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Jan. 9th, 2006 12:57 amAfter moose crossings, deer crossings, and bear crossings (I am not making this up), we have now ourselves crossed VT and NH diagonally, to reach my mom's home in Portsmouth, where out cat was delighted to see us. (She expressed this by hiding from us and lurking warily. It's how she wuvs.) Vermont is amazingly pretty to drive through, particularly in winter—mountains and valleys on every side, and above a certain altitude the trees were sheathed in hoarfrost, so the mountaintops sort of dwindled into soft whiteness instead of ending.
Before we left Montréal, we enjoyed more crêpes for lunch (I also got a "buzz buzz cappuchino", which came in four sharp-edged layers: foam above coffee above milk above honey, and I do say yum) and stopped by the site of the '67 Expo to see the 200' Buckminster Fuller dome (as seen on The Amazing Race). We did not pay $17 to climb it, but we did stand around outside and inside it, gawking. (There will be photos.) As it happens, my mom was there with my dad in 1967, and was charmed by the memory we brought her. The air warmed from the 15° it had started at as we drove southeast, so by the time we stopped at the cozy little rest area in Vermont the subfreezing weather felt lovely. (Not as lovely as the forced-air wood pellet stove they had; that was just cool. Er, hot. Er, both.)
It is strange to not be surrounded by French. I keep wanting to say "Merci," but have no reason to. This was my first time visiting somewhere with no English signage at all (Malaysia excepted, since I was 11, and anyway the signs were not in a Roman alphabet and therefore did not register as signs); I am amazed at how quickly I got used to it. I began to get the sense, not that I was surrounded by an alien language, but that French was an equal parallel to English, if that makes sense. Like I'd just tuned in to a different channel, strange to me but still functionally consistent, and if I waited long enough I'd be on that wavelength as well.
Tomorrow, four hours of driving to home, where I will stay for three whole days before returning to Boston for Arisia.
Tonight, ham. And a cat who has apparently forgiven me, as she is curled up on a blanket beside me and looks like she wants a skritch.
Before we left Montréal, we enjoyed more crêpes for lunch (I also got a "buzz buzz cappuchino", which came in four sharp-edged layers: foam above coffee above milk above honey, and I do say yum) and stopped by the site of the '67 Expo to see the 200' Buckminster Fuller dome (as seen on The Amazing Race). We did not pay $17 to climb it, but we did stand around outside and inside it, gawking. (There will be photos.) As it happens, my mom was there with my dad in 1967, and was charmed by the memory we brought her. The air warmed from the 15° it had started at as we drove southeast, so by the time we stopped at the cozy little rest area in Vermont the subfreezing weather felt lovely. (Not as lovely as the forced-air wood pellet stove they had; that was just cool. Er, hot. Er, both.)
It is strange to not be surrounded by French. I keep wanting to say "Merci," but have no reason to. This was my first time visiting somewhere with no English signage at all (Malaysia excepted, since I was 11, and anyway the signs were not in a Roman alphabet and therefore did not register as signs); I am amazed at how quickly I got used to it. I began to get the sense, not that I was surrounded by an alien language, but that French was an equal parallel to English, if that makes sense. Like I'd just tuned in to a different channel, strange to me but still functionally consistent, and if I waited long enough I'd be on that wavelength as well.
Tomorrow, four hours of driving to home, where I will stay for three whole days before returning to Boston for Arisia.
Tonight, ham. And a cat who has apparently forgiven me, as she is curled up on a blanket beside me and looks like she wants a skritch.
