I've Got Baggage

Aarhus... again

noreply@blogger.com (The Wanderer) — Sun, 18 May 2008 10:44:00 +0000

I'm in Aarhus, this time opting to fly in a day early so I wouldn't get off the plane and go into work as I have the last 7 or so trips - it's simply too exhausting. It was a good move, too, as I only got about 2 hours of sleep on the plane from ATL to Amsterdam.

I'm at the hotel, unpacked, waiting on an iron and board.

About to nap before heading out for dinner with the ladies - a true delight to have all my fave female colleagues in one place.

Land of the Gretzky

noreply@blogger.com (The Wanderer) — Thu, 15 May 2008 00:21:00 +0000

Toronto is aces. It just is. I think about half a dozen people have told me over the years that it's a great city - they were and are all correct.

First impression: Driving from the airport into downtown and nothing but hockey-related billboards as far as the eye can see. That is heaven. I'm so used to being a weird, red-headed step-child in the states. Hockey fans - particularly in the South - get no love. And we cling to each other. But here? Why there is no mention of football or basketball, golf or baseball. It's just hockey, hockey and more hockey, please.

In fact, my hotel is right around the corner from the Hockey Hall of Fame, which is aptly situated in what looks like a beautiful old church. In reality, it's a beautiful old bank. Go ahead and file that under whatever you like.

I flew up early yesterday so I would get some time to actually see Toronto. My business trips rarely allow me any time to look around and I was determined to get a taste of this non-Quebecois Canada. On the advice of our Toronto-based sales guy, I took advantage of the beautiful 70-degree, sunny weather and walked down to Queen Street West and Kensington Market. I also wound up in Chinatown and Little Vietnam. Delicious slices of city-city life, not that faux city existence in Atlanta. The smells, the signs, the people - wonderful and strange and pungent and a true reminder of Manhattan to me.

Today was a long day of work followed by a hockey dream: dinner at Wayne Gretzky's at 99 Bluejay Way. Sigh. The highlight: They pipe old recorded commentary from The Great One into the bathrooms... I tinkled while Wayne recalled his gold medal win for Canada. Surreal, ridiculous and fabulous. And I sampled the Famous Gretzky Meatloaf based on his mom's recipe - pretty good loaf, man, though the mashed potatoes were a bit dry.

Tomorrow will be another long day of work and then the flight home, which gets me in around 10:30 p.m. Friday at home and Saturday I'm off to Denmark again.

I haven't been posting much - partly because I'm tired, partly because my digital camera is busted. That takes all the fun out of it.

Back in the DK

noreply@blogger.com (The Wanderer) — Tue, 25 Mar 2008 19:33:00 +0000

Yep, I'm in Denmark again. :) Flew from Atlanta to Amsterdam, Amsterdam to Billund and got a taxi to Aarhus. Total travel time roughly 13 hours. And I discovered the hard way that Amsterdam is now a smoke-free airport. As in I didn't get my customary post-long-haul nic-fix. That sucked. But I'm pretty impressed that I did without and didn't harm myself or anyone else.

I'm exhausted and only got about 2 hours of sleep on the red-eye over. Lots of babies and toddlers on the flight, post-Easter and all. And it was snowing in Amsterdam and now it's snowing in Aarhus - the biggest, heaviest, wettest flakes I've ever seen. Larger than a silver dollar and so thick I couldn't look up without getting jabbed in the eye by the cold bastards!

Just come from fish and chips at the Golden Lion. I'm ready for a hot shower, some PJs and a good, long sleep.

Go Bobcats!

noreply@blogger.com (The Wanderer) — Thu, 17 Jan 2008 22:43:00 +0000

It's my last night in Charlotte - on this trip. I will probably be coming back soon. The folks here have been so awesome, I'm sad to leave them and happy to know I get to come back.

I'm incredibly exhausted from doing two weeks of training. It's amazing how much it saps the body and the brain. But the clients really treated us to an amazing experience last night - we went to an NBA game at the Bobcats Arena and got to watch from the exective box!

I am absolutely not a basketball fan. Yes, I'm tall. No, I was never any good at b-ball. It requires coordination, something I have always been short on. My center of gravity sits somewhere around my nose.

But attending a live sporting event is always a blast - the vibe of the crowd always gets me going. And having a full fridge of every beverage imaginable, box seats, snacks and a big crowd of great people made the game that much better. Plus! The Bobcats won! 99-93 against the Magic! An unexpected upset that made the last quarter really thrilling.

So, thanks to the great people in Charlotte who make me look forward to returning.

In the executive box, cheerleaders stop by to say heeey! Dang, it's good to be executive.

This is some crazy snit, yo. This Bobcat balloon roamed around the arena, propelled by fans controlled remotely. I would love to get my hands on that RC.

My colleagues and clients grab a couple of cheerleaders (male and female) to help spell out the name Jesper - he is back in Denmark and missed out on the game. These folks are just rubbing it in.

As we left the arena, this drum corp was busting out some great beats and the guys in jerseys were dancing up a storm, old school. One guy even slid 6 feet on his head. On. His. Head.

The box! Back to the left was a kitchenette and the fridge had every soda imaginable and lots of beer - including Newcastle. Yeah!

The view from the box as the "game/show" started. Such a spectacle; we noticed that there wasn't one moment of silence during the game - music was always playing.

Oh yeah, there were some tall guys throwing an orange ball around, too.

Our box seats (the rest of the box is behind us. Sa-weet!

I think they were trying to spell out our company name... but they went overboard. :) Awww, these guys are so much fun.

The Queen City Welcomes Me Back

noreply@blogger.com (The Wanderer) — Sun, 13 Jan 2008 23:02:00 +0000

Now that the holidays are over, I am once again back on the road for work.

I opted to drive to Charlotte as it's only a four-hour trip. It would take the same amount of time, door-to-door, to fly here because of traffic, airport crap, rental car, etc. The drive up was a lovely, lazy Sunday push and I had blue skies and open road for most of the way.

I've actually been here since LAST Sunday, I've just been too busy working to post. But it was my first week doing a new task for the company - training instead of demo - and I find I quite like the work and the change of pace; 8 hours of give and take versus 1-6 hours of show and tell. The folks here are incredibly bright and warm, so that helps.

I like Charlotte. It hasn't seem to have figured itself out yet, but I think it's got great potential. The Queen City is a banking center of huge proportions and the Uptown reflects that - huge skyscrapers and restaurants but not too much in the way of real fun. However, they have added the light rail and I think the outlying neighborhoods are pretty charming and funky. My colleague and I spent last week exploring the food and wine in Uptown Charlotte, even enjoying a rickshaw ride (!!!???) back to the hotel the other night. It's been quite fun getting to know her and I'm glad to have come to North Carolina if just for that.

She and I spent last week dining all over uptown - RockBottom, Capitol Grille -- and even ventured to a mall nearby because they have a Cheesecake Factory. Yes, I know. She's Danish, though, and they don't have them so a trip to the mall was entirely all right. As it turns out, the mall - Southpark - is very posh and contained a lot of stores someone of my financial status has no business being in. However, I did find a Torrid there and blew a load of cash on work clothes - none of which I can expense, but all of which I quite need. (And, ladies, if you are above a size 10, Torrid is fantastic - fun, quality clothes for work and play in larger sizes.)

This weekend, Niels came up to visit and we met up with his old buddy Jeremy, who took us disc golfing at Kilborne Park, out for drinks at The Philosopher's Stone, the Solstice Tavern and on an aborted trip to a waaaay overcrowded Mac's BBQ. Jeremy lives in Charlotte's version of SoHo (and Louisville's Highlands) -- it's called NoDa for North Davidson. We had dinner at the Penguin - a traditional greasy spoon with awesome burgers and great friend pickles (in chip form!) This morning we went to Mert's uptown for Southern comfort and soul food with Jeremy, his girl Nichole and his sister Emily. Excellent mac n cheese -- excellent! It has me pining for the mac back in Louisville at Lynn's Paradise Cafe.

Niels has actually made it back to ATL already, and I am working in the hotel room, content to spend a night in ordering room service. The good folks at the client site have invited us to attend a Bobcats game Wednesday - in the executive box! I have never been a basketball fan, so this will be my first time at an NBA game. Hopefully, viewing from the lap of luxury will help me get into the game.

I'm afraid it didn't occur to me to look at the plaque on this statue. It was outside some sort of government building, I think. That's my hotel lit up in white in the background. The right is where the NASCAR Hall of Fame is being built. Yeehaw!

Riding in a rickshaw is a bit nervewracking. The speed seems much faster and since there is absolutely no safety protection involved, I did get pretty scared zooming downhill. I actually spent a lot of time planning how I would fall if the thing turned over or crashed!

As you can see, we did actually survive. I don't think I am likely to repeat the experience here. Perhaps if I get the chance in Copenhagen, though.

Niels' friend Jeremy (super awesome guy!) shows us the ropes at the disc golf course at Kilborne Park. We loved it - it's a great way to get exercise and feel like you are accomplishing something at the same time. And, you needn't lug golf clubs around!

This is me prepping for a disc throw - much, much harder than expected. Those little puppies don't fly right unless you've got technique. I have none.

This action shot make me look like a kung fu star. In reality, my disc would fly about 30 feet, hang a decided left and plummet into the woods. Jeremy, on the other hand, was able to throw his over 200 yards at a shot. Ulp.

Charlotte has been good to me - and hopefully will be through the rest of my stay. And I might even be coming back again in the next six months.

Flight: None

Drive: 253 miles, one way

Bags: Black gear roller, backpack, huge pink suitcase

Hotel: Hilton Garden Inn - Uptown. Sigh. I've stayed here before and enjoyed it, but this trip it seems the management is going downhill a bit - the desk staff have not been terribly friendly. They seem cranky and annoyed when I have dealt with them. Also, a lightbulb was out in my room when I arrived, the remote needed batteries and three days later another lightbulb went out. The maid sometimes delivers coffee packets, sometimes only delivers decaf (why, god, why????) and occasionally forgets to check the TP. Um, I'm not terribly thrilled with the place this time around. Lastly, the parking garage is a slow and painful cruise through many levels of parked car hell to a dangerous and steeply sloping exit that shows the marks of past drivers who accidentally hit the walls of this narrow ramp. I generally opt for HGIs as they are clean, a tad upscale but still for normal folks - this place is the exception to the many great stays I've had. And, frankly, my complaints are hardly major.

Savannah revisited

noreply@blogger.com (The Wanderer) — Sun, 13 Jan 2008 21:57:00 +0000

As luck would have it, after making our plans for our first visit to Savannah Niels and I were invited to a wedding there on Dec. 29. We were delighted at the prospect of returning after our first incredible visit. So we packed up again and this time stayed at the Westin, which sits on the opposite side of the Savannah River from the city. Our room, which was a treat to us from the bride and groom had a spectacular view and gave us a new perspective on the city that will one day become our home -- I hope.

Friday night was full of food and booze and old friends reuniting - and making me, the new girlfriend, feel incredibly welcome. Niels has a wonderful posse of pals that are colorful and warm.

Saturday morning we struggled to get out of bed and over to the Cobblestone Cafe, which we had noticed on our last trip serves breakfast all day long. What a dissapointment! Small, overpriced portions of really lousy food. The only upside were the visitor journals at each table that we got to read and add to.

Saturday night was the wedding, held at the famous Garibaldi's Seafood restaurant in the upstairs party room. It was so beautiful and warm and cozy a setting, I'm suprised more folks didn't wind up tying the knot! The ceremony, performed by Eric (aka Sleazy E) was short, sweet and genuine. The food was fantastic and the dancing was delightful. It was a great party and the vibe was loving and connected.

Sunday, unfortunately, came too soon. And it brought with it some hangovers and general traveling melancholy. We were sorry to leave old/new friends, Savannah and a great time.

Here are the pics:

On the ferry from the Westin to the city. That dude is so in awe of my awesomeness. Happens all the time.

The Reverend Sleazy (Eric) and West Coast Amit on the ferry. Eric was ordained by an online site to perform the wedding.

Getting goofy on the ferry landing.

Niels peruses the visitor journal at the Cobblestone Crap-fe.

It's like I knew the food would suck. Just look at that pinched face!

Garibaldi's was a perfect setting for the wedding.

Sleazy and Niels show off their sophisticated sides.

The guys - old college buddies from UGA. (Above and below)

Oh, Savannah, Oh Don't You Cry for Me!

noreply@blogger.com (The Wanderer) — Mon, 17 Dec 2007 19:17:00 +0000

I love Savannah, Georgia. I had a pretty good feeling long before I ever booked my hotel that I would dig on this peach of a town. It does remind me of New Orleans --always a plus -- only it's smaller and, well, cleaner. Also, it's not devastated by a hurricane and left to rot in the sun by the U.S. government. (Savannah is much whiter than New Orleans, so I'm sure that helps.)

This is a non-business trip - the first on this blog. Niels and I went to Savannah to celebrate the holidays early since we won't be together at Christmas. Also, it was that crucial "first trip as a couple." It was a total success - champagne, gifts, incredible meals, walking, sites, drinking local beer, the best corned beef sandwich in the history of corned beef sandwiches. We also completely charmed all the other guests on our Haunted Pub Crawl Friday night. They followed us - including the tour guide - to an Irish bar on River Street for post-tour beverages. And, yes, I do believe EVERY bar on River Street is Irish.

Which leads me to ask you a question... what's with all the Irish in Savannah? I've just checked with Wikipedia.org and that was no help. Awful lot of Irish wound up in New Orleans, too. Just curious.

Niels and I arrived in Savannah Thursday night after literally being turned back by a blocked road not 3 miles from his house. I was convinced we were heading toward the Weekend of Doom because I'd had a bad day and I'd had a black cat dart in front of my car right before I got to Niels' house. There were some bumps along the way - a mixup with the hotel reservation, bad traffic, etc.- but it certainly did not turn into the Weekend of Doom. It was, indeed, the Weekend of Awesome (Hangovers).

Friday morning we woke up bright and "early" and walked down to the River Street to enjoy the water and bridge views. We had lunch at Tubby's, Niels sipping on a pre-noon beer and both of us reveling in the fresh seafood - shrimp and an unbelievably good blackened mahi mahi. Yum! After lunch overlooking the river and watching a tanker sail by, we did the touristy shopping thang and stopped in at all the shops on River Street, finally ending with one of the 3,000 old-timey candy stores in Savannah. (Tourism pays.) Loaded down with chocolate-covered pretzels, chocolate-coated s'mores and chocolate-glazed marshmallows, he grabbed some coffee before driving to the beach on Tybee Island.

Tybe Island is where I would like to live... starting now. OK, now. How about now? It's this insane little paradise full of Carribean-inspired beach houses nestled next to old-timey '50s Florida homes and hardy New England Cape Cods. And palmettos, scrub pines and more line the streets. We drove around for an hour just enjoying the incredible homes. We also enjoyed being on the beach in bare feet on Dec. 14. It wasn't warm enough to swim but it was a warm and relaxing day.

Afterwards, we did some more auto-site-seeing and then went to Murphy's Law for dinner. The best corned beef sandwich I've ever had lives there. Truly. Amazing. Succulent - it's actually written like that on the menu... and it's actually true! Then it was on to the Haunted Pub Crawl, which started down the street at Molly MacPherson's.

Strange things were afoot at the start of the tour. Firstly, our tour guide was actually the 8 o'clock guide, but the 9 o'clock guide called out, so 8 o'clock guy doubled back to Molly's with his 8 o'clock crowd -- a very cheery, pub-y crowd. In that group was a woman named Lisa... she grew up in Smithtown, on the north shore of Long Island. She went to law school in New Orleans. She now lives in Atlanta. (Anybody see any parallels to my life???) We had a lot in common.

So, with a half-drunk group in tow, we began the tour. It wasn't very scary. It wasn't scary at all. But it was historically delicious and there is no open-container law in Savannah so we could toddle along from bar to bar with plastic cups and grins displayed.

And many beers were had. And then many shots were had. And then it was morning. And then it was closer to noon. And then Niels and I struggled to leave the hotel. And then it was raining all day. We drove around enjoying the gorgeous neighborhoods of Savannah. Eventually, in the evening we managed to amble over to the City Market for some fresh air.

After returning to the hotel and getting all gussied up, we walked over to the Chart House. It was a busy restaurant, but the atmosphere was cozy and the food was sensational. More shrimp met their maker in the form of my belly that night... it was heaven for me, anyway.

We had plans to make great use of the hot tub in the room that night... but the flail was mighty after that meal and all I could manage was watching some TV before falling asleep. :)

Sunday: It was cold. We packed up, stopping at Parker's Gourmet Market for gas and supplies on the way out of town. We hit traffic. We sat in traffic. We got home.

I love Savannah. Heh.

Billund (Land of the Lego)

noreply@blogger.com (The Wanderer) — Fri, 30 Nov 2007 21:49:00 +0000

It's 11 p.m. and I'm addicted to Showtime's "Dexter." A co-worker (coworker!) put a season or two on my laptop and I've been hooked for the last two days.

I'm in Billund, Denmark, home to Lego Land. But it's closed for the season and I'm at a down-market hotel directly next to the airport. I'll fly to Amsterdam at a ridiculous hour in the morning. And from Amsterdam I'll fly home to Atlanta.

I'm sorry to say I've taken no self-portraits. I did take a pic or two in Aarhus and one at the airport in Amsterdam, Schiphol.

It's been a fine trip; we had dinner and music and even a little dancing. I met some crazy Scots in a British bar where I ate curry and downed the Tuborg Christmas beer. I ate at the French restaurant Dauphine with a couple of colleagues and for the first time in my life I ate a four-course meal of mystery, allowing the chef to make my choices and pair my wines. It was an incredibly enjoyable experience... and incredibly expensive. Everyone should get to have a personal waiter explain in intimate detail the dishes and wines being served. No wonder rich people are so ... spoiled. And aside from a slight hangover the next morning, the wine didn't give me the usual ugly headache reaction. I think I am simply allergic to CHEAP wine, kids. Make a note of that. We had a wonderful dry and nutty sherry, champagne, reisling and some other specialties I've already forgotten.

I'm going home tomorrow. It will be a very long day of travel, followed by the boyfriend's office holiday party. I love my dress! Took two weeks to find it, but I'm so glad I did.

I'm off point. Here are some pictures to distract you from this meandering little blahg. Hell, it's my SEVENTH trip to Denmark in EIGHT months; I've run out of material.

A cafe in the Schilpol Airport in Amsterdam.

A view from the SAS Radisson in Aarhus.

Modern-day windmills in Denmark.

My insanely delicious dessert at Dauphine. From left to right: chocolate ganache with caramel sails (I knocked 'em down... to yummy to hoist), lemon pudding-esque merangue vibe with carbonated sugar (just like PopRocks!) and a scoop of delicious ice cream on top of carbonated grain (just like big, grainy PopRocks!). Rating: 9 out of 10.

Technically...

noreply@blogger.com (The Wanderer) — Tue, 20 Nov 2007 02:44:00 +0000

Hey y'all! I haven't actually been traveling, so I haven't actually been posting here. But I have hit Platinum and my beautiful black tags came in the mail this week. Woohoo! Better chance for upgrades - and I need it in today's travel world. (An ugly world full of overbooked flights and tarmac delays.)

I just wanted to point out the RSS feeder at the top right of the blog. Subscribe! Then you'll know all the travel excitement as soon as it posts.

I will be heading over to Denmark next week - expect some bitching! Cold weather! Lots of ham and fish dishes! Long flights!

Red Eyed Demon

noreply@blogger.com (The Wanderer) — Fri, 26 Oct 2007 18:32:00 +0000

Oooh, boy. There is a reason the red eye from California is always a bad idea. I learned this lesson years ago during a trip to my friend Denelle's wedding. You just don't have enough time to sleep. The flight from SFO to ATL was only a little over 4 hours - but you lose 3 coming back. And the flight is always packed. I was seated in a center seat of hell and hadn't thought to bring a neck ring pillow... so, I spent the trip ever hunched over my lap trying to sleep while folded up like a cell phone or with my head nodding to the left, the right, the front. Ugh.

It was a strange trip - and I'm still asleep so I can't promise to make much sense. I didn't meet up with Tracy in SF - the work day ran very long and we couldn't jibe on phone calls. I didn't see anything of SF except the hotel and the site I went to. This is business travel after all.

Anyway, I booked the 11:35 flight home because today (Friday) is a day I requested off for a friend's band that is coming into town. I wanted to make sure I didn't get booked for anything so I took the whole day off. Then when this last-minute trip came up, I didn't want to spend my vacation day traveling so I chose the red-eye of doom.

We didn't even board until midnight. A passenger on the incoming flight on my plane was caught smoking in the restroom on the tarmac at JFK. The guy is Russian and claimed he doesn't speak English and didn't know... yeah, right. Nobody bought it. But I really felt for the guy - he was traveling with his family and the cops confiscated his tickets to the next destination! But I pity him because I suspect he was on a flight from Moscow to JFK to SFO to ???. Of course, you can't smoke on planes anymore. And you may or may not know that you can't smoke anywhere in JFK. So by the time he was on his flight to SFO he was probably really jonesin'. And then his flight was delayed on the tarmac. I think he just cracked.

Well, it seems the entire police force was called out - 6 cops showed up to deal with this guy. It was really overkill. All the Delta folks were positively outraged. Outraged! I thought they overreacted. But I guess as a smoker I can relate. I really don't think it's smart for major airports - particularly major connecting airports like JFK, LaGuardia, LAX, etc., to not offer any smoking whatsoever when passengers can be coming in from 10, 15, 20 hour flights before connecting to another. How about an outdoor pen area that doesn't require leaving security but isn't "inside" ? I don't know... give a guy a break.

Anyway, got back at 7:30 a.m., took effing shuttle to effing park&ride, drove home in rush hour traffic, walked into house and into bed by 9:30. If I had taken a 9 a.m. flight from SFO today, I would be getting back around 4 p.m. today. I'm not sure sleeping until 2:30 really was worth it. In fact, I'm sure it wasn't.

P.S. For some reason, even though I have at last topped 75,000 miles, I am still not Platinum. There is some confusing language about miles earned in 2006, earning Platinum in 2007. Of course, it's 2007 now so Delta needs to update their site. Because they suck!

San Francisco!

noreply@blogger.com (The Wanderer) — Thu, 25 Oct 2007 01:27:00 +0000

Welcome to California!

Truth be told, I don't think I'm going to have time to see the city apart from the view from my hotel window. It's 6:30 p.m. and the sun is quickly sinking. Adventuring out would mean doing so solo and I don't think I'm in the best area for that. Not far from the Wharf, but not close enough to hoof it - I'm near Grace Cathedral but ... well, you know.

The flight was pretty unremarkable. I laugh at 41/2 hours now that I've spent so much time on the grueling ATL-CPH flight of misery and back. Though I'm pretty miffed with Delta. I booked my flight last week and requested seat 26F - window seat in an exit row. I'm tall, my legs are long and I like to lean on the window when snoozing. Plus, I'm quite capable of opening the exit door in an emergency.

Well, I shlubbed to my seat only find a couple in seats 26F and E - and they had the tickets to match. Delta had "upgraded" me between when I checked in from home at 11 a.m. and when I boarded the flight around 2 p.m. Sigh. Only the upgrade was a seat at the front with a little leg room but no place to stow my bag. I don't care for those seats because I like to have my belongings close at hand. Sure enough, it was a late and choppy start and the seatbelt light didn't turn off for 45 minutes, ensuring I couldn't take my pills at the right time and generally pissing me the hell off. Delta didn't really upgrade me, they just put me in a seat I would NEVER have chosen for myself because I like to keep my bag close. Gee, thanks.

Then I find out that while I'm finally on a Delta plane with individual TVs and video games and movies, etc., Delta requires you to pay $5 for games, $2 for headphones, $$$ for movies, etc. It was a real rip off and felt exceedingly cheap and pathetic. In short, Delta sucks.

But I'm so very close to Platinum - in fact, I should already be Platinum this moment but apparently Delta's site doesn't update very quickly... because they suck.

Um, yeah, back to S.F. - I have lovely memories of the city from childhood and wish I had the time to really look around. This is a Hello Kitty mecca, too. But I'm tired after going to the Sound of Urchin show at the Masquerade last night. And traveling. And the awful debacle with airport parking at ATL!

I left the house at 11:30 a.m. for a 2:10 flight. Half hour drive to the airport and because this is a short trip I was going to splurge for the fancy covered parking. Well, the lot was full. As was the economy lot South. And the economy lot North. And all parking everywhere. How can this be one of the biggest and busiest airports in the world and they can't accomodate parking??? I finally got into the Park&Ride lot about 1 p.m. - and it was more than half an hour in line to get in. Ridiculous. Luckily, the shuttles were lined up AT the row being filled so there wasn't much of a time delay on getting to the terminal. But I was sweating bullets this morning, convinced I was going to miss another flight. Eeeee! But I learned a good travel lesson - Wednesday is the busiest travel day at ATL. One to grow on.

So, it looks like instead of checking out Pier 39, I'll be ironing, doing some work catchup and maybe watching a little TV. Superstar!

A picture is worth... yada, yada, yada

noreply@blogger.com (The Wanderer) — Tue, 23 Oct 2007 02:24:00 +0000

Yep. This is how I enjoy art. At The Belvedere, where the Gustav Klimt work lives. Can't take pics of that though.

Apparently, I simply have no desire and no time to blog about Vienna (ignoring that I spent 90 percent of this past weekend at home with a bum back...) If you know me at all, you know I have the memory of a goldfish. (That's actually a new one - I used to say hamster, but a co-worker chose the more apt title above.) Holy parenthetical already.
Sigh. I'm busy. And not feeling particularly motivated to blog about travel this week. And last week. And the week before. Sometimes life is like that. Especially when you start getting some semblance of a life. Semblance, I said!
So, I'm just going to throw up a bunch of pics and not spell check the names and not offer links. Maybe some day I'll clean it up, but if I can't remember how to spell sachartorte today, how will I remember in a month? What was I talking about?
On with the show!

German demo diva Kim shows off the famous sachartorte of Vienna. It's pretty good... just a very sugary chocolate cake with a chocolate glace on top.

No, it didn't snow. There was some sort of strange tourism fair going on that was pushing Salzburg skiing in the winter. Complete with ski slope and snowboarders, for real.

A view from St. Stephenspladz - the huge church with the spire of doom that rises to heaven. It really goes all the way to heaven. I didn't climb it but that's what it looked like. You can't see it in this picture. Heh.

Near one of Friederichs Hundervasser's buildings. No, I don't think that IS how you spell his name. As Lars says, Fucking Google It. Cool architecture that is socially-minded and funky. But the d00d hates straight lines so even the floors are uneven. Not so much. And, yes, it does say Toilet of Modern Art. It cost 60 Euro cents to get in and it looked more like a Toilet of Minimal Cleaning. Rip off.

That is not Mr. Hundervasser. Picture interloper!

I don't know. Obvy, the cafe is closed. Why THAT Belushi?

Kim at one of our many cafe "breaks." Delicious, smoke-filled and delicious. "Vienna is for Smokers."

The best open-air market I've ever seen, despite the same 10 stalls seeming to repeat over and over and over. It's big. And full of fabulous things that one wants.

I do not want this. Marzipan. The Huzz. But it sure is perty.

At the Cafe Kafka - of course we had to go in. All the coffee in Vienna was wonderful. But I have the tastes of a goldfish as well as the memory. I have no idea why the face.

I just like flower shops... especially when they are called Blumenhaus.

I spotted this little number on some tourist materials before we ever got near the Belvedere. I was so happy to see her in real life. I wish I had one at home.

Heidi Klum owns Vienna. Her frighteningly frantic smile was on every billboard, in every window and hiding in the strangest places. The Klum is scary in Vienna.

Horses waiting. Like they do.

Seriously, it looks like this all over the place. Vienna is beautiful.

The Belvedere... in between the art you can look at... more art. Overwhelming and magnificent and I felt naked without my petticoat and wig.

I guess Austrians really don't like Gavin Rossdale. FGI.

This picture should be up further. I am lazy so it can stay where it is.

Uhhhh... erm... uhhhh...

At the meter pub - lowercased because I can't be bothered to find the real name of it. But everything was served in meters - food and beer both. And it was good... this is how we convert the U.S. to the metric system!

They weren't fooling around with the ketchup. Obviously, we'd had a couple meters by this point.

So, Vienna rocked and was good unto me and I holdeth it close to my heart for all time. I saw the Klimt, I saw the Hundervasser, I ate the bratwurst and the sachartorte, I drank the cofee - "the Vienna melange" - and I ,,, lost this right before posting. Don't remember what else it was I wanted to say. But visit Vienna. It's a good thing.

P.S. If you want an automatic update on this site, get Google Reader. Fucking Google It, man.

Bags: Who's counting? At least I got mine. Kim's were sent to Spain - to two DIFFERENT cities in Spain.

Flights: It takes 11 hours to get from Vienna to Atlanta. ELEVEN hours. I lucked out and got 3 center seats to myself. Awwww, yeah. The flights to Denmark and to Vienna from Denmark were fairly unremarkable.

P.P.S. I am less than 2,000 miles from going Platinum with Delta. I'll be pulling those miles on Wednesday and Thursday, baby! Now if I could just figure out a way to use the miles...

No Sausages, Just Vienna

noreply@blogger.com (The Wanderer) — Wed, 10 Oct 2007 10:32:00 +0000

I've been meaning to post some sort of feed that will make updates obvious to my small circle of readers. But I've been far too busy for that of late. Still, it will happen eventually.

I'm in the conference hall right now, between demos. I've just had a sandwich and I'm waiting to go on again in about 45 minutes. Vienna, what little I have seen, is lovely. I am really starting to look forward to having Friday and Saturday to look about. Kim and I have booked a much cheaper hotel for these two nights and I'm relieved to know I won't be spending a fortune on accomodations.

I know for sure that I must see some of Gustav Klimt's work in person and I am also looking forward to just sitting in one of the many cafe's and enjoying the people watching. It is day 11 of working and I'm doing fine. Had a great Chinese meal last night! Before that it was Mexican! Before that we went to a Viennese tourist trap type place with classic Austrian accents and such. I tried the venison with cherries and gnocchi - delish! The Viener Schnitzel is not so good in this city, despite the name.

I will say the food here has been pretty great over all. It's a very cosmopolitan city.

Wien = Vienna

noreply@blogger.com (The Wanderer) — Sun, 07 Oct 2007 18:06:00 +0000

Right. So I'm in Vienna. I've got not photos to post just yet because it has been a mad dash to get ready for our exhibition. And it's been a bit of a nightmare for some folks so it's been tense and difficult. Not at all as positive as our last expo.

I'm so exhausted I don't even feel excited about my sightseeing days at the end of the week. I'd rather be heading home, really. A week in Denmark before coming here has pretty much done me in on suitcase living, foreign languages, foreign food, foreign outlets and all the attendant crap. I want to curl up in my own bed and not have to set the alarm!

So, you see, traveling for a living is beginning to eat away at me more. I think it's just been so very busy and so very stressful lately. I really just want to relax and have a beer or 9 and not have to think about working... which I have had to now since I left Atlanta Sunday evening -- a week ago. I think that's another reason we're all getting cranky; this is day 7 straight of working under tough conditions with long days.

Now, I'm just finishing up for the day and it's after 8 p.m. and I've been here since 9 a.m. I want dinner but I don't want to have to go out with a big group and spend 21/2 hours doing it.

So, let me finish up and escape!

Same, Same, Different

noreply@blogger.com (The Wanderer) — Wed, 03 Oct 2007 19:37:00 +0000

This is the amazing view I had upon my arrival here Monday evening.

Well, I can tell I'm bored by the pictures I've taken. There have only been a handful and I'm even repeating myself. I've been pretty tired during this trip and haven't felt a desire to venture out into Aarhus more than absolutely necessary. I've been in bed and asleep by 10 p.m. each night and up before 6 a.m.

And today has been my longest day at work in the Denmark headquarters - from 8:30 a.m. until 9 p.m. as we prepare for our big exposition in Vienna. But it was a good day overall and we did actually move forward in the end. And the boss ordered pizza for us all -- granted, it was Danish pizza but it was still the best I've had over here so far! I just didn't have any of the pizza with shrimp on it.

View from my digs.

I have also managed to avoid going out to eat - last night I went to Mad&Vin (Food and Wine, and a play on Magazine, I think) after I hopped off the bus. Bought some solbaer preserves (black current) and some "mature" Irish cheddar (I hate the immature cheddar - so rude!) and some fresh bread. It was a nice European dinner and it required no vexing attempts to avoid mayo and get the attention of wait staff.

I don't think I'll make my curfew tonight. It's already close to 10 p.m. and I need to wind down a bit before turning it. Strangely, as much as I didn't want to come to Denmark again this week (Come On! It's my SIXTH trip here in SIX months - a guaranteed 15 hours travel time minimum!) I find I'm feeling pretty relaxed about it, pretty comfortable with my existence here, which is usually neither relaxed or comfortable. But I'm used to the frustration of not understanding Danish, I'm used to the currency, the bus schedule, the drunken revelers here on the Aboulevarden. It is what it is. That's something.

Good night.

Wait a second... I'm in Denmark? Again?

noreply@blogger.com (The Wanderer) — Mon, 01 Oct 2007 17:57:00 +0000

It seems as though I just wrote about returning from Denmark... oh, wait. I did. Here I am back in the (Danish) saddle again. Suffering from a cruel dinner even as I was amazed to find cafeteria lunch was a Danish success featuring some real treats: potatoes with scallions and spices that were perfectly cooked, my favorite pickled beets (pickled in sugar and vinegar and chopped, these puppies are vaguely reminiscent of cranberry sauce) and some kickin' pork loin. But no... the evil that is take-out has struck again and I am once again cursing the gods of Aarhus cuisine.

Eh, well. It's a living.

The flight over was pretty fine. I really dig flying KLM to Amsterdam and then to Billund and then an hour taxi. It sounds bad but it actually feels better than flying Delta to Copenhagen and Cimber to Aarhus and then a half hour taxi. Plus, damn it, those KLM mini-TVs make the world a better place. Shanghai kicked my tired tush so bad, but I loved every woozy minute of it.

In case you can't tell, I have now been awake 21 of the last 24 hours. Hooray for red-eyes in coach. But, I'm here! So the hardest part is over. And in just a few days I get to go to Vienna! Woohoo!

Home Again, Home Again, Jiggity Jig

noreply@blogger.com (The Wanderer) — Sun, 16 Sep 2007 01:01:00 +0000

I got out of Denmark a few days earlier than planned. I left my hotel at 4 a.m. (Danish time) Friday and got back to my apartment at 6 p.m. (EST). That is essentially traveling from 4 a.m. until midnight, or 20 hours. Ooeee. But I found I was able to doze a bit on the KLM flight from Amsterdam to Atlanta, which is usually hard during the day flight back. (I had to fly from Billund to Amsterdam and change flights.) It was my first time not using Delta, though they are a partner so I got those precious Sky Miles, which become an obsession despite their apparent uselessness for booking actual flights.

KLM - that's the Royal Dutch airline - was fine. Their tag line is: "The Reliable Airline," so you can see they aren't reaching for the stars here; of course they still didn't manage to attain that level of service. The flight attendents seemed nicer, the plane seemed nicer and each passenger gets their own little TV screen and the option of watching TV (news, comedy, drama, educational), watching movies (fairly big selection) or playing video games! Saaa-weet. I kept falling asleep while doing all of the above and waking up with my headphones around my cheeks.

The food was wretched. And weird. I can't catch a break on the Scandinavian menu, folks. Between a salad of celery, pickles and ham chunks in mayo to a soup I still haven't deduced the origins of, it was a rough flight foodwise. But, one up on Delta for KLM: they serve chocolate ice cream instead of vanilla. That is bold indeed in the flight food service industry.

Unfortunately, I was seated in a weird row - my TV was mostly in front of the guy next to me, an oil rig worker returning from a 6-week shift off Nigeria. Seemed like a nice guy, apart from the porn 'stache and halitosis, and it turns out he's from Louisiana so I was an instant fan. Until he started rubbing my hand and saying things like, "Since we're sleeping together, you might as well tell me your name." Ick. Major Huzz inducer, there. And it's so hard to get away from creepy guys in economy... I was pressed to the other side of my seat and was still brushing elbows with him. If something like that happens again I do believe I shall request a seat change. There is no reason I should be subjected to pervy come-ons during a fucking 9 1/2 hour flight. You may add an extra hour to that for the baggage handler who damaged a panel that had to be checked before we left and the Atlanta weather that forced us to fly in circles for half an hour before landing.

So by the time I got out of ATL (through customs, baggage, security, baggage again) on a flight scheduled to arrive at 1:40 p.m., it was 4:30 p.m. -- and rush hour traffic in a major storm. In ideal conditions, the drive takes 35 minutes. But, if you can do math you must already realize it took 90 minutes yesterday. Woohoo! And that was 90 minutes of me putting my foot on the clutch, then tapping into first, then braking, foot on clutch, tapping into first, braking, rinse and repeat. I swear my left leg hurts today from the bumper-to-bumper fun of standard transmission.

OK, just to end on a slightly more positive note, I have compiled a bunch of photos of the headquarters of my company and some random Danish shots. (Why I'm bothering to end on a positive note, I don't know. I seem to write better when surly.)

View from the cafeteria at work.

Not actually at work. Drive-by photo of the sea. That way lies Sweden!

Another picturesque drive-by.

Me gleefully smoking indoors at work. They still have smoking lounges on every floor. Wow.

The 0 floor smoking lounge... well, what would you call the first floor if the second floor was called the first? That's how they roll in Europe.

Snacks awaiting conference folks in one of the many training rooms.

A view towards the 1st floor, where the entrance is. There are two sets of these steps leading down around "the Monolith," (on the right) which contains a theater.

A tree grows in Denmark. In the building. Actually, there are several trees.

The view from my hotel.

The cafeteria at work. They have their own kitchen staff who serve lunch every day. The Danes are charged a pittance only because if the company made meals free the company would have to pay huge taxes on it. I'm charged about $3 for a buffet of fresh fruits and veggies, strange Danish standards and delicious bread and cheese. It's worth it. And I use my security pass so it doesn't require I have money - the company deducts it from my pay.

A view from the training area towards the cafe. That is a glass door that requires a security badge to get through. All the security doors are very "Star Trek."

The building is sort of shaped like a figure 8 and the cafeteria and monolith are inside the courtyard of one of the centers. The other contains an outdoor courtyard with landscaping.

A (British ex-pat who lives in the U.S.) colleague chats on the phone. Danish law requires that every worker have a window in his office so the architects get very clever. And there is a moat around the building. It's about a foot deep and consists of rain water.

The view of Atlanta all the way home. Sheesh.

Denmarking Time

noreply@blogger.com (The Wanderer) — Wed, 12 Sep 2007 21:21:00 +0000

A drive-by shooting of Danish architecture near the queen's summer home here in Aarhus. (I'm very annoyed that I can't center my cutlines in Blogger... it centers all the text instead of just that which is highlighted. I am vexed.)

It's been a good trip to Aarhus; short and not entirely productive in the way I expected, but enjoyable. We have a conference for users going on and I have enjoyed interacting with newsies this week - the informed political discourse, bordering on the inappropriate, and the understanding we seem to have of each other by profession and calling. (Though I guess you could say I have been called away.)

I'm so tired right now. The jet lag has caught up with me despite my clever use of melatonin to fool my brain. My brain cannot be fooled! And this was a long day as it's 11 p.m. and I've just returned from the "formal" business dinner at the MusikHuset. (And I have no idea who the guy in the skull cap smelling his fingers on that web site is... we didn't actually have any music, just a long meal and lots of fancy forks and glasses and three kinds of wine.) Lots of folks in town for the conference are going out to the bars tonight... but, alas, I cannot. I'm too tired and I actually have to work in the morning.

It's funny, I could easily go into the newsroom hungover and still perform my job well. But I just can't be "on" and clever and handle misteps in front of groups of people when the possibility of vomiting is sitting like a demon on my shoulder. So I've had to grow up and be a bit more responsible.

Of course, I've already made plans to go out to the bars tomorrow night since I am now flying back to the states Friday instead of Monday! I will, at last, be forced to change planes in Amersterdam instead of getting a direct flight from Copenhagen to Atlanta. Ah well. And I will have to leave the hotel at 4:30 a.m. to get to Billund airport for a 6:45 a.m. flight to Amsterdam. I can already taste the bile that will be rising in my sleepless gullet Friday morning... am I the only one who gets sleep-deprivation indigestion?)

So, to bed. There might be some uncomfortable gastronomic events tomorrow as it's already very late. Public transportation is lovely here but I need to be at work by 8:30 a.m. and that means getting on the bus by 8 a.m. For a prima donna like me, that means getting up no later than 6:30 a.m.

Rainbows and Whatnot

noreply@blogger.com (The Wanderer) — Mon, 10 Sep 2007 18:36:00 +0000

It rains in Denmark. A lot. The sun beauty is fleeting, the rain torrential and constant as the North Star. BTW, the North Star is actually a variable star or Cepheid. It's brightness waxes and wanes. But no matter its shine, it marks north with the tenaciousness of a terrier on the trail of a mouse. Or some equally visual but more clever analogy. Hey, beer and melatonin are working some magic on my brain.

Anyway, it was a night of (lousy) room service with a (great) Ceres Royal Pilsner, Euro-MTV (actual videos!) and ironing. I did spot a rainbow on the water and I saw a cloud that was raining over the water but not over me. That was a strange and unusual sight... it looked like the cloud was draining it's cloudness into the water in great gray streaks.

Good night.

Back in the DK

noreply@blogger.com (The Wanderer) — Mon, 10 Sep 2007 09:05:00 +0000

First, I am forced to figure out how to use Blogger in Danish... all the usual buttons and levers are here, but they now have Dansk words. I need Hjaelp to Log ud or vis blog or indstillinger or skabelon. Sheesh. Second, that corn phallus is courtesy of Terminal E at the Atlanta airport. I have not worked out what the hell it has to do with Georgia... or international flights. But it is the dirtiest looking cob I've ever seen in my life. I get that it's supposed to look like a plane... but it doesn't. It looks like the beginnings of a very weak plot for sci-fi porn.

I'm in Copenhagen airport, which up until my last visit in July was a bastion of smoking goodness. They had these wonderful little kiosks all over the place that would suck smoke away through vents. Well, the nonsmoking ban is in effect and it is all gone. THIS is why I need to quit.

Oh! The sun has just come out. It's been raining since I arrived at 8:30 a.m. Hurray! Denmark is lovely when it is sunny.

It's 11 a.m. here and I'm waiting on a noon flight. There was a baby a couple rows back on the flight from Atlanta who had a very rough trip. So we all had a very rough trip. I'm tired and riding on caffeine. Straight to the office when I do get to where I'm going. Sure, you think it's all glamor and whirlpool tubs, don't you? Nope. More like delayed flights, overpriced and crappy coffee and screaming babies. Still, I wouldn't trade it for the copy desk and a million dollars. Hmmm, well maybe a million dollars, but surely not for less than that. Well, maybe like $500,000 if it was tax-free. Call me, we'll talk. But I need weekends off.

At Last! A Date with the Atlantic!

noreply@blogger.com (The Wanderer) — Sat, 08 Sep 2007 14:02:00 +0000

Heaven.

My tour of the Carolinas wrapped up in Myrtle Beach and I can't think of a better ending to a lovely work week. All of the many hours spent driving my rented Kia Spectra (surprisingly good pickup) on two-lane highways were worth it to spend half an hour in communion with my favorite awe-inspiring locale: the beach.

From Charlotte we went to Rock Hill, then back to Charlotte, then to Columbia and from there to Myrtle Beach. My hotel was an unfortunate error in judgement, being in the middle of Broadway at the Beach. Neither Broadway nor the beach were in sight of this hotel. Just hordes of vacationing families opting to soak up chain food, chain shopping and chain amusements... all while a most incredible beach was a 2-minute drive away. When I got into my room, I could hear the faint screams of children on some form of amusement park ride. At least I assume that's why they were screaming. Could have been a T-Rex roaming the place and I wouldn't have noticed.

But never mind all that. Upon arriving in MB, my colleagues and I set out for the beach and scored a parking spot of perfection - right where the parking lot turns from pavement to sand. I fairly bounded down to the water, tossing my shoes and my bag onto the sand and dashing to get my toes in the Atlantic. And what a magical night it was. A storm system brewing off the Carolinas made for some rip currents and middling waves, but the temperature of the water was somewhere in the 70s! You simply don't get water that warm in the Atlantic up north. It was incredible, the water a greenish-gray frothing friend.

I've lived away from the ocean for many years now and it's the one thing I've ever missed about growing up on Long Island. The primeval scents that waft off the water, the softly salty air, the endless horizon... the ocean has always been a love for me. (And it can be a dangerous relationship; I almost drowned off the Hamptons when I was about 21. There was a storm brewing then, too, which created a hellacious rip current.)

But my spirits were lifted and I felt childlike standing in the waves and getting the bottom of my skirt soaked accidentally, letting my toes sink into the sucking wet sand and looking for shells.

The Sea Captain's House. Yarrr, you'll be waitin' for Davy Jones hisself to serve ya in this wee restaurant where time slows to a grindin' halt for that landlubber Jimmy Buffet's cover songs.

We were right near a restaurant that had been recommended - The Sea Captain's House. It's literally a house on the beach in classic gray clapboard. We walked in and were greeted by a septuagenarian hostess who calmly informed us there would be at least an hour wait. We decided to give it a go as the waiting area was the backyard with a view of the beach and a bar. But half an hour in, when no one in this large but breezy beach bum lounge lizard purgatory had been seated, we decided to move on. The old woman of the sea suggested the Flamingo Grill and off we went to North Myrtle Beach.

The meal was delicious - seafood should really only be eaten in places where one can see sand on the ground. And it topped off a perfect seaside evening.

Driving to and from Myrtle Beach takes a long time as there is no major road in or out. But the views along the way are wonderful. It reminded me a lot of driving out to Montauk.

I drove home a day early because I realized I simply have too much to do before leaving for Denmark Sunday. But it was enough to have Thursday night in the arms of my oldest love, the ocean. Sigh.

Me and my boyfriend. Long distance relationships are so difficult.

Surprising Charlotte and The Case of the Difficult Hot Soak

noreply@blogger.com (The Wanderer) — Thu, 06 Sep 2007 02:26:00 +0000

With a little more time to investigate Charlotte, I find it's quite nice. Some impressive statues (for a change, these are not of Civil War generals) and groovy architecture, this "Queen City" has more style than I perceived on first glance. From architecture that manages to be both modern and retro to a plethora of water features, Charlotte is definitely a Southern Belle - she's made up and coiffed perfectly.

But that means absolutely nothing if there is nobody about. Tuesday night, it was a ghost town. Wednesday, the opposite. It's warm but a cool breeze slipped in and out of the buildings to make ambling along Tryon enjoyable. Dinner at Rock Bottom was a treat for this beer lover and the walk back in the dark was the perfect moment for Charlotte to show off her many well-lit charms.

My idea of the perfect relaxing evening. I'm so old.

Then, of course, we come to the Difficult Hot Soak. I was so excited to have a whirlpool tub in my room! But I had no idea how difficult these puppies could be to operate. It took 20 minutes to fill with water (I am NOT complaining, because it's so big I actually floated!) and then it took me 15 minutes to figure out how to turn on the jets. You can see from the photo below that the instructions were a bit... worse for the wear and hard to read. I finally won my bubbly soak by going cromagnon and pounding on the damn button repeatedly until I was rewarded with jetty goodness. But after all that effort, I didn't feel very relaxed. In fact, I spent 10 minutes in the bubbles and that was enough.

This is why I need a servant boy. I can't be bothered with minutiae like preparing a whirlpool bath. I want to just walk in the room, get in the tub and have my cabana boy pumice my feet and serve me a fruity drink. But how to expense him...

Flights

None. Rental car: 883 miles driven.

Bags

The usual demo gear/backpack combo. My huge pink suitcase (I was mocked, finally, for this girlie monstrosity) was stuffed to the gills since I didn't have to worry about flight restrictions.

Palmetto Pride, Heeeey!

noreply@blogger.com (The Wanderer) — Wed, 05 Sep 2007 04:17:00 +0000

So, there I was barreling down (up!) 85 north toward Charlotte today on the Palmetto Pride. I cannot believe they have the chutzpah to put Palmetto and Pride in the same neighborhood, let alone on the same sign denoting the name of the highway!

Have you seen the palmetto bug? Have you????

They're just giant cockroaches. That's all. Why would you be PROUD of them, South and North Carolina?? Why??? It gives me the huzz.

Particularly as I've got a gruesome little tale about palmetto bugs in my childhood. I won't share it now but you just ask me about it sometime... buy me a couple shots of whiskey first.

The upside of driving for work is that I'm free to set my own schedule and stop as I please. The downside is that I get no miles and I'm the pilot... without the groovy hat.

So Atlanta to Charlotte, no big deal: 4 hours. Hit about 45 minutes of bumper-to-bumper in Atlanta. Of course. The rest was pretty smooth sailing. All except for the slow jerks. You know who I'm talking about. It's a 4-lane "highway" from ATL to N.C. and that gives us 2 lanes on each side. The slow jerks are the ones who get in the passing lane and stay in the passing lane. Doesn't matter that there is a veritable parade of folks riding tail; it doesn't register for a slow jerk because they apparently have no ability to see in their rearview mirror. Oh, how I loathe the slow jerk. Pull over! Pull ovah!

I wound up riding the wind tunnel of a New Jersey Lexus for most the way. New Jersey folks LOVE to tailgate and they do it so very well.

Dinner was unremarkable, but the hotel I'm in is quite lovely - there is a jacuzzi in my bedroom. Really. And I'm at a Hilton, not some seedy pay-by-the-hour hole. But there's something a little sad about a jacuzzi in a king-bed room when one is traveling alone. It seems a terrible waste.

All for now...

UPDATE: If you check the comments you can see that in my ingnorance, I wrongly accused the good people of the Carolinas of having pride in the palmetto bug. Seems it's actually a type of palm tree. Not much of an improvement, but I'm cynical and mean spirited.

Geography & Rib Eye

noreply@blogger.com (The Wanderer) — Thu, 30 Aug 2007 02:21:00 +0000

An Old Market Arcade view.

As desperately as Omaha clung to each and every passenger at the airport, I have managed to escape to Atlanta. The trip home was a bit of a mess as my 6:30 p.m. flight was delayed an hour... you know, just because. Add to that a classic Midwest storm system and it seemed I would never leave Nebraska. Luckily, we taxied and took off around 8:30 p.m. as lightning struck.

It's a building. It's kind of interesting.

Interestingly, the TSA's decision on allowing flights to leave OMA was the result of sending a "test flight" up. On that test flight was my poor, unfortunate colleague (his flight was 3 hours late, forcing him to miss his connecting flight, and then to also miss the last connecting flight of the day in Utah to California.) They took off and were not struck down by lightning, so the rest of the flights were cleared for takeoff. Sheesh. The folks on my flight all agreed we were glad not to have been the first off the ground.

Omaha is a small city; about 400,000 people live there. It has the persnickety landscaping and evenly-spaced, evenly-aged trees I associate with Midwestern cities and sensibilities. It is exceptionally clean and exceptionally desolate, even at 5 p.m on a Monday. I tried to imagine it a 150 years ago as a bustling center of old-timey trade, but the surroundings of concrete and semi-modern (but never daring) architecture made it hard to conjure up thoughts of anything other than "Everybody must be at the mall."

The "smoking section" of my hotel.

My hotel was located near the "famous" Old Market and I did some solo window shopping down there, enjoying the arcades (an arched or covered passageway, usually with shops on each side, not a video den.) The area is very nice... but... perhaps there is some strange deformity in my nature. It was simply too clean and seemed somehow lacking for it. No crazy folks wandering around, just middleaged businessmen in polo shirts and khakis, soccer moms and a smattering of children. No litter, no posters, no street performers or hucksters. No flaws and therefor no personality. But perhaps I was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.

In desperation, I found a cozy pub at the bottom of the street called Mr. Toad's. The door was hard to open and I gave up on the entrance and was about to walk around the corner when a kind woman explained, "You have to push hard." I did and was rewarded with a dark and wooded bar filled with old-timey schwag and smoke; bliss. I downed a fair number of Kansas City wheat beers with lemon. I'm generally not a fan of beer that needs the support of fruit, but I figured, "What the hell. I'm in fucking Omaha."

Mr. Toad... not pictured. But there's my friendly waitress (from my beloved Minnesota, of course.)

I made friends with the waitress (a recent grad who majored in marketing and who loves to travel) and pretended to watch the Yankees get trampled by Detroit. I proceeded to get just enough drunk to decide I shouldn't drink anymore (this is the new me, kids, the one who has a serious responsibility not to show up hungover to work).

Because it was time for drunken shopping! When all else fails, I have learned to bust out the credit card. Luckily, I stumbled onto a very sweet, indie record store with a staggering collection of music. I scored David Bowie's early record "Hunky Dory," perhaps my favorite album of his. It is the soundtrack of my freshman year and it was stolen in New Orleans. I'm listening to it even as I write. I also got the Dropkick Murphy's "Live on St. Patrick's Day" and Cat Stevens' "Tea for the Tillerman." Why yes, I do have eclectic tastes.

The name of the shop? Homer's. I think.

Then I stumbled on a great shop - one of those stationary/funky/fun places that carries Hello Kitty and Anne Taintor and Archie McPhee delights and Devil Duckies and the Jesus Christ action figure. I picked up a fantastic ashtray:

On the advice of a sweet old couple (who used to live in Norwalk, Conn.), I dragged my colleague to dinner at the Flat Iron. It was swanky and delicious. We were both drawn to the rib eye with gnocci. The medium steak was velvety and juicy (would you expect any less in Omaha?) but the gnocci had been assaulted with a garlic press and I was forced to give them a proper burial under the remnants of my steak.

That is about the extent of what I got to see of Omaha. And the whole time I was there I had no idea where I actually was -- my understanding of the middle section of U.S. geography is paltry and embarrassing. Somehow, I thought we were just a bit to the west of Georgia. I was very wrong.

It's actually right under South Dakota! Who knew? (Probably the folks in Nebraska.)

Storm Clouds gathering at the airport... look at the villainous bastards!

Flights
Going: Delayed 90 minutes with notice before I'd even left for the airport.
Coming: Delayed 2 hours with a few Hail Marys uttered at takeoff.

Bags
Heavy gear case (becoming a thorn in my side due to it's one-track roll), laptop backpack, purse and new overnight rolling bag. Great improvement from the shoulder bag, but hauling two rolling bags is not so easy either. I'll have to continue to think about this one.

Lucky No. 13

noreply@blogger.com (The Wanderer) — Tue, 28 Aug 2007 11:07:00 +0000

I've just realized I'm in room 313. I noticed yesterday that the room next door is 315 and I'm supposedly in 311. But it's just now at 6:10 a.m. that it has dawned on me that it's this old superstition which has razzle-dazzled my room's real number.

Funny that in this day and age, with all the scientific discoveries and religious proclamations and whatnot that people should still be afraid of a silly little pairing of 1 and 3. Personally, I've always considered 13 to be a lucky number simply because it is such a psychological underdog. And Friday the 13th has never harmed me. But maybe that makes me superstitious, too.