A library, a storm, and a friend

We have been getting a lot of rain lately.

Today I went to the library. I usually go to the library to check my email, and to see if they have any new books to check out. They had several new books, one was on natural disasters, with descriptions, statistics, and pictures. I was reading about an earthquake in Alaska, when a voice came over the library intercom.

Library Intercom: The national weather service has issued a tornado warning for our area. Could everyone in the library proceed to the basement, please?

I looked outside, and it was dark. Then, I heard a siren going off outside the library. You know, the kind that you hear at noon, when there is a tornado, or somebody thinks nuclear war is about to happen.

Down in the library basement there were books, computers, desks, library visitors, and librarians.

Librarian: Ok, everyone please remain calm. We have everything perfectly under control. The tornado warning will probably be over in a few minutes. I repeat, everyone please remain calm.

It looked like everybody was already calm. But, when the librarian said “everyone please remain calm,” I wondered if there was something to be not calm about.

Then, some kids rushed down the stairs into the basement.

Kid One: It’s getting real dark out there. I think there’s a tornado coming.
Kid Two: If a tornado touches the library, will the whole building get sucked up into the sky?
Kid Three: No, the library is full of books that weigh a lot.
Man With Hands In His Pockets: This reminds me of the time back in ‘74 when my trailer was hit by an F5 tornado. Picked the trailer right up and carried it five miles away and set it down in the community swimming pool. I was hiding in the well pit when it happened.
Librarian who Slouches All The Time: I don’t think there’s going to be a tornado. I just looked at the weather radar on the internet and it doesn’t look bad.
Lady With Frizzy Hair: Well, I hope there isn’t one. I left my car outside in the parking lot and its full of notes for the book I’m writing. I came to the library to research my book on how to get rid of head lice–I’m writing page 472 right now.
Large Lady in Chair: Are we all going to die?

Then the lights went out. Now, I could just hear voices.

We’re all going to die!
What are we supposed to do if there is a tornado?
I heard that you are supposed to put your head between your knees, hold onto something solid, and count to ten backwards.
I heard that tornadoes sound like freight trains.
I heard they sound like fog horns.
I heard they sound like millions of lost souls crying out in pain.
Nobody knows what a tornado sounds like because everybody who has ever been close to one is dead.
We’re all going to die!

I think some people enjoy making other people scared. Here is a picture of the lady who said we are all going to die. It was dark, but this is what I imagine she would have looked like.

Librarian Who Slouches All The Time: It’s ok, we have light now.

Then a little light went on, it was a lantern and the Librarian was holding it. Guess what happened next?

You know how you can see someone and think you recognize them, but you can’t remember where?

Me: Ummm, do I know you?
Lucy: Oh, Kevin! You were at the wedding in Paris!
Me: Lucy! And you were at the top of Notre Dame!
Lucy: What are you doing here?
Me: I live here.
Lucy: You live at the . . . library?
Me: No, I live in this town.
Lucy: Oh, yes, of course. I live in this town too.
Me: Well . . .
Library Intercom: The National Weather Service has canceled the tornado warning for this area. You may now return to your regular activities at the library.
Lucy: Oh, it looks like the storm is over.
Me: Maybe the rain has stopped. Would you like to come outside and look at my new scooter?

4th of July

That is a picture of me watching the 4th of July fireworks display.

I normally sit out in a field and watch them, but this time I was in front of a building with a lot of other people around. I liked that better because every time the fireworks would go “boom” the boom would bounce off the building and make a swishing sound

Fireworks: Boom!
Building: Swish!
People Around Me: Ooooooh!
Me: Swap!

That last line was me swatting a mosquito. I forgot to bring my bug spray, so today I am itching a lot.

Today I bought a motor scooter.

I have been thinking about buying one ever since I rode a scooter around Paris for a day. I figured I could save some money on bus fairs if I rode a scooter to work.

Second Street Scooters is the largest dealer of scooters in town–at least that’s what the advertisement in the phone book said. I decided to go there.

Second Street Scooters is a large building with lots of windows. Inside, there is a showroom full of rows and rows of shiny new scooters, with customers walking around them, scratching their heads and looking like they wished they had more money. Besides customers, there are repair men in greasy overalls wiping their hands on towels, and salesmen in suites rubbing their hands.

Salesman: Hello, my name is Phil, can I help you with anything?
Me: Um, I’m looking at scooters.
Phil: Well, you have come to the right place, we have over fifty scooters in stock with models ranging from 50 cubic centimeters to 700 cubic centimeters made by over five different companies, and in seventeen colors. This, here, is a beauty. Is our top of the line model with a 695 engine, automatic transmission, antilock brakes, positractoid traction, heated seat and handlebars, extra storage space, and capable of going from zero to sixty miles per hour in 4.334 seconds. Here, take my card.
Me: How much does this one cost?
Phil: That one is $6,999, however if you qualify for one of our financing options you can take this scooter home today for two hundred dollars and monthly payments of . . .
Intercom: If Phil is on the floor, he is needed in the shop for a sale.
Phil: Oh, sorry I have to go.

Have you noticed how some salesmen make you feel like if you don’t buy the most expensive model, you will be offending them. Here is a picture of Phil trying to get me to look at the expensive models, while I try to find something cheaper.

After Phil left, it was a lot more quiet. I walked around the showroom looking at all the shiny new scooters. When I climbed on top of them their tires would squeak on the tile floor. They all had price tags on them that ended in a series of nines and cost much more than the money I had with me.

Me: Excuse me, do you have any models that cost less than eight hundred dollars?
Man in Greasy Overalls Wiping Hands On Towel: Try the “used” section over there.

There were less scooters in the used section. Some of the scooters were almost new, and cost almost as much and new ones. Some were very old and looked like they probably wouldn’t run for very long. Towards the end of the row was a grey scooter with a metal rack on the back (for carrying extra gear), and a price tag that said “$769.99.” I was starting too climb on top of it when Phil came back.

Phil: Oh, I see you have found our used section. That’s a nice little scooter. It’s small, but it has a fast 148cc engine.
Me: How do I know it runs well?
Phil: Do you want to take it for a test drive?

Read a Book

I have a dilemma.

What do you do when you walk into a bookstore, pick up a book, start reading it to decide if you want to buy it, and end up reading the whole book? Should you buy it?

Today, I picked up a book titled, “Snakes of the World and What To Do About Them.”

There were two pages on the Bushmaster Viper of South America with large, color, photographs. It talked about its color, its markings, and its eating habits.

Book: The Bushmaster Viper is a very dangerous snake. A bite from one would be very serious and probably fatal if medical attention was not immediately available.

I suppose that’s where the second part of the title comes in, “And What To Do About Them.” I hope there’s a doctor around if I run into one of those.

The King Cobra might be more dangerous than the Bushmaster. It didn’t say much about the King Cobra–but what it did say was important.

Book: The King Cobra is a dangerous snake. Without medical aid, death is certain for its victims.

I’m glad they live in Asia and I don’t have to worry about one of them being under my porch. But, then, it might be exciting knowing that a King Cobra could be lurking under the steps and might jump out to bite the mailman at any time.

Reading about snakes made me a little jumpy. The bookstore was quiet, too–which didn’t help any.

I bought the book. I might want to read it again sometime.

Back to Work

I work at a supermarket. I check out people’s groceries, and tell them how much they need to pay me.

Not too many exciting things happen when I check out groceries.

Sometimes, people don’t like the price my register rings up on an item.

Me: Beep . . . beep.
Lady Customer: That cabbage was $2.78 a head, not $2.87. I remember.
Me: Ok. I’ll have somebody check that.

Sometimes people spill things. My manager, Reginald, doesn’t like spills. Soap spills are the worst because they are slippery and hard to clean up.

Today, a man picked up a supersized bottle of dish detergent that had a broken cap, and carried it upside down all over the store.

Here is a picture of the container when I saw it.

By the time he had got to my checkout counter, the bottle was empty and he had left a thin blue trail of dish detergent starting in the cleaning supplies isle, over to the dairy section, round the refrigerator where they keep all the cheeses, all the way to the other side of the store at the magazine rack, and ending at my checkout counter.

Reginald was walking out of the back room and didn’t notice the blue trail on the floor until he slipped and knocked over a pile of canned tuna. He wasn’t happy.

Here is Reginald telling someone to clean up the mess–which ended up being me.

 

Here is me cleaning up the mess.

After work, I went to Paul’s Pizza Pavilion and ordered a personal pan pizza to carry home and eat. Since I don’t have a car, I took it home on the bus.

It’s hard not eating a pizza that is warm and setting on your lap and smells very good–especially when you are hungry. But, there were other people on the bus, and I didn’t want to be rude.

When I got home, it was raining these gigantic raindrops out of the sky–as you can see. There weren’t very many raindrops, but when one hit you, you would feel it.

Can you tell from the picture that I am hungry?

Scooter

Today is my last day in France, so I decided to do something fun and different. I rented a motor-scooter.

I put my backpack on my back, a helmet on my head, and off I went to explore Paris. 

The streets of Paris are complicated. They go every which way, and have names like “Rue de Faubourg St-Antoine,” and “Avenue des Champs Elysees” (which I still haven’t figured out how to pronounce). I found myself lost many times. But that didn’t matter because riding a motor scooter makes you feel happy–like you could go anywhere, and have no worries. It was an adventure.

My first stop was the Statue of Liberty. 

Paris has a Statue of Liberty–just like the one in New York. This statue is a lot smaller and is on the Seine river. My guidebook says it was given to the city in 1889 and it faces west, towards the original Statue of Liberty in New York Harbor. 

I took lots of pictures. Here is a picture of me taking a picture. 

Roundabouts are intersections where all the drivers go in a circle. Roads enter and leave the roundabout. When you get in the roundabout, you stay in it until you find the road you want to leave on. Sometimes I would ride round and round many times before I decided where I wanted to go. 

It’s hard to look at a street map and ride a scooter at the same time. You have to wait till you stop at a traffic light and try to fumble for the map in your pocket. By the time you get it out, open it up, and start figuring out where you are, the light turns green. Then, you need to move quickly because the French drivers behind you are impatient. 

French Driver: “Beep! Beep!”

Eventually, I just sat on the map. That made it easier to get to. 

The police officers usually speak English. 

Me: Parlez-vous anglais?
Police Officer: Yes.
Me: Can you tell me how to get to (here you could insert anywhere you want to go)
Police Officer: Yes, I can help you with that.

Notre Dame is a big church that is very old. It was built in 1163. Well, it was started then, but it took them almost two hundred years to finish. 

After walking around the big sanctuary, I started to climb the long spiral staircase to the top of Notre Dame. The stairs go on and on and are narrow. Sometimes had to squeeze up against the wall to let somebody pass by me. 

Me: Pardon.
Other Person on Stairs: Excuse me.
Me: Oh, you’re American?
Other Person on Stairs: No, I’m French. But you are an American. Bonjour. 

I don’t know how all the French people can tell that I am an American.  

The stairs kept going up and up and up. Guess who else I met on the stairs?

Me: Oh, hello?
Lucy: Hello. Phew! These stairs keep going! “

It was Lucy, from the wedding. She was doing some sightseeing herself. We climbed to the top of the tower and looked down from the top. We could see for miles (or as they would say in France, Kilometers). 

Lucy: Look at all the clouds moving around. It looks like it’s going to rain soon.
Me: There’s the Eiffel Tower.
Lucy: I’m  hungry, see any places to eat?

Backpack

I had been thinking about my suitcase–the one I had been putting my baggage in. It’s old and when I carried it around at the airport, I kept worrying that the handle would fall off. I decided to buy something new. 

I found a shop titled “Hans’s” and it sold all sorts of stuff. It was owned by a German guy. You could tell he was German, because he was blonde and talked . . . German. 

Me: Parlez-vous anglais?
Hans: Ya.
Me: do you have any backpacks?
Hans: Ya. Look in zee back. 

His shop was full of hats, shoes, coats, purses, and backpacks. 

Buying a backpack is fun–there are so many kinds. There are simple backpacks: ones that have a big compartment and two straps for holding it on your shoulders. And there are complicated backpacks: ones that have many compartments and several straps to hold it onto you, several other straps for holding other stuff onto it, and even more straps for holding it all together. 

There are large backpacks that could hold enough stuff for a camping trip in the wilderness, and there are small ones that can hold a candy bar. 

It’s important to buy a backpack that is the right size. You don’t want it too small because you will have to squeeze all your stuff in it. Then, when you open up the zipper all your stuff comes oozing out around you. But you don’t want one that’s too big, either. Then it is all big and floppy on your back. 

I found a brown backpack that was medium complicated. I put all the stuff in my suitcase in it, and it still had some room left–parfait! (that’s French for “perfect”). 

After paying Hans 50 Euros I walked outside the shop. What should I do with my old suitcase? I had owned it for a long time, and didn’t want to just throw it away. 

While I was walking down the street, thinking about this, a older lady holding several shopping bags walked up to me . . .

Older Lady: Speak English?
Me: Um, yes. 

She put down her shopping bags and held up a card with words on it.

Card: “I am from country of Moldova and is poor. I have no home. Please, if you spare money I thank you very very.” 

I didn’t know what to do, she might be lying about being from Moldova and being poor. I opened up my empty suitcase. 

Me: Here, you can put your stuff in my suitcase. I don’t need it anymore.
Older Lady: Oh, very nice. Thank, very nice. 

I helped her put the stuff from her shopping bags into the suitcase.

Then I took her card from her, turned it over and wrote: “Hello, I am from the country of Moldova and do not have a home or any money. If you can give me something, I will thank you very much.” 

I also put one of my little American flags in the suitcase. That way, she will remember America.

She looked happy. I hope I helped her.  

Louvre

I saw the Louvre. It is a very large museum with a lot of paintings. 

When you walk around in the Louvre you hear many different languages. Of course you hear mostly French, and you hear quite a bit of English. But sometimes, you have no idea what they are speaking. 

I was looking for the Mona Lisa, and walked up to this lady for directions: 

Me: Parlez-vous anglais?”
Unknown Lady: Nyet.
Me: Not yet?
Unknown Lady: Nyet!, Nyet!

I think that meant, “no.” I wonder what language it was?

I eventually found the Mona Lisa. It was in the Italian section. 

Leonardo Da Vinci lived in the 1400s, was Italian, and painted the Mona Lisa. The Mona Lisa very famous and sets all by itself on a wall. It’s hard to see the Mona Lisa because there are many other people crowding around it. It’s a picture of a lady who smiles. I wonder if her name is Mona or Lisa, or if it is Mona Lisa. 

Above is a picture of me in the modern art section. The Louvre is full of paintings and statues. I didn’t draw any of the statues because they usually didn’t have any clothes on.

Sortie

 

I learned a new French word today, “sortie.” It is a very useful word.

When you are in Paris, you have to ride the Metro a lot. The Metro is the same as the American Subway. It is a train that travels all over town, and is underground. It costs one Euro to get on the Metro, and you can ride it many places. The Metro is fun. 

There are Metro stations everywhere. To get to where you are going, you first have to buy a ticket at the station. Then you get out a little map and figure out what station you need to get to. Sometimes you will ride on several trains going in different directions to get where you want to. 

Once you know what station you need to stop at, and what trains you will need to ride to get there, you get on the train and PAY ATTENTION! You don’t want to miss your stop. 

Sometimes there is nobody on the train except you, and sometimes it is very crowded. Sometimes you can’t sit down, and you have to hang onto a railing. Sometimes you have to pack yourself very closely to all the other people on the train. It can get uncomfortable. 

When you get to your stop, you get off the train and now you are in a strange station and don’t know where to go to get out. That’s where the word “sortie” comes in. it means “exit.” Just follow the sign.

Today was the wedding

I have drawn a bunch of pictures from the wedding. I will lay them out and describe each one. 

Here is the pastor. He did the ceremony. He was a bit old, and couldn’t walk very well. Sometimes he talked in English, and sometimes he talked in French. He talked in English enough so I knew what was going on. 

Frank’s bride’s name is Esme. Don’t you think they look very nice together? 

After the wedding, there was the reception. Here is the guy that keeps everything organized. His paper says “guest list.” It actually said something in French, but I put “guest list” in the picture because every time somebody walked in, he would make a check mark on the paper. 

The French sure know how to make good food. They also take a long time eating it. There were five courses, each one lasted for about an hour. In this picture the Chef is serving me a chicken dish. It tasted like wine. He called it Coq au vin. Dessert was the best part. There wasn’t any cake, but a series of . . .  chocolaty things, with lots of cherries. 

Most of the people at my table didn’t speak much English, except for the girl next to me. She seemed relaxed after she found out I spoke English, and could talk with her.  

Me: “My name’s Kevin, what’s yours?”
Lucy: “Lucy. Are you from America too?”
Me: “Yes. Do you speak any French? I’m afraid I know very little.”
Lucy: I know how to say “I am innocent.” I learned it from the book I’m reading, “The Scarlet Pimpernel.” You say, “je-suis innocent.”
Me: Oh, I know that one too. I hope neither of us have to use it.