RIP Michael Jackson

Today is a sad day all around: not only have I returned to Cairo from my amazing European adventures but it is also the day of Michael Jackson’s memorial service in Los Angeles. Since I am still working on posts to tell you about the places I saw and all the beer I drank, I thought I would instead stare this story from Prague.

Hubby and I learned about the King of Pop’s death while we were checking our email at a Mac Store in Zurich. “Holy crap! Did you see Michael Jackson died?!” I called over to his station incredulously. Several people in the store also commented about the shocking news and Hubby and I endeavored not to moonwalk as we made our way back to our hotel.

(Aside: Do the people who own Apple realize that the only reason people go into Apple Stores is to use the Internet for free? I’m a Mac baby and have rarely purchased anything at a brick and mortar Apple store. The Internet is for shopping and Mac Stores are for checking email. Is it just me?)

Anyways, two days later, we were in the Czech Republic walking through a really cool ped mall when we noticed a huge group of people gathered. Flash Mob? Dead body? We weren’t sure what was going on and no matter what we did we couldn’t get close enough to the epicenter of the circle to figure out it. Of course, the Michael Jackson impersonators and dozens of people wearing one single, sparkly glove probably should have tipped us off.

Two hours later, the group of mourners had grown exponentially and this time they had props. Someone had brought in a generator attached to giant speakers and was playing Jackson’s greatest (and not so greatest) hits on full blast. Children were dancing, couples were embracing as if only together could they hold back the tears, and several people had lit candles.

What amazed us was that most of the people we saw probably hadn’t even been born during Jackson’s heyday. They may have seen Thriller or heard the Dangerous album as teens but they weren’t there when the albums changed the face of music. I still remember watching the thirty-minute video on MuchMusic and dancing like a zombie in my living room. What connection did these kids have to him?

I suppose the King of Pop transcended generations and cultures. People in almost every country we visited were talking about his death and how tragic it was. They mourned the loss of the music icon. His dubious “Wacko Jacko” years and even sketchier child molestation trial were blips on the radar to these fans. They mourned him for the music he brought to their lives.

National OLD Day

I would never point out to someone that they were OLD just because they had hit a particularly significant birthday. I mean, OLD means different things to different people. Heck, I would never even use the word OLD to describe someone of a certain age because I know it’s rude.

You wouldn’t want to be told you were OLD just because today was a landmark day in history. Clothing bought say, forty years ago, would be considered vintage. And jewelry created around the same time might even be considered antique. But no one would call either of those things OLD because the word OLD sounds so harsh.

What do you consider OLD?

I don’t think my husband is OLD because his age isn’t that far off from my own and that would be like saying I’m almost OLD. And I’m not. I have two brothers who are OLDer than I am. But I don’t call them OLD to their faces because it’s mean. My middle brother, BBA, is the same age as Hubby so I guess technically he isn’t OLD.

So who is left to be described as OLD?

That must be my OLDest brother, BBS. Today he is 40 years OLD. He is the first of my siblings to hit the ripe OLD age of 40. If I didn’t know better, I would think he was the OLDest person I knew. But I know people who are OLDer than 40. After all, 40 isn’t that OLD.

Does being this OLD make him eligible for Social Security cheques or OLD age discounts at the pharmacy? No, he’s not that OLD yet. But he’s awfully close.

HAPPY 40th BIRTHDAY, BBS!!

PS. To everyone reading this who has already passed this age marker or is closer to it than I am, please know that today’s post was not meant to throw salt in your wounds or to mock you. I save those special treats for my family.

142 Years and Counting

O Canada!

Our home and native land!

True patriot love in all thy sons command.
With glowing hearts we see thee rise,
The True North strong and free!
From far and wide,

O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.
God keep our land glorious and free!
O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.
O Canada, we stand on guard for thee.

O Canada!
Terre de nos aïeux,

Ton front est ceint de fleurons glorieux!
Car ton bras sait porter l'épée,
Il sait porter la croix!
Ton histoire est une épopée

Des plus brillants exploits.
Et ta valeur, de foi trempée,

Protégera nos foyers et nos droits.
Protégera nos foyers et nos droits.

Happy 42nd Anniversary Mum and Dad!

Beloved Sister

Twenty-nine years ago today, the amazing woman whom I call my neighbor was born. This fantastic person has made my time in Cairo so much better simply by being her fabulous self.

She has been my shoulder to cry on, my drinking buddy, my partner in (shopping) crime, and my confidante during good times and bad. This beautiful woman has loaned me clothes, turned me onto Twilight, let me beat her at Scrabble, and cheated on diets with me. What more could you ask for in a friend?

Happy Birthday, Adelpha!

And They’re Off!

We departed Egypt from Cairo’s new terminal three on Thursday morning and were left with no doubts as we boarded the plane that we both desperately needed a vacation. Although the first week of our European adventure was scheduled for work-related purposes (i.e., a conference), the rest won’t be.

Even from the air, we knew Austria would be different from our usual sand coloured existence. The windmill-spotted landscape was a sea of green beneath us. In some more forested areas, the ground looked like giant blocks of broccoli florets surrounded by rectangles of emerald fields. Sure, it sounds cheesily poetic but for people who have learned to discern shades of tan and brown, the sweetness of the raucous colours could not be denied.

The plane landed at Vienna’s International airport and we quickly set forth to make the most of our single day in this famed city. As our taxi took us to our hotel, we watched the city go by and enjoyed the almost seamless blend of new and old architechture.

At my mother’s urging, our first stop that day was the famed Sacher Hotel so I could have a slice of the chocolate cake they made famous. While Hubby sipped a glass of white wine with his apple strudel, I dug into my Sachertorte like a woman possessed. Of course, the hot chocolate with Sacher liqueur may have helped with that too. (For the purists out there, yes, I did try the Sachertorte down the street at Demel’s and have been forced to admit that it was indeed superior to the slice I ate at the hotel of the same name.)

Hubby and I spent most of Thursday wandering the tourist areas of Vienna, enjoying the busy pedestrian malls, and simply taking in the splendor of this old city. I ran through the sprinklers at Burggarten Park on our way to see the Mozart monument, and cooed at the beautiful horses at the Lipizzaner Museum. Due to the extravagant cost (and lack of love on Hubby’s part), we were unable to take a carriage ride through the city past famous sites like the Hofburg Palace although we did manage to wander around the Michael Wing.

During our walk though the ped-mall, we encountered everything from “robot guy” mimes and break-dancers to visiting high school bands. The latter were incredibly amused by the various street artists and were constantly getting in our way running and posing with every busker they could find. Thankfully, whenever the array of expensive shops and annoying tourists got to be too much, there were plenty of bars and cafés for us to duck into and enjoy a cold beer or cosmo.

Although currently undergoing a bit of a facelift, we were able to see St. Stephen’s Cathedral, which lies at the heart of this pedestrian mall. Despite the hoards of tourists wandering around and snapping photos, this Catholic church still celebrates mass daily and has managed to retain a feeling of religiousness (if that is the correct word) that similar tourist sites like Notre Dame have long since lost.

We enjoyed dinner that evening at a restaurant Hubby had previously discovered called Little Buddha, where we gorged ourselves on sake cocktails and obscene amounts of sushi. The latter was a real treat as we haven’t enjoyed sushi in ages and the offerings at Buddha were creatively wrought and tasty. Somewhere between the semi-finals of our usual wasabi eating contest and our fourth round of drinks, we came to the mutual decision that despite being stuffed, an extra plate of “caterpillar maki” was essential.

Later that night, and slightly tipsy, we walked back to our hotel that night, we both agreed that our Eurotrip was off to a fantastic start. Next stop: Budapest, Hungary!

Planes, Trains, and Automobiles

I am a very lucky woman who married a very wonderful, good looking, sweet, kind, and cheap man. I appreciate all of those positive qualities, but even he would admit that he brings the term cheap to a whole new level. (Hubby edit: No, I don’t!!!!!!) Doctor Cheapo, as I once dubbed him, enjoys looking generous while secretly being cheap.

You see, with a few notable exceptions, most of our wanderings are on someone else’s dollar. Generally speaking, if he can sneak me along on a business trip, Hubby will “kindly” let me tag along. This means that his flight, our hotel, and usually most of our food are paid for.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining and I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. (Hubby edit: Too late for that one …) I love traveling and am willing to do so pretty much any way I can. But every so often, I kind of wish our trips were for us. You know, romantic getaways that weren’t squeezed in-between meetings, presentations, and cocktail parties with the folks footing the bills.

Which brings us to today’s post. Even as you read this, I am currently flying to Europe for a fabulous combination business/romance trip. Hubby and I will be spending almost a week in Hungary for his work during which time I will get to meet the fabulous Nicole, whose blog I adore, reunite with amazing friends from our days in the Midwest, and hopefully sneak in time for some window shopping when Hubby isn’t watching.

The best part of our trip is that once the work portion ends the fun portion will begin! Hubby and I are planning to rent a car and go on our very own Eurotrip-inspired vacation. During that week and a half, we plan to drive through Austria, Liechtenstein, Switzerland, Germany, the Czech Republic, Poland, and Slovakia. In each country, I have insisted to Hubby that we must complete at least one culturally significant task.

Normally when I travel, I forget about the blog because I’m a bad blogger. *shame* This time around, however, is going to be different. Stop shaking your heads and doubting me! You’re my Devoted Readers, you’re supposed to have faith! Hmmph!

My goal is to try to post at least once from each country. Sometimes this won’t be possible because we’ll be on the road (Liechtenstein) or because there is no Internet since Hubby is being too cheap to pay for ten minutes worth of access. (Hubby edit: Ummmm…) But I’m going to do my best to blog as often as possible during the trip. So keep an eye out, and you too can play, “Where in the World is Carmen SanDiego Typ0?"

Stuck on Blank

As I was struggling to come up with something to write about today, I found myself Googling the words “writing prompts.” I don’t often find myself in desperate need of something outside my own craziness to write about, but suddenly with everything else going on in my life, I was truly stuck.

The first site I found, the Imagination Prompt Generator, allowed its users to keep clicking until they found that prompt that prompted them back to their blog. Here are first couple of ideas it came up with for me:

• Activities I enjoy are: This one wasn’t going to work since, in addition to obstinately being a PG rated blog, my mother reads this stuff! No fun “activities” for this blogger, thank you!


• People that irritate me: I started writing this one and suddenly noticed that I was on page 10. This taught me two things: I really know nothing about brevity. And I’m a hater who is irritated by a lot of things. In an effort to reform and not be so irritable I deleted the post.


• I wish I could: fly, be invisible, walk through walls, read thoughts…. Basically I want to be a superhero, which made me realize I am kind of sad and pathetic. So I won’t be sharing that post either. (Rogue Rules!!!)


• Close your eyes and count to ten. When you open your eyes write about what you feel: If I could do that, I wouldn’t need to use the damn prompting tool!


• What do you do to help the needy: My husband says I’m needy. Does that count?


• Why did you do it: You can’t prove that I did it, so I don’t have to answer your questions!

Obviously, I wasn’t meant to use machines like this since they only help prove how weird I am. Luckily, I’m okay with that. After all, if I were normal, would I really be wandering the world and blogging about it?