UK and Europe Illustrated Travelogue

Leaving Newark, evening Sept. 25

Dang!  Somehow the start of just about every big trip I take has a lot of drama associated with the start.  This one was no different.  I’m writing this bit of the travelogue sitting in the Newark airport, having fretted all day about the approaching semi-tropical storm that would arrive by 9 pm when my flight was to leave.  But, wait!  There’s more.  When I arrived at about 7, I found out that the flight was delayed a couple of hours not because of the storm (yet) but because the entire air traffic control system for London shut down unexpectedly a couple of hours before for a period of three hours.  Can you imagine being in the air when all the radars go out?  For 3 hours?  That, paired with the storm, general fear of crashing, and the fire in the Chunnel a couple of weeks ago, had added to my nervousness.  I made good use of the extra time though.  I got a half hour chair massage to ease my nerves and bought a few CDs at the Virgin store (natch, having one of those in the Virgin terminal).  There was no more than one of anything but in the “best of the best” bin, I saw (get this) the Isle of Wight CD!  Also there was a 2 CD best of Eagles set and the Beatles Love CDs/DVD.  So got those since I’d run out of the house without packing any CDs to play in the car I’ll be renting for 10 days.  I’m glad that I allowed 3 hours between arrival at Heathrow and taking the rental car, so I wasn’t going to be so late in the pick up.

 From the start, the Virgin experience was quite different from anything I’d had on a plane.  Even though I have flown non-US airlines before, this airbus was Very Big, 3 classes of seating – upper class have leather recliners and ottomans, all at a 45 degree angle, 3 across the plane.  Next class was like normal first class, laid out 2, 3, 2.  I was in steerage, 2, 4, and 2.  The décor was very modern chic British – less clunky than typical airlines.  The seat backs all had programmable consoles (many movies, much music, the journey, etc etc.  Since the plane was less than half full, I got to stretch out over 4 seats!  I’m sure glad, as I was to have a full day.  We arrived 2 hours late, and after customs, hopped the Hoppa Bus to the Crowne Plaza where Ace/Practical car rental (gotten thru carrental.com) was, ensconced in its shabby little trailer.  They tried to rip me off twice and caused me at least an hour’s further delay.  First, they insisted to see my credit card’s car rental insurance policy in writing or else they would charge an extra 155 pounds a day, doubling the cost of the 10 day rental.  Outrageous!  I went to the nearby Crowne Plaza and they were so helpful in calling first Chase bank then Mastercard to get Citibank’s web url on the insurance (it’s good I brought a few cards)… not only did Chase not have a url on the benefits of its own card, the Chase Amtrak card was declined every time I tried to use it today… up to their old tricks – freezing my account every time I go abroad.  (And now that I’ve finally gotten an internet connection, I find they have been wreaking havoc with (not paying) my Vonage bill as well.)  So very tedious.  If they’d only been paying attention, I was making reservations left, right and center for lodging and flight fees (flight free again using my Amtrak/Continental miles) with the Chase card before I left…  Ace car rental guy made a comment that you never know if Chase has just gone under…  A very topical cheap shot.  So I brought back the printed 3 pages of insurance description of the Citibank card and they agreed not to charge the full 1i (only 4/day I think, which is still significant).  But then there was the second attempt at a ripoff: credit card slip at first said 717 pounds and change for what was supposed to be 171 pounds.  They said it was an honest mistake.  Hah!  Gave me the car empty – had to get gas immediately.  That gave me opportunity to go to one of those gas station food stores.  Tropicana markets a drink here that’s 70% juice, 30% mineral water.  Very refreshing!  I make such stuff from scratch at home.  And there on the front cover of the Daily Mail a big photo of Paul McCartney with the biggest smile I’ve ever seen, from his concert in Tel Aviv with nice article and another photo on page 3.  The good thing was that the car they gave me was brand new, right off the trailer while I was getting the insurance stuff printed.  Such a cute little blue Nissan, one of the smallest cars I’ve ever driven.  Perfect. 

It took a while to get used to the signage on the roads and roundabouts again, remembering to always look right – and Heathrow is very crowded and confusing.  Had to get my first mistake out of the way, going off east on the M4 having to turn around at the first exit.  Finally, after the ring road, which I’m told is quite dangerous, on the M1, the middle lane was 70 mph with the fast lane I figure 90 at times, with cars at least twice cutting in front of me with 1/3 of a car length (very disquieting)  I popped the Eagles first of 2 CDs in as they do good driving music!  It had a calming effect immediately.  Google directions to Nottingham were seriously in error (by many miles).  Just followed my nose, looking for Maid Marian Way and the castle, finding it though there are precious few street signs with where you are (I remember this happened the first time I came to Nottingham).  Eventually I got a local to help as I knew I was close (2 blocks, in fact).  The digs at the Russell Square were very serviceable to start; and only a few minutes’ walk to the venue via the central square, which I remembered.  Enroute there were LOTS of storefronts of estate agents (real estate) and of job agencies, all of whom had houses and jobs posted in their windows.  There were some lovely 3 story half timbered homes as little as 100,000 pounds.  As for the job agency, I wonder if we were to adopt this way of reaching out to the young and the jobless, whether we would have quite as much unemployment.  The streets of Nottingham were certainly full of the young, party-goers before and after the concert.  The entire countryside must come to Nottingham on Friday nights.  I had small migraine by this time. Picking up the duplicate ticket at the venue, since if they sent it at all, it arrived after I left, thankfully went without a hitch.  I was wondering if I would see anyone I knew there, and the first one was Paul Bliss, in street clothes, chatting animatedly with four friends in the lobby.  It was great to run into Tony B, Linda P and Diana E, as well as sitting next to Lisa and her Mom.

Nottingham concert

This was to be my only front row seat of the 13 this time; it was all the way left, but it was the reason I started the tour at this time.  Norda smiled at me right off the bat and was having quite a good time throughout.  Justin and John were both smiling a bit. The first pleasant surprise was Voices in the sky.  This was preceded by quite a lengthy discussion by Justin of the Fillmore East (which, BTW, is now located a few blocks from where it was then), followed 10 weeks later by a gig at the Fillmore West, both booked by Bill Graham, and nothing inbetween, no money to go home inbetween, so they went traveling across America finding gigs where they could, opening for Canned heat, Cream’s last tour (someone yelled, “this time” referring to the fact that Cream has had another last tour, etc.)

As Graeme came down the steps for H&H and the audience was dead quiet, I shouted words of encouragement (Give it to us Graeme).  Graeme said something like I’ll get to it, then at the mic, the best I could make out, said he was sorry for his unsteadiness on the steps, taking pills, perhaps too many.  Last night took Viagra… which was pretty stupid considering he was alone at the time. He also said the hair brown teeth white thing, but almost as an afterthought.  He did his usual jig; and I got some good shots of Graeme interacting with John and with Norda, all smiling.  A guy in the audience shouted more words of encouragement after the song, and he said ‘Thanks cousin’. 

Got good photos – 137, though the camera was behaving quite temperamentally in the first half.  I feared that it had chosen just the wrong time to fail (beginning a long tour), but during intermission found a little store (Spar – like 7/11) still open to get batteries, and that did the trick; the problem had been just a shot rechargeable cell.  There was no security!  I’d thought to not bother bringing the larger camera to the concert (just back from the repair shop a day before leaving) since I had a front row seat, as they would surely nab me immediately.  Wrong!  Last time, I got busted twice at this venue, first by security near the 6^th row, and after I moved to an empty seat on the first of two balconies just above / in front of the stage.  I gotta remember things change.  Never assume. 

As usual with first shows of a tour, I notice a lot more things. (Of course, I don’t remember all of them for the travelogue, but you get most of the good stuff.)  Since I was near Norda and at a good angle, I could see her cheeks fluttering as she played.  Though I know this must be the norm, I noticed how, on some songs, Gordon is drumming 3 times as fast as Graeme.  Though I stood after every song (being in a corner meant I wouldn’t block anybody or be seen by this proper British audience as something too strange), a smattering of the audience started standing by ILS with a concentration in my corner.  More stood as the night went on.  At the end, John brought Gordie to the fore for a well-deserved bow.  I got a shot of all 3 of the majors smiling at that.

Afterwards – Diana from Toronto and I found that there is no Hard Rock café in Nottingham or most British cities anymore.  At the new restaurant there, they told us all were sold except London, Glasgow and Manchester, so we ate elsewhere.  My migraine got a bit worse as we sat in a casino restaurant (great food tho).  After concert food is a great time to go over the pix I’d just taken.  We talked politics (everybody in the western world seems knowledgeable and very interested in American politics these days). We said our goodbyes, since she’s headed home, and I strolled back to hotel to write these notes, download pix and stay up for the debate (to air on Sky TV at 2 am – live).  I really did want to catch up on my sleep!  But even though I’d asked for 9:45, the hotel woke me up 9:1i and barged into the room then too for cleaning.  The Internet was to cost 10 pounds, so I opted to wait to send this the next night.  They already charged 6 pounds for parking!  The shower mechanism was broken, so I had to take a bath to wash my hair.  The full breakfast buffet was uninspired and tasteless.  I noticed the Travelodge was enroute..  maybe I’ll go there next time.

Media report – Car ads on TV advertise carbon footprint in precise terms, unlike on American TV where the object is to show cars speeding, revving, and otherwise wasting gas.  Newpapers and TV were blaring the collapse of a UK banking institution with take over by the feds here.  The local review of the presidential debate:  the economic bailout dominated the first debate???  From Britain’s point-of-view, they hope we do a bailout of Wall St. since it will help UK citizens, so I guess they concentrate on that…

September 27 – Through the Peak District to Chester, Runcorn

Day dawned bright and sunny like the previous one.  No rain in sight.  Temps in the 60s.  Couldn’t ask for better, though a bit hazy.  Since I got up late, I got on the road at 11:30, having doped my way out of town using my big UK road atlas, purchased in Bristol last time.  Since the M roads (motorways) can be scary and you really don’t see the scenery, I am choosing mostly A roads this time, and it was therefore a much more pleasurable day.  I stopped for a 45 minute walkabout in the little town, Matlock, which got its economy from lead mining.  Took the A610, A6, and a few more wending my way north and west through the southern Peaks district towards Chester, over the Pennine range (really just high denuded hills covered with heath and/or grass for sheep).  (In Scotland there is big debate on whether they should rip out the heath, which was originally planted so as to maximize grouse, and start planting trees, which was the original habitat.  Makes sense – think coastal British Columbia and Washington and you have the climate and the temperate rainforest habitat.  Anyway, back to reality, its sheep, grass, lots of hedgerows, which are like 12-1i feet high and several wide, so you can’t see over them except when headed down steep hills (of which there are Many).  There’s a pub at the top of this route over the Peaks, known far and wide as the highest (elevation) pub in all England, and nearby there was a tea house where hang gliders were out in force (I put the long lens on for that).  Between another couple of towns I encountered the tail end of a bicycle race (having encountered a number of hardy solo cyclists and many groups of motorcyclists out for joy rides this Saturday). 

I should have kept track of the time as I ended up racing a bit at the end of the day.  Though the A roads are lovely (a good balance of town and country), they do wiggle quite a bit, especially in towns.  I’m relearning all the skills I’d acquired the last times I rented cars in the UK, yield to the right on roundabouts, have your route compressed onto a piece of paper including all the routes, route direction, as well as names of towns enroute.  Thing is, as someone described later, you not only need to know where you are going and all the towns enroute, but also all the places you are Not going as well.  It’s taxing sometimes, reading through all the long signs at each roundabout to find the one that applies at that moment, though, in truth, most of the roundabouts are not complex.  But there can be five or more roundabouts in a mile and a hundred in a day’s journey.  The trick is having ALL the information you need on hand, and preferably memorized.  This night I wanted to stay in Chester or Liverpool, but the former were booked, since the Chester races were on, and Liverpool was way too expensive, so I booked in Runcorn, strictly on geography.  I’d originally thought I would go to my hotel in Runcorn and take a train into Liverpool for the late afternoon / evening, but decided on a whim to go straight to Chester, hoping to find a walking tour, getting in at 4.  But somehow, unlike the typical situation, there was no “i” sign to indicate a tourist bureau as I headed into town, so I went for the train station (the distinctive red logo is a life-saver on road signs).  In this case, there was no tourist help in there, but lots of signs in Welsh, since Wales is nearby. But there was a double-decker hop on hop off bus across the street.  Perfect, eh?  Since parking in the entire area was only for a half hour, I had to look far and wide, navigating one-way, dead-ended, and otherwise blocked off subdivisions for a legal place to park.  By the time I did that, parking under a bridge many blocks away, and came back, they’d stopped running the bus for the day.  That was a waste of a perfectly good hour.  When they finally came back at the end of the tour I would have been on, had I left my car in the half hour spot (risking the ticket, I know), they finally gave me a map of town (which they could have given me at the get go), and I set off on foot from there, crafting my own walking tour.  After walking over the canal, over the bridge under which I’d parked the car, interacting with some swans (who swam towards me thinking I had food) and photographing this quaint pub, I found a well-stocked camera shop and decided to get a neutral density filter (for waterfalls and such) and very small light tripod for travel.  They gave me some more directions, including how to get to Runcorn, which is east of Liverpool.  I think I caught the highlights of town… the main shopping street is what I must have seen briefly and remembered so well and favorably from 1969.  Many of the buildings are Tudor style (half timbered), you know, the black timbers and white background.  The river Dee reminds me of the Thames a little bit up from London.  There are pleasure craft and boats you can ride on and a couple of footbridges. Nearby there are Roman amphitheater ruins and the Chester Cathedral, which is of beautiful red stone, made a little redder in the sunset, and looking partly like a castle.  In the Roman gardens I came upon a couple from Bristol, up for the day, telling me they will not take the M roads back since the 3.i hour trip took 5 hours.  They’ll take A roads through Wales instead.  Maybe I will too. 

Getting to Runcorn area was fairly easy with the directions from the fellow in the camera shop, but once in town, it was quite hairy.  I thought that being a small town it would be easier, but no, and having read a couple dozen roundabout signs easy before getting near the town, looking, in vain, for the signs that the Campanile said would help, I just headed for town centre and figured to get help there.  I not only got help, but the local, who was just coming out of a store, going for his car, offered to lead me there.  Good thing, as in under a mile, there had to be six or seven turns. 

At the hotel, anticipating the long journey on A roads to Bristol, I got some directions from the fellow there, who had such a thick accent, I couldn’t understand him most of the time.  Some words sounded like a Scots accent, but he said, no, it’s Scouse.  I told him that I understood the Beatles very well, but he said their accent is more posh and older than his.  Interesting.  The New York accents have modified quite a bit since i0 years ago as well (less Irish and Jewish, more Hispanic).  After dinner while writing this, listening to jets approach the John Lennon airport, I watched these outrageously funny comedy shows, Mock The Week and Live at the Apollo, with the same comic moderator with six comics just feeding off one liners from each other, and a skit with Prince Charles, overdubbing funny, silly and crude chatter from him.  I don’t think we have anything like it. Two of them did a skit, with Obama as the target – alternating earnest statements with jokes.  Things you didn’t hear at the Olympics. e.g., the French have four faults:  Language, food, under arm hair and the fact that they are French.  In addition to the comedy, there was also some political news (mostly British), coverage of some amazing new anti-cigarette ads (showing shriveled up lungs, rotted teeth, gangrenous limbs, and a ciggie as a limp male member.  I came in at the end of an Eric Clapton concert (Live Nation) with an all-star cast including John Mayer, Cheryl Crow, and Abe Laboriel (Paul McCartney’s drummer).  All this is a far cry from how it used to be on British TV not so long ago.  Now there are lots of channels and living colour!. 

Runcorn to Bristol

Today’s was a long enjoyable drive from Runcorn, which I’ve been told is a sort of armpit – an industrial center.  I guess I’m glad I came in at night.  At breakfast, which cost 7 pounds extra, I got some help figuring how to get to the A477.  Today’s drive was largely in rural and small towns, so much more relaxing.  I’m up to the second disc of the Eagles best (each disc has something like 18 songs on it).  Early on there was a diversion requiring me to go off-route to the town of Nantwich, a supposed garden/blooming city (though I didn’t see many flowers).  There was a pub with some statues of Beatles and Elvis hanging over the entrance.  I guess we know what they play in there!  Even the spritz of rain for a while was somehow fitting, keeping the amazing green pastures watered.  At breakfast, I was told that there are lots of road works that would make a drive using the motorways (England’s equivalent to U.S. interstate road system) take way too long, so I opted for a route that straddled the Welsh-English border for part of the time.  I photographed sheep in the fields, churches and bridges as old as 13^th century, innovative urban bikeways, spending time in Hereford, Monmouth, and Tintern Abbey, ruins of a huge church (also middle ages).  The smells of the country side overpower at times – as people still burn things in the fields, polluting the air awfully for miles, and the entirety of one town smelled like cow manure – very strong!  Today, as yesterday, there was a road race going on.  This one seemed to be a biathlon with runners and a cyclist that I nearly hit as he careened in from the left.  A better sign would have been in order …  Racers all wear the neon green color vests that the police wear over here.  It is the easiest to see.  Towards day’s end, I drove over the first Severn river bridge – it was so long it used two different suspension bridges (the usual type and the new one with central post cables extending out each side separated by an island in the river).  I sure am glad I had that atlas and that I was staying in the same place as last time (Washington Hotel in Clifton).  As I got within a few blocks, I immediately knew where I was (this canopied road near the art college is like no other) and was able to drive right to the place.  Parking was a bit dodgy though, but with the help of the nice young chap, I found a spot in the road behind saving another 6 pounds.  I walked down (and I mean down… way down the hill) to the Hippodrome, an ornate old theater with 3 sets of balconies (like an opera house) with the floor slanted so that everyone had a good view.   I think it’s a better venue from the point of view of being quite central (and lots of buses stop in that main square).  

Bristol Concert

I was over by John this time (third row), right in back of a few English fans I knew from before.  There were a few more Americans this night than last (only 3 of us in Nottingham).  We got treated to Voices in the Sky again along with the long story about gigging across the U.S.  The story got zero response.  During IKYOTS, the crowd, which had been quite dead up to that point, started to get more lively.  John pointed in my direction at the beginning of the song and now and then later.  I’ve taken to encouraging the Brits to stand up a bit more.  At the beginning of Question, I urged them, and some got up, and that started the cascade.  (Afterwards I talked to one who lamented that the Brits are so …  she couldn’t come up with the word, but it was probably ‘reserved’.)  It’s an interesting struggle of the old culture being supplanted by the new, but only slowly and grudgingly.  Both the Jays spent a lot of time looking up to the balconies.  I didn’t get up for all the possible ovations, saving my sore knee, opting instead to do as the Brits do (raise arms in the air to clap).  Justin wiped his nose at one point, and though I usually don’t comment much about the voice cracks here and there, tonight, he had quite a few.  I hope he’s not suffering a sore throat or something. 

This time I heard more of Graeme’s new shtick.  He said that ‘I must apologize for being unsteady on my feet.  I had an overdose last night… not of powders or herbs, but Viagra.  Silly since I was alone at the time.’  A very Graeme statement.  He stumbled through the delivery of this, and John was doing all he could to keep from laughing out loud (he sure was smiling) and he turned to smile at Gordie who was also smiling (I snapped that one).  He eschewed the bit about his hair and teeth, I guess quitting while he was behind.  Graeme’s dance was not quite as vigorous as it used to be, almost just walking back across the stage.   The same guy from Nottingham yelled out the same words of encouragement at the end, and Graeme said something like you don’t get to have it twice or words to that effect.

I noticed the backgrounds are a bit different, doesn’t seem quite as good as before.  There are some new old photos of the band, often having a pink tinge.  There was a little bit of psychedelic backdrops, but it seems like fewer than in U.S. shows.  The T-shirts on sale are also not that inspiring as far as I’m concerned.  I did buy the DVD of Justin at the Cleveland 2002 event since I hadn’t seen it before (20 pounds).  I’m sure I paid more for it than on the web.  Also, during intermissions, they project a new website for getting Moodies gear.  Not Hal’s MoodyMall.  I think it’s TheMoodyBluesStore.com.   I wonder why.   

After Question this time, John brought Norda and Julie out for a bow.  I would have shot that but for a security guy hovering at the end of my row was just waiting for me to pull out the camera.  There were a few security people shutting people with cameras down starting at the beginning, so I had to be careful.  A person just two seats away with a point and shoot was shut down early.  I’d brought my long lens this time, as well as the smaller Sony, and figured, why not try.  I was able to get a total of 67 shots, most with the Pentax.  Despite the slightly increased anxiety and diversions caused by seeing the security people shut people down, I enjoyed myself at least as much at Bristol as at Nottingham. 

Afterwards some of the online fans gathered out front to chat.  None of us had gone to check out the ‘tour bus’ situation this night or in Nottingham.  Maybe some locals did. 

Sept 29 – Bristol to Amroth, Wales

With this tour zig zagging, as they often do, and wanting to get in some sightseeing, it was a challenge to think of where to go and when.  I’d wanted to go to St. Ives in Cornwall, since the last time, in 2002, was windy and rainy, and no cliff walking was possible.  But it’s quite far out, and I also wanted to spend some time in Devon and Wales.  So, this required some zig zagging myself across south Wales.  Today I head west.

Breakfast was ok, but I’m still waiting for that absolutely scrumptious full English.  There was a news article that Britain might be the future home of the world’s largest tidal farm using wind turbines 30 feet below the surface (to avoid ships).  I know that the tides have been used for energy in the south coast for quite some time (and NYC is just now experimenting with this for the first time – in the East River).  This farm would have 60 turbines generating 60 MW – Scottish Power.  Gotta buy some of that!

Getting out of Bristol was a bit more of an adventure than getting in, what with one way streets and all.  It’s not like most US cities where you go a block and there’s a parallel street going the other way.  In most UK (let’s just say European) towns they were laid out by cows and such, so the streets are all over the place.  And here you are doing a puzzle in 3D.  Bristol is Very hilly, and I always stay up in Clifton on the hill.  Since it’s my second time in Bristol, and the last time I’d done some walkabouts, I turned on my internal radar and gut sensing systems and was fine, passing in front of the Hippodrome on the way out.  This time I chose the longer of the two Severn river bridges to cross (i pounds 30p) and I think I’ve never been on such a big structure before.  I don’t think any of the bridges in NYC are close to this in length, though some are wider than 6 lanes.  Actually, this was wider than 6 lanes… there are 2 breakdown lanes.  Got out past Cardiff and Swansea to the SW coast by 1:30, and found my B&B situated on a steep slope with a great view of the near headland and the ocean (southern shore of Wales).  The area reminds me a little of the hilly stretch from Nice to Monaco.  The hosts weren’t there at the moment so I headed off towards Wisemans bridge, Saundersfoot, Tenby, Pembroke and the Stacks.  All of these towns were at waters edge separated from the next town by steep headlands.  As it was getting colder and windier, had some soup at Saundersfoot in the harbor.  The person at the Information shack there looked on a schedule and said the coastal path around the Stacks and St. Garvans would be open at 4:30 (after the Royal military were finished with their exercises for the day).  This reminded me of 2 years ago when I wanted to hike around Lulworth, an amazing geological area between Bournemouth and Plymouth.  The area was inaccessible due to military firings in the area.  Back to today (SW Wales), the skies were getting dark, but the view was worth it.  Stacks is a geological term and we’re talking very rocky, rugged cliffs going down to the sea with downs (flat grassy fields) on top and some little islands that are just rocks that are quite high but narrow.  Some of the towns are on the shores between high headlands and when you go down to them you see signs like 12% and 17% grade (very steep, unlike anything you typically see in the US).  St. Garvan’s has the added feature of a middle ages building / church built right into the rocks near the base, with the water approaching at high tide.  At low tide I could have walked around on a beach, but no.  It rained on and off, and had to be careful on the slippery chert rock steps.  I checked out a local lily pond with swans, and got a very salty meal of duck confit at a restaurant called the Orangery, on the way back to Amroth, where I stayed for the night.

Amroth to Cardiff

I already knew that the B&B, Mellieha, was pretty, but this morning reminded me of watching a Disney film.  The host was hand feeding a young female pheasant, one of three that originally called the place home (the other two, I expect the parents, aren’t there anymore).  There was a bunny rabbit eating the very green grass at the edge of the lawn, a red finch, a blackbird, and later a magpie, with its distinctive black and white coloring, came by to finish off what the pheasant didn’t want.  It is beautifully landscaped with flowers, I think hydrangeas, in full bloom.  It was a Wonderful breakfast – the one I was waiting for.  The hosts were very nice and so was the accommodation.  The hosts had allowed me to use their cell phone the night before to use my phone card (purchased for $10 at the Newark airport and supposedly gave 60 minutes or more of talk time, but actually gave six minutes for a call to my mother).  They also gave me good directions to St. David’s (and Cardiff) and I was off.  The road signs are a mouthful, as you probably know.  Welsh has some double letters that are pronounced differently.  I haven’t learned it all, of course, but found out that the double d’s are pronounced like a soft th.  So Caerdydd (Cardiff) is actually pronounced Caerdith.  There’s one town that went out of its way to be terribly long on purpose.  I think it’s in the northwest.  I will see if I can find it. 

This day it was drizzling on and off.  According to my hosts, I was supposed to have this wondrous view of the west Welsh coastline from on high at Newgale, but by the time I got there it was windy and raining.  This reminded me of the only time I’ve been to St. Ives and it was the same thing, forcing me to cancel walking along the cliffs there.  The drive from there up to St. Davids, some of it along the shoreline, reminded me of the California coast road, as both are emergent coasts with the same sorts of formations.  The reasons for the emergence are different though… Wales and the entirety of Britain and Scandinavia are rising back to former position after having had a 3 mile thick sheet of ice lifted (melted) 10,000 years ago.  The fjords are the prime example of this isostatic rebound.  California’s coastline is rising due to tectonic pressures (Atlantic and Pacific plates at war…) 

St. David’s is a quaint town, though I didn’t walk about much as it was getting windier and rainier.  I did pop into a shop and looked at a book on the local geology though.  St. David’s sits at the core of an ancient mountain range they call the Caledonian.  For the core of that old mountain range to still exist, it must have been extraordinarily high at one time.  The rocks are dated Precambrian (as old as the earliest forms of life … a billion years old).  It was interesting reading it.  I saw the nearby town of Benton has a type of volcanic rock, and realized Bentonite was named after the town.  I believe Cambrian (about ii0 million years ago) is derived from the Welsh for Wales.  The Devonian age was named after the red rocks in Devon (a bit younger).  (Devon, of course, is the area that Plymouth is in.)  Rocks of intermediate age are from time periods named after local tribes, the Ordovices and Silures.

As for the Cathedral, St. David’s is the smallest Cathedral town, but it has a nice cathedral.  Cathedra means the seat of the bishop.  This one was started by David, himself, something like 600 AD, making it one of the oldest, particularly in this neck of the woods.  It’s a big place with cloisters, and other buildings.  I climbed up one, leaned out the narrow window and took a few shots.  In talking with one lady there we were noticing how lush and green the grass is, and I asked if fertilizers are used, and she said no, it’s just the rain.  I can see how the Anglo traditions really die hard, loving this gorgeous green grass and wanting to replicate it in the American lawn, but it just doesn’t work without English rain.  Fertilizer just pollutes the waters.  Despite the wind and rain, I headed down some really narrow lanes (single tracks) to St. Justinian, hoping to see / photograph the headlands down there.  Got a couple of shots holding the umbrella, but had to head back. 

Getting to Cardiff in the rain was an adventure.  The middle lane on the M4 was going 80 mph at this point.  The wind socks were flying straight out at the bridge passes.  It was like flying a small plane in heavy turbulence.  Missing the exit that my hosts from Mellieha had recommended I took the next into Cardiff, and following my nose (internal radar and gut) managed to end up not so far from digs, which are on the river.  The city maps in my big atlas are great, showing approaches to the city as well as the city map.  I found a parking spot right across the road from Austin’s, which is on the River Taff, across from the Millenium stadium, which is really huge and ugly.  I stood on the steps ringing the bell for a while, getting nervous (it was 5 pm).  When the hostess showed up (from the outside), I said I’d been there for five minutes, not really trying to be accurate (I was a bit tired, after all).  She jumped down my throat saying she saw me park and I hadn’t been there for five minutes.  I didn’t dignify it with a response.  Great beginning…   She warmed up a little bit somewhat later.  It was a nice walk to the theatre.

Cardiff concert

Though the streets are all torn up outside, St. David’s is a relatively new theatre, at least on the inside.  You go up 3 levels by escalator and stairs to get to the bar and theatre entrance.  Unlike last time I was there, they were not checking bags.  Inside, I counted at least 7 balconies, but not straight up.  These were almost scattered, artistically, as blocks of seats on something like 3 levels.  I’d say that each bunch of seats was a fifth the width.  As with Bristol, the floor is slanted, and I think that just before my row (G), there was a small bump up.  I could see the Jays’ feet over the heads of the people in the next row.

The crowd was Really dead tonight.  First sign of life was extra applause for The Voice.  At that point, the Band finally felt some energy.  Justin dispensed with any discussion of Voices in the Sky (1968 etc) – probably a good choice.  The British crowds tend to be tame, we know.  If they really like a performance of a song they will allow themselves to lift their hands in the air as they clap or possibly whistle.  It wasn’t until See Saw that many of the crowd this night stood.  Graeme was back to his combined intro for H&H (drug overdose / hair-teeth).  His dance was more sprightly than last night.  There was one drum goof (very unusual) where the two drummers were not in sync on ILS.  Probably most who went forgot it immediately if they even noticed. There were the same Americans as last night (precious few).  John waved at me in the 7^th row a few times.  I got a few neat shots of Justin smiling, and other good stuff too.  I held back because I could tell (out the side of my head) that a security guy was lying in wait.  Sure enough, during intermission, one came over and we had a very nice, polite conversation about my camera:  Is it 35 mm (no), well that’s all right then.  He didn’t ask to see it.  His boss saw that I was using it a lot.  Checking how many I shot before intermission?  22.  I took i8 by show’s end.  I’d brought the big camera too, but just as well that I’d forgotten to also bring the card (just having emptied it of its contents from today’s shoot at St. David’s and left it in the laptop).  Speaking of intermission, the most amazing thing happened.  During these concerts I’ve taken to saying I’m Maggie from New York and sticking my hand out.  It breaks the ice with whomever I’m sitting next to as most would be surprised.  In this case the woman on my right said she was Lyn from Rhondda.  I said, Rhondda!  I know that name, since I’d heard papers about their recycling efforts at the annual Philadelphia conference given by some colleagues at the Cardiff University.  The profs and I were supposed to meet today for a tour / dinner, but didn’t connect.  Lyn and I talked about some of the research I’ve done, about NYC and the zero waste concept, and gave her my website to read up.  I asked her to apologize to the professors for me.  I know people say this is a small world, but this is just amazing.

After intermission the crowd was a little more lively, lots of clapping to YWD and Question.  Afterwards I chatted with a few of the fans, went out for some orange juice, and managed to walk back to the hotel via a different bridge.  There were lots of young folks roaming the streets again. 

October 1 – to Plymouth

The start of the day was earlier than planned here in the Cardiff Austin B&B, hearing people slam doors and such.  Good thing though, as my not so trusty alarm clock (a new Apple I-touch) battery had run low and it forgot I’d set its timer.  Before heading to breakfast, I thought to try the shower again.  Still only cold but the host lady (who, herself, seems to run hot and cold) fixed it.  In Europe they have always had a bewildering variety of shower fixtures.  Some are pretty hard to dope out.  I see more each time.  This one had a knob for temp, a knob for 3 discrete “powers” which had apparently been fiddled with in some way (I tried all the settings), and a button for on/off.  Breakfast was early at this place and was the most limited (one small tomato, an egg, a sausage (which was awful) and a small slice of salty ham (bacon).  Usually I don’t eat the cereal, but did this time.  When I asked for scrambled, answer was “I don’t think so”, as in what do you think this is? The Ritz?  Same answer for hot chocolate.  In Amroth, they bent over backwards to be nice and accommodating.   

The hostess, who was running warmer this morning, started asking about the concert.  When I told her about it beforehand, she seemed like she might want to go but had to wait for guests to arrive.  Back to breakfast, there was an older couple at another table and when I asked about how to get to the Cardiff Bay barrage (which I was told about back in Amroth), the guy told me all about it.  Apparently, Cardiff bay has a tide of 42 feet (second largest in the world after the Bay of Fundy) and when the 2 rivers that feed it flood, things can get pretty wet, so this barrage was set up across the mouth of the bay to help control the water.  What I’d heard though was that this is also a tidal power plant.  This would be such a natural with such a huge tide.  When the couple learned about the Moody Blues having played, they wondered if Justin sang Forever Autumn.  This must have been a huge hit, since so many like the song here.  It was then I realized that Justin hasn’t been singing it this time around.  I wonder why.  The couple talked about the St. David’s hall, and recalled that Gene Pitney (star from early 1960s) had died onstage…

Finally got on the internet again.  The code for the secure wifi was given to me wrong last night.  Since weather is of prime interest, and a pretty nasty, windy thing just came through, ruining picture taking for yesterday, I looked up the Weather Channel’s site, and got not radar, but almost as good..  satellite pix, in motion, for London.  I can zoom out and move the picture over so that I can see the entire Atlantic if I want to (see what’s coming down the pike). 

Getting to the Barrage visitor info center, I learned that there is no tidal power plant.  One has been discussed, but it is feared that environmental impacts would be too large (e.g. preventing anadromous fish from migrating upriver).  I encouraged them to go with a partial tidal power plant.  The current design is mostly a dam with sluice gates.  I didn’t hang around long or go to look at it more closely.

The third time over the wide Severn went faster and the drive down to Devon was long.  Still, I wanted to explore and photograph some red Devonian sea cliffs.  I looked in vain for an information kiosk on the way, but ended up looking at the map and figuring that the Torbay area might have some good cliffs.  I first headed for Torquay (pronounced Torkey – quay means docks).  It reminded me of Nice / the Riviera.  In fact, they call themselves the English Riviera or Miami Beach in the old days before the skyscraper hotels.  The bay is very long and curving with beaches between the headlands, and there are palm trees, hotels and guest houses of every description.  Wanting to find less development, I headed west along the bay, getting shunted to the upland and accidentally finding the headland at Paignton, which had a nice park.  So I parked, got out and inquired of Tony, the pensioner about whether there is a walking path near the cliffs.  He was out on his walk, so he took me with him down to Goodrington.  On the way we saw the Dartmouth and Paignton Steam Railway train go by.  The gardens on the way down the cliff were very photogenic as was the beach.  I picked up a couple of neat stones – red cut by quartz veins.  I took some pix of flowers growing out of the red cliff walls.  I didn’t realize that at least some of the red rock was not pure.  This is a classic conglomerate, with the red rock as a matrix and dark grey cherty pebbles of various size included.

After leaving Tony, I missed a turn which took me quite a ways east, but followed my nose back to Plymouth.  There are so many roundabouts on most journeys here, and each roundabout throws things in the car from side to side, and the quick stops you do when someone darts out from behind car parked in the street, coming at you in the middle lane, and stuff like this, that just about everything I’d kept on the side seat (map book, food, pamphlets, CDs, etc) goes flying onto the floor, so everything was there by the time I got to Plymouth.  The signposts are not brilliant insofar as finding the Hoe, a charming part of town that I’ve stayed at twice now (the Pavillions venue is right there).  I knew I was there when I passed the Pavillion.  This time I chose Jewells hotel.  I somehow couldn’t find Sneaton’s.  Maybe the name has changed.  It was nice.  One thing though… the toilet and shower room were on the fourth floor (my room the 2^nd) – American method of counting floors.  No lift.  Knee is not happy.

Plymouth Concert

This is the second time I’ve been to the Pavillions venue.  Last time was May, 2002.  It was associated with both a high and a low, emotions-wise.  There was a young fan named Luke Tudor, who came to the Hard Rock party, and he offered to serve as tour guide for me in Plymouth since he went to school there and served on the Lifeboats (Coast Guard).  I came over to his place and taught him how to play The Actor and Forever Autumn.  We were walking on the High street the afternoon before the show and saw John walking alone (very spiffy in his leather as usual).  I didn’t interrupt him as he was scanning the stores.  The bad part happened the next day when Luke and I were walking to the University to use the internet, I was taking a pic of him and 3 college kids came up and one offered to take a pic of Luke and me.  He ran off with the camera.  Luke called the police and we followed the 2 accomplices and they were arrested, but thanks to British jurisprudence, they were not plea bargained to get the name of their friend, the thief, and were let go.  I still had my 100-300 mm lens and upon arriving in Cardiff a few hours later, I went straight for a Jessops and found a used camera body to replace the one I lost.  Ah, but I digress.

The venue is still pretty new when you compare it to all those grand old theatres.  I chose one of two places to eat in the lobby.  Got a quick egg and cress sandwich and hot chocolate since the weather had turned cold and windy with the occasional rain (glad I brought this tiny, lightweight umbrella for the trip).

Some more Americans were there this time, all of us on Norda’s side in the first four rows, and finally we had enough of a group.  Norda encouraged us as she does in the states.  The Jays were very happy to see the group in row 2, smiling quite a bit at them.   It certainly livened up the concert for me.  It was great to be able to stand all through Singer, pump fists into the air, you know!  The Americans got some of the Brits to get up, more so than would have happened ordinarily.  There was a small crowd at the stage for See Saw.  No one stood for Question.  I couldn’t easily get down there, so stayed standing at my seat (row 4) with the 2 rows in front of me sitting.  John played right to Bev at See Saw and I got photos of that.  That must be very thrilling.  Justin gave his pic to this big woman who had been dancing up quite a storm in front of him during See-Saw.

Graeme was in excellent form this time, going through his spiel, modifying it slightly, and his lines were said with more conviction, gestures, and the dance was vigorous.  Yea!  I keep forgetting to mention, but John’s decided to vary his delivery for ILS to have the extra vibrato (if that’s what you call it) for the second verse as well as the first.

My seat was next to some fans of my photography from South Carolina!  I always bring some ix7s and a few 8x10s for people to look at.  There was no security so I shot away with the big camera until the battery died, and brought out the smaller one which malfunctioned for a while, till I got it to work properly.  In all managed to get 73 shots combined.   I went out afterwards for soft drink with friends who had arrived from California (and who were the objects of the Jays smiles as well).  This is always a great time looking at the pix I’d just taken.

Plymouth to St.Ives

Tony from Torbay highly recommended I check out Dartmouth (situated at the mouth of the river, Dart, of course).  It was not far from Torbay, and on the way to Plymouth, but what with there being no bridge, and only small car ferries, he thought I might be late for the concert if I decided to try it.  So, not having many specifics in mind for sightseeing on the way to St. Ives (other than Lands End and Penzance, as in Pirates of), I decided to go back to Dartmouth this morning and then head west.  This took a lot longer than I thought it should, being only 35 or 40 miles each way.  This was due to the fact that much was on very narrow lanes and I got stuck behind a slow lorry.  But once I got to the town, I realized Tony knew what he was doing; we had chats about lots of things and were on the same page with most.  The town is absolutely stunning.  It’s one of those “blooming” towns (so says the sign, coming into town) and it really is one.  Every pub, every flat, every house, every business, every lamppost and profusions of flowers.  There were boats in the harbor, and hills with houses going up in all directions around the harbor.  There were ferries, castles, tudor-style building fronts, public gardens, a promenade on the river Dart.  You get the idea.  I took lots of pix.  It had been very overcast until I got there and the sun started shining. 

I got advice on a prettier way to go back (the one I’d tried to get there with originally, but it’s not well sign-posted on the Plymouth end as they say here).  This drive reminded me of the stunning bike ride I did in Fife, Scotland on the north side of the Firth of Forth after the 2002 Moodies’ UK tour.  It was a constant variety of very steep up and down hills, views of the English Channel, cliffs, green pastures defined by hedgerows, and forests.  There was even a beach with a major protected marsh behind it.  There were lots of cute villages, and the road would become so narrow that 2 cars couldn’t pass.  Most of the time either there wasn’t a car coming or one of us could move over to the side and brake fast enough in a spot that was slightly wider.  But there was this one time where the sides of the road were carved out of the Devonian red rocks with bushes and trees growing from the top of the rocks which are 15 feet above the road, creating a full canopy, with vines and such growing out the sides.  A big bus was coming right at me and there was no where to dart.  I could see that the bus took up about ¾ of the width of the road.  For a moment or two we sat there looking at each other.  He made a gesture that I didn’t understand, but figured it meant I was the one to back up.  So I did.  Thankfully, the car behind me had either stopped way before or had already backed up.  I didn’t have to back up too far to where the bus stop was.  The standard here is that when someone yields to another, the one who goes through thanks the yielder by putting up the hand. Also, people park on roads that are wide enough for 2 big vehicles, but not when you have parked cars, so you have to ride down the center line if cars are coming at you.  I kept playing the long Eagles 2 CD set, and this reminded me of a song with lyrics, “Cruising down the center of a two-way street”..   There are road signs here and there that warn that oncoming traffic may be in the middle of the road.  With the hedgerows being 15-20 feet, almost every twist in the road is a blind corner.   I’m amazed that there aren’t more crashes with so many roads this narrow.  (They do put up signs regularly stating the number of crashes or deaths in the next stretch of road over a certain number of years… some of these numbers are like 77!)  I’ve been lucky I guess, only brushed by some of those hedges once so far.  I will admit that I’ve almost forgotten to look right a few times, having to jam on the brakes just in time at roundabouts.  Drivers here are so much more skilled than in America driving through tight spaces and anticipating other drivers’ actions.  I have been having discussions with the local community board and NYC Transportation department about siting a separated bikeway on a busy local street, and they keep Increasing the width of traffic lanes for city streets, now to 11 feet.  I should measure one of these lanes (I’ve taken a number of pix and one could probably estimate from those, but I think a narrow lane could be 11 feet!)  One thing that’s also important to remember in navigating is estimating time it takes to get from point A to point B.  I realize now that the atlas can’t possibly have every twist and turn in these small roads (which are the “B” roads and “A” roads with 3 or 4 digit numbers).  The “A”s with few digits (1 or 2) are wide enough to do i0 mph or more, though you can still encounter people parking in the lanes…  If you’re on a B road, you can’t do more than 30, and 20 when it’s a single track.  If you are on a “dual carriageway” you’d better do at least 70 or you’ll be run over); some do 100.  Speed of the road makes a huge difference in planning a route for a day.  The interesting places are on the smaller A and B roads, of course.  But I digress.

Got back through Plymouth, crossed the river, and the big sign said Welcome to Cornwall!  I continued on west through the Cornwall countryside on the dual carriageway much of the time for another couple of hours, passing a couple rows of wind turbines, moving faster than I’ve seen these big ones move (well, it’s Windy here!).  Finally arrived in Penzance, a nice little town on a half circular harbor with jetties built to make it even more secure.  After seeing Dartmouth, though, this is not nearly as cute.  I did a walkabout after having my sandwich (I’ve taken to getting these packaged sandwiches… you have probably seen these triangular plastic packages where you rip off the plastic film that holds them in.)  Now the sandwiches have nutritional info, which is nice.  As the sun was sinking lower, I decided I’d better make a move to get to Land’s End.  The road out there was Very hilly, and I remembered that cyclists sometimes test themselves by going from end to end (Lands End to John O’Groats in Scotland).  If my knees are failing from the riding I’ve done and the low gears I’ve had, I just can’t imagine how strong these British cyclists are. 

Getting to Land’s End, the furthest west on the most southwesterly part of England, the first sight was worthy of a photo, with the sun’s rays streaming down from behind a cloud to the water’s surface, which you could see on either side of the point from the approach from on high.  It was so windy, that I wonder how the photos will come out.  But getting out to the actual end, was an underwhelming experience.  It was a very small, sort of amusement area.  Very small.  And there was little else there.  I didn’t go in.  It was probably closed anyway; only one other car driver like me just looking.

I could have headed back to Penzance and then to St. Ives on the A30, but decided to go on the B road to St. Just and the other villages on the way around the coastal route to St. Ives, which overlooks a couple of bays northeast of Land’s End.  St. Just is a very quaint little town with steeples and nice old buildings; there’s a 17% grade coming down out of St. Just towards the north!  I shot a few of the town from the high approach coming in from the south, but after that felt I had better not stop.  The wind was raging, rain clouds were closing in from all sides.  From what I could see it was a dramatic landscape, and wish I’d seen it in the daytime.  I got into St. Ives in the rain and wind (which is just like I remembered it from my only other visit in 2002).  I’d hoped that my luck would have improved this time.  In the dark, it took forever to find my digs.  I basically hailed a truck driver and asked for help.  He led me there.  This was a lane that headed down from a main road that was ascending at a steep clip.  It looked like a private driveway, but once in there was a row of rowhouses, one of which was the Porthminster View.  And it definitely has quite a view, right over the bay, looking west over the town.  I headed out around the corner down the hill in the wind and rain to another hotel with a restaurant for well deserved dinner.

This place is a little stand-offish.  Unlike the wonderful experience in Amroth, when I wanted to use the new 5 pound UK calling card I bought at the post office in Dartmouth to call Mom, since I’d gotten an email that she’d gone to the ER and was out again, they said their pay phone would not allow 0800 calls (same as our 800).  Seems a dodgy explanation / policy.  One thing he did suggest, which I’ve now implemented, is downloading Skype.  I’ve tested it and apparently my laptop has a built-in mic as well as speakers in it, so I should be able to make phone calls from it!  Charges to the US are a little over 2 cents a minute.  The free internet has gone in and out.  Tonight’s the VP debate, and they have only 5 channels (no Sky channel, which carried it the last time).  I’d hoped to see it live on CNN’s website, but didn’t find a link there.  I did find a site, http://www.youdecide2008.com/video/, where I can listen to all the debates whenever I want.  So maybe tonight I’ll get some sleep. 

The host had looked at my tour bible (where I keep my itinerary, all maps I’ve printed, reservations, etc) and thought that my plan for going back to Wales was too ambitious.  I’d been saying it would be nice to visit King Arthur’s Tintagel and the town of Newquay on the north coast of Cornwall on the way.  He got me thinking, though. I hear this a lot (that I’ve planned too much), but most of the time I manage.  Of course, tonight was not one of those times.  I really want to spend Some time in St. Ives.  But he said it’s 5 hours minimum to get to Swansea, back in Wales and that visiting Tintagel on the north coast is definitely Not on when there is a north wind, and man, I’ve been hearing this wind howl outside my window ever since I got here.  The car shook even when I was sitting still in it late this afternoon.  I guess I’ll check again tomorrow to see if I’ve got a realistic schedule planned. 

St. Ives to Swansea

The day dawned partly cloudy and windy.  I’d been hoping to walk around St. Ives, take pictures, perhaps a little cliff walk if there was one nearby, and then make the long drive to Swansea, and maybe have a looksee there before dark.  I’m astonished that there is no ferry service from Cornwall to south Wales.  It is such a natural.  From St. Ives to Swansea is on the order of 5 hours, much of it by Motorway.  I’m sure that a ferry would take at most 2 hours.  I’d actually Googled “ferry, Cornwall, Wales”, and only came up with someone on a rant suggesting that such a ferry makes for a good idea.  Still in the hotel room, as I got my camera to take a picture out the window before checking out (since the view was absolutely gorgeous with the Porthminster beach and the town laid out below), the weather had turned and it was hailing!  Little pellets were bouncing off the windowsill and there was little visibility for the pelting rain.  The wind was howling.  And I thought I might not be able to walk at all.  As I sat in the car with the rain coming down I figured I’d give it ten minutes.  If the weather hadn’t changed by then, I’d proceed to Swansea.  Well, what do you know?  It did clear up, so with four layers on, I set out for the walk.  It was so chilly and windy, and now sunny, that I developed a case of windburn/sunburn? on my face.  But the Cornish were out with their shorts and sandals, walking the dogs (there are so many Westies out there – the hosts had 2 themselves – very friendly lapdogs). Westies are white and look something like a Scottish terrier.  Some natives were eating their beloved Cornish ice cream.  One variety was made with clotted cream.  Sounds a bit rich for me, but on the way back from the two beaches facing southwest and northwest, I had a cone of dark chocolate orange.  The town was full of ice cream shops and bakeries with pasties (not pastries) in the windows.  Prounce: PAStee, not PAYstee.  I find I don’t like these very much, so passed.  The town’s streets are so narrow and somehow windier than many of the towns, it seems.  Again, it’s a 3-D puzzle, like Bristol, since the town sits astride a couple of hills and a valley and has 3 beaches, being on a peninsula, but on a much smaller scale than Bristol.

The drive to Swansea (British pronounce it SWANzee, but in Welsh, it’s Abertawe – at the mouth of the Tawe river) was unremarkable, mostly by M roads.  I’m glad I decided to bypass Tintagel, as it would have added at least an hour to a five hour journey. I decided to listen to BBC and The Wave on the radio, having tired of listening to the Eagles and the Beatles love album, which I listened to the day before, driving hairy roads, and really narrow twisting ones in the rain at dark creeped me out a little.  See, it’s not at all the familiar arrangements, so in the right spooky environment, it can throw you off.  One of the radio stations was giving a blow by blow about the passage by the House of Representatives of the bailout as it was going on. Went once more over the big Severn bridge.  The map given by the White House hotel in Swansea was good up to a point, but failed at the last minute.  As soon as I dropped the bags and had a chat with the nice manager, who said the forecast starting at 9pm and going for days was miserable, I was off to The Mumbles.  Though it was dusk already, he told me the view from there would be nice (of the lights ringing the big bay on which Swansea and the Mumbles, six miles away both sit).  I thought that this would be something like the Shambles of York or the Lanes of Brighton, but I didn’t really see much special there.  Having gone through as many towns as I have, you see a lot of wonderful scenery, both quaint villages and hedgerows and pastures with livestock, with some fields of veg and corn.  On a nice day the Mumbles would have a lovely view.  I did have a nice pub dinner (a grilled chicken and bacon salad), and the first song I heard coming from their PA was Tom Jones’ ‘It’s not unusual’.  How about that from a Welsh pub (btw, he’s Welsh, but has been knighted by the Queen (saw that in the newspaper)).  I had a chicken and bacon salad, with that bacon that’s more like salty ham. 

Swansea to Caernarfon Wales

The White House hotel is one of the two best places I’ve stayed at this time so far.  (Amroth in SW Wales was the other).  The fellow looks to get all the touches right…  has nice smelling bouquet of giant lilies near the door, a lovely 1i year old cat, and 3 big, colorful discus fish and plants in a big tank in the breakfast room.  Breakfast was very good; it kept me going until 3.  One of two things he needs to improve (and he will, I expect) is to get wifi in the rooms and make the map of how to get to the place a little more accurate, as I wasted 20 minutes trying to find it.  (The map off the motorway to half a mile away was good, but the rest was misleading, indicating a block straight, when it was more like 10, winding and going uphill.  There were some good people who sent me in the right direction though.)  But he let me plug in my laptop to his connection at his desk and I used that for a couple of hours late at night (very nice guy!)  As predicted, the rains started overnight on and off.   He was generous in letting me borrow a map book that night, going off to The Mumbles for dinner, and in recommending places with the best possibility of good photos of seaside cliffs for the next day, and came up with a suggestion of a couple of spots on the Gower peninsula and some waterfalls nearby at Aberdulais (Aber, which you see in many Welsh names, means river mouth, according to my host).  He also taught me some of the different pronunciations of Welsh language.  The ubiquitous LL is pronounced “chl” where the ch is hard, and sounds like the ghl in McLoughlin.  LL can be at the start, middle and/or end of a word.  Y and U are pronounced like short U (e.g. muck ) and short I as in (hit), respectively.  As with German, W is pronounced like v and V is pronounced like f.   Ch is hard and guttural.  As I learned yesterday, dd is like soft th,   It’s very interesting to listen to.  I’ve seen a few words that look like they come from French (parc / parc; arret / araf (stop)).  I know there are a few other bits, but I find it’s good to at least be able to pronounce the names of places I’m going through.

The short trip out to the Gower peninsula beyond the Mumbles didn’t have good scenery today as the rain ruined the light and visibility.  There’s an area out there where the livestock run wild (and they have cattle grates over the road).  On the way back there was a group of horses grazing right by the road, and just as I approached, one just walked into the road, causing me to swerve.  No harm done.

Getting gas is always self serve, but you have to go in to pay.  This time I asked the young woman behind the counter if she could give some travel advice.  Her answer floored me.  She said she doesn’t drive, so she can’t help with direction.  I was going to ask about the nearest roundabout, but decided to say that I helped my mother with directions when I was 18 months old (true story).  She just repeated her answer.  It was unusual as most people I’ve asked for help have done so, many going out of their way to help.

It was getting rainier and windier as I got to the falls.  This facility is part of the National Trust and shows how kids worked the tin plating mill which used to be a big part of the Welsh economy back a couple of hundred years ago.  I was charged less to enter as I’m a foreigner (no UK tax).  The big waterwheel is there and still working.  If I’d decided to carry the extra weight and bulk, I could have used my trusty long legged tripod to hold the camera steady, especially since waterfalls are best shot with long exposures and I had an umbrella to deal with as well.  I tried some shots as much as 5 seconds and got some spectacular effects.  Since the water was rushing so fast, times between one and two seconds was ideal.  I’m glad I remembered to start wiping the lens for the last several shots and got some very nice results… 

The docent gave some advice, though I hadn’t asked for any at that point, about my journey to Caernarfon.  I’d been planning to take the coastal route, hoping for some photography there, but since it was 2pm by the time I was ready to leave the falls, but what with the lateness, coupled with the worsening conditions, she recommended the fastest route, one well away from the coast, actually going over some highlands a few times, which I took.  (Some of these looked like the highlands of Scotland, but just for a short patch.)  Maps.google had said the coastal route would take 3.i hours.  This one took i.  I shudder to think how long it would have taken me to go along the coast.  Routes there are very windy, and there are many towns to navigate.  Times for the smaller roads have been underestimated and times for the M roads overestimated.  The rain came down sideways for a good part of the afternoon, and there was fog, but I kept up with the going rate i0-60 on the triple digit “A” roads, which were narrow, but adequate for 2 trucks to pass (just).  I stopped just once at a nice little internet café, Black mountains style (rural Wales), where I had some soup (lamb and veg) and did an email check.  Towns on today’s itinerary included names like Rhondda Cynon Taff, Merthyr Tydfil, Llanfair-ym-Mualt, Cwmbach, Rhaeder Gwy, Llangurig, Llanidloes, Llanbrynmair (sounds like a college in Pennsylvania), Dolgellau, Penrhyndeudraeth, Porthmadog to name a few.  Try reading those plus the places you don’t want to go on roundabout signs.  I did go around a couple of times.

Got to Caernarfon just having a vague recollection of the map of the location of my hotel (on the SW corner of town near the water), so I took the first left to where it said ‘car park’ (just so I could just stop to read my map).  It went quite some distance off the main road before I could stop.  I looked at the map, saw that the Caernarfon castle would be just south of the hotel, looked up, and the castle was there, in all its grandeur, right in front of me!  I went around it and found that there was a line of row house style B&Bs inside the castle walls, including mine.  The Victoria hotel is fantastic.  The room and bathroom are HUGE and well appointed.  In fact, when I remarked about the bathroom, she said it used to be a single room.  There’s a fridge with free beverages as well as the usual teapot with tea and chocolate.  I just checked out the teapot; it’s so efficient you flip a switch, the water boils in a few seconds and you make hot chockie fast!  I was still a little damp and cold from having stood in the weather leaning over to take time exposures at the falls. There was a terry robe in the closet.  Man!  Since it was still awful outside, she suggested I order in some food (what a good idea, though the Chinese food wasn’t that good).  I had some time to catch up on writing and posting the travelogue (free wifi), flat screen TV, though still only five channels (but I am listening to BBC Radio 2 right now – Time of the Season by the Zombies).  They said Rod Argent and Colin Blunstone had been on the show live a couple of weeks before.

Caernarfon to Shrewsbury

Breakfast was the perfect British experience.  There were real flowers on the table (like in the Swansea), window seating, cloth napkins, the full English (very nice) and I noticed on the menu Welsh Rarebit.  I asked if I could get a taste and I got a full slice.  It’s toasted bread with melted cheese, diced onion and a few drops of Worcestershire sauce.  Not bad!  After breakfast, while writing this, I glanced at the BBC coverage of the Great North run while packing.  It’s for charities and it’s 30 miles!!  I don’t get it, but I think they said over a million people signed up for the race.  I can’t imagine they are all running the same course.  Newcastle seems to be the main venue.

My hostess, Jan, suggested that I start by visiting the Caernarfon castle, then drive into the Snowdonia hills, and do a walk around the lake in Llanberis (gee, just occurred to me… you see Llan as parts of words everywhere… It’s pronounced Chlan or maybe clan?)  There is a steam railroad to Mt. Snowdon and a pump-storage electricity generating facility there, and then I was on to the coast road around the northwest corner of Wales, to Betyws y Coed and the Swallow Falls, on to Llangollin (pronounced Chlangochlin), and finally to Shrewsbury.  Lakes and rivers were in flood.  Water was squirting out of the sides of hills coming down to the roads.  All through Wales and west England there are Lots of sheep!  I got into town just before sunset, having my route to the hotel all set, and then being shunted off by one way roads to the east and out of town before I could ask for new location and directions.  The St. Julians Friars car park was the only one in town that was open, and luckily only two blocks from my hotel, the Sandford).  The fellow running the place, not so much into his job, suggested a place nearby but they were closed for a private party.  I walked for half a mile looking to get something to eat, nervous as it was a Sunday night, finally finding this place that decorated in red, white and black.  The veg lasagna was not good, but the garlic bread was.  The host was one of those who was perfunctory, but not so much into the job. 

Shrewsbury to London – Oct 6

I thought I’d have to leave Shrewsbury no later than 9 to return the car at Heathrow by 12.  But when I found the car hire contract and it reflected the hour and a half that they had me spend to find and print the insurance forms, I was glad to have time for a walking tour around Shrewsbury (some pronounce it Shrovesbury) and took some lovely pictures.  There are lots of half timbered buildings, flowers, churches – St. Julians Friars is the name of the road and the car park, and there is a church nearby with that name.  The main shopping street is a pedestrian mall - all very nice.

I drove straight through to Heathrow, as it would have been time consuming and could have gotten me lost to stop somewhere.  I’ve had the experience that getting off a Motorway can do that.  Today’s M roads were Mi4, 6, 42, 40, 25, and 4.   I had to have the instructions on my lap since some of the turns were in quick succession and all were going to be done at high speed with nowhere to stop to look at directions or map.  Going around Birmingham with all the traffic and trucks (sorry, lorries) was especially hairy what with going 80 in the middle lane, with people zooming past in the fast lane.   Some of this was happening right past a cop sitting in a car…  There are so many signs saying that a section of road is saturated with police cameras to check peoples’ speed, but I never saw them chasing down or catching those who speed.  I'm pleased and amazed I did it all perfectly.

Got to the car rental in time, seeing the Crowne Plaza as soon as I got off the motorway.  I’d dinged the hubcap on the passenger side front, so had to pay them 20 pounds..  I remember where I did it too, but never checked – it was getting to the Amroth B&B.  It could have been much worse considering all the close shaves along the way.  Looking down at the mileage while tooling down the freeway, I noticed the overall total for the car was at 1999.  It had about 5 miles on it when I got it, so I ended up driving something like 2025 miles in 10 days.  Whew!  That’s a lot on an island this small, without ever going north of Runcorn.

Hopped the Hoppa bus straightaway, bought my 3 day transit pass, and got on the underground right away.  Falling asleep between each stop, I was relieved to not be driving for a change.  I’d not been sure what to do this day with all my bags in tow, since I knew RAH would not take them until something like 7pm, but decided to go to the Queensway in Bayswater, where I’d stayed last time, and get a massage at the place I’d gone to while staying at the Hyde Park Hotel on Inverness Place last time, one block up.   When I got there, I decided to also get acupuncture and massage for my ailing knee, which was getting worse by the day.  I think it is helping and should get some when I get back home.  Meanwhile, I made an appointment for tomorrow morning.  Seemed like the right thing to do.  Also I’d wanted to make a few photos of those best ones I’d take on this tour to show to people at the Hard Rock party tomorrow and for the photo book that I bring to concerts, so had researched some places online.  There was one just a few blocks away in Bayswater, so walked there, uploaded some files and ordered some ix7s of pix I’d taken on this tour (all 8 are Justin smiling).

It was almost dinnertime now; I had arranged to stay with a Moody Blues fan couple from Haywards Heath, Malcolm and Lorraine, so was picked up by them and brought to the other side of Hyde Park where we had a great dinner at the Gore hotel nearby, and met Marijane who had arrived the day before.  I had originally ordered my first RAH1 ticket in January with the rest.  It was 10^th row…  so when I heard of more being available, I got a fifth row.  But they wouldn’t send the first one.  I picked up the spare ticket, but couldn’t sell it.  There was this guy out front with a monster handful of tickets who was aggressively hawking them (almost obnoxiously) interrupting me as I talked with two of the Danes who frequent the European concerts (and one did a back flip down the aisle once).  Some of the scalped tix were front row and I think they went for them since they didn’t have any tickets that night.  As one who was up at 4am trying to get tickets when they went onsale, it makes me mad.  Turns out I would have been in big trouble if I had sold my extra ticket.  See, instead of duplicating the first one (10^th row), they duplicated the one I was going to use…  I guess if I never received the first, I will try for a refund.

Royal Albert Hall 1 Concert

RAH, as you probably know, is round, and has recently been renovated.  I’m told that the acoustics are 90% better than they used to be, but for rock concerts, the sound does reverberate.  Though there were people around, they didn’t stop people from photographing much.  During the concert, there was at first one fellow, then a couple of additional fans to join him over near the right stairs, dancing.  That’s a first.  They were so wanting to dance, but ducking so that those in the stalls ringing the floor would not be disturbed.  The Jays were happy tonight.  I have to think it’s at least in part due to the number of Americans and other enthusiastic foreign fans near the front. I know that in the past there used to be more of us than this time.  Nonetheless, there were ovations after every song by us.  For the first time, a few of us did the “whoo” during the two times in Singer during the chorus when the music stops.  Everybody in the hall was clapping on some songs.  Your Wildest Dreams is one of those that gets everyone to clap.  I started to notice the reverberation during John’s slow songs.    It was quite noticeable when John would sing One More Time to Live.  I noticed it on previous trips.  Justin did his big into about 1968 but didn’t do Voices in the Sky… though the blue birds background was used for this and Never comes the day, which they did here.  Not sure why he decides to do one or the other.  Jus smiled and nodded at me after December Snow.  I hadn’t seen the group for the better part of a week, having had my time off from the tour, and Graeme sounded awful – having developed a cold.  He thought about it, but did his dance anyway.  I hope he takes care of himself and is all right soon.  Justin cupped his ear during Question and let us sing (first time this tour).  There was a tidy crowd at the front for both Question and See Saw.  93 with the big camera.  No security tonight.

We drove back a torturous route south from London with Loraine and Malcolm, Marijane to Haywards Heath and had a nice hot chockie while copying my pix onto the computer.  Have to stay up late to write some of these notes (which I pefect later and upload).

Royal Albert Hall 2 and Hard Rock

I was up writing this travelogue until 2:30 and was on a train for London shortly after 9, sleeping most of the way.  This morning I learned something about getting train tickets in England.  It’s best to go to the ticket window.  I wasted a great deal of time trying to get the machines to authorize my card or to accept cash.  And I got a better rate from the person than the machine (over 4 pounds difference for a single/one way to London).   That’s quite a bit.  I got a great connection to the Circle tube line and into Bayswater for my 2^nd acupuncture / massage appointment.  By show time the leg was feeling less bad.  This is probably something I should continue at home.  Maybe I’ll have one more before leaving London.  Afterwards I walked over to the photo shop and picked up 8 ix7s of Justin smiling during the first four concerts to put in my photo album.  As time was running short to take a couple of buses, I took a cab to the Hard Rock.  There were about 60 there from several countries, and we almost filled the restaurant.  Food seemed more expensive than before ($25 for a big salad?), so Lorraine, Marijane and I split the chicken fajitas and 2 desserts.  This worked out quite well as these were American size portions..  We moved downstairs as we’ve done before and people chatted one on one with Tony and Helen Clarke, while we listened to Tony’s latest production.  They remembered me from before (same last name and all).  There were quite a few raffle prizes.  Another Successful effort by Nancy Jussen and her aides.   :-D

 Marijane, Lorraine and I took #9 bus to RAH and walked into Hyde park (the weather was lovely), admired some statues and this amazing scene of about 20 cormorants one on each post in a row crossing one end of the serpentine (lake).  A fellow who was familiar with this location said this was most unusual.  They were all facing the same direction as well.  It looked like art.  Later at Round Pond, I got pix of some of the many waterfowl.  We saw coots and tufted ducks, which are black and white and small, as well as mallards, swans, sea gulls and geese.  We all had dinner with my friend Caroline (an American who works in the waste prevention field in London) at a Prince of Wales pub off the High St in Kensington, a short bus ride from RAH.

Royal Albert Hall 2 Concert

It was a relief not to have to stand outside and compete with the rather obnoxious scalper, as I had my ticket and was going to sit in it!  This time I was up in the G stalls off the left hand stage, and I figured I would get some interesting angles from there.  These are sitting at stage height, and I was maybe equivalent to second row, but clearly over from Norda.  But not by much.  RAH has one of the smallest floors in a venue that I’ve ever seen.  I think at the fifth row, there are only maybe 30 or so seats across including 2 aisles.  I was originally sitting next to a Dane named John Patrick.  I got the train tix that I’d ordered over the phone for the last segment of my trip (post-Amsterdam) from Bernadette, sitting just below on the floor (arena).  John and I decided to move down a couple of rows towards stage, right away, and seeing a few seats on the opposite side front and second row empty for the first half of the show, at intermission we moved to the empty seats on John’s side.  That was really quite a huge difference.  Even though I could get some shots at unique angles in the G stalls, nothing beats the front of the arena floor. 

Graeme’s voice was still hoarse but better and he did a good dance.  He didn’t go into much discussion before H&H but did say it was like performing inside a wedding cake, doing the show at the Albert Hall.  At the end, Graeme was breathing quite heavily afterwards, and I could hear him say he’s ‘Quite knackered’.  Justin must have caused an amp system crackle at one point and you should have seen the variety of intense faces he made, going on for a few seconds, to indicate: Oh my god, what have I done?, I didn’t mean to do it!  The American/Canadian cheering section was in full force.  Everybody (including me) were getting lots of attention from the Jays and Norda.  I got quite a few smiles, and some crowd shots this time from the G stalls, 86 in all, using the Pentax.  I saw a couple of security this time, but they were not interested in shutting down cameras.  One little group of people sitting together on the floor must have had six cameras all up at the same time.  There were not as many Americans as in years past.  For the rush to the front for Question and See Saw, the crowd at the front didn’t even fill the space from the edge of the stage to the first row seats.  There were a few empty seats here and there. 

London Day 3

The accumulation of getting a bit too little sleep and the Lyme meds are taking their toll.  I got up late; the iTouch PDA somehow lost an hour again (I use the timer function to set an alarm since I haven’t figured how to correct the time), and decided to do some laundry.  I’d planned to see my colleague, Bob Lisney, but had to beg off (he wrote back and said he understood), and made another appointment for acupuncture/massage and uploaded some pix for printing in Bayswater.  My knee did feel less bad after the first and second sessions (it had been so painful on getting out of a chair I figured I had to do something.)  I know there are some serious things wrong in the knee that acupuncture won’t fix, but at least I’ll be able to get around.  Mid-afternoon, arriving at London Victoria by train, taking the good old Circle line, Marijane and I set off to walk on and photograph the Tower Bridge, the Tower and nearby Embankment.  Since there’s an exhibition going on in and around the bridge, we could only go so far, but it was sufficient.  It was a lovely afternoon.  We took a couple of tube trains to Bayswater (the Queensway) to my acupuncturist and had a 1.i hour session.  Though each one of these makes the knee feel better than it was, though there is some backsliding in the mornings.  This Chinese acupuncturist, whose English was very minimal, did manage to communicate that she thinks I have arthritis in the knee (that makes 2 docs and her…)  I didn’t want to believe it.  I may need that operation after all.  But there are other things going on too, I think – ligament tear, stretched tendons, bakers cysts.  Hailed a cab, picked up 25 ix7s that I ordered for my presentation books, all of the best pix taken this tour.  Fewer people are interested than ever before, but the pix keep getting better… Because MJ and I didn’t have any dinner, I bought a packet of crisps (potato chips) at the venue and wolfed them down before the show.  I looked for ice cream at the interval, but couldn’t locate it.   

Royal Albert Hall 3 Concert

Again, the Americans and other foreign fans were out in force.  Everybody was on once again.  Lots of smiles on everybody and the crowd-band mutual feeding frenzy was on.  Again they chose to do Never Comes the Day.  Not sure why.  My observation is that Voices in the Sky is done in more out of the way places, but not sure why that would be.  Justin joked at one point that he’d lost the plectrum inside the guitar.  I was 8^th row right on the floor and looked back every so often to see how many might be standing.  Quite a few (back half to two-thirds) stood for H&H and Singer.  I was up in front between the Jays for the last couple of songs.  It’s nice we can still do that at so many of the UK venues.  I’ve noticed that some of the Northeast US venues just are not designed to allow it (having pits that are blocked off or railings that prevent movement.)  There was this old guy with a long white beard really getting into it up in the O stalls.  He was funny to watch.  Graeme botched his intro to H&H again, and the Jays smiled and conversed with each other.  At first he couldn’t remember the name of the song.  Oh well.  Didn’t do either the hair brown/teeth white or the Viagra bit this time.  Paul mercifully came in with the crash to start the song, putting him out of his misery.  At one point in the dance as he came back towards the left, he did a slow butt shake and pointed to the crowd in the back balconies (as if ‘This one’s for you), and later did the usual, lewd, slow butt shake.  At the end John brought Norda and Julie forth for their bows.  Karen H got the pic and I got a shot of Justin smiling broadly as he reached over others to give it to her.  I got i4 shots in all tonight, with lots of smiles.  I think there may have been more of a crush at the front tonight than the last two (after all, people do get the idea after a while, and why wouldn’t they want to participate in the rush once they know it’s all right)?

For whatever reason, I felt a bit queasy on the drive back to Haywards Heath, but Lorraine proffered a British style neopolitan ice cream sandwich and something inside just perked right up.  After the second I was right as rain.

Haywards Heath to the Cotswolds

After another lovely breakfast at Lorraine and Malcolm’s, Marijane and I were left at the train station and we got a direct train to Oxford (something I didn’t realize existed).  In fact, it stops at Kensington in London enroute and ends up in Birmingham.  I’ve noticed that the seats on the train are not as plush as in the US.  But the trains run ontime.  We got into Oxford shortly after noon, saw the bronze Ox statue, got a cab and picked up the car at National without incident. It’s another blue car, but a bit bigger and wider.  I realize how much I liked driving that little Nissan Mica.  So we were off to the Cotswolds, making our first stop in Woodstock, where Blenheim palace is.  I’d toured both 2 years ago, using a city bus from Oxford, and they were too pretty for words.  The village had cut stores, lots of stone, flowers.  We stopped at the flower shop and got this most unusual plant, with two kinds of flowers for our hosts. Recalling the last visit, the palace had extensive grounds, gardens and even free roaming livestock, and I knew we wouldn’t have time, so this time we stopped at the “i” (info bureau) and got some ideas of where else to go in the Cotswolds and headed off.  There are lots of towns spread over a wide area, many connected by B roads.  I quickly learned that for the smallest roads in the Cotswolds, you can’t depend on road signs saying anything about route numbers.  And the signs that point towards towns might not even be perfectly accurate.  At one such crossroads, in Charlbury I think, we stopped to find some late lunch, and checking the first two pubs that weren’t serving, ended up at a very nice restaurant where we could take over a big fat leather sofa and coffee table, and have some elderflower soda (something I’ve only seen in the UK) and then ice cream.  MJ had scones and tea.  So we ended up following our noses for a while down one B road, then another, just knowing which direction we wanted to go.  At one town, Shipton under Wynchwood, I decided to ask a florist the name of this flower that I’ve been photographing all over England and Wales growing out of rock walls.  It’s the Filarium (maybe a different spelling), a perennial.  She gave me a piece to root and take home, but it expired quickly. 

Recalling the advice we got at the flower shop in Woodstock we had found out about a neat castle on a very high hill above the surrounding landscape.  It’s on Broadway Hill and if the air had been a bit clearer, we could have seen for a great long distance.  There were lots of deer around, some bellowing like cows.  Nearby the castle the landscape was unnaturally wavy, leading me to think that it might have been an iron age encampment like the one I saw on the downs in southwest Wales near the Stacks.  We then went to the town of Broadway, where so many homes are made of the Cotswolds stone (which looks to me to be a sandstone conglomerate).  On our way through some of the B roads, and even the A roads, we encountered a number of pheasants at the roadside, nearly missed hitting one, and upon arrival at Broadway, parked near a male that had recently been killed.  A few days before I’d seen a couple of males wandering immediately beside the road in Wales.  The males are quite pretty with some red around the eyes and green around the necks and brown/black patterns on the body.  The hens are smaller with mostly brown colors.  Today’s itinerary included names like Chipping Norton, Charlbury, Witney, Ascot under Whynchwood, Shipton under Wynchwood, and Crawley.

Got back to Moreton on Marsh, one of the only Cotswolds towns that has a train station.  I’d previously investigated trying to tour the Cotswolds via mass transit, finding it to be physically impossible in a reasonable amount of time, hence the decision to rent the car today.  We stayed in a nice old hotel (they say 1i00s was the original building) renovated quite a bit within the last year.  I was starving by this time.  We had a nice repast topped off by sharing a chocolate pudding with clotted cream.  The pudding is actually almost the same as some volcano desserts I’ve seen in the US.  It’s a round cake filled with “molten” chocolate fudge.

Getting back to the room and watching one of the five channels, I watched a number of commercials that are pretty amazing.  Rainforest alliance and Oxfam have innovative environmental ads that were quite intelligent and funny.  One dishwasher (Bosch) markets a dishwasher that they say uses a quarter the water vs. handwashing.  We don’t often get educational or quantitative ads in the US for such items. 

I don’t know if people in the U.S. are getting all the news that we’re getting in the UK, but thanks to all the banks failing in Iceland, it is in debt amounting to 116,000 UK pounds for each person. And local county councils in the UK have invested over 27.i billion pounds in Icelandic banks.  At the root of all the woes is debt personal and otherwise.  The UK bailout is 8 times as much per person as the US.  To my mind, though all this is having a tremendous impact on people, I hope it might end up with the needed transition to more intelligent, short- and long-term consumption of all resources and products within our means, sustainably.  In one TV program, they showed how citizens create enough garbage to fill RAH every two hours.  There was a half hour program on various waste / environmental jobs that go on in the UK.  They have very cute names for things… cleanup of pavement pizza is not what you’d think.  Let’s just say it’s unfortunate, often projectile ejection by a human who isn’t feeling well… There was another program on the new technology of carbon scrubbing from the atmosphere and fuel from algae (pond scum).  I’d first seen this on the Weather Channel.  Future program theme:  America 2:  Has America run out of infinity?  I’ve been saying for years that our wasteful habits come from a belief that the country is so huge we would never run out of anything.  Gee, I wish we got these programs.

Cotswolds to Oxford

We had a nice full English and continental breakfast, but no baked beans!  This has been the second or third time on that in recent days.  I wonder why.  I think this as the soul of the English Breakfast.  The answer came back – chef does not like using food from cans.  Otherwise the digs were high class and comfortable.  We drove through Morton and though it was a nice town, it wasn’t that really special place we were looking for.

We first stopped in Stow on the Wold, not spending that much time in the town, which was nice, but again, not the cutest thing we were hoping to find.  We did walk a half mile or so to some local Roman baths.  This was a single big tub, maybe 3 yards on a side and a few feet deep.  Not an extensive site.  The view into the countryside was nice though and got pix of that with a couple of horses in the foreground.  Bourton on the Water was the town we were looking for.  What a fantastic place.  We looked along the shops and in one (Edinburgh woolen shop, a chain I’ve shopped at before).  There, a saleslady sent us on a nice walk through some picturesque alleyways, through a field, along some canals, which were indescribably quaint, and back into town   The town itself is called the little Venice of the Cotswlds, and has some arched bridges over the canal.  This made the whole trip worthwhile.  What I don’t understand is why it is not given top billing over all the other towns we visited.  But ok.  We had no time left, so buzzed through Burford quickly as it wasn’t as nice as Bourton on the water.  We whizzed nicely on the dual carriageways for a while, then got to Oxford’s delays in traffic, and roundabout misdirection sent us way into the countryside as the pertinent info from the map book had the road we wanted to go on at the fold of the book        The road we wanted went over the dual carriageway we were on.   Once checking into the Happy Lodge in Kidlington, just north of Oxford, I felt in a blinding rush to get the car back to Oxford before we were charged another day.  But instead of getting there directly there was a badly signposted roundabout and we ended up overshooting where we wanted to go, taking longer to return the car.  But no matter.  They didn’t care we were late!  We took a bus to town centre, walked to Christ Church (college).  There, we walked for 45 minutes around a huge pasture with cows (on campus) down to the Thames river, where there were lots of ducks and geese, as well as punters in their boats.  On the buildings was more of that gorgeous red ivy – very photogenic..

Oxford Concert

The New Theatre is an old theater decorated in garish colors inside (reddish and yellowish intermixing).  There is almost no room between rows and no possibility of rushing the stage as there’s a bar separating it from the rows.  The theater is not too wide, and includes a balcony, so that makes it good for getting closer than some venues.  It’s conveniently located, right downtown.

Tonight, Graeme was much more vigorous and at H&H gave a new twist on his opening.  He didn’t make reference to Viagra or the not being steady on his feet, but instead said that he’d give us a treat: this will be the first time in history that he will sing.  He said to note the stance (or words to that effect).  See, he’s taken to pulling the mic stand back as he actually does sing the “doots” with John singing falsetto as part of Higher and Higher just before he takes off on his dance.  Tonight there was still no Voices in the Sky.  John blew at Norda from both sides this time and after he was done and had gone back to sing the rest of Slide Zone, she pulled out her hair as if to rid it of his contribution.  J

Justin’s hair is getting really long, lustrous, and full.  As has been the case for this and recent tours, Justin’s voice just sounds so strong and rich (like buttah).  The sound quality of the venue was good.  Did I say that Cardiff had good sound quality?   Most of the time it’s hard to pull out some of the instruments or vocals from the mix.  This night there was lots of clapping.  The audience was up, but not quite as much as at RAH until towards the end.  There are still a number of North Americans to lead the ovations between songs.  I was happy to get some waves from John.  Everybody was having a great time tonight.  Paul smiled and waved at me at the end (got a shot of that).  It was pretty warm in the theater, though nothing like those steambaths in the US summer before last.  There was a number of glowsticks, as there had been in London, but not prior to that.   The band spent a little more time at the end waving, I thought, than before.  John brought Julie to the fore.  There was some security tonight, though not so much at the door, and I was afraid most of the time that they would come down to get me, as happened the last time.  But they didn’t move from their posts.  I took 60 photos tonight from 4^th row center concentrating on getting nice smiles.  (I did.)

Oxford to Brighton - Oct 11

Our digs in Kidlington were fine with dedicated bathroom next door, full English breakfast, and a nice visit with Malcolm’s brother and his wife before driving down to Haywards Heath.  Since most of us needed one thing or another by this time, we did some nice shopping in town, and I even tried on some corduroys since the Brits make them in some really luscious colors.  All the sizes I needed were gone though.  Next we carried on to Devil’s Dyke, which is a linear group of hills, more or less paralleling the coast but inland.  I must find out about their geologic origin.  It was a great view, as if from an airplane, and you could see for miles, including Haywards Heath, in the distance, and Burgess Hill, a town 3 miles closer, and home to another pair of fans that we met at a few concerts.  It would have been an even better view (i.e. for photographic purposes) if not for haze.  The wind was coming off the channel at this point bringing in the moisture.  There were a couple of old windmills on top of these as well.  I’m sure there will be pressure to put up some more modern ones.  We went to some quaint towns on the border of east and west Sussex. 

Dinner was in the Lanes of Brighton, and this time I experienced more of the Lanes than I’d ever done – some being so narrow you couldn’t fit a car – strictly pedestrian.  Pinocchio’s was a great deal and had good Italian food.  It’s different from American in some ways though.. my eggplant parm had lots of béchamel sauce.   We were only a 10-1i minute walk to the venue and had been fortunate enough to get into Brighton without much traffic and got a space for the cost of a half hour of meter charges (before 6). 

Brighton Concert

The main thing I can say about this night’s show is that the Brighton Centre venue has great acoustics.  I realized this when I could hear Julie’s voice clearly.  I think it’s the first time I’d done that.  It’s a nice sweet clear voice.  I heard Gordie’s flute more clearly during his duet with Norda as well.  I wonder if they did something to their sound, which has become quite good most of the time.  I’ve noticed that the harmonies on The Voice seem richer in the last few shows as well.  I love 3 and 4 part harmonies!  It’s interesting that the acoustics should be so good in what is a box, flat floor, bleachers on 3 sides, kind of like a high school gymnasium venue.  The lighting wasn’t quite as intense as previous venues though, which probably has more to do with the venue than the lighting guy’s work. 

Tonight, Graeme added some risqué stuff to the shtick about in the old days liking to come down to Brighton to get drugs (reds, blues and blacks… blacks were the best).  He then went back to the teeth white and hair brown part of the discussion.  His butt shakes are getting more risqué too – more of the bump and grind variety rather than a fast fanny shake.    I don’t know if I’m just slow at noticing, but I saw a great pair of shots of the Blue Jays behind on the screen for one song.  I don’t think they’ve ever done that before.  Some of the shots have only four band members… one was with Mike but without Ray.  I don’t think the Jays were smiling quite as much as the last few nights and the audience was somewhat dead compared with RAH and Oxford, but they were probably better than Cardiff.  There were still a couple of pockets of superfans near the front, but we weren’t able to get most to ovate.  Norda did her usual (get up and dance you guys) and I did it too, so a bunch danced to Singer.  Again I missed hearing Voices in the Sky having Never Comes the Day.  I miss Forever Autumn as well.  Somehow tonight I also noticed, for the first time, a background shot where the Moodies are backing up a young Tom Jones.  I took a shot of that. 

This is a wide venue.  I was sitting way over beyond Julie, 3^rd row.  The stage was face height and back 10 feet at least from the front row.  This allowed for rushing the stage, but the band was disappointingly far away during most of the show.   There was no security :-D so I shot as much as I wanted to (77 for the night).  I was pleased with the results.  Got sweet smiles from both the Jays. :-D

After show I met Helen and Tony Clarke (she and I talked a little while… She was wondering if she would run into any of the fans they’d met at the Hard Rock.  I told her briefly of my travels and travelogue, and Tony recalled then that I’d been on a Pbaub-arranged chat.  They and Derek Varnals, were all going backstage, so I found Lorraine, Malcolm and Marijane and we walked through the throngs of local kids enjoying their night out, to wait out back.  Justin had disappeared.  But eventually, Graeme and the others went into the bus, and John signed things for a short while, including an enlargement of mine, for Lorraine.  We walked through the park in front of the Brighton Pavilion in what was becoming a pea soup fog.  There were three teenagers sitting up on top of what looked like a nicely manicured weeping cherry (I shot them J - they posed!).  I was amazed that the tree took all that weight without giving an inch.   

Haywards Heath to Bournemouth

We all had a leisurely morning in Haywards Heath with our gracious hosts, full English with demonstration of how to make the Full English including fried bread.  This was done as healthily as possible, using olive oil and whole wheat.  Then I was treated to a Reiki treatment for my ailing knee by Malcolm.  But it seems I’m meant to have some injury plaguing me this tour.  As I picked up my laptop and cameras off the sofa, I threw my back out (the usual spot in the left sacroiliac which gets bothered when I pick up heavy things).  Since then at times that’s been worse than the knee (same side).  Before heading for the next concert, we took pix in the backyard, and said our goodbyes to Griffin, a sweet Garfield of a cat, who I liked very much from the start.  Since we took it leisurely in the morning, we took the motorway to Bournemouth.  I was continuing to struggle with a touch of the narcolepsy I’ve been having, of late, on long drives.  MJ tells me that the Lyme meds I’ve been on for the last month (2 kinds of anti-biotics) have been responsible for my sunburn (which has been going on for a week, acquired mostly through car windows (!)), tiredness, and even stomach upsets.  I’d tried to take probiotics for the latter, but obviously, not enough.

It was easy to find BIC and hotel.  MJ got herself a tic and I picked up the ticket that I ordered in January that they never mailed me. Normally, I’ve stayed at the Arlington Hotel a couple of blocks away from BIC in the same valley that holds the wonderful flower park.  This time, I think I reserved at the Hotel Russell Court because it was a little closer to the train station (which we would be taking the next morning) and had free wifi.  It’s ok, but run by a suspicious lot.  And by this I mean they were suspicious of us and our friends, wanted us to pay in advance for the wine at dinner, and when I lost the piece of paper on which the internet password was (and I never used it), they refused to give me another, so I was charged 5 pounds for nothing.  It was not a hospitable atmosphere.   I’ll probably look for another one next time.   Sometimes you wonder why people get into the hospitality biz if they make their guests feel ill at ease.  I found this at Shrewsbury, to some extent in St. Ives and certainly here.  Dinner was a good value for the money (4 courses for 10 pounds), but not the finest quality I’ve ever had. 

In the late afternoon MJ and I had some time to walk around the lower gardens and the seashore.  It was a warm, sunny afternoon – well over 70 degrees for sure.   This is very unusual for this late in October.  I went to the spot where I’d taken photos of this street mosaic, as my community garden now is interested in copying the style for our pathways (i.e., river stone in four colors – red, white, black, grey -- designed with a marine motif, with King Neptune, mermaids, crabs, lobsters, fish, starfish, etc)..   I needed to get in close to see how they laid the stone and what, if anything, they used for grout.  But it turns out they had covered the whole thing with a giant blue tarp and had put a bazaar on top of it.  I was so incredulous… coming all that way with high hopes.  The gardens were lovely, if a bit past their peak.  The “eye” balloon installation was still there, but the balloon was gone.   

Bournemouth Concert

The BIC is a dark, wide, and flat venue, much like Brighton, but perhaps moreso.  Those on the sides of the floor were distant from stage, which was neck height.  You really feel like you’re not as much a part of the concert when the venue is arranged like this.  Tonight, Graeme was back to his hair brown teeth white, but also began with the unsteady on the feet, doc sez he’s overmedicated… with Viagra.  The sound wasn’t quite as crisp as last night, but it was ok.  The harmonies on the Voice and a couple of other songs are still improving.  I’m not sure if extra backing vocals have been added live or whether it’s Memorex.  The crowd was not as up as they had been for RAH and Oxford.  A smattering of folks stood for the usual numbers.  There was some security, though they only approached me after the show when I had the camera around my neck, asking if I’d used it during the show..  I said I’d used it to take pix of friends during intermission and during the day sightseeing.  “Oh, alright then”  Got 88 pix from 3 vantage points, as original seat was worse than at Brighton (way over left, back 7).  There continue to be empty seats at just about every concert – but not many. 

John acknowledged the end of the British tour at in his final spiel.  J, J, and G stayed on stage for a while longer than usual, and then they were gone.  It was very warm in the concert hall by the end.  This time there were lots of folks up front for the last two songs.  We ran down the aisle from quite a ways away, and when John saw me planted in front of him, he jumped a little as if it was a surprise (like where did you come from?)  We said our goodbyes to many leaving for the States and Canada and other parts.  Fewer will travel to Amsterdam.  I’m glad I still have three concerts to go.

We got back to the Russell Court, looked through the night’s pix with Lorraine and Malcolm, said our goodbyes.  The hotel room was too warm; we could only open one window partway, but there was no breeze.  I turned the room upside down again looking for that piece of paper with the internet codes. Argh.  That was the last thing I wanted to do, since I’m also spending considerable amounts of time every night writing these notes.  We have to be up and out to get a 9 am train.  I never found the internet codes and the place would not refund the five pounds.  What with their untrusting behavior, this is low on my list of digs.  If the Arlington Hotel gets wifi, I’m back there (they are on the lower gardens and I’ve happily stayed there twice before).

Bournemouth to Bruges (Brugge), Belgium - Oct 13

This was going to be a long day of hurry up and wait, but Marijane and I got through it really well.  It was a transition to go from England to the continent and the weather was transitioning too, from mild and sunny to cooler and overcast.  We had breakfast at the window table looking out over the water through the haze towards the Portland peninsula.  The cab got us to the Bournemouth station and MJ and I ran into Mas, from Japan, waiting for the same train, so we found three seats at a table facing one another and visited with each other riding into London.  I must admit that I zonked out again a number of times today.  MJ sez that the doxycycline is really doing a number on me what with three types of reactions.  I’d just seen a BBC TV show a few nights ago about some Brits with the latter getting treatment for narcolepsy (much worse than mine) in Albany, NY.. interesting coincidence.  

Reading the newspapers on the way to London, I’m still wondering the extent to which coverage of the financial meltdown in Europe is being covered.  There are all kinds of interconnections here, and one domino falling, causes all kinds of ripple effects.  Britain is bailing out Icelandic banks now because they lent to British municipal and county jurisdictions.  The UK has its own bailout as does Germany.  All of it seems to be linked to bad behavior on the parts of the banks and individuals, and lack of regulation to curb the bad behavior. 

With the help of Underground personnel at the Waterloo station (the one the Bournemouth train came in at), MJ and I made an easy connection up to the new station in St. Pancras (via Bakerloo and Victoria lines).  I don’t believe I’ve ever made that easy a transition from one train line to another.  We walked maybe 10 yards from one to the other… whoo hoo!  I guess they had to move the Chunnel train (Eurostar’s) terminal from Waterloo, where I took it a couple of years ago, up to St. Pancras on the north side of London, because of the need to search luggage, as well as stamp passports (and all this takes room!  I got another France stamp, since the train first goes through France before ending up in Brussels.  We bought some euros in the no commission ATM there (great rate), uploaded the RAH 2 review using the station’s free wifi, and boarded the train.  Thanks to the fire in the Chunnel a couple of weeks ago, they made the leaving time for our train half hour later and had a train for Paris and our train board at the same time on adjacent tracks, same platform.  How stupid is this when they have 10 tracks and few trains?  I had gotten reservations for MJ and me facing window seats around a table.  (Not many of those.)  I understand that the train races along at speeds up to 185 mph.  It has its own track all or most of the way, I think.  It takes only 20 minutes to go from England to France under the English Channel.  Considering that it used to take a couple of hours by ferry, this is just a wonderful development for the countries involved.  It takes about 2 hours to get from London to Brussels.  Isn’t that wild?  I remember the first time I saw the timetable, I thought there was some mistake.  If you go from the continent to England, with the time change, it’s only an hour. 

Getting into Brussels, later than I’d figured, we were able to get the tickets for Bruges to Amsterdam and make a i:32 train to Bruges.  In fact, FYI, if you go by Eurostar to Belgium, they allow you to use that train ticket to go on any Belgian train that day for free.  What a deal!  That probably saved each of us $25.  Getting through the two lines (one for domestic travel, one for international (since I was buying our tickets from Bruges to Amsterdam)) was a reminder of how to do lines in Europe.  They have an involved way of doing it sometimes, with having to go to a computer to answer several questions on a touch screen before you even get your slip with your number on it, and there might be 3 or more separate lines and numbers with a few windows for each, and you see your place by looking at separate LCD signs.  I had to remember this from four years ago, standing in the lines at the Florence post office.  Back to the Belgian train, the land use in Belgium is somewhat unique.  They use just about every square meter for something, and plots of specific plants are small, as are the farms, the forested lands, the towns and the fields.  In one case, there was a farm with one row of each of a number of species.  In another case, sheep were grazing in a long narrow pen that ran alongside the train in one town.  Enroute to Brugge is Gent (Ghent), and if we had continued on the train, we would have ended up in Oostend (means west end), on the North Sea, where the Moodies will perform in a couple of weeks.  Too bad it wasn’t at this point in the tour.  

During the journey, a fellow passenger on the train asked us why we were going to Bruges… the chocolate or the beer?  :-D.  MJ said chocolate for me and beer for her.  He gave us some advice about where to go once in Bruges, as did the cab driver, the hotel clerk, and even a woman at the next table at dinner (who offered it without our asking).  We were advised (twice) to take the boat ride, so that will be early on the agenda.  The number of bicycles parked at the rail stations in Belgium are orders of magnitude higher than you see in the UK.  Almost no one is wearing a helmet.  It’s transportation here.  The land is flat, and the weather moderate most of the time, and that makes it ideal.  BTW, they pronounce it either Brugga (short a – German version) or Brucha (again short a, guttural ch - Flemish).  I think the English version comes from the French (Broozsh).  MJ and I are planning to spend two nights and a day here, having heard wonderful things about the place from many sources.  

The buildings in Brugge remind me of those in Amsterdam.  Many of them have the roofs that have ornate steps or decorative swirls meeting up at a point in the middle.  The buildings are also narrow.  On a previous trip to Amsterdam, I learned the reason for this (at least there).  Taxes were based on building width.  So this encouraged narrow, tall buildings.  Sound like any other place you’ve heard of?  I’m thinking New Amsterdam (aka New York).  Ah, but I digress.  The interior of both the hotel and the restaurant had staircases that curve, and the stair steps are really short.  The effect is you’d better step towards the outside, and hold onto the railing, especially if you’ve got heavy bags to drag up a flight or two.  It was a real workout for us, and it was good there was two of us, since we’d never have been able to get our heaviest bags up there by ourselves.  The hotel, Notre Dame, on Mariastraat, looks as if it’s been renovated recently, but done by my apartment building’s super.  The materials are cheap, and not so artfully installed.  We’re up on floor two (3 in American method of counting), and it’s 22 steps per floor.  There Is free wifi however!  

Wandering the streets looking for a nice restaurant, we decided on one called Belle Epoque with fixed price 20 euro.  The first thing I noticed was that the background music was entirely 1950s American popular music.  Much of it was not rock and roll, though we might like to think that the entire decade was reflective of that music.  There were even European songs that made the hit parade in the US.  The interior was more art deco and older European décor.  It was an odd mixture, but the food was very good.  After going to the ‘t Zand, a square with a gilted statues and fountains, including a neat one with bicyclists, we decided to walk to the Markt (market) square.  Oh My God!  How can I describe this?  Your mouth drops open and eyes grow wide.  It is the quintessential old European square with amazing buildings (they say this is a medieval town originally having been founded around 950).  On two sides there are the cutest cafes one next to another.  Sad to say one of them is a Haagen Dazs, but I shouldn’t totally prejudge here, since the first time I took Eurostar to Brussels, the first thing I ate was a Haagen Dazs chocolate Belgian waffle, which, of course, you can’t get in the U.S.  All the American chains you see here are not what you get in the States.  They adapt to the tastes of the culture they’re in.  On the way back to the hotel, we could see the unique and amazing designs of the church steeples.  Also, and I’m not exaggerating here, there are chocolate shops every half block or so, and these are not Hersheys chocolates either.  They have the most unusual designs and types (just looking in the windows) and I’m sure the taste will be out of this world.  This will be a really enjoyable visit, from a visual point-of-view, and gastronomically as well.

Bruges day 2

I was woken at 8 am by a cacaphony from the two churches nearby plus all the shouting from schoolchildren attending the school(s).   During the day there seems to be a church bell going quite often and I started using it to keep track of time rather than my watch.

Breakfast was going to be continental, of course, meaning no full English, but breads, cereals, maybe yogurt, but they offered an egg in its shell as well, and we got fresh squeezed OJ and my hot chockie.  I’m a happy camper.  Belgium, and particularly Bruges, is known for its chocolate (how did I not know this??).  In this regard, it has not disappointed and it was a pleasant surprise.  We decided to take the boat ride a couple of blocks from the Notre Dame hotel.  The weather was fantastic.  There was a mackerel sky, the weather was clear and mild.  There were only a few of us that took the canal boat tour, and though there aren’t as many canals as Venice or Amsterdam, there were several miles of canals of varying age, and the tour was just outstanding.  The tour guide was from Nottingham originally, but has lived in Brugge since the 1950s.  Every turn the boat made was full of gorgeous 17^th and 18^th century townhouses with stepped or swan’s neck style roof/cornice, though we were told that some of the buildings go as far back as the 1200s (the city was founded in the 10^th century and was a big mercantile center for most of the middle ages).  Some of the buildings abutting the canals reminded me of Venice, with parking places (archways) for boats, steps going down from doorways to the water, and so forth.  The bridges over the canals are like Venice too, quite arched, though one big difference is, of course, size of street is narrower in Venice, and the other is, there are no cars in Venice.  Everything is transported on foot or handcart there.  I can’t recall seeing any traffic lights at all and no roundabouts in Brugge.  At one point the guide was pointing out swans, ducks, geese, and at another he pointed to a window above and there was a dog hanging out watching the boat go by.  I was able to get a fantastic shot, water to sky including the narrow building and the big ‘old yeller’ kind of dog.  Zooming in on the pic later, it was so funny.  The dog is yawning.. big time, eyes squeezed shut.  There are so many unique towers on churches and other buildings.  The red/orange/green/yellow ivy artfully adorns many of them.  There are flowers as well.  The clock bells are big, old and have their own chiming patterns.  There are horse-drawn carriages.  There are cafes everywhere.  The shops are unique with almost no chains stores.  The streets are all cobbled.  It’s just breathtaking.  At the same time, since we are here in the off-season, it’s really easy to get around.  There’s no garbage on the street, folks are bicycling around here and there – probably as many bikes as cars, and there are not many of either. 

After the boat ride, which was a bargain for 6 euros 30 cents for about 45 minutes, which had so much information and visuals packed in neither MJ nor I could process it all, we set off on foot to meander the streets.  Eventually, we picked up a walking tour map from the local tourist office, and set off on that (only 5 km but with some extra wanderings and breaks to eat and shop, we didn’t get back to the hotel until about 8 pm).  Walking down the Mariastraat, on which the cathedral and our hotel sits, I started checking out a few of the many many chocolate shops.  This place has an UNREAL number and quality of such shops.  I just took to buying a small bag of a few chocolates, handselected, from each (all dark chocolates, except for one tin, which has a picture of Brugge the way it looked today, with the leaves having started to turn several days ago, so a mixture of autumn hues and greens.  I gathered chocolates here and there throughout the day.  MJ led me back to one of the places that she figured we’d get our Belgian waffles for lunch.  Mine was to die for.  At this place, one has a choice of either a waffle with more sugar or more crunch.  I chose the latter with chocolate ice cream and chocolate sauce.  The ice cream was really like Italian dark chocolate gelato, and the sauce was the amazingly perfect Belgian combo of dark chocolate, smooth and sweet, hardening and becoming crunchy as it lay on the ice cream.  They sprinkled powdered sugar on it too.  That was good for lunch. 

We continued on the walking tour, snapping pix as we went.  I had forgotten whether I’d downloaded or downloaded and deleted the Bournemouth pix from my card (and forgot which) so borrowed MJ’s old card, which had lots of room on it, so I was good.  In the canals and Minnewater lake (and yes, I get that Minne means water in upper Midwest Indian dialects, but I think Minne must mean something else here), there were all the same waterfowl we saw in London’s Hyde Park, and a few more.  There was one that looked like a coot, but had a red marking on its face and didn’t have webbed feet.  There was another thing that followed a particular swan around, had a fan tail, white, black, and red markings, and bobbed its head way forward every four or five steps or so.  Maybe a relative to our turkey?  It was a really weird bird.  And there were a couple of ducks in white, black and grey.  Minnewater is where barges for the canal segment between Gent and Brugge would tie up, but now they refer to it as a romantic lake.  Lovely flower gardens (still blooming) and promenade are nearby as well.  We were getting a little bit tired, so stopped at a café near the area where the horse and carriages congregate (and where there were 15 or so swans and other waterfowl).  I had more ice cream and MJ had some afternoon tea with a giant crepe with butter and brown sugar.  Great nutrition, eh?

Continuing along the route, it became apparent that not only is Brugge big on chocolate, but they also have door to door lace shops.  At one point, we came upon a clothing shop that had a very attractive coat in the window.  Just for kicks I went in to try it on, and ended up getting it.  It’s a “driving” coat, very fine wool coat, loden green, Austrian, with leather buttons, classic styling, fits well, comes down to the knee.  They were so low tech they couldn’t take a credit card!  Had to find a bank.  This town does not have ATMs except in the occasional bank.  Fifteen minutes later I got back there, paid cash, left with coat and no receipt.  No cash register.  This city is a bit behind the times (as we noted with the lack of traffic lights and such), and yet their train station is bigger than any Amtrak station in the U.S. (as are most train stations I’ve been in there)   We had twice seen this scarf that I liked hanging in a display outside another store around the corner.  We found our way back there and though I didn’t like it ultimately, went into the store, found another that went really well with the coat (made of wool and silk) and got it.  Again, no cash register, so got a handmade receipt (and went back to the other store and got the same). 

Since none of the restaurants we have encountered in Brugge would serve tap water when asked (this reminded me of the 1969 trip where you couldn’t get tap water anywhere and they only sold bottled water – still (i.e. not carbonated) or not), I stopped into a small grocery and got a bottle to take with me to restaurants.  Now, quite laden, with this, the coat, scarf, and my camera, both lenses, and chocolates, we got to this little square where a couple of artists were selling their wares.  One was doing pen and ink with and without additional watercolors of scenes of Brugge.  I bought a small framed one of the place we’d spent so much time, with an arched bridge and the swans, old buildings, trees and grass.  The mat is similar green to that of my office, and the wood frame matches the woods of my desks, and I might just put it above my desk.

Coming round towards the end of the tour of town, we got to Markt, this time in daylight, and saw the amazing HUGE ornate city hall and museum, which we now had no time to visit, though I’d heard good things about it.  And there was the post office, seemingly open.  I’d thought it would be a good idea if I could send the coat and painting back home.  But after getting a number out of an electronic kiosk and finding a box to pack them in, they told me that they closed 2 minutes ago.  Argh!!

Half of the Markt square was bordered by restaurant/cafes and we checked half of them out to see which one to eat at.  Remarkably, all had a fixed price deal, ranging in price in the high teens, and all of the choices for the fixed price deal in all the cafes were pretty much the same.  Most of the food choices mentioned they were prepared Brugge-style, so I inquired at a few of them as to what this meant (beef, rabbit, and pork all done this way).   It means cooked with dark beer!  Ick.  There were some fish dishes (always mussels as one choice, which MJ wanted) and this dish, chicken waterkooi, which sounded less than enchanting when someone described it to me.  I got a pedestrian lamb and potato stew (no veggies).  At least it was good to sit down.  Though most recent days I’d been dealing with flushed face / sunburn, stomach, back and knee issues, it looked like maybe I was getting over the sunburn, but no…   So, feeling flush, as it were, to finish off the meal, I got some chocolate ice cream with the fantastic chocolate sauce.  Yummmm.  

Getting back to the hotel by about 8, I thought I’d finally catch up on some travelogues, downloading pix, and repacking, and get to bed early since the cathedral and churches nearby would rocket me out of bed at 8 am sharp with their bells, but no.  MJ’s old card with my new pix of Brugge would not be recognized, and no amount of rebooting, trying different methods of card reading, etc. would fix that, and it caused the laptop to freeze each time I tried.  This sort of thing happened on the Monaco trip shortly before arriving in Nice, so I went to a photo store and with photo recovery software, they were able to burn a CD with the photos.  This is a bit more serious, with the entire card not recognized, but at least you see the photos in the camera.  It’s not how we wanted to spend our first day in Amsterdam (spending time in a camera store).

Bruge to Amsterdam – Oct 15

I let the church bells wake me, and that was a nice gentle awakening.  MJ and I struggled with the big bags down the steep, narrow, twisting staircase, taking 3 trips again for the 4 floor descent.  After a couple of croissants and a couple of small glasses of fresh squeezed OJ, I was ready to go.  At the train station, we were extremely lucky to have a brand new escalator to get to our train.  It looks like they all (and the elevators) have just been put in.  There are 10, count ‘em Ten big cranes around the train station, and they’re obviously doing lots of construction there.  There was a giant 4 story block square pit adjacent to the Gent (Ghent) train station as well, on our way towards Amsterdam.  We were again lucky that the conductor was nearby just before arriving in Antwerpen, where we needed to switch.  He gave us our platform and time out for the next train to Amsterdam (we didn’t have specific train or seat reservations).  And miracle bleu, there was an elevator down to our platform.  Antwerp station is part old part new.  You can see the front of it from the inside, which looks original and quite old.  We were waiting on the lower floor, and everything is open.  Across the way, you can see a train on the upper level and another below it.  We waited until the time our train was to come, and this fairly short thing covered in 1980s New York style graffiti came up.  I was pretty surprised that this would be our train to Amsterdam, but we got on.  There was lots of room.  We got settled, and then they mentioned in 2 languages (thankfully) that this was the train to Essen. I’m going… Essen???  I know of one in Germany, but that’s not close by.  Then the other passengers said that the train was not going to Amsterdam.  Uh oh!!!  You never saw us move so fast with probably at this point 70+ pounds of luggage each.  I’ve tried hard not to be buying much and not acquiring too many pamphlets and booklets, but Brugge did a number on that, and in the repack this morning, it was clear I’ve got a nice sheaf of paper plus the chocolate and new coat and scarf.  Anyway, back to the Antwerp station, I went over to the train across the platform waiting to go to Bruxelles Zuid (Brussels south), though Midi is in the same station somehow… another story… and the engineer told me the Amsterdam train was delayed 30 minutes.  Whew.  Then we figured out that on the LED overhead sign with the train destination and time in yellow, the figure in red next to it (0:33) at this point showed the minutes of delay.  OK.  It gave me time to sit down and write this bit.  

It was mid-late afternoon by the time we got in.  I had not printed out a map of where the Hotel Seasonstar was, and I had a vague notion which turned out to be not exactly right.  Walked the length of the still-under-reconstruction Amsterdam Centraal. (There had been cranes and massive construction two years ago as well.)  All I was able to get was a printout of downtown Amsterdam.  That proved good enough.  Thankfully, we only went a couple of blocks out of our way, dragging the luggage, before finding out where the hotel was on the map.  It had begun to rain just as we got to the hotel.  Much of the time in Amsterdam was rainy or threatening, but some of it was brisk and partly cloudy.  The hotel gave us a room in the attic of a 5 story hotel, and thankfully, there was a lift.  J   Having been on the equivalent of the 4^th or 5^th floor (US counting) as we were the last two nights, without a lift was tough.  This time, we’re 2 blocks from the train, on a major street with street cars, which sound a little like thunder at times plus the clanging bells.

It’s one of those rooms where you stick your plastic room card into the slot at the door (on the inside, that is) to turn on the lights.  Caution to new travelers – if you take your card out as you leave the room, anything you’ve left inside to charge up won’t charge.   There were structural members coming up from the floor angling into the center of the ceiling and it was tight finding space for our luggage.  You have to be careful where you walk or you’ll get beaned.  But the views were great in two directions.  There are so many ways to flush a toilet in Europe.  Some have push buttons (for heavy and for light loads to save water – these are another environmental technology that the US just hasn’t adopted), some still have the old pull chains off the ceiling. 

We headed out into the on and off drizzle into the local equivalent of the lanes or Old Town, narrow shopping streets, now mostly for tourists, mostly pedestrianized, but bicycles are everywhere, of course, and the occasional car comes from nowhere.  One of the first things we saw was Chinese Massage.  We both needed it with all the bag schlepping we’d done today (down hotel steps at Brugge, on and off 3 trains, and through the streets of Amsterdam.  It was 20 euro for 30 minutes, and was a good deal and good job.  I got some on the knee, the sacroiliac, and neck/shoulders.  We had a bit to eat then; MJ had her special Amsterdam French fries (there are special places where they serve just fries served as many as 20 different ways), and me with something like a cross between a crostini and a tiny pizza.  We then hit a coffee shop; MJ inhaled and I got some chocolate cake.  For those who haven’t been to Amsterdam, a couple of the main industries within the large tourism sector are sex shops of all kinds (even the tourist knick knack shops have sex-oriented key chains, lighters, patches, T-shirts, etc. and the coffee shops with pot paraphernalia.  It’s legal there, and I hear that when the locals have bad news, instead of crying in their beer, they go to a coffee house.  We bought 24 hour train passes and got down to the Heinecken Hall on the 54 train from Centraal without incident.

Amsterdam Concert 1

Coming into the venue, I wasn’t sure about security, but saw that they were searching bags (first time this tour for me).  I had my big camera in the bag just covered by a shirt.  He probably felt it, but let me through anyway, confiscating my plastic bottle with maybe 2 oz of liquid.  I really needed that later!  Like Brighton and Bournemouth, the Heinecken Hall is rectangular and flat.  If you want beer during the intermission, you put in your money to a machine, push the button according to the menu item, all of which are listed, and get a receipt or chit to use for the purchase.  I guess that does take away a lot of the time used by those dispensing the product, and more beers can be sold faster.  Maybe they should just put in vending machines and be done with it!

Inside, we had folks from all over, as with RAH.  The first two rows may have been mainly MBT tix, I think.  There were two people in front of me that I didn’t recognize, who wouldn’t stand for the ovations.  No matter.  I did anyway.

During the show I heard parts of harmonies I’d never heard before, like Norda’s individual contribution on 3 part harmonies and differentiating John from Justin when they are both singing the same notes.  I’m not sure if it was the acoustics, the sound levels, or something else.  The concert was great.  I was feeling strange; the concert seemed longer than usual.  At the end, I remembered from before how the Dutch (particularly the men) really like to sing loud during Question and SeeSaw.  In fact, they sang during Nights and Never Comes the Day (we haven’t heard Voices in the Sky since before London).  And they sang along with the songs piped in on the PA system during the intermission!  Thankfully they’re in tune. 

Unfortunately, also during intermission, while I was hunting in my bag for some chocolates I’d bought in Brugge, a security guy came out of nowhere and asked to see my camera.  I’d already put the camera away, but dug it out.  I knew I was busted, and he took me out to the very front of the venue, though crowds and crowds and crowds.  This took forever, there was a wheelchair in front of me, and I lost sight of the guy a few times.  The whole experience was surreal.  I might have gotten jostled.  Who knows?  The thought crossed my mind to just get lost in the crowd, but I thought he might come find me again and throw me out.  As we approached the entrance, I thought he might actually be throwing me out since the place they confiscated the camera was right near the front doors.  I got this little square piece of paper that just said “13” on it.  Staggering through the crowds back to my place, I felt a bit shell-shocked.  I kept feeling the paper in my pocket during the second half, taking it out to read it now and then, still wondering… did this really happen?  The drumstick toss is back to its old self (it was only in the first few shows before RAH that they didn’t do it, sticking to the self toss).  I wonder if it was restored for the usual fans that expect it, or something else.  I enjoyed the concert just as much without the camera, and when the time came, crawled over the empty front row to get to the crowd at the stage.  Thankfully, afterwards I got the camera back and all the photos I took in the first half (34) were there.  There were lots of smiles in the photos I took.  Anne G from Lancaster, PA, MJ, and I had some drinks (well, OJ for me) since my mouth was dry as cotton, we got some window food (waffle covered with chocolate in my case), then walked Anne to her hotel and us to ours for some much-needed rest. 

Amsterdam day 2

Since our hotel had free wifi (yea!) I checked email after the continental breakfast.  There were no croissants!  We’ve moved too far away from France.  In the email I found that those #$(%ds at Practical / ace car rental at Heathrow submitted the incorrect 717 pound Mastercard charge for my 10 day car rental.  They are really the worst kind of crook.  They told me specifically that it was just a clerical error to have made out the 717, and then had me sign a credit receipt to bring the charge down to 171 pounds, which they obviously never submitted.  And www.carrental.com, which is the broker I used to get this deal also said it was surely a clerical error when I wrote to them a couple of weeks ago about the initial receipt.  Now that they actually did not submit a correction, they should both be reported to the authorities.  I think because I’m foreign, they may be able to get away with this fraud.  We’ll see.  I hate all the ways we have to waste time just to stand still these days.

 Since it stopped raining for a while, we went out to do a canal boat tour.  Many of the roads in Amsterdam end in Gracht, which means canal, and is pronounced Chracht, with both ch’s being guttural.  It was good, in that the boat got us around the canals, but it cost twice as much as the Brugge tour, and was in four or five languages, so we got only a fraction of the information as before when it was all in English with a fellow who talked nonstop (asking us periodically if he were talking too much).  Since one of the things we wanted to do in Amsterdam was get some certified for USA import Dutch tulips, we headed for the New Market.  But it wasn’t a market today, so continued walking through the large red light district.  The one bunch of bulbs we’d seen yesterday that were certified were no different than what we could get at home, so we passed.

After a while of on and off drizzle/rain, we stopped at a small outdoor café.  I got a crepe with ham, cheese and mushroom and a big orange juice (the only size – 5 euros just for the juice – that’s maybe $7!)  They wouldn’t have given me tap water (you just don’t bother to ask after a while.)  There was a couple from Oregon at the next table, who allowed us to join them when it started to hail and thunder quite persistently (and we were outside the awning).  It’s pretty amazing that I’ve seen 2 hail storms on this trip.  I’ve rarely seen it ever before.  After that, we just cruised the streets and canals, going into tourist shops, buying a few presents. 

Amsterdam Concert 2

This night, recalling the unhappy incident the night before, I brought my smaller camera.  There was a Big mess up at the beginning of Singer.  I’ve never heard the two drummers be so off ever before.  Gordon had this horrified look on his face, looking over to Graeme for some signal as to what to do.  I wonder if they have ever put together a rule of thumb, like, when in doubt, follow Graeme?  It doesn’t look like it.  Justin took over and righted it.  He didn’t seem too amused.  He also mispicked some of the lead to December Snow, and not happy about that either.  I was still hearing singing and other parts that I hadn’t heard before, so maybe it’s good acoustics or they’ve improved the balance.  Everybody in the audience was singing frequently, loudly, maybe every other song.  This night we were treated to Voices in the Sky and people sang that!  I must admit, I like it because it’s a more rare concert song.  The most attention was given by the Jays to fans far right, though there was quite a clump of the traveling fans that were clustered in the first 3 rows right of center.  The stick toss was flawless and Graeme is back to beaming at Norda when he gets it right.  I forgot to mention, but glow sticks have mainly been in evidence in bigger venues like RAH and Amsterdam…  not so much in the others.  Graeme and John had a smiling, animated discussion at the end of show after Graeme seemed to point in my direction (got 3 pix).   I wish I knew what they said.  Got 71 pix in all.  Security left me alone, though they were quite thorough in inspection of the bag going in.   Had to crawl over seats to get down front again.  Again tonight there was nice loud singing for Question and even some for See Saw.   I really enjoy that because I can sing boisterously and nobody will mind.

To Copenhagen, Stockholm – Oct 17

I got up at 6:15 to get to the train by 7 – no breakfast for me at the hotel this morning.  This was going to be one of those “finicky dees” as a Scottish lady bike tour leader once said (post-2002 UK tour).  Thanks to numerous phone calls to Denmark to get the rest of the train reservations for my tour a few weeks ago, and to Bernadette from the Netherlands in receiving and transmitting the tickets to me, I’d arranged to go from Amsterdam to Duisburg, Germany, change to a train to Hamburg, change to another for Koebenhavn (pronounced Kerbenhaun, where the r is not a hard one), another from there to Malmo (prounced Malmer – again not a hard r).  That “O” with a slash through it, often written “oe”, is hard to describe…  If you make an “er” sound and then make your mouth look as if it’s saying O, you’ve got it.  The last train is to be an overnight train from Malmo to Stockholm, arriving tomorrow morning at 5:55 am.  This was really the only way I could squeeze it in, do the concert and have some time in Kobenhavn too, since my flight home leaves from Hamburg at 9 am on the 22^nd. 

Arriving at Amsterdam Centraal, I had only about a euro in coin left, which I thought was smart since I was headed into Kroner countries, but turned out to have been penny wise pound foolish (if I’m not mixing metaphors, if not currencies).  I couldn’t buy a croissant with that little money and they wouldn’t take a credit card, so I hoped to get some Euros later.

One has to be careful in boarding trains in Europe, as I should have learned in Antwerpen, having gotten on a graffitied commuter train rather than the Intercontinental Express (ICE), which is far nicer.  So, this morning, half asleep, I got up to the #7 platform at Amsterdam Centraal and got on the train that was sitting there without ascertaining where it was going.  I did ask immediately to those already sitting if it was going to Duisberg… No, it was going to Essen (couldn’t be Germany, so it had to be a local).  It looked it.  I rushed off with my bags and saw someone else running down the platform to the other train.  Whew!  One crisis averted.  With the huge size of these train stations, they still don’t have enough platforms for all the trains, so they double up, sending one in one direction and the other in the other.

I hadn’t quite gotten the hang of the trainboard reservation system yet, being early and not realizing that the Danish train agent I’d talked to had gotten me some.  They cost money, the specific seat reservations, but on some trains they are either required or highly recommended.  I remember back in ’04 going the 20 minute ride from Nice to Monaco.  It was like the NYC subway at rush hour… No,… worse, and in horrid heat and humidity.  But I digress.   Here, I entered at the food car, and since there were open seats, sat down.  I wanted to get that croissant and either juice or hot chockie anyway.  It was drizzling and chilly outside.  I think by having done that I ended up having to pay through the nose for it.  They wouldn’t take a card for less than 10 euro, so I got all three items.  Ouch, that was an expensive mistake.  Once satiated, I retired to one of those 6 person compartments in second class.  Man, have these evolved since I was last in one, back in 1984, a six hour journey from Amsterdam to Paris.  Then, they looked something like the compartments in the Beatles’ movie Hard Day’s Night with 2 benches facing one another.  Now, there are 3 individual seats with curved head rests and soft pillows built in, on each side of the compartment as you enter, with a European-styled fold-down table running down the middle.  The one I chose was dark with a lady sleeping, so went in there.  Any hope for sleep was dashed by two ticket checks and a passport check upon arriving in Germany.  Compared with the laxity of the other countries, where you might not even see a conductor, Germany runs a much more officious ship. 

Getting off in Duisburg, I had maybe 15-20 minutes inbetween trains, so went off in search of a newspaper.  Dragging my stuff, I had to go quite some ways, and then ran into the credit card minimum problem again.  I had to break down and got some more euros from an ATM.  Several German newspapers, and the London Times which I bought, all featured variations on a photo of John McCain and Barack Obama walking after the last debate; the latter is looking down, not much expression; McCain is following him bug-eyed, his mouth half open with tongue and both hands/arms sticking out in front of him.  I wonder if this picture got much play in U.S. papers.  I showed it to some Dutch women waiting on the platform for the Hamburg train… they all giggled.  I’ll leave it to your imagination about what they said McCain looked like. 

I got on the train, which was uncharacteristically late, and just found a seat.  Thing was, I was in the wrong car for my reservation… off by four.  Since it wasn’t crowded, I thought I’d be ok, but after a while, I had to find another seat.  I was still tired, and nodded off a bit or read the paper.  The landscape was green, some little forests, some fields with cattle and horses, mainly, and some agriculture.  It’s not as dissected as in Belgium, with bigger tracts for each type of land use.  There were also clusters of the new, huge windmills as I went north.  These are the same kind that I’d seen out west in recent years (turned out to be Vestas, from Denmark). 

Hamburg’s a big place and most of us got off there.  I was only going to have something like 15 minutes to change trains, but with it being a little late, there was a rush to get upstairs, over 5 platforms and down.  I saw the train with the Danish crown on the back end, and I paid attention to the fact that it was 5b, and not easily seeing the “Wagn” or “Vogn” where my reservation was, walking past the 5a section on the platform, I boarded with the hordes up at 5b.  This was quite an unexpected situation.  All of us getting on the Kobenhavn end of the train (the front end) barely got on before they shut the doors.  We had to stand, jammed with our bags in the vestibules.  There was nowhere to sit, and after a while, I figured I was 2 cars ahead of where I needed to be.  I had to wait until the train arrived in Luebeck to get off, run back and get my seat.  The seat was quite a nice one too, window, facing forward with a table, but the train was packed all the way.  I had to throw my big rolling duffel in the upper luggage compartment (got some help with that!).   Moving around the train involved jumping over people and bags. 

We went over a number of very very very long bridges, which probably did not exist when I was last in Denmark (1969).  These connect the mainland to the various islands, including the one Kobenhavn is on.  There is one extremely long stretch, where you can barely see the island across the water, and for that one, the train took a ferry ride.  I’d never done this before.  As with the car drivers, we were all asked to come to the upper decks during the voyage.  I paid attention to the deck number and location 2 of 6 floors, D of E locations fore to aft, so I could easily get back to my seat.  They lock the trains when you are up top.   It was about 45 minutes.  There were pretty nice conditions today – but I wouldn’t want to do that in a storm…

I was supposed to have a four hour layover in Koebenhavn.  Getting there just before dark, since I couldn’t find an information kiosk, I got myself a map, in English, from the still-open Post office station inside the station, found what will be my hotel for the 20^th and 21^st quickly (it’s only a block or so from the train station, and there is an older sign on it, saying it’s a Mission Hotel, and I began to wonder if this was the same hotel my folks and I stayed in when we were there in 1969.  It looked familiar and I remember it being popular and inexpensive at the time.  I was later told it’s been there for quite some time.  This hotel was supposed to have internet, but it wasn’t working.  I left my big bag in storage there (unlocked, and crossing fingers), and went out for a walk, intending to stop in again before taking the train to Malmo.  But I did all the necessary transfers of extra sweater, laptop, cameras, passport, trip itinerary bible, tickets, toiletries, that I would need for my two days in Sweden into my knapsack and camera bag.  I needed that extra sweater even on the walkabout.  It was getting down to the 30s and the bike jacket alone just didn’t cut it.  I also figured I’d better get some Danish Kroners.  They don’t do Euros there.  The Danish Kroner is worth quite a bit less than any of the currencies I’d used so far.  You talk in tens or hundreds of Kroner for everyday purchases.  I had intended to just walk up and down one of the major streets with lots of restaurants, but then came upon Tivoli Gardens.  I’d spent a good part of the 3 days in 1969 including my 16^th birthday there having a blast.  It’s where I caught part of a concert by the Kinks.  It was 125 years old, even then.  The manager at the Hotel Nebo had said it was closed for the season except for a few special openings – there was one this afternoon for the kids, he said.  When I saw that it was open and wouldn’t be after this Sunday (the day of the concert), I figured I’d better go in.  It was about 7:30 and my next ticket’s departure time was 23:08 (11:08 pm) so I figured I had time.  I walked around pretty much the whole thing, and boy was it jammed with kids and families.  It was dressed up for Halloween as well, so got lots of pix with flash and time exposures.  It’s such a fanciful place.  The lights are used creatively.  I came upon the stage door of the main venue in there, though I know there were lots of shows going on at one time the summer I was there.  I got myself a Danish waffle (like a pizelle) with chocolate ice cream and choc sauce.  It was not nearly as nice as the one in Belgium, but a reasonable facsimile.  The little botanical garden was nice and the flash shots turned out well, surprisingly.  I looked at some of the winter garments that the stands were selling, Nordic hats, gloves, etc.  but couldn’t bring myself to buy anything.  I’m sure if I wanted that sort of thing, I could get it at a ski resort in the Northeast this winter.  I swung around the back of the train station to where the bus that I would take to the venue on Sunday would leave from (the 5A).  I found out where to get it, what it should say on it, and how much it would cost (20 Kroner each way).  Then, I thought I’d walk through the station to get to the Nebo, and, casually looking at the boards, saw train times for the next leg of my journey to Malmo.  There was one leaving in a few minutes.  I looked at the tickets again and saw that there was no particular time mentioned for that leg of my journey.  It was the night train from Malmo to Stockholm that left at 23:08!!   Aaaarghhh!    Man, that was close.  If I missed the night train, I would have had to find lodging in Koebenhavn or Malmo at 11 o’clock at night.  And the next train to Stockholm would have taken much of the next day.  So I jumped on the next train to Malmo and had time to make the switch there.  Also, though my sleeping accommodation ticket had on it “Herrn”, the nice people who checked me into the night train changed it so that I would share a sleeping compartment with a woman…  The bed didn’t cost very much extra at all..  in stark contrast with Amtrak, though Amtrak doesn’t have shared sleeping arrangements.  I remember doing this on a Rome to Milan night train as well back in 2004.  Do Americans not want to share or is Amtrak out of step?

Stockholm

This ride was something else, 3 bunk beds and I was on top.  It was a long climb to the top.  It was narrow, but warm enough, though I slept in my clothes and sweater and there was a small comforter.  We got in late (which was good) around 6:45 and got out by 7.   At the train info office I was lucky that the fellow had a map of Stockholm for me.   You can’t always depend on getting tourist info at train stations as you used to always be able to.  Trying to save me money on my one-day transit ticket, he suggested I have some breakfast, come back and then get the 24 hour pass, but I’ll probably end up getting a single ticket back to the main station for the last run tomorrow morning, since I don’t expect I’ll want to be taking the train in before 7:30 am for the 10:20 train back to Koebenhavn.  I was able to pay for the meal with Danish Kroner and got Swedish in change for my fresh squeezed OJ and a thing that looked like a chocolate rum ball without the rum.  No croissants there.  The Swedish Kroner are worth even less than the Danish (I think they said 100 Danish = 140 Swedish).  Later, I found out it’s about 7 SK to the US Dollar.  The Kroners often have a hole in the middle.  I’ve collected quite a few of the shiniest ones for myself and grand niece and nephew.  I used to be a coin collector as a kid, and had turned my father on to it as well.  

The T was an easy 3 stops and some walking to the hotel.  The room, bathroom down the hall, was ready (no window, saved some cash) and here I sit writing (free wifi!)   My second, small breakfast, since the fellow at the front desk of the Alexandra hotel graciously offered, was rather different from English or European breakfast.  Here you have sliced meats, tomato, cucumber and hard crackers, as well as usual juices, coffee, tea, rolls, toast, and cereals.  There was regular and mild yogurts that you pour out of a package.  As you move north and east from France, the breakfast changes in character.

This was to be my main day in Stockholm, so I had to make the most of it.  I’ve never been to Sweden before, which was the reason I’d worked so hard to squeeze this in.  The hotel guy gave me another map and circled a bunch of items on it, and I was off.  Stockholm is spread out on something like 14 islands and there are 30,000 islands in the archipelago.  Who knew?  I’d already been on three just to get to the hotel.  Before the day was done, I would cross 8 bridges, walk miles of harbor shoreline, five islands and the mainland, toured the Nordic museum (plus a big lunch in another museum), a 2 hour boat tour, which got us out beyond the locks that protect the inner harbor, briefly into the Baltic Sea and which got me quite chilled since I chose to sit outside to get better pix, a small military parade at noon (it looked like it could have been something like the leadup to changing of the guard), snapped lots of pix, including recycling bins and bicycle lanes.  One bike lane had the foot-wide bike symbol inlaid into the ground in what looked like brass or bronze!  Now we’re talking!  None of this pansy paint stuff!  Demarcations of the lanes for walking, cycling and driving were often bricks.  This has actually been true in all the countries I just visited to one extent or another.  The bricks are sometimes even laid to demarcate different directions for walking and cycling. 

The buildings in Stockholm are typically a few centuries old and fairly low and boxy, having a skyline that looks more like Paris or Washington, and they like it that way.  The colors are on the light, even pastel side, not dark brick color, even if brick was used, which I found to be unusual for a northern country.  The trees are at a perfect state of changing, and many are yellow with a few oranges or reds.  I also ‘did’ the old Town (Gamla) twice, and managing to find the same konditerei twice.  (I tried this little pastry called Sarah Bernhardt…  I thought that was a strange name, but it was very good, with orange filling and chocolate filling separated by a cake layer and dipped in chocolate.  It’s not that big a pastry, so I got the last five when I swung through in the evening for later consumption (who knows, maybe waiting in line for the last Moodies concert at Amager Bio.  In actuality, I ended up taking a few all the way home. ) Along the way, as it was really brisk but sunny in the morning, I bought another nice long and wide scarf which somehow goes with my blue jacket as well as my brown and green things.  Since I finally remembered to go to an apothek to get something for the persistent sunburn rash on my nose and cheeks, which I figure has come from sun sensitivity from the Lyme meds, I exited with SPF 50 suncream and a B5 cream.  By the time I got back to the hotel, my puppies (and back) were hurting, but since evening fell early here (I was taking sunset shots before 5:30), I’ve got a long evening to recuperate and write up these notes.  Somehow, I’ve finally sat still long enough to see that I’ve recently acquired four big bruises, one on an arm, a shin, and others where you normally don’t get bruises (in a diagonal line across my torso… ) and I don’t know how!   I’d seen the first one was from that first night in Amsterdam, and the others look the same age.  What happened that night?

I am finding that the experience in Sweden (and Denmark) is a bit more difficult than the Low countries.  The language has got more elements that are not derived from either English, German, or romance languages, so I’m not as easily able to dope out restaurant menus, signage and such, getting maybe one out of four words on average.  So it’s really helpful that most people I’ve needed to ask something of in English knew enough to help.  I’m remembering certain things from 1969 (like smor brod, where the first ‘o’ is slashed,  is – translated - smeared bread – often with fishy and/or creamy things).   I’m not into eating fisk or other seafood, and they serve precious few veggies up here, unless they are root vegetables like potatoes and carrots.  Sandwiches are big here.  Smorgasbords are expensive though, and I seem to recall that they were full of fish and fish pastes, so just as well to skip them.  I will say that the ice cream I had late this afternoon was nice and dark J and the lady took my last 19 kroner (she forgave the 20^th), so I’m having to figure how to get a single subway ride back to the station tomorrow morning without having to get at least 100 SK from an ATM. 

To Copenhagen… again – October 19

The trip to from Stockholm to Copenhagen was not a happy one.  The train was jammed.  I found my Vogn and siddeplads, which was a window facing forwards (was happy about that), but it was on the south side of the train, so my photosensitivity was going to be taxed again.  But worst was the pair across the aisle, a screaming, whining child and a very patient father.  I’d really wanted to enjoy seeing Sweden, even if at train speed, but ended up zonking out for much of the time, in part from exhaustion, part from a small migraine, and in part happy to get away from the screaming.  The forests were a lovely combination of yellow deciduous and evergreen with lakes, rivers and marshes.  I made my switch in Malmo again (so good to get off that train).  I think my stomach had just about had enough, and was queasy most of the trip; I didn’t eat anything, so got weaker.  This time crossing over the strait between Sweden and Denmark in the light, I was able to enjoy it on the new long bridge.  Back in ’69, when we visited Elsinore castle, Denmark and Helsingoer, Sweden was just across the way, I thought it would be so obvious to build a bridge.  I mean, they have built bridges across Tampa Bay that are 10 miles long, including the causeways.  (My step-father, the professor, laughed at the thought when I suggested it).   Now they have the bridge, and it was built further south, a longer stretch, but connecting the Koebenhavn airport, just south of town, with Malmo (makes more sense, and only takes less than 10 minutes for the crossing). 

By the time I found my rolling duffel where I’d left it at the Hotel Nebo (Yea!) and unloaded everything in the hotel room, I just collapsed into the bed for an hour.  But I had to get up, get ready for the show, my last on this tour, and get there, so found the 5A bus towards the airport, found some people on the bus who were actually going to the concert, but later than me, so they told me where to get off and pointed me in the right direction.  I must say, I’ve never had too much trouble getting accurate directions, and just about everybody knows enough English to help.   There are even quite a few signs in English.

Copenhagen concert

This concert was so different in so many ways.  From the outside it doesn’t even look like a venue and looked like we were coming in the back door as I heard someone say. Already standing in line when I arrived around 5:30, I met up with the few Brits and Americans who made it here for the show, Bernadette was there from the Netherlands, and met again some of the Danes I’d met this tour.  If I had arrived much later, I wouldn’t have had my place at the stage.   Going in, they stamped the back of our wrists, just as if we were going into a bar show.  The Head of Security, who had a shirt with that across the chest, in English, was well in evidence before the show as we stood there waiting, but I didn’t notice searching when I went in or during the show.   To be safe, I brought only the small camera.

As you may have heard, the venue is small.  It reminds me of the Highline in NYC.  The venue is wider than it is deep with a small balcony.  I was between John/Gordy and Paul, and there were maybe another 6-8 people standing to my right before the edge of the room.  Everybody stands, even in the balcony.  I heard estimates from between 500 to 1200.  I think 1200 is way too high.  We were not packed in like sardines (at least in the part of the floor I was near), and that’s unusual.  In the US and at this summer’s Quebec McCartney show, which was 300,000 standing, people would push forward and the crowd would compact, but not here.  Those in the front put their plastic glasses of beer on the edge of the stage (I kid you not, and I got photos of a dozen or so glasses before and during the show).  I could easily touch the stage.  The place was full, unlike the last time the Moodies played there, so I heard.  The best part was standing up so close to the stage.  The stage was not deep so the front row of the band was fairly close to the edge as well.  I was five feet from John.  That we could dance to every song standing up the whole time made everybody, including the band happy.  I got so many pix of John smiling (and missed quite a few as I was trying not to be ‘camera in the face’ all the time).  Julie had a new hairstyle – Nordic.  It looked really good on her and I got a couple of good shots.  I noticed that Lean on me was out of the set list right away, and then glanced down at the set list, a few  feet away from me, and saw the first 7 songs listed 1-7 and both Lean on Me and Never Comes the Day / Voices in the Sky were missing.  Justin was a bit miffed at the guitar tech who had brought out the white Squier, which he uses in LOMT, since the stage was so small, there wasn’t any extra room.  The tech removed the extraneous instrument.  They went straight through, with no intermission. 

The sound was like that in a club, proportionately downscaled for the venue.  There were no front monitors.  Since I was in front of John, I got to hear his bass more prominently in the mix.  I’d hear too much bass coming from the double-necked guitar on ILS and during December Snow, when John was playing his 12-string, I could barely hear that at all (and tried to signal John / the sound guy) but they didn’t pay attention.  Heavy bass came through too strongly on December Snow, so I guess Paul was playing that part on his keyboards.  The colors were very interesting.  Though the lighting guy could not project videos onto the small screen, and the pix were rather distorted to get on the screen, he made up for it by shining some intense backlights.  I have pix of this – pretty nifty colored highlights that we usually do not get.  There were also some pix that ended up being sort of funny because of the lights.  More on that later.

Since standing ovations were not going to be the way we showed our extra special appreciation, everybody took to rhythmic clapping.  I’m sure they do this here all the time.  I heard this now and then at the European shows, but tonight it was frequent, happening after quite a few songs.  At first it might be slow, then, it would build faster and faster.  And everybody stayed together, so it was quite effective.  When time came for Graeme to do his dance, he at first was just going to do it on his end of the stage, looking quizzically across the front, since it was going to be a tight squeeze past Justin and John.  But then he eventually came to our end of the stage, doing his jig on each end.  For his intro he had stuck to the tried and true, hair brown teeth white shtick for tonight, eschewing any mention of Viagra or drugs. Justin was sweating like crazy from early on.  In one song it was flying off him, and in quite a few shots, due to the special intense lights for this night, he’s got blistering red backgrounds and backlights.  He had to towel off a few times, and neither John nor Graeme were anywhere near that hot or wet.  I hope he doesn’t have a fever.  It didn’t affect his performance though and I’ve got to hand it to him.  Justin introduced Are You Sitting Comfortably, and I said no (I think he heard me and looked in my direction and smiled, and said no).  After Nights, there were four rounds of rhythmic clapping, some fast some slow, and even Graeme got into it, tapping along.  Justin allowed us to sing a line in Question, which he rarely does, and he didn’t even have to cup his hand to his ear as he did at RAH.  The last time I was standing for a whole Moodies show was in Eugene, Oregon (Cuthbert).  I know they really enjoyed that one as well, since John was throwing pics out pretty often.

I kept thinking, this is the last time I will hear this for a long time.  Though I was nervous earlier in the day, and wondering if I could survive / have a good time, this turned out to be one of the best shows, because of the venue and how that made the show what it was.

Several of the Danes and I went out to the local pub afterwards, just across the street from the place the band’s truck was.  Looking at my shots in the back of my camera, about 170 in all, we had a laugh over the blue light shooting out of John’s mouth, his ear, his hands.  We called him ‘his blueness’.  Before they had left the stage, John took the note card that I wrote for him, and Justin gave his pic to one of the Danes I later met at the pub.  I’m still waiting for one of those myself…  After we’d been in the pub a while, I pointed out that a van came out – Bente, a fellow singer/guitarist who I’d met in Amsterdam, went out to get an autograph.  John gave her one, and thanked me for my card.  Then they were off in a misty drizzle.  She asked me if John’s wife was Danish, and I confirmed yes.  I felt quite at home with the Danes and realize that some of my best genes come from my maternal grandmother, whose mother was Danish (a well-known Broadway actress in her day).  (Grandma was a gentle soul, very tall and sturdy – 5’ 8” - with a low voice (not as low as mine though), and lived to be 100 and 2 of her daughters are now in their 90s.)  Though I had arrived feeling slightly out of it, on the verge of dizzy, not having had much to eat during the day, wondering if I might not make it through the show, I left exhilarated and happy.  And I realize that my first and last shows this tour were front row.  We had a nice time at the pub, and took group photos.  I forgot the fellow’s name, but this guy from Bornholm, an island in the middle of the Baltic, which is fiercely independent, said he was planning a trip to the U.S. and he’d look me up.  Bente and Leif drove me back to the hotel, and I live to write another day.

Enjoying Koebenhavn – October 20

My digs at the Hotel Nebo are about as small as you can get.   I can easily touch the side walls with my fingers, arms outstretched.   The bed is likewise narrow, but the featherbed and comforter and pillow combo were quite yummy.  I put my big bag hanging off the little desk, accessible only kneeling from the bed (same with the sink).  With bath and toilet down the hall, it was ok.  Saved some bucks (oops, Kroner) over the standard single.  I know that if I stay in sumptuous places (which in Europe are equivalent to your typical, even low-budget U.S. accommodation but cost a heckuva lot more) and if I travel by planes and cabs, that cuts my trip in half, money-wise.

Miraculously, I found CNN International on the little TV in the room (suspended from the ceiling, as they often do), so I was able to get some international news in English.  In the last couple of days the Netherlands, Belgium and Sweden got into the bailout business.  It doesn’t look like an end is in sight.

I’ve been noticing that the pronunciations of words varies quite a bit from what I’d think.  Somehow, as with French, numerous letters seem to be silent, and others are different.  The letter G seems to be way different in every language so far.  Recall, the Dutch pronounce this like a guttural “ch”.  The venue, Amager Bio, is a case in point.  If you pronounce it like in English and the G is either hard or soft you’re wrong.  I’m told it depends on where you live in Denmark as to how to pronounce the first word, but the city dialect just drops the second syllable, and it’s “Ama Beeo”.  When you pronounce as you’d think they look at you like, Whaaaat??? 

This was a cool, windy day with cirrus and eventually, a mackerel sky.  I did a 2.5 hour bus tour to get oriented.  We saw the winter palace of the monarchy (they’re still up in the summer palace at Elsinore I think), the obligatory stop at the Little Mermaid statue in the harbor in view of a relatively small field of big new, Vestas windmills (enough to supply 30,000 homes with electricity), located near the garbage burning plant, past parliament, various churches, castles, etc.  After that, I walked around for the rest of the day.  Stumbled upon an all you can eat vegetarian buffet, and started getting some long-missed veggies in.  They charged me for the water (arghhh!)   In walking around, I found many of the places that we’d passed by earlier in the day.  The botanical gardens and museums were closed, being Monday (L)   As with Benelux, Denmark’s architecture, mostly low buildings, pays attention to the roofs, and some of the same styles are used there as in Belgium and Netherlands.  I’ve been taking lots of pix, not only of the lovely building tops, but also the many bicyclists, types of bikes, separated bicycle lanes, and lane markings for the purpose of showing the varying designs to the NYC Dept. of Transportation, which is just starting to make serious forays into this area.  (I’ve been doing this throughout this tour and have quite a tidy array of photos.)  In Copenhagen they have devoted a large percentage of the street for bike paths and the sidewalk (for dedicated parking).  Most are raised above the level of the cars by an inch and a curb, and some are at the same level as sidewalks.  Quite a few people are riding big tricycles that have a very large carrying container just behind the front single wheel.  These are for carrying cargo.  Still, even though Copenhagen has lots of cyclists, in a comparison with Amsterdam, it’s no contest.  Just comparing the number of bikes at the main train station, I’d say it’s several orders of magnitude different.  It really warms my heart to see all the bicycle commuters.  I remember commuting to my first few jobs by bike (to EPA in Washington, 1974, Cambridge to Boston, 1975, and again to EPA in NYC 1978).   It makes you feel so good, and in each of these cases, I saved not only money, but time over commuting by mass transit (not to mention car).  It’s such a shame that the car lobby pretty much killed off alternative forms of transport in the U.S. after the 1940s.  We’re so far behind where others are and where we need to be to have a sustainable future.   But I digress. 

Just before crossing through the parliament buildings, I came upon a couple of guys manning a sit-in protest against the war on terrorism.  We had a nice long chat about politics.  Afterwards, having learned that I have an interest and degrees in geology, he gave me a nice piece of flint stone, the hard black stone that is found in the chalky areas in southern England.  He told me there are white chalk cliffs in southern Denmark as well (probably part of the same formation).  After going through the parliament area, returning towards Tivoli, I stumbled upon a history museum that I’ll visit tomorrow.  As with the Netherlands, there is a certain amount of 1980s style graffiti around.  As with all of western Europe, the streets are clean of rubbish, though with fall progressing, there are lots of lovely yellow leaves in drifts on the sidewalks.  There are a lot of 7-11s everywhere (I hadn’t seen them in any of the countries before this) as I have seen Burger King, McDonalds, and KFC.  Some of the biggest shopping streets have no cars at all. 

Just before sundown, across from the big, ornate old rail station, I came across a Chinese Massage place.  The rate was reasonable (Danish kroners about 5 to the dollar at this point).  My back was hurting after a day of dragging my big camera and extra lens around, so went for a half hour.  It helped, but I’ll need more.  The sacroilliac eased on its own, as I figured, but the knee and leg are getting weaker.  Continuing with the Chinese theme, I’d tired of trying to read Danish menus, so ended up some blocks away at a Chinese buffet.  It seemed reasonable and edible at 88 kroner, and got some tap water (they charged me 15 kroner for a glass of tap water!).  Jeez!

Kobenhavn to Hamburg

Today began dark and drizzling.  I had six hours before my train to Hamburg and had covered a lot of ground yesterday, so thought to start out at the Danish National museum and read up on the history, and then maybe head over the Christiania, which is an old army base that some hippies converted to their lifestyle some time back.  That would be a 3 km walk though.  The museum was quite interesting, and as my bad leg started to swell, just standing, perusing the English descriptions, and time passed, I realized I wasn’t going to be walking anywhere but back to the hotel afterwards.  I found the history quite interesting though.  They showed the land bridge from the continent to Britain and Ireland, and the separation between Denmark, which was all part of the mainland, and Sweden was just a river.  From this I realized why the cuisine is so different as you cross into the northern countries of Europe.  Back some thousands of years ago, farming began around the Mediterranean, but it took quite a while for this to infiltrate north (the ice had melted by 8,000 BC so that’s when the northern tribes moved back north).  Even when farming did finally move north, those in northern countries still held to the ancestral hunting and fishing and animal husbandry, much more than those living further south.  So that’s why you see sliced meat for breakfast, so many fields with cows and sheep, and far fewer veggies in the fields and on your plate than further south.  I also decided to sit in the bookshop there and read about the flint stone that I’d received as a gift the day before.  This pretty piece has some chalk inclusions in a black shiny matrix.  The beds of flint inclusions are in the chalk deposits in the south of England as well as Denmark, and they all used the flint, not only for arrow heads and such, but also in their buildings as bricks, particularly in England.  The flint’s age could be around 65 million years (around the time the dinosaurs became extinct). 

I planned the trip to end up in Hamburg because getting the flight home using free points was not available for some time either from Copenhagen or Stockholm.  The train trip back to Hamburg was much nicer than the trip up.  The train was maybe a third full, vs. the standing room only scene coming up.  And, looking at my Danish train tickets, I noticed that the cost of this trip was 8 times as much as the cost of the trip from Hamburg to Kobenhavn.  They were both second class.  The first was some “orange” deal, and the second “sightseeing”.  Seems awfully strange that there is so much difference in price.  I don’t know if I can fight this one.  The Swedish train fares up and back from Malmo were likewise much higher than the segments from the Netherlands to Germany to Denmark.  Today’s ferry crossing was at sunset, but the skies were threatening and raining.  There was a patch of blazing cloud amongst the threatening ones for a while though.  I considered buying some chocolates in one of the many shops on board (tax-free), but passed.  Once you’ve been to Bruges…. Just settled for dinner (food isn’t that great on the ferry, but figured it would be better than the train). 

Getting to Hamburg after 8 pm, I was lucky that the tourist info was actually inside the station (and not blocks away as in some places, like Kobenhavn and Brugge, for example), and it was Open!  I knew that the hotel was a couple of blocks from the underground out near the airport, but initially, this tourist info fellow had me going on one line and then catching a bus.  I asked 3 times, and then he called the hotel, got the name of the U station, copied the relevant part of his map so I could walk the two blocks from the station, got my U ticket, shlepped everything to the Ubahn.  Once off the train, boy was it dark and deserted there.  No matter, I followed the directions, walked the two blocks and there was the hotel.  It’s good to be persistent; it could have been a nightmare slugging through the outskirts of Hamburg looking for this place, so the extra time spent getting it right was worth it.  The lady at the Kocks (pronounced Cox) Hotel was nice, helped me to the next floor with the bags, and then I wasted more than an hour trying to get the free wifi to work (even trying to use their own computer, but they had a weird browser and I couldn’t open up individual emails, and then talking with their network server tech support twice by phone).  I wasted some more time flipping many channels – none in English.  Oh well.  At least they gave me a free bottle of fizzy water and a glass.  But at checkout, they burned me for the breakfast – 11 euro (definitely NOT worth it).  This is the downside of having dozens of places to stay, planning one’s travel so quickly and not remembering, for every single night, which places give you free breakfast and wifi, and which don’t.  At least the free van to the airport the next morning was very quick (I almost could have walked). 

The flight home was a little exciting, in an uneasy way, for me.  I kept looking out the window to try to figure out what land masses we were crossing, at first thinking it was Scotland.  But when I finally figured out how to get the trajectory on the screen in front of me, I was a bit alarmed to see that we had been heading almost due north for a half hour.  We crossed Jutland (where my family is from – pronounced Youlan – dropping the T and D).  The colored line that showed where the normal route would go (more towards the west) kept deviating more and more from our direction.  By the time we got about halfway between Oslo and Bergen in Norway, an hour out, I was really nervous.  The hills were covered in snow at this point.   We tilted a little and eventually passed quite a bit north of Iceland and crossed Greenland much further north than I’d ever been.  In fact, we were over Greenland for an hour and twenty minutes.  Again, as I recall from the last crossing coming home from Amsterdam last time, particularly the islands and lands near the eastern edge of Greenland were bare.  I’ve never made an Atlantic ocean crossing where we were over land for much / most of the time.  Coming down to Newark from Montreal, I could see the leaves were at peak in the Catskills, and with a windy, buffeted landing, I was happy to be home.