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The 9th day was interesting, indeed. It was my first day at work in Egham, UK. The folks there were very receptive, since the only reason I was there was to help them. So I spent the entire day learning about their project, until by the end of the day, my head was spinning.
After work, a colleague showed me how to navigate using the light-rail system between work and my hotel. That was a Good Thing, because 1) the light-rail system goes all over the place, and would allow me to go to down-town London, and 2) there was NO WAY I was going to try driving in the UK!
So... after work a good story. You see, when I got back to my hotel there were two Austrians waiting there to meet me.
Sounds like a line from a spy novel, huh?
Actually, I knew they were coming to meet me. They found out I was in Europe when I was in Brussels. I remarked that it was a shame I couldn't extend my trip to go to Austria, and they decided to fly up to London to meet me there.
I've talked with them before. They're Roman and Michael of mmm-software They originally called me because of my pilot exam website http://exams4pilots.org. We've been collaborating on maintaining the bank of pilot exam questions.
Anyway, we stayed up until way too late talking about our collaboration, and life as a pilot in the US vs Europe. It was great fun, and I thank you Roman and Michael for coming to London just to meet me! :)
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Day 8 was a Monday, the day I was to leave Belgium and head for the UK. As you might have noticed, I had gotten quite comfortable in Belgium, so leaving it was a bit sad. It is a very nice place to be.
So, after a very full day of work, I hopped in a cab and headed to the airport. The driver was great, and we the entire trip talking. One story in particular bears repeating.
The story goes that when the city was constructing the R0, the highway that circles the city, it was to pass through a piece of property owned by a car manufacturer.
"You can't build a highway through our factory!" the company protested, "It will ruin our business, and without us the local economy will collapse!"
So, at great taxpayer expense, and with no apparent alternatives, the city designed and constructed a most magnificent bridge, right OVER the factory. The factory was saved!
But, by the time the bridge was completed, the car manufacturer packed up and left town, looking for a location with lower taxes.
Figures, eh?
When I got to the airport, I bought the one Belgian treasure I had resisted so far... Belgian chocolate!!! I carefully packed it away in my bag along with the rest of the souvenirs for my family.
It was pretty late when I arrived at London Heathrow. I collected my bag, stopped at an ATM and took out some local currency, and went looking for ground transportation.
My hotel was located in Staines, about 5 miles from Heathrow. A quick taxi ride ought to do it.
I stood in line for a taxi. When I got to the head of the line, the organizer directed me to a cab. "I'm going to Staines" I told the driver.
"Staines!" he exclaimed to the organizer, "I don't want to go to Staines."
"Just make him an offer" the organizer told him.
"Alright, ₤60.00!" he bid. I thought $90 to go 5 miles seemed a bit steep, even if it wasn't my money.
"That seems a bit unreasonable, you obviously don't want to take me there... how would you recommend I get there?" I asked. Neither the driver nor the organizer would offer any help other than, "go inside and talk to the ground transport desk." ... so I did.
They recommended I take the bus. great. So I found out that I could take one free bus to another town, and from there, take a toll bus to Staines. In fact, I found out where to pick up the free bus. But I stopped.
Even if I manage to get to Staines on a bus, I'll be at a bus stop, in an unfamiliar city, unaware of how to get to my hotel, at midnight. This gave me reason to pause.
All right. My safety is worth something to the company. I'm sure they would rather I pay an exorbitant fee than to get mugged.
So back to the taxi queue I went. This time, when I got to the head of the line, the driver offered to take me there for ₤30.00 (a veritable bargain, all things considered).
Midnight, hotel, safe and sound. |
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So the plan was challenging, but worth it. I had one day (Sunday) to get to Paris, see as much as I could, and get back. Here's the plan:
1) The trip from Brussels is only one and a quarter hours on the Thalys high speed train. I would go out at 9:15am and come back at 10:30pm, and have 13 hours in Paris.
2) The Thalys leaves Brussels from Gare du Midi. The #6 Metro runs between there and Haysel (my stop). One train, simple.
3) Once in Paris, I would rely on Open Bus Tours, a hop-on hop-off bus line. I can get on and off as I please. Slightly expensive, but simplicity is worth it.
4) Finally, I would keep enough cash for 2 cab rides. 1-to get home from Gare du Midi if I'm too tired to walk, and, most importantly, 2-to get me to the Airport the following day (Monday).
Simple, eh? Lets see how it unfolds...
Catching the train.
I left the hotel 1 1/4 hours before my train is scheduled to leave. It takes me about 20 minutes to walk to the Metro station.
Walking down the stairs to the subway, a voice comes over the PA system. In French they say, "Service to the number 6 train has been restored."
Restored!!! I'm glad it's restored, but alarmed that it had to be restored. Hopefully that won't slow me down...
Well, after about 10 minutes of waiting for a train, it soon became clear that none were coming. I begin to panic.
I find a sign, written in French and Flemish. It says, "Attention. The #6 line will undergo maintenance on the weekend of 25/9 and 26/9. For service past blahblah, you must exit at blahblah and blahblahblahblah." Why didn't I notice this sign the week before? Oh yeah, I was overwhelmed by the number of incomprehensible signs.
By now, the panic has fully set in.
A quick check of the watch reveals that my train will leave in 45 minutes. Do I have enough time to leave the train station, and try to find a cab? I'm not sure.
There are only two other people in the station, an elderly couple. Luckily they speak English a lot better than I speak French or Flemish. The woman explained what I had to do, and in fact, it was close to where they were going, so I could walk with them. Feelings of panic abated ever so slightly.
By the time the train came, I had around 1/2 hour to get to the station. Still possible, so long as the detour doesn't eat up much time.
It does.
In fact, the detour meant getting off one train, and taking another the long way around Brussels. By the time I arrive, the train has gone.
The first office can't help, because they only deal with domestic travel, not international.
The next office can't help, because while they do deal with international travel, they only schedule future travel, not immediate.
The third office can help... almost. They can't help refunding the ticket. It's non-refundable, but if you call the number at the bottom of the ticket within an hour of missing the train, you can get 1/2 of your money back. But they can sell a full price ticket to Paris. Rather than lose both tickets, I relent and buy the full price, one-way ticket.
A quick glance at a clock reveals that there are 15 minutes remaining to get my refund, and to find my train. I see a pay phone, and walk up to it. . . . and walk away, unable to make the call. I was unable to figure out how to work the thing. It doesn't take cash. It doesn't take credit cards. It takes a 'phone card' with credit on it. It would not be worth missing another train just to get half of my missed ticket back!
I did help a woman figure out how to use the lockers, however. And she repayed me by helping me figure out where the trains aren't. She thought she knew, but turned out not to know. So I found yet another desk to ask.
"Sheesh" I thought to myself. "If those dummies on Amazing Race can do this, why can't I?" I will never watch that show the same way.
Finally I make it to the right track.
I got on the train... onto the wrong car. I had to weave through people to get to my assigned car, and plopped into a seat. The man sitting next to me was not inclined to converse.
It was an amazing thing, to be streaking along the track at 200 mph, watching the telephone poles flick past. A few times we passed a train going the opposite direction. "Whump! Roar! Shoop!" It was a violent occurrence every time.
Finally, I arrive in Paris.
I want to experience Paris, the way that locals do. So I walk. The first place I come to is a lunch shop. I buy a deli sandwich on a baguette and a Coke zero for only €5,00. I was delighted to eat so frugally!
Paris is split by the Siene river, where most of the sights I want to visit are. Since rivers take the low route, I walk down-hill, taking in the town. I come across an Open Bus stop, my transportation for the day.
Each passenger is given a green pair of earbuds. They plug these into jacks beside their seat, and choose the language that they would like to hear. The voice I hear is British, sounding a lot like John Cleese.
First stop, the Louvre. It's surrounded by gardens and statues. From the Louvre you can see the Arch de Triumph, and the Eiffel Tower.
Entrance to the Louvre is now through a glass pyramid. They have airport like security. I take one last swig of my coke and pitch it in the last available trash can. "No. It's Okay!" the guard says to me. The thought of fishing it out of the trash briefly crosses my mind. (It doesn't happen.)
Inside the Louvre are treasures so amazing that it's hard to adequately describe. I spent just one hour walking the halls, spellbound. It is NOT enough time.
Every where I look are antiquities. I am in awe. I come across a familiar face.
I had to trample a few people to get to the front of the crowd. She's been around for 500 years, but I'm only here today. Move aside! :)
Not every piece of art hangs on a wall. Sometimes all you have to do is look up.
With much regret, my watch urged me to continue on. Next stop Notre Dame. Everything was beautiful inside, and unbelievably old. I wish I had time to study it in more detail. But one thing I thought was interesting, were these beautiful models of the church.
Once outside, I found a wifi hot spot (one of the few in Europe, I believe). I used Skype to call home. While I was talking, a photographer started taking bridal portraits. "Oh sure. It's easy to take stunning pictures when Notre Dame is your background!" I was slightly jealous.
A street performer playing the accordian started to play "The Chicken Dance". I held my phone up to the fence, and he played into my phone, much to the delight of Robin and Adam.
It had been raining off and on all morning, but now the rain started in earnest, with no sign of letting up. I boarded the bus to go to the next stop.
While on the bus, a passenger asked when the last bus was. "6:30" was the reply. "No!!!" I thought. I needed to finish the line I was on, and transfer back to the line that would take me to the train station. And there wasn't much time left.
Consequently, I did not get off at Arc de Triumph. And I didn't get off at the Eiffel Tower. So here it is through the bus window.
btw. It's big. Really big.
Catching the Return Train
6:28. 2 minutes until the last bus. We stop 1 stop short of the exchange, and my bus driver gets out. "Are we going to make it back in time for me to catch the yellow bus?" I ask him. "Yes, in fact, there's one coming here right now" he says pointing to the bus that's pulling up. He re-boards his bus and pulls away. Several of us try to board the newly arrived yellow bus, but the driver stops us. "I'm done for the day." he says.
Stranded! Stuck! In the middle of Paris. Visions of missing yet another train filled my head. "I guess we take the subway" the man standing next to me says.
So I got to experience the Paris Subway. It actually was something that I had wanted to do (just not out of necessity). It is really nice.
I arrived at Gare du Nord a full three hours before my train back to Brussels. I decided to have a nice meal (within site of the station). A nice steak, some good wine.
While I ate, I ruminated about the day's travel. One thing I noticed was that no one assumed I was an American! There were several people that they knew were Americans, but not me. Success!
About that time, an American family came into the restaurant. They were very annoying. The mother asked the waiter, "Don't you recognize us? We were here in June and you were our waiter!" Really lady? Across from a train station? There might have been a few other people that visited between then and now.
When I was ready, the waiter asked if I wanted dessert. I was sated, but thought I would check out the menu. Everything sounded good, but there was one thing that I would have been an idiot if I didn't have in Paris... Crème brûlée.
It was delicious, and huge! Easily 3 times as large as the ramekins I serve it in.
The Punch Line
I get on my train, on the right car, in the right seat. The train smoothly sails into the darkness, almost sounding like it's powered by UFO's. I hand the conductor my ticket, he waves it in front of his device.
"Beep". It won't scan. He tries again. "Beep", it still wont' scan. He says something, but it sounds like jibberish to me.
"I'm sorry, I don't speak French. Do you speak English?" I ask.
"Your ticket won't scan." he says. "Hold on, this ticket is for the 27th. Today is the 26th!"
My stomach sinks. How could this have happened?
"I'm going to have to charge you a supplement." he says. Where I come from, supplements are good. Vitamins, minerals, they're good for you. But that's not what he means. I'm basically on the train without a ticket, and he charges me a fine.
Epilogue
I take a taxi back. I'm defeated. How could I have screwed up my ticket? I check the date on my outbound ticket. It is also for the 27th.
Suddenly it dawns on me. I did NOT miss my train! I was 23 hours early for it! And, best of all, I still had time to cancel it! |
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Day 6 was on a Saturday, and I had been looking forward to it very much. For this was the day that Cindy and Gerry were to take Stephanie, Praveen, and yours truly on a tour of Northern Belgium.
Once loaded in his car, we headed down the highway past lush fields. It was a comfortable view for a guy from Northern Ohio. Only the occasional giant windmill turbines gave away that we weren't driving on a midwest highway.
So we headed to Ostend on the North Sea. And we arrived at Middelkerke. Oops, we should have exited onto the A10 instead of continuing on the E40.
A fruit stand in Middlekerke.
It would have been easy to give Cindy a little grief for missing the turn... so we did!
Middlekerk is a fine place to walk along the beach. It's not often that you get to experience a new sea, so it was a welcome sight! Here we are walking along the North Coast.
They say that if you walk far enough, you'll end up in Florida. I was skeptical at first. But things started to get weird.
Thoughts of Florida quickly dissipated when we came across the Red Rider, one of many fictional characters immortalized in bronze along the sea wall.
We soon realized that Cindy had cunningly steered us to Middelkerke so that we could visit her Uncle's Frites Shop, FrietExpress, one block away from where we were standing. It was just before 11:00 on a Saturday, and he was about to open. She introduced us, and he let us come in anyway! Most Belgian fries stands are walk-up service only, but his has a nice dining area.
With your fries, you can get a huge array of dipping sauces. The hot pepper sauce is amazing! They also have a large selection of sandwiches and meals. I tried Stoofvlees (beef stew).
Am I really drinking Belgian beer at 11am?
This next picture shows something I saw all over the place. Homes will have a modest yard, but it will be immaculately cared for. Very beautiful and welcoming.
With our bellies full, and our hair tussled by the ocean breeze, we piled back into the car and headed for Brugge (which we found, no problem!). :) Here is a performer in the entrance of an old castle, playing a didgeridoo and a bowl shaped percussion instrument in his lap. Unfortunately, I have been unable to find the name of this very mellow sounding instrument.
The Belfry
City Hall
Some guys playing Bocce in the park. While I was taking this picture, a car full of scouts drove behind me.
We stopped to enjoy a beverage.
Unfortunately it started raining. I was sitting right under the edge of an umbrella, so even after the rain stopped, I was still getting dripped on.
Je voudrais un oeuf.
"cat" fish
Once we found our car, we headed down the road to Gent. Cindy and Gerry both went to school in Gent, so they knew lots of great places. Like Brugge, Gent is a beautiful town with lots of canals.
And you know, for the life of me, I can't remember what this building is, but the picture turned out great, so I'm sharing it with you!
We went into the cathedral, which was amazing in it's beauty and antiquity. You can see that it also made us very happy.
There is a great custom in Belgium for bachelors who are about to be married. Their friends take them around the city, making them do rediculous things for money. Here is a soon-to-be groom who is trying to get this girl to pay him for his serenade.
Wandering Europe can also serve as a mirror of our own culture. Just as we often name places with foreign sounding names to give them an air of sophistication, so too Europeans will name things with American sounding names. But to an American, instead of sounding Chic, it sounds rather pedestrian.
As I mentioned, our tour guides were very well acquainted with the area. So when it came time for dinner, we ate at a restaurant that is a local favorite, De Kastart. Their specialty is spaghetti. They serve many varieties, but there's only one that you need to know, Spaghetti Kastart. It was incredibly delicious, and I'm salivating just typing these words. Unfortunately their recipe is one of a kind, and secret.
After dinner, we headed down steps, along a canal, through the rain, down an alley, and through a tiny little door. In other words, unless you were a local, you would never find it. Inside is a very comfy bar, completely packed with people, where they serve a spirit called genever. They had about a hundred flavors you could pick from, and each shot glass was only a few euro. A few rounds, a ton of laughs.
It was very tasty, my first one was tiramisu flavoured.
Praveen, thinking these were shots that you down in one gulp, promptly did so after our toast. The guys at the next table saw him do this, and thought that was exceedingly funny, so they gave him one of their shots to try. It was pepper flavored, and those that tried it winced in pain (I passed on the opportunity).
Sorry for the long post. It was such a wonderful adventure, and to have such great tour guides and company made it tremendously fun!
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Thus far on this trip, I have been the student. So much is new to me that, at times, it was quite overwhelming. Throughout the week, I had been following the lead of my colleage and mentor, Bruce. But, as this was the end of the week, he, along with almost all of my other colleagues, would be returning to the states. I would remain behind to finish up business in Brussels and later in London.
I had gotten comfortable with the daily routine in Brussels. Wake up at 6:30. Here is my room:
I thought the plumbing was interesting (because I'm crazy), but notice that the hot and cold water both come out of the wall before being mixed in the fixture. This is probably a lot easier to replace in a 300 year old building than the way we do it in America.
Here again is that scary appliance. No need for fear, it's a just hair dryer.
Get down to breakfast by 7:15. Here's the stairway I travelled many times.
And the breakfast area.
Then after work, head out looking for food and adventure! On this particular evening, we headed West along Romeinsesteenweg, where we found several restaurants. We also saw this building, run down, in need of some definite TLC. I wondered how old it might be, and wished I could bring it to it's former glory.
Building renovations would have to wait, because we were hungry. We settled on La Petit Forchette, mainly because we were intrigued by a sign out front advertising a 250 gram Filet Mignon for €13,20.
As usual, the menu was in French and Flemmish, and between my little French and Bruce's little Flemmish, we slowly decoded our choices. It was a challenge, and great fun! The wine flowed, the meal was tasty, and the conversations profound. It was a good night.
Tune in tomorrow for Day 6, which starts the weekend and my friend Cindy will show me around her country.
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| » Day 4, Yum! |
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The trip so far had been a culinary delight. So many of the dishes I sampled were unfamiliar to me, but I tasted everything without question and found that I loved just about everything!
It is very evident that Belgians love their food. Everywhere you look in Brussels there are restaurants and cafés. Sometimes the entire street is taken over by seating, such as the picture above. Delicious smells waft through the air. It can be very hard to choose where to eat, when everything smells so good.
Well, on this particular night, about 11 of us decided to go to Al Barmaki, a Lebanese restaurant close to the center of town. In fact, Bruce and I had intended to eat there on day 2, but found the Tapas instead, so I was already eager to eat there.
Despite our large group size, and the fact that there were several patrons already eating, the staff was able to prepare a table for us in a room to ourselves.
As we settled in, one of the more experienced in our group asked if we would care to eat mezze fashion. Since I didn't know what anything was on the menu anyway, I was happy to sample a number of dishes.
And sample I did. One after another, dishes were brought out. And each dish brought a new and wonderful taste. These were tastes that were unexpected and delightful. I wish I could go back and document these for you. Tabbouli, Hummas, Yogurt, Falafal, and Kababs were all delightful. Sadly I didn't take notes. But if you happen to go there, I strongly recommend the Mezze Al Barmaki.
We walked through the town after dinner, and even though I wasn't hungry, I realized that I had missed one of the local specialties: Belgian Waffles. Luckily there are waffle shops everywhere, and for the sum of €6.50, I was the proud owner of a chocolate, strawberry and whipped cream waffle.
We found our way to La Roy D'Espagne which dates back to 1697, and stopped in for a beer. Having just finished my waffle, I opted to have Kreik (cherry beer). It makes an excellent dessert beer!
Oct. 23rd, 2010 @ 10:47 pm
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| » Day 3, Cover Busted |
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It's almost impossible to hide the fact that you're an American while traveling outside the country. Nevertheless, it's fun to try. It could help
For the two weeks prior to my trip, I tried to reduce the number of 'tells' that I exhibited, everything from what to wear on my head to what to wear on my feet. I wasn't prepared for how little it took for native Europeans to peg me.
On the third evening, we were invited to tour the Palm Brewery, quite an impressive operation. What struck me most was how rapidly they took returned bottles and turned them into cleaned, filled, new bottles. Recycling at it's best. The picture below shows part of that operation.
We learned about 4 types of fermentation, top, bottom, mixed, and spontaneous. They have separate breweries for each type. We also had an opportunity to sample some of their beers. Belgian beer is traditionally served in a glass specific to the beer. The different shaped glasses are designed to sculpt the scent that you smell.
Lots and lots of bottles of beer.
For dinner, we were invited to their estate, a working stud farm. During the tour of the stud farm, they informed us that when they purchased the property, the stables had been completely destroyed, leaving nothing but the foundation. They rebuilt the stables to their original grandeur from plans they obtained from the 1600's.
"Whew!" I said.
Suddenly the woman standing in front of me whirled around. "I knew it was an American!" she exclaimed. "Only an American would think that the 1600's were old!"
One syllable and I was pegged.
The picture above is a horse dryer. After you wash them, they need to be dried quickly or they might get sick. (I think because washing gets them wet all the way down to their skin... I may be wrong).
Dinner was served in their castle (above). It was a many-course ordeal, starting with a Framboise (raspberry) beer. They did a great job serving the 120 of us in the party.
By the end of the evening, when we boarded the bus back to town, physical and mental exhaustion set in. I literally could not function any more.
One cool note... on the walk back from the bus to our hotel we could very clearly hear the U2 concert that was going on in the Expo about a mile away!
Oct. 22nd, 2010 @ 10:44 pm
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| » Brussels, Day Two |
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To beat jet lag, try to force yourself onto the local schedule. Your second day will probably be a lot easier than the first day. Hopefully you were able to sleep in a bit, and not wake up at 3am local time. Still, you may feel like you're walking through molasses as the afternoon and evening progress. Again, keeping yourself active is a good way to keep going. We decided to go explore down-town.
A quick ride on the Metro can get you pretty much anywhere in the city. Just remember to take change, since the ticket machines don't take paper money (or maybe I was just confused.)
Our first destination was the Grand Place in the center of Brussels. This place is big. I mean really big. I quickly realized that any picture I took would fail to capture the stunning beauty of this place. Everywhere I looked were ornate decorations within larger decorations.
Instead of my fruitless attempt to capture the grandeur, I recommend checking out this 360 degree panorama of the place.
You might come across a statue of some famous person. Look closely, it may just be a street performer. After you get your picture taken with him, he'll demand a few euros. Make sure you count your change, because he'll short you. This picture cost me 3 euro.
I was glad to finally have some coins so I could buy metro tickets.
Around the corner from the Grand Place is a rather diminutive statue of a boy peeing. This is probably not something that you encounter very often, so it's worth it to take a picture of the Mannequin Pis.
One thing to remember, your digestive tract has no clue that you're in a different time zone. Be careful what you eat. Pick something light. We found a restaurant called Tapas Locas, which means you can order a bunch of small dishes to sample. This particular Tapas served local dishes. It was tasty and easy on the belly.
After two days of hearing French spoken, a strange thing began to happen. Small snippets of French from my school days started to surface. So, I took this occasion to attempt to have a short exchange in French, after warning our waiter that I was going to make this attempt. I would ask our waiter what their best dessert was.
"Qu'est ce que votre dessert moyeur?" I blurted out. Our waiter looked perplexed. He went to the bar, and called Stephanie (the barmaid) over.
"What do you want?" she asked.
"Qu'est ce que votre dessert moyeur?" I repeated.
She looked at me funny, and asked, "Are you speaking english?"
"No!" I said, "I was trying to ask what your best dessert was."
"Oh," she said, "I'm from New York. I can't speak French!"
Stephanie
(In case you were wondering, I should have said "Qu'est ce que votre meilleur dessert?")
And the answer: Tarte Tatin avec glace vanille. I *strongly* recommend this!
On the return trip, I bought two tickets, one for my colleague and one for myself. Once we were on the train, I realized that I still had the tickets. Not every station has ticket gates for you to walk through. I learned later that there was an orange box on the wall somewhere that I should have deposited the tickets. Oh well, the city still got my money, and the tickets ended up going through the laundry before I was able to use them for another trip.
Oct. 21st, 2010 @ 09:57 pm
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| » Brussels, Belgium |
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Suppose that your overseas flight arrives in Brussels at 9:15am on a Monday. If that happens, you will be faced with a dilemma, where should you go? Since your hotel check-in time isn't until noon, you may be tempted to go into work, which is just down the street. You may be further motivated to show up because this is a work day, and they just spent a whole bunch of money to fly you across the Atlantic.
Don't Do It.
If you do, you'll just embarrass yourself. Sitting at a desk, trying to read e-mails, you'll suddenly feel like the floor behind you is tilting one way then the other. You'll notice things are very strange, or hear strange sounds, and then realize that you're just hallucinating. Despite the fact that the sun is shining outside (supposedly a rare event in Belgium), you feel like you've been run over by a truck.
Welcome to Jet Lag.
Instead, I recommend going for a nice walk. Check out the local park, which prominently features the Atomium building (shown above). A bit more wandering, and you may find yourself at the cultural center, where they serve a variety of beers. You might casually stroll through the accompanying art gallery. If you do, and there happens to be an empty pedestal, do not create an impromptu work of art with your half empty beer.
It's not as funny as you think it is.
Along the way, you will be inundated by things you don't understand. This is completely natural. The two languages of Belgium are Flemmish and French. Unless you are fluent in either, you will be lost. You will see signs everywhere, but you won't have a clue what they mean. And finally, when you finally get to your hotel room, you will see all sorts of things that are strange and alien.
Do not be alarmed. I'm sure it has a reasonable purpose and is not some sort of torture or medical device.
Oct. 20th, 2010 @ 07:23 pm
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| » My Casablanca Shoot |
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It was a hot and humid day that began with torrential showers most of the morning. But it was the day of my Casablanca Shoot. The forecast was ominous, but predicted a break in the action lasting until 10pm... We may be able to pull it off!
I had started putting the pieces together more than a month earlier, beginning when I spotted a 1956 Beech E18S at Hogan Field. The girl at the desk looked up the owner for me. Soon I had permission to shoot in front of it.
I fired two notes off. One to a model I knew lived locally and was very reliable, Char Rose. The other to a guy who had helped me do lighting for my Vampire shoot last October. Both were in. Two more friends agreed to be my grips, so that they might learn a bit more about lighting.
I knew that time would be of the essence on the day of the shoot. We had to wait until sunset before we could start, and the light would be changing rapidly. Clearly we had to know before hand how to light the scene. So, two weeks beforehand, I held a Light-the-Plane practice session.
I was struggling to find a male model who fit the bill. A couple of men originally sounded interested, but for one reason or another couldn't participate. Finally, just 5 days before the shoot, I got a message from a guy who lives 2 hours away. He fit the bill!
Two days before the shoot I visited an excellent local costume shop, "The Talk of the Town". I was able to choose from an entire rack of trench coats!
The rain did hold off, at least for awhile. John and I got to the airport at 6, and I alerted the airport staff what we were up to. I also pulled weeds out from under the plane, hoping to hide the fact that it hadn't flown in the past 4 years.
A few planes taxied by, and the pilots clearly wondered what was going on. We had an incredible amount of gear on the ground, including a 16' light stand. Jeff, Bob and Bob came and started rigging light around the plane. Josh arrived with a friend and Char came soon after, though she was a bit harried. Her son had just cut his thumb on a piece of broken glass, and her husband had to take him to the emergency room!
Everything was set, we just had to wait for the ambient to dye down a bit more. I felt bad for the talent, wearing overcoats on such a muggy evening. I did bring a cooler full of ice cold bottled water. Still, we had to mop the sweat from their brows occasionally.
I had 5 pictures I wanted to produce. The first one took us a lot of time to get right. About the time we finished with that, Bob informed us that he saw lightning approaching, and said we had 10 minutes before he started tearing down. YIKES!
It actually took us more like 15, but I managed to get the crew through the remaining 4 pictures, with a bonus 1 thrown in at the end.
We could not have fit another picture in. Bob grabbed his gear and dashed. Jeff and I tore down the rest of the kit and loaded it into John's van. Large drops began to fall just as we shut the van door. I ran to my car in a torrential downpour.
Jun. 13th, 2010 @ 11:23 pm
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