Foodstuff – paralyzedbynotcaring

Travel Apps, Part I

Traveling without reliable internet access made for quite an adventure—if you can afford keeping your phone plan with data as you travel, do it. I wish I would have just spent the money and then had access to all my pins and bookmarks and ideas as I was on the go. That being said, even without the internet, certain phone apps were extremely helpful and I recommend you download all of them before you travel.

Google maps

With Google maps, you can download the map of a city while you have wifi and then access that map any time. You probably already have this app downloaded, so this one is sort of a no brainer. I used Google maps in every city with very little, if any, difficulty. Sometimes the app could even track my location on the map WITHOUT WIFI. This was of course mind blowing for me and so convenient I almost felt comfortable. Almost.

Compass
There is an app called “Compass” and it is just that—a digital arrow pointing north. I used this all the time to orient myself before I set off. I very much want to know in what direction my accommodations are in relation to a large landmark if possible, and this free app never failed, with or without wifi.

Yelp
Again, you probably already use Yelp on your phone. Now, without wifi Yelp can be pretty useless, but if you have time before you are out and about, you can plan your snack stops based on the map function on Yelp’s bookmarks page. Bookmark the places you want to visit—Yelp has basically everything—and then view your bookmarks in map form rather than list form. Note the addresses and you can plug them in to Google maps while you’re out for specific directions. Bam, done. The only city that did not have Yelp was Riga, Latvia, but that’s okay because there was

TripAdvisor
TripAdvisor is like Yelp’s older brother who’s been working on his PhD for over a decade and knows a metric ton of stuff if you just know what to ask. TripAdvisor was a great complement to Yelp and many times had more specific reviews, particularly for hotels. You can filter the reviews by key word (mine were always “wifi,” “noise,” “safe,” and “clean,” if you don’t know how I roll already) and also read the responses from the hotel staff. TripAdvisor has great lists of things to do in each city. After the first page or two of obvious choices—Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame Cathedral, Louvre—you get a lot of info on the different types of tours available. This was useful to me when I was trying to figure out how to get to Stonehenge from London. Had I not used TripAdvisor, I probably would have just taken a bus from the tourist office and saw only the henge. As it turns out, I found a tour that included Avebury, which was just as special as Stonehenge and sort of on the way. TripAdvisor requires wifi though, so do your searching at night when you’re in your

Airbnb
The Airbnb website and app can be convoluted, so spend some time learning the filters and pages before you’re on the road. The app helped with communicating with my hosts, though a lack of wifi can interfere with that. Overall, using the app was far easier than the website for quick emails to my hosts—and I found myself doing that at least once per stop. Note: with only one exception, my Airbnb accommodations had MUCH BETTER wifi then hotels. The trade off is you can leave the hotel room a total disaster, but you better clean up and wipe down everything before you leave an Airbnb.

Overdrive, Audible, Kindle
Overdrive is a audiobook app (like Audible) that connects to your existing library card (unlike Audible). Once you download Overdrive and sign in with your library card information, you can access the library’s catalogue of audiobooks (and ebooks, if you are an alien and can read whole novels on a screen) for free. Both Overdrive and Audible require wifi to search and download new material, but once you download a book, you don’t have to have wifi to listen to it. Audible is a monthly subscription service for audiobooks—for a fee you can download one book per month. If you want more, you can buy individual books in addition to your monthly allotment. I cancelled Audible for the duration of my travels, so I didn’t pay the monthly fee but could still access the books I had already paid for. I had several to choose from, and, with Overdrive, was able to listen to many books as I rode the rails or waited for buses. I listened to music as well, but the majority of the time I listened to audiobooks. I have the Kindle app and occasionally read through the chapter of Rick Steve’s Europe Through the Back Door relevant to my next destination, but I don’t like reading ebooks and could do this in short doses only. Also, Rick Steves is annoying.

Pinterest
If you already like Pinterest, you are going to love it when you travel. I made Wanderlust board and throw all sorts of ideas on it before I left. Pinterest is great for finding travel bloggers who have very specific suggestions (“9 Free Things to Do in Dublin!”), including where to get gooey chocolate cookies in Amsterdam (Van Staple Koekmakerij, if you’re interested). Using Pinterest in conjunction with Yelp, TripAdvisor, and Google maps helped me figure out my day plan based on what food I want to eat—err and the famous places I might want to take pictures of. The bloggers of the internet can be hard to filter, but Pinterest helps. If you don’t already love Pinterest, it can be a hard app to learn on the go if it’s not your jam. Stick with Yelp and TripAdvisor.

Facebook Messenger
fullsizerender Keeping in contact with people is dicey on the road. Most of my contacts have Facebook and by extension Facebook Messenger, so this was a natural choice. With the exception of Lil Bro, who is too low key for Facebook and preferred to use Viber, I checked in with everyone using FB messenger. It’s easy and probably most people you’re going to send 3AM humble brags to already have it.

That’s it for apps that help you find things to do and then tell people about them. Next time I’ll list some logistically important apps I wish I would have known about sooner!

Stratford-upon-Avon

I visited the place of William Shakespeare’s birth and his burial site. Stratford-upon-Avon is about two hours from London by train, so I was riding the rails again. The only hiccup was that the bus that was to take me to the metro that was to take me to the train was late. I’ve taken this line several times and never waited more than the posted 8-12 minutes. I waited 20 minutes before I decided that if I ran to the metro station I would make it in time to catch the metro to catch my train. That may be so, but if I ran that far I might not make it in general (as in my body would die from torture/shock). Nonetheless I ran 30 steps and walked 30 steps all the way to the next bus stop, where I met the bus with that volatile mixture of relief and resentment. Relief and Resentment in Europe, that’s another good title.

So after I was drenched with sweat and had long since melted all my makeup off, I was on the train. Upon arriving at Stratford-upon-Avon, I wished I had done more than download the town map on my offline google maps cities list because I seemed to be on the edge of an endless brick housing development. Less than half a mile in, though, I was relieved to see the first of many Shakespeare tributes.

Each of the four sides has a quote carved into the stone. Here are two:

“Ten thousand honours and blessings on the bard who has gilded the dull realities of life with innocent illusions.” Washington Irving

“Honest water which ne’er left man in the mire.” Timon of Athens

The other two were a bit cumbersome.

The town itself is adorable. Look, even the mail boxes seem cheerful.

I had fish and chips (for the first time!) in the Garrick Inn, which claims to be the oldest pub or at least the oldest local pub.

I am not sure why the American flag made an appearance, but I am fine with it!

I made my way to the Avon, which is just a bastardization of “river” or “stream” or “water” or something in another language, so there are actually several Avons in England that are separate and unrelated. Don’t get confused. There are also several Stratfords.

This is the Avon. After an excellent boat tour of not drowning I visited Holy Trinity, which is where William Shakespeare was baptized and (much later) buried. The church wasn’t agog to host his mortal remains; he paid to have them housed here.

Past the lady in the yellow is an alcove with several tombs, including Shakespeare’s and his wife, Anne’s.

Here is a close up of that wooden carving on the bottom left.

Just your common, everyday CURSE on a tomb. That’s our guy.

Down the street is the Royal Shakespeare Company Theater. They were playing Lear and Cymbeline.

Throughout the town there are many references to our bard, including short quotes on the sidewalk. I found this one to be particularly relevant.

I think this is from All’s Well that Ends Well.

Here is a bench.

Because you can’t have just a regular bench! Side note, there WERE a lot of benches here which I really, really appreciate in a town. Probably because my fellow tourists were mostly old people (my people).

This house is where WS spent his formative years. I have seen only fancy buildings–palaces and castles–from this era, so I didn’t know what to expect.

Maybe it’s just because I spent MY formative years in a trailer, but this place looks friggin nice. Look, it has TWO stories. I mean really! I guess I had imagined more of a thatched roofed shack!

Near his childhood home is the Jester.

Four quotes–

“O noble fool! A worthy fool!” As You Like It

“The fool doth think he is wise. But the wise man knows himself to be a fool.” As You Like It

“Alas! Poor Yorick. I knew him, Horatio: A fellow of infinite jest.” Hamlet

“Foolery, Sir, does walk about the orb like the sun: it shines everywhere.” Twelfth Night

As I waited at the cutest train station in the world (observe)

I found myself feeling almost nostalgic, though what for was unclear until I realized I missed the Oregon Shakespeare Festival in Ashland, and that the black and white buildings, the brickwork, and the names in Stratford-upon-Avon are imitated in Ashland. I was missing the copy when I was in the original.

I am reading All the Light We Cannot See and The Night Manager (things are finally starting to maybe happen in The Night Manager)

More famous things

I spent some time at the Churchill War Rooms, which are near Westminster. They are all underground, and a Churchill museum is in the center. As you wind your way through the narrow, airless hallways, you see not only what it was like to have to exist in a constant state of anxiety, but also what it must have been like working with Churchill himself, who put up signs like this:

There will BE no WHISTLING. I SAY.

And keep the typing noise down!

That’s right, a noiseless typewriter.

All the clocks are at two to five (16:58), which is two minutes before the daily meeting.

The offices and work rooms and bedrooms looked a bit like jail cells with doilies.

It was hard to stay in one area without getting claustrophobic. Once in the museum part, though, it opened up a lot and I discovered that Churchill was an honorary American.

and the recipient of many, many medals and awards

including this old thing, just the Nobel Prize for literature. NBD.

Churchill was a prolific writer, beginning with war reports to newspapers and ending with nonfiction novels describing everything from WWII to the joy of painting. He was always busy with something.

Here’s his pistola.

Here’s part of his underground map room.

That’s about all I could digest from this guy.

I can’t decide if his expression is bemused or really, really angry.

Time for tea!

Today, after taking care of this tea train, I went to the British Museum. This place is massive and holds far too much art. That’s right. Too much. I think they should consider toning it down. It’s not a competition.

Here are some highlights.

Venus, my ruling goddess and general badass.

The most famous chess set in the WORLD (Lewis Chessmen)

A docent was giving a talk about them but I couldn’t hear anything she said because other people were talking and laughing and carrying on. Story of my academic life. Anyway, Harry Potter fans should recognize them.

I recognized this cat from an exhibit I saw many years ago at the Legion of Honor in SF. I don’t think it’s the same cat, but maybe related?

I have rarely seen a feline this pissed off, and I have seen some angry friggin cats in my life.

Here are some delightful weapons should you ever come across a cat with such ferocity.

and some VIKING weaponry

And some pretty violent looking what I can only assume are hair pins.

Here is a famous thing you might have heard of

Yep, it’s the Rosetta Stone. What, you can’t read the hieroglyphics?

Here ya go then

It’s been awhile since I have been able to find the Weirdest Jesus in a museum, but the British Museum does not disappoint. Look here.

This is a 4th-century mosaic of Mr. Christ, one of the first known images of Him. But to me he looks pretty modern, like someone I’d meet at an SF party who says Haiiiiiiii Girrrrrrrllll.

Guarding this masterpiece is the sphinx gate from the Neverending Story

Atreyu would’t quit now.

Three more pictures of the inexplicable.

A demon on a horse hanging from the ceiling looking like you owe him five quid.

A fight that cost an arm and a leg

and a head

And finally finding the best thing at a museum–a free bench!

I am reading All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr and The Night Manager by le Carré.

Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but this is not as easy as it looks, so I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t distract me

That’s right Princess Bride fans, though I suffered a night of nearly no sleep, today I visited the Cliffs of Moher, aka Cliffs of Insanity. And they were indeed insane, though a nearby cow could not be bothered.

Moooove along the path for this crazy view.

Look out across the ocean while you’re at it. If you travel out to sea, the next stop is Boston.

Before this sight greeted me, though, I had quite a bus ride from Dublin.

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It was already scheduled to be a 3.5 hour drive (one way), made longer by the dogged efforts of a young man to secure a promise of drinks from me (doomed to fail). Made longer still by the fact that the bus left four of the passengers at the midway pit stop (Barack Obama Plaza of all places) and the guide didn’t realize it until 40 minutes later. We had to double back. This extra time was used by my seat mate to innumerate his qualities and re-articulate his case, press against me, and deliver the “I can tell you have a beautiful heart” line that must be on page one of the International Book of What to Say to American Women When the Situation Goes a Bit South brochure for all the times I’ve heard it on this trip. He watched me start to eat a sandwich and it was uncomfortable even for the tomato. I had to stash the food away and starve. He said he could read my palm and I had to lie and say that stuff isn’t real because I knew if he took my hand I would have to stab myself in the nostrils. He said he had no money but money isn’t everything. I am not sure how he intended on buying drinks but did not point out this logistical flaw because clearly he couldn’t understand simple no thankses, no matter how many times or how many differing inflections they were delivered. If they hadn’t already been dubbed the Cliffs of Insanity, they would have been after that bus to crazy town.

No means no, people.

There is a tower overlooking one of the cliff edges. I didn’t go in but a lot of kids were running around like it was a big deal. I did consider hiding in there but didn’t want to be trapped yet again by this force-dater.

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Another tourist and I got to talking and she said that about eight people per year slip over the edge because they took a misstep while posing for a selfie.

This picture could have been a KILLER. Crazy town danger zone, today was. My determined seat mate continued his monologue on the return ride until I put in ear buds, pulled up my hood, and crossed my arms over my chest. He promptly fell asleep with his arms and legs all akimbo in my space. Convenient. Let’s just say my disembarkation from this bus was swift and spirited.

Tomorrow: hiding from the world.

Guess whose bedroom I found myself in today

Hint: It is on Baker Street.

The Sherlock Holmes museum can be found at the expected address. The gift shop was swarmed with people so much so that it was impossible to find the end of the queue to buy anything. Browsing was out of the question, but I wasn’t much interested in knickknacks. The museum is just the house on Baker Street, which in my mind is larger than life but in reality is so tiny this sentence wouldn’t fit there. Also, the ventilation wasn’t stellar, so I was fanning myself the whole time.

Here is SH’s bedroom.

The living area looks like this–total chaos. Every surface was covered.

But the essentials were there.

There was also Watson’s bedroom (slightly more organized) and Mrs. Hudson’s room (immaculate). Also in the house were various stagings of scenes from the stories.

This is apparently Mr. Charles Augustus Milverton & Lady Blackwell. I don’t remember this story but it’s been said that I’ve forgotten more in one day than some people learn in a lifetime.

I never found the WC except for a tiny toilet and sink on the 3rd floor. Where did SH shower?

That’s the real mystery, folks.

Here is photographic evidence of how hot and tiny the stairway is.

Down the street past Pizza Hut and around the corner is the SH statue.

Now I can say I’ve stood in his shadow.

Not bad for a Wednesday.

Walking around and looking around: London

I walked a little farther today and made it to the Tate Modern Museum, which is massive and full of strange and fascinating exhibits. On of the first things to catch my eye was this radio tower.

Many of the units were functioning and broadcasting talk radio. I have watched six episodes of Dr. Who, so I can say that from a distance this sculpture has a Dr Who-ish feel to it.

I also saw this gem which reminds of the quilts HK creates. I think this would be an excellent quilt, don’t you?

Also in the weird lines hall was this mind bender.

If that doesn’t cross your eyes, I don’t know what will. There should be a fainting couch next to it.

This one appealed to the darkness in my soul.

It’s what I imagine my own matrix code looks a little like.

No trip to a European museum would be complete with out a few water lilies, right? This one is so big I couldn’t get it in a single frame.

And I came across a sweet reminder from the Guerrilla Girls about women in art.

In case you are blind like me:

The Advantages of Being a Woman Artist:

Working without the pressure of success
Not having to be in shows with men
Having an escape from the art world in your 4 free-lance jobs
Knowing your career might pick up after you’re eighty
Being reassured that whatever kind of art you make it will be labeled feminine
Not being stuck in a tenured teaching position
Seeing your ideas live on in the work of others
Having the opportunity to choose between career and motherhood
Not having to choke on those big cigars or paint in Italian suits
Having more time to work after your mate dumps you for someone younger
Being included in revised versions of art history
Not having to undergo the embarrassment of being called a genius
Getting your picture in the art magazines wearing a gorilla suit.

After that wingdinger I came across the Gerhard Richter room. I knew it was his work before I read the sign. He is an artist I check in on occasionally to see if he has any exhibitions nearby. The Tate Modern has SIX of his paintings. They did not have my very favorite one (a pink and brown and black affair), but these were wonderful to see in the flesh. Here they are in order of favorite to most favorite.

These are obviously examples of abstract art. Richter would paint, then paint over the paint, then squeegee over the paint and allow the earlier paint to show through the top paint. In some places the paint is very thick, and in some it is very fine and delicate. I don’t know why I like these so much; usually abstract art is difficult for me. These though speak to and I hope someday to see the pink and brown and black one (pretty sure that’s the official name).

After this lucky find I was ready for some street food. I had some fried chicken and chips with mayo and the tiniest amount of ketchup imaginable.

I walked by the Globe–Shakespeare’s Globe–and had to keep walking. It was too overwhelming.

I went to Starbucks to dust my nuts and talk myself through getting in there.

No tickets available for any immediate showings of Macbeth or Midsummer, but the box office artist advised me to wait in the standby queue prior to the play to buy the no-show tickets. This is now the plan.

The Uber driver who helped me not have to walk back to KB’s asked me about Trump. We both sighed.

I am reading Cleopatra; The Night Manager; and Scarlet, by Marissa Meyer.

London

Dad, at press time, is en route to Manton and I am here in London with KB. Today we drove to a winery outside of London, where I discovered a) London is ridiculously huge and b) you don’t have to travel to Bordeaux for good wine.

It’s been sunny and beautiful since my arrival yesterday, though rain is in the forecast. Being among humans–first Dad and now KB&Co.–makes for a very different experience than traveling solo. For one thing I have to warm up my voice before talking to someone less.

I am within walking distance of many thing to see and eat, so that is the plan for the immediate future. They speak a kind of English here, so I think I will be able to get by. Pinterest has as ever been helpful with tips and suggestions, and of course the locals I’m staying with know all the things. KB has to work tomorrow like a normal person leaving me at liberty to do my walking around and looking around.

I am reading The Night Manager by John Le Carré and Cleopatra by Stacy Schiff.

The Prince of Denmark

Today in the scorching 17 degree C heat we decided to visit Kronborg Castle, aka Elsinore (Helsigno-with-line-through-it-r in Danske). To do so we had to take the Metro to the train to Helsignor. This proved to be a challenge in that both the metro and the train stop at Norreport, but there is no direct connection–we had to come to the surface and then descend different stairs to switch means of transport. This was irritating and confusing and ROTTEN.

Once we were on the train though I was able to turn the rage down enough to be excited about seeing the setting of Hamlet. In the “summertime,” July and August, there are events at Kronborg, including Hamlet Live, wherein you encounter short scenes from the play as you explore the castle and its grounds.

We knew we had the right place when the train station had this posted.

We stopped at Dad’s favorite restaurant in Denmark, the 7 Eleven, for snacks.

The train station itself was beautiful.

But the real stunner was outside the station.

Bingo!

We crossed two moats to get to the castle.

And the second one…

This is about the time I gave dad a Hamlet refresher (he couldn’t remember if he’d seen it on Wishbone or not), so he was prepared when we saw the scene in the chapel.

That’s Hamlet sneaking up on his uncle, who is kneeling at the altar.

The scenes were brief and spaced out, so we had some time to explore the castle. We arrived as one procession of the scenes was over half way through, so everything was all out of order. Dad said it didn’t matter to him, and it didn’t matter to me either.

The Hamlet-Laertes fencing match was impressive. I can say this sagely because of the five fencing lessons I took from a Groupon Deal (left-handed fencing gloves are hard to find, by the way).

And Polonius’ murder was dramatical enough to scare children (always a pleasant experience for me). I took a professional iphone video of this crime, but free versions of wordpress do not allow video uploads. See instagram for films.

Here is our prince hiding from Polonius, who keeps asking him annoying questions, like What are you reading? and Do you know who I am? Like a madman or something.

The courtyard looks like this, surrounded on all four sides by the castle.

We also ventured down into some sort of tunnel and saw King Hamlet’s Ghost, which was a fairly convincing hologram. I am not saying I’d go kill my uncle, but I’m saying if this ghost told me to, I’d consider it.

Probably my favorite scene was one we stumbled across accidentally as we were leaving. Hamlet, too, came across the grave digger, who spoke some nonsense and then ran away. Hamlet was on the receiving end of crazytalk for once. Look at his expression.

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That’s the grave digger running away on the right.

At times it was a bit campy, but it was necessary to inject more humor than a straight reading would allow. All the actors were great at this. The castle was impressive and the scenes were very well done.

Who could *not* get in the spirit in a place like this?

And it didn’t even start to do that crazy, float up and under your umbrella mist rain in your face until we were on our way back to the hotel, which I thought was decent of the weather to do.

We ate in a little place on Nyhavn, which in case you’ve forgotten looks like this.

Quaint as ever.

Dad is heading back to the USA tomorrow on a scandalously early 6am flight. I am heading to London to see KB at a decent hour (flight is at noon).

Travels with Dad has been different, but I think we’ve been successful. Dad said today that he thinks 2 weeks is his European limit. I am not sure what my limit is, but I’m not quite there yet.

Check back tomorrow.

Riga to Copenhagen

There and back again. We left our hotel in Riga at 8am before dad had finished his first of his usual 4 coffees, so we were both a wreck. We stood in the Every Airline Except Baltic Airline check in line, only to be told this is the Oh And Except Finn Airline Line as well. So we stood in the Finn Airline Line. Then we were told we got bumped from the Finn Air flight and will take Air Baltic. So we stood in the Air Baltic line. By this time I needed to go stand in the WC line as well. After that we stood in the security line. As we neared the front of the security line, dad realized he still had Lil Bro’s loan pocket knife on him, so we had to go stand in the Air Baltic check in line again and check dad’s carry on. We almost drowned in the sweat pouring off dad as he realized he had a knife in his pocket, but we somehow survived to stand in the security line again and were still in time to go stand in the booze line where we felt right at home.

Back in Copenhagen we hopped on the now familiar train to the central station and took a taxi to our hotel. I took a nap and dad had a sandwich by the canal. For dinner we had 5 types of herring and other less interesting things.

Dad’s favorite was the maroon and my favorite was the purple.

We ate along the Nyhavn Canal under heat lamps and jackets. Another beautiful summer day.

Nyhavn is still adorable. Observe.

I found watermelon ice cream on the walk home, so that happened.

We can see the groovy spiral acid flashback church from a distance near our hotel.

Tomorrow is Dad’s last full day abroad so we are going to fulfill his lifelong dream of going to HAMLET’S CASTLE!!!!!!!!!! YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

You me and the KGB

I didn’t sleep well last night and had to drag myself to the KGB corner house with dad. We walked by way of Alberta Street, famous for building after building in the art nuevo style.

The buildings were ornately designed, some with statues as columns, some with sphinx gargoyles.

Once we got to the KGB house, a free exhibition, the pictures, documents, and informational texts didn’t do much to invigorate me. Latvia was occupied by the soviets, then the nazis, then the soviets again, and if I understood the postings correctly, the nazi occupation was a relief from the soviets.

Let that sink in.

Bars on the windows, uneven footing, narrow doorways, a small courtyard, and a turret for the execution room. No thank you.

I’d never considered WWII from a Baltic perspective before. I am not sure I could have handled it anyway back when I was first learning about all this violence for the first time.

Out and around the corner is St. Gertrude’s, and we stepped in to for some sanity.

St. Gertrude is the patron saint of travellers.

The skies promised rain, but we were able to take some pictures.

Dad has the double glasses look down.

We also stopped by a fancy bakery, meaning I went to a fancy bakery and dad waited outside.

Dad doesn’t do foo-foo, which is too bad because I had an excellent apricot cheesecake something or other.

We walked down to old town for the last time and did a farewell tour of our restaurants and shops and parks. It started sprinkling on our walk back to the hotel, and by they time we tucked ourselves in for a nap, it was raining. It is still raining now, a beautiful Baltic summer night.

Total miles walked: 4.87.

Tomorrow we fly back to Copenhagen. Dad flies home from there on Saturday. I will go see KB in London.

Category: Foodstuff