Back safe, home again

We're back home in Milan. It's raining (and sometimes snowing). We survived Charles de Gaulle (Terminal 1, where the inter-EU flights come and go, is SO MUCH BETTER than all of that insanity in Terminal 2).
In the superhero department, Kevin survived three extended Owen-keepings: 45 minutes or so while Laura and I rode Big Thunder Mountain Railroad on Tuesday; a little more than an hour while Laura and I went up the Eiffel Tower on Wednesday; and five hours Thursday while Laura and I went into town to go to the Louvre.
This was the third time I'd been up the Eiffel Tower. I'm not sure I'll do it again, at least until Owen's old enough to care -- and then I'll take him up once if he's really lucky and promises to never ask for anything ever again.
It's lovely and all, just a bit overdone. I like it just as well when viewed from a distance (such as from the Tuileries Gardens across from the Louvre).
In the Louvre, Laura and I decided our lives would be a lot easier if we had the services of their Parthenon-model-builders at our disposal. Theirs was so much cooler than ours.(Yes, that's Laura peeking through.)
Disneyland Paris was all kinds of different sorts of fun. Laura has outgrown the concept of getting characters' autographs and Owen isn't old enough to care, so we didn't have to stand in any lines to see princesses or anything. We did see Mickey Mouse while we waited to be seated for Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show, though.This was a slightly more successful photo than the one Buzz Lightyear took of Owen and me later in the week. (Yes, Buzz Lightyear really did take this photo himself. I think he was trying to convince Owen he wasn't going to eat him or something. Owen was unconvinced.)
Laura has become quite the scary-ride-rider. Well, at least she's willing to try everything once. She still hasn't done Tower of Terror, but she seemed to enjoy Space Mountain (the Paris version apparently is much more intense than the California and Florida ones). In other words, she's way more into the big rides than I am. I suppose there will come a time when I'll be the odd woman out as far as they're concerned. But for now, I've got company while the "big kids" are off riding things that would make me sick.
So it was an action-packed but non-traditional Thanksgiving week. I hope all of our friends and families had their own kind of fun wherever they were.
And now back to real life ...

Tonight it's our dining room. Tomorrow it's the real thing.

We're headed for Paris tomorrow. One of the great things about living here is taking advantage of such opportunities: It's a short flight, we got a decent hotel/Disneyland deal, and we'll zip into the city for a couple of days. I don't know how often I'll be online, if at all. So in case it's awhile before I post again, have a great Thanksgiving!

Life in a (really bad) laundry detergent commercial

Laura came home from school yesterday in a shirt that looked like this:
Apparently she and another girl collided at recess -- supposedly while running at full speed -- and Laura ended up in the mud. Her jeans didn't seem anywhere near as muddy as her shirt, though. I did wonder what the other kid's clothes looked like but didn't ask.
I didn't worry much about the shirt because I thought the dirt would come out. Plus, it's an old shirt from Walmart and no major loss.
So I soaked it with Spray N Wash, stuck it in a load of laundry I already was doing last night and didn't think much of it.
The verdict this morning? All the mud is still there. Into the trash it goes. And although I have been lecturing Laura on how it's too cold to be wearing short-sleeved shirts to school, I wasn't really planning on enforcing my demands in such a wardrobe-reducing way.

My Father's Secret War by Lucinda Franks

No, I didn't read another book overnight, I'd just waited to write both of these.
I have mixed feelings about My Father's Secret War. On the one hand, I'm a World War II junkie, and there's a lot of history in it. But I also think it's a bit whiney and self-absorbed. Yes, it's a memoir, and they're nothing if not self-absorbed. I just think this one goes a bit far.
The author tries to focus on her father and his World War II experience, but like many veterans, he doesn't talk about it. She manages to wrangle some details from him over a period of many years, and she pieces together a story (actually stories) of what he did. But it's hard to know for sure, as many of the things can't be verified due to redacted files, incomplete service histories and the like.
They whiney and self-absorbed portions mostly are about Lucinda Franks' growing-up years. I think she could have sufficiently conveyed the dysfunctional nature of her family without such a long-winded discussion of every overdramatized interaction she, her parents and sister ever had. She ultimately blames all of her father's shortcomings on his war experience, which I think does a great disservice to those who served and saw horrible things but didn't become alcoholics or have "shadow" wives or anything of the like.
Overall, I thought it was a decent book, but I wouldn't buy it. (It's yet another leftover I have in my personal library from my time at the Rocky Mountain News.) It's probably in a lot of libraries, though, as Lucinda Franks wrote for the New York Times and won a Pulitzer in 1971 (when she still was with UPI).

The Long Exile by Melanie McGrath

Being of American Indian ancestry means I've probably heard a larger-than-average number of stories about the wrongs done by governments to indigenous people. This book, which I've had sitting around since 2007 and finally got around to reading, documents one of those.
In the 1950s, the Canadian government decided to send a few Inuit families even farther north to "colonize" an area it feared losing to Greenland, the United States or Russia. The thought apparently was that a permanent settlement would secure Canada's land rights, and what's the difference between one barren tundra and another?
Well, a lot more than you might think. These people had very difficult lives in their homeland, but it was nothing compared to what they had to deal with after they were moved. And although they'd been promised they could return home after a year if they didn't like the new place, that never happened.
It's a sad, sad story all around. I'm oversimplifying it, of course. The story gets bogged down -- but also made more interesting, if that's possible -- by links to Robert Flaherty, who made the Nanook of the North movie. (I've never seen it, but it seems many cinematic types believe it's the best documentary ever made.)
My mom used to say nothing made her cooler during a hot summer than re-reading Laura Ingalls Wilder's The Long Winter. I'm pretty sure she'd feel the same way about The Long Exile. As for me, I'll think of it every time I see Nunavut on a map from now on.

The real purpose of the Marine Ball

Every Nov. 10, the Unites States Marine Corps celebrates its birthday. 2010 marks 235 years since its creation. Because most U.S. diplomatic missions around the world have a detachment of Marines, we have the opportunity to attend the Marines' birthday celebration when we're overseas.
So last night we got all dressed up for the Marine Ball. Somehow I didn't end up with a full-length photo of us, which is all kinds of sad considering the beating/ironing my Vera Wang skirt took earlier in the day. But here we are dinner.
Our consulate has six Marines, although one of them isn't visible in this photo.
Even though the Marine Ball is known as THE formal event of the year at most posts, it's really about the Marines. One part of the commandant's videotaped birthday message -- you can watch it here -- really struck me. In it, a Korean War veteran says (and I'm paraphrasing here) that the fact he defended his fellow Marines and that they defended him is more significant to him than having received the Medal of Honor.
I thought back to my days at the Rocky Mountain News and Final Salute (the link to the double-Pulitzer-winning story and photos is active even though the newspaper isn't). Reporter Jim Sheeler and photographer Todd Heisler shadowed a Marine major as he visited families to tell them their Marines had been killed in Iraq. There was a support system in place when bodies were flown home; when young, pregnant widows broke down; when babies who would never know their fathers were born. Immense sacrifices have been made all around.
I'm thankful for all those Marines, past and present, here and gone, who have sacrificed for us. Happy birthday, U.S. Marine Corps.

Do you know the way to Castello D'Albertis?

I have a dream. Not a wake-up-in-the-middle-of-the-night-and-try-to-remember dream. More like a think-about-when-I-want-an-escape dream.
And that dream involves finding things. Things I notice along a path but don't have time or a reason or support for finding.
On one of our drives to Vicenza, I mentioned thinking it would be cool if, on one of our trips, we noticed something way off the highway and decided to go find it. A castle turret or a campanile (bell tower) or random ruin in the distance. And we'd set off, perhaps with the help of the GPS or a guidebook, and track down whatever it was.
So last week in Genova, we noticed this castle up on the hill. I had to really zoom in to get it in a photo. And I had to resort to Google to figure out what it's called. But now I want to go there. Or some other random place I notice on some future journey.
Be prepared for this when you come to visit. I'd also appreciate if you'd dream along with me, even if for just a little while.

How not to panhandle

So I was driving out to the American School this afternoon for a conference with Laura's teacher when I noticed a guy panhandling at a stoplight.
I don't give money to panhandlers anyway, but I had to wonder whether he might have more success if he wasn't wearing a sweatshirt with this logo on the front.I wasn't able to share this tidbit of advice, though, because the light turned green before he got back to me in the line of traffic.

Adventures in northern Italy: Genova

We went to Genova on Saturday. It's in Liguria on the coast, and it's where Christopher Columbus was born. They're pretty proud of that.
The biggest modern attraction in town is the aquarium, which is the largest in Europe. It was crowded, and weekends in early November aren't a busy time. I'd hate to be there during peak season. There are the usual fish displays -- including multiple Nemo tanks -- and some nonfish species such as penguins.
The aquarium is built on a pier in the heart of the port, so there are great views when fish aren't distracting you.
We also went to the Galata Museo del Mare, which focuses on Genova's history as a port. It's mostly paintings of the port and models of various ships -- including the Nina, Pinta and Santa Maria -- but there's an interesting display about life aboard a galley warship. Laura got to be an officer for a little while.
Owen allowed a few photos of himself, although he wasn't too interested in the subject matter.
We didn't visit the submarine, but we did make it to the Ellis Island exhibit. It's an extremely well-done look at immigration from Italy (specifically by boats leaving Genova) to the U.S., mostly in the early 1900s. There are examples of the male and female dormatories on board trans-Atlantic vessels, and you have the option of taking on the persona of a random immigrant (you get a passport of sorts) and following them through the process. At the end, there are biographies posted of the people you were following so you can see how they fared once they settled in the States. I thought it was fascinating.
Laura and I also went aboard Il Galeone Neptune, a pirate ship in the port. Laura nearly was eaten by a sea creature.
We also were facinated by this medieval arch and the tiny street beyond it, although we didn't have time to explore it.
We had some interesting diaper-changing and train-losing-electricity experiences on the way home, but overall it was a fun day.

Yesterday I turned 38. Today I turned senile.

Where to begin? So many choices.
I washed a pair of Kevin's dry-clean-only pants. Yes, in the washing machine. Right now they're hanging up, as I (luckily?) realized what I'd done before I put them in the dryer. At least they're not part of a suit. I've been worrying for close to 12 years now that I'd make such a mistake, and now I have. Time to move on to some other husband's-laundry-related worry, I suppose.
I made apple pie. No, that doesn't make me senile. I used my grandmother's recipe. No, that doesn't, either. I forgot to put a cookie sheet under the pie tin. Bingo! Now I have blackened apple pie guts in the bottom of my oven. It's not a pretty (or pretty-smelling) sight.
I had a certain thing in mind for dinner. (OK, so it was Hamburger Helper. Don't judge, it's the kind with scalloped potatoes.) The issue that arose hours later when I went to start cooking (after the pie incident) was that we're out of hamburger. Well, we have frozen patties from the commissary, but those are less than ideal when it comes to Helper. The upside? I discovered the rest of the bacon I'd cooked to make this Friday night. Bacon makes everything better.
Tomorrow is another day, thank goodness. Maybe I'll remember to buy some ground beef.

Catch me if you can!

For the record, I could -- and did.

Advice on unaccompanied air baggage

This week's State Department blog roundup is about unaccompanied air baggage (UAB) and tips for what to include. So if you're not Foreign Service and/or just curious about what in the world we ship around the world with us, read on.

Many of these things have been mentioned by others. There’s a reason for that: They’re important. Don’t forget them.

Hangers. Wood, plastic, wire, whatever your preference, make sure they get in. You don’t want to find yourself wandering through a Third World mall trying to convince yourself you really only need one pack of grossly overpriced ones when you know good and well you need at least three packs. (I don’t even remember how many we bought that day, but I do know we still have them three years and a couple of moves later.)

Food processor. OK, if you don’t cook, you probably don’t need this. And if you don’t own one, you shouldn’t necessarily go out and buy one. But if you have one and use it at all, send the dang thing. Due to a complicated set of circumstances when I went on medevac to have Owen last year, I now own two Cuisinarts, and you can be sure I won’t be without one again.

Other kitchen essentials. Don’t assume you’ll always have them in corporate housing or a welcome kit. A cookie sheet, muffin pan, decent knife and small cutting board, spatula/burger-flipper, whisk, anything else you might use a lot. Plastic plates and cups if you worry about your kids breaking “real” ones.

Picture frames. Gilded, plastic, cheap multipack from Ikea, it doesn’t matter. What does matter is that you’re going to want to display some things around the house (which is likely to have white walls and bland furniture). Photos you already own, snapshots you print (at the local equivalent of Walgreens on photo paper or on office paper on the printer by your desk at work), things your kids draw when they’re bored sitting in traffic. You can never have enough frames of various sizes. They also can make great gifts, either with photos in them (for your friends) or empty and nicely packaged (for hostesses and such).

Things to entertain your kids. This varies by kid, of course, and take your expected accommodations into consideration. But some ideas: Arts and crafts items, badminton sets, tennis balls, other sports equipment, kites, beach and/or pool toys, small random notebooks, puzzles, Legoes.

Letter sorter or the like. When you first get to post, there’s a lot of paper floating around. Some of it you’ll never need again. Some of it you will. (Those are the things you’ll never be able to find again, of course.) Having a central, somewhat neat place to keep it all can make a difference.

Random food items. If you’re making the initial move to D.C., this isn’t necessary. But if you’re going overseas and aren’t sure, it can’t hurt to pack a box or two of cereal, favorite snack foods, candy (especially for upcoming holidays), ingredients for a favorite recipe that might not be readily available, cake/muffin/brownie mix, etc.

So there you have it. Your mileage will vary, of course, and plenty of people go months with what they manage to fit in their suitcases and survive just fine. If you meet someone like that, you always can share the cool stuff in your UAB with them.

Herd of English-speaking moms takes over streets of Milan

The PTO of the American School of Milan hosted a tour of Milan's Brera neighborhood as a fund-raiser last Wednesday. I'm sure we were a sight: 30-something women, one baby in a stroller (Owen), one guide. We met in front of the Duomo, and I snapped this photo from the steps:That's Vittorio Emanuele II. Apparently he's very popular with pigeons.
Daniele, our guide, pointed out the Statue of Liberty on the Duomo. It is very similar, isn't it? It actually is older than the more famous version (and Italian instead of French, of course).
I really like Casa degli Omenoni, although this photo doesn't show the whole facade.
San Fedele is pretty impressive. Alessandro Manzoni, whose statue is out front, is considered by many to be the second-most-important Italian writer (after Dante).
I'd never been to Santa Maria del Carmine, but it's amazing-looking.
And we'll definitely be going back to visit the Palazzo Bagatti Valsecchi, which is a museum house among the city's fancy stores.Isn't the courtyard floor awesome?
In an interesting mix of history and the present, we visited the home of Massimo Moratti, who owns the Inter Milan soccer club. Apparently it's not unusual for him to let people see his courtyard, and we happened to be in the right place at the right time. I thought the original frescoed ceiling over the driveway was the most interesting part.
See, you really should all come visit. There's all kinds of crazy fun to be had.

Halloween recap (aka Gnome on the Run)

The consulate Halloween party was on Halloween. Imagine that! But because that was Sunday, we didn't go. Never fear, there were plenty of other events. We went to the American School's Halloween festival Friday night, and some of our downstairs neighbors had a party Saturday afternoon.
Here's an up-close-and-personal look at the Statue of Liberty torch I mentioned previously The flame is somewhat sparkly, although it doesen't photograph well.
The complete ensemble during the festival costume contest.

Owen was in the contest, too, but I don't have any photos of that because I was on stage, too. He did try to make a run for it as we were hanging out in the cafeteria, though. Luckily he found the step up to the seating area to be quite daunting in his past-my-bedtime state.
His tiredness came back to haunt us later, though, as he fell flat on his face on the hardwood floor after we got home. We were lucky to escape with a severely bruised nose and cut upper lip. If he'd been dressing as a boxer, we wouldn't have needed any makeup. Poor tiny boy.