Monaco Thoughts

As for the Monaco casinos, they are more like the US than I thought, just no free drinks. Slots are exactly the same and make the same noises, table games look the same with a few minor variations (Just a “0” on roulette tables, no “00.”). Save for the Grand Casino, most others will allow casual clothing. I don’t gamble much, but I will give it a shot tomorrow…besides, my nemesis is not here: Cocktail waitresses. Truth be told, for a heterosexual male, it just doesn’t get any better than a beautiful young woman in a short skirt bringing free drinks. How do you concentrate on the table with that distraction at your side?



One of the things I wondered about most when I decided to travel to Monaco was whether the prices would be exorbitant, and surprisingly no, they are essentially in line with what you would expect to pay in Europe. Certainly, there are pathetically expensive options, such as $20,000 per night hotel suites in the well known Hotel de Paris, but there are more “normal” prices here than I imagined. Supermarket prices (yes, I found one almost immediately) are essentially in line with what I saw in Paris, and casual restaurants offer pizzas in the 10 euro range.




The difference between Monaco and the rest of the world is that (literally) a few feet down from the “normal” pizza place is a small storefront, plain-looking in its own right, which sells customized corporate jets, and displays in its front window a plastic mock-up of an Airbus outfitted with couches, reclining chairs and beds. What a convenience, you go out for a quick bite at the local pizza joint, and you can stop in and check on the status of your corporate Airbus right afterwards.


Monaco is, of course, synonymous with the Mediterranean seacoast, and the harbor is one of the city’s most renowned vistas. To be certain, walking past, literally, dozens of yachts is an experience beyond words. A large percentage of these come from Georgetown (Cayman Islands), though you will also find vessels from many other cities such as London.


It is coming on towards mid-afternoon, and the hotel has just dropped off their New Year treat, so I think I will take a short nap so that I can awaken later and become…..Bond, Mark Bond.

Paris Thoughts

I’m a bit out of order here as I am actually in Monaco yet publishing some more thoughts on Paris. I also acknowledge these thoughts are not fully polished, but I wanted to get the ideas down while fresh, then clean them up in the future.

Overall, I was very pleased with Paris and had a far better time than I thought I would. I knew, of course, that Europe at this time of year would be chilly, and the weather did indeed provide a bone-chilling cold. It warmed up a bit on day four in Paris (though it was raining) Unlike Berlin there was never any snow or ice on the ground, yet the weather was cold enough that it limited the time you could spend outside. Even with my thermal long-johns, and skull cap, and gloves, after eight or nine hours outside I would come back to the hotel room with a bone-chilling, painful ache that made me very tired. Unfortunately, I couldn’t really find any way to beat it: Walking around was painful, but sitting on the tour bus (even downstairs in the enclosed part) literally hurt. In short, the cold severely limited the time you could spend outside site-seeing to about eight hours at most; after that, you want to spend time in the hotel room and take a nap or stay close by in a local restaurant/brasserie. It really was too bad in that I truly enjoyed seeing the city, and I would specifically have liked to spend more time on the Left Bank. One advantage to the weather: I could buy meats or other refrigerated products and keep them outside on the window sill without any concern they would spoil!


The hotel was very warm, which given its budget price of just over $100 per night was a pleasant surprise, though in many other ways it lived up to its budget promise:

• No cable TV, aerial only, and they are still showing Michael Jackson tributes!!

• Pathetically dinky elevator, the type that I have only seen before in France. I could literally rest my back against the wall and easily reach across the longest span with my arm.

• Metal window shutters: What are they for? I don’t think it is for hurricanes, but am guessing it it perhaps to lock heat in?

• Rude hotel attendant: When asking for my key (they do make you post), I offered to show him my passport, and he snapped “Why are you doing that?” I guess I'm getting better handling snobs, in that I retorted that the better hotels required ID in such cases. This seemed to have worked in that he is a bit nicer to me from that point on. Unfortunately, it was one of those cases in which it was better to meet the rudeness with rudeness.


Though very much a tourist area, many of the shops in the Anvers area sell dirt cheap clothes, stacked in bundles, with people literally diving through them to find what they want. I’m not sure if this is a local, regional market or not, but it is odd to see so many Parisians – literally – doing headstands to dig through the clothing.

As for the language, I have never studied French and cannot understand any of the spoken word (even when looking at what is written, such as station announcements on the Metro), but I have remarkably good luck figuring out written French: Its roots must be close enough to English that I can quite often translate what is written, and I have verified this in more than one case with side-by-side translations.

Paris restaurants were better than what I experienced many years ago, perhaps because I have a better idea what to look for. Unfortunately, as is well known bread is a staple in French food, and I am definitely not a dough-head. Nonetheless, I did try real fondue (which was not as great as I expected---it’s definitely something that has a better appeal than is justified in reality), and I was surprised and pleased to see that most Paris restaurants will give you a chilled bottle of tapwater rather than making you pay for bottled.

I did find what I believe to be the perfect Paris restaurant; and it was literally right next-door to my hotel: L Table d'Anvers, http://www.latabledanvers.com/ . It was very clean and had an earth-tone modern feel to it. The food was excellent, and it was very moderately priced, especially for the region. I also splurged my last day and tried $65 glass of Cognac: You could tell the superior difference and quality, though admittedly it will only be a once or twice in a lifetime event for me.

Much to my surprise, there were only a handful of Starbucks in Paris, certainly not the one on every corner situation you expect to see in the rest of the world. While I hate to admit it, I can only drink cappuccinos for so long, and was pleased to stumble across Caffee Americano.


As in Germany, the meal “doner” (shaved lamb) is also very big in Paris. I personally don’t care for it so did not try it, but it appears to be the exact same as the German version.

Wireless Internet access was very spotty in both Paris and in Berlin, something that I found extremely surprising in this day and age. In both hotels, the throughput was very slow (as confirmed by the “very low” wireless signal level), and even after cold boots and ipconfig tweaks, login attempts usually required half a dozen or more efforts. I even tried restoring my system to a week earlier just in case something changed, but to no avail.

Monaco!

It's the 30th of December, I just flew in from Orly to Nice, and I have checked in to the Novotel in Monte Carlo. This is incredible, almost a fairy tale type of place! I'll make this entry short as I want to do some exploring, but let's just say it is absolutely the highlight of the trip. Berlin was a bit disappointing, Paris was much more fun and enjoyable than on my visit a few years ago, and Monaco is over the top. Tomorrow is New Year's Eve, and the tux arrived safely with me (in fact, not even wrinkled, much to my surprise!)

The Novotel is fantastic, modern and trendy. I'd go so far as to say that the website, for once, does not do the property justice!

The Ultimate Mulligan Fulfilled

I did finally resolve one of the more silly mistakes in my adult life, in that this last Sunday (27 Dec 2009) I visited the Louvre. As I mentioned previously, I missed it some years back during my first trip to Paris (it was closed on Tuesday, my last day in the city), and in fact this "do-over" was the main reason I retunred to Paris. I spent the better part of the day in the Louvre, and while I am by no means a student of art history, nor do I profess to understand the time periods, this was incredibly fascinating and overpowering beyond words. The Mona Lisa, Venus, and all the treasures under one roof are enough to boggle the mind. The Italian painting gallery alone is something you could spend a day wandering through, mesmerized, even if you are not an oil painting fan.

I plan to spend Monday (and perhaps Tuesday) on the hop-on/hop-off busline. More later.

The Rest of the Paris Story

So there is no doubt about it, not everything with the Paris trip has gone 100% smoothly. As that well-known journalist would say,here is the rest of the story:

The Journey from Orly to Paris: While the flight from Berlin to Paris was more or less uneventful (save for forgetting to remove my shoes at the security checkpoint, which terribly upset one Teutonic security guard), there was “a challenge” at the RER ticket machine. I flew into Orly, which compared to CDG was, indeed, a blessing, and I took the automated tram to the RER line for what should have been a 20 minute ride to Gare du Nord. When I left the tram, I noticed that the automated gateways required an RER ticket, so I stepped up to the machine to purchase one. Very quickly, I was able to determine that the cost was 9.85 in Euros, and I was pleased to see that the machine would accept credit card, or paper Euros, or Euro coins. I first attempted to pay with three different credit cards, but after trying all four orientations for each one (12 total), I realized that my cards, blessed only with the magnetic strip, would not work in a machine which expected a smart card, in essence the same contact set as is in a SIM card (the little gold contacts on the front of the card). No problem, I had thought ahead and had over 200 Euros on me. First, I tried to insert coins, but I found that I was about one Euro short of the necessary fare (somewhat akin to an old Father Guido Sarducci SNL skit, for those old enough to remember). No problem, I tried to insert the paper bills, but no slot on the machine was physically capable of accommodating paper money. I noticed, however, that there was what appeared to be a change machine, some beast which would accept my paper money and give me coins in return--except that this device was completely inoperative, even when I repeatedly tried to insert my paper into what was the obvious slot. Finally, when I was about ready to board the train back to Orly in defeat, I noticed that another machine did, indeed, have a paper bill acceptor. Had it not been for that I might have been stuck on “the MTA” (for those of you, older than myself, who recognize the song title).


Hygiene: In the interest of full disclosure, I point out upfront that I am a single heterosexual male who lives alone, so cutting corners on household hygiene is not unheard of. Yes, my body is always clean as are my clothes, but an un-vacuumed rug or plates in the sink are to be expected. With that in mind, it is somewhat disconcerting when I ordered a vodka tonic (my signature drink), only to find a "floatie" of undetermined nature in the glass. I had noticed in Germany, as well as in France, that rather than relying on Hobarts and the like, glass washing in bars consists of a quick dunk in the sink full of (warm) sudsy water, followed by an equally quick dunk in a sink full of "clean" water (water which in theory was clean, but had been compromised after repeated dunks from the first, sudsy sink). I was debating with myself how big an issue to make of this: I did not want to sound like a wimpy American complaining about something that any European would consider silly, and given that French is far from my strong point, I did not even know how to broach the subject with the bartender. With that in mind, and also knowing that the alcohol in the drink would sanitize any floatie, regardless of its origin (which I elect not to guess), I was consoling myself to accept the notion that I should discreetly "fish" the floatie out with my finger and continue with the drink. No problem, except that as I was attempting to quietly move the object from the glass, a beautiful 100 pound Rottweiler who had been quietly lying behind the bar decided to jump up on the kitchen counter and say hello. I am, of course, the consummate dog lover, believing that they not only have souls but that they are more perfect than are we humans, yet somehow the notion that a dog was hopping upon, and slobbering upon, a food bearing surface was a bit much for me. (I started at that point having visions of the origin of the floatie….) Fortunately, though, I was able to remove the floatie, while one of my dining companions casually tossed the dog a french fry, which he caught in mid-air and gobbled down, as he then removed his front paws from the counter. Floatie fished out, dog on the kitchen floor, “alles gut” as they say.

Found the light switch: OK, so the hotel does, indeed, have lights in public places, but alas they are only on for a few minutes after pushing the on-demand button, before they hibernate. Still, I might be able to retire the penlight.

Hacked my blog: This one irritates me: Not only did the hackers manage to infiltrate my email account and spam my friends, colleagues and jilted ex-lovers (you know I don’t really mean that!), but they also managed to hack this very blog, putting an entry in with a URL to what Google flagged as an "attack site."

QWERTY Not: I wish that the world would settle on one $&(#*) keyboard layout. Sure, when you have different languages (e.g., Cyrillic) I can see why the layout would need to be altered, but French keyboards have many of the keys in the “wrong” place, not to mention that you have to select caps to get numbers and the “period.”…..arghhhh. Normally this would not be an issue as I would use my own netbook, but given the hack above, I am trying to rely on wired lines, which means Internet cafes. (BTW, the availability of Internet cafes is in and of itself a great pleasure to be found in France, unlike Germany where they no longer exist.)

Escargot: OK, put some pesta on it, and give me a shot of vodka, and I can wash almost anything down…actually, it was not all that bad, if you just imagine it grew on a tree rather slithering through the ground.

Fergie is Married: The latest edition of Cosmo, sitting in the hotel lobby, highlights on its front cover a picture of BEP Fergie with a title: “Her Naughty Honeymoon Surprise.” I can’t quite bring myself to read it, lest I spend the rest of my life regretting not being on the receiving end, but I can say that for all those other articles (“HIS #1 SEX WISH” and the like), Cosmo could not be more wrong. Also, why would you want to get rid of “Muffin Top?” Playboy visualizes the average woman sitting on a piano, sipping wine in a corset while fingering herself, and Cosmo does likewise to the male image. Geeze folks, get a life and find out what a real person is like.

Deutsch ou Russki? I often am able to pass myself off in a foreign land as either a German or a Russian (though there are places such as Berlin where I have to default to Aussie as they will see right through either of the former), and I am finding that ability convenient in France Granted, the anti-American sentiment is not so great as it was during the start of the Gulf War, but somehow Europeans seem more tolerant of fellow Europeans who do not speak the local native language than they are of Americans who do not speak the language. Don’t get me wrong, I kick myself for not having continued to work on foreign language skills, yet there is some truth to the idea that English, though a de facto universal language, is still despised by many. Much better to be a German-speaker in France than an American-speaker in France: “Danke” is cool, “thanks” is not. BTW, I seem to be able to do a decent job _reading_ French, as I can usually trace it back to roots and figure out the meaning, but the spoken word skips by me every time, even if it is just listening to a subway platform announcement.

Note to self: When paying by credit card in a restaurant, tell the waiter/waitress the tip upfront, before they run the card through, rather than afterwards….Bill is “neun,” so say “zwolf” and they will write it that way. It cannot be changed after the fact.

From Berlin to Paris

I am way behind on my trip posts, so let me try to catch up quickly then possibly fill in some more details later on.

It's Saturday 26 Dec, and I have flown from Berlin to Paris. Much to my surprise, Berlin turned out to be somewhat of a disappointment, while Paris (at least initially) seems to be far more exciting and enjoyable for me. The five days I spent in Berlin were, to put it succinctly, uneventful and sterile, something that was just the opposite of what I had anticipated. I chose to spend the first days of my vacation, Christmas in particular, in what I had heard was a high energy city. While I really cannot find any specific fault with Berlin, it was very flat, sterile, sparse, almost a bedroom community, similar in many respects to Munich: Nothing to dislike, but not a place that seemed to bring about any excitement. To be fair, I arrived late on Sunday night, and the first two days were cold and snowy, so the weather certainly put much of the damper on things in and of itself. I spent the first day doing the hop-on/hop-off tour bus and was able to see the major sites: Brandenburg Gate, Reichstag, Checkpoint Charley, etc. After that, since it was literally too cold and snowy to walk about, I spent Monday and Tuesday in the sauna (Therma am Europa) across the street from the Crowne Plaza City Center. The spa, again, was a disappointment: Small and dingy, nothing at all like the grandiose Therme Erding I visited 16 months ago. I did get to see the Christmas markets, but again, nothing really jumped out at me as being a highlight.

Also, for one of the few times in my travelling career, jet lag caught up with me, and I spent virtually all of Wednesday in bed. This is odd in that normally jet lag is a non-event for me; I think it goes hand-in hand with the ho-hum feeling I had towards the city.

Paris, so far, has been a far more pleasant surprise than I remembered or expected. I was last here several years ago at the start of the Gulf War, and while the city itself had an appeal, the attitude of the Parisians soured me quickly. Perhaps I have grown more accustomed to foreign travel in those ensuing years, but while the simple rudeness is still apparent, I am able to brush it off and enjoy all the other things the city has to offer: It is lively, even though still cold outside and even though it is Boxing Day. The streets are very crowded, the shops old and helter-skelter, far from the sterile, spacious atmosphere of Berlin. Also, Paris definitely has the cosmopolitan, world mixing bowl feel of say London, Rome, Hamburg or Koln; panhandlers abound, street merchants try to sell cigarettes and perfume to you as you walk past, and chestnuts were roasting from many "merchants" pushing them about in shopping carts. One very vivid difference is that in the five full days I spent in Berlin, I only saw two Blacks, with everybody else begin Caucasian; yes, lots of Russians, but still a very fair-skinned city. Paris, of course, has every race and ethnic group imaginable.

In short, and in hindsight, I probably should have reversed Berlin and Paris, spending Christmas in France rather than in Germany.

As for the people, as I noted before, the Parisians do seem to live up to the stereotype of being rude; Berliners (and Germans in general) are far from kind, but more brisk and professional than openly rude. Granted, this may partly be due to my own behavior, in that my German is actually fairly good (at least after a few days of refreshing), while my French consists of half a dozen words. (And that assumes you count "si vous plais" as three words; if you consider it a single entity, then my French vocabulary is down to four words.)

One thing that has been problematic during this trip is Internet access, in both Germany and France. Many wireless vendors offer services, at ridiculous prices such as $15 for two hours, and as bad as the price may sound, what is even worse is that the service is terrible: Slow if it works at all, often requiring you attempt to access a page three of four times before it finally renders. I do, of course, live by the web, so having to struggle to access something that I normally take for granted is unnerving.

Also, to add to the Internet woe story, I was hacked in Berlin: Presumably somebody intercepted my cell signal while I was checking email, and thus every contact in my address book received an email from "me" sending them to a pharmaceutical drug site. On the bright side, it did result in a few replies from many people I had not heard from in years, so it was a very welcome chance to say "Happy Holidays" when I responded with the apology for spamming them!

The one itinerary item high on my list for Paris is the Louvre, as I missed it the last time I was here. (I had planned to visit it on my last day, only to find out it is closed on Tuesdays!) More than likely I will do that tomorrow, with Monday and Tuesday being free and up in the air.

The hotel in Paris ("Hotel Du Square D'Anvers) is not so nice and modern as the Crowne Plaza in Berlin, but the location is fantastic, within easy walking distance of the Gare du Nord. It's older but clean, though many of the enhancements have been made by a person whose carpentry skills are below mine: I measure once and cut twice, though this person seems not to own a tape measure and eyeballs the cut, with noticeable gaps in the woodwork an acceptable end result. Also, the hotel doesn't seem to believe in turning on lights---I'm glad I tucked away a small penlight, as I literally would not be able to walk up the stairs without it! As simple and odd as it may sound, the Parisian hotel has a reasonable public sitting area, something that was lacking in Berlin, so I can sit in public as I type my thoughts rather than being squirreled away in my room.

The Supermarket and the Christmas Market

One of the first things I do any time I am visiting a foreign country is to find and check out a local supermarket, with the reasons being twofold:

1. I like to "see how the locals live." Most local people don't live at the tourist traps, so I very much like to go to their equivalent of a Safeway or Albertsons to see how the normal people live, what is in their market, and to try some of their food.
2. On a pragmatic level, though I don't intend to save money when I travel, I do enjoy finding a way to avoid being taken by the hotel and normal tourist traps. In the picture to the left, all the food and alcohol cost me just a tad of $30 US, which may not sound all that great until you realize the the bottle of vodka ("wodka") cost me no more than the cost of one vodka tonic at the hotel bar. Granted, saving money on a trip is not my first goal, but to avoid getting taken is a nice benefit.

On a different note, Germany has always been famous for its Christmas markets, and while Berlin is no Bavaria, the Christmas market fever is in full swing here. With the snow on the ground and the chill in the air, this is an almost magical place just four days before Christmas--save for that "Gluhwein" that they are trying to push. I'm not exactly sure what it is; Wikipedia only defines it as a "muled wine" and explains that

• "Historically, wine often went bad. By adding spices and honey, it could be made drinkable again"

When I find out what that really means, I will post it, but for now say let's just say that something that sounds wonderful and happy is abyssmal--and I am not sure I agree with the "drinkable again" comment.

Beyond that, I spent the day doing the "Hop-on/Hop-off" bus thing, partly to get a quick overview of Berlin, and partly to avoid the unbelievable, record-setting cold we are seeing. More on that tomorrow.

The Christmas 2009 Odyssey Begins

It's a week before Christmas, and my vacation has just officially begun. It's back to Europe, this time for two weeks, with---

• Six nights in Berlin
• Four nights in Paris
• Three nights in Monaco (including New Year's Eve!)
• One night in London on the way back

I decided to start the vacation in the Seattle Airport Doubletree the night before my flight out...I was worried about snow (which turned out to be a non-issue), and I also did not want to hassle with the early morning wake up and drive in from home. Upon arriving at the hotel, I was very pleased to find that I had been upgraded to a penthouse suite, something I have never tried before but definitely could get used to: A corner suite with a sitting room, a bedroom, a huge bathroom with soaking tub, a balcony (which wraps around the building), and (of course) a separate wet bar.

Tomorrow morning I start out flying from Seattle to SFO, from SFO to Heathrow, and from LHR to Berlin. I'll be arriving about 6:30 PM on Sunday evening. More updates to follow....

A Philosophy to Live By...

I was curious about steak tartare, so I looked around for a recipe the other day, and I was surprised--and pleased--to find the below. For those who don't know, steak tartare is beef that is mixed with other ingredients (egg, capers, onions, anchovies, or other items of that nature) and served raw. It was very popular many years ago (my childhood or earlier), but has since fallen out of style for health reasons.

The site I found allowed comments, and people were arguing back and forth on whether or not one should eat this dish due to the health concern. The reply below, IMHO, was spot on, and beyond applying it to steak tartare, it can be equally well applied to so many other things in life when one person attempts to interfere in another's life. Read the below, enjoy it, and remember it can be easily applied to so many other arguments in this world.

"Wow. The world has really come to the point of insanity when people have nothing better to do than argue about a freaken recipe.

"Uhm...if you don't like or trust the idea...here's an idea: DONT EAT IT, FOOL! For the flip side people: Who CARES what the anti person thinks? Either eat it or don't. Nothing else matters but what YOU do when it comes to your life.

"Seriously. This is not rocket science, people. Either eat it, or don't. Problem. Solved.

"Just weird, man. In a feeble attempt to thwart anyone from wasting their valuable, precious time on responding to this...don't bother. I won't see it. I got the recipe, saw this lunacy and decided that it boggled my mind so much I had to "comment."

"Anything further is a waste of my time.

"Suggestion...? Find a new hobby rather than fighting with complete strangers on the Internet. Trust me, they are not worth your time. You'll miss your time when it's gone. Spend what little you have on people that matter.

"Later."

Google's "Tribute" To D-Day

6 June 2009 was the 65th anniversary of the D-Day Normandy landing. The search engine Bing.com marked the sacrifice of the 10,000 fallen heroes with a photograph of one of the beaches. Google celebrated the day by marking the 25th anniversary of Tetris.

Choose your search engine.

Never Regret Something That Once Made You Smile

As I've gotten older, I think I have followed the pattern many others have followed: I've tried to "mellow," and to some extent I have succeeded. Unlike others my age, given my circumstances, I may have held on to a few of the more liberal tendencies longer than have my contemporaries, but in any case I have made it an effort to learn, to grow, even if it is not always linear. To that extent, I have cut back on my drinking in recent years: I never let alcohol get too out of control, I've never been arrested or faced a DUI or anything of that nature, yet in years gone by I have to admit, I could put down a few and come back for more. As I have aged, my alcohol consumption has gone down a bit, and most likely will continue to diminish. So what that means is that when I do choose to drink, there is a bit more meaning behind it than when I was a youngster.

Tonight, I had a few. I did not get plowed, I did not drive, but I did feel relaxed when I decided to call it quits and go back to my hotel room (a quaint cottage in Oregon off of Highway 58, The Cascade Motel). The bar was a dive bar by any account, young Oregonians playing pool and music and smoking inside (yes, evidently that is still allowed in parts of the US). I was about to leave, when I noticed a number of coasters tacked to the wall behind me, all of which had various words of wisdom penned to them. Some were absurd, some less than what I would like to post here, but one stood out for me:

"Never Regret Something That Once Made You Smile"

I'm sorry that I could not read the author's name, yet I have to admit it struck me nonetheless. "Never regret something that once made you smile." How simple, yet how beautiful. How many times have we done something we enjoyed, something that made us feel happy, something that made us feel connected with the world or with another person, only to be told later that we should regret what we have done? How many times has religion, or friends, or some notion of "ethics" told us after the fact that what we did was remiss, regrettable, wrong?

I'm not proud of every decision I have made in my life. Like all human beings, there are things in my past which are checkered, things which would not stand up as G-rated in Disney court, mistakes I have made, yet what does that matter? I can truly say that in my entire life, I have never forced anybody in to anything he/she did not want to do, and with that in mind, why should I regret something I have done in the past? Why should I regret something that in the moment was right for both of us?

People will judge us--me in this case--by their own standards. I had two professionals this last year who felt they were anointed by God himself to decide what was right or wrong, yet all I can say to that is rubbish. (Actually, my choice of words is stronger, though again, as I get older, I regret when I must choose profanity to express my point.) Why do others feel they have a right to judge what happens in an individual's life or in his heart?

I've done some things in my past that made me smile and yet which, if I were to explain them here, would not sound G-rated. So what? I can honestly say that I have never done anything against another's will, and with that in mind, I'll choose not to regret those things that have made me smile.

Bush Does Something Right

As you can probably tell, I'm definitely not a huge fan of George Bush Jr., but IMHO he did something right yesterday. On 23 Dec 2008, Bush pardoned Charles Winters. Most of us, myself included, have (had) no idea who Charles Winters was, but something in the headline enticed me so I clicked it. Winters was born a Boston Irish Protestant who went on to become a produce exporter. No big deal, except that along the way he also supplied three B-17 bombers to the fledgling state of Israel, bombers which by many accounts were key to allowing Israel to win the 1948 Arab-Israeli war. Winters was later convicted of violating the US Neutrality Act, and served 18 months in federal prison, after which he went on to live a quiet, anonymous life until his death in 1984. You can read more about his story elsewhere, but there are two points that fascinate me:

1. How did an ordinary man, a John Doe by any account, pull off such an accomplishment? Arguably, what he, along with two others, did turned the tide in the war for an independent Jewish state. These were ordinary people, commoners not famous or rich or powerful, yet the three of them may very well have had a pivotal role in the birth of a nation.
2. How can something this miraculous not be better known? I admit, I don't always remember all the historical facts I would like to, but I usually at least vaguely recall hearing of things such as this, even if I do not remember all the details, names or dates. For that matter, even Winters's own son did not know about his father's accomplishments until after his death.

I'm not going to begin to say that I can understand or answer either of the above. In particular, the second question is one which I have long pondered: How can history be so selective in terms of what it chooses to herald or to bury?

Everybody has heard of Francis Gary Powers, the CIA U2 pilot shot down in 1960 over Sverdlovsk, smack dab in the middle of the Soviet Union. Virtually nobody, however knows the story of McKone and Olmsted, the two survivors of the Soviet shootdown of an RB-47 in international waters just one month after the Powers incident. In both cases, the survivors were held and interrogated by the Soviets then released many months later.

Why is it that one of the stories is known by every schoolchild, yet the second one, almost identical, is an enigma? The only key difference I can see is that Powers was "caught red-handed" in the sense he was clearly over the Soviet Union, while the RB-47 was shotdown in international waters. Aside from that, the stories are almost identical. In any case, I'll use this chance to herald in my own way three unknown heroes: Charles Winters, John McKone, and Bruce Olmsted.

Alice's Restaurant 2008

It's Thanksgiving 2008. I decided this year not to bother with cooking, but instead took advantage of the supermarket pre-cooked dinners. Not being a huge fan of turkey, I opted for ham and prime rib instead, along with a host of appetizers, shrimp being the top prize. Lest you consider going this route at some point in the future, I should warn you that "pre-cooked" does not mean "pre-cooked:" The prime rib was raw and needed over an hour in the oven, ditto for the mashed potatoes, yet I can't complain about the misleading advertising. If my worst complaint in the world were to be that I had to cook my Thanksgiving dinner, that would indeed be an obscene complaint. Minor inconvenience at best, especially in light of how many people in this world--this country--do not have the means to feed themselves and their families. Yeah, Freddie Meyer misled me, but that's minor...we're a land that can feed the world many times over, yet we fail to take care of our own, much less the rest of the world. Then again, given the selfishness in our society, this should be no surprise. The scorecard is mixed:

• This last year has served as a reminder of worldly selfishness. Carie, Laurie--Think of your cruelty as you turn your backs on those who need help. Existential phenomenology and naturopathy my ass. You had the ability to make a difference, and instead you chose not to care.
  

• On the other hand, I have met some wonderful people this year. In spite of the unbelievable cruelty that I have seen, there has also been unbelievable kindness. I can only pray that somehow, at the end of days, that which is positive overcomes that which is cruel. From one orphaned heart to another, thank you.

• Above all else, we have young men and women serving in our military in foreign lands, thousands of miles from home, most of them away from home for the first time. Though many of us, myself included, question the political motives behind the effort, none of us for a moment can question the altruism of those soldiers, sailors, airmen and marines who are there. If even one of you were to read this, please understand this: We love you and thank you for what you represent. You are, indeed, the hope for what we as a country and a people represent. Thank you, stay safe, and come home.
  

If I sound more flippant than usual, it's a result of "Alice's Restaurant" playing in the background. I first heard this song many, many years ago while celebrating Thanksgiving in a college dorm. It's amazing how some things so simple can become a defining moment in one's life, and for me, "Alice's Restaurant" represents such a moment. I remember trying to cook for myself the first time: Scrambled eggs. I had never done this before, I was horrified they would stick, so I stirred them continuously--vigorously--as they cooked, and in return I wound up with dry, fried pellets. Years later, a girlfriend would explain to me that my efforts had completely dehydrated the eggs...still, as bad as they were, I again could not complain: I had food, and a future, in front of me. The future would hold both good times and bad, and I try to remember the warmth, the friends, the lovers, while trying to forget the cruel. Sometimes this succeeds, sometimes it fails, but in either case, I thank those who have chosen to be my friend and/or my lover over the years. Even when things did not work out perfectly and for all time, I remember you, I honor your memory, and I thank you. I won't list you by name, as you know who you are, but thank you. All the best to you and yours, today and for all time.

Thank you

I'm definitely at the point in my life that I no longer enjoy seeing birthdays come along, but for those of you who participated in the passage of yet another year, thank you. For the emails, the Facebook postings, the incredible couple of evenings, I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Teatro Zinzanni

Many years ago I remember walking along the San Francisco waterfront and stumbling across a rather odd looking building---actually a large tent---housing a show called "Teatro Zinzanni." I couldn't really tell what it was about, but from the brief description and paintings on the outside walls, I assumed it was some sort of dinner theater, a bit offbeat to be sure. I was definitely curious, and I made a mental note to visit it sometime. As it turned out, I never did make the show while in the Bay Area, but as an incredibly pleasant and unexpected birthday gift, a friend just took me to the Seattle version. (Which, as it turns out, is where the show actually began.) The only way I can describe TZ is incredible!

Teatro Zinzanni is housed in a large, circular "spiegeltent," a huge canvas and wooden structure with mirrors ringing all around. The three hour show consists of a five course dinner interspersed with cabaret, comedy, circus acts and improv audience participation. The theme of the current show ("Quest for a Queendom") is loosely based on the Queen's yearly search for her new consort, along with some bungling attempts to steal the crown jewels. While the plot is humorous in its own right, it is by no means what the event is really about; what makes Teatro special is the small intimate setting, with the cast literally only a few feet from the audience, frequently wandering around the dinner tables. (We actually had inner ring seats, which literally put us in the front row, making the experience even more vivid.) Add to this a few very embarrassed members of the audience who get drafted into the action, and you have the makings of three hours of non-stop smiles and laughs. The show is a little bit racey in spots, though I don't think it would offend anybody except for the most prudish. (If I were to rate it by movie standards, it probably warrants a PG, yet it's not something children would enjoy. It's a mid-twenties and up type of evening.) If you want to compare it to something you may have experienced, think of it as Cirque du Soleil, but on a small interactive basis with a five-star, five course dinner included.

More often than not, dinner shows sacrifice on the "dinner" part of the experience, providing substandard food almost as an afterthought. Teatro Zinzanni doesn't make this mistake. All five courses of the dinner are of spectacular quality, with the first course set out for you before the show begins, and the remaining four courses intertwined with the show itself. I lack the ability to describe culinary experiences adequately, but suffice it to say this was one of the better meals I have had in a long time and leave it at that. (Even the quantity of food was sufficient!) Also, for those who are not sure of wine pairings, they offer a "Wine Flight" of half glasses served with each course. You wind up getting a total of two and a half glasses of various wines over the three hours, just enough to help you enjoy the evening without impairing the drive home.

After nearly five years in Seattle, I would have to rate TZ as one of the best, most memorable experiences I have had since moving here. The dinner, the show, the entire event was as close to perfect as one can ever expect, and I really cannot think of any shortcomings. Highly recommended for the perfect evening!

Gold vs. Bally: An Upgrade in My Life

In the last blog, I attempted to define the meaning of life, to explain why we are here and to offer advice on the divine connections we are meant to make in this world. In this blog, I offer advice on gym membership. Let there be no doubt about it: Mark's Musings covers it all.

I've belonged to a couple of different fitness centers in my life, 24 Hour Fitness as well as Bally Total Fitness. Both of these are pretty much alike: Price conscious offerings which compete against each other with an array of membership types, each a bit more confusing than that of the other, hoping to snare couch potatoes into lifting a pen, if not a barbell, and signing that contract. When I started to work at Microsoft, I noticed a Gold's Gym right around the corner, and I tried to be honest with myself: I need to work out, even though it is not the highest desire in my life. My current Bally membership, now dirt-cheap since I made it through the first year, was not going to work for me since it meant a twenty minute ride each way. That excuse, as well as the cost of gas, would be an indisputable, unconquerable reason to bypass the daily workout. If I truly were to get back into any sort of a workout habit, it would require I join this gym which I pass twice each day on my way to and from work. So, with both dedication and remorse, I entered the gym and inquired about membership.

Unlike Bally and 24 Hour Fitness, which truly do seem to be clones of each other based on lowest cost and an industrial feel, Gold's Gym was entirely different from the moment I entered:

• The lobby was truly a lobby, with a fireplace, lounge chairs, flat panel TV and even a guest computer
• Guest towels were freely handed out at the front desk
• Wood---something which resembled mahogany---was the key construction material, abundant throughout the lobby, the workout areas, even the locker rooms. (Yes, the lockers are made of deep, dark routed mahogany, not plywood or metal!)
• Each cardio machine has a personal TV monitor mounted on it, with 40 user selectable channels
• Classes are free, rather than an extra three dollars for each yoga adventure.
• Now the ultimate in decadence: Something called a "SuitMate," a breadmachine-sized device in the locker room into which you place your wet swimsuit which is then squeezed in order to wring out the water! Voila, no more soggy gym bags.

I signed up.

Yes, it is true that you get what you pay for, and Gold's is about twice the price of a comparable membership at Bally. (Maybe even a tad more, but let's keep the math simple and say double the price.) Still, this feels right for me. It's funny, at some earlier point in my life, I probably would have preferred cheap and plain as "more real" to mahogany, but at least for now this feels better: An attempt to do better and to be more as opposed to accepting the lowest common denominator. Maybe this choice is more a statement on myself, or what I have been through this last year, than anything else. I'll ponder that question as I trample away the hours on an elliptical.

Back online...

It's been awhile since I last wrote anything here, and if I am not careful then I will soon discover another five year gap in my blog, so I'll put a few words down today.

The job at Microsoft is exciting, with many parallels to Apple back in the original PowerBook days. I'll write about those similarities at some point in the future, but I'm just not in the mood for that topic at the moment. (It is, after all Labor Day, so writing about work would be a heresy!) Suffice it for now to say that I am enjoying work for a change, a far cry from the small biz agony.

A friend emailed me last night, and in replying to her I stumbled across something that did feel interesting to discuss, so I think I will plagiarize myself and borrow some of those thoughts to put down here. The question was one of everlasting love and finding it in this world. It's an often asked question, one that I could discuss for hours. Most people in this world (or at least our society, our portion of the world) truly don't even seem to think about the question much less try to answer it, but it is one I find myself pondering a great deal. Actually, when I get into the question, it expands to more than just a question of love, in that it embodies love as well as our very reason for existence. I am convinced that we all have an answer for being, and that answer is different for each of us: What is right for me is not right for you or for anybody else. I do know that in my life, in my heart, there are certain axioms that cannot be ignored: Honesty, sincerity, trust, respect are an intrinsic part of me and my life, whether we are talking about love or friendship or simply life in general. From there, it moves on to experiencing all I can. At this point in my life, physical things mean less and less to me, while experiences mean more and more. I want to experience as much as I can, to be open to almost any possibility. I think my limits are far broader than most people are willing to consider, and I believe that only by pushing ourselves and our own biases and limitations can we learn more and grow into more. As somebody very wise once told me, "Change never comes about as the result of comfort," so being open to new possibilities is fundamental to my belief system.

Yes, there are limits, some things I have arbitrarily decided I have no desire to try: Hard drugs, for example, are one thing I have never tried and have no desire to try, so I do draw my own limit there. Yes, I've occasionally tried the soft drug scene---I've even inhaled!!---and that was interesting, something I'm glad I tried though I have no desire to make it an ongoing part of my life. Similarly, I know at least one gay friend who reads this blog, and I would never for a moment presume to tell him that what is right for me is also right for him, nor would he do that to me. I'm definitely heterosexual, and I have no desire to try homosexuality, so I draw that line consciously, acknowledging that while that limit is appropriate for me, it may not apply for other people. (Sexually, I'm somewhere between a "vanilla" and a "swinger," but that is a different blog for a different time.) Suffice it to say that I am open to trying almost anything, with a few self-defined boundaries I impose upon myself. My limits are too broad for some, too narrow for others, but exactly right for me. That's where it should be, so long as I remember to respect the limits others draw for themselves.

Ultimately, in some strange way I don't understand, I feel that if we explore what we need to explore, question what we need to question and accept what we need to accept, it does lead to that ultimate answer, that ultimate love. Unfortunately, unlike the storybook endings we always read, I don't believe that we will definitely find the ultimate answer in this life. Try as we might, we may not find it, in large part because I think we need to find others in this world to help us discover our true course. I don't believe that there is "one" person, one soulmate, who allows us to achieve this end, but instead I feel there is some small "horde" of people we are meant to connect with during our lifetime. I don't believe it is a list of people connected by blood, but instead it is a group of people who provide mental and emotional wholeness. If we don't find those people we need to connect with, or if we do find them but fail to do for each other what we need to, then the answer eludes us, at least in this incarnation. In that case, maybe we pass on to the next life, a step closer to the answer.

I do not believe that blood determines who we are; to me, birth is a matter of genetics, of genome, but not of purpose or goal. It is far more important to me to seek and to find those meant to be a part of our lives. We don't unfortunately, simply fall into right crowd at birth. Life is a journey, more torturous for some of us than for others. If we are lucky, we find the people we are meant to find in our journey, and if we are extremely lucky we then give each other that which we are meant to give each other.

I mentioned somebody named "Roscoe" in a previous blog, and this is probably the time to explain him. This was back in the early eighties, I was a young airman who had just gone on leave, venturing from the Defense Language Institute in Monterey back to my college town of Riverside, CA to visit my old college classmates, many of whom were still in school there. The flight landed in Ontario, which meant a bus ride to River City. I was proud of what I was doing in the military, so even though I was on leave I elected to wear my Air Force uniform. I felt ecstatic: I was young, clean, ambitious, not cocky but bright enough, and I was excited by all that lie in front of me, both in terms of that day as well as the years ahead. I got on the bus for the ride back to my old campus, and a few minutes later I noticed another rider coming my way. He was a very large man, probably in his thirties, which to a young person in his twenties seemed ancient. He was not terribly neat, a laborer of some sort, with the definite "high school droput" aura about him. I squirmed, afraid--certain--that he was going to sit next to me. Alas, yes, he did park next to me, and I suddenly dreaded what I felt the next hour or so would hold.

For the first few minutes, nothing was said, and I felt glad that the first quarter of the trip was complete. Unfortunately, this silence was to be broken when he turned to me and attempted to start a conversation, starting off with an observation about my uniform and wanting to know about my service. I attempted to be as friendly as possibly, explaining that I was on my way back to visit UC Riverside. He listened, politely, not overly intense yet definitely paying attention to my words. After I had run through my discourse of who I was and what I had planned in front of me, the conversation took the natural turn towards his story. Though not terribly interested in what I felt he would have to say, I feigned politeness and asked.

Roscoe started by confirming what I suspected, that yes, he had dropped out of high school and that he was a mechanic. He went on to tell me some details which I quickly forgot, as I was not really interested in his story. I listened to the drivel as best I could, glancing at the watch from time to time to reassure myself that time really was moving forward. Then, something changed. This large, ugly, dirty man started talking about his daughter, a toddler, and how he was on his way to see her after putting in a twelve hour workday. He explained the history with his former girlfriend, how they had been in love, how they had fallen out, and how they nonetheless kept in touch so that the child would know them both. He wasn't sappy, he wasn't boastful, but it was obvious to me that this little girl was the most important thing in the world to him. He did not feel he had much of a future beyond her, and yet he was perfectly happy as long as he knew he would be able to see her. After the better part of an hour, our trip was drawing near its end, when he told me something simple, yet something I remember to this day: Remember who you are, remember why you are here, and remember the important things in life. We then said good-bye as he disembarked.

In that hour, my mind had done a complete 180 degree turn. Rather than feeling discomfort, even disdain, for the man, by the end of the trip I felt perfectly at ease with him. He was my complete opposite, down to the color of our skin, yet by befriending me during that trip, and by concluding it with selfless advice, he won a spot in my heart which exists nearly thirty years later. His words had not been overly wise: They were honest, sincere, and heartfelt, in no way earth shattering, yet his brief attempt to reach out to another human being---to offer what he could in the way of advice to a young man---it tugs at my heart to this day. In some way, shape or form, Roscoe was meant to be a part of my life for that hour. Even though he had nothing obvious to offer me, his sincerity, his attempt to befriend a stranger and to offer what he could in the way of advice, that all remains a part of me to this day. He taught me more about overcoming bias and prejudice in that hour than I can possibly put in words. In a small way, I became a better person by meeting him during that short bus ride.

I've met others over the years I know I was meant to connect with. In some cases, we were able to provide to each other what we were meant to provide: Growth, warmth, knowledge. Even though we may have gone our separate ways for one reason or another, even though a relationship may have come to an end or a friendship may have drawn cold when we moved apart, the memories still remain a part of each other's life, and we are better for having known each other.

Unfortunately, some of those meetings predestined for my life didn't turn out the way they should have. Friendship and growth suddenly and unexpectedly fell prey to bitterness, to some dysfunctional resonance which I cannot begin to explain or articulate. We failed. I won't sugarcoat the truth: These failed meetings are painful, if for no other reason than one simple word: Why? What happened, what went wrong, why did this person---somebody I trusted and respected, why did he/she turn so unexpectedly? Why?

I, like very other person on this planet, have seen some relationships flourish when I never would have thought it possible, while others which seemed destined for meaningfulness floundered for some absurd, inarticulate reason. Roscoes of the world have befriended me, and much to my surprise I have learned and grown from them, even when I least expected it. In other cases, young, intelligent people who had so much to offer in terms of help and growth have gone dark on me for reasons I literally cannot comprehend much less articulate. With that in mind, grasp what you can: Take advantage of those who are meant to be a part of your life---friends, lovers, associates, or even fellow bus passengers. Remember who you are, remember why you are here, remember the important things in life, and if possible, help somebody else understand those things as well. As best I can tell, that's why we really are here.

Germany Trip Recap

I made it back home and am in the process of trying to get back in the swing of my "normal" life, doing laundry, checking bills, and all the other nuisances one can forget about during a vacation. I'm probably in denial of jet-lag (I always swear I am immune to it), so please forgive me if parts of this posting are a bit spacey. It looks as if my Microsoft contract will start this Wednesday, which gives me a couple of extra days to pull odds and ends together before getting into what by all accounts sounds like a fire-fighting mode. (I'm not saying that in a pejorative sense---instead, I'm actually looking forward to some excitement and a chance to swing for the fences.)

As for the Germany trip, here are a few summary thoughts----

Food and Drink:
I was surprised that the traditional German foods such as schnitzel and wurst were not more prominent, but then again it's probably true that visitors to the US wonder where all the hot dog, hamburger and apple pie stands are. The most popular items, the foods which really seemed to be everywhere in Germany, were the Döner (see photo) and curry-wurst, neither of which really excited me. Italian restaurants were very popular, and I have to admit they were very good, to the point I had to force myself to avoid them and to look for more typically German food. As I mentioned earlier, breads and baked goods are very big items, and even though I am not a dough-head in my real life, I tried enough to realize these offerings were excellent. And, alas, it turns out I am not a true fan of German beer, as it is too "hoppy" for my taste buds. Of all the German beers, my favorite was Kölsch, which is a very clear beer that should be enjoyed in small glasses (it has no carbonic acid and goes stale quickly, so two 20 cl glasses are preferable to one 40 cl glass).

ICE Trains:
The high-speed inter-city express (ICE) trains were truly spectacular---Not cheap by any means, but clean, fast, efficient, definitely the way to travel in Europe if you can. (Though the sleeper car experience on one of the older regional style trains is something you must try at least once before you die!) One weird thing about the ICE trains still escapes me: You are allowed to reserve seats on them if you like, and I did so on one of my trips, only to discover that I could not get to the wagon which contained my assigned seat. It turns out that quite often they will "join" two different trains by electrically and mechanically linking them together at the engine cars (see picture). I stress that these are two completely different trains which have been joined and travel as one, and I am not 100% sure why this is done, though I suspect it is one way to move trains around, repositioning them without having to pay an engineer to do so. I'll research this a bit to see if I can figure it out, but suffice it to say that if you get on the wrong train, you will not be able to cross from one to the other in transit. (Oh sure, you could try that James Bond thing, but I would rather save that for the sleeper car...)

Language:
One of the highlights of this trip was to try my high school German, which is many more years ago than I care to admit. I was surprised to see how much of it came back so quickly, and in fact at the end of the trip some of the hotel clerks were more than willing to hold the conversation with me in German rather than switching to English as I had lamented in one of my previous posts. I also followed the Olympics and the Georgian controversy in German. While this was slow, my understanding seems to have been pretty accurate now that I compare what I thought I had read and heard in German with what I am now reading and hearing in English. (I would have been really bummed had the Georgian confict actually turned out to have been wildfires in Atlanta!) For that matter, I actually found myself dreaming in German words last night...I'm not sure it was anything meaningful, but there were a lot of "wollens" and "sollens" in my dreams.

I'm in the mood right now to get my hands on some German CD's, DVD's, newspapers, and podcasts to see how far I can go with this. I would love to return to Germany again, only this time be able to use the language exclusively from day one rather than a mixture of German and English.

The Four Cities:
Quite by accident, I seemed to pick an almost perfect set of cities to visit. Recall that initially, when I thought I only had a week, I was planning to spend my entire time in just Munich, but when the trip slipped from one to two weeks, I was able to see Munich, Hamburg, Berlin and Köln---the four biggest cities in Germany. In addition to being the largest, these four cities also really represent the four sides of the country, with Munich in the south (Bavaria), Hamburg in the north, Berlin in the east, and Köln in the west. Munich, as I have mentioned before, was very nice, albeit almost like a bedroom community. There was nothing to dislike, but rather it was just a bit too quiet for my liking, without the hustle and bustle that I enjoy in a large town. Hamburg was interesting: Very beautiful, very cosmopolitan, and I would love to see it again, although the seedy imagery of the Reeperbahn still lingers in my mind as something I am not in a hurry to revisit. Berlin was interesting, though I spent way too short a time there to be able to assess it properly; suffice it to say that it was far less crowded than I expected it to be, and the Berlin Wall was an emotional highlight I will remember for the rest of my life. Without a doubt, Köln was my favorite part of the trip, with the town perfect in all regards: It had the hustle I like without being too crowded, people seemed a bit more friendly than elsewhere in Germany, the boat trips down the Rhine were every bit as fantastic as were my previous trips on the Thames, and what can I possibly say to describe the Dom Cathedral!! In short, all four cities were incredible, and I am already planning my next trip back.

Miscellaneous:
So here is one thing you will most likely never read in the travel guides, but as I mentioned previously I really missed ice and ice cold drinks! It seems that ice just is not that "hot" an item in Europe, because everyplace I went the story seemed to be the same: If you ask for a lot of ice, you are lucky if you even get a cube or two. One of the first things I did back home this morning was to head off to the local Denny's, and I took a great deal of pleasure and enjoyment from that glass of water, filled with ice; somehow, it felt incredibly comforting and satisfying. Still, warm drinks are a very small price to pay for all of the beauty of Germany.

The hefty price, of course, is the financial one. I don't even want to think about how much I spent on this two week trip, and unfortunately I don't see that gap closing any too soon, even though in theory the dollar is gaining strength against foreign currencies. The euro and dollar should, in theory be at parity (one to one exchange rate) since that was the initial pricing point just a few years ago when the euro was introduced. For most of this trip, however, the rate was about 1.6 to one. Very few good buys could be found, and even the "eating like a local" sandwich and soda will run about $10. That, unfortunately, is very painful if for no other reason than that it makes trips back to Europe far less frequent. So, with that, it's time to start pinching pennies again as I dream of that next trip back....

Back in Munich

It's mid-afternoon on Friday the 15th of August, and I have just arrived back in Munich after a ride on the ICE from Köln. As it turns out, this is actually a German holiday, but nobody could tell me what holiday it is. (Turns out it is Assumption Day for Maria Himmelfahrt, and it really, truly is only celebrated in Bavaria.) Anyway, I am staying in the InterCity Hotel right off the hauptbahnhof...it's not a bad hotel, and it really is literally just outside the train station, so it will make getting to the airport an easy thing tomorrow morning. The flight leaves at about 9:30 AM, so I can't make this too late a night.

There were a few more Köln thoughts I failed to post before leaving the town, so let me make sure to do that before I forget.

For a really great, authentic, locals-type of Biergarten, try Weinhaus Vogel Eigelstein 74 50668 Köln. This is not for the tourists, but they were friendly, and the food was cheap. The beer garden is small but wonderful, and I had a grilled platter (chicken, beef, etc.) which was out of this world. Make sure to wash it all down with the regional beer, Kölsch.

Another locals spot that I really enjoyed was an Italian bistro, Cappu Vino, at Obenmerspforten 14 50667 Köln. There are probably numerous places such as this throughout the city, but something about the service, location, and bright, cheery atmosphere made this one stand out. Just be aware, however that in either of these two spots smokers are welcome. While they did not reek of cigarettes, if you are the type who is absolutely down on smoking and you can't stand being around it, then look elsewhere---but, you will miss out on some real local charm.



As with all vacations, you really dread the end, but as expensive as this one has been, and as many pounds as it has added to my body, it definitely is time to be drawing the trip to a close and heading back home. I'll have one more night in Bavaria, and I think there is a football game on, so I'm going to venture out to try to find it.

Quick Köln Update

It's Thursday, my last full day in Köln before catching a train back to Munich tomorrow and the flight back to Seattle on Saturday. I'm amazed at how comfortable this city feels to me, how I can spend hours walking around it, feeling very much at ease, very much like a local.



I spent yesterday walking around the shopping district (the locals shopping area, not really one for tourists), then spent about three hours on boat cruises down the Rhine. I'm certain this is my favorite German city, it's an absolutely amazing place! It's funny that I only decided to come here as a flip of the coin thing while in the Berlin train station!

Keyboards over here are a bit odd, with things such as the z and y keys exchanged. Even typing a short note takes about twice as long as normal, and you get to use the backspace key a lot. More later, as I want to get out and enjoy this final full day.