Tag Archives: Travel

“Did You Learn Anything?” continued…..

Posted on November 20, 2011 | Leave a comment

 It was weird at first to pay for most everything in cash – we just don’t carry much of it at home – if at all.  Just whip out that debit card – and don’t forget to write it down in the check register at some point. Getting 18 coins pound sterling in change for a 20GBP  note weighed heavy in my pocket.  After awhile I started thinking that it was pretty cool.  I could feel the weight of abundance right there in my wallet.  It felt more real than the plastic.  Back home now I get strange looks when I pay in cash.  Counting out $2.40 in quarters for a latte yesterday had the barrista thinking I was somehow on the dole or something with the look she gave me. It gave me an appreciation for the small things – like pennies – they count too….

In the US when you meet someone it seems the first question asked is “what do you do?”.  Frankly – in all of my travels I never got asked that question - and thank god.  What would I tell them?  Unemployed ’cause I decided to chunk it all as a PMP and take a year sabbatical???  What I found is that folks were more interested in who I was, what were my values (cleverly rooted for by baiting me with slamming comments on current America affairs or politics), what was my favorite music, place, color, food, etc…. In short – they were more interested in who I was rather than what I did.  I found that refreshing and am determined to practice that lesson here.  I never knew that slant of the perpective and what it offers in really learning about someone until I was away from it and just how ingrained my inculturation was that it never occurred to me prior.  I think it’s a much better way to engage with a new person. What we do for a living comes and goes – just look at me.  But who we are is rather constant over time. We hope…

I’ve never been a clothes horse but I always wanted to look my best and have the attendant plethora of hair and skin products crowding my bathroom as well as the “3 size” closet of clothes to prove it.  Oh, and let’s not forget at least 50 pairs of shoes – mostly black – mostly high heeled - lining the special shelf in my closet.  Nothing strips a woman down to knowing her essence faster than traveling for months on end with no blow dryer, 4 changes of clothes and one pair of shoes – flat soled at that. Hard to create an image to hide behind when your mascara drys up and you realize the only decent outfit you have is trashed and you have to show up to said function anyway.  I realized that the high heels, the makeup and the perfect hair were a veneer all carefully worn and applied to disguise my latent insecurities and admittedly - on occasion -self loathing.  Somehow I learned that if I just managed to look good no one would notice – including myself.  Well – that got unlearned in a hurry however uncomfortably.  To my surprise – people I met on my journey didn’t care one whit.  Who knew?  What a delight to be appreciated simply for who I was – bare faced, short and mouthy – with bad hair.  The bigger revelation was I got really comfortable with  ‘just Me’ in the process.  Not getting rid of my high heels though…

I’ve said this before in prior posts but truly – there are angels everywhere.  I can’t tell you how many people stepped in and saved me from myself.  Raised by circumstance and parenting to be an extremely independent person – it  was always pulling teeth to get me to ask for help.  Growing up I was always told to “figure it out” or “look it up” so I did – what choice did I have?  Subsequently I got really good at figuring out everything in my life for myself – or so I thought.  While I am not suggesting that a person shouldn’t strive to access their own resourcefulness whenever possible – I know how wonderful I feel when someone comes to me for a solution and I am able to provide one. By absolute neccessity I learned to let people do that for me and I only hope they got the same warm fuzzy feeling.  Maybe not all of them – but some.  The power of two is an amazing force…

Even at 5’3” I can make myself really big when threatened or I percieve I’m in a shaky situation. A confident posture and direct eye kept numerous situations from becoming ugly.  The pants hid the jello knees….

How much I don’t really need in this life.  Sure there are a lot of things I want but - need?  Sure I salivated over many things in my travels – but at the end of the day I reminded myself that I would have to carry that additional weight on my back in my carry on for the rest of the trip.  That made me become very choosy especially after I discovered how expensive shipping anything home would be.  Over time I likened it to personal baggage. How much was I willing to take on in my heart or head that I would end up having to pack around or drag behind me?  I think this was the seminal lesson learned.   I plan to expand on that at some point.

A sense of humor is absolutely critical as is not taking myself or my plans to seriously. 

In the movie “Out of Africa” – Karyn comments on the fact the earth is round so you don’t see to far down your path or horizon” (I’m paraphrasing)  Had I known what I was going to encounter on occasion I may not have gone.  At the same time – if I thought the experience could only afford me XY & Z and not kept an open mind, open eyes  – the innumerable magic moments would have passed me by completely.  I learned to lose the expectations and simply Be where I was at any given time.  And that made all the difference….

To be continued….

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Travel Post-mortem…..”Did you learn anything?”…..

Posted on November 18, 2011 | 1 Comment

Henry Golden’s favorite question to any of his 7 children after we either accomplished something or fell flat on our faces was - ”Did you learn anything?”  Needless to say I personally heard it a lot and more often than not – it was after doing something incredibly stupid rather than anything exceptionally brilliant.  I am hearing it daily in my head these days following my travels as I piece together the myriad of  experiences into some integrated whole and root out the take away, the lesson, the gift, the whole ’what does this mean?’ – if anything….

When I travel – my intent is to be open and learn about the country and culture I’m experiencing.  A by product – whether bidden or not – is that I also tend to learn a lot about myself.  Like traveling a kind of interior landscape. Some of the discoveries are delightful, some are validations that I’ve progressed beyond some personal limitiation and many others are reminders that I have miles and miles to go before transcending some awkward piece of my personality or perspective.  The following are a few of the random thoughts that come to mind as I sort out the answer to Henry’s question.  I just wish it wasn’t also in His Voice – in my ears – in stereo…. 

I am good for about 5 hours on a train at any one stretch.  After that the restless leg syndrome as well as the ADD and bored 5 year old in me kicks in and we both start the “are we there yet” whining.  Most of the time – the adult in me manages to keep it to myself and suffer in silence.  After 11 and a half hours on the night train from San Sebastion to Lisbon Will was ready to move me body and bag to another car.  It’s a testament to his inordinate amount of patience that we survived that trip intact!

I have a cast iron stomach.  I can eat almost anything.  I may not try it a second time but that sense of gastronomic adventure came in handy when I wasn’t quite sure what was in front of me and the manners my Grandmother drilled into me didn’t allow me to say “no thanks” as a guest.

I have a keen internal clock.  I have no idea where I got it from but I always knew what time it was without benefit of a watch or phone.  I carried neither on this trip and never missed a bus, train, plane or anything else that required me to be some place at some specific time.  This may also have been due to the fact that I am pathologically punctual.  I have tried many times in the past to be fashionably late to some function in an effort to appear cool or something equally as ridiculous and just manage to be …. on time.

I can make myself pretty comfortable just about anywhere with very little.  While the princess in me enjoys luxurious surroundings, 4000 thread count sheets, prompt service and generally everything to go MY way – it’s not a requirement to be happy in the moment.  I wasn’t raised in the lap of luxury and the silver spoon bypassed our house growing up.  Subsequently I believe that – while me and all my siblings have an appreciation for the best – we have an uncanny ability to make a silk purse out of a sows ear.  This was probably the one trait that served me best.  Besides, there just isn’t that much enthusiasm or toloerance for pitching an American Princess fit abroad these days. 

To be continued……. 

As a friend used to say – ‘have all the fun you’re willing to have’

Namaste

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San Sebastian – a bit of Basque Country….

Posted on November 14, 2011 | 1 Comment

photo courtesy of inguide travel & bing images

You’ll not see signs in English and Spanish in San Sebastian. The population in this small seaside town on the NE corner of Spain has a hard time being lumped into the generalized conception of what is ‘spanish’. They are Basque, inordinately proud of that distinction and while they may exist inside the borders of the country – San Sebastian feels like a tiny country all its own. The street signs are in Basque and Spanish – which did Will and I little good since our spanish is ‘muy limitada’. Our basque? I looked up a language translator on the web and found a site listing what are considered useful Basque phrases. Hello, good bye, where’s the toilet, my name is…… and – get this – “my hovercraft is full of eels” which translated to “Nire aerolabangailua aingirez beteta dago. As you can see if you check out the link – being fluent in french, italian or spanish will help you not. So remember that key phrase if your hovercraft is indeed full of eels when you find yourself in the best kept secret in Northern Spain.

This lovely view greeted us when we exited the station after about 6 hours on the various trains from Paris. Interestingly enough – The platform canopy of Estacion del Norte was designed by the same Gustave Eiffel who also designed the Eiffel Tower.

The walk along the river to our pensione was beautiful and just kept getting better as we rounded the corner and took in the expanse of the bay. It got even more wonderful when we got to our room, shrugged off our backpacks and stepped out onto the balcony. Right on the water – our view was stunning. Over the next five days we got to hear the surf pounding the breakwater and witness the huge wave plumes when they hit, watch the sunrises in the morning, sunsets at night and a couple of incredible lightening shows in the wee hours. When the night sky was clear – the stars were absolutely amazing. It was hard to conceive that this was it – the last week of my journey. Warm, sunny and languid – it was the perfect spot with even more perfect company to wrap up these months of travel.

As I have done in previous posts – the following are some highlights, thoughts and observations in no particular order of significance. Just what comes to mind…

Before I launch in – here’s a general observation. I find it incredibly unfair – when recording those precious moments on a journey – that men have the advantage of being able to suck in their stomachs before the ominous ‘click’. We women can’t exactly suck in our thighs now can we?? Noooooo. I have become an expert in figuring out poses that either removed all evidence that I am NOT fashionably thin or created the illusion that I was just a little less of the total me. Either insisting on ‘shoulder and up only’ and when that wasn’t possible – an artfully drapped coat or scarf. Trees, statuary, railings, etc. have all been employed these last few months in an effort to disguise. As I write this all I can think in retrospect is “Good god – get over yourself!” As if I’m not going to know the truth when I take a wander down memory lane. I used to delight in waiting for my five brothers to breathe before snapping. Ok, maybe not fair but it felt like a tiny bit of retribution. My Beloved came up with the perfect solution after hearing that story – see above. All you guys reading this – take heed. Ladies – we all know their memories can be like goldfish some times – once around the bowl and poof… so wait for the breath and snap away.

Will and I found the concept of the evening promenade wonderful. After dinner – usually around 9 or 10 – it seemed the whole town turned out to walk the square or the tree lined central avenue. Lovers – old and young – were arm in arm. Elderly gents in basque berets puncuated their thoughts with with a carefully timed cane wave. Families shared gelato. We noticed – much like a traffic circle – there was a natural flow with the outside moving in one direction and the inside meandering in the opposite. What a great way to check out the babes over and over again without appearing too obvious. What a great way to mingle with your community rather than holing up in your house in front of the TV or computer as is the fashion where I come from.

Kids. I have never seen this many kids in one town – ever. I don’t think it’s because San Sebastian is small. I’ve been in plenty of little towns and cities these last few months. I have no idea if these folks are just into progeny generation – it is a catholic country – or an inevitable result of warm sultry nights most of the year. We enjoyed watching the antics and listening to all the ‘little kid’ giggling – not so much the restaurant fits….

Pintxos (pronounced ‘pinchos’) is a delightful basque tradition much like tapas. You belly up to a bar lined with little sandwiches and other morsels like marinated beans on a skewer with olives. The tavern keep would finally acknowledge your existance and hand you a plate. You made your selections and he/she would keep a running tally. Locals ate standing up at the bar which had handy waste bins bolted right onto the front. Another delicacy was the shaved boar shank – their version of prosciutto but oh so much better – in my opinion.

There was an unusually high number of people who were either walking with a single cuffed cane or – more frequently – two. The average age seemed to be in the 60s to 70s. Polio back in the day? Also a rather large amount of wheelchairs.

We decided to be big kids ourselves and head to the aquarium. It was a combination maritime museum showcasing the rich sea going history of the area and aquarium. The seahorses were a personal favorite of mine. Will enjoyed the sharks especially watching them glide over the tops of our heads while walking through the plexiglass tunnel that ran through this enormous tank. It housed all manner of animals and we spent a fair amount of time just sitting and watching. One poor little tyke about had a heart attack when a shark swam right past him at his own two foot eye level. We didn’t dine at the Cousteau cafe. Pity.

Having seen my fair share of castles and attendant history, lengends, etc. – I found it refreshing that San Sebastian houses the Queen’s Palace. No man bashing here just appreciating something out of the ordinary…

Edifaces honoring god were as plentiful here as elsewhere in Europe – sigh… Enterprising homeless or jobless greeted us at the entrances with cup or hand outstretched. By the third time I was just not in the mood however much I wanted to see the interior. I do regret not going back when I felt more open minded. In this worldwide economic situation the global community finds itself immersed in – it seemed – in retrospect – a harmless way to make a few euros for pintxos.

It seems a blog post of mine on this journey wouldn’t be complete without a hill of some kind to climb and San Sebastian did not fail to provide the opportunity. Kind of like Rio, Santaigo and other bastions of christianity ( I’m just sure) – You’d find atop the highest hill was – at least – a ridiculously tall statue of Christ or that statue plus a castle or fort. This town opted for both and – ever curious – Will set out. I followed. He was fresh – I’d been climbing hills for months. I would have been happy with just a picture but he was into the vista so – ever the grumbler – I followed. Urban switchbacks – seemingly hundreds of them – and I look up. Yippie Skip! Half the way there. Lo and behold – a cat! Hanging out in a cleft in the side of the cliff and saying – to me – “act like you’re just taking my picture and I’ll give you the gift of rest in return”. I’m snappin’ – let me tell you…

At the top – as always – it was worth the trip, the breath, the screaming quads. Who’d have thought this little sleepy idyllic spot on the planet was once such a hotbed of political intrigue, agenda and ploy. The views were unsurpassed. I hear a voice in my head saying… “of course they were! They were picked centuries earlier because of the ‘view’ – what are you…New? – Though not for quite the same agenda…” We hung out – I caught my breath (again) and headed downhill – yeah! It’s so unfair – Will was hardly breaking a sweat. Well, he is from the South…..enough said.

One of our favorite things to do after a hard morning’s sightseeing was to find a table at one of the numerous outdoor cafes lining the beach – order cocktails or sangria – and just people watch. It’s a European beach so – yes – topless women were plentiful. Will is too much the gentleman to oogle but he was polite enough to point out his sightings perhaps thinking I might enjoy them too. I was just jealous. I don’t belong to the buxom crowd in this lifetime and I know if I were to go topless there would be no need to employ props to hide any generous configurations in this regard. Sigh – again….. I have other attributes… And I digress. Surfers, duck dodges with boats tipping over in a strong wind while rounding a bouy marker, happy dogs chasing balls, kayakers and crewing practices were some of the other entertainment we enjoyed while kicking back in the sun. I managed one afternoon to leave my camera on the table. Ok, so it was AFTER cocktails. I was able to retrieve it after freaking out that it may have been stolen – of course it couldn’t have been My fault…. When going through the day’s pics later I noticed several I didn’t recognize as taking. The waitstaff had actually taken pictures of themselves. Too funny – I have a record of my camera’s rescuers.

If we were to pick out our most favorite of all the sights and experiences we enjoyed in San Sebastian it would have to be the Combs of the Winds. Most sites like Trip Advisor will give you the low down and plenty of visitor commentary which parallels our own. Suffice to say – the sound that came from the blow holes was the most primal either of us have ever heard. We spent what seemed hours just listening – transfixed. I was able to capture some of it on video but unfortunately it was competing with the high wind above ground. While the sculpture is worth the walk – it was the possibility of hearing that haunting sound again that drew us to do the walk a second time. We weren’t so fortunate since the tide and winds weren’t quite right but we at least have the first time anchored in our memories.

As always – there are so many more stories, experiences, pictures. Some funny, some poignant, some boring, some not so pleasant – and – all part of the journey. I am an incredibly happy woman sitting here by the sea. I am living the dream – finally. I don’t plan on waking up any time soon…..

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Champagne in Epernay…..

Posted on November 10, 2011 | Leave a comment

Any of my friends will tell you that I am a champagne princess – or slut depending on who you’re talking too…..  Love the stuff.  Love it so much I’ve spent over $250 on a bottle of Roederer Cristal twice in my life – so far.  Will and I had a choice of the Normandy War Memorial or the Champagne Region for a day trip.  Well – bubbles won out over war.  I’m sure that walking Ohamha Beach would have been inspiring and thought provoking but we decided the beach wasn’t going anywhere and selfishly we simply wanted to be happy all day.  Somehow being blissfully happy at a site of so much personal sacrifice seemed a bit sacrilegious.  Frankly neither one of us wanted to feel bad about feeling so good.   So, Off to Epernay – home of Mercier and other famous champagne houses.

Did you know that  Moët & Chandon is owned by the giant L.V.M.H. (Louis Vuitton Moët Hennessy) which also owns Pommery and Veuve Clicquot. Combined, these four houses represent almost 50% of the export market – according to http://www.intowine.com.  So LV isn’t just about outrageously expensive handbags and luggage that people are willing to line up outside the store for - at least in Paris.

We opted to forgo Moet Chandon as being too big and commercial for its britches.  Their cheesy train car that  squired the other champagne tourists around didn’t help so we headed down Avenue De Champagne to the Mercier House.  A much more intimate setting.  The best part of this tour was learning about the colorful life of the visionary founder - Eugene  Mercier.           Some of his antics included road rallys in the wine tunnels.  His mass media tactics in the late 1800s were quite ahead of his time.  The story of the giant cask of champagne he hauled to the 1899 Exposition Universelle is worth a trip to the website.  Apparently his only rival for top billing was the Eiffel Tower and legend has it he won. Check out his story at http://www.champagnemercier.fr/en/#/the-mercier-storyl’

The tour took us underground 110+ feet into the tunnels which had been dug by hand – all 18 kilometers!   The tram ride with an automated “guide” was a little disappointing  but since we signed up for the luxury tour – we had three glasses waiting for us at the end.  We had a fantastic steward who described the vintage  differences  in great detail.  Will was paying attention – he’s the wine connoisseur – or snob depending on who you’re talking to….  Me?  I was just enjoying drinking my favorite beverage at 10 o’clock in the morning!

We headed to the De Castellane House for comparative purposes – read excuse to continue imbibing!  This ended up being a walking tour.  I don’t think anyone noticed my slight weaving – it was dark…  Anyway, we found this experience much more interesting from the champagne production standpoint because we had an actual guide and a very small group.  The tunnel ‘streets’ are lined with literally millions of bottles in varying degrees of fermentation.  It wasn’t too very long ago that all of them had to be turned by hand – a quarter turn each over months.  Can you imagine?   This is the history cellar where several bottles from each vintage are stored.  I believe they have bottles from as far back as the founding.  We enjoyed our tastings and then decided to climb the tower – all 236 steps to the top.  A gorgeous view of the town and valley.  Each landing had something interesting to see - vintage posters on one – vintage bottles on another.  All in all – this was the better tour but Mercier was definately the better champagne.  At least I thought so.

It was only mid afternoon at this point.  What to do, what to do?  Well  – more champagne of course!   The meander around town first helped clear our heads. Will and I gapped through a shop window at a chocolate horse – only 137 euros. The head was a mere 35E.  We walked on….  Epernay is very small and it was apparent that champagne and tourism is the lifeblood – there wasn’t much to do beyond that – and I am not  complaining.  Quaint but still very french if the quintessential ‘rudish’ waiter is any indication.  Do they go to school for that? 

We finished off the day sitting outside an adorable cafe enjoying a bottle of Roederer – not Cristal but very lovely none the less.  We headed back to the train station not quite as sure footed as when we arrived - but  blissfully happy and feeling damn good about it. 

I think I love champagne so much because - to me - it represents celebration, joy, bliss….  All those bubbles dancing in the glass – breaking the surface like so many happy little thoughts that can’t quite be contained.  That may sound incredibly trite to some but I believe we all need a reminder that ultimately life is simply about being happy.  If not then really -what’s the point?  Champagne is a gorgeous reminder of my life’s pleasures – sometimes simple, sometimes sinful, sometimes awe inspiring - always wonderful…

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Paris……Third Time’s a Charm….

Posted on November 3, 2011 | Leave a comment

They say that the third time’s a charm. After toodling around Paris alone the prior two trips I told myself that I wouldn’t go back unless it was with someone to share the City of Light with – it’s just way too romantic a place – a least to me. I know it is unbelievably cliche but I love Paris. I am on a train heading down to Spain with my Beloved after a lovely week in Paris. Suffice to say – there just wasn’t much time to blog given I haven’t seen this man for a couple of months. Priorities, priorities…. So, having torn myself away for a bit - here are a few experiences and observations that come to mind to share.

Ok, I may not have seen every con game there is but I’m pretty savvy when it comes to people attempting to take advantage of me. Thus far into this trip – other than the occasional aggressive beggar – I haven’t had anyone try to pick my pockets, grab my bag or snatch my computer out of my lap (this did happen to a friend while in Barcelona. Yep, right out of her lap by a guy on a motorcycle. Insult to injury – it was brand new as well). Well….first day in Paris…. I got taken TWICE. I am wondering – can I heap some of the shame on my Darling since he was there too? Really only one and a half times – I managed to get out the first one without loss of euros having caught on that the woman who was collecting signatures for a “charity of some kind” was really collecting for herself. Beware of that one!

All I can say about the second encounter is that we are still laughing and shaking our heads a week later. It was good – we give them that. Stop reading if you’ve experienced this yourself…. Ok, we are strolling down the Seine after a wonderful day – chatting about what next, how nice the day was, what’s for dinner, wow I can’t believe you’re really here, etc, etc. – and Suddenly a woman is bending down in front of us picking up a gold band. She held it up – exclaimed “WOW!” and asked us if we thought it was real gold and held it out to us. We squinted at the inside of the band and it seemed to say 18c – told her as much and handed it back to her. Now at this point I should have gotten a little suspicious – she shrugged and gave it back to us saying “you should keep it as a gift from Paris.” And she walked away. Now she looked perfectly normal, nicely dressed (I’m trying to make myself feel better – can you tell?) As Will and I are looking at each other – smiling and thinking we just had a happy little accident  and how great the universe is blah blah blah – the woman came back to us (ok, should have really been suspicious but hey – we were in a little bubble – as we were expected to be in this little confidence game…) She asked for money – just a little bit to help out. Well of course, she just gave us a gift (God, this is painful to write – I can see all the places we should have seen what was coming) I gave her a fiver and she looked like I was the biggest cheapskate on the planet but off she went. We looked at each other, shrugged our shoulders and headed to Musee D’Orsay.

Will and I are pretty smart people and we were playing this little interlude over between us and getting suspicious….finally. Even though the ring was heavy and had the carat stamp on the inside – we were coming to the conclusion that we may have indeed been rooked. As we were pretty much deciding that it was a distinct possibility – another woman was bending down in front of us picking up the carbon copy twin of our ring and holding it out to us with the EXACT script her crime twin used on us not a half hour earlier. We looked at each other – looked at her – and I held out my ring and said “already been there”. She pointed at a me with two fingers and headed in the opposite direction – quickly! I’m sure everyone else is going to be way too smart to fall for this one – just have a good laugh at our expense! Consider it our gift to you – from Paris.

What is it about the French Catholics that they want to preserve the bones – literally – of their religious MVPs?? It was truly creepy to look into a highly decorated glass fronted box and see bones, pieces of bones, even decorated. There were statues that had tiny lockets in their chests that displayed some piece of the honoree. I’m clear I don’t want to know what kind of pieces…

Here’s an interesting statue that was in the crypt of Sacre Cour- what do you think the symbolism means with a bishop carrying his own head?? Apparently it’s a saint who just simply refused to die when his head was chopped off. Legend has it he carried all the way back to his home town.

If you put together all the claimed relics of the Crucifixion you could build at least 500 crosses, numerous crowns of thorns and countless shrouds. Paris has its own claim as well. Saint Chappelle originally held them – the trade from some European big wig to Louis the 15th for cash – their version of a bailout funding. Now housed in the Notre Dame treasury – we paid the extra 4 euros but I’m not sure we actually saw them. You’d think they’d be clearly marked as a point of pride but they’re probably squirreled away somewhere to keep them safe. The other relics are worth a view – even more ‘saint parts’.

Did you know that the bell in Notre Dame was actually baptized and named “Emmanuel”. That’ll give you a leg up in your next Trivial Pursuit game.

Why all the gargoyles? And why decorate a religious edifice- that is supposed to make people feel good, safe in the arms of god – with ugly, menacing and evil looking creatures? Fire and brimstone?  Strike the fear of god in the parishioners as another means of controlling the masses?  Plain downspouts are boring?   Did I mention I was a recovering catholic?

Some things never change – men with their backs to the public while urinating in… public. Smoking may be forbidden inside an establishment – it doesn’t seem to have made a dent in the number of people that smoke.  Nor does there seem to be any encouragement to pick up your dog’s doodoo. So, a stroll in Paris still means spending some amount of time watching your step, averting your eyes and holding your breath…

A word that describes Paris? Fashion… It’s hard for me to be here at the tail end of three months of traveling having worn the same clothes over and over and over. Same sensible shoes. I’m a fairly self confident person that doesn’t feel the need to keep up with the Jones but it only took a few hours in Paris to make me feel like the White Trash Spinster Second Cousin. All those perfectly coiffed, starved to perfection, fashion forward Parisienne women gliding effortlessly across uneven cobblestone streets in impossibly high heels while I am turning my ankles in my sensible flat soled Naots. In fact – the only real purchase I made was in Paris was a fabulous coat. I noticed I even matched a tree – wonderful.

Because we rented an apartment and food in Paris is so expensive – I headed out our first day in search of a grocery store in the neighborhood to stock up. Can’t be too hard, right? OMG – I must have walked for at least an hour not finding a single store that sold anything other than high end chocolate and bread. Muttering to myself that I now know why the women of Paris are so thin – who wouldn’t be after a marathon – I soldiered on. Of course, AFTER finally finding a fruit stand and a 7-11 equivalent at what seemed a million miles from our place – I discovered that the French version of a supermarket was only about 2 blocks away. Another little ethnocentric slam – just because there are stores and Starbucks on every street corner at home….. And worse – I’ve been here before!

Speaking of shopping – a line outside Louis Vuitton complete with a rope gate and bouncer facsimile ……really? We kept looking back shaking our heads in disbelief. That takes the term ‘shopaholic’ to a whole new level.

Ladies – if you’ve drug your guy to the Champs Elysees – have a heart and give them equal time in the fancy car showrooms and the other ‘go fast’ big boy toy stores. They might even spring for a Louis V clutch – but don’t expect them to wait in the line….

 

 

I didn’t know that Rodin’s Thinking Man really started out as a little guy who was contemplating Dante’s hell below in the fabulous “Gates of Hell” sculpture. What an incredible piece! The Three Shades was an interesting take on the idea of perspective. Then there was the serene lovely pond with the statue of the man about to eat his children resting in the center. Interesting juxaposition – I thought he was playing with them at first…..

 

 

 

We spent a lot of time in the Armory which houses a progression of materials and tools of war over 500+ years. It was a little disconcerting to note that all the amazingly beautiful detail, artistry and craftsmanship were focused on pieces who’s sole purpose was to kill someone or protect from being killed. One interesting comparison was the steel used for European weapons was rough and seemed appropriately ancient while the Japanese swords displayed looked absolutely brand new and they were about 300 years old.  They were ahead of us even then….

26 euros for two french coffees? Really?????     …….Really.

I could go on and on with the stories and there are plenty but as I have said before – a blog post by definition isn’t a book. That being said – I finally had my wish and it only took 11 years. To stroll the streets of Paris arm in arm with my Beloved and share my most favorite city. Being a lone traveler does have it’s advantages at times but when it comes to romance – in my humble opinion – you just can’t possibly enjoy that solo…….

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Scotland……the Last Wee Bits…

Posted on October 14, 2011 | Leave a comment

So this is it – my last night in Scotland. How better to celebrate than an evening at the most popular place in town – with a whisky that Andy, the Pub Keep, brought out from ‘upstairs’ especially for me. Balvenie Doublewood 12 year. It’s apparently matured in two woods. First in the traditional Oak Whisky cask then a ‘First Fill’ European Oak Sherry cask. We both had a rather hushed reverence as he carefully poured my dram. He then instructed me on the fine art of introducing water to the glass. Water opens up the flavor so having it ‘neat’ is really robbing you of the fullness. One ice cube is the best – slipped into the glass – not dropped – rolled around and then….enjoy! Being as how it’s a last night and all – I didn’t ask the price – just handed him my credit card… I found out later – it was free!

The weather is cooperating as well. I got to sit outside with an amazing view of the waning afternoon sun and- get this – no wind! Maybe this is my fare-thee-well from beyond the beyond… Whatever it may be – I am in total appreciation.

The last wee bits of my time in Scotland. Certainly they are too numerous to mention. As I said in an earlier post – a post by definition is not a novel so while I could go on forever – I’ll keep it as succinct as I can. Just a few things that come to mind:

Food – it’s rich, rich, rich here! Pasties, meat pies, shepards pie, fish and chips. It seems that anything that can be deep fried or smothered in butter – is! Potatoes are a staple as is Tablet. A super sweet and hard form of fudge. Bakeries are everywhere. Forres alone has three and it is a pretty tiny town. Being gluten and egg intolerant – it’s a bit like torture to look but don’t taste…sigh. Stand alone butcher shops are popular and venison is right there along with the angus. I have tried the haddock and found it to my liking as well as the atlantic salmon but not the farmed raised stuff. Venison pate with oak cakes – well – you just haven’t lived ’til you’ve tried it. The one delicacy I heard about but didn’t get a chance to partake was deep fried Mars Bars. Not Kidding! Apparently you take a regular old Mars Bar – dip it in batter – and stick it in the vat. When it floats – it’s done. Probably a good thing I wasn’t introduced. While my clothes still fit – I can say with all certainty – I’m gonna have some ‘splainin’ to do to my scale when I get home!!

Since Paris is my next stop and I will be meeting my Beloved there (read Absolutely Can’t Wait!) it puts me in mind of all things romantic. That includes PDAs – public displays of affection for the uninitiated. Paris is considered by many to be the height of romance and anything goes. Having been there twice before – alone – I can only surmised by what I witnessed. It seems as if the attitude was anything goes but it also felt a bit contrived – as if the inhabitants had a reputation to live up to. What I appreciated in my forays in Scotland was an ample albeit reserved public demonstration of ones regard for ones mate. It was lovely to see and was not just a hallmark of the young. In fact, most of the hand holding, kissing, walking arm-in-arm and door openings-by-men were by older couples. There was a gentle deference by the men towards their women – a public chivalry that I just haven’t witnessed elsewhere. And before any reader cried foul and tries to deride the happy recipients – the Scottish women I’ve had the pleasure to chat with are about the strongest lot I’ve met in some time. Not many shrinking violets here. Or for that matter – Barbie Dolls or Princesses. The climate alone wouldn’t allow it! At least as far as what I was privy to – there just seems to be simply an appreciation for each other and a celebration and gratitude for the differences between the sexes and – at the end of the day – the power of two. Perhaps I’m waxing poetic but I found it lovely to witness anyway…

Being from Seattle – I don’t have much in the way of daily reminders of my area’s history. Here the evidence is just everywhere. Cairns, ancient burial sites, Pictish forts, castles – restored and in ruins, even farms separated by stone fences hundreds and hundreds of years old. It is not out of the ordinary to see a stone archway and remains of an ancient building tucked away in a new development. Standing stones are everywhere as well. I saw many and a few of them were in pastures with little fences around them to keep the livestock from using them as scratching posts. So many of the homes in the villages are at least two hundred years old and they have the delightful tradition of naming the house. Your address would be: Lockney Cottage 212, Forres….

Another delightful tradition – dogs are allowed in the pubs! In fact, they are welcome members. I met several – large and small – young and old. In fact, just this evening an older couple was coming by the Kimberly and their spaniel jumped up the stairs to where the outside tables sit. The owner gave the leash a tug – the dog looked at him askance – the owner looked at me and said – perhaps a bit sheepishly, “it’s a cryin’ shame when your dog knows your habits that well”. Being a dog lover I’d welcome them too. I have a wonderful ‘niece’ – her name is Sophia – and as a standard Blue poodle – she’d make sure she was the belle of the ball. Of course – she is a princess by any definition so we might have to make allowances…. LOL!

Dogs reign and they are the happiest dogs I’ve seen. They cavort, chase birds ever hopefully, hop around in the surf, swim endlessly and being Scottish dogs – rocks are just fine to retrieve. No need for sissy tennis balls here, thank you very much.

Bicycles are a popular form of transportation and not just for the Lance Armstrong Wannabees. All ages can be seen pedaling away – chatting on cell phones, smoking cigarettes – and – drinking a beer (yes!) – makes me almost want to put a basket and bell on my mountain bike.

Soccer is for wimps – rugby is king. The World Cup finals is all you hear about right now and the fact that France beat England…..

Laundry is hung outside to dry and not just on the fine days. As long as it isn’t raining – sheets and socks are flapping away. Dryers are not considered a right and with electricity as expensive as it is – mother nature is put to the task. The sheets smell divine…

All in all what I have appreciated most about Scotland is the lack of pretension. I can’t quite find the right words but what comes to mind is ‘real’. Now this of course is coming through the filters of my own experiences, my own world view, my own perspectives. Another traveler may and most probably will experience something different all together. But that’s for them to discover. What I know is I have discovered a little piece of heaven on earth where you don’t have to lock your doors, people are – for the most part – down home friendly and inviting, dogs are really really happy and – you can fry up a Mars bar and no one will think the less of you….

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Scottish Castles….Ramparts, Dry Moats & Drop Bridges….

Posted on October 6, 2011 | 2 Comments

…..At least two of them anyway. Another blond moment – when I finally arrived at the ticket counter after an impossible line (I am not a natural queuer – really… how many Americans are??) I was asked if I was planning on seeing any other castles while in Scotland and they had this fab pass that would give me a steep discount, etc. etc. I declined – I only planned on seeing two – how many more could there be? Scotland’s not THAT big. As my brother Dan is fond of saying, “What are you? New?” As it turns out – the country is literally awash with them. In retrospect – considering the current Pound to Dollar exchange rate (Ouch!) I should’ve gotten the pass…..

Pretty much everywhere you look in Edinburgh is dominated by some view of the Edinburgh Castle. Which is appropriate when you think about it – a castle in those days was really a fort and it was of particular benefit to be able to survey the land and approaching enemies as close to 360 degrees as possible. Is that why corporate execs have corner offices? I digress… My first impression was that it looked like it grew out of the rocks. I know I have made this observation in previous posts – but how did they do this level of construction without benefit of modern machinery? And it’s still standing – after being razed completely save for one small chapel at least once in the last 1000 years. I followed the obligatory tour and once again was delighted with the Scot’s amazing capacity for story telling. Much more fun that reading a guidebook account and the accent is to die for. It was declared impenetrable and was only breached once in its long history by a small band of brave lads scaling the cliffside ramparts. Try that without modern climbing gear, at night, in the driving rain, archers at the ready above you ….in a skirt….

As with many Scottish castles – so I was told – moats made no sense. With the topography being mostly hills – moats would simply drain into the villages below. But the concept was still employed as yet another means of protection. Scaled the cliff and external wall successfully? OK, but now you have an expanse of ground to cross without benefit of cover – all manner of nasty instruments of death and destruction lying in wait and a second rampart to conquer. If you managed that still standing – ok – you’re in. But wait – now you have the king’s close guard to overcome. In addition to being the best of the best, more than likely they are armored (you left yours at the bottom of the cliff to lighten your load) and they aren’t exhausted, probably got a decent nights sleep – maybe even a roll with a willing wench (but they’re probably in skirts too) As I was meandering the grounds I could see the ghosts of these soldiers – marveled at the courage, strength and tenacity it must have took in those days to be a warrior. Not at all a slight on our military today but you have to agree – it’s not quite as personal any more – save – for the most part – the added benefit of pants.

No, I didn’t misspell Draw Bridges in the title. At least the Edinburgh and Stirling castles employed a Drop Bridge. Having missed that part of the guided tour I can only surmise that – given gravity – it’s a helluva lot faster to drop several tons of lumber than it is to raise it. I’m sure there is a much more elegant and thoughtful reason – if you find out let me know.

Tourists are the main bread and butter for current castle revenues but it is also a very popular and auspicious place to wed. Indeed – there were happy (hopefully) nuptials taking place the day I visited. The groom was resplendent in his Scottish formal attire and the bride was glowing. After witnessing the Florence wedding at Dante’s House with attendant misgivings – remember? Inferno, Divine Comedy, Purgatory….. I was simply taken in by the grandeur of the scene and silently sent them my heartfelt congratulations and well wishes. My friends Kim and Russ were married in her namesake castle just outside of Prague. I was unable to attend but if it was anything like this – what an extraordinary start to a life together. A true Kodak moment – with both parties in dresses! I’m telling you – Scottish men have the corner on the “secure in their manhood” market… LOL

From the current Stirling town entrance by train – the castle is not visible. More than likely the town grew against that face in the last few centuries. The first thing that struck me was the “King’s Gold” colored building in the center of the grounds. The ‘Great Hall’ as I discovered later. It looked odd and garish. As I made my way in and around I noticed more rooms that either had been restored or were in the process of being restored as close to original likeness as historical documents can provide. At first blush I thought it was a sacrilege – as if there was a defacement occurring. Ok, yet another blond moment…sigh…. It dawned on me that the decaying edifices that I saw all around me weren’t always decaying edifices. Hello! At one time they were new construction (yes I can hear Dan clearly…What are you? New?) If you believe the history books – James V wanted Stirling castle to be a glorious and imposing beacon of his reign and sovereignty. A visual display of the promise of greatness to his people. Ok, perhaps he just wanted to show off but with an unlimited budget like his – why not? He was new and young with a statement to make. Hmmmmm….brings to mind another new young leader intent on making his own mark by spending loads of his people’s cash on showy displays…. I digress, again. After this stunning (tongue in cheek) revelation – I started to imagine the rest of the castle in all its original splendor and how it must have looked to a contingent of – say- Spanish nobles coming in to swing a deal.

A word to Brave Heart enthusiasts – do NOT – under pain of excruciating embarrassment – raise your hand when queried by the castle tour staff if you’ve seen the movie. I myself admit to having seen the film at least 5 times and cried every single time William rips off the helmet of his attacker and finds the Bruce. Ahhhhh – the betrayal….. Any Scot will tell you in no – absolutely no uncertain terms – the movie is nothing but a grand pile of Coo Shite (a Coo being a scottish cow with long hair) Suffice to say – Mel and Hollywood have a lot of ‘splainin’ to do and at least as far as the movie is concerned – are not terribly popular here either. While I heard conflicting stories as to why William Wallace was decidedly not the embodiment of the Brave Heart – it was uniformly concurred that Robert the Bruce was the true savior and leader of the times. While Edinburgh castle is wonderful and convenient – I found Stirling castle much more historically interesting and well worth the train trip. I have to admit – after my visit – if I deign to watch Brave Heart again – I probably won’t cry.

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Edinburgh ….. the Gateway to my Scottish Adventure

Posted on September 30, 2011 | 1 Comment

I made the observation in earlier posts that San Remo encouraged its visitors to relax and leisurely take it all in and that Florence – by dearth of benches – urged her patrons to ‘just keep perambulating’. What struck me first in Edinburgh was the sheer number of benches. It’s not a very big city and at its core they were literally lining the streets and park walkways – side by side. Then I began exploring the city and realized why. The gentle rolling landscape from the air morphed into steep hills on the ground – lots of them. Edinburgh encourages you to rest – frequently. I’m sure I had no choice. And how did women in very high heels do it? Going downhill was just as arduous – it felt like an urban version of mountain climbing at times. In retrospect -all those hours and hours of walking in previous locations was just training for wandering up and down the many many hills in this absolutely beautiful city. And Scottish weather? Well – I’m from Seattle – enough said…

My next observation was just how friendly everyone was especially after London. When I had to ask for directions I not only got very detailed descriptions but many times it was just a precursor for a conversation about where I was from, tidbits about the best restaurants, the best whiskey, the best pubs, etc. And, a word about pubs here – I had no trouble meeting many folks who instantly included me in their little evening circle. Generally it seemed it was because an American provided fodder for disseminating all the sources of ill in the world (of course – the Americans!) But it was all in good fun and good natured plus they took as well as they gave. They were delightfully candid and had no compunction what so ever about asking very personal questions and sharing their lives with me. That whole Northern Latitude reticence just wasn’t at all the case here. Buying rounds for everyone was standard protocol and repeated often and at alarmingly frequent intervals. “No thank you – I’m ok for now” was always greeted with – well – another round. Since I am Scottish by heritage I could keep up – but just……. It was great fun.

Speaking of entertainment – as soon as I got off the bus from the airport – I was greeted with the wonderful sounds of bagpipes. Street corner musicians invariably play the bagpipes and to my untrained ear – they sounded really good. There was even a free concert by a young band who’s genre I can only call “bagpipe fusion”. While I can’t attach the video I took – imagine a guy jumping up and down to the beat of his drummer while simultaneously playing bagpipes – really well. No mean feat. I was fascinated….

Food…. Any visit to Scotland would not be complete without Haggis. Now, I have heard horror stories about this interesting delicacy. But I am always willing to try anything once and so – I tried Haggis. I found it wonderful and did not ask the contents being satisfied that there are times in life when ignorance is truly bliss. However, having shared this experience with family – my brother Chris just had to send me the recipe complete with his own interpretations. While I can applaud the Scots for being frugal as well as ecologically minded and making use of any and all of a sheep – I will be refraining from Haggis in the future. Tatties and Neeps are pretty wonderful – potatoes and turnips – but mayo on fries? I have to draw a line in the sand. This is not unique to Scotland – I was introduced to it in London and – well – it’s still faintly disgusting to me. To each his own.

Instant coffee abounds in the UK even with Starbucks on every street corner in London. I never saw one in Italy – no big surprise there – they are pretty proud of their coffee. I imagine that they may even have banned Starbucks (I really don’t know) Edinburg has a few Starbucks scattered about but I am determined not to step foot in one on my trip and so instant coffee it is. It’s not too bad once you get used to it. Really. I just can’t bring myself to drink tea instead. It is interesting that there just isn’t the variety of veggies you’d find in the states. Cost of distribution? They just aren’t that into them here? Too cold? Who knows but salads that contain anything other than lettuce and the occasional carrot or tomato are hard to come by. What I have come to appreciate on my journey is that Europeans don’t ‘supersize’ portions. Instead, presentation and quality are the focus – at least in the places I enjoyed. And the cheese here!!!! Better than Paris in my opinion.

Scottish Malt Whiskey is in its own special category. Marvelous stuff and many brands you can’t get in the states. And – its CHEAP here – even the good stuff – Yea!! Suffice to say – I have tried at least 11 different kinds and am nowhere near done yet. Thank god I am within walking distance of my digs. On a recycling note – I have seen houses made from old whiskey barrels and yes – they are round.

I have never seen this many men’s knees in the daylight in my life outside a football (soccer) game. Yes, kilts are in abundance -worn not just by older men either. Not having had a good wind twirl up any kilt in my vicinity – yet – I can neither confirm or deny that particular myth. What I find delightful is that Scottish men have felt so secure in their manhood down through the ages that they have been wearing the equivalent of a ‘Man Bag” for centuries. I asked a few men if they had anything in their Sporrans and they produced wallets, keys, cigs., etc. There you go Stateside Guys – be brave – start a trend…..

As nearly everywhere in Europe – history abounds and I found many establishments who were proud to laud their bit (is that redundant?) – here is a sample:

Having visited both the Edinburgh and Stirling castles – I will save those for another post. Suffice to say – after I seriously huffed and puffed my way to the top of Carlton Park Hill and took in the alternate views of Edinburgh and the Firth of Forth it is easy to see why some in these parts still believe in magic and the fairy people……

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London Reflections….

Posted on September 11, 2011 | 2 Comments

As I leave London and reflect not only on wrapping up this little leg of my journey but the past month – I had the following insights and observations. Again, no particular order of significance – just some random thoughts…..

As a person who knows what ethnocentrism is and does try to remain open to cultural differences and not insisting that they do it my way -subscribing to the “When in Rome” theory of travel – I continually amazed myself at how the little expectations from home kept coming up. Case in point – we have street signs on the street back home. Makes sense to me. In trying to navigate initially I couldn’t find a single street sign – not a one. I finally asked a friendly looking person where the street signs were and she looked a little surprised and pointed up to the side of the building. Well….who knew…..and now I know. Do you think there is any social significance in a London street called “Petty France”?

Traveling gives me plenty of opportunity to realize afresh that I’m just not as smart as I’d like to think I am. And in the first half hour in London I had a number of Brits who were more than happy to remind me. In trying to find my B&B by the published directions I managed to get myself completely lost and they were only about a 3 minute walk from the train station (read a very small radius) After what seemed like forever I finally found Ebury street – Yea! – but which way were the numbers going? They seem to go up so I trudged that direction but then they started getting smaller – What?? So, I asked a nice looking lady if they were indeed getting bigger as I headed in THAT direction. She told me in an exasperated tone, “Well, as you can see as you look down the street here that the numbers are getting larger and if you are looking for 113 Ebury street this is obviously the even numbered side so you are going to have to be on the OTHER side of the street, Correct?” Wow, I felt like the kindergartner that just got scolded by the teacher. Ten minutes later -after checking into the B&B – Simon, the proprietor, told me my room was just up the landing. I looked around a little confused and he repeated “up the landing!” (what in the hell is a landing?) “Ya gotta go UP Girl, UP” I was told. Well….who knew and now I did. His exasperation was probably precipitated by our earlier conversation in which – after he handed me a slip of paper with the wireless network name and password that I swore read “DangerMoose” and repeated it as such – I was told it was “DangerMouse” and did I need glasses? I was by this time keenly aware of my flagging intelligence and I just wanted to get to my room, pee and not move for awhile – or talk to anyone.

I stuck my key in my room door lock…… and promptly broke it off… in the lock. Not kidding. I stared at it in utter disbelief. The worst part was I was going to have to go DOWN the landing and tell Simon. And I still had to pee. Simon looked at me incredulously and told me that had never happened before,,,,ever. I choked back a snarky reply especially after he told me it would take most of the afternoon to fix so I’d better just head out and see the city. Adding insult to injury I still had to pee and had to ask if there was a bathroom available (it was seriously becoming an emergency) Sighing he told me go UP two landings and watch my step. At least it didn’t require a key to get in. As I left the building it started to rain but armed with the knowledge that street signs are on buildings, even numbers are on one side of the street, odd on the other – I had a fantastic afternoon. If I had to figure anything out – I applied good old fashioned American ingenuity and figured it out myself……frankly my self esteem just couldn’t take another beating that day. I will leave out British coins and the completely illogical relationship between denomination and size…. LOL!

All that being said – there are little angels everywhere. The wonderful gentleman on the train who helped me take my backpack off and then helped me put it on at our destination. The delightful woman who helped me puzzle out the train schedules. The internet cafe guy that let me use his private wireless so I could use my iPad to skype an emergency call. He did proceed to diss my iPad but I gave him that one – I wasn’t in any position to argue. The fantastic train ticket guy who saved me about $50.00 and 2 hours of time by figuring out an alternate route. Countless people over the course of the last month came to my rescue, aided me, and in general – saved me from myself. Being willing to sound stupid and ask the question anyway and make mistakes – in public no less – has been a great growth opportunity. As a recovering perfectionist – this has been a little difficult at times but overall has lead to some of the nicest folks and the best experiences. I was a little angel for others as well in numerous capacities. All in all – my faith and basic belief that most people really are decent has been restored. At the end of the day I think we all go about achieving the same goals and aspirations – just differently.

The House of Parliament makes the White House look like a shack.

I’m not sure how I feel about continually running into folks who know more about my country and country’s politics than I do. They are simply more interested than I am. I figure if there is anything hugely important to know – someone will tell me.

Of course I had to see the Tower of London. Ok, another mark for the dumb – or perhaps under informed girl. I thought the tower was literally just one big tower. What I found most interesting is that men back then – unlike the huge hunks that play medieval roles in movies – were actually kind of small if you take their armor as a measurement. A testament to how strong they were – those broad swords were huge and heavy. I got to stick my head in a half helmet to get an idea of what the field of vision was like – pretty much nil. The only comforting thought would be that your enemy couldn’t really see either. I imagine the battlefield to be Slash, Hack and Hope. A number of pieces of Henry the 8th’s armor were on display. I was a little taken aback by this suit. Check out what else he was protecting. Big Armor, Little……? Draw your own conclusions.

Westminster Abbey is equally as impressive but St. Margaret’s right next door is much more intimate, free, no lines and has a lovely stained glass window that Henry the 8th had made for Catherine of Aragon – presumably before his affair with Ms. Boleyn. It creeped me out a bit when I realized I was walking on graves in the aisle between the pews. I tried to be respectful but there wasn’t much of a choice – the markers took up all the space. So I just tried not to think about what I could be stepping on. I find it an interesting way to honor the dead. That and the plaques on the walls. Many dated back to the 16th century and some were as current as the 1990s. St Pauls – The Actors Church – was another great little gem. Noel Coward is one of the honorees. There were also wall to wall graves on the floor and ground outside but by this time I didn’t mind so much…..when in Rome……

I did manage to see Harrods department store but that’s only because I had to pee and department stores typically have restrooms (free restrooms…) I possess a bladder the size of a walnut and my meanderings always have to include frequent bathroom breaks which is a huge inconvenience but, I digress… Kim, if you are reading this – Harrods is Your Store!! I have no idea what Niemen Marcus is like but I am sure Harrods is right up there. Traveling for 3 months with only one pair of shoes – sensible ones at that – and being a shoe collector myself – I did have to go to the shoe department just to look. It was hard to tear myself away without a purchase but I am traveling carry on only and there just isn’t any room in the inn so to speak. The princess in me was heaving heavy sighs all over the place but one heft of my bag without any additions made me happy I resisted temptation. My Naots are the best travel shoes ever – although I may hate them by the time this journey is over. Maybe I’ll bronze them……

Another note on Harrods – this I found a little disturbing. Their fall window displays included a number of stuffed animals. Each one of these windows had the following notation in small print on each display window “all of the animals in these displays died of natural causes” ……… Really? I mean – if you have to go to these lengths to be PC – why bother?

Back to bathrooms and varying degrees of need. London has this thing were you need exact change to use most public loos. Inevitably I’d feel the urge, heed the call only to discover that I did not have exact change – along with several other people in the same boat. Made for a few truly uncomfortable scurries around to locate a sympathetic bar person who’d let me use their facilities. My catholic guilt (I am a recovering catholic) would then kick in – and I’d feel compelled to buy a beer by way of fair exchange. Ultimately this was poor strategy for obvious reasons. I learned though – new city? Include WC locations as part of the orientation walk.

London’s Tube is a cinch to figure out as are the trains. Back home I would definitely use public transportation if we had a system that was remotely reliable. I know they are working on it but – please – cities like London, Paris, Boston, New York, etc. have been doing this successfully for eons – what is our problem???

Hyde Park – London’s version of Central Park. Fabulous and worth a wander.

The Tate Modern. Worth getting lost to finally find. Ai WeiWei’s Sunflower Seeds was the most impressive piece to me. Each one of these true to size seeds is handmade in porcelain and hand painted. Google the history and significance of this exhibit – you might find it interesting as well. Taryn Simon’s exhibit is worth following as well – in my opinion.

Food – I am hip to try anything once. I had julienned jelly fish in Japan and that was really weird. I have to say – traditional British fare is largely uninspired – at least what I tried. Bangers & Mash was really greasy sausage and mashed potatoes in a sea of gravy. I actually had to make a moat out of my potatoes in order to try the sausage without it drowning in the gravy first. This will definitely be on the never try again list. Local beer was out of this world though. The whole pub culture was a lot of fun although being a single female typically earned me a lot of eye time. Oh well….someone has to do it. I’d just stare back…..and smile. Now that got them to get back to their own beers quick!

As I said in my last post – I could have an affair with London and I did – 5 days and now it’s over. Like many affairs – started quickly – burned brightly – and then sputtered out. I have to say while I did thoroughly enjoy it while there – I am not in any hurry to come back. No harm, no foul – we just don’t have that much in common. Steinbeck made the observation in Travels with Charley that sometimes a journey continues for years after the journey’s end – other journeys die before their intended finish. The London piece of this journey definitely ended on time and within budget and that’s that. Time to move onto Scotland and my own cultural DNA.

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London and the official start of fall for me….

Posted on September 6, 2011 | 1 Comment

Ok, the first day of rain and overcast skies was like a breath of fresh air and felt like home (Seattle). Now into day three – I am shaking my head and laughing at myself for the times I looked out my apartment window in Florence and – seeing the clear blue sky – actually cursed inwardly. I guess that marks me as a true Northwester. Folks from the Pacific Northwest who’ve been there awhile can probably attest to the same feeling. If we don’t get some grey skies and showers on occasion…well…we just start to get a little itchy. London has been an experience of extremes for me. Going from the lazy, heat filled days in a small city to this megatropolis that is constant motion, noise and bustle has taken a bit of getting used to but I love it! What a great city – Paris is still my number one but I could have an affair with London…

Just as with Florence – guidebooks abound with all you could ever want to see or know. The following are memorable bits so far on my meanderings. I have spent three days simply walking Everywhere. I think I have logged about 21 hours so far. Thank god for my Naot sandals – even so – I have returned to my little B&B room completely fagged as they say here. And soaking wet!

As big as London is – it is a walking city. I could have jumped on the tube and perhaps saved a little wear and tear on the joints but would not have seen nearly all the grandeur of a place that is steeped in this much history. Being from Seattle – a neophyte city as compared to the rest of the civilized world – I am stunned by so much visual evidence of a country’s growth and growing pains and will to survive. That so many of the buildings and public art has survived since the 16th,17th, 18th centuries – two world wars and the Blitz plus untold numbers of local skirmishes over these hundreds of years is simply amazing to me and a testament to the designers and builders. At home we just don’t have much in the way of historical evidence except of the indigenous population we did our level best to eradicate. I wonder if any of the buildings that grace our skyline will survive into the 25th century and what a lone traveler would make of them by comparison. And- you’re right – there is none.

Popular attractions – while most of the hardier tourists where braving the elements outside Buckingham palace waiting for the changing of the guard – I wandered over to the House Guard stables and witness the little known Changing of the House Guard. It happens every day at the same time but these are the Queen’s mounted guard. Being a horse lover – this was a delightful little discovery and there were no crowds at all. The guard comes from Buckingham palace down the city streets in tight formation in all their finery – swords included – on matched black horses. There is all the pomp and circumstance – lots of boot stamping by the soldiers on the ground, hoof stamping by hungry steeds, bellowed commands and ringing of bells. It was fabulous and a definite must see. As a note – these are regular soldiers who have the honor to be in the ceremonial guard but are also doing tours of duty in the real world.

Museums – London has seen fit to make most all of the national museums free – with an encouragement of donation. In a very expensive town and the dollar to pound exchange rate – I certainly appreciate that. The British Museum has been my fav so far but that’s because it has lots 3D stuff – sculpture, porcelain, weapons and the like – I’m not a huge fan of paintings. As a local friend of mine commented this morning – he loves to pop in periodically and see what we (Brits) have nicked from other countries. And, apparently some of those other countries are asking for their stuff back. What is really wonderful is that you are allowed to take pics and videos. Unlike Florence where photos inside a museum are grounds for expulsion or, at the very least, stern words from staff. I took more than my fair share today and it will be wonderful to share with folks when I get home rather than trying to trust my aging memory.

I will leave off with that for the day – more to come. As I celebrate almost a month on the road – there are truly only two things I miss. My Beloved and a bathtub – in that order. But certainly not in equal orders of magnitude…..

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