Monday, November 30, 2009
But read it and think about it. Honestly, how much do we know about the stuff that we buy? We buy food and we can sort of tell what looks and tastes better. We buy beverages and we can most of the time tell the difference between things. We buy hard goods and generally the thing that looks more expensive probably is.
But for the most part, nobody knows what the hell is going on. I think most people would be hard-pressed to point out the differences between two similarly priced objects. And many of the differences they can point out between an expensive and cheap object are cosmetic window dressing.
This isn't to rail against luxury or premium goods. There's definitely things out there worth the money. It's just that there's also a lot of crap out there hopping on the bandwagon, searching for that premium price, selling their crap with buzzwords and techno-jargon. And a pretty package.
And hey, I'm not excusing myself. I know beer, bikes, ski equipment, a bit about cars and food...after that, I'm buying the pretty object.
Monday, November 16, 2009
However, I do remember Rick Hansen coming through Kamloops. I remember thousands of people lining Columbia Street. I remember watching him fly by, heading towards a hill that is fast to ride down on a bicycle. I think it's pretty damn cool that so many people would come out to participate and lend their support to an event. So, recreating that with a torch? Why the hell not.
But then the discussion moves to who will light the torch. This article makes my stomach hurt. I know I wrote a post last year sometime about how much I dislike Nancy Greene and Kerrin-Lee Gartner. I'm not sure if I ever posted it though. But I'm going to make a bold statement. If either Nancy Greene or Kerrin-Lee Gartner light the torch in Vancouver, I'm leaving the country. Yes, that could finally be the motivation for me to get my Hungarian citizenship in order, hand in my Canadian passport and move somewhere else. Winning medals and being either a calculating self promoter or shrill TV hostess does not make you great. I'm not even joking here. It would just be too much for me to bare. (note...this will be the statement that prevents me from winning an election sometime in the future)
Anyhow. If Rick Hansen doesn't light the torch, I don't know what is wrong with this country. Sorry. Vanoc. Wrong with Vanoc. Let's see. Born and bred in British Columbia. Paralympic Gold Medalist. Then he wheeled 40,000 kilometers around the FUCKING WORLD! I mean...come the hell on. How is this guy not more celebrated?
Thursday, November 12, 2009
The other interesting thing about Lancaster is the Ashton Memorial, which sits on a hill looking over the town. We wandered up there later in the afternoon but were turned away by a wedding. We decided to drive into the countryside in search of a pub. We found the pub, but it was closed, so we wandered around a couple of little towns searching for food before giving up and re-visiting the original pub idea. This was my first real experience of English countryside and it was very impressive. I think the pub was in Tunstall? The next day I picked up my rental car and headed for the Coors Brewery in Burton. I have to say that I was actually really nervous about driving in the UK. I've driven on the wrong side of the road before, but never a standard. It took me about half and hour to get a hang of it and then I was fine.
The drive down to Burton was no big deal. It took me about 4 hours and apart from a few difficulties in Burton I was able to drive right there without any detours. I would later realize how amazing this feat was as I tried to get out of Burton and back to Lancaster, but for the moment I was pretty confident in my direction finding abilities.
My tour was quick and my troubles started as I left. I detoured in to Burton for some lunch and had to sit next to a really annoying Scotsman who talked and asked questions the whole time I ate. Once I left, things got confusing very quickly.
The next day, our last full day in Lancaster, was wonderful. We went back to the Ashton Memorial and hoofed it up to the top, where we experienced wonderful views. Then we drove into the countryside. And drove some more. And kept driving.
It was all so very fascinating. The scenery completely changes ever 5 minutes. If I'd have been driving I would have stopped every few minutes to take a picture. But Hugh, like a robotic chauffeur, just kept driving, unaffected by the beauty around him. We covered a lot of ground and saw some really neat things. I'd go back just to spend some time driving around this part of the country. Amazing.
We arrived in London with what seemed like heaps of time to experience a nice evening. However...our quick subway ride to the hotel turned into a painful game of "guess the connection" as we experienced the worst of London subway weekend service. Closed stations. Closed lines. A long walk to the hotel with heavy bags. It was nice to get to the hotel and see that it 100% blew away any previous London hotel experience.
When I spent a few days in London a couple of years ago with my parents, the room my dad found on the Internet was laughable. I could barely fit on my bed. The door would practically hit my shoulder if I was laying down while it opened. The bathroom door wouldn't open fully before it hit my bed. There was only room for one bag at a time on the floor. And it was kind of dump. The room this time around was only a few blocks from where we stayed in 2007, but was about 3 times as big, newly renovated and full of yuppie extravaganzas. It had it's own washer/dryer. Full cooking facilities. A beautiful bathroom. A nice big bed. Digital cable with a large flatscreen. About 200 dvd's to choose from up in the lobby. All for...can't remember. Maybe 150 bucks a night? This is it here. Nice and central too.
I've seen most of the major London museums so I really just wanted to pick off a few things I mean to see. The first day, I walked down to the Victoria & Albert Museum. It was fairly interesting and is another London museum in which you could spend several days and still not see everything.
After that I went on a wander. Down through the Chelsea Royal Hospital on my attempt to shortcut through the Ranelagh Gardens, which proved to be a dead end and wasted about 45 minutes of my time. Then down along the Chelsea Embankment, across from the Battersea Power Station, all the way up to the Parliament buildings. It was a really, really long walk, punctuated only by an attempt to take a picture of two dogs humping in front of the Parliament buildings. I caught the tube home, just in time for another shopping walk down to Kensington High Street.
I really had no idea what to do with my second day. I decided that I would wander up along Regent's Canal, through Regent's Park and on to Camden Town. I was following the Eyewitness Travel Guided Walk so there were a few other people leapfrogging the walk with me.
Regent's canal is kind of neat. I like the idea that there is this canal highway through the city. That lead me in to Regent's Park and the ultimate roadside marketing I've ever seen. As you walk towards Primrose Hill you go by the Zoo. They've designed it so that you can see a few of the exhibits as you wander. I snapped this photo of the Giraffes and immediately decided to come back and check things out after lunch.
I wandered off up the hill and then towards Camden for lunch. The first time in London I was staying with the friend of a friend of a friend. He worked in a travel agency on Camden High Street and that was the first thing in London I ever saw. He took me for lunch to a pub that served the greatest breakfast I had ever eaten. I found the pub again, but the pot pie I had convinced me I should have just left it in my memory. I was going to eat at the Engineer, but mains were 18 pounds, so I had to just look.
On to the zoo. The last zoo I went to was probably San Diego when I was maybe 12-13. I struggled mightily with the thought of paying 18 pounds to go to a zoo when there are so many free museums and sights of London. But I'd heard good things so I plunged in.
Don't get me wrong, it was pretty neat to see some of the exhibits, but I wasn't blown away. The giraffes ended up being my favourite and I saw them for free. It's kind of cool that you can get right in to some of the exhibits and hang out with birds, monkeys, sloths, etc. The gibbons were awesome and hauled so much ass around their cage in a display that seemed designed for me. The tigers were kind of sad. One of them had a figure eight path carved into his cage from thousands of hours of bored wandering. The african hunting dogs made me feel like I was in a nature program. The owls stood there and stared at me. The gorillas were locked up for the winter. All very neat, but all a little bit sad.
After the zoo I hopped on a train and headed for East Sussex to meet up with the rest of my crew.
The train ride down was very uneventful and we checked into another surprising hotel, hundreds of years old and recently re-done. I hit my head, no joke, at least 6 times on the door frame into the bathroom.
Dinner was at Andrea's distributors vice presidents house. I felt odd about intruding on somebody elses business dinner, but it didn't seem to be a big deal. We headed for a nice old house off in a sort of suburban countryside. The family was fairly over-powering at first, but after a short little break in period they proved to be more than hospitable guests. It was an enjoyable meal. And then. This is probably one of those things nobody wants to know and that I shouldn't write. But whatever. It was just so unbelievable that I can't even believe it happened, so here goes. I got the worst gas of my life. Honest.
Now, this sounds funny. And in hindsight it kind of is. But imagine sitting in a small little intimate room with a fire roaring in the corner, 6-7 people you don't know including your girlfriends boss, and the whole time your stomach feels like it might explode and all you can do is squeeze your bum cheeks together with all your might, hoping that your pants don't erupt with the loudest, rudest, most vulgar fart ever heard by mankind. Honestly, even with all that effort my stomach was groaning so loudly it sounded like farting. It was so terribly awful and embarrassing. I kept going to the kitchen to get glasses of water, hoping nobody noticed and wondered what the hell was going on. It was awful.
The next day, the same guy that hosted dinner lent me a car so I could go check out an open air museum composed of old, old houses rescued from around the region. It was incredibly nice of him. This wasn't something I would normally do, but everybody had been talking about it all through dinner and the effort to get me a car was huge, so I had to go.
The museum was kind of neat. It really does span centuries. They have a working flour mill. A blacksmith shop. Dozens of old houses from many different eras. Hundreds of retirees milling about as volunteers. It was quite a production. I could really only kill and hour or two though before it got to be a bit boring. The effort that went into this place is staggering. Each house re-constructed brick-by-brick. The displays. The history. Etc. But they're still just old houses.
After that, I wanted to drive down to the coast which wasn't too far away. I headed for the hills and a few kilometers from the museum I came across Goodwood. I've heard of Goodwood, but I had no idea. The lady at the info booth gave me the history, but I can't remember. Something about a palace and it being converted some time ago. Anyhow, it now has a horse racecourse that is so crazily massive. It spans a valley and is impossible to capture with a picture. A little further is the race course and airport, as well as the palace. And then, I came across the Rolls Royce Factory. I had to stop and at least try for a tour.
I went to the factory entrance and they told me there were no tours as they were re-tooling the factory. They said I could write in and make an appointment, but it would take a few months. So I drove over to the head office entrance to see what I could find. You could see some of the production line in the background and cars being assembled. There was also an old lady in a tracksuit, her long-haired in a german sort of way kid and a whole bunch of Rolls Royce guys in fancy-assed suits. I thought they were giving some tourists the bums rush, but then a couple of new Phantoms pulled up and everybody hopped in and drove off, so I guess not. I walked into the office and the guy at the reception desk barely tolerated me looking around. They had a chassis sitting there as well as a few cars. And I left, back to Middlehurst.
From there it was a train back to London and on to the Eurotunnel and Paris. The Eurotunnel wasn't very exciting. We got to Paris quite late and checked in to the last of our surprisingly nice hotels.
The first day in Paris, we rented some Paris-Bixis and headed for the Eiffel Tower. Oh my god. Riding a bike in Paris is scary. I thought I might die. And I ride a lot of bikes. We ditched them fairly quickly and decided foot/subway was a better prospect.
I've always wanted to climb the Eiffel Tower and the long line-up for the elevator made it the thing to do. It didn't take very long and we made it up to the second platform to a sunny and wind free day. It was beautiful and I didn't want to leave. But, we did.
After that, Paris became a blur of wandering, crepes, shopping for boots and over-priced food. And don't take blur the wrong way. It's a blur because there's just so much to see and each street is a new adventure. Highlights: Very Bad Trip playing on the Champs Elysees. The tea place full of men in suits selling you expensive tea. The crepes. Eating at one of only two vegetarian restaurants in Paris and having them ensure me that I had enough time to eat my entree before the next party came in after they served it 45 minutes late or so. 10 dollar Cokes at the Pompidou. 10 dollars each. Shopping for boots. Lots and lots of boots.
Oh. The Montmartre Cemetary deserves it's own heading. Filled with cats. Filled with graves. Filled with redheads. We checked out the Edgar Degas tomb as well as the tomb of the dude who invented the saxaphone. There's some crazy things in that place.
I forgot to mention that Paris is kind of expensive. The Pound exchange was pretty good so London wasn't too bad. But paris was absolutely ridiculous. The best deal going is the crepes. 4 Euros or so gets you a fresh, smokin' hot crepe.
And, the last thing you see when you fly out is the most amazing airplane terminal ever.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
There was barely enough room for a car to squeeze out and it sent me into a blind rage. I started running through a number of scenarios in my head.
1) Scenario One - Repeatedly running into douche-Hummer with my car - Perhaps a little too violent. Could result in damage to my car.
2) Scenario Two - Grabbing some sort of object and smashing things on the Hummer - No smashing objects immediately apparent. Could result in me straining my back.
3) Scenario Three - Summoning up some sort of nasty something from deep in my intestines and depositing it on the hood of the Hummer - Somewhat childish. Might not be noticed.
So, I did nothing. I squeezed out beside the Hummer and turned for home. Until...
In my rearview mirror I caught a glimpse of the telltale high visibility uniform of Vancouver's Finest - The Parking Enforcement Branch. I hung a quick U-Turn, opened my window and attracted her attention.
It took a while to explain what I was talking about, but the enforcement officer eventually caught on to my enthusiasm and, I think, bought in to my excitement at the prospect of giving out a parking ticket. I don't think she receives parking ticket encouragement all that often. She ran across the road with her ticket book out and I drove off with the knowledge that Hummer guy was going to get a ticket.
Honestly, it felt great. I was just so happy that this guy was going to get a ticket. Unreasonably happy. It's funny how the small things can set you off. But the feeling of entitlement shown by parking your FUCKING HUMMER IN FRONT OF THE FUCKING DRIVEWAY OF A FUCKING 200-PERSON WORKPLACE deserves a parking ticket as the bare minimum of payback. Honestly. This guy probably beats up kittens in his spare time.
Monday, November 2, 2009
We thought we'd have a tea at the art gallery cafe. It took a couple of minutes to attract the attention of a waiter and he explained that it would be very difficult to serve us tea but that he'd try to find a way to accomodate us in a few minutes once he dealt with a couple of other things. So we left and walked around for a bit. We came back and made our way up to the exhibit. Still closed. We asked the guard (a different one by this time) if he knew when it would be open. He had no idea and suggested we talk to the ladies at the ticket desk. This is where it got strange.
There were 2 or 3 ladies sitting around dispensing tickets. I didn't think it would be a big deal to find out when the exhibit opened but when I asked they said "I don't know. But we're open until 9 so feel free to come back later in the day." We explained that we had a flight to catch in a few hours, that we'd only really come because we'd wanted to see this exhibit and that we'd really appreciate it if they could just tell us when it would open. They seemed completely uninterested in finding out this information for us and seemed baffled that I would ask them to phone sombebody and find out. Then we asked for our money back and they got a bit miffed. All of a sudden it became our fault because they quite clearly had two laminated sheets out on one corner of their desk for each of the two exhibits that were open and obviously since the other exhibit didn't have a sheet it was closed. At this point I asked who was in charge because they obviously didn't want to take responsibility for anything. She, honestly, she says "There's lots of people in charge here. People here, people upstairs. Lots of people." She started blaming us again for not knowing what was going on so I say "Look. Whoever sold us the tickets didn't do a very good job of explaining what exhibits were open..." Oh boy. She lost it. "I know for a fact that my colleague does an excellent job." Imagine the thick accent here and it makes it a bit more humourous, although less politically correct. Then, barely containing her rage, she asks for our tickets and gives us our money back purely to spite us. It seemed like a silly resolution to a "do you know what time your exhibits open at" sort of question.
There was another stunning display of customer service at the airport. Some poor guy was spending the last of his Canadian money on candy for his children. He had 50 dollars so he told the cashier to stop charging once she got to 50. This was fine, but then she started jamming all the candy into one bag. He asked, politely, if he could split it into two bags. She looked at him like he was some sort of war criminal and beligerently pointed out that it was all fitting into one bag. He explained that he'd like it in two bags. She paused for a moment, then sort of threw a second bag at him. Good stuff.
Off to Lisbon (via Heathrow). The only real memory I have is of barely being able to keep my eyes open from London to Lisbon. By the time we landed I felt so terrible from a lack of sleep that I was worried about the upcoming drive into the center of Lisbon that we were about to face. Luckily, we had an hour or so in an immigration line-up to rest up.
There's so much going on in Lisbon. There seems to be a restaurant or bar just about every 2-3 doors. There's people wandering all over. There's guys playing amplified live music in squares. It seems like a very lively city.
This dog was hanging out at the front gate and seemed excited that we stopped to take some photos.
We decided to head inland to Monchique, and then back towards Aljazur, which we had passed through on our way down the coast. Monchique is high in the mountains. It's famous for it's spring water and is a fairly unassuming little town without much going on. However, above and to the west is the high point of the Algarve, coupled with a nice drive through eucalyptus trees. Definitely worth the visit.