Archive for January, 2006
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26
Jan
2006
Too much coke and fraud
So, t’s been a long couple of days.
Right before bed last night, I got an e-mail from Chris, my comic connection. It was one I’d expected awhile. First off, I’ve been getting comics from Chris for like 4 years now or darn close to. I stuck with a store in Decatur for nearly a year before deciding to look into something nearer by. I checked out several stores before stopping into Drake’s Comics and really liking what I saw. It was a great shop. Chris totally knew his stuff and steered me to some great books I’d have never known about. Weathered a store move and then a lot of uncertainty about whether or not things would stay afloat. The store nearly closed once and then did actually close, but Chris has kept on going on the side while he pursued other interests. And ultimately, he’s still bleeding money through the comics and he shouldn’t have to do that. So, yes, last night’s e-mail was that it’s at last over. I can’t blame him at all. It’s like the closing of an era. But if my worst problem in life is where I’m getting my next comics, then I’m doing okay.
So, I went out with friends at work tonight for dinner. It was a lot of fun. And this is where the too much coke comes in. I drink INCREDIBLY rarely. Like, whole seasons pass kind of rare. I don’t have anything against drinking, but I also never felt like I got a lot out of it. Leave me with my bottomless cokes. So, I’ve had like 99 diet cokes and am drinking #100 now. See, this may be more dangerous than their drinks!
I get home and there’s an e-mail to me from American express that they think they have a fraudulent charge on my card from myfamily.com… huh… First off, I wondered if the e-mail was even legit. I don’t trust this kind of stuff. Sure, e-mail me to remind me my bill is due or that payment has been received. But send me an e-mail telling me to call a phone number I don’t know and discuss my credit card and personal information? Are you freaking goofy? So, I built up a head of steam while I looked at all the source of the e-mail and also checked out myfamily.com – well, genealogy connected. I could buy having spent money there, but it’s not like I forget charging $100 somewhere in the last two days… The e-mail looked legit, but I still didn’t trust it. So, I called the number on my card. Mr. I’m your friendly customer service in India confirmed that the e-mail was from American express and there was suspected fraudulent charge… great…. He connected me with the fraud department… Another guy from India who didn’t speak either loudly or clearly… I confirmed that I had not made the charge. He said that they had in fact denied it as the card number and security code from the card didn’t match, but someone has my card number now… of course… So, they cancelled my card…. and I complained bitterly about them contacting me via e-mail regarding fraud. Why would I believe such an e-mail. It sounds like a great scheme to me. Contact me, get me to call a number and then give them all that information… right… I told them under no circumstances did I want further fraud e-mails. Call me….
He was nice about it, but who knows if he really noted it on my account. I was then connected to the first person I’d spoken to who could claim english as her first language. She was the person who would send me a new card. Why would I need to speak to a third person to confirm to mail the card to the same address my bills come to???
She, of course, went into this great spiel about how I could get some sort of fraud protection package from Amex that would enable me to call JUST ONE number to get all my credit cards, debit cards, etc cancelled when there was fraud, plus fraud insurance, etc. I managed to politely sit through most of the rehearsed lines before I interrupted, “I assume there’s a cost for this?” She stumbled a second and said, “uhhh… yes, but it’s only $29… a year…” So that you’ll call two credit cards and a bank for me? “But isn’t $29 worth…” No thanks. “It’s not too much for peace..” NO THANKS!
“Thank you for using American Express, good day!”
yes… everyday some jackass gets my credit card number is a good day… I thought that part… I’m not that rude..
The funny part, afterwards, I log on to my Amex account and see that the “alerts” section of their site is set to send me e-mails regarding frauduent activity… oops… Unless that’s the default, I may have set that up myself years ago… oh well, see what too much coke makes you do?
25
Jan
2006
How Can a Wednesday Feel Like a Monday?
I think I fall into the trap of not blogging everytime I come back from a trip. Everyday observations may not be as fun, but every so often, just writing down your thoughts can be cathartic and a little gem of words might crop up. You never know.
I spent the earlier part of the evening doing such fun things as laundry (waiting to be folded now) and paying bills. There’s some perverse little side of me that takes joy in sitting down with the bills and getting them all paid. I don’t think its the act of spending money as much as the being able to meet the bills without wondering how to make ends meet. It’s a luxury that all too many don’t have.
And at the same time, I dream of the day that I’ve paid off the car and my student loan In my mind, that’s T-minus two years. If it takes longer, I may pop. At the moment, that’s my debt in this world. Sure, there’s the house, but with the equity in it, as long as the housing market doesn’t go pop, I could sell it for a profit, so it’s not debt, really in the sense of the word that the rest is.
Yet, for all these grandiose dreams, I find myself always spending money on frivolity. Sure, I have those little inner wars. Should I go to Italy? was a long one. The crispy side kept saying save the money, but the frosted side said that life was too short to listen to the crispy side. Guess which side won? Oh wait, you saw the blogs from Italy…
And the trip is paid off, so now it’s time for the dental bills. Granted, that’s not exactly a luxury item, but it’s just one more thing.
Anyway, the weekend was nice. I managed to finally lose all the stitches and started vaguely moving to more solid food. An apple is still too lofty a goal, but I even managed a very slow and methodical Zaxby’s club on Sunday night and by Wednesday, Mexican with a friend.
Saturday night was the monthly meeting of the Atlanta Gallifreyan’s. A few days previous I was highly doubtful, I’d attend. It was a fun evening. Granted, I’d already seen the Christmas special of Doctor Who (the new series), but it was fun seeing with a group (who had largely also already seen it – got to love the modern file sharing world).
Sunday was a stop-by Chris’ to get my backlog of comics (from before Christmas and which I’m still reading). Saw a bit of Red Planet with him on Sci Fi before scooting. Then to the bookstore… Yes, I had a collective of like $80 worth of comics, and then I went to bookstores (yes, plural). I had not managed to get a 2006 calendar yet. That’s long been an exercise after the new year when suddenly a calendar for a year only a few days in is now half off. The thing was, this year the year was three weeks in and my trips and dental work and all had put me behind.
So, welcome to the first year in like 15 or more that I don’t have a Star Trek calendar on my wall. Frighteningly, I’ll live…. Instead, my office has a 365 days of Great Britain calendar and my kitchen sports one for the Chronicles of Narnia.
But the danger in going to multiple bookstores for me… is… books… Doesn’t matter that I have enough books to read into retirement, I’ll always buy more. This trip I came back with a couple of gifts and two books for me (considering I stopped at four bookstores looking for calendars, that was a triumph. So, the new books? One on photography and another (a big sucker) on Sir. Christopher Wren, the architect, who among other things, was responsible for St. Paul’s Cathedral in London. What I’ve heard of him from my trips made me want to read the bio… And I probably will in 2027.
And of course, Borders gave me a coupon for 25% off before Sunday…. Do I have buys books impulsively written on my forehead?
19
Jan
2006
Farewell Red
Last weekend was my first trip home since being in Rome. It wasn’t just a pleasure visit, I had to see my dentist for some ongoing dental work. I had to have some bone removed that’s affecting my bite. A couple more visits before everything is done.
I could whine about the soreness or the stitches or the mushy food, but for now I’ll skip it.
While I was home, I got to say goodbye to one of our elder cats. I should preface this by saying that all the pets that were at home when I left for college have passed on now, but there are a few that I got close to anyway. One of these, Red, was a tough little character. Born nearly completely blind, he never would have survived on his own or in the out of doors. Despite his various physical limitations, he was never beaten. If he wanted attention, he’d climb whatever he had to and stand there head bobbing slightly as he attempted to focus on you. He’d stick out a paw. I’m not sure why, but my Dad had gotten him into the habit of “shaking hands” with people.
It was a far-cry from the kitten I first encountered. Unable to see, he feared being handled and wanted nothing to do with people. I was home for awhile, not sure if it was vacation or what, but I remember sitting on the floor with him for hours getting him accustomed to me until he would let me rub him. After that, he came to everyone he encountered having learned that people were good. At least everyone he’d ever encounter in his small world were nice to him.
At nearly 8 years old, he was a good deal older than he was ever given odds to live. He loved sunny spots in the kitchen and anytime that people took up with him. And he was even close to some of the other cats (a couple of others who are “special” like Red – my Mom is a soft touch). Considering how un-cat-like Red could be, that’s something. Cat’s who don’t see other cats don’t necessarily learn to interact the same way.
At any rate, at his age and health, he was also frail. He’d had several colds this year and a virus/infection finally took him. I knew while I was home that it could be anytime. I was honestly surprised Tuesday morning when he was still with us. At this point, only one of the other cats, Tadpole, stayed by him. And he,in fact, stayed to the end according to my Mom. I called this morning on the way to work, and Mom said he finally passed overnight. He was peaceful the last few days, but (and I hope it’s not disrespectful t say), he fought not unlike my grandmother and did not go gently. He held onto the last pieces of life with determination that I will always remember.
I’m glad I got to say bye and I know I’ll miss him eagerly pushing past the other cats for some attention when next I’m home…
10
Jan
2006
From Chasing Sunrise to Chasing Sunset
It occurred to me on the flight back today that the trips to Europe tend to be made overnight, i.e. in search of the sunrise, but the flights back are all chasing the sunset, such that it feels like I went through the longest day. I saw the sunrise at around 7:30am in Rome (six hours ahead of Eastern) and watched it descend over Atlanta as I left Hartsfield between 5pm and 6pm…. Weird!
You may have guessed, I’m back in the states. I could go into heaps of boring details, but by and large I’ll spare you. I went to bed early last night, such that I had literally prepared to put my head down when a new room-mate showed up. The most timid creature I think I’ve ever laid eyes on. I told him my name and barely got a peep of his, “Thomas,” and decided that I’d continue with the sleep process. Within seconds of head hitting pillow I was out. Got up shy of 6am this morning and was on a train about 7am to the airport. Brandy had reported that she barely made her gate by 15 minutes leaving when she did on Sunday. I don’t know if an hour made all that difference or if Sunday was a madhouse of people leaving or what, but I flew through all the gates she mentioned and sat waiting to board for over two hours.
The 11 hour flight was heinously long. Within four hours I’d exhausted what charge remained on my archos (hard drive and mp3 player) so resorted to the in flight music and finished the last of my books. All the while trying to keep some part of my seat from the rather rotund gentleman next to me who seemed oblivious to the amount of personal space he was using.
One of the in-flight channels was the entire Nevermind Album from Nirvana. We touched down to Smells like Teen Spirit, their break-through song. A bit creepy!
And in that angst ridden notion, a small essay I wrote the old-fashioned way at 39,000 feet.
Destinations And Places
An Essay on Life at 39,000 Feet
Outside the plane, there stretches a vast sea of clouds so white that they appear newly laundered. Tiny specks of ocean blue penetrate the carpet below but are almost too small to notice. The plane inhabits a place were the clouds grow thin as if only tenuously connected to their brethren below.
As I look up, the wisps dissolve into the deepest blue, and for just a moment, it all feels unreal. It seems as if the gentlest nudge could send the plane into the heavens. Is our connection as brief as the clouds? Are the jet engines holding us up or down? Here it seems to have no meaning.
With no land in sight, there is at once a feeling of smallness against the backdrop of infinity and a feeling of being connected suddenly to everything and everyone. I know land lies beyond my sight, but I imagine years before when men would steer their tiny boats across the blue sea that hides beneath those clouds. And they did not know what if anything lay beyond.
Would I have their courage? Will I ever sail toward the places not found on maps? Or will I, as so many of us, persist on Mr. Frost’s proverbial more traveled road? I search the heavens for answers but come away with none. And perhaps that is better. Maybe life is meant to be lived minute by minute never knowing what lies ahead or how we will react. I guess I’ll live with the mystery and the hope that’s attached to each new day.
And now time for a long soak and a good nights sleep!
9
Jan
2006
Last of the Roman Holidays
I went to bed reasonably early last night after finishing a book and recharging my phone (I’m a bit afraid to leave it plugged in while asleep on foreign currents). still, when I went to bed, my other two room-mates were not there. I could tell the one from the first night, Mel, was still there and another had popped in to Brandy’s former bed. The one IMMEDIATELY beside me was blessedly empty. I only got disturbed once by the snoring from that guy but according to Brandy he was a rip-roarer. It’s both a blessing and a curse to sleep as soundly as I do. In situations like a hostel, mostly a blessing. The room I have this stay is immediately over the bar, which seems to be a rather poor choice in planning the place, but again, I sleep like a rock. As soon as the sleep dust is in my eyes I’m gone, so no foul.Anyway, I slept fairly late. Woke up enough around 9am to realize that one roomie was in the shower – apparently Mel as she was the only one gone when I got up an hour later. I had my shower and tip-toed out around 10:30am. Had breakfast and scanned the guide for something to do. I’d pretty much missed a chance at Caracalla’s bath as it closes at 1pm and my history of negotiating the local metro on unknown routes isn’t so great. I also honestly just wasn’t that excited about it. I decided to verify that the literally across the street Diocletian bath was indeed closed. It was, but I walked around the fence and had my fill of ruins.
From there, I wandered up to one place that had been on my list since virtually day one. Not in the guide, but I had read about it before I left and I’m fairly convinced that I once saw the place on Ripley’s Believe it or not. The place being the crypt of the Capuchin monks in the church Santa Maria della Concezione near Barberini Square. In the 1600’s, the cemetery filled up and the decision was made to exhume the bones of the Capuchin Monks and move them to the crypt. Apparently they were inspired by similar places in Paris and used the bones to create works of art. The bones are stacked and used everywhere for decoration from rosettes, to lanterns to allegorical tales. The last crypt contains a skeleton that appears as the grim repear complete with wings and scythe, all from bones. There’s a sign that’s been translated into english as ‘As you are now, so once were we. As we are now, so you will be.’ – a reminder of our mortality. It was really worth the visit. No photography allowed, but I got a few postcards and made a donation to the church.
From there, it was time for some aimless wandering. I walked down to the Spanish steps. At the top, someone asked me, “American?” I ignored the first time as there was a crowd and pretended not to realize it was me. The second time he asked, no crowd…. So I said yes? Strange, the day before I was asked twice, “England?” Why today American? Anyway, he asked if I was from New York… I thought about my response and decided not to ask him how many Southern New Yorkers he’d met. I told him I was from Atlanta. “OH, Georgia, he replied. I nodded, then he asked if I spoke Italian. I told him not really. He said, “Oh, well, Happy New Year!” I nodded and said “gratzie” thinking the conversation over. Then he held out a little piece of string in a circle and asked me to put my finger in for good luck…. Okay, I have to say, I’ve had two people ask me to do this in the last few days. Is this some Italian custom that I’m unfamiliar with or as my more suspicious side demands, some sort of con or trick to grab my stuff and run while I’m trying to untie my fingers?! ? Whatever it was, I begged off as before. Both seemed a little too anxious for my taste.
From there on to Piazza Popolo. Probably quite something when the obelisk in the middle isn’t covered in tarps and scaffolding for repairs. Still, took the chance to just sit and take in the views for awhile. When I mentioned it was at the end of the street we were on (via Del Corso), Brandy said she thought this had once been an arena for races like the Circus Maximus.
From there, I wandered into the Borghese area. I thought for a moment that I had found a comic book shop as a store had the Silver Surfer painted above the door, but when I got there it turned out to be an arcade. False advertising!! Oh well, it would have been primarily if not all Italian anyway.
But I took the chance to wander into the nearby Villa Borghese park where several art galleries/museums are. Apparently all closed on Monday according to my guide. The only one I checked was the modern art gallery, but yes, it was closed. However, I found a street and section of the park named in honor of America’s founding father, George Washington. That was unexpected. And then I ambled upon this little lake with a temple in the middle of it. My guide book had only the name of it, Tempio di Esculapio. From what I can find on the web, it was built in the 19th century (in classical style) as a landscape feature. Still, quite beautiful. I got there and the light was hitting it just right so, I took copious pictures. The only other site there was a reproduction of Shakespeare’s Globe. It was pretty enough but even I could tell that it was not true to the original as the one in London is.
From there, more ambling, which eventually took me to the Pantheon one last time, the only day with strong sun that I’d gotten to go in. I wanted to see the oculus with bright daylight. I’d been impressed enough with it in the overcast day that I had seen, but I really wanted to see a strong light coming through it. I had my wish and a small matter of non-communication with one of the attendants. I was wearing a knit cap (as I saw plenty of people there, guys as well, doing – it’s not like the place is heated), and I thought she wanted me to remove it… It is a church. So, I took it off, but she shook her head. She then asked, “Italiano?” No… She sighed, and pointed to the alter and said, “Church?” I couldn’t figure out what she was asking… Do I know this is a church? A Service is starting. Do I attend the Catholic church? What? We tried for another minute before I finally just said, “Gratzie” and shrugged. She shrugged as well and the point of her conversation will remain a mystery.
Outside they were filming a commercial by the fountain in front of the Pantheon. I watched for a few minutes with a big crowd before getting bored since everything that was being said was in Italian and I had no clue what the ad was for. That’s not that different from the bulk of TV in which I remember clever ads but never seem to remember what they were advertising in specific.
From there, westward, through Piazza Navona. The festival from yesterday was being taken apart and the piazza had a much emptier feel. Holidays are over here and the kids went back to school today. Aftewards, one last round by St. Peter’s before I take my leave of Rome. Stood in the the piazza again and looked at the mass of people even on Monday after holidays in Rome are over. I was struck again by the number of beggars in all parts of the city, but I think I saw some of the worst off in this area. I can no longer claim to have never seen a leper at least… I’ve now seen two in as many days.
One last long walk from there down via Vittorio Emanuelle II until I hit via Del Corso. From there, meandered back up, did the last of my shopping for this trip and headed to the Spanish steps. No good reason except that I have one last metro ticket and I decided to use it to get back to Termini from somewhere. Seemed as good as any other. As I trudged up the Spanish steps to the Metro station I knew was at the top, I contemplated that what they really needed was a good Spanish Elevator or American Escalator. This was, after all, following a LOT of walking. At the top, popped into the Metro stop and started down an Elevator. At the bottom, I looked forward into the metro station and to my left at a little alley leading to the piazza at the bottom of the spanish steps… so nevermind that joke about the Spanish Elevator now…
I had one last meal – Pizza – in Termini and just sort of let the tired feeling leak out of my bones as I leisurely ate. Now a little web time before going back and figuring out how to best pack my bag for the flight tomorrow. The trip is over, but there’s still the little matter of an 11 hour flight in the morning, made longer by the need to get to the airport several hours before. According to Brandy the Rome airport has nice long lines in which to stand and use up all of the time you have. I hope to at least have time for a quick breakfast in the airport before leaving.
At any rate, farewell to Rome and farewell from Rome!
