11 posts tagged “tourist”
It's been a while. I had a great time at home and aside from a six hour weather delay at Charles de Gaulle which really threw me off, I can't complain about the trip back. The Air France staff on my flight from CDG to Geneva were absolutely lovely and even all the passengers (except for some of the children) were in relatively good humor.
I hit Ikea with G yesterday. That and the Super Coop were a bit of a letdown. I found almost everything I was looking for, but not before Ikea nearly got a black curtain rod shoved somewhere. Apparently, they have discontinued their single curtain rods, so you can now only buy them as a set complete with finials. I don't want finials. I only wanted just one more curtain rod because I am switching out the single rod brackets in my room for double. I have been doing my best to get over the "buy it when you see it" idea, but it turns out at Ikea, that if you don't buy it right when you see it, it will probably be discontinued.
On the other hand, I did pick up a "buy one get one free" selection of a really pretty bedside table lamp. I ended up keeping the small reading lamps I'd put on the frame of the bed, but the new lamps look really, really lovely. I also finally got a real overhead light for the spare room and I am currently sitting on a nice new Poang to match the one I got earlier this Fall. My feet are resting on the matching Poang hassock and I am very comfy, though not particularly productive.
Maria Tatar will be the bane of my existence. I have just ordered another copy of "The Classic Fairytales" because I can't find the one that I ordered in November. And that particular experience was my second attempt at acquiring the book. People at amazon.uk are living large, thanks to my idiocy.
On the upside, I have just booked my trip to Morocco. I have my flight and will be staying at the villa at Surf Maroc. I can't wait! Now I just have to start working on my pop-ups again so that I don't spend the week in sore muscle hell. I feel like I've gotten quite a bit done, but aside from changing light bulbs I can't come up with anything. Oh, I am using my new wireless keyboard and mouse and that is wow, very comfortable. So glad that I made the switch. It cleans up the mantel a bit (I'm trying to ignore the tea mug and books and other stuff) and in general makes life easier. I'm still working on how to make the characters on the screen bigger so that I can actually see what I'm typing from my chair.
I should probably get dressed for the day. I am buying new pillows. I hope. Fourth times the charm?
If they have started as they mean to go on, then their lives together should be long and full of food, drink and dancing.
I had never been to Poland before, so I kicked off my first time in the country with a traditional Polish wedding. What better way!
Her family is as lovely as she is. And there are a lot of them! She has all sorts of cousins and brothers and aunties and uncles. Asia also has a quite a few good girlfriends from high school who came out for the wedding, including one from New York.
The day itself is set up a little differently from an American wedding. I was chatting with Tomek (one of many men named Tomek this weekend), her fiance, before I left her parents' house for my hair appointment and he explained what would happen before the Mass. He and Asia would meet at the house, dressed for the wedding to receive the blessing from both sets of parents. Then they would take photographs for a couple of hours and then they would head for the church. They were getting married at the town Cathedral. Apparently, this was a busy day for weddings because as one wedding Mass ended with the couple walking out of the Church, the next group of guests were filing in. There is no bride or groom side of the church and in fact, Tomek sat in the left hand seat and Asia on the right. The parents come in and sit with no fanfare or escort and then the bride and groom walk down the aisle together.
After the Mass, in which the bride does not get kissed by the groom, the couple receives everyone's best wishes, gifts and flowers outside the Church. Many of us then boarded a bus and we were shuttled to the restaurant for the reception. The tables were long and groaning under the weight of platters of food and bottles of soda, juice, wine and vodka. We started off with a champagne toast to the couple and then even more food started appearing. There were five hot courses served throughout the night. Asia's aunts and cousins had baked some fabulous cakes and pastries that were on a separate, help yourself table along with coffee, tea and fresh fruit. In addition to the drinks on the dinner table, there was more alcohol by the coffee and an open bar. And there was wedding cake. No one was going home hungry.
Periodically throughout the evening, everyone would sing the couple a song wishing them at least 100 years of happiness. And then we would all drink. Sips are perfectly acceptable (rather than the whole shot of vodka), a concept I wholeheartedly embraced as the restrooms were down a flight of stairs. Going down stairs are not my strong point at any time.
The band was fantastic. They were a little more jazz oriented in style than rock, and it really suited the evening. Everyone danced. A lot. I, Iwona, at whose house I was staying, and another couple who were also staying there called it a night at 3am. Asia said she got to bed at 6.30 am. I cannot imagine what I would be like if I had stayed out until then.
I am so glad that I could be there to celebrate Asia and Tomek's wedding. And I can't wait to visit Poland again!
Sidenote, skip if you're not Catholic: Receiving Holy Communion in the Polish Catholic church was a very different experience. As an American (and given the lines here in Geneva and other places I've been), I am taught that if I have committed a mortal sin, I cannot receive the Eucharist until I have been to Confession. But venial sins are themselves forgiven by the Eucharist. In Poland, you must have gone to Confession in order to receive the Eucharist. Out of a hundred or so people in the Church, I would say maybe twenty received Communion. And how you do it is totally different from the way I've seen it anywhere else. Asia's cousin, Iwona (who was my absolute savior in terms of cultural explanations and translations) asked if I wanted to receive Communion. I said, yes. I followed her and we crossed to the other side of the aisle and knelt on the floor. The priest came along and gave us the Host on our tongues. No hands allowed. I have never received Communion like that before. (okay, I've done the no hands version, but kneeling? an uusi kokemus) And then I realized that this was not a whole group experience and I was mortified that I had committed a huge cultural faux pas, but where I come from, as long as you're not in a state of mortal sin, you don't pass up an opportunity to take Communion.
So, it's probably time to introduce everyone to the impetus behind my flying thousands of miles around the world. This is Broghan. Everyone, say hi to Broghan!
Broghan lived in Geneva for about a year and a half and we met, like so many of our other friends here, through Geneva On-Line (internet based social website now called glocals.com and featured in today's Matin Bleu). One of our mutual friends organized a pub crawl for Australia day that involved, um, golfing. I dunno, I can't explain a lot of that day and I wasn't even really drinking as I was caddying. By the end of the evening, Broghan was winning, but her caddy had left, my golfer had gotten into a fight with his girlfriend and they had run away, so it was up to me to get Broghan through the written quiz. Drinking, I wasn't going to be much help; trivia, on the other hand... and that day pretty much sums up our friendship. For the most part, we balance each other out really well, but there are times when we just seem to lead each other into hangover territory. I would say they were good times, but I can't remember. ;)
SO, when she had the nerve to decide that she wanted to move home, we were all pretty sad and I promised to come and visit her in her natural environment. It took eighteen months, but I made it. One weekend in Brisbane and I could completely understand why she would want to be there. Brisbane is a gorgeous, vibrant city. She has a job that she loves (and her co-workers are wicked funny). Broghan has a huge circle of friends who are just so lovely. Some are from high school, some are from various work places and all are just so much fun and good, good people. And she has a rocking family. I know that I brag about mine a lot. And it's true, I have a great family, but Broghan's runs a pretty close second.
Her parents were just so incredibly welcoming. They really looked out for us when we were preparing for our roadtrip. They've been doing huge driving tours of Australia for years and were spot on with all their advice. I loved talking to her mom so much and her dad and his koo poetry... what a riot! And they kept us very well fed.
When we were in Sydney, we stayed with her aunt and uncle and they made us feel so at home. We'd been on the road for about a week at that point and to stay with Aunt Chris and Uncle Jimmy just made such a difference. We had homecooked meals and no checkout time and advice about driving (because our GPS Polly was marginally better than useless) and "let's have champagne".
I know that much of why my trip to Australia was so special was because of Broghan and her family and friends. All the Australians I met were so generous and good spirited. And if I met any who weren't, well, I've already forgotten.
Literally.
Well, it can't all be fairy penguins and sunset on gorgeous rock formations. So, this is a slight return to cranky Kate with a moan about bug bites from the Backpackers in Anglesea where we also had to pull out our sleeping bags because there was no heat and no potential for heat in the room. I have two bug bites on my throat, one on my cheek and two on my left hand. And no, it wasn't a good night's sleep. SO, after a surfing lesson in Torquay where I got totally confused because they teach you to stand differently (I guess there is such a thing as too much instruction) in 12 degree water wearing the oh so chic full-length wetsuit and booties, we drove back to Bendigo to the lovely heated YHA where we had stayed before. Um, I was on a top bunk this time and as heat rises, I couldn't sleep because it was too hot. I got up at about one to turn down the heat and of course, turned it off. It was a little chilly this morning, but nothing like Anglesea.
We hadn't actually planned on Bendigo, but when we got to Ballarat and paid our $9.- to see only PART of the Gold Museum and it turns out that the gold nuggets on display aren't real and then got a little skeeved by the hotel we stopped at (again no heat in the room, no women's bath/toilet), Broghan said that the best thing about Ballarat was the road leaving it (not entirely true, the people we met were absolutely lovely, just the facilities leave a lot to be desired), we decided to go back to where we knew we had been comfortable.
We got up today and went to the Deborah Mine in Bendigo where we wore hard hats and headlamps to go down 65 meters. Pretty much, what I took away from that experience was a)you could not pay me enough to be a miner and b) there is still a lot of gold in them thar hills. After lunch and leaving Bendigo, it was off to Canberra. Since I had had two nights of less than fab sleep, I slept for the first three and a half hours of the drive. I wasn't too impressed with Aylbury (possibly not it's real name) and kind of twisted Broghan's arm into continuing on to Canberra. I took over the driving as it got dark and three hours after that, we arrived to a hostel that has a pool and a gym and a bar but no elevator (under renovation). Guess who's room is on the second floor?
We have named the GPS on Broghan's phone Polly. She doesn't always bring her A game, to say the least. Sometimes it takes a while for her to show up and other times, she's had us in the meadows and fields. But tonight, to her credit, when we brought her in off the bench (after an excessive warm-up period), she got us safely through the streets of Canberra. We're mostly trying to work on her tone of voice. She gets a little edgy when we don't do exactly what she wants immediately when she wants it.
I wanted to write this wonderful post about how much I love Liverpool city and what a fantastic place it is, with fascinating and good people, but for the sake of expediency, here's a photo:
I finally took the ferry 'cross the Mersey. You got to do it at least once, right. We actually crossed the river three times. And they don't play the song the WHOLE time. It was lovely.
And there, that's my pathetic Liverpool post. My favoritest city in the UK.
Welcome to the latest addition of misskate tours Switzerland. This weekend, I headed to Ticino with The Lovely Aimee (hereafter referred to as TLA). TLA and I arrived in Switzerland at the same time to teach at the same school, though different levels, campuses and cantons. This summer, she and her husband are headed to the great continent of North America, so my time with her is scant. During our most excellent Friday night *last* week (which unfortunately led into a not so fun Saturday), we decided that we should visit Ticino. Neither of us had been there, her husband is trekking through Sumatra; what better time to go!
Both of us had fairly hectic weeks last week, so we dashed home after school, threw stuff in a backpack (most of the stuff we needed, some stuff we didn't) and raced to the station. I was departing from Geneva and she was getting on the train in Nyon. We met up and head East and South. Almost six hours later, we arrive in POURING rain in the charming town of Bellinzona. TLA had taken care of our hostel arrangements and this one was down the street, through a couple of piazzas and out the other side of the railway tracks. For the price, it was by far one of the nicest hostels I have ever stayed in. (The International Inn in Liverpool will forever be my favorite for reasons far above the accommodation; though the ensuite showers pretty much keep it in the number one slot regardless) We pretty much fell into bed and slept. We had remarked on our splash to the hostel that a Friday night in Bellinzona was obviously a far better and more social environment than a Friday night in Geneva. Even in the rain, loads of people were about, there was music coming from all sorts of bars/pubs/discos/restaurans. Once we were in the elevator at the hostel, we took about fifteen seconds to contemplate going out and enjoying social Bellinzona. But bed seemed the much better idea.
Except, first, there were the trains. Then some fucker's iPod went off at 7.03. How do I know it was precisely 7.03? Guess who the fucker was. The proper alarm went off at around 8.30, but we decided to go back to sleep and woke up with less than fifteen minutes to get out of the hostel. No breakfast, and were a little late checking out. Thankfully, this would be the Italian part of Switzerland and the woman at the desk merely noted that we must have slept well.
It wasn't the most beautiful weather outside, but it wasn't raining as we went through the market and old town.
We wandered up to the big castle (one more UNESCO heritage site to check off the list) where, of course, it started to rain. We came down from the castle and went looking for the mini-Scala theater. Mini indeed. It was a tiny building compared with the original. We double-checked that we had everything for lunch (all we were missing was wine) and headed to Locarno.
Locarno, aside from being one of the lowest points elevation-wise in Switzerland, is also known for getting the most sunshine. And sure enough, as we walked to our hostel from the train station, the sky was getting a little brighter. By the time we ate lunch and checked into our room (bunk beds, TLA very kindly took the top bunk), the sun was actually shining. We had some options for what to do, but Madonna del Sasso won out.
The church was built to mark where a vision of Mary was seen on the Feast of the Assumption in the 1400s. It is a pilgrimage site, but they didn't have a gift shop (I like to get a tiny medal for each pilgrimage site that I visit). The church is perched on a hillside above most of the town (but not all). We took the Via Crucis path up which was shorter but steeper. They had the stations of the cross set up in yellow huts that matched the church. The interior of the church is the typically excessive gold giltwork. There was so much artwork crammed into the space that you could spend a few days and not see it all. One piece in particular, the Transport of Christ to the Sepulchre, was stunning. There was so much going on in the painting.
My knee says thank you because we took the funicula back down the hill. I can walk up forever, but coming back down? Not so much.
We wandered along the lake front (Lake Maggiore, for those of you who want to know) until we got the sign that said Ascona 3km. We had thought we would walk all the way, but we both had foregone naps to take advantage of the sunshine and were already pretty tired. Instead, we entertained the thought of a movie, but when we looked on the big map, the town didn't mark movie theaters. The town did mark the mini-golf course. After getting my ass spectacularly whooped at mini-golf, we meandered back into the old town part and had dinner.
What's with the salt? I don't add salt to anything, unless the recipe specifically calls for it. i find food flavorful enough. TLA likes salt on specific foods like avocado, but isn't huge with the salt, either. She thinks it's a culinary technique reserved for (Swiss) German tourist palates, but it really did me in. I enjoyed my carpaccio, but the asparagus soup was essentially salty cream. I helped TLA with her steak which while lovely, every now and then you would get a burst of salt in your mouth. The wine they didn't salt, and it was wonderful. They didn't salt the creme brulee we shared, either. After, we walked back to the hostel and slept. We wanted to take the ferry the next day to Brissago, so we thought to get up early. We made it to breakfast before they closed, but I wouldn't say we got an early start to our day.
We missed a ferry by minutes but took advantage of the wait time to check the train schedule. And here's where we ran into a glitch. Until this past January, I always carried my passport with me. Always. But, in January, 2007, I had lost my passport (never to be found), so I was slowly coming to the conclusion that the less I carry the better and have reduced my needs to a small wallet, keys, phone, mascara and chap/lipstick. I change handbags regularly and just don't carry even my residence permit anymore. I have a Swiss driver's license which is a photo id and I figured for a trip to Ticino that would be enough. Except, in order to take the shorter but very scenic route home, we would have to change trains in Italy. That wasn't going to work without a passport. And since Italian bureaucracy which is slow on a weekday and even slower on a weekend was not something we wanted to experience, we needed to figure out a new route home.
We got on the ferry a little after eleven and made it to Brissago for a scoche after noon. We decided to skip the Islands and just go for a jaunt about town and a coffee. On the way over, we sat outside for a little bit, but I was cold, so we moved inside. On the way back, it had been sunny long enough that we sat outside for the duration. We watched the clouds move in and bury Brissago in a mist as we ploughed to Locarno. We were lucky with the weather!
We hopped on a train and headed back to Bellinzona. While part of our return trip was similarly routed to our trip there, it was daylight out and the scenery is just stunning. The jagged peaks and green valleys are truly breath-taking. We were home a little after eight (after the bus and everything it was about nine for me). What a lovely weekend away! I found Bellinzona to be a bit more charming than Locarno (even in the rain), but both are situated in such a lovely part of Switzerland with lots to see.
Funny thing, TLA and I speak French (hers is far better than mine), I have a speck of German and enough Italian to ask if they speak English. Oh, and we speak English pretty well, too. We were useless. We got by, but really, brushing up on my German would have been a good idea. French was unheard and English was a distant third to Italian and German. I would so go back.
So, Sasha the wine bringing waitress told us that just two years ago, her dad would never have let her get a job in downtown Fayetteville. Apparently, there was very little going on that was on the positive side of things and a lot going on that was on the not so good side. While I could see a lot of empty storefronts last week, I imagine that a couple of years ago, there were even more. What Jenna and I were seeing was a Main Street on the upswing. I hope it works. While we were drinking our wine, we saw a news crew (okay, the reporter and the cameraman) interviewing people a little further down the street. We wondered what they were up to, but enh, we were more interested in getting our glasses re-filled to pay it much mind. Eventually, they got to us and asked if they could interview us about the trains. We laughed and said that we had gotten caught by one today but far more inconvenient was the oh so considerate driver in front of us. Jenna declined forty-five seconds of her fifteen minutes, opting to save it for a more illustrious opportunity, I am sure. I said, yeah, sure, film me. Gavin MacDonalrobertbride (whatever his incredibly Irish last name was) sat down next to me and said, "please say your name into the microphone and spell it." Without missing a beat, I said, "My name is Rosie O'Grady. R_O_S_I_E O apostrophe G_R_A_D_Y." Jenna nearly spit out her wine.
Rosie O'Grady as my bar name dates back to 2001. I answer to it as easily as misskate or Kate or Katie or KATHRYN ELIZABETH!!!! I was christened Rosie O'Grady by Gracie Fall (not her real name) and in the post-9/11 world, Rosie developed an entire backstory of being from Saskatoon, Sasketchewan. But all that is for another post. Save for Jenna's new bar name, Stella Burns. Takes some getting used to, but it suits her and she remembered it most of the time the first night we took it out.
SO, I was interviewed about the trains, don't think I sounded too much of an idiot and let me tell you the cameraman has a gift. I wasn't thrilled that he was getting the right side of my face because I had two huge spots left from a three punch combo of my period, change of water and change of moisturizer. But he was good, he made me look not horrific. AND, he liked my t-shirt. Unshelved.com is a webcomic about the Mallville Public Library. They sell some totally awesome t-shirts, one of them being the purple "Frequently Asked Questions" that I sport in this tv clip.
After I have expressed my opinions about the trains in Fayetteville (because really, I don't have to know anything about topic to have an opinion on it), the news duo leave and eight trains promptly run through the downtown area. Jenna and I were both saying things like, "holy shit, is that, like, ANOTHER train?!? They really do have a problem, he wasn't just asking leading questions!"
Rosie O'Grady on Channel 14
After a while, we moved on down to Circa 1885. We have a couple of beers and I start chatting with a 13 year old who knows a lot about politics and loves Bush. Yeah, I'm not going to say too much more on this topic except, I'm glad Jenna took over, she was a far more rational conversation partner for him. I chitchatted with his mom and the bail bondsman from down the street. Many, many beers later, it poured rain and they closed 1885. We were told that they were having dueling pianos at what I call the Tiki Bar because that's what it looked like to me, but its real name is Keys. We welcomed to town some new kid named Keith, maybe, and hung with a girl who's a DJ for one of the radio stations. She was awesome. Just a really cool girl who has her shit together and totally sparkles.
At Keys, I moved onto SoCo and ginger ale (I'm sure many of you see where this is going) and finally around midnight, my driver Stella says "all right, we're leaving on a high note" which is really always the best plan. As we drive away, I can already tell that I haven't been the cleverest girl, but Stella hands me a rice krispie treat and I swear while sugar is the last thing I wanted at that point, it was the best tasting rice krispie treat I've had in ages. (visit Just Desserts!) We get back to the hotel and crack out the last two pieces of pizza and this is where Jenna proves her worth as a friend. I chow my piece down not caring that it's so cold it's almost frozen. She microwaves hers and while I stand over her shoulder as she looks for my news clip, she lets me steal bites of it until whoops, I finished it off. Is that not a great friend!?! We did not, however, crack open the beer and I'm hoping she pulled them out of the fridge to take with her. We crashed pretty hard that night, though we did stay up long enough to see the 1am repeat of the 11 o'clock local broadcast so I even got to see myself on real television.
We got up and lazed around Wednesday not even getting out of the hotel until, ummmm, noon? We hit the credit union and Joann's Fabrics and Crafts and then motivated on down to the strip of Main street. We got stopped by a freight train as we moved past a municipal building. It wasn't *that* inconvenient if it were just a one time thing, but it wasn't helped that the driver in front of us very kindly let out every single person who was parked along the street. Seriously, she stopped, not just for the train, but for about five cars to let them back out of their spot and into the roadway. Eventually, the train and the Good Samaritan got out of our way and we parked (or rather Jenna parked) the car.
(just went to hide Easter eggs for my nieces... fun times)
We decided to start at the far end of the street and make our way back. The town offers two hours of free parking downtown, but they don't explain what happens after the second hour. We ventured into Just Desserts, the bakery we had seen the day before. You can get a sugar high just from walking in the door. We had breakfast croissants with egg and herbs and cheese, I had a piece of cake and we got rice krispie treats to go. If you are in Fayetteville and only have time to go to one place, let Just Desserts be it.
We moved on and checked out a couple antiques malls/stores, boutique gift shops and the second hand bookstore where I picked up a book telling me how to host a cocktail party. Lynn, get ready, I've got the instruction manual now!
It was past time to move the car and as we weren't sure what the rules were, we drove around the block and parked across the street from Circa 1885. They weren't open, yet, so we wandered back to the Italian bistro. Sasha was our waitress and she kept us full of wine and sampler platters. This is when we started to learn about the real Fayetteville, but as my sister and her family have just arrived, this story will have to wait some more!
Or so it seemed.
My parents kicked my ass at Hand and Foot, I'm not playing with them again unless my sister is my partner.
So, that first night in Fayetteville, Jenna and I enjoyed a couple of beers at Circa 1885 and decided to order pizza back at the hotel. She grabbed a six pack of Yuengling from the gas station next door while I waited for the pizza. Dominos, it was right on our card keys for the hotel room. We were a little taken aback by Fayetteville, I think. They have a downtown area with some new construction going on, but a lot of empty storefronts. There were some cute boutique shops and little bistros, but it was really just the one strip. We saw some homeless roaming around, as well. There was a train station and once you get out of the downtown area (which seemed just a few blocks square), Jenna said "we could be in fucking Jersey" And it's true, we could have been in any sprawled out exurb off 95 or route 1. All the big box stores were there, I think she counted at least six Burger Kings and lots of pawn shops.
Our pizza arrived. We didn't finish it or the beer and fell asleep to the John Adams miniseries which HBO seemed to be playing backwards. When we first started watching it was 1775 and the Continental Congress. When I woke up around midnight, we were back in 1770 with the Boston Massacre.
I'm being asked to empty the dishwasher, so I will continue this in a bit.
I left Tuesday. I was looking forward to coffee and a doughnut. I didn't get a doughnut. I left a little later than I had hoped and by the time I left, Jenna had been on the road already for a couple of hours.
A little bit about Jenna. Aside from driving my ass all over Fayetteville and letting me eat her pizza (the sign of a true friend), she writes My Head is Filled with a Box of Nothing and proofreads my papers. I met her, I don't even know how long ago, when I was following Strangefolk, this jam-band from Vermont. Jenna was good friends with Sug and introduced us. She's done some really cool and brave stuff, like packing her car, pointing it south and going. And then looking for a job. More guts than I've got.
Anyways, she's in Hilton Head, I'm in Gainesville. She said that she could take some time off and why don't we meet. I said great, she said, Fayetteville is mid-way. For a brief moment, I contemplated going all the way to Hilton Head; I've never been before and would have liked to hang with her where she has all her adventures, but then, I got realistic. I was taking an old car, I'm not in great driving shape (haven't driven since Christmas), Fayetteville was far away enough. Mom wasn't overly thrilled with the destination, given its proximity to both Fort Bragg and Pope AFB, but it worked for us. Jenna found us a hotel and away we went.
Followed my mom's directions from Gainesville to 95 and cruised on down the road. Past Fredericksburg, past Richmond, almost to the state line. And bam. Deputy Sheriff William King of Sussex County clocked me at 80 in a 65. Pulled me right over. The speed limit in North Carolina 20 miles away, 70. ARGH!
Made it to Fayetteville with no further incident, but really didn't want to drive after that. Jenna took over. She had looked stuff up and found the mall, the downtown strip, barbecue restaurants and bookshops. We hit the mall and after Pennys, Macys and Payless, I found two cute pairs of shoes. We headed downtown where most stuff was closed except Circa 1885. We wandered and looked in shop windows. There's a big traffic circle with a building in the middle of it. They have these huge aerodynamic, solar powered somethings suspended above the street. No plaque to tell you what for, but there they are. Huge javelin-shaped thingies. People also keep potted meat in the trees. Looky:
In the meantime, watch me on the Fayetteville local news, being interviewed using my bar name Rosie O'Grady.
Local channel 14
