Forgive me as I close out Paris by quoting Noel Coward, an Englishman: I went to a marvelous party With Nounou and Nada and Nell, It was in the fresh air And we went as we were And we stayed as we were Which was Hell. Poor Grace started singing at midnight And didn't stop singing till four; We knew the excitement was bound to begin When Laura got blind on Dubonnet and gin And scratched her veneer with a Cartier pin, I couldn't have liked it more. And that pretty much sums up Paris with myself, Don and Carlton. But. [View Full Entry]

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Georges Seurat, the leading force behind neo-impressionist painting, died in Paris in 1891 at the age of 32. (The cause of his death is in dispute, but it's likely to have been diphtheria.) His final major work, Cirque, remained unfinished. It hangs today in the Musee d'Orsay in Paris, quite possibly the most beautiful and emotionally moving art museum ever built. Actually, built is a bit misleading. Probably rebuilt is a better way to put it. The museum, which opened in 1986, was originally the Gare d'Orsay train station. But the words train station lessen the architecture's impa [View Full Entry]

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Or, how Paris stole my heart when I didn't see it comin'. Oh, Paris, you sly coquette. Take me. I'm yours. I know. It took years just to get me across your threshold. Or border. (Same difference.) But did you let that stop you? No. Of course not. You're a lady who knows what she wants, and you wanted my undying affection. Demanded it, really. Called to me from across the Atlantic with your Edith Piaf-laced siren song, patiently expecting my love to eventually blossom. And blossom it has. There were reasons, of course, for me to hold my heart at [View Full Entry]

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... dog poop mostly from what I can tell. Granted I'm not out now that the sun's fully down to see how it lives up to the City of Lights moniker. But honestly even if the whole place shone brighter than the noon sun after dusk, the dog poop thing would still give it a run for the money. Not that I'm complaining. Yet. (Actually, I'm loving the trip so far. It was supes easy getting over here, and we've had a blast today.) And why am I not out on a Friday night? Jet lag, baby. Jet lag. At this [View Full Entry]

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Well. Here we go again. Off to Paris for a few days during Thanksgiving. And one of the main questions (probably because you're being polite ... or nonchalantly fearful ...) is if I'm dusting off the infamous travel blog. And to both of you I say, of course I am. So here's your chance to bail out before you're faced with stories of me apprenticing at a world-class fromagerie. (Oh, who are we kidding? It'll just be me bitching about stuff again. But that's fun, too, no?) Please join Carlton, Don and I as we attempt to destroy our cholesterol counts [View Full Entry]

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Dear Frankfurt Airport, You are a pit. I swear to Jesus. If I had any calf muscles left after walking the last 17 miles to get from one gate to the other ... not to mention now being able to qualify for Social Security benefits because I waited in two different security lines for so long that if I had children, I would have missed their formative years ... I'd march the hell out of here and find anywhere else that serviced two rubber bands and a beanie hat to get me out of here. I'm not sure if it's [View Full Entry]

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Sitting in the airport in Kirkenes, Norway. Practically the end of the earth ... or at least it looks like it. We're waaaaaay up on the planet. Roughly a thousand miles from the North Pole, which from here is only reachable if you get on an ice breaker. There's a good ice breaker joke in there somewhere, but I didn't sleep well last night and am too tired to work for it. And as fun as that may sound, I'm headed back to Oslo. The airport is actually a tin-roofed shack where little turbo props buzz up. The guy who [View Full Entry]

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In this episode Rusty "borrows" internet and uploads pictures for Kenneth. Rusty, the official blogtographer of the Kenneth & Rusty travel blog, has been working his index finger to the bone getting images for Kenneth to be pithy about. Here are some of his latest favorites. [View Full Entry]

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See what happens? Instead of coming back to the hotel to diligently blog about the last day in Amsterdam, I went out and entertained myself. So now I'm a day behind and jamming stuff together. Last day in Amsterdam and aside from Anne Frank, we went running around trying to see the last of the highlights. Had much fun at the Albert Cuypmarkt, which is this amazingly long open-air market where you can pretty much find it if you wanted it. This is the sort of thing I love about vacations ... get away from the tourists and go hang [View Full Entry]

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Spent the day making the most of our new-found metro tram navigation skills and went back and forth all over the place. This included our return to the Anne Frank house, where a crowd of people still stood around the corner waiting to get in while we walked to the front of the line, showed our pre-paid tickets and walked right in. I have no idea why people haven't picked up on securing reservations. But my thanks to all of you who stood there so I could sneak past. And what to say about Anne Frank Huis? There's a theory [View Full Entry]

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