Excitement...not

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

Rugby Diversion

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

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

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

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

Sporting Pasta

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And the cat came back...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stuck in Snowy Chicago

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

"The Windy City?", you ask.

"Indeed", I reply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Canterbury

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Leeds Castle

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Movies

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

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

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

I hate laptops

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

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

Whitmore Arms

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

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

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

Coffee Compliments

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

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

The Louvre

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

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.

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.

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.