Dreams of Summer 2014

Pemulis awakes in that hazy half-way zone in between sleeping and being awake where your senses are just becoming aware but your brain has yet to process the immediate situation of an in situ reality that includes such important state values as what day it is, where it is that you are awaking, and what you have to do that day. It's a kind of limbo that lasts probably less than a half-second and doesn't really have any describable feeling because by definition your senses aren't really in a fully functioning state (well your senses may be working fine, but the machine to process those signals isn't there yet); things are "booting up" in the computer world vernacular. But what does have a feeling is when the start-up process is done and you feel a jarring and very sudden snap as everything revs into high-gear all at once and you forcefully land in a thud in the here and now. Pemulis has no idea about the statistics of how often one experiences the good or the bad inevitable outcome of this process either for humanity at large or even for his own self, but if he had to guess it feels that the phenomenon presents itself -- surprisingly, prima facie -- more often on the good side. When that transition takes place there are really only two possible sentiments that one feels, and their embodiment can be summed-up by one of the following: (1) oh YES!; or (2) oh SHIT!. The former occurs, evidently, when, since you have no immediate context I suppose that your brain most naturally falls into its most recent state of thinking which is that you're about to get up and go to work because that's what you've been doing for the past five days or so. But then when everything comes together you realize that no, it's actually Saturday morning and the beautiful beautiful weekend has just begun. The latter, though less common probably owing to the fact that the brain has less time to acclimate to a routine of bliss and happiness over a course of several mornings, also occurs, and makes up for its lower probability of incidence by being infinitely more sudden and jarring and all-around terrible than the former, and probably more common, is good. This really bad version happens when you've been so fortunate as to be dispossessed of your normal worldly duties and replaced them with days of wonderment and love and freedom and care-free living for a long enough time that that state of being has become the default that your brain presents as it is booting up, let's say, and then you realize in a swift metaphorical smack to the head that work is back and man does it ever hurt.

The good news in all of this, however (yes, there is some), is that for the brain to get into that cruising flow of a summer-time groove, you had to have gotten it up to the right speed and held it for a good long while. And so though that harsh blow has been felt, and the pain is presenting itself, you also know, as Pemulis does when it strikes him this morning, that the previous while had to have been pretty darn great.

Pemulis showers, eats breakfast, brushes his teeth, puts his shoes on, and even a jacket (despite the calendar claiming the current season to be summer), and arrives at work. Later, as he attends his seventeenth meeting of the day, his mind begins to wander off to a place where he is attended to by Pascal's description of the misery of man without God; because life and reality are so intolerable (like this meeting that he is mentally escaping), and it is therefore impossible to live happily within the present, one must either dream of the future or reminisce to the past. Pemulis has recently used up all of his 2014 vacation days, and so the future option is so far off that he's left with only the possibility of the past. The PowerPoint slide becomes fuzzy, the penumbra of his awareness slowly begins to blur which causes his field of vision to narrow. All of a sudden it is three weeks ago, and Pemulis and Joelle are touching down onto a lush runway at St. Exupéry airport in the UNESCO World Heritage Site of Lyon, France...

The protagonists step off the plane into a fantasy world of fresh bread and pastries, sunshine, cheese, wines, beautiful women, melodious speaking, freedom, equality, brotherhood, Irish Pubs, mountains, umm Vanessa Paradis? [ed: I'd pick someone more modernly relevant], etc. They arrive in their once-home of Grenoble and sleep as if on a mattress made of rose petals [ed: sorry to intervene again, but do you think that would really be all that comfortable?].

The morning greets our heroes by bathing them in sunshine in the form of warm, glowing, vitality-bringing rays. A look out the window confirms that they find themselves in the luxuriant Rhône valley, surrounded by pristine green mountains near the city centre of Grenoble. They lace up their sneakers and head to the banks of the Isère; the early-morning dew glistens and the birds sing as the two race by at a break-neck pace approaching some 4 minutes per km. Following the run, Pemulis and Joelle continue their pilgrimage to one of Grenoblogism's most holy sites: Maison Floran. This bakery, described previously in this forum, smells of chocolate, warm bread, and the atheistic version of heaven; circuitous reasoning suggests that this very place may in fact be that heaven. Pemulis takes a bite of his pain au chocolat noir and his mouth is filled with flavour. If he is living in a Matrix-like dream world invented by machines to keep his brain occupied while they use his enslaved body as a power source, the machines really got this part right.

Following the bakery, Pemulis and Joelle have some clothes to buy for the wedding that they would be attending that weekend and so they spend the afternoon among the city's many boutiques and shopping centres. Being August, it is somewhat difficult to find shops that aren't away on holiday, but they succeed and even find Joelle a wedding hat. Not half bad. The evening arrives and they dine on fine French food and wine, as is to be expected when one is in France.

The next day arrives and Pemulis and Joelle return to Lyon. They sit amongst the happy few upon the banks of the river enjoying the apéritif hour and soaking in the sun, enjoying the show of life presented to them as the people pass by. The sun begins to set behind the Tour métallique de Fourvière and they set off to choose among one of the many bateau-restaurants for dinner. Having been influenced by what seems to some to have been a little too much Bavarian culture, they opt for the "Burgers and Beer" boat. They can be strange, these ones. But the evening is a success. They eat and drink and as they pedal their Vélo'v's softly along the banks towards their hotel, the night asserts itself as having truly arrived, and the day is put down as a success for the lives of these two happy souls.

The next morning is wedding day. It starts off with a run along the same banks of the river of which they found themselves on the previous evening, and, having changed into their new wedding clothes and checked out of the hotel, pick up a Vélo'v each and head for city hall! Two people in love vow, before the civil government, to remain that way (in love), and we all head to the Parc de la Tête d'Or for lunch and those wedding games that no one likes. The sun shines and the birds sing and all that...

The party then moves to the mountains. Remember the Vercors? Written about and described fondly on many an occasion through the world-famous grenobleWMD blog during Pemulis and Joelle's all-too-brief séjour in Grenoble during those heady days of 2012-2013 when revolution was in the air and everything seemed possible. So they're back. Close to the cycling bastion of Lans-en-Vercors and where you get in trouble from the bride for daring to say that you're going to bed now because it's 3:45 AM and you've got to drive out of here at 7:30 to cover the ~2h stretch to Lyon St. Exupéry for your flight back to Munich to meet your parents who are arriving at the same time but from all the way across the Pond. She acquiesces finally when you agree to do a Tequila shot with her though. Tensions lower, regular heart-beats resume, and as you attempt sleep in a mountain Gîte with the Swedish House Mafia's bass driving so hard that the foundation of the chalet makes microscopic movements to the music, you realize that you've gotten old.

But soldier on you do and suddenly it's Lufthansa straight from Lyon and over the Black Forest and parts of the Alps to Munich. Pemulis and Joelle meet Pemulis's parents right in the baggage claim ares precisely as planned and with perfect timing and those that gave him life are reunited with their at least second-favourite son at last. Dad says "nice to see you Son" and son says "you too Father", or something like that; Pemulis is pretty darn tired at this point and so this scene is all quite a bit of a blur to him and to the author which are obvious to be one and the same but would have been cool to hold that a secret until the very end kind of like in La Peste when you find out that [SPOILER ALERT] Dr. Rieux and the narrator are really one and the same dude, but in a way if you think that the narrator really has to be a person then it had to have been him kind of obviously anyways.

A bunch of fun stuff happens and a whole lot of Munich sites are seen and when they're not eating Bavarian food the dining is at a pretty high level too. The narrator has it on good authority that another chronicle of the events centred around the same time on the very same characters may be forthcoming so a lot will be glossed over due to that very point. Suffice it to say, though, that all in all I think everyone is having a pretty nice time.

But. It is early. Too early. Pemulis stirs in his slumber and briefly becomes aware just long enough to capture a glimpse of the outside world and let the dark night sky soothe him into knowing that there are two, maybe even three more hours of glorious unconsciousness that await him just ahead. He rolls over to his other side, smiles into the dark, and slowly shuts his heavy eyes. But, alas, sleep does not come. He suddenly hears a horrifying noise coming somewhere from within the depths of the apartment. The volume begins to increase. As his breathing accelerates, he starts to be able to just make it out:

Hey, hey! Rise and shine!
It's time to visit Neuschwanstein!
The castle there is very big!
And made by King Ludwig!!!

What on God's green earth is that, Pemulis wonders. Suddenly, somehow, from somewhere behind him, Pemulis hears someone calling his name. "Hello? Are you there? Earth to..." Whoosh! He feels his body flung at warp speed backwards through what seems to be a spinning wormhole of some kind, and all of a sudden he's back in a conference room with a 300 lb. Hungarian asking him, again, "what are your thoughts on the matter?". Pemulis says "I agree", closes his eyes, feels the fabric of space-time passing him by, and once again finds himself waking up in his living room with an incessant noise clanging and rattle-bang-banging throughout his mind:

Hey, hey! Rise and shine!
It's time to visit Neuschwanstein!
The castle there is very big!
And made by King Ludwig!

Well, better than work!, he tells himself, and gets up to have a shower. The four principal personages arrive at the base of the mountain upon which sits the mighty castle. But before making their way up, breakfast must be consumed:

That, my friends, is what is truly known to be The Breakfast of Champions: currywurst with fries and mountain weißbier. Delicious AND nutritious; especially when consumed before 11am. That King Ludwig II was one wild and crazy dude, and his castle helps to prove it. I could put a picture of it here but... well, why not just one?

Just to add to the zaniness of the whole adventure, as they make it back to Munich, Pemulis's German sister Sophie arrives for a weekend visit in the land of Bavaria. For the second night in a row French food is consumed for obvious reasons and it ain't half bad. The relationship is rekindled and all that and everyone is happy yadda yadda yadda [Ed: should you put in a Seinfeld reference here?]

All good things must come to an end, this trip and this blog post included. The parents head back, Sophie heads back, but Pemulis and Joelle are not ready to pack things in so easily. They instead head off to what is essentially Pinelands Austria, the Deluxe version. 

Austria is magical. Pemulis and Joelle step off the train around 1 o'clock in the afternoon after it rolls to a stop in the quaint village of Sankt Johann im Pongau, deep in the Austrian Alps. A beautiful Austrian woman who turns out to be the owner of the hotel picks them up and drives them 25 minutes up to another form of paradise, maybe even one with religious connotations this time. Here they will drink cold beer in the sun, swim in the wellness pond, eat gourmet Austrian dinners, mountain bike in the lush forest of the Alps, etc etc.

At this point something changes. The dream takes on a new quality. Instead of being in the here and now, as if he is living the dream, it now becomes a story that he is remembering. No matter. He remembers hiking in the Alpine meadow with the only sounds being the bells around the necks of the mountain cows as they meander along and the buzzing of the crickets going about whatever it is that they do. Then the meeting ends and Pemulis has to really wake up because the next meeting is in another room.