

so... we're leaving in about 29 hours and I'm making a blog. Because I don't know how to prioritize.

Hopefully you'll see some updates while we're gone.

Also, I love how enormous that picture is. That thing is worth at least 2 dozen words.
xo-K