Happy Summer Solstice
Jun. 22nd, 2003 01:21 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
darcydodoLong day. Fun day. Tiring day.
Not nearly enough sleep, for a start, 'cause I'm stupid like that. Was supposed to get a phonecall from![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
livredor last night and, since I completely forgot about this, managed not to be in. Was very cross this morning when I got her message saying where were you. Thought about banging my head against the wall, opted for the pillow instead given that it was softer and made less noise, and felt sorry for myself. Obviously not even a remote tragedy except for the tiredness factor.
Katie swung by just before 8 so that we could grab something at a boulangerie and get to Raspail métro station by 8:30, when everyone was meeting there. (Yes, today was the trip to Fontainebleau, which I realize I've been spelling incorrectly.) I got another of those yummy brioche from the little boulangerie near Porte d'Orléans; they really are incredibly tasty.
We in fact ended up going to Barbizon first, before Fontainebleau, which is where the Fontainebleau painters really had their setup. You know, the early end of the not-quite-Impressionistic-yet group. The two choices were to go to the museum or to wander around in the forest and the town; Katie and I opted for the no-museum, 'cause we only had two hours there, and in the end this turned out to be a good thing anyway, 'cause apparently the museum was not particularly useful. Everyone else headed there first and spent much of the time wandering around the well-marked forest, with its elephant rock and random artist-related bits. By contrast, Katie and I made a circuit of the town, which resulted in some rather fun things. 1) Katie is afraid of dogs, and also has an extreme dislike of them, and French dogs are stupidly loud and poorly-behaved. So every time we walked by a fence, a loud woofing started up that caused her to bitch about dogs. We decided that French dogs were a bit like French people, in this respect. 2) I don't have a camera, hence my purchase of the three disposible cameras when I went to Chantilly. I had complained about my lack of camera when we arrived at Barbizon, because the town is really incredibly cute. As we were walking by one of the wheat fields that surrounds the town, I looked down and noticed, lying in the long grass, a camera, with its front covered in dust. There was no one around; it had clearly been there for a while. After struggling with my conscience for a little bit, Katie and I both managed to urge me that really I should take the camera with me, if it worked. Which it did. (Well, I have no idea if the pictures will actually come out, but at least the camera gives the impression of working.) So I now have a camera.... 3) We saw alpacas! They might have been llamas, but no humps, and I think that llamas at least have vague humps. Maybe they were llamas. :) 4) We wandered around a bit in some woods that weren't the official woods, I got a little nettle burn 'cause I was wearing capris, and I felt vaguely like I was back on our wander around Wychwood forest, the one at the beginning of last summer withelemy and Adam. We didn't actually get anywhere in said woods, because the "path" only led to the backs of people's private properties and their woodpiles, but it was nice to just be in the woods. And away from the surprising number of cars that seem to frequent the streets in and around the village, in a very high-speeded and noisy fashion.
We were all meeting at noon for lunch, at a restaurant called Les Charmettes. The food was incredible; have a bottle of wine and bread, start with a salad, continue on to fish, then get dessert. The wine was OK; it was a red, but while I usually prefer white if I'm having it during the day, the one table that did get white said it wasn't particularly good. And the red was at least decent. The salad: some sort of mesclun, or something, with lardons and a very delicate vinaigrette and a crouton with an entire round of hot goat cheese. Strangely, I was the only one at the table who liked the cheese, so I happily ate one other person's. I would've eaten the other three, but I thought I'd do better to save room for the rest of the meal. :) The fish: salmon, wrapped in some sort of thin fried thing (no clue what, though), on a bed of... cooked diced cucumber? really no clue here, with four grilled cherry tomatoes and some vague drizzling of sauce. Exceedingly yummy. I also got someone's tomatoes, 'cause they're dense and don't eat tomatoes. :) Dessert: ice cream profiteroles, with a lot of fantastic chocolate sauce. I mean really yummy chocolate sauce. So that was good, if a bit expensive; I gave the CEA leader 35 euros for the day, and this pretty much ended up being lunch and a guided tour at Fontainebleau. But if I'd gone on my own, I would've had to pay for transportation and a ticket to the chateau anyway, so I felt I didn't come off too too badly. (Come to think of it, I also would've probably given in to temptation and rented a rowboat to go around the not-very-large lake. I love rowboats, 'cause I can actually make them go where I want and feel impressive. And that would've been another 10 euros right there.) And I wouldn't have gotten the camera. :)
At this point, things are starting to get vaguely fuzzy in my head, since I took a break from writing and went out to listen to music (on which more later!), so hopefully I'll get down all the important bits.
We got back on the bus and drove to Fontainebleau proper, where we headed straight to the chateau and then waited about half an hour for the tour guide to show up. I fussed a bit with my "new" camera, which had stopped working, replaced the batteries (I bought some batteries and film just before we went in to lunch), saw it still wasn't working, felt sad, then decided that possibly the film that had come in it was only 12 exposures. So I put in the new film, too, and it worked. Who on earth buys twelve exposure film these days, anyway?? Whoever randomly drops cameras next to fields of wheat and poppies, I guess. (Oh yes, my favorite thing about the wheat fields: the red poppies that actually were growing up through the wheat. I just adore wheat, anyway, it's square and funny.) So. Umm. We eventually did get into the chateau, since the guide eventually showed up. The rooms were fascinating. He also told us a bit of history, such as that Fontainebleau was the palace for all kings up to the "present" day, ever since François I, except, of course, Louis XIV at Versailles. And the F on a bunch of the gables stood for François, not Fontainebleau, as I had initially supposed, 'cause I'm silly like that.
Some of the walls were frescoed, which was cool; I tried to take pictures, but we weren't allowed to use flash, and although my camera seems to have a no-flash button, it's not working for whatever reason. So I simply stuck my hand over the flash, which vaguely worked, but there may be a glowing red edge of finger in a lot of the photographs. The Greek and Roman mythology employed in a lot of the frescoes, tapestries, and paintings made me very bouncy, but the guide's complete mangling of a lot of it made me cross. The first thing I appreciated (before I begin grousing, which I'm allowed to do in the pages of my own journal) was a fresco depicting the education of a French prince. It was one of those pictures that has lots of things from different times going on simultaneously (I know there's a word, but I forget what), and it showed a boy being taught fighting, swimming, mathematics, etc. But what was so cool about it all, from my perspective, is that a centaur was doing the teaching. This, of course, automatically set the prince in the same domain as Achilles, Jason, and the other great heroes who were reared by Cheiron.
OK, now for the Classicist squeals that are to be mingled with growls. Two rooms held something absolutely brilliant. It was paintings, surrounding the walls, taken from the Aethiopica! The guide was going on about "Theage..." and "Cheri..." and it took me a few seconds to realize that he was actually attempting to say "Theagenes" and "Charicleia." It didn't help that he referred to their story as being like Romeo and Juliet but with a happy ending. Star-crossed lovers != Romeo and Juliet, I'm sorry. But apparently the Aethiopica was very popular in France in the Renaissance, which I think I would have known if I'd thought about it because of when I know it was translated into French, but it's still neat to see real evidence of this. I couldn't, on the other hand, actually identify a single scene, which possibly amuses me more.
The next two rooms were also pretty brilliant from my Classicist perspective, but this is where the guide really annoyed me. The sets of pictures in these rooms (tapestries, this time) were taken from Cupid and Psyche. The guide was trying to give a summary of the story, and he got bits wrong. In principle, I wouldn't object to this, 'cause he didn't get them too too wrong. But some of the bits he got wrong meant that he completely misinterpreted the tapestries. And then he went so far as to say that it was a story of love lost. "Yes, but it had a happy ending," I comment. To which he replies, "No, it didn't. Sorry." I thought he was French, not German (sorry,monanotlisa!). I felt vaguely sulky after that. On the other hand, the scene that he misinterpreted the worst was one I looked at and thought "Holy shit, I know what's going on there; it's the old woman in the Metamorphoses who's telling the story of Psyche! How meta-textual!" And then he made his stupid comment, which was that some old woman had told Psyche to go to the top of the hill so that she wouldn't be eaten by the monster (duh? excuse me?) and I thought maybe the French just had a strange different version of the story. But then I looked at the little placard in French that told stuff about the room, and it read "The old woman telling the story of Psyche." So hah. HAH, I say!
When we got through the chateau, we were given about fifteen minutes to wander around the grounds. Much longer would obviously have been appreciated, but there was no way that would've happened unless I had gone to the chateau all by myself in the first place. So Sharon and I wandered reasonably quickly through the stately French part of the grounds, peered over the edge of the balcony, saw the canal, and walked back. We then waited for a while to get on the bus because someone was being located, and then we drove back to Paris.
Dinner at the Cité (I managed to procure a steak that had actually been done medium rare, and it was relatively tasty, but not precisely what I wanted); following that I spent a bit of time writing the first part of this journal entry, and I tried signing up for a spoken French class next semester. There are only two sections, only one is in a time that I could do (and even then I'll have to miss the Friday class), and both are full. Grr. So I'm on the waiting list for one and hopefully they'll add another section in a time I can actually make. I can't let my French go that quickly, it'd be disastrous. And I can't do normal French 3, either, because that's 5 days a week and I am so not going to do an hour of French 3 every day AND an hour of German 1 every day. Undergraduate classes suck. That's all I can say. (OK, and so do I for not thinking of the spoken French option until today.)
Robyn's parents are visiting (they're very cool), and we met up with her and them at 8 to go over to one of the music concerts. We was myself, Katie, and Lindsay. The concert we wanted to go to was at the Sorbonne, and it was a band that was supposed to do covers of Pink Floyd, the Doors, etc. As we reached the Place de la Sorbonne, we heard the strains of a Pink Floyd song (I can't remember which one), and as we got closer they started playing "Roxanne." We found tables at a nearby brasserie and had a very good view, but about two seconds later, some random band started playing really loudly right behind us. No one was listening to them; they did, however, drive away customers, namely us. We couldn't hear the real band at all. So we headed around back toward the street until we were at a point where we could only hear the band we wanted to. On the down side, we couldn't see the band at all. But as they played, we tried worming our way through the crowd bit by bit. There weren't actually so so so many layers of people in between us and the band, but they were layers of tall people. And if I'm not all that tall, Katie's really short. Robyn and Lindsay are both reasonably vertically advantaged. ;) But anyway, a few songs later, the band took a break. At this point, various people made for nearby alcohol-serving venues, and we bounded forward to the very front edge of the crowd and sat on the ground. ("We were animals, I tell you," said Katie later. "Animals." Hmmm.)
After a bit of a break, the band seemed ready to start playing again. Only, their singer wasn't back. And wasn't back. And still wasn't. They started jamming around with some instrumental bits, trying to buy time. Eventually, they just started, the bass guitarist offering to sing if absolutely necessary, and with the caveat, if I understood him, that he sang horribly. However, some random guy from the audience jumped up and started singing into the mike. He was hilarious. After two or three songs he sat down, and eventually the singer returned. They played for a long time, till about 11:30. Some AC/DC, some Led Zeppelin, the Doors, U2... no more Police, to my dismay, and no Metallica at all, to Robyn's great disappointment. She's a massive Metallica fan. The Doors pieces were provoked by a small group standing to my left, who may have been Italian. They were, at least, speaking in Italian during the break, but then they were speaking fluent French, later. So I don't know. They shouted "the Doors, the Doors"; only it sounded, as Robin said, more like "dogs, dogs!" Silly accents. For an encore, "Stairway to Heaven" was requested, and subsequently played. "Stairway!" people were shouting. "Stairway!" Only it sounded equally odd. The girl in the group of unknown nationality dragged me into their swaying chain for Stairway. Katie and Robyn wouldn't join, though, when I tried to latch onto them. It's a very sad thing; everyone should sway to Stairway.
There were more and more encores; eventually, they promised to return in 80 minutes and play more. At that point we left, all preferring to get sleep. We took the RER home; the train we got on only went to Denfert-Rochereau, and two poor American girls got trapped on the train because they evidently spoke no French (excusable) and paid no attention to the fact that everyone was leaving the train until it was too late (not so excusable). So they're probably having a little adventure as I type.
And that was my extensively long day. Tomorrow, I think, is going to be for playing all sorts of catch-up. I'll sleep very late (uh-huh, heard that one before!), wash my hair, do my homework, try and write my presentation on cheese for French.... yeah. Possibly I'll do that out in the sun. The last two items, at least. :) And then I'll go see Dogville in the evening, on the assumption that it had better be playing somewhere still, or I'll be majorly cross!
Not nearly enough sleep, for a start, 'cause I'm stupid like that. Was supposed to get a phonecall from
livredor last night and, since I completely forgot about this, managed not to be in. Was very cross this morning when I got her message saying where were you. Thought about banging my head against the wall, opted for the pillow instead given that it was softer and made less noise, and felt sorry for myself. Obviously not even a remote tragedy except for the tiredness factor.Katie swung by just before 8 so that we could grab something at a boulangerie and get to Raspail métro station by 8:30, when everyone was meeting there. (Yes, today was the trip to Fontainebleau, which I realize I've been spelling incorrectly.) I got another of those yummy brioche from the little boulangerie near Porte d'Orléans; they really are incredibly tasty.
We in fact ended up going to Barbizon first, before Fontainebleau, which is where the Fontainebleau painters really had their setup. You know, the early end of the not-quite-Impressionistic-yet group. The two choices were to go to the museum or to wander around in the forest and the town; Katie and I opted for the no-museum, 'cause we only had two hours there, and in the end this turned out to be a good thing anyway, 'cause apparently the museum was not particularly useful. Everyone else headed there first and spent much of the time wandering around the well-marked forest, with its elephant rock and random artist-related bits. By contrast, Katie and I made a circuit of the town, which resulted in some rather fun things. 1) Katie is afraid of dogs, and also has an extreme dislike of them, and French dogs are stupidly loud and poorly-behaved. So every time we walked by a fence, a loud woofing started up that caused her to bitch about dogs. We decided that French dogs were a bit like French people, in this respect. 2) I don't have a camera, hence my purchase of the three disposible cameras when I went to Chantilly. I had complained about my lack of camera when we arrived at Barbizon, because the town is really incredibly cute. As we were walking by one of the wheat fields that surrounds the town, I looked down and noticed, lying in the long grass, a camera, with its front covered in dust. There was no one around; it had clearly been there for a while. After struggling with my conscience for a little bit, Katie and I both managed to urge me that really I should take the camera with me, if it worked. Which it did. (Well, I have no idea if the pictures will actually come out, but at least the camera gives the impression of working.) So I now have a camera.... 3) We saw alpacas! They might have been llamas, but no humps, and I think that llamas at least have vague humps. Maybe they were llamas. :) 4) We wandered around a bit in some woods that weren't the official woods, I got a little nettle burn 'cause I was wearing capris, and I felt vaguely like I was back on our wander around Wychwood forest, the one at the beginning of last summer with
elemy and Adam. We didn't actually get anywhere in said woods, because the "path" only led to the backs of people's private properties and their woodpiles, but it was nice to just be in the woods. And away from the surprising number of cars that seem to frequent the streets in and around the village, in a very high-speeded and noisy fashion.We were all meeting at noon for lunch, at a restaurant called Les Charmettes. The food was incredible; have a bottle of wine and bread, start with a salad, continue on to fish, then get dessert. The wine was OK; it was a red, but while I usually prefer white if I'm having it during the day, the one table that did get white said it wasn't particularly good. And the red was at least decent. The salad: some sort of mesclun, or something, with lardons and a very delicate vinaigrette and a crouton with an entire round of hot goat cheese. Strangely, I was the only one at the table who liked the cheese, so I happily ate one other person's. I would've eaten the other three, but I thought I'd do better to save room for the rest of the meal. :) The fish: salmon, wrapped in some sort of thin fried thing (no clue what, though), on a bed of... cooked diced cucumber? really no clue here, with four grilled cherry tomatoes and some vague drizzling of sauce. Exceedingly yummy. I also got someone's tomatoes, 'cause they're dense and don't eat tomatoes. :) Dessert: ice cream profiteroles, with a lot of fantastic chocolate sauce. I mean really yummy chocolate sauce. So that was good, if a bit expensive; I gave the CEA leader 35 euros for the day, and this pretty much ended up being lunch and a guided tour at Fontainebleau. But if I'd gone on my own, I would've had to pay for transportation and a ticket to the chateau anyway, so I felt I didn't come off too too badly. (Come to think of it, I also would've probably given in to temptation and rented a rowboat to go around the not-very-large lake. I love rowboats, 'cause I can actually make them go where I want and feel impressive. And that would've been another 10 euros right there.) And I wouldn't have gotten the camera. :)
At this point, things are starting to get vaguely fuzzy in my head, since I took a break from writing and went out to listen to music (on which more later!), so hopefully I'll get down all the important bits.
We got back on the bus and drove to Fontainebleau proper, where we headed straight to the chateau and then waited about half an hour for the tour guide to show up. I fussed a bit with my "new" camera, which had stopped working, replaced the batteries (I bought some batteries and film just before we went in to lunch), saw it still wasn't working, felt sad, then decided that possibly the film that had come in it was only 12 exposures. So I put in the new film, too, and it worked. Who on earth buys twelve exposure film these days, anyway?? Whoever randomly drops cameras next to fields of wheat and poppies, I guess. (Oh yes, my favorite thing about the wheat fields: the red poppies that actually were growing up through the wheat. I just adore wheat, anyway, it's square and funny.) So. Umm. We eventually did get into the chateau, since the guide eventually showed up. The rooms were fascinating. He also told us a bit of history, such as that Fontainebleau was the palace for all kings up to the "present" day, ever since François I, except, of course, Louis XIV at Versailles. And the F on a bunch of the gables stood for François, not Fontainebleau, as I had initially supposed, 'cause I'm silly like that.
Some of the walls were frescoed, which was cool; I tried to take pictures, but we weren't allowed to use flash, and although my camera seems to have a no-flash button, it's not working for whatever reason. So I simply stuck my hand over the flash, which vaguely worked, but there may be a glowing red edge of finger in a lot of the photographs. The Greek and Roman mythology employed in a lot of the frescoes, tapestries, and paintings made me very bouncy, but the guide's complete mangling of a lot of it made me cross. The first thing I appreciated (before I begin grousing, which I'm allowed to do in the pages of my own journal) was a fresco depicting the education of a French prince. It was one of those pictures that has lots of things from different times going on simultaneously (I know there's a word, but I forget what), and it showed a boy being taught fighting, swimming, mathematics, etc. But what was so cool about it all, from my perspective, is that a centaur was doing the teaching. This, of course, automatically set the prince in the same domain as Achilles, Jason, and the other great heroes who were reared by Cheiron.
OK, now for the Classicist squeals that are to be mingled with growls. Two rooms held something absolutely brilliant. It was paintings, surrounding the walls, taken from the Aethiopica! The guide was going on about "Theage..." and "Cheri..." and it took me a few seconds to realize that he was actually attempting to say "Theagenes" and "Charicleia." It didn't help that he referred to their story as being like Romeo and Juliet but with a happy ending. Star-crossed lovers != Romeo and Juliet, I'm sorry. But apparently the Aethiopica was very popular in France in the Renaissance, which I think I would have known if I'd thought about it because of when I know it was translated into French, but it's still neat to see real evidence of this. I couldn't, on the other hand, actually identify a single scene, which possibly amuses me more.
The next two rooms were also pretty brilliant from my Classicist perspective, but this is where the guide really annoyed me. The sets of pictures in these rooms (tapestries, this time) were taken from Cupid and Psyche. The guide was trying to give a summary of the story, and he got bits wrong. In principle, I wouldn't object to this, 'cause he didn't get them too too wrong. But some of the bits he got wrong meant that he completely misinterpreted the tapestries. And then he went so far as to say that it was a story of love lost. "Yes, but it had a happy ending," I comment. To which he replies, "No, it didn't. Sorry." I thought he was French, not German (sorry,
monanotlisa!). I felt vaguely sulky after that. On the other hand, the scene that he misinterpreted the worst was one I looked at and thought "Holy shit, I know what's going on there; it's the old woman in the Metamorphoses who's telling the story of Psyche! How meta-textual!" And then he made his stupid comment, which was that some old woman had told Psyche to go to the top of the hill so that she wouldn't be eaten by the monster (duh? excuse me?) and I thought maybe the French just had a strange different version of the story. But then I looked at the little placard in French that told stuff about the room, and it read "The old woman telling the story of Psyche." So hah. HAH, I say!When we got through the chateau, we were given about fifteen minutes to wander around the grounds. Much longer would obviously have been appreciated, but there was no way that would've happened unless I had gone to the chateau all by myself in the first place. So Sharon and I wandered reasonably quickly through the stately French part of the grounds, peered over the edge of the balcony, saw the canal, and walked back. We then waited for a while to get on the bus because someone was being located, and then we drove back to Paris.
Dinner at the Cité (I managed to procure a steak that had actually been done medium rare, and it was relatively tasty, but not precisely what I wanted); following that I spent a bit of time writing the first part of this journal entry, and I tried signing up for a spoken French class next semester. There are only two sections, only one is in a time that I could do (and even then I'll have to miss the Friday class), and both are full. Grr. So I'm on the waiting list for one and hopefully they'll add another section in a time I can actually make. I can't let my French go that quickly, it'd be disastrous. And I can't do normal French 3, either, because that's 5 days a week and I am so not going to do an hour of French 3 every day AND an hour of German 1 every day. Undergraduate classes suck. That's all I can say. (OK, and so do I for not thinking of the spoken French option until today.)
Robyn's parents are visiting (they're very cool), and we met up with her and them at 8 to go over to one of the music concerts. We was myself, Katie, and Lindsay. The concert we wanted to go to was at the Sorbonne, and it was a band that was supposed to do covers of Pink Floyd, the Doors, etc. As we reached the Place de la Sorbonne, we heard the strains of a Pink Floyd song (I can't remember which one), and as we got closer they started playing "Roxanne." We found tables at a nearby brasserie and had a very good view, but about two seconds later, some random band started playing really loudly right behind us. No one was listening to them; they did, however, drive away customers, namely us. We couldn't hear the real band at all. So we headed around back toward the street until we were at a point where we could only hear the band we wanted to. On the down side, we couldn't see the band at all. But as they played, we tried worming our way through the crowd bit by bit. There weren't actually so so so many layers of people in between us and the band, but they were layers of tall people. And if I'm not all that tall, Katie's really short. Robyn and Lindsay are both reasonably vertically advantaged. ;) But anyway, a few songs later, the band took a break. At this point, various people made for nearby alcohol-serving venues, and we bounded forward to the very front edge of the crowd and sat on the ground. ("We were animals, I tell you," said Katie later. "Animals." Hmmm.)
After a bit of a break, the band seemed ready to start playing again. Only, their singer wasn't back. And wasn't back. And still wasn't. They started jamming around with some instrumental bits, trying to buy time. Eventually, they just started, the bass guitarist offering to sing if absolutely necessary, and with the caveat, if I understood him, that he sang horribly. However, some random guy from the audience jumped up and started singing into the mike. He was hilarious. After two or three songs he sat down, and eventually the singer returned. They played for a long time, till about 11:30. Some AC/DC, some Led Zeppelin, the Doors, U2... no more Police, to my dismay, and no Metallica at all, to Robyn's great disappointment. She's a massive Metallica fan. The Doors pieces were provoked by a small group standing to my left, who may have been Italian. They were, at least, speaking in Italian during the break, but then they were speaking fluent French, later. So I don't know. They shouted "the Doors, the Doors"; only it sounded, as Robin said, more like "dogs, dogs!" Silly accents. For an encore, "Stairway to Heaven" was requested, and subsequently played. "Stairway!" people were shouting. "Stairway!" Only it sounded equally odd. The girl in the group of unknown nationality dragged me into their swaying chain for Stairway. Katie and Robyn wouldn't join, though, when I tried to latch onto them. It's a very sad thing; everyone should sway to Stairway.
There were more and more encores; eventually, they promised to return in 80 minutes and play more. At that point we left, all preferring to get sleep. We took the RER home; the train we got on only went to Denfert-Rochereau, and two poor American girls got trapped on the train because they evidently spoke no French (excusable) and paid no attention to the fact that everyone was leaving the train until it was too late (not so excusable). So they're probably having a little adventure as I type.
And that was my extensively long day. Tomorrow, I think, is going to be for playing all sorts of catch-up. I'll sleep very late (uh-huh, heard that one before!), wash my hair, do my homework, try and write my presentation on cheese for French.... yeah. Possibly I'll do that out in the sun. The last two items, at least. :) And then I'll go see Dogville in the evening, on the assumption that it had better be playing somewhere still, or I'll be majorly cross!
no subject
Date: 2003-06-22 12:36 am (UTC)Why don't you have a camera? Didn't I give you a nice camera for your 21st? Cool that you found an abandoned one lying around, but what happened to yours?
no subject
Date: 2003-06-22 02:38 am (UTC)But I had no room in my suitcase for anything extra, let alone a heavy manual camera. And my dad's bringing the digital one we gave him for his birthday when my parents arrive. So for now, I didn't have a camera.