Tag Archives: Europe

W^2 – selfie

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W^2 or W squared for Wordless Wednesday, July 23, 2025

This is going to be the last post from Europe. It has been fun and we’ve seen and visited some amazing places in London, Swansea, Paris, and Amsterdam and places in between.

Me in a selfie with Van Gogh’s ‘Almond Blossoms’ in the background

We visited five art museums while we were exploring Europe. I saw lots of paintings, drawings, and I saw several of the thirty-five known Vincent Van Gogh self portraits. Neither of us created the selfie, it was around long before either of us. We just did it. Many years ago my friends ribbed me for the one-eyed selfie I would use with my social media posts.

One of the things I learned while wandering the museums and looking at paintings is that often the artist wasn’t painting a painting, they were practicing their craft. Yesterday, we arrived at the Vincent Van Gogh Museum to see the collection. I learned even more about Van Gogh while we toured the collection, then I found this – Vincent Van Gogh and the self portrait.

Seen at the Musee D’Orsay in Paris… Tuesday, July 15th
Seen at the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam, July 20th

Sunday, while touring the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam, I was feeling a little silly and thought I’d capture me with Vincent Van Gogh so I took a selfie, with a selfie. I did it again yesterday.

The first selfie with a selfie
My second selfie with a selfie
Self-portrait, Vincent Van Gogh Museum, Amsterdam, July 22nd

It’s the one-eyed selfie! Actually, the photos are edited to show more of Van Gogh’s work than the original photo.

“The only time I feel alive is when I’m painting.”
Vincent Van Gogh (1853-1890)

I read the quote in the Van Gogh Museum and it made me think. Really think. It was sad really, he was brilliant, creative, and deeply troubled. There are so many of us who look like we’ve got it together. I think sometimes making the days count helps me focus on the times when my days were a minus, not a plus.

These past couple of weeks have been awesome. Today we fly home, tomorrow morning I will awake bright-eyed and bushy tailed at three or four in the morning and spend a couple of days getting over the jet lag of a seven hour time change.

Today is going to be an amazing day, so I’d better jump up, jump in and seize the day. I am looking forward to sleeping in my own bed, unpacking, and putting away my suitcase. Making the Days Count, one day at a time, reflecting on being better every day, even a little bit.

What’s going to make your day?

Sign of the Week – Cyrmu

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This week’s sign comes from the Swansea train station. It’s where our train ride from London terminated for us. I noticed the signage everywhere was in two languages – Welsh on top and English below – when stopped in Cardiff, the Welsh capital. We asked our seatmate, who joined us in Reading and was on here way home in Swansea for a long weekend if she spoke Welsh. She replied,

“No, I don’t. Only a few words I learned in school.”

Later, I asked our Uber driver if he spoke and the answer was also, no.

It made me think of Juliana, she was Scottish and born in Aruba, her older brother was born in Mexico.  Her father was much like her husband and  my father, a petroleum engineer working for oil companies. She had strong family roots in Wales.

One of the lessons I want my kids to have learned from me is to ask more questions before it is too late. I guess we always think we have more time, but we never know. This morning, I was sad to read a person I know through my son, passed away. He was 66, far too young.

Juliana would have been 91 this past Sunday. We held her celebration Saturday and we were able to gather, though not as many as I had hoped. It was a wonderful gathering and I learned why she wanted her ashes dispersed where she did.

Once we arrived, we made introductions and sat sharing our stories of Juliana. Lachlan, her nephew, suggested a spot over looking the Bristol Channel on the Mumbles and we walked along the path overlooking the Bristol Channel.

It was solemn reunion of our only gathering some fifty years before.

As we walked along the path, we discovered ‘cat prints’ in the cement path. it was our sign, this was her place. Juliana adored her cats. In the time I knew her she had several cats, Lilac, Sambo, Porgy and Bess, and her last cat, Zorro a black Manx cat who kept her company.

Cat prints in the path mark Juliana’s spot…. I dropped a pin to share with those not present.
The view along the path overlooking the Bristol Channel
Christina (my brother’s wife), my brother Warren, Lachlan, his wife Kim, their daughter Lindsay, my wife, and me.
A cove along the rocky shoreline – Bristol Channel

Every one of us took a turn with words of love and celebration of all she had taught us and dispersed her ashes. It was a beautiful day. Afterwards we gathered for dinner before departing.

The sign in the train station reminded me of a time many years ago. It was after Juliana had moved to an assisted living facility. It was late February 2020, a few weeks or so before the COVID lockdown which would further rob her of her mobility and keep her from returning to her home in Oxford.

I was visiting her to check with her and her doctors to hear her about her progress. It was after dinner and she wanted to watch television, but there was nothing on. I suggested we watch ‘The Crown.’ She had heard of it but had never seen it, so we watched the first two episodes. In between episode, she opened up and shared she enjoyed the show and commented how it was quite accurate. She talked about the queen, being her ‘Queen.’

The next evening I came by with dinner and afterwards she asked if we could watch another episode, so we watched two more before bot of us were nodding off.

Last summer, I had a flashback when I was re-watching the series.  I remembered our conversation from that night as she recalled her youth – Juliana was 18 when Queen Elizabeth II was crowned and remembered the events of the time including the content of the last we episode we watched. It was about the killer fog of December 1952.

A few years later, I watched the episode entitled ’Aberfan’ and during our next phone call, I made a point to bring it up. She shared so much and I had so many questions. She asked if there was a way she could watch the episode or the series and I told her the next time I Was down, I’d try to help her see it. Sadly, the technology was too difficult for her to grasp and we never were able to enable her to stream on her own.

Cyrmu is Welsh for Wales. It’s also part of the title of another episode in ‘The Crown,’  the episode is titled ‘Tywysog Cyrmu’ which means Prince of Wales.

I miss her stories and talking with her. She was with us this past Saturday and her memory will always be with us.

It’s Friday and our last full day in Paris. Tomorrow, it’s off to Amsterdam by train and a drive to the countryside and back before three full days in Amsterdam then flying home Wednesday and back to responsibility. It’s been a busy week and I’ve  been micro-blogging at Instagram @makingthedayscount check it out for short busts of our trip.

Today is going to be an amazing day, full of new discoveries and experiences. So I’d better jump up, jump in, and seize the day. Making the Days Count, one day at a time, looking for signs to make think.

Is there a sign that made you think, or took you back to another time? 

London to Swansea

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Our trip caught up with us on Friday. After two days of sight-seeing, we were spent.

I was able to finish sign of the week before breakfast, even after promising myself I’d have it ready to go ahead of time.

Over breakfast we decided to make it a ‘museum day.’ We ended up taking the underground to Bond Street and then walking to the Wallace Collection near Marlylebone, where we had been Thursday. As we walked, I recognized some of the places we had passed the day before and I was thankful the museum was air conditioned. After viewing the first gallery together – paintings and other art work from the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, we separated. My wife went upstairs, to explore and I explored downstairs and te the collection of English armor.

The tile and statue are reproductions inspired from the Near East – reproductions of the tile are in the restrooms..
The armor opposite the chair I took a break to rest my eyes…

I was able to sit quietly and people watch in one of the chairs set aside for visitors like me.

When my wife was finished, she texted me and went to find her. We talked next steps and decided to visit Ottolenghi, the restaurant we had enjoyed the day before for a ‘petit repas,’ order it to go, and enjoy it in al fresco. The server recommended a small shaded neighborhood park close by  and we found it after a short walk.

The park was the ideal location to enjoy a bite to eat , people watch, and talk about what we wanted to do with the remainder of the day – our last FULL day in London. In the end, we decided to return to the hotel, take a short nap, freshen up, and decide about dinner afterwards.

The short nap and freshening up did wonders for our perspective and we decided to enjoy the local culture of an English pub. On the recommendation of the concierge (and a fellow America) we chose a pub nearby the hotel. It was an excellent recommendation. I ordered the Scotch egg (below) and fish and chips, and  my wife had the Beef Wellington, the house specialty. All of it was delicious washed down with a pint or two of the local beer.

We finished the evening at Hyde Park listening to Neil Young and the Chrome Hearts finish their set. We were back at our hotel well before midnight.

Saturday morning we woke early, it was a traveling day. After breakfast we returned to the room to pack before catching a ride to Paddington Station and the train to Swansea.

Before we left, I asked the concierge if there was a mailbox close by and he point ed at one I had walked by at least two times without noticing. You would’ve thought I would have noticed something so large and RED! I mailed the post cards we had written.

 

We had a date with the Great Western Railroad to celebrate Juliana.

My father and Juliana lived in England for less than a decade in the from about 1976 to 1983 before relocating to Paris. During our summer and winter breaks, my brothers and I would visit them though we always we went separately I went by by myself and my two brothers traveled together. Juliana and my father lived in Reading which is a bit more than a half hour train ride from London through Paddington Station. I remember traveling through Paddington to Reading and back during my trips – sometimes with them or by myself, then using the underground to get around the city. That was a long time ago and my to Reading and England was Christmas break of 1982 when I was a junior in college.

In the late 70s British Rail introduced these engines which traveled 125 mph, they still do…
The countryside west of Reading farms and less people

Our trip to Swansea would take us to Reading and Bristol, Cardiff, and terminate in Swansea where we would meet up with my brother and his wife and Juliana’s English family.

Saturday was for traveling, then gathering with family to honor Juliana and dad, and that is for another story.

Today has been an amazing day, it too was a travel day. Swansea to London, the the Eurostar to Paris. It’s been a whirlwind of a day, though I don’t know if it could top Saturday. That is for another post.

Today would have been Juliana’s 91st birthday. I know she was with us yesterday, likely wondering what all the fuss was about.

At the moment, I am traveling south from Lille to Paris at 186 mph (300 mph) and I had better wrap up this post before we arrive at Gare du Nord and begin the French portion of our trip begins. I have already jumped up, jumped in, and seized the day. Today has counted in so many ways – by car and rail and so much more. Making the Days Count, one day at a time, even when I am posting at 10:40 PM (local time).

When was the last time you posted late in the day?

Tuesday’s Tune – Leaving on a Jet Plane

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Tuesday’s here and shortly, we’ll be on our way.

I’ll be trading my summer office for a hotel room, park bench, or cafe somewhere or someplace.

‘Cause I’m leaving on a jet plane, 

I remember when this song was popular. It was 1970 and we were living in Venezuela and preparing to move back to the states. I can remembering hearing this song playing on the record player in our home as my mom packed the house before  the movers arrived to load everything to return the states. We weren’t much help – me aged 8, and my two brothers aged 7, and 5; likely more in the way than a help.

Jet travel was new and novel, and probably very expensive. But for an eight year-old, it was a wonderful experience and lasting memory. It was a propellor plane to Caracas and jet plane to Miami, then another jet home to Houston. Even today, when I smell diesel exhaust which  smells similar to jet exhaust, it takes me back to those early days of jet travel.

my mom – 1966 Paris at Orly, watching planes with us

Funny, but I am not alone. Every year when I teach the unit on smells and particles, the students make a list of smells they like and don’t like and we compare as a class. Invariably, there is always at least one kiddo (or more) who says they like the smell of diesel exhaust for the same reason; it’s usually a boy.

‘Cause I’m leaving on a jet plane, 

Today is going to be a great day, it could be a million and six times better than yesterday. So, I’d better jump up, jump in, and seize the day. Still need to finish packing and taking care of things around the house. Making the Days Count, one day at a time going back and forward all at the same time.

Do you remember travel  when you were a kid? Continue reading Tuesday’s Tune – Leaving on a Jet Plane →