We have been working hard for the last few weeks to get everything ready
for our trip to Burgundy, France, Northern Italy, Austria and Germany.
We got Treetop all ready, set up sheets and towel sets for our various
renters who will be coming while we are gone, and built a ramp from the
road to the trail so we can roll the hand truck up to the house from the
street. The house looks great!
As usual, our website went down just a few days before our departure.
It appears that our provider has finally gone belly-up and our URL is
now stuck in legal limbo. No website to post stories, show off our
houses, etc. Don tried to find out how to get custody of our URL, to no
avail. So we are using Blogspot this year.
We also got the Sunnyvale house all ready for our home exchange family,
the Commelins from St. Point, France. The house was clean, the yard
looked nice, the maps and info books were ready. We sat down in our
living room on Tuesday afternoon, 8 hours before our guests were due,
and looked at each other and grinned. We are good! Even that egregious
automatic watering system, a constant thorn in my side, was working
properly. Every detail was handled with time to spare.
Around 9pm we got in the Dodge to go to SFO to pick up the Commelins. I
had my nice yellow sign ready so they could find me, the car was clean
and gassed, we had plenty of time to get to the airport, we had
double-checked and confirmed their arrival time. We were on top of
everything. As we eased around the curve on the flyover from 85 to 101
we heard a loud BANG! What was that??? But the car seemed to be ok and
we didn't feel any bump or wobble in the car, so we continued on.
By the time we got to Redwood City I started to hear a noise. Did you
hear that, Don? What is that? Mr. Grumpy snarled, "I hear it. I don't
know what it is." The next thing we knew the tire started wobbling and
making a hellacious noise. Of course there was not safe place to pull
over, so we got in the slow lane and put on the hazard lights and limped
off the freeway on Whipple Ave. By now the tire was toast--shredded
and burning.
We got the car into a parking lot and determined that the whole wheel
would have to be changed out. Don set about getting the spare off the
mounting under the car and I was worried that our guests would be
concerned when we were not there to meet them. So I quickly got my
handy cell phone working and called our go-to guy for emergency rescue.
"Gary, help! Can you rescue us?' I gave him the deets and told him he
would have to clear stuff out of his car to accommodate a family of
four, Don and I too. He agreed to be our hero.
In the meanwhile, Don is down on his hands and knees in the dirt and
gravel, cussing and skinning his knuckles trying to figure out how to
detach the spare tire. I frantically enlisted Maggie, our favorite GPS,
trying to find an emergency service. Our road service contract lets us
use any service and just reimburses us. So, I called station after
station trying to find one that actually provides service, to no avail.
Don finally got the spare tire off the mounting and now was skinning
his knuckles and straining his back trying to loosen the lug nuts on the
wheel. I kept trying to get him to stop hurting himself and promised
to get some help, but he was just mad and snurly (made up word to
combine snarly with the effect of the trademarked Myrah nasty and
disdainful lip curl).
Just then I spotted a tow truck driving right down the frontage road
past us and I jumped up and down and waved at him. Paul Beckett a very nice guy from
Beckett's Auto Transport Service and his wife stopped and he jumped out
of his truck, unloaded numerous fancy professional car tools, and had
the wheel changed in 5 minutes. He made us feel real old when we
thanked him and offered to pay, and he responded that he hoped that if his
grandparents were in this situation someone would stop to help them
too, so no charge. Many thanks to this nice guy, Paul Beckett. And, if
you ever need a vehicle transported, call him in Santa Clara.
408-318-4556.
Meanwhile I called Gary and told him he was off the hook, talked to the
Commelins and let them know we were on the way. We found them at the
airport, very tired after 24 hours of travel, and took them to Sunnyvale
and just quickly showed them the house before heading over to DJ's for
the night.
This is just another proof of my "superstition" that every time you are
patting yourself on the back and smugly thinking how great you are,
something will jump up and remind you that you are not the hot shot you
think you are. This has happened to me more that once, so I really
don't consider it a superstition anymore.
August 15, 2012
After a good night's sleep at DJ's house, Don and I returned to
Ticonderoga and Don took the ruined tire to get it replaced. I showed
Eric and Cristelle around the house and went through all of the
information with them, gave them instructions for Treetop and also the
Lodge, in case the want to go there for a few days. They only have two
weeks and there is so much to do I don't now how they can fit everything
in. Anyway, we wish them a wonderful stay in Northern California.
We
got to Heathrow and made our connection to Geneva with no problems.
Since we flew overnight we arrived the next day--August 16. Now it was
time to find the car and venture out into the countryside to find our
exchange house. But wait! First we have to collect our checked
luggage--our Bike Fridays. Mine came off right away and then we waited
and waited until there was no more. No bike for Don. Off to the
baggage handling department to report the lost bike. The young man who
helped us was very competent and located our bag, still at Heathrow, and
promised to have it delivered tomorrow. Good luck on that, the house,
far in the country and up a dirt road, may not be easy to locate.
We easily found the Commelin's car and set up our GPS and headed out to
the A21 toward Macon. First we had to bail the car out of the parking
garage--another nasty Swiss surprise--71 Swiss francs. Holy moly!
Finally found a credit card that would work in Switzerland--they don't
like Visa--and we were on our way.
The car, a Citroen minivan or SUV, I can't really distinguish, is very
nice. It has a built-in GPS with a nice big picture. It is very easy
to use, so we followed that one (Trixie, our GPS, was giving us
conflicting directions. Our fault because we still had her programmed
for bicycle routes.) After two hours we finally made it to Macon around
9pm. Don spotted a McDonald's billboard, and after our little
orange-cranberry bread and coffee breakfast on the plane several
stressful hours earlier, we were really hungry. Hungry is not a good
place for Don to be, so we decided to break our cardinal rule, and stop
for a burger. First we went to the bank for some cash and then
McDonalds.
Appetites at bay, we headed out for the last leg of our trip, down dark
and narrow country lanes. Luckily, Don had researched the house and how
to get there, and he knew what it should look like, so he found it with
only minor wrong turns. Of course there is the French gate and we
could not find a remote to open it. I got out of the car to investigate
and found a key in the lock, so I was able to open the gate and we
drove into our new estate for the next two weeks.
The house is very spacious--a nicely remodeled barn. We looked around,
found the bathrooms--the first point of business after that long
trip--and then explored the many levels, from kitchen to office. I love
the big windows with lots of light and the rooms are huge. Don set up
the computer to handle a few issues and I took a shower and crashed
until 2:30am. So now I am writing our story and waiting for morning to
come. Feel pretty good.
August 17, 2012
Now that it is daylight I must say WOW!!! The view from here, up on the
hill, is breathtaking. We really couldn't appreciate it before, when
it was dark, but in the daylight the green hills, blue skies, lake,
little country roads, patches of farms across the valley, all combine to
make breathtaking views. I hope Don will post some photos to go with
this so you can appreciate what I am saying.
So, after I got up and spent several minutes appreciating the view, we
went grocery shopping. We went to the Atac in Cluny. As soon as we got
there Don started to remember that he hadn't had his breakfast, and to
head off the grumpies I got him a sandwich and sent him outside to eat
it. Before he left he adamantly handed down his edict--only buy food
for 4 days. He came in to check out my basket and "help" after he
finished his sandwich. It is hard for me to be quick when shopping
because I have to search the store for the item I want, scan the
shelves, read the French, find the brand I want, convert from pounds to
kilograms and euros to dollars to figure out what I am paying.
Selecting a can of tuna can take 10 minutes. So, to keep him more
patient with me, I send him off to find the ice cream and the beer and
the cookies. That way I can have some peace to think about what I want
to buy.
In the meanwhile, Don was also fretting about his bike, which we were
expecting to be delivered today. He wanted me to call first thing in
the morning, but I wouldn't. I hate to make phone calls, ever. But
making one in a foreign country is really stressful. I told him we
should wait until afternoon.
We went home and put away the groceries, ate some lunch, took a nap.
Still no bike, so I relented and called the British Air Baggage Contact
Center. The nice girl who looked up our claim number was "desole"
because now Don's bike has taken a side trip to Cairo. Don envisions it
having a great time visiting the Pyramids and riding camels. In the
meanwhile papa is here wringing his hands and fretting over his wayward
bike.
So, the madamoiselle of British Airways said they would get the roaming
bike back to Geneva tomorrow and be sure it got delivered to us. I gave
her some more clues on how to find the house--go through the town, past
the lake, turn right at the sign that says Le Mont. Follow the road up
the hill, when you come to a T in the road turn right and follow the
EC6 sign. The house is the last one on the road, with a red gate.
Hopefully it will be here tomorrow.
In the afternoon we decided to do a hike down to the lake. Don had
scoped out some hiking trails. So we headed out, up the hill on an old
dirt farm road, and then turned off on an overgrown trail. Eventually
the trail turned down hill and we followed as it became more overgrown
and less discernible with every step. Soon we could not find the trail
anymore and so we set off cross-country through berry vines and ivy.
Now that my left knee is not too dependable, I grabbed a fallen branch
from the forest floor and used that as a walking stick. Don kept
assuring me that he saw the glint of sun on water ahead as we tramped
and tripped our way through the vegetation.
We finally came out onto a trail again, thank goodness. Along the trail
we saw many French banana slugs, which are pumpkin orange and seemed to
be curled up together in a spiral--perhaps making whoopee. Farther
down the trail the slugs turned brown. They are not as big as
California Banana Slugs, but still were 6-8 inches long with sluggy
feelers and a slimy look to them.
We made it to the lake where we checked out the poster about scheduled
performers for the summer. As we continued along the lakeside we could
hear this week's group playing and singing. Their unique lyrics were
"Check, one, two, three, check one, two, three" accompanied by a heavy
bass. Sorry to say, this group is not on the A list.
As we approached our home we saw the neighbor in his yard and stopped to
introduce ourselves. Pierre is a genial fellow and we had a good chat
and promised to get together next week for a drink.
We sat out on the back side of the house and had a glass of the nice
white wine Eric left for us, and some green olives and peanuts. There
is a very nice outdoor table set in the front yard of the house in a
very pleasant setting, but I am so entranced by the stunning view, I
have set up a chair and a makeshift table on the back side of the house
where I can sit and look over my lands like the owner of the chateau.
A little later we had a dinner of jazzed up pizza and sliced tomatoes.
While I was cooking my cell phone rang and, as I am loath to incur
European roaming charges, I didn't answer it. As we ate our dinner I
watched a car on the road below, creeping along hesitantly. I
postulated that maybe this was the delivery service with Don's bike.
Big mistake! We investigated the unanswered call and found it was from a
Swiss location. Oh No! The call must have been from the delivery
people and we didn't answer and now they had turned back towards the
town. Well, I don't think it was, but Don was excited.
We spent the next hour and a half trying to call the British Air Baggage
Service, to no avail. Oh, man. Why did I ever point out that slow
moving car, which I now think was just a happy camper slowly driving
down the dirt road in the pitch black. By 11 o'clock I gave Don a kiss
goodnight and hit the sack.
I hope that darn bike shows up tomorrow.
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