Where's Julia...where's [can't say]...and Two Ignoble Kinsmen

Today was the last day.  Period.  Right after breakfast tomorrow taxis arrive, we load up, get on the express back to Heathrow and try to survive the 7 hour flight back to Newark.

But today we were in London.  Still. 

First world problem, this morning's version: we were out of coffee in the flat.  For those of you who forget (this was a rift many Bob and Bing trips ago), "Bing" has no personality without coffee.  So I walked to the Starbucks and got 2 vientes and my decaf (because I have no personality).   BTW, here in London I ordered "dark roast" and they all looked at each other and one shook her head no.  "You can get an expresso."  So, I got 2 vientes made from expresso.  M had some personality this morning, but we missed it.

K came with the students on our morning adventure.  Step one was a bus ride "across town" (more accurately, across some of the center part of town) to Kensington Park Gardens.

We are ostensibly supposed to be here to see the places from some books we read this spring semester in my upper level lit class and this one was set here -- in one of those row houses facing the private garden.  In fact the author,  Alan Hollingsworth, has said he was inspired to write the book based on walking by here and wondering what went on inside.  I think this is cool -- that location is such a feature of the creative part and the texture of the novel.

Then we walked to Portobello Road (I was working on a mushroom joke for the title and didn't get there).  Portobello is one of those "markets" like so many others where people set up stands daily and close the street for pedestrians.  They have more kitsch than Branson.  Okay, maybe not more. 

We shopped.  Ian wrote his mother a text about fondling too much stuff; she actually did
fairly well.  "We" bought EH a "cute dress" for cash (this is where the "we" part comes in :)) and some other souvenirs.  I didn't buy it, but I sure feel like I could use this kitschy poster/sign:

Oh, yeah.  I turned the students the wrong way down Portobello Road.  I said Notting Hill Gate station was to the left when it was to the right.  I corrected it with them before leaving the scene, but still...can't effin' read Google maps!  ):

One feature of Portobello Road is that it serves as the setting for the movie Notting Hill, which I actually watched on the plane over to get ready for London (it's a very London movie).  Floppsy, played by Hugh Grant in one of his more charming roles as a young man, owns a travel book store there, which Julia Roberts drops into as she's in London on a movie promo tour.   Here's the store today --

You'll notice it doesn't sell travel books anymore.

And you don't see Julia Roberts going in and out.  I tried.

Then we sat down and had a light gnosh.  At a Pain Quotidien, which is an American chain, or there are stores in New York, anyway, but still.  Here's your brunch nuts & twiggy food porn --

Okay, only the bread and the yogurt with granola is nuts and twiggy, but they were organic eggs.  Right?

Then we went to Oxford Circus, where we entered multiple shops and spent money like American tourists with money.  Some of that is true.

Somehow we ended up in Selfridges, which reminds me a lot of Macy's home store at Herald Square New York. 

I ended up in their foodhall.  Sat in the corner and ordered this --

Afternoon tea.  Sans all the cakes and sandwiches.  This was English Breakfast tea -- which is often described as "light."

Home to rest and pack.  Dinner out at Nando's (see night 1) with Bing and one of the Dorothys.  Peri peri chicken.  Heartburn.

To the play.

Again, a discussion of how to get there.  Google maps and I agreed the best/fastest way while M said he "always goes the other way" -- which is to say what we did last Wednesday (there were pictures of my students on the Milennial Bridge, which we didn't cross today).  Well, I didn't know which exit to come out of from the station and so we wondered around the train station.  It seemed like a long walk.  K wasn't happy, having walked almost 20,000 steps today (it's not true that 10,000 were in Selfridges). 

And then there was the play.  We went because it's kind of a bucket list thing to see every Shakespeare play and this was Two Noble Kinsmen, which has only been produced two times in the last xxx. 

There's a reason it is rarely produced.  Here's your Wiki-summary: it's late Shakespeare, in fact, it's not all Willy, parts are by John Fletcher -- and you felt like you could tell.  It's also a "problem romance," hence, the subplot has a young woman in love with one of the "heroes," yet she doesn't know that the next guy on stage isn't him (despite being cast as blonde where Palamon was dark).  In the end, the young woman with the mental problem is married off.  And the two heroes fight over Emilia, only to have Palamon die.  Of course, being good...whatevers...the other guy goes ahead and marries Emilia, who, of course, doesn't give a flying fig which of the two guys she's never actually talked to that she's married.  All this weirdness is made worse -- did I mention Palamon and his cousin Arcite fall in love with her at first sight -- by the fact the actor playing Emilia was flatter than my home state of Indiana.  She even had a song in act two and it was deader than disco. 

So.  I've seen it.  We've seen it.  We don't want to see it again.  Controversy reigns over whether it was better or worse than Monday night's King Lear.   But Lear was supposed to be a tragedy and was.

And that is our last day.  Sobs.  Tears. 

So, gentle reader, I leave you again for awhile.  But we'll be back.  There are more trips to make, more food to eat, more songs NOT to be sung...so adieu.

Oh, and BTW, here is the public access to my students' blogs for the trip.  I have to work on the pictures, but here is the link: HERE.

It's BRIT-on, dammit!

Yes, readers, today was the trip to Brighton.

We went to Brighton because one of the books from the spring class, a stated favorite of a couple students on the trip, was set in Brighton in 1940.   (Unexploded  by Alison MacLeod) The book gives you a real feel for the town and the tension of being on the French side of the country, just across the water, as Hitler threatened an invasion.

The trip began with me forgetting my Tube pass and we missed multiple busses to Victoria Station as I sent a student back to my flat for it and a jacket, which another student wore all day.  Sigh.

Then off to Brighton.

We walked over to The Level, a park that is a prominent feature of the book.  This took some doing, as I wanted to go east, but coming out of the train station's front, there was no road east (you could see south down the hill to the sea) and eventually ended up going back through the station, out to the car park, and down a set of stairs.

The Level had a huge children's play area.   There are silly pictures, including one (I don't have) of me sitting on a wooden sheep, looking happy.  What a thing!

The couple in Unexploded  live on Park Crescent and we walked by there.  The houses are there as described -- a series of row houses backing onto the park.  I'm not sure any of the students got a big bang out of this, though one said "I didn't imagine them being houses like this -- I thought they had yards" -- Evelyn, in the book, has the keys to several neighbors' houses as they have evacuated.

Then we walked to the pier.  Here's photo op 1:

The Brighton Pier is, as EH says, the Asbury Park of England.  Turns out my students didn't know what Asbury Park is (EH found out later), so...

But there were booths with ice cream, with donuts, with hot dogs, and then there are arcades (like the building behind us in the photo), and rides (there was screaming, of course, from the roller coaster) and something of a crowd.

Maybe the highlight of the day

If you wonder why I have a picture of a seagull eating something, let me show you phase 1

Morgan and I got ice cream at a stand at the front of the pier and began walking.  Moments later Morgan gave a yelp and THAT seagull had swooped in and snatched the cone from her hand and it was gone!!!  The photo was a quickly as I could get my phone out for the pic -- it chomped down the cone in like three bites -- like it was its job!!!  LOL.  Morgan was non-plussed, to say the least.  But ice cream!

I tried to get a good photo from the end of the pier, back towards town.

I am aware I didn't succeed.

BTW, the beach at Brighton is pebbles.  Students found this weird.  They live a sheltered life. :)

You can also see it wasn't exactly a sunny beach day.  It may have been 70.  No one was in the water.

Hannah had wanted us to have high tea; K suggested doing that in Brighton (no one had had lunch).  I found a place up the coast three blocks from the pier, and we had theirs.

The Old Ship Hotel not only advertised their afternoon tea, they supplied a "do's and don'ts" of the tea experience.  Several of them were violated (OC), including the ones about "not setting things other than the tea service on the table (like phones)" and "don't talk about your like or dislike of the foods, that's why there is choice at tea".  Here's the money shot:

Our host, Toby, was very nice and took good care of us.  There was a discussion of whether to start at the top (the sweets) or the bottom (the savories).  Highlights: the top maringue thing is a passion fruit curd with whipped cream and marzipan on top; one of the bottom sandwiches was chicken curry. 

And then to London for dinner.  I'm not kidding.

I won't regale you with the adventure of getting to the train station -- 3 taxis, none in sequence or close to each other in time -- etc.  Par for the course.  Six of us were on the train back.

I met EH & K and Katie and Julie (from the 2015 trip) in Covent Garden at Jamie's Italian (Jamie Oliver restaurant).   The prix fixe for two courses was £12.95.  It was Italian, of course. 

This is my favorite meal in London on this trip, though I know it's not the best meal (probably Dishoom next door to this restaurant on Sunday was the best), it was my favorite.  I love Italian food (not a surprise to readers of this blog).   I got good shots of the apps -- this is the crunchy squid EH had as prelim --

The bruschetta

I got group photos for the main course, starting with the youngsters

That's my bolognese, which was excellent (fresh pasta!  yum!) and Meg's...yes...
And now the 'rents...

The Carbonara queens.  :)

And the desserts

That's my lemon sorbet, two had the chocolate brownie, Meg had the berry parfait. 

And that's another day in London.  One more full day...

Sob.

More food porn, and a tragedy of a play

Oh faithful reader.  Today's entry will start with food porn and end with tragedy.

I booked a table at Jamie Oliver's Fifteen, where we have eaten multiple times before.  It was both a quality eating experience AND a recurring theme/tradition.

Getting around in London is a matter of much discussion -- maybe more with newbies than with locals.  We discussed how to get there and how to get back -- we needed to be back "for 2" (as they say here) when the coach was to be at the students' flat to take us to Stratford.  We ended up on the bus across town, which did nicely through traffic and we were there a few minutes before noon.  We were the only customers then...some trickled in as we ate.

Here's an appetizer picture; it was harissa lamb croquettes. 

I am going to claim "most interesting entree" with this -- a double portion of their crispy pork cheek starter.

That's tomato romalade on the left...the pork cheek was like the croquette -- hard and crunchy on hte outside, almost creamy on the inside with just a soupcon of meat.  Yum.

The funniest bit of conversation may have been when I asked Barb and K how the pork chops were (they both ordered them) and M said "good."  I wondered about the vicarious nature of this, but maybe he just had food envy as he ordered the cod, the Rodney Dangerfield of fish, and wasn't thrilled with it. 

There was discussion about whether we need ever to return there...it was good, but there were complaints -- EH thought his food overhyped.  She had the onglet...the Rodney Dangerfield of steaks.

From there, to the coach and to Stratford-upon-Avon, an almost 2-drive (not quite the 2-hour tour of Gilligan, but still).  The driver was named Antony and he was Irish and entertaining.  He did a fake spit on the floor over English football, the same for a whole series of things, and had opinions that are NSFW about the city of Brighton (tomorrow's destination for the students). 

In Stratford we went for "coffee," which looked like this.

Then for a walk, the highlight of which was a charity that saved owls.  K took pictures of several (all?) and petted one -- that was part of the thing.  She didn't get the label that went with it -- they were all named --

Did I say that you could pet their chests? 

Eventually we made it into the play.

The new Royal Shakespeare Company theatre, Stratford-upon-Avon, from the "back" side

Let me just put it out there: I had no choice about the "seats".  By the time I booked in late February or early March (isn't that early enough?!?!??!), these were the best they had.  The price wasn't cheap.  But we sat on a plank, knees up, with a small place to set your feet, but no leg room at all.  Barb and some students ended up standing for the second act instead of trying to sit.

The play, King Lear, was a bit of a disappointment.  The students like it enough -- half or more had studied Lear  in Shakespeare class -- but they hadn't seen it before.  M, B & I have, multiple times, including a good production at the Globe with Julian Glover (of Bond villain fame) as Lear.

The biggest WTF of the show, which even novice readers of this blog may recognize, is that instead of that tragic end scene with Lear carrying in Cordelia's body, weeping and saying "if a horse, a dog, a rat have life, why not she?" they decided (we can speculate why) to wheel him in, half sitting, with Cordelia on his lap -- two unknowns pushed the cart onto the stage.  Not the same effect at all.  It's a famous play and a famous role with it being tricky to cast as the Lear has to be old enough to seem old and feeble and on the verge of dementia, but strong enough to carry Cordelia.  Likewise, as M pointed out later, Cordelia is always cast for a small woman.  Based on today's news back home, imagine Roseanne Barr as Cordelia and who you'd have to be...well, you figure out what the guy would have to be like to do that.

The stage before the production of Lear (they pulled this sheet off it midway through)

So, back on the coach and back to London.  Rather late.

Running short on days.  But tomorrow...a big adventure!!!

But wait! "Goodbye"? & Another dangerous ride

Today, gentle reader, was a travel day, of sorts, as we left Antwerp & returned to our home base in London.  There was some mumbling about looking forward to our nice flat in London -- with spare bedrooms, two sofas in a living room, and less hazardous (if not fewer) steps.

But first the first part of today's title.  On our to-do list for Antwerp was to ride the ferris wheel that is at the north end of the train station, right next to the zoo.  (FYI the one tripadvisor review of the zoo said it was the third best zoo in Belgian.  High praise indeed).

I've never been a fan of such things -- for instance, I've never been up in the London Eye -- but last year in Budapest there was one in the park next to our hotel.  So EH and I went up to see the city.  And now it's a "thing"...

€We discussed longer than may be healthy the taxi ride to the train station.  It cost us 20€ to get to the hotel on Friday, but the driver whipped right to the zoo side today for 10€!  We decided we were on platform 24 (this will be meaningful later) -- a 10€ ride away. :)

Michael said he didn't want to go but would watch our luggage in a seat in the square below it.

Funny moment of the day: it began sprinkling as we stood in line and we watched M, as he said, Jerry Lewis in the Bellhop style, carry six bags to the overhang of the front of the station.

Then we got on the gondola and the voice came on in several languages, finally in English it said "keep your hands inside the car and goodbye."

"Goodbye!"  Not what you want the company telling you as you take off on a ferris wheel ride.  Goodbye?  Not good form in their English.

The train station is one of the top five sights in the city and we got some good shots of its top -- here's my best one

Of course the zoo was right below, but the rain ruined any other pictures.  There's supposed to be one of the beautiful orange/pink flamingos in the pond just below (the reviewer said one of the highlights of Belgian's third best zoo), but the rain on the window is focused.

We walked into the train station and looked at the board.  It was 1140.  B went to the bathroom, as we studied -- there was an 1148 on platform 6, and a 1215 on platform 21.  "We can't make the 1148" someone said and M was yelling at B to hurry back, "we're going"...the escalator to 6 was just inside and, yes, we made it easily.

A pro might not have taken the 1148 -- it was the "S train" -- S it seems for slow.  It stopped every five minutes...almost literally.  We were amused by families getting on and off, one father and son with their bikes.  We stopped at places (almost all the places) we didn't know -- including Duffel, which might be wear the bag was invented.  Or not.

We found the lockers in the Brussels station far easier than Friday's adventure.  We then wondered out of the station the opposite way from how we went on Friday.  There was a large street market that we walked through.  Not much of it was different than other such markets all over the world -- you know 2€ tee shirts, shoes you wonder how they'd feel, flippers, cosmetics, toiletries, some street food (it seemed to be Middle Eastern oriented, so there were several gyro or deli type stands).

Then back to the station, where we came across a Haagen-Daz stand.  Here's my lunch --

BTW this rather violates my rule about ice cream for lunch while on vacation -- you can tell it is NOT ice cream.  Even if it's from Haagen Daz.  It's lemon and raspberry sorbet.  They were both excellent -- the one very tart, the other that kind of berry sweet.

We bought chocolates in a Belgian Chocolate House and then sat and waited for our 355 train.

Our wait included the following convo:  "I am going to have to take a 5€ note home"...to which I say "My son is famous for saying he wipes his ass on $5 bills."  I repeated it about 5€ notes. :)

We got through passport control and security easily and we got a snack.  M wanted to know if I was snacking my way through the trip.  I said yes.  Duh.

But I got a drink that was different, an "infused green tea."  When asked how it was, I said it was "like sex in a canoe."  M didn't know that one.  (if you don't know the punch line, it's "fucking close to water")

The ride to London was not like the one from Antwerp -- it went quickly.  If the intermittent WiFi was better, I would have gotten more work done.  Bummer.

Back to London.   EH, K and I had on our to-do list dinner at Dishoom, or even lunch, and tonight was our only real opportunity, for sure, to go.

So, after discussion with B&M, we headed to Covent Garden, where they went to some other restaurant, while we stood in line 50 minutes in line to get into Dishoom (the line is maybe an indicator of the quality of the place).

Here's the quicky picture of our dinner

On the left is their Black Daal -- which is made with lentils and rather sweet and only a little spicy.  On the front right is their Ruby Chicken, our favorite dish (the picture of our early 2016 lunch includes both of these).  This is the best curry I have ever eaten.  It starts out sweet and then moves to some heat at the back of the tongue.  Upper right are the lamb kebabs.

For prelims, we had these great lamb samosas and those are my bollybellini and K's monsoon martini (made with a lot of coffee)

This might well be the best meal we have.  Everything was excellent. 

During the 50 minute wait, I went for a Starbucks -- the one around the corner was a Starbucks "Reserve" which meant the barista was at the end of a center bar that contains all the items we usually see in a case next to the cash register.  I told K and EH this and K didn't hear "reserve" and kept saying she wanted to see the place.  EH and I didn't get it till she actually said "we can get dessert there."  ???  She heard "dessert" not "reserve" :)

We ate at Covent Garden because the cinema there was showing Solo: A Star Wars whatever...In the end, we went for the theatre right on Leicester Square (famed for its movie premiers here in London...none of the A-listers were there tonight).  It turned out the 9 o'clock show was in 4DX.

If you've never had the 4DX experience, let me just say, you are probably best off.  First, you get the nerdy 3D glasses.  Then you get a big chair that has a foot rest (that you put your feet on sole down, not feet up) and a button that says "Water on/Water off."  WTF??!!?!?  

And then it began!  The chair rumbled, tilted left and right, and, yes, the feet popped up and down.  Oh, did I forget to say there was a lengthy warning, the first part of which said "Steve, you shouldn't be doing this" (heart condition, back conditions, high BP...etc, etc) . 

Then the preview of the format before the movie came up -- a wild car chase -- and you found out that when the car went through a water puddle, you got a spray of water from in front of you; when a bullet whizzed by, you got a puff of air from over your right shoulder into your ear; there was a moment when something rubbed the back of your calves AND, finally, EH's favorite --  flash of light (the first one was on the Lucas Film logo) was a blinding thing.  We were not fans.  And I paid A LOT extra (I wanted to see the movie).  And the theatre was Full!!!!

As to the movie, I liked it.  Quite a bit.  But I get that a) superfans will hate it because it doesn't fit this way or that into the Star Wars story, b) EH afterwards walked me through a bunch of plot weaknesses, not all of which I cared about.  The romantic story worked well enough for me, though it set up for a sequel which I'm not sure I want to see.  

So, all in all, it was a pretty good day.  Let me finish with this bummer: B wasn't feeling well all day.  So they missed the movie (and the rollercoaster of a ride that it was). 

Tomorrow,  Jamie Oliver's Fifteen, then Stratford for King Lear.  Back late, but maybe a post in the middle of the American night (like this one).  Bon jour! 

Antwerp, Anvers, Antwerpen...where the F are we, or the home of some kinda naked

We had a really good day here in Belgium, manifold readers, and I'll try to recapture some of it.

After being up late (for old people -- the bar two doors down was up till after 3 doing what one does in a bar till 3, loudly), we slept in and got a "late" start.

The place around the corner, Sil'eau (you figure it out), is a breakfast and lunch place with good reviews on Yelp. Which is to say, who knows? But it turned out be pretty good.

But first, the title of today's bit: there was a discussion of Thursday's post (on Kambridge) & the geezer of the group wondered what NSFW meant.  The kid of the group explained, with the definition "you expect to open and get some kinda naked."  ROFL ensued.  How much naked is some kind?  It was decided that we were going to Rubenshaus where we expected to see quite a bit of "some kinda of naked."  :)

We start food porn today with this: Sil'eau's version of a latte --

And this was Meg's "extra" -- egg on toast with greens and avocado --

Then off to the city.  Our driver took us a circuituous route -- we decided its a center of a tourist city thing, maybe it's legit, maybe it's not -- and dropped us out front of the Rubens museum.

Rubens designed the building for the museum.  It has gold leather wallpaper on the walls and hand painted tiles on the walls in the kitchen looking space and around two fireplaces.  Yes, back in circa 1610 he was doing that (he was the most successful painter of his time, ICYMI). 

I'll drop a couple picks in that I took just to get a feel -- the collection has other local masters, including his friend Van Dyck, too -- of the place.  It's a great collection for an 8€. 

This is the best and most famous self portrait.

 This is Moses leaving Egypt -- with his Egyptian wife. !!! 

The garden.

There was a painting of the cathedral, so we decided to go there next.

It is a RC cathedral (Belgium is a Catholic country, unlike The Netherlands, from which this part separated in 1830). 

It has more paintings, and less statuary than we are used to seeing -- including a host of Rubens's.
Here's the most famous (sorry about the sunlight on it -- it was a hot sunny day).

Then we walked around a bit, visiting the Grand Platz nearby, which is a bit grander than the cathedral -- I can't find that picture (this will be a recurring theme here)...

But EH and I noticed the mashup of languages -- even the signs outside the restaurants wouldn't agree on what to call mussels -- moules, mosselen, or mousselen...and we weren't even trying to find things.  I think the local beer is oddly named: Trippel d'Anvers.  Anvers is the French name of the city...trippel is...Dutch/?  Of German language group descent.

On the later tour, the group was going in Flemish, yet most of them were from The Netherlands; one of my new friends told me that it was like a dialect of Dutch, with only a few words different. 

Then an afternoon gnosh --

K's mocha

We also had a selection of locally made chocolates.  That picture is stuck in the inter-ether.

As we stood there, I said "that's terrible...they not only serve dog, they have lots of different ways on the menu"

Another walk to a small house EH found -- not two blocks from the cathedral.  Built in 1533, it was one of 12 houses on the block built at the time, named after the apostles, this one was Matthew's. 

We had an address and Google maps.  We got to a T in the little street and the blue dot on the map was just past it.  Where was it?  Finally, we found a sign three doors back, but it appeared to be closed.  "What's Plan B?"  as we stood there wondering, a guy came out of a storage closet to have a cigarette.  So I asked him where the museum was...he said "here" and we followed him, through a tiny hallway (smaller than the one at our flat) and through the hallway of a bar, then pointed us up a circular stairway with a very low ceiling.  On the first floor, in a tiny room, were congregated three groups about to start a tour.   There was banter about coming in late, of speaking English -- the guide said his English was neither American nor British but Antwerpen...and the fellow next to me tried to take all of Michael's 50€ note for a 3€ price!  I asked where HE was from and he said "Holland."

The place was, by any modern, American standard tiny.  In the 1530s, eight people lived there.  Just off the kitchen, where we started, was the "living room", which included the parental bed.  There was a fireplace in both rooms.  We got a talk about 16th c potty habits -- there was a chamber pot, which had to be tossed out before 10 AM daily, and there was a basket of mussel shells.  You know what they used them for?  Yes, there was no toilet paper back then.  Ouch.  Oooo...it's good to live in contemporary society. 

On the next floor was bedroom two, with 2 beds, which held six people.  And they weren't no king-sized beds. 

There were live chickens (the family had a bunch back then), and a rabbit cage and beehive in the attic room.  All reached by essentially ladders.  It was hotter than heck (it was like 85 here today and very humid -- the average temperature for today is 65). 

On the way to the Hard Rock, we came across this obscurity, and Michael and I were both shocked!

B&M always get a souvenir in cities they visit with Hard Rocks (ironically, we got them one at the HR in Atlanta, which was inconveniently right across the street from our hotel; it still is laying, 7 months later, on our bedroom dresser)(strum a guitar).

EH decided she hadn't had mussels yet and we should have those for dinner.  After an abortive attempt to turn a building into a palace (it was...maybe...once...or a fake one...) and to find a souvenir for KG, we ended up in a place with a 4.5 rating on Yelp (we should know better, but is the strategy just to try the 2 star places and never be disappointed) we find that, though they have a picture of mussels on their Yelp page, they only serve them in July!!!  We had something else -- 4 of us had croquets.  This is my demi-demi -- one cheese, one shrimp. 

Okay, the picture of those has disappeared, too!!! 

We ate.  And came home. 

The taxi ride home was a different adventure -- his English, which he tried too hard to use, was rough.  He made sure we all got his card.  He made sure we knew where his favorite pub was.  He made sure we knew that Dutch and Flemish were different languages (a song came on the radio in Dutch...I pointed out to us all that one was finally in Flemish and he corrected me -- the song before it was early Michael Jackson!  Almost all the songs on the radio have been in English.  The driver yesterday said any Belgian rock star wouldn't record in Flemish, the money was in English.) . But we made it back.

We've sort of figured out the itinerary.  We leave for London around 2...via Brussels.  Rah rah. 

Good morrow, wise Reader.

And now, on the list for the worst rooming choice...; or, iPad?

Hello from Antwerp.  Tomorrow's blog will tell you about this city, which we have yet to actually explore.  More on that later.

But let's start with 3 o'clock, standing outside a closed small bar with our bags, having heard from no one from the apartment we are supposed to stay in here.  Yesterday's email had not been answered; a phone message today, the same; and a call as we stood there wondering what to do went unanswered.

Appropriately, one of the buttons on the door of the address I had for the place was labelled "Grimm" so I decided to push it.  Appropriately, it was the right thing to do.  A woman answered, said she was coming and opened the door.

Michael said the rest he couldn't have staged better.  We were led down a narrow hallway and through a door and up stairs -- well, here's the pic...I"m not sure it does them justice --

If you think there was just one flight...or two...you'd be soooooo mistaken.  I have yet to count them in 3 trips, but I will.

Okay, we're there.  Have I said yet that Ms. Grimm was hard to understand -- she spoke English well enough but not terribly loud (my hearing lost is a theme of the day) and heavily accented?  And spoke quickly.

She unlocked the door and we all sucked wind (Megan claims "it's not so bad...rofl) and we came to an alcove, then she opened a door to the left -- a room with two beds -- then we stepped through into...okay, it's a studio apartment.  A very, very small studio apartment.

I followed her downstairs (I did say 3 times; I did say they are scary and torturous, right?)

My version of "how": one day in like March I decided to look at accommodations here.  We like staying in a place like an apartment.  Anyway, we needed at least 2 bedrooms (check, here) and 2 bathrooms (check).  It was affordable, if not inexpensive.

A living room is a given.  Somewhere to sit and commune is a given.

I booked the place, having looked at the pictures and thought it was okay.  But I booked it on the condition it could be unbooked -- by May 11th.

We were at the dinner in State College with B&M and I asked about the room -- we had time to cancel.  I remember being told they looked at the pictures and it looked good (this is my out).

Okay, here is Michael, lounging on the one piece of "living room" furniture:

ICYMI -- to pink coloring to the far left is the bed.  You can see the size of the place.

EH is sleeping on a cot in the other bedroom. This was not the plan, either.

And there's the highlight design feature: a roughly built ladder up the hallway wall in the living room.  Yes, ladder.  It's shaky (we've all tried it), so we aren't sure it's really functional (there may be loft storage space).  A ladder.  Unfinished...I guess to match the floors you can see in the picture.

After some discussion and exploring, we have decided to stay.  It is not uncomfortable, but both small, odd, &...those steps.  Oh, yeah, the wifi works in B&M's side, but comes and goes in our side (another theme of the day).

& then there was naptime.  They are doing construction right outside the front -- you know, a jackhammer.  Then they put in paving stones, which they finished with a machine that made the building shake as well as sounding like the world was ending.  Michael claimed he laughed at it all in his sleep.

We started the day before 5 -- we were in a taxi to St. Pancras station at 4.55.  Smile.  Teamwork.

We were checked through passport control and security and sitting waiting on the train by 530.

For our first meal of the day, we had Pret-a-manger (this place is a whole post on its own).  K rejected her breakfast sandwich because the ham and cheese on brioche had mustard on it -- I agree, not a breakfast condiment.  But the rest of us had pastries and coffee and away we went.

Two hours later, we were in Brussels.  Dropped our bags and EH led (she had cell service) us to the Grand Platz . -- you can see my write of it from last year here https://roadtosonoma.blogspot.com/2017/05/day-1-brussels-and-then-budapest.html

We were all hungry, so here's come food porn --

The Belgian national thing is mussels.  I ordered them for Michael (he may have had a choice he doesn't concede) --

K, EH and I the special, that included waffle and many pastries in a basket.

We explored the square -- EH & K went into an exhibit in the Guildhall on posters from the Belle Epoque (which I swear EH called Belly Pocket) and B&M went into the Hard Rock, which is right on the square.  No one bought chocolate -- because it wasn't like there was a shop every other storefront. :)

The retrieval of the bags from lockers led to a scene -- the attendant (these were supposed to be attendant free) was discussing with a woman, I thought, why she couldn't get the world's largest duffle bag (it was at least 40" long and a foot, no more! across) into the not terribly large locker.  When it was clear that she had lost the heated exchange the attendant overrode the payment, she reached into the locker and pulled out...A SMALL APARTMENT!!!!  It was purple.  Okay, I may have exaggerated, but it was at least a 44" -- almost two feet deep and another 30" across.  

The guy with her never said a word.  Not one. 

We made the 1.20 train to Antwerp.  Or Anvers.  It was determined that many cities in Belgium have a French name and a Flemish (or Dutch) name.  Antwerp and Anvers.  Bruxelles and Brussels.  Malines and Mechelin.  

It was a 20 euro taxi ride to the apartment.  Our taxi driver -- we went in 2 separate ones -- spoke decent English, then took a call with a what appeared to be his son.  So, I asked.  He said he was speaking Persian.  K asked if he was from Iran; he said, no Afghanistan.  He'd been in Antwerp for 16 years.  He said he went back last year and nothing's really changed -- they've traded the Taliban for Isis.   Added to our depression.

We napped. 

Then walked this neighborhood (a 20 euro ride) which is rather hipster.  Whatever that means. 

We ate a place that we could get in and we liked the menu.  It was good. 

Here's EH's dinner -- they forgot to cook it! 

I had their Flemish stew, with a long name in Flemish I can't begin to reproduce --

There were drinks -- I had a Belgian blonde (a local double).

And then we played euchre into the night.  

Barb was playing on iPad as we played cards and shared a joke.  We laughed for a long time...

The joke was "A sailor walked into the bar with a peg leg, a hook for a hand, and an iPatch..."

The bartender asks how this happens...blah blah blah..."and the iPatch?" "A seagull pooped in my eye..."  The others started laughing and I didn't get it -- why are they laughing.  

"It's the first day I had the hook." 

Not a bad joke.  

But for the setup I had heard "iPad", not eyepatch, and had no idea how this worked out.

I shared it.  We decided the hook wouldn't work with the iPad either. :) 

Wait till I tell my students this joke. 

And today we go into the center of the city.  Stop one is the Rubens museum.  We've already decided we were going to see "some kind of naked..." but that's for tomorrow's blog.

G'day gentle readers. 

Kambridge to Kinky Boots; and Definitions to live by

[note: the Wifi on the train was intermittent, to be kind, so it was a problem loading pics -- if you are reading this, you might check later to see the pics]
Oh, delightful reader, here we are and we are almost halfway through our journey.  Sucks don't it? 😒

Let me just say I need to work on my definition of "vacation."  Here's my current one: "vacation: an extended time away from home, ostensibly for pleasurable purposes, but including averaging 19,000 steps per day (almost doubling the American Heart Association recommendation), approximately 4 hours and 45 minutes of sleep per night, random food, and multiple conversations that can be labelled either TMI or NSFW."  I will say no more on this matter, but be aware.

Day 3 began actually Wednesday night, when I had to study weather.com to determine what to do and where to go on Thursday.  The proposed itinerary had us going to Brighton but I was warned by the London weather (the default on my iPhone) that it might rain, so checked.  At one point for Thursday, they were predicting 90% chance (I think this was at 1300 -- BTW, my students don't "do" military time).  London was a bit shaky.   We were scheduled to go to Cambridge next week, so I looked there and !!!! no rain at all!!!!!  So...

Then I checked the train schedule and rates to Cambridge and had to figure out when and how to go -- I could go from King's Cross (you know, like in Harry Potter) or Liverpool Street.  This was made WAY easier by the fact the website offered tickets for less than half from Liverpool Street.  So...away we went.

Before we reached Liverpool St -- we left the students' flat, minus one who had a stomach ailment, at 8 AM -- I counted I had made for mistakes in our journey.  None terminal, but annoying me at my fumbling.

I could recount for thousands of words various exchanges with my students, as a group or individually, but I won't.  I will summarize the pre-trip with this: there's was one scolding where I may have included the f-word more than once, having to remind her that an arrest would leave us both in a precarious position (at the very uplifting pre-meeting, the international studies director made it clear that "Dr. Hicks has the absolute to send you home if he thinks you are in any way misbehaving.  And YOU will have to pay your own way.  AND we've done this.  I don't like those calls."  Ummmm).

There was some sleep and some chat on the way to Cambridge, which is about 75 minutes from Liverpool St on the train.  The terrain becomes very flat (the English fens are like that), and there were significant cows and saffron fields, which were in bloom (i.e. pretty damned yellow).

Outside Cambridge station, we had a discussion about what to do; I ended up with four of the seven with me.  Almost immediately we were accosted by a salesperson for a punt ride: he made us an offer of 60% of the posted rate, and we signed up.

I took the students to Cambridge not just because it is a university town, but because characters in two books we read this past semester (Atonement and Line of Beauty) went to college there.  We had to talk about what a university was, as American public university students don't pay much attention to colleges (LHU has 3 these days) and they aren't the same there as they are here -- as the punter said "they are private and self-contained here."  We walked into one of the college yards, through a gate, and they were...well, awestruck is a good example.  And we weren't in one of the famous Cambridge colleges (there are 31).

The punt ride (a punt is a flat bottomed boat that Tom, our punter, kept reassuring the students couldn't tip over) takes you "behind" the colleges on the Cam River, which is only about 20 feet wide there AND, Tom said, from "two meters to five inches deep."  Here's a picture of the chapel at King's College -- one of the iconic shots of the town.  The white building to the right is the Senate building, which was designed by Gibbs, and is supposedly a model for our White House.  I can see it.

Here's the Bridge of Sighs (and that's Tom) -- so named, according to Tom (I don't remember having heard this story), because Queen Victoria said it looked like said bridge in Venice.  Tom said locals claimed the resemblance was that both had water running under them.  😀

And, for those of you who forget, this is from 2012, my last trip to Cambridge, with M -- the beginning of Bob and Bing's Road show.  None of us can believe it's been 6 years.

Today's food porn (definition question: is it still food porn if it's not high end food?  I guess so, depending on what it is):

There was a crepe stand on the street in Cambridge, near a shop with "Cambridge University" souvenirs.  Ironically, mine isn't the chocolate one. :)

Without a hitch, back to the train station, back to Liverpool St, then Baker St station, then the flat.

A pretty quick turnaround (no nap!) and off to Zizzi's for a quick Italian meal before the play.  EH calls Zizzi's "mediocre Italian" (aka my favorite) so no pics were taken.  Food porn lovers will have to wait for the weekend in Antwerp (sorry, spoiler) or Monday's lunch (food porn at its finest).

Then to Kinky Boots.  I got a great price on the seats -- I paid half what the two women next to me, from Ashford (it's about 45 minutes from London via fast train, I was told -- it's southeast near Canterbury), paid -- but we were in the second from the top row.  The person behind me kept bleeding on my shoulder (#Dadjoke).

The six students who saw it (the one was still sick, another had a leg problem and had seen it) loved it; one bought the CD.  As perennial readers may remember, I am not a fan of the genre, but it was a nice. light and entertaining evening.  In my mind, the plot has holes (real motivation problems, some of which was based on poor character development) and I thought some song and some dance numbers too long.  At 2:30 minutes, it seemed long.  To me.  The women from Ashford loved it; the two women in front of us obviously knew it well, so bobbed and seat danced through the music, and the students...as I said, loved it.   Let me say the dance troupe, the "Angels," were impressive in their dancing and I was particularly impressed with Charley's voice in a couple songs -- not so much Lola.

And that, my friends, was day 3.   19,000 steps, kink and college, and enough education to keep me in work.  Tomorrow -- middle of the night Eurostar to Brussels, then on...

A Barb Day (well...)

Day 2 on our European adventure was quite an adventure: we went to Hampton Court Palace (maybe inaccurately best known as the summer residence of Henry VIII) and then to Shakespeare's Globe to see their production of As You Like It (we pretty much did).

But...

Things didn't always go so well. 

You know you're having a bad day when...

K and I went to breakfast.  It was a chain called "Pure" (you can figure out what they're up to from that label) and we both had their "SuperEggs."  They bleeped up their scrambled eggs by putting peas AND spinach in them?!?!!?  What's THAT about??!?!  Seriously...

I was chilly, as it was a damp 50 degrees out.  (Sometimes known as 10).  So, rather than climb the flights of stairs (everyone who gets to our top floor flat is winded) I had K send my fleece down with Barb, who was going with the students and I to Hampton. 

So, Barb hands me the fleece on the sidewalk with the students and I pulled it on...well, one student said my face was like "what what what?"  It was too short, too tight, including across the belly.  Sigh.  The tapas Tuesday night were not sitting well. 

We were on the train to Hampton Ct -- a bit of an adventure coming up -- when I looked across at the one guy on the trip's supposedly similar fleece (it was one of the things for the trip) -- his zipped up all the way and the one I had on didn't!  Oh, bleep, I said, maybe even out loud: I was wearing K's version!!!!!  Ha ha.  Funny.  At least the starvation diet I was contemplating can wait. :)

And then...Barb has been the London many times.  She took up the rear as we went to Tube station; I made sure everyone made it through the turnstile and went down the escalator...

A train awaited us (though filled to bulging) but I hesitated to make sure everyone was there.

Not everyone was!

"Who missing?"  "Barb" someone immediately said.  Pause pause pause.  We realized she was with one student.  They didn't show up. 

We waited (not very patiently) for them to show up.  No, no...I tried to figure out where they had gone...I thought we were in a line together (yes, 9 deep is an issue)...

After another train came and went, I asked for two volunteers to stay, and I would take the rest onto Waterloo train station, thinking she might have either gotten on another line (the Bakerloo goes there, too, we were standing on the Jubilee line platform) or gotten on the train I didn't via another doorway. 

Just as we are getting on the next train, one of the students yells "Barb!" and there they are...and we rushed onto a train.

The explanation: the student was going slowly with a blister and they got crowded out at the top of the first escalator and didn't see where we went.  And Barb hadn't been told (I don't know by whom) where we were going. 

Hint: this may happen again later. :)

The journey to Hampton Court, a 36 minute ride out of Waterloo, was generally uneventful.  Let me just put it out there -- I have 7 women and 1 guy on the trip.  Some of the women talk A LOT.  It's like white noise.  I may have resorted (I am NOT proud of this) of resorting to paying two of them to play the quiet game for the latter part of the journey THERE!  Yes, not back, THERE!  :)

[the paragraph on Hampton Court, if you are a Philistine, skip this]  The appeal of Hampton Court is that not only is it a palace, it is pretty damned old.  They have a bunch of rooms with wood on the walls from Henry VIII"s time. And his kitchen.  The audio tour was decent, though was far more hokey narrative than a really sane person needs.  But there's not just Tudor stuff -- there's a huge entryway into the William III wing -- the mural is spectacular (I didn't take a picture) -- and the other wing is Georgian -- both George I and II (who didn't get along) resided there.  So, let me say what I often say about European palaces: those effers had more money than sense. ):  I mean, my favorite anecdote of the day is William had them dig out the riverbank at the end of his privy garden so he could actually see the window from his chambers!!!  Uh huh.  William and Mary (she died after reigning less than 6 years) had 13 fountains built in the gardens.  THIRTEEN!!!!  I get the fact that they were trying to show that theirs was bigger...but c'mon people!

This is the backside entrance.  Yeah, not the one most people saw.   Right?

The view this direction from the first floor window.  Four of my students are walking away from us toward the fountain here.

The mock setup of a Georgian not quite formal dinner. 

At some point, this will be too long.  But food porn.

While we were doing this, K and EH went to lunch at what Timeout calls the best restaurant in London.  It has North African cuisine (I don't know either).  They gave it five stars.

  Hummus with fried cauliflower and tomatoes.

Lamb chops -- and yes they burned the sage in the dish at the table!  EH said she wasn't sure what it did for cooking "but it was way cool." :)

Dessert: Hashcake. Pistachios in the middle.  I was told it was delicious.

Meanwhile, back in Hampton, it was 1 o'clock and we were hungry so we adjourned to the pub across the street from the palace (the other nearby alternative was the palace cafe...usually not a good choice).

I will not tell ALL the pub stories, but will go with this list: before the food came, 2 of the 8 had turned to me and said "I think I'm drunk" (rule in life, when someone says this, they are); the bottle of wine three of them ordered was gone early and one ordered another LARGE glass (in case you care, it was a California zin); the food was decent; we, of course, split the bill 9 ways, and one of them ended up behind the register, plugging in the various bills!  Yes, really.  No, it wasn't ugly.  NO.  Not at all.

We got on a train at 324 -- yes, we spent around 2 hours at lunch -- and we'll zoom back to flats.

[act like time passes]
Michael and Barb went with us to the Globe to the play.  I won't bore you with yet another photo of the Globe.  But...wait for it, getting to the Globe was an adventure.  Michael said he and Barb would take up the rear.  As he told it "we weren't a block before Barb was up front with you."  Yes...

We got through the turnstile at Baker Street and Barb went down the wrong escalator -- north, not south!!!!  Someone yelled at her to stop and she -- get this! -- tried to walk back UP the escalator from about 10 steps down!!!!  NO, no, no...away she went.  One of the students was actually ahead of her.  Sigh.

After a long wait, Michael and I decided she knew where she was going, so we went ahead.

At St. Paul's tube stop, we came out -- Michael said "out this door" -- and there they stood.  Waiting on us.

We went this way because it is a great photo op, crossing (if you don't know) on the newest bridge across the Thames, a footbridge built for the milennium celebration (I was there in 2000 when it opened...briefly...if you don't remember, it was breezy day and the bridge swayed during the openign ceremony and the pics were of all these "dignitaries" sprawled on the ground, acting like they were hanging on).  They fixed it.  The 8 took this shot -- the guy is missing.  They look like they are dressed for the THEE-8-Tor. :)

Tower Bridge is over the second one from left's shoulder; the Globe appears partially far right center (the white thing).

The play was good -- they had man play the lead, Rosalind, who, as you might remember (cough cough) is a woman who wears a disguise as man for most of the play.  And the male lead, Orlando, was a woman.  A very small woman.  Which added a comic element to the fact in Act 1 he wrestled the Duke's champion wrestler, who was like 6'3 -- and wins!!! :)

Silliness ensued.  It was very long (2 hours, 45 minutes), but everyone said they enjoyed it.  Rah.

Another day.  I survived.  Whew. 

Tomorrow, the students go to Cambridge, K and EH go to Stonehenge, and we all see Kinky Boots (I can explain!) at night.  Look forward to it.

And, yes, remember I really am working!!!!