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New UK Journal – 10/1/00 thru 6/1/01
Egypt - Monday - 10/16/00
We insisted on an early 6 AM start the next day and figured out that Josef had slept in the lobby. We came out of the hotel and noted the tourist police sitting outside with their AK47 assault rifles. These guys are ever present in Egypt. They guard the hotels and ancient sites, protecting tourists after the 1997 slaughter of 58 people at the Temple of Hatchupset. We careened to Giza, Josef giving three quick beeps to warn other unsuspecting drivers of his aggressive intentions. At the Giza pyramids, we had our first experience with the local hustlers - camel ride, donkey ride, water, film, everyone insists on having a bargain for you. We walked through a cemetery and out into the desert with three guides, thinking they were taking us the back way to see the pyramids and sphinx. We ended up on a hilltop waiting for the mist to clear so we could see the pyramids and chatted with our new best friends. Hassan found a live scarab, the beetle that symbolizes good fortune, and gave us a mini geology lesson. We walked around the pyramids and saw the Cheops boat. The pyramids were built during the Old Kingdom period, 3200-2500 BC. Later pharaohs chose to hide their tombs more discreetly, like in the Valley of the Kings, to fool grave robbers. We went to the Egyptian museum and saw many treasures including the richest find from the tomb of Tutankamen. There was the stunning gold facemask, gold sarcophagus, and many valuable trinkets that were placed within the mummy’s wraps of linen. We also visited the royal mummy room, where they have 10 mummies of pharaohs, still wrapped with their heads and other extremities exposed. The flesh was black and you could see the facial features of Ramses II and the others. Shelley, Lori, and I went to pick up our overnight train tickets to Luxor and Aswan, and they asked a higher price than had been agreed. We talked to Maurice, who not only claimed he didn’t remember talking to Shelley on the phone, but wouldn’t even speak directly to her in the office (male/female thing). This experience gave us a bad attitude that we carried to Luxor on the careening (uneven tracks) overnight train. Arriving with our attitudes, Shelley, Lori, and I began to haggle ruthlessly with the local vendors. When one guy agreed with Lori a price of 1 pound for a cat statue and then claimed he meant a British pound, not an Egyptian pound, I found myself beating him with a branch in front of Karnak temple. A carriage driver that claimed he didn’t have change for a twenty-pound note was found to be lying after we told him he would have to take the loss, not us. I told him that he had sinned against Allah and he should pray. We were not maintaining a low profile at this point, as recommended by the State department, and we decided we had to trust people at the start. This proved quite difficult as so many of them went beyond clever negotiation to dishonesty. In Egypt you know you are about to be screwed when you hear any of the following lines: ‘My camel’s name is Colorado. Here let me take your picture with him.’ (For a fee, for camel food of course) ‘You must come with me to THE Papyrus Institute where professors from the University hand paint the designs.’ (Forget that you saw 30 other Papyrus Institutes on the way here) ‘I must pay X to the government. The government takes all the money.’ (Note my meticulous accounting system for tax reporting purposes) ‘You must be mistaken, I meant an English pound (£).’ (Even though you are from Canada and we are in Egypt) ‘There is no charge to use the toilet, and you are lucky that I can sell you some of my toilet paper.’ (Which I just took out of the toilet before you arrived) ‘I’m sorry, I don’t have change for 20 pounds.’ (Even though I’ve been giving carriage rides all morning) ‘It’s a gift.’ (That costs 2 pounds) ‘This is the finest Alabaster here in THE Alabaster factory.’ (See Papyrus Institute above) ‘You’re from Canada? Canada Dry.’ (I haven’t heard of the Toronto Maple Leafs) ‘I will take you to Phillea Temple for 10 pounds.’ (It’ll cost you 20 pounds to get back) We went with a small group to the Valley of the Kings. Across the Nile from Luxor, this is near the site of ancient Thebes, which was the lead city during the New Kingdom (2000-1500 BC). There are 64 tombs that have been discovered and others that have yet to be found. We went into the tombs of Tutmosis III, Seti II, Ramses IV, and the most beautiful tomb of Nefertari, wife of Ramses II. The tombs were started when a man become pharaoh and were hurriedly finished when he died, so the longer the pharaoh lived, the more beautiful the tomb. Some walls were decorated with simple illustrations and hieroglyphics, other tombs had figures carved in plaster and then painted. The themes were pretty much the same - the pharaoh making an offering to Amen or Isis, the primary gods, or to Ra, the sun god, or to Osiris, the god of the afterlife, or to Horus (the falcon), the god of life. The hieroglyphics told stories, and the hieroglyphics with an oval around them are a name. This is called a cartouche. The pharaoh’s organs were removed (the primary organs - heart, lungs, liver, brain - were placed into jars), the brain was taken out through the nose, and he was embalmed, and wrapped in linen. A mask in his likeness was placed on the mummy so the gods could recognize him. The mummification process took 140 days. Shelley, Lori, and I hired a taxi to drive us 100 km to Edfu temple and we had to go by guarded convey. The trip was made quite exciting as the taxi drivers didn’t pay much attention to the road markings, tailgated each other, and passed each other constantly. The girls made me sit in the front seat. We noticed many buildings without roofs on a second or third story and this was because the owner doesn’t pay any taxes until the structure is complete. We also spent some time in the Egyptian market in Luxor, where we bargained for spices, linens, etc, and I was offered three camels each for my two beautiful wives. We met a nice little boy named Hussein who had the cheapest bottled water around. He reminded us of Spanky from Little Rascals. In Aswan, we decided to take a break from the jungle, and stayed at the Old Cataract Hotel. This is where Agatha Christie stayed when she wrote ‘Death on the Nile’. We sat on the terrace overlooking the Nile and watched the feluccas (Egyptian sailboat) narrowly miss each other as they tacked upwind just before sunset. When they built the Aswan high dam in 1973 there were 23 ancient monuments that had to be moved to higher ground including Phillae temple and Abu Simbel. The temples were dismantled stone by stone and put back together on a higher site. Upon returning to Cairo, Josef Omar met us again and took us to some mosques and back to Giza. I think we almost sent him to the home for crazy taxi drivers with all of the places we asked him to drive us. Egypt was quite an experience, but I wouldn’t want to live there. Bonfires and Rain - Sunday - 11/5/00
Bonfire night was approaching and it was time to get the fireworks, so I went down the lane to Steve’s place. Steve is the farmer who sells Bland’s cider (dry or sweet), fireworks, and flowers (in season). He invited me in for coffee and I accepted, fearing that I might regret this decision. But instead of a 45-minute lecture on the plight of the British farmer, we talked about local village politics, and Steve’s scheme to develop some of his land for housing. I escaped, but not until after giving some free technical assistance on the new family PC. We went out to the metal shipping container and Steve worked the padlock. After entering, I was given a very personalized tour of every bomb on offer, 1 by 1, with vivid detail of the heights, colors, and explosions I might expect. I chose three rockets, a mortar, the giant 50 shot Crackula, and lots of sparklers for the kids. I mentioned the cow incident last year in the garden, and Steve assured me that loud explosions would have no negative effect on dairy cattle. We went to Sophie’s place in Dursley for an early Bonfire party. She planned to burn Guy Faulks on her garden bench and asked us to find the appropriate spot in her narrow, steep garden (back yard). As we drug the bench up the slick stone steps, fighting the blustery wind and rain, there was no spot between the shrubs and trees large enough for a bonfire. We chose a spot and the fire and rockets were lit, but I feared for public safety. Our local bonfire at the Rockhampton Cricket Club was postponed because the ground was too wet to park cars on the grass. There was as much rain in September and October as would be normal for the whole year. This caused extensive flooding, especially in the southeast, where whole networks of roads and villages were under water. Well, no bonfire but we still had our fireworks. We lit the first rocket in the garden, and the cows sounded as though they would stampede. We went to light the mortar and I asked my buddy what he thought. The response was ‘How mad will he (Richard, the dairy farmer) get?’ In a moment of frenzied bad judgment, we lit the mortar, which blasted for 10-15 seconds, and the cows freaked. They ran from one end of their tight pen to the other, and back. Oops, maybe this isn’t so good for the cows, but Steve (the fireworks farmer) said it was OK. We found out later that Steve and Richard don’t get along too well, so I’m sure Steve had a good laugh that night. This autumn in the UK has seen one disaster after another. Rain and flooding, coupled with 16-20 hour electricity blackouts when the gale force winds start up. The trains are running slow and there are many delays. Motorways have been closed for entire days, and if the motorway is closed the only alternate route is through a mind-boggling jungle of A-roads, roundabouts, and villages. Hauliers (truckers) and farmers, protesting fuel taxes, blockaded the oil refineries causing petrol (gasoline) shortages (ask Dan and Jean), for about 10 days. It’s really pretty scary when things like reliable transportation, electricity, and petrol, items which we take for granted, are not for certain!! The Road show - Wednesday - 11/15/00 I received a call a few days before, about a potential customer visit in Zurich. Important, as they run the ATM network in Switzerland, (like Cirrus or Plus in the USA), and would provide a perfect reference site to sell into the big Swiss banks. Carlos and I found ourselves in Zurich the morning after the Amsterdam event, riding in a Volvo S80 with talking GPS, mobile phone with voice recognition, leather seats, power everything. The HP sales rep insisted it was not a company car, but belonged to his Swiss wife. We arrived at the customer site, and were soon in a room with two HP reps we had just met, and five Swiss customers, looking very serious. We asked what was wrong with their current data storage devices and they eventually said, “periodic maintenance and reliability.” “Well, you know, HP libraries need NO periodic maintenance.” “No, can’t be, we’ll have to get that in writing”, said the customer. Whereupon Carlos produced the product datasheet and showed them where it said ‘no periodic maintenance.’ It was classic, and we had a good start up our ‘affirmative staircase’, you know, where the customer nods yes again and again, and finally when you ask him for the business. The customer ordered three big libraries, worth $150K, eight days later. I really like this part of my job - the stakes are high, we are the product experts, the sales guys are counting on us, but you never know exactly what you will be asked. There is allot of inward fear, constant adrenaline, and to make the sale is exhilarating.
We continued our roadshow with one lap around the UK - Leeds, Edinburgh (that’s Edinburrah), and London. The UK events were staged at Rugby stadiums. Carlos and I drove to Leeds and came off the Motorway in the wrong direction, as we figured out 20 minutes and 20 roundabouts later. Soon we were near the hotel but driving down the wrong narrow, windy streets. We circled ever closer until we happened upon it, bad signage. We joined our British friends and wandered off to dinner, looking for an eastern Indian curry (the most popular dish in the UK). We passed many nice looking places, walked one time all the way around the center of town, asked once for directions, and eventually found the Indian restaurant, which was 1 block from our hotel and closed. The Leeds seminar was a success, complete with last minute set up, a lack of drinks at lunch, and a few public reboots. We all pitched in and packed up the kit (computer equipment), and went on another curry hunt. This time we got in the car and drove to Bradford, a town with allot of Indians and famous for curries. I was navigating, and of course we were soon lost as I instantly, but only semi-confidently pointed the direction at many dozen complex intersections and confusing roundabouts. I think I enjoy the British humor (sarcasm) most when hopelessly lost with a group of Brits. We found the place, a true temple of Balti; complete with Kingfisher beer, very hot curries, and nan breads the size of large pizzas, hung on skewers. We returned home after the meal, via a more direct route. The next day, we continued by car to Edinburgh, with a quick stop in Preston (described as a weird town). We were ushered in through the kitchen of what appeared to be a private residence, but was in fact the global headquarters of a small HP reseller. The slightly off Managing Director, in front of the refrigerator, briefed us on our task. Carlos and I were shown into the office, soon sat down in a roundtable format, and asked to relay the permanence and other virtues of Optical storage to the dozen customer guests. Suddenly, the Managing Director, openly stated that we had said all he wanted his guests to hear and excused us, to be ushered back out through the kitchen. HP works with allot of small resellers, and this one seemed to know their stuff, even though they were a little left of center, so to speak. Carlos and I arrived in Edinburgh (remember, it’s pronounced Edinburrah) after dark and found the hotel. After a lengthy session on Email, much of it doing pricing and other support for the Swiss deal, I joined the group for dinner. We had Italian and then went across to a small Scottish pub. They were doing karaoke in the basement and some of the guys wanted to participate. Watching your buddies sing in a bar, after they’ve had a few beers, is a true test of any relationship, in my opinion. The seminar the next day was a success, complete with a tour of the rugby stadium. Murrayfield is big, like Mile High Stadium, and has been the site of many bloody Scotland/England rivalries. The only logistic issue occurred when we needed to rearrange the conference room, but all the delegates had gone to lunch and left their belongings on the chairs. And when we packed up the kit, we had to cart it down a series of passages, through conference rooms, through the kitchen, and down the service elevator. We went out for some food that night and I called Shelley on my mobile (cell) phone while walking on the street. Just as she answered, a group of drunken girls encroached upon us, one wanting to talk to whoever was on my mobile. This kind of incident doesn’t help on the home front, when I’ve been away, and trying to reassure Shelley that business travel is tough work. The next week, Phil arrived from the States to take over for Carlos as the main HP speaker. I met him at the Novotel hotel in Hammrsmith (west London). This was another of those strange, lost in space and time, kind of places you find in the UK. Nobody answered the phone when you called, nobody knew how to read a map, the lobby was lit like a surgery room, but the restaurant was really nice. Only thing was that they burned the first goat’s cheese for my salad and dropped the second one on the floor. Needless to say, my dinner was free. The seminar at Twickenham was a success with close to 100 delegates. We again had a tour of the stadium, including the locker room and exclusive dining and drinking areas. Twickenham and its golden lions have allot of tradition, and would be as daunting for an opponent as Mile High. I can’t think of any cock-ups here, I gave two presentations, one for the first time, and there were allot of HP and partner people in the audience. I think we were well rehearsed by the time we arrived in London. Phil and I visited an HP reseller the next day, north of London, and found out as we left that the M4 had been closed in both directions since the early hours of the morning. A Belgian lorry (truck) had jackknifed across all lanes, killing the young Belgian driver on his first trip to the UK. We spent five hours winding our way through town after town, curve after curve, roundabout after roundabout, all the way across England on the A roads. Just to show Shelley that business travel IS hard, I took her along to the last roadshow event in Paris. We met Phil for breakfast and rode to ‘Le Grande Arche’ at La Defense. This square arch lies directly beyond the Arche de Triomphe as you look down the Champs d’Elyse, but is a modern version, 300 feet high. We rode the freestanding elevators and went up into the top of the arch where the seminar would be held. Shelley met my French colleagues, took her seat, and watched in amazement as everything came together at the last minute, complete with Kiera arriving ten minutes before show time with edits to her pitch. The audience wore headsets and there was real time translation between French and English. The morning and afternoon seminars were a success, but it is hard to speak English to a French audience, they really love their language. That evening, Shelley joined us for a fun dinner and I realized why it is not a good idea to get your spouse and your colleagues together like this. She tells them all your little secrets, and then they all have fun at your expense. I worked at the French HP office the next day, then lugged three bags over two train changes on the Metro, to reach where Shelley and I would be staying for the weekend. You should try getting three bags through the subway turnstiles, but this was much easier than fighting the traffic above ground. Paris traffic is a nightmare. Shelley and I stayed with Matt and Fran, remember he’s from Colorado, she’s French, and they live in a nice flat near the Moulin Rouge, five flights up, with their son Christopher (18 months). Shelley and I spent the weekend hoofing it around Paris. We walked many new places, did some shopping, and Shelley found two new pairs of shoes, which was a relief after her lack of success in the shoe department in Italy. We saw the Christmas windows at Printemps, Galleries Lafayette, and La Bon Marche, and these were fabulous, best I’ve ever seen. They consisted of Christmas scenes, with characters animated in a marionette fashion, by wires driven from above with mechcanical cams, levers, and moving carriages. We rode the big millennium ferris wheel at Place de la Concorde, and the guy let us stay on for a second ride, after clearing the rest of the cabin. I think he knew we were lovers. The Eiffel Tower still has all the millennium lights on it and does the strobe thing every hour for five minutes. It is beautiful. The trees on the Champs d’Elyse are lit, as are the streets in front of the big department stores. Paris is beautiful at Christmas, and you can see the pride. Well, in the end we presented to about 300 customers on our roadshow, found allot of good sales leads, had a little fun, and got to know each other as colleagues and friends, a whole lot better. Joyeux Noel and a Pyro New Year
- Saturday - 12/23/00 We successfully rented the kid’s skis in spite of the fact that there were only a handful of words and gestures mutually understood by the contracting parties. Thank goodness we share the same numbers !! The whole family rode the telecabine (gondola) up and went for a run, Carly’s first, which turned out to be a little daunting for her, even within the security of Dad’s snowplow. The run was a little tough for the muscles in Dad’s arse (as they pronounce it in South Gloucestershire) as well. You don’t normally use those muscles in such a way. So Dad and Carly retired to the restaurant for some chocolate chaud (hot chocolate) for her, and some vin chaud (hot wine) for me. We discussed the pros and cons of getting a little banged up and cold today, in order to have more fun getting banged up later. Four year olds have very little concept of sacrifice for the future. We went back out and I pulled Carly around with my pole and by the end of the day we were back riding the teleski (poma lift). She skied three of six days, and drank allot of chocolate chaud. She was a vision in her pink coat with white leopard fur trim and pink sunglasses, and yelling ‘I want my mommie right now !!’ ‘I want to go back to the chalet right now !!’ Mom and Dad took turns skiing with Griffin and he is a six-year-old speed-demon. Black runs, jumps, speed, bushwhacking, he does it all with his slightly tipped back snowplow technique. We have to work on the tipped back part. The snow and fog made me a bit nervous as I could lose sight of Griffin if he was too fast. We call ourselves the ‘powder dogs’ and we ate our dog meat (dried French sausage) on the telesieges (chairlifts). It is really fun to have a six year old that likes to ski down most slopes and is pretty fast as well, a ski buddy for life. Christmas came to the Oncle Henri chalet, and so did Santa, and so did some new snow by the way. Carly got the Barbie airplane and Griffin got a skateboard. We did the normal present opening session in the morning and skied in the afternoon.
And what about the naughty teenagers ?? They turned out to be pretty nice, Nick (16) and Faye (13, but tall as 16) played with the kids and were very patient with all the attention they received in return. Andrew (16) and James (18) skied with us and went off-piste (off the groomed, sometimes backcountry) with us as well, so they were part of our best adventures. The kids think teenagers are cool now. Shelley taught them how to play Zilch, Spinner, and Kings on the Corners. Back to the UK on the 30th, and then we crossed back into Europe via the Eurotunnel. To do this, you drive your car onto a train, and the train makes the crossing, 25 miles in 35 minutes. Cars don’t actually drive through the Chunnel as there would be issues of emissions and breakdowns, hence the train. We drove to Eemnes, Holland, where we stayed with Rob and Laurette, and their kids Nicky and Bevin, at Laurette’s sister’s, for New Year’s. Rob had promised us a good old-fashioned Dutch New Year with lots of food, beer, and pyromania. Upon arrival, I was met with a 3-liter bottle of Heineken. These big bottles were produced for the millennium and were back this year by popular demand. The kids danced in the living room and they all stayed up until midnight. At midnight, every neighbor up and down the street came outside and started to light fireworks of all shapes and sizes. It was more than half an hour before the constant explosions stopped. They really know how to celebrate New Year’s in Holland. On the way back to the UK we spent a night in Brugge, Belgium, and Carly, Griffin, and I skated on the rink that was set up in the central market square. This was Carly’s first time on the ice and she had allot of fun. The Football Hero - Monday - 2/19/2001
Griffin had a football (soccer) birthday party in the garden (back yard) and invited 9 of his mates. We started the activity with tests of skills. First some dribbling around the trees with loose timing, then some dribbling races between two teams. Next all the boys played keep away from Dad, passing the ball around a circle with me in the middle. If I intercepted a pass, then that kid had to do 10 press ups (push ups), thereby adding a little fitness to the activity. When we were all warmed up, we started the big match. Five on five with goalies was a little chaotic for the size of our garden, especially with George slide tackling from the rear, so we settled on four on four. Sam wasn’t getting any passes so I told him to stand in front of the goal and yell for the ball. He was the ‘secret weapon’. Griffin dribbled up with a challenge, ‘Come on George, man on man, come on’. The match was completed with only minor injuries to a couple boys, and minimal damage to the rose garden. Griffin has been doing football training twice a week since September, indoors on the Thursday night and outdoors on Saturday morning. He’s found his competitive side and likes to go ‘man on man’ with Anthony, a very skilled young man, during Thursday scrimmages. Griffin runs hard, has good defensive skills, and so is a natural halfback. He wasn’t scoring very many goals earlier this year, but then discovered the ‘chip shot’. This week in Thursday indoor scrimmages, he scored five goals and had Anthony well beat. The next Sunday in a Thornbury Falcons match, he scored the first goal, remembering to dribble, get open, then shoot. He also had two great crosses, one resulting in the second goal. The Falcons beat Wotton under Edge, 2-1, and Griffin and some of the other boys had their names in the local Thornbury Gazette. I’m ecstatically proud of our ‘football hero’, but don’t call him that as Griffin is more modest than I. Carneval in Venice - Saturday -
2/24/2001 In this time of Venetian prosperity and dominance of overland trade routes with the East, before the later sea routes were opened up, this was a great way to escape from class-oriented everyday life. With a mask, one could be less inhibited in their actions, more free in their expressions, and not detected in their movements. The whole city, with its narrow winding walkways and exclusive palaces, caters to this Venetian desire to escape, to be anonymous. Shelley and I arrived on the Saturday of the last weekend of Carneval, along with hundreds of thousands of other partygoers. Some were in plain clothes, others wore masks, and some had the most amazing costumes. The weather was clear and cold as we waited on the floating dock trying to figure out which vaporetti (water bus) would take us down the Grand Canal to our hotel. We had booked the hotel, a ball, and an appointment at a costume shop with multiple faxes, emails, and telephone calls, as is normal in Europe. We found the costume shop and were soon outfitted in 16th century gear, Shelley as a princess in a beautiful embroidered gown, and I as a merchant complete with lacey sleeves, knickers, and white stockings. We set off at 5PM in our costumes, anonymous behind our masks, not knowing what to expect. We strolled along narrow passages and canals, off the beaten track, and people took our picture. We started to see the most intricate costumes - a knight in full armour, a wizard, lords and ladies from all centuries, and all planets in some cases. You have to see the pictures, but these wonderful beings moved about delicately, with full-face masks, huge headdresses, flowing jeweled gowns, and searching eyes. It was like being lost in time, surrounded by the loveliest of creatures. There were dragon people, divas, Mongol kings, sea people, clowns, bats, and butterflies. For once I wished I had risked nerd-dom and brought the video camera, because the way these souls moved defined them as much as the costume itself. The center of the celebration was of course Piazza San Marco, where the ground was covered with confetti and the pigeons flew overhead in great flocks. On the main stage, we saw ritualistic dances, opera singers, and the fantastic ‘parade of masks’ with hundreds of costumed creatures. We continued along windy paths, lost again, found again, piazza to piazza, ducking into a bar here and there for coffee or a drink, and to escape the cold. We arrived at Palazzi Abrizzi for the Belle Époque Ball, and had a five or six course dinner with about 60 other costumed guests. The ball was in two rooms of the palace with frescoed ceilings, beautiful paintings, and fine details. There were waltzes, line dances, ballerinas, opera singers, violin players, folk dancers, and of course a parade of masks. We met many couples consisting of an older man and younger wife, one pair from Argentina, another from London, it was all very posh, but we had fun. The ball lasted until 3AM, and we made our way all the way across Venice, following our instincts and an occasional sign. Through an empty San Marco, where they were sweeping up big piles of confetti and garbage.
We spent two further days in Venice, in plain clothes, searching out the perfect pizza or gnocchi, sheltering ourselves from the cold in numerous coffee shops and bars. There was activity and events on every plaza, and on Monday the Grand Canal was full of barges as the locals went back to work. We saw long trains of gondolas with costumed passengers being serenaded with opera singing and accordions. We found the perfect wine shop where the owner took us into the back and opening some boxes, produced two nice bottles of a 1995 Merlot from Montalcino for us to take home. We had an early flight on the Tuesday and so booked a water taxi. We motored along the Grand Canal before dawn in the plush cabin, with wood and white leather, thinking that Venice was our new favorite place. Venice is romantic, mysterious, a place everyone should escape to, but make sure you let yourself get lost. Long Weekend Warriors - Saturday
- 3/3/2001 It was weird having American friends over, as I immediately realized how much I have changed - the expressions we use, the outlook we have on everyday life, our patience, our ability to navigate winding roads with roundabouts and complex junctions. Griffin and I took our groggy friends to Windsor castle, the weekend residence of Queen Elizabeth and the royals, very posh you know. By the way, I learned what posh means, ‘port out, and starboard home’. During Victorian times, when you would sail to India, the more expensive cabins were on the northern side of the ship as these would get less sun and be more comfortable. This was the port (left) side to India and the starboard (right) side back to England. We toured the castle, Griffin likes the weapons, displayed in great cases and displays on the walls, in the guardroom. Windsor castle was the first place we went when our whole family arrived in the UK, 18 months ago. Windsor castle is a really impressive place with the Great Hall, the Waterloo chamber, and the various Staterooms. We approached the Regimental guard (with the big fuzzy black hat) at the bottom of the castle and Pam sauntered right up to him saying, ‘I’m just another tourist, you must get this all the time, I just want a picture, you don’t have to do anything, nice hat.’ I couldn’t believe the guard, who was carrying a semi-automatic weapon with a bayonet, let her approach. So I told Mark to go get in the picture as well. After they moved away, the guard started pacing and stomping his feet. Pam kept joking, saying, ‘That’ll keep the orthopedic surgeons in business.’ Suddenly the guard stopped, stomped, and went into an attack stance with his weapon raised in our direction. We backed away slowly, not sure what to think. My boss at HP, who was in the army before, told me the guard was probably just bored and having a little fun with us, but trust me, you wouldn’t have stood there either. When we got Mark and Pam home to the Southwest, Shelley fed them Red Bulls, which is as much caffeine and stimulants as you can put in a can, and is hence not legal to sell in some countries in Europe. This did the trick and we went out to a nice dinner at the pub ‘Kings Arms’ in Didmarton. This is the place Shelley and I stayed when the two of us first came to England on the preview trip in July of 1999, and we hoped to see Nigel and Jane, the landlords. After dinner, we went to another country pub called ‘Hunters Hall’ which is very medieval looking and has big comfy chairs. We took Mark and Pam to Bath the next day where we toured a Georgian mansion (from the period of King George III, you know, the King the Declaration of Independence is addressed to). The lady guide here was phenominal, and told us the most minute details about the articles in, and history of the house, mixed with much of her own well thought out opinions and theories. We also saw the Roman baths before retiring to a pub for refreshment. We shared a long dinner at home with our friends that evening and were very happy to have them over. Mark and Pam spent a couple days in London before returning to Colorado on the Wednesday. No time for jet lag there !! On the Trent and Mersey - Friday
- 5/4/2001 Traffic on the M1 to Nottingham was torturous that Friday afternoon, and a 2-hour drive took 4, but I joined the family at 7PM and we were underway on the canal boat ‘England’s Glory’. We met the first of many friendly people that evening in a pub called ‘The Jolly Angler’. Next day we saw nesting swans, cranes, ducks, and even gypsies as we puttered along the canal at 4 mph. At Shardlow we had lunch at ‘The Navigation Inn’, the kids played in a bouncy castle, and we discovered a brand new gas BBQ grill on the back porch. Gas grills are not so common in the UK, but the pub had purchased it for a big village party that Saturday evening.
In the 1760’s, when the canals were at their height, a horse would pull the narrow boats from a towpath alongside the canal. Many of the towpaths along the Trent and Mersey were closed due to the Foot and Mouth disease in the UK. So we had a little problem that afternoon, when Griffin put a lock key (a critical tool to open and close paddles and let water in and out of the locks) in the grass to climb a fence and we left it behind. He and I rode our bikes back to get it after quite some discussion about hiking vs biking in Foot and Mouth infested areas. We moored up one night near a bridge, and when we went over it and up the hill on foot, we ran into an old pub, and then some barracks. Further along there was a memorial on an earthen mound with writing that appeared to be Russian. Later I spoke to an older man named Jim, who lived along the towpath, and he said that the camp was used in WWII for soldiers who were practicing setting up temporary bridges on the river Trent. These troops later used these skills to get the Allies across the River Rhine and other obstacles during the liberation of Europe in 1944. The camp was a Ukrainian refugee camp after the war, and a camp for Ukrainian youth after that. Jim said he could remember when there would be hundreds of kids at this summer camp, but times had changed. The highlight of our trip, for Troy and I especially, was when we puttered through Burton on Trent, the famous brewing town where Bass ale is brewed. We moored up and went to the Bass museum. After our tour, we were sampling the beers in the pub, and one gentleman drew me a map of all the best pubs in Burton. Another friendly local offered us a personal tour of Burton in a double decker bus. The Daimler bus was built in Coventry, saw service in Burton and Scotland, and was discovered after being a chicken coop for ten years in a field in Scotland. These guys had brought this rare bus back to Burton and spent 7 years restoring it. No doubt they were keen to take it out for a spin. We all piled upstairs and one drove while another gave us the commentary. These guys were cool and we took their picture with the bus. We all had a great time on the boat thanks to Lori who reserved it through her timeshare company, and Troy and I drank quite a few Guinness’. Sailing School - Friday - 5/11/2001
The first thing my instructor, Andrew, said to me was, ‘take a look around in the lockers and see what you find’, later he would ask ‘did you see a fire extinguisher’, or ‘where were the sea cocks’ or the jib. Then Andrew told me that I would be skipper that night and should make a route plan to the River Hamble. That was it, no hints except, ‘there’s the chart table’ and ‘create some notes so you don’t have to bring the charts on deck’. I plotted the major landmarks, distances, and bearings, and we (four students and instructor) got underway about 10PM, after dark !! Andrew said ‘the skipper always takes the boat out of the harbor’ and so I was driving !! We motored around the end of the floating dock and came face to face with a big dredger (digger) scooping in our path, help !! We came out of the marina and followed the green starboard buoys, each with a unique flashing pattern, at the edge of the channel, while tankers and ferries passed in the center of the channel. We went up the River Hamble following a sectored light that is white when you are on course, but turns red or green if you are off course. In the morning, we did pontoon (floating dock) bashing and Andrew kept changing his mind, saying ‘we’ll come in on port, no starboard’. And we had to move all the ropes and fenders from side to side. I was worried and the students were frustrated, but I think he was just giving us some extra practice. That day, Mark skippered us to Portsmouth and at one point came up to a buoy. When it was not named as he expected, we spent some time trying to figure out where we were, tacking in the soft breezes and sunshine. We arrived at Portsmouth, home to many large Royal Navy vessels, as well as the Victory, Lord Nelson’s command ship at the Battle of Trafalgar. We turned about a buoy and then I was to skipper us across the Solent and down to the Isle of Wight, with no time for preparation !! I put us on a bearing and quickly plotted the course. We moored up that Saturday night at the Folly Inn, the fifth boat in a stack from the floating dock, and went in for a couple of pints of Old Speckled Hen, and some steak and chips. Sunday we sailed back to Southampton, seeing the Kingfisher (which was just sailed solo around the world), and many large freighters on the way. Andrew did a good job teaching us practical seamanship, familiarization with the boat, decision-making, using the resources you have, and doing it quickly, winging it if safe and necessary. This was very exhilarating and challenging. I am anxiously looking forward to the next two weekends. Brighton - Friday - 5/25/2001
We had a remarkably quick run after this, going about 150 miles in just over two hours, and were feeling quite lucky and content as we sailed into the famous beach retreat of Londoners and royals. At the hotel, I asked about free parking and one of the staff voluntarily started moving BMWs and Mercedes so I could have a spot right in front, for the weekend !! Bizarre. Remember that this is an amazingly congested place with cars parked in all directions on the slightest bits of curb. The hotel had upgraded our room and Shelley was excited as we entered the Tower 1 suite. A large room with preprogrammed lights, a huge bathroom with jetted tub, and a panoramic sitting area within the round corner tower of the hotel. It was all windows and overlooked the sea and Brighton pier. How lucky could we be - minimal traffic, free parking, tower suite. But then ‘where are the extra beds for the kids ?’, and ‘why is there no wardrobe (closet) in this room ?’. Bizarre. As we surveyed the pillars and lovely plastic fig trees in our scenic suite, we joked that they must normally let the room by the hour, and hence don’t need anywhere to hang clothes. The reception offered us another standard room with four beds, and Shelley and I went up to take a look, leaving Carly and Griffin sleeping in the tower suite. When we returned, the latch was jammed and we couldn’t get back into the room, even with a credit card. We had to call reception and this is when the real comedy started. About midnight we had three guys upstairs asking us questions like ‘did you happen to leave the window open ?’ and ‘are you’re kids light sleepers ?’. The answers to which were ‘no’ and ‘no’. They lamented about the ‘do not disturb’ sign on the adjacent door, and entered the room on the other side to try the adjoining door. After some strategic planning, jingling keys, and a few hard shoulders against wood, we were let back in the main door. We then discovered the two screw heads making up the strike plate for the lock, in true British DIY (do it yourself) style. They had also pushed the entire lock assembly out of the adjoining door, giving us a voyeuristic peephole. This was remedied with a little plastic tub of coffee creamer. Our posh Victorian palace was starting to seem more like Fawlty Towers. Bizarre. On Saturday, we had the inclusive ‘full English breakfast’ with bacon, sausage, baked beans, grilled tomatoes and mushrooms, fried eggs, and toast, lots of toast. The hurried headwaiter scooped fried eggs onto our plates while standing in the center of the dining room, dropping Shelley’s egg onto her hand and kicking the scraps under a table. We also experienced a broken lift (elevator) and fire alarm during our stay. Bizarre. We had a lovely day on the beach. We collected rocks, rode the carousel, played Victorian penny arcade games, Carly had her hair done in twisted dreadlocks, we watched some basketball, and the kids jumped on a trampoline with bungees attached to their waists. The weather was cool and foggy, so typically British. We toured the Indian styled Royal Pavilion built by George IV in about 1810. Although it has an Indian facade, the interior rooms have Chinese decorations of a massive and exotic proportion. This pleasure palace for the king ranks with Windsor Castle and Hampton Court for the viewing of Royal excesses. In the evening we went onto Brighton Pier, built in 1897 and really an amusement park over the water, with roller coasters, kiddie rides, arcade games, and lots of food. The pier was very well maintained and a really fun atmosphere. At 10PM as the fog thickened, they lit off the BIG fireworks. We watched the faint bursts of color, and squinted but couldn’t see the displays in the fog. It was a fitting end to 24 hours in the Twilight Zone. |
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