Barcelona, Spain June 14th-16th 2008



 

For Eric's 28th birthday, it was my duty to surprise him with something fun and unexpected. I am not very good at keeping surprises underwraps, but I was pretty proud of myself for keeping it a surprise until the week before especially since Eric was trying to plan a work trip that left from "secret birthday place."

Eric is usually the planner when we go away for trips, but this time it was my turn to make all the arrangements (including having a plan for when we got there). As it goes, I bought a guide book and tried to map out a plan including recommendations from colleagues, and friends.

We arrived on Saturday afternoon and easily boarded the train into the center of town. The stop turned out to be a bit of a hike from the hotel in the Eiaxample district only because we got lost - because of me. Good start to the trip. Found the hotel - nice 4 star which was a steal - Acevi Villaroel. Dropped our bags and headed off to explore. As it turns out my plan included very little. And soon enough, we reverted back to our old role of Eric leading/navigating and me just enjoying the surroundings.

Las Ramblas

We made our way to Las Ramblas which is a very hectic pedestrian street filled with street performers/human statue art, poultry for sale (yeah, weird), flower stalls, tourist souvenirs and the usual crap. We walked the entire length of it to the end where the Christopher Columbus welcomes one to the Port. The harbor was lovely in the early evening. It was starting to buzz while we were down there especially along Rambla La Mar which is a wooden walkway leading to a separate part of town along the water with restaurants, a mall, and an IMAX.

Deciding that we were both quite hungry (seeing as now it was pushing 9:30), we set off to find one of the recommended restaurants. We stumbled upon it in the El Born region - El Xampanyet. It is a very local, tapas/wine bar with few seated tables and few high tables. It is run by the same family since 1930 and is apparently truly authentic. It was so crowded, and I was cranky so we decided to find someplace else. After what seemed like a good hour, and after browsing many menus, we stumbled into a place called Con K. It was a small, modern looking place that didn't have any tables available until 10:30. So we put our name in and went to a shady-looking bar next door. It was really big, and really empty and the child behind the bar didn't really speak English. But, luckily her mom did and made us a really great liter of Sangria - complete with a Tang like substance. I was desperate for the snacks that they had in a few glass jars behind the bar, but didn't dare ask. I just stared angrily at the couple sitting next to us who were able to ask for them in Spanish.

Around 10:30, we went back to Con K, and ended up having a fabulous meal that was a really great value. Looking back, we both agree that that was by far the best meal we had, and best of all, we just happened upon it! I think the most surprising thing of all was that throughout the meal, about a dozen "parties" were turned away up until 12:30 when we left. People actually were going to sit down for dinner at 12:30!! Eric and I were ready for bed at that point.

Day 2

Nice bike

One of the other parts of the trip that I actually planned ahead for was the Fat Tire Bike Tour. Eric has an obsession with renting bikes when we travel, and each and every time, I have basically said no. Not sure if it is because I am just being a pain or I am scared to get hit by a car. But, on this occasion because it was his birthday and it was an organized tour, I went for it. The tour, we found out, was actually a spinoff of Mike's Bikes which Eric did in Germany back in the summer of 2002. It was a very informative and fun tour that took us to the major sites of the city. Our guide was a laid back "ex Californian" who screamed "surfer." He came to do a 3 month Spanish intensive in the city, but ended up staying because of how much he fell in love with it. Sam, as our guide was called, made the 4 hour trip entertaining as well as educational. We felt like we really got a taste of the history and larger sites . I definitely recommend it to anyone with a short stay in Barcelona who want to see the main attractions and learn a little bit of their background.



Sagrada Familia - still under construction



After the bike tour, we made our way up to the old Olympic park to see the Stadium, the diving and competition pool, and the surrounding structures that were built specifically for the 1992 Olympics in Barcelona. It seemed a bit more dilapatated than I expected seeing as it was only 16 years prior, but still just like in Munich, it was really cool just being there and envisioning what it was like to be walk through the facilities while the competitions were taking place.

1992 Olympic Diving Venue.

We had been out wandering for most of the afternoon following the bike tour and I was a bit tired so we walked back to the hotel and rested for a bit. Around 8:30 we set off for dinner. We had asked Sam what his favorite local restaurant was and decided to check it out. He made sure to point out that it was not fancy, pretty cheap but really good food. To me, that meant - greasy spoon and probably really dirty. Turns out, that is exactly what it was. It was proper Spanish food. I had sole which was pretty good and Eric had a pork leg, which was a proper huge leg that you would see at a fun fair and probably what the cavemen ate. It was an experience and one that I more than fine to see end.

After dinner we headed to the Palau National (national palace) to see the Font Màgica (Magic Fountain) which puts on a spectacular light/sound show with the water moving to the music. The music ran the gamet from classical to the Backstreet Boys. The colors and the movement of the water was cool, but the music left something to be desired. Following the water show, Eric wanted to "get one for the road"so we wandered back towards the hotel, taking a detour to see one of Gaudi's most famous buildings on Passeig de Gracia - Casa Batillo. It is an eerie sight when it is illuminated at night. All Gaudi’s favourite materials are used here, such as ceramic tiles (on the roof) and mosaic (on the façade). In search of ice cream, we ended up a a bar/tapas place. Eric got his beer, and I, the Chocolate Prohibito. Basically the densest, chocolatiest creation ever topped with full on whipping cream. Then off to bed with a brick in the stomach.

Day 3

Gaudi's work in Parc Guell

On the 3rd day, we headed out for a run up to Parc Guell. It was pretty much up hill for 2.5 miles from our hotel. This is one of Barcelona's largest urban parks, originally intended to be an English style garden city. Gaudi's name is written all of this park. It reminded me a little bit of Candyland with the random colorful structures that dotted the interior of the park. It had a great view over the city that extended to the sea.

We made our way back to the hotel, checked out and then headed to the market for our last meal. The market was off of Las Ramblas and it was here that we pieced together a nice haphazard lunch with salami, manchego, fresh fruit, and chocolate covered good-ness. We sat on a planter, enjoyed people watching and buying some kleenex from a lovely middle-aged woman for 50 pence.

Fully stuffed, we made our way back to the hotel using the Metro system (which is very easy and very user-friendly), grabbed our bags and went to to the airport. Eric was flying to Dubai that night so he had to catch an earlier flight than originally planned.

If I had to choose, I would say that this was one of my favorite trips so far. I don't really even feel like we scratched the surface with things to see and do in the city. Next time, I would love to try a good authentic tapas restaurant, spend a little more time at the beach, and continue to drink the amazing Sangria.
Happy Birthday Er, you old 28 year old man.
To see the pictures from our trip. Click here: http://www.kodakgallery.com/I.jsp?c=hj0zhyv.2yl7d0cj&x=0&y=-j183kx&localeid=en_US

Porto, La Sintra, Cascais, and Lisbon, Portugal May 24th-27th 2008

During Rob and Jean's trip to London in May, we took advantage of the second bank holiday weekend and made a trip down to Portugal. We flew on the very stylish RyanAir out of London Stansted airport into Porto. When we arrived we were so hoping to be landing in warm sunny weather, but unfortunately the rain followed us south.

We picked up our brand new Clio at Avis and made our way to Hotel Tuela in the Boa Vista area. It was still quite early so we dropped our bags and headed out to town. What we didn't initially realize was how hilly the city of Porto is. We started our journey down to the waterside and took a long walk exploring the port and all of the little shops and restaurants. The area on the north bank by the tall bridge is a UNESCO World Heritage Site. We're not exactly sure what that means, but we discovered tons of narrow stairways and pathways in various stages of ruin that led from the Duoro up to the center of town. If it's possible for slums to be charming, these would probably fit that criteria.

The north bank in Porto

On the far side of the port along the hillside were all of the big name wine lodges where the drink Port originates. For those who don't know, it is a concentrated sweet wine that is normally enjoyed after dinner. It isn't for everyone (me) but it apparently helps with digestion. And fun fact: Port isn't Port, unless it ages in the wine lodges on the Duoro River in Porto. We learned this as well as many other facts - like Port is actually red wine mixed with Brandy - on the wine tour of Veramina.

Port barrel shippers

The rest day was spent wandering the streets of Porto, shopping and dodgeing the schizophrenic weather. Saturday night we received a recommendation from the hotel for a restaurant down by the water. We took a cab down there but didn't quite make it to the recommended restaurant. Instead, we wandered down an alley and into a small place called Vinhas D'Alho on Muro Dos Bacalhoeiros which seemed to have only fish and fish ingredients in each of the dishes. I was a bit nervous.But, as we sat down and started looking through the menu, I decided to try the wild boar as it looked pretty safe and was not of the sea. Before each meal, and without being asked we received olives, prociutto, bread and cheese. I was in heaven. Salt cod is one of the main specialties for an entree. The food ended up being amazing. The wine, too, was some of the best I've had. Looking back, that was the best meal of the whole trip.

They might not care for port, but the wine will do just fine.

On Sunday, we started our drive down to Cascais and Sintra. I think we got lost a few times but in the end we made it in one piece. We parked in a church parking lot and made the trek down to the city. It was all downhill and steep. After walking around the cute little downtown area, we stopped at a restaurant right off of the square and had some wine and goat cheese with bread. The wine was necessary to get us back up the steep hills to the Moorish castle that sat high atop the hill overlooking the city. The views on the way up were gorgeous and the air show that we caught the tail-end of was also quite a spectacle. The vast stone structure of the Moorish castle was something. The faulty stone work and gale force winds made the various arms that led to each of the towers almost trecherous at times. However, once you reached one of the towers the views were spectacular.

One of the castles at Sintra

On to Cascais, a laid-back beach town about 50 km west of Lisbon. On the drive down we stopped at the most important building in Portugal. It was actually closed but if I remember correctly, it was a cathedral of some sort. It was quite large. Upon arrival in Cascais, the hotel provided lovely views of the harbor and you could tell that in a few weeks time the streets would be bustling with tourists. We didn't get there until somewhat late so we just checked into our hotel and headed to dinner. We decided on a nice little seafood place on the way into "downtown." The food was quite good and again salt cod and halibut were the specialties.

After a soaking wet run along the coast road the next morning, we had breakfast and then decided to stroll through town. The weather was again being quite temperamental and therefore ducking into shops became frequent. I think during our trip we ended up browsing in 5 different Zaras. They were in every town and sometimes there were multiple stores around the corner from one another. But, our Zara trips were worth it! I was looking for a dress for a wedding and found success at the very last Zara. I swear they all had different stock! The sun came out and admittedly the temperature rose in the early afternoon just as we were about to leave for Lisbon. It was cool to walk up and down the narrow cobblestone streets. Jean took some great pictures that really captured the quaint feel of the little streets.

Once we arrived in Lisbon, we found a place to ditch the car and went exploring. In the guidebook one off the places it said to visit was the Bohemian section with narrow streets and cool architecture. After using our sweet map skills we ended up in a neighborhood that we thought was the Bohemian section - although not as great as we had expected. We stopped for lunch at a very local cafe (I use the term very loosely here because I still don't really know what type of place it was. It sold pastries alongside mystery meat wrapped in pastry. That was the one place where I actually struggled to find something to eat.

It turns out that wasn't the Bohemian section at all. It was just some local neighborhood, the name of which we do not know. Oh well, we fit in with the local crowd and no one suspected we were tourists (NOT.) We headed back to the car and ended up driving through Lisbon seeing what we could on the way out of town. We followed a street trolley which we think was a good thing because we were able to see some sights on the way out. I hear Lisbon is a cool city so I think one day we will have to go back and do it properly.

We drove back to Porto as we were leaving the next morning and it was about a 3 hour drive back. We ended up on the other side of town from where we stayed the first night which was good as it gave us the opportunity to see another section of Porto. We were sans hotel reservation upon arrival so we tried a few 3-star places. Rob checked out the lobby of the first option and decided we should probably move on. Jean vetoed the second hotel based on looks alone before Eric even came to a complete stop. Just as we were all starting to lose patience with our fun game, the Dom Henrique had two open rooms and a parking garage right next door...bonus! It was quite late so we just decided to have dinner a local restaurant recommended by the hotel.

The JT bite

We sat down at this local place (and it seemed quite authentic) and were presented with glasses of Port, bread, cheese, melon and prociutto. Yum. No one likes port except Eric so he drank all four glasses and had a nice buzz going by the time they took our order. Dinner was again more of the same - cod, halibut, steak, but Eric decided to be different - as always. He decided to get the octopus, which came heavily recommended by the restaurant owner. Usually when Eric orders something new he makes me try it. This time was no different. The stakes were a bit higher this time because I vehemently refused. I didn't care if I wasn't being adventurous. Octopus is rubbery and revolting. But...Eric threw in a sweetener. If I took just one bite of tentacle (and mind you the piece he put forth had about 8 little suckers and was colored purple from the octi-ink...yuck!) he would buy me two tickets (front row if available) to see Justin Timberlake the next time he was in London. To most this probably seems like a raw deal, but to me eating squid was worth it. It took me about 5 minutes to chew it and a piece of bread as a chaser, but I got it down and it stayed down. I felt like I was on Fear Factor. It was all worth it though. Now, I only hope that Justin doesn't stop touring or else it will have been for naught.

It was a great last meal and a great way to end our trip. The next morning we flew out early from Porto and landed at Stansted where again it was raining. Perfect.

For the photo tour, follow the link below to our pictures and Jean and Rob's. Our pictures actually include a few from a horse race we went to in May called Ascot. We had never been to a horse race and it was quite an experience. I actually came away with a winner on the last race of the day. With that win, we almost broke even! Rob and Jean's pics include their entire trip to London and Ireland as well.

http://www.kodakgallery.com/I.jsp?c=hj0zhyv.4agjf83n&x=0&y=-jn4z3a&localeid=en_US

Le Touquet & Calais, France and Dover, UK May 3rd-5th 2008

Erin entered her late 20s this year on April 16th. Now that I've published that, I'm not sure that's information a man is supposed to share about his wife to the general public, but there you have it. She also weighed herself this morning and the scale read ...... haha. I know my limits.

Anyway, we saved the money we had set aside for birthday cake, party hats, and the balloon-animal-blowing clown and put it toward a trip to France; partly because a 2-person birthday party is just sad and partly because clowns scare the crap out of both of us...damn you Steven King!!!

On Saturday morning, we picked up our rented, steering-wheel-on-the-right, stick-shift-on-the-left, red Renault Clio from the Avis on Old Brompton Road and made a B-line for the M-20 toward Folkstone. Except in London, a B-line is better described as an endless sequence of Ss (esses?), each linked by a series of roundabouts...and of course the streets aren't marked with signs. I immediately sympathized with Chuck Abbey, who had driven us all over Ireland battling similar circumstances last summer. Except I was navigating these narrow streets in a car the size of a golf cart while he did the same in a Ford Transit, which is shaped like, but only slightly smaller than, a mobile home. Props to Chuck.

Erin did not know the details of our trip before we left. In fact, one of the few hints I offered her was that we would be taking a train to our destination (not a lie, as you will see). Since we were lost within, oh, 10 minutes, plus or minus 570 seconds after departing the Avis parking lot, I decided to concede the surprise factor in favor of actually reaching our destination. I handed Erin some maps and told her the direction we would be heading.

We finally reached the M-20 after about 2 hours of touring shady parts of London. After another hour on the highway, we finally arrived at the EuroTunnel train station near Folkstone that would take us and Clio under the English Channel to France. Needless to say, we missed our train. No worries, the next one departed within an hour.

All the cars climb aboard the train

The train process was pretty remarkable I must say. They must fit about 250 cars, trucks, and tour buses on each train. 35 sweaty and claustrophobic minutes later, we arrived in Calais. Amazing. "Please stay on the right side of the road," the recorded voice reminded us as we pulled out of the train.

If London's sign-free streets proved challenging for us, the French side wasn't much easier. Whichever American civil engineer decided to do away with roundabouts, I salute you. I don't know that you needed to leave the metric system behind as well, but if I had to choose, I'll take the Imperial measurement system with NO roundabouts 8 days a week. But I digress...



Erin in the Cleo in the Chunnel Train



I think our guide-book said it best. "If for some reason, you actually decide to stay in Calais..." I suppose I should have known better. Staying in Calais when you arrive in France is like flying into JFK airport, but rather than heading into Manhattan you stay at the La Quinta Airport Express in Rockaway, Queens.

Oh well, lesson learned. We dropped our bags at the Holiday Inn Calais (better than the La Quinta? the jury is out) and headed for the beach. First we stopped at a touristy cafe for a glass of wine (for me) and a Coke Light (for Erin) and half of a Chevre panini each. Saturday was supposed to be our only sunny day of the weekend, so we made the most of it with a two hour beach stroll. It was a little too hazy to see England in the distance (21 miles), but it was still a beautiful day. There were a few old (what I can only assume to be) German-built cement bunkers perched hastily on the dunes over-looking the Channel. Each was the size of a bungalow. It is impossible to imagine what the scene must have looked like in June 1944 for the boys and men on both sides of the beach. Calais wasn't the exact location of the D-day invasion, but it's not far from where it actually took place. And zee Germanz obviously didn't know where the Allies would attack so they scattered their bunkers all along the French coast.

Calais

We could have been on a beach anywhere. We both felt it looked a little like Cannon Beach in Oregon. People in clam-diggers digging clams. Dads teaching their kids how to fly kites. Cold water. We shared a chocolate and coffee ice-cream on the way off the beach and made our way into town. After a short tour, we settled on Cafe de Paris for dinner. It had a hoakie Eiffel Tour logo on the front window so how could we go wrong? I can't remember exactly what we ordered, but whatever Erin had definitely had more chevre.

On Sunday morning we woke up about 10 (now that's vacation), picked up a few croissants from the patisserie and started driving south toward Le Touquet. The town was recommended by a friend from work as the place where Parisians go for their beach holidays. If there's one thing the French do well, it's vacationing. I figured I should trust the experts, and they did not disappoint. Le Touquet ("The Toucan") is made up of a ton of tree-lined streets with small "country homes" leading into four or five blocks of cafes and shops, and then a long sandy beach. After checking into Mercure Grand Hotel, we grabbed a quick bite at the Belgian "Cafe Leffe" on the main Rue Saint Jean, then made our way to the beach for a wine-induced nap. I think we laid there for 3 hours just reading and sleeping. We would make good French people.

We walked around town for a while, then found some tennis courts. Two gruelling hours of bush-league tennis later, we were both dragging. At one point I tried a Raphael Nadal-style slide on the clay court: bad move - strained my hamstring. I'm an idiot. Luckily, I had learned a good cure for hamstring strains...more wine. Dinner was at Le Taverne Royale. I had talked a big game about staying out to take in the local nightlife, but alas, we were in bed by 12.

We awoke for another round of tennis on Monday. (Side note: Monday was a "Bank Holiday" in the UK. On "The Continent," they had celebrated May Day on the 1st of May, but I'm not sure why we had Monday off work. They don't feel the need to assign meaning to all national holidays like in the US, I guess.) We spent some more time on the beach, bought a baguette, some strawberries, and yes, more Chevre. I wonder how many goats were needed to provide all the milk required to make the cheese we ate during our 3-day visit. 2? 3? 10?

Thank you goats.

On our way back to the EuroTunnel, we stopped at the Carrafour in Calais to make the most of our trip across the Channel. This particular Carrafour is a Mecca of supermarkets. It's Costco, Super Wal Mart, and Total Wine & More all in one. It was quite a treat for us, as we are car-less in London, resigned to shopping in our local, narrow-aisled Tesco Expresses for our groceries. We (I) loaded up on enough French wine and Belgian beer to get us through the next few months, hopefully the French customs agents wouldn't search our trunk on account of the rear half of the Clio sagging 14 inches below the front. "Lower than a frog's ass," as Urbs would say. Ha - Frogs...get it?

We missed our train on the way back to England too. Not because we arrived to late, mind you. We arrived the recommended 30 minutes early. It was the endless lines of cars heading through customs. It was like Disneyland or Empire State Building lines, but with cars. We identified the culprits when it was finally our turn to drive through the French immigration station...we had arrived right in the middle of cigarette break time. They would take your passports, walk slowly away, smoke a cigarette, walk slowly back to your car, hand you your passports, then waive you through. Not very efficient. Though they were well-dressed.

White Cliffs of Dover

Pointing out my relay team's plaque.

When we arrived back in England, we took a detour to Dover, the departure beach town for Channel crossing swimmers. We went back to visit Dave and Evelyn, who hosted Werner, Hops, Jordan, Steve, Denis, and me at their trailer park when we completed our Channel swim in 2004. They remembered us vividly...not for crossing successfully, but because we were the most disorganized group they had ever hosted; we arrived in drips and drabs, Steve lost his passport, we only did one short practice swim because the water was so cold, we tried to fatten up at the local pubs to combat the cold water. I can't blame them for doubting us. I've attached some pictures from that trips as well.

Now THAT'S fish 'n chips

The weather was still great so Erin and I were able to make out the French coast from Dover. We did a quick drive through the city, then sat down for a dinner of fish and chips (soooo good in Dover) before making the final drive back to London.

I think it turned out to be a pretty good birthday present, but you'll have to ask Erin.

Pictures from the trip:

http://www.kodakgallery.com/I.jsp?c=hj0zhyv.9pp3b6uj&x=0&y=-xkwv4e&localeid=en_US

Pictures from our 2004 Channel crossing swim: http://www.kodakgallery.com/I.jsp?c=hj0zhyv.39wp04fz&x=0&y=63277o&localeid=en_US

Wilmington, North Carolina, USA April 17th-20th 2008

What a journey. We came back to celebrate the marriage of Heath and Lesley Novak. Eric and I set out from Heathrow to Raleigh, North Carolina on the morning of the 17th. By the time we arrived in Raleigh, it had been 8.5 hours, and we had about an inch and a half of plane sludge on us. We waited for my parents to swing by from Cleveland to pick us up...yes, for those who know my parents, you know they actually drove the 10 hours to NC for the weekend. They stopped by the Raleigh airport and then we headed south for another 2 hours to the Barnet's house for a good old-fashioned NC BBQ - fried chicken, Coors Lights, and pecan pie. Ah, America indeed. Ok, ok, so we've only been gone for 6 months. Isn't that enough time to miss something good?

We arrived a bit late, but luckily there was PLENTY of food so we got to eat our 7th meal of the day. I know all of you can relate when you travel for a long period of time, you are constantly eating and exerting no more energy than it takes to get out of your airplane seat and head to the bathroom, yet you are constantly hungry.

It was an amazing weekend. It was nice to see old friends (some it had been at least 6 years) and catch up with close friends and hang out with the families of the bride and groom. After a few hours of chatting, all of the bridesmaids headed to bed above the garage at the Barnet's. Lesley seemed pretty relax and not at all stressed about the big weekend ahead. Friday morning we got up and a few of us went for a run around the Barnet's neighborhood. What you may picture when I say neighborhood is in no way a reflection of how massive their neighborhood actually is. Besides being stunning in every way, the development is somewhere between 7 and 30 miles (I heard both numbers at some point) and when completed will be home to more than 2500 families. If you have ever seen Dawson's Creek, I think we ran right around where Dawson used to paddle his boat over to the Potter's bungalow.

To Lesley and all others involved in the preparations for the weekend, I say well done. Thanks for including us in the festivities.

To anyone who missed the trip or has yet to see Wilmington, NC, I highly recommend a visit. What a beautiful town.

On Sunday, Erin flew back to London while I got the chance to visit New York City for a week of work and play. The city still amazes like it did when I first arrived. I was able to visit a number of favorite restaurants including Penelope and Sea. Mmmmmm.

Alex, Chris, Justin, Brittany - it was outstanding to see you guys. Jeff n' Stef and Scott - Thanks for the hospitality.

Marrakesh and Essaouira, Morocco, March 21th-24th 2008

Our trip to Morocco was absolutely amazing. We travelled with 2 other couples, that we really didn’t know all that well, but were anxious to spend time with in Marrakesh. Jeff and Maria Largey work at JP Morgan – Maria and Eric had worked together in NY on occasion. Vic Cossell and Theresa Niu are friends with Maria and Jeff.

Our taxi dropped us right here when we first arrived.

The 6:00 a.m. flight from Luton was just as expected. The weather was rainy and the 3:30 car ride was quite painful, but the Ryan Air flight was on time and got us to Marrakesh in about 3 hours.






View from the roof





We arrived and made our way to our Riad El Ouarda in the center of the Medina (local part of town). The sights on the way to the Riad were incredible. It was really hard to believe that just 3 hours south of London was a 3rd world country – one unlike Eric nor I had ever seen or visited. The dress, the lifestyle, and the means of transport for the locals was eye opening. Most of the women were covered from head to toe. Many showed only their eyes. The surroundings were almost surreal.



View inside the riad from the roof.



Riads are usually large mansions that have been converted into accommodations for tourists. They are extremely authentic and right in the middle of all the local action.

The riad all lit up.

The Riad El Ouarda was beautiful. The décor was minimal but perfect. Brigitte, the French woman who owned it, spent quite a bit of time and money refurbishing the place and making it comfortable and modern. The pictures are pretty accurate and show clearly what it was like. The view from the roof was breathtaking on a clear day: the Atlas Mountains in the distance, the splattering of mosques and the infinite number of satellite dishes on the shabby roofs.



The weather was relatively mild, but not as warm as I expected for Africa. It was about 65 and sunny the days we were there.

Friday we spent most of the day wandering around the souks (markets) and visiting Jemaa al Fna (the big square). The highlights:

Souks


• Driving into town in our taxi from the airport - clearly we were not in Kansas any more. We had no idea where we were. The guidebooks don't bother printing maps because even if you could decipher the occasional Arabic street sign, the streets, which feel more like alleyways, are a labyrinthe maze of cars, mopeds, bikes, people, donkey-drawn carts, and dust. The taxi pulled off to the side of one of these streets, next to a few butchers (open air stalls with skinned animal carcasses hanging from hooks overhead - goat heads on the table, etc.) The engine turned off. I guess we're here. Wow. Luckily our taxi driver knew of our riad so he led us down some narrow alleys, past rows of beggars and street kids, knocked on a nondescript door, and led us into the calm of Riad el Ouarda. Once inside, it was hard to believe the world that existed on the other side of the wall.



Markets off the Jma al Fna


• Meeting some young boys who offered to “escort us” to the big square – There were 3 of them – 1 boy around 12, another about 10 and the 3rd was about 6 or 7. The oldest boy spoke some English and was clearly the “leader” of their little pack. Here was the order to our journey - some smaller stalls, the bank (wink wink), to a restaurant. We were a bit annoyed by having them take us everywhere and then of course wanting money, so we paid the oldest boy and told him to share the equivalent of £8 with his friends. The littlest boy fake cried because Eric hadn’t given him any money and I literally had to pull Eric away and leave the boys to work it out. (Vic would later give this kid about 15 quid, causing him to show up at the doorstep of our riad every morning, afternoon, and night for the rest of the trip.)
 



Water carrier taking a break.

 
• We then went to our first traditional Moroccan meal at Cafe Arabe.
• Eric buying sunglasses that were probably worse for his eyes than if he had no sunglasses at all. Bargaining the man down from 25 dirhams to 10. Apparently the haggling is so fierce that you can talk someone down to about 10% of their original price quoted
• Shopping for a leather overnight bag in the markets
• Seeing the big Kotoubia Minaret (mosque) that overlooked the square
• Talking to "Meedy, The Bald Healer" who tried to get us to stop into his magical healing shop for some natural remedies.
• Having mint tea in the Riad after a long day of shopping




Unwinding on the roof of the riad after a long day of exploring


• Seeing the way locals eat on benches from food stalls in the square

• Meeting Hassan (who would be our tour guide around the city the next day) and who had a nephew in Texas
• Eating at a ridiculously touristy restaurant with candle dancers, a traditional band, lots of couscous and smoke, and a bellydancer.
• The food overall was quite good. A lot of couscous, tagine (which is slow cooked meat in a traditional type of cookware and paired with dates, lemon, olives, almonds, and some type of sauce, and traditional salads – all very sweet.)

Saturday’s highlights included:

• Waking up for the 5am prayer call and chanting. One must hand it to these people for their religious devotion. There aren't many things that get me out of bed at 5am (swimming? Christmas?), but I can confidently say it isn't prayer.
• Hassan picking us up in the morning and taking us first to the Marjorelle Gardens. The gardens were a gift from Yves Saint Laurent to the city. They were smaller than I expected, but were nice to wander through.

• We then traveled to the Menara Gardens. A laser show takes place on certain nights in the spring/summer. The “gardens” is really just a big plot of somewhat dusty land with olive trees. It is a hot spot for locals to picnic and rest under the trees. In the center of the gardens is a big “pond.” You will see in the pictures that the pond is oversized but seems like something you would see at Sea World.
• Riding camels in La Palmaraie. It was a little hoakie, but pretty cool to actually ride a camel around. They were attached in 3s and led by a guide. Vic’s camel was a bit rowdy and famished so she (Ayesha) decided to bite Theresa on the leg.




The Atlas Mountains are barely visible in the distance.


• (Eric's turn to write) Saadian tombs - once we paid our 10 dirhams, we entered the garden and saw a HUGE line that we weren't willing to wait in, so we had a quick look around and then left. Still don't know who was actually buried there.
• We were a little tight on time nearing the end of Hassan's tour, so instead of seeing the Royal Palace, he took us straight to "The Complex." We weren't quite sure what to expect, as Hassan told us that The Complex was just like a small palace. Well, it might have been one day, but now it's a huge indoor warehouse selling every piece of tourist tat you can imagine. Carpets, decorative boxes, gnome outfits (Jeff actually bought one of these), ceramic colorful dishware, etc. Hassan was eager to get us there so he clearly would get a cut of whatever we bought.




Goat heads for dinner in the main market


• Erin and I returned to Jemaa al Fna for a brief visit before dusk to see the snake charmers, food and water vendors, story tellers, and the elusive plier-wielding teeth pullers (though we never spotted one of these). We bought some of the dried fruit and nuts, wondering how long it had been sitting in it's perfect piles, but not really caring because they tasted so good.
• Making our way back through the winding streets of the Medina, it's difficult not to stare into all the random stalls, wondering what each is selling, but trying not to look too interested for fear of being accosted by the vendors. We passed a lot of coiffeurs (barbers), that consisted of a single barber chair and enough room to squeeze barber and customer. I can't imagine who would risk sitting down in one of these. Well, I didn't have to think too hard, because as we passed one stall, something was clearly out of place. 4-5 locals had gathered around to watch one of the tourists sit down for a trim (a fade, actually.) And it wasn't just any tourist,it was Vic. He'd been talking about getting a proper fade since we landed, but I never believed he would do it. Well done Vic!
• We arrived back at the riad just in time to watch the sunset from the roof terrace. It was quite a sight and complimented nicely by a few glasses of Rosé and the peanut butter "power bar" Maria had bought from the nice old man on the street. For the first time in two days, the air was clear enough to allow a fleeting glimpse of the Atlas mountains.
• Listening to the sunset prayer call from the speakers attached to the mosque minaret next door is quite a surreal experience for a bunch of Westerners.
• At about 8:30, we made our way out to Bab Tarzhout square near the riad to catch taxis to dinner at Le Tobsil. If things are hard to find in the Medina, this place would have been impossible without the restaurant-employed guide who waits by the street where the taxis stop. We zig-zagged through some narrow alleyways to arrive a very nice Moroccan restaurant. I think we were not yet sick of the local fare at this point, so more heaping piles of cous cous and a few tagines later, we were all thoroughly stuffed. We talked a big game about heading out for a drink afterward, but with heavy stomachs, we made our way back to the riad in time to crash in our own beds.

Sunday- Happy Easter!!

• Early wake up for another breakfast on the terrace. No crepes this time...bummer.
• 3 hour car ride to Essaouira. Oddly, it was the same driver that picked us up from the airport on Friday. He didn't speak English so we stuck Jeff in the front seat so he could chat in French. Along the way, we stopped at a rug store to use the bathroom and later to take pictures of goats stranded high in the trees along the side of the road. Clearly a goat herder makes more charging tourist for pictures of tree-stranded goats than they do for selling the goats themselves.




Erin swings a souvenir bag in the Fort at Essaouira


• Essaouria was a smaller, beach-front version of Marrakech. The slower pace was a welcome change, and though there weren't a ton of sights to see, I could see why a few people had advised staying here for two nights and Marrakech for one rather than the other way around.

• We found an Italian restaurant for lunch. The pizzas,ravioli, penne, and green salads were a nice change.




Essaouira seen through a port hole in the fort.


• We wandered through more souks, bought a leather bag and some ceramic plates for the cous cous we will never make, and tried to get off the tourist path a little bit. There were so many amazing photo ops of the Moroccan people going through their daily routines, but we were advised that the locals did not really appreciate having their pictures taken...and certainly not for free.

• We returned to the beach-front square where we bought some cookies from a guy on the street. He tried to sell us some "Happy Cookies...you know LA LA LA, HA HA HA" which sounded pretty appetizing to me. But when he asked if we wanted strong or medium, Erin realized that these delicacies were made with more than just flour,butter, and sugar.
• We had some gelati, and got back in the van for our trip back. Nice naps.
• Went to dinner at Bo Zin, a newer restaurant on the outside of town. It still seemed to cater to Europeans, but possibly those who lived in Marrakech rather than just those of us visiting for the weekend. I had camel tagine to get revenge at Ayesha for trying to eat Theresa on Saturday.

• Again, our plans for a late night out proved futile, and after a brief dance session around bonfire in the the vacant back garden area of the restaurant, we headed home.

On Monday morning, we had one last breakfast on the roof again. Like Sunday, there were no crepes served, but Brigitte packed some for us for our short taxi journey to the airport. A great finish to an amazing weekend.



 

For a look at the pictures from our journey, take a look at the link below. They are a good supplement to the highlights above. I have included our pictures as well as those from our traveling buddies for a good all around look at our trip.

Our pics

http://www.kodakgallery.com/I.jsp?c=hj0zhyv.8uez3ajj&x=0&y=-txpw78&localeid=en_US

Theresa & Vic's pics

http://www.kodakgallery.com/I.jsp?c=hj0zhyv.9fxnm4rz&x=0&y=-owjna4&localeid=en_US
Jeff & Maria's pics

http://www.kodakgallery.com/I.jsp?c=mf0winp.4mt50tth&x=0&y=y8bjpu&localeid=en_US



South Beach, Florida, USA March 14th-17th 2008

I absolutely love my friends and would pretty much do anything for them, including fly from London for the weekend to one of their bachelorette parties. Back in December, I met up with Carl for breakfast when our trips to Naples overlapped. It was then and there that I decided I missed my friends so much that I was going to do anything I could to get to South Beach for Lesley’s bachelorette party in March.

Well, I set out on Friday morning, almost missed my flight out of Heathrow due to all sorts of mishaps (late trains, unhelpful airport personnel and the lack of a first class ticket). I got to the airport and checked in 59 minutes before my flight. The check-in kiosk tells me that I am too late and the flight is now closed. Panic immediately sets in. Looking pained, I seek help and am sent to stand in another line at the ticket counter area behind 5 other customers. Again, the look of pain worsens and a nice lady asks me if she can help. Almost in tears, I am sent to an empty counter and a nice man checks me in, hands me a boarding card, and directs me to security. Things were looking up.

It is 8:30 in the morning and the airport is packed. The security line is dreadfully long. But alas, there is a short line for those inept passengers who can’t seem to get to the airport in ample time (me). This line is much shorter and is only reserved for passengers whose flights are before 9:30 – mine is at 9:20. They actually were encouraging lateness! (Loved it!). I get through security in about 20 minutes, have to bypass all of the tempting duty free goods and walk right onto the plane. We took off an hour late so my thoughts jump to 9 hours from now when I have to make a very tight connection in Chicago. Panic again sets in, and I spend the next 9 hours looking at the flight journey and watching the “estimated time of arrival” go from 25 minutes late to almost an hour.

We land in Chicago at 2:55. My next flight was at 3:30. Before landing, I was able to find out my connecting gate and map out a plan for getting from Terminal M to Terminal K (oddly enough, they are right next to each other but are connected by a tram). The announcement was made that those without connections kindly stay seated so that those with connections can maintain some semblance of hope that they will make them. Fasten seat belt sign off, EVERYONE gets up. I am stuck behind two old people who seem to have all day. I run off the plane, get through customs, the tram arrives as I get there, and I make my flight by exactly 5 minutes. Everything went just right, and I was able to relax for the next 2.5 hours.

I arrive in Miami and surprise the girls in the bar. Carl was the only one who knew I was coming. Lesley cried, Brooke looked stunned, and Meggie was smiling. Those were the faces I initially remember. Then of course Carl looked over and gave me a nod (like, "nice work girl – we kept our secret and got the reaction we had hoped"). The look on their faces, and the feeling I had was absolutely priceless.

The rest of the weekend is kind of a blur. We stayed at the Catalina Hotel right on Collins Avenue. The hotel was modern and a bit shabby but did the job. We had a nice dinner Friday night and then went to the Delano for some drinks. I actually stayed up until 5:30 London time which I was pretty impressed with.

Saturday we lounged on the beach, had a nice lingerie shower for Lesley, got some free alcohol and headed up to our room for some entertainment. Besides looking like the average Joe from the Midwest, he had Patrick Swayze dirty dancing hair and a terrible tick that caused him to yelp and clap every 55 seconds. It was hysterical, but also extremely irritating. Once that ended, we freshened and headed out to Mansion for the evening. Another late and fun night.

Sunday we had brunch then Brooke, Carl and I hung out at the Catalina pool after everyone else had gone. It was nice to catch up and just chat for a few hours before heading back to the airport for my redeye. The flight was pretty uneventful, although I did meet a potential friend. She was from New Zealand and had recently gotten engaged in the BVI – Anagada to be exact - Brooke, that’s for you :). Monday morning I arrived at Heathrow, hurried home, showered and headed into work. It made for a really long week, but the long journey and lack of sleep was all worth it, and I would do it again in a heartbeat.

Can’t wait for the wedding in 25 days!

Dublin, Ireland March 8th-9th 2008

Apologies for taking so long to post a little something about Dublin. Been a bit distracted with work lately. It's unfortunate that work gets in the way of my personal life sometimes :)

Eric had a work trip scheduled for the 7th and 8th of March in Dublin. He had some meetings with local clients and then was "forced" (tough life) to take clients to one of the biggest 6 nation rugby matches - Ireland vs. Wales on Saturday the 8th. Knowing that he would be set up in a nice hotel and his meals would be paid for, I decided to tag along for the weekend.

I arrived in Dublin on Saturday morning and got really lost trying to be thrifty and walk from the train station to the hotel. Big mistake. It took me 45 minutes to get to the hotel which was approximately 1 mile away. I am really quite bad at directions. I spent the day wandering around Grafton Street and O’Connell Street shopping (for myself and for Lesley’s bachelorette party.) It was nice to finally save a little money by purchasing in Euros as opposed to Pounds. In fact, I really took advantage of it. I was quite exhausted after 3 hours of shopping so I went back to the Westin where we were staying, took a shower and decided to curl up in their comfy robes and just lounge on the “heavenly bed” for the next 3 hours! Eric and I ventured out to dinner later on that night and had a really hard time finding a place that wasn’t booked due to the rugby match.

Dinner was at a place called Bleu and still not sure what type of cuisine it was. It seemed to be a mix, but good none the less. We were pretty tired and ended up just going back to the hotel for the night

Sunday was almost a repeat of Saturday. We spent most of the day just wandering around the shops. We decided to stop again at Trinity College because it was directly across the street from our hotel. Eric also had an interest in seeing the Book of Kells but it was still 9 Euros, and if you know Eric, you know he was never going to pay that kind of money to look at a book.
In the early evening we visited the Temple Bar area because we hadn’t properly looked around the on our first visit with my family last summer. And, a lovely looking restaurant caught our eye so we went in. It was absolutely terrible. The food was overpriced and just not good. It was called Bruno’s. If you ever are in the area, don’t go there.

We tried to get on an earlier flight back to London due to the impending monsoon, but no such luck. However, our flight was on time and we arrived back home around 10:30 that night.