Nelson News UK

Finished

2008-08-26T20:20:00.000-07:00

We are no longer in Europe so we will stop adding to this blog. If you want more bad writing, follow us to Canada and our newer blog at nelsonnewsca.blogspot.com.

In Limbo

2008-08-24T06:22:00.000-07:00

We're in our hotel room. I just turned on the telly to keep Sarah from pestering us and happened to flip to the Olympic closing ceremonies on BBC One. It was perfect timing - we saw the mayor of Beijing hand over the Olympic flag to Boris Johnson for 2012. (I've been passing the Olympic site in Stratford on my train every day and have watched its construction progress.) The eight minute London show was neat - Leona Lewis singing "Whole Lotta Love" with Jimmy Page - but I got a bit weepy seeing the red double bus and especially the bus stop sign - it's something I've been seeing every day and reminded me that I won't be seeing it. It's a fabulous, massively cool city, I've been proud to work and be there, and I will bloody well miss it.

For the next few days we'll be between homes. It's a bittersweet time for us.

Yesterday was a busy day. Margo was still away on her overnight celebration. I woke at 6:30 and started packing and sorting. When Sarah got up we ate the pastries I'd picked up the day before, making myself one more cup of instant coffee before packing up the kettle. Sarah helped as she could with cleaning the fridge, freezer and cabinets. Late morning a minivan pulled up outside. The charity had called me two days before and said due to transport problems they couldn't pick up our donation that day, so a woman who had picked up other items from us via Freecycle had said she would take anything else we could spare for a charity project she works with. I'd emailed her and here she was, taking our dishes, printer, lamps, telly, odds and ends, and even things I'd assumed we'd have to throw away - towels, blankets, even the unlaundered sheets we'd just slept in. Margo arrived as we loaded their van, and in twenty minutes we were pretty much cleaned out.

But we still had lots of cleaning to do. I finished with the kitchen, then fired up the Dyson I'd borrowed from John and Nicola and went to work filling its cylinder with hairs and dust and cobwebs. I survived encounters with the dropped leaflets and dust monsters of the Neglected Laptop Desk of Doom as well as the Dresser of Death And Bogey Museum. By the time I finished the Dyson was begging to be put out of its misery.

John had invited us round mid-afternoon for red wine, a heavenly offer, and as we packed our clothes we saw we'd just about make it. These things always take longer than you think - you look around a room and think, "This won't take long", but it does. We dropped Sarah at theirs, then took some last boxes - my iMac and Margo's textbooks - to the post and sorted out the forms. Then, sitting outside with a glass of red - my first chance to relax - I just about shut down for a while. There are so many marks to hit, boxes to tick, and we'd pretty much completed them. (Well, Virgin was supposed to come round that afternoon and disconnect our cable, and I left the parts between the doors with a note and my mobile number, but unfortunately it seems they didn't come round, one last thing for me to sort Tuesday after our bank holiday weekend.) And so we lounged for a while, Sarah and Elliot riding bikes in the alley behind.

When it was time to say our goodbyes, I felt too distracted by the Virgin thing, and too exhausted by the move, to feel sentimental. We loaded our bags, got into our car, and drove down our street for the last time just like we were going for a Sunday drive. It wasn't until we were on the A12 that Sarah started sobbing in the back seat and talking about how she wished we didn't have to move and how she's missing her friends. Margo started consoling her, talking about our new lives we're moving towards, and how you have to end some things to start new things, and I realised: but this is exactly the time we should be feeling sad. And I started thinking about the people and places we won't be seeing and then I was sobbing too (but really quietly and manlily). And if Margo didn't have to drive, she probably would have been too. Because we are all leaving relationships and experiences that have been important to us, and we all have need to mourn.

So now we're in a hotel, doing absolutely nothing, by design. We have our last Saturday Guardian and our last Sunday Times and lots of paperbacks. We have a laptop with Solitaire and 24 hours of wifi.

Tomorrow a cab Margo reserved will take us to a hotel at Gatwick. I have a phone interview in the afternoon and the next morning we fly to Vancouver. We go through Customs, pick up our bags, get our rental car, and meet someone at our rental flat, and we'll be home again.

Sarah and Mike Do London

2008-08-22T09:37:00.000-07:00

We spent two days in London this week, one more chance to see the sights. We'd planned to have dinner with friends and stay there overnight. On the train in, we looked at a map and made plans for the rest of our time; Sarah's top choices were to see the Gherkin, the Tate Modern, and the blue whale at the Natural History Museum that we couldn't see last time.

So from Liverpool Street Station we walked a few blocks to St Mary's Axe. Sarah suggested we try a "hey I'm holding up the Gherkin" pose.

Then we made our way toward St. Paul's Cathedral. Here's a building I've wanted to capture for a while, and on our right (behind the climbing monkey) is the Bank of England.

From St. Paul's we crossed the Millennium Bridge. I asked Sarah to get this picture of me against the railing.

Then we saw some Surrealists at the Tate Modern, and later retired to the top floor café for some tea and to savour the view of the Thames.

We continued along the south bank and Sarah found more things to climb.

We walked under the London Eye and crossed the Westminster Bridge, where I finally got a good view of Parliament from the other side.

We spent some time resting on the grass in Parliament Square.

Then walked up Whitehall to Trafalgar Square. Look! It's the Nelson Column!

Sarah didn't get to climb the lions this time as they were fenced off - a screen was erected between them and a live BBC broadcast of Beijing Olympics was showing on it.

By now we were quite tired from hours of walking and sightseeing, so we got a quick view of Picadilly Circus and trudged to Fortnum & Mason, where I picked some Italian reds and Sarah helped me pick some chocolates for dinner.

Then we took the Tube back to Liverpool Street and caught a bus to Hackney to meet our friends Alessio and Angela. I used to work with Alessio and we have enjoyed many wonderful meals, and I wanted us to share one more.

Sarah was shy for a while but was soon her animated self. She played DJ with my iPod, told jokes, and started taking timer shots of us.

And asked us to make faces.

And express her unique affection for her dad.

The next morning we had a lazy start. We said goodbye to our friends, and then we made our way to South Kensington to the Museum of Natural History once more. We were both hungry so we first went to the restaurant. Sarah wanted to show me her new beard.

We said hello to the dinosaur again in the main hall.

And we finally got to see the blue whale.

Once more Sarah got to ride the escalator through the centre of the earth, to the earth science exhibits. (What kid would not want to visit given this entrance?)

And though we'd cruised through halls of birds, mammals, and sea life, Sarah was very taken in with the earth science exhibits, taking time to study interactive displays. She was quite interested.

We were both getting a bit exhausted by now. I needed to get us on the train before the late afternoon peak times so we took our last Underground ride to Liverpool Street and boarded a train home.

Tonight is our last night in our beds. We're mostly done sorting things out but we still need to pack and finish sorting our things before they are picked up late tomorrow morning, and we need to finish our cleaning. We'll also be shipping my computer and Margo's textbooks. It will be a busy day for us.

Stuff!

2008-08-20T01:37:00.000-07:00

This week I am at home tying up loose ends. Margo's still working, and Sarah's still going to carers.

Margo's been skilfully meting out our food supplies. Last night was our final home dinner. (We have lots of social dinners coming up.) Salmon with broccoli. And with, um, capers on top. And a side of, er, chips. Washed down with the dregs of white zinfandel and chardonnay bottles. We'll be defrosting freezers next.

Most of what is occupying me is liquidating our stuff. I always hate that part of a move. It's especially tricky for a transcontinental move.

We haven't been accumulating too much. (Well, Sarah has - you wouldn't believe how many toys have passed through our door.) Our house has always been fairly Spartan. We still have shipping boxes from Portland that have served well as nightstands and arm tables. A shopping bag from a London store still serves as our laundry bag. We've jettisoned the extras and are down to just essentials.

The problem is, we're still using it. Dishes, appliances, TV and stereo. So the challenge is to go from 60 to 0, in about one day, with nothing left.

My two weapons have been Gumtree (free classifieds, similar to Craigslist) and Freecycle. Both have sites specific to Ipswich.

We haven't had many items of value. My bike sold over the weekend. I had intended to sell my iMac computer when I bought it two years ago, but I did some research and realised that the latest iMacs have almost the same specs (guess Moore's Law is lapsing), so I'm shipping it over and saving a bunch of money on a new one. All that's left to sell is our small telly, Playstation and iPod hifi. I've listed them for low prices and there's still little interest, so they'll likely be donated.

Freecycle is amazing. I've been able to give away things I never thought I would. Like our dead Dyson - I described its ailments and it sounded fixable enough that I got several responses. Many other items, especially large items, have gone this way. Someone's even coming to collect our blankets - unlaundered - the day after we've slept in them!

But there's a downside. For each item I post, I can expect up to a dozen replies, and I have to decide which one to offer it to, answer any questions, schedule a pickup time, and reply to all the others. So there could be dozens of emails for each item posted.

Fortunately, a charity in town collects furniture and appliances, so they will come on our last day to take some furniture plus all our kitchenware, which was really troubling my engineer's brain as to how to efficiently liquidate.

I've also been working at general cleaning - scrubbing marks off walls, cleaning windows, trimming hedges, mowing and tidying the yard.

I also spent some time this week looking at job postings in Vancouver. I sent my CV for three yesterday and have had two interview requests already - faster than I'd expected, so I'm not so worried about finding work.

I've contacted the principal at Sarah's elementary school, and we'll be visiting the school next week to get her registered.

But it's not all work. Later this week Sarah and I will go to London and be tourists one last time. We'll stay overnight with some friends and a nice Italian meal. And Margo will be having a blowout party with her work mates. As I've mentioned before ... nobody parties like social workers.

What We Didn't Do

2008-08-19T01:59:00.000-07:00

We're very glad we got to see and experience all that we have, but of course there are things we wanted to do but didn't have time or energy for.

I wanted to see Geneva. (On our train to Italy, we stopped in Switzerland long enough for my mobile to switch providers; I had its flag on our list but took it out later - it wasn't enough of a visit to count.) Sure, there's nothing exceptional about the art, architecture, food or drink. But I could think of a few things worth writing about. Mont Blanc. Nestlé chocolate. The train from Paris probably passes the Large Hadron Collider. The Geneva Convention would be worth a joke or two. My Victorinox luggage is from Switzerland. Swiss Cheese. It's also the source of lots of modern design, including the ubiquitous Helvetica typeface.

I also wanted to see Manchester. Home of some favourite bands like Joy Division/New Order, The Smiths, Elbow, Chemical Brothers, 10cc. Factory Records. I wanted to get a picture of the placard of the apartment building that used to be the Haçienda nightclub. And probably a picture in front of the Salford Lads Club like the one for The Queen Is Dead. Maybe find the headquarters of The Guardian, our favourite paper. But the trains from London are madly expensive and a Friday night-Saturday-Sunday return trip would have been way more than I wanted to spend on just myself.

We had planned to see Cornwall but didn't get round to it. Great dining and the UK's poshest seaside.

We had also wanted to see Cardiff. I wanted to get a picture standing in the spot of the public square that makes you invisible as it's the secret entrance to the Torchwood lab. It's also where the spacetime rift is, you know. That would have made a great postcard.

A friend of Margo's offered us time in a house in the South of France. We talked about going while Sarah was at summer camp. We never worked it out.

I know Margo wanted to see more of Ireland, as well as Eastern Europe and even Northern Africa. Perhaps she will write about that.

Sarah? She regrets not having more time to watch cartoons.

What We've Done

2008-08-19T01:20:00.000-07:00

Another post looking back on our two years in Europe ...

The pushpins below represent cities we've visited. (As we've traveled, I've been tracking our positions; on my copy of Google Earth, zooming into any of these pushpins will go to the building we stayed in. If you want the .kmz file, I can email it to you.)

We've visited several places in the UK as well.

Since July 2006 we've handled the following currencies:

British Pound Sterling
Canadian Dollar
Czech Republic Koruna
Danish Krone
Estonian Kroon
Euro
Norwegian Krone
Swedish Krona
US Dollar

We've learned enough key phrases to order coffees, say hello, please, thank you, and count to three in French, Italian and German.

I've had several beers in the places they've been brewed:

Guinness in Dublin
London Pride in London
Skullsplitter Orkney Ale in the Orkneys
Nessie Ale in Loch Ness (literally! on a boat)
Bath Ale in Bath
York Ale in York
Greene King in Bury St Edmunds
Adnams in Southwold
Brugse Tripel in Brugges
Carlsberg in Copenhagen
Paulaner and Spaten in Munich
Staropramen, Krusovice, and Pilsener Urquell in Prague
Sahti beer in Helsinki

(And I've pointedly not had Newcastle Brown in Newcastle, San Miguel in Barcelona, nor Budweiser in Prague.)

We've stood before thousands of works of art, including

David, Michaelangelo
Mona Lisa, Leonardo da Vinci
The Persistence of Memory, Salvador Dalí
The Scream, Edvard Munch
Venus de Milo

One or more of us has stood before, if not toured, each of these places ...

Casa Mila
The Chrysler Building
The Colosseum
The Eiffel Tower
The Empire State Building
The Gherkin
Guggenheim Museum
The Leaning Tower of Pisa
Lloyds Building
The Louvre
Notre Dame Cathedral
The Pantheon
Park Guell
Pompidou Centre
St. Paul's Cathedral
St. Peter's Basilica
La Sagrada Familia
Scara Brae
The Statue of Liberty
Stonehenge

In terms of music ...

Sarah and I toured the Beatles Museum in Liverpool
I visited Abbey Road and saw the studio building and zebra crossing
I visited Windmill Lane in Dublin
We've seen traditional Irish music in Dublin
I've brought back hard-to-find Bel Canto CDs from Norway
and Hooverphonic from Belgium
We've heard choral music in Westminster and Ely cathedrals

We've learned to navigate and taken rides on trains and transit all over Europe:

Barcelona Metro
Deutsche Bahn in France, Germany and Austria
First, UK
The Glasgow Underground
Great Western, UK
London Underground
Metro Roma
Munich U-Bahn
National Express, UK
Oslo T-bane
Paris Metro
Prague Metro
ScanRail in Scandinavia
Stockholm Metro
Trenitalia in France and Italy
Vienna Metro
Virgin, UK

One More Party

2008-08-17T02:53:00.000-07:00

A mate hosted a house party last night. The theme was The 80's. We had excellent tunes sourced from a laptop and several guest iPods. Another friend brought a drinks fountain, which is why everyone is in the kitchen in this picture.

I was surprised that Sarah was up for it. There was one other boy there her age and they bonded for a while over his Nintendo DS. She requested the Madness song One Step Beyond and we did a stomp around the living room. She slept on a sofa for the last hour or two. As I write it's late morning and we've just roused her for breakfast, but she had a lot of fun and keeps talking about it.

Mike's Last Work Day

2008-08-15T13:28:00.000-07:00

My last day of waking up at 4.50 in the morning! The weather was forecast to be sunny so I brought our camera. I decided to capture some of my favourite scenes of my morning commute. I used shutter priority to avoid motion blur, and since I shoot in RAW format, I could adjust the exposure afterwards, to share images like these:

Manningtree, with boats at low tide ...

The canal leading towards Canary Wharf ...

And The City from the east side, with a great view of The Gherkin's girth ...

I was already in a sad, contemplative mood, but in a good way, realising this was my last chance to see many of these sights. I played music at the same time. My song of the day: Cry by Godley and Creme; artist of the day: Saint Etienne, perfect English pop for a summer day.

I've also wanted to capture this image for some time. Often, instead of walking Moorgate to the office, I walk a bit further to Bath Street, looking up at this Barbican tower, and especially looking at those little oval windows at the top, like portholes, and wondering how bright the sun is for those inside.

My office day was mostly normal. I invited teammates to one more lunch with me at The Eagle, and many accepted. Someone called for cheers.

I was glad that we ended up telling jokes.

I did some more work, and then it was time to leave. I hate, hate, HATE farewells ... they're so awkward! A teammate gathered the rest of the office to say goodbye and presented me with the card that they had left messages with. As uncomfortable as I am being the centre of attention, I managed to express some appreciation. I went around and said my goodbyes and walked out the office doors for the last time.

Walking back toward Liverpool Street station, on autopilot, I carried my stupid grin, basking in the goodwill expressed by my teammates. Sad, but in a good way.

I was a half hour early, so I stopped at the Corney and Barrow wine bar in front of the Liverpool Street entrance, and got a glass of South African Shiraz from an estate named Nelson. My goodwill haze was fuelled further as I read the farewell messages in my card.

I played more music on the way back, thinking on people and scenes I won't see again. A certain song pressed the nerve especially hard. Was I crying? No, no, just something in my eye ... but in a good way.

Aldeburgh Again

2008-08-10T08:30:00.000-07:00

Today we went with some friends to Aldeburgh. It was our second visit, but the last time we went, the famous fish and chip shop - considered by many to be the best in Suffolk, if not England - wasn't serving. Our friends wanted to bring us once more to try the fish and chips - one of those things that one must do. And having fish and chips at the seaside is such a traditional English weekend activity.

We arrived in town and parked with 15 minutes before the shop started frying, so we went to the beach to relax. Sarah and Elliot skipped stones.

Margo and Nicola volunteered and went off to bring us fish and chips so we could stay at the beach. It was a while before they returned - you'll see why later. But when they did it was time to sample this revered meal.

And it was great. The fish was quite fresh, lightly oily without being greasy. The batter was also free of grease. Margo suspected it was fried in beef tallow, giving it more flavouring. The chips were skinless and again non-greasy. Margo had liberally salted and vinegared mine.

After our meals we spent more time lounging. John buried Sarah and Elliott, then tickled their feet.

On the way back, I got this shot of the chip shop. There's no seating inside; Margo told me, just a wall full of fryers. The line goes back for much of the block.

Pimm's

2008-08-09T11:35:00.000-07:00

For some time I've been itching to make some Pimm's at home. Pimm's is a traditional English summer drink. It's more formally known as Pimm's No. 1 (there are 6 but for the most part people are only familiar with No. 1). It's on offer in pubs and I've only started enjoying it this summer. Today was a rainy afternoon and I thought this would be a fun project, so Sarah and I walked to a nearby market and got all we needed.

These are the ingredients. There's the Pimm's liqueur (based on gin and a secret recipe), and you add one part Pimm's to three parts lemonade (which in England, means lemon soda - Sprite or 7-Up; today I was using something a bit nicer); then lots of fruity bits: apple, strawberry, lemon, mint leaves, lime, orange, and cucumber. Yes, cucumber.

Add some ice and stir it nicely and you get a drink that looks something like this:

And that's a fine English way to spend an afternoon.

Shooting Star

2008-08-09T05:27:00.001-07:00

And now, the last of my most frequented pubs ... the Shooting Star in London. It's in Bishopsgate, close to Liverpool Street Station but on the opposite side, so I haven't been so often since we moved office further away - I used to visit about once a week.

It's a Fuller's pub, and one of the nicer ones at that: besides having the standard London Pride and ESB beers on tap, they also carry more seasonal Fuller's ales in bottles, including my revered Golden Pride. Also, a few other standard lagers are on cold taps, as well as the tasty Leffe Blonde.

The food is quite good also, though a bit pricey for pub fare (just south of £10 for most entrees). My mates and I use its bacon cheeseburger as the standard for a pub burger, and compare all others against it.

The interior is quite grand. I feel a bit more like a gentleman inside.

I got these shots Thursday evening but didn't get more of the interior as it was filling up and pub patrons don't generally like having their picture taken.

I've had lots of enjoyable lunches here. My mate and I went out for lunch daily, but if it was a Friday, and we were ahead of our work and thought we could get away with a longer, more relaxing lunch, we'd be likely to visit the Shooting Star.

It's also my first choice for when my train is hopelessly delayed. If my 16:00 train is canceled, I know the 16:30 will be packed like a cattle car, so if Margo can pick up Sarah in my stead, I'll lie low in London for a while until the smoke clears a bit, and this is where I'll do it.

No Vacuum

2008-08-09T05:15:00.000-07:00

It's dead. Our first-generation Dyson, De Stijl edition in its custom colours of yellow, purple and orange. It is no more. It is an ex-vacuum.

I should be thankful it lasted as long as it has. Purchased for about 20 quid, it's functioned admirably for a long time, but you could see some broken bits and lots of wear, and realise its days among the realm of working appliances were numbered.

The end came whilst cleaning Sarah's room. After we'd cleared out years of accumulated toys and rubbish, when the last of the dust and long blonde hairs were safely quarantined in the bagless interior, I hoisted it over her bed and turned it off. But when I next turned it on, nothing happened. Apparently the task of cleaning Sarah's room defeated it. If I slap its side I might get a quick wheeze of the motor when I power it on, but I think I have to accept its passing.

But those of you who know my tidy nature are perhaps aware of the loss this represents to me. Sarah can shower crumbs from her mouth onto our carpet, Margo can tromp bits of dirt and grass through the house ... and there's nothing I can do about it!

Please, spare a thought for me. Trapped in a house with two savages, fighting a constant battle against entropy, and now deserted by my most powerful weapon.

Southwold

2008-08-03T11:57:00.001-07:00

Today after breakfast and our Sunday cleaning, we took a day trip to Southwold, a seaside town about an hour away, further up the Suffolk coast. We'd been intending to visit it for some time. It's not quite so touristy as some better-known seaside destinations like Brighton and Lowestoft. I was particularly interested to see it as the Adnams brewery is there, as well as several Adnams pubs and inns. In fact, I'd tried earlier to get an overnight stay in one of the inns, but I'd waited too long as the weekends were all booked.

Southwold has had some high-profile visits recently. Gordon Brown was holidaying there last week. He was making an example of vacationing locally in times of high petrol prices. Prince Charles and Camilla visited Thursday to promote local businesses. Local papers had pictures of him having an East Green ale, Adnams' new "carbon-neutral" brew.

We parked in the visitor lot at the far north of the beach and worked our way south toward the pier and the town centre, passing beach huts. Some owners were visiting theirs, and they looked quite comfy: deck chairs, cookers, and cabinets were visible inside some. We've read that, in the nicest locations, a beach hut can be bought for £100K, enough to buy a one bedroom flat in most towns.

Walking to the end of the pier, I got this shot showing the town centre and the lighthouse.

I'd wanted to eat at one of the Adnams pubs, and Margo was getting hungry, so we found the Lord Nelson Inn and split two orders of fish and chips amongst us. I thought the fish was better than the usual pub version. I also had some Adnams Broadside ales, and they definitely tasted a bit better than they usually do in pubs. It was nice to see lots of Nelson-ania decorating the walls: portraits, news clippings, even a ship in a bottle.

It started raining while we ate. Today was one of those days with lots of clouds and very variable weather.

We got ice cream, and also found the Adnams brewery nearby.

Then we headed back towards the pier to give Sarah some time to play in the sand.

(Sarah is covering her face from the Papa-razzi photographer ...)

As expected, the water was cold. We got our feet wet and Sarah and I let the surf chase us.

Dark clouds blew closer though, and we timed our exit well, leaving town just as the rain hit. It continued to rain for most of our trip home.

Mike's Brilliant List

2008-08-02T01:22:00.000-07:00

As our time in Europe draws to a close, we're starting to look back on our time here and all that we've experienced. Here are some of my favourite things about England ...

Electric kettles. Fancy a cuppa? Fill it, switch it on, wait a few minutes. Also good for cooking pasta - a faster and more economical way to boil water. We'll definitely get one when we resettle.
Switched mains. Why doesn't every country do this?
Flash furnaces. I love that our hot water, as well as our heating, all comes from a little white box in the shed that only turns on when we need it.
The BBC. Sure, it's taxpayer funded, but it's a source of excellence. Great shows like Doctor Who and Extras. Amazing cinematography of wildlife, sports, pretty much anything in front of the lens. Excellent news and weather forecasting. Outstanding children's programming. And much of it completely free of adverts.
Top Gear. Yes, its main host is a mouthy conservative, and the show can be quite laddish. But when it's on I cannot turn away, and even Margo wants to watch it.
Newspapers. Half are as embarrassing as any in the States with their scare-mongering ALL CAPITAL HEADLINES and fourth-year reading levels, but the other half are the best researched, most informative and entertaining papers in the English-speaking world.
Education. Everyone I work with could give a fine presentation on a moment's notice. They all speak and write with articulation and intelligence. It's a bit intimidating; at first I felt at a bit of a disadvantage. Even athletes and rock stars give articulate interviews.
Cheese
Butter
Sausages
The NHS. It's not perfect, but. Children's prescriptions are free, by law. Most everything is free but for a modest visit charge. There's excellent medical information online. And they fund brilliant, graphic and informative adverts about smoking, auto safety, and drinking that are as eye-catching as any others.
Pay As You Earn. This year Margo and I spent fifteen hours finding and completing a myriad of forms in a complex way of telling the IRS, "here's what we earned even though we know and you know we don't need to pay taxes on it but we have to prove it to you anyway". UK taxes? Handled - we do nothing. Council taxes? It's debited from our account, with no filing.
London's Congestion Charge. It's brilliant to walk quiet streets and see empty parking spaces. Of course, if I had to drive in London I might feel differently ...
English Breakfast

Mike's Rubbish List

2008-08-02T01:20:00.000-07:00

Trains to London. They're the most expensive in Europe and the most unpleasant. I am regularly delayed, sometimes severely. Some say it's privatisation; I wonder if perhaps the rail lines are showing their age; but for whatever reason, it's probably the worst rail service in Europe.
High Street Shopping. It's always the same shops, everywhere, and they only carry the mainstream big-sellers. They're staffed by underpaid, passionless drones. Shopping is no fun.
Most Beer. In the country that created ales, porters, and stouts, how can so many people consume - nay, demand - so much watery, fizzy lager?
BBC Radio. I know there are at least four national stations and many local stations, but I can't tell one from the other because the programming is so random. You can never tell what will come next. The Smiths, followed by Kylie Minogue, then Barry Manilow, then The Who. Each station is completely schizophrenic.
Coffee. Lousy. Even the cod-Italian chains like Cafe Nero and Costa can't make a cup as interesting as boring old Starbucks.

Artillery Arms

2008-07-31T12:23:00.001-07:00

Another favourite pub. The Artillery Arms has been my favourite pub in London for a while. It was close at my old office and it's still close at our new location.

I explained to a mate why it was my favourite once, so I'll try to remember. It's a Fullers pub, so it has some decent beers. It also has a good menu, including standard pub fare but also some nice sandwiches on granary (whole wheat) bread, and ciabatta sandwiches. For a while, they offered my favourite salad, a chicken Caesar with bacon, and big veg bits like tomato chunks and cucumber slices.

But I like it for other reasons. There's lots of light with the full windows. It looks across from Bunhill Fields, a cemetery containing the remains of Daniel Defoe, William Blake, and John Bunyan, but also many tall trees, giving a very pleasant view. When I'm out with mates, we sit on the ground floor. When I visit alone, like I did today for lunch, I go upstairs. Today I sat by the window you can see upstairs. They also carry the daily Guardian and the Daily Mail, the two opposites of the political spectrum, and some days I'll have read the Guardian on the train, so I'll read the Mail and its Page Three Girls, its alarmist rhetoric and celebrity gossip. It's a nice place for a relaxing lunch, and I go there often.

Shipping

2008-07-30T12:26:00.001-07:00

Boxes were picked up from our house today. They will arrive at our flat in Burnaby a week or two after we do. Only nine boxes this time - better than our last transcontinental move two years ago.

Real Ale Runabout

2008-07-25T12:46:00.000-07:00

On Wednesday John and I participated in a Real Ale Runabout. Every second Wednesday in the summer, there's a bus that leaves the central station at 7 pm on a unique route, touring several pubs of interest in nearby towns and villages. It's sponsored by the local branch of the Campaign for Real Ale (CAMRA). We thought it was a brilliant idea and had been keen on trying it for some time, and we finally scheduled a date and joined a tour.

Looking around at our fellow passengers, we realised we could have been the youngest there, and likely had the least-developed bellies. We had a perfectly sunny evening, and at our first stop in Wortham we enjoyed our ales in the garden. It set as we made our way to Botesdale. Our third stop was Walsham le Willows. At least, that's what the schedule says. To be honest, we could have been taken most anywhere and we wouldn't have known.

I think we visited five pubs in all. There were two ales we hadn't tried before, one of which we both quite liked named Pageant. At a later pub, my first pint was off, really hoppy, perhaps from the top of the keg, and not at all like the one I'd had at an earlier pub, so I had one more to remember it properly, and it was better.

I also remember the first pub was known for only offering beers made in East Anglia. Many of England's best-known beers, including Adnams, Greene King, Abbots, and St. Peters, are already made here in Suffolk, but all the same I was quite impressed with the variety of coasters on the walls representing the local beers they'd served.

But looking back and doing the maths, we'd probably sunk more pints than we would have planned. The tour was also out later than we expected; we left the last pub at the closing time of 11 pm, and it was about an hour back to Ipswich plus time to get back to our neighbourhood, giving me many fewer hours until work. I think that's why we seemed so young - I think late-night tours mid-week is better suited for the non-working. I was surprisingly productive on Thursday but was dragging heavily in the afternoon. So it's a great idea but I don't think I'll do another one ... at least not while I'm still working.

Sarah and Margo's Comedy Sketch

2008-07-20T23:36:00.000-07:00

Sarah: Hey Dad, we wanted to do something special for your birthday

Margo: Yeah, you know, like a trip to Paris or Italy or somewhere really exciting like, uh, Switzerland…..

Sarah: But you’re not getting that, so don’t get too excited!

Margo: Since you enjoy comedy so much,

Sarah: And since I LOVE telling jokes from my Joke book,

Margo: Sarah proposed that we produce a comedy show in honour of your 40^th Birthday

Sarah: Yeah, because you’re OLD now.

Margo: We thought about having a party – but old people have really boring parties

Sarah: Yeah, they play games like SAG YOU’RE IT

Margo: And Kick the bucket
Sarah: And Musical Recliners

Margo: And Pin the Toupee on the Bald Guy

Sarah: So instead– I picked out some of my favourite jokes like this one

Margo: What’s white, furry and found in Florida?

Sarah: I don’t know mum…

Margo: A polar bear with no sense of direction!

Sarah: I’ve got one. What famous story was about an Australian Reptile?

Margo: I don’t know Sarah, what famous story was about an Australian Reptile?

Sarah: The Lizard of Oz!

Margo: But back to how old Mike is getting…

Sarah: Yeah, Dad is so old that his birth certificate has expired. But mum, I have another joke to tell. What is purple and furry?

Margo: I don’t know, what?

Sarah: A kangaroo holding its breath.

Margo: I have one… What American City do cows live in?

Sarah: I don’t know.

Margo: Moo York City! Hey, did you know that Dad is so old that if we put the right number of candles on his birthday cake, the average temperature of the earth would increase by 3 degrees?

Sarah: Did you know that dad is so old that when he was a kid rainbows were in black and white?

Margo: Dad is so old that he sat next to Moses in elementary school.

Sarah: Dad is so old he farts dust.

Margo: Dad is so old that if he walked into an antique shop they might sell him.

Sarah: I have another joke to tell!

Margo: OK, what?

Sarah: Why is Europe like a frying pan?

Margo: I don’t know, why?

Sarah: Because it has Greece at the bottom!

Margo: Here’s one. What’s tall, Italian and covered in pepperoni?

Sarah: Beats me?

Margo: The Leaning Tower of Pizza!

Sarah: Where is the best place in Europe to find sharks?

Margo: I have no idea.

Sarah: Finland!

Sarah: Why did the old lady put wheels on her rocking chair?

Margo: I have no idea!

Sarah: She wanted to rock and roll!

Margo: Hey Sarah, how do you know if you are getting old?

Sarah: I don’t know – you’re the old one!

Margo:

You know you’re getting old if you keep more food than beer in the fridge

You know you’re getting old if 6am is when you get up, not when you go to bed

Sarah:

You know you’re getting old if you hear your favourite song in an elevator

Margo:

You know you’re getting old if you’re the one calling the police because the kids next door won’t turn down their music

Sarah:

You know you’re getting old if sleeping on the couch makes your back hurt

Margo:

You know you’re getting old if 90% of the time you spend in front of the computer is for real work

Sarah:

You know you’re getting old when your idea of a night out is sitting on the patio.

Margo:

You know you’re getting old when at the breakfast table you hear snap, crackle, pop and you're not eating cereal.

Sarah: Anyway Dad, we hope that you enjoyed the show. Happy Birthday to you!

Margo: Yep – Happy Birthday!!

40

2008-07-20T11:20:00.001-07:00

Birthday celebrations started last Thursday. I invited my teammates for some drinks after work since it was my night out. Most of Engineering turned up. I'd taken Friday off for good measure. We started with a pitcher of Pimm's (a traditional English summer drink of Pimm's, a sweet syrupy liqeuer, mixed with selzer water and mint and fruit bits including orange, lemon, apple, raspberry, blackberry, blueberry) at The Eagle; I thought we might visit a few other nearby pubs for a bit of a crawl, but we were happy enough and just stayed there.

I'd arranged to spend the night with some friends in Hackney. I was expecting to sleep in and be nursing a monster hangover - is it not appropriate that the first day of one's forties be one of pain and regret? - but neither happened. Instead I woke up around 6.30 and lounged for a while.

After having coffee with my host, I set out for a free day in London. After some breakfast, I tubed my way to South Kensington for one more visit to the Science Museum. Then it was off to Soho and some shopping on Regent and Oxford streets, then on an early afternoon train home.

When I picked Sarah up from her after school club, she was reminding everyone that not only was it my birthday, but that I was forty and really old. So I made her help me cross the streets on the way home.

When Margo came home, Sarah couldn't wait to share presents: Belgian chocolates, cufflinks, and: a comedy sketch that Sarah and Margo wrote and practised, containing dozens of age jokes mostly stolen from Sarah's book of silly jokes (see related post).

We didn't have a real dinner (we usually just snack on Friday evenings) but afterwards there was a birthday cake decorated with dead salmon, because I am always joking that, like the salmon, I have swum upstream, procreated, and now my life's purpose is over, and only death awaits.

Saturday morning I met Sarah and Margo at her swim class. Afterwards we had some lunch (actually, they had lunch - I was fasting for the special dinner) and then went to see Wall-E. Margo said the little robot that had to keep cleaning up Wall-E's dirty tracks reminded her of me.

Then home for naps and ... the birthday meal I've been waiting for.

We started with an appetizer: a torte with artichokes, tomatoes and feta cheese, served with a small bottle of champagne. I also opened a 1999 Brunello di Montalcino that I'd been waiting weeks to enjoy. We also had fresh strawberries.

The main course was chicken breast, stuffed with mushroom and ricotta, wrapped in parma ham, served with asparagus grilled in olive oil and sea salt. For dessert we had creme pastries with fresh blackberries and raspberries, and I had a bit of cognac.

And the celebrations aren't completely over. Saturday I'll be joining some friends in a pub (or two) in Ipswich.

Sarah's School Report

2008-07-17T04:05:00.001-07:00

Sarah will be finishing her school year next Tuesday and we received her yearly report today in the mail. Mike and I were pleased to see that Sarah was rated as "Excellent" for effort in every subject and tested at Year Three level in every academic subject. I have been really happy with her educational progress this year as she has responded well to a self-described "Old-Fashioned" teacher who expects the children to behave and achieve at a high level.

Sarah also received her "Silver Award" at assembly last week - this is part of a cumulative system of points awarded for good behavior, achievement, etc. She was really chuffed as last year she only got to bronze award level.

We are getting excited about our upcoming move and I am looking forward to becoming settled in a home at some point in the next few months!

Love,
Margo

Lord Nelson

2008-07-16T11:59:00.000-07:00

Another favourite pub of mine is the Lord Nelson in Ipswich.

They serve Adnams beers in wooden casks, which are proudly on display behind the bar. I think it tastes noticeably better; I'd say they serve the best pint of Broadside anywhere I've been.

The interior features old wooden beams, and around the corner is a fireplace that's been quite welcome on a wet winter evening.

The food is better than average. I've often come for lunch on days working from home, usually having spicy breaded chicken strips with salad. We've been for dinner a few times also, including this evening.

It's also one of the few pubs in Ipswich that welcome children yet still serve quality beers and food.

We also don't mind too much seeing our surname repeated in the interior, full of art and artifacts celebrating Nelson's life.

Plans

2008-07-06T00:11:00.000-07:00

It's just a matter of weeks now before we return to the Pacific Northwest.

We've reserved a three bedroom flat in Burnaby, near Simon Fraser University. There's a primary school almost across the street. The price is a bit steep compared to nearby rents but it includes all utilities, limitless Wifi, and is fully furnished (dishes and towels and everything). We've reserved it for three months. By the end of our three months I should have a job and we'll have decided whether we can comfortably afford buying a property on my income or if we'll rent for a while.

We'll be sending two shipments. One in a week or two, by slow boat, with things like winter clothes, books and CDs, and toys. We'll have a smaller shipment right before we fly, by air freight, of remaining clothes and a few other items.

I've been flirting with the idea of One Last Trip but I probably won't. It would likely be just me, as Margo's not interested in planning any more trips, and Sarah would be happier to stay home and watch telly anyway. I've been thinking about a three day rail trip to Geneva. But it seems wasteful to spend all that money for just me, and things like that are best shared.

I'm looking forward to, well, a new life, and getting settled again, but I'm also quite sad to be leaving. When I walk the streets and enter shops these days, I'm often thinking, this is probably the last time I'll be standing here, the last time I'll see this view.

I have another reason to be depressed in that I've got less than two weeks of being in my 30s. Of course it's just a number but I can think of lots of things to dwell on. I joke to mates that if I get killed by a bus this week, people will say, "Oh, he had so much to live for ... he had his whole life ahead of him ...". In two weeks, people would say, "Meh."

The Dove

2008-06-30T10:10:00.000-07:00

On Dove Street in Ipswich, it's The Dove.

Mmmmm, where do I begin? I think The Dove was my first introduction to proper English ales. And, looking back, of all my first encounters with ales from all over the UK, most of them have taken place here.

The Dove is a haven for beer lovers. It has the best selection I've seen, I think, even in London. The taps change often, and there are a lot of them. If you look at the rafters below, you'll see the names of the beers available.

This is the front room, where the hand pumps are. There's about a dozen taps here. Behind is a tap room with about a dozen more. There's also a large selection of bottled beers, many imported from the Continent.

Off to the right is a smaller room; sometimes I'll duck in there with a newspaper when it's too busy in front to get a seat. Off to the left is the way to the beer garden plus a newly remodeled room.

The Dove is beloved by locals as well as the Campaign for Real Ale (CAMRA). Beer festivals are held in the garden a few times a year.

I don't visit as often as I used to when we first settled in Ipswich, but when I do it's likely to be a Sunday afternoon. I'll have a chance to catch up on some Saturday papers, and fortify myself for the long uphill walk home.

The Old Fountain

2008-06-26T11:58:00.000-07:00

I often stop by The Old Fountain for a pint on Thursdays to start my night out in London. It's just down City Road towards the train station.

This gentleman has been schooling me in English beers for some time. Their taps change often and I always ask for his recommendation. He's introduced me to some fantastic ales, and we've had lots of chats about different breweries and styles, both in England and on the Continent. He's very knowledgeable and passionate about a good pint. Often he'll let his barrels sit for weeks before serving them to let them age a bit and get some character, especially for malty beers, though he's a real hop lover himself.

There's some seating to the left (including a nice fish tank) but it didn't fit in the picture. There's also a bit of a beer garden out the back door, and behind where I was standing is more seating against the window, which is where I usually sit and read the day's Shortlist, or perhaps the London Drinker if it's out.

The Eagle

2008-06-26T11:44:00.001-07:00

I have lunch at The Eagle quite often. It's one of the closest pubs to our office.

I mentioned before that it's referenced in the nursery rhyme "Pop Goes The Weasel", and the stanza is reproduced outside.

The Eagle has above-average lunches. I quite fancy their bacon cheeseburger but have also enjoyed many a pie, sandwich and salad here. They also feature about six long-handle taps (one of which is usually London Pride) plus some nicer short taps including Hoegarten and another favourite, Leffe.

There's usually a mellow mix of chillout electronica playing. It clashes a bit with the Americana artwork on the walls - stylized portraits of Sinatra and Marilyn.

There's lots of light from the large windows. A few doors down is the Shoreditch police station so there's the occasional siren going past.

I've enjoyed many a happy lunch here with mates, usually indoors, but sometimes in the beer garden in the back. Years on I'll look at these pictures and remember the taste of Maris Piper chips with aoli sauce and a nice pint.

The Fat Cat

2008-06-25T13:08:00.001-07:00

The Fat Cat is the closest thing to my local, though it's perhaps a mile away.

There are one or two pubs that are slightly closer, but they don't have the beer selection or character of the Cat. My mate (and neighbour) John and I visit here most Saturday evenings, and I occasionally come by on a Wednesday afternoon (like today) before picking up Sarah.

The taps change often. I've seen taps on a Wednesday that are not available on Saturday.

This is my favourite room. There's a front room with the bar to the left, and to the right is the yard with tables and umbrellas. But on a sunny afternoon like today, with a pint and a bit of newspaper to read, it's a great place to be. It's mostly empty Wednesday afternoons but heaving on Saturday evenings. I especially enjoy perusing the coasters from East Anglian breweries along the tops of the walls.

Counting House

2008-06-19T11:21:00.000-07:00

I brought our camera to work today. I wanted to get fresh pictures (with the newer camera, and with mostly sunny weather) of City landmarks like the Gherkin, Tower 42, Lloyds of London, and the Bank of England. With our departure getting closer, I want to capture sights that I want to remember.

While I was walking I decided I'd also start getting pictures of and writing about my favourite pubs, as I've enjoyed many fine meals and drinks and happy times in these places and I want to remember them. So I'm starting a series of posts with the Counting House pub in London.

The pub is on Cornhill Street in the heart of the financial district, just down the street from the Bank of England.

The building used to be a bank itself, and I enjoy the openness of it. I also enjoy the ornate decorations. It's perhaps the classiest pub I frequent.

This is a Fuller's pub, one of many in London. Fuller's London Pride is a complex but common ale, and for me it's a nice default choice if I don't see a more interesting tap. They also have a nice porter in the wintertime and some great seasonals. And though it's rarely on tap (and when it is, it's a big event), most Fuller's pubs offer Golden Pride in bottles - a super-malty, rich, fairly dark ale at (I think) 8.5% ABV, a beer that the late Michael Jackson described as the "Cognac of beers".

They offer a nice plate of nachos, and I've also enjoyed their ploughman's platter - sliced apples, cheeses, and breads. I've also enjoyed their burgers. I've brought workmates here on a few occasions, but have mostly enjoyed it on my Thursday nights out. If I'm alone, I like to sit upstairs and enjoy the ambience.

Barcelona: Sagrada Familia and Return

2008-06-02T12:34:00.001-07:00

Friday afternoon. The skies are clouding over, but this morning was bright and clear. We had breakfast at a place Margo had read about, located about a dozen blocks to our southeast. I think it was closer to a deli than a restaurant - there was just one table in the back, which we shared with two older gentlemen. We had our standard breakfast of coffee and hot chocolate, and baguettes.

This was also on the way to our next destination, La Sagrada Familia. We emerged from the Sagrada Familia Metro stop on to the street in front of the church. It was mad with tourists and buses. We went to the park in front and let Sarah play in the playground for a while.

We decided not to pay admission and see the interior. From skimming the guidebooks, it didn't sound too interesting, and we figured the most interesting parts were on the exterior. So instead, I walked its perimeter taking snaps.

Next we took the Metro to the Plaza de Catalunya and walked the shopping streets to the Cathedral of Barcelona. However, it was under heavy renovation; most of it was obscured by construction cloth. Again we elected not to pay admission.

We walked the shopping streets back to the Plaza ...

... and entered El Corte Ingles department store. We had lunch in the terrace at the top floor, with fine views to the west and north.

Then we shopped for candies for our workmates, in the lowest level.

We were quite tired by then, and took one more Metro ride to Diagonal for siestas in our flat.

Friday evening. The sun is with us again, our last evening in Barcelona. I'm sitting on the balcony with a glass of Spanish rosé.

Earlier I walked around nearby shops. I finally feel more relaxed. Not wearing a camera helped me feel less of a tourist, though not being blonde would have helped even more.

We had a simple dinner in a café across the street - pizza-like slices of focaccia bread. Margo is wandering about, packing things for our flight home in the morning.

I just went out earlier to see if the nearby newsstand had any English papers, but it had closed shop. However, on a whim I followed an entranceway to a small public garden that I'd earlier assumed was part of the adjacent hotel ... and saw orange and mango trees. I've never seen one before. Oranges. On a tree. Nice.

A few more random observations ...

I've noticed more elderly people than in most cities. Strolling, sitting on benches.
It seems more people are smokers here.
At any time, it seems most of the benches are in use. It's nice. People just sitting.
There's a television set in the flat but it doesn't have cable/satellite, and no programmes are in English. Sarah couldn't find any cartoons, so the whole stay, she's not been pestering us to watch it. I've quite liked that, and I'll be voting for not buying a TV when we settle in Canada.
I think Margo and I have done quite well with our Spanish, which is just as well as it seems few people speak English.

That's all the writing I did on our trip. Saturday's return was uneventful but for delays: two hours at the airport in Barcelona, and an hour and a half delay for our baggage. Grrrr.

We were glad to be back.

Barcelona: Park Güell, Tibidabo

2008-06-02T10:36:00.000-07:00

Thursday - Late Afternoon. Today had the best weather forecast all week - mostly sunny - so we decided we'd do Friday's plan today - seeing the Park Güell and the Tibidabo amusement park.

We took the Metro to the Plaza de Catalunya to get breakfast and then find a hop on-hop off tourist bus to take us to both destinations. We got a simple breakfast at the Café Zurich, then crossed the Plaza to find buses.

Unfortunately the line of tourists waiting for the buses was quite long. We estimated at least an hour wait, so we found a nearby taxi stand instead.

We arrived at the Park's central entrnace, about a 20 minute walk away from the Monument area I'd visited earlier. This is where most of the features are: the steps with the tiled lizard sculpture;

the columned walkway;

and the balcony above it, ringed with inward-facing tiled concrete seats that were actually quite comfortable. Gargoyles guarded us from outside.

The park was designed by Gaudí as a housing project, but it never became one.

Next we hailed a taxi and rode uphill on twisty roads to the top of a hill and the Tibidabo amusement park. Entrance to the park is free. But unfortunately, only a few rides on its topmost level were open as the high season hadn't started yet. We got enough tickets so that Sarah could ride the few open ones, and we could all ride the Ferris wheel.

There were few others in the park so we didn't have to wait for any rides. Most rides were idle until we arrived to ride them.

Next we went to the café for typical fairground food - burgers and chicken nuggets and the like.

We considered calling for a taxi ride back - there wasn't a taxi stand at the park - but decided to take the funicular ride downhill into town, so we did. The ride didn't take us far and we had some confusion as to how best to continue. We decided to follow the other tourists and take the local bus further into town.

Margo offered to pay this time so she went to get her wallet from my backpack. She didn't find it. We stepped back and searched thoroughly. It definitely was missing.

This was about my worst fear realised. Losing cash I can deal with, but losing one's cards can open a world of troubles via identity theft. I was well panicked.

We retreated to the funicular's lounge to get our thoughts together. We decided Margo would return alone to see if her wallet had been found. Sarah and I waited. I decided that, even if her wallet were found, it had been out of our control for some time, and card numbers could have been copied for future use already, so I called our bank and canceled Margo's cards for our shared account.

As I was on the phone, Margo texted me that her wallet had been found immediately and put in the café's safe. Apparently she'd merely left it at the counter while ordering our food. Though, I don't know why nobody informed us as we were sitting right in front of the counter for perhaps half an hour while eating.

Margo was quite cross at me for cancelling her cards, but later apologised. New cards should arrive days after our return, but this does inconvenience her for a short time.

We took the next bus further down, then the Metro to our Diagonal stop. Once back at the flat, I went out to get some more cash, mostly to confirm that my card was not blocked. But I was still quite shaken by the whole experience, and I think we were quite lucky that things turned out as well as they did.

Friday morning. Yesterday afternoon, while Margo and Sarah napped, I took some walks through nearby streets and alleyways.

We had dinner at Cervezerida Catalana again. The picture below was taken on the way to dinner; I had to be sneaky and run ahead to catch them in the sunny part.

The staff recognised us and we were seated at the same table. We also ordered much the same. The artichoke tapas that Margo wanted last time wasn't available, so we got fried mushrooms instead.

Back at the flat, I soon left with the camera. I wanted to walk southeast down Diagonal and find a building I was curious about - an office building resembling London's Gherkin, only taller. I'd asked a cab driver about it earlier; he said it was the building of the water company, and just about one year old.

Along the way I spied the towers of La Sagrada Familia, so I changed course to take it in.

Returning to Diagonal, I followed it to its end at the Placa de les Glories Catalanes, a large roundabout with a park in the middle. The building was just opposite, though oddly its surroundings looked quite shabby. I also spied a trolley that I'd not seen anywhere else in the city.

There's lots I've noticed and learned in the time we've been here.

The street in front of our flat has a parking garage under it. I took this picture at the end of my evening walk; you can just see a glass elevator on the right to the parking below.

Our street, Passeig de Gracia, is actually a posh address. One cab driver told us it was the most expensive street in Barcelona. I suppose it's like visiting Los Angeles for the first time and staying in Beverly Hills without knowing much about it.
In our Eixample area, most intersections have the corners cut off. The space of the intersection - if viewed from above - is a square, but rotated 45°. This means, walking the sidewalks, you have to angle in, cross, and angle out at intersections. On special streets, like Diagonal and Rambla de Catalunya, this is helped because the boulevard area in the middle of the traffic lanes - rows of trees, grass and inward-facing benches, and paved lanes for pedestrians and bicycles in the centre - allows crosing the intersection directly. It's a bit confusing at first but is very aesthetic.
Traffic is busy. Most streets have several lanes in each direction, and it seems they are usually full.
The city is noisy. From our balconies we hear car horns often, and sirens are not unusual.
The air is hazy. Even when we have clear skies, the sky near the horizon is barely blue - closer to light grey.
We see lots of people on scooters. Bicycles too. There's a bike share programme named Bicing with dozens of locations around the city. I see them often.

Barcelona: Dalí Museum

2008-06-01T09:34:00.000-07:00

Continued from Wednesday morning ...

As I write now, mid-morning, we are on a train headed north to Figueras, near the French border, to take in the Salvador Dalí Museum. The city was important in Dalí's childhood and he designed the museum himself. Dalí has long been perhaps my favourite artist. Reproductions of some of the works we will see today were on my college walls.

Afternoon. I'm writing on the return train trip.

We arrived at Figueras without a map - just an agreement to follow signs and other tourists, as the Museum is the biggest attraction. I was wary as some beggars had gathered at a choke point in a garden in front of the train station, and the shabbiness of some streets and buildings had me on my guard.

After about a ten minute walk we arrived at the Teatro Museu Dalí. The museum is a former theatre. It is build around an open courtyard. Galleries span five storeys. As far as I know, it's the largest collection of his works.

You've heard the phrase "You can never get a cab when it's raining"? Below is a cab; inside is Dalí's wife Gala; and it periodically rains - inside the cab. It's the centrepiece of the theatre courtyard.

Two of the works below hung on my walls in Madison, Wisconsin about 20 years ago ...

Hmmm, where to begin? Dalí was very accomplished, proficient in many media, so on display were paintings, drawings, jewelry, sculpture, and even holograms and laser art. His work is finely detailed, and as a result no wall was empty, no stairway unadorned. And his works have a playfulness, so there were secrets and practical jokes.

This is part of the ceiling in one of the galleries.

We split up for a while, joined at an agreed-upon time and place, and continued together.

Then we split up again, Margo and Sarah resting while I finished my touring.

In one room was a boxy robotic figure composed of circuitry boards, lying prone on a glass case. On its front panel was a coin slot. I put in one Euro. The lights did not change. I saw no movement. Two French women looked confused with me. I smiled and shrugged my shoulders. Perhaps it was meant to be a joke?

Only minutes later did I notice the collapsing tiles of an art work near the ceiling. From a steel crucifix, a geometric mesh backing the tiles was slowly folding upon itself along the axes of the crucifix, its motor slow and silent. I smiled in appreciation.

I also love the dreamlike quality of some of his paintings. And I remembered why I chose those posters for my college walls: I could look at them over and over, and still sometimes notice some detail I hadn't before.

We left the main building and continued around the corner to take in another gallery, this containing examples of his jewelry. I didn't know he'd made any, and wondered what Daliesque jewelry might look like. Well, like his other art.

Some motifs familiar in his paintings reappeared, like elephants wiht stiltlike legs, and misshapen limbs. Some had little motors driving clever movements: a large jewel opening and closing as a door; and a heart made of small red jewels, with an aperture that would open and close in a subtly lifelike fashion.

We had a quick and cheap lunch at a café.

I asked Sarah to take this picture of me as we sat opposite the giant "Dalí" signature in the wall of the museum. The lips are a gift shop item Margo bought for Sarah. I cropped the photo afterwards.

We also walked around the building; on its other side, the decoration is different. The spots on the walls are triangular, globby formations that resemble dog poo.

We walked back to the station, Margo leading the way with her superior memory.

Wednesday evening. We've just returned from dinner, and what a dinner! Our happiest so far. During Margo and Sarah's siesta, I researched nearby eateries in Margo's guidebooks. I came up with a paltry three nearby recommendations.

The first was too pricy. The second we couldn't find - perhaps it's changed hands and names. We browsed some more. Another was too smoky. Then we chanced upon a tapas place Michael had recommended - Cervezerida Catalana - and took it.

I was wanting sangria, Margo was wanting seafood, and we saw we could both be satisfied. We got our name on the waiting list and ten minutes later, a table. We ordered a handful of tapas plates, with a pitcher of sangria and the lemon soda for Sarah:

baguettes with olive oil and crushed tomatoes;
patatas bravas (fried potato chunks with aoli and spicy tomato sauce);
pescadito frito (little fried fish);
tortilla patatas (omelette with potatoes);
2 brochettes langustin (seared prawn skewers);
esparragos plancha (asparagus friend with salt and olive oil);
flauta remona (baguettes with chopped letuce, mayo, ham for Sarah)

Margo wasn't so interested in the pescadito so I ended up eating most of it. For a bit I moved the fish in circles, like at the aquarium, then chomped them. I ate one like a shark, biting it, shaking my head, then swallowing the rest. This inspired Sarah to try some - and she ate them, eyes, heads, spines and all!

On to dessert ... Sarah got a slice of lemon cake, and Margo and I got a cake sampler - four slices - lemon cake, custard pie, blueberry pie, and a soaked rum cake.

The service was prompt, the bill was reasonable, and we left with very happy tummies. We shall definitely return.

Barcelona: Aquarium and Barcelonita Beach

2008-06-01T08:37:00.000-07:00

Tuesday morning. Just returned from getting a coffee. I was hoping to find a locally owned coffee/tea shop and went up the street a block to the patisserie I remembered, but it wasn't yet open so I went back downhill, collected a free daily paper, and to my chagrin, entered a Starbucks. I've heard that breakfast is not such an important meal here, so I'm not surprised that coffee shops are harder to find.

If I read slowly I can mostly understand the newspaper text. Speech is more challenging. I understand less of what I hear. Catalan is used most often, but it seems most people understand Spanish. When I speak I often find myself grasping for some key word, and sometimes must start a new sentence of similar intent. Or, the other person takes pity and offers some key words in English, as if saying, "It's okay, you can stop pretending to speak Spanish."

I'm quite impressed with what the brain can remember, though. With time, my skills in Spanish are warming up, and I find myself remembering words and phrases I wouldn't have a few days ago. I even catch myself thinking in Spanish. But I've noticed it in all other countries as well. Even though I haven't studied the language, I've found some familiar words regardless. Over a lifetime of reading and viewing, one builds what seems to be a huge, scattered database of words and phrases. You may have never visited France, but you certainly know plenty of French - names of foods, song titles, terminology, other sources. It seems the brain can refresh these relationships to offer up understanding when needed - not always just in time, as in speech, but often being helpful in interpreting things like signs and labels. So occasionally I find myself knowing a word I didn't know I knew.

Today will be merely overcast with perhaps some sun later. (Rain is forecast tomorow and the day after.) Perhaps we will go to the beach today. Yesterday we noticed open sky in cloud breaks, but it wasn't very blue at all - quite pale. Perhaps there was a really high, thin cloud layer, or city pollution.

I wrote this next part on Wednesday, but it's mostly about Tuesday. Wednesday will be in the next post.

Wednesday morning. Finally, a sunny morning! But I am wary. The forecast is for rain, and the locals are wearing jackets, and so I do also.

We're having breakfast at Starbucks. It's how we began yesterday as well. After breakfast, we took the Metro towards the waterfront. We stopped to get snaps of the monument to Christopher Columbus, memorialising his return from the New World to Barcelona.

We crossed the pedestrian bridge ...

... and made our way to Europe's largest aquarium. We strolled through the large entranceway into the first exhibit: a series of over a dozen tanks of various sizes containing aquatic life from different regions of the world.

From here, we entered a long, clear underwater tunnel and observed the sea life circling past, which included three sharks, skates, and sunfish.

We continued upstairs. We left Sarah with some time in the Explora childrens' play/education area, whilst we relaxed with drinks in the café. Sarah joined us for a bite to eat. Then we carried on to the last room and its exhibits. We walked through the gaping maw of a sperm whale to see an exhibit of deep sea life. Sarah gravitated toward a tank of skates and rays as it had tunnels underneath and a viewing area in the centre for wee ones to enjoy.

I came and watched. After a while I heard a splashing sound and went to investigate. It was a skate flapping against the side. And to my shock, it then came right up to me. The tank was open to the air but covered in a netting, so it couldn't leap out or anything. When Margo joined us she explained that skates are quite social.

It was like cats rubbing against your legs, excep these were (probably) slimy and their eyes didn't seem to move. But the tank fascinated us all and we lingered a long while.

The day's forecast was for partial sun, with rain fo rthe next day, so we had planned for today to be our waterfront day. But as we left the aquarium the skies remained firmly clouded shut and, to our dismay, a light rain began. We considered returning to our flat, but after some deliberation, decided to press on and make the moderately long walk through the Barceloneta area to see the beaches - if only just to look at them.

The rain ceased. We admired the Gas Natural building as we passed it. Then we climbed a ramp and turned toward the park, walking next to it.

In minutes we could see a street through the palm trees - and beyond it, the Mediterranean! Finally. I'd been quite looking forward to spending some quality time beside this most exotic of seas. We even had some light sunshine by now.

We crossed the street and descended some stairs to beach level. Margo found one of the concrete lounge chairs for herself.

Sarah and I bagged our shoes and stepped onto the groomed sand.

This being the off-season, and the weather being what it was, there were few others on the beaches. No lifeguards were about, and the folded lounge chairs remained stacked, presumably locked.

The dark grey waves looked quite strong, and as the first one washed over our feet, Sarah and I yelped - cold! This was not the tropical bathwater I'd envisioned, but then neither was the cloudy weather.

To Sarah's extreme disappointment, we realised we wouldn't be changing into the swimsuits we'd brought.

However, we made the most of it. We lingered for an hour or so, mostly standing at teh water's edge and jumping just as each wave hit us. We never let the water get higher than our knees - the outgoing current was strong. We periodically checked in with Margo and whiled away the time.

Margo was getting a bit chilly and so took residence in a nearby café, under the street and steps from the sand. Sarah and I carried on for a while but eventually dusted teh sand off our feet, re-shod them, and joined Margo.

The café was nicely designed in dark stone walls with orange accents. Wide horizontal mirrors against the back walls perfectly framed the watery view at sitting-eye level. Chillout music played, and the DJ booth hinted at its nightlife potential. I got a fresh glass to enjoy some of the half litre of house red Margo was enjoying - along with a tasy hamburger (no bun), cooked quite crispily yet juicy inside, with highly caramelised onions and a sweet barbeque-like sauce, wtih shoestring fries. After some deliberation, I decided to make this my main meal, ordering the same dish and another half litre, and a child's spaghetti with the standard lemon soda for the shortie. And so another relaxing hour passed as we enjoyed our fortunate moments beside the sea.

At one point, the sun became quite strong and the water became blue. I got more snaps.

Later the clouds regained their iron grip on the skies.

We took a taxi back to the flat. It was early evening. We had wine and snacks and mostly lounged, reading the Sunday Times I'd picked up, Sarah with her Doctor Who comics and Captain Underpants books. And that was our evening.

Barcelona: Ramblas, Park Güell

2008-06-01T00:54:00.000-07:00

Monday morning. I have a story for you. I mentioned that we arose early in the morning yesterday. At one point, in my grogginess, I noticed on the floor of the upstairs landing - tiny pieces of toilet paper. I brought my bag downstairs and set about closing the curtains. When I returned - toilet paper on the stair! It was starting to seem like an M. Night Shyamalan film. Surely these were signs - but of what?

Standing in the check-in queue at London Stansted - and there on the floor, another toilet paper piece!

As we unpacked our bags in our Barcelona flat - more toilet paper pieces! I have just finished sweeping them up. I dare not wonder what grim spectre haunts us, nor to what its portent; I merely hope it deserts us soon.

Breakfast at a "5J" café, down the Rambla de Catalunya. Croissant and hot chocolate for Sarah; Margo and I had baguettes - a sharp cheese in mine, a cured ham for Margo. The coffee is nice and strong.

I'm flipping through a 20 Minutos free daily newspaper. It seems some articles are in Spanish, others in Catalan. The latter is the regional language and seems to include elements of French (France is nearby) - instead of el or la, there's l', and d' for de.

Afternoon. Time to catch up. After breakfast, we continued down Rambla de Catalunya. We ran into old friends from Helsinki - large metal sculptures by a Spanish artist that were copies or had traveled there during our visit. We passed the Placa de Catalunya, a large square.

We'd also just passed from the wealthier, newer Eixample district into the Old City district, and the street name changes to La Rambla. You can see that there was still occasional rain.

This part of La Rambla features several stalls selling small (and of course cute) animals, like chicks and hamsters, as well as fish and turtles.

At one point Margo directed us to a side street that she'd researched earlier as it has some well-known sweets shops. We ended up at Dulcinea where we had xuros (churros) that we dipped in a hot chocolate sauce that was like a heated pudding. I noticed sawdust had been put on the floor.

Along La Rambla were performers, most of whom would be frozen until given coins. We'd been warned in guidebooks, and also by Michael on our arrival, to be wary of pickpockets in tourist areas like this. Attractions like these divert tourists' attention so others can check our pockets. We'd taken some precautions, but I personally hate the feeling of being preyed upon and I didn't enjoy myself as much as I would otherwise when walking through areas like this.

Next we visited the nearby Boqueria farmer's market. We browsed the aisles and picked up a sausage and cured ham slices, cherries and coconut slices.

We then found a café to the side of the market and got some lunch. Margo ordered tapas of: sliced baguette bread drizzled in olive oil with crushed tomatoes on top; cured ham slices; and slices of a sharp white cheese drizzled in olive oil and sprinkled with pepper.

We found the nearest Metro stop and bought 10-trip tickets, then rode a few stops back uphill to the Diagonal station, right near our flat. Siestas followed.

Margo had made a short list of household foods and drinks for me as I'd volunteered earlier to go shopping. I (swear I) pocketed the list and set off for a nearby grocer. When I got there and reached in my back pocket for the list, it was gone. It spooked me to think that it had been pinched and I'd not even felt it! But perhaps I'd just misplaced it. In any event, I had my wallet, keys and mobile in front pockets, so nothing important was lost.

Again I arose first and read through some of Margo's guidebooks to research attractions to visit while the others slept. I started by going out to get better pictures of some of the nearby Modernist buildings, including La Pedrera. It's not in the picture, but at the base of this street lamp is a tiled concrete bench also in the Modernist style.

Returning to the flat, the others were still sleeping, so I decided to take another small trip to the Park Güell. I rode the Metro a few stops uphill, and then found the walkway up to the park. It's a long climb, but escalators cover all but two blocks of it.

The first area I found was the Monument area, so I climbed it to capture a panoramic view. That was most of what I wanted to see. There was much more to explore, but I wanted to head back as I figured the others would be awake by now.

And that brings my narrative up to date. Margo's picked a nearby restaurant named La Bodegueta for dinner and we will leave shortly.

Evening. We decided to save our dinner destination for later in the evening. Most people don't go out for dinner until later. Some restaurants don't even reopen until 8.30. So we set out to find a gelateria and get some drinks, and Margo wanted time in an Internet café.

I remembered seeing a gelateria on the way to Rambla de Catalunya. It turned out to be a full-on restaurant with the word "Gelateria" on one face of its awning. We pressed on down the street and several blocks later settled upon a Haagen-Dazs shop. Scoops and a chocolately mouth ensued.

Next we stopped for drinks after a few more blocks. Fanta Limón for Sarah (what she's been drinking most often so far) and a half litre of sangria for Margo and I. Mmmmm.

Afterwards we split off, Sarah and I taking the Metro back to our flat, and Margo going on to the nearby Internet café.

After dinner. Sarah has been asserting her independence. At home, when I pick her up from school, at a half block from our house she likes to run ahead to our door. Sometimes she wants my key to open the door. Here, she wants to run down or up the building's stairs, while Margo and I ride the lift.

Margo picked a dinner recommendation from a guidebook. It was a good one. We arrived and got on the waiting list, waiting about ten minutes. On a Monday night! We ordered a bottle of Rioja and a Fresca Limón for Sarah. Then tapas: a baguette with cheese for Sarah; for the adult eaters ... chorizo slices; manchega cheese dribbled in olive oil; the olive-oil-and-crushed-tomatoes baguettes; patatas fritas (fried potatoes) with aoli and chile sauces; and omelette with potatoes cooked slowly with olive oil.

It's an old restaurant. Probably the first time I've noticed refrigerator doors in hardwood. Lots of old wood throughout. It was a very enjoyable meal.

Now we are back. I poured some more red wine for Margo and myself. We should sleep well.

Barcelona: Arrival

2008-05-31T13:43:00.000-07:00

Today we returned from a week in Barcelona. We didn't bring Margo's laptop, but I did bring a notepad to write in to make these posts easier on our return. Here are my notes from our first day.

Sunday morning. We are in the air. An EasyJet from London Stansted. Valet parking was smooth but everything else was a queue. We'd paid the bit extra to board early and be in the express line, but it wasn't moving much compared to the others. We were later advised to join a closing queue for our flight. Then the security queue, where Margo's bag was searched extra thoroughly as it had lipstick and other girly stuff. Then the lounge, and then a boarding queue, and then an exit queue, from which we crossed the tarmac in heavy rain. Looking down now, the view is of solid clouds.

Behind us are three hyper boys. They've just ordered jelly beans and hot chocolates.

Margo says I smell of alcohol. Last night a mate and I went to a beer festival at the Dove Street Inn. I don't recall every one I sampled but I did enjoy Adnams Tally Ho racked for three months, an oaked ale at 9%, and a Belgian style ale from nearby Felixstowe at 13.5%. I know there were some goldens mixed in also, but I also ate a lot of food. Oddly, I do remember some of our bike ride home.

Early evening. We had some scary turbulence coming over the Pyrenees and a rough landing. People cheered once we slowed down.

It was raining. We knew it would be from the forecast we'd seen days ago. It will rain for several days, perhaps our entire trip. It wasn't much different than Stansted, just warmer.

We're staying in a one-bedroom flat. Three beds and a kitchen. Two rooms have balconies overlooking a busy boulevard. Trees line the street and the tops reach near our balconies.

On the ride from the airport, our taxi stopped for a light on front of Gaudi's La Pedrera apartment building, so I got some quick snaps. Our flat is just up the street from it, about two blocks.

We were met at the door by Michael, an American who works with the rental agency. He gave us our keys and showed us where everything was in the flat. Then we went out for a late lunch. We were quite tired (we'd woke around 4 in the morning) so we stopped at the first place that looked good - for us, a buffet. We got salads and pastas. Then it was back to the flat for long kips.

Evening. Now we are having dinner in a tapas bar named Tapa Tapa. I suspect it's a chain. But back to my narration.

I didn't really sleep so I went for a walk. From our flat, near the Avinguda Diagonal, I walked to La Ramblas de Catalunya, a long pedestrianised shopping street. On our end there are shops and cafés, but as I kept downhill toward the waterfront, the crowds of tourists (and touristy shops and restaurants) thickened until one could no longer walk quickly.

Now I have to interrupt again because our food just arrived. Margo and I are sharing a small bottle of Tempranillo, a rich red wine. We have cherry tomatoes with walnuts and cheese; breaded cheese croquettes; seafood paella; duck skewer with caramelised pears; and a ham baguette for Sarah. And more! A squash blossom stuffed with mozarella, fried in tempura batter; small Andalucian fishes, breaded; and fries with aoli sauce for Sarah.

Well, back to my stroll. I hadn't intended to walk so far, but I made it all the way to the harbourside. I hadn't brought the camera as it was raining off and on, and I figured I'd be back soon enough with better weather, but I wished I'd brought it at the time.

I was a bit overwhelmed by the city, though it's hard to describe just why. There are lots of pedestrian paths, including a raised walkway along the harbourside above a lane of auto traffic. There's a cable car overhead. It was the first chance I had to see some of the tall office buildings, some of which feature quite interesting architecture. And then there's the unique architectural stylings of the Modernista buildings - that alien-looking combination of tiles and colours and odd, organic bulges and curves.

I walked along the harbourside path to the Via Laietana, eventually cutting over to the Passeig de Gràcia, our flat's street, passing more shops and restaurants and getting a closer look at Gaudí's Pedrera.

OK, time to eat.

Sarah's had a go with the camera. We're ordering dessert next. Sorbets for Sarah, yogurt and caramelised strawberries for Margo, and a "pinya colada" smoothie for me.

I'm getting quite tired now. I said "cheers" to our waiter by mistake. Margo and I have been just getting by with our high school Spanish. We do better than we do in other countries. But when I hear Spanish I only get about every fifth word.

Right. That's as much as I'll get done tonight. Tomorrow I should have time to type up a few more days' worth of notes, with pictures.

Abbey Road

2008-05-22T12:44:00.001-07:00

Tonight after work I went to visit Abbey Road. I walked to Moorgate, took the Circle Line to Baker Street (home of Sherlock Holmes), then took the Jubilee Line north one stop to St Johns Wood. This tube station is perhaps the classiest in London. This is the view ascending. I really liked the light fixtures, and I've never seen daylight before whilst riding up a Tube escalator.

From the station it was a short walk to what is perhaps the world's most famous zebra crossing.

Traffic was fairly busy so I couldn't get quite the same angle that The Beatles did on their cover, from the middle of the street. Besides, this crossing isn't even in the same place as it was in 1969 - but it's close.

The crossing is also right by the Abbey Road Studios. Even though I couldn't enter the studio, or even the car park, I wanted to come and see it with my eyes as a music fan, since there's so much musical history here. The Beatles and Pink Floyd recorded most of their albums here, so this is where the sonic experimentation of Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band and The Dark Side of the Moon took place. Alan Parsons worked as an engineer on albums by both bands and went on to start his Project, which was so highly engineered that it couldn't be played live. The studios have also been the site of many classical recordings and film scores, and has been used by some of my favourite artists including Kate Bush, Radiohead, Depeche Mode, and Massive Attack. This is the studios' main entrance.

The wall in front of the studio is left for fans to leave messages. It's painted over regularly. I didn't write anything.

I returned to the Tube station and took the Jubilee Line south to Bond Street and walked Oxford Street. I know I've written about Oxford Street before, but it is such a shopping destination. I think it's literally miles of shops, and contains flagship stores for many of the UK's biggest shops, including Marks & Spencer, Topshop, John Lewis, and Selfridges. I started heading east, or so I thought, but after maybe a quarter of a mile I realised I was headed the wrong way because I saw I was approaching Marble Arch and Hyde Park. But since the density of shoppers didn't decrease, I assumed I was going the right direction, towards Regent Street. But one nice thing was that I got to take in the display windows at Selfridges, which are quite artistic.

Crossing Regent Street, I was soon at my destination, the HMV music shop. The Oxford Street store is perhaps the largest music store in the UK, and I come here now and then as they stock titles I can't find anywhere else. Not because they're specialists - they're quite bland, and the smaller stores carry only the most popular titles - but their voluminous shelf space lets them keep a huge inventory. Since I had our camera I got some hasty snaps.

One of the titles I got was Abbey Road as I don't have any Beatles recordings past The White Album. I almost balked at the £16 price - it seems Beatles albums never go on sale - but I couldn't pass up this most appropriate of souvenirs.

Sarah Bikes

2008-05-21T07:10:00.001-07:00

Sarah had a bike in Portland but we didn't progress to removing the training wheels. During our stay here in England, we haven't advanced on this. I didn't buy Sarah a bigger bike here because I wasn't sure she'd use it much, and we don't have a good place to put it.

But we were able to borrow one last weekend. One of Sarah's best mates lives around the corner from us, and we're good friends with the family. Recently I suggested to John that perhaps Sarah could borrow Elliot's bike on a weekend, and so Sunday afternoon we walked to the nearby golf course/commons and found a nice area of gently sloping lawn.

I'd always thought that teaching your child to ride a bike would be a momentous father-child moment, where your directions and advice are faithfully taken, your child beams in appreciation, and choirs of angels sing in the background. But of course it didn't work out that way.

John and I traded off pushing Sarah and letting go to encourage her to coast.

But she wasn't coasting far. She was struggling with her balance, and didn't seem to know how to lean and stay upright. And she also had that combination of being scared but not wanting to show it, to want us to leave her alone, but at the same time to want us to guide her every move the moment she got scared.

And we struggled: how do you teach someone to stay balanced? It's kind of innate. We tried a few techniques but in the end, we just had to keep bringing her to the top of the slope, guiding her for a bit, and seeing what she did afterwards.

Then she got it.

She needs more practice - she's definitely too wobbly to ride on a sidewalk or street - but she's over the hump, and if I had to give a yes or no answer to the question of whether she can ride a bike, it's a definite yes.

New Tool

2008-05-17T09:00:00.000-07:00

Today Sarah spent some of her allowance to get a sonic screwdriver. (I got her to do a serious David Tennant-like pose with it.)

We've used it to "unlock" several doors in our house this afternoon.

Edinburgh, Days 3 and 4

2008-05-08T11:51:00.000-07:00

Our Sunday was a very lazy one. We had our darkest skies that day, though it seldom rained outright. I went to a nearby shop for the Sunday Times in time for breakfast. Afterwards we spent hours reading and relaxing, broken by a movie borrowed from our hosts' VHS video collection.

Later I walked into town just to take a stroll. I felt a bit sad walking around as I realised it would probably be my last leisurely look at the city.

None of us were too excited to find another place for dinner, especially on a Sunday night when things close early. I volunteered to go out and scout for decent sandwiches from a grocery store, and Sarah was conscripted to accompany me as she'd spent her whole day indoors. So we had a long walk to a Tesco for sandwiches, crisps, juices and biscuits for dessert, feeding the three of us for ten quid. And that was our Sunday.

Monday was a leisurely departure. We had an unhurried breakfast and called a taxi to catch our 9:30 train. The total journey, including a relaxed layover in Peterborough, was about six and a half hours, a bit shorter than a drive would have been. Margo was glad to not have to drive for so long.

Monday was also a day of shockingly warm weather and perfectly blue skies. It was surreal, almost. Like going to sleep in winter and waking up in summer. Suddenly we're all in shirtsleeves, and our winter coats seem very silly. And it's been like that all week. Temperatures in the low to mid twenties. (In winter, we set our thermostat to 18.)

For me the most memorable part of our return journey was seeing the massive sculpture Angel of the North, just south of Newcastle. I hadn't noticed it on the way north.

But soon enough we were back in Ipswich, facing heaps of laundry, little food, and barely enough time to write these posts.

Edinburgh Day 2

2008-05-06T23:48:00.000-07:00

Saturday's weather was overcast skies, but there didn't seem to be much chance of rain. On this visit, we didn't have much of an agenda. We'd already seen the touristy stuff on our last visit. Margo mostly wanted to enjoy some downtime after a stressful week. My main goal was to climb Arthur's Seat, and Sarah was ready for it also. So after a fine English breakfast, Sarah and I returned to yesterday's starting point, but this time with a better view of the climb ahead.

We took our time up the switchbacks, pausing now and then and sipping from our water bottles. Sarah was a bit scared in some of the steeper parts but carried on. Soon enough the steepness leveled and we found ourselves at the top, with a full view of the city.

Next we resolved to climb partway down and continue on the top of the crags toward the bottom of the Royal Mile. The crags are like a big shelf, and walking along near its edge one can look down on the city for the whole walk. Here's a view of them from the summit.

It's like walking through a meadow on the top of the city. On our right was a gently sloping grassy plain; on our left, a great view. Around this time Margo called. She'd been wandering Old Town and found a tea room to settle in for a while, where we could meet up with her. I could see the intersection she described and estimated we'd be there in half an hour.

We worked our way along the descending ridge, the view like that from a plane that's landing: first everything is below you, then gradually you see it from the side, until you're next to it. We met the ground across from the football field in Holyrood Park. Then we passed Holyrood Palace, the Scottish Parliament buildings, and ascended the Royal Mile, meeting Margo about 2/3rds of its mile later.

We had some lunch, and then split up as Margo and Sarah wanted to get afternoon naps. I went off wandering. I decided to do some pub hunting. Like I mentioned earlier, most pubs in the touristy areas are geared towards revelers and sports fans. I was looking for a pub for people who enjoy the taste of good beer. My first thought was to find a library and a Good Pub Guide, so I set off to the grounds of the Scottish National Gallery to see if a library might be nearby. One wasn't, but I did swing through for a quick shot of culture, enjoying some nice Italian landscapes and French impressionists. Staff wore tartan trousers.

Then I crossed over to New Town. I walked a block or so of some streets I hadn't encountered, like Thistle and Queen, but didn't find anything promising. I'd bookmarked a pub at the end of Rose Street, so I eventually made my way there, and knew I'd found gold when I saw a chalkboard outside showing their five guest taps.

And so I spent some time at the Abbotsford pub. The guest taps were new enough that not even the bar staff could guide me. I enjoyed a stout-like strong ale, and a rich coppery brown.

I walked back, looking for more pubs but not finding ones I wanted to visit. Approaching our bed and breakfast, I saw the locations of important "firsts" for us. The first crosswalk, at Priestfield and Dalkieth, where we slavishly obeyed the Walk signal because we knew we'd look the wrong way for oncoming traffic. The sidewalk where, as a bus approached, I had an "oh crap" moment as I dug through the change from new notes and realised I had no idea what coins had which value.

Sarah and Margo were sleeping when I returned. I was in the mood for fish and chips and real ale, and I knew Margo would want something more formal, so I called the Abbotsford and ensured they allowed children for dining, and made a reservation. So an hour and a half later we bused to Princes Street and walked to the pub for dinner.

We didn't wander afterwards - the others were keen to return, so we took a taxi back and that rounded out our second day.

Edinburgh Day 1

2008-05-06T12:12:00.000-07:00

To give a bit more detail to Sarah's succinct summary ...

We recently returned from a four-day Bank Holiday weekend in Edinburgh. It's the only city we've revisited, and sort of a homecoming for us, as it was our first quality time in Europe two summers ago.

Our trip started on Friday. Margo and I had taken off work, and written a note to excuse Sarah's absence. We left Ipswich just after 8 in the morning. Our train took us north to Peterborough. The land became more flat, and after some time we saw some of the Norfolk Broads, a series of canals raised above the fields that are used for leisure boating in the spring and summertime.

In Peterborough we had some early lunch and changed onto a London train bound for Aberdeen. After a while we passed through York, which hadn't seemed to have changed much since we saw it last weekend. Then Newcastle again. I'd seen Get Carter since our last visit, so this time I recognised the multistorey car park from the film that's soon to be demolished.

We've been to Edinburgh and to Newcastle, but hadn't previously traveled between the two, so the remainder of our route was new scenery, and quite interesting at that. The hills became higher, and eventually we saw the North Sea to our right as we followed the east coast north, then gradually turning west as we approached Edinburgh. We saw Arthur's Seat long before I recognised it for what it is.

Margo and Sarah wanted to go straight to our bed and breakfast for afternoon kips, and I couldn't imagine turning down a chance to stroll around one of our favourite cities, so after we pulled into Waverley Station, I walked them to the taxi stand and we parted ways. My first stop was to cross the street to the same tavern (The Doric Column) where we had our first pints (and my first fish and chips) in the UK. Remember this from two summers ago?

Here I am again.

Then it was up Cockburn Street to Avalanche Records, one of the last and finest of the UK independent record stores. Up briefly to the Royal Mile, then back across the way from Old Town to New Town and Princes Street, visiting a few shops and taking more snaps.

Then, at the end of the street, I went up one to Rose Street and toured the pubs. I forgot how rubbish most of them are. Signs of a mediocre pub. The Scottish standards are Deuchars, Tetleys and Caledonian, so seeing one of these three on a window or doorway: bad sign. Advertising footie games on a big screen: bad sign. Warnings about wearing football colours: a very bad sign. I think I stopped somewhere but it wasn't memorable. I noticed a Fopp record store and browsed. Then I found a bus heading south, paid my one quid fare (cheaper than even Ipswich) and headed to our bed and breakfast.

I caught up with Colin and Trina, the caretakers at our bed and breakfast, the same one we'd stayed at two summers ago. I'd assumed Margo and Sarah had taken naps, but they were wide awake, having just finished afternoon tea with Colin and Trina. It was great to be back in our room. It's a huge room, perhaps the best we've had at a bed and breakfast. Really high ceilings, plenty of space, and extra chairs for reading or just lounging.

We decided to get dinner at a nearby Italian restaurant we'd visited last time. It was quite good, though perhaps a bit pricey for the quality. We came back as the evening sun was setting. The weather was supposed to be rainy for the rest of the weekend. I considered making a climb of Arthur's Seat while there was still some sun, and to my surprise, Sarah wanted to go also.

So after dinner, despite being overfed, I changed into trainers and we walked up Dalkeith Road to Holyrood Park Road, entering the park and climbing partway to the top. I made it to a road that circled the Seat, but didn't see a safe way to the summit in the setting light, so Sarah and I enjoyed the view from where we were. Sarah, of course, posing in her special way.

Then it was back to our room to conclude our first day in Edinburgh.

Edinburgh

2008-05-06T11:39:00.000-07:00

In Edinburgh me and Dad climbed Athurs Seat.
When we got to the top we took some pictures.
Then the long way down.
After that we walked up the Cregs.
When we got to the top we took more pictures.
Then we walked down again.
Next we went to meet Mom near the Palace.
I had lunch there.

York

2008-04-27T09:08:00.000-07:00

Yesterday we returned from a weekend in York. It's in northern England, and is a common halfway stop between London and Edinburgh. It's east and a little to the north of Manchester and Liverpool. York was high on Margo's list of places to visit. It has a large medieval town center, and a unique history of both Roman and Viking occupation. (I later saw a statue of the emperor Constantine outside the cathedral; he was made Emperor while in York, such a far place from Rome.) And it's partial inspiration for New York.

Margo took her Friday off, and she and Sarah started driving in the early afternoon. I took a train from London. Starting from Kings Cross station, I passed Emirates Stadium, home of the Arsenal football club, and later passed through Stevanage, Grantham, Newark, and Doncaster.

I arrived not long after Margo and Sarah - they had to endure long waits in traffic due to construction. We met at our bed and breakfast and then walked into town, getting dinner at a Pizza Express in an old building with high ceilings, and with a hen party in front and a group of teen girls in the rear, the acoustics meant we were nearly shouting to hear each other.

Most of our exploring took place on Saturday. After full English breakfasts for Margo and myself and porridge for Sarah, we walked into town to see our first destination, the York Minster Cathedral which dominates the city, and is the largest Gothic cathedral in northern Europe.

We toured the inside, and then split off. Margo and Sarah went downstairs to tour the undercroft, but it's boring and I'm sure you'd much rather read about my climb up to the top of the central tower. The climb was up 275 steps spiralling up narrow stone columns. Unlike other cathedrals we've climbed, this used the same route up and down, so visitors were staged in half hour intervals as it was too narrow for people to pass.

Outside the cathedral, we split up again, Margo choosing to wander the shops in town, and Sarah and I going to visit the National Railway Museum. I got this shot along the way, looking back.

Also along the way, we were able to follow some of the remaining Roman wall. Here Sarah is drawing her bow against attackers.

Inside the museum, we quickly made our way to The Yorkshire Wheel, a large enclosed carousel on the grounds. I thought it would be good to ride this earlier before it got busy as the morning progressed. Sarah didn't like her picture taken,

but I did manage to capture other aerial views.

Then we toured the museum. The Great Hall included many trains from English rail history as well as some modern ones like the Eurostar and a bullet train from Japan. There is also a functioning roundhouse, and an exhibit of model railroading.

Adjacent is "The Works", an area where you can see trains being restored.

We phoned Margo and met her at the tea room she was ensconced in, then we wandered to find some lunch. We ended up in a pub at the Guy Fawkes Inn, housed in the building in which Fawkes was born. The real ales on tap were quite tasty, and we enjoyed a relaxing time with a newspaper next to a smouldering fireplace.

Sarah wanted to take some pictures and asked me to sit in the throne-like chair next to our table, so I obliged.

By now it was early afternoon and, with full bellies, we walked back to our room and had monster naps. I remember snoring loudly enough to wake me up, and thinking, "Wow, that was really loud", so for a joke I remember saying "Wow, that was really loud", and then rolling over and falling back asleep.

We woke up late afternoon and split up. Margo and Sarah went to the cathedral to take in an evensong service, and I went exploring. I started by walking the Museum Gardens, a large park of meandering paths among more pieces of Roman wall.

The park borders the River Ouse, and I walked back to town along Dame Judi Dench Way (the actress was born in York).

I took some time to explore the high streets, and then met Margo and Sarah outside the cathedral. We crossed the street to have dinner in a family-friendly pub, which unfortunately also meant blander food and drink. Afterward, the others headed back while I popped a few doors down to another pub owned by York Brewery, where I sampled a much tastier Centurion's Ghost dark ale, and left with a sampler pack of bottles to try later.

In the morning, we enjoyed another full breakfast, checked out, and took in one more attraction: the Jorvik Viking Centre, an interactive exhibition exploring York's Viking history. Most of the exhibit was a "time machine" ride, where our little suspended cars were slowly shuttled past robotic Vikings curing leather, making thatched huts, processing food, and a squinting, grunting man using the outhouse, with appropriate sound effects.

And then it was time for the long drive home. Unfortunately it was a grey, rainy day, so we opted not to look for a side road through the Yorkshire countryside (James_Herriot territory). Instead we got on the A1 south, soon passing the Sherwood Forest and Nottingham before reaching the more familiar areas of Peterborough, Cambridge, Bury St Edmunds and finally Ipswich in the late afternoon.

Most Unpleasant

2008-04-07T11:38:00.001-07:00

Is there anything worse than a nasty fart on a commuter train? You can't open the windows. You can't move elsewhere because all the seats are full. You don't have the air nozzles they give you on airlines. No oxygen masks, either. It might be twenty minutes until your next stop. And everyone else on the train is English and therefore will carry on as though nothing has happened.

My Weekly News Diet

2008-04-03T10:52:00.000-07:00

One of the things I enjoy about living in a larger city is having daily newspapers and free weekly papers, creating a weekly diet of things to look forward to.

In Portland, my reading treats started on Wednesdays with the Willamette Weekly, the Portland Mercury on Thursdays, and I always bought the Friday Oregonian with its Arts & Entertainment section. And on Sundays there was the Sunday Oregonian.

These days my diet similarly peaks toward its end. Thursday's Guardian has a Technology section, and I've just recently discovered the Short List, commentaries and, well, lists of useless but interesting stuff, handed out outside Tube stations each Thursday. Friday's Guardian has a Film & Music section. Then there's the Saturday Guardian and the Sunday Times, though on Sunday we may also get the Observer if one of its monthly music or food issues is out. At our corner shop, the Sunday Times is sometimes sold out by the time I arrive, so I sometimes fall back to the Independent or the Telegraph.

Besides this, should I feel like sampling other fare, every morning the Tube exits have people handing out City A.M., mostly financial news, and each evening in the same spots, people are handing out thelondonpaper and London Lite, both composed of a bit of news with celebrity snaps, listings, and sports.

Weekend in Bath

2008-03-30T08:07:00.000-07:00

We spent the weekend exploring some of the region to the west of London, spending most of our time - two nights and a day - in the city of Bath.

We arrived separately. Sarah had her last day of school holiday, and Margo took the day off to drive them west. They spent time in the Cotswolds area, also seeing Shakespeare's home of Stratford-on-Avon, and stopped for tea before heading for Bath in the early evening.

I took the Tube to Paddington Station and boarded a train to Taunton. It was a little odd joining the homebound commuters on another train, like being a gang member in a different neighbourhood. Heading west, I saw planes from nearby Heathrow airport. We followed the Thames in parts; where we crossed it I saw some larger homes by the riverside.

We passed through Reading, which I know as containing the Reading Gaol as well as being the groaningly appropriate setting of the Jasper Fforde literature detective books. Swindon and Chittenham went past before we slowed down for Bath, and I left my southern-viewed seat early to go to the doorway and look to the north at the hills, trying to guess which one is Solsbury Hill.

Now of course Bath is known for lots of things, but with my music glasses always on, I mostly know it as the home of Peter Gabriel and his Real World studios. Likewise, nearby Bristol (the next train stop) can only be known to me as a centre of trip-hop in the 90s with Massive Attack and Tricky, and in the nearby town of Portishead, the band of the same name. I wish we'd had time to see them, but of course, what's there to see for the family - a Museum of Massive Attack? Not yet, I'm afraid.

I should also mention here that Bath is surrounded by hills, which is unusual in flat England. I know the hot spring was part of its founding by the Romans, but I can't help but wonder if the resemblance to hilly Rome was another.

Margo and Sarah were parked near the station, and we went on to our bed and breakfast. Then, without taking off our coats, we went back out to find dinner. Margo had got a recommendation from one of our hosts for a pub two minutes' walk down the road, but we set off in the wrong direction for a happy accident, settling in at The Hop Pole, a pub in a local chain named Bath Ales.

I was glad to see that they brewed their own, so Margo and I tried some of their darker offerings. I had a Barnstormer strong ale, which tasted quite similar to the popular Adnams Broadside, if not better; and Margo had the Dark Hare stout, which I liked even better. Good local beer alone would have been impressive enough, but our dinner kept getting better. My soup of the day, broccoli with local Stilton cheese, was fantastic; Margo greatly enjoyed her liver with bacon and gravy over mash; and Sarah's mac and cheese was freshly baked and very tasty. The staff were noticeably friendly, but when I went up to visit the toilet and a staffperson pointed it out to me without my even asking, I was by now shocked at the friendliness. We're just not used to this in a pub. Margo had a three-scoop sample of locally made ice cream for dessert (honey, strawberry, and chocolate) and we acknowledged that, if we had a pub like this in Ipswich, we'd visit three times a week. Our bill was also considerably lower than we'd expected.

As we had rubbish weather - blustery winds and light rain - and we were all tired from our days, we called it a night. Sarah and I shared a bed and even in her sleep she'd be annoying me by rolling into me and getting her feet into my side.

In the morning Margo and I had full English breakfasts and Sarah had porridge. We walked behind our block to see the Royal Crescent. Sarah is the little blue dot running up the hill on the left.

We passed The Circus, a roundabout surrounded on all sides by more crescent-shaped buildings. Then we walked down some shopping streets to the site of our day's two destinations: the Roman Baths (entrance on the right), and the Bath Abbey (on the left).

Something like a museum had been built up around the baths, and we took in lots of information along the way. Bill Bryson narrated some of the audio tour, and he's somehow associated with the café also. The baths are fed by underground spring water - we had a chance to taste some later for 50p, and it was hot and stinky - and has some therapeutic attributes. We saw Roman artefacts including tiles and sculptures. We also saw the spring source, and later the baths themselves. This is the largest bath.

Next, we had tea and cakes in The Pump House café, a room that could also be a ballroom. A string trio played from a stage. Sarah brought an air of grace and respectability to the proceedings, making us very proud.

The Abbey was next. It's one of the largest structures in the city, and recognisable from some distance.

Margo added to her collection of close-ups of sculptures like this.

As we returned to our room to rest a while, it started raining again. We got cosy and all ended up taking naps.

After a while I went out into the rain to take in a few more sights. I started with some of the shopping centres, ending up at the Pulteney Bridge over the River Avon, which looks inspired by the Ponte Vecchio in Florence with its shops.

I visited the Victoria Art Gallery and quite enjoyed the oil paintings on the first floor. Then I found myself at a Waitrose and got the Saturday Guardian and a bottle of port for a rainy afternoon tipple.

After some more downtime, we considered where to have dinner. Despite being given a map of fine dining by our hosts, we decided to return to the Hop Pole as we enjoyed it so much, and well-done pub food sounded much better than taking a chance on Italian or French or other cuisine. My fish and chips came with a tasty chef-made tartare sauce, Margo enjoyed her steak, and Sarah ... had the same mac and cheese. (Kids ...)

I'd also done a bit of reading from a book at our bed & breakfast and got the impression that Bath has a reputation as a place to relax. Not just for the spring water, but also in other ways. It seems there are (or at least were) more places to get a drink here than in the average English town. And there seems to be an emphasis on cooking with local organic ingredients in the Slow Food manner. You could call it a Slow Town.

After a bit of telly in our room, we retired.

In the morning we checked out after breakfast and drove back east in lovely morning sun. We followed a valley for a while and enjoyed the extra drama that hills give a countryside.

We hadn't much of an agenda, so the day before we decided we'd visit Stonehenge on the way home as it wasn't far out of the way. And who could pass an opportunity to see such a famous site?

The site is near two main roads; you park in a lot, pay admission, and cross a subway under one of them to see the site. A fenced path winds around the stones; sheep graze nearby.

For me, with my music glasses on, Stonehenge of course cannot be mentioned without bringing to mind Spinal Tap, so I gave an appropriate salute.

For the remaining hours driving home, we listened to a programme of show tunes on Radio Two. The Radiohead I'd brought to play didn't go over well, and it was hard to hear k.d. lang over the road noise, but radio fit nicely. I also skimmed the Sunday Times we'd got at a petrol station whilst filling up.

Approaching London, Margo took us to a rest stop. I was expecting a parking lot and loos, but this Road Chef was more a small food court. Margo announced she'd give her patronage to Wimpy's burgers, and I went with the flow, eating my first fast food in Europe. Skirting under London on the M25 ring road, I got my first look at the Dartford Tunnel as we crossed underneath the Thames.

Returning to Ipswich and unloading the car, I marveled in the Springtime, light-jacket weather, realising that just a week ago there was fresh snow on the ground.

White Easter?

2008-03-22T06:55:00.000-07:00

Yes, there are snowflakes mixed in with our rain, being driven at us vertically by the strong winds. That's when it's not hailing.

The Next Adventure

2008-03-18T13:00:00.000-07:00

Just wanted to share the news that I have been offered admission to the PhD progamme in Social Work at University of British Columbia. Whilst I was optimistic about my chances, it was still a relief to be informed this week!

So - now I just have to settle on a dissertation topic, and organise another overseas move... Also, if my experience in the MSW programme is at all predictive, I'll also need to prepare myself for feeling rather intimidated and overwhelmed for the first few months of school.

I am looking forward to returning to academia and to the Northwest and to driving on the right side of the road - though I suspect I'll be cursing the decision re: school from time to time during exams and when papers are due. Still, in a few years you'll be able to call me Dr Nelson!

Cheers,
Margo

Soundtracking

2008-03-17T01:05:00.001-07:00

Sometimes I leave my iPod on when I get off the train and listen to music as I walk to work, soundtracking my journey. Sometimes a happy accident happens: when two unrelated events conspire for a unique effect. Lots of people claim that if you start playing The Dark Side of the Moon at the same time that The Wizard of Oz has started, there are all sorts of meaningful coincidences. Mine was walking through the ticket barrier and into the vast interior of Liverpool Street Station during the crescendo of Radiohead's All I Need, right where the drums kick in. It gave an implausible poignancy and weight to the moment, as if I'd overcome huge obstacles to be reunited with, well, something in the train station.

F1

2008-03-17T00:48:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I watched the Formula One race in Melbourne. I never watch sports, but I made time for this. I guess I was curious, and it was a rainy afternoon with little else to do.

Part of my interest was stoked by months of playing Gran Turismo 4 on our PlayStation. I've spent many hours pushing high performance cars around tracks and learned some appreciation for things like finding your line with a corner. GT4 doesn't offer F1 cars, so I was also interested in seeing the fastest auto racing for real. Those cars accelerate and brake more quickly than anything short of aircraft; I'm gaining an appreciation for such engineering.

Lewis Hamilton, from England and on the Maclaren Mercedes team, is probably the best-known racer, but two other stars are Finnish and I love their names: Heikki Kovalainen, Hamilton's teammate, and Kimi Raikonen of the Ferrari team.

I wasn't exactly rapt for the whole 50-some laps; in fact I napped through much of them. And the action is mostly quite boring. But when things do happen, they are quite exciting, and over in seconds. For me the climax was Raikonen's overtaking of Kovalainen on a corner after tailing him closesly for some time. The overtake was successful, but it seems he put too much mental effort into it as he subsequently could not pull out of the corner fast enough and ended up in the gravel, and from then on the race most mostly over for the Ferrari team. It's how much those seconds matter that interests me.

Battle in Seattle

2008-03-09T09:01:00.000-07:00

One of the nice things about having an obsolete game console is that games can be had on the cheap. So when I was out shopping yesterday I picked up some second-hand PlayStation 2 games for a couple of quid each.

One of them was a Godzilla game. You play Godzilla or one of the other monsters, and get to fight monsters and destroy buildings. You also get to pick which city to destroy and one of the choices is Seattle. It's neat to stomp around a place where you used to live. Sarah demolished the Space Needle. I got to smash the Columbia Tower. We went down to the waterfront where they had little Washington State ferries. Sarah threw an oil tanker at my head. It's been great fun so far.

Belgian

2008-03-06T13:33:00.001-08:00

Tonight I went to Belgium. No, not really, but the next best thing.

I've been mildly craving a Belgian dinner of late. It's about the same distance as Paris by Eurostar and I was thinking perhaps we could shoehorn in a quick weekend visit for a last taste of pommes frites and the excellent Belgian beers.

But today I remembered I could do that already in London, so I did after work. When I've visited Covent Garden in the past, I've typically taken the Central Line from Liverpool Street, but tonight I took the Northern Line from Old Street, transferring at Kings Cross to the Piccadilly Line, alighting at the Covent Garden station. Exiting the platform, I saw an unusual backup of people (I assumed they were taking the escalators to the surface), so I followed the trickle of people taking the circular stairway. But after a while I noticed, they kept going. Some stopped to rest. It was like climbing a cathedral. Finally at the top I saw lifts and perhaps that's the only other way up, instead of the typical escalators.

Outside the station I noticed police and heard lots of men chanting. Perhaps footballers, or a BNP rally. I wasn't curious enough to investigate.

Instead I made my way to the Seven Dials and Belgo Centraal. I was naughty and ordered the frites as well as the croquettes de fromage (cheeses, breaded and fried). To drink, I started with their beer of the month, St Feuillien Brune (6.9% ABV), then followed with a bottle of Brugse Tripel (9.0%) which I might have had in Brugges but probably don't remember.

Radio

2008-03-06T13:16:00.001-08:00

I tried to listen to the radio on the way to work this morning. I forgot how hard it is.

Radio was one of the things I was looking forward to most in my time in the UK. I'd read about legendary DJs like (the late) John Peel and Terry Wogan and wanted to hear more.

A while back I got an attachment from the Apple Store on Regent Street that adds an FM tuner to my iPod. Unfortunately I'm mostly unable to use it. I can only seem to tune in stations for moments at a time. Even when I'm sitting in my office, right in EC1 London, I can't tune in stations decently.

As I take the train, stations come and go. I can get BBC Suffolk, Ipswich radio, Radio One (hits), Radio Two (a bit more mature and edgier), and when I'm lucky, XFM modern rock (wherhttp://www.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gife Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant got started). But it's always momentary.

Margo gets better radio in her car. My tuner's probably not too strong.

But I get the impression that most people listen to digital radio here. Unfortunately the UK implemented their DAB broadcasting with a much lower digital resolution than what's standard for much of the European continent.

In the meantime I keep reading my favourite UK music magazines like Mojo, Q, Uncut and my current favourite to keep up.

Sarah's Assembly

2008-03-05T11:37:00.000-08:00

Sarah lost her other front tooth a few days ago, so before school today I got this picture.

And then I brought our camera with me on the school run to see Sarah's class assembly, scheduled first thing in the morning. Each class is putting on an assembly for the others, and today was her class' day.

The theme of her assembly was "Big Eats", which has been an ongoing thread in their studies: healthy foods and exercise. A microphone was passed around as pupils shared information with us. The bottles on the table below were pulled out by some students to represent the amount of blood in a human body.

A song was sung, and a poem was recited. Sarah had memorised it and been telling it to us for days:

Mashed potatoes on the ceiling
Green beans on the floor
Stewed tomatoes in the corner
Squash upon the floor

Prickled peppers in my pocket
Spinach on my sleeves
Mushrooms in my underpants
With leeks and lettuce leaves

Sprouts onion celery
Cabbage and beets
Buried neatly underneath
The cushions of our seats

All the rest I've hidden in my socks
And down my shirt
I'm done with all my vegetables
I'm ready for dessert

Sarah's part came towards the end. She thanked us for coming, and invited us to look at their artwork, still lifes of fruit and veg in the style of Cezanne.

Tonight Margo and I met with Sarah's teacher for a scheduled conference. She's doing well, performing at nearly a 3rd grade level in most of her subjects.

Taxis

2008-02-26T10:41:00.000-08:00

I had a nice ride home tonight, a newer Mercedes, and thought I'd write about my taxi rides.

Every work night I check the BBC's weather page for East Anglia. They have great graphics that will show temperature and conditions in hourly increments. A mate told me they literally use a supercomputer for it. (You should see the weather animations they do for BBC News.) I use these to determine whether I'll ride my bike or take a cab the next day. Some days I may ride my bike even if it will rain, if it looks like the rain will pass safely in between my two commute times.

In the mornings I call the same family-owned cab company at 5 am, asking for a ride at 5:35 for my 5:53 train. If I want to get breakfast at the station (a flapjack and Americano coffee, often with the daily Guardian) I'll ask for it at 5:30.

What I ride in is the luck of the draw. But all cars are four-door sedans and comfortable. I often get Mercedes and Skodas, and sometimes Volvos, Vauxhalls, Citroens, Peugots, Ford Mondeos. On my return trip, the cabs could be from any of the Ipswich cab companies, and sometimes I get a Hackney cab.

Some cabbies are chatty, but most are quiet. But I've learned a lot about Ipswich from the more talkative ones. Many know me since I'm so regular, and they usually remember my destination. One told me that only about 80 cabbies are registered to pick up at the train station - it's an extra fee and registration - and I probably know a good percentage of them.

I always stop first at Sarah's after school club. Sometimes I ask the cabbie to wait for the 3-4 minutes that it takes me to go inside, sign out, and return with Sarah. I call ahead when I do this so that Sarah has time to get ready to go. Other times Sarah and I walk home together, about a fifteen minute walk.

Sarah's favourite cabs are the Hackneys because they have rear-facing seats and she likes to sit in those. I like it when I get a cab with leather seats.

The fare is usually around seven pounds each way, and I always tip between one and two pounds. This means that a bike ride saves me about twenty quid a day, and I'm sure I've paid for my bike a few times over with the savings.

I'm glad the skies are lightening with spring. I'm seeing daylight now for both my commutes, though in the mornings it doesn't get light until I'm nearly in London. It wasn't long ago that both were in the dark, but now it's hard to remember what it's like. Here's hoping I don't have to commute in the dark ever again!

Bavaria Days 7-8: Vienna to London

2008-02-19T07:42:00.000-08:00

I'm writing our last two days as one post because it was all part of the same return journey.

As we arose in Vienna it was lightly snowing, the first we'd seen in Europe. After breakfast, as we stepped outside, it was even heavier. We made our way past the opera house to the ring road. As we waited for the number 2 tram to ride around the ring encircling the city centre, I got this shot of Sarah with the opera house in the background.

The trip was about half an hour and a nice tour, but train photos are generally rubbish and mine were no exception so I won't share any here. As we returned, the weather was considerably lighter - no more snow, and some sun. We passed the opera house once again to the Sacher Hotel.

Our mission here was to try the famous Sachertorte chocolate cake. Margo used to make this when she worked in a Bavarian bakery. I thought the cake was okay, but the frosting was amazing. Margo and I also ordered coffees with a special Sacher liqueur. Sarah of course had a hot chocolate.

Next we visited a confectioner's shop across the shopping street. Sarah got this shot of Margo leaving with our edible souvenirs.

We walked some of the route I'd taken the previous evening. Turning back to return via the shopping streets by which we'd arrived, I saw this carriage go past and it seemed very Viennese.

Here is the cathedral again, in the daylight and showing its context amidst the shopping streets.

We returned to our room, knowing it would be the last space to call our own for a while. Then a taxi to the train station.

Our train journey to Munich was actually three legs. But fortunately Margo booked us first class this time, as apparently the cost difference was trivial. So our first leg, the longest, was possibly the best train ride we've had yet: leather seats, seatback video, carpeting, wood paneling. I ordered a Weissbier and it was served in the same glass you'd find in a pub. Sarah was given an activity book and crayons.

For a while our trip was quite hilly. We'd pass above valleys of houses and towns. Later the landscape flattened and again I noticed A-frame houses.

At our first transfer, we had a few minutes to change trains. Munchen (Munich) was not listed as a final destination for any of the platforms, so I sprinted ahead to ask an attendant. We found our train once again with minutes to spare. This train was not so nice - older and noisier. At one station, we stopped next to a train carrying stacks of fresh BMWs. I wondered if anyone would notice one missing.

We had our last transfer in Friesing, just ten minutes from Munich. Back at the station, we had about two and a half hours before our overnight train to Paris. Margo booked in plenty of extra time in case a train was late (tickets are usually non-refundable and non-exchangeable), and though we definitely needed it with our casually-scheduled Italian train a few trips ago, our German trains were bang on time, as far as I noticed.

Hunting around for an easy dinner choice, we found a tapas bar right in the station. Perfect.

We ordered a collection of nine small dishes: corn; rice; shnitzel; latke (potato pancakes); ravioli; croquettes; tomato and cucumber slices in viniagrette; sausages; and saurkraut with dumplings. I also got a few things to help me sleep.

(Sarah took this picture also. Her timing is pretty good now.)

Our Deutsche Bahn train carriage was an impressive display of what can be put into a small space.

Three beds on the left, and a full shower and toilet in the bathroom to the right. Though, I saw the sink should swing away to use the shower, and I never did figure out how to do it, so I barely fit behind the shower curtain the next morning. But I was also impressed by the design: the bunk lighting that was nonintrusive to other bunks; the hidden wall bits that folded out with cupholders for the coffee and tea we were served in the morning.

We slept fairly well and arrived in Paris before 7 am. Here we had almost four hours to spend before our Eurostar departure. You might think we'd be mad to wonder how to spend a few hours in Paris, but as it was just dawn, most shops were closed, and we were still quite tired, we settled on something of a café crawl for the short walk from Garde de l'Est to Gare du Nord.

We'd probably had three or more coffees or hot chocolates each before we joined the boarding queue at the Eurostar terminal.

By now we're such seasoned travelers that the Eurostar is like a local train, so our return to London was quite uneventful. Our return to Ipswich took more of the afternoon, and as we found our house keys and went inside, it was nearly dark.

As I write several days later, we still have mounds of laundry to work through. Sarah's taken a bit of a cold and stayed home from school today; I suspect the main cause is hot chocolate withdrawal. But it's great to be back and resume our boring lives for a few more months.

Bavaria Day 6: Prague to Vienna

2008-02-18T12:43:00.001-08:00

After breakfast, Margo and Sarah went shopping. I went for a walk along the Na Prikope and Narodni shopping streets which separate the old town from the new town.

Prague is very interesting architecturally. Some buildings are medieval; some rococo and baroque; there's very modern architecture (including Frank Gehry's Dancing House), and severely functional Soviet architecture, like this department store.

But there's also a lot of brand-new shopping that are the peer of other great European cities.

I visited the Museum of Communism on this street, ironically above a McDonald's and adjacent to a casino. It's small but has some interesting artifacts and displays, such as a factory bench, a school room (with Cyrillic-character textbooks) and a very sparse and boring food shop. I learned about the Prague Spring military occupation of 1968, Vaclav Havel and the Plastic People of the Universe rock band, and the Velvet Revolution of 1989.

Back following the street, I soon arrived at Wenceslas Square, where the Velvet Revolution took place.

I rejoined Margo and Sarah at our hotel. We checked out, and were glad to meet the same taxi driver who'd first delivered us. The train station we departed from (different than the one we arrived in) was quite the opposite of most European stations: low-ceilinged and dingy, with no natural light to colour the drab grey walls. We sat and waited on scratched benches.

We only had two seat reservations on our train to Wien (Vienna). With six seats to a carriage, and the other four also reserved, I moved to the next carriage to take one of its unreserved seats. It worked out well: my carriage was very quiet, while Margo and Sarah were joined by young Japanese men who got on very well with Sarah. After a few hours I started hearing occasional happy yelps from next door. They were all making animal noises. Sarah did her best to exhaust her new playmates with such games. It was a happy accident.

Looking out the window, it seemed every Czech town had its own smokestack. I saw lots of graffiti and large apartment blocks. We crossed into Austria as darkness fell. Soon we passed urban office buildings and crossed the Danube. We approached the station under a green-lit saucerlike radio tower for Telekom Austria.

We had a room in the Pension Suzanne, nicely located just down the street from the Opera House and again, walking distance to all the sights of the city centre.

Then it was a short walk to dinner at one of the recommendations we received from the hotel, the Rheinthaler. I had a wienerschnitzel; Margo had a pork roast with dumplings and salad; and Sarah had chicken schnitzel. We adults washed down our food with mugs of "vollbier dunkel" named Gösser Stiftsbrau. My salad included tomato, potato, shredded cabbage, sliced cucumber, and white asparagus in a cream and dill sauce.

We only had one night in Vienna, with a train departing just after noon the next day, and I wanted to make the most of it, so I went out for a walk. I wish I had had extra time and a dark fedora to go skulking around the cobblestones and arches like Orson Welles' Harry Lime in The Third Man, but instead I had to stick with a quick circuit of sights in the city centre.

I started down the Kärtner Strasse shopping street.

This brought me to the cathedral at the heart of the city.

From here I walked along another shopping street to the Hofburg palace. I walked to one side of it and was awed to see the huge space of the Heldenplatz to one side. This isn't a great picture but gives an idea of the view to the other side, across the Volksgarten park, of the Parliament and Rathaus (city hall).

The coloured lights of the castle-like Rathaus so entranced me that I had to see more. I walked along the ring road (very wide, with tram tracks and, on each side, two pedestrian lanes and one bicycling lane). As I approached I saw an ice skating attraction, but instead of a rink, ice was formed on the paths that wind through the Rathauspark.

The lights and the classical architecture and the massive buildings were conspiring to make me giddy with awe. It was a great first impression; I could only think to compare it to Paris, but more spaced apart.

I followed the ring road around to the opera house and our pension, where I raved about the city. I also shared the chocolate cookie I'd bought at Starbucks - a lame Valentine's treat, as the confectioners had all closed.

Bavaria Day 5: Prague

2008-02-18T11:54:00.001-08:00

To start our day we enjoyed a fantastic breakfast buffet in our hotel's underground restaurant: rice, fresh veg, sausages, eggs, cheese and meat slices, breads and pastries. I brought the camera because I wanted to capture the old walls and arched ceiling.

After breakfast we went to see the first of our destinations: the historic Jewish ghetto area. There are lots of artifacts to look at. Apparently Hitler allowed Prague Jews to archive their things as he was planning to make it sort of a museum to an extinct race.

We walked through the town square and along the Parizska shopping street past new high-end stores. I noticed that the sidewalks were made of small paving stones just inches across.

A sculpture inspired by Franz Kafka stood just outside the first of several synagogues we visited. Pictures were not allowed to be taken inside, though I did get this in one of the later synagogues before I saw signage prohibiting photos.

Inside the last synagogue we visited, the walls were filled with the names of Jewish war dead. We found names similar to Margo's maiden name: Margolius and Marguliesova. Then we toured the adjacent Jewish cemetery.

This was the only plot where Jews were alowed to bury, so the ground is raised a few feet because bodies were stacked atop each other.

Next we walked to the waterfront towards our next destination, the Prague Castle.

We crossed the famous pedestrian-only Charles bridge and got some crépes for lunch at a café. Then we found a tram on the next block that would take us up the hill to the castle.

From the tram, we walked a short distance to the castle entrance, walking over a bridge above a deep valley, serving as a waterless moat. Soon we were standing before the massive St. Vitus Cathedral.

Margo and Sarah are just specks at its base. I think it's the biggest cathedral we've visited.

From the promontory is a great view of the city.

We also toured the Golden Lane, a collection of shops that also contained a gallery of medieval armour and weaponry. Sarah was very disappointed that she was too small to shoot a crossbow, but she did get to try out a rotating wooden block for shooting arrows.

We returned to our room. Margo and Sarah had a rest, while I went out to visit some pubs. The beers of Prague were praised in our guidebook as being among the cheapest and best of Europe. I agree with the cheap part, but best is a bit strong. The beers are certainly stronger and tastier than a typical lager, but not so tasty that I'd consider them among the best. However, over the hours of our visit, I did get to sample brews from some of the city's popular breweries: Krusovice (light and dark), Staropramen (which I find on tap in some London pubs), and Pilsener Urquell. Budweiser is also brewed nearby; the name is used by Anheuser Busch everywhere else, and so, because of a famous trademark dispute, the brewery can only legally use the name locally and not for export. I also had a chance to try some absinthe. Strong!

I also got some shots of the square on the way back. This is the astronomical clock on the side of the city hall. I happened to be near it as the hour struck.

This is one view of the square, towards the Tyn church; our hotel was just behind it.

Walking toward the church and looking back, one would see the city hall in this view.

Often on our travels, we reach a point where we get more than enough of each other's company and tensions rise. Today was our day. From morning through the day we were crabby with each other, climaxing with a bit of a row at dinnertime. We resolved to find ways to spend a bit more time on our own. It was unfortunate to end the day on such a sour note.

Bavaria Day 4: Munich to Prague

2008-02-17T11:44:00.000-08:00

Our Tuesday was mostly a day of travel: we had a train trip from about 1 in the afternoon to 7 in the evening. Our trips between cities were about four to six hours each.

I wished I'd had perhaps a day or two more to see two things: the BMW Museum, designed by architect Zaha Ahdid; and the Deutsches Museum of science and technology.

After breakfast, we walked to the Viktualmarkt to get some picnic supplies for a late lunch on the train: pretzels (sliced and buttered); grapes; dried sausages; and sliced cheese.

After checking out, we walked to the train station. We arrived with plenty of time, but noticed that the train leaving at our scheduled time had a different destination than Praha (Prague). We went to the train, asked about its destination, and were told that the train indeed did not go to Prague. Rushing back to an information desk, we got further assistance: we needed to change trains in Schwandorf. We made it back to the train platform with minutes to spare and barely managed to find seats together. After that frustration, we resolved to double-check our itinerary at the start of each remaining trip. This was one of the few times that the language barrier was problematic.

As we rolled through the countryside, I noticed more churches with onion-shaped tops. Most houses had red-orange terracotta roofing tiles, and white exteriors. I also noticed lots of A-frame houses, with overhanging roofs and upstairs balconies, though many were modernised with solar roof panels and multipane glass windows.

After our train change, we were visited by Polizei who gave our passports the most thorough inspections they'd received. The countryside grew more forested. As we passed into the Czech Republic, I tried to guess where the border was. My best guess would be a cleared line I spied in the forest, similar to the forest clearings for power lines.

The human landscape was noticeably shabbier. BMWs were replaced by Skodas. We passed through the city of Plzen (where Pilsner beer originated) and atop one building in giant letters I saw BOHEMIA. Yes! We are Bohemians for a few days! A massive smokestack went past, dominating the city as I looked back at it.

It was dark by the time we arrived in Prague. We were glad to meet our taxi driver, waiting for us on the platform with a sign bearing Margo's name and our hotel. We'd been warned of scams: taxi drivers who overcharge, cashiers giving back less change. Prague is a popular destination for stag nights as costs, especially for beer, are quite cheap for foreign travelers, but scams like these have arisen as a result.

We saw some of the city that night - office towers with some familiar corporate logos at the tops. Our hotel - Metamorphis, no doubt inspired by the well-known book by Prague resident Franz Kafka - was in a courtyard just behind the main square of the city centre. Our room was the biggest, nicest yet - a suite, really, with an entryway, large bathroom, living room, and bedroom.

We were too tired to explore dinner options, so we ate in the hotel's downstairs restaurant. I had hovezi gulas, a beef goulash with potato gnocchi, and a dark Staropramen beer named Granat. Margo had schnitzel, and Sarah ate spaghetti bolognese.

Bavaria Day 3: Munich

2008-02-17T08:07:00.000-08:00

Monday. While other people went to work, we had breakfast in the pub downstairs: a selection of sliced meats and cheeses, muesli and yogurt, and assorted breads, with coffee, tea, and juices available.

Our hotel was inside the old town city centre, convenient to the sights inside. After eating, we walked the block and a half to the main shopping street, the Kaufingerstrasse.

In the centre top, you can see the onion-shaped spires of the Frauenkirche, the tall church that dominates the old town.

We stopped in a department store to get warm (though still sunny and cloudless, it was quite cold) and look around. Sarah was well pleased as we rode the escalators to the top and then down to the basement level, where Sarah and Margo picked out some chocolates.

Back on the street, I ordered a coffee in what I thought might have been perfectly inconspicuous German, but in reality the cashier probably snickered as I left. But it's not hard to feel overly self-confident. All you need to learn is "please", "thank you", count to three, "no", "yes", and perhaps "excuse me" and you are good to go. It's fun to be a culture chameleon and try to fit in with just a few words: "Einz dunkel, bitte" (one dark beer, please).

We also looked at a display of souvenirs - mostly beer mugs and cuckoo clocks.

We headed toward the town square, the Marienplatz.

This is the town hall ("Rathaus") which towers over the Marienplatz. At about mid-height on the main tower is a famous glockenspiel. Each day at 11 and 12 o'clock, and 5 pm in summers, the glockenspiel is set in motion and figures such as royalty and courtesans and jousters move along their circular tracks.

We continued on to the Viktualmarkt, a large open-air market selling fresh produce, wines, and of course beers. In fact, the market is largely ringed by beer halls.

Just to the right of centre is a large maypole. I noticed that several breweries have their logos on part of it.

We returned to our room, and shortly thereafter set off for lunch in a restaurant recommended in our guide book, the Hackerhaus pub. They serve their own beer, and the restaurant and guest house have been in the family for centuries.

After lunch, we returned to Marienplatz to orient ourselves to the subway system and ride the U-bahn a few stops north in order to see the English Garden. It is the largest city park in continental Europe, spanning three miles in its longest direction. It contains a pond, a Chinese pagoda (which we visited), and of course, more beer halls.

We returned to our room. Margo and Sarah took some down time, and I took the S-bahn a few stops to the train station, to take in some of the city outside the old town, and walked back. Along the way I found a Saturn store that sells home electronics and music and movies. I was keen to look for some German electro music to take home, but was unable to find bands I was looking for.

After night fell and we were properly rested, we went for dinner in the Hofbrauhaus, the most famous beer hall in Munich.

This brings me to two things I wanted to mention. The Hofbrauhaus is also the very beer hall where Adolf Hitler first began agitating the German peoples. Germany's role in the second world war is something Germans are keen to forget. I'm not sure we saw a single German flag on display in the entire city. Nationalism is greatly discouraged. People are eager to avoid repeating this mistake.

And as an ex-Portlander, I must write about the beer. You see, Portland has more breweries than any city in the world, except for Munich. This is sort of a beery Mecca. The annual Oktoberfest is like a pilgrimage for many. The city map's legend has an icon for beer halls. So, you ask, how does Munich's beer compare?

I have to say that I was disappointed. In every pub we visited, we typically had two choices: the lighter Weissbier wheat beer, and the darker Dunkel. I was quite looking forward to having some Doppelbock, a dark, strong, and moderately sweet variety that is one of my favourites. I've had many bottles of it from the Spaten and Paulaner breweries of Munich, even occasionally on tap in Portland. I was unable to find any. Of course, we only visited a few pubs, and only in touristy areas, so I'm sure that a greater variety of beers were available elsewhere. I was just disappointed at the lack of choice.

But. Back to our dinner. The Hofbrauhaus may be historic, but it is also extremely touristy. Our waitress was of Asian descent.

We ordered some pretzels (which make you quite thirsty).

I ordered meatloaf, expecting something made of ground beef, but what I got was much closer to Spam. But who can complain amidst the live oompah music and all the beer you could hope for?

Bavaria Day 2: Paris to Munich

2008-02-17T04:10:00.000-08:00

Sunday. To me, our hotel room was somewhat familiar though of course we'd never stayed before: like many of our Continental rooms, it had certain features like a heated towel rack and a glass shower half-door in the bath. From our window we could see the Luxembourg palace and the Montparnasse office tower; leaning out, we just also see the Sacre Coeur cathedral.

Our agenda for the day was relaxed. Our train didn't depart until mid-afternoon. It was nice to have free time without the pressure of having sights to see. Once roused and ready, we strolled down to the Boulevarde St-Germain to a café for coffees and croissants.

The streets were much quieter than the previous evening. Most shops were closed. I popped out to a nearby newsstand for the international edition of the Sunday Times. These editions tend to have almost no colour pages - often just the outer one - and no subsections; also some articles are excluded or excerpted. But even a reduced Sunday Times has hours of interesting reading, and we were fairly hungry for English language text.

We stopped at an ATM on the way back. I'd already been on one side of Margo, facing the street as Margo got some cash. Eventually I noticed a younger man using the machine on Margo's other side, and he was staring at me. It wasn't dissimilar to the look Sarah gives me when she's about to do something naughty, assessing whether she can get away with it. He finished and left quickly, leaving me wondering if we'd just averted something, or if there was nothing of it.

Back at the room, we gave Sarah a bath, then packed and checked out, leaving our bags at the hotel. The logical choice to spend a few hours was the nearby garden, so we visited once again.

We were once again gifted with unusually sunny weather; not a cloud in the sky. A lovely day. In the gravel of the park, amongst the orderly rows of trees, groups of people were practising tai chi, while others sat in chairs enjoying the sun. We indulged Sarah in a pony ride.

Back in the childrens' play area, Sarah again scaled the rope Eiffel, beating her chest at the top in her King Kong impression for us. Margo and I sat nearby, getting drunk on the sunshine and beauty. Ah, to be in a park in Paris and hear a shouted "Dad!" and know it is only for you.

I went away for the occasional stroll. Luxembourg is a large park and there is much to see. For example, these rows of trees before the great lawn leading to the palace.

Margo was content with reading.

We returned to St-Germain to find a café for lunch and ended up picking a Belgian-themed restaurant, Leon's of Bruxelles. With its laminated menus and bright colours it must surely be part of a chain of restaurants. I was glad to have a pint of Duvel with my salad, and Margo had steak and fries while Sarah had chicken with fries. Back on St-Germain, we stopped at a shop to get some baguette sandwiches for dinner on the train. Then we returned to our hotel for a cab ride to the Gare de l'Est train station.

Our SNCF train was fast, but probably not bullet-train fast like the TGV. The Eurostar uses trains from the same provider, so we rode in SNCF iron from London to Munich.

Sarah and I played cards (mostly we play Crazy Eights) and chess (I handicap myself by using just a few pieces). We tried to determine just when we'd crossed from France into Germany. I was convinced we'd already crossed because the town names started sounding very German like Molsheim and Lingolsheim. But Margo noted that there was plenty of French in the signage on stores we passed, and we were still seeing plenty of Citroens and Renaults on the roads. We finally made a wager: whoever was wrong would have to write a limerick in praise of the other.

My hopes of victory were deflated as we passed through Strasbourg, which I had assumed to be a German city, and we saw undeniable evidence of its Gallic status in the signage. We entered Germany only as we crossed the river from Strasbourg into Kehl.

There once was a woman named Margo
On train, she's the most precious cargo
She's brilliant and smart, and
Her cooking is art, and
In school, I predict that she far go.

We broke out our baguettes and cookies for dinner. I went to the diner car and got mini bottles of wine - Bordeaux for Margo, a German Pinot Noir for me (much lighter than the rich, complex ones we were used to in Oregon) and an Orangina for Sarah.

By now, night had fallen and there was little to see outside until we made our way into Munich and its buildings. The train station was a big, airy glass box. Our room was nice and a bit larger with an even bigger rock-star bath. We slept without hesitation.

Bavaria Day 1: Paris Stopover

2008-02-16T12:31:00.000-08:00

Today we've returned from a week travelling by train through Bavaria visiting Munich, Prague, and Vienna. I'll write a post for each day of our trip in the coming days. Sometimes when travelling, we bring Margo's laptop and write as we go, but I was well glad to not have to haul the laptop bag about on this trip. And now with our new camera we have plenty of storage, so we no longer need to transfer photos to the laptop before taking more pictures. (At the highest resolution, I could take one photo a minute for over ten hours, so it's effectively bottomless for a week's travel.)

We left Ipswich early Saturday morning, getting to the new Eurostar terminal at St. Pancras station by mid-morning. The station reopened in November after hundreds of millions in refurbishment and a new tunnel under much of the London approach, shaving twenty minutes off the crossing and bringing the total time of the London-Paris trip down to just over two hours.

Margo scheduled a night in Paris for us as a gentle start to our trip as we had much further eastward to travel. It was good to see the city again; the long, straight boulevards, and the railed balconies on the buildings. We were booked into the Hotel Michelet Odeon, just across from the Odeon Theatre in the Left Bank. In the taxi ride from the Gare du Nord train station, we passed the Pompidou Centre and crossed the Seine near Notre Dame cathedral.

On our taxi ride, and throughout the evening, I noticed lots of people riding the new brown-grey city bicycles. It is a new programme that started recently (last summer, I believe) and is modeled in part on Amsterdam's bicycle fleet. It seems to be well-used, and there was a parkign area for the bikes across the street from our hotel.

Also nearby was the Luxembourg Garden, so once we were settled, we took Sarah there to spend the rest of the (late) afternoon in the children's play area until it closed at 5. She spent much of her time waiting in line to ride the rope slide ...

... and the rest of her time climbing the rope Eiffel Tower:

Margo and I both noted how Sarah's Parisian playmates looked like models: stylish clothes, great haircuts.

Walking back through the Garden, past Luxembourg Palace ...

... we observed lots of Parisians sitting on benches and in chairs, just enjoying the afternoon sunlight, and the beauty of the surroundings.

We returned to our hotel, where I got this photo of the Odeon.

Afterwards, I went on a solo stroll to the nearby Boulevard St-Germain shopping street, and beyond it to the Seine.

For dinner, we visited the nearby Aux 2 Oliviers restaurant, a referral of the hotel. Margo and I had two-course meals with a half bottle of Bordeaux. For entrees, I had a rocket salad, and Margo had crème brûlée foie gras. Our plat courses were salmon crumble for me, duck for Margo. Sarah had a tagliatele pasta with salmon and creme fraiche. For dessert I had a crème brûlée, and Sarah and Margo each had a chocolate profiterole.

And that was our Saturday, one week ago. I hope to capture more days tomorrow.

Greenwich

2008-02-03T04:34:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I took a day trip to London to visit the borough of Greenwich. I got off my East Anglia train in Stratford and went south on the Docklands Light Rail (DLR) to the Greenwich Maritime station.

Walking from the station I entered the first campus of several large public areas clustered together. My first stop was the Greenwich Hospital, formerly a palace and once a hospital for Royal Navy sailors. Here are the domes of the two main halls; the Canary Wharf buildings are between them in the background.

The hall on the left is known as the Painted Hall and used to host dinners for sailors.

Next I walked through this campus and across a road to Greenwich Park and its hills, upon one which sits the Greenwich Observatory.

The observatory houses the historic telescope that serves as the position of the Prime Meridian, the zero point of longitude. The telescope lens is behind the doorway below.

It's also the place where tourists can stand with one foot on either side of the meridian.

All GPS coordinates are based on this line. In addition, Universal Time is based here, making it literally the centre of space and time.

The observatory also stored the standard reference of several Imperial units of measurement, including the yard, foot and inch:

Another draw of Greenwich Park is the hills, which offer one of the best views of London. You can see the landmarks of the City (including St. Paul's, Tower 42, and The Gherkin) ...

... as well as the towers of Canary Wharf and the Docklands ...

... and in places you can see them both in a panorama that also includes the O2 Dome on the far right.

The rest of my trip was fairly uneventful. I alighted the DLR at the Canary Wharf station. I forgot to touch out with my Oyster card, charging me the maximum daily fare once I got on the Jubilee Line tube. Doh. (The Tube stations have barricades so you have to touch in and out; on the DLR, there are only occasional pedestals along walls that aren't hard to miss or forget.) I got off at Whitehall and walked to Trafalgar Square. I was hoping to take in an exhibit of photography from Vanity Fair magazine at the National Gallery, but it doesn't start for a few weeks. So I tubed back to Liverpool Street. I'd phoned a mate to share a meal and we'd agreed to meet at his flat in Hackney but bus service was altered due to construction, and as it was getting dark and I was unfamiliar with how to get there without the buses, I abandoned the plan and instead got a train home in time to join Margo and Sarah for dinner.

Open Doors

2008-02-01T11:39:00.000-08:00

It was around 5° C (40° F) in London today, but shops and pubs and cafes had their doors open. They stay open all winter. There's a hot air blower above the doorframe. I don't know if I've written about this before. I was aghast when I first saw it.

One mate suggested that an open door is inviting to customers. Another suggested that, since air is such a great insulator, the downdraft makes for a blanket of air that's more efficient than a constantly opening-and-closing door. (I'm not sure if I believe that one.)

Camden

2008-02-01T11:26:00.000-08:00

Last night I went to the Camden neighbourhood after work, just a few stops away on the Northern Line from the Old Street station I pass on the way to my office. I'd wanted to walk the Camden High Street for some time as I'd read about its markets. I didn't bring a camera.

Camden must be the place Londoners go to get their heads done in. The northern part of the High Street has the freaky shops; the more normal ones are further south. There's loads of small shops selling ethnic foods, smoking accessories, vintage clothing, secondhand music, and fetish wear. (How many neighbourhoods do you know of that have signage for a "Goth & Punk Market" - in neon?) There are also large street markets off to the side with lots of stalls selling things like T shirts. There's also a large outdoor market that I walked past the backside of; I don't think it was open, but I'd like to see it in the daytime. A ways up the street are the Camden Locks on the canal.

Next time I'm looking for a hookah or some vinyl thigh boots, I'll know where to go now.

School Lunch

2008-01-23T07:59:00.001-08:00

Sarah invited me to lunch today. This week her school is serving lunches to parents too. For two pounds I had a turkey roast: turkey with gravy, potatoes, carrots and cauliflower. It was as good as I'd expect from a cafeteria, and better than some pub lunches I've had.

I tricked her into looking away and swiped her lemon meringue. She always falls for that. But after retrieving it she still let me have a bite.

It was nicely organised. Parents were brought into the hallway, where Sarah met me and escorted me into the lunch line. We got our lunch scrips and got served. The queues were slow but thorough because kids often forget things or need help. We found a table. Each table had a pitcher of water. As we ate, aides in pink vests swept past to mop up spills and clear away dishes. There was a loud background din, but for a group of first and second graders, it was very civilised - I didn't notice fighting or yelling. Sarah and I parted on the way to her playground (no parents allowed).

Vintage Gaming

2008-01-19T06:57:00.000-08:00

It's a rainy day and Sarah and I have spent some time playing games on our PlayStation. Last weekend I got a collection of classic Atari games: arcade originals like Asteroids, Battlezone, Missile Command and Space Invaders, plus dozens of games for the Atari 2600 console.

I was eager to introduce Sarah to Pong as one of the first video games ever, and then play 2600 games like Combat that I used to play as a kid (well, a teen). I wasn't sure what her reaction would be - maybe she'd dismiss these primitive blobs and squeaks, having mastered much more sophisticated gaming - but she enjoys them.

Vintage games actually have a few advantages over modern ones for family gaming. They're short, so there's no waiting for load times, and we get to start over every few minutes. And the games are much more likely to support two players, often at the same time instead of taking turns. This is rare in current games.

I think those first generation games will live forever. They're simple and easily adaptible to new technologies (my iPod shipped with Breakout, and many can be played on mobile phones). But they're also very well-designed and fun to play.

Doh!

2008-01-12T04:13:00.001-08:00

This is my shaving lotion:

And this is my hair gel:

And that's how I got shaving lotion in my hair this morning. I knew it would only be a matter of time.

Our Quiet Holiday

2007-12-30T04:48:00.000-08:00

It's been a quiet week in Ipswich. (Sorry, Mr. Keillor.)

We've been spending our holidays indoors. We hardly leave the house. I've been working from home, but Margo's off, and Sarah's off school. We did visit some friends, and get out for some meals, but mostly we're at home.

Margo's been feeling unwell, with a cold she's only now recovering from. I think it's one of those situations where bugs go around and a few end up inside you, just waiting on the sidelines until you have a chance to rest, and then they pounce. I've managed to avoid it for a week, but just picked it up a few days ago. And Sarah never wants to go anywhere, so it's been easy to stay at home.

Another contributor is that train service is rubbish over the holidays. This is unique to the UK and is much lamented here. Apparently the rest of Europe not only runs at normal schedule; some run extra trains, as you'd expect when people are traveling a lot. But not here. Our regional train operator doesn't even run trains to London until after the holidays because of engineering work at Liverpool Street station. They have a replacement bus service from Colchester. So I've put off any trips to London for fun.

I don't think we've written about Christmas crackers yet. They come out for work parties and other gatherings over Christmas. We made some at home. They are paper tubes with ribbons at both ends. At the Christmas celebration, you take your cracker and hand one end to the person sitting opposite the table from you, and you pull it apart quickly. There's a "bang" from a rigged thing inside the cracker. That's the crack. Then inside will be a little present - usually just some plastic trinket - and a piece of paper with a joke or fortune or such, and a bit of really thin paper that unfolds to become a paper crown that you put on your head.

But honestly, we're in the same boat as nearly everyone else, sitting around at home and ... watching television. It's a tradition. The Queen gives an annual message. This year's was about the importance of solid families.

Some of the year's best programming is reserved for the holidays. Many are in the form of specials from series that may or may not have been running earlier in the year. So we enjoyed the Doctor Who special "Voyage of the Damned" (which didn't really live up to the hype). But I also caught a special from Catherine Tate and really enjoyed the special of Extras. We've also been watching some of the James Bond films on ITV.

I watched some of the more adult specials on my computer. The BBC's much-anticipated iPlayer service is now available, even for Macs. It allows one to watch selected programmes from the past seven days. I was impressed with its performance. I expected perhaps some buffering or occasional interruptions, but playback is immediate and smooth.

So on some days, when I'm working and Margo is busy on her computer, we guiltily let Sarah watch lots of childrens' television. We console ourselves a bit because the childrens' programming is excellent here, and there are no adverts with the first few channels.

Margo's busy on her computer with two projects. One is her application for the University of British Columbia. We're also starting to think and plan about our move. It's a lot to take on - we'll have about a week or two between the time Margo leaves her job in Essex and the time Sarah and Margo start school. That's a short runway to get things in order: bank accounts, finding an apartment, getting a car, setting up car and house accounts, getting Sarah enrolled, getting our stuff moved from Portland storage, the rest of the house furnishing, and finishing all our Canadian applications for driver licensing, health insurance, retirement, and so forth. But it's also the start of the end of our time living as Europeans, which is bittersweet.

Which brings me to Margo's other project - our next holiday, in February, to Bavaria. She's been busy making reservations for trains and hotels. We'll have a night in Paris, a few in Munich, two in Prague, a night in Vienna, and back through Munich and Paris. We're only planning one more major holiday - Barcelona in the spring - and that's it for Europe for us, though we're hoping to fit in a few more weekend trips within the UK.

Tonight we'll ring in the New Year at home with a nice meal and drinks. It's unlikely we'll even stay up late. Then it's back to work for me on Wednesday and Thursday for Margo.

In the Bleak Midwinter / Christmas in England

2007-12-24T03:13:00.000-08:00

Enduring the Darkest Days of the Year

As I write this, we have just turned the corner on the seasons, with the shortest day of the year having taken place last Saturday. Here in Suffolk, we are just a bit north of the Latitude in Vancouver, BC. At this time of year, the sun doesn't rise until about 8am and sets about 4pm - on cloudy days it can feel quite dark throughout the whole of the day. All of us leave the house in darkness and return in the dark as well. It is a good time for sitting on the sofa in our warm house and reading, watching television, playing games etc. I have noticed that I am cooking more soups, stews, roasts and pastas as the days grow darker and colder.

I have enjoyed watching the change of seasons and the differences in colour and light this year. After a grey and rainy summer, we have had a really lovely autumn. As I drive down the A12 to work every morning there is one point in the route where I crest a hill and have a gorgeous view across the valley of a very pastoral landscape - cultivated fields and pastures and woods, with old church towers scattered here and there. In the spring and early summer the view is golden, as much of the land is planted in rapeseed (canola) and when it blooms the landscape is filled with squares of bright yellow flowers separated by ancient hedgerows.

In the autumn the fields are brown where they have been turned over and gold where the stubble of wheat and barley remain after the harvest. The sky is often a lovely sharp, bright blue, all of this punctuated by the red and gold of the turning leaves.

As we have drifted into winter, the fields are covered in a silver frost and the trees and towers are wreathed in the early morning mists, transforming the landscape so that it appears soft and grey and dreamlike. As the rural areas of the country have, at least from a distance, changed little over the years, it is not hard to imagine that I am seeing the countryside as it has appeared for centuries, even has I hurtle though it on a modern motorway in a vehicle traveling at 70mph!

Christmas in England

You may not be aware that during the Cromwell years in England, the traditional feasts and merrymaking of Christmastime were outlawed. Once Oliver Cromwell was ousted and disposed of, an effort was made to reinstate some of the old customs, in part because it was felt that an annual period of feasting and celebration would pacify the working / peasant class and leave them less likely to revolt.

The other big influences on modern celebration of the holidays are the Victorian Christmas customs as celebrated by the royal family (who popularised the decorated Christmas tree) and as described by Charles Dickens as in A Christmas Carol.

What I have noticed most of all is that Christmas appears to be a time for eating lots of pig in many guises. As far as I can tell, the traditional turkey is merely a means of conveying more pork into the belly. As evidence, I offer the following:

The turkey is stuffed with ground pork, lightened with breadcrumbs and flavoured with any combination of chestnuts, dried fruit, herbs and spices. Alongside the turkey, a traditional side dish is chipolatas (skinny pork sausages) wrapped in bacon. Then stuffing balls, also wrapped in bacon, may be served. Appetizers may have included sausage rolls or miniature pork pies. I rest my case.

A British Christmas dinner is not complete without bread sauce - a sort of milky, nutmeggy sauce thickened with bread crumbs. One restaurant critic has likened it in appearance and texture to cat sick and I do not disagree. Also served are brussel sprouts, roasted parsnip, and roasted potatoes; these are parboiled and shaken up a bit to roughen up the flesh, then roasted in goose fat with herbs and spices until crispy outside and steaming and fluffy inside. That bit actually sounds quite good and I am making some tonight to serve with a beef and mushroom stew. Goose fat is sold in tins at the grocery store. The main course is followed by cheese (always including Stilton) and port.

Dessert consists of any or all of the following: more cheese, Christmas Pudding with hard sauce or brandy butter or brandy cream, Yule Log, Mince Pies, Christmas Cake (an iced fruit cake). I bought a couple of puddings this year - Christmas pudding because really, I felt we had to give it a go (although Mike and Sarah will probably not like it that much filled as it is with spice and dried fruit - though I will endeavor to set the brandy alight when I serve the pudding and that should be crowd pleaser), and a butterscotch and pecan pudding. I have also been hoovering my way through some packets of mince pies with brandy (in the pies, not separately, although now I think of it, a spot of brandy isn't a bad idea really!)

Because it is just the three of us, and because my refrigerator is merely dorm-size, and because a turkey will not actually fit in my small oven, we will not be having a traditional British Christmas dinner this year. Instead we will have lasagna with salad and garlic bread and THEN Christmas Pudding.

As for the rest of the week, we will be joining in the great British tradition of eating lots of rich foods and watching the holiday specials on the telly. I will enjoy my time away from the office and Sarah will enjoy whinging that she has nothing to do - this in spite of the loads of gifts received from her birthday and Christmas. We will also be going to the cinema a few times to see the new movies that we have not had the opportunity to see so far.

Finally, I am still trying to make arrangements for the three of us to go with friends to see a Pantomime - a uniquely British holiday tradition, usually involving some grown men dressed as women and vamping it up in a very loose version of Cinderella or Snow White or Aladdin etc. The British seem to find men in dresses hilarious and do not consider crossdressing in this context un-masculine or indicative of an alternative sexual preference. No doubt some academic sort has written about this in excruciating detail, so I won't natter on.

Anyway - our Christmas wishes to all of our friends and family - as we enjoy our fairly non-traditional day I hope that your holiday, however you celebrate it, is merry (and includes some tasty food and drink as well!).

Love,
Margo

Sarah's Birthday Party

2007-12-15T09:35:00.000-08:00

Sarah's birthday is Tuesday, but we had her party for her and her friends today.

Children's birthday parties in the UK tend to follow a pattern. You don't need to invite people to your house. Instead, you make a reservation for two hours at a warehouse-like building on the edge of town. The inside is stuffed with bouncy castles and platforms and games and looks something like this.

And for a set fee per head, the staff take care of everything for you.

You get a set of invitations, which must be distributed at least a month in advance. The invitations include RSVP forms so you know who will be attending.

On the big day, you arrive and find a table with your child's name on it. As other parents arrive with their children (and many leave shortly after to return two hours later), presents are deposited.

The presents aren't opened on site; always later at home.

As kids arrive, they disappear into the play area. You try to find them. They never stay in one area for more than a few seconds. They swarm from structure to structure. Following one is like trying to follow one bird in a large flock.

After a while, your party's food availability is announced over loudspeakers, and the kids all go off to a room for squash (fruit drinks) and a choice of hamburgers and chips, or chicken bites and chips, followed by ice cream. A birthday cake is brought in.

But as soon as the candles are blown out, the cake is whisked away, to be cut into pieces by staff and individually wrapped to be taken home.

I was impressed by Sarah's group of friends. Margo and I were the only adults in the room and the kids were very well behaved. We didn't have to do any policing.

Afterwards the kids roam and romp about some more. Margo took advantage of this time to prepare the goodie bags that kids take home.

Then the parents return and one by one the kids are taken home until you are left with a birthday child who doesn't want to go home but clearly needs to.

London at Night

2007-12-13T14:22:00.000-08:00

Tonight after work I captured some of the sights of London at night in Christmastime. Almost all were taken with a little folding tripod to steady the camera. Some of the buildings and attractions are lit specially at Christmastime and the colours are intoxicating. These are some of my favourites.

This is from the lounge at the top of the Tate Modern. (I get to be in one of my own pictures!) It's one of my favourite views, and it doesn't hurt to have a drink at the same time. Tonight: hot mulled wine.

Writing

2007-12-13T13:35:00.001-08:00

Last night Sarah opened up a box of Christmas cards that Margo had purchased earlier. Without any help, she went ahead and wrote letters to thirteen of her school mates. I watched her write one; it was at least three whole sentences. Last year she was hardly writing. I was very impressed and proud of her.

Margo's Work X-Mas Party

2007-12-10T10:31:00.000-08:00

On the 7th December we bad our Annual Christmas do at work. We convened at a hotel (Located a bit outside of town so that we could avoid clients) and had a Christmas Dinner as some drinks and dancing following. Most of us rented rooms for the evening so that we could enjoy the night without worrying about getting home after a few drinks.

I thought that you might enjoy seeing the folks I work with and a photo of me in my party clothes...

Me with Melissa, Paula and Margaret at the beginning of the party.

Me in my new party dress.

My line manager, Andy, perusing the menu options

Waiting for the appetizers to arrive

Linda, a recent arrival from Romania, actually looks good in the obligatory silly hat

Laura, also from Romania, manages to look pretty good too.

Melissa, a Social Work Support Worker

Paula, another SWSW

We were up until past 3:00 am and a bit worse for wear in the morning - these Brits are a bit more dedicated to the concept of an excessive evening of food and drink than is normal in the US - at least at my workplaces anyway. And, I am TOO OLD for this anymore -it takes far longer to recover than the actual party.

Cheers,
Margo

Christmas Portrait

2007-12-09T13:43:00.000-08:00

JPEG, 1.1 MB, 2381 x 1605 pixels

Once again it's time for our family portrait. Annie Liebovitz was busy so we had to do it ourselves. It's just as well ... I wasn't looking forward to a milk bath.

This was the best of dozens of shots. It's hard to get all three of us with decent smiles. Most were blurred. The light was awful. We had another day of rubbish weather, cold and raining most of the day. But, we only have so many weekend days. I made some adjustments afterwards to make it brighter and warmer.

Our Christmas lights were cropped out of view, but the tree on the wall was drawn and coloured by Sarah from an outline by Margo.

Christmas Farm Visit

2007-12-09T12:59:00.000-08:00

Margo and Sarah went to a Christmas do at Jimmy's Farm. I didn't go because I'm too cool for things like that.

Sarah had a hunch this wasn't the real Santa since he looked and sounded a lot like Jimmy.

Bad Train Day

2007-12-07T11:05:00.000-08:00

I really like riding the train to London. It's still exotic enough to be interesting.

But. It's amazing how little it takes to slow or stop the trains. Today was especially bad.

This morning we'd just come inside the M25 when the train slowed down, coming to a stop at one of the smaller stations in outer London. After about 20 minutes the senior conductor told us over the intercoms about the situation. A fire alarm had been sounded at the switching station in London Liverpool Street. So the area had to be evacuated. With no one watching the switches, that meant red lights for all the East Anglia trains out of London. In the end, we arrived 45 minutes late - the worst morning delay I've had yet.

Mid-morning Margo called me asking if I'd heard of the train delays. She was concerned because tonight she has a Christmas party with her work team and didn't want to miss it in case I couldn't get back in time to pick up Sarah after school. I thought she was talking about the morning delay, but checking the site of One Railway, I saw it was a new delay: strong winds blew a tree onto power lines.

Sure enough, there were delays and cancellations through mid-afternoon. I left the office an hour early, and I mostly avoided delays, though I did hear a rumour of a potential third delay: a suicide on the line. You might be taken aback at that, but suicides and other fatalities on the line are not that uncommon - perhaps one a month. And when that happens, investigators are called in and trains get backed up for a while.

Despite situations like today, the trains are mostly run right on time. Railways keep regular metrics of on-time services, and these are generally in percentages of the high 80s to low 90s. And when problems do occur, they're generally remedied within an hour or two. But it is often quite frustrating.

Christmas Fayre in Bury St. Edmunds

2007-12-02T11:49:00.000-08:00

Today we drove to nearby Bury St. Edmunds to see their Christmas Fayre market. It was much more fun than last weekend's trip to Lowestoft.

We'd hardly arrived, and Margo was ensconced in a Body Shop store, when I stepped outside to wait and saw something unusual. I whipped out our camera and got a few snaps of some of the running Santas.

It seems every time we visit Bury St. Edmunds, the weather is rubbish. Today was no exception.

Sarah had her umbrella, Margo had my umbrella, and I had none. The life of an umbrella in Margo's care is a short, unhappy one. I don't think her umbrellas are lost so much as they flee.

We made our way indoors to a large hall to see some arts and crafts.

Then we went outside to take in the stalls. There were over forty stalls from France alone, selling wines, cheeses and sausages. Margo got us a few.

There were also lots of foods being made freshly, including bratwurst and sausages, fried potato dishes, fried donuts, and Gluwhein mulled wine.

There was also a music stage; when we passed we were serenaded with opera selections performed by the Suffolk Opera.

There were of course a few rides. One of the rides Sarah enjoyed was the carousel.

We'd planned to eat in a pub at the end of our visit. Margo had been telling me about a seasonal winter ale brewed by the Old Cannon Brewery (I might not have come otherwise!). Unfortunately, children were not allowed inside. So naturally, I downed a hasty pint of their winter ale ("St. Edmund's Head") while they waited outside. No, I'm only kidding; they started walking and I caught up with them on their way to our fallback pub, The Grapes, a Greene King pub, being appropriate as the Greene King brewery is also in Bury St. Edmunds.

Whilst waiting for our food, Sarah had us pulling faces.

And then we went home and had naps.

Winter Sun

2007-12-01T06:35:00.000-08:00

We had a rare sunny day today. Well, until mid-afternoon. Not a cloud in the sky.

I brought our camera with me when I went for my Saturday morning coffee-and-library-and-shopping trip. The lighting was fantastic. It was one of those days when you could point your camera at any brick wall and have an image where people go, "Wow, look at that brick wall." My walk normally includes Alexandra Park and the waterfront, and today I made an extra trip to Christchurch Park. Of all the shots I took, I thought these four were marginally interesting.

Ipswich Christmas Lights

2007-11-29T11:48:00.001-08:00

Tonight after work I walked around the city centre getting pictures of the Christmas lights. Shops were open late tonight; normally these high streets are mostly empty.

Not to Plan

2007-11-27T11:15:00.000-08:00

I did not bring a little girl into the world in order to do this. Is it too late to trade for another one?

Day Trip to Lowestoft

2007-11-25T08:50:00.000-08:00

We did indeed make a day trip to Lowestoft today. Parking near the shore, we walked toward the town centre and the high street.

Doesn't this fellow make you want to buy a bag of chips?

Despite all photographic evidence, there were times in the day in which Sarah's tongue stayed inside her mouth.

There was supposed to be a Christmas market, selling Continental European foods and crafts, along the high street today but the only evidence of it was a mere two stalls. It was disappointing. There must have been more of a turnout Friday and Saturday. So we wandered and shopped, and gave Sarah a ride.

As we walked back to our car, the darkening skies gave us a few drops of rain, but on the drive back, we got some more sun, showing off the fall colours.

New Camera

2007-11-24T11:50:00.000-08:00

Christmas came early for me today. Weeks ago Margo gave me a budget and let me get a new DSLR camera. After lots of research I settled on the Nikon D40X.

This is a big step up from our seven-year-old Olympus digital camera. We go from 3.3 megapixels in our sensor to 10.2. From 32 megabytes of storage on a long-obsolete format (capable of storing 42 JPEG pictures at 2048 x 1536 pixels), to 8 gigabytes of storage (capable of storing over 660 RAW pictures at 3872 x 2592 pixels).

But there are three big advantages for me. I get much better low-light performance (from ISO 400 to 3200, plus the ability to work with vibration-reduction lenses), so the next time I'm in a cathedral (for example), I'll have fewer pictures blurred by camera shake. My startup time is a near-instant 0.18 seconds, instead of several seconds, so I'll miss fewer shots when interesting things happen. And I've also got a fistful of sexy kit.

At this price point, there were several worthy alternatives, and I'd gladly bore you all with the detailed reasons why I chose this one. But thinking of this as the beginning of a long-term and probably ludicrously expensive hobby, the choices really narrow down to two players: Canon and Nikon. Which family do I join? The competition between both is very intense, so either choice is a good one in that respect - neither side is clearly inferior. I decided on Nikon as I like their ergonomics more.

I'm looking forward to sharing (marginally) better pictures with you all. Tomorrow is our first chance to take some. We are planning to visit the Christmas village in Lowestoft, on the Norfolk coast.

Sarah Designs

2007-11-24T11:46:00.001-08:00

Sarah recently emerged from her bedroom to show us her latest Lego designs. I was impressed by two things. In designing her race car, she added cockpits so the two "people" (the figures with the eyes) fit inside it. (Not atop it - inside it.) And the brickwork of her house is perfectly symmetrical.

Unity

2007-11-16T12:40:00.000-08:00

Tonight (as I type) there's another telethon on. This is for the charity Children in Need. On BBC One, for a total of seven hours, there's loads of entertainment. We just saw the Spice Girls perform their new single written just for the event. Shortly after was a sketch featuring two Doctor Whos: the current Doctor David Tennant and a previous Doctor Peter Davison. Like I wrote earlier during Red Nose Day, I really admire it when so many people come together for a charitable cause.

Similarly, people all over the UK are wearing a poppy this month. It's a way of acknowledging the nation's soldiers and veterans.

Whatever

2007-11-15T11:19:00.001-08:00

Sarah showed me something new she learned from her mates. "W" for Whatever, pronounced "wot-evah".

Fall Colours, and a Trip to London

2007-11-04T11:10:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I went out for the day and brought my camera along. (Margo and Sarah wanted to stay home.)

On the way to my Saturday morning coffee on the Ipswich waterfront, I went through Alexandra Park and got this picture. There was a decent wind, and I could see lots of leaves falling. I got the feeling that these trees would be mostly bare by the end of the day.

London's an easy choice for a day out for me. There's loads to see, and it's free for me as I get a monthly pass for my rail travel.

My first stop in London was the Rough Trade music shop on Brick Lane. There happens to be a Brick Lane movie on current release, which focuses on the immigrant experience in east London.

Next I went southwest to the Knightsbridge neighbourhood. First, I wanted to visit Harrods, since I was too early last time I was there. I walked the mens' department, and started to feel silly after a while as I was dressed casually, so I didn't explore much more.

Next I continued down the road to the Victoria and Albert Museum. It's a museum of textiles: clothing, furniture, interior design. It's one of the few major London museums I haven't seen. I didn't expect to spend much time there, but I did get drawn into a few exhibits: a room on artwork based on maps; collections of design artifacts from recent decades of the 20th century, including trainers, album covers, mobile phones, and portable electronics; and fashion photography.

This is the lobby, dominated by a chandelier which I'm pretty sure is by Dale Chihuly, a bit of Northwest familiarity.

I didn't realise the signifigance until later, but I did, on my way out, ask a V&A security person, with no conscious irony, "Excuse me, could you direct me to the Albert Hall?" I even used dierect instead of deerect. Guess I'm going a bit native ...

I walked the two blocks to Hyde Park and from there, got a good picture of the Hall.

You may have seen that before, but did you know that, across the street, in Hyde Park, there's this monument to Prince Albert? I didn't.

As I walked north through the park toward Oxford Street, the sun came out briefly, allowing me to capture the fall colours in another park that day.

Fireworks

2007-11-04T11:04:00.000-08:00

All weekend, and Monday night (the Fifth of November, remember, remember) we're seeing amateur fireworks at night for Guy Fawkes Day. They're not nearly as annoying as the Fourth of July fireworks for a few reasons:

The fireworks stop at a sensible hour (I don't recall hearing any after 10pm);
This time of year, we don't have our windows open, so it's easier to ignore the sounds and smells;
All the roofs are slate, so there's less danger of accidental fires.

Star Wars

2007-11-04T11:01:00.001-08:00

ITV has been playing the original Star Wars trilogy Sunday nights at the family-friendly time of 4.25 pm, starting last week. Tonight we watched The Empire Strikes Back. Over dinner I mentioned I wished I had Darth Vader's ability to silence Sarah when she pestered me. I mimicked, "My dad is a tro- ack- ack-".

Sarah took to it immediately, and so for quite a while over dinner, she'd pester us until one of us would waggle some fingers at her, at which point she'd pretend to choke.

Pop Trivia

2007-10-25T05:17:00.000-07:00

Do you remember the children's rhyme Pop Goes The Weasel? One of the alternative verses mentions the City Road and the Eagle.

Our new office is on City Road, and The Eagle pub, mentioned in the song, is across from us. I just ate a chicken pie there for lunch. Nice selection of draughts, too.

New Office

2007-10-25T00:00:00.001-07:00

My office was moved over the weekend and this week is our first in our new location. We're ten minutes' walk further from London Liverpool Street than our previous location, so my walking time doubles.

The facilities are a big improvement. They're not extraordinary, though definitely swankier than most of the Portland and Seattle offices I've worked in. But just not having the shortcomings of our previous facilities (like having, oh, clean windows, elevators that work consistently) is a welcome step up. The lobby is quite smart, it's staffed so I don't have to deactivate an alarm when I get in, and we even have glass doors on the lifts.

I like our location less, however. We used to be on the edge of the Square Mile, the City, the area around London Liverpool Street containing much of London's financial offices, including the Tower 42 and The Gherkin buildings. Now we are in a more mixed neighbourhood, with council towers nearby, some offices, some small businesses, and a mix of pubs and restaurants (Jamie Oliver's is nearby).

Along the way I'm getting familiar with the pedestrian walkways under the roundabout at Old Street - there are 8 exits. Fortunately for us, our office is right next to the Moorfield Eye Hospital, and there's a green line painted in the sidewalk starting at the Old Street Tube station to the hospital. Definitely helpful in my bleary-headed pre-coffee mornings.

Margo's Comments

2007-10-22T11:56:00.000-07:00

First of all, don't listen to Mike - Guinness is not rubbish. And, it actually IS a porter, as Mike would know if he had been listening to the recorded tour. Its original name was Guinness' Stout Irish Porter - now known as Guinness Stout. I think it is lovely and it's so thick that I am sure it is nutritious too!

Re: Molly Malone - popularly known in Dublin as the "Tart with the Cart". Every tour guide commented on her rather generous, and rather scantily covered, bosom. Apparently, before dying of a fever from which no one could save her, she was, shall we say, generous with her favours, and with the British troops too. Cockles and mussels alive oh indeed ...

I enjoyed seeing the monastery - 1500 years old and as our tour guide pointed out, Irish monks were basically the keepers of western civilisation and of Christianity during the middle of the first millenium AD.

I'm not overly awed by Georgian architecture so Dublin wasn't aesthetically all that interesting to me. What was interesting is seeing how close the modern city is to the Irish Revolution, which was less than 100 years ago. The columns in front of the post office and the statues on O'Connell street still have the bullet holes. Given the long, violent, and bitter history of British occupation in Ireland, it's actually pretty amazing to see the progress of peace in a relatively short period of time.

Cheers,
Margo

Dublin Day Four

2007-10-21T13:30:00.000-07:00

Umm. There's not much to add; it was a short day. I got up first and, after showering, went out to seek a Sunday Times. I got one, and noticed it was truly an Irish edition: the editorials and many of the articles were by Irish authors, and much of the content was for an Irish readership. I'd noticed this yesterday with the Saturday Guardian also. Another difference is that UK papers seem to be printed differently here; some content is in black and white instead of colour, and some sections are combined. I did miss my Top Gear section, the guys' bit with the flash cars and gadgets, video game reviews, and exotic pubs, and wasn't sure if it was omitted from the Irish edition, or if someone had nicked it from my copy.

We packed and got a cab to the airport (cheaper than the bus-and-cab combo we'd had earlier). Margo and Sarah got breakfast. Then a fairly uneventful flight back to dear old Essex, reuniting with our Toyota Yaris for a stop at the petrol station and a drive home. Margo made us some pasta, we listened to Celtic music and I had some Irish Cream whilst typing up these bits. Hope you enjoyed it all, but it's about bedtime and I have to work tomorrow, so cheerio for now.

Dublin Day Three

2007-10-21T12:27:00.000-07:00

Saturday. Our agenda for the day was to take in a day tour of the nearby countryside, the Wild Wicklow tour. So, after breakfast nearby, we arrived at our O'Connell Street pickup at 9.15. We had only called for a reservation the day before, so we didn't get seats on the first bus, but were destined for the second bus, driven by Michael, our tour guide for the next seven hours.

Michael. He said he was a school teacher, married with a newborn child. He chatted to us the whole ride. Michael had lots of jokes to share. And he took the piss out of everyone. He started with a group of Germans. Then some Dutch. On the way out of Dublin he had us singing the song about Molly Malone. We followed the coast to the South. We stopped to pick up some final tourists, gentlemen of Arabic descent, and there were gasps and nervous laughter as he took the Mickey out of them. Now at no point did I doubt that our Michael had only the best intentions, that he was genuinely being friendly, but I could only cringe as he asked them if they had a harem, and why they didn't like to drink. As I heard often that weekend, I'd be thinking, Swayt Jaysus! I once took a class in comedy improvisation from the ComedySportz group in Portland, and they had a rule: you can pick on ethnicities, as long as they were first world. So the Germans, Belgians, Italians, and Scots were all fair game for accents and mannerisms, but lay off the Indians, Africans, Muslims, etc.

We stopped in Dalkey first, taking in the seaside a bit, and looking at the tower that is the first setting in Joyce's Ulysses, and is now the James Joyce Museum. I got this picture of the village.

Next Michael took us into the hills of the Killiney neighbourhood, winding our newish Mercedes bus through narrow streets of hairpin turns, gabbing away all the while and making me wonder if the open bottle of Jameson's I spied by his doorside was partially inside his bloodstream. (It probably wasn't, though I'll get to that later.)

Unless Michael was full of blarney, then he truly did show us Enya's castle, and the gate to Bono's house, and perhaps just a door downhill, Van Morrison's house, and then Bob Geldof's.

Next we passed a forest that was part of the Guinness estate, and on to the Avoca coffee shop and tourist emporiumm at the Mount Usher Gardens.

We went through Roundwood, and past the home of Daniel Day Lewis. We stopped for a pub lunch at the Laragh Inn. Sarah had a tomato soup, and Margo and I shared a Guinness stew. I started with a Beamish stout (my fourth stout varietal so far) but afterward switched to North Star.

Then we wound our way over heathlands to Sally's Gap, a resort (with sand imported from the coast) built by one of the Guinness clan, and again, unless Michael was spouting blarney, was hideaway to Michael Jackson for a few recent months. This is also where Michael's Jamesons's was passed around with little plastic cups, a fitting accompaniment to the view.

The landscape was similar to the Scottish Highlands; it's quite similar geographically.

Our last stop was Glendalough (two lakes). We were dropped off at the site of an ancient monastery. The missile-like tower was used as sort of a medieval bank, a storehouse of artifacts and valuables during attacks.

We then needed to hike along a path to the upper lake to rejoin our bus.

And that was the end of our day trip. On the way back to Dublin, Michael sang another song or two, revisited some of Ireland's literary greats (Joyce, and William Butler Yeats, Arthur Conan Doyle, Jonathan Swift, Bram Stoker, and Oscar Wilde), and then we listened to radio for the rest of the way back, mostly via highway.

We made our farewells back in Dublin, and we returned to our room. Tired, we settled on pints and pub foods at the bar down the hall. (I was tempted to not put shoes on, but was uncertain about the floor cleanliness.) Sarah and I led the advance, getting drinks whilst playing Crazy Eights and watching Kimi Raikonnen battle Lewis Hamilton in the Grand Prix finals. Margo joined us and we got pub food while the bar began filling for the England v. South Africa Rugby game in Paris. It got much noisier after we left; later that night there was shouting in the streets, even though South Africa won the match.

Later that evening, I went out for a stroll down the riverfront. I saw that the Dublin Spire had lights at its top at night, visible for miles. I admired the three street lamps over the Ha'Penny Bridge, one of several pedestrian bridges over the Liffey (three of at least twelve). Most of the other bridges were lit underneath in green. A guy on the riverside tried to flog a hard disk drive. I remembered to note that the bins have holes in the tops for fag ends - there are lots of smokers in Dublin. (There are few public bins left the UK, ironically because of IRA bombs.) I recognised the electronic chimes of the street trolley as the repeating chimes at the end of U2's Zooropa album.

Dublin Day Two

2007-10-21T11:18:00.000-07:00

Friday. We slept in. I noticed in Ireland they use UK mains. One thing I forgot to mention about our hotel is that we had a bar that served coffee in the mornings, just a few doors down. Not down the street, but down the hall. So while the others slept, I got an Americano and read a copy of the Irish Times, where I learned that they called football "soccer", another way in which Ireland is a bit closer to America than the UK.

Once the others were up, we had breakfast at the hotel, quite like the typical English breakfast but with a few twists, such as the light and dark sausages that were similar to the Haggis of Scotland.

Then we went out to take in one of the city sightseeing hop-on hop-off bus tours that are all over Europe. (Even Ipswich has one, but only in the summer months.) Conveniently, most of these bus tours start and end just around the corner from our hotel on O'Connell Street.

So we hopped on, and found ourselves going down O'Connell over the river to College Green, where we saw Trinity College, within which is the Book of Kells.

We headed west a bit, past the cemetery with the statue of Oscar Wilde, who lived in Dublin for several years. Then back east toward St. Stephen's Green. We alighted there and toured the park.

Then we went under the Fusiliers Arch to the Stephen's Green Shopping Centre, on the left.

In observance of the Two Hour Rule, we had to feed the little one. Do you see the dome at the top? We got some tea and scones there. Sarah is in the lower right.

The we walked the nearby Grafton Street shopping. It seems all the UK stores were here (Debenhams, Marks and Spencer, Topshop, HMV, Boots, Argos) so it was all quite familiar.

At the end of Grafton Street is a statue of Molly Malone. Before setting foot in Dublin, all I could remember of Irish songs was a lone ditty from my grade school music class (it was a Catholic school, after all) beginning with

In Dublin's fair city
Where girls are so pretty

And that is the song of Molly Malone, a song I would hear and, even, sing several times before the end of our trip.

We then walked through the Temple Bar area of touristy pubs and shopping. We noted one well-known pub (to which I'll write more about later) ...

... and, on the next corner, what appears to be the original Temple Bar:

Nearby we re-joined the bus tour, hopping on as promised. Our next attraction was Saint Patrick's Cathedral.

And further west ... the Guinness brewery. As the bus was moving constantly, I got just this one shot.

But it doesn't do justice to the massive complex therein. Because it is quite huge - many, many city blocks, like a Willy Wonka factory dedicated to stout beer. Now, whereever you are reading this, I am quite confident in thinking that you're within a few miles of a pub that serves Guinness, and I'm guessing it all comes from here.

Now, at the risk of having a van from the IRA with a bomb in it parked in front of our flat, I will say this: I think Guinness is rubbish. I think it's way too bitter for a proper stout. But in Dublin, it's ubiquitous. Lagers and stouts are what is drunk. It's some sort of bitter brown Mafia. To ask for a chewy brown ale or porter here would be like slagging the Pope. It seems a religious thing. So. We didn't take a proper tour, but we did drive around the perimeter of the massive global machinery of the Guinness empire.

Next, our tour crossed the Liffey and went into Phoenix Park, home of the residence of the President of Ireland as well as the Dublin Zoo.

The tour continued along the north bank of the Liffey, past more shopping, restaurants and pubs, until we rejoined O'Connell Street and the tour ended just past Parnell Square.

We went back to our room to relax a bit, and then set out for dinner and live music. Remember that yellow pub in the Temple Bar area? The Oliver St. John Gogarty? They have live music from mid-afternoon, so we got an early dinner there.

We noticed that the locals at the bar were quite friendly. It took us quite a while to get our order in because we were so busy chatting. (Suffolk is renowned for having less-than-friendly locals at the pub, so this is an unusual situation for us.) But then we realised the "locals" weren't - they were all tourists, just like us. But some of the one's we'd been chatting with were from the Liverpool area, and we started to realise about the relationship between Ireland and Liverpool - quite strong, apparently. I remember some Celtic songs mentioning Liverpool. We learned that northern English towns (Liverpool, Manchester, Newcastle) have a kinship with Ireland that southern England doesn't.

We were early enough to get a table right behind the band, a trio: guitar, banjo and flute/Irish whistle. They'd play a song, then have a pint and chat a while, then play another song. Sarah had ribs and a salad. Margo got an Irish stew with Irish breads. I got a Dublin Coddle (sausage, crewam, potatoes, bacon, onions, and carrots) and Irish breads. I also tried a Kilkenny Red, which I quite liked, and an "experimental" brew from Guinness called North Star, which I thought was a bit tastier - smoother and not as bitter.

Sarah was tapping her feet to the music but was soon bored enough to want to start writing insults to me in my notepad. She has about four basic insults at this point (I am a spanking head, as well as a troll, and I eat like a shark, and I make farts that can kill people) and sometimes she can combine all four into devastating poetic attacks, but didn't quite reach that level this evening. But, for your edification, here is an excerpt:

Dad is a spangkin-head
he etes like a shark and
shakes his head like a shark
when they eat!

We stumbled across the Liffey afterwards to our room and that was our Day Two.