Dark Workings

Not much to say so far this trip. I get up in the morning, work until they kick me out of the office and go to sleep. Last night I didn't even finish the pint that I ordered with my meal before I was passed out. Lucky for me I had ordered room service and didn't pass out in the pub :).

It seems it's always dark here now. Sunrise is almost 8am here and sunset is before 4pm. So, it's still dark when I get here and it's dark when I leave. Wish I had more to say that was entertaining. Oh, the company picked up dinner for us tonight. But, that's because it's after 10pm and we're still here working. Not that it really matters as the company would be buying my dinner one way or another.

However, that does lead into a small topic; food combinations. One of the pizzas that was ordered for dinner tonight was a chicken pizza. However, there was sweet corn on the pizza. That's just wrong. Corn should not be placed on pizza. I saw a sandwich at the store that was tuna and sweetcorn. Who the hell comes up with these inedible combinations? It's just horrid. And here's another food related fact over here: When you go to KFC you cannot order mash potatoes as a side dish. Yeah, you read that correctly, no mash! That's gotta be against the rules. It's not like they don't eat mashed potatoes over here. Bangers and Mash, anyone? I just don't know if I'll ever comprehend it.

Well, back to work.

Cancelled Chicago

I show up at the airport way early. Truthfully, I'd much rather be early than late when it comes to air travel. So, I grab a bite to eat and then head over to check in. They tell me that my flight has been cancelled. I phrase my next question very carefully; "Huh?" Seems that Chicago has some bad weather and they had to cancel my flight as well as many others. So, I get to be rerouted. She tells me that she can put me on a flight into Chicago that will miss my connecting flight. I consider this and then decline the no-connection option. She offers me a flight to Boston. Not exactly going to make my connection there either as it departs from Chicago. She tells me that the Boston flight (really my only option at this point) will give me a new connecting flight there. As long as it's my only option and gets me to my destination, book it.

Then comes the questions I don't like the answers to. Is the connecting flight a British Airways flight? No, she says. It's an American Airlines flight. I try not to retch at that. Will I be in the same service class of seat? No, she says. They don't have premium economy so I'll be flying coach. I damn near pass out. So, what happens to the extra money that was paid for said seat, will I get that refunded to me? No, she says. Because American Airlines doesn't have that class of seat and it's not actually business class, they will not upgrade me to business class nor refund the difference. Oh hell no! I explain to her my opinions of how I'm being screwed. Some of you may read that as: I get indignant! Eventually, I realize that she's not going to actually help me in this matter. She apologizes (again) and I tell her that it's not her fault. I will deal with the problem at a later date.

The flight to Boston is a short flight. We have major tail winds that shave 45 minutes off the flight time. I find my next gate and wait the couple hours until they let me on board of that plane. At least I got a window seat on this flight. We take off over the ocean and they charge me for my drink. Yes, you read that correctly. The bastages charge me $5.00 for a rum and Coke.

"I didn't realize that they were no longer free on international flights", I say.

"Yes, ever since 9/11 all airlines now charge on all flights", she replies to me.

"Really? Not British Airlines", I inform her.

"United doesn't", the lady next to me chimes in. "And I don't recall Continental charging me either".

The flight attendant doesn't know how to respond to this. So, she smiles, takes the portrait of Abe Lincoln from me and pushes her cart on. Stupid American Airlines.

So, I sit back and nurse my very expensive drink. That's when I find out that my seat's entertainment system doesn't work. Of course it doesn't. Why on Earth would I think *that* would go right. I'm on a flight that has no entertainment, no free drinks and smaller seats. On the plus side, I'll be getting to London a couple hours earlier than I planned.

It's a plus until you realize that I arrive in London sometime before 6 in the morning. After luggage collection, customs check, rental car pickup and drive to the other side of the city it's about 8:30am. I'm tired as I didn't get much sleep on the planes. I can't check into the hotel because they were booked solid the night before. I grab breakfast at the hotel for just under $24 and I still cannot check in. I head to the library and set down to read my book for a bit. By 11:30 they have a room ready and cleaned for me. I check in and pretty much pass out when I get inside.

I wake up later that night and grab some dinner and do some reading before heading to bed "for real".

Prime Wensleydale

I got up this morning with the express intension of going back to Greenwich. I really want to get up to the Royal Observatory there. So, I get out of bed early...about 10am. That gets me to the train station about 11ish. On the way there I'm not real thrilled at the weather. It's cold outside. It is threatening to rain. It's already drizzling on the windshield. My lightweight sweater is not going to protect me against this kind of weather. Stupid jacket. How dare it not come with me.

I briefly think about turning around. Screw it! What's the worst that can happen? It pours down rain? Snows? So, I run to the observatory and wander around it wet. After that, I can run myself to a pub and warm myself with a pint or two. This is the last opportunity this trip to get to Greenwich.

I jump on the train and follow the same path we took on Friday night. I get there without any problems and head up through the Old Royal Naval College and cross the street into the park. I wander the park for a bit which is large and open. The leaves are thick under the trees. The kind of leaf pile that you can bury yourself in. Families walk around the park, a group is playing football in a patch of grass, tourists (like me) are shuffling around taking pictures. It's not a glorious day, but, it hasn't dropped any rain on me yet. I'm thankful for that.

The Observatory is in the center of the park. It's up on a hill. The hill does not look friendly. All that hiking over the summer is about to pay off :). I get up to the top of the hill to see what I came to see. The Royal Observatory in Greenwich. This is the originating point of the Greenwich Mean Time. The Prime Meridian. Zero Longitude. Check this out


I'm standing in both the Eastern and Western Hemisphere at the same time! I know, it's cheesy. But, I can still say I've done it now. The inset is a cropped photo of a sign on the wall in front of me.

I wander through the museum there. It has several exhibits of astronomy equipment. It has much more on the aspect of time. You see, for the longest time this was the one place that kept the time. This location held the clock that was "true and accurate" for everyone else. So much so that people would come from all around to set their watch by the clock here. For a fee, some people provided a service of coming here, setting their pocket watch and then carrying the "accurate time" to the rich households of London. Eventually, they created a big red ball at the top of the observatory that would drop at 1pm every day to give a visual signal for people to set their clocks against. Guess what? That still occurs to this day out of tradition. Of course, I didn't get here until after 1pm, so I missed it.

There were exhibits on keeping track of time while at sea. This was pretty much the most valuable way to navigate back then. I won't bore you with the details. But, I thought it was pretty interesting. There was a clockmaker, John Harrison, who devoted most of his life to developing a clock that could be carried aboard a ship that wouldn't get screwed up with the rocking of the ship or the massive temperature changes. Over 31 years, he developed 4 different clocks each one better than the last. All four of them are on exhibit here...and seem to be still working.

Although the afternoon was spent marveling over science, to some science *is* a religion. So, we all know what happens to me after religion...I stop into the first pub I find. Actually, it's the second one. This one looked better from afar. The Kings Arms. I get myself a ping of Bombardier. Maybe I'll get some food once I find a table. That's when I realize I forgot something important. I forgot to get a "Me in Places" photo at the Observatory. Crap! That means I have to walk back up that hill. Such is life. I can't NOT have that photo. So, I polish off my pint to fortify me for the trip. I take my photos and come back down a different direction.

All that walking makes me a thirsty guy. Hey look, another pub :). This one's called The Admiral Hardy. I saunter in and order up a pint of London Pride. The place smells of urine from where I sit at the bar. Could be the proximity to the restrooms. I'm done with it already. It looks like the place that you could (should?) drink until you got sick. The next place I will stop for food. I don't even think they have food here...if so, I'm not sure I'd trust it.

So, I drop into a place called the Gypsy Moth. The place is pretty packed. I should just grab a pint and then move on. But, I'm a little hungry. Holy crap, they have a kreik on tap. I ask if it's a guze. I get a blank stare from the girl behind the bar. Is it a sour lambic, I ask. She shakes her head slightly with unknowing eyes...like I just asked something insane like "Has the red zebra caught fire?". She can't be more than 20. She offers a sample to me (probably because she can't answer my questions) and it is not a sour. So, I order up a pint as well as a plate of fish & chips. However, it seems that there is a change in the menu on Sundays and they don't have fish & chips. What kind of pub doesn't have fish and chips over here? She finds me a menu (a feat I could not accomplish) and there are very few things on the menu. Sunday roast seems to be what they are pushing. I decline, looking for fare a bit lighter than that. So, I order the Great British cheese plate. It has Wensleydale...Monty Python fans rejoice!

I grab a small barstool facing into a wall. It's pretty much the only place to sit unless I want to share a table with another group. I'd have to have quite a few more drinks before I do that. I am warm. Imagine sitting on top of a room heater. That's what is at my shins, literally less than a foot away from me. At least I'm toasty warm while I drink my beer and wait for my cheese.

Just an aside, there seems to be very little cell service in the Greenwich area. I can't seem to keep a signal here.

Waiting for the food here is almost painful. There is 'hip' music going on in the background and the place is filled with the chatter of too many conversations. This is less pub and more bar. Pubs to me are somewhere that is comfortable. Somewhere you can go in, order a beer and some food, sit down and talk to your friends. The coffee house of bars, in a way. To me the coffee house is based off the pub. The bar, on the other hand, is somewhere you go to drink. It's not there to be lived in. It's there to serve you alcohol. On second thought, I guess I could consider this a pub...just not a pub I could grow to like. I find that it would be very hard to find this place comfortable. "Lived in"? Heck yeah, it has that covered. The place is just crowded with people. And people are coming and going like there are turn styles in the doorway. I don't know exactly what it is about this place that I'm not liking.

Oh that's right, it's been almost an hour and no sign of my cheese plate. How hard is it to cut some cheese, slap it on a plate with some crackers and bring it out. Apparently, they are out of Wensleydale. Dammit! I knew mentioning that Monty Python sketch earlier would bite me in the ass. I decide it's neither worth waiting for any longer, nor is it worth making a stink about at the overly busy bar. I don't really want to wait around in this place anyway. So, I storm out. OK, really I just shrugged and walked out of the place, but, storming sounds so much better.

It's getting dark now and I wander back to the station. With the growing darkness, the temperature begins to drop further. It's darned cold. I'd tell you how cold, but, I don't have any way of knowing. I hop trains, and walk to the appropriate terminals. Eventually I get back to my car. The handy dashboard screen tells me that it is 6 degrees out. That's about 45 degrees in real temperature. I crank the heater and head back to the apartment. All in all, not too bad of a day.

Funnel Shaped Tank

We're up and out of the hotel early on our way to Heathrow. I know that I'm probably going to have to fuel up on the way there or on the way back. I still have a quarter of a tank in this beast. Just about a mile into the M25 I get a message from the car stating that I need to fuel up shortly. I didn't expect it to tell me this far away. Then it's handy dandy computer system tells me I have 39km left. Holy Moly! 39km on a quarter tank? It must be off. At any rate, I still have several miles to go before there are "services" available. John tells me that he's convinced that gas tanks are shaped like a funnel. As I see the gas gauge move as I drive, I'm inclined to agree with him. We're running out of gas fast. Don't be on the edge of your seats. I can see that you are gripping the mouse with intensity. It's OK. Our heroes make it through the day.

We glide into the service station with a smidgen of petrol left. Yes, a smidgen. It's a bit more that a skoash and less than a bit. I fill up and almost have a heart attack as I've just spent over a hundred dollars on a tank of gas. ::choke:: ::cough:: ::sputter::

After the service station, we notice that on the other side of the M25 there is a car overturned in the middle of the road. Emergency people are all over the place. But, no traffic. Think about the I-5 with nobody on it. That's what it's like here. I look around thinking "what happened to all the other people?" Several miles down the road we get the answer; They are being diverted to another motorway. A motorway, by the by, which would not take me to where I will need to go coming back. So, I tell John that after I drop him off, I'll just continue all the way around the M25. Remember me saying it's a circular road? It's the London Orbital. So, I'd be going from, say 9 o'clock on the dial counter-clockwise to just before 3 o'clock.

I drop John off at Heathrow and head back out to the road saddened at his departure. It's hard to imagine how lonely it gets while you are out on the road this long. It's a true and wonderful gift to have a traveling companion. Especially one like John who is easy going, has plenty of stories to add, puts up with me and my stories (a difficult thing at times) and doesn't complain when things don't go quite right with the plans.

I drive around the M25 until I get to about the 6 o'clock position. That's when it dawns on me that I have no cash on me. It's going to be a bit difficult to get under the Thames, which is a toll road, without a pound to my name. So, I stop off at another service center and grab some cash from the Magic Money Machine and a bite to eat. I try out a Wimpy's. It's a burger joint. Long story short? It's not that good. I miss In'n Out.

It's Saturday, it's mid-day and I've got the day off. What do I end up doing? Programming. Sorry to say that. But, I had some things that needed clearing up. So, I spend the day programming my little heart out. I grab a bite and a pint in the pub for dinner that night and head off to bed looking forward to tomorrow. I'm not programming both days away...

Adventure Redeux

So, we leave work a bit early. What the hell, considering Stock Take is going on (physical inventory for us Yanks) there is very little I can get accomplished while in the office. That seems to be more important than the the project that I'm here for. I'll stop ranting about work now...

So, we take off about 4:45pm to make a train into London's Fenchurch Station. From there we wander down to the Tower Gateway Station and pick up the Docklands Light Rail. Jump off that at the Westferry Station to head to our destination. However, due to a misread of the overhead monitors, I take us to a different track. Down stairs, across a street, up several flights of stairs just to realize that we've left the one track that we needed. Dammit! Apparently, this Moe guy is not much of a tour guide :).

At any rate, we get on the next train to Lewisham. That's not our destination, mind you, but the destination of the train. We were told by some people in the office that if we went all the way to Lewisham we'd probably be shot for our troubles. Seems that place is pretty...interesting. John says, tongue in cheek, that he needed to make sure to wear running shoes, just in case. But, several stops down the way is a stop for Greenwich. As in Greenwich Mean Time (GMT). Zulu Time. The center of time as we know it. Hell, I was excited about going there. Of course, it wasn't until we were on our way that I realized that I would be there when it was DARK. No *real* point in bringing the camera, huh? Maybe I'll come back here over the weekend...who knows.

We were meeting John's niece, Katie and her husband, Garrath again. John had brought something for her that we neglected to bring on our previous meeting. Katie, John's niece, is a school teacher of first graders (Grade Two in England, IIRC). She's planning a lesson about the beach. Seeing as most of her kids have never actually seen the beach, she asked John to bring some sand and a few sea shells over for her from California. Note: Here's where John breaks the customs laws. It's against custom regulations to bring over soil of any kind. John brings over several pounds of sand. Not a small vial of sand sample, no. He brings "the goods". I understand his wife and two kids are to be given credit for the collection of "the goods". Well done team!

We finally arrive at Greenwich Station. Katie says that as soon as we get off there are a couple pubs right there. We can meet there. What she didn't realize is that I was on board this train and whenever you add me to the mix, things get...err...interesting. You see, our train dropped us off at a different platform that she was thinking. So, when we walked down the stairs we were given two directions; left or right. Neither seemed to point us towards a pub. We chose right. As we walked down the street, John asked a lady if she knew where the nearest pub was. Just up on the left was the reply. We walked into a wine bar. Katie and Garrath were not there. Just an aside; A wine bar is not a pub. Out we go from that place. Well, that was on a T-Junction of the street. So, we could once again choose right or left. We chose right again (remember the right-hand rule when lost in a maze?). Off we wandered. We found a bar (The North Pole Bar); No Katie. No Garrath.

So, of course, we wander off down the road. We are now walking through some darkened streets and John mentions something about getting mugged. I told him that's why we wore running shoes, right? John calls Katie who says she's waiting at the main window of the station. He relays this to me after he hangs up. I ask the question he was already thinking...there was a main window at that station? We continue forward as we have already crossed under the tracks and are coming up to where we would have ended up if we had taken the left off of the platform. Sure enough, we can see the Station proper coming up. We wander under the tracks again (we, of course, were now on the wrong side) and find Katie waiting right outside an actual indoor terminal. She guides us through the terminal and out the front door to meet up with Garrath...at the pub right outside the station (which, by the way, we left without buying a pint...there's gotta be a special place in hell reserved for me on that offense alone). To our right is the large building that both John and I recognized was next door to the Wine Bar. Let me recap quickly here; If we'd have taken a left coming off the platform we would have been here sooner. If we had take an left at the T-Junction outside of the wine bar? Yup, right to the the location we were standing just then. So much for the right-hand rule...Until otherwise directed, we will be using the left-hand rule. The right has betrayed us.

So, we rejoin the process of catching up that was ended last week. We wander along towards the Cutty Sark which is kind of beached/parked in Greenwich. Well, until it mostly burned down several months ago. You don't know the Cutty Sark? That's fine, at the time of this writing, I know the name, but, have no idea of the history attached to it. I want to say it was a famous privateer ship, but, I can't say for sure. Sad, I know. You're probably all very disappointed in me. But, trust me, I have done a bit of research and the following portion was added into this just before posting :)...

The Cutty Sark. I was wrong. It was a merchant vessel in the tea trade and the wool trade after that. Famous for her speed, she posted the fastest speed for her size of ship. Other than that, she was used as a training vessel and later a tourist attraction. Like the Star of India, I guess, but not as interesting. You see, sometimes history doesn't turn out to be all that awe inspiring. So, in light of that, here's her made up history according to me:

The Cutty Sark. She was a 16 gun privateer that sailed the seas under the Captain Charles "HellDog" McBrannon. Wildly cruel to his crew but paid a large share of the bounties. For years she stalked the waters hunting enemies of the crown. Fast and sleek, she struck larger, more powerful ships with surprise and deadly accuracy of her guns. In 1895 she was found floating dead in the water. She was boarded to find nobody else aboard. According to the ship's logs, Capt McBrannon had grown ill and died two months earlier and the first mate David Sweeney had taken over to get her back to port. A strange malady struck the crew when they were two days out of London. That was the last entry in the logs. To this day nobody knows what happened to the officers and crew...

Oh, she does have a whiskey named after her. That part's true.

We then took a (short) trip to the river Thames to take a look at it. I'd seen it many times before. I've walked along it's banks. I've (not) enjoyed the cool breezes that come off of it in February. Now it was dark. I have to tell you though, earlier in the day (or the previous night...or early morning...sometime while I was sleeping) some huge winds and rain and other meteorological events took place to cause high tide and heavy flooding. I was told that there was basically a wall of water 3.5 meters (about 11 feet) tall whooshing down the coast. Yes, wooshing! They had closed the barriers to the Thames to prevent that wall of water from getting in and causing any damage. This resulted in the Thames being much lower than it should be.

We walk down the Thames Walk to see the Naval Academy of yesteryear. It's all gated off but lit up fairly well. Very nice. I tell Garrath that I'll most likely have to come back here over the weekend during the day so I can experience it fully (and take some photos).

We end up at a pub called The Spanish Galley Tavern. Katie asked around using the knowledge that I was "a beer snob" and this place was recommended to her. I just think it's awesome that she went out of her way to find a compatible place. I am happy going to any ole pub and grabbing a pint or two. But, the Spanish Galley had several I'd not tried. Happy Day! I started off with a pint of the Bishop's Finger. With a name like that, how could I not order it :). John went with a pint of Master Brew. Apparently, the bartender called it a Local Hero. I ordered the Bangers and Mash and another pint; This time it was Spitfire. John came back with a Dutch beer Orengeboom.

We sat around and chit-chatted about various things. John regaled us with stories of when he and Katie were younger. I found out that Garrath is just completing his PhD in History (Ba-Damn!). And now, I can't recall if I added any stories to the fray. Knowing me, I probably did. Eventually, we had to break up the party. John had delivered the beach sand and shells and we had a great evening. The four of us walk back to the station at Greenwich so we can reverse our trek back "home". Goodbyes are said and the train pulls away.

Well, it's still early for us. John and I decide to stop by and have a pint at the Hung, Drawn and Quartered in London near the Tower. When we get off our first train John tells me that he'll follow me as I "can probably locate the pub by smell". Next thing you know, we're walking through the doors. I order the ESB. I'd wanted a pint of that for about a week now and have finally gotten it. John jumps straight to the old stand by; Stella. If I wasn't so dead set on trying all the various beers, I'd probably be ordering Guinness more often. We talk and watch the end of a football match.

We decide that we aren't really tired and have plenty of time. So, we order another round. I tell the bartender (a cute lady with a minor French accent) that it looks like I have to have a pint of the tap called Scrumpy Jack. We go into the tale of me trying every different drink that I can and she starts going through the list. "Have you tried ..." everything she brings up is "Yup", "Several Times", "Yes", etc. I had not tried the Discovery Blonde ale that John had when we were here the first time, but, I wasn't in the mood for that one. I wanted the one called Scrumpy Jack. And with a name like that, can you blame me? Turns out it's a cider. Slight bite at the beginning, but, a nice smooth, non-dry cider taste after that. John grabs another Stella.

We consume our beverages while talking to each other, watching a boxing match and watching a table of three people near us. This table of three had 8 or 9 Leffes bottles on the table when we walked in. Mind you, that's before the waitress could clear it off. One of the guys was...for lack of a better term...BLOTTO. He was gone. Wasted. Drunk of his ass. Inebriated. Intoxicated. Three sheets to the wind. He had a hard time standing up straight. We watched with humor him try to put on his jacket. He was having a hell of a time trying to get his arm in the sleeve. Poor bastage. It's guaranteed he's going to be shouting at his feet eventually. The Technicolor yawn, as we call it. There's just no way, in my experience, that you can get as drunk as that guy was and not have to. I feel bad for the guy. But, he was drunk enough to buy the evening's drinks for his two less inebriated friends. They were kind enough to help him sign the credit card voucher and put the receipt into his pocket.

Shortly after that we are told the pub is closing down and we have to finish our pints and leave. It's only 11, I say...The once friendly bartender basically ignores us from then on. We've paid for all the beer we're going to have. So, there's no point in trying to charm us out of tips anymore, I guess. We jump onto the train back to Laindon Station and head home for the night.

Postponed Steak

So, as you are all tuning in to hear of the big plans that were hatched last night, you tune in for disappointment. Yes, the plans did not come to fruition. We were on our way somewhere that I had hoped to give me such a more interesting story. Alas, they were canceled at the very last minute.

I won't tell you were those plans led, as I would spoil the plans for tonight. Yup, there's the silver lining on the cloud. The plans were just postponed. Unfortunately for you, that means the update wont hit the 'net until Monday when I have my internet connection back.

John and I had plans to go...somewhere (you thought I was going to say something, didn't you). I was reviewing the plan with Gary and Tim at the office and they said that my driving directions were a bit off. There was a better way to get there. Gary asked what time we were supposed to be there and I responded about 6:30ish. He almost laughed at me. It was a couple minutes before five and he said that we should have left an hour ago if we had that time frame. Tim confirmed that our best bet would be to take the train. We'd have to switch lines a couple times and get onto a line that I'd never been on before. However, they said that we should be able to get there in the time alloted.

Well, off John and I tool down the road. We stop off at the hotel to change into some warmer, more comfortable clothes (it had rained pretty hard a couple hours ago and it was fairly cold outside). When we got to the train station, I paid for parking and we walked into the terminal. I get up to the counter when I can overhear John on the phone making assurances that we would be there, albeit late (as I usually am).

Seems the whole plan was postponed for tomorrow. Bah! So, John and I take the consolation prize of a steak at Outback. Sadly, the best steakhouse I've found out here. The service absolutely sucked at the bar. We were not even *actively* ignored. That would have been better, in my opinion. It's more like we were forgotten completely. Really sad as we were sitting right in front of the damned bartender. I started off with an Australian beer (Coopers) because the only thing they had on tap (I was told) was Budweiser and Fosters. Well, I'm not drinking either of those! John went with a Stella.

My buddy Marc loves Stella. He sings it's praises to me every chance I bring that beer up. I'm not especially thrilled with it, myself. It's OK. But, that's it. It's just OK. John seems to like it as well. So, I don't give him any crap about ordering it. Even though there are a number of different beers available here...

I asked for a Tooheys. Although advertised in the bar at Outback, they do not serve it. I am not amused. So, I move onto a Victoria Bitter before my food arrives. I have not had one of these since I was "down under" back in 1999. I remember it being...better. Good even. This is neither. But, it was completely worth it as it made the inattentive bartender have to go into the back cooler to get a couple bottles of it. We move to a table so as not to have to deal with that heartless wench any longer. Service improves.

The steak is as expected. Nothing fancy. In the States, this steak would be ::shrugs shoulders:: eh...passable. Here in the UK, it's a good steak. John apparently had one at the hotel last night with room service (I wasn't real hungry when we got back to the hotel and so waited until later to get a bite in the pub). He said that it looked like the cut of meat had been sat on by somebody and left there for several days. Yup, that's English steaks. Nothing like the mouth-watering, succulent gloriousness that can be had back home.

I polish off a Crown lager (also from Australia). Nothing to write home about...but, that obviously isn't stopping me :). During the last of the beers that I will consume here tonight we watch the end of the Bolton v Munich game. This had more injuries in it than most of the Ultimate Fighting Championships. Everyone was getting injured. I was sure they were going to have to add another 20 minutes of injury time to the game.

So, the plans were a little postponed. I said that there were exciting plans in the work for the night. I didn't lie...there were plans. I never said the plans would be guaranteed to be executed :). However, I did tell you that I wasn't going to count out beer and football.

Curtain Hero

Not much to report on yesterday's activities. I worked during the day and can you guess how I spent the evening last night? If you said "Sitting in the pub watching a game" you win a prize. See the man behind the curtain to collect said prize. Yup, I watched a Manchester United game last night. Not to worry, there are plans in the work for tonight that do not revolve around a pub and football...I'm not counting them out, however :).

On a small aside, you should each read the following webcomic; The Wrong Hero. A good friend of mine is the artist and writer. It was recently a featured comic on the hosting site. You're getting in on the ground floor as the story is just starting (it's about 20'ish strips in so far). So go read it...I'll wait right here.

Football Temperature

Criminy! Only Tuesday and I'm done with this week. This project is a real pain sometimes. But, the only people who want to hear updates about how work is going are on a different distribution list :). So, I'll leave it at that.

The temperature got down to 4.5 degrees Celsius on the way home tonight. That's just over 40 degrees in real temperature :). Getting cold around these parts. I hope it stays around that temperature. I enjoy the cold. But, not too cold, mind you. Especially without my heavy jacket :).

John and I had dinner in the pub again. We were expecting to watch the Liverpool game. After not seeing the game come on I wandered up to the publican and asked about the game. He started flipping channels until he found it. Awesome. We'd already missed 15 minutes of the game but nobody had scored yet. That was just a matter of time. By the end of the night Liverpool had won 8 to nil in a wonderful show of fancy football. It was the largest margin of win for a game in that league's history.

Teams play in multiple leagues out here. It would be like the Padres playing in the National League and also competing in a league in South America and also in a league with both Canadian teams as well as Puerto Rican teams. So, there are multiple championships going on at once. Multiple games. Just because you won today and last Thursday, doesn't mean you're doing well. Both of those games may have been for different standings. Your favorite team could play every three days. Football all the time. It's wonderful :).

Bonfire Cider

Guy Fawkes Night. Bonfire Night. Should really be called Firework Week. There have been fireworks going off all week. In all directions. No matter where you are you can hear them. If you are up on a hill, you can see several shows at once.

John and I decide to have dinner in the pub and watch some more football...or soccer as John continues to call it :). He watches the games but refuses to budge on the naming of it.

Several pints are had between the two of us. John was drinking Stella and I got him to try Beck's Vier. He moved back to Stella after that. I'm fine with that. You try something new, you don't like it, you move back. But, never stop trying new things.

I started with Boddington's, moved onto Castlemane XXXX and then onto Gaymer's Old English Cider. I'll allow you a few moments of snickering and laughter. Now that you're done snickering at me for drinking cider, you need to know something; Although cider is usually considered a woman's drink, it has a higher alcohol content than most beers. So, this specific cider was fairly good. Not to biting, fairly smooth. After four or five (I lost count) I was feeling pretty darned good :).

We sat in the pub and talked about all sorts of things and pretty much missed the entire game. Not that the game was worth much of anything...

Later that night, after we had each gone back to our own rooms, I decided that before I turn in for the night I needed to iron my shirt for tomorrow. But, there's no iron in the room. So, I'll head out to the main desk and ask for an iron. But, first I had to put some pants on. I wander out of the building that my room is in, into the main building, past the pub and into the lobby. I ask the nice lady at the desk for said iron and she says one will be brought to my room shortly. So, off I head back to the room. By the time I get back outside, I realize that my feet are cold. That's when it dawned on me that I forgot to put on shoes. Remember? I had several ciders. I told you I was feeling pretty good ;).

London Sights

This morning John and I are headed to London. 11:00am: I call John to wake him up so we can get started. Sure, it's a bit of a late start. But, I wanted to make sure John had enough sleep and I was busy watching Two and a Half Men. So, we pile into the car and head off to the train station. No, I still don't drive into London. You go down the wrong street and you'll get ticketed with a congestion charge. Besides, I don't want to have to deal with parking while I'm there.

The train ride into Fenchurch Street station brings no surprises to me. I've been on this route a number of times now and can still do it without too much worry. We head out of the station towards (in my mind at least) the Tower of London. Sure enough, after several minutes of walking, I realize that I've chosen the wrong direction. So, we head down another street. Rest assured, dear readers, that the Tower of London was found by our heroes. We walk round the exterior of the castle and John decides that he's not going to fork over the 16 pounds to wander the insides as well. Besides, we've got quite a bit of London to see in one day :). While we're in the area, we do get a good look at both the Tower Bridge and the HMS Belfast.

By this time John tells me that it's come time to eat. I'm up for some of that. I explain that we've got a couple main choices. We can eat the overpriced, crappy food that can be found around the Tower where we are, or we can find an open pub. The smile on his face gave me the answer. Strange that I have a hard time remembering the directions to the Tower from the train station, but, can remember the exact location of the nearest pub; The Hung, Drawn and Quartered. Food was ordered as well as a couple pints; Fuller's Chisswick for me (a bitter) and Fuller's Discovery Blonde for John. We also got to sample the ESB. I said that would be my next pint before realizing that we won't be here for a second pint...too much to do. A trio of people sat down next to us and began chatting amongst themselves. Only near large tourist attractions such as the Tower could I come to London and sit down next to other Americans.

We'd seen the major items on John's list in this area of town. That means we need to grab the underground. We walk over to the terminal only to be confronted with the roll up doors locked and a couple of Underground employees standing out front. The Circle Line was down for the weekend for planned maintenance. Crap on a cupcake! It's my main line of travel through London. The nice lady standing in front tells us to grab the number fifteen bus across the street and get off a couple stops down and grab the District Line.

Well, we walked over to the bus which proudly stated it was heading to Trafalgar Square. Happy Day! That's one of the places on the hit list. We can take the bus the whole way. Sweet! So, we step onto the bus (more like crowd onto the bus) and head off towards the destination we had planned. Not too much time passes when we're told, basically, to get the hell off the bus. We've arrived at the last stop.

We walk to our location; Trafalgar Square. Nelson's Column looms before us. I begin to tell John about Admiral Horatio Nelson. John looks at me like I'm speaking of things that have happened during our own times. It warms me. I enjoy teaching. I enjoy giving out knowledge. However, he already knows about this. I should have known when he specifically asked to see Trafalgar Square. Not many Americans would ask to come to this location. Most people, I would think, would want to see the really popular things; Big Ben, Parliament, Tower of London, Westminster Abbey, etc. Not many of us would actually know about Trafalgar Square. Not many would know about Nelson.

Regardless, we wander the square. We take in the sights. We enjoy, and we move on. As we walk away from Nelson's Column, I decide we should take an exact opposite path of my trip in February. So, I start down an Eastern road, called The Mall.

Not too long until we get to a point where the street has been closed off from car traffic entirely. John asks if this is some sort of parade route. I smile and say "sort of". Eventually, we move from the side walk into the street. See, The Mall runs from Admiralty Arch down to Buckingham Palace. It's usually closed to car traffic on the weekends, in my albeit very little, experience. We walk down and gawk a bit at the Queen Victoria Monument and the Palace itself.

I have, yet again, showed up at a time when the guards are dressed in their drab gray uniforms and not in the standard red ones that they are known for. I am a little bummed out that I have yet to capture a guard in the red uniform.

We wander back through St. James Park to the Horse Guards Parade. I am still amazed that the first time I wandered through this park it was a big "mistake" for me. I had been looking for Trafalgar Square and got sidetracked :). Anyway, we wandered through the park, all the while chit-chatting about this or that. I marveled at the amount of people that were there compared to February. The place was bustling with people as well as water fowl and squirrels. You should see the amount of squirrels that are there this time of year. You can't walk ten feet without seeing one...waiting for somebody to call it over to take a peanut out of their hand. Yup, they're pretty tame, if you want to call them that. Hand fed, definitely.

We wander through the Horse Guard Parade grounds. There are a couple of them on foot in the grounds. I was telling John that you do *not* want to get in their way when they move.Last time I was here, one began his march and yelled out something (which I couldn't make out) to the people in front of him as he marched from one post to another. The people who were in the way almost jumped out of his way. We walked in front of the Parade Grounds where there were mounted horsemen. I'm surprised that people get close and pet the horses with signs like this.

Just down the road is a road that many would recognize; Downey Street. I tell John that's what we're approaching. It only takes him a couple seconds before he asks "Isn't that where the Prime Minister lives?" I'm so proud :).

As we pass on down the street towards Parliament, John gets a call form home. We are just down the street from some big sites. I can already see Big Ben peaking up over the rooftops ahead. If you're not looking for it, you can easily miss it. John apparently has. I get a little bit more giddy with each step. Silly? Yeah, I know. But, My buddy Ben is a lot bigger in real life than he is on television. Parliament is huge an ornate. It's impressive. Until you take Ben into your vision. The clock tower is enormous. To me, it really is lager than life. John mentions the detail of Parliament. He seems impressed by the building until he sees the clock tower. Then I get the "Wow" from him. It's a little bit of justification for me. It's nice to hear that something that impressed me with it's grandeur had the same kind of effect on someone else.

As we walk towards Westminster Abbey John finally gets a hold of his niece Katie. We had been trying to reach them for a get together while John was here. Well, shock of shocks, they were actually in London at that moment in Trafalgar Square. They were just down the road from us. We agree to meet up in a few minutes in front of Big Ben.

Not too much longer and the four of us (John, myself, Katie and her husband Garrath) are wandering back up the street to find ourselves an eatery. We settle on a pub (The Silver Cross) where we get some food and a couple pints (London Pride for me and Hoegaarden for John). Eventually, we split up and we needed to figure out how to get back to Fenchurch Station. Katie and Garrath walked us over to an underground terminal where we caught a ride for a couple of stops. Then came the realization that it boils down to us walking the rest of the way. It was not as far as it looked on the map. We were back at the Hung Drawn and Quartered before we realized it.

John stopped and gawked at one building as we were walking to the station. It had been proudly labeled near the building's entrance as The Corn Exchange. That's when we were asked by some guy if we were lost and needed a place to sleep. We assured him that, no, we were exactly where we thought we were and already had a place for the night. He walked back "with" us to the station the entire time regaling us with tales of his current troubles; He currently owns two homes but has to rent them both out to pay for the mortgages. Thus, leaving him to find shelter for himself each night in hostels. He assured us, even though we really didn't much care, that it was a profitable business arrangement he had. I guess profit is in the eye of the beholder...

Parkinghenge

Got up this morning to headed to the airport. I set the alarm so I could get up and get breakfast before I left. Sleep overrode breakfast. I slept until the last possible moment. What the hell were you doing the night before, you ask? Nothing what so ever. I was alternating between watching TV, muting the TV to read a book and finishing up the Podio book that I was listening to. Before I knew it, it was 2 in the morning. Bleh! So, I head off towards Heathrow. As I'm driving into the place I notice that there are two types of parking structures advertised. One is long term stay. The other one is business stay. Well, I figured that the long term stay was not what I was after. So, that left me with the business stay. Sure enough, I was mistaken. There really is a third option that they do not advertise which is short stay. I found this out after I'd taken the courtesy shuttle into the terminal to pick up John. There it was. Oh well, life goes on. John can ride the shuttle back to the car with me.

Half hour later I've collected John (who had very little sleep on the plane) and headed back to the car park. That's when I had the shock of the day. Apparently, business stay costs 21.50 a day...Pounds people! Pounds! Yes, that's right, over $40 for parking. I was there less than an hour. E'gad! Lesson learned.

After getting the low-down on John's flight, I asked him how tired he was. He said he was a little tired, but, pretty keyed up at the moment. You see, we were on the other side of London already. There is a site that should be seen, in my opinion, by anyone who has the opportunity: Stonehenge. Due to the fact that it's on the other side of London than where we are staying, if we head there from the airport, it'll cut of an hour's drive. He said he was up for it.

The weather was quite nicer than it was when I was here the first couple of times. The sun was out and shining. The wind was restrained. The temperature didn't force me to wear a wool cap, gloves and a scarf (and wish I had more). So, of course, that meant that the place was filled with tourists. John opted not to pay the 15 pounds to go in and walk around Stonehenge. So, we wandered along the outside of the chain link fence and marvelled at it. I wont tell you what John thought about it as I wouldn't want to put words in his mount. I, however, was still impressed by it. I took several shots of the monument.

Once John had had enough of Stonehenge, we got back in the car and started to drive back. I told him I needed to make a quick, 5-minute detour first, though. I took the first left at the roundabout, drove through a little residential area and then took another left. Parked the car and invited John to get out of the car and come share in my disappointment. He didn't understand. We walked across the street and stared into the field. I said "Welcome to Woodhenge". It took John about a second to remember Woodhenge from the first trip and start laughing. He pointed at the "stumps" in the ground and looked at me. He just continued to laugh. I nodded, looked over at Woodhenge and waited for him to stop laughing. I'm glad he found it so humorous.

John nodded off here and again on the ride back to the hotel. He said he needed a bit of Lunch before heading off for a nap. We get him checked into his room and hit the pub for a bit of a bite. A couple of burgers and pints were had while watching a huge football game of Manchester United vs Arsenal. Awesome game with an exciting finish. Frank joined us shortly after that and we sat around and chit-chatted for a bit.

Small detour to the story about the pub attached to the Park Inn. It gets great reception for sports on the satellite. It should considering it calls itself a sports bar. Enough screens surround the room that you can watch the game where ever you sit. All in all, very nice. With one exception; The beer selection is rather poor there. They don't have any hand pumped ales. Not a one, dammit! I can get a pint of Murphy's Irish Stout there which is what I've been getting. But, I can get that at home. Damned near anywhere to boot!

The three of us break up and agree to meet for dinner that night. Frank has just returned from the office, John is going to take a nap and I'm on my way into the office. Lucky me.

Several hours later I'm back at the hotel and ring John's room to wake his arse up. It's time for dinner. He answers the phone and tells me that he's going to continue to sleep. No biggie, Frank and I will dine without him. So, when there's a knock at my door, I'm expecting Frank to be standing there. Wrong again, buck-o! John decided that he was awake enough to go to dinner with us. It should make him tired enough to sleep through the night.

Frank arrives and we head off towards Lakeside mall. There are several restaurants there that are worth going to. Frank has been to most of them and he and I ate at one the other night...a Spanish place that served tapas. I'll make another small digression now;

The Spanish place was good, they offered up a decent bottle of California wine (difficult to find out here according to Frank). Wonderful place. The wait staff showed up only when they were needed and let us enjoy ourselves. We left and had to return to get Frank's jacket that he'd forgotten on the seat. The waiter that we had asked us what was wrong with the service, which took both Frank and I aback a bit. We replied that the service was good and nothing was wrong. The waiter then began to lightly complain about us not tipping. Now, you have to understand that on the bill that was presented to Frank, this very same waiter had drawn a bit black 'X' through the tip area of the bill. We had thought that a bit strange. So, now he's complaining that we didn't tip after he X'd out the are that Frank was supposed to add the tip. I don't know, left a bad taste in my mouth.

Back to the story, we went out to an Italian place and had a decent meal. Nothing out of the ordinary, food wise. Although, in John's semi-groggy state, he burned his thumb on the plate that obviously hot. The cheese on his lasagna was bubbling it was so hot. But, he didn't see that until it was too late. So, other than the minor burn, a good time was had by all.

Composition Urgings

So, John tells me that he has a message from the States; Blog more. I'll see what I can do. Truthfully, there hasn't been alot to blog about. I've not been doing much of interest and/or value. I've been working a bunch and writing code or reading when I get back to the hotel. I do, however, watch a football game almost every night with dinner in the pub. Yes, I would love to get out and experience more places to eat. However, I usually realize that I'm hungry just about the time that the game is starting in the pub...it's hard to get in the car and drive off somewhere when I can get the game just 50 feet away :).

At any rate, I'll try and throw some more entries up. You should get some entries up this week with John and I running around :).

Free Enjoyment

So, there's been very little updating of the blog. Truthfully, I've not done much worth writing about. This last weekend I took a trip over to the mall that my hotel is near. Mistake. Seems all of South London decided to do the same thing. Same old stuff. I choked at the prices of things. Near 16 pounds for a CD. 7 pounds for a paperback. I stopped into an outdoors place and chit-chatted with one of the workers there. The place was tiny and didn't hold much. If I wanted high quality camping and hiking gear, I was in the right place. However, if I was looking for anything that wouldn't be considered basic, bare bones equipment, I was screwed.

At any rate, I spent most of the weekend programming. Yeah, I know; BORING. But, I've got a number of things that needed to be done and I wasn't going to be interrupted with other tasks while doing it. I made a ton of progress, but burned my weekend in the process. Such is life. However, I did take breaks during the day to relax. In that time I got some reading done. Finished off one of the books that I brought (Benighted) and started up on another (A Walk in the Woods). I didn't make it 6 pages before I laughed out loud at the writing of the later. Not the uproarious laugh out loud. Kind of the quick unexpected laugh.

I've also been listening to an audio novel in podcast form (Podio Book apparently) called Seventh Son. I'm actually on the second novel of the trilogy, Deceit. It's enjoyable and not too contrived :). Enjoyable and free are two great tastes that taste great together! It also makes driving to and from work interesting. I can't listen to it while I work if I'm coding. Too much of my attention is pulled away from the code. There's actually a coded message in the second book that tore me away from my coding for a couple hours. Well, it didn't take me away from coding exactly, as I threw together a program to decode it. Yes, I know that later in the chapter it will decode it for me. But, I wanted a shot at it myself. I made quite a bit of progress. But, it finally bested me. I went back to listening to the novel. Sure enough, there was one piece of the puzzle I hadn't thought of. And that was the key. Dammit! Oh well, it gave me a couple hours of entertainment outside of the story :).

To answer a bunch of people back home; No, they don't *really* celebrate Halloween over here. It's apparently caught on over the past couple of years or so, but, nothing like it is back in the States. I missed it :(.

I've been watching a lot of football while I've been here. Hell, there's a game on almost every night in the pub. So, I get some good eats, good food and good football staggering distance from my room. Life can't be too bad. I still want to try and get to a live game while I'm here. We'll see how that goes.

I can't wait to get back home and sleep in a bed that doesn't have a crack running down the center of it. True, I haven't found a surface that I can't sleep on. However, I would like a bit more comfort.

Momentary Lasagna

I usually try not to talk too much about what goes on during the day because it's just work related. Besides, I'd probably get yelled at for talking about the project in a "public forum". Like I work for NASA or something. We make golf shirts! We're not defense contractors. At any rate, we had a pretty uppity meeting this evening about the project. I walked away pretty annoyed with the whole situation. I actually deleted a whole paragraph about the details of the meeting.

It's getting colder here by the day. And due to my hasty packing I usually forget something. Most of the time it's not important. Just one of those items that makes you say "Doh!". Not this time, I forgot a major piece of equipment. A jacket. Oh sure, I've got a number of mid-level sweaters for warmth. But, the actual "outer shell" type of jacket? Yeah, on the coat rack at home. I can picture it waiting there for me. Waiting to be useful in San Diego. I'll make do.

The drive to and from work is fairly nice. I've usually stayed close to the shop and the drive has been on busy freeway style roads. But, with the drive in this time, I get a nice country road to take. Nice change.

I found that the tank that I'm driving has two settings for the turn signals. One is on as we'd normally have them. You either turn it off yourself, or it turns off by completing the turn. The other is a momentary type. It turns the blinkers on for 4 or 5 blinks then automatically stops. Kind of cool.

Looks like the hotel staff replaced the batteries or the remote, because it worked fine last night. I got to switch through all 10 channels from the comfort of my bed. Not that there was anything to watch. One of the channels is nothing but sitcoms from the States. So, I watched Srubs for an hour before dinner.

I decided to try the restaurant attached to the hotel that I'm staying in. It's seems a bit more posh than it should be. But, they had several steak selections on the menu. I then surprised myself by not ordering the steak that I'd been craving and ordering, get this, a spinach and mushroom lasagna. It was quite lovely. The cheese sauce that covered it got to be a bit much towards the end though. Wash it down with a pint of Murphy's Irish Stout and some coffee. I think I'm afraid to order more steak while I'm here. I can't seem to get one that's well prepared (other than Outback).Maybe I'll hit the attached pub and check it out next.

I've gotten a couple sites for updates on the fires that have calmed me down some. I feel that I'm a little bit more informed. Not to mention some email updates from friends and family. Not that any of you really need them as you are there, here are the links I've got:

Map
Text updates

Worthless News Stations

This morning I flip on the news and get no real new update on the fires back home. This well and truly sucks. The news doesn't answer any of my questions. Yes, I realize that there are evacuations. What parts of town are effected by those? Homes burned? Yeah, I get that. Where? Fires encroaching on more civilization? Shocking! WHERE DAMMIT!?! Very frustrated.

I head into work.

On the road again

It is with growing trepidation I travel to the airport. The sky looks burnt. It is a hideous color. I understand that there is a fire from brief news that I heard yesterday evening. However, the traffic speaks to me a different tale. I switch from the swooning sounds of the CD to a local radio staion and more pieces of the puzzle are revealed. This is no minor fire. San Diego is aflame. My home town. It's on fire. And I'm flying away for almost a month. In the airport there are evacuees leaving the city. They have been forced from their homes. They must seek shelter with family in other cities. In other states.

Chicago. The brief newscasts playing on the overhead screens are giving me little information and a lot of speculation. The anchors seem determined to insure the rest of the world that all of Southern California is alight. Calling friends proves useless as nobody is answering the phone. Somebody from work has emailed me telling of an office prank that I have missed and the fact that she's leaving due to the office being closed up. With no valuable information of what's going on, I feel that am on an island. Family members tell me that my area of town has been evacuated. I know deep down that my friends have taken my cat with them when they got the call. I know this, but would feel much better with actual confirmation.

I finally do get a hold of my friends. Seems that they didn't recognize the caller I'd of the international phone I have been issued and didn't take my previous call. I can understand that, as I do the same thing most of the time. Seems they have not been evac'd yet but my cat will go along if the call comes. I tell them where the cat carrier is and am awash with relief. I am asked if there is anything else I want grabbed. It's only stuff, I reply. No point in filling someone else's precious evacuation space with my stuff. It can be replaced. I am not attached to any of it. Sure there are some items that I can't really repurchase; pictures and the like. But most of the stuff can be replaced with something that looks just like it.

The flight to England is the same as it usually is; long. I catch a couple hours of sleep on it. I'm going to need it. I'm going straight into work when I get there.

When I get to the Avis counter, the lady smiles at me and begins to go through the same routine that she has to do hundreds of times a day. We run into a slight problem when she asks for a form of payment. It should be direct billed to the company, I reply. No record of that, she says. They also have no record of insurance. I think the travel agent screwed up. It can't be Avis. I never have a problem with them. I take care of everything on a temporary basis until I can get in touch with the travel agent. If I can...they have probably been evacuated. Walking out to the car brings another shock; This is not a compact vehicle. It's pretty much an SUV. And it's diesel. I'm driving a tank in the land of dime-sized parking spots.

I get to the office and get updated on everything that has transpired in the last couple of days. Looks like it's going to be an interesting first couple of days. The feces is about the hit the oscilator. It's past 4pm here and I'm dragging hard. I was shooting for 7 or 8pm before going to bed. I don't think that's going to be a possibility this trip. I'm about ready to crash out at my desk. So, I call it a day and head to the hotel.

I'm trying out yet another hotel on this trip. The Park Inn. Set in a quiet area of town with an attached pub and restaurant, it's quaint. I check in without any troubles and head to my room. The room is freezing. They've left the window open. I try not to judge the place upon my first impression of the room. I've come to realize that all hotel rooms in England have one thing in common; they pretty much suck. The beds are not especially comfortable. You are given a top comforter to keep warm (and that's it...no sheet). There is no fridge...that seems a foriegn concept to hotels out here. The television gets 10 channels. I go through them manually as the remote doesn't seem to work. There is no real place to unpack into. No dresser of drawers, no shelves. Only a dozen or so hangers. I am quickly reminded that I'm tired. So, I climb into bed to get some sleep. This king sized bed is actually two twin beds lashed together. Wonderful! The middle of the bed has an uncomfortable crack down the center. I'll just have to sleep aware of that. Then I realize that the comforter is actually two twin comforters. I have to lap them over each other so they work better. Off to the land of Zzzzzzzzzz...

Excitement...not

OK, so this trip hasn't been too exciting. I've spent most of my waking hours during the week tied to a computer doing work for either here or back home. Well, it is kind of the reason the company sent me over here for ;). Just not too much to write about. Sorry gang.

Rugby Diversion

Today was to be a trip into London. I really had no major plans. Just wander around the city and get lost. Maybe find a pub or two. OK, no maybe about that. Matter of fact, I stopped into one before hitting the train station. Figure I'd have a quick lunch and a pint. And that's where the problem arose. You see, I kind of got stuck in the pub for several hours. There was the hand pumped real ale there. There was also a couple rugby games on that I got caught up in. I can't watch a full American football game back home. But, I can watch a game of football (soccer), rugby or hockey without a problem. I was explaining to somebody last week that with soccer, I can watch a full game and be amazed that the game is over so soon. It flies by for me. Maybe because I spent years playing it that I get so engrossed in the game.

Rugby isn't the same for me. I have never played it before. I'd probably get my body broken if I did. Part of watching that game is to try and figure out all of the rules. Yup, I've got an idea of the basics. But, some of the little parts I'm still shaky on. But, it's a fast paced game that I can follow and enjoy. There were two of them on today; Australia vs Fiji and New Zealand vs Scotland.

After the games it was a bit late for me to head into the city. Good thing, too. I found out on the news that much of the city had been closed down to traffic to allow cyclists to invade the place. So, not only did you have the standard fare of tourists running around the place. But, you also had thousands of people on bikes roaming the city.

So, there goes my weekend. I didn't get anything productive done at all.

Sporting Pasta

I wake up late (like that's a shock to anybody). I have no internet to get maps like I was hoping. I search through my luggage and find that the small map package that I laid out didn't seem to make it into my luggage. Starting off right, I see. So, I jump in my tiny lawnmower powered car and head off to the Little Chef. It's a small crappy little eatery that really aspires to be a Denny's when it grows up. However, it was right next to the Travelodge when I stayed here last time and I ate many breakfasts. It's like comfort food to me :).

I decide to go on a little car ride this morning. I have no major destination in mind until I start driving. I decide to hit Bluewater (it's the only shopping center around here that I know of). I've got a couple things I'd like to look into picking up. I have no map and no navigation system (thank goodness), but, I've been there once before. I can usually get back to a place that I've taken myself to in the past. I run into a couple snags. First, it seems that I don't actually recall the exact exits needed for Bluewater. Then there is all of the new construction in that area of the motorway. I make several mistakes on turn offs. Usually, it would be no big deal. However, when you pull off on some of these turn offs you're committed to them until the next exit. Many of those exits are 10-15 miles down the road. So, these are 20-30 minute mistakes that I'm making. And I make quite a few. I spend my morning and early afternoon making these mistakes. I decide that unless I want to fill the gas tank on my second day here, I need to find a destination.

So, I make a non-adventurous decision. I decide to head back to the hotel. But, wait! I have an actual reason for this decision. There are a couple of games on today that I'd like to watch. The first being a 2007 FIFA Women's World Cup game. England vs USA. I know that most of you do not follow football. I don't get to watch it as much as I'd like. But, you need to realize that this tournament is a bit different. USA is the favorite. Yes, you read that correctly. The Women's USA team is favored to win it all. We've actually won our last 50 games. That's pretty damned impressive. For an American football team that's, what, more than two full undefeated seasons? Well, we win this one as well, 3-0 kicking England out of the world cup.

The other game I got to watch was the Rugby World Cup (too many damned world cups. We may have a world series that doesn't involve many other countries, but, at least it's not the world cup of baseball!). England vs Samoa. Decent game. England won in the end. Like most sporting events, in my opinion, there are some not so exciting parts of the game that I'm tempted to change the channel in search of more entertaining fare. But, I keep the rugby on and am rewarded with some pretty nice plays.

I got the laptop up and running by using the power converter on "high-power" mode. I can hear the charger buzzing and expect it to explode at any minute. But, in the meantime, I have a computer connection :). The internet connection in my hotel room is out-freaking-rageuos! They want 15 quid per day or 75 for the week. That would be months of service back home. I pay the ransom because I know I'm going to need it.

Sitting at the bar waiting for a dinner table, I am at a loss as to what I want to accomplish tomorrow. Do I go into London? Do I try and get to an historical site? My last trip here I had so many choices. This time there are still many things to see and I feel I really can't do any of them. I am so lethargic. I feel like doing nothing at all. Maybe it's the fact that I'm here for such a short time this trip. Strange that I see this 8 day trip as a short trip when I can usually fill a 2 day weekend with an enormous amount of activity.

On this mornings' misadventures I found myself on the M20 heading East at one point. I know that means nothing to you. Hold on a second and I'll get to the explanation. That motorway leads directly to Dover. I was about 50 miles from both the coast and the castle. It is, if you recall, a castle that had a fairly big effect upon me. I loved being there. I spent quite a bit of time there. I turned around this morning for some reason. I sit here now wondering why I did that. I should have gone. Sure, I'd seen it before. For some reason I longed to see it again.

A couple beers later (these bastages only have Becks Vier on tap...a pilsner) I get my table. It's an Italian place and I've had a metric ass-ton of pasta lately (mostly spaghetti). I decide that I'll get something different. I go for the penne with shrimp. Hey, I said I would get something different...it's not spaghetti :). I love me the pasta!

And the cat came back...

Welcome back to Mohondro's Misadventures. This trip is actually a much shorter trip than the last one. Unfortunately, I don't have much of a chance to head out and see too many sites. I'll still type away giving my opinions and observations on anything I find interesting. Here's something I find interesting; the fact that some of you have returned for more punishment in the form of my blathering psuedo-reporting. Actually, I find it humorous. At any rate, let's get this show on the road:

I'm off to an interesting start of this trip. American Airlines couldn't book me all the way through from San Diego to London. Apparently, I'll have to check in again when I get to O'Hare in Chicago. Lovely. I get on the plane and find that I've been given a nice window seat with the bulkhead in front of me. I love the bulkhead. It gives you a little extra leg room at the expense of storage at your feet. Doesn't bother me. I'd rather have the legroom :). Then I find out that I'm dup seated. Somebody else has the same seat as I do. When the stewardess checks our boarding passes, it's because I've been issued someone else's. Great. I'm told that they'll find me a seat shortly. As long as I don't have to stand up for the entire flight, any seat will do... I get a window seat in the middle of the plane. Just my luck, I get a view of the wing. Not that I'll actually see the wing. I don't use the window much anyway. I'll read and catch up on some much needed sleep.

When I arrive in Chicago, I have to leave the terminal and catch a train to another, international, terminal. I get to go through security again...yipee! I love to do that. Nothing more fun that being subjected to security checks that don't actually do anything to insure the safety of the passengers. Security is an illusion people. Did you know that you can board a plane without any ID what-so-ever? You sure can. When asked for ID, tell them you don't have any. You'll have to step aside and go through "additional screening". If it's a giant security line, you'll probably get through quicker. But, the FAA won't stop you from flying. Bureaucracy is fun, huh?

At any rate, I have to check in at the main counter at British Airways. When I get there I find that they don't open for another hour or so. Dammit! I could have slept in and taken the next flight out of San Diego. Bah! Who needs sleep?!? Due to the fact that I was hanging out with some friends the previous couple of nights, I'm running on about 8 hours of sleep over a 72 hour period. At least I'll be able to catch a nap on this next flight. I was out about an hour on the way to Chicago, but, it was pretty restless as I was sleeping against the shade on the sun side of the plane. That shade got awful warm. Whatever.

As I get on the BA plane, I get seated in a window seat on the bulkhead. Deja vu! I check the boarding pass and confirm that it's actually my seat. I get a rum and coke and settle into the flight. A small bottle of wine with dinner and kick on the in-flight entertainment. I was totally lied to by the magazine. I was told that I could watch a completely different movie. But, I "got to" watch Spider Man 3. I missed it in the theaters. Now I'm pretty sure "I wouldn't say I missed it, Bob". But, it did soak up a couple hours of the flight. I never sleep as well on a plane as I do when on an international flight. I got a couple hours of actual rest. Nice!

We arrive in London and I hit customs. It's rather nice not to be considered a threat to the British just based on the length of my stay. This lady asks me how long my stay is and passes me through without a second glance. Not like the grilling I got last time. I didn't have to produce a business card or anything.

I stand a the luggage carousel wondering if this time I will be blessed with luggage. Sure enough, within a minute of the machine spewing forth baggage, I have my quota of bags and go to pick up my car. Must just be LAX that has the kind of incompetence to lose luggage on a four hour layover. Chicago didn't seem to have any issues with it.

I pick up my car at Avis without any hassle at all. It's much smaller than I'm used to renting. Somehow I got marked for medium sized vehicles with our travel agent. This time I made sure to tell them that I want the smallest car that they offer. I had been here once before and have seen the size of the parking spaces. They are postage stamp sized. And you better have a tight turning radius because you're gonna need it. I get a Fiat Grande Punto. The key even has switchblade action! That's gotta be worth a couple pence a day just for the joy of pressing a button and watch the key snap out from the key fob!

It takes me about 30 seconds to find the radio station that I listened to the last time I was here. It takes me much longer to get used to shifting with the left hand while sitting on the right side of the car and driving on the left side of the road. Individually, those are not difficult tasks. Add those together and throw a foreigner on a busy motorway during Friday morning rush hour traffic and it becomes a wee bit more of a challenge. Oh, and a little bit of sleep deprivation. According to the clock I'd been traveling for over 30 hours. That's not really the case, however. I left my place at four in the morning and pulled into my hotel the next morning at 10am. Subtract the 8 hour time difference and we get 2am...22hours on the road. Strange. I thought that number would have been much smaller than that.

While driving to the hotel, I heard a very familiar voice say "Take the 3rd exit off the roundabout". I about freak out! I didn't order the navigation package this time, but, that wench still haunts me while I drive. Then the commercial continues explaining that the new Audi can be equipped with full navigation package for under 500 pounds. That was just a cruel joke. I thought I was back safe and sound in the UK without that damned woman terrorizing me...

The hotel room is *so* much smaller than the Travelodge. However, the shower is *so* much nicer. There is actual water pressure here. I've been screwed electronically speaking, however. The computer doesn't seem to want to recharge using the power converter that I have. And of course, I used up most of the power before I got here. The phone that was assigned to me doesn't seem to want to connect to any network that I find. Seems like it may not even be an international phone.

After the realization that I'm disconnected from the "real world", I made a huge mistake. I broke one of my biggest travel rules. I took a nap. It is my opinion that when you get to another timezone, you acclimate immediately. Don't look at the watch and think "Oh, what time is it back home". What time is it? It's whatever the time your new timezone says it is. You stay up as late as you possibly can before passing out. That way when you do wake up, you're more than likely on the new time zone's schedule. Well, I hadn't got enough sleep leading up to my arrival. That hurt and I fell asleep for what I planned to be a couple hours. Eight hours later I was awake and cursing at myself. I crashed *hard*. It was evening now and I should be getting ready to go to bed. I read until 4am and then hit the sack.

Stuck in Snowy Chicago

Seems the adventures never cease. I am typing this up in my hotel in Chicago.

"The Windy City?", you ask.

"Indeed", I reply.

With a puzzled look you continue your questioning, "Why on Earth are you there?"

I'm so glad you asked. It seems somewhere over the Atlantic, as I was sitting uncomfortably, minding my own business, somebody in the back of the plane decided to have some sort of medical emergency. The announcement is made that a doctor of medicine is being sought. Briefly, I think about offering my services. Then I remember that I'm not a doctor of medicine...or anything else really. Seriously. I have no idea what the hell I was thinking for those brief moments of time. I had to mentally slap myself. So, no slapping will be necessary for this when I get back. I'll probably get slapped for things I do, say or insinuate at a later time though. I've made my peace with that.

At any rate, this goes on for a couple of hours. The curtained off area in the back and the occasional paging for a doctor of medicine. Like a doctor just *happened* to appear. Maybe the doctor was sleeping, you say. Yeah, right. When the lights come on in the plane and that announcement is called, it wakes the dead. So, we're about an hour and a half outside of Chicago (our ultimate destination) when the Captain comes on and tells us that due to a medical emergency, we are going to re-route the plane to Montreal. Lovely.

We land in Montreal and taxi our way to a gateway so the EMTs can come and rescue this person. I know that I shouldn't be thinking this way...but, she *walked* off the plane. What the hell was so life threatening that you force us to land in another airport, in another country that still allows you to walk off the plane under your own power. You couldn't wait the extra 45 minutes it would have taken to get to Chicago?

So, with the "guest that wasn't feeling well"...that's how it was announced to us...got off the plane we got to sit around on the tarmac to refuel and fill out paperwork before they let us take off again. Oh, and we got to watch the fantastic safety show again. We got into Chicago with perfect timing; I missed my flight by 15 minutes. Seems that 2 hour window just wasn't enough.

So, here I sit in the Wyndham Hotel awaiting the next flight to Austin...which is tomorrow morning, of course.

Canterbury

Today I head to Canterbury. I'm going to see the Cathedral there. Again, it's to the South East and is about an hour and a half away. Today is much wetter than yesterday was. The navigation system has 4 entries for the cathedral, but, they are all in the exact same location. Stupid computer. Th drive goes fine and I'm in Canterbury without too much ado. Parking, however, seems to be a problem. I drive around for about 15 minutes trying to find a car park that isn't filled. Eventually, I park about a mile or so away from the center of town. I figure that I can handle a little walk and this way I'm guaranteed a free parking spot :).

The navigation system had told me that I had reached my destination, but, I couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. I was a little bummed out until I was driving back towards the place while trying to find a spot and saw the bell tower. Amazing.

The walk is wet but easy. I get to the Cathedral expecting to get some outside photos only, as it is Sunday. Yes, I took that into consideration before I left this morning. Surprisingly, the cathedral is open to visitors during certain hours of Sundays. And sure enough, I'm here during those hours. How fortuitous! I pay my money and wander into the amazing cathedral.

I wander around amazed at the architecture and the stained glass wishing I could take photos. Eventually, I stumble into a guide who's telling another tourist that it's fine to take pictures in here, but, not down in the crypt. I made sure that I heard him correctly and went back through my self guided tour taking shots this time. They won't be up yet, however. And won't be up until I get back into the States. Sorry. A smattering of new photos of the Lovre, Paris and Leeds Castle have been posted though.

Many of you know that I'm not especially religious. But, being down in the crypts instills in me feelings of awe and a wonder. I can't describe it and really don't know what more to say about it. However, it was profound.

That being said, you all should know by now what I require after religion...yup, it's off to a pub. I head over to one called the Eleven Bar. Not especially thrilled with it's name. But, it has some decent beer on tap. Not many, mind you. Oh, and the decor looks fine. Old chewed up hardwood floors and thick wooden tables. I can't bring myself to drink many of the pilsners that they have on tap, so I move right to the Guinness. I also order a steak sandwich to wash the beer down with. I watch out the large front windows at the comings and goings of the people in this small area of Cantebury and smile.

My time is nearly up here in England. I've had a truly glorious time. And I want to thank all of you for coming along with me. If it weren't for you all, I may not have pushed on into all of the trips. Being out here away from home gets pretty taxing and many times I really wanted to just relax. But, I felt that I would be robbing all of you adventuring vicariously through me by taking a break. So, ever I pushed onwards trying to find something to see. Something to photograph. Something to experience. Something to describe. I've enjoyed describing my days and experiences to you all. Again, I thank you.

Leeds Castle

It's Saturday. My last Saturday here. I decided to spend the day lounging around in my room. Yeah right! I'm off to Leeds Castle in Kent. It can't be more than an hour drive. Most of the trips I've taken here are in the South of England. Many of them in the South East. Not once did I head North...another time, perhaps. At any rate, I tell the pesky Navigation system to find Leeds Castle and it, remarkably, complies with my request. Off I go. It's a wet and windy day. Again, not pouring down rain, but, enough to make people carry umbrellas with them.

Pulling into the carpark of the castle grounds I can't see any castle. Not like Dover Castle, which towered over the city on a hill. I gear up and head towards the entrance. I walk through the gates and around a corner and am confronted by a peacock in the middle of the pathway. I quickly snap a shot of him, but, he shows no sign of moving. I easily got within two feet of him without him minding what-so-ever. I snapped a couple more shots of this lovely bird and decided that I better push on and let the family that is rounding the corner have their turn with this fearless bird. The family has young kids. It will soon learn fear :).

The grounds of this place are wonderful. Seems that a previous owner of the castle, Lady Baillie, loved birds of all types. So, there is a huge amount of waterfowl here. Ducks, geese, swans. Matter of fact, the black swan is the symbol of the castle. They encourage you to purchase some feed from the shop and feed the birds. I guess it helps make sure the birds are fed well so they don't fly away and makes sure that the birds are fed with a proper type of feed instead of people dropping "people food" for them to eat.

It does take some time before I get my first glimpse of the castle. It looks a bit smaller than I thought. From this distance it looks more like a castle built for grand living and not for defence like Dover Castle. I take the tour through the castle and find out that I am correct. This castle was never built as a fortification, but, a large stone home befitting the nobles that lived here.

This place must look stunning during the spring or summer when everything is in full bloom. The birds, having been fed by visitors for so long, have no fear of humans and will walk up to you. They usually stop a couple feet away from people. If you enjoy the company of birds, or the pleasure of just watching them, this is the place. Beyond the waterfowl around the grounds, there is an aviary to walk through. All kinds of colorful birds are here; Parrots, Mccaws, Tucans, uh...and...other birds. The Tucans were really very pretty.

Wandering out of the aviary I find a hedge labrynth. I can see people standing on a mound in the center of the maze looking out. I figure that the sun is currently out and I've got nothing else pressing...into the maze I wander. There are a couple ways of being able to navigate in a maze. I decide that I don't mind getting lost and start wandering. Sure enough, I succeed in getting lost :). After enough time has passed, I decide to use the right hand rule. Basically, you place your hand on the wall to your right and never take it off as you walk. Theoretically, this will eventually take you out of a maze. I don't actually put my hand on the wall physically. But, off I wander. And presto! I'm out of the maze.

I wanted to go back in and make my way towards the center...but, my eye catches a small sign ahead of me. It says that there will be a Falconry demonstration up ahead in 7 minutes. That sounded wonderful to me. They flew a Spotted Eagle Owl and a Falcon. I'm sorry that I can't remember which type of Falcon it was. Let me tell you that getting pictures of a Falcon on the wing was not easy. They can easily reach speeds over a hundered miles an hour. We then moved on to see another bird that I'm sorry to say I don't remember the name. This bird is a ground runner. A flightless that can run quick and jump meters into the air. It hunts snakes and kills them by grabbing the snake behind its head and slamming it onto the ground, breaking it's neck.

After the demonstration I wander back into the maze and eventually find my way to the center. It, of course, begins to sprinkle while I'm in the maze this time :). There is a passageway down into a grotto underneath the maze that leads directly out. I spend about an hour wandering the grounds and enjoying the atmosphere.

It's said that it is the most beautiful castle in the world. I guess if you take it all into account, the interior of the castle, the picturesque views of it on the lake and the grounds themselves, I could see why they say that.

On the drive home it really starts raining. Not too much longer and I'm out from under those clouds and can see a crystal clear rainbow. Of course, I've placed the camera in the trunk of the car. Good thing, I guess as the rainbow was back over my right shoulder. Getting a shot of it would probably killed me while driving :).

Dinner was had at the restaurant next door to the hotel. I tried to order myself a beer that I'd seen when coming in, but, the waitress assured me that they didn't serve it. I kept asking for Websters Bitter (which I assumed was wrong). I even described where it was on tap. From the right hand side looking into the bar, there was Guinness, Carlsberg and then this one. Starts with a 'W' and is a bitter. She tells me once again that they don't serve any bitter starting with 'W'. So, Guinness would have to be the beer of the evening. On the way out I saw the name, Winston's Bitter and asked the bartender if, indeed, they served it. She, of course, said yes and looked at the tap. I thanked her, smiled and left.

Movies

I headed back to the Portuguese place to eat spicy chicken with my hands. Very tasty! I ordered the chicken hot this time. I was right, that stuff can build on you :). I had a Sagres Beer from Portugal with dinner (Cheers Josh). I also tried a Savanna Dry Cider from South Africa.

Right next door to the place is the movie theater. I figured, what the hell. I queued up for Hot Fuzz. I loved it! Oh, and it only cost me a total of 10 pounds for the ticket and a medium soda. Remember the conversion; $20 for a movie! Even more shocking than that was one of the first advertisements in the theater; It was for Southern Comfort. It blew me away. We don't have commercials for liquor anymore.

It looks like there's not going to be a football game in my trip :(. John said that he'd see what he could do, but, it seems that it just couldn't be done. Maybe next time. I did find out something I found rather strange. Apparently you are not allowed to drink beer and watch the football live. You can sit in the stadium bar and drink beer and watch it on the monitors. But, you can't take your beer back to your seat with you.

I hate laptops

It seems something in my personality, attitude or code has an adverse affect upon laptops. I've so far had two laptops crap out on me and had to replace one hard drive. Now, the laptop that is internal to the network here (the one I can use to test the conversions on) crashes hard when I compile one of my conversion programs. I'm not talking a nice "Something has happened, would you like to notify Microsoft so they can ignore the problem" window...No, no no. I mean a kernel page error, a hard physical memory dump and complete system lockup and reboot. I never have these kind of problems with desktops.

Yup, after the couple of reboots, the system is in a constant crash, reboot cycle. Pulling the drive and using it as a USB device helps nothing. Seems it's eaten my source code. Well, at least I have a backup from earlier today... Only several hours of work lost and not days.

Whitmore Arms

A couple of the guys and I went out to dinner last night. We drove over to The Whitmore Arms in Orsett. Had a fine plate of fresh salmon and a few pints of ales for some of the gang back home. I am a little disappointed that I've only encountered less than a dozen different beers while over here. Don't get me wrong, they are fine beers. But, I guess I was expecting to find different beers around the place. So, I started off with an Abbot Ale (Cheers Shawn). Without too many choices available, I took up another pint of the good Abbot (Cheers Marc). I finished the evening off with a pint of Ruddles Best (Cheers BryGuy...I was saving yours for the Churchill Arms pub. But, it doesn't look like I'll be getting there this trip).

Yes, I have performed minor surgery on the lens. The filter was shattered into pieces, but the lens seems to be OK. I'll need a new filter and lens cap, which I'm more than happy to replace :).

Walk up the Eiffel Tower? Sure, I could have done that. Less cost? It was only 11 euros for the ride up. Around 14-15 dollars. That's not an expense even worth noting. I would have thought about the stairs if the price was going to save 50 bucks. Besides, I needed my legs for the trip through the Louvre the next day.

Coffee Compliments

Coffee...I miss my free coffee in the office. I miss the ability to pour my own large mug of coffee. It costs me 10p for a cup here. And it must be an actual *cup* of coffee. As in a measuring cup. It's must be the equivalent of four swallows. I'd been pretty happy with myself having cut back to one mug of coffee, two maximum, a day. There are occasions that I have more than that in a day. But, I had made an effort to cut back. Over here, I am constantly drinking coffee. I must be up to 8 to 10 a day. *AND* I have to pay for it. What kind of crap is that? Sure, it removing all of this pesky change that I've accumulated. But, I'm finished with the stupid thing so damned quickly...ugh.

So, because it's during the work week and I'm no longer shocked by the change in culture, I must editorialize on something completely different. Compliments. I witnessed a guy here at the office pay a compliment to one of the ladies that works here. He said that she was "looking smart [nice] today", which she was. Now comes the response that no guy wants to hear when they've payed a woman a compliment; "Because I don't look smart any other day?". There is, of course, no right answer to that question. Why? Why can't you women just accept the compliment for what it is? You have probably looked lovely every day. Just because it's not said, doesn't mean it's not noticed. This particular day however, it just needed to be said. Smile, say thank you and accept the compliment. Don't make it harder for us than it already is.

The Louvre

For such a small bed, it sure was comfortable. The French television wasn't much fun as there was not one channel in English. I found a couple channels in German and a channel in Spanish. So, I watched the end of a rugby game and some football highlights with French commentating for a bit of time before heading to bed last night.

Today I will see if I can cram some Art into my life. I am going to the Louvre. I head down to the front desk and check out of the room. I ask if I can store my luggage (my small carry-on bag) here at the hotel for the day and he tells me that will be no problem. I head into the dining room for my included breakfast and notice that the place is packed. There's no real waiter as it's a serve yourself kind of buffet breakfast. I find a table for six that a couple people are seated at and ask if I may share their table. I get smiles from the couple and an "of course, please". On I go about my breakfast.

As I'm walk out of the hotel, I realize that I no longer have the address written down. I'll have to give a taxi driver the address verbally. Back into the hotel I go. I speak with the gentleman behind the counter just to get the pronunciation of the street correct. Shouldn't be too hard (Rue Viala), but, I just want to make sure. This leads us into a long conversation back and forth. I really don't understand why people thing Parisians are rude. I've gotten nothing but friendly, helpful attitudes from everyone I've spoken with. With a happy "Au revoir", I head out of the hotel again. I decide that the Eiffel Tower isn't that far away and there are a couple of taxi stands there. Makes it easier than having to call one and wait for it to get here.

Sure enough, I plop into the first taxi at the stand. I say in the best French I can muster "Bonjour, Monsier. Louvre, si vous plais", and off we go. I'm enjoying the sights of the city as we drive along and happen to hear the very faint music he's playing in the front seat. It couldn't be what I think it is. The song ends and the next starts up. He's listening to Nickel Creek, a small new grass/bluegrass group that I listen to. I'm surprised to hear it over here. They are not especially popular in the States.

We pull up to the Louvre and I attempt to pay him in the wrong currency...pounds. Crap! I mixed up my pockets this morning getting ready. I grab some cash out of the "English" pocket and pull out some Euros and pay the taxi driver. I head towards the stream of people entering this fine art museum. I figured there would be a much longer line to get in. I'm in within a couple of minutes.

I am inundated with options almost immediately. There are really four wings of the Louvre; Sully, Denon, Richelieu, and the temporary exhibits at Napoleon Hall. Denon holds much of the paintings including the Mona Lisa. So, that will be my first stop. I purchase my ticket and head towards the Dannon entry. Getting into the lobby of the Louvre is free. From the lobby you have the opportunity to purchase tickets. The first three come in a package deal for 8.50 Euros. A bargain at half the price. Napoleon Hall is extra and I didn't opt for that. I knew that the first three would be enough for one day :). You can enter and leave each section you have a ticket to as many times as you like. The sections seem to wrap themselves into each other. It's very easy to get lost inside this place. Trust me :). This used to be the palace of French kings back in the day. It seems like a palace. Tons of large rooms winding this way and that. Stairwells all over the place leading you up or down into courtyards and grand halls.

Some of the initial pieces I got the pleasure of seeing were interesting, but, not awe inspiring to me. I had to make a quick decision between the Mona Lisa and the Venus di Milo. I chose the famous statue figuring I could come back for the painting. Needless to say, the room with the Venus di Milo was packed. People jostling for space and trying to get pictures of them and it. I took a couple shots and moved off to the side to admire. I wandered through the section behind the Venus di Milo and was awestruck by the building more so than much of the art it contained. The ceilings were brilliantly painted. I had a hard time looking at some of the, in my opinion, mediocre pieces in the rooms because the ceilings took my breath away.

I did head over and see the Mona Lisa. People tell me that it looks different in person. I couldn't see any difference. I would have liked to have gotten closer to get a good look at it, but, they keep everyone 10 feet away from the painting. Shame.

I can't begin to cover all of the pieces I saw in there. I did take pictures of so many things. None of the paintings, however, as photography is not allowed. Although I did see a few people here and there taking photos. I wonder if these people realize that the reason flash photography is prohibited is the fact that it degrades these timeless masterpieces. I haven't uploaded the photos yet as my camera ran out of juice and needs to be recharged.

Many of the paintings I'd seen were OK. A couple of hours ago, I had come to grips with the fact that I must have been born without an "art appreciation" gene. Some of the paintings were very nice and I really did like them. But, so many of the paintings failed to have any affect on me. Other than the ceilings, of course. Those were, as I said, amazing.

I moved onto the Sully exhibit to see other pieces of art. Halfway through I had to change memory sticks on my camera. I left Sully and grabbed a mineral water at one of the food kiosks in the lobby. I then steeled myself for another long walk through the last section; Richelieu. I am so happy I left this one until the end. You walk into a small chamber that leads out both sides into courtyards. Each courtyard is filled with huge marble statues. I stood there with my mouth agape.

I spent quite a bit of time wandering the courtyards and halls of this section gawking at these sculpted works of art. I took many, many, many photos. I wonder if anyone remembers me saying that I've got 2Gb of photography room with my camera. That gives me over 560 photos at the highest quality my camera can take. By the time I was done with this last section, I had 13 photos left.

I wandered out into the rainy day and took some shots of the outside of the Louvre. I then had the feeling of similarity to, Polly Perkins, the reporter from Sky Captain and the World of Tomorrow. Everything I saw deserved a photo...but, I had 3 shots left and still several hours of Paris before I had to take my leave. I walked down the Seine towards Notre Dame. I spent my last photo opportunities on this incredible building. I take one look at the line of people and decide I don't have the time to wait in line and take the tour before having to get back. So, I reluctantly pull myself away.

I now have to decide what to do. I have a couple hours to kill before getting a taxi back to Gare Du Nord. I do a quick calculation of how long it took the taxi to get from the Eiffel Tower to the Louvre. Take into account an approximate speed. I should be about 5-6 miles from the tower now. So I should be able to walk there within an hour and a half. I would walk the streets of Paris. Now I'm a Parisian Street Walker...my parents must be so proud.

I was off, by the way. It was 3.5 miles. Which was why I was surprised when I got there in less than an hour. I still had some time to kill. So, I wandered into the park around the Tower to relax in Paris :). I was accosted again by Eastern Bloc women asking if I spoke English. I alternated between pretending to be a German who can't speak English and not noticing them due to the iPod I was listening to. They seem to only be interested in bothering English speakers.

Something I didn't mention in my previous posting about the Tower is the fact that they have roving patrols of armed soldiers here. When I say armed, I mean really armed. Fully automatic assault rifles at the ready. They are prepared to take no crap.

I slap my happy butt down on a park bench and revel in the glory of being here. I must have sat there for tens of minutes :). Seemed like an hour or so had passed though. Just watching the families and couples wander along the paths. Secure in my contentedness, I wander the mile or so back to my hotel and pick up my bag. Immediately, having to turn around back to the taxi stand in front of the Tower. I take my life in my own hands and step into another taxi. This guy is hell bent on killing me. He, however, fails at that task. However he does show me a good lesson to learn: Do not step out into a Parisian street unless you want a sudden case of flatness.

He drops me off at the station and I head on in. I've got about 30 minutes before I can check in. So, I grab some water and sit down to relax. Without too much ado, I'm in line to board the train. Boarding was called much sooner than I expected to. But, who am I to question the announcer. Apparently, my parroting act in French passes muster. The lady took my ticket and said "Bonsoir". I responded in kind and she looked at my ticket. She then began an explanation in rapid fire French. I just looked at her and told her I had no idea what she just said. She laughed and told me that they had called the wrong train number for boarding and could I please wait to one side.

With the two train rides, I have completed my cache of books. Arriving back at Ashford International, I gather up the car and head back home...or the hotel rather. I climb into bed a couple minutes before midnight.