Tonight I’m flying to North Carolina with Stephanie to attend the wedding of friends Abe and Kathleen in Carrboro on Saturday night. We’ll be flying home Sunday afternoon. I think this is probably the craziest, shortest trip I’ve ever taken. Oh no, there was that one time I secretly flew from San Diego to San Francisco and then back the next day (before flying home to NC) to interview at O’Reilly. Anyway…

So we should get in in-time for lunch, which I’d like to have at Carrburritos. In the area and feel like dropping by? Curious to hear about living in San Francisco, working in Sausalito, and/or riding Vespas over the Golden Gate Bridge? Well feel free to stop by. We should be there around 12:30pm.

And if for some unexpected reason our schedule is delayed, fear not, at least you’ll have a nice lunch.

Update (7:15am eastern time): how about this for unexpected. Three hours into our flight to Washington National the captain gets on apologetically (cause we’re sleeping) to tell us that they think they see a fuel leak on the right side of the aircraft. Ugh. After consulting with all appropriate people one must consult with in the event that fuel is leaking out of your aircraft in-flight, a decision was made to make an emergency landing in Chicago. And so we landed in Chicago around 5am (3am San Francisco time) escorted by a cavalcade of fire engines with lights ablaze, who determined we weren’t at immediate risk of exploding, and so allowed us to proceed to the gate.

SO. We now are tired in Chicago. We are standing by on a flight to Raleigh that leaves at 6:28am (15 minutes from now) which miraculously would get us to RDU at 9:30am, earlier than our original arrival time. If we are not so lucky, then we are at least ticketed for a flight leaving at 10:50, getting into RDU at 1:50pm. Check back here for the latest.

Update (7:20am eastern time): OMG! We are getting on this flight. See you at Carrburritos!!!!

Oh Canada! So weird to be driving into a foreign country. Last Sunday (while in Buffalo, New York for my Grandfather’s 90th birthday) the whole family entered Canada via the Peace Bridge to visit Niagara Falls.

From there we drove up the Niagara Scenic Parkway, leisurely winding our way along the river to the Falls. Below is our first sight of the mist rising above Niagara Falls (and the plethora of hotels on the Canadian side).

We found parking and made our way down to a spot just across from the American Falls. The little chunk of falling water on the right is actually a separate waterfall, the Bridal Veil Falls.

Then we walked over to view the Canadian side of the Falls, popularly known as “Horseshoe Falls” due to its iconic U-shape.

Note: If you have any interest in buying a print of these photos, please don’t hesitate to send me an email.

I had no clue the Maid of the Mist basically “drove” into the bottom of the waterfall. Something we’ll have to do next time.

It was amazing that we could stand so close to the edge of the Falls. The lip was mere feet away. I could almost touch it.

We all took an elevator down to the base of the Horseshoe Falls for the unbelievable views and deafening roar from below. Of course we also got unbelievably drenched by the mist.

Me and Stephanie in our yellow plastic bag “mistcoats.” Hawt. I mean haute.

Afterwards, Stephanie, Dad, and I drove downriver, north of the whirlpool, and hiked into the gorge created by thousands of years of the Falls eating away at the rock. I found it very interesting to learn that in the future:

the falls will eventually recede far enough to drain most of Lake Erie, the bottom of which is higher than the bottom of the falls. Engineers are working to reduce the rate of erosion to postpone this event as long as possible.

I had a faint and somewhat intimidating memory of doing a similar hike when I was much younger, so I was keen to revisit the scale of the whirlpool and the gorge. Turns out it wasn’t nearly so scary. I seemed to remember being afraid of getting sucked into the water. I’m sure at the time my parents strongly emphasized not going near the river—due to its strong and unpredictable currents.

Panoramic view the river within the gorge (created with hugin)

Update, May 13, 2011: Due to the popularity of this post, I went back and cleaned up the text, wrote captions, and added the ability to enlarge the photos. Thanks for reading.

I should start a category called “not on my way to someplace I should be on my way to.”

Once again, weather has intervened in my travel plans. Stephanie and I left the apartment blissfully unaware that severe thunderstorms and the threat of tornadoes across the midwest (in particular our Chicago connection) caused our 11:30pm departure to be held until 2AM! Which is doubly inconvenient as it eats completely into our 2 and a half hour layover in Chicago. Let’s just hope that the flight to Buffalo is also delayed, because every other non-American Airlines flight Friday from Chicago to Buffalo is apparently sold out.

The good news is, at least I have some time to get caught up on my blogging.

Update: (Friday June 8, 4:20) Last night things went from bad to worse. At 2am they told us the flight crew was illegal to fly. HAD THEY KNOWN THIS EARLIER, we could have taken one of the last BART trains home, gotten some sane sleep, gone to work on Friday, and done the same itinerary, just a day later. Instead, we were stuck at SFO. Rather than canceling the flight, the earliest it could depart was 6:30am. And because no one was supposed to be in that terminal at that time, they’d shut off the heat. So it was cold. So we got some airplane blankets and did the best we could sleeping on the floor.

We eventually did make it on the plane and miraculously I slept pretty much the whole way. We arrived in Chicago just after noon, got on standby on an oversold flight to Buffalo leaving at 1:45. Suffice it to say, we did not get on that flight. So after a groggy combination of talking to gate agents and calling the reservations number, we are booked on a flight from Chicago to Buffalo tomorrow morning (a day late), we’re on standby for a oversold flight tonight at 8pm, and we got an insulting “distressed traveler rate” of $89 at a nearby hotel. You bet I’m distressed. Looking on the bright side, at least I can take a shower.

Update: (Saturday June 9) Stephanie and I got on that oversold flight at 8pm Friday night and made it to Buffalo around 10:30pm, about 12 hours later than planned. We felt triumphant.

Update: My response to American Airlines:

I appreciate your gesture of doling out 10,000 miles for the travel experience I endured Jun 7-8, though it doesn’t begin to repair what I experienced. A full and complete refund would be more like it. I spent $408 and used 50,000 miles to purchase tickets for myself and my girlfriend. This is my story.

We arrived at SFO at 10:30pm to discover that our 11:30pm flight to Chicago had been delayed until 2am due to weather. Having arrived via public transportation (BART) which only runs until midnight, we could not return home. All we could do is hope that our connecting flight to Buffalo would be also delayed so we could make it.

At 2am the gate agent informs us that the crew is illegal to fly! How you did not know this when you first delayed the flight is astounding. Rather than cancel it, we were told the earliest it could go out was 6:30am. So we “slept” in a cold empty airport with an airplane blanket, waiting another 4 hours for the flight.

We finally depart at 6:30am, our connecting flight having long since departed, and the next flight to Buffalo (2pm) is sold out. So we get on standby for a sold out 8pm flight, and are offered an insulting distressed travelers rate of $90 at a local hotel. I would also like to be refunded for that.

We use the hotel to shower, nap, then return to the airport with little hope of getting on the 8pm flight. Lo and behold, they can accommodate us. We arrive in Buffalo at 10:30pm, a painful 12 hours late for my grandfather’s 90th birthday.

When Stephanie and I unpacked, these are the treasures we unearthed from our suitcases.

From left to right that’s chocolate, easy bechamel, more chocolate, herbes de provence, dijon mayonnaise, fleur de sel, several bottles of wine and liqueur, and one bottle of olive oil.

Not shown here are the many boxes of tea Stephanie’s mom is shipping us separately.

^*The post title is ironic.

Last Saturday was our last day in France.

We started the day off with a little clothes shopping. I had a simple ham and cheese baguette sandwich as a pre-lunch snack. Tasty. We also checked out BHV, a several story high department store. For lunch we had pizza again with Kir Royales to celebrate the end of the trip. Then we walked over to what was marked on the map as the History of France Museum, and which turned out to be a part of the National Archives that were no longer on display to the public. Oh well.

So we moseyed over to the Musée Picasso and enjoyed looking at some more modern art, though still feeling fatigued after the previous day’s Louvre experience. I did get the impression that Picasso was crazy talented, crazy creative, crazy prolific, and that taken together, his work almost doesn’t make sense.

After that it was nearing 5pm, and we had dinner plans with one Miss Katie Melville of London, a friend from my undergraduate days in Linguistics. Katie met us at our hotel, after having had her hair cut (the other reason she was in Paris). We walked over to Pierre Hermé, a patisserie with a line out the door that looked more like a parfumerie than a pastry shop. She wanted to share with us their marzipan cookies, and we also got some chocolate treats.

After a little sit down with our pastries at a nearby cafe, we took the metro to Oberkampf to find our dinner location, a recommended North African restaurant called “La Tagine” with dishes served appropriately in… tagines. Katie invited two of her Paris-based friends along, one an American (or at least she had an American English accent) and the other a Brit. I had a lovely time, if not for the fact that I could more fully participate in the conversation.

We closed the place down, four of us heading home together on the same metro line, before saying our final goodbyes in the 15 seconds we had to get off the train at our connection.

And then the trip was over.

We transfered to the metro line we needed, and then walked arm-in-arm back to the hotel. It was past midnight, I’m sure. We did some packing and left some for the morning which would be coming too early. Our flight departed at 10am, which meant we were waking at 6.