9/12 to 9/14 - Reepham/Norfolk

9/12

Woke up to a wonderful breakfast by the talent that is Chef Greg. He’s vegetarian, but man can the guy cook!

Around 10 am, we took off for a leisurely drive to Norfolk. It was absolutely lovely. I had no idea that Norfolk had Dutch-like windmills. Evidently, they had similar issues to Holland with the land being mostly swamp, so they hired the Dutch to help them pump out all the extra water.



After a brief interval searching for a loo at a Dinosaur park, we arrived at Reepham (which is the town outside of Norfolk where Kim lives).



Kim and Greg had graciously booked me a room above the local pub, so I checked in and we had a small lunch. Reepham is a lovely little town complete with some very interesting shops.

We drove to one place - Kim, what was the name of it? It was a huge store full of all kinds of gifty things. I picked up a glass cat for my friend Petra, then went across the street to the cafe for tea and scones. It was a beautiful day out, the weather was perfect. :)

We went back into town and looked briefly at a few stores in the main marketplace area before retiring for a nap. The nap was required as we were going on our 1940s murder mystery steam train evening that night!



Us

Thanks very much to Kim who went to all the trouble of locating a costume for me! She's a keeper, Greg!

I did learn that Kim could very easily have taken up a career in housecleaning...



The following is one of two (or was it three) dead bodies along the train trip:



Dead Body


We went home that night, and I prepared to sleep... in this ancient room above the ancient pub where I'm sure at least one ghost was living. So, I kept the light on all night long and didn't sleep at all. Scary!

9/13

Ahhh Sunday Sunday... and didn't have to meet Greg and Kim til 9:30 which left me with tons of time to ramble around the marketplace alone. I went to the local off-license and bought a few souvenirs and such.

Took a picture of the local thatched house.



And generally hung out.

Kim and Greg showed up, and we headed out for Cromer on the coast by the North Sea.

It was quite cold and windy on the beach...



but amazingly fun. We went to the RNLI museum which is a fund raising museum for Britain's "coast guard" which is a volunteer-run organization! I found lots of goodies in Cromer for my friends and family. Then, we headed into Norwich.

Had lunch at a cafe - food was great and company even better. There's a shopping arcade which we hit with a vengeance and a castle that looks a bit like a large crate. (We didn't have time to go through it.)



Norwich Castle

Drove back to Reepham to get ready for the grand finale that night which was... tadaa... the Tim Minchinconcert! Tim stumbled a little in the beginning - but he's known for ticking off just about anyone at any given time and making fun of things like racism, prejudice, religion, and politics.

I loved it. :)

"Oh, I can have a dark side... if you want me to"... he sang, but couldn't quite get through it without a "Yippee" and a tour down jitterbug lane.

His encore is what really sold me. He did a rendition of Leonard Cohen's "Halleluja"... the best version of that song I think I've ever heard. It brought the audience to it's feet (me included) cheering spastically.

What fun!

Unfortunately it all came crashing down...

9/14

Sad sad... I have to leave Kim and Greg today. God bless Kim - she's mailing me a ton of stuff so I don't have to carry it around with me. AND, they got up in the wee hours just to drive me a few hours west to Peterborough to catch my train to Edinburgh. We actually made it an hour ahead of schedule, and I was able to take an earlier train.

Yippee! (As Tim Minchin would say.)

Bye dear friends... and thank you for everything!

UK Trip 9/8 through 9/11

9/8 to 9/9

I couldn’t sleep the night before the trip. It wasn’t so much excitement as it was… insomnia. So, by the time Eric picked me up at 7 am, and by the time I got to the airport at 7:30…

I was wiped out. Also, I’d gotten a kink in my lower back. I was hoping it would go away as I had these two bags to lug with me all the way to England (I didn’t check anything in). I noticed a chair massage station at the airport, I had 3 hours to kill… it was a no brainer. So, I got in the chair, and this woman (Genie) was a brilliant massage therapist. She worked and worked the area until I was a completely new person (after half an hour). Thank you Genie!!!

I had a light breakfast (breakfast taco) and sat around waiting for the plane.

The type of plane I boarded was one of those smaller commuter jets. You think they’re just too small to be owned by a major airline (well, airline partner, really). But there I was in seat 8G BY the window. My theory is – sit by the window if it’s a domestic flight. By the aisle if it’s not. Now, I may change that theory at any given moment. Because – while it’s nice to have the leg room and the exitability of an aisle seat on the international flights – you also give up the nice wall to rest your head next to. That will be one of those million dollar debates, I suppose. But, we made it into Charlotte on time, and I was there for a four-hour wait.

Now, Charlotte airport is not big enough to wait four hours in. Even with a book and money to burn. I ended up in a little bar with comfy chairs writing in my travel journal. After my tenth glass of water, I figured I had bugged the waitress enough, so I trudged over to my waiting area with two hours still to go. That’s when I met my first trip best friend, Mia.

Mia is a beautiful lady with dark hair, British accent, and dark tan. She’s also irreverent and humorous and I liked her instantly. Mia was on the way to her mother’s 80th birthday and her sister’s? neice’s? wedding. Mia worked as a baggage handler for Jet Blue I think it was. She was able to get discount tickets overseas (lucky girl) but time off was another thing altogether, so she only had five days to do all she needed to do. Well, we sat there and talked like we’d known each other forever. Swapped information before we boarded, and have since sent emails back and forth.

We boarded the plane and I had carefully chosen my seat (aisle, of course) and not in the middle section of the plane. Even so, it was not a comfortable flight. The crew didn’t seem all that concerned with our comfort. I know it’s a long flight, and it must be an awful job to have to serve 200+ people for 6 hours or so… but they kept waking us up. I was nearly asleep when one of the stewards came by for Duty Free. I raised my hand because I wanted to get a bottle of Jack Daniels for my friends Sandra and Neil. “We don’t have any more,” he told me. Then turned my reading light on, nearly blinding me. I’m not sure why he did that as I wasn’t going to order any duty free if they didn’t have the Jack Daniels. Now, I couldn’t get back to sleep.

My seat partner, Joe, was originally from the West Indies and was working on emigrating from the UK to the US. His wife was currently living in Charlotte. Joe was a great guy and talked about growing up in Montserrat http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/1/17/Monestir_de_Montserrat_vista_Roca_de_St._Jaume.jpg. Joe slept most of the trip and I didn’t. I did dutifully take my no jet lag pills, though, and drank enough water to drown an elephant. No caffeine. I’m not sure what did it, but I had pretty much zero jet lag when I got to England. We arrived early in London – by about 45 minutes (about 7 am their time).

I was in the front of the plane (and I can be a pushy broad when I want to be), and I wanted to beat the 200+ passengers at immigration and customs. I needn’t have worried. We must have been the first plane to land, and there were NO lines and no people! The immigration hall which normally contains hundreds and hundreds of folks coming in from other countries was EMPTY! I zipped through! And with no baggage to claim and nothing to declare, I was through!

My good friend Mia got through customs about the same time I did, so we made our way to the trains. She helped me decipher the code that is the ticketing machine… but finally, I got tickets to get me to Croyden. My last view of dear Mia was seeing her on the opposite platform waiting for her train to Brighton.

Well, I was on my own again, it seemed on the train to Croyden. Closing my eyes, smelling the damp earth – uh… damp? The sun… oh my god, I’d landed in the wrong city! Sure enough, sunshine and warmth were to follow me my whole journey this visit. I got to Melrose House B&B around 8 am. Poor Frances (the owner) wasn’t quite ready for me, but very courteously asked if I’d like to have some breakfast with the others in the house. I sat for some tea and met the most delightful new friends, Roy and Yvonne. Both had a lovely Irish brogue that I could have listened to for days. They were just wonderful people – from Canada – and in the UK to visit their son who was going to dance school.



Melrose House B&B

Finally, I took my leave as Frances had my room ready. It was my favorite room! Number 2. The one with the huge bathroom across the hall. I immediately dropped my bags and made my way to the shower. You don’t know how ungodly you felt until you have one of those soul-cleansing showers. And, though I was not really jet lagging, I was tired. Too tired to catch the train into London today. So, I thought I’d experience what Penge (the little town I was in) had to offer.

Let’s see if I can describe… Penge is typical of any suburbs very close to a large city. There were some rough spots, but it wasn’t nearly as chaotic as staying in town. It has the air of the city about it, but still keeps the tree-lined streets, the well-kept gardens, the gothic churches with bells chiming. You can stand on the street in front of my B&B and breathe, in other words. Melrose House is a lovely place with several floors. In the few times I’ve stayed with Frances, I always end up in Room #2 (which is just fine with me). Room #2 overlooks Frances’ gorgeous back garden.



View of Back Garden from Room #2

Inside, she has a large breakfast area (around which I met Roy and Yvonne) and a lovely sun room. Her home always leaves me feeling like I’m *at* home! But, leaving Frances’ B&B and walking toward the High Street became my first adventure. It’s quite a walk to the High Street. Perhaps a mile each way. But the weather was absolutely lovely. Upon turning right on the High Street, I was almost immediately met with a nice little café. So, I took myself in and ordered a bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich. Then, sat out under an umbrella and watched the passersby.

Quite a mixture. I would say that Penge seems a bit like… hmmm… well, if you’re from the Houston area, Penge would have been like Pasadena. I finished up my sandwich and walked around a bit to find post cards. Ah! A post office loomed on my horizon, so I toodled off to see if they had any post cards.

Note: Many of the post offices in English towns are still located within convenience stores. Makes it kind of nice, really. I bought my cards and my stamps all in one fell swoop.

Then, I walked back along the street to Sainsburys (a chain grocery store) to see if I could pick up some Jack Daniels for Neil. Which I did. Two bottles’ worth! Of course, the English bottles were about half the size of the American ones. Took myself back to the B&B and rested while writing home of my adventures thus far (which had barely begun!). At any rate, I finished about half the post cards and decided to take a nap. Ah… glorious, glorious. To be able to leave the window open, feel the cool breeze, and have NO bugs bother me! It was heaven. Upon awaking, I noted the time and decided to hike back into the town. I dropped off half the post cards that I’d written into a post box (one of those big red ones with the ER on it for Elizabeth Rex). Then, went back to the Post Office to get a phone card.

Having done that, I cast my eyes about for a place to get something smallish for dinner. Sandy had talked to me of these things called Cornish pasties, and I saw one in a local bakery. So! Without further adieu, it became MY Cornish pasty and came home with me. The walk back was nice, and I went up to my room to eat and finish up the post cards. My Cornish pasty, by the way, was nothing to write home about. Basically, it was pureed meat, carrots, onions, and spices inside a pastry shell. Cornish miners used to take them into the mines for their lunches because they were so portable.



Cornish Pasty

I finished writing my post cards, and relaxed in front of the TV still smiling as the lovely cool breeze wafted across the bedroom. That was pretty much all there was to the first day. I had originally planned to go into London, but if I had, I would probably have ruined the lovely non-jet-lag I experienced on my trip.

9/10

I got up rather early, showered, and made my way to breakfast. There, I saw my good friends Roy and Yvonne and just spent a leisurely hour or so chatting with them (rather than rushing into town). They were wonderful people! I enjoyed talking with them very much. Anyway, I had to run and they did as well, so we parted ways.

I got from Penge to Victoria Station which was right across the street from the show I wanted to go see. So, I made my way there and got tickets to Billy Elliot from the box office. I had decided to go to the Winston Churchill museum and war rooms. Something about Churchill had recently grabbed my imagination, so off I went!

The museum, like so many tourist landmarks was within spitting distance of the Houses of Parliament, Westminster Abbey, Big Ben, and other notable edifices. It was also there that I met my newest hero… Boudica. For her story, read: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Boudica. Her statue lies across the street from the Houses of Parliament and quite close to the London Eye (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/London_eye). Here’s her statue:



Boudicca

But, I hadn’t come to see any of these tourist attractions – I was off to find Winston Churchill! So, using my considerable cartographic skills, I ended up at Churchill’s statue. The War Rooms eluded me, however. So I continued across the street and over to some official looking building that ended up being their High Court. I should’ve guessed by the men with the ear pieces. So, this ditzy tourist walks in and says, “Where are the War Rooms?” Luckily one ear-piece borg guy knew – and I was on my way.

The Churchill Museum and War Rooms were quasi-interesting. I’m afraid that most museums tend to bore me. Does that seem weird for someone so into history? To me history isn’t an old typewriter with a plaque on it. It’s the mystery and adventure of the time, event, or person. It’s the little-known battles of the mind and heart. Let me touch something real – like the ruins of Middleham Castle or the floors of York Minster. Let me go to the Shambles and *see* what history is about. Don’t box it up and label it. I might as well read a book.

Having said that, the War Rooms were mildly interesting. You got to see where Churchill and his advisors planned their defensive and offensive moves during WWII. You got to see the bunkers where people lived and slept (hard to imagine), and to which place people retired during bombing attacks. It was amazing really. Then there were the exhibits (especially the huge touch screen in the middle of the floor that didn’t appear to work).

And, does *anyone* like those darn recording devices you have to carry around and listen to? I don’t. Bah. So, off I went in search of other adventures.

Across the street from the War Rooms is the most gorgeous city park (St. James). A little squirrel came right up to you and begged for food. Flowers were in bloom everywhere… pictures were just not enough. If I had more time, I’d take a picnic to St. James and enjoy a day of leisure.



St. James Park

Down the walk from St. James, I saw the London Horseguards (which I could’ve toured but didn’t). I decided to tube it over to Trafalgar Square and see if Lord Nelson was still around.

As it turns out, he was! But, when my camera ran out of battery power, I was forced to dive into a souvenir shop for replacements. Who should I find there but Roy and Yvonne! My dear friends. It’s a good thing too, because I got their email address. I left too early the next morning to have gotten it then. We laughed and talked… I took my pictures then headed for Picadilly Circus.

Got pictures there (all this was for you, dear reader). By this time, I was hungry and need to get going so I tubed it to Victoria Station again and headed to Garfunkels for lunch. Garfunkels is kinda like the English version of Dennys, I’ve determined. Not great, but not bad either. Then, I went to see my show across the street. That’s when I met my third best friend, Jeanie.

Jeanie sat next to me at the musical (how serendipitous). She was a lively lady from Johannesburg, South Africa. She was so much fun! She kept plying me with these red licorice type sweets and told me of her life in Jburg, and the son she had come to visit. Billy Elliott was a blast, and we both enjoyed the show. Afterward, I had no plans – so we decided to go to Victoria Station to look for a Buddhist shop she’d been told about.

That’s when we met George.

In the middle of the street is a pedestrian island. Around it is all the traffic for Victoria Palace and Victoria Station (lots of traffic). In the middle of the island, shuffling at the great rate of about 1 cm a minute and looking very confused was this little old man. I asked him if he needed help across the street and he offered that he did and that his name was George. George was going to the grocery store. As slowly as he walked, he’d never get across the street, so with Jeanie taking one arm and I the other, we said, “RUN!” hehehe… and fairly lifted George across the street. With a thanks and a fond adieu, we left him to shuffle to Sainsburys.

We then crossed the busy street again, spent 15 minutes looking for the non-existent Buddhist shop, and came back to the traffic island. From there, we could see that George had only progressed about 20 feet! We had no idea what to do or who to turn to. There were no cops about. So, we had to hope that George found his way home somehow.

Jeanie and I went into the little pub and had a few drinks while catching up on each others’ lives. What a cool person! I felt sad that I had to say goodbye, but I had to get home before dark. So, farewell it was and an amazing adventure for my second day in the UK.

9/11

A date that will live in infamy. But it was a glorious day in 2009 when I picked up the 6:40 train to Victoria Station. I was on my way to see Sarn for a day of shopping in Stoke-on-Trent!

Lugging baggage, I wondered if I'd make it to Euston Station (my departure point) on time, but somehow I found the connecting underground and was there in good order. The train ride to Stoke-on-Trent was gorgeous. I love the trains in Europe... it's the only way to travel (when there's no strike). I watched as towns and countryside whisked past, and ended up in SoT early! So, I hung around for a bit til Sarn showed up and we were OFF! (Mentally as well.) hehe.

Sarn is a lovely person with a heart as big as Texas. She drove me first to the Wedgewood museum. It was a very well done museum, but - again - boredom set in. You can only view so many plates! I did learn that there was a familial connection between the Wedgewoods and Charles Darwin. That was interesting.

We got a bite to eat at the Wedgewood cafe (I had a lovely fish and chips there), then we decided to go off and do the fun stuff (which was shopping at the china outlets). Whoohoo! We stopped first at the Portmeirion outlet, but didn't find anything. Then it was on to Wedgewood/Royal Doulton. There, I purchased my two lovely ladies! Here's are pictures:





We wondered how we'd spend the rest of our day, so we asked the lady at the Wedgewood shop who said we should see Trentham Estate. Never heard of it, but we went anyway and were pleasantly surprised!

Trentham Estate (http://www.trenthamleisure.co.uk)encompasses a lovely garden (which we didn't get to see) and a shopping village. The shopping village was a lovely boardwalk containing all sorts of little shops. The day was perfect, so Sarn and I popped into almost every shop.



With that, our day was at an end. Sarn dropped me off at the train station and I was on my way to Leicester to meet up with Kim and Greg. They picked me up in Leicester, drove me home, cooked me a meal that couldn’t be beat, and gave me the only bed in the house to sleep on (bless ya, dearies!). It had been a wonderful day.

I've Got Baggage!

Did I mention packing for the trip? I think I just about got everything I needed: Umbrella, outer jacket (weatherproof), inner jacket (fleece), long pants, socks, long-sleeved shirts, and one pair of shoes. Someone once asked me how I could travel for two weeks out of a piece of carry-on luggage. The answer is quite simply: necessity and laundramats. My mother will attest to our one trip to the UK carrying oversized American luggage up several flights of stairs, through city traffic, onto subways… it wasn’t a pretty sight. From that point on, it’s been a mission of mine to pack light. I did laundry twice while in the UK - once at Greg's and once in the Lakes. Neither took much time (and thanks to Greg and Kim/Sarn and Neil for their folding abilities!).

I had originally planned to take the Rick Steve’s backpack/carryon – but after attempting to pack what I’d need and trying it on… I looked a bit like an ant carrying a boulder. And, I’m not as young as I once was – I didn’t want to throw my back out on my trip!

Here are the two things similar to what I ended up taking:



The carry on held five days worth of clothes and my fleece jacket. The shoulder bag carried my outer jacket, books, papers, umbrella, and camera. Here I should note that the carry on is made by Skyway. Mine is a much older version, but it has held up over 3-4 of my overseas trips (and believe me, my bags come back BULGING). It also has a nice option of the horizontal or vertical carry handle. The tote handle pops out easily and has never fouled up on me.

The Eddie Bauer bag – get this – is the best thing I’ve done recently in my travels. It’s actually NOT a travel bag. It’s a diaper bag! Travel bags typically either cost too much or have those skinny notebook computer compartments I have no use for. Diaper bags came with LOTS of room and pockets. And even a baby changing pad if you need one.

It didn’t cost nearly what a luggage bag would have, and I was everso pleased with it. You can get them at Target.

With bags packed, I was dropped off at the Austin Bergstrom International Airport (ABIA). They must call it international for a reason; however, there are no direct flights to the UK (more’s the pity).

The airlines… a lesson in humility

Well, I thought I was being smart when I read an article about how to get a US Airways RT to London Gatwick for very little cash. I signed up for two credit cards, and Voila! It was done.

Or was it?

The only flights US Airways had on the dates required were from Dallas, not Austin (my origination point). So, the original fees charged me for the credit cards (equaling about $140) were now having an additional $175 tacked on for a RT hop from Austin to Dallas.

The total ticketing was now $315. When I booked the tickets from Dallas, I was charged the taxes (around $150) for the international flight. This now brings the ticket total to $465. Still a deal… but, rather than a two leg trip (which I’m used to), this has now become a three-leg trip with stops at DFW, Charlotte, and London Gatwick.

Fast forward to today. A month prior to the trip. I realize now that both airlines have shifted schedules so much that I won’t be able to make my Austin connection on the way home. I called US Airways to see if I could get an earlier flight from Charlotte.

I can’t.

I must fork out $188 to American Airlines to get an earlier flight. The cost of my “free” ticket is now $653.

I think, “Perhaps I can get back some frequent flier miles from US Air.” I try that. Surprise! They not only can book me from Charlotte, but they can get me to Austin non-stop! Yay!

I call American back (within an hour of having made my reservation from Charlotte) to ask if they can stop the ticket purchase I had just made. With the US Airlines agent on the phone with me, telling me that US Air has a policy to refund if a change is made within 24 hours… the American agent refused. Bluntly. Not only did she refuse, but so did her supervisor.

I asked if American wanted my future business… and there was silence.

There is no phone number for AA customer relations, only an email. I’m sure they’ll receive my complaint tomorrow (Monday) by which time if they *could* have refunded my money, they wouldn’t.

This treatment angers me on so many different levels.
 Airlines shifting schedules so that it inconveniences customers to this extent.
 Incompetent agents not verifying schedules and giving incorrect information.
 Rude agents and impossible airline policies that won’t refund a ticket within 24 hours when there’s no reason not to.

I will probably fly US Airways again since the second agent was able to get me a round trip directly to Charlotte from Austin. However, American will never see me again.

Keepin' it Real...

Well, it’s rolling on down to time for my vacation! I’m so looking forward to this.

Kim and Greg called last weekend to confirm a few things and I sent them an updated schedule with train times.

Kim is going to tweak my schedule just a bit, herself, and when she does I’ll post it.

One of my most favorite things to do on vacation is buy presents. Which is odd, because it costs money and they can be very unwieldy to carry. However, be that as it may, I LOVE doing it. One of my most memorable trips was when I was in York and I located a ropemaker on the other side of the county. Well, I have a friend that makes rope and another friend that wanted sheep’s roving (which is the cleaned and processed wool of a sheep). I had NO idea how I was going to do this, but I got in my car, and headed out (on the LEFT side of the road) for Hawes – land of the ropemaker. Well, it was an interesting tour on how rope is made, and I was able to get a few samples and a book for my friend. Amazingly enough, we were at the heart of Wensleydale (sort of the Wisconsin of England). They had a country museum in Hawes, and it was THERE I was able to locate a sheep farm that sold roving! So, on my way back, I did a little side trip, and Voila. Sheep roving!

I liken my passion for finding gifties to hunting wild game in Africa. I love chasing down the exact right gift. It doesn’t always work out that way, and I know plenty of my friends are likely tired of key chains and post cards… but I do my best.

Thank goodness for my friend Russ who just comes right out and says, “I’d like a shot glass from…” or “something in tweed from Scotland”… those are the most efficient trips, I find.

Now, for myself? I usually do one or two really memorable things. Like in Dublin, I got myself a tshirt from the concert I attended and one from Trinity College.
I don’t know what I’ll be getting’ myself into this year.  Probably something from the distilleries I plan to visit in Scotland. I’ll be going back to the ropemakers for more samples for my friend as well. And I’ve run out of locations for sheep roving – unless you know of any!!!

That’s about it for this round. I’ll write more when I get the updated schedule.
Tirrah, me ducks!

Quick Trip to the Ozarks

7/3/09 to 7/8/09

I left home on the first leg of a trip to the Ozarks. On the way, I spent two nice (though extremely HOT) days in Livingston visiting the folks. We've gone through a nasty heat wave in Texas (maybe you've heard). But the heat has been in the hundreds. Anyway, I spent one day having lunch in the cafeteria with my parents and their friends. Then, most of the rest of the day inside in air conditioning. The second day was much the same - but included a failed attempt to go see Ice Age at the local antiquated movie theater. Which was also barely air conditioned. And - the folks just didn't seem into the movie (I wasn't either). So, we split. I had the dogs with me and needed to get back anyway. So, we came back, and I read and napped a bit. I left for the Ozarks WAY early in the morning. I was heading up 59 to 259 to 271... on to 40 to 540 and finally to Hwy 62 in Arkansas. The first bit took me through a tiny town called Pittsburg, TX. On the way in, I did a double-take. WHAT was that? I swear to God someone transplanted Versailles to Texas. There is a huge residence? on the edge of town that just blew my mind. Later, on the way out of town... I was amazed to see a gigantic Pilgrim head. THIS time, I had to turn around and take a picture for you. Turns out that Pittsburg, TX is headquarters for Pilgrim's Pride chicken. Who knew? LOL The trip was relatively easy, but long. The best part was that it was raining or overcast most of the way there which was a great reprieve from the heat. As the flatlands gave way to more and more hills, I found myself relaxing into the trip. Nothing connects me like nature, and the Ozarks are just beautiful. They were much shorter than mountains (though they call themselves mountains). They look a lot like the Texas hill country - except more lush and green. My friends Luis and Crystal had moved to Eureka Springs a year or two before, and their house was on the route into town. The girls and I stopped on the way in to see their digs. Well, it's beyond glorious - perched high on the rocky summit overlooking a gorge and swift-flowing White river. The house, itself, was pretty amazing. A huge 4,000 square foot edifice with large windows overlooking said scenery. My favorite parts of the home were the awesome view, the workout room, the kitchen, and the lovely art garden created by Crystal. I liked their dogs too: Wolfie and Foxy. Here's Crystal with Wolfie and Luis with Foxy: The girls and I left to go into Eureka Springs. We stayed at a lovely mom and pop hotel (the Days Inn). It was just what we were looking for: cheap and relatively tidy. Plus, the girls liked the bed. :) I absolutely adored Eureka Springs. It's an artist/writer colony type of place. Very laid back. We took the dogs to swim in the lake one morning:



Luis and Crystal then made me lunch and we went out on a boat cruise of Beaver Lake. It was lovely and cool on the lake (and the whole time I was in ES). Luis and I went to a horrible ghost tour on Saturday night (I do NOT recommend the Crescent Hotel ghost tour). The next morning, I went into town and spent time just taking some pictures of this lovely quaint place. I know I'll be coming back someday. Here are just a few of the pictures:



Finally, very early on the 8th, the girls and I bid a sad farewell to our newfound vacation spot. We left early enough that we made good time getting home, but just to give you an idea of what we saw as we left Arkansas:





We ran into some VERY nasty weather at the Texas/Oklahoma border (tornado-ish), but the rest of the way was typical Texas summer. HOT and sunny. Bye bye 60 degree temps. Hello rest of summer.

I'm SO looking forward to England in the Fall!

Dublin 2009

June 5, 2009
Day 1 of Whirlwind Dublin Tour

Well, so far everything’s gone according to plan. Slept well, met Diane for breakfast at 8:30 am, drove to the airport, and began first leg of LONG flight to Dublin.

I’ve yet to find anyone to talk to. The dermatologist in the seat next to me barely spoke. Oh well… and the lady I offered a seat to in the crowded food court actually turned me down! So, I ate alone. Then, sojourned to the Dunkin Donuts stand and got myself a bottled water and jam filled donut to assuage my hurt feelings.

Ahhh, that’s better. Pulled off my sneakers and put my feet up. Sometimes it’s just the simple pleasures, yanno?

Airports give plenty of time and space for people watching. There was a lady waiting in line for her food who looked. Hmm… like an ex-groupie that aged badly or a drag queen. Anyway, she was wearing a low-cut “dazzly” shirt, but didn’t have the body to go with it. Her hair was bleached blonde and her lips were collagenated. I’m assuming botox has been a hobby of hers as well. But at any rate, if she *was* a drag queen, I wonder where she’s going. Maybe to Rome to meet the Pope who will bestow upon her a cardinalship for her righteous ways.

But most likely, she’s just an aging groupie going to meet other aging groupies at a girl’s weekend out in Topeka. Or maybe Tulsa.

There are a lot of too busy businessmen in airports. Like that guy. Nice slacks, jacket, matching shirt, and the obligatory laptop bag. These men are actually wearing ties! And looking genuinely stressed out.

There are a lot of women/girls with cell phones and Borg-like ear buds who are oblivious to all around them and stand in the middle of corridors talking (seemingly) to themselves.

A lot of elderly are spending the last years of their health getting in one last trip.

I see flight attendants and pilots. There’s a little old lady peering into a drink bin, but the choices are too complicated so she walks off. No one notices but me.

It seems like we’re surrounded by humanity, and yet – there is none. Just these… shells of people wandering halls and planning how to make the next flight connection. “Should I hang at the bar? Grab a sandwich? Read a book?”

Perhaps I’ll just write in my travel journal.

6/6/09

Landed pretty much on time at 8:30 am. Unfortunately, right into the middle of a wild and windy rain storm. Of course, we didn’t offload onto a jetway ramp… they offloaded the entire 767 by one slippery, metal step ladder. I ran to be one of the first through immigration so I could make the Wicklow tour. Zipped through, caught a cab and got to the B&B by 9:30.

The room wasn’t ready, and they kinda lied about having a shower I could use, so I just took a quick sponge bath and raced to try and make the tour.

Forgot my umbrella. Had to buy a new one. The wind was so violent that it ripped it to shreds. I finally found the tour operator and was told the tour was off due to the weather.

*sigh*

So, I fell back to plan B. Must find the hop on-hop off bus.

Located them, but got hit by a blood sugar drop, so I stopped to have a burger at Burger King as my first meal in this foreign land. Then, on to the bus. The tour guide really was quite good.

I stopped at the Guinness brewery to get some souvenirs. Then on to the Jameson distillery to get some there. I was really tired, so I decided to go back to my B&B.


Guinness


Jameson

Now, the B&B had checked me in earlier, but the old guy at the desk was having some difficulty because he didn’t know I’d checked in. He wanted my receipt (who knows what rain-drenched portion of my purse or pockets *that* had gotten into)!

Luckily, the desk girl from earlier came in and had him open the luggage door so I could retrieve my suitcase.

He didn’t offer to help carry, but I should come to expect that.

Anyway, climbed up a flight of stairs and went up a floor in the elevator and finally… I was here! Put the key in the lock, and nothing. *sigh*

Went *back* downstairs, got the old guy (Dennis) who came up and also had trouble, but was finally able to open the door.

What a relief! I got inside and thought I might just go to the Irish storytelling dinner. So, I called Dennis and he said to bring down a credit card to be able to use my room phone. I did…

And couldn’t make my room door re-open from the outside! *sigh*

If I can make this shorter…

It took two more trips to fix the door issue, and an additional trip to get the phone call made. I was wrung dry.

So, I went upstairs and slept two hours. Got up and opened my window a bit. The bed is comfy – all white sheets and a down comforter. The room is well appointed and clean. I’m glad I booked here.





The rooms all had such whimsical names. See below.




Occasionally, I could hear a sea gull cry in the distance. It’s really a nice place. After my nap, I showered and felt somewhat restored to sanity.

I decided to catch the hop on-hop off bus to the storytelling dinner. My GOD the rain here… it’s like walking into a tub shower except that it’s 39 degrees with gale force winds.

On my way to the bus, I was feeling a bit peckish, so I stopped by a bakery.

Nothing can restore the soul on such a horrid day except for a homemade scone and hot tea. It was lovely!

Afterward, I caught the bus and had to retrace thirteen of the stops I’d been on earlier to get to the pub.

The Brazen Head is the oldest pub in Ireland (http://www.brazenhead.com/). I’d gotten there too early, so I went into the bar for a drink.

Two young American girls were there and we struck up a conversation. They were so cool! I enjoyed talking with them very much. One of the things you do as a visitor to the pub is put something on the currency of your country and plaster it to the pub walls or ceiling. They’d traveled to the Brazen Head to do that. They had a quest for the highest, oldest, smallest, etc. pubs in Ireland.

In a bit, I went upstairs to the dinner. This was an evening of food, folklore, and faeries given by Johnny Daly (http://www.irishfolktours.com/).

It was a perfect evening! The history and stories were great and the folks at my table were wonderful.




I just got in from all my hustle and bustle. Think I’ll gel for a bit and watch some TV. BTW, Irish TV is *much* better than English TV!

2 am

Revelers woke me from a dead sleep just now. Well, at least they were happy revelers.

I’ve been thinking about this strange land I’m visiting. It’s such a land of contrasts.

The weather is the worst it could possibly be. Yet, the Irish are of a sunny disposition. They’re living in an area the size of West Virginia, and for centuries were bound by it. Their food was bland and diets were limited because nothing much grows in Ireland – just potatoes, cabbage, and lamb. Oh, and don’t forget alcohol!

I’m amazed at the depth of their belief in magic, paganism, and Catholicism. It all melts together so easily in the Irish.

They don’t find it the least bit odd. They’d probably fit in well in Austin!

And yet, this land is so foreboding. You just have to feel the wind and rain today to see how they could believe in banshees! In fact, now as I think about it, how much less colorful is our culture in America because we’ve given up the magic and the storytelling… we’ve replaced it with video games and TV. What a shallow life we have!

The Irish are full up with life. They drink to it, laugh to it, exaggerate it… what a wonderful way to live.

They are so different from the English. The English are not bad sorts, really… but they are much more withdrawn. They will laugh, but only politely (unless you’re at a pub). All bets are off at pubs!

I don’t have the kinship to Ireland as I do to England, but in some ways I appreciate it more.

The English are more likely to be intolerant of someone who doesn’t understand their culture. Instead of merrily inviting you for a drink – they’d glare at you for, say, picking up an antique glass object from their shop to look at it. Then, heave a sigh of relief to see you go. (Kim, Greg, and Sarn… if you’re reading this, I’m talking about the OTHER English - definitely NOT you!). *grin*

Well, these are all just superficial observations. I hope to learn more on my tours tomorrow. Er… today.

6/7/09

Blearily, I realized I was awake – though I didn’t yet know where I was or what time it was!

Looked at my watch. 7:00 am.

SEVEN!

Yikes, Trip Advisor told me that if I wanted breakfast at all, I should hurriedly get my butt downstairs.

So, I tossed on some clothes, combed my hair, and trudged downward. There were only three patrons when I got there. So I, still bleary, asked what the protocol was. Basically, it’s cafeteria style. So, I got a cup of fruit and full Irish breakfast (minus the beans and pseudo sausage) as well as a steaming cup of hot tea. Perfect for a bleary-eyed traveler undergoing a bit of jet lag. As I sat down, I noticed I was in an atrium with glass ports to the courtyard as well as skyward. The room even had an aquarium! Amazing.

God, it seemed, was trying to make amends for the ferocity of weather yesterday by offering up a few rays of sunshine. I’m praying that it holds up for the rest of the day.

About the jet lag. I really haven’t noticed that it’s so bad. I took my “no jet lag” pills, drank lots of water, slept (a little) on the plane, and exercised a lot (drinking that much water sends you to the loo often enough!).

Upon landing, though, all bets were off and I’d indulged in tea and coke as well as chocolate. The upshot is that while I’m up at normal time, I’m still dragging a bit. But, oh, I’ve had so much worse than this. I’m grateful for acclimating so quickly!

Now, to see how I do on the way back tomorrow.

4:45 pm

Wow, what a day.

I left after breakfast for the hop on-hop off bus. First stop was Trinity College.



I paid 10 euro for a guided tour, but heard little of it as I met a new friend named Jackie who is a retiring college professor from California. What a hoot! We swapped personal info and went our separate ways. Next stop was Kilmainham Gaol. Spent more euro for a so-so tour of the jail. At least I learned a little about the Irish Rebellion of 1916!



After that, I did a bit of shopping in the Nassau area of town. Got on the bus again and went to the Writer’s Museum. They had a nice gift shop and I picked up a few things there. Decided to walk back to O’Connell Street for lunch. O'Connell Street is named after Daniel O'Connell (below). Daniel was an Irish nationalistic leader who lived in the 19th century.



Lunch turned out to be ho hum fish-n-chips. At that point, I just began touring O’Connell St. Picking up souvenirs and sightseeing. Got back to my room a bit after 4 pm and got my suitcase somewhat organized. Checked the times and such, and it looks like I have about an hour to catch the shuttle to the O2. Perfect!

I believe I’ll take the bus to the airport tomorrow as the taxis are so expensive here! That’s about it for now. Going to relax and maybe eat one of the chocolate souvenirs I bought!

LATE that night…

Well, War of the Worlds was what I expected, and pretty much just like the DVD. The Irish seem to have bought into the idea of queues as much as the English.

I’ve been in two LONG queues paid too much for concert souvenirs, paid too much for drinks and food. Walked way too far (decided not to take the shuttle after all), and had the time of my life. I sat with two lovely Irish girls named Helen and Vera (I think).

Some wonderful Irish folk showed me the way to the O2, and I just finished “mostly” packing my suitcase. I think I won’t have to check baggage tomorrow (yay!).

I’m kinda tired and kinda wired. Hope I can get some sleep!

6/9/09
3 pm CST

Here I am In Chicago with a multi-hour layover, so I thought I’d write a bit.

The phone rang at 5:30 am to wake me. That would be 11:30 pm CST the day before. That means I’ve been awake and moving for 16 hours now.

There was nothing extraordinary about the flight home except that American wants me to have special “gluten free” meals that I didn’t order. The landing in Chicago was a bit dodgy, but we made it (complete with bins crashing open). I did enjoy the fact that I had no one sitting next to me, so I could prop my feet up and catch some cat naps.

In Chicago, it was all about the queues. We queued for immigration, queued to pick up our luggage (which I *did* have to check, by the way), queued for customs, and queued to drop our luggage off for the connecting flight. Then, we queued to go through the domestic security check (but only after queuing for a tram to get us to Terminal 3). I’m about all queued out except that I know there are more to come – loading the plane, picking up luggage in Austin, etc.

But, I get to see the babies tonight! And I’ll sleep like a rock!

So, what did I learn this trip?

Don’t take the taxi from the airport. The bus is just as good and costs about $50 less!

Buy hop on-hop off tickets for the Dublin tour.

Talk to people. I’ve met the most surprising people the past couple of days.

Plan a FULL trip to Ireland next time.

The Irish are fun, happy folks. Their country’s weather sucks, though. Their passions are politics, drinking, and sports (about in that order).

Don’t bother much about Irish cuisine. It consists mostly of cabbage and potatoes. I’ve got to admire an island that is so fierce in its traditions that all of its signs are in both English and Gaelic. They still teach Gaelic in the schools (though most lose the knowledge by adulthood). They are proud Catholics (mostly) without much bad to say about anyone. Unless you’re a politician.

Who wouldn’t like them? They’re much more like the Scots than the English.

That’s my take on it anyway. I board my flight in 1.5 hours. Yippee. And zzzz. I’m ready to be home!

6/10/09

The flight home went without a hitch. Arrived about 8:30 and got the kidlets (my puppies, Zelda and Lucy) by 9:30. Then home for a long SNOOZE! Today was all about laundry, groceries, and getting the house in order. Oh, and typing up this blog!