Johnny Ostentatious

Class Actress

2012-01-28T15:31:00.007-05:00

Friday night in Philly in Fishtown, corner of Frankford and Girard Aves., around 9:30. A middle-aged white male yelled, "Same to you, asshole!" in one of those voices that send goose bumps up and down your spine -- the type of voice that's not only loud but also filled with unadulterated rage, the kind that leads to unpremeditated murder. The white male, who had the haggard look of someone who's borderline homeless, had said those words to a cab, which peeled right onto Frankford Ave. The white male stalked down Girard Ave. past a car or two to another cab. He got in, one foot in the street, and told the driver that the other cabbie was "a faggot". The white male closed the door behind him and yelled out the window, "He likes dick. DICK!!!"

And that's what I witnessed as I went into the bar/club Johnny Brenda's. I'd been there before with uneventful trips to and from my car. Maybe the 40-degree weather was what set that crazy cab passenger off.

I walked through the downstairs bar and went upstairs to the club. Johnny Brenda's website earlier in the day said the opening act, Prussia, were supposed to go on at 9:30. They walked on stage at 9:45. They must've already done a sound-check 'cause they picked up their instruments and got right into their half-hour set. I wasn't really into it; though, to be fair, I wasn't there to see them. These Detroit-ers had this synth-rock sound going on. Impressive how most of them were multi-instrumentalists.

After they finished up, the headliners took about 30 minutes to set up. While waiting, I did a little people-watching. I felt like an out-of-towner -- kinda true since I live at the tip of Northeast Philly, and even though it's only about 10 miles away, it's world's apart in the modern sense. My neighbourhood is full of sports-loving, functionally-illiterate, middle-class morons who rarely venture out of their row homes. The sold-out Johnny Brenda's was packed with 20-something hipsters; when they weren't murmuring in their low single-digit cabals, they were flicking through their iPhones, Apple lighting up their faces in the dark room so they could get their mobile fix, satisfying them until their technology-addicted brain craved more instant-gratification wireless activity.

Coincidence that I'm judgmental about technology while I do a blog post on Google?

Class Actress hit the stage at 10:45. (Hey, just like the Johnny Brenda's site said they would!) And they were amazing, thanks to the venue's sound system; one of the best for a place that size . . . about 300, in case you're wondering.

Class Actress have gotten pigeonholed with the label 80s synth revival. A bit unfair, I think. While synthesizers dominate their sound, singer Elizabeth Harper's voice sounds nothing like what came out of the Reagan decade. It's throaty with the allure of a siren, while at other times angelic, promoting Victorian values. And as far as the music goes, the two guys on keyboards play more like what you'll hear in a 2012 dance club.

The four piece (there was a drummer, too -- not sure why since it sounded like a drum machine drowned him out) started with "All the Saints". A wise choice with that catchy riff at the beginning. Still perplexes me why it's in the middle of their debut album, Rapprocher. Should be up near the front.

Their second song, I think, was "Keep You", which seems to be their big hit. A couple songs later came "Weekend", another danceable ditty popular with the kids.

They played for about 45 minutes with a one-song encore. "Limousine", I believe. It's about what to expect, since they only have an EP and album in their samplers, and the ticket was an unbelievable $12.53 (I bought it the Monday before the show after I downloaded Rapprocher from Amazon).

Now with all that boring music-geek shit out of the way, let's get down to the sultry stuff: Harper's stage presence. Jesus Christ! What a beauty, as The Tubes used to say. Not supermodel beauty, but the beauty of a performer whose sex appeal increases with audience adulation.

Unfortunately, winter weather prevented Harper from dressing salaciously. She wore black shoes, pants, jacket, and a white, long-sleeve dress shirt -- the kind with undone cuffs sported by knockout women and homosexual men. About halfway through the set, she lost the jacket. Yes! Gave her more wiggle room so she could run her hands through her lush dark hair and over her body, sans erogenous zones. Sexy performer she is, her shirt was undone two or three buttons, giving perverts like me in the crowd a peek every once in a while at her black bra. Good goddamn!

With visions of that class act, I skipped out of Johnny Brenda's to my Civic a couple blocks away. Plenty of cabs, no psycho white males. Lovely. . . .

creative wit

2012-01-25T20:30:00.002-05:00

So I'm walking around the other during my break at work, running some errands. A group of kids are sitting at the bus stop having a conversation. In the middle of it, a girl says, "I'm not that very creative." This boy says, without missing a beat, "That's not true. I've seen how you dress." I laughed out loud. Couldn't help it.

Moscow companionship

2012-01-25T20:22:00.003-05:00

Got my Moscow travel book in the mail today from Frommer's. Interesting little bit on page 64: "...foreign men traveling alone may be surprised by a late-night phone call to their rooms offering 'female company' for the night. If you make it clear you're not interested -- it can't hurt to mention it to the reception desk -- the solicitation will stop."

Um, yeah, I think I'll mention to the front desk not to allow those calls through.

Burr Tebow

2012-01-23T20:18:00.002-05:00

I've been enjoying this Bill Burr video recently where he talks about Tim Tebow and salivates after some young laaaaadies. Funny stuff: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ST15FsGeUl4

Moscow, bitch!

2012-01-14T23:02:00.002-05:00

I was only going to do Paris this summer while vacationing, but I figure since I'm over in Europe I might as well make a meal of it, so I'm gonna hit Warsaw, Poland and Moscow. Crazy thing with Russia is that their visa crazy. You need to fill out more paperwork than for a college's financial aid -- ya have to first to get a tourist invitation then a tourist voucher. One of these involves getting a sponsor, which a hotel can vouch for. It's going to be an interesting process. . . .

Stephen King's influence

2012-01-14T01:40:00.002-05:00

Started listening to Stephen King's Insomnia the other night. Ever since then, I've had trouble sleeping. Coincidence? ;)

swordfish

2012-01-07T21:12:00.005-05:00

Living up to my Boring Bachelor moniker, I thought I would blog about what I had for dinner. Picked up a T-bone-shaped swordfish steak at Whole Foods. I could've went to Pathmark or Acme, which are closer, but Whole Foods' high prices are warranted -- you do get what you pay for.

I don't think I've ever eaten swordfish, but it was amazing! Back in my thirties I used to eat seafood on Saturday nights (nothing fancy: like Mrs. Paul's and Gordon's frozen food doohickeys). I'm trying to get back into that habit, but having fresh seafood, along with vegetables, a small red potato and a mug of milk. Now them's good eating!!!

best birthday playlist ever!

2012-01-07T13:09:00.004-05:00

My 16 years of Catholic brainwashing tells me I shouldn't brag, but I'm damn proud of this mix I came up with -- flows quite nicely:
Beatles: "Birthday" (1968)
Rocket From The Crypt: "Born in '69" (1995)
Police: "Born in the 50's" (1978)
Supersuckers: "Born with a Tail" (1995)
INXS: "Born to Be Wild" (1993)
Choking Victim: "Born to Die" (1997)
Vandals: "Happy Birthday to Me" (1995)
NOFX: "New Happy Birthday Song?" (2007)
Cure: "Happy Birthday, Simon" (1981)
Atom & His Package: "Happy Birthday, Ralph" (1997)
Models: "Happy Birthday, IBM" (1980)
Sugarcubes: "Birthday" (1988)
J Church: "Birthday" (1995)
Smiths: "Unhappy Birthday" (1987)
Replacements: "Birthday Gal" (1987)
Crazy Alice: "Birthday Card" (1996)
Mountain Goats: "Quetzalcoatl Is Born" (1994)
Insane Clown Posse: "Birthday Bitches" (2002)
Luke Campbell: "It's Your Birthday" (1994)
Cibo Matto: "Birthday Cake" (1996)
Underworld: "Born Slippery (Nuxx)" (1996)
"Weird Al" Yankovic: "Happy Birthday" (1981)
Altered Images: "Happy Birthday" (1981)
Steve Kilbey: "My Birthday, The Moon Festival (1986)
Kitaro: "Earth Born" (1975)

To Joke Or Not to Joke, That Is This Blog Post

2012-01-03T20:16:00.002-05:00

I don't hear the word reputed too much anymore. Think I'm gonna go around and describe myself -- since I work in publishing -- as a reputed editor. No?

Star Trek: First Contact

2011-12-30T20:46:00.003-05:00

Just re-watched via a Netflix DVD, first time since it was in theatres. Goddamn, what a flick! Not one bad scene. Perfect on every level. To put it succinctly: simply awesome!!!

God bless Chris Hedges

2011-12-28T21:25:00.003-05:00

Great speech at Princeton. Actually, better than some of the stuff he's written.

gym ancedote

2011-10-28T23:36:00.004-04:00

Crazy story I heard in the gym this morning. After I did my 30 minutes of cardio, I was in the locker room, getting reading for the early brutal early cold, and I eavesdropped (like a lame Three's Company episode) on these two other cats in the locker room. The story went like this: the one guy said that when he was back in grad school he knew this couple. They had been going out for about two years. The man decided he really loved this woman. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with this Fly Girl. So he proposed. She said, "That's cool, baby." But there was a catch: they wouldn't have sex until their wedding night. Did I mention that since both were in grad school they couldn't marry for another two years? Obviously, this condition hit the guy like James Patterson having a good idea (FYI: he hasn't written a decent novel in at least 10 years). Like any homeboy with a reasonable libido, he talks to his girl's friends. They try talking to his fiancee (or is it fiance?). No luck. So after a week he tells his girl "see ya". That's what cracked me up! He wrestled for that shit all week. Guys contemplating sex for seven days is like an eternity. Funny stuff. . . .

Lapsed Catholic

2011-10-28T23:19:00.004-04:00

Here's part of the reason why I have nothing to do with Christianity these days: a week or so ago, on this message board I communicate with my college crew, a former housemate said I misspelled an R.A.'s name, though he typed it in a mean way. At first I was gonna ignore it, but this former housemate had a tendency back in the day to bully me around in a verbal way, so I wrote that it was strong words from somebody who didn't include in his post the apostrophe in "hes" and he dropped the comma in a sentence where the last word was "right". Crazy thing was that other college peeps on the site congratulated me for striking back. THAT'S WHAT'S FUCKED UP ABOUT THE HUMAN RACE!!! You can never be pacifist! People -- women especially -- encourage aggressiveness. Wouldn't the world be a better place if we weren't always whipping out our swords (heh-heh, "whipping out")? That's what I loved about the New Testament as a young 'un. Turning the cheek. But I've learned over the years that turning the cheek means they'll slap the other cheek, then rip down your pants, slap both of those cheeks, then fuck you with ratchet wrench. Oh, is that too harsh for you? Guess it's time for you to move to Collingswood, NJ and pretend the tragedy a mile away in Camden is fine cuz it's out of sight, out of mind.

cloning

2011-08-06T01:33:00.002-04:00

For some odd reason, I've been thinking about my formative years lately. One thing that's popped in my head recently is something that happened around '86. Back then, my dad's alcoholism was really bad. He was drinking about four cases of Meister Brau a week (in the kitchen by himself). Somehow, my mom dragged him and my two younger sisters to a therapist. I didn't go because of my cross country / track commitments. After the one and only shrink session, my mom relayed what happened in there. Apparently, the doctor put a cube on the desk, which represented the future, and asked my dad what he saw in there, and my dad said, "Nothing." Nowadays, I can relate.

Copenhagen, Denmark

2011-07-11T20:44:00.008-04:00

It's Saturday, July 9 at 10:30 AM, Denmark time. I'm in the Copenhagen airport. The first of my two-leg flight home doesn't leave till 2 PM, so I got nothing but time. I took the train here to the airport instead of a taxi because the train station was only a 10-minute walk from my hotel. On Wednesday, the taxi ride took about a half-hour. The train ride was only two stops: half that time. Weird.

Anyway, let's hop into the WABAC machine and go to Wednesday.

The two flights from Nuuk, Greenland to Copenhagen, Denmark were uneventful. The first part was on a small plane, while the second part was on a 747 -- both Greenland Air.

I got to the hotel in Copenhagen around 9 PM. I wanted to get a bite to eat before everything closed, and the area I was staying in didn't seem to have a lot going for it. All I could see were expressways, train tracks, office buildings and chain hotels (Radisson Blu skyscraper, for example).

Reception said around the corner was a partner hotel with a restaurant. They only had about four things on their menu, since it was way past normal dinner time. The one thing looked interesting, but it was like a five-course meal and seemed to heavy, so I opted for a bacon cheeseburger and fries. It was really good. Had some orange sauce on there and radishes (and obviously lettuce; also, a cherry tomato on top speared with a toothpick). With it I drank a bottle of Carlsburg beer. Very tasty: not too much of a lager, and not too watered down.

I went to bed around midnight, even though my body was in Greenland time (8 PM). Surprisingly, I fell asleep without too much problem.

On Thursday, I purchased a breakfast ticket from reception for 60 kroner, then headed to the restaurant on the second floor. They only had bread, lunchmeat and cereal. I opted for some grainy cereal with nuts and dried bananas. I washed it down with orange juice.

After freshening up, I walked about less than a kilometer to the main tourist office, Wonderful Copenhagen.

My original impression on Wednesday was wrong (aren't first impressions almost always erroneous?). I wasn't in a desolate area. It was pretty close to the city centre. Everything seems so spread out because bicycle strips and pedestrian paths get generous swaths of concrete, not as wide as the street but big enough. They actually need the plentiful bike paths. I would say there's almost as many bikes on the road as cars. And like in Stockholm, pedestrians need to watch where they're walking, or speeding bicyclists will clip them.

Wonderful Copenhagen was ultra-modern, with lighted floors and walls, glass panels with information every few feet, and more than enough booklets of stuff to do. And they were adequately staffed; like Nuuk, you had to take a number.

With a city map in hand, I went to the adjoining store, a bakery, and got a dessert I forget the name of. It had whipped cream and cherries (with stem) on top; on the bottom was a crumb-like concoction. Yummy. I followed it up with a bottle of Coke I got from a nearby hotdog stand.

Because it was supposed to rain Friday, I decided to do as much today, Thursday, outside. First stop was across the street from Wonderful Copenhagen: Tivoli.

It's an amusement park first erected around 1860. Lots of rides in there and cool crazy architecture, like a clown's head on a pillar, busts of Roman emperors, a Ming Dynasty temple, and an 18th-century ship in a lake with oversized electronic mosquitoes, a real live white duck, and koi fish.

After spending about two hours in there, I walked up Hans Christian Anderson Boulevard, named after the Danish author of such stories as "The Ugly Duckling" and "The Little Mermaid". At one intersection, I stumbled across a sandwich shop that named their treats after American celebrities, such as Marilyn Monroe, Hillary Clinton, Oprah, and Katherine Hepburn. You don't need too many brain cells to guess which one I got. That's right, Jane Fonda! Seriously though, I mainly got it 'cause it didn't have any meat; I was in the mood for something vegetarian. The sandwich had lettuce, tomato, and the white stuff vegetarians eat -- I think it's some type of cheese. And with my cold pretty much kicked, I had a Carlsburg orange juice with green tea. I ate while walking to my next destination. When I went to open my drink, I saw that you needed a bottle opener. Crap. Fortunately, I called up my college partying past and used the top edge of an electric box to open it. Got it on the second try!

Next up was a Botanical Garden. About the same type of stuff I had seen last year in Glasgow, though they did have they supersized lily pads -- at least three feet across, and in one of the greenhouses they had two white-painted, metal, spiral staircases so you could get a bird's-eye view. Oh, it was hot up there. Had to be in the nineties, compared to outside where it was no more than 69 degrees.

Around the block and across the street was Rosenborg Castle. My-oh-my, what a sight. It used to a vacation home for some king and storing place for their prized possessions. The place was huge and ornate. I couldn't believe the opulence in there. Fresco ceilings, ginormous oil paintings, royal crowns. And on the third floor were the king and queen's thrones. Really impressive with the three life-sized lions in front of the thrones; not sure what the lions were made out of, but they were shiny (sliver, maybe?).

In back of the castle was the King's Garden, which is now a public park. It's basically nine blocks of flat grass that stretch about 100 yards. Very tranquil. Unfortunately, that's when my camera's battery died. Bummer.

I walked back to my hotel. I took a different route to experience something new, but I did a bit of a roundabout because the train tracks (two dozen tracks, perhaps) were in the way, so I had to walk a kilometer around until the next bridge appeared. Needless to say, I was glad to put my feet up in my hotel room. I must've walked at least five miles total.

For dinner, I walked to a restaurant about six blocks past Wonderful Copenhagen. My travel book recommended it, though they failed to mention that it was in the red-light district. I'm assuming that, but it did have all the tell-tale signs: a couple hourly hotels per block; vagrants lounging on stoops, spitting on the sidewalk; and a tattoo parlor every block. Anyway, the restaurant had some weird deal where you had to reserve and pay online; sounded like they were only interested in large parties not loner tourists like myself. It worked out 'cause an Italian place was on the next block. They had a special for a four-course meal. When I entered, I was the only one there besides two women finishing up in the corner.

The meal was superb. For a starter, the owner (I'm guessing) brought over micro shrimp in a bowl with red sauce and some other stuff in there. Next up were six cheese ravioli in a white thick sauce. The main course was veal. Dessert was something called Symphony Dessert. Loved all of it!

Amusement ride at Tivoli that you could see for miles. (Copehangen, Denmark; July 7, 2001)

Friday I had breakfast at the hotel again. Sixty kroner equals about $12 US. May sound like a lot for cereal and OJ, but I didn't mind paying for the convenience.

Once I finally left my hotel, it was raining. I contemplated calling for a taxi but decided to hoof it. I went next store to Wonderful Copenhagen to a souvenir shop so I could buy postcards for my family. Next store to that was a football shop. I bought a Denmark soccer jersey for 499 kroner. I'd only used my credit card twice in Denmark: for the cab and dinner Wednesday night. I had a lot of kroners left over from Greenland.

I then purchased a ticket for the Hop On Hop Off bus tour. It lasted an hour and a half, drove by the main tourist sites. I took some pics, but the rain hurt the quality.

For lunch I ducked into a meat place on the corner next to Nationalmuseet (National Museum). On the tour they mentioned a Danish specialty is smørrebrød aka an open-faced sandwich, so I got that: pork. It's basically a meal with two slices of bread. I really enjoyed it, since I rarely eat pork at home. I liked how they had fried onions and mushrooms on top of the meat. And the salad included nuts and cold (cream-tasting) corn. For a beverage I had a Carlsburg lager. Not as good as the regular Carlsburg I had Wednesday night.

By now it was 2:30 PM. Not a lot of time with most touristy places closing at 4 or 5 PM. I had wanted to go to Nationalmuseet, the Christianborg Palace, and Amalienborg Palace, the winter residence of Denmark's royal family. But I only had time for one site, so I went to Christianborg Palace, where the queen entertains guests, which was two blocks away from the restaurant.

I got there in just enough time for the three o'clock tour. They wouldn't let you take your umbrella on the tour, but they did offer free lockers, which I thought was nice.

The tour was fascinating. Sadly I couldn't take pictures, but its opulence nearly matched the Rosenborg Castle. All the rooms and history there. Fascinating!

Afterwards, I took a different way back to the hotel (without getting lost). I did stop in to see if any museums low on my to-do list were open till 6 PM, since it was now 4:30, but they all closed at 5. Damn, wish I had an extra day here.

I chilled at the hotel for a bit. The sky cleared up, and around 7 PM I headed back out towards an area called Tallink that I had seen on the bus tour. Lovely area -- has a canal running through it.

I had dinner at some fancy corner cafe/restaurant called Europa. I ate something I don't think I've ever had: monkfish. Tasted like your typical fillet, though it was two inches high on the ends. It also had asparagus wrapped in bacon. Awesome. For dessert I ate a chocolate souffle with vanilla ice cream. Ah!

I ambled through a shopping district, Stroget, to get back to the hotel. It was cobblestoned and had several street performers, such as mimes and musicians. Very nice.

Back at the hotel, I packed up for the flight home. Lovely vacation. Glad I came. It was an eye-opening experience. I used to put Scandinavia on a pedestal because of their strong safety net but besides that they're very similar to America.

For future vacations, I don't think I'm going to do a bunch of cities in a couple weeks. I'll just go to a city for five days or a week. Maybe Paris next summer. . . .

Little Mermaid statue. Pretty interesting: the head is a popular ballerina from around 1911, and the body is the sculptor's wife. The entire thing was supposed to be the ballerina, but once she found out about the nudity she almost backed out. (Copenhagen, Denmark; July 8, 2011)

Nuuk, Greenland

2011-07-07T11:15:00.005-04:00

It's now Wednesday, July 6, 5:45 AM, Greenland time. I'm in the Nuuk airport. My flight leaves at 7:35 for the hour travel time to Kangerlussuaq. Then the plane for Copenhagen leaves at 11:40 AM. I'm supposed to arrive in Denmark at 8 PM. The day's not as long as it sounds because Copenhagen is four hours ahead, so I'll be in Denmark at 4 PM Greenland time.

Anyway, back on Monday, in Reykjavík, I got up at 7 AM for my noon flight to Nuuk, Greenland. On Sunday afternoon, the owner of the inn called the shuttle, which was supposed to come at 8 AM, so I stood on the corner where the Flybus dropped me off on Friday (a half block from the inn). About 8:10 one of those Iceland Expedition vans pulled up in front of a hotel two houses from the Alfhouse Guesthouse. I asked the driver if he was going to the BSI Bus Terminal. He said no. So I returned to standing on the corner in front of the Icelandic Salvation Army.

Around 8:30, still no Flybus. I went back to the guesthouse and saw that the shuttle was actually Iceland Expedition not Flybus, and it didn't go to the bus terminal but the airport. Damn, I should've read the fine print!

I headed into town, a two-minute walk. A short row of taxis usually were parked in front of the main tourist center. I had the cabbie drive me to the bus terminal. I could've walked the kilometer to it -- God knows I had enough time -- but walking in light rain with luggage in tow isn't my idea of a good time.

At the bus terminal, I bought a ticket for the first Flybus shuttle to the airport: 9:30 AM.

The shuttle made it to the airport in better time than the one on Friday. Maybe it helped that this driver wasn't squinting into the horizon like Friday's driver (put those bifocals on mate!). Got to the airport around 10:10 AM.

In the terminal, I didn't see my flight on any of the boards. A woman at the one of check-in desks informed me that my flight is at the other airport. WHAT!?! A small city like Reykjavík has two airports? By now it was 10:30. The airport employee suggested I take a shuttle. I opted for a cab, which cost me almost a $100 US. That's what I get for not reading the fine print twice (once on the shuttle service and once on the airport code on my plane ticket).

The correct airport was coincidentally across the road from the bus terminal. Real small. They had one gates and one runway, and I couldn't check in until a half-hour before takeoff.

The plane was only half-full. Not a lot of people going to Greenland, I guess. Kinda nice to have a window view with the seat next to me empty so I could throw my jacket.

The Air Iceland plane landed in Nuuk around 1:15 PM; it was a three hour-plus flight (Greenland is two hours behind Iceland).

The Nuuk airport is about as small as the one in Reykjavík. The baggage claim has a conveyor belt that's only about four feet inside the building; you could see outside through the vertical plastic flaps as they loaded the luggage from the truck, with the plane only 10 feet away.

Outside it was 45 degrees with 15-to-25-mile winds. I grabbed a taxi that drove me five kilometers to my hotel apartment. When I went to pay the cabbie, neither of my credit cards would take because apparently in Greenland you need to type in PIN codes. Reluctantly, I paid with my debit card, which has a PIN.

Checking in turned out to be another nightmare. Neither of my credit cards would work without a PIN (I don't know it) and they could run my debit card through but because it's a MasterCard they would charge me 4% extra.

I headed into town, which is only about two blocks away and went to the bank. I could only withdraw $2,000 Danish kroner (about $400 US), so I went back to my room and grabbed a bunch of Euros I had left over from Finland. I traded these in at the bank for kroner along with about $240 US; that gave me an extra 2,000 kroner. Oh, and I tried to call my VISA credit card company, but I had trouble getting through from the room in my hotel, and the kid at reception wasn't too helpful, mainly due to language barriers (more on that later).

With enough kroner to get me by, I wandered around. I was a little under-dressed with those wicked winds. My pants, short-sleeve T-shirt, mock turtleneck and Australia cotton/polyester barely kept me warm, but I could've used another layer. I took as many pictures as possible because the next day the BBC weather website said to expect heavy rain.

Across the street from the bank was the big hotel in Nuuk, sandwiched between a convenience store and a sports store, with construction going on out front. I headed up to the fifth floor to their restaurant.

Great dinner! Service was top-notch. With my cold still going, I got hot tea. For a starter, I had scallops. Main course was rack of lamb. All outstanding. And I went a little crazy with the bread, so no room for dessert.

Afterwards, I headed back to the hotel apartment and lied low. There were tons of public housing around me. I wasn't sure what to expect, especially since the inside of my door jamb was carved up, as if somebody had tried to break in with a crowbar.

A few blocks from my hotel. (Nuuk, Greenland; July 4, 2011)

On Tuesday, I woke up before my alarm went off at 7 AM. It hadn't started raining yet. I headed two blocks to the downtown area where there's a supermarket, which I had visited a few times on Monday. Attached to it is a bakery that opened at 6:30. I got a square-shaped pastry about an inch thick and sugary in some parts. Yum.

Back in my room, I planned the day's itinerary. I wanted to start things right then and there at 8 AM, but most of Nuuk's few tourist spots don't open till 10.

Since I had time to kill, I headed to reception, which was only open from 8 AM to 4 PM, to pay my bill. It came out to 1,600 krona (about $300 US), which I paid in cash.

Real quick: it doesn't seem a lot of people here speak English. Presented a problem in some instances. And when they did speak, there was trouble communicating. For example, on Monday, the kid at reception said in order to pay my bill in cash I needed to go to the bank and make a "deposit". I thought I had to deposit the money in the hotel's account, but I found out on Tuesday he meant "withdraw". From what I read, Greenlandic is the primary language, followed by Danish (since Greenland is a republic of Denmark), then English.

Around 9:30 it started to rain. Lovely.

Around 10:30 or so, I called a cab to take me to the Nuuk Tourism office. It was only a 10-to-15-minute walk but I didn't feel like getting soaked, even though the wind wasn't as fierce as on Monday.

Nuuk Tourism didn't have any stamps for the postcards I had picked up the day before in what I believe is the city's only bookstore. Though I wished I had waited to buy the postcards at Nuuk Tourism because they had a better selection. Oh, well.

What was cool about Nuuk Tourism was in the back they had a little Santa workshop. Cute.

Then it was off in another taxi for downtown.

I withdrew another 2,000 kroner from the bank. Glad it took. I had feared it wouldn't let me do so because less than 24 hours had elapsed. Now I had plenty of money. No need to worry about using my credit cards. And my next (and last) stop will be Copenhagen, which uses kroner too.

I also hit the post office to get postage for the postcards. What's interesting about retail outlets is they make you take a number and you wait to be called. It happened here at the post office, the supermarket, the bank and the bakery. Oh, and what also caught my attention at the post office was all the electronics they sold. iPads, iPods, cameras, headphones, etc.

I then visited that sports store next to the hotel where I had dinner Monday night. Unfortunately, they didn't have any football jerseys.

By now it was 11:30 AM. I crossed the street to hit a cafe that Greenland.com recommended. It was over top a bar. Though the cafe was more like a restaurant. I ordered penne with chopped-up chicken in an Alfredo-like sauce. The hot green tea kept my cold in check, which is lingering.

I then realized I wanted to visit the Greenland National Museum; it's 50 yards from Nuuk Tourism. I'm so stupid! Should've went there before. Grrrr. . . .

The museum consisted of about five different buildings. Some interesting stuff in there, like a family of mummies from 500 to 1,000 years ago, and an exhibit on Norse farms, the latter which settled around 1,300 AD but eventually left because (it's assumed) either because of the weather or their goods weren't valued anymore by Europe. Fascinating stuff.

I then tried to walk back to the hotel. On the way, I took pictures of Nuuk's main church and some statues. But I got a little lost -- couldn't find the artery that led to my lodgings, so I hailed a cab.

When I got back to my room, I realized my camera was AWOL. Beautiful. I called the taxi company. About two hours later the driver returned with it. I couldn't believe I'd lost it because when I got out of the cab I remember making sure it was in my jacket pocket. Must've slipped out at the last second, and my last glance in the backseat didn't see it because the upholstery was black like my camera.

With that little piece of stupidity and drama behind me, I walked to Nuuk Art Museum, next store to my hotel. It didn't look like much from the outside but they have numerous rooms to display mostly modern artwork. Some of it blew me away. I especially liked these little white figures (should've asked what they're made out of). Some were quite horrific. They merged faces you might find on totem poles with bodies of seals or sharks.

I was really lucky to visit that museum. Apparently they're only open on Saturday and Sundays, and on Tuesdays and Thursdays during the summer.

Back at my hotel, I figured out how to download pictures from my camera to my computer. It's been so long since I've done so that it took awhile to figure it out. I had pictures on there going all the way back to August 2010. Downside of having a mega memory card -- I get lazy.

For dinner, I wanted to go to a restaurant down by Nuuk Tourism, but the Lonely Planet website said reservations were a must and I called several times. No dice. The phone rang and rang; one time it was busy. Around 6:30 I gave up. If it hadn't been raining I would've hiked a kilometer down the road to a cafe I saw on Monday, so instead I went to a pizzeria around the corner. Once again, language barriers prevented me from understanding the menu. Would've liked to gotten something different but the cashiers and I had a "failure to communicate", so I just pointed at the first thing on the menu, which turned out to be a plain pizza. Surprisingly, it was good, thanks to a soft crust and copious oregano cooked in the cheese.

I turned in around 9:30 PM, since I had to get up at 5 AM on Wednesday for my flight.

Before I go, one thing I noticed in Nuuk is the major Inuit population. That may not even be the proper term, since they've been Westernized. From what I read, about 10% of the population is Danish. I guess most of the Danes are here for work, since there's construction everywhere. Crazy.

Around the corner from my hotel apartment, a little after 7 AM. (Nuuk, Greenland; July 5, 2011)

Scandivavian vacay update

2011-07-05T18:44:00.000-04:00

I just went back and added a photo for each day. Enjoy!

Reykjavík, Iceland

2011-07-05T07:31:00.006-04:00

It's currently 12:30 PM, Iceland time, on Monday, July 4th. I'm on an Air Iceland plane bound for Nuuk, Greenland, the next-to-last stop on my Scandinavian summer vacation (yeah, yeah, yeah, I know, Greenland isn't technically part of Scandinavia, but it's close enough).

Back on Friday, I arrived in Iceland's capital, Reykjavík, to rainy weather. I hopped in a Flybus for about $20 US to take me into town -- a 45-minute/hour ride. The bus pulled into BSI Terminal. From there, I hopped on a smaller bus for a 5-to-10-minute ride to my lodgings. The bus dropped me off at the corner. I walked a half a block to Alf Guesthouse, whose theme is elves.

I saw no reception desk or anything, but a lodger told me on the second floor, room 5 had a Post It with "John". I threw my luggage in there and grabbed the skeleton key that was on the inside keyhole.

By this point, it was late afternoon. I wandered into town. As I had expected, Reykjavík is a sleepy city. It's about what you'd imagine a city with 120,000 residents; 200,000 if you include the surrounding six suburbs. The city centre has enough going on, but it definitely doesn't have the hustle and bustle of big Scandinavian cities I had already visited.

Since Reykjavík is a small city, the streets are easier to navigate. I found the main tourist office with little problem. I got a printout (the size of a receipt) of currency exchanges. One US dollar equals 114 Iceland Krona. And I asked an unsmiling girl behind the tourism desk where I could pick up some cold medicine, because on the flight I sensed a cold forming in my throat. She directed me to a pharmacy, but it was closing in 10 minutes at 6 PM.

I tried running to the pharmacy but I couldn't find out. I headed back towards the tourism office and cruised down one of Reykjavík's main commercial strips, Austurstraeti. I stopped at an ATM and got out 40,000 krona (about $350 US). I then got a little snack at a 24-hour convenience store.

Back at the guesthouse, or inn, I ran into the owner, Kristjan. I think he was expecting me to ring him when I arrived but I told I saw no reception desk or anything. On my last night there, I did see a black bell before the staircase. If that was how to contact him, it's interesting he didn't say anything.

Anyway, with my Lonely Planet travel book in hand, around 7 o'clock, I trekked in search of a recommended restaurant. I kinda took the long way. When I did find it, it was close to 8 PM, and there was at least a half-hour wait -- real small place.

I walked towards Austurstraeti and wound up on a touristy street called Skolavordustigur. Since I was staying in a city by the sea, I slid into a place that served seafood. As soon my feet crossed the threshold, I knew I was in the right place. ABBA played from the speakers.

I got a seat by the window and overheard that this restaurant just opened in April or May.

For an appetizer, the waitress brought over what looked like a two-ounce flower pot. Inside was some stuff that looked like soil (colored clay like the pot) with a small leafy thing jutting out. The waitress said to sink the spoon to the bottom. I did and there was some white, creamy stuff down there. It was good. Tasted like a dessert, but not too sweet.

For the main course, I got pasta and seafood. From the description on the menu, I thought it was going to be like linguine on a plate with some seafood. It turned out to be a salad served in a big brown bowl, which reminded me of something from Gilligan's Island. The salad didn't fill the whole bowl, just the bottom. The seafood was shrimp and, I think, lobster meat, covered by penne and lettuce. All of that sat in a sauce that looked like diluted Alfredo. Good stuff. And because the exchange rate is in America's favor, it only cost about $23 US or so.

Street I stayed on in Reykjavík. (Reykjavík, Iceland; July 1, 2011)

Saturday morning, I got up at 8 AM and headed down to the kitchen for the free breakfast, which lasted until 10 AM. I had cornflakes and a glass of orange juice. Afterwards, I paid my bill. The night before, Kristjan told me he preferred cash, so I gave him 33,00 krona (about $300 US for three nights) from my ATM withdrawal the night previous. I would have liked to charge it, but since I kinda got off on the wrong foot by not ringing him when I arrived, I figured I'd do cash. That left me with almost 700, so I'd have to count my kronas.

After breakfast, I finished doing my blog detailing my Oslo visit. And the inn had free wireless, which was nice.

Then, like on Friday night, I visited some souvenir shops. This time I did it on a new street, Laugavegur. My window-shopping had another purpose: I was killing time until the pharmacy opened at 11 AM.

After picking up some stuff at the pharmacy, I eventually found a store for the postcards to send home. Then it was off to another store where I got a football jersey and gift for my (now) six-year-old nephew. His birthday was on June 29. I got him a piece of cloth that you can use as a headband, scarf, cap, and a few other uses. Hopefully, he'll like it. The brand is Buff, which is his nickname.

Real quick: one thing I found interesting was how some of Reykjavík's one-way streets have no curbs. The sidewalks pretty much merge into the streets; you can see where they shift by the coloring and direction of the grey bricks, but it's easy to miss if you're not paying attention. Weird.

Anyway, for lunch, I picked up a sandwich and OJ at the 24-hour convenience store. I then bought a ticket from the tourism office for a Hop-On-Hop-Off bus ride.

Around 2:30, I stood under the blood-red Hop-On-Hop-Off bus shelter because it was drizzling. The tour, which goes in an 60-minute loop and departs at the top of the hour, passed me by at 3 PM because the stop was across the street. I thought the bus was going to U-turn and pick me wrong. My mistake. Kinda weird how they have a bus shelter but no buses stop at it. Guess it's just an advertisement.

So I took the 4 PM tour, last one for the day. It was nice. Took some pictures. Since Reykjavík isn't all that big, there were only about six stops or so.

For dinner, I stopped in the Laundromat Cafe on Austurstraeti. They have a sign out front that says something like: "Feel free to breastfeed here. We like boobs and babies!"

To take a break from the seafood scene, I got a veggie burger, which came with deep-fried steak fries. And since my cold was starting to kick in overdrive, I drank Camellia tea.

Afterwards, I hit a cafe about a half a kilometer away down by this lake. Oddly enough, there were a lot of Americans there. I didn't contribute much to the conversation because my cold deposited a deafening hum in my head. I hung out for about an hour, until 8 PM.

Back at the guesthouse, I heated up a small cup of water for the medicine I had picked up at the pharmacy. It was supposed to be good for the throat and was a sedative. I drank it and went to bed a little after 9 PM. I slept soundlessly for a solid five hours before it was time for a bladder break. The complete opposite of Friday night, when I tossed and turned. Maybe it was all the light spilling in the room thanks to the thin white curtains. The sun only sets from 11 PM to 3 AM in July, and from what I heard, it doesn't go completely dark during those four hours.

Me getting arty with a pic of the lake about a kilometer from my lodgings. (Reykjavík, Iceland; July 2, 2011)

On Sunday, after breakfast, I headed down to the dock where they have whale-watching tours. Unlike Saturday, when it was cloudy, Sunday it was raining. My umbrella wasn't much help, thanks to the 20-mph winds. Originally, I had wanted to do a volcano-viewing tour, but you need to take a bus that takes three hours to get there. Not my idea of fun, besides they left at 9 AM, and it was now 9:30.

Before I could go whale watching, I would at least need a wool hat (or as the McKenzie Brothers call it, a tuque). Had to buy one first, and maybe later it would warm a little.

Here's the thing about Reykjavík. It never gets warm. My whole time there, the temperature never went above 59 degrees. And it looks like in the winter it's usually no colder than 30 degrees. Not too bad, but it looks like it's frequently drizzling. The locals seem use to it, 'cause hardly any carry umbrellas. Rain slickers seem to be mandatory if you're gonna live there.

One more thing: for a city of 100,000, I didn't see a lot of locals on the streets. Tons of tourists, but not a lot of Reykjavík residents. I mean, there were some, but for their population size I thought there'd be more people out on the weekend. Maybe they spend a lot of time indoors. Then again, the city is pretty spread out.

Anyway, I had brought only about a week's worth of clothes, so it was time to do laundry. Reykjavík only has two laundromats. One is at the City Hostel, where it's drop-off service only. The other one is -- you saw it coming -- the Laundromat Cafe. I got there at 10 AM, when they supposedly opened, but the top floor, the cafe, was half-full. I headed downstairs to the laundromat, and that's when the fun began ;)

They only have three washers and three dyers. Only two washers and one dryer worked. Glad I got there early, because a good number of tourists had laundry to do. I had two loads to do, and didn't get out of there until 3 PM. On the plus side, I spoke with some cool blokes. One was an engineer, I think, who'd been in Reykjavík for eight weeks. He grew up in Rochester, New York, was now based in Atlanta, and his wife lived in the Middle East. He said he was applying for a permanent visa to live in Iceland. Once he hands in the paperwork, he has to leave the country, so he'll vacation with one of his two 20-something sons in France or Germany. He voiced his perplexity over having to leave while they review his application -- no other country he's lived in is like that. Later, I thought that it made sense. Having you leave is smart because if they reject your application, you can't go into hiding. Although, they'd probably find you in a country of 300,000, where about half lives in the capital region.

After dropping my laundry off in my room, I headed to Laugavegur, where I had seen a store on Saturday boasting that they were members of The Handknitting Association of Iceland. Funny stuff. What wasn't funny that now they were closed. Bummer. I wanted to buy a hat for a whale-watching tour.

By now, it was raining, so I wasn't in the mood to be on boat for three hours, so I chilled back at the guesthouse. Around seven I headed back to Laugavegur, where a restaurant had caught my eye, Hereford Steakhouse. They had two specials going on: one with whale, the other with puffin. Guess which one I went with? That's right, if you can't watch whales, you might as well eat 'em!

The place was really nice. Very spacious, dim lighting, plentiful servers, and it's on top of a boutique.

The starter was lobster soup with cognac. Main meal featured whale pepper steak -- colored violet on the inside, and very fatty in some parts, but good. Dessert was Icelandic Skyr Herefordstyle -- lots of creaming stuff with small strawberries and a blueberry, and a scoop of pink ice cream (sherbert?).

I spent the remainder of the evening back at the guesthouse, gearing up for my flight to Greenland on Monday. Oh, and Murphy's Law was in full effect for that trip. Details in the next blog post.

Trees need to keep warm too during those cool Iceland summers! (Reykjavík, Iceland; July 3, 2011)

Oslo, Norway

2011-07-02T05:28:00.007-04:00

It's currently about 3:30 PM, Norwegian time. I'm on an Iceland Express airplane bound for Reykjavík, Iceland. Like with my Stockholm post, I'm writing this on a text file and will post online later.

Real quick: I need to vent so it doesn't eat away at me. I'm sitting in the aisle seat, but I was supposed to be sitting by the window. However, when I boarded, a couple were in the window and middle seats. They asked if I would sit in the aisle seat because the woman has an infant in her lap. They just had to play the baby card. I let them sit there because if I had insisted on the assigned seating, they probably would've given me attitude when I had to get up and use the toilette, which for me is invariably. That's right, I'm the bad guy for wanting to sit there. Yeah, I know I sound like a cock, but I feel a little better having written it down. Like that old Howard Jones song title says, "Things Can Only Get Better".

OK, with that needless negativity out of the way, let's go back in time to Tuesday afternoon. The train rolled in around 2:15 or so. I then had to hop on a bus for the Oslo train station.

A worker in the Oslo train station informed me that my hotel was about a 15 -minute walk, so I hoofed it. The first part of my journey consisted of a shopping strip called Karl Johans gate. Wider than the place in Stockholm, it stretched almost a kilometer, was cobblestoned, and was jam-packed with people! Oh, and about the first 60% was pedestrians only, and the last 40% allowed cars.

Along the way I noticed these human-sized statues, one gold-painted, another silver-painted. They each stood on a platform that had jutting out the front what looked like an oil funnel; on it was penned, "THANK YOU!" I learned later that they're street performers from Romania. They move every once in awhile. On Wednesday, I saw a little girl touch the gold-coloured one's knee. I don't know how the street performer did it, but he squeaked a kid's toy, like a rubber ducky. Cute.

After Karl Johan's gate dead-ended into a park, I tried to find my hotel with the aid of my travel book's map, but it just wasn't happening. Plus, I started sneezing, an allergic reaction to Oslo's trees.

With the assistance of a passing pedestrian, I found my hotel and checked in. Pretty nice. Obviously, bigger than the Stockholm ship.

By now it was late afternoon. I headed back down the Karl Johans gate and bought postcards that had caught my eye on the trip to the hotel. The postcard was simple: Norway's flag.

Next up, with a tip from the cashier at the souvenir shop, I went to a shopping skyscraper, Oslo City, a few blocks away, not on Karl Johans gate. There was a store there called Football Shop. I was only going to window-shop for a Norway football jersey, but I bought it. I also got a Finland jersey. I don't regret the former but the latter I shouldn't have picked up because it's more of an advertisement for Adidas than Finland' team. Oh, well.

Confession time: the two jerseys cost me over $200 US. Not a good price. What was I thinking? Sadly, the currency exchange wasn't as nice as it was in Sweden.

I headed back to the hotel, hung out a bit, and decided to hit a restaurant called Mecca, a suggestion in my travel book.

I never found Mecca. Oslo is an easy city to get lost in. The roads twist and turn, there are circles everywhere, and it's not uncommon for streets to change names after only a block or two. For the last reason, my two maps (the one in my travel book and the one I picked up at the hotel) proved only half-useful. Neither of them could list all of the street names, especially since some of them have long names.

I wandered around for at least an hour. I kept my guard up because I was in a ghetto. Not as bad as Philly, but bad enough: graffiti on buildings, residents with angry eyes, and few taxi cabs. Luckily, I eventually spotted a taxi and flagged him down. I had him drop me off down on Karl Johans gate because I had noticed a bunch of restaurants down there.

I was really in the mood for an elk burger, something I saw in Stockholm but hadn't gotten my last night there because I had eaten enough red meat (last thing I want to get is gout). I snubbed the TGIF and Hard Rock, but my hunger for a burger eventually won out. I ate at some place called O'Leary's, fashioned after a Boston pub/restaurant. I got a BBQ bacon burger, fries and garlic bread. And it looks like I was wrong about Scandinavians not requiring tips. When charging credit cards, unlike in Finland and Sweden, Norwegians have me type in the final amount then press OK.

Afterwards, I was feeling bad about eating American food. I'm on vacation for Christ sake! So I stopped in a convenience store across the street from my hotel and got pistachio ice cream, which I don't eat at home. Good stuff.

Romanian street performer. (Oslo, Norway; June 28, 2011)

On Wednesday, I had breakfast in the hotel, which was free, like the Internet access.

About three blocks from the hotel was the Nasjonalgalleriet , where a bunch of Edvard Munch's work is displayed, including The Scream. Part of the reason I went was because my travel book said it was free, but when I got there, a security guard stopped my from ascending the steps. Apparently, they started charging admission in May.

I didn't take any pictures. A lot of museums forbid flash photography, and my camera works best with the flash -- I get sick of asking all the time.

It was a real kick to see The Scream! In front of it is a pane of glass, which I assumed was alarmed. Guess the museum doesn't want it getting stolen again. That would explain the 50-plus security guards roaming the corridors and showrooms.

For lunch I hailed a cab and had him take me to that Mecca restaurant. He didn't know where it was when I got in the cab, but he eventually found the street it was supposed to be on. I say supposed because it wasn't there. Bummer. On the plus side, he was quite chatty. He complained about taxes and how immigrants don't like to work. I don't about them not wanting to work, but there are a lot of immigrants in Oslo. I was reading that Norway eased up on its immigration laws because native Norwegians aren't procreating enough. On the downside, Oslo has a huge police presence, and at almost every other block in the city centre you'll see beggars -- mostly women who I assumed were Muslim because they had those scarves (burkas?) over their ears and hair. They weren't aggressive, just sat on the sidewalk with a paper cup in front of them.

Anyway, I had the taxi driver drop me off on Johan's Gate. My plan was to hit a French restaurant I saw before, but they didn't open till 4:30 PM, so I went to a place called Egron restaurant. Huge place. Lots of space with two floors and a basement for restrooms.

Even though I eat a lot of seafood at home, I ordered something I don't think I've ever eaten: bass. It also came with little potatoes that were heavily salted (salt in clumps), and mixed vegetables. It was awesome! And the view was great. I was on the second floor, overlooking Karl Johans Gate and the park across the street.

Next up I took a cab to Vikingshipshuset, about a half-hour drive to a nearby peninsula. That was the last cab I took in Oslo because I wanted to pay by credit card but he says he couldn't take it 'cause his machine only read the ones with chips. So I had to pay cash, which nearly wiped me out of my Krones, which I wanted to hold onto.

The Viking Ship Museum was awesome! They had two full-sized Viking ships and a partial one. The full-size ones were so huge, I couldn't get one in a single camera shot.

After that, I discovered the bus outside the museum went near my hotel, so I hopped on that. Pretty crazy: the bus ran every 10 minutes, was three cabooses (probably wrong word) long with that accordion rubber for turns, and it was standing room only.

I chill-axed at the hotel for a bit, then went to a Pakistani restaurant that I had picked up in the hotel lobby the day before. The restaurant, Mehfel, was fairly easy to find because I had that talkative taxi driver in the afternoon take me there, but they didn't open till 4 PM.

I went all out at this place. I got a starter, which I usually don't do: king prawns with sesame seeds. For the main course, I ordered a bunch of meat. Some of it was cubed. I remember there being a few little chicken wings, and there was one other type of of meat. I ate it all over rice. For a beverage, I drank hot Pakistani tea. And since I had room left over, I ordered dessert called Desi Halwa, which the menu described as: "Traditional Pakistani dessert with semolina, coconut, almonds and pistachio." I didn't know what to expect but was pleasantly surprised. It came in a huge soup bowl and looked like apple sauce, but it was hot. Could definitely taste the almond. Afterwards, the waitress brought over a bowl of what looked like seeds and miniature M&Ms. She said it was supposed to help with digestion. I only took one spoonful (had to be at least 30 spoonfuls in there). It tasted a bit licoricey.

Did I mention I was the only one in the restaurant? That was freaky. Good service, though. On the walk back to the hotel, I think I figured out why I was the lone patron. First, they're not in the best neighborhood: office and government buildings, and not a lot of retail stores, just a few boutiques (ya can't the lunch crowd when you're closed then). And my bill came out to $100 US. I was a bit shocked by that. Whatever, I'm on vacay and the food was good.

One of ships at the Viking Ship Museum. This picture doesn't touch on its immense size. (Oslo, Norway; June 29, 2011)

On Thursday, I walked to the Nobel Peace Centre. Took over an hour to find it thanks to the maze of Oslo's streets. It was down by the harbour. Pretty cool. And after all these years I still can't help but cackle when seeing Obama winning the Peace Prize. Oh-ho-ho, that's rich with irony!

For lunch I picked up a sandwich at the convenience store across the street from my hotel. Then it was off on the bus to the Norsk Folkemuseum, which is next to the Viking Ship Museum. I didn't go to the Norsk Folkemuseum the day prior because it's an open-air museum; I was sneezing a little and I didn't want to be ah-chooing well into the evening.

The Norsk Folkemuseum was fascinating. They have all these buildings from centuries past. The highlight is a stave church from circa 1200. I was on the grounds for over two hours. And the best part is I hardly sneezed -- guess my body was sick of producing histamines.

For dinner, I walked to a restaurant suggested by my travel book, Shroder, a Norwegian restaurant. Had to have some authentic Nordic food my last night in Oslo.

Lonely Planet described Shroder as "haunted by locals, not tourists", which was true. Not a lot of patrons, though the rain may have had something to do with that. I got ox (tasted like regular steak), which had fried onions piled on top, crinkle-cut French fries, and mixed vegetables, which consisted of three heads each of broccoli and cauliflower. I washed everything down with some Nordic bottled beer, a lager; tasted like Fosters. For dessert, I had warm apple cake with whip cream and chocolate and strawberry ice cream.

Afterwards, I packed up at the hotel for the flight on Friday to Iceland. On Friday morning, I checked out and thank God the girl at the desk suggested I take the bus to the airport. It took over and hour but only cost $25 US; a cab would've been at least four times that.

Before I go, I need to say something about Oslo women. Good goddamn! I think that immigrant injection does some good. Gives them some colour. For the first time during my trip, I almost got whiplash from doing so many double-takes. Luckily I sleep on soft pillows, so there's no neck damage. . . .

Stave church at the Nordic Museum. (Oslo, Norway; June 30, 2011)

Stockholm, Sweden

2011-06-29T04:40:00.005-04:00

It's now Tuesday, about 9 AM. I'm on a train to Oslo. Obviously I got a little lazy with the blogging, so let's see how much I remember. (By the way, I'm writing this in a text file, but will post online later.)

On Saturday, in Helsinki, even more places were closed because of the holiday. I was hoping at the store Stadium would be open for a couple hours in the morning so I could pick up a Finnish soccer jersey, but no such luck.

It was raining. I hiked a few blocks to a 24-hour convenience store and had an apple and glass of OJ for breakfast.

I then putzed around the hotel. Got a shower and shaved, finished watching the third series of Being Human, which I had been watching as well on Friday night. Had to see how it ended, since they killed off a major character. I was disappointed, mainly because I would've done things differently -- the downside of being an erstwhile storyteller.

I checked out at noon and headed down to the harbor. My Viking Line cruise wasn't leaving until 5:30 PM, so I had plenty time to kill. I stopped in a cafe/restaurant and ordered a vegetarian pizza and apple juice. Surprisingly, the pizza was good.

I then picked up four postcards. My friend Karen asked for one, but I decided to send one to my mother and two sisters as well. In the pursuit of fairness, I wrote the same thing on each card. My plan is to do the same in each city I'm in.

After I dropped the postcards in a mailbox, I went across the street to a park and read a little of the book I'm reading about the French-Algeria war. It's a tough read due to loads of people to keep track of, the author's fondness for 25-cent words, and the occasional French phrase. That, coupled with my heavy lunch, had me nodding off. I soon snapped out of that thanks to an uninvited visitor.

A panhandler sat next to me on the bench. He had a round, olive face and wore a satiny jumpsuit a.k.a. the white rapper's uniform. He held a set of binoculars. His English was choppy but it sounded like he wanted me to buy the binoculars for 20 bucks. I kept telling him no -- must've said at least two dozen times. But he wouldn't leave. At one point he showed his ID; he was from Slovenia. I eventually had to get up and walk away. As I was standing, he wanted to shake my hand. Paranoid punk I am, I was a little trepidatious at first. Would he nail me in the gut with his other hand or hit me in the neck with the binoculars. Thankfully, nothing like that happened. (Silly rabbit!) As I headed toward my ship, I glanced back. He was bugging other bench dwellers.

With still some time to kill, I got an ice cream cone (hard vanilla not the soft serve I get at home). I didn't venture too far from the place where I bought it. The seagulls were pretty aggressive. Plus the sign at the ice-cream stand warned about the birds, so I stood next to the customer line, under the little awning. No birds bothered me, however, it was cute when a duck waddled by my feet, going about it quacking business.

Around 3 PM, I entered the Viking Line terminal. My ticket said boarding started at 3:30, but the guy who finalized my ticket said boarding time was 4:30. So I headed two flights up to the cafe. I got a super-sugary donut and what I thought was a bottle of water -- turned out to be seltzer (GROSS!).

The cruise liner boarded on time. Mistrustful mofo I am, I put my luggage and laptop in a locker, since I was sharing a cabin.

For the most part, I was bored out of my mind. I'm not a fan of gambling and I had trouble concentrating on my book. Plus, most of my fellow passengers seemed content in their little groups.

My ticket price included a buffet. I couldn't wait for my time slot to roll around. When 8 o'clock eventually rolled around, I went a little overboard (sorry). I loaded my plate with over a dozen things; everything from meat to seafood. Fortunately, I didn't get sick later from devouring foods that don't really belong together.

I was assigned to table 93. The only other people there were a 20-something couple, a burly guy with bleach-blond hair and his girlfriend, a brunette wearing a glittery, tight white T-shirt. I said hello to them but got the feeling they weren't up for conversation, which brings up an observation.

Scandinavians, especially the Finns, seemed remote, reserved or reticent. I was beginning to wonder if it was in my head, then I read a part in my travel book that worded it beautifully: "Scandinavians are pleasant but not gregarious." Nice to have some backup. Thanks, Lonely Planet!

I turned in around 10:30 PM. My cabin was way down, on the second level. I only had one roommate; cabin fit four. Judging by his accent, I think he was Russian or Eastern European. Needless to say, I didn't sleep well. I've been living alone too long.

On the cruise from Helinski and to Stockholm. This little island is about 100 yards off the Helinski coast. (Helinski, Finland; June 25, 2011)

Sunday, I got up at 7 AM. Breakfast was supposed to start at 8, but when I got up to level 8 (11 decks total), things were in full swing. I practiced some restraint this time. Had pancakes, sans syrup (didn't see any), and OJ. I sat near table 93, which looked out the front of the ship. This time the rectangular-shaped radar moved around.

Afterwards, I sat on the deck on level 10, was it? It was a bit chilly, probably in the 50s. I took in the Sweden coastline. Like when the boat left Helsinki, there were all these little islands, some only 50 yards off the coast, where there were houses. I'm guessing summer homes.

The Viking Line docked in Stockholm a little before 10 AM. I tried to be patient but I couldn't wait to get off it, so I trudged out with the masses.

The info desk on the ship had told me my hotel was about 2 kilometers from port. I decided to hoof it. The steward hooked me up with a map, so I wasn't totally aimless.

I eventually found my hotel, the Mälardrottningen, a former yacht that's now anchored. It used to belong to Barbara Hutton, one-time heir to the Woolworth's fortune. One of her seven marriages was to Cary Grant. She died in the 1970s.

Check-in time wasn't until 2 PM. I dropped off my luggage and did the tourist thing. I walked across the bridge into what looked like the city centre. With travel book in hand, I found a shopping mall called PUB. In there was a sports store. I picked up a Sweden soccer jersey for 599 Krona!!! Relax, one Swedish Krona is worth 15 U.S. cents, so that comes out to $90. Not cheap, but hey, it's a souvenir that'll fit in my itsy-bitsy suitcase.

I then stopped at an ATM and got out 1,500 Krona.

For lunch, I ducked into a restaurant that had caught my eye on the way to PUB. The restaurant was a meat-centric place; I think it had "steak" in its title. Anyway, I had a salad, veal cutlet, six tiny potatoes and a TALL glass of apple juice.

I did some more ambling about before checking in to the hotel. The room about what you would expect for being called a sailor's cabin. Not a whole lot of elbow room, but it was nice to have something all to myself (yeah, I'm a selfish son of a bitch). I loved it: a writing desk, free Internet access, and soap in the shower.

In the midafternoon, I hopped on a Open Top bus tour, the same company that did it in Helsinki. Pretty cool. Stockholm is a city of 14 islands, with a population of 800,000.

After that, I headed back to the ship. I was on Google Maps and looking for spots to visit that they filmed for The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo movies. That's when I felt a little nauseous. I thought I was tired, then I realized it was from the ship swaying slightly. (I didn't feel that way on the Viking Line, probably because the ship was so huge.) I left the hotel with sea legs, which didn't last long.

In one of the The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo movies, there's a big shootout in a restaurant. I found it, but it being Sunday, they were closed. So I ate around the corner at Viking Restaurant. Good choice. I had this fantastic pasta with three super-sized butterfly jumbo shrimp and the three best clams I ever tasted (in half its shell). Beverage was black tea with an actual sugar cube. For desert I had chocolate cake and a scoop of vanilla ice cream.

By then, it was around 8:30 PM, sun still up. I walked back to the hotel and planned what to do Monday, my only really full day in the city of isles.

One weird thing about Stockholm is there are tons of bike paths. It seems there are more of them than pedestrian paths. And bikers seem to have the right of way. Lots biker bells clinging.

Stockholm during my walk from the cruise ship to my hotel. (Stockholm, Sweden; June 26, 2011)

On Monday, I overslept about 90 minutes -- got up at 8:30 AM. I headed to the restaurant in the ship and had breakfast: pancakes, bacon and sausage that tasted and looked like hot dogs. I had a nice view out the porthole at the water. Forgot my camera so I took a pic with my phone. Don't leave the cabin without it!

I was going to walk to a museum about 4 kilometers out (about an hour walk), but even with my map, I got a little lost. So I took a cab. Glad I did. The driver defied the Scandinavian stereotype and gave me a chatty tour along the way. He pointed out government buildings and a top-of-the-line hotel that costs 7,000 krona a night. We even passed the American Embassy. He told me that back in the day, the Russian Embassy was well-guarded. Now it's the American Embassy that's like a fortress (high fences, barb wire). Interesting.

The Ethnology Museum was cool. They had a voodoo exhibit (or as the advertisements I saw everywhere had it: voudoo). Some fascinating stuff. Unfortunately, I couldn't take pictures. Most of it from Haiti, by the way.

Next up was Skansen, about a kilometer down the road and across a bridge. By now it was late morning and I realized too late I had overdressed: pants, black T-shirt, long-sleeve T and my Australia jacket. Felt like mid-80s, with the sun taking no rest.

I wanted to visit Skansen because of its Nordic Zoo. Took me a while to get there 'cause it was all the way in the back. Good stuff. I couldn't see the grey wolf, but I did take pics of wolverines, seals, bears, bison, elk and -- YES -- real live reindeer. The last was a real kick. The one with huge antlers had a pinkish nose. No lie! Paging Rudolph's descendants.

After spending a couple hours there, I walked about a half a kilometer to a bus/tram stop that would take me to Central Station, which was about a 10-minute walk from my hotel.

I dumped the extra clothes in my cabin and headed back out to this one shopping district with narrow streets and cobblestone streets/sidewalks. I went into an Italian place for lasagne and a can of coke. It was about 3 PM, so I was famished.

Oh, I forgot to mention that when I was leaving Skansen, I started sneezing, and it hadn't let up. Must've been tons of tree pollen there in full bloom.

By the time I finished lunch, it was 4 PM. I had wanted to visit a museum that a presentation on the Nobel Prizes, but it closed at 5. Never would've made it, so I rested at the hotel. I noticed my sunburned head. Doh! And I couldn't stop sneezing.

Around 7:30 PM, I tried that The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo restaurant, which I had tried for lunch as well (they didn't open till 5:30), but I stood in the doorway for five minutes and none of their skeletal staff came over.

I headed back to that old time village where I had lunch. I eventually found a place with a girl standing outside, waiting to take customers. I made a good choice. Got a nice thick slice of salmon, mashed potatoes, glass of milk and apple cake with caramel and a scoop of vanilla ice cream, the ice cream in a bowl just big enough for it, which prevented melting. The bill came out to 395 krona (about $60), but it was worth it.

Here's something interesting: according to my travel book, you don't need to tip in Scandinavia. Feels alien to me. When I have tipped, the attitude seemed to me: "Whatever."

I didn't get back to the ship till a little before 10 PM. I showered, shaved and packed up. Took me a while to fall asleep. The sneezing hadn't let up at all.

A real reindeer! Look at those antlers and its pink nose. (Stockholm, Sweden; June 27, 2011)

Today, Tuesday, I got up at 6 AM and checked out. I walked less than a kilometer to the central train station. My train wasn't leaving till 8:29 AM, but like my dad always practiced: better extra early than mega late. I got to the train station a little after seven. For breakfast I had a croissant and tall cup of freshly-squeezed orange juice. And because I still had 200 to 300 krona in my wallet, I bought a newspaper in the station. The shop didn't have The Guardian, but they did stock The Independent (also a British lefty paper).

Anyway, it's now almost noon. A couple hours ago I headed to the bistro car and had a berry-type muffin and Coke can. I'll head back for lunch in a little bit. Need to get rid of the 176 krona in my pocket. I can't use it anyplace else on my trip, and I'm not fond of currency exchange joints -- can never tell when I'm gettin' ripped off. I already made the mistake of charging my credit card too much in Finland, where they use the Euro. I should've been using the cash I withdrew from the Otto machine. Now I have almost 200 Euro in my laptop bag. I thought Denmark (my sixth and final city is Copenhagen) used the Euro, but my travel book says they have their currency. I'll figure something out.

Helsinki, Finland

2011-06-24T14:55:00.006-04:00

It's about 10 o'clock on Friday night. Time to do a little catch-up on my Scandinavia trip.

I left on Wednesday. My sister Diane was kind enough of to drive me to the airport with her three kids in tow.

My British Airways flight left around 7 p.m. -- 45 minutes late because of heavy traffic on the runway. The flight was nice. Had a chicken curry meal. And I tried to sleep but it just wasn't happening.

The plane arrived in London around 7 in the morning, their time. My next plane to Finland wasn't leaving until 10:20, so I had plenty time to kill. I hit a bar/restaurant and had an English breakfast (bacon aka ham, sausage and beans).

The flight to Helsinki, Finland was only about two and a half hours, but it felt like forever because I was so tired.

Landed in Helsinki about 3 p.m. their time. I caught a cab for the half-hour drive to the hotel. I was getting kinda worried 'cause it was so far from the airport. Not to worry. The hotel, Hotel Finn, is in the city centre.

The hotel is unusual in that it's on the top two floors of an office building. I'm on the top floor, the sixth. I like how the building's very European with the stairwell surrounding the cage-covered elevator.

My room's nice. Little on the small side, with a bathroom. There's a shared shower down the hall, next to the reception desk, which isn't manned at night.

Anyway, I wandered around yesterday (Thursday) afternoon. Sad days for me, I quickly found out that it's the Summer Solstice, a public holiday where most stores are closed on Friday.

As I walked around the neighborhood, I thought the buildings looked a bit Russian (buildings have flat concrete -- not a lot of ridges -- colored mainly green or brown). My assumption proved true, as I learned later by reading that Russia ruled Finland for about 200 years. Finland broke away after the Russian Revolution in 1917, and Finland was still an agrarian society until circa 1950. They've come a long way!

I went to bed around 9 o'clock, since I was up for over 24 hours. I woke up around 2:30 a.m. for an hour or so (tossing and turning), then slept until 8:30 a.m., Friday.

Street my hotel was on. (Helinski, Finland; June 23, 2011)

One of the few stores open, in the morning at least, was a supermarket in a nearby mall called The Forum. I picked up toiletries there on Thursday night. Friday morning I bought a croissant and bottle of orange juice.

Afterwards, I wandered around a little bit. Took some pictures of the local harbor.

Around noon I ran into a cool group of Finns. Well, only three of 'em were actual Finnish. The other two were Iceland and Ireland. Cool group. I had a good time talking with them for an hour or so.

For lunch I slipped into a cafe/bar/restaurant across the street but down the block from my hotel. I got a roast beef sandwich on Panni bread (is that right?) and a bottle of apple or orange juice. The stereo played The Beatles and INXS. What, no Finish music?

Obvious time. Something I've noticed is that the Finnish are a pale lot. I mean, to the point of being ashen. Guess it makes sense, since it's so cold here in the winter. Oh, and speaking of weather, it's rarely above 60 degrees here. Brrrrr!!!

After lunch I hopped on a tour bus. It did a little loop. I saw where my ferry is, the one I take tomorrow night to Stockholm.

For dinner I was going to a restaurant called Kosmos. I was walking around for an hour, trying to find it, but it's two storefronts away from my hotel. Sadly, it was closed, so with the help of the hotel receptionist, I went to some place a half-mile away that specializes in Finnish food. For a starter, I had a house salad (lettuce, cucumbers, tomatoes, hot bacon, egg). The main course was reindeer in mashed potatoes; the former looked like roast beef -- the kind you find on a sandwich -- and it was a wee-bit salty. Good though. Desert was chocolate cake and vanilla ice cream. Oh, and I asked for lemonade as a beverage. Turned out to be Sprite soda, just like in the UK. Need to remember not to order that.

After dinner, I just chilled in my hotel room, resting after all the walking around I did today. Real quick, something I learned on this afternoon's bus tour. Finnish also speak Swedish. Makes sense since they have a bit of history. Apparently, most of the signs and everything here are in Finnish and Swedish. A little trivia to end this post. . . .

Harry Potter invades Finland! (Helinski, Finland; June 24, 2011)

marriage = capitalism

2011-05-28T07:21:00.002-04:00

I'm sure some philosopher has come up with this already, but I wonder if when the next economic model comes down the line, will marriage still be popular as it today. Because capitalism is all about ownership and monogamy is having someone all to yourself.

Luk Oil

2011-04-28T20:51:00.000-04:00

So I hop over to the Luk Oil during my break at work today. I'm finishing up my transaction when I hear somebody shuffle in through the front door. First thing out of her mouth is: "This is dumb." What? I ignore her cuz all kinds of crazy shit happens in the city. Then, as I'm pocketing my change, she asks one of the clerks, "Have you seen my chronic?" Now I pause. Have I been so out of the hipster scene that chronic means something different from what's going through my head. Next up: she says, "I can't believe I lost my marijuana." She then trudges out of the store. I watch her waltzed across the parking lot. She scratches her back and lifts up her shirt. And what do I see? A tramp stamp on her lower back. Who knew.

coincidence?

2011-04-01T07:20:00.001-04:00

That "propaganda" and "press release" start with the same two letters. . . .

Fortune-Cookie Friday

2011-01-07T20:35:00.002-05:00

Two great fortunes today. Don't forget to add "in bed" at the end of each one:

Accept the next proposition you hear.

Tomorrow will be a productive. Don't oversleep.

That's my goddaughter!

2010-11-26T08:55:00.002-05:00

She just turned three, and this happened a while back . . . I think when she was two. My mom was babysitting my goddaughter and her two brothers (ages 4 and 6). You need to understand that my mom no longer has patience with children; hard to believe she had three kids. Anyway, things were chaotic in the house around lunchtime. My mom's washing the dishes and my goddaughter pranced into the kitchen trying to get my mom's attention. My mom tried to ignore her but my goddaughter wouldn't go away, so my mom snapped. "What the fuck do you want?" My goddaughter didn't miss a beat: "I want a fuckin' sandwich." Classic! Love how she used the F word in the right context.

Stephen King

2010-11-24T21:09:00.001-05:00

Just downloaded his latest, Full Dark, No Stars, over at Audible.com. I didn't finish his previous one, Under the Dome (I'll explain why in another post), but he's my favourite living writer -- used to be two with Robert B. Parker -- so I have to check this novella collection out.

While downloading it, I saw that Audible has almost every Stephen King novel up in unabridged format. Awesome! So I downloaded It, Tommyknockers, Misery and The Langoliers. You see, I have the unfortunate character flaw of rarely finishing a book that's more than 500 pages, but I can deal with an audiobook no matter how long. I know, weird.

Once back in the 80s and once in the 90s I tried reading It but lost interest about halfway through, and the miniseries was weak sauce. But check this out, the unabridged audio for It is -- are you ready? -- 44 hours! Hot damn, and I thought Jean Smith's bio on FDR was lengthy at 33 hours.

I'm stoked about Tommyknockers, too, because in my opinion it was the last novel in his prime. I've heard it's overwritten, and I know he was all coked up and drunk while writing it, but I have high hopes since the miniseries was one of his better adaptions.

Misery I never read but should be interesting, since it was one of the first novels he wrote in sobriety.

And I had to download The Langoliers. I read the novella a while back, but it's read by Willem Dafoe. Couldn't resist. A superb sci-fi/horror as interpreted by one of America's finest hours. Gotta save that one for last. Build up the anticipation. . . .

New Fox News Slogan

2010-11-18T19:46:00.001-05:00

I think it should be: "We Judge. You follow."

Death of the Liberal Class

2010-11-04T09:05:00.005-04:00

I have this book on my wish list. Author Chris Hedges has an interesting argument on why the Left is so ineffectual in the United States. He believes it is because liberals have either fled or been expunged from five pillars of society: the press, universities, labor unions, liberal religion, and the Democratic Party. All good points, but one thing I don't see too often is how the Right annihilated the Left's momentum in the 60s.

Not to get all conspiracy theory, it seems odd that the most charismatic Left leaders of the 60s were assassinated: Martin Luther King, Bobby Kennedy, Malcolm X. I find it hard to believe that they were all murdered by lone gunmen. Plus, I read somewhere that a former FBI agent confessed to riling up Nation of Islam idiots, which eventually led to Malcolm X's death.

Another thing that has helped obliterate the Left, in my opinion, is the identity of this country. The myth of the American Dream is so entrenched in most citizens that they believe the lie. Let's be honest, entrepreneurs are great. They introduce society to new innovations, but in order to bring that to the marketplace we need support personnel, such as accounts, working-class cats and paper pushers. In the current mindset of Casino Capitalism, the support personnel have been kicked aside like a talented sports player who hasn't hit his prime yet.

And as much as it pains to me say it: We need a conservative class. Their roots in the past help society stay stable. I just wish I lived in a country where both sides of the aisle had equal play -- not a media brainwash where "fair and balanced" ruled the airwaves.

Tip of the Hat to Libertarians

2010-10-29T21:52:00.005-04:00

Been listening to Models' Melbourne lately. For the 99% of people reading this, Models were an 80s Australian new wave band. Melbourne is 16 tracks from the late 70s, early 80s, before they got signed. There are some real gems in there (it's tough to find, so contact me at johnnyostentatiousATyahooDOTcom if you're interested). Anyway, most of the songs on there are live. Given the age, I'm amazed at how awesome it sounds. And in the CD booklet it mentions that HUNDREDS of bands back in the day thrived in the Melbourne scene.

It got me to thinking about an interview with Kirk Pingelly, INXS' guitarist/saxist, I saw a while back. He said that in the late 70s, early 80s, the Sydney and Melbourne club scene was at its peak. Nothing was off-limits. Apparently, it was -- to use a cliche -- a free-for-all. But by the time the mid-80s rolled around, the Law came to town and shut down the fun. I can't help but think that so much great music came out of Australia in the 80s. Nowadays, the land down under is pretty quiet (music-wise). Where are the Midnight Oils, Hoodoo Gurus and Birthday Parties? Sure, every once in a while you'll have a great act like Cut Copy, but for the most part it's more desolate than Darwin in the winter time.

Getting back to the subject line of this blog, I can't help but thinking if The Law didn't clam down on the clubs' freedom, maybe Australia would still have a music scene. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know, music isn't a necessary component of life, but it's nice -- a benefit to living in a civilized society. Because in the end, Australia is a great country, and it deserves unique music.

Montreal pics

2010-08-17T22:21:00.001-04:00

They're here.

Montreal swan song

2010-08-14T18:36:00.003-04:00

Yesterday, Friday, was my last day in Montreal. Did my usual drill in the morning. A little before noon, I hopped on the Metro to head down to the Underground City for some souvenir shopping. Before doing any of that, I had lunch at a pizza joint near the exit to McGill College. I love how in Montreal their pepperoni pizza has three-inch slices of pepperoni between the bread and cheese. Umm-yum! Of course, pig that I am, I had a plain slice, too.

After wondering around for an hour, I settled on a souvenir shop. I picked up biscuits for my work peeps and cookies for my family. For my goddaughter, I got a snow dog in a Canadian Mounty uniform; for my newest nephew (age nine months?), I got Canada white-and-blue socks. Oh, and it's my one uncle's 60th birthday party Sunday night, so I bought him a Canada cap -- he's a golfer . . . the cap was the closest thing to golf I could find (hope he likes it).

In the late afternoon, I just hung out at the B&B, catching up YouTube clips. Thanks The Young Turks and Russia Today!

Around eight o'clock, I headed out for a bite to eat. I cruised on a Bixi bike because I wasn't sure how far away this Portuguese place (recommended by my travel book) was from the B&B. Turns out I could've walked there, but it's a non-issue since they were all booked up. So I walked to my favourite strip, Avenue du Mont-Royal, and stumbled across an Italian restaurant called Pizzeria Romeo, which was spacious with a few patrons -- guess that's what happens when you're on busy avenue.

I sat at the bar. The woman who served was gorgeous: around 24 years old, long black hair and wearing Daisy Duke shorts. I ordered a screwdriver, which she made strong (what a switch!). I was in the mood for pasta. All they had in that vein was lasagne. It was awesome! Served on a slightly concave white dish on top of small beans in red sauce. For dessert, I went with bar maid's suggestion. Since the menu was in French, I'm not sure what it was. It was two scoops on a plate -- tasted like cake. Dee-lic-ious!!!

Here's where things got weird. The bar maid started hitting on me, big time. Strange, since I hadn't showered yet that day and was all scruffy. She's telling me she lives on Avenue du Mont-Royal and asking how much longer I was in town. Weird. It's not like I was on my game. Her flirting just came out of nowhere. The monogamist didn't see the point in pursuing it, since my flight was leaving in half a day; the paranoid prick in me thought it might be a scam. I don't know. Maybe I should've done something, but she was way out of league (I'm under no delusion of my sexual attraction; I'm not the village idiot but neither am I Lance Romance). Great, something else for me to agonize over. Could've that been the one? Damn, wish I met her earlier in the week. Oh well, onward and outward. . . .

Before shopping for souvenirs, I stumbled across the Montreal Canadiens' stadium. This (obviously) was outside.

Winding down

2010-08-13T10:16:00.002-04:00

I think I should've only done five nights in Montreal -- I'm running out of things to do.

On Thursday, I took a Metro and a bus out to Marché Central, at the suggestion of my travel book. I wasn't too impressed. It's an outside mall that stretches blocks and blocks, so you have to cross at a lot of traffic lights. I was hoping to buy some reasonably priced souvenirs for people back home, but the only store I went in was a Dollar Store, and they didn't have much; I would've gotten Canada socks for my goddaughter, but they would've been too small for her.

Once back near my B&B, I grabbed a beef sandwich at the deli I've been going to. In my room, I read the newspaper then took a nap.

I got up around 5:30 p.m. and hopped on a Bixi bike to check out a French restaurant, L'Express. Took a little while to find because they don't have a sign out front, just a nondescript menu -- guess that's how you can tell a place is successful. My travel book said a reservation was essential, but I just up, and there was an open spot at the bar.

Maybe I was thirsty, but I thought they had the best water ever. Anyway, I ordered quail over wild rice. It was awesome! Never had quail before (tasted like chicken). For desert I got a chocolate tart. Amazing!!! And the service was top-notch.

I then biked it over a couple blocks to check out an improv joint's opening night. It was on the 2nd floor of a building (couldn't tell if commercial or residential). Their space fit about 75 audience members, and it was pretty much sold out. The first act featured On The Spot, Montreal's longest active improv troupe. They were supposed to do 25 scenes in 45 minutes but came up short. After a 10-minute intermission, a troupe called The Bitter End did an improvised play. Good times.

Around 10 p.m., I biked it back to the B&B. Kinda crazy how fast bicycling is. The trip took no more than 10 minutes; that same trip Tuesday, after coming back from the movie, took a half-hour-plus. Yup, call me Obvious Man.

I ended the day with the CTV news (weird how they do national first, then local -- 30 minutes each). At midnight they air The Daily Show with Jon Stewart. Guess it shows Canada's left-of-centre politics, since CTV is free, unlike Comedy Central down in the States. Regardless, listening to Stewart is an excellent way to end a Thursday!

Mercredi à Montréal est génial!

2010-08-12T10:09:00.003-04:00

That's right: Wednesday in Montreal is awesome!

I'm not even gonna tell you what I did for most of the morning -- see yesterday and the day before and the day before. . . .

For lunch, I hit the supermarket on Avenue Mount Royal. A couple days ago I saw in their salad bar what looked liked a crab cake in a red pepper cut in half (description was in French, so I was clueless), but they didn't have it so I sampled other fine food. Probably good that I didn't know I was eating. One was a thinly sliced meat, the other I think potato and cheese, plus I had the type of bread they serve in Indian restaurants. Kick ass!

Around 1:30 p.m., I grabbed one of the rental bikes in front of the supermarket. These Bixi bikes have an interesting pricing structure. For $5 you get a subscription for 24 hours. If your trip is under 30 minutes, you don't get charged extra, and you don't have to worry about locking the bike cuz there are hundreds of docking stations all around the city; if you go over 30 minutes, you start gettin' charged extra. It's pretty cool: once you swipe your credit card in a docking machine's computer, it gives you a five-number code (keypad only has numbers 1, 2, + 3), which expires in 5 minutes.

Anyway, I headed a few blocks down to Parc du Mont-Royal. It took a little while for me to find the main bike path, then I was on my way. It's at a slight incline for about four miles, buy, boy, did I feel it. Eventually I did get to the top of the mount, where I could see for miles. I took pictures but they didn't turn out too well -- gonna have to invest in a wide lens.

Going down the mount required almost no pedaling. And just like when I was pedaling up, I had a soda-drinking grin. Beautiful day out. High 70s.

Leaving the park, I biked it to an avenue a few blocks parallel from where my B&B is. I stumbled across a used CD store called Beatnik. They had this soundtrack I've been looking for, to the film Amélie, but I wanted to get the French one (Le Fabuleux Destin d'Amélie Poulain). And it's new! I also got the soundtrack to Blade Runner. Oh, real quick: the store was interesting . . . the retail version of a China doll. It had three or four rooms; you couldn't see 'em at first, but as you walked back, you came across each additional room. Groovy.

Around 3:30 p.m., I docked the Bixi bike a block from the B&B and just hung out for an hour or so, then it was on the Metro to catch the soccer game. The game didn't start till 7:30, but I wanted to get down there early for dinner and buy some souvenirs at the stadium.

I was going to have dinner at the restaurant in the Observatory, but it was closed, so I walked down the road, where I remembered a few restaurants from Sunday. The best bet was a place called Madison's, subtitled New York Grill; I would've preferred a Canadian joint, but everything else was fast food.

I order a two crab cakes as a starter, and the main course were ribs, mashed potatoes and a salad. I washed everything down with a Molson Dry. When in Canada. . . .

I got down to the stadium around 7. I made a beeline for the boutique and got a Montreal Impact jersey for myself ($90 [$78 U.S.], yeah, it's a lot, but I'm not buying any other souvenirs for myself, plus I love soccer jerseys) and a scarf for my oldest nephew.

The turnout at the game was pretty good for a team, from what I understand, isn't going to make the playoffs (they're about halfway through the season, and a couple of their best players are injured). After the first half, the video screen said there were 12,443 attendees. I don't know about that. If it is a 13,000 seater, I'd say it was more like 10,000. Still, impressive for a hockey-loving town.

My seat was fine -- not a nosebleed as I'd feared. If the weather's nice, there are really no bad seats in the stadium, since it's on the intimate side. Really fun to see my first professional soccer match. I forgot what skill it takes to play the game. And neither team scored a point, so it could've been worse for 'em.

The game let out around quarter to 10. It took forever for me to get back to the B&B. The Metro only runs about every 10 minutes that late. And it didn't help that at one point I hopped on the wrong line. Grrr . . . second time that's happened.

Around 11 I exited the Metro's Mount Royal station. Not feeling like walking 15 minutes, I took a Bixi bike back to the B&B. Kinda neat how when you pedal, lights in the front and back flicker, to alert motorists.

I stayed up a little to watch the news. Wanted to see what they said about the game. The sports guy was less kind than I, complaining that the Impact can't score, although the visiting team, Baltimore, had an outstanding goalie (dude could catch a ping-pong ball with his eyes closed). And I think the commentator should've mentioned that the Impact was down on Baltimore's side of the field more often than not. Then again, I'm biased, since I'm a citizen of Montreal for the week. . . .

My best friend on Wednesday in Montreal, a Bixi bike.

Tuesdays with Montreal

2010-08-11T09:58:00.004-04:00

On Tuesday morning, I got up around 8 and did what's turning into a routine: heading down to Tim Horton's for a croissant and and small bottle of OJ. I probably should mix things up, but I don't eat croissants at home, so what the heck.

Afterwards, I worked on yesterday's blog then showered and shaved. I didn't leave the B&B until about 11:30 a.m.

I hopped on the Metro to check out the Montreal Museum of Fine Arts. Wasn't impressed. Two-thirds of the exhibits you weren't allowed to take pics, and the third and fourth floors were blocked off. Glad my donation was only a pocketful of change.

For lunch I ducked into a place called Thursdays because the menu hung up on the outside wall said they had ribs. The bartender told they don't serve them until nighttime, so I got a green salad with some vinegary dressing. Good stuff, aided by the hard Italian roll I scoffed down.

Refueled, I hopped back on the Metro to pick up a ticket for the movie I planned to see that night, but the theatre's box office didn't open till 6 p.m., so I hopped back on the Metro for Old Montreal. My travel book recommended a French restaurant down there. Unfortunately, it was out of business. On the plus side, I did pass the Notre Dame church. Should've taken a pic or two, but I was too lazy.

Thanks to my "bestest buddy" (as my little sister Sharon used to say as a young'un), the Metro, I was back to the area where the movie theatre is at. It was only 4 p.m., so I wandered around the neighborhood, mostly inhabited by McGill University. Apparently, it's the big school up here. I think somebody told me the other day it has 30,000 students.

Around 4:45 p.m., I ducked into a Greek restaurant I saw earlier in the day on my way to the movie theatre. It was virtually empty, except for some guy in a Panama hat sitting at a table by the open window. I was in the mood for a gyro (never had one), and I went to the right place. It was amazing! I got the platter with a salad, rice and Greek potatoes (cut in wedges). A nice glass of milk topped it off.

The movie I saw was Metropolis, the 1929 German, silent, sci-fi masterpiece. It was only playing one week at Cinema du Parc, one showing a day at 6:45 p.m.; which might explain why the theatre was about a third of the way full -- not too bad for a Tues. night (thought it is summer).

I saw Metropolis 15-20 years ago, but this rerelease features about 30 minutes of newly discovered footage, which is obvious because of its grainy quality. This viewing made much more sense than when I was younger, because I'm aware of the political currents occurring when the film was made, since it's about class warfare. Interestingly, at the end of it, about a dozen audience members clapped. Pretty cool.

Since the movie was two and half hours long, it was close to 9:30 p.m. when I left the shopping centre that house the theatre. I didn't feel like waiting around for the two buses I would need to go back to the B&B, so I hoofed it for the mile-plus walk. Once back at home base, I watched a little TV, then crashed at 11.

Entree I had for dinner at the Greek restaurant. Octopus. Mmm, delicious!

Sunday Boring Sunday and Montreal Monday

2010-08-10T09:07:00.003-04:00

Guess I should've pointed out in the previous post that I didn't upload it on Sunday afternoon. The coffee shop across the street had no Internet either -- must've been a local thing. But since Monday morning, I've had Internet access here in the B&B.

But to backtrack a little, Sunday afternoon I hopped on the Metro for the soccer stadium to see the game. First off, my travel book gave me wrong information. They had me get off a stop too late, so I had to walk a mile-plus -- not a big deal, I could use the exercise. However, once at the stadium, I learned that I got my wires crossed. The security guards informed me that the game is Wednesday. Doh! So I wandered around the area . . . plenty of touristy things in that complex.

On my way home, I got stuck in a thunderstorm (should've bought that umbrella I saw in Staples on Sunday morning for $10). There's a pharmacie two blocks from the B&B, so I got an umbrella there, but I was drenched. Not feeling like searching for a good place to eat, I ducked into a tiny pizza shop and clogged my arteries. Afterwards, it was about 7 p.m. I just strode back to the B&B and watched TV. I fell asleep about 9:30.

Monday morning I woke up around 7, feeling refreshed. I skipped a few blocks down to the Tim Horton on Avenue Mount Royal and bought a croissant and a 300ml OJ (10 oz.). Then I wandered around because I was thinking about writing at one of the libraries near my B&B -- each one at least a half-mile walk. I passed the one, which is right across from the Mount Royal Metro station, and I kept walking. A half-mile later I turned left at Avenue Christophe Columb and came across these apartment buildings that made me feel like I was in Paris -- winding staircases that started at the sidewalk and went up to the 2nd floor. Once I reached Boulevard St- Joseph, I hopped on a bus . . . gotta love a weekly transpass!

After showering, I decided to go back down to the soccer stadium so I could get a ticket without Ticketmaster raping me online. I got a $40 ticket under the roof. It's kinda high up. I'm now second-guessing myself, wondering if I should've gotten one on the other side for half the price, cuz it's not supposed to rain on Wednesday night. Oh well, I'll find out soon enough.

Afterwards, I headed across the street to check out the Insectarium, but it was closed due to a "labour dispute with the Montreal municipality workers". Bummer.

I then headed back toward the soccer stadium. In the same complex is the Montréal Tower, which stretches 175 metres into the sky (574 feet or 53 stories) at a 45-degree angle. Unfortunately, it was overcast so I couldn't see 80 kilometres (50 miles) into the distance. Still, well worth the price of admission of $18.

Next up, I went downtown to the underground mall. I was in the mood for a burger so I got one in a food court, but it wasn't that good: not a lot of meat, cashier put too much mustard on it, and the fries looked like the tiny bits you get at the bottom of a bag.

Apparently, the underground mall is something like nine miles. I only wandered through two or three of the mall -- I think there are seven or so of 'em. I was looking for stuff to buy for family, but it's all very high-end. I held back . . . the week's young.

Around mid-afternoon, I returned to the B&B and wandered down Avenue Mount Royal, which I've grown quite fond of; lots of shops without being too expensive. I hit a couple DVD and used CD shops. I wanted to get the new Kids in the Hall DVD, but nobody has it . . . looks like I'll have to get it from Amazon Canada. At the CD shops, I picked up the Flashback soundtrack (crappy 80s pic w/ Keifer Sutherland and Dennis Hopper, but it has a Flesh For Lulu song I never heard before). At a used book store, I picked up the Nikita soundtrack; great French film.

I also walked down Avenue Laurier for an eight-block stretch because my travel book said it was awesome, but it wasn't really my cup of cola cuz it's too upscale for my middle-class wallet.

I returned to Avenue Mount Royal and saw a Thai restaurant that looking interesting, since I was hungering for seafood. But it was only 5:30 p.m., so I kept on walking until I hit the end of the strip, about two miles. I hopped on a bus that I thought would take me to the Thai restaurant, but it went in the opposite direction. I got off at the stop near the soccer stadium, took the Metro back to the Mount Royal Metro stop, then hopped on the right bus.

For the entree, I ordered pork dumplings in peanut-butter sauce . . . very odd. The main course was a seafood mix over red and green peppers. It had bits of crab and the usual suspects (shrimps and scallops) plus squid, which I never ate before -- real rubbery.

The service as piss-poor. I had asked for Chinese tea but never got it, and I had to go up to the counter for the cheque. It came to $18 and I didn't leave a tip. The casier/server didn't seem to expect one, so I left.

On the walk to the B&B, I stopped in an ice-cream place and got a sugar cone with cappuccino ice cream. Delightful!

I crashed around 10:30 p.m.

Soccer stadium -- seats 13,000 -- I'll be seeing the Montreal Impact play on Wednesday night; I took this pic high up on the Montréal Tower. I'll be on the left under the roof. (If ya click on the picture, you'll see the right seats spell out the word IMPACT.)

Montreal, baby!

2010-08-09T07:21:00.003-04:00

Right now, it's mid-afternoon on Sunday. I'm writing this in my room but will upload it across the street at an Internet cafe, since the wireless at the B&B isn't working.

Yesterday, I got up at 6 a.m. to catch the first of two trains (6:53 a.m.) to the airport. I got to my gate around 9 a.m. With plenty of time to kill, I walked through a few terminals, looking for a can of soda. Couldn't find any, so I got a $2 Liberty Bell root beer in a glass bottle; and even though I had some Triscuit crackers with me, I succumbed to temptation and got a white-cream-filled donut at Dunkin Donuts.

The plane ride up was eventful. It did leave about 15 minutes late (was supposed to take off at 11:15 a.m.), but we touched down in Montreal around 12:50 p.m., so all's forgivable.

During the flight I pored over my Montreal travel book. It said the airport is 15 miles west of the city, so I took a cab. Came to $42 Canadian dollars and change, but I made it an even $50.

I threw my stuff in the B&B room and cruised around the neighborhood, with map in hand thanks to that travel book. It's interesting, since the last time I was here (my first) was a year and half ago -- the weekend after Thanksgiving, where it was snowing and no warmer than 30 degrees. I've noticed there are more homeless and mentally unstable on the street now. Obviously.

Anyway, I got a turkey-lunchmeat sandwich at this cool cafe I hit my last time here. That place is still great, and it's only three blocks away!

Next, I headed to a Metro station to pick up a weekly transpass. It doesn't start till Monday, so I also got an all-day pass for Sunday.

Afterwards, I walked around some more in the neighborhood. Beautiful day out. In the high 70s. Nice blue sky, and not a grey cloud in sight.

For dinner I had a veggie burrito at the bar downstairs, which is affiliated with this B&B. It wasn't as good as the one I had last time I was here, but what are ya gonna do.

I had gotten less than six hours sleep Friday night, so I was really tired Saturday evening. I watched some TV, falling asleep a little after 10 p.m.

This morning, Sunday, I got up at six at walked two blocks down to Tim Horton for a croissant and bottle of OJ. Came back to the B&B, showered and did some dental hygiene action.

At nine, I left to hop on the Metro to the eastern side of the city. It took 10 minutes to walk there, then it was about a 20-minute ride (8 stops or so). The Unitarian service didn't start till 10:30, so I wandered around the neighborhood. I stopped in a Staples to pick up a memory stick since I had to delete the photos on my camera (long boring story); good deal . . . 16 Canadian dollars for 4 gigs. Then I went to a convenience store and got eight tidbits (a.k.a. munchkins) and a can of Pepsi.

I arrived at the Unitarian church around 10:10 a.m. I went inside and chitchatted with some of the members.

The service lasted about an hour. It's an interesting building. The sanctuary it sort of triangle-shaped, with the entrance side curving like the underside of a ship. Iron grid-work supports the high ceiling, with rows of light bulbs hanging in staggered fashion -- very post-modern.

A little before noon I was back on the Metro; kinda cool that it was only two blocks from the church. I got back off and picked up a chicken sandwich at the same cafe I went to lunch for yesterday. The same girl as yesterday served me. She said she liked my accent, so I shifted into flirt mode, saying, "Right back at'cha." I'm shameless.

The plan now is to catch the Metro around 4 p.m., so I can catch an early bite to eat before trying to score soccer tickets. Montreal's home team is playing tonight. I figure if I can't catch Manchester United, might as well do the next best thing.

Park a few blocks from the B&B I'm staying at, which I took Saturday night.

shy goddaugther

2010-07-25T21:09:00.002-04:00

Had dinner with my sister, her husband (before he had to go to work) and her three kids. Afterwards, we went for a walk as the kids rode their bikes and big wheels. Every time we approached neighbors out on a constitutional, my goddaughter dropped her head so that her chin was touching her collarbone, which affected her nascent steering skills -- to the point she drifted off the sidewalk. Kinda cute, since she's only three . . . plenty of time to work on her being outgoing.

People Are Funny

2010-07-23T22:23:00.002-04:00

Most mornings you can find me at the gym. I don't wear headphones there and I'm usually on the NordiTrek for at least half-hour, so I got time to kill.

The other day some guy gets on the NordiTrek next to me. No big deal -- maybe he liked that particular machine. He starts doing his workout. About 10 minutes into it, a friend of his (acquaintance?) walks up and starts chatting. They're shooting the shit, then all of the sudden things get juicy.

The friend, let's call him the NonExerciser, starts talking. He's babbling about some coworker that he and the NordiTrek guy know. I'm assuming they work at the same place. The NonExerciser says that the coworker got fired. The NordiTrek guy doesn't know who it is. So the NonExerciser tries to explain him. This is where the story gets amusing (to me, at least). The NonExerciser goes through five ways to explain appearance of the fired guy, everything from what shirt he wears to his haircut. The NordiTrek guy just doesn't hear any bells ringing. So the NonExerciser drops his chin, brings it up, then says, "You know, the motherfucker with the buckteeth."

"Oh," says the NordiTrek guy, "that cat!"

I'm telling ya, people are funny. . . .

UK vacay pics

2010-07-12T20:07:00.000-04:00

are here

Glasgow

2010-07-11T15:54:00.001-04:00

I'm writing this on Friday about 5:30 p.m., UK time. The two-star hotel I'm staying in doesn't have Internet access, so I'll post this blog entry later -- probably when I'm back in the States.

Yesterday, Thursday, was mostly a travel day. I had breakfast at the hotel in the Portmeirion village, then caught the shuttle to the Minffordd station for my 10:05 a.m. train. Weird thing was, it headed back towards Liverpool; I got off a few spots before the Beatles' birthland at the Wolverhampton station, around 12:30 p.m.

The actual train to Glasgow left a little before 3 p.m. I was looking forward to it because it was Virgin -- I've heard good things 'bout their airline -- but it was a letdown (little legroom and the spots didn't have any racks, unlike the Wales Arriva line). On the plus side, a senior sat next to me and she turned out to be good company (even though she read from a Christian pamphlet). She lives in Glasgow, though I think she grew up in Wales, and was coming back from visiting a friend in south Britain.

The Virgin train rolled into Glasgow on time a bit after 7 p.m. I grabbed a taxi to my lodgings: don't laugh . . . it's called the Swallow Hotel. OK, now laugh!

The hotel is right off an interstate and half the shops around here are out of business with steel shutters closed down -- very gritty. Reminds me of South Philly, the part down by the shipyard and industrial parks.

After checking in, it was a bit past 8, so I got dinner in the hotel's restaurant. I ordered fettuccine in a liquidy tomato sauce with a coating of cheese on top.

I crashed a little before 11 after watching some telly. Of course, there's a Scottish channel.

Today, Friday, I got up before 8 a.m., then had breakfast downstairs: two pieces of toast, beans, sausage and OJ.

I hopped in a taxi around 10:10 a.m. and told the driver to take to the Glasgow Science Centre. Before I went in, I took some pics of local landmarks, including BBC Scotland, a blue bridge and an amphitheatre where there are evening concerts.

The Science Centre cost 9.95 to get in (not that I minded -- need to get rid of all these pounds before I go home), but it was bit of a letdown. It's geared more towards kids. My two nephews, ages six and five, would've loved it. Only thing that made me smirk was the stringless harp: invisible lasers create sound when you pluck it.

Leaving the Science Centre, I opened my Union Jack umbrella (can't believe this London purchase still works) to battle a drizzle. A cab took me to the Botanic Gardens.

A light rain began falling when I passed under the Botanic Gardens' concrete arch. I made a beeline for the Kibble Palace, a glasshouse that is awesome! Inside are circa 1900 sculptures of Biblical figures. Near the entrance is a leafy display with a circular pond as a base; in the pond are koi fish. Also inside the Kibble Palace are plants from Australia and South America, as well as carnivorous plants including everyone's favourite: Venus flytraps, though they're real small.

The Botanic Gardens also has a main greenhouse, which is pretty extensive -- has something like 10 rooms. Real humid in some of them. What caught my eye were petrified termite mounds and a plant that eats insects like ants. The plant is cup-shaped and its aroma lures in pests; once they go in too far, they can't escape the stick-sweet.

Next stop was the Glasgow Necropolis. On paper it sounded cool. A bunch of affluent, 19th-century Glasgowians paying homage to themselves with ornate crypts, but the rain was still coming down, so I ducked into a nearby religious museum, where the third floor gave me a good pic of the Necropolis. The museum also had a "Digging Up Glasgow" exhibit, which featured a 3,000-year-old arrowhead. Wow!

Afterwards, I walked several blocks to a cafe. I had to go that far because most shops were closed up. As a dried off in the cafe, I had a bacon cheeseburger and Old Jamaican ginger-beer soda.

The rain really started to come down now (about 2 p.m.). I tried waving a cab down but he pointed behind him at a taxi stand. I caught a cab that took me to Kelvingrove Art Gallery & Museum, a recommendation from that old bird on train yesterday.

The Kelvingrove Museum was amazing! They stress Scotland's history but also have other art, such as Italian, Dutch, French, etc. And on one of the upper floors, they had a small sculpture of FDR. Oh, and there were some modern art, along with exhibits dedicated to dinosaurs and Ancient Egypt (they had tombs from 2,500 BC, if memory serves).

It's about 6:30 p.m. right now. The plan is to get some fish and chips for dinner then try and crash around 9 'cause I gotta get up at 3:30 a.m. for my 6:55 a.m. Not looking forward to that. Three connections: Glasgow to Birmingham to Paris to (finally) Philly. Hope they're all running on time. . . .

Portmeirion, day 2

2010-07-08T02:29:00.003-04:00

Yesterday, Wednesday, it rained for the first half of the day, so I did most of my touristy things in the afternoon and evening.

In the morning, I had breakfast in the village down at the hotel because the shops and cafes didn't open till 10 or so.

Around 11 a.m., I stopped in the Prisoner shop and bought a little Portmeirion travel bag. I wanted to get cookies and fudges for everyone back home, but I would need to get four boxes, and I just don't have the room in my luggage.

The rain finally let up around 2 p.m. (I had spent most of the morning in my room reading that Cure bio), so I headed down the road in the village to a cafe. Got a tuna salad on a roll; it was more like a tuna sandwich -- really good.

After lunch, I wandered around and took as many pics as I could, including on this hiking trail where I was looking for this plant with three-foot-wide leaves. I was snapping so many pictures that my battering konked out after about two hours.

I retired to my room and put on channel 5 at five o'clock for some Portmeirion programming, but I messed up -- they aired it at four, so I showered and hung out till 6, when they aired an old Prisoner episode. It was a good one, where No. 6 runs for No. 2's office -- lots of exteriors shot here in Portmerion . . . God, the producers did a great job of utilizing the land here!

At 7:15 I had the shuttle pick me up for dinner down at the castle (didn't feel like walking the half-mile or so). At the castle, there's a fenced-off field with a bunch of black sheep, some with horns. As I was taking pictures, a number bahhed and they approached the fence, rather aggressively, I thought. Weird.

For dinner, I had crab and some sort of mayonnaise concoction on a hard piece of bread for starters. The main course was duck over red cabbage, with mashed potatoes. To drink, I had a 250ml glass of chardonnay (I figured, if you're gonna be a fancy-schmancy place, might as well go the whole nine). For desert, I had pecans in a four-inch-wide pie crust, with a scoop of ice cream on the side. I should've taken a picture of it. Also on the plate were these edible colourings in swirls, and sticking out of the ice cream was a red oblong circle measuring six inches. It was almost too pretty to eat, but I wolfed down the plate regardless.

Real quick: the sun sets in England around 10 p.m. this time of the year. WHAT!?!

I went to bed around 11, after watching a documentary on Pete Best, a footballer who I read about at Manchester United. Kind of a tragic figure. A child prodigy, apparently. He started playing professionally in his teens, but he was so good the fame went to his head. Later in life he went bankrupt and became an alcoholic -- liver problems ending his life at 59. On the more entertaining side, at the Manchester United stadium, there's a quote of him saying, "I spent most of my money on birds, booze and cars. The rest I squandered away."

Portmeirion

2010-07-06T17:07:00.003-04:00

Yesterday, Tuesday, I got up at 6:45 a.m. after a restless night sleep -- didn't want to miss my trains to Portmeirion. I settled my hotel bill, ate some Coca Puffs and drank a glass of OJ, then hopped in the cab for the the Liverpool Lyme Street Station. Interestingly, the cab drive was only six pounds or so (compared to 18 a couple days ago); this time, I gave the driver a tip . . . not much, only a pound a change.

I got to the train station super early -- my 1st train wasn't leaving until 9:15 -- but I didn't mind. Plenty to do. I withdrew 200 pounds from the station's Barclay ATM, bought my tickets for a couple days from now for going to Glasgow, and I read a Cure biography.

Real quick: Liverpool accents are insane. Real thick. Many times during my stay I had to ask Liverpudlians to repeat themselves. Craziness! John, Paul, George and Ringo weren't that way!!!

Anyway, my first train was on time. It was a Metro line that took about 40 minutes. At the next station I waited about 20 minutes for the next leg, which only took a half-hour. The last leg was the longest at about three and a half hours. I was worried that I might miss it because there was only a ten-minute gap between the 2nd leg and 3rd one, but my fear proved unfounded since England's rail system, unlike America's flight schedule, runs generally on time. Oh, and for those of you playing at home, the last two legs of the journey were on Wales' rail system, Arriva Trains Wales.

About 20 minutes into my last train ride, I started getting a little worried because most of the stops were in the middle of nowhere -- no shops and only sheep farms as far as the eye could see. I probably wouldn't have been biting my nails (figuratively) if back in Liverpool if both times when I was buying tickets, the agents never heard of the train stop near Portmeirion (Minffordd).

Thankfully, everything worked out in the end. The trek from the station to Portmeirion wasn't five miles but only about one mile. It was a nice walk, with the sun hiding behind grey clouds.

A little after three I walked into Castell Deudraeth. A driver took me into Portmeirion's actual village -- about three-quarters mile away. I checked in at hotel reception, then the driver drove a few hundred yards to my room in the village (called Cliff House). Very posh. Free Internet access, bottles of Welsh water, and a view looking out to the estuary. Oh, and the room locks with a skeleton key. How cool is that!

After settling in, I charged my camera's battery and wandered around the village. Wow, seeing Portmeirion on the TV show The Prisoner doesn't do it justice. It's something you have to experience. It's not a lot of land but the way the father of Portmeirion -- some architect -- laid everything out, you could walk around for hours and not get bored. I would've went down to the beach, but the high tides hit at four and it can get dangerous, so I didn't bother.

Around five I returned to my room and took those five CDs from Liverpool and put 'em on my computer. By the time I finished showering and shaving, it was dinnertime; my reservation was at 7:45, which I made when checking in.

The dinner was at the hotel in the village, and it just may have been the best meal ever (outside of my mother's Thanksgiving meal). It began with small white and wheat rolls (one each), then the waiter bought around a spinach soup in a small cup -- probably four ounces. I was gonna pass on it 'cause I only like spinach in salads, but I figured what the hell. It was awesome! Couldn't even taste the spinach. It had black specks in there. Pepper? Whatever, it went down like a good vodka. Tasted rich and nothing like I've ever experienced before.

Next up was the starter, delivered on a black slab. I had ordered thinly cut Welsh beef with six dots of butter, lettuce, tiny mushrooms and long carrots. I practically licked my plate clean but refrained myself.

The main course was lemon fillet of sole over spinach, and mixed vegetables in a bowl. I ate it all with delight, except I didn't touch the three thumb-sized mushrooms. Just couldn't get past the sight of 'em.

After I drank my glass of milk, I did something I never do at restaurants: I ordered desert. I went with chocolate cake (motif?) and ice-cream cappuccino. They were both out of this world! The cake was sorta like an ice cream with some white milky liquid in the center. And the cappuccino in a cup tasted so much like coffee I prayed I wouldn't be up until three in the morning.

A little after nine I retired to my room -- watched some stuff on Portmeirion on YouTube, then turned on the telly. Channel-surfed, watching mainly a documentary on Tom Jones (didn't know he was Welsh), and fell asleep with MTV airing an early episode of The Osbournes.

Liverpool, last day

2010-07-05T15:34:00.002-04:00

It's about half past eight here on Monday night. I'm sitting in the hotel lobby, shuffling my 10-plus hours worth of iTunes' Beatles songs. Just got back about 15 minutes ago from spending the day down in Liverpool's city centre.

This morning I had breakfast at the hotel: sausage, toast and OJ. I then took the bus down to Albert Dock (about a half-hour ride). I snapped some pics then checked out the Maritime Museum. Pretty fascinating, they had a lifesaver from the Lusitania!

For lunch, I had an awesome chicken salad, shaped like a mountain. Lettuce as the base with the sides being shredded bacon, the chicken, Jersey tomatoes cut in half, and egg and avocado, both of which I didn't eat.

At 2:30 I took the 2-hour Magic Mystery Bus Tour. Pretty cool, drove past each of the Fab Four's childhood homes, and saw not only Penny Lane but also Strawberry Fields. The guide was very charismatic, and apparently he's friendly with Paul McCartney -- he had a pic of them two on his phone. Oh, and one cute anecdote he had was that one time when McCartney met the Queen in a public ceremony, she confessed to owning a few Beatles records. Sir Paul's quick-witted reply: "That's OK, I own a couple Queen records."

The tour wound up a block from the Cavern Club. Glad I took pics there 'cause soon after my camera's battery died, or in its words, it was "exhausted".

I then headed back to Albert Dock (less than a half-mile away) and ducked into HMV across the street from the Dock at a shopping centre called Liverpool ONE. They had a two-CDs-for-ten-pounds sale. Gotta hand to 'em, they really suckered me in. I picked up the soundtracks to the three series of Angela's Ashes (detective show set in 1980s London), OMD's greatest hits, and Kate Nash's latest, who I saw on the telly while in Manchester (the music video "Kiss That Grrrl"; oh, and her CD wasn't part of that sale, but it was seven or eight pounds).

For dinner I ate in the same joint as lunch, in Albert Dock. Got a bacon cheese burger and chips. This being Britain, the bacon was actually ham. Good deal: five pounds for the meal and a glass of milk.

Around 7:45, I hopped on the bus back to the hotel. Glad I spent the day down at the Dock. It may have been unbelievably windy, but at least I wasn't sneezing like yesterday and this morning because the hotel is right next to a park. Curse you tree pollen!

Tomorrow is the five-hour trains ride to Portmeirion in northern Wales. Gotta take three trains. The first leaves Liverpool at 9:13 am. Gonna try to go to bed at 10 tonight so I don't oversleep, in case the early morning wakeup I requested at reception doesn't happen. Upward and outward!

Liverpool, day 1

2010-07-04T16:24:00.002-04:00

I know I've been doing this vacay diary the morning after, but I thought I'd do it tonight. The 2-star hotel I'm staying at is technically in Liverpool but about 15 minutes from the city centre, so nothing much going on around here. And it being Sunday, the few local shops around are closed up. Day of rest, and all that.

This morning, I checked out of the hotel in Manchester a little before 10 a.m., then walked a few blocks to the Unitarian Church (I'm a member of it in Philly). On my way there I got a little lost and stumbled across a film shoot: a taxi on a sidestreet corner with big lights and a bunch of people huddled around it. I was across the street and saw some guy, who was about 25 years old, with an earpiece in his right ear. I asked him if they were shooting a commercial, and he said it was for a "drama" called The Accused. I asked him if it was better than Life on Mars (an awesome detective show that ran for two series a few years ago), and he was quick on his feet -- said it was a million times better. After that little exchange I walked on but realized at the end of the block, at the light, that I was heading in the wrong direction, so I had to backtrack (grrrr!). Just as I reached the gaffer bloke, he put his index finger to his earpiece then asked me to wait a moment or two. An extra (some guy in a 3-piece suit with a briefcase) had to walk by on the same sidewalk as us; I guess the camera was facing the front windshield, since I saw the rear of the cab. After they shot the scene, the gaffer thanked. I told I wasn't doing it on purpose -- I missed my turn. He was cool about it. More I think about it, he was cool throughout. Wasn't overly aggressive at all . . . forceful but polite. Sucks they had to work on a Sunday, though.

I arrived a little early for the Unitarian service. Fortunately, I member of my church, Anne, has a friend there and she told them about me. Some lady -- can't believe I forgot her name -- gave me a tour. Pretty fascinating: they've owned the corner property since the 1600s, I believe, but their original building was destroyed in WWII during the Blitz. Since then, they've rebuilt it. Their sanctuary and rooms are on the 1st floor; they rent out the above floors of the semi-skyscraper to corporations.

The service was nice. I think the UK Unitarians are more aligned to Christianity than back home, but you couldn't tell by this service. One thing I liked was that the guy who led the service at one point read a kids' book called Little Croc; gonna have to pick that up while I'm here in England . . . I think my 4-year-old nephew will like it since the Little Croc in question likes to be bad, though at the end of book the croc leans to play nice (well, mostly).

After the service I had tea and scones with about 10 of the congregation (around 20 people attended the service), including Anne's friend. The scone was good: I was told by my tour guide to put butter and marmalade on it. Good advice -- it was delicious. The tea was dead-on, too. Probably the generous teaspoon of sugar had something to with that. And I usually only have hot tea when sick!

The train to Liverpool was pretty packed, but no big deal 'cause it's only a 50-minute ride. (Really weird: back at the Manchester train station, I had to pay 30 pence to use the toilet.) At one point we passed a couple sheep farms. Pretty cool. . . .

I got into Liverpool around 3 pm. The taxi to the hotel was a lot less than in Liverpool (18 pounds vs. 60). When I got here, I made my way down to the local laundry, which was a 10-minute walk. That whole episode was a story in itself. The laundry only took pound coins, so I had to buy something at the local Tessco (a supermarket), then I forgot the detergent, so I had to go back to the Tessco. On the plus side, as I was folding the last of my clothes, I spoke with a nice woman who told the do's and don't do's while in Liverpool -- more on that tomorrow.

For dinner I tried finding a place to get a burger, but my hotel doesn't serve food on weekends, and the pub around the corner had its kitchen close just before I arrived. So I walked a couple blocks and ran into a pizza joint. Their menu had garlic bread. I ordered it and was surprised that it was a pizza -- tasted just like garlic bread. By that point, it was 8 p.m., so I devoured it.

For the past couple hours I've been in the hotel's reception area. I had two screwdivers and am now working on my 3rd or 4th Beck's (though, in my defense, each bottle is 275 ml, which is a little more than 9 ounces). Alcohol = a l-o-n-g, loquacious blog post. When in Liverpool. . . .

Manchester, day 2

2010-07-04T03:17:00.002-04:00

Yesterday, Saturday, I had continental breakfast here in the hotel -- ate as much as could since it was 11 pounds. Then I lounged around in my room until about 10 or so, when I went to Manchester Art Gallery. How could I not. It's right across the street! (Can see it from my window.)

I wasn't expecting much, but I was pleasantly surprised. It doesn't look like much from the outside but they utilize every inch. Kinda cool how they have pop art in there, like the cover to a Smiths LP. But what really got me was the Victorian room up on the second floor. Never knew artists from that time used such bright, vivid colours. A lot of those paintings reminded me of Maxfield Parrish.

For lunch I had a salad in the Art Gallery's restaurant and got a green apple for an afternoon snack.

Around 2 p.m., I took the tram (a.k.a. MetroLink) for a 20-minute ride out to Old Trafford -- a suburb, I think -- to see Manchester United, probably England's most popular football team. It took the hour tour. Pretty impressive. The stadium fits over 75,000 and tickets are sold out immediately; they can't expand any more at this location because homes and train tracks are behind the stadium. Oh, what else was cool was that the field is actual grass. Damn, now I really wanna see a football game.

I got to really hand it to Manchester United. They have a well-oiled operation. Before the tour you can peruse their museum's three floors (plenty to see since the team is over 100 years old). You start at the top and when you get down to the 1st floor you just have to wait for your tour guide; not a long wait since tours start every 20 minutes.

The tour ends in their shop. It's about two-thirds the size of your typical Modell's in the States and has every piece of merchandise you could think of. I picked up a scarf, a birthday card for my nephew, and a porous black jersey (their away colour, I think) -- the other colour was yellow, but I already have a yellow Australia jersey. What was cool about the jerseys was that they had several designs; some had Manchester United on the back, others, like mine, didn't.

Back near my hotel, I hit a seafood restaurant called Live Bait. Very posh. The food was top tier, but it pissed me off that I asked for mineral water and they brought me bottled mineral water. I should've said something before the girl opened the bottle but I was reading and she kinda blindsided me. Still, I should've said something. Brings me down a bit that you always need to have your defenses up. So sad that people are always looking to take advantage. I don't think I'm gonna go to anymore posh places; I'll stick with taverns and good ol'-fashioned English food. Maybe a pub burger tomorrow in Liverpool for dinner. . . .

To cheer up last night, I went back to my hotel (got there around 9) and watched the last two episodes of Doctor Who's current series on the BBC website. Kinda cool, since I can't do that in the States, what with the license fees they pay over here.

Manchester, day 1

2010-07-03T05:00:00.002-04:00

Yesterday I took the train from Cardiff to Manchester. Glad to get out of Cardiff -- the National Rail website said the train was 32 pounds, but when I got there the surly lady at the counter said it was 56 pounds; apparently, you have to buy an advance ticket on the website for the cheaper price. Grrr. . . .

I arrived in Manchester a little after 2 pm. To save money I decided to walk to the hotel (Google Maps said it was a 11-minute walk), but it turned into an hour 'cause I kept getting lost. Streets would run a couple blocks then either run into a historical building or be renamed.

The hotel is very nice. Much better than Cardiff, where at one point the card to my room stopped working, the free WiFi in the lobby one night kept giving me all these unusual security protocols (too boring to go into), the DVD player in the room wouldn't open (not a problem, since I have my laptop with me),and when I arrived they asked me which paper I'd like delivered to my room -- they wound up charging me for it.

In the afternoon, I wandered around. Stumbled across a Theatre Library where a production of Oscar Wilde's Importance of Being Earnest is being performed until the third, but all tickets are sold out. Bummer.

I had dinner about five blocks from the hotel. Oh, the hotel is in downtown Manchester where almost everything is within walking distance. I ate at some Italian joint located on some small sidestreet that could double as an alley. I was jonesing for pizza. Fought the urge to get pepperoni pizza and instead ordered a folded over pizza with pepperoni, mushrooms and (maybe) ham and olive oil.

Afterwards I trekked it to the Comedy Store. Apparently, there are only two in the UK; the other one in London. It was stand-up night. They call MCs over here compres, I believe. He kept asking if anyone was from another country. I kept my hand down after seeing him roast a couple Aussies, a drama student, a copper, and a guy in the front row wearing a pink shirt.

There were four comedians, with a half-hour intermission from 9:30 to 10 pm (the show started as 8:30 and ended at 11). Some funny stuff. Most of the humour British-based, obviously, though the headliner was a Canadian expatriate who was very Bohemian with his dozen jokes about mushrooms. And he did joke that Canadians are like Swedes by being too careful. Made me wonder if Canucks' carefulness is an asset, since they're the only country world not hit really hard by recession because they have strict financial regulation.

Another thing I noticed about all five comics was they're differentiating between England's North and South. It didn't come as a total surprise to me because there was dialogue in the great UK show Life on Mars about it. But hearing those stand-ups touch on it really drove the point home. Kinda weird, since England's only an island. Guess there's competition everywhere.

Wow, I don't think most people go to a comedy show to get all heavy, but I can't remember any of their jokes!

from Cardiff to Manchester

2010-07-02T04:30:00.002-04:00

Today's a travel day. It's about a three-hour train ride to Manchester. I have until noon to check out of the Cardiff hotel -- not in a rush 'cause I'm more interested in Manchester's nightlife than anything else. (Right now it's about 9:30 a.m.)

All right, yesterday I spent most of the day down at Cardiff Bay. I didn't get down there until about 11 am -- I was in no rush . . . it's a vacation for bloody sake! Anyway, the Millennium Centre was a sight to behold with its ginormous marquee in Welsh. The Roald Dahl Pass was a bit of a disappointment: it's just a circle, plus labourers had it blocked off so they could set up for (this weekend's?) Cardiff Festival.

For lunch I ducked into a pub that was promoting Curry Thursday. Curry, yellow rise, Indian bread and a drink for 4.99. I made the mistake of asking for lemonade; she gave me a Sprite -- you'd think I would have learned my lesson from the previous day's lunch. Overall, it was good meal.

For the rest of the afternoon, I lounged around the Bay. Glad I did. There were little things I missed the first time around: like a sculpture honoring Cardiff's seamen who died during wartime, and the Visitor's Centre, which was housed in "tube". Once again, pics later.

My travel book said the St. David's Hotel had a good menu. So I hung out in their lobby from about 4:45 to 6 p.m., but when I went in there the bartender said dinner didn't start till 7. I didn't feel like waiting so I went back to the Bay and was going to hit a French restaurant but decided on a Turkish joint. Good choice, if I do say myself. I ordered lamb (salty but good), sauteed potatoes, house salad and milk. And not too bad of a price: 14.90.

During dinner, it started to rain. I was going to take the train but it looked like I had to catch a connection, so -- like in the morning -- I walked to the hotel; it's only about a mile. Luckily, I had Union Jack umbrella that I bought my last day in London.

Back in the hotel, I dried off then headed across the street where, like the night before, hopped into some convenience store for an ice-cream cone (got a different one this time). I ended Thursday by watching The Queen starring Helen Mirren, a Netflix DVD I brought with me from home. Seemed fitting.

I fell asleep to a Welsh TV station. Believe it or not, they have channel where the programming is all done in Welsh -- no English. Craziness!

Cardiff, day 2

2010-07-01T03:49:00.002-04:00

Couldn't get online yesterday because of problems with the hotel here in Cardiff, Wales. Anyway, let's backtrack a little.

In London, the dinner at the Italian joint was awesome. Football was on, so the packed place were feisty. I had vegetable lasagna, mashed potatoes, garlic bread and Lipton iced tea out of a bottle. Not too bad -- came out to something like 11 pounds.

Yesterday (Wednesday) I took the train from London to Cardiff. Glad the station was only three blocks from my hotel. And I found out why trash cans are few and far in-between in London: to cut down on terrorists dropping bombs in 'em. Smart.

The 2-hour train ride to Cardiff was uneventful. When I got here around noon, I decided to walk to the hotel since it's only three-tenths of a mile, but I couldn't find it at first. Kept walking up and down five-block St. Mary St., looking for it. Finally found it with the help of locals. I missed it because it's in the middle of the block, squeezed between two businesses. One of those buildings that's not impressive in the front, but it's bigger on the inside -- hey, just like Dr. Who's TARDIS!

My hotel's in what's called Cardiff Centre, so there are many restaurants and shops. I was in the mood for pizza but couldn't find a place that served slices, so I settled on joint where I got 2 meatballs and garlic breads; I asked for lemonade but the waitress gave me a Slice -- must be a UK thing 'cause that almost happened at the Italian cafe in London.

Then it was off to the Cardiff castle. Really impressive! I think I liked it more than the Tower of London because it wasn't so overwhelming. I'll post pics when I get back home, though unfortunately some turned out rubbish 'cause you couldn't use flash photography inside the castle. One that did turn out well was a window called Philadelphia. Apparently the family that lived there were uber religious and Philly is connected with the Bible . . . from John the Baptist, maybe?

For dinner, I ate at an all-you-can-eat Chinese buffet, although it wasn't that good -- food left under the burners for too long. My thinking for going there was that the following day I'd be down at Cardiff Bay, where there are a bunch of posh restaurants, so that'll be an expensive meal. On the plus side, I had Chinese tea at the buffet and it was -- um, um -- tasty.

After dinner I went walking, looking for some club, but I left the second of my 2 maps back at the hotel, so I got a little lost. I didn't venture too far into that neighborhood. A little on the poverty side. Lots of businesses and homes "to let".

I got back to the hotel around nine and put on the telly. The BBC had one funny programme on called Mock of the Week, which was quite funny. Set up as a game show, it's basically a vehicle for comedians to make fun of the news. I think the producers are the same Brit cats who did Whose Line Is It Anyway?, which was quite evident in the last bit called "Things We'd Like to See", where the six comedians approached the mike for each topic, the first one being "Lines we'd like to see in the Bible" -- you won't find that on American television!

Right now it's a little before 10 a.m. on Thursday. It hasn't rained since I got there (there was a little shower in London my last full day there in the morning), so hopefully the sun reigns.

London, last day

2010-06-29T13:09:00.002-04:00

It's Tuesday, about 6 pm. I did three of the four things I wanted to do today. Couldn't make it to the London Zoo in time before it closed.

This morning I went to the Tower of London first. Kind of misnomer, since it has about 20 towers. The tour was a bit lame. I'm guessing that the guide didn't take us in towers because our group had at least 100 people. I did walk through a couple towers -- fascinating stuff. And I went into the Crown Jewels. Kinda crazy how you can't take pictures in there. Oh, man, I'm not a fan of diamonds and jewels, but those spectres and crowns are amazing! And before I left I caught sight of on the lawn in front of the Tower of London a touristy attraction where you could shoot the two-story catapult. It took four tourists to pull the ropes so that they could shoot a water balloon.

Next it was off to Westminster Abbey. Sadly, you're not allowed to take pictures in there, just like in the Crown Jewels building. Pretty amazing in there. It costs 15 pounds to get in, and they give you audio pieces where the actor Jeremy Irons is your guide. Besides the tombs of kings and queens, they have a Poet's Corner and a sections saluting the sciences; Isaac Newton is buried there and I think Charles Darwin, or maybe he's just memorialized there.

Big Ben is a block away, so I took pictures of it and the nearby Parliament building. Pretty cool to see it up close.

I came back to my hotel around 4 pm. I'm just resting now. Gonna check out the train station I have to go to for the ride to Cardiff, Wales. Only a 2-hour trek so no big deal. Then I'm gonna hit a local Italian restaurant. Feel like some pasta.

London, day 3

2010-06-29T02:22:00.002-04:00

On Monday, after eating an English breakfast here at the hotel (sans eggs), I had planned to go to the Royal Albert Hall first, but judging by their website they don't have tours, so I blew it off and went to the Old Bailey a.k.a. the Criminal Centre, down near St. Paul's Cathedral. I didn't go inside because the line was too long and you couldn't take a camera inside, however I did take a picture of solicitors outside, though it's not the best photo since I was trying not to bring attention myself. I'm gonna have to go back and watch episodes of Rumpole and the Old Bailey because the real thing looked nothing that iconic TV show.

Growing more confident with taking the tube, I headed to the BBC Television Centre in the East End. I had to buy my ticket the night before online; the only slot left was 1:45 pm. Despite taking my time to get there, I had plenty of time to kill. The tour was OK. You weren't allowed to take pictures for the most part, but they did let us see two studios from visitor booths up high. Both were for kids TV shows; they were shooting one, a game show. Sidenote: interesting that they rent their studios to commercial stations, like ITV. Oh, and you should've saw how many lights each studio had -- I think they were all remote-controlled. Another fascinating tidbit (at least to me), a lot of their news show have unmanned cameras because the anchors don't move around; also, the anchors write their own stories, which is why they shuffle around papers. The tour ended in the BBC shop. They didn't have two DVDs I was looking for: Quatermass and Casanova, both remakes from the noughties.

In the mid-afternoon, on the fly, I went to Harrod's, a very posh department store. I went to the HMV on the fourth or fifth floor and bought the first series of No Angels, a nurse dramedy I heard about because of one actress connected to the Doctor Who universe. I then had dinner down in their food hall. It cost about 45 pounds but was really good: 6 crab/shrimp dumplings, chips (steak fries), a house salad, and the best iced tea ever (very sweet).

Then it was off to the West End. I had bought a ticket for the Agatha Christie play, Mousetrap, yesterday, but they didn't have a Sunday-night performance just a matinee, so I had to wait a day. The play was really good. Glad they had an intermission 'cause the day of running around caught up with me in the first half -- had trouble staying awake, but a bottle of water and a cup of ginger ale during intermission woke me up.

Tomorrow's my last day in London. Gonna try and squeeze four things in.

London, day 2

2010-06-27T16:51:00.002-04:00

Well, I'm much more coherent today than yesterday -- don't even wanna read yesterday's post. Though, I did wake up around midnight after two hours sleep. Here, I was rubbing my eyes raw. I had been sneezing after visiting Hyde Park, and it lingered; something there triggered my hay fever. But it's all good now.

I got up about 7:40 this morning (Sunday) and had a complimentary English breakfast in the hotel, though I skipped the eggs. Then I was off to the Shakespeare Globe.

I decided to walk, but when I got to where I thought it was, the West Ende, I realized I read the map wrong. So I went to the nearest Underground station and took the tube to where the Globe is actually at.

They do a great job at the Globe. Part of the property is an exhibit, which I cruised around in (nothing original . . . mostly reproductions) until my tour started at "half past eleven". The tour goes into the actual Globe Theatre, where they put on performances in the afternoon and evening; they were setting up for the former while my group of 50(!) visitors got schooled by our Shakespeare guide. I knew the Globe was a recreation. What I didn't know that the original held three times as many people (3,000) and that it was destroyed twice. First time a pyrotechnic during a production landed on the thatch roof and burned down the place; the second time the Puritans took it down along with other theatres in London, 'cause they saw plays as immoral.

Next it was off to the British Museum. Before going in I hit a deli a block away. Got a veggie sandwich -- this time I ate the eggs.

The British Museum is awesome! Puts Philly's Art Museum to shame. Took tons of pictures, including of the Rosetta Stone. I'll post several of those Museum pics when I get back to home.

Around four o'clock I came back to the hotel and mapped out tomorrow's itinerary. I'm only here two more full days. Tons to do. So on impulse I hopped on the tube to Buckingham Palace. Oh, I bought a day pass for five pounds, sixty pence. WHAT A BARGAIN!

Buckingham Palace is in/near Grace Park, I believe it's called. Tours are only in August and September, so with about a hundred other onlookers, I took numerous pictures. Even got a couple shots of the two beefeaters. Interestingly, they're behind the black-iron fence, about 30 feet back; I'll let you convert that to metres.

Leaving Buckingham Palace, my allergies acted up again, but not as bad as yesterday. I took the tube back the Paddington train station, which is a few blocks from my hotel. I was going to eat in a fish and chips place, but they had no restroom (I'm sorry, toilet). So I went to a restaurant across the street from the train station, a steak place. Good call. I don't eat steak at home. Got an 8-ounce steak, mixed vegetables, mashed potatoes and a pint of milk. Good stuff and not too bad a price at 24 and change. I put 35 on my credit card 'cause the waiter, with the French or Italian accent, was very good.

It's about 10:20 on Sunday night. Gonna shower then watch the Doctor Who episode I just downloaded. Seems fitting to watch it in the UK.

UK vacay, with Murphy's Law in full effect

2010-06-26T15:20:00.002-04:00

My trip got off to a bad start. It was cool that my sister drove me down to the airport with her husband and three kids (good times), but around 3:30 p.m. an intense storm, going on for at least a half-hour. It was so bad, Air Traffic Control grounded flights, which pushed planes two-plus hours behind. My plane to JFK in New York was supposed to take flight at 5:50; it didn't leave till 8:30. While the plane was still on the runway in Philly, I called the airline (Delta) and they told that my flight out of New York, to London, was scheduled to leave at its scheduled time of 8:45 -- since I was going to miss my flight, they could have me on a 4:30 a.m. plane to Atlanta, then to London. I said I'd call them back.

I didn't arrive in JFK until about 9:15. I was standing in the longest line (about 75 people in front of me). The board above the Delta customer-service desk had cities like Dallas and Seattle and future flight times that night. I assumed the London flight was long gone. Boy, was I wrong, when 25 minutes later I turned around and saw Delta international computer screen. At 9:53 I saw that my London flight had been pushed back until 10. I ran from gate 24 to 12 as fast as I could, getting down there at 9:59, but the plane had taken off. Delta said they could put me on British Airways, but not until 9:35 the next night, so I booked a room at an EconoLodge in Queens -- not the safest of neighborhoods.

I checked out the next morning. Running low on cash (the taxi the night before cost me $20 [$14.90 plus a tip]), so I started walking the six miles to the airport. Luckily a few blocks into my trip I found out about a bus that went to the airport. Thanks to the kindness of strangers I made it the airport safe and sound (one flight attendant swiped her MetroPass for me and I paid her $2.25, since the bus doesn't take cash; and a TSA employee told me to sit tight when I almost got off at the wrong stop).

I lounged around the airport for about nine hours. Talked to my mom and my sister Diane a lot, took a nap in the afternoon in the waiting room of a rarely-used gate, and ate some overpriced food. Glad I went to the airport early because I went over to Delta and they verified that my one piece of luggage was in Heathrow already.

On the plane ride I mostly slept (kinda of a waste that I charged up my Mac and iPod). It only took six hours to get to London. And British Airways is the shiz-net! Very comfortable.

I got into London 9:30 a.m. local time. I went to the British Airways desk for my luggage. They had no record of it and said I should go to Delta's terminal, which was about a half-hour ride via Heathrow's free train system. Delta took me downstairs to their luggage department. Some kid sent my luggage over to British Airways yesterday. So it was another half-hour trip back to British Airways. I purposefully didn't talk to the same customer-service agent. Thank God! The one I zeroed must've been manager material because she pointed across the cavernous room to a stack of luggage in the corner that Delta dropped off yesterday. My luggage was there! Wish the first British Airways chick would've told me about that mountain of luggage.

The taxi ride to my hotel was 62 pounds (YIKES!). I gave him 70 because my travel book says a tip is not mandatory but expected, plus we had a nice talk about British Airways and UK TV.

Weird thing about my motel is that I can't leave with the key. They say there's 24-hour reception; I just have to drop the key off when I leave.

Since my room didn't have soap, I walked a few blocks down to this avenue, Everglade I think it's called, and hit the chemist. I ventured further down the Ave. and got a fried fish burger, steak fries (a.k.a. chips) and a can of Pepsi for 5.80. A nice treat since I don't eat breaded fish at home.

I then went to Hyde Park, which is about a half-mile away, because the band Blur played a pair of reunion gigs there last July for 50,000 each night. Beautiful park! It's huge!!! Best park I've ever been to. They have a Peter Pan statue, tons of fountains, and hundreds of people were out enjoying the 80-plus weather. I made it down to Princess Diana's Memorial Fountain. Interesting. It was ginormous circle -- little kids playing in it -- with the occasional tiny concrete bridge you could walk over.

Afterwards, I came back to my hotel and mapped out tomorrow's itinerary. Gonna take public transit tomorrow, so I was researching that. Looks like I gotta go about four blocks around the corner to Paddington Station and get a daily pass.

I also bought my nephew Billy his B-day gift -- his party was today, I believe. Got him a red double-decker bus and black taxi cab. It's not Star Wars but hopefully he'll dig it.

I then ate dinner at an Indian restaurant. Good food, slow service.

Oh, and at one point today I realized that I forgot to bring the attachment to download pictures from my camera to computer, so I had to go out and buy a memory card. I paid 30 pounds for 8GB; hope I didn't get ripped off.

It's about 9:20 p.m. I'm really tired. I know this is poorly written but I wanted to get it down on blogspot. Gonna watch a little telly then sleep like a frat boy through chem class.

Steinbeck on socialism

2010-06-22T20:49:00.002-04:00

Been reading Ronald Wright's A Short History of Progress. On page 124 it has an interesting sentence: John Steinbeck once said that socialism never took root in American because the poor see themselves not as an exploited proletariat but as temporarily embarrassed millionaires.

wordplay of the day

2010-06-16T07:34:00.000-04:00

you may be smart
but
that doesn't make you wise

ICP

2010-05-20T07:07:00.002-04:00

Saw them last night with my buddy Derek at the Electric Factory here in Philly. First off, I was jazzed that I got free on-street parking right around the corner in front of the Red Cross building. Yep, I'm officially middle-aged. Getting excited over a parking place. Christ, I might as well hike my pants up to my sternum.

Anyway, I caught the last two songs by the first opening act, Necro. Two guys on stage with an iPod. Not too bad. Hardcore stuff you would except at an ICP show. And their profanity-laced banter seemed to go over well with the crowd.

After their set ended, a black curtain was drawn across the stage. Near the back of the venue, up a stairwell for all to see was Mike E. Clark, ICP's legendary producer (who has also worked with House Of Pain and Kid Rock). Dressed in a white lab coat and kamikaze goggles, he DJ'ed with help from his MacBook. With most of his thinning mop of hair dyed clown-red, he entertained the crowd for about ten minutes.

All-female metal band, Kittie, from Canada, were up next. Many of their songs sounded the same, probably due to the fact that they didn't pause between most songs, but lead singer / rhythm guitar player Morgan Lander made up for it with bleach-blond Pink-ish haircuit; plus she was working those black biker shorts. I liked their set so much, I downloaded their latest from eMusic.

Next up was Coolio. Pretty pathetic. He had three relatives up there with him and a banner in the background of GANGSTER'S PARADISE (what was that, like 10 years ago?). At 46, his voice is shot. I think he needed backup to pull off a live performance. Of course, it didn't help that at least 20 minutes of his 45-minute set consisted of banter. And I felt bad for his son, who was up there, because they called him AI, for Artificial Intelligence, since -- in Coolio's words -- "he's dumb." Poor kid. Born into a bad family. Oh, and when Coolio did "Gangster's Paradise", I couldn't help but think of Weird Al's "Amish Paradise". Mucho superior in my mind.

Thankfully, Coolio and his low-ambition crew left the stage. Mike E. Clark came back for his third set on the opportunely-located stairwell platform. I don't remember if it was during this set or when he had "performed" between Kittie and Coolie that he played ICP's "Chop Chop Slide". Fascinating to watch. It involves a lot of audience participation. The crowd hit all the right notes. Amazing!

Eventually, the last opening act, the Kottonmouth Kings, hit the stage. They seemed to be a bunch of stoners. Apparently the crowd loved them, with a number of their songs being about weed. Whatever, what am I, in the seventh grade?

Mike E. Clark didn't entertain the audience after the eternity of the Kottonmouth's hour set. Insane Clown Posse hit the stage around eleven o'clock.

ICP have been a guilty pleasure for the past five or so, even since my friend Derek turned me on to them. Their frequent use of the word "bitch" turns my liberal ass off, but Violent J and Shaggy 2 Dope are good rappers, and their mythology of the Dark Carnival is fascinating. But I gotta hand to them, they really know how to put on a show. They go through all the hits (hardly any tunes from their latest, Bang Pow Boom). Songs I recognized were "Homies", "Let's Go All the Way", "Tilt-A-Whirl", "The Neden Game", "Serial Killer", "Fuck the World" and "Miracles". Gotta give 'em props for doing "Miracles", especially after SNL parodied it.

Proving that it was a white-trash event, throughout the show, ICP showered the crowd with Faygo soda (smelled like root beer, for the most part) and occasionally shooting out confetti. I don't know, I thought it would've been a better show if they would've practiced a little moderation with the Faygo and confetti.

All in all, I'm glad I went. I felt like an anthropologist in the clown-ish inner city. Definitely a different scene. And they finished with "Bang! Pow! Boom!", from their most recent full-length. A nice ten-minute ditty to end a white-trash event.

Flashforward, part 2 [[WITH SPOILERS!]]

2010-05-19T07:07:00.000-04:00

Finally finished listening to it. I still think the characters were two-dimensional, but I don't read sci-fi for the characters; I read it for the mind-blowing ideas. Part of the ending had only Nobel Prize winners achieving near-eternal life, and humans the only intelligent life in the universe. Interesting stuff. It did get me thinking. The afterlife is a fantasy. I'm becoming more convinced that when you die, that's it -- lights out. There could still be a God (something had to kick-start the Big Bang) and having a limited shelf-life could mean we burn bright, burn fast; though that doesn't mean we should lead selfish, hedonistic lives.

I understand why religion thrives. Nobody wants to die. The afterlife is a nice safety net. I suffer in this world and am rewarded in the next. But the more I read, I see incredibly intelligent people are atheists. Maybe they're onto something.

Of course, maybe I'm just looking for an easy out. All of my sins would be a non-issue if life ends with my last heartbeat.

carnilvale

2010-05-16T20:08:00.003-04:00

Took my four-year-old nephew, Buff, this afternoon to this little carnival in the parking lot behind the office building I work in. He seemed to have a good time. On the ride there he informed me that Jedi Knights didn't go to barbers or hair dressers because they used their lightsabers to cut their hair. Out of the mouth of Buff.

The carnival had no more than a dozen rides. Buff's a bit of a daredevil, so we did the funhouse twice. It was funny: during Bumper Cars (I had to drive, even though he's 42" tall) he grinned when we got slammed on both sides by other cars. Other rides we did were airplanes going round and round, lifting six feet off the ground; merry-go-round, which he seemed bored with; yellow slide -- about 20 feet in the air, where you go down on a piece of canvas (Buff on my lap); and haunted ride, which was lame but he seemed a little scared. We also played basketball hoop and shooting balls in slanted rubber baskets, twice each; what a gyp . . . five bucks for three balls, and House almost always wins.

I did buy Buff a lemonade, and he wanted cotton candy, but I kept putting him off because cash was running low and I didn't want to spoil his dinner. Glad I did because I wound up eating supper at my sister's and he woofed down his food. Glad to see it, since he's usually a picky eater. He has a 110% sweet tooth.

When I finally got ready to leave in the early evening, I though it was cute that Buff asked when I was coming back. Now that's nice. . . .

Wow, what a long post! Sounds like I had more fun than a four-year-old!!!

Fixx

2010-05-15T20:25:00.002-04:00

Earlier this week I bought ticket to see them this summer in Atlantic City. My old cassette of Reach the Beach was busted, so I bought the LP used, and I uploaded their followup, Phantoms -- good goddamn, the lyrics! I gotta say, they're an awesome band!!! I was a passive fan back in the day. I can't wait to see them! What sold me was watching some clips of them live on You Tube.

Flashforward

2010-05-14T20:08:00.001-04:00

Been listening to the audiobook Flashforward. I'm about halfway through it. It's OK, though the author does put forth an interesting idea. Oh, in case you're unfamiliar with the novel plot (or the TV adaption, which is slightly different, I hear), a science experiment lets every person on Earth experience life 20 years or so in the future for a few minutes. The author (Sawyer, is it?) hypothesizes, via his main characters, that the future is fixed, just like the past. An idea to mull over. . . . And he mentions Niven's Law, named after the sci-fi writer. Apparently, it means that time travel is impossible because as soon as somebody figures it out, the universe ends to prevent any paradoxes. Fascinating! Sorry to say, I probably won't read/listen to anything else from this Flashforward writer. His characters are too two-dimensional for my tastes, and his plotting needs work. The novel would've been a million times better if instead of all these sorry-sort characters whining about their futures, how about everybody keeps seeing glimpses of their future? Maybe to keep things simple, have the future-seers be a small group of people -- perhaps the cabal of scientists who kick-started it all. Yes, I suffer from the Robert B. Parker affliction where whatever I read/watch I'm criticizing with how I would write it.

blindsided

2010-05-08T20:08:00.001-04:00

I was babysitting my four-year-old nephew, Buff, this afternoon. My sister came back early from chaperoning her oldest, Marty, to a birthday party. Buff was watching college-girl gymnastics while lying in a chair that can lean back and rotate all the way around. All of the sudden he started crying. My sister asked what happened as Buff went over to her. He said he kneed himself in the eye. Apparently his eyes were closed and regarding his knee, "I didn't even see it coming." Funny. . . .

pickup artist

2010-04-30T20:00:00.004-04:00

Pretty funny: I got to work early this morning so I walked a couple blocks to the local Acme. So I'm standing at the stoplight, waiting for it to turn green. Peripherally I see the pedestrian to my left eying me, but caustic city slicker I am, I ignore her. Predictably, she starts talking to me. She's about 5'6", wears a nylon jacket (the kind that companies give out as promo items), has glasses with lenses that are too big in these designer-frame days, and she owned a headful of piebald hair; if I had to guess, I'd say she was in her mid- to late-40s (though she seemed touched, so she probably was older). Anyway, the light turns green, and the conversation goes something like this:

Her: "Hi."
Me: "What's up."
Her: "Where do you work?"
Me: "Down the street?"
Her: "Where at?"
Me: "I don't know, I just started. Why do ask?"
Her: "I'm just curious. Is it the PSFS building?"
Me: "No, it's the one a couple addresses away."
Her: "One George Washington Plaza?"
Me: "Yeah, I think that's it. So, do you work around here?"
Her (proudly): "I work at Villanova Food Services."

I then walked into Acme, and she trailed off. I don't know what's scarier, that she was obsessed with my work address or that I lied so easily, 'cause I do work in the PSFS building.

The Wrestler

2010-03-10T07:25:00.002-05:00

I caught this movie over the weekend. Really surprised by it. I'm always hesitant of movies that had an Oscar buzz because a lot of times the story sucks -- the nomination is political or an acting performance is awesome. But The Wrestler was really good all around: great acting, excellent script, decent directing. It was nice to see Mickey Rourke in a great movie. Reminded me of his stellar work in the eighties when he was in such flicks as Barfly, Johnny Handsome and Year of the Dragon. Looking forward to his next film. . . .

Bill Maher

2010-03-04T09:07:00.006-05:00

Been listening to podcasts from iTunes of his HBO show, Real Time. After all these years, he still makes me laugh, probably because I agree with him 90% of the time. But he can be a real prick when he turns deathly serious by cocking his head and pursing his lips as he spouts an opinion that's not open to discussion. Guess it shouldn't surprise me. You gotta have a huge ego to be a performer of his stature.

reflection

2010-03-03T07:07:00.003-05:00

A topic I'm obsessed with is free will, probably because of 16 years of Catholic schooling. Does anybody really have it? I mean, we're all born in times where traditions and modes of thought are thrust upon us. If I was born into an aristocrat family in the Middle Ages, there's a good chance I would look down on peasants. It's almost like society forms your personality.

Probably why I think about this is because in a lot of social situations I feel out of place because I'm a liberal and most people I run into are conservative. Guess that's what happens when ya live in a right-of-center country.

ah, youth

2010-03-02T07:07:00.003-05:00

I was talking to one of my sisters last night on the phone. In the background, my two-year-old goddaughter was saying in her cute littler toddler voice, "Luke, I'm your father" because her older brothers -- ages six and four -- recently saw the first two Star Wars movies recently (episodes IV and V for you geeks out there). Then my goddaughter went into the living room and said to her dad, "Luke, I'm your father." He replied, "No, I'm your father." Her response: "No, I'm your father." Funny stuff.

relapse

2010-03-01T07:07:00.000-05:00

Made the mistake of drinking this past weekend. On the plus side, these binges are happening less and less; last time I got drunk was a few weeks ago. It's more of a bad habit now instead of a need I can't ignore. Guess I'm finally "maturing out". 'Bout time.

Around the World in 80 Days

2010-02-26T07:21:00.004-05:00

Been listening to the unabridged version narrated by Frederick Davidson. It's really good! This novel by Jules Verne is definitely a book of its time but that's OK; it gives a good view of the London upper class in the late 19th century. And it helps that Davidson narrates it like a British aristocrat from that time. Can't wait to download from Audible.com two other classic Verne novels: 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea and Journey to the Center of the Earth.

Steinbeck

2010-02-25T07:18:00.006-05:00

Been reading Grapes of Wrath. It's really good. Besides his prose, I like the whole populist feel of it, plus it gives you an idea of what life was like in the Midwest during the Dust Bowl.

Kinda crazy how the older I get, the more I'm enjoying the classics. A couple years ago I loved The Affair by Graham Greene and a few months ago I listened to the unabridged audio for Moby Dick. Hard to believe in my 20s and 30s all I read was pop fiction. Maturity is awesome!

death of America?

2010-02-24T08:28:00.004-05:00

I've been listening to The Young Turks political show a lot lately. They've been covering CPAC, that conservative conference, ad nauseam. The more I listen to conservatives rant about small government and no taxes, the more I get depressed. It seems so much of the country buys that antiquated ideology. Look, nobody likes paying taxes but you need to for social services and defending the nation. You don't need to nationalize everything but you also don't need to privatize everything -- we need to walk a fine line. I fear if the conservative narrative doesn't fade soon, this country will eventually collapse. Christ, why can't we be more like Europe where capitalism thrives but with reasonable regulation? I don't know, maybe the conservative rule here in the U.S.A. was bound to happen. When you have a country founded on freedom, I guess it was inevitable that people were going to take it to psychotic degrees. Although, in my opinion, being anti-government is anti-American.

New Religion

2010-02-22T07:33:00.002-05:00

I officially joined the First Unitarian Church downtown yesterday. It was pretty cool, my mother and two sisters came out for it. There was a potluck afterwards. My sister Diane made some meatballs, which turned out well since only one other person brought food -- apparently, most of the congregation didn't get the email alert earlier in the week, even though the potluck is every third Sunday. It worked out well, though.

In the afternoon, I hung out at my sister Diane's house. Her two boys seemed to enjoy the two battery-less lightsabers I dropped off that morning, which I had purchased on Saturday at the Church's rummage sale; I got my goddaughter (their sister) a little stuffed, flamboyant turtle.

That night, I had planned to clean and do a little laundry, but I got sucked into a YouTube void by watching clips of Head Case's Ali Wentworth. Goddamn, George Stephanopoulos must be loving life be married to her. Not only is she still beautiful, but she's actually gotten funnier with age. Nice to see her mature since her days on In Living Colour.

loser

2010-02-21T06:06:00.004-05:00

Fucking moron I am. Friday night I was supposed to go to an 80s Party down at some bar in my old neighborhood (Frankford section of the city), but when I got out of work at seven, I went food shopping. By the time I got home and ate dinner it was 10 p.m. Dumb!

Last night I was supposed to go to see the Supersuckers in West Chester. I took a nap after dinner but forgot to set my alarm, so I slept through the night. That really pisses me off 'cause I paid about $20 for the ticket already. Stupid!

Mission of Burma

2010-02-19T09:09:00.003-05:00

Saw them last night at the Unitarian Church. Really loud! My ears are still ringing!!! No wonder the guitarist got tinnitus in his 20s (they're now all around 50 years old).

I'm not a fan of a their new material, though they do sound great live with the bass sounding like it's part of a garage-rock outfit. They did do all of their old hits: "Fame and Fortune", "That's How I Escaped My Certain Fate", "Academy Fight Song" and "That's When I Reach for My Revolver", however, they didn't get through the first refrain on the last one 'cause the vocalist/bassist thought he was out of tune (which he wasn't).

Glad I went. Good show, and got to have a little dinner with some old work peeps (Kevin and David) at the Irish Pub at 20th and Walnut. Their burger is so awesome, it's to slaughter for.

Go-Betweens

2010-02-17T07:20:00.002-05:00

Because I'm infatuated with Australian culture, I was reading the Go-Betweens biography over the weekend. Something I'd always thought, which this book drove home, was that most artists are self-serving sonofabitches who will do almost anything in their pursuit of fame of fortune. For instance, in the late 80s, the Go-Betweens had a good lineup, but then the two songwriters decided to break up the band so they could do solo careers, leaving the drummer, Lindy Morrison, and violinist, Amanda Brown, unemployed. And the one songwriter was dating Amanda, and he wondered why she was pissed at him. Unbelievable. . . . Still, they had some great singles. Too bad their compilation 1978-1990 is out of print, 'cause that's all ya really need from them in your record collection.

new view

2010-02-16T08:29:00.003-05:00

For about the past 10 years or so, I've been a staunch socialist, but the older I get the more I'm for a combination of capitalism and socialism, like what most of Europe has. Have solid social problems and strict regulation. Because most people I've come across are more motivated by money than love for their fellow human beings.

then again, maybe I won't

2010-02-14T15:15:00.003-05:00

I was going to give up on writing but think I'm gonna stick it out a little while longer. I'll finish the edgy fantasy Young Adult novel I'm working on before revisiting the idea of packing it in. I'll be 40 in April -- there just comes a time when you gotta pack your dreams away and start doing other things (in my case, volunteering and activism).

Once I finish the YA novel, I'll do something I hadn't done in the past due to pride: network. In my twenties and early thirties, I had just sent out query letters to agents in publishers; and in my late thirties, the DIY route was a train wreck because I suck at self-promotion.

Hopefully, something will work out. I'd like to keep writing. I'm not prime-time enough to make a living at it, but it'd be nice to do it as a hobby. Keeps my brain active. Plus, it's fun!

thought of the day

2010-01-30T12:25:00.003-05:00

My day job has me dealing with the stock market. Yesterday I thought life would be more interesting if the word ticker was replaced with fucker. As in: "Yeah, we're now traded on NASDAQ. Our fucker is T&A." It would certainly make my days more entertaining.

bloody January

2010-01-29T21:23:00.003-05:00

Jesus Christ on the crapper! Another one of my heroes has died. Howard Zinn, the left-wing historian who gave us the excellent tome A People's History of the United States. On the plus side, he lived to the ripe old age of 87. Still, I'm gonna miss watching new interviews and talks with him. With his constant smiling and avuncular tone, you couldn't help but like him. Noam Chomsky could learn a lesson or two from Zinn's public-speaking style. . . .

Obama's Novel Prize

2010-01-27T08:24:00.004-05:00

I didn't bother watching his State of the Union last night. Kinda disgusted with his administration. Probably what irks me the most is the Afghan surge. I loved when he picked up the Nobel Prize how he said something to the effect that sometimes you have to go to war for peace. WHAT?!? That's like saying you love your fiancée but you're gonna fuck as many other women as possible, just to make sure you love her.

back from the dead

2010-01-19T21:24:00.005-05:00

Was going to delete this blog, but I'm gonna keep it going, mainly because when I go on vacations it's the best way to communicate with my family while I'm overseas.

Until then, I'm gonna treat this like a real blog -- no more record reviews.

Here's something that has me down today: the novelist Robert B. Parker has died. Kinda weird how I'm reading his latest, The Professional, this week.

Supersuckers: DEVIL'S FOOD

2009-09-06T19:36:00.004-04:00

The last of my recent Supersuckers downloads, Devil's Food is a collection of outtakes and rarities. It touches on what they do best: rock 'n' roll and country music. And this being a compilation, there are plenty of covers, like Outkast's "Hey Ya!", 'The Chips' "Rubber Biscuits" (doo-wop now country-fied!), and "Sail On" from Smokey and the Bandit. There is also the rockin' title track and the kick-ass closer, "End of An Era", with slightly distorted vocals. Yes!

Rating: 4 outta 5 stars

Triffids: BORN SANDY DEVOTIONAL

2009-09-05T19:49:00.006-04:00

When I was vacationing in Australia last December, I picked up The Triffids greatest hits, Australian Melodrama. Great disc! Only one throwaway track. So when I saw eMusic offering Born Sandy Devotional (BSD), I downloaded it quicker than John Cook paved the way for European colonialism. Released in '86, BSD was ironically recorded in the UK, but Aussies embraced it like an INXS album. What's cool about BSD is that all ten tracks are awesome, with "Wide Open Road" (video) being the standout. Sadly, the theme is a bit of a downer -- unrequited love -- though, it's not obvious.

The reissue of BSD includes nine bonus tracks (read: demos). Most of them are for hardcore Trifidi fans only, with singer/songwriter David McComb either reciting poetry or singing while playing an electric guitar. However, two of them are fantastic and feature a full band. "Convent Walls" has a lovely melody and "Born Sandy Devotional" doesn't appear on the actual album, but it rocks, thanks to the drummer banging the hell out of the ride cymbal.

God bless 1980s Australia!!!

Rating: 5 outta 5 stars

Supersuckers: MOTHERFUCKERS BE TRIPPIN'

2009-09-04T20:24:00.005-04:00

The phrase "it grows on you" is a hackneyed one, but it's the case of this 2003 release. Musically it sound like a continuation of The Supersuckers' 1999 full-length, Evil Powers of Rock 'n' Roll, but lyrically vocalist Eddie Spaghetti celebrates mostly the decadent bar scene -- drinking, fighting, fucking. On first listen, I only liked two songs, "Rock 'n' Roll Records (Ain't Selling This Year)" and "Pretty Fucked Up". But by the fifth listen, more songs swirled in my gray matter: "Rock Your Ass", "The Fight Song" and "Bubblegum and Beer". Thank you, Satan!

Rating: 3 outta 5 stars

Japandroids: POST-NOTHING

2009-09-01T21:02:00.005-04:00

Oh Christ, what a waste of an eMusic download! These garage rockers love their distortion and playing songs that are w-a-a-a-a-a-y too long. I think other active acts, like No Age and Times New Viking, do the whole garage-rock thang a lot better. But that's just me, who on weekends likes to dress up like a Cylon and quote lines from Rashomon.

Rating: 0 outta 5 stars

Telekinesis: TELEKINESIS!

2009-08-29T19:45:00.006-04:00

Holy shit on a compact disc, Merge Records just keep getting better and better! Twenty years going, and they're still putting out kick-ass gems like Arcade Fire, M. Ward, Rosebuds, and now Telekinesis. Indie-pop rock doesn't get much better than this! They have a slight mod influence, which would explain the cover art, and a bit of acoustic guitar, even where there's an electric guitar track. Plus, they're good with song titles: "Coast of Carolina", "Awkward Kisser" and "Imaginary Friend". Only downside with this debut is their sound and songwriting can't sustain a full-length. About halfway though, things start to get boring, though they do pick up near the end of the album, with songs like "All of a Sudden" and "I Saw Lightning". And I have to give them props for starting and ending the album with acoustic songs. Goddamn, can't wait to see these cats live -- would make a nice double bill with Chicago's The Office.

Rating: 4 outta 5 stars

Broken Social Scene: BROKEN SOCIAL SCENE

2009-08-28T22:06:00.004-04:00

The last of my Metric-related releases, Broken Social Scene are a collective of Canadian musicians, which includes Metric's lead singer, Emily Haines. It's a great idea (friends getting together to make music for the fun of it); unfortunately, a great idea doesn't equal an awesome album. The problem is that the type of songs are all over the place -- too disparate. There's indie-fuzz rock, folky stuff, and a few electronic numbers. Out of 21 tracks, only three are keepers: the indie-rock "Swimmers", the quirky "Tremoloa Debut", and the acoustic "All My Friends". Oh, Canada, why must you break my music-loving heart so?

Rating: 1 outta 5 stars

Psyclone Rangers: FEEL NICE

2009-08-15T19:20:00.008-04:00

I caught this Philly band back in the mid-90s, when they opened for The Dickies. That weekend, I picked up their sophomore CD, The Devil May Care, whose first track, the dynamite "The Deal", they opened up with. Well, it's only taken me about 15 years to track down their debut, but it was well worth the wait. Feel Nice is a much stronger record than Devil. The latter had too many mid-tempo and slow numbers, but the former features pretty much all up-tempo songs in the garage rock vein, with "I Wanna Be Jack Kennedy" kicking things off, and the quasi title track, "I Feel Nice", popping up four tracks later. Sadly, Feel Nice isn't a great album. Holding it back from classic status are two things: too many songs (should've been 10 tracks instead of 12), and the inane vocals-only at the end of "Christie Indecision" and "You're Not Edie Sedwick". Still, well worth picking up if you're a fan of Philly music or 90s indie rock. Plus, it's out of print with Half.com selling it for a buck or two, pre-shipping. Shi-eeee-it, they're practically giving it way!

4 outta 5 stars

Metric: GROW UP AND BLOW AWAY

2009-08-14T16:56:00.005-04:00

This is a collection of songs from Metric before their current lineup as a quartet. Grow Up and Blow Away only features singer Emily Haines and guitarist Jimmy Shaw. The sound is remarkably different from their three recent albums, which are rockin' New Wave; Blow is electronic-pop. It's painfully evident that Haines and Shaw wanted to be famous; making music for the times. The songs here -- from the late nineties and early noughties -- hardly feature any guitar and sounds as if Pink and Moby collaborated on a throwaway side project (that is if Pink was a mezzo-soprano). Nonetheless, a few tracks could find a home on your iPod, like the lead and last tracks, "Grow Up" and "Soft Rock Stars". The third song, "Rock Me Now", is good too, though, with its male co-lead vocal, sounds as if Haines and Shaw were listening too much to Duran Duran's "Breath After Breath". Overall, not atrocious, but now awesome either. Save it for the rabid Metric fans.

2 outta 5 stars

Supersuckers: GET IT TOGETHER

2009-07-31T21:02:00.006-04:00

I used to be a huge fan of The Supersuckers (even saw 'em twice), but I lost interest around 2000 after buying Evil Powers of Rock 'n' Roll because the songs sounded so much better live. Fortunately, the self-proclaimed "world's greatest rock 'n' roll band" are back in the sacrilicious saddle with this 2008 release. Get It Together is the best thing they've done since their debut, 1992's Smoke of Hell. While Hell was pretty much a punk record, Together is straight rock 'n' roll. What's nice about it is that they're love for country music is present, but in a subtle way; "She Is Leaving" is probably the best example of this. And there is a 100% country number, "Breaking Honey's Heart". But it's mostly rock here, with "Listen Up", "Paid", "I'm a Fucking Genius", "I Like It All, Man" -- fuck it, the whole album's great. Hard to believe it hasn't even sold 10,000 copies. It's up to you to change that. AND DON'T DOWNLOAD IT ILLEGALLY because they put it out on their own!

Rating: 5 outta 5 stars

Meatmen: COVER THE EARTH

2009-07-25T14:34:00.005-04:00

Well, it took almost 30 years, but The Meatmen have finally recorded a decent album. As you probably guessed, Cover The Earth is a full-length featuring covers, hence the tile (duh). Besides having the best lineup since their early seven-inches, what makes this album work is that most of the tracks are of the rock'n'roll vein. Standouts include GG Allins' "Highest Power", Jimmy Dean's "Big Bad John" and ABBA's "So Long". And there's a little variety here with the funkish "Psychedelic Shack" and the country-fied "We Didn't Kill Each Other (But Didn't We Try)". Sadly, though, what holds this album back from being great are the sophomoric comedic skits, courtesy of vocalist Tesco Vee, and too many songs -- 24 tunes clocking in at an hour. Still, well worth checking out.

Rating: 4 outta 5 stars

Cage The Elephant: CAGE THE ELEPHANT

2009-07-25T14:14:00.004-04:00

I feel like a bit of a jerk posting this review because my friend Whirls gave me this disc as a gift, but it isn't really my cup of coke. Cage The Elephant have a bar-band vibe about them. They probably would've fit in nicely with the Minneapolis scene, circa 1990. In that alternate universe, they might have opened for Soul Asylum or Titantic Love Affair. But it being 2009, Cage The Elephant remind me a tad of Dr. Dog. That said, one song on this debut is replayable: "Spoil to the Sun". Turn it up!

Rating: 1 outta 5 stars

Emily Haines: KNIVES DON'T HAVE YOUR BACK

2009-07-17T22:13:00.005-04:00

Man, I was really looking forward to this album, since I'm a huge fan of Emily Haines' main gig, Metric, but -- Christ! -- what a major disappointment!! This solo outing should set things straight that Metric is an actual band with all four members writing the songs (which would explain why it takes four years for them to put out an album). Almost every song on Knives Don't Have Your Back sounds the same: mumbly-singing and lethargic piano-playing. More boring than a morgue populated by a bunch of constipated CPAs. It almost sounds like Mates Of State with only Kori singing and playing her keyboard sans husband Jason's drumming and background vocals. Knives Don't Have Your Back is so bad, I'm not posting an MP3 and I'm rethinking downloading another Metric side project, Bang Lime (from the bassist and drummer). On the plus side, we have several Metric albums and a few EPs for some real entertainment.

0 outta 5 stars

Andews Sisters: 20TH CENTURY MASTERS - THE MILLENNIUM COLLECTION: THE BEST OF THE ANDREWS SISTERS

2009-07-11T11:58:00.004-04:00

Recently, a coworker lent me The Essence of Frank Sinatra, a compilation that focused on Mr. Mob-wannabe's earlier recordings, before he lost his voice for a year or two. Really good stuff. It got me thinking about the Andrews Sisters, so I picked up this collection. Amazing! It has their most famous number, "Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy", as well as "Don't Sit Under the Apple Tree (With Anyone Elese But Me)", a tune I think I read about a long time ago in A Separate Peace. Oh, and there's "Ac-Cent-Tchu-Ate the Posive", which is kind of kick-ass because I heard The Vindictives' cover of it first a number of years ago. Glad I picked up this disc. Twelve songs is about all I can take of these USO angels, but -- good goddamn -- what a dozen ditties!!!

Rating: 5 outta 5 stars

"Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy"

Whole What Bread: HEARTS OF HOODLUMS

2009-07-09T20:21:00.006-04:00

I'm not even sure why I downloaded this full-length. I hardly listen to punk rock anymore -- too much unnecessary anger; I guess old habits die horrendously. That said, this black trio are more hard rock on this outing. Most of Hearts Of Hoodlums failed to entertain me, but I do like "Girlfriend Like This" (despite the borderline homophobe lyric: "I don't care what nobody say / If you don't like her you're probably gay") and "New Age Southern Baptist Nigga from da Hood" (a humourous track with the band channeling Iron Maiden or Judas Priest). And I want to say that the lead vocalist reminds me of Living Colour's Corey Glover, but I just may be making that connection for obvious reasons. Overall, not a bad album if you're into hard rock or punk rock.

Rating: 2 outta 5 stars

"Girlfriend Like This"

Sebastien Grainger: SEBASTIEN GRAINGER AND THE MOUNTAINS

2009-07-08T20:51:00.005-04:00

I caught this cat a few weeks ago opening for Metric. It just may be the first time I got an album by an opening act (kudos, Metric, for bookng a warm-upper whose sound is similar to your own!). Unfortunately, Sebastien Grainger And The Mountains isn't as great his live show -- maybe it had something to do with his backing band, especially the bassist who specialized in background vocals. On the plus side, Mr. Grainger is one talented mofo. He doesn't sound like anything else out there, past or present. Basically, it's rock'n'roll with a slight New Wave edge. You can't hate that, right?

Rating: 4 outta 5 stars

American Names

Metric: FANTASIES

2009-07-06T21:18:00.006-04:00

This album was well worth the wait -- four years after the lovely Live It Out. Fantasies features 10 solid songs with no filler. What's cool about Metric is they do slightly different versions of their songs live, which I found out when I saw them here in Philly at the Trocadero on June 19. Anyway, Fantasies kicks off with a perfect pop song, "Help I'm Alive"; I love how singer Emily Haines reaches near the top of her vocal range for the refrain. The superb songwriting continues with "Sick Muse". Other soon-to-be classics include "Twilight Galaxy", "Gimme Shelter", "Blindness" and "Stadium Love". Such a great, upbeat album. See, kids, you can be New Wave without being too retro. It just takes a tight rhythm section (thanks Joules Scott-Key and and Josh Winstead!) and properly placed modern-rock guitar, courtesy of Jimmie Shaw. All right, I'm off to Toronto to get this quartet inducted in the Canadian Hall of Fame.

Rating: 5 outta 5 stars

"Help I'm Alive"

Church: "Warm Spell" (1988)

2008-12-20T14:31:00.003-05:00

I was going to post this when in Australia, but I never got around to it. Now's good a time as any, even though it starts out strong but kind of peters out. Still love it, though.

"Warm Spell"

Napolean XIV: "They're Coming to Take Me Away" (1966)

2008-12-19T10:31:00.003-05:00

I uploaded this to my iPod today, so I thought I would post it here. Still funny after all these years. . . .

"They're Coming to Take Me Away"

Wombats: "My First Wedding" (2008)

2008-12-18T07:48:00.004-05:00

Since I posted one last song by the Star Fucking Hipsters yesterday, let's do another tune by the inimitable Wombats. This year, I've listened to their album almost as much as the debut CD from Los Campesinos! (Both bands from the U.K. -- coincidence?) This song by the Wombats closes out their awesome album.

"My First Wedding"

Star Fucking Hipsters: "This Wal-Mart Life" (2008)

2008-12-17T01:11:00.001-05:00

This'll be the last track I post from this album. I probably should diversify a little more, but it's such a musical masterpiece! Punk rock doesn't get much better than this. . . .

"This Wal-Mart Life"