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Pastimes : Don't Ask Rambi -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?

To: epicure who wrote (65845)	11/24/2004 11:23:00 AM
From: epicure	Respond to of 71178

Oops that was supposed to be Country Life not Country Live which sounds like something from Nashville, not Scotland

To: epicure who wrote (65845)	11/25/2004 10:29:25 AM
From: Rambi	Read Replies (4) \| Respond to of 71178

Oh dear. I am so tempted to invent a glamorous and exciting story here so as not to spoil your delusions, but you are my good friend and I just can't lie. Getting a passport is like getting a driver's license but with airport security. No tea. No charming attaché. Interesting people, though. There was a man with a woman and three small children. He was American and had met her through the internet! Can you imagine? He was trying to get them back here. They were singularly unattractive children and she looked way older than he, and I really wondered what on earth he was thinking. There was another whiny woman who was trying to get passports for her two children and was incensed over the fact they weren't ready when SHE had called ahead and they KNEW she had to still get to the Chinese embassy (the country of their ultimate destination). She was Canadian, but now AMerican, because, my dear, if her husband died and she was still Canadian, she would be taxed at a 78% rate! So much for love of country. Croc will have to tell us if this is true about the inheritance taxes. There were some lovely college girls there supporting one of their friends who had lost her passport on the train from Paris. You have to bring a witness who can say they've known you for two years. When they asked Dan how long he had known me, he paused. The clerk said, "This is your chance." Hohoho. Embassy humor. Dan said, do you have to talk to everyone? Per your advice, I wore black everywhere. Long black coat, black boots, a Royal Stewart tartan scarf. I packed a black skirt, black slacks, a black sweater, and a white silk blouse for dressup. It was excellent advice. I am sure they are all filthy, but who can tell. Well, except for the white blouse which barely survived an absolutely incredible meal at a restaurant in the Bois de Bologne that had no prices next to the items!. It was terrifying. Like stepping into financial space when you ordered. We were the guests of Monsieur C., who is the owner of the hotel where you and the Ionescoettes stayed. He brought me your gift (you are so thoughtful and yes, we enjoyed the Perry) and said he hadn't seen you til the last day, but hoped you enjoyed your stay. I said that we hoped you hadn't done anything peculiar while there and embarrassed us. He said no, no one had said a thing to him about destruction or loud parties in the rooms. I understand he upgraded you to suites. He is the loveliest man in the world. He speaks five languages and is very charming and witty and a genuinely kind man. When 9-11 happened he called Dan and said that he wanted to do anything he could and that he would let people stay free at his hotel if it would help. The meal was so amazing that it will have to have its own separate post, but I have now eaten sea urchins. It lasted five hours and involved about ten courses and many bottles of wine. When we got back to the hotel, my system was so busy digesting the pounds of butter and quarts of cream ingested, that I couldn't sleep all night. Also our hotel was right next to the American embassy (I see now that this is an example of real foreshadowing!) and you couldn't drive to our hotel without getting approval beforehand from the police, so my imagination, fueled by the bottles of wine, was running rampant with scary terrorist scenarios. Oh gosh-- I haven't even scraped the surface of it all. I know I don't experience things the same way other people do- don't ask me the names of castles or what streets I shopped on. But do ask about the delightful old lady I met when, curious because I had been watching dozens of old men (not a woman in sight) in full kilty regalia arriving under our hotel window in Edinburgh, I went down to find out what was going on. She had delivered her very decrepit old husband to a backroom and was on her way back to her car (which she had parked really oddly in the middle of the road) and told me it was a rugby club dinner. This wasn't very enlightening, but she was excited about my American accent and wanted to talk about New Hampshire (a relative had just moved there). She wanted to know if it was cold there and I said well, no colder than it is here right now. She said, well, tis a wee bit cold tonight. I could have listened to her talk forever. You are so lucky to have lived there for three months! The people were so friendly and kind. Must stop. We saw the Witchery but the prices were terrible! We ate steak pies at a pub called Bad Ass where I asked the waitress how to pronounce Din Eidn and she said, "I don't know. I'm from California."