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.
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
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.
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.
Monday, February 26, 2007
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.
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.
Paris
Adventure. That's what it's all about. So, with that in mind, I hop in the car and head to Ashford International terminal. I'm off to Paris. I could have taken a local train into London and hopped on the Eurostar at Waterloo Station. However, John said that I would be better off driving over to Ashford. I decided to take his advice. It's about a 30-40 minute drive down to Asford. The navigation system will not cooperate with me about finding the station or even the town. Stupid piece of crap. I've got a road map and no fear of getting lost. It was fairly easy to find the place. I drive into the car park and notice it's going to cost me 19 pounds to park the car here for a couple days. Ack! Well, that's not that bad all expenses of this trip considered.
I head into the terminal and wander over to buy a ticket. The kind woman behind the counter is very patient with me and helps me to get on a train to Paris after noon and then on a train coming back tomorrow evening after 8pm. That cost me about 149 pounds. That's not very cheap. But, how many times do you get to go under the Channel? Damn right!
You want to know what it's like going through the chunnel? Get on a local train and close your eyes. There you go. Yup, it's a trip through a long tunnel. Nothing to see until you get out on the other side. The French countryside looks like...countryside. Don't get me wrong, it's nice seeing the green fields and all. The sky is amazing. Much like some of the sky I've seen in England. Low lying, wispy clouds contrasted by higher flying, clouds varying in shades of white to dark grey. All the while the sun behind the clouds peaking through holes in the clouds and around them. hard to describe accurately, but, very beautiful indeed.
The couple of hours goes by pretty quickly and I am deposited in Paris. Wonderful, I think to myself. Now, to find my hotel. It's near the Eiffel Tower. I'll head over to it and then try and pinpoint it's location. Before I leave the terminal I stop into a souvenir shop and pick up a map of Paris. Never hurts to have a map ;). I wander outside and try to get my bearings. I can't even pronounce the street names. I whip out the map and try to find where the hell I am.
I am immediately accosted by a lady who asks me if I speak English. Knowing full well that I will probably not be able to answer whatever question she has for me, I tell her that, yes, I do speak English. She shows me a note with a story of her being new in the country and wants money. Pan Handler. I tell her no and go back to my map. She just doesn't leave me alone. The only English she seems to understand is various words of begging. Through the continuous begging I can't find where I am on the map. But, I nod confidently and refold the map. I will do what I would naturally do in these situations. I pick a direction at random and start walking. The Eiffel Tower should be visible eventually. I ignore three other ladies, dressed alike, who ask me if I speak English as I walk.
I follow a small crowd of people who've left the same station as I have. I figure that they probably know where they are going. Since it's various groups of people, they aren't going to the same hotel. Safety in numbers. I walk along with them. It begins to rain. Of course. After several minutes of wandering from street to street with my companions, I still don't see any sign of a monument. I could ask...who am I kidding? I'll trudge on. I find our collective destination...another train station. Wonderful. Screw this. There's a taxi stand in front of the train station. With the fact that I have no *clue* as to where I am, I don't speak the language and it's raining, I'm having a taxi take me to my destination.
Good thing to. It was a 15-20 minute cab ride. Drove in front of the Louvre, and along the Seine River. I'm *SO* glad I didn't drive here. There are sections of the city that seem to have no lanes. Many times, the cab whipped around other cars and darted in front of them before we ran out of road. If you're not an assertive driver, Paris driving is not for you. There are lanes on the roads that are for buses and, apparently, taxis with passengers. It was an interesting experience to say the least. Confirming the address wasn't too bad. I had it written down. I still tried to pronounce it. But, the number I was clueless on. It's a basic piece of any language; numbers & counting. I realized too late that I can't do either in French. I can say hello, goodbye, please and some other niceties that are good to know in any language. But, I don't know the numbers. So, the cabbie and I went back and forth as he told me how to say 9 in French.
The hotel, l'Hotel Capitol Eiffel, was located on a side street about a mile away from the Eiffel Tower. Not too shabby. Checking in was easy as the gentleman behind the counter spoke near perfect English. I think he took pity on me as I tried to (and probably succeeded in) butcher his language. I went upstairs to my room. It was room 203. Now, you may think that's on the second floor. You'd be wrong. In Europe, there is the ground floor and the floor above that is the first floor. So, room 203 would be 2 floors above the ground...the third floor in American-speak. I opened the door to the room and was presented by the smallest hotel room I've ever been in. My bedroom back home is larger than this. This room is the size of my Kitchen (minus the attached dining area). I wanted to laugh. I went over and opened the curtain to see my view. I got the wonderful view of an alley and a building under construction. Pleasant. No great tragedy. I'm not in Paris to lounge about in my room.
Now that I've checked in I gear up for the touristy thing. I head toward the Eiffel Tower. I'd been told by someone here in the office that I really want to go up to the top at night. The view during the day is wonderful, but, the views of Paris at night can't be beat. It's getting onto four in the afternoon. I figure I'll head over there now and take a peak. It's about a mile away. Not that long of a walk...
The line to get up the tower was significant. No time like the present. I jump in line and begin the wait. The gaggle of German teenage girls in front of me with their broken English eventually catch my attention. They aren't talking to me...directly. They are facing away, giggling and saying English words back and forth to each other trying to find the right words, I believe. Sure enough, they were trying to figure out how to tell me that my zipper was down. Even in a foreign country with various languages, I provide entertainment. When it finally dawns on me what they were trying to say (again, not directly to me), I fixed the situation. That sent them into fits of giggles and normal teenage titterings. Their male adult chaperon just shrugged at me and said "Girls". I'm glad I could provide some sort of entertainment for people in this long line. It takes another 45 minutes to get to the booth to buy a ticket up.
The Eiffel Tower has 3 actual floors. The first floor holds a couple different restaurants and a couple of shops. The second floor holds other stores and two "floors" of viewing pleasure. The third floor also has shops and two "floors" of viewing pleasure. You can buy a ticket up to any of the floors. So, a ticket to the top is good for all three. I buy the top level ticket. Duh!
We all pack into the two story elevator and begin our assent to the first floor of the tower. Nobody opts to get off there. I believe everyone has the same goal in mind...the top. On the second floor, everyone piles out. I find that much of the second floor of the tower is taken up by the line of people trying to get up to the third floor. Great! It takes another 45 minutes to get into the next (smaller) elevator. It's about six in the evening when I finally arrive at the summit. They were right. The views are spectacular. I can see all of Paris. I take some shots of the city and realize that there's no way these will turn out well. I will have to read up on taking pictures of things at night. The shutter stays open far too long and things are a bit blurry. I take pictures knowing that they won't be as clear as they could be.
It then dawns on me that my telephoto lens has vibration stabilization built into it. I won't get as wide of a shot as I would my my normal lens, but, they will be clearer. I reach into my bag and pull out the lens. At that exact point in time somebody bumps into me. Bump isn't strong enough a word. But, it wasn't technically a shove. At any rate, the heavy lens in my hand goes flying. Things move in slow motion as I see my expensive lens slam into the ground. The guy throws me a nonchalant sorry and moves on. Bastard! I wanted to throw the guy over the edge. He could at least feign apology. I pick up the lens and inspect it. The lens cap is jammed onto the filter. I can't get it off. I can hear the shards of glass rattling around inside. I just hope that it was the glass filter that took the brunt of the damage. I'd have no problem replacing a $20 filter instead of the many hundreds of dollars that the lens cost me. I put the lens back into the bag and try to put it out of my mind. No sense worrying about it now. What's done is done.
I wander all over the third floor of the tower admiring the view. It was cold up there. It had stopped raining (mostly), but, the wind was pretty strong. I spend about 20 minutes looking at the view before I decide to head down to the second floor. Crap! There's a line to get *down* too. 15 minutes later, I'm on the second floor. I spend another 20 or so minutes checking out the views on this floor before jamming myself into the elevator for the first floor.
I grab a baguette on the first floor and eat my evening meal with a fine view of the city as company. Life isn't too bad. I head down to the ground level and head out for my hotel.
I head into the terminal and wander over to buy a ticket. The kind woman behind the counter is very patient with me and helps me to get on a train to Paris after noon and then on a train coming back tomorrow evening after 8pm. That cost me about 149 pounds. That's not very cheap. But, how many times do you get to go under the Channel? Damn right!
You want to know what it's like going through the chunnel? Get on a local train and close your eyes. There you go. Yup, it's a trip through a long tunnel. Nothing to see until you get out on the other side. The French countryside looks like...countryside. Don't get me wrong, it's nice seeing the green fields and all. The sky is amazing. Much like some of the sky I've seen in England. Low lying, wispy clouds contrasted by higher flying, clouds varying in shades of white to dark grey. All the while the sun behind the clouds peaking through holes in the clouds and around them. hard to describe accurately, but, very beautiful indeed.
The couple of hours goes by pretty quickly and I am deposited in Paris. Wonderful, I think to myself. Now, to find my hotel. It's near the Eiffel Tower. I'll head over to it and then try and pinpoint it's location. Before I leave the terminal I stop into a souvenir shop and pick up a map of Paris. Never hurts to have a map ;). I wander outside and try to get my bearings. I can't even pronounce the street names. I whip out the map and try to find where the hell I am.
I am immediately accosted by a lady who asks me if I speak English. Knowing full well that I will probably not be able to answer whatever question she has for me, I tell her that, yes, I do speak English. She shows me a note with a story of her being new in the country and wants money. Pan Handler. I tell her no and go back to my map. She just doesn't leave me alone. The only English she seems to understand is various words of begging. Through the continuous begging I can't find where I am on the map. But, I nod confidently and refold the map. I will do what I would naturally do in these situations. I pick a direction at random and start walking. The Eiffel Tower should be visible eventually. I ignore three other ladies, dressed alike, who ask me if I speak English as I walk.
I follow a small crowd of people who've left the same station as I have. I figure that they probably know where they are going. Since it's various groups of people, they aren't going to the same hotel. Safety in numbers. I walk along with them. It begins to rain. Of course. After several minutes of wandering from street to street with my companions, I still don't see any sign of a monument. I could ask...who am I kidding? I'll trudge on. I find our collective destination...another train station. Wonderful. Screw this. There's a taxi stand in front of the train station. With the fact that I have no *clue* as to where I am, I don't speak the language and it's raining, I'm having a taxi take me to my destination.
Good thing to. It was a 15-20 minute cab ride. Drove in front of the Louvre, and along the Seine River. I'm *SO* glad I didn't drive here. There are sections of the city that seem to have no lanes. Many times, the cab whipped around other cars and darted in front of them before we ran out of road. If you're not an assertive driver, Paris driving is not for you. There are lanes on the roads that are for buses and, apparently, taxis with passengers. It was an interesting experience to say the least. Confirming the address wasn't too bad. I had it written down. I still tried to pronounce it. But, the number I was clueless on. It's a basic piece of any language; numbers & counting. I realized too late that I can't do either in French. I can say hello, goodbye, please and some other niceties that are good to know in any language. But, I don't know the numbers. So, the cabbie and I went back and forth as he told me how to say 9 in French.
The hotel, l'Hotel Capitol Eiffel, was located on a side street about a mile away from the Eiffel Tower. Not too shabby. Checking in was easy as the gentleman behind the counter spoke near perfect English. I think he took pity on me as I tried to (and probably succeeded in) butcher his language. I went upstairs to my room. It was room 203. Now, you may think that's on the second floor. You'd be wrong. In Europe, there is the ground floor and the floor above that is the first floor. So, room 203 would be 2 floors above the ground...the third floor in American-speak. I opened the door to the room and was presented by the smallest hotel room I've ever been in. My bedroom back home is larger than this. This room is the size of my Kitchen (minus the attached dining area). I wanted to laugh. I went over and opened the curtain to see my view. I got the wonderful view of an alley and a building under construction. Pleasant. No great tragedy. I'm not in Paris to lounge about in my room.
Now that I've checked in I gear up for the touristy thing. I head toward the Eiffel Tower. I'd been told by someone here in the office that I really want to go up to the top at night. The view during the day is wonderful, but, the views of Paris at night can't be beat. It's getting onto four in the afternoon. I figure I'll head over there now and take a peak. It's about a mile away. Not that long of a walk...
The line to get up the tower was significant. No time like the present. I jump in line and begin the wait. The gaggle of German teenage girls in front of me with their broken English eventually catch my attention. They aren't talking to me...directly. They are facing away, giggling and saying English words back and forth to each other trying to find the right words, I believe. Sure enough, they were trying to figure out how to tell me that my zipper was down. Even in a foreign country with various languages, I provide entertainment. When it finally dawns on me what they were trying to say (again, not directly to me), I fixed the situation. That sent them into fits of giggles and normal teenage titterings. Their male adult chaperon just shrugged at me and said "Girls". I'm glad I could provide some sort of entertainment for people in this long line. It takes another 45 minutes to get to the booth to buy a ticket up.
The Eiffel Tower has 3 actual floors. The first floor holds a couple different restaurants and a couple of shops. The second floor holds other stores and two "floors" of viewing pleasure. The third floor also has shops and two "floors" of viewing pleasure. You can buy a ticket up to any of the floors. So, a ticket to the top is good for all three. I buy the top level ticket. Duh!
We all pack into the two story elevator and begin our assent to the first floor of the tower. Nobody opts to get off there. I believe everyone has the same goal in mind...the top. On the second floor, everyone piles out. I find that much of the second floor of the tower is taken up by the line of people trying to get up to the third floor. Great! It takes another 45 minutes to get into the next (smaller) elevator. It's about six in the evening when I finally arrive at the summit. They were right. The views are spectacular. I can see all of Paris. I take some shots of the city and realize that there's no way these will turn out well. I will have to read up on taking pictures of things at night. The shutter stays open far too long and things are a bit blurry. I take pictures knowing that they won't be as clear as they could be.
It then dawns on me that my telephoto lens has vibration stabilization built into it. I won't get as wide of a shot as I would my my normal lens, but, they will be clearer. I reach into my bag and pull out the lens. At that exact point in time somebody bumps into me. Bump isn't strong enough a word. But, it wasn't technically a shove. At any rate, the heavy lens in my hand goes flying. Things move in slow motion as I see my expensive lens slam into the ground. The guy throws me a nonchalant sorry and moves on. Bastard! I wanted to throw the guy over the edge. He could at least feign apology. I pick up the lens and inspect it. The lens cap is jammed onto the filter. I can't get it off. I can hear the shards of glass rattling around inside. I just hope that it was the glass filter that took the brunt of the damage. I'd have no problem replacing a $20 filter instead of the many hundreds of dollars that the lens cost me. I put the lens back into the bag and try to put it out of my mind. No sense worrying about it now. What's done is done.
I wander all over the third floor of the tower admiring the view. It was cold up there. It had stopped raining (mostly), but, the wind was pretty strong. I spend about 20 minutes looking at the view before I decide to head down to the second floor. Crap! There's a line to get *down* too. 15 minutes later, I'm on the second floor. I spend another 20 or so minutes checking out the views on this floor before jamming myself into the elevator for the first floor.
I grab a baguette on the first floor and eat my evening meal with a fine view of the city as company. Life isn't too bad. I head down to the ground level and head out for my hotel.
Thursday, February 22, 2007
Cars & Chicken
So, I've now spent a considerable amount of time in the Toyota Prius. I love the MPG. But, this car should have never been brought to England. It has a crappy turning radius compared to the smaller cars that most people seem to drive. It's been a long time since I've felt like a beginning driver having a hard time trying to get into parking spots. I also don't find it as comfortable as I would have liked. It also has traction issues. I looses traction while taking off from a dead stop at times.
I ate at a Portuguese style place a couple nights ago. It was chicken marinated in a spicy sauce. Well, it was supposed to be spicy. I'm spoiled living where I do and eating the kind of foods that I have. The chicken was wonderful. It was tasty and not dry at all like some chicken can get. They provide you with a number of extra sauces that you can use. The 'Hot' sauce was a little warm and could probably build up to a nice mouth-fire if you take too much of it too quickly. However, it was incredibly flavorful. It wasn't, like some sauces, hot for hots sake. Oh, and it's perfectly acceptable, preferred actually, if you eat the chicken and chips with your hands. Sweet day in the morning! How many times do you get to eat like that? Glorious meal. I'll be back there before leaving.
I ate at a Portuguese style place a couple nights ago. It was chicken marinated in a spicy sauce. Well, it was supposed to be spicy. I'm spoiled living where I do and eating the kind of foods that I have. The chicken was wonderful. It was tasty and not dry at all like some chicken can get. They provide you with a number of extra sauces that you can use. The 'Hot' sauce was a little warm and could probably build up to a nice mouth-fire if you take too much of it too quickly. However, it was incredibly flavorful. It wasn't, like some sauces, hot for hots sake. Oh, and it's perfectly acceptable, preferred actually, if you eat the chicken and chips with your hands. Sweet day in the morning! How many times do you get to eat like that? Glorious meal. I'll be back there before leaving.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Facts of the Moment
I completely forgot something about Westminster that I wanted to share; Charles Darwin is buried there...mere feet from Sir Issac Newton. I thought that was a bit strange that somebody whose ideas *so* opposed the church's would be buried in such an esteemed place.
Oh, and I have a sad, sad fact to share with you all...after yesterday's lunch I have now eaten Burger King on 3 continents. I am ashamed.
I have posted some new pictures. The pictures that are posted of sites (Stonehenge, Dover Castle and even various places in London) are only a smattering of photos. That website only allows me so much space. So, I'm not uploading all of them.
Oh, and I have a sad, sad fact to share with you all...after yesterday's lunch I have now eaten Burger King on 3 continents. I am ashamed.
I have posted some new pictures. The pictures that are posted of sites (Stonehenge, Dover Castle and even various places in London) are only a smattering of photos. That website only allows me so much space. So, I'm not uploading all of them.
Monday, February 19, 2007
Woodhenge
This morning finds me without a good idea of what to do. Shall I drive to York for the day? How about driving out to another castle location? The options are endless...well, not really. The problem with any of these ideas is I decided I had no major plans so I purposefully didn't even *set* the alarm. It's almost 9:30 now and I'm running out of exploratory daylight. I walked around all over London yesterday and really don't feel like walking around all of today. I know...candy-ass. Hey, it's my weekend, dammit. As long as *I'm* satisfied with it, you'll all read about it and be happy.
So, after mulling it over at breakfast I decide that I'll drive somewhere and see something. I'd gotten a couple comments about something and figured that since this was a makeup weekend...it's off to Woodhenge. Yup, very close to Stonehenge that I missed when I was out there last weekend. Was it only last weekend? Wow...seems like weeks ago for me. ::shrug::
So, I plug in woodhenge into the navigation system. It tells me to pound sand. I ask it nicely with voice commands and it tells me that it can't find any theaters at this zoom level. Fine, show me Stonehenge. What the hell, I know it's around there. Off I go. About an hour and a half later, I find it. I am *severely* disappointed. I'll post the pictures here so you can share my disappointment. I stare stupidly at the arrangement of stumps. Yup, I think I would enjoy looking at crop circles about as much as this. At least Stonehenge is right around the corner. I'll head back and look at it for a bit.
I almost convince myself to head the other way on the M25 for a small adventure. The M25 is a circle motorway around London. Heading clockwise from the 7:30ish position I need to get to the 1:30ish spot. Either way is about the same if it were a perfect circle. But, the counter-clockwise route is longer and there's a small toll going under the Thames. So, I figure I'll just head back for now.
Small stubby cars are pretty popular around here. If you had an SUV here you'd probably never drive it. I don't think it's the gas prices that do it. Although, having to spend $140 every week to fill it would definitely put a damper on wanting to own it. But, it's the parking lots and spaces that would be driving you mad. The slots are dinky and there is as little room as possible in the parking lots. Hell, there isn't even room on the side of the road to park. People just pick a side and park (facing either way). Sure, it cuts off half the road so you have to wait for a spot in oncoming traffic to get around. But, it seems to be what people do here. Widen the roads to make room for parking, you say? I don't think "they" want anybody driving. Think about it. No room to park. No room to drive. Insanely high gas prices. Ridiculous looking compact cars everywhere you go. No. There's a force at work here to try and push people away from driving. Hell, the Ford Fiesta is a popular model over here!
So, after mulling it over at breakfast I decide that I'll drive somewhere and see something. I'd gotten a couple comments about something and figured that since this was a makeup weekend...it's off to Woodhenge. Yup, very close to Stonehenge that I missed when I was out there last weekend. Was it only last weekend? Wow...seems like weeks ago for me. ::shrug::
So, I plug in woodhenge into the navigation system. It tells me to pound sand. I ask it nicely with voice commands and it tells me that it can't find any theaters at this zoom level. Fine, show me Stonehenge. What the hell, I know it's around there. Off I go. About an hour and a half later, I find it. I am *severely* disappointed. I'll post the pictures here so you can share my disappointment. I stare stupidly at the arrangement of stumps. Yup, I think I would enjoy looking at crop circles about as much as this. At least Stonehenge is right around the corner. I'll head back and look at it for a bit.
I almost convince myself to head the other way on the M25 for a small adventure. The M25 is a circle motorway around London. Heading clockwise from the 7:30ish position I need to get to the 1:30ish spot. Either way is about the same if it were a perfect circle. But, the counter-clockwise route is longer and there's a small toll going under the Thames. So, I figure I'll just head back for now.
Small stubby cars are pretty popular around here. If you had an SUV here you'd probably never drive it. I don't think it's the gas prices that do it. Although, having to spend $140 every week to fill it would definitely put a damper on wanting to own it. But, it's the parking lots and spaces that would be driving you mad. The slots are dinky and there is as little room as possible in the parking lots. Hell, there isn't even room on the side of the road to park. People just pick a side and park (facing either way). Sure, it cuts off half the road so you have to wait for a spot in oncoming traffic to get around. But, it seems to be what people do here. Widen the roads to make room for parking, you say? I don't think "they" want anybody driving. Think about it. No room to park. No room to drive. Insanely high gas prices. Ridiculous looking compact cars everywhere you go. No. There's a force at work here to try and push people away from driving. Hell, the Ford Fiesta is a popular model over here!
The Abbey
I had a much more exciting weekend planned for this weekend. Unfortunately, forces conspired against me...namely, one of my arch-rivals, the alarm clock. So, I figured that I could get a couple things done that I had missed previously. A makeup weekend, if you will. No, not a make OUT weekend. There were some sights that I had missed in London that I really wanted to see. The first stop would be Westminster Abbey.
So, I get dressed and head on down to the train station. Sure enough, there's a minor train diversion. The train station I normally pull into, Fenchurch St Station, in London is closed for repairs and the train would be shifted to Liverpool Station. No biggie. I have a map, therefore I will be fine (Thank you Wilma). I arrive at Liverpool Station (a much bigger station by the way) and find my way to the underground. The Circle Line goes through here as well as it did Fenchurch and will take me right to Westminster St.
The weather was nice on Saturday which led every tourist in England to come to London for the day...bastards. I give up my seat on the train so a couple could sit together. I don't need to sit, I've already had a half hour train ride. I'll have plenty of time for sitting later. There's a huge line outside of Westminster Abbey. Go figure. It's 10# (I'm back to an American keyboard and don't have the pound sign anymore) to get in. That's not nice. But, I fork over my hard earned cash and walk into the holy establishment.
I am stopped in my tracks. The first thing I think of is that this couldn't possibly be a working church. There's no room for services. The place is filled with huge marble statues. I mean HUGE. There are statues in the entryway that are easily 20 feet high. The ceiling is forever above me. I'm not sure I could hit it with a thrown stone. The architecture in there blows me away.
I wander by the final resting places of a number of Kings, Queens, Dignitaries and the like. Eventually, the awe of that wears off. I know of many of these people. I've read of many of their histories. But, I'm looking at big stone boxes with carved effigies on them. The effigies are wow-worthy. But, after you've seen the first dozen, the rest start looking an awful lot like the first ones. Don't get me wrong. There were some amazing statues and sculptures in there that I gawked at. Almost everywhere you walk, there's a huge stone on the floor telling you of who's buried underneath your feet. I'd gone through many of the rooms there and the architecture and construction of the place never got old for me. The intricacy of some of the ceiling work was amazing.
I still find it hard to imagine that they've had every coronation here for the last couple of centuries. It looks like you could hold maybe a hindered or so people in here...not the thousands that I would have imagined.
There's a whole section of the abbey devoted to poets, playwrights, novelists and composers. Shakespeare, Chaucer, Dickens and other greats are memorialized here. There are sections devoted to the men and women who lost their lives in the various wars. Winston Churchill has a stone there as well as Franklin D Roosevelt. There's a huge stone in the middle of the Nave that talks about the unnamed soldier buried under it from battles in France. It's known as the Unknown Soldier and is dedicated to all the soldiers who died serving their country. Not far from that is the Congressional Medal of Honor that the United States awarded to the memorial.
As I was finishing up with the Abbey and preparing to leave, you would not believe what I heard. The singing and chantings of the monks' choir. Apparently, they still come into the abbey every day and perform. So, I went over and sat down in one of the seats set out and listened for a bit. Very cool way to wrap up the whole experience. Glad I came back for this.
After walking out of this incredibly holy site, I sought what I usually seek after religion...beer. I will endeavor to find The Churchill Arms pub. A fairly famous pub that I have yet to stumble into. I hop the underground and head to it's neck of the woods. I wander around...and wander. I ask a couple people (even a cop) and nobody has a clue as to what the hell I'm talking about. I'm parched and need that pint. I spot the tell tale sign of a pub; The Prince of Wales pub. It'll do. I wander in and order myself a pint of Young's. Properly fortified, I can now continue my search.
I made it a whole two blocks. Yeah, I found another pub. This one was The Goat. I decide that now would be a good time to take a load off the feet and place some solid food into the stomach. I polish off the rest of their keg of Bombardier (Cheers PatRat) and move onto the London's Pride (Cheers Trent). I then order myself a plate of fish & chips. Ordin'ry peas this time dammit! Yes, that's pronounced ordinry...there is apparently no 'a' in ordinAry over here. They skip it completely. Well, I try and choke down some of those peas. I can't help it. After all these years, I still don't really like them.
With that taken care of I head off in a likely direction. The underground took me to a part of London that I have no map for. No problems. I can always grab a taxi if I get too lost. So I wander around for another hour...maybe an hour and a half before stumbling upon an oasis in the desert. Yup, another pub. This one's called Zetland Arms. It's not the Churchill Arms, but, at least it's one of the "arms" pubs. I get myself inside there and order up a fresh pint of Abbot Ale (Cheers Shannon). I then watch almost horrified as grown men order bottles of Budweiser and Corona. I resist the urge to weep for them. All this glorious ale around them and they drink that stuff. I feel dirty even writing about it. ::shiver::
After I've had my fill again, I saunter down the street. I seem to be...er...misplaced. It's dark now and I'm not exactly sure where I am. I know I'm south of Hyde Park...I think. Which puts me roughly North East of everything on the map in my pocket. Now, which way was that park? No matter, I pick a direction and walk. It's OK. This story has a happy ending. I don't want to spoil it, but, our hero does make it out alive.
After another hour of wandering and not really seeing anything that I recognize (nor another pub...which is the most depressing thing) I throw in the towel and hop onto one of the double decker buses. What the hell, I have an all-day, all-access pass. He drives by an underground station that I recognize and I hop off. Another hour and I'm climbing into my car to head back to the hotel. ::whew:: That was a long day.
So, I get dressed and head on down to the train station. Sure enough, there's a minor train diversion. The train station I normally pull into, Fenchurch St Station, in London is closed for repairs and the train would be shifted to Liverpool Station. No biggie. I have a map, therefore I will be fine (Thank you Wilma). I arrive at Liverpool Station (a much bigger station by the way) and find my way to the underground. The Circle Line goes through here as well as it did Fenchurch and will take me right to Westminster St.
The weather was nice on Saturday which led every tourist in England to come to London for the day...bastards. I give up my seat on the train so a couple could sit together. I don't need to sit, I've already had a half hour train ride. I'll have plenty of time for sitting later. There's a huge line outside of Westminster Abbey. Go figure. It's 10# (I'm back to an American keyboard and don't have the pound sign anymore) to get in. That's not nice. But, I fork over my hard earned cash and walk into the holy establishment.
I am stopped in my tracks. The first thing I think of is that this couldn't possibly be a working church. There's no room for services. The place is filled with huge marble statues. I mean HUGE. There are statues in the entryway that are easily 20 feet high. The ceiling is forever above me. I'm not sure I could hit it with a thrown stone. The architecture in there blows me away.
I wander by the final resting places of a number of Kings, Queens, Dignitaries and the like. Eventually, the awe of that wears off. I know of many of these people. I've read of many of their histories. But, I'm looking at big stone boxes with carved effigies on them. The effigies are wow-worthy. But, after you've seen the first dozen, the rest start looking an awful lot like the first ones. Don't get me wrong. There were some amazing statues and sculptures in there that I gawked at. Almost everywhere you walk, there's a huge stone on the floor telling you of who's buried underneath your feet. I'd gone through many of the rooms there and the architecture and construction of the place never got old for me. The intricacy of some of the ceiling work was amazing.
I still find it hard to imagine that they've had every coronation here for the last couple of centuries. It looks like you could hold maybe a hindered or so people in here...not the thousands that I would have imagined.
There's a whole section of the abbey devoted to poets, playwrights, novelists and composers. Shakespeare, Chaucer, Dickens and other greats are memorialized here. There are sections devoted to the men and women who lost their lives in the various wars. Winston Churchill has a stone there as well as Franklin D Roosevelt. There's a huge stone in the middle of the Nave that talks about the unnamed soldier buried under it from battles in France. It's known as the Unknown Soldier and is dedicated to all the soldiers who died serving their country. Not far from that is the Congressional Medal of Honor that the United States awarded to the memorial.
As I was finishing up with the Abbey and preparing to leave, you would not believe what I heard. The singing and chantings of the monks' choir. Apparently, they still come into the abbey every day and perform. So, I went over and sat down in one of the seats set out and listened for a bit. Very cool way to wrap up the whole experience. Glad I came back for this.
After walking out of this incredibly holy site, I sought what I usually seek after religion...beer. I will endeavor to find The Churchill Arms pub. A fairly famous pub that I have yet to stumble into. I hop the underground and head to it's neck of the woods. I wander around...and wander. I ask a couple people (even a cop) and nobody has a clue as to what the hell I'm talking about. I'm parched and need that pint. I spot the tell tale sign of a pub; The Prince of Wales pub. It'll do. I wander in and order myself a pint of Young's. Properly fortified, I can now continue my search.
I made it a whole two blocks. Yeah, I found another pub. This one was The Goat. I decide that now would be a good time to take a load off the feet and place some solid food into the stomach. I polish off the rest of their keg of Bombardier (Cheers PatRat) and move onto the London's Pride (Cheers Trent). I then order myself a plate of fish & chips. Ordin'ry peas this time dammit! Yes, that's pronounced ordinry...there is apparently no 'a' in ordinAry over here. They skip it completely. Well, I try and choke down some of those peas. I can't help it. After all these years, I still don't really like them.
With that taken care of I head off in a likely direction. The underground took me to a part of London that I have no map for. No problems. I can always grab a taxi if I get too lost. So I wander around for another hour...maybe an hour and a half before stumbling upon an oasis in the desert. Yup, another pub. This one's called Zetland Arms. It's not the Churchill Arms, but, at least it's one of the "arms" pubs. I get myself inside there and order up a fresh pint of Abbot Ale (Cheers Shannon). I then watch almost horrified as grown men order bottles of Budweiser and Corona. I resist the urge to weep for them. All this glorious ale around them and they drink that stuff. I feel dirty even writing about it. ::shiver::
After I've had my fill again, I saunter down the street. I seem to be...er...misplaced. It's dark now and I'm not exactly sure where I am. I know I'm south of Hyde Park...I think. Which puts me roughly North East of everything on the map in my pocket. Now, which way was that park? No matter, I pick a direction and walk. It's OK. This story has a happy ending. I don't want to spoil it, but, our hero does make it out alive.
After another hour of wandering and not really seeing anything that I recognize (nor another pub...which is the most depressing thing) I throw in the towel and hop onto one of the double decker buses. What the hell, I have an all-day, all-access pass. He drives by an underground station that I recognize and I hop off. Another hour and I'm climbing into my car to head back to the hotel. ::whew:: That was a long day.
Friday, February 16, 2007
Cricket Tipping
So, I gave in and watched highlights of the cricket game between England and Australia. First, the *highlights* of the game took a half hour. Next, I think I understand most of the game now. I'm still a bit fuzzy on some of it and have had pieces here and there cleared up for me by a guy here in the office. It's not too bad of a game once you understand it. I still don't think that I would go out of my way to watch it though.
I'm a little surprised at some of the restaraunt service around here. The service isn't bad. But, it's not always fanstastic. Although, it does seem to be the better the food is the worse the service is. I get mediocre food and waitstaff that is constantly checking on me. I have a good meal, and I can't find someone to get me another pint and have to pry the bill out from them. Maybe they don't realize that I'm American. I'm a friggen goldmine. Tipping is bred into me. It's something I *have* to do otherwise I feel bad. I keep being told that you don't tip over here unless you get exceptional service. But, as I said, I feel bad if I don't tip at least something. So, if I get crappy service, I don't have that much of an issue leaving a pound for tip. But, if I get good service and I put down an *actual* tip of 15%. That has to make it worth while to stop by every now and again to check on me, right?
Hell I tipped the girl tending bar a couple pounds at the end of the night and she asked what it was for. I told her it was the tip and looked at her funny. She said that the normal tip they receive is just some change...like 15p (about 30 cents). It just blows me away.
CRAP! I just had to fill the tank of the car. The price on the sign doesn't look too bad; 89p. That's per liter, though. It took me 40L to fill the car up to a total of 35£! That's almost $70...for a tank of friggen unleaded gasoline. I don't understand how these people can drive with those prices. I'm surprised that there hasn't been riots in the street. Let's do a little math, shall we?
There are ~3.8L per Gallon. At 89p per liter, that's about 3.38£ per gallon. The conversion is nearly 2:1 and that comes out to? Yup, $6.76/Gallon of unleaded gas. We complain loudly if the price gets up around 3.00.
I'm a little surprised at some of the restaraunt service around here. The service isn't bad. But, it's not always fanstastic. Although, it does seem to be the better the food is the worse the service is. I get mediocre food and waitstaff that is constantly checking on me. I have a good meal, and I can't find someone to get me another pint and have to pry the bill out from them. Maybe they don't realize that I'm American. I'm a friggen goldmine. Tipping is bred into me. It's something I *have* to do otherwise I feel bad. I keep being told that you don't tip over here unless you get exceptional service. But, as I said, I feel bad if I don't tip at least something. So, if I get crappy service, I don't have that much of an issue leaving a pound for tip. But, if I get good service and I put down an *actual* tip of 15%. That has to make it worth while to stop by every now and again to check on me, right?
Hell I tipped the girl tending bar a couple pounds at the end of the night and she asked what it was for. I told her it was the tip and looked at her funny. She said that the normal tip they receive is just some change...like 15p (about 30 cents). It just blows me away.
CRAP! I just had to fill the tank of the car. The price on the sign doesn't look too bad; 89p. That's per liter, though. It took me 40L to fill the car up to a total of 35£! That's almost $70...for a tank of friggen unleaded gasoline. I don't understand how these people can drive with those prices. I'm surprised that there hasn't been riots in the street. Let's do a little math, shall we?
There are ~3.8L per Gallon. At 89p per liter, that's about 3.38£ per gallon. The conversion is nearly 2:1 and that comes out to? Yup, $6.76/Gallon of unleaded gas. We complain loudly if the price gets up around 3.00.
Thursday, February 15, 2007
Scoundrel
Someone broke into my car last night. I noticed that the travel pillow, neck-brace thingy that I left in the back seat was now on the driver's side of the car. I thought nothing of it as I got into the vehicle and saw a piece of felt on the front passenger seat. I knew that it sat in the CD storage area of the car. Strange I thought and put it back. I then looked into the glove box and noticed things were moved around. Crap! I had left my organizer in the car overnight. It was still there so I opened it to see if anything was missing. Sure enough, the photocopy of my passport was out of the pocket and the checkbook was out as well. All the checks were there. The thief must have realized that a checks drawn on an out of country bank isn't going to do them any good. Doesn't seem that anything is missing. Strange really, in my opinion. Thieves back home would have stolen all of it...probably even that piece of felt from the CD area.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Smoking Garnish
Something that Frank had pointed out our second night eating dinner was the fact that where ever you order a steak here, you'll be given a slice of tomato and a mushroom on the plate. Not sure exactly why. I'm not sure if the tomato slice is nothing more than garnish on the plate (I still eat it as it's the only vegetable dish you get with a steak). Last night I ate a sirloin steak with garlic prawns. Sounded tasty. The prawns tasted like...nothing really. They did not provode *any* taste what-so-ever. I take that back, one of them had a slight hint of garlic. Slight, I tell you. But, not one of them actually tasted like shrimp. The steak was likewise lackluster. The most flavorful item on the plate was the mushroom (it was quite lovely). Sad really. The garnish was better than the actual dish. That's what I get for demeaning my palate with something other than a filet (not pronounced 'fill-a', it's 'fill-it' here, yes, with a hard 'T' at the end). With it being Valentines day, I'm going to have a hell of a time trying to get into a restaurant tonight. Looks like another pub dinner. I need to find a new pub. I've tried all of the beer at the Halfway House next to my hotel and the food is mediocre there (better than the steak from last night, though).
One of the things I've noticed here is the smoking. I'm not used to smoking being allowed all over the place. I can handle a little smoke. I actually expected it in the pub. I just have a hard time with the copius amounts of it while I'm trying to eat in some places.
Criminy! The stupid "background" virus scanner on this computer is taking up half of my processor. I had to actually stop using Eclipse as my development IDE. This computer can't handle it. It was taking too much time to code something. The editor was having a hard time keeping up with my typing...think about that (bing cherries)...you type and have to wait for the *computer* to catch up to you. Just pathetic.
I've been told that people are having to sign up to comment on the blog...I'm not sure what to say. It's set to accept comments from everyone. I didn't want to exclude anybody who wanted to speak up. Freedom of speech and all. Yup, I just checked the commenting area; You should be able to post comments anonymously.
One of the things I've noticed here is the smoking. I'm not used to smoking being allowed all over the place. I can handle a little smoke. I actually expected it in the pub. I just have a hard time with the copius amounts of it while I'm trying to eat in some places.
Criminy! The stupid "background" virus scanner on this computer is taking up half of my processor. I had to actually stop using Eclipse as my development IDE. This computer can't handle it. It was taking too much time to code something. The editor was having a hard time keeping up with my typing...think about that (bing cherries)...you type and have to wait for the *computer* to catch up to you. Just pathetic.
I've been told that people are having to sign up to comment on the blog...I'm not sure what to say. It's set to accept comments from everyone. I didn't want to exclude anybody who wanted to speak up. Freedom of speech and all. Yup, I just checked the commenting area; You should be able to post comments anonymously.
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Of Computers and the Sky
Thanks for the comments gang. I look forward to reading them. With me being a "social butterfly" and alone over here, it helps me cope with not being able to talk to people I normally see all the time.
So, how about an update on my computer? Well, you don't really have much of a choice, do you? Tim here in the UK has set me up with a temporary laptop so I can continue to work. We then hooked the old drive up as an external USB drive and, after several attempts, we got the drive to spin up. I pulled off a bunch of data off the old drive including my pictures (::cheer::), some applications and the source code I'd been working on for the previous days. So, I'm back in business; sort of. The loaner laptop that Tim got me can't handle the load I'm putting on it. The applications I run tax the poor little thing in the extreme. It takes about 30 minutes for me to boot up, load the applications and be completely ready for coding in the morning. It does *not* like Eclipse :). Thankfully, the guys back at the home office are loading a new drive for my laptop. So, I'll only have to torture this poor little machine for another week tops.
I saw a beautiful sky yesterday. It was straight out of a painting. Clouds in half the sky, pure blue in the other. The sun was just behind the clouds and you could see the rays of sunlight trying to pry themselves around the cloud cover. I wish I had my camera with me, not that a picture would have done it justice...sorry. this paragraph was from my inner candle-sniffer (inside joke for some).
So, how about an update on my computer? Well, you don't really have much of a choice, do you? Tim here in the UK has set me up with a temporary laptop so I can continue to work. We then hooked the old drive up as an external USB drive and, after several attempts, we got the drive to spin up. I pulled off a bunch of data off the old drive including my pictures (::cheer::), some applications and the source code I'd been working on for the previous days. So, I'm back in business; sort of. The loaner laptop that Tim got me can't handle the load I'm putting on it. The applications I run tax the poor little thing in the extreme. It takes about 30 minutes for me to boot up, load the applications and be completely ready for coding in the morning. It does *not* like Eclipse :). Thankfully, the guys back at the home office are loading a new drive for my laptop. So, I'll only have to torture this poor little machine for another week tops.
I saw a beautiful sky yesterday. It was straight out of a painting. Clouds in half the sky, pure blue in the other. The sun was just behind the clouds and you could see the rays of sunlight trying to pry themselves around the cloud cover. I wish I had my camera with me, not that a picture would have done it justice...sorry. this paragraph was from my inner candle-sniffer (inside joke for some).
Monday, February 12, 2007
Dover
This morning finds me with the plan of heading to the Castle of Dover. It's about an hour or so away to the Southeast. I pack up as I did yesterday and head out. The navigation system and I still at odds with the voice commands, I happily motor down the road. I find that driving down the motorways (freeway) comforting. The speedlimits are seldom posted, however, and those that are are ridiculous targets...40, 50, 60mph depending on the conditions of the road. I say ridiculous because if you actually drive at 60mph here, you'll cause mass histeria. 60mph seems horribly slow. The average speed seems to be in the 80's. Even then, people will be going faster than you.
A couple days ago I found a station I can listen to. It's a classical station. Laugh if you wish, but, you can always find a classical station no matter where you go. It's not like the standard stations that play the same five songs over and over again. When a band that you like comes on, you get one of two songs that the station plays. After a month of listening to any station I want to throttle the DJ for playing that song again. Don't you realize that the band put out seven albums? There has to be another song by them that you can play. ANY song will do. Not so on a classical station. Seldom will you find them playing the same songs over and over. Even if they do play the same song, it'll be performed by a different orchestra and will be played differently. Besides, I find the music enjoyable while driving.
This station was different than others I've listened to in other cities. First, I could receive it find all over. From the Western edge to the Eastern. Next, and most significantly, they play opera as well. That was kind of a change to me. Here I am listening to Vivald and *bam* there's some opera aria up next. It'll take a little getting used to. I don't mind opera. It's just not that I would have chosen that as my genre of choice. ::shrug::
Coming into Dover was nice. There was much less hustle and bustle here than there was in Bath. A couple of turns presents me with a sight of Dover Castle. I am awestruck. Here is an actual castle. I have to really concentrate on the road and not on the castle itself. I turn onto the castle premisis and pay the entry fee. With the car parked and me geared up for adventure, I push forward. I don't have the words to describe the feelings I have for this place.
I wander aimlessly taking in sheer bliss taking pictures of everything I see. It's said that on a clear day you can see all the way to France across the channel from here. It's not a clear day. As a matter of fact, as soon as I'm out walking on the outer battlements it begins to rain. This will not stop me from my exploring. I find passageways that are completely dark. That doesn't stop me. I carefully wind my way through every passage that isn't blocked off.
As the rain continues to fall more and more, I see the sign mentioning the tour through the secret wartime tunnels. Rain? Tunnels? Perfect. I get myself on the next tour. The tunnels are underneath Dover Castle. They were started during the Napoleonic wars. They were expanded and used extensivly during WWII as a secret command headquarters. I don't have any pictures of them, as photographs are not allowed (for some strange reason). By the time the tour is over, the rain has stopped and many of the tourists are gone. I'd left the main keep for last.
I wandered through the keep giddy as a schoolboy. Like the outer battlements, I wandered down any passageway that wasn't blocked off. I even wandered down passageways that were blocked off...at least up to where they'd blocked it. I found a circular staircase going up and found myself on top of the keep. I got up to the top of one of the towers and just stared out at the countryside. It was nothing less than spectacular. As I said, I don't have the words.
I stayed in the place for so long, they had to tell me that the castle was closing and that I would have to leave. Unfortunately, by the time I got down from the top of the keep, the gift shop had closed :(.
A couple days ago I found a station I can listen to. It's a classical station. Laugh if you wish, but, you can always find a classical station no matter where you go. It's not like the standard stations that play the same five songs over and over again. When a band that you like comes on, you get one of two songs that the station plays. After a month of listening to any station I want to throttle the DJ for playing that song again. Don't you realize that the band put out seven albums? There has to be another song by them that you can play. ANY song will do. Not so on a classical station. Seldom will you find them playing the same songs over and over. Even if they do play the same song, it'll be performed by a different orchestra and will be played differently. Besides, I find the music enjoyable while driving.
This station was different than others I've listened to in other cities. First, I could receive it find all over. From the Western edge to the Eastern. Next, and most significantly, they play opera as well. That was kind of a change to me. Here I am listening to Vivald and *bam* there's some opera aria up next. It'll take a little getting used to. I don't mind opera. It's just not that I would have chosen that as my genre of choice. ::shrug::
Coming into Dover was nice. There was much less hustle and bustle here than there was in Bath. A couple of turns presents me with a sight of Dover Castle. I am awestruck. Here is an actual castle. I have to really concentrate on the road and not on the castle itself. I turn onto the castle premisis and pay the entry fee. With the car parked and me geared up for adventure, I push forward. I don't have the words to describe the feelings I have for this place.
I wander aimlessly taking in sheer bliss taking pictures of everything I see. It's said that on a clear day you can see all the way to France across the channel from here. It's not a clear day. As a matter of fact, as soon as I'm out walking on the outer battlements it begins to rain. This will not stop me from my exploring. I find passageways that are completely dark. That doesn't stop me. I carefully wind my way through every passage that isn't blocked off.
As the rain continues to fall more and more, I see the sign mentioning the tour through the secret wartime tunnels. Rain? Tunnels? Perfect. I get myself on the next tour. The tunnels are underneath Dover Castle. They were started during the Napoleonic wars. They were expanded and used extensivly during WWII as a secret command headquarters. I don't have any pictures of them, as photographs are not allowed (for some strange reason). By the time the tour is over, the rain has stopped and many of the tourists are gone. I'd left the main keep for last.
I wandered through the keep giddy as a schoolboy. Like the outer battlements, I wandered down any passageway that wasn't blocked off. I even wandered down passageways that were blocked off...at least up to where they'd blocked it. I found a circular staircase going up and found myself on top of the keep. I got up to the top of one of the towers and just stared out at the countryside. It was nothing less than spectacular. As I said, I don't have the words.
I stayed in the place for so long, they had to tell me that the castle was closing and that I would have to leave. Unfortunately, by the time I got down from the top of the keep, the gift shop had closed :(.
Stonehenge
I'm headed to Stonehenge. I can't come all this way and *not* see it. The computer directions say that it's about an hour and 45 minutes away. I figure it'll take about 2 and a half for me. I don't know the area and it's not exactly perfect weather. It's raining this morning. Well, more like California rain. Not really rain. More of a heavy, steady drizzle. The windshield gets wet with small dots, but, not large dollops of rain drops.
I figure that after Stonehenge, I'll continue driving out to Bath. I've been told by several people back in the States that I should go see the Roman Bath houses that are there. So, I've got an overnight bag in the back of the car and the camera with a fully fueled battery in the passenger seat. I tell the car's navigation system where I want to go and we're off.
From what I can see of the country side it's quite lovely. I'm too busy driving to stare at it though :). Very green. It's surprising to see the green fields everywhere. I would have thought that they would have crops (or worse) condos all over the place around London. Every now and then the green fields are dotted with off-white puffballs that are sheep. Quite a bit of sheep 'round these parts.
I can't describe the initial feeling I got when I crested the hill driving towards Stonehenge. I wasn't expecting to be able to see it from the road. I can't believe that it felt so different seeing it in person. I'd seen tons of pictures of it. But, this was different. I pulled off into the parking lot and wandered off to see it "up close and personal". Like Shannon had told us when he got back, you don't really get to get "up close and personal". There's a walkway all around it. Initially closer to it than at any other point. The custodians provide you with a free audio device that you can hear about the place and it's history (what's known of it). It was colder than I'd prepared for. It didn't stop me from gawking and taking pictures. I took *way* too many photos of it. I couldn't help it. Looking at it in person, it cried out to be photographed. So, I did. Over and over again. I'll upload them when I get the chance.
After I'd spent enough time gazing and freezing, I figure it was time for me to push on towards Bath. I'd figured that I would get there in the late afternoon. So the plan was to find a hotel, explore what I could for the rest of the day and finish up tomorrow before heading back home.
After some driving time I arrive in Bath. The navigation system telling me to turn this way or that. Of course, it's trying to take me to the town center. Not exactly where I want to be driving. I instantly become lodged in a traffic jam. There is no parking on any of the crowded streets I venture down. There are a ton of people here. I come upon the realization that there is some sort of large event happening in the area of town I'm in. No matter which way I go, I'm stuck in traffic with no clue as to where to go. I've now spent about 45 minutes in Bath. What I've seen from the car is fairly nice. Many of the buildings look the same. Like much of the city was constructed by one guy. Nice buildings, but, the same type of construction. I can't find parking. I can't find a hotel (that I can get to). Let me explain; At one point in time, I could see the Hilton. I know that's going to cost me more than I want to pay for a room. But, I know that it'll have parking and I'll be in the hustle and bustle of the town center. Unfortunately, I spent 20 minutes in the same spot on the road trying to get closer to it. It seemed to be where everyone was going. That's not true...I didn't spend 20 minutes in one spot. I did move about a car length in that time.
Now, I'm hungry and frustrated. I decide to follow a couple other cars from behind me and swing into the oncoming lane. Not to worry, there wasn't anyone going *that* way. I follow them up and out of that area. Driving around a bit more just gets me lost. Not that I care...you can't get lost if you don't really have a destination :). So, a'driving I go. I finally come to an intersection that I recognize. I've been here before. It points to the A4 (a road out of town). I'm so frustrated by this time with the traffic, I decide that I've seen enough of Bath.
About an hour out of Bath, I stop off at a restaurant to get some food. Of course, it's closed. So many things seem to be closed on the weekends. I fuel up the car and grab a quick snack and some water at a service station. I'm a little disappointed. Mostly in myself that I couldn't/wouldn't get things done in Bath. Life goes on.
On the drive home I find the button for voice commands for the car's computer system. So, I begin experimenting. I swear that this thing is there for one reason; annoy the driver. It still wants to take me into Bath as my destination (I never 'arrived' at what it has recorded as my destination). It wont let me give it a new destination. I try all sorts of commands; 'Delete Destination', 'Stop Navigation', 'Remove Destination', 'Kill Destination', 'New Destination'...I try all kinds of commands. I spend the next couple of hours arguing with the machine. It keeps telling me that it can't find a Towne Centre, a Chinese Restaurant, and various other things that I never asked for. So, I tell it to 'Learn English'. It, of course, doesn't understand that command. I do figure out how to zoom the map in and out, turn on/off the audio system. I inadvertently turn on the AC, raise the temperature, and turn the navigation system back on. Those I can't seem to repeat. It does me the favor of changing the radio stations at it's whim. I have to keep changing it back.
I pull into the hotel's parking lot and head straight to the pub to get some food and liquid refreshment. Tomorrow is another day.
I figure that after Stonehenge, I'll continue driving out to Bath. I've been told by several people back in the States that I should go see the Roman Bath houses that are there. So, I've got an overnight bag in the back of the car and the camera with a fully fueled battery in the passenger seat. I tell the car's navigation system where I want to go and we're off.
From what I can see of the country side it's quite lovely. I'm too busy driving to stare at it though :). Very green. It's surprising to see the green fields everywhere. I would have thought that they would have crops (or worse) condos all over the place around London. Every now and then the green fields are dotted with off-white puffballs that are sheep. Quite a bit of sheep 'round these parts.
I can't describe the initial feeling I got when I crested the hill driving towards Stonehenge. I wasn't expecting to be able to see it from the road. I can't believe that it felt so different seeing it in person. I'd seen tons of pictures of it. But, this was different. I pulled off into the parking lot and wandered off to see it "up close and personal". Like Shannon had told us when he got back, you don't really get to get "up close and personal". There's a walkway all around it. Initially closer to it than at any other point. The custodians provide you with a free audio device that you can hear about the place and it's history (what's known of it). It was colder than I'd prepared for. It didn't stop me from gawking and taking pictures. I took *way* too many photos of it. I couldn't help it. Looking at it in person, it cried out to be photographed. So, I did. Over and over again. I'll upload them when I get the chance.
After I'd spent enough time gazing and freezing, I figure it was time for me to push on towards Bath. I'd figured that I would get there in the late afternoon. So the plan was to find a hotel, explore what I could for the rest of the day and finish up tomorrow before heading back home.
After some driving time I arrive in Bath. The navigation system telling me to turn this way or that. Of course, it's trying to take me to the town center. Not exactly where I want to be driving. I instantly become lodged in a traffic jam. There is no parking on any of the crowded streets I venture down. There are a ton of people here. I come upon the realization that there is some sort of large event happening in the area of town I'm in. No matter which way I go, I'm stuck in traffic with no clue as to where to go. I've now spent about 45 minutes in Bath. What I've seen from the car is fairly nice. Many of the buildings look the same. Like much of the city was constructed by one guy. Nice buildings, but, the same type of construction. I can't find parking. I can't find a hotel (that I can get to). Let me explain; At one point in time, I could see the Hilton. I know that's going to cost me more than I want to pay for a room. But, I know that it'll have parking and I'll be in the hustle and bustle of the town center. Unfortunately, I spent 20 minutes in the same spot on the road trying to get closer to it. It seemed to be where everyone was going. That's not true...I didn't spend 20 minutes in one spot. I did move about a car length in that time.
Now, I'm hungry and frustrated. I decide to follow a couple other cars from behind me and swing into the oncoming lane. Not to worry, there wasn't anyone going *that* way. I follow them up and out of that area. Driving around a bit more just gets me lost. Not that I care...you can't get lost if you don't really have a destination :). So, a'driving I go. I finally come to an intersection that I recognize. I've been here before. It points to the A4 (a road out of town). I'm so frustrated by this time with the traffic, I decide that I've seen enough of Bath.
About an hour out of Bath, I stop off at a restaurant to get some food. Of course, it's closed. So many things seem to be closed on the weekends. I fuel up the car and grab a quick snack and some water at a service station. I'm a little disappointed. Mostly in myself that I couldn't/wouldn't get things done in Bath. Life goes on.
On the drive home I find the button for voice commands for the car's computer system. So, I begin experimenting. I swear that this thing is there for one reason; annoy the driver. It still wants to take me into Bath as my destination (I never 'arrived' at what it has recorded as my destination). It wont let me give it a new destination. I try all sorts of commands; 'Delete Destination', 'Stop Navigation', 'Remove Destination', 'Kill Destination', 'New Destination'...I try all kinds of commands. I spend the next couple of hours arguing with the machine. It keeps telling me that it can't find a Towne Centre, a Chinese Restaurant, and various other things that I never asked for. So, I tell it to 'Learn English'. It, of course, doesn't understand that command. I do figure out how to zoom the map in and out, turn on/off the audio system. I inadvertently turn on the AC, raise the temperature, and turn the navigation system back on. Those I can't seem to repeat. It does me the favor of changing the radio stations at it's whim. I have to keep changing it back.
I pull into the hotel's parking lot and head straight to the pub to get some food and liquid refreshment. Tomorrow is another day.
Friday, February 09, 2007
Computer Crisis
I get into work this morning and the laptop doesn't start. The hard drive in it has given up the ghost. No big deal, really. Only all of my source code, conversion plans, and actual friggen' work is on that drive. Not to mention the rest of the pictures that I'd taken while I was here. I can't believe this. Of all the things to fail. I could have handled any part of it going bad except the drive. We're ordering a USB converter for the drive and we'll try to get the data off on Monday. In the meantime, we're reloading a loaner laptop here and I'll try to remote into my desktop at home to get at some of the data I need (some older versions of the source code).
Won't be able to actually remote in as that service is not started on that machine. And people don't get into that building for several hours. But, as I've said before, you can't lock out a locksmith. I've got some tricks up my sleeve.
Won't be able to actually remote in as that service is not started on that machine. And people don't get into that building for several hours. But, as I've said before, you can't lock out a locksmith. I've got some tricks up my sleeve.
Thursday, February 08, 2007
Winter Wonderland
Good news. It wasn't freezing this morning. It was 1 degree. However, there was 2 inches of snow on my car and the snow continues to fall even now. Car lost traction a couple times getting into the parking lot here at work. It's kind of funny the squeaking noises the cars computer system makes when it looses traction. Then you realize that you're sliding in a direction you don't want to go and you start making squeaking noises as well. I have not hit anything...yet. However, if the snow continues, my car will be buried by this evening. It's a nice fluffy powder. I had actually counted on it snowing. But, I wasn't expecting as much snow as is here.
With the snow here, I'm not sure what I want to do this weekend. I really have no desire to drive long distances in it. I'm a Californian...I don't know how to drive. Then you add snow to the mix? I'll probably kill whole counties of people. I had thought about heading either to Dover or maybe Stonehenge and Bath. We'll see how the weather turns.
Had a pint of Castlemaine for lun...dinner yesterday. Strange that most of the people over here seem to drink American style beers. Did I say strange? I should have said that it's sad. One of the most popular is Fosters. I know, it's an Australian beer. But, it's still more of an American style; light and watery. Last night I finished up the unknown beers in the pub; John Smiths, Abbott Ale and Adams Explorer. Being the last of the unknowns, Explorer, I was going to hoist that one for John. But, then I had a taste and decided against it. Didn't especially like it. So, I changed John's to a Ruddles Best. A fine hand pumped ale.
I had plenty of time to finish up the various brews as there was a football game on. England v Spain. Spain won 1-0. Met a couple of guys standing around the bar during the game and we got to talking. One of them knew I was American by how I ordered my steak sandwich. I didn't understand what the waitress was asking when, in response to my order, she said "Brown or White"? I wasn't sure exactly what she meant by that. Was it a sauce choice? Was it something they put on the sandwiches? Mayo or Onion or Bacon or something? Hell, Coffee with cream is called Coffee white. Of course, she was asking about bread type. At any rate, the four of us chatted for quite a bit of time and then I had to head for bed.
With the snow here, I'm not sure what I want to do this weekend. I really have no desire to drive long distances in it. I'm a Californian...I don't know how to drive. Then you add snow to the mix? I'll probably kill whole counties of people. I had thought about heading either to Dover or maybe Stonehenge and Bath. We'll see how the weather turns.
Had a pint of Castlemaine for lun...dinner yesterday. Strange that most of the people over here seem to drink American style beers. Did I say strange? I should have said that it's sad. One of the most popular is Fosters. I know, it's an Australian beer. But, it's still more of an American style; light and watery. Last night I finished up the unknown beers in the pub; John Smiths, Abbott Ale and Adams Explorer. Being the last of the unknowns, Explorer, I was going to hoist that one for John. But, then I had a taste and decided against it. Didn't especially like it. So, I changed John's to a Ruddles Best. A fine hand pumped ale.
I had plenty of time to finish up the various brews as there was a football game on. England v Spain. Spain won 1-0. Met a couple of guys standing around the bar during the game and we got to talking. One of them knew I was American by how I ordered my steak sandwich. I didn't understand what the waitress was asking when, in response to my order, she said "Brown or White"? I wasn't sure exactly what she meant by that. Was it a sauce choice? Was it something they put on the sandwiches? Mayo or Onion or Bacon or something? Hell, Coffee with cream is called Coffee white. Of course, she was asking about bread type. At any rate, the four of us chatted for quite a bit of time and then I had to head for bed.
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Frost
So, it's getting colder by the day. Some bloody American traveler commented that it wasn't very cold over here so they turned the country's heater off. I had to scrape ice off the car this morning. Not a little bit of ice. I'm talking a layer of ice. It's going to be interesting. Let me tell you what I'm currently wearing (queue the lounge music); 2 pair of socks (one pair is a sock liner I brought for the hiking boots to wear under the wool socks), boxers, layer one pants, slacks, layer one shirt, a golf shirt and a fleece sweater. When I was outside, I had another outer jacket on as well as two pair of gloves. It's not that I can't see the sun while I'm outside. On the contrary, the sun is visible almost all day long. That's the problem. There's no cloud layer to trap in the heat.
I've decided that I'm going to move hotels. The spartan room that was provided would be fine for a couple days. I just think that it's a little too monkish. I'd like to iron some of the clothes that I've got. I'd like to change the temperature in the room. So, I'll head over to Basildon (or Bas Vegas as they've been calling it). It's near a larger mall with all kinds of restaurants. Although, damned near all of them are American restarauts (T.G.I.Fridays, Outback, Macaroni Grill, Chilli's, etc). There is a small lake outside the hotel I'm looking at with a restaurant next door called the Quay (pronounced Key).
The lunch truck that came by here everyday has apparently had the parent company go bankrupt. So, a couple days ago we headed over the Friday's for lunch. The burger that I got was 9.50. That's in pounds. It didn't dawn on me until Frank mentioned the price of food over here and said that each of our burgers were near $20 each. Holy Crap, Batman! That will be the last time I hit that place. Hell, I got a nice roast beef dinner the other night for 6.95. And on the beer front, I added a pint of Greene King Ale (a bit watery in my opinion) and a pint of Rudder's Best.
Oh, speaking of beers, Guinness comes two ways here; Ordinary and Chilled. I was a bit taken aback when I was asked how I wanted my pint. They explained that the chilled version is extra chilled on the tap as it comes out. I ordered it ordinary. I'll order it chilled next time just to taste the difference.
I've decided that I'm going to move hotels. The spartan room that was provided would be fine for a couple days. I just think that it's a little too monkish. I'd like to iron some of the clothes that I've got. I'd like to change the temperature in the room. So, I'll head over to Basildon (or Bas Vegas as they've been calling it). It's near a larger mall with all kinds of restaurants. Although, damned near all of them are American restarauts (T.G.I.Fridays, Outback, Macaroni Grill, Chilli's, etc). There is a small lake outside the hotel I'm looking at with a restaurant next door called the Quay (pronounced Key).
The lunch truck that came by here everyday has apparently had the parent company go bankrupt. So, a couple days ago we headed over the Friday's for lunch. The burger that I got was 9.50. That's in pounds. It didn't dawn on me until Frank mentioned the price of food over here and said that each of our burgers were near $20 each. Holy Crap, Batman! That will be the last time I hit that place. Hell, I got a nice roast beef dinner the other night for 6.95. And on the beer front, I added a pint of Greene King Ale (a bit watery in my opinion) and a pint of Rudder's Best.
Oh, speaking of beers, Guinness comes two ways here; Ordinary and Chilled. I was a bit taken aback when I was asked how I wanted my pint. They explained that the chilled version is extra chilled on the tap as it comes out. I ordered it ordinary. I'll order it chilled next time just to taste the difference.
Monday, February 05, 2007
Stupidity
On Sunday I went back to London. There were still things there I didn't get to see yesterday. Most people are very polite here. The automated intercom system of the train station apologized for any inconvenience because our scheduled train was going to be 3 minutes late. I catch the train in and then hop the underground (subway) over to the Westminster stop. Coming out of that station leads me right to Big Ben. There are no tours of Big Ben and Parliament houses. So, I walk around it taking pictures like hundreds of other people. I think about a third of the population of London are tourists. Again with the many different languages and everyone with cameras. I head into a park next to Parliament and check the map to get my bearings. I, of course, have wandered away from Westminster Abbey...so, back I go. That's when stupidity steps in. That should be Stupidity with a capital 'S'. I'm showing up for a tour of a place of worship...on a Sunday. Yeah, it's not going to happen. I'm a dumbass. So, I take a couple pictures of the place and move on.
It's no secret that I've been pretty anti-iPod for some time. Not sure why. Maybe it's just that they seem to be everywhere and I've had no major need for one. Therefore, somehow, they must be useless to society if *I* don't need one. As I said, not sure why. But, I did break down and purchase one for this trip. I knew the plane flight was going to be severely lacking in the tunes department. Besides, I can download and watch the couple of the television shows I'm missing when I'm over here on it. Pathetic, I know. However, it is nice to tour London with my own soundtrack.
Lots of statues in this part of the city. I take pictures and damned near every one of them. I say damned near, because later in the day I get tired of taking pictures of statutes of people I've never heard and of statues I don't think were particularly well sculpted to begin with. I run into a small crowd of people taking pictures of a street guarded by police with MP5s. A brief look around tells me it's Downing Street (where the Prime Minister lives). I take a couple snap shots and move on. Not like Mr. Blair is going to come out and pose for us, people.
I've been headed North trying to find Trafalgar Square when I find a similar crowd around a soldier on a horse. It's the Horse Guards' Parade Grounds. They have a couple of the gates open...so, I wander on inside to take a look. Nothing too spectacular, I wander on out the back; into a big lovely park. I could use a small rest. I take some pictures of the ducks and geese hanging around and wander through the park. It' dawns on me that I'm in St. James park. Keep walking through this park will take me straight to Buckingham Palace. What luck! Praise Najm.
My train pass is an all day, all access pass for London's transportation. I can use the underground, the train system and the buses. I just can't bring myself to hop on the bus. Everyone told me that I should, which is probably why I'm not. I'm such a stubborn prick sometimes. At any rate, I find it nice to wander around and see things as I see them and go wherever the whim strikes me. It's also the only nice part of sight seeing alone. Is that site-seeing or sight-seeing. I am seeing sites. But, I'm also seeing various sights as well. Never mind. When you're traveling around with someone else, you have to be mindful of where everyone wants to go. Community is more important than the individual. But, when you're alone, all bets are off. You have only yourself to blame. Then again, you can't admire the same site/sight/scene with a non-existent traveling companion.
I do find the Palace and take a bunch of pictures there. It's just not as impressive a structure as Parliament. After my pictures are taken I wander off...and stumble into Trafalgar's Square. Strange, I'd wandered off on a tangent and forgotten that I was looking for it. Glorious! I take pictures of the various statues and Nelson's Column. Nelson. You don't know who Admiral Nelson is, do you? He's probably the greatest British naval commander that's ever existed. Killed in the late 1700's or early 1800's (can't rightly remember which) in the battle of Trafalgar with the French.
After that, I realized I was hungry...and thirsty. And look what's just down the street; an open pub. It beckons me in. I give in without much fight...or any fight, really. I pull up to the bar and order Fish & Chips and a Fuller's London Pride Ale.
She asks me, "A pint?"
"As opposed to...", I reply. She then shows me a small, pitiful looking glass that nobody but small children drinking kool-aid should use. "Yeah, a pint, please." I look around and several people are drinking out of the kool-aid glasses. I suppress the urge to weep for them. Then I forget those poor bastards as I notice that the TV in the corner is just staring to play some rugby. I find myself a table and they bring me my Fish and Chips and I begin to chow down. These are *much* better than yesterday's.
Mom and Dad my find this fairly interesting; They serve Fish & Chips with peas. Either garden peas (your standard pea) or mushy peas (your standard pea smashed into a mush like mashed potatoes). And here comes the interesting part...I ate the mushy peas and didn't dislike them too much. I'll wait for both of them to come to...I was just as surprised.
So, there I am, eating, drinking and watching sports in a downtown London pub. It dawns on me that, sports-wise, I was born in the wrong country. I can't stand basketball. What's there to cheer about in that game? If your team gets the ball, you pretty much guaranteed a score. With so much scoring going on, there's nothing to cheer about. American Football is just a sissy version of rugby with too many stoppages of play. And, unless I'm actually at the game, I can't really sit through too many baseball games. On the other hand, I love to watch real Football/Fut ball/Soccer, Rugby, Lacrosse and Hockey. I know, we have hockey. But, unless you have super cable television and know the ultra-secret handshake, you can't watch it on television. And the Gulls have left San Diego. And Lacrosse - It's like hockey, but, with sticks that you're legally allowed to beat other players with. At least I don't have to be saddled with Cricket, though... ::shudder::
I finish up lunch with a pint of Broadside Ale and head out with my eye on the Eye. The London Eye. The gigantic ferris wheel across the Thames from where I was. I got caught up with a bunch of street performers around the place, though. I was teased by one of them for being American ("Are you here on holiday, or have you come to finally learn the language"). He was a street magician and was pretty good. Some of his tricks were pretty darned good. Others I could see the slights as he did them. All in all, worth the price of admission, though :). It was worth the couple pounds I tipped him.
I take one look at the line to get onto the London Eye and keep walking. I really didn't feel like standing in line for a half hour to go on a ferris wheel for another half hour. So, I wander around a bit more until I find myself right back where I started. I take this as a sign that it's getting on in hours and I head back home. I would like to return one of these Saturdays when I could actually get into Westminster Abbey...what a dumbass.
It's no secret that I've been pretty anti-iPod for some time. Not sure why. Maybe it's just that they seem to be everywhere and I've had no major need for one. Therefore, somehow, they must be useless to society if *I* don't need one. As I said, not sure why. But, I did break down and purchase one for this trip. I knew the plane flight was going to be severely lacking in the tunes department. Besides, I can download and watch the couple of the television shows I'm missing when I'm over here on it. Pathetic, I know. However, it is nice to tour London with my own soundtrack.
Lots of statues in this part of the city. I take pictures and damned near every one of them. I say damned near, because later in the day I get tired of taking pictures of statutes of people I've never heard and of statues I don't think were particularly well sculpted to begin with. I run into a small crowd of people taking pictures of a street guarded by police with MP5s. A brief look around tells me it's Downing Street (where the Prime Minister lives). I take a couple snap shots and move on. Not like Mr. Blair is going to come out and pose for us, people.
I've been headed North trying to find Trafalgar Square when I find a similar crowd around a soldier on a horse. It's the Horse Guards' Parade Grounds. They have a couple of the gates open...so, I wander on inside to take a look. Nothing too spectacular, I wander on out the back; into a big lovely park. I could use a small rest. I take some pictures of the ducks and geese hanging around and wander through the park. It' dawns on me that I'm in St. James park. Keep walking through this park will take me straight to Buckingham Palace. What luck! Praise Najm.
My train pass is an all day, all access pass for London's transportation. I can use the underground, the train system and the buses. I just can't bring myself to hop on the bus. Everyone told me that I should, which is probably why I'm not. I'm such a stubborn prick sometimes. At any rate, I find it nice to wander around and see things as I see them and go wherever the whim strikes me. It's also the only nice part of sight seeing alone. Is that site-seeing or sight-seeing. I am seeing sites. But, I'm also seeing various sights as well. Never mind. When you're traveling around with someone else, you have to be mindful of where everyone wants to go. Community is more important than the individual. But, when you're alone, all bets are off. You have only yourself to blame. Then again, you can't admire the same site/sight/scene with a non-existent traveling companion.
I do find the Palace and take a bunch of pictures there. It's just not as impressive a structure as Parliament. After my pictures are taken I wander off...and stumble into Trafalgar's Square. Strange, I'd wandered off on a tangent and forgotten that I was looking for it. Glorious! I take pictures of the various statues and Nelson's Column. Nelson. You don't know who Admiral Nelson is, do you? He's probably the greatest British naval commander that's ever existed. Killed in the late 1700's or early 1800's (can't rightly remember which) in the battle of Trafalgar with the French.
After that, I realized I was hungry...and thirsty. And look what's just down the street; an open pub. It beckons me in. I give in without much fight...or any fight, really. I pull up to the bar and order Fish & Chips and a Fuller's London Pride Ale.
She asks me, "A pint?"
"As opposed to...", I reply. She then shows me a small, pitiful looking glass that nobody but small children drinking kool-aid should use. "Yeah, a pint, please." I look around and several people are drinking out of the kool-aid glasses. I suppress the urge to weep for them. Then I forget those poor bastards as I notice that the TV in the corner is just staring to play some rugby. I find myself a table and they bring me my Fish and Chips and I begin to chow down. These are *much* better than yesterday's.
Mom and Dad my find this fairly interesting; They serve Fish & Chips with peas. Either garden peas (your standard pea) or mushy peas (your standard pea smashed into a mush like mashed potatoes). And here comes the interesting part...I ate the mushy peas and didn't dislike them too much. I'll wait for both of them to come to...I was just as surprised.
So, there I am, eating, drinking and watching sports in a downtown London pub. It dawns on me that, sports-wise, I was born in the wrong country. I can't stand basketball. What's there to cheer about in that game? If your team gets the ball, you pretty much guaranteed a score. With so much scoring going on, there's nothing to cheer about. American Football is just a sissy version of rugby with too many stoppages of play. And, unless I'm actually at the game, I can't really sit through too many baseball games. On the other hand, I love to watch real Football/Fut ball/Soccer, Rugby, Lacrosse and Hockey. I know, we have hockey. But, unless you have super cable television and know the ultra-secret handshake, you can't watch it on television. And the Gulls have left San Diego. And Lacrosse - It's like hockey, but, with sticks that you're legally allowed to beat other players with. At least I don't have to be saddled with Cricket, though... ::shudder::
I finish up lunch with a pint of Broadside Ale and head out with my eye on the Eye. The London Eye. The gigantic ferris wheel across the Thames from where I was. I got caught up with a bunch of street performers around the place, though. I was teased by one of them for being American ("Are you here on holiday, or have you come to finally learn the language"). He was a street magician and was pretty good. Some of his tricks were pretty darned good. Others I could see the slights as he did them. All in all, worth the price of admission, though :). It was worth the couple pounds I tipped him.
I take one look at the line to get onto the London Eye and keep walking. I really didn't feel like standing in line for a half hour to go on a ferris wheel for another half hour. So, I wander around a bit more until I find myself right back where I started. I take this as a sign that it's getting on in hours and I head back home. I would like to return one of these Saturdays when I could actually get into Westminster Abbey...what a dumbass.
London Calling
Today is the day. I will venture into London and see as many sights I can cram in. I stopped by the small restaurant next to my hotel for a quick breakfast before heading into town. I'm not a fan of bacon. Everyone seems to love bacon and I'm not sure why. True, that when you get a proper piece cooked well, it can taste quite yummy. But, most of the time I find it way too fatty for my tastes. I only bring this up now because of the glorious bacon I had for my opening meal today. The bacon was twice the size of the American version in both width and thickness. Also, it was actual meat. Not a ribboning of meat and fat. It was very nice.
I jump into the car and tool down the road in an attempt to locate the train station in Laindon (pronounced Lang-den...not sure where the 'g' sound comes from). I pass through several roundabouts and a couple stop lights to get there. I love the few stop lights they have. We all know that stop lights go from Green, to Yellow and then to Red. But, here in the UK, it doesn't just jump back to Green. It goes from Red it goes to Yellow and then to Green. Not that it really matters to us Californians. It seems that many of the drivers in that state drive through regardless of the color.
My first stop in London was the Tower of London. Small fact; it's not a tower. It's more of a castle. There are 20 towers with two sets of walls. The place was pretty damned large. Went on a guided tour of the place and then wandered around. Saw the crown jewels. I'd show you all the pictures, but, photography is not allowed in that section of the place. I thought about sneaking a shot, but thought better of it when I remembered it's a vault with cameras, alarms and armed security guards. Pictures wouldn't do these things justice anyway. Some of the pieces were wonderful. I found many of them to be gaudy. Dripping with jewels.
Got to see many pieces of weaponry and armor (yes, spelled without the 'u' in it, thank you). Walked through the fusiliers museum (a British infantry division). Took a wander through many of the towers where people were held prisoner for years. Oh, and I got to see the Tower Ravens. They're friggen' HUGE. These birds are well taken care of. The story goes that if the Ravens were to ever leave the Tower, the British monarchy would fall. Just to be on the safe side, the wardens of the tower keep raven nests around and forbid anyone from molesting them. They are giant sized...
While wandering around London, I hear countless languages being spoken by people. OK, that's an exaggeration. I could probably count them if I wanted to. But, it sounds better saying it that way. At any rate, most of the signs and pamphlets for attractions are listed in many different languages. It occurs to me that we never have to worry about multiple language support from frequent visitors. Only English and Spanish. You can't count the Southerners or the Canadians...they are trying to speak English. True, we have foreign visitors, but, not with the frequency and variety that we'd have if we were this close to so many other countries.
I paid good money to walk through the Tower Bridge Exhibit. I can now say I've done it. I would like my money back, please. It's an elevator ride to the top, a stroll across the walkway and an elevator ride down. Oh, and I got to wander through the engine room area. Sorry, it's just not that big of a deal. True, the bridge itself was a marvel of engineering when it was built. It would be akin to a bridge now a days that just vanished when a ship needed to pass by. Maybe I'm just jaded by our current technology. Maybe it's because I spent 7 pounds on it...It took 20 minutes. I spent more time on the Fish and Chips I purchased for that.
Speaking of Fish and Chips; Had them here in Jolly ole England. They taste just the same as we have back in the States. Actually, I thought Camelot's were slightly better. I was told by several people that they serve the fish over here with the skin still on. I'm here to tell you it's true. I'm also here to tell you it didn't have any effect on the meal.
I wandered down the Thames for a couple hours just poking around and taking pictures. It dawns on me that there's a mathematic formula that I've never taken notice of before. It's very apparent here in London... Pretty Women + Skirts + Boots = Dammit!! It's good to be alive. I also noticed that I felt a bit parched. Lucky for me I stumbled upon a pub. Finally one that was open...I can't believe how many pubs are around this damned place that are closed. Didn't they get the memo that I'd be in town?!?! I strode up to the bar and noticed they are the first place I've seen with Guinness on tap. Hell yeah! I've often been told that it tastes very different here. I order one, giddy with anticipation. Yup, it's Guinness. The same Guinness we have back home. Color me disappointed. I was so disappointed I had another pint to drown my sorrows.
Then my camera decides it's done with the tourist thing. It starts running out of film. Too many damned pictures with flash, I tell you. I have enough room to carry over 500 pictures at the top quality of my camera (near 6000 at the low end). The battery, however, seems to hate me. I guess I'll begin my journey back home. I wander over the Millennium Bridge and into the streets. A couple turns and wanderings later I realize I have no idea exactly where I am. I reach for the map in my back pocket and stop myself. I've got nowhere to be. I just can't take pictures of things. So, I forge ahead. I know that my station is in "that direction". I eventually find streets that look familiar and do a small search pattern and find (read stumble across) my train station.
I brought a lot of colder weather clothing to the UK. Sure, it was a bit nippy out this morning. But, I was too warm during the later part of the day. Sunny and a smattering of clouds. Thought this was supposed to be the cold rainy part of their season?
I had a lamb dinner with a couple pints to wash it down. I'll give some of you a moment to be squeamish about eating the cute little cuddly lamb. Now, I'll tell you that it was glorious. I savored every bite. Oh, you know how bottles of wine come in 750ml bottles in the states. Not out here, they come in 75cl bottles. I know, I know. It's the same amount. But, why aren't we smart enough to use the system as it was meant to? Don't feel too bad about us not being smart enough to use the metric system. The British still use miles just like us. So, they have a complete mixed bag over here.
I jump into the car and tool down the road in an attempt to locate the train station in Laindon (pronounced Lang-den...not sure where the 'g' sound comes from). I pass through several roundabouts and a couple stop lights to get there. I love the few stop lights they have. We all know that stop lights go from Green, to Yellow and then to Red. But, here in the UK, it doesn't just jump back to Green. It goes from Red it goes to Yellow and then to Green. Not that it really matters to us Californians. It seems that many of the drivers in that state drive through regardless of the color.
My first stop in London was the Tower of London. Small fact; it's not a tower. It's more of a castle. There are 20 towers with two sets of walls. The place was pretty damned large. Went on a guided tour of the place and then wandered around. Saw the crown jewels. I'd show you all the pictures, but, photography is not allowed in that section of the place. I thought about sneaking a shot, but thought better of it when I remembered it's a vault with cameras, alarms and armed security guards. Pictures wouldn't do these things justice anyway. Some of the pieces were wonderful. I found many of them to be gaudy. Dripping with jewels.
Got to see many pieces of weaponry and armor (yes, spelled without the 'u' in it, thank you). Walked through the fusiliers museum (a British infantry division). Took a wander through many of the towers where people were held prisoner for years. Oh, and I got to see the Tower Ravens. They're friggen' HUGE. These birds are well taken care of. The story goes that if the Ravens were to ever leave the Tower, the British monarchy would fall. Just to be on the safe side, the wardens of the tower keep raven nests around and forbid anyone from molesting them. They are giant sized...
While wandering around London, I hear countless languages being spoken by people. OK, that's an exaggeration. I could probably count them if I wanted to. But, it sounds better saying it that way. At any rate, most of the signs and pamphlets for attractions are listed in many different languages. It occurs to me that we never have to worry about multiple language support from frequent visitors. Only English and Spanish. You can't count the Southerners or the Canadians...they are trying to speak English. True, we have foreign visitors, but, not with the frequency and variety that we'd have if we were this close to so many other countries.
I paid good money to walk through the Tower Bridge Exhibit. I can now say I've done it. I would like my money back, please. It's an elevator ride to the top, a stroll across the walkway and an elevator ride down. Oh, and I got to wander through the engine room area.
Speaking of Fish and Chips; Had them here in Jolly ole England. They taste just the same as we have back in the States. Actually, I thought Camelot's were slightly better. I was told by several people that they serve the fish over here with the skin still on. I'm here to tell you it's true. I'm also here to tell you it didn't have any effect on the meal.
I wandered down the Thames for a couple hours just poking around and taking pictures. It dawns on me that there's a mathematic formula that I've never taken notice of before. It's very apparent here in London... Pretty Women + Skirts + Boots = Dammit!! It's good to be alive. I also noticed that I felt a bit parched. Lucky for me I stumbled upon a pub. Finally one that was open...I can't believe how many pubs are around this damned place that are closed. Didn't they get the memo that I'd be in town?!?! I strode up to the bar and noticed they are the first place I've seen with Guinness on tap. Hell yeah! I've often been told that it tastes very different here. I order one, giddy with anticipation. Yup, it's Guinness. The same Guinness we have back home. Color me disappointed. I was so disappointed I had another pint to drown my sorrows.
Then my camera decides it's done with the tourist thing. It starts running out of film. Too many damned pictures with flash, I tell you. I have enough room to carry over 500 pictures at the top quality of my camera (near 6000 at the low end). The battery, however, seems to hate me. I guess I'll begin my journey back home. I wander over the Millennium Bridge and into the streets. A couple turns and wanderings later I realize I have no idea exactly where I am. I reach for the map in my back pocket and stop myself. I've got nowhere to be. I just can't take pictures of things. So, I forge ahead. I know that my station is in "that direction". I eventually find streets that look familiar and do a small search pattern and find (read stumble across) my train station.
I brought a lot of colder weather clothing to the UK. Sure, it was a bit nippy out this morning. But, I was too warm during the later part of the day. Sunny and a smattering of clouds. Thought this was supposed to be the cold rainy part of their season?
I had a lamb dinner with a couple pints to wash it down. I'll give some of you a moment to be squeamish about eating the cute little cuddly lamb. Now, I'll tell you that it was glorious. I savored every bite. Oh, you know how bottles of wine come in 750ml bottles in the states. Not out here, they come in 75cl bottles. I know, I know. It's the same amount. But, why aren't we smart enough to use the system as it was meant to? Don't feel too bad about us not being smart enough to use the metric system. The British still use miles just like us. So, they have a complete mixed bag over here.
Friday, February 02, 2007
The Wash
Not too much to say today. Toured around the area this evening with Frank. He's been here before and was showing me where certain things were. Had dinner at an English chain, Hornton's on the Hill, I believe the name was. Steak was good and the beer selection was lacking. Had a couple Stella's. I'm actually surprised at the lack of beer selection at some of these restaurants. I'll explore some of the local pubs when my body gets settled to the new time zone.
I did found the need to wander into a market today. My hotel doesn't supply *anything* for the guests. I mentioned previously that there was no iron and now hair dryer. But, take that even further. No complimentary shampoo. Now, it's true that those little bottles only last for a day or two. But, they only supply you with a small soap bar. So, to the store I go. I had to pick up some shampoo, a larger bar of soap...those little bars just have no "grip" to them :), and some laundry detergent. What an adventure that was. I only hope that I have no allergic reaction to this detergent (Not that it happens to many people...). It's not a premium brand that I know of, it's a store brand, Tesco. I didn't recognize any of the brand names. Oh, get this; it's not powder. They are tablets. You put in two or three in the wash depending on how "soiled" the clothes are. I've got enough clothes to make it through next week. I will have to find myself a laundromat or something. I wonder if this place even has such a thing in it. Let me go ask...seems that there is no facilities in my hotel and she doesn't know of any around. But, she's going to call around and find out what she can work out for me. Very friendly people here.
I did found the need to wander into a market today. My hotel doesn't supply *anything* for the guests. I mentioned previously that there was no iron and now hair dryer. But, take that even further. No complimentary shampoo. Now, it's true that those little bottles only last for a day or two. But, they only supply you with a small soap bar. So, to the store I go. I had to pick up some shampoo, a larger bar of soap...those little bars just have no "grip" to them :), and some laundry detergent. What an adventure that was. I only hope that I have no allergic reaction to this detergent (Not that it happens to many people...). It's not a premium brand that I know of, it's a store brand, Tesco. I didn't recognize any of the brand names. Oh, get this; it's not powder. They are tablets. You put in two or three in the wash depending on how "soiled" the clothes are. I've got enough clothes to make it through next week. I will have to find myself a laundromat or something. I wonder if this place even has such a thing in it. Let me go ask...seems that there is no facilities in my hotel and she doesn't know of any around. But, she's going to call around and find out what she can work out for me. Very friendly people here.
Thursday, February 01, 2007
First Day
I'm up at 5:30am. An unholy hour, I tell you. I was actually up about every couple of hours. Dreams of my luggage arriving and the relaxation that comes with it are blown everytime I awake and realize that it was just a dream. I do climb out of bed (it's pretty darned comfortable, BTW) and throw my travel clothes back on. Head out to reception and rejoice as I see my luggage sitting behind the counter waiting for me. Huzzah! I take it back to the room and unpack.
Many of you know that I travel very light. I'm gone for three days at a time mostly and I can fit it all in a small rollerbag/laptop case. So, my massive monstrosity that is my bag is a little unnerving for me. It weighed in at 47 pounds (3 pounds under the flight limit) at the airport. And it didn't contain all of the items I had planned on bringing. Packing for a 35 day trip to cold, rainy weather is not exactly easy :). Everything you pack is fairly bulky. Although the weather was absolutely perfect yesterday. A little chilly, but, nothing like I thought it was going to be. Sky was blue with a smattering of small clouds. Lovely.
Oh, I just found something else I don't like; laptop batteries. I'm already down to 18%. I hope to pick up a charger when I get into the office. If not, I've got a converter I purchased sitting on the couch.
It's 7:28 and the sky outside is starting to turn shades of dark blue. I guess I should get ready to head into work. Now, I must find an internet connection...there doesn't seem to be one in my room. Nor can I pick up any wireless signals.
Many of you know that I travel very light. I'm gone for three days at a time mostly and I can fit it all in a small rollerbag/laptop case. So, my massive monstrosity that is my bag is a little unnerving for me. It weighed in at 47 pounds (3 pounds under the flight limit) at the airport. And it didn't contain all of the items I had planned on bringing. Packing for a 35 day trip to cold, rainy weather is not exactly easy :). Everything you pack is fairly bulky. Although the weather was absolutely perfect yesterday. A little chilly, but, nothing like I thought it was going to be. Sky was blue with a smattering of small clouds. Lovely.
Oh, I just found something else I don't like; laptop batteries. I'm already down to 18%. I hope to pick up a charger when I get into the office. If not, I've got a converter I purchased sitting on the couch.
It's 7:28 and the sky outside is starting to turn shades of dark blue. I guess I should get ready to head into work. Now, I must find an internet connection...there doesn't seem to be one in my room. Nor can I pick up any wireless signals.
The Trip Over
My first thoughts while the small prop plane shuttles down the runway towards takeoff was "What an amazing feat of human engineering, these machines are". Then I go back to my book. I've now flown so much around the country that most plane flights feel no more different than a car trip. Upon touchdown in LAX, I am reminded several times why I hate this airport. Wandering around the place trying to find my connecting flight is difficult. Everyone in this place is in a hurry and cares less for the people around them than their oversized "carryon" luggage trailing behind them. I guess that's common in airports, but, it seems that it's exaggerated here at LAX. I finally have to ask someone where the hell my gate is located and I'm told that I have to leave the terminal and go down the street to another terminal. I cringe knowing full well that means going through security again. I disregarded all of my prior experience flying around due to how much I had to bring with me. I'm wearing the boots that I'm breaking in onto the plane. I've got my camera case on my back and a small roller bag jammed with stuff in my hand. That means I'll have to remove the laptop, the boots, all electronic equipment and any metal to go through again.
So, after a small 10 minute walk to Tom Bradley Intl terminal I wander over to the security checkpoint. Only to be turned away because my original boarding passes were printed by United and they won't let me through without having a British Airways pass. I hate LAX! I confirm with the booking agent that my bag was actually checked all the way to London. I figured they were going to send me back to the other terminal and bring it to this one. I finally get through security and wait for the flight to board. I got fairly lucky and got a bulkhead seat. I had a ton of leg room. I also had a window seat with nobody in the center seat. Plenty of room on this flight for the Moe. A little reading, a little movie watching and a little napping makes the flight go by fairly quickly. The two bottles of wine also helped :).
Looking out over the landscape during our approach to Heathrow showed a landscape of green fields separated by hedges with dottings of small towns. Very pretty sight. I was sitting on the front edge of the wing and take the sheer size of this plane in. It's huge. It makes even the planes I fly to Texas in look like baby planes.
I am the last passenger off the plane. No point in rushing to pack my carryon stuff back into the bags and hurry off the plane just to sit around and wait for the baggage personell. So, by the time I get to the immigration desk, there is no line at all. The guy isn't thrilled with my answers. He believes that 34 days here on business is very strange indeed. I explain that I'm a computer programmer here for a system conversion and I watch his eyes glaze over somewhat. Ah, a technophobe! Happy day! I present him my business card as proof that I actually do work for the company I've stated. He stamps my passport and watches me suspiciously as I walk away.
I find the baggage carosel already teaming with passengers and bags. I find an open position and wait for my bag to come around. I wait some more. I notice one of the loading tracks is stuck. So, I wait for it to become unstuck and spill it's luggage contents for us to consume. It finally empties out. No bag. I look around. I am now the only passenger left with many bags going around. None of them are mine. It seems that my bag didn't have enough time to make it from the 6 person plane to my connecting flight on our 3 hour layover in LAX. In-f'ing-competence, I tell you.
I go pick up my car, with the promise that my luggage will be delivered to my hotel. Driving does take a bit of getting used to. I usually kind of crowd the left hand side of the lane when I drive. I'm not sure why I do, I just do. This poses a problem for me tooling down the motorway as I begin to unconciously crowd the left hand side of the lane...But, I'm on the other side of the car. So, my crowding is really pushing me into another lane entirely. With some mental effort I keep myself in my own damned lane. Bloody American drivers!
I did upgrade my car to a Toyota Prius with an internal navigation system. It'll cost a little more for the car, but, the gas costs will go down dramatically. Besides, without that glorious lady telling me where to turn, I probably would still be driving around Heathrow. Accounting is probably going to kill me. But, I'll enjoy myself until then :).
My hotel is easy to find and checking in is a snap. The room is pretty spartan, however. There is no dresser, no iron and no hair dryer. Don't really care about the hair dryer and, as you all know, I'll most likely ignore the iron for much of the time :). I notice that there is a water jug with a heating element in it for tea...but, no coffee maker. It's OK, I can handle tea in place of coffee. I turn on the Telly and flip through all five wonderful channels they have here. Each one pretty much sucks. That's actually good. I don't want to sit around watching TV in a foriegn country when there's so much else I could be doing.
I meet up with Frank for dinner and he shows me around a bit. We head off to an Italian place. It's an American chain, but, it doesn't stop me from having a couple of Boddingtons. We drive around afterwards and Frank shows me where the Ashworth shop is and how to get back to the hotel. I get back to my room (still no sign of my luggage) and force myself to stay awake until the un-Godly hour of 8pm. I crash...hard.
So, after a small 10 minute walk to Tom Bradley Intl terminal I wander over to the security checkpoint. Only to be turned away because my original boarding passes were printed by United and they won't let me through without having a British Airways pass. I hate LAX! I confirm with the booking agent that my bag was actually checked all the way to London. I figured they were going to send me back to the other terminal and bring it to this one. I finally get through security and wait for the flight to board. I got fairly lucky and got a bulkhead seat. I had a ton of leg room. I also had a window seat with nobody in the center seat. Plenty of room on this flight for the Moe. A little reading, a little movie watching and a little napping makes the flight go by fairly quickly. The two bottles of wine also helped :).
Looking out over the landscape during our approach to Heathrow showed a landscape of green fields separated by hedges with dottings of small towns. Very pretty sight. I was sitting on the front edge of the wing and take the sheer size of this plane in. It's huge. It makes even the planes I fly to Texas in look like baby planes.
I am the last passenger off the plane. No point in rushing to pack my carryon stuff back into the bags and hurry off the plane just to sit around and wait for the baggage personell. So, by the time I get to the immigration desk, there is no line at all. The guy isn't thrilled with my answers. He believes that 34 days here on business is very strange indeed. I explain that I'm a computer programmer here for a system conversion and I watch his eyes glaze over somewhat. Ah, a technophobe! Happy day! I present him my business card as proof that I actually do work for the company I've stated. He stamps my passport and watches me suspiciously as I walk away.
I find the baggage carosel already teaming with passengers and bags. I find an open position and wait for my bag to come around. I wait some more. I notice one of the loading tracks is stuck. So, I wait for it to become unstuck and spill it's luggage contents for us to consume. It finally empties out. No bag. I look around. I am now the only passenger left with many bags going around. None of them are mine. It seems that my bag didn't have enough time to make it from the 6 person plane to my connecting flight on our 3 hour layover in LAX. In-f'ing-competence, I tell you.
I go pick up my car, with the promise that my luggage will be delivered to my hotel. Driving does take a bit of getting used to. I usually kind of crowd the left hand side of the lane when I drive. I'm not sure why I do, I just do. This poses a problem for me tooling down the motorway as I begin to unconciously crowd the left hand side of the lane...But, I'm on the other side of the car. So, my crowding is really pushing me into another lane entirely. With some mental effort I keep myself in my own damned lane. Bloody American drivers!
I did upgrade my car to a Toyota Prius with an internal navigation system. It'll cost a little more for the car, but, the gas costs will go down dramatically. Besides, without that glorious lady telling me where to turn, I probably would still be driving around Heathrow. Accounting is probably going to kill me. But, I'll enjoy myself until then :).
My hotel is easy to find and checking in is a snap. The room is pretty spartan, however. There is no dresser, no iron and no hair dryer. Don't really care about the hair dryer and, as you all know, I'll most likely ignore the iron for much of the time :). I notice that there is a water jug with a heating element in it for tea...but, no coffee maker. It's OK, I can handle tea in place of coffee. I turn on the Telly and flip through all five wonderful channels they have here. Each one pretty much sucks. That's actually good. I don't want to sit around watching TV in a foriegn country when there's so much else I could be doing.
I meet up with Frank for dinner and he shows me around a bit. We head off to an Italian place. It's an American chain, but, it doesn't stop me from having a couple of Boddingtons. We drive around afterwards and Frank shows me where the Ashworth shop is and how to get back to the hotel. I get back to my room (still no sign of my luggage) and force myself to stay awake until the un-Godly hour of 8pm. I crash...hard.
Intro
I decided that instead of regular emails, I'd write up this blog of my adventures. This just makes it easier for me. I won't have to remember who's on the distribution list and who's wanting to read the updates and who doesn't. I've sent the link out to a great number of people who expressed at least a vague interest in getting updates. If I've forgotten anyone or if someone else asks about it, feel free to point them to this place.
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