I've been in another Greenpeace action. This one was in Luxembourg, a small country occupying the hills between Belgium, France, and Germany. The target was Esso/ExxonMobil, a multinational oil company with a history of interfering in energy research and international treaties, directly writing Bush's climate policy, and sabotaging the Kyoto Protocol.

Luxembourg's petrol taxes are the lowest in Europe; some truckers drive hundreds of kilometers off-course to buy it cheap. We shut down every Esso fuel station in the country for an entire day. Over 600 activists at 28 stations, chained to pumps, holding banners, Bush masks, signs and flyers in English, French, German, and even Russian.

My job was unique: drive from station to station, covering the story for www.stopesso.org and www.greenpeace.org. There were three of us: Harold the driver/audio interviewer (MP3), Danielle the photographer, and myself as the writer. It was plain yellow journalism, but we never claimed to be impartial.

We were up at four and on our way well before dawn. Two uniformed police were standing in the hotel lobby as we exited the elevator. My first thought was "they're on to us!", but they didn't stop us. A coincidence? I never found out. We grabbed warm chocolate croissants and coffee on the way to the first station.

Our first sign of action was at the biggest Esso station in the world, right on the German border. Forty pumps, a mini mart, and truckers sleeping in their cabs. Early morning excitement as our people prepared to move. The first warning anyone had was the 120-odd activists that walked on scene, chaining pumps, holding banners, and stopping traffic. The manager appeared a few minutes later, screaming in German. Harold translated for me. "Who is in charge?" "Why are you doing this to me?" "How long does this shit take?"

Here is a panorama of the first station as the action started:

http://www.tolaris.com/journeys/images/esso_panorama.jpg

That's me on the left, typing on the laptop on my impromptu table, a garbage can.

We spent the whole day running all over the country, interviewing activists and reporting on conditions. The reaction has been the same everywhere - a mostly supportive public, angry employees, and completely friendly police. No arrests.

After it was all over, we learned Esso had applied for an injunction to remove us. I never found out if it was granted; we were off-site and partying like Greenpeacers before they got a judge to grant it.

During the party, I ran into the Romanian girl I met at a station on the French border. She has the most stunning eyes - dark rings of green around hazel streaked with lighter green - more beautiful than I've ever seen. They remind me of the picture of the Afghani girl in National Geographic (or was that Time?) back in the 80's. I chased after her a bit, but was rebuffed. C'est la vie. I sure wasn't going to walk away without trying.

I've been driving in Europe. It kicks ass. Some things take a little adjustment - signs, colors of paint, stoplights. But a give me a 5-speed manual transmission, a speedometer measured in kph, and a responsive gas pedal, and I'm happy. Goddamn, goddamn!

There is a commercial playing on Dutch TV right now, showing paintings of the skies over Holland. I didn't understand until today. Out on the open road, away from the cities and train stations and people, you can see it. It's blue. It's a beautiful, autumn-chill, 50-degrees-north-latitude blue with the most gorgeous clouds you'll never see in California. Hazy wisps mixed with big fluffy high-mountain clouds, some dark and rain-swelled, some white. Rays of sunlight peek through.

I saw the Ardienne forest, the site of the Battle of the Bulge. More fantastic sights, things I've never seen. Reds, yellows, greens. There are a lots of unpopulated areas, wilderness, spots of forest and stone farmhouses. Neat little villages in the valleys - church steeples, high-sloped roofs, brick chimneys, shuttered windows. These are the houses I've only seen in old Lego sets. The thought makes me smile.

Then I'm standing in central Luxembourg on the edge of a bridge with a 180-degree view of the valley below. Hundreds of years ago, these stone bridges carried people and carts. Not a brick has been moved, and now cars trace the same steps. Autumn has turned the small forest into a collage of reds, yellows, and a few lingering greens. The Alzette river flows below. Rain beats down, hard and cold and smelling of clean air. Buildings centuries old stand beside brand new: Roman, Medieval, Gothic, Victorian. A picture could never capture the moment. So I paint the picture in words, for my journal and my friends.

French cappuccino in autumn, with whipped cream and sugar. Good God, these people are civilized.