Jun 17 2007

Paris

Another week hanging with the Gordons, drinking gallons of the black stuff, eating fine sushi and sweating through some spectacular Indian, and I finally decide it’s time to jump the channel.

I’m heading East, slowly… so I figure Paris is a nice spot to stop for a few nights. I hop on the Eurostar and arrive in the City of Light in just a few hours – I love rail travel, so much lower stress than air!. The Paris metro is easy to navigate (although not as accessible to a foreigner as the London underground), smells heavily of urine, and is packed with people of all shapes, sizes, and smells! I find a trio of black jazz singers in sequined red dresses performing on the platform, and an old man plays the accordion in my rail car; everything I expected ;). I have no problems locating my hotel, but I’ve arrived late in the evening, without much of a plan, and so end up wandering the streets to get a feel for Paris life. It’s not long before I’m face to face with a landmark (they’re under every rock in this city): “Moulin Rouge” (appearing just as it does in the movie). I drop a quick email to my sister-in-law Kate (as it’s one of her favorite movies) and regret not pocketing my camera; I resolve not to repeat that mistake. You never know when a photo moment may jump out of the dark.

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Jun 10 2007

Bristol, cider world

I wake with a mild hangover, but significantly less severe than I deserve given the 12 hour poison consumption binge of the previous day (liver’s starting to ache 😉

Sam’s up and busy avoiding the kitchen cleanup; I’d attempted to make cheese sandwiches the night before for a few partiers (with way too much English mustard!), and left a bit of a crumbfest. We decide it can all wait until after a snack, and Sam, Chris and I head downtown for a tasty Tapas lunch at the Riverstation.

It takes about 7 minutes for the cider consumption to start, and I’m being told wonderful stories about the spectacular dry, crisp ciders that are really only available locally. So begins the great Bristol Cider Sampling Tour of 2007! I wish now that I’d kept better notes, but we find at least a dozen superb sections (some served directly from the barrel, and up to 9% alcohol!), my favorite grouping being served on a nice riverboat called The Apple by the dockfront.

We finish the evening drinking Bulmers (yes, cider) at Revolution in the heart of town. By the time the sun’s vanished, so has our diction and coordination. When we finally reach the house, Sam “slides” down her front hallway, cheek to wall. 14 hours of cider can have that effect.

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Jun 09 2007

Bristol, the farm

I’ve been trading emails with my childhood friend Sam (aka Samantha), and we’ve arranged a visit in her home city of Bristol. It takes very little time to get there by rail from London, and so I jump the express, and am soon outside her small two bedroom in the fringes of city. I’ve chosen this auspicious day as Sam has espoused the virtues of the local annual St. Werburgh’s Festival at “The City Farm,” a colorful pub where I’ve had many a fine ale with Sam and her boyfriend Chris.

Chris meets me at the door, 3 sheets to the wind, on orders from Sam to escort me in the general direction of the festivities. The fair is a very local, and Bohemian, affair; much bigger than I’d expected with several hundred people gathered in the block or so surrounding the pub. Parked near some tents hosting local bands, I find Sam lounging on a blanket surrounded by lots of friends and cocktails.

Catching up is easy with Sam, as it usually is with old friends, and she introduces me her entourage; Debs and her precious daughter Jessica are there (we met on my last trip to the UK), and I can barely believe how much Jessica has grown. The crowd is filled with long hair and grunge, and it has a comfortable buzz you find in an “extended family” gathering. I’m especially impressed with the public loo, which is basically a pile of hay bales that the guys can dispose of processed beer and wine in! (I didn’t spot the ladies bales)

Sam has planned for some people to meet at her place for a little post-fair party, and once we get there, there’s a regular flow of jovial friends passing through. Chris can’t quite keep pace with Sam’s incredible constitution, and finds a nice spot on the floor to collapse, unconscious. It doesn’t take long before the artists in the group provide him with a suitable “I passed out before 11pm” face painting. He sleeps soundly through the whole affair.

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Jun 06 2007

Norfolk, trains and gardens

After some strong coffee, and a few hours tackling some more bramble, we take a breather and check out the local rail museum (local being effectively across the street – we drive).

The museum is a real gem, containing dozens of beautifully restored original steam locomotives spanning the technology’s life. A few specimens are even being giving a full fledged exercise, with a conductor running a couple engines at speed down a span of track belching impressibly prodigious amounts of black smoke and steam (for practice or fun? Perhaps a bit of both)

On our way out we detour into a wonderful neighboring formal garden estate. It’s a perfectly maintained oasis with hundreds of species all fastidiously labeled and pruned. The epitome of the English garden, and the unobtainable promise of what could be in the cottage’s back yard.

For dinner we make an encore of the corner pub, and follow up with some classic billiards I could get used to this life…

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Jun 05 2007

Norfolk, cottage

A little London wandering, drinking a few pints of the “black stuff” with Seb (Mabel drinks lemonade), and we spontaneously decide to head off and see the Gordon’s new cottage in the country. Celia has a prior engagement, so the rest of us pile in the car and head up the motorway. It’s not a long drive, but entertaining with Seb barking admonishments from the back seat berating Guy about his driving, navigation, signaling, braking, acceleration, waving (or not) to other drivers, and of course parking.

Their new country house is a beautiful and tiny “listed” cottage that’s so old it’s designed for people who are 4′ tall. Mabel’s the only one who can walk around upright (barely), and the rest of us are constantly dipping under heavy, black wood beams that span all the rooms. The house is composed of seven or so small rooms with a very warm sun room addition on the side. The “listed” bit means any significant structural changes to the cottage are forbidden, and so the house feels like a tiny, living museum.

After grabbing a bite to eat downtown, we make ourselves useful working in the cottage’s sizeable garden… which has “apparently” become completely overgrown in just the last few weeks. It’s great fun engaging in outdoor British yardwork, even though the four of us can barely make a dent in the underbrush despite having several motorized assets at our disposal; Mabel is especially fond of the weed-whacker (which is almost as large as she) and monopolizes it much to Seb’s disappointment.

For dinner, Guy cooks up some BBQ, and we finish with a few pints in the wonderful antique pub situated at the end of the cottage’s driveway (a significant factor in its purchase I gather).

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Jun 04 2007

London, and the drinking begins…

So I’m off to Europe. The plan, well the hope, it to make my way Eastward and eventually get to Prague, and start exploring behind the crushed and recycled Iron Curtain. But I can’t well fly over my good friends the Gordon’s without buying them a pint! So, London first.

Seb has a few days off from full flight duty, and I’ve timed my arrival so we can hit the pubs and perhaps I can visit the Gordon’s new countryside heritage cottage in Norfolk.

It’s great to see them all again, and we spend some time catching up. Mabel’s here for a few more months, but hasn’t made much headway on perfecting her English (or getting a driving license), but she’s in great spirits. Seb’s parents, Celia and Guy, are in fine form, as always, with Guy tripping over himself to help me get settled and Celia watching the telly at full blast over tea. The first night commences with an obligatory Khan’s takeaway (for those unfamiliar, Khan’s is the gold standard by which all British Indian cuisine may be judged). A nice spicy Jalfrezi, and a couple pints of Guinness at the Warrington (the classic London corner pub), and I’m right as rain.

The Gordon’s have a bedroom set aside for me in a converted coal cellar, and it’s a wonderful hideaway warren where I can sleep late, well protected from the evil rays of the sun.

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Mar 26 2007

Kuala Lumpur, new toy

I’ve touched base with a friend of mine from Yahoo who’s living in Shanghai, and it looks like I might be able to drop by on my way home and see him!

In the meantime, I’ve noticed that life using the Blackberry as the sole source of internet access is limiting (ie. I can’t book flights with it), and so I’ve decided to by a ultra portable. Sony has a rather sweet Vaio “G” that looks perfect, and it’s quite cheap in KL. I hit the tech stores to compare prices, but after a couple days shopping, I discover that competition is quite effective here, and all the stores quote me nearly the same price (and won’t haggle).

In the end, I just buy it at the Sony Style store (same price) and get both a warrantee and hopefully some glimmer of legitimacy There’s no tax, and the price comes out quite reasonable. I see why there are so many foreigners shopping here.

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Mar 25 2007

Kuala Lumpur, farewell

Seb and Mabel are finally splitting for the UK. After having his start date at EasyJet extended for several weeks allowing us some extra beach time (and Tokyo!) Seb finally has to actually show up for work. Most of his heavy gear he’s stored in a friend’s closet at her (permanent) hotel room by the airport. Their flight is early, so their plan to spend the night by the airport. Seb and Mabel have made an early start to get out and repack all their gear, and I follow them out by train for dinner.

Seb’s friend and her roommate join us for dinner in “downtown” – which is basically the only storefront area for miles around… across the street from the hotel. We drive there 😉

After dinner, I have to catch the last train into town, and give Seb and Mabel a final hug. It’s going to feel weird to be on my own after all this time…

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Mar 24 2007

Kuala Lumpur, shopping

We hit the malls – this is really the heart of KL; there aren’t too many tourist spots, and not much historical architecture, but if they know how to do anything, it’s build malls. The malls compete for size, and the competition is fierce – the first one we hit is as large on each floor as our local Hillsdale mall, but 11 floors high (and the top floor is “almost” fully occupied). The place is packed with people too, although as in Semporna, I don’t spot many locals actually buying anything… did I mention Starbucks? There is almost no place in downtown KL that you can stand and not spot a Starbucks; I’m not exaggerating, there really are that many – you buy, walk while taking 2 sips, and a new Starbucks is in front of you. I guess in a country where the locals can’t drink alcohol, they have to replace their addiction with something.

We grab a bite to eat at one of Seb’s favorite mall restaurants, and head over to Times Square – a mall complete with an IMAX (ok), bowling ally (better) and complete theme park with a 7 story indoor roller coaster (this is a mall, right?). We bowl, and Mabel demonstrates that she can, even at less than 80lbs, beat the pants off me bowling.

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Mar 23 2007

Kuala Lumpur, splurge

We splurge, and book a room at one of the nicest hotels in KL, the Sheraton Imperial. Seb works his pilot magic, flashing his expired Air Asia badge, and manages to get half off his room. The rooms are immense, and I have a magnificent view of the city from my throne in the bathroom (the shower too has a full wall window onto the world, makes me wonder how many voyeurs buy houses near the hotel)

To continue the splurge, we book lunch at the top of the Menara Tower. Lunch at the restaurant is only barely more than a ticket to the viewing deck, and the rotating buffet restaurant gives Seb the opportunity to point out all the interesting spots around town, including his old apartment (a great way to learn about the city actually!).

Seb’s desperate for one last hair cut at his favorite barber, and so we jump the monorail (*hush* monorail… monorail…) to get back to his old neighborhood. We wander by a massive river/storm drain that’s his back yard and make our way up to his apartment. Seb’s barber works in a small 10’x10′ room on the ground floor of his building. This guy knows how to give a proper haircut, Malaysian style: cut (shave?) the hair, and then provide a full scalp massage including making some very odd “popping” sounds with his hands while whacking Seb on the head, all from the convenience of your own building.

We head up the street for a some tasty bites from the “Fat Man,” one of Seb’s favorite local characters (slightly portly by US standards, but this is Malaysia) who serves up some of the best spicy food in town. Sun setting we head to the rooftop Luna Bar, just below the Menara Tower, sporting awesome views from its poolside glass walled lounges. We spot a member of the Chinese mafia surrounded by his “bitches” and know where in the zone! 😉

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