Rachel's Random Ramblings

Blog has moved to WordPress

2010-07-22T15:06:00.000-07:00

I have decided to close this blog and migrate it to WordPress.

Because of increasing spam from Chinese-speaking commenters, who are somehow managing to carry on discussion threads even though I had had their comments completely rejected (via moderation) and themselves banned from following this blog, I can no longer trust Blogger to be free from hacks. WordPress gives me more control over my blog - including the ability to automatically screen out spam commenters. And to sweeten the pot, WordPress even allowed me to import every single post I had ever made to this Blogger blog.

I will no longer be updating this blog; all future posts will be over at WordPress. I am also disabling all interactive functionality of this blog as well, including the ability to comment.

Thank you for your interest in following this blog - see you over at WordPress.

New blog (hosted by WordPress)

Tucson, March 2010

2010-07-18T01:23:00.000-07:00

Here is a recap of my visit to Tucson on the first weekend of March 2010, which I had meant to upload right away but put off for months.

Tucson had been my poverty-era home, from January to September 2001, though I absolutely hated being there, between lack of economic opportunities and a very different mentality. Sure, the natural scenery was top-notch and the University of Arizona brought badly needed groove into town, but the fact remained that it was a Third World economy located in a far right tyranny state - and that is still the case in 2010, made even worse with the racist Governor Jan Brewer (though, honestly, I fully support profiling of socially conservative immigrants).

I had arrived after an overnight drive, checking into a Hampton Inn on Grant and I-10 early in the morning. Now that I am awake, I am heading for my first sight - Sabino Canyon, Tucson's best kept secret and a good place to go hiking.

As it is early March, Tucson was warm rather than hot. And by being in Tucson, 460 miles east of home, I am also ducking the consecutive weekends of rain that had been plaguing Los Angeles. Low 70s, low humidity, and partly cloudy day - perfect for hiking.

Arizona is famous for its saguaro cactus - and the saguaros tend to grow the best in the Tucson area, where it's comparatively higher, cooler and wetter than the rest of the desert portions of Arizona. Sabino Canyon is covered with saguaros as far as eyes can see. Quite a sight!

The word "sabino" in Spanish means rust. And while nobody remembers why the canyon got the name, a good guess is that it came from the color of the water; the water gets the rusty hue from the roots of oak trees that line the creek.

The immediate creek area gets plants that require lots of water, like oaks. Otherwise, this is all desert with severe conditions - extreme heat and thunderstorms in summer, and snow in winter. Yes, plenty of snow, as Mt. Lemmon, where the stream originates, stands quite high and is cold enough to host the southernmost ski resort in the US.

Sabino Canyon has a road that runs a few miles into the canyon. Built by the Civilian Conservation Corps during the Great Depression, the one-lane road crosses the creek several times before dead-ending; it had originally been meant to go all the way up to Mt. Lemmon, but the wider Catalina Highway fulfills that role instead. The road is served by visitor shuttles with driver narrations.

A look at Sabino Canyon. I have walked a bit from the dead-end of the road, and am facing the Mt. Lemmon direction. Quite a sight!

After Sabino Canyon, I had lunch, then drove west along Speedway Boulevard, the main east-west axis, toward the University of Arizona. I remembered driving the same stretch in a wrecked Ford Contour, unable to even buy gasoline, back in the day; now, I actually had some money in my purse, and my luxury Hyundai land yacht was all paid off, and it felt quite strange to drive the same streets of Tucson under much better circumstances. Though I do have to say, the run-down buildings and evidence of cut-rate economy remained very depressing in my mind, and those Eegee's fast food outlets, unique to Tucson, were as mysterious as ever.

I am now on Fourth Avenue just west of University of Arizona campus.

Antigone Books is the place to be if I want to buy feminist, or any other progressive/subversive, books. I can also buy related items, including bumper stickers and pendants. This would indeed be the place to buy a double-female symbol necklace, which I always wear.

When I called Tucson home, this was one of the few places I liked to hang out at.

Thanks to its location next to the University, Fourth Avenue is the progressive/hippie/groovy part of Tucson, delivering a dose of personality to a city that badly needs it. I have to love that iron plate replica of the Easter Island statues.

Yes, that Hyundai Genesis is mine.

The three high-rise buildings in the back are in downtown, across the railroad tracks (Amtrak's Sunset Limited between Los Angeles and New Orleans uses those tracks), and are the only real highrises in Tucson. While Tucson does have over half a million people, it doesn't feel like it (and I don't mean this in a good way).

As seen in this photo, Fourth Avenue has a streetcar track, and Tucson does have a small fleet of vintage streetcars from foreign cities, similar to San Francisco's vintage fleet. They only run on special occasions, however.

Tucson does have an art museum in downtown, though it's not all that big. I'm cooling off there during the early afternoon hours before heading off for more hiking.

Due to proximity to Mexico's west coast, and the heavy Spanish influence in the local culture/population, the matron saint of choice in Tucson would most likely be Lady Guadalupe. But fortunately, the museum is hosting a limited-time exhibition of Chinese art, and here is a lacquer head of my transgender matron saint, Kwan Yin, dating from the Ming Dynasty, though the exhibition is centered around the much older Han.

The museum is close to Old Town with its super-narrow streets and adobe buildings resembling those of an old Mexican village. Also nearby is a hotel that used to be a Ramada Inn, where I used to attend weekly Mary Kay sales group meetings; the hotel is now a no-name independent property, and I'm so glad that I am no longer selling the Christian theocratic cosmetics. My entry into Mary Kay sales was itself a desperation measure due to extreme poverty.

My next destination: Sentinel Hill, located just west of downtown across I-10. On its downtown-facing (eastern) slope, there is a large white letter A, standing for the University of Arizona, so the hill is also known as the A Mountain.

It's a good place to get bird's-eye views of Tucson, as well as the four out-of-this-world mountain ranges surrounding the city: Santa Catalina Mountains to the north (pictured to the left), Rincon Mountains to the east (snow-capped at this time), Santa Rita Mountains to the south, and Tucson Mountains to the west.

The human sprawl, compared to the stunning natural beauty, is very homely however. Though I could make out Davis-Monthan Air Force Base and its "Boneyard" that hosts retired military aircraft, as well as Tucson's only freeway interchange, where I-19 branches off from I-10 and heads south to connect to Mexican Highway 15.

I returned to Speedway Boulevard, then headed further west. Speedway Boulevard becomes Gates Pass Road, and goes over the Tucson Mountains into the wide expanse of Avra Valley. Avra Valley is home to Old Tucson Studios, Arizona-Sonora Desert Museum (excellent zoo/botanical garden I had visited twice before), and the western portion of Saguaro National Park. Both Gates Pass and Avra Valley are lined with saguaros and other desert plants - it's quite a sight.

Now I have arrived at the park visitor center, to pay admissions and get acquainted.

While the park also has an eastern portion on the slopes of the Rincons, I won't have time to get out there this time.

I am now driving the dirt loop inside the park, with great views of the surrounding landscape.

At the end of one pedestrian trail, I am looking due north. Those two peaks on the left are Picacho Peak, a major landmark for travelers between California and Texas. In fact, Tucson joined the US as part of the Gadsden Purchase in 1853, because the logical travel path between California and Texas, both new US territories as of 1848, came through here, still part of Mexico then. Railroads, and now I-10, go through Picacho Peak.

I continue to see saguaros as far as my eyes can see. Quite a sight! It's also notable that the scenery is much greener than I used to remember; that is due to record levels of precipitation during the winter. In fact, I would meet some heavy downpours on my drive back to California the next day.

Although this photo looks as if there is no human presence out there, there is actually quite a bit. There are some random shacks that belong to the town of Marana, which is now the northern bedroom community for Tucson. In addition, Pinal Airpark, a huge airfield that takes in and dismantles old airliners, is somewhere out there too - the dry desert climate is conducive to aircraft storage, the same reason why military aircraft are stored and dismantled in Tucson.

Here are some petroglyphs, left behind by the Hohokam, or the "Forgotten People." Not much is known about them; they are as mysterious as the Anasazi, who also left petroglyphs and disappeared.

The Tohono O'odham (Desert People) tribe, whose reservation takes up much of Avra Valley, are probable descendants of the Hohokam.

I wound down for the evening, by heading up Oracle Road from downtown. Oracle and Miracle Mile is only a block away from my apartment in those poverty days - and a very familiar area for me still. I drove up further on Oracle, until hitting Tucson Mall at the northwestern edge of the city, where I had dinner and did some window shopping. I wrapped up by stopping at the nearby Borders Bookstore, which was my "home" big box chain bookstore during my Tucson days, and reading some magazines and current event books.

All in all, this trip was a good reminder of all the things I used to like, and hate, about Tucson. And I am so glad to be out of that economic dead-end.

Found on YouTube...

2010-07-13T00:43:00.000-07:00

I saw this on YouTube a few weeks back. This is Haydn's Emperor Hymn, which also is the German national anthem, with a slideshow of various sights of Germany to accompany it. A lovely reminder of a lovely country where I had a great time last year. Again, there is nothing like listening to this composition while driving a Mercedes-Benz, speeding away through the German countryside on an Autobahn.

I even rooted for the German squad during the FIFA World Cup that just ended - Germany has always been my favorite European soccer squad anyway. The Germans did a well-deserved third place.

Europe 2003 recap, Days 7-8: Bath, Tate Modern, and the End

2010-06-23T23:33:00.000-07:00

These photos showcase the end of my 2003 European stint - covering Saturday through Sunday, November 8-9th.

Saturday the 8th was set aside as a day trip to the town of Bath, situated on the Avon River near Bristol. In the UK, day trips are a very economical way to travel, due to the railroads offering a "Cheap Day Return" fare that is little more than a single (one-way) fare; given how high British rail fares are otherwise, it is important to take advantage of offers like this. Ideally I would've preferred to head for Bath smack in the middle of my British stint on Friday, but I had to settle for Saturday, the last full day, as Cheap Day Return is not valid on Fridays. For the run from London Paddington to Bath Spa, I paid £33.

Here is a look at Melia White House, my hotel.

During my stay, a Spanish culinary festival was taking place within the hotel, though due to sky-high menu prices, I did not even bother to take a look. But the hotel impressed me in other ways. I was noting that every power outlet came in sets of threes - one British outlet, one Continental outlet, and one North American outlet, with the North American outlet being supplied at 110 volts. Made recharging my electronics (especially the digital camera) a bit easier, since I needed to rely less on plug adapters. Also the lift system was very interesting; I selected my floor on a central touch screen, which would in turn tell me which lift (from a bank of A through D) would take me to my floor. Once inside the lift car, OPEN was the only button available. The touch screen could be changed to a number of different languages - including American English, which simply changes the word "lift" to "elevator."

I have now arrived at Bath. Travel time on a mainline fast diesel train was just under an hour and a half.

At the town's main square, the Bath Abbey stands as the imposing structure. This is a good place to start, since there is a tourist information office, which gave me a town map for £1.

As the name implies, the town is best known for a geothermal bath. The bath was originally developed during the Roman colonial era, when the town was known as Aquae Sulis, or the Waters of Sulis. (Sulis was a Celtic goddess the Romans associated with their own Minerva.) After the collapse of the Roman Empire, the bath was forgotten - until being rediscovered around 1800. Contemporary structures were built over the Roman baths, and Victorian-era visitors came for the therapeutic quality of the waters.

And that is the Roman bath pool. I am not allowed to dip into the water today, however. I took the photo from the Victorian-era tea room above, where I also bought the admissions ticket.

Hot water is emerging via a Roman-era arch.

The pool-level area is in the form of a museum, featuring various Roman artifacts and ruins, though there are some additional indoor baths in the exhibits area, from the Roman era of course, that could easily be put back into active use right away. Amazing plumbing.

While Bath is best known for the Roman bath, it also hosts a number of other sights. My bath ticket also allows me to visit the Museum of Costume, chronicling the development of fashion through the centuries. I could see the uncomfortable Victorian-era corsets, as well as more modern dresses making up the annual Dress of the Year collection from the 1960s on. Of course, my favorite was the infamous open-front sheer Versace 2000 dress, worn by Jennifer Lopez.

Bath was also the home of astronomer William Herschel, and the planet Uranus was discovered here. But his home, now a museum, is one sight I cannot visit due to time limitations.

I am instead focusing on the Royal Crescent and its series of townhouses, to look at the life of the English well-to-do in the 18th Century.

The No. 1 house is open to the public. I entered, and at every room, costumed elderly guides told me the purpose of each object in the room, and what the occupants would've been like. No photos to show for the troubles as photos were not allowed inside. But I do remember one memorable sight - a kitchen that featured a dog-powered mill.

And outside, the Royal Crescent itself is a pleasant space, with an open expanse of grass and some good views of the surroundings.

I wrapped up by walking down Bath's own pedestrian shopping street, Milsom Street, with British chain stores as good as any in London and other larger cities. Though I have to say, I was walking around the streets of Bath while unknowingly flashing the whole town, thanks to my mini being halfway up my derriere. Sure, I had tights on, and there was little to flash, but it was still an embarrassing moment. I refer to this moment as my "Calista Flockhart moment" - because I remembered Calista Flockhart, the original Ally McLesbian (and the reason for my own penchant for miniskirt suits), recalling at a Late Show with David Letterman appearance, one day while she was transiting through Heathrow Airport in a minidress and a backpack, and was stopped by a passer-by - because thanks to the backpack, her dress was halfway up her derriere!

I returned to London's Paddington Station after sunset, retired to my hotel, and shortly afterwards, set back out, for the final sight of the trip - Tate Modern on the Southbank, accessed via the new Jubilee Line Extension of the Tube.

Tate Modern was once a power plant, and this room used to be the turbine room. Now, that dim sphere (actually the "top half" of the sphere is simply a reflection seen on the mirrored ceiling) is part of an art installation.

I am not exactly a fan of modern art, so I didn't enjoy this place too much, but as far as modern art museums go, this is one of the most comprehensive. It also gave me a place to spend some time on a Saturday night, with its late night hours. And more importantly, I had an excuse to come out to the Southbank and look at its new, millennial developments. Unfortunately, I do have to say that some parts of the neighborhood were still beat-up, and Jamaican thugs taunted me in a reprise of the Muslim thugs of Amsterdam in 1999.

Sunday the 9th was dedicated to returning to Los Angeles. My objective of "proving" that I could once again return to Europe and enjoy myself having been achieved, but not still quite 100% at home with Europe just yet, I reluctantly made my way home, using the Tube's direct Piccadilly Line service to reach Heathrow Airport.

My return to Los Angeles will be a nonstop, leaving late morning and arriving in Los Angeles mid-afternoon. Having checked in at Terminal 3 and gone through the Harrods duty-free shopping, I am now making my way to my flight. That trusty United 777, operating as Flight 935, is it. Time to hum Rhapsody in Blue, I guess.

At 11 AM, shortly before boarding, a moment of silence was observed, since it was Remembrance Day. It also explained why so many people in and around London were wearing red poppies on their clothes for the past few days - the red poppies are used to commemorate the fallen British soldiers. Indeed, quite a few fellow passengers were wearing those poppies all the way to America.

At this time, and for a long time, Terminal 3 was the primary international terminal at Heathrow, and United and American (and Pan Am and TWA before them) were its biggest tenants. But in 2008, after Terminal 5 opened, all Heathrow airlines went through terminal re-assignments by global alliances. American stayed at Terminal 3 along with other foreign oneworld airlines, while United moved to Terminal 1 to join BMI and other Star Alliance airlines.

A few hours out of London, I am clearing the southwest coast of Greenland. Absolutely no green and all ice down there - as they say, Greenland is icy and Iceland is green.

Local time is about noon, but because of my extremely northern latitude, the sun is quite low, and it's quite dim outside. It will be pitch dark in just a few more hours.

This was a good flight, even though thanks to the bankruptcy reorganization, United's cost-cutting measures were very evident, especially with meal services.

Flight 935 continued over Hudson Bay and entered the US over Montana, entering the State of California over the Bishop area, before shooting out over Ventura County and coming back east over Santa Monica to land at Los Angeles.

After this trip, I looked forward to generating more income to allow myself to return to Europe more often. While the income did materialize, I also ended up taking on more work responsibilities to match, and it was difficult getting time off to travel. Moreover, most of my travels were taking me instead to Asia. It would not be until late 2009 that I finally found myself back in Europe, finally putting myself at ease with Europe for the first time in ten long years.

Europe recap 2003, Day 6: New experiences in London

2010-06-22T23:09:00.000-07:00

It's already Friday, November 7th, 2003, with my European week pretty much gone, and the return home looming toward the end of the weekend. All the more reason to push myself ahead farther into the great sights scattered throughout London.

My starting point is the Kew Gardens, best known for its greenhouses. It is a bit out there, located in Zone 3 of the Tube system, requiring me to buy a slightly pricier 1-day TravelCard that would cover up to Zone 4. The green District Line splits into several branches as it heads westward from Central London, and I needed to take the Richmond Branch that sees a mix of National Rail and Tube trains.

Kew Gardens, officially named the Royal Botanical Gardens at Kew, had a somewhat steep admissions charge around £12. I did find that there were tons of cheaper concessionary categories - including a registered unemployed person, who would verify his/her status with an Unemployment Benefits 40 card. Yes, the UB-40, which a famous reggae band named itself after. The British welfare state considers unemployment to be a downtime where the person in question needs to concentrate on finding new work - but also continue enjoying public culture to better be prepared for the eventual return to work, via these concessions; it's a certainly very different mentality from the American model, where such a concession would never fly because it would be a "reward for laziness."

I am inside one of the tropical greenhouses with a sizable collection of palms.

While I am used to palms thanks to living in California, palms are certainly unexpected in chilly England. Granted, some west-facing beaches of the British Isles are freeze-free relatively, and that does allow palms to grow there according to what I've heard, but I am pretty sure none of them would be this magnificent.

Another greenhouse which emphasizes prehistory and evolution. This is a shrunken-scale model of a forest that may have existed hundreds of millions of years ago. The dragonfly in the photo is much larger than modern-day counterparts; some dragonflies then had wingspans wider than the height of a modern-day human being.

The Kew is a great place to walk amongst the peacocks. In Los Angeles, I can head for the Los Angeles Arboretum located in Arcadia - or simply visit some Arcadia residential streets neighboring the Arboretum - to mingle with peacocks. Over here in Britain, the Kew is the place to do the same.

The Kew also boasts a sizable Japanese garden with plants native to East Asia. It is maintained with funding from Japanese corporations, and comes complete with a haiku written in Japanese and English.

That multistory pagoda is part of the garden, though I have to say it looks more Chinese to me.

I am now entering a California sequoia forest. Sequoias grow only in the high elevations of California's Sierra Nevada mountains, so it is a bit of a surprise for me to find them here. But if I really think about it, the cool, moist air of England is actually quite suitable for sequoias. Of course, I shouldn't expect sequoias in London to grow to the same lofty heights I expect in the Sierras.

And it is indeed quite chilly. Temperatures in the low 50s Fahrenheit at best.

And I see another peacock.

Wide open spaces punctuated by small palaces. This is how I like it. I may be in Europe's largest city, but I can find some peace here, forgetting about all the hustle and bustle of the City or Westminster. Though the roar of jet engines from airplanes, taking off from Heathrow Airport not too far away, does shatter the peace quite a bit.

It was a very nice 2-3 hours strolling around the Garden and its greenhouses - even one that had desert plants familiar from Arizona. I wrapped up at the gift shop, and took a look at some seeds. I ended up buying none, however, as much as I wanted to grow them in my own garden; whether I could bring them through US Customs was questionable at best, so I decided not to risk it.

My sightseeing continues in South Kensington, now involving the last of the three museums found there: Natural History Museum. This lobby with a skeleton of Diplodocus, an early gigantic plant-eating dinosaur, is one of the key features of the museum. Nearby are other early dinosaurs like Coelophysis, the first major carnivore dinosaur.

The museum has many interesting exhibits, including a hallway full of stuffed animal specimen, some of which were faded; the captions noted that as capturing new animals for display are against the goals of preserving them, faded specimens will not be replaced. Other exhibits included a huge room full of gemstones and a cross section of a 1,500-year-old California sequoia. This museum is easily on par with New York's American Museum of Natural History, one of my favorite museums anywhere.

My favorite extinct animal would have to be the ichthyosaur. It was a dolphin-shaped reptile that lived during much of the dinosaur era. In its heyday, Britain was a warm, shallow sea, and Oxford boasted large populations, which were preserved and fossilized in clay. The above are some of the Oxford ichthyosaur examples.

Though I am noting that the Oxford ichthyosaurs are not particularly large. Back in 2000, I had driven out 3 hours from Reno, Nevada, to reach the ghost town of Berlin, literally located in the middle of nowhere, and Berlin's claim to fame was its own ichthyosaur fossil collection. The Berlin ones are up to 9 feet long, whereas these British ones are at most 6 feet. Like Britain, Nevada was a shallow sea then, and plate tectonics had pushed those ichthyosaur fossils up to the 7,000 feet elevation they are found at today.

My last sight for the day is Covent Garden and its traditional markets. Traditional markets are one aspect of London that I had skimped on previously, and still am skimping on during this trip. This will have to be remedied in a future London visit.

At least I can enjoy a live string band.

My evening was spent taking in a musical - something I had had zero interest in until that point. Before leaving home, I had ordered a ticket for Mamma Mia! via TicketMaster's UK site, and I arrived at Prince Edward Theatre and took the front-row seat to take it all in. I loved being able to watch the live orchestra playing ABBA medleys below the stage; and yes, I loved the musical, and it almost seemed like ABBA had written its hits back in the day with a future musical and storyline in mind! I thoroughly enjoyed the storyline, and sang along to ABBA the best I could. Also noted the immediate neighborhood's fairly gay character.

Though I have to say that after the end of the show, and a fast food dinner immediately afterwards, I was scrambling to get back to the hotel before the last Tube train of the night - while London does run a network of night owl buses, I did not know how the routes were laid out at night, so I simply hurried my way.

The next recap post will be the final one, covering a day trip to the town of Bath as well as a night visit to Tate Modern, plus the logistics of flying back to Los Angeles.

Europe recap 2003, Day 5: Reintroduction to London

2010-06-22T01:11:00.000-07:00

Thursday, November 6th, 2003 - this was my first full day in London for this particular trip. Time to get reacquainted with an old favorite city.

The hotel, Melia White House, is within walking distance of three different Tube stations, with access to five different lines in total. Very convenient. Just as convenient were Harts the Grocer and Prêt à Manger located very close by, so that I can grab munchies quite easily. I found myself utilizing them while waiting for 9:30 AM, when I could start using the discount 1-Day TravelCard; at £4.10 at the time for unlimited rides in Zones 1 and 2, it was an excellent value, since a single Zone 1 ride was already a stiff £1.60. (Almost all of London's sights are in Zone 1 anyway - but some are out there, like Kew Gardens at Zone 3, and Heathrow Airport at 6.) A morning rush hour TravelCard was £5.10 for Zones 1 and 2, but for the same price, I could buy a discount TravelCard after 9:30 AM that would allow me to go all the way out to Zone 6.

I am starting at a crossroads of sorts - Piccadilly Circle, where several thoroughfares and Tube lines converge.

London's international character is evident here, both from the Gap location and from the multinational companies' signs. Also, standing here is a good way to remind myself that yes, I am in London again, a few years after financial ruin had left me feeling that I'd never come back.

I decided to backtrack to an old favorite of mine - Madame Tussaud's wax museum. I had visited it in 1996, but this time, I came back hoping to find a likeness of my idol Jennifer Aniston, which had been chosen as one of the museum's visitor favorites.

A Sherlock Holmes statue is standing just outside. His address, 21 Baker Street, is just around the corner.

After paying a rather steep £19.95 admissions - in a town where most of the greatest museums are completely free, at that - I entered Madame Tussaud's. This touristy wax museum chain calls London its main branch, and at this time in 2003, operated four other branches around the world, with Amsterdam being the only one I had visited (and not all that much to my liking). I'd eventually visit other branches - New York, Las Vegas, and Hong Kong - later, as well as a new branch in Los Angeles.

The previous month had seen the State of California recall the hugely unpopular and incompetent governor, Gray Davis, in a special election. With a free-for-all field of hundreds of replacement candidates, the star power of action hero Arnold Schwarzenegger proved decisive.

I am now looking at his likeness, with only one more day remaining until he takes over from Gray Davis as the Governor of California. Both men had been busy working together late in October, as wildfires flared up all over Southern California. (In fact, a week and 5,500 miles later, I am still coughing up the ashes from those wildfires.)

Schwarzenegger, a social liberal who would NOT have survived a standard-issue California Republican primary, went on using his power of incumbency to be re-elected in 2006, though term limits prevent him from another term in 2010, which now will be a duel between billionaire Meg Whitman and former governor/current Attorney General Jerry Brown.

England is the birthplace of proper football, the most popular sport in the world outside the US. And England's most popular footballer is David Beckham, whose likeness is portrayed here. His popularity increased even more thanks to his marriage to Victoria Adams, better known as the Posh Spice during her stint at the Spice Girls in the 1990s.

No luck seeing the Spice Girls here today. And no luck seeing Jennifer Aniston either - the only Jennifer I could find was Jennifer Lopez, who was designed to blush when a visitor touched her world-famous derriere.

Another pop culture phenomenon of the early '00s: reality TV. Pop Idol was one of the more popular, turning no-name vocalists into pop superstars overnight. Simon Cowell was the caustic judge - and his likeness is to the left. Pop Idol was also exported to America as American Idol, and Simon Cowell was a judge there too.

Another British reality TV show that was exported to America at the time was The Weakest Link, part quiz show and part bullying, and led by the same host on both sides of the Atlantic. I hated the American version due to the commercial breaks, but the British version, which I would end up watching later this day in the hotel, was much smoother thanks to the lack of those commercial breaks. Also noted that the five-question final round between the two last surviving players was run in a format much like a football penalty shootout.

Moving on to more worthwhile sights, being disappointed between the high admissions charge and the lack of Jennifer Aniston over at Madame Tussaud's.

I am now at Sir Christopher Wren's masterpiece, St. Paul's Cathedral, in the old City. That domed architecture is certainly unusual for London, though it would be right at home in an American city. I didn't enjoy the cathedral too much, even though I did note that Wren himself was buried inside. But having never checked this sight off before, I had to check it off now - if only to remember the photos of it defiantly standing during World War II, when German blitzkrieg had destroyed most neighboring structures.

A straight shot west on the Central Line of the Tube brought me over to Oxford Street, where I am now doing some window shopping. There is no way I'll actually shop here, thanks to the lack of room in my luggage, as well as a rather limited budget. What a shame - since Londoners are very fashion forward, and I am already running into some funky hosiery trends that I would not find back home in Los Angeles until 2-3 years later.

The narrow streets of Central London feel very stifling, compared to the Haussmann-designed wide boulevards of Paris. And they are so stifling that now there is a £5 congestion charge per day in order to drive in Central London. I know about the stifling part too well - I had driven in Central London myself in 1998 (before those charges). Not exactly the best place to practice shifting a manual transmission, but that's how I did it.

Actually I ended up doing shopping. The flagship Virgin Megastore, where I had picked up a Sir Elton John compilation in 1996 before its US release, drew my attention again. This time, I walked away with another Londoner - Dido, with her second album Life for Rent. This album was same as the US version, only with a higher price tag, but given Dido's London roots, I wanted to buy her CD in London.

I wrapped up for the evening with late nights admissions at the British Museum. I had found it so intriguing back in 1996 that I went there twice during my week in London then - so a return visit was more than well deserved.

This is one of the star exhibits - the Rosetta Stone, which allowed archaeologists to decipher Egyptian hieroglyphics. Unlike back in 1996 when it had been in the open air, I now see it encased in a protective glass box.

The British Museum's collections often come either from loots of former colonies, or from artifacts acquired by near force from weaker countries. The Elgin Marbles from Greece are an example of the latter.

As I love cats, my favorite collection would have to be those of cat mummies. As Egypt considered cats to be the real-life manifestation of Goddess Bastet, cats enjoyed a sacred status. Many British traders a few centuries ago used numerous cat mummies for fertilizers and other purposes, so many cat mummies were forever lost.

And here is a Bastet statue, another star attraction of the British Museum.

I would leave the museum with two miniature plastic statues - one Bastet and one cat mummy. I also ended up buying a men's necktie with Bastet statue icons all over.

The British Museum also publishes a book on cat art and history, but I had already bought it in 1996 and it hadn't been updated, so I skipped it this time.

Though sometimes the best museum experience doesn't involve dead relics, but live performances. Two volunteers are showcasing some old English and European songs in an upper story corridor area.

Time to turn in. I spent the rest of the evening listening to the new Dido CD, as well as watching The Weakest Link of course.

The next day would see me cover new territory, starting with the Royal Gardens at Kew, moving on to the Natural History Museum and Covent Garden, before finishing up with a West End musical for the evening. London had won my heart twice before, and November 2003 is seeing it win my heart a third time just as surely.

Europe recap 2003, Day 4: Back to London

2010-06-06T21:26:00.000-07:00

Wednesday, November 5th - already halfway through my weeklong trip. The agenda on this particular day was to return to London, then do some late sightseeing, targeting sights that had special extended Wednesday hours.

I have returned to Gare du Nord. Here are a pair of Thalys trainsets - a flashback to 1998. Thalys is a privatized railway that uses TGV bullet trainsets to run a monopoly high-speed service between Paris and Brussels, with continuation service to Amsterdam and Cologne. I had used Thalys in 1998 to wrap up my Brussels visit and come into Paris. Due to Europe's open borders, Thalys trains board in normal platforms right alongside domestic trains.

And here are a pair of Eurostar trainsets - and I will take the right train to London. The UK is not a signatory to the Schengen Agreement that provides Europe's open borders, so Eurostar trains must use a dedicated sealed-off section of the station. This is also the reason for requiring check-in 20 minutes prior to departure - so that I can clear the French departure check and British preliminary immigration check. The British preliminary immigration desk also gave me a British Landing Card, so that I can have it filled out on the train and submit to the full immigration desk upon arrival in London.

The run back to Waterloo Station was uneventful and timely. Between a partially completed high-speed track on the British side (that had not existed in 1998 - and in 2007, the full track was completed, and Eurostar trains switched from Waterloo to St. Pancras) and a gain of one hour due to time zone change, it was just past noon by the time I cleared British immigrations and re-emerged onto the streets of London.

I soon proceeded to the hotel where I would spend the rest of my trip - the White House, near Regent's Park. It was a property belonging to Spain's Sol Melia group under the Melia brand, and is a very nice 1930s luxury apartment building turned into a hotel. Thanks to a Priceline reservation, I could stay at the prepaid price I had named - USD $85 per night plus tax, rather than more typical available rates around USD $200 per night. My long, narrow single room was not equipped with Internet access (rare in 2003 anyway) but had all other types of luxury amenities I could imagine. Certainly the most posh property I had ever stayed in to date.

I am back on my foot, after a quick shower and change. At least I am getting fewer stares in the London Tube than back in Paris Metro with its machismo - and that's a good thing.

I am now at Leicester Square, the focal center of London's nightlife and theatre district. This area is quite familiar from my initial London visit in 1996, and I am glad to be back on familiar grounds. In addition to theatres, I can also find various types of restaurants - American style fast food, touristy overpriced steak joints, and more. I would end up learning during this trip that when at an American style fast food joint, instead of saying "for here" or "to go," I have to say "eat in" or "takeout" in order to be understood. Though I am not eating at a McDonald's this time.

The tkts booth is the place to go for same-day half-priced musical tickets. While there are other half-priced ticket booths in the vicinity, tkts is the only "official" distributor.

For my lunch, I am going Japanese. Wagamama has been a hot trend in London for years, so a noodle at one of its communal wooden tables will do - and the original Wagamama location is just off Leicester Square. Eating at Wagamama is NOT cheap - a lowly noodle dish can easily shoot up near £10 - but I did enjoy the experience, thanks to a waiter who liked my hair, and eventually decided to treat me with a complimentary dessert (saving me £4 or so). Sometimes being female has its benefits (even though this hardcore lesbian doesn't have much of a use for men hitting on me).

My previous London visits had not done justice to some of the city's outstanding museums, so I am filling in the gaps during this visit. As Victoria & Albert Museum in South Kensington is offering late hours on Wednesdays, I am starting in South Kensington, and my first museum on the agenda is V&A's neighbor Science Museum.

This exhibit is the command module from Apollo 10, named Charlie Brown. It, and its lunar lander Snoopy, traveled to the Moon in early 1969 to do final practice for manned lunar landing, which would actually happen with the next Apollo. To my knowledge, this is the only Apollo spaceship to end up outside the US.

This contraption from the 19th Century is a Charles Babbage adding machine, one of the first calculators ever made.

The Science Museum is one of the most outstanding museums of its kind I've ever seen - easily on par with New York's American Museum of Natural History, or Chicago's Museum of Science and Industry. One of my favorite features was its newer section, the Wellcome Wing, which deals primarily with human biology. It explores, in excruciating detail but also in a very child-friendly way, each and every aspect of what makes each human being unique, from genetics to physiology to the environment. I especially liked the fact that the question "what makes me a boy or a girl?" was answered very nicely, complete with information on transgender issues including transpeople's diaries, while still keeping everything easy enough for a child to understand. Try that in the US, where theocratic protests would make such exhibits impossible.

This section dealing with material science has this interesting exhibit: a dress made of steel.

Nearby, there is an exhibit that showcases recycling, by using a video that, in accelerated time, completely dismantles a junk automobile to reuse its components. It was augmented with a yellow Ford Mondeo, hanging from the ceiling upside down, highlighting various components that can be reused for various purposes.

Now I have moved on to V&A.

Its claim to fame is the dress collection - with an exhaustive collection of 19th Century and 20th Century dresses. I can only see about half of it this particular evening - as the other half was sectioned off and inaccessible due to a temporary exhibition.

These dresses are from the mid-20th Century. The second from the left is a minidress that can also be worn as a tunic blouse. It is a favorite look of mine - revived around 1990, and again now. I love the way certain fashion trends continue to recycle themselves after several years of disappearance - though a retro trend usually returns in style with a few minor changes. The 1980s leggings trend is another I had loved - and while it was completely gone at this time in 2003, it was back, with help from lesbian fashionista Lindsay Lohan, just three years later, and continues unabated today.

V&A has all sorts of artwork. This room is full of plaster casts of famous structures' facades from around the UK and elsewhere. This way, art students can study the details right in London rather than having to visit the structure in person.

V&A's collection of East Asian art is also pretty good, and it is even known for a Fakes and Forgeries department!

This upper floor hallway is filled with decorative ironwork, used in the UK and Europe.

And this room is full of musical instruments.

I am wrapping up for the evening. There is yet another museum in the immediate vicinity - the Natural History Museum - which I will cover later during this stay. And as I continue to visit London's other outstanding museums (including repeat visits to some), I noted that all of them had free admissions at all times. Of course, the museums loved voluntary donations - suggested amounts were £3, €5, or USD $5 (or the equivalent amount in other currencies - I could see donations made in Japanese yen and South Korean won). It's not just merely the existence of a huge amount of art and history, but its easy accessibility, that makes London truly stand out in my mind.

I still have three full days in England ahead of me, and they would end up taking me to some very interesting sights and letting me really bond with the Greater London area.

Europe recap 2003, Day 3: Amiens and Paris

2010-06-05T23:17:00.000-07:00

Tuesday, November 4th, 2003. This is my only full day in France for this trip.

I started off by heading for Gare du Nord, and taking a conventional train to Amiens, about an hour to the north. This was my first ride on a mainline French train that was not a bullet train. My increasingly rusty French meant that I had trouble following some basic instructions posted around the station platforms and in trains. Even something like "compostez votre billet" could confound me - even though in this case, "composting" simply meant invalidating my ticket myself via one of the punching machines around the station platforms.

Jet lag was still bothering me - I spent most of the ride (around 10 AM) napping.

The only reason for going to Amiens was to visit its cathedral. It is about as spectacular as any other cathedral in France (spectacular, but not unique), but the reason for insisting on Amiens was that when I took my first class in college, a mandatory one-semester Art Humanities course, it dwelled heavily on the architecture of European cathedrals - and it used Amiens Cathedral to showcase the features of a typical cathedral. That class had given me severe headaches, and I could only muster a B; to "avenge" that, I had to see Amiens Cathedral in person.

(Wikipedia does say that Amiens is the largest and tallest complete cathedral in France. It also says that because its construction did not take long, architecture is more coherent than in other cathedrals.)

I have arrived. Here is a detail of the main entrance, with archways lined by angels, the saints flanking the doors, and everything centered around Jesus.

Mercifully, Amiens Cathedral is only a few minutes of walk away from the train station. I couldn't possibly get lost.

More details of the facade and the bell towers. Very typical European Gothic cathedral design.

A look at the choir stain glasses.

Exterior of the choir area with flying buttresses visible. This cathedral's gutter gargoyles are not as pronounced as those of other cathedrals, I must say.

Sure, Amiens is a pleasant town in its own right, but I didn't really feel like hanging around, even for a traditional French cafe meal. I headed straight back to the train station, to return to Paris and its sights.

This ad for Les Sims: Abracadabra was seen in the train station.

The Sims was certainly the greatest computer game phenomenon of the early 2000s. I was known to be a very avid player myself. Late 2003 was the tail end of the shelf life of the original installment, and this expansion pack, known as The Sims: Making Magic in English-speaking markets, was the last of a series of seven. Glad to see a reminder of my favorite game in faraway France.

The Sims 2 took over in 2004, with its own batch of expansion packs. The Sims 3 followed in 2009. In all three games, I've been busy living out an alternative life for myself, a wife, and a roommate. The Sims 2 even had University expansion pack that allowed me to return to college and enjoy it far more than I had done in real life.

I wanted to hit an art museum - and among the major ones in Paris, Musée d'Orsay was the last one I had not visited, so I headed there. It concentrates mostly on 19th Century art, whereas the gigantic Louvre, not part of my plans this time, tends to cover art only up to 1800.

Here are some decorative art pieces depicting the Eiffel Tower, which has been gracing (or rather, disgracing at first) the Paris skyline since 1889.

Some small bronze sculptures from Edgar Degas.

And a peek outside, to the north. I am seeing Sacré-Coeur Basilica and Montmartre.

Just being in Paris is often good enough for me, honestly, as Paris had been my childhood dream city, and on my previous, first visit in 1998, it had treated me very well. This time around, I didn't enjoy Paris as much due to my Amsterdam demons and due to the short stay duration, but I would get to really enjoy Paris one more time in 2009.

The Rodin Museum has the full Gates of Hell, Auguste Rodin's lifelong project that was never finished. And as it turns out, Orsay has its own Gates of Hell - in plaster.

I am winding up my day in the Tuileries area, with Champs d'Elysées to the west and the Louvre to the east.

The Egyptian obelisk marks Place de la Concorde, where during the French Revolution, many members of the royalty and the aristocracy were beheaded with a guillotine. It is a lot more harmonious now. A faraway glimpse of the Eiffel Tower further reminds me that I am in Paris.

Within the Tuileries, I see a fountain, with citizens sitting and relaxing around it, maybe feeding the ducks as well. This pond is surrounded by statues, one of which is visible.

In the distance, a tricouleur flies above a building. The French display of nationalism, with the national flag around every corner, is pretty unusual for Europe.

It is a bit chilly, too chilly for this Angeleno, but nevertheless, this is a nice way to wrap up my second visit of Paris.

The next day would see me return to London on Eurostar, for the final four nights of this trip, with some heavy-hitting sightseeing as soon as I arrive.

New Orleans update

2010-06-01T20:17:00.000-07:00

Nothing to say, except that I returned safely, with another complimentary upgrade. And I was also very pleased with the cabin crew.

A year ago, I flew back from Toronto on United Airlines, and I hated the cabin crew on that flight. It had also left a bad aftertaste in my mouth regarding United Airlines - an airline I had consistently preferred since my very first flight in 1988. This New Orleans trip was booked on United partly because of my elite benefits, but primarily because of the $150 apology credit that resulted from that nightmare last year.

Well, I was very happy with the crew and its approach to passengers today. It was very obvious that they share my thoughts - that air travel, by bringing peoples together from all around the world, contribute to a better world for everyone to live in - and that they took serious pride in their work. A very welcome about-face from the a-hole last year!

United has once again earned my business, after almost losing it. And hoping to do some more travel later this year (including Seoul and/or Tokyo) - and extend my elite status for another year while at it.

New Orleans: Winding down

2010-05-31T17:50:00.000-07:00

My three exciting days in Big Easy are already over. I'll relax for the evening and fly home tomorrow.

My itinerary had me visit Uptown - taking me to Audubon Park and Magazine Street.

After a breakfast at the Krystal's location at Canal and Bourbon, I came out to Audubon Park, via the St. Charles (Morwen refers to the street as St. Chuck) streetcar.

I have a glimpse of Loyola University campus as I am about to head into the park. A reminder of the region's French Catholic roots - though the current reactionary Catholicism does NOT seem to enjoy much support within New Orleans, thankfully.

The park has a tree-lined circular jogging/cycling trail which cuts through a public golf course. Quite a sight, though the humidity gets in the way, even in the shade.

I ended up at the zoo. Because of my Audubon Experience ticket from my first day, which paid for the aquarium, the insectarium, the IMAX movie, AND the zoo, I simply walked in without paying for admissions again. And this zoo is as much about the presentation as it is about the animals.

I love this replica of a Mayan temple. I am warned not to trespass, otherwise I will have to be sacrificed to the gods. This Mayan themed area features a pair of jaguars as the star attraction, alongside a few other select animals of the Maya territory.

Since I am in Louisiana, a sizable portion of the zoo is dedicated to local animals. And here is an example of a human adaptation to the area as well - a floating house that is anchored most of the time, but towed by a fishing boat to different locations whenever the fisherman feels a need to move to more fertile fishing grounds. This type of dwelling was typical of the wetlands to the south of New Orleans for a long time.

The interior has three equal-sized partitions - one bedroom, one living room, and one kitchen. The left deck has a toilet, and the right deck is open-air balcony.

White alligators have been found only twice in the wild - in 1987 and 1994, both in Louisiana. The 1987 find consisted of over a dozen hatchlings, and they were kept in captivity for study and exhibit purposes. White alligators have gone on to become new "wonder of the world" for Louisiana, and even traveled on temporary exhibitions to other zoos around the world.

These alligators are not albinos, though their condition is similar to albinism. Nevertheless, their eyes do have blue pigmentation, and they do not suffer from health problems that normally afflict albinos. White alligators are vulnerable in the wild, however, when young, because of their higher visibility.

I am now entering a rattlesnake area - and the yellow "Don't Tread on Me" flag announces the rattlesnake exhibit.

Of course, this flag is now one of my least favorites, because it has represented American neoliberalism ("libertarianism") and now represents the teabaggers.

Upon leaving the zoo, a very heavy shower moved in, and I was drenched - with my socks becoming completely soaked. Miserable, I hopped on the No. 11 bus, which returns to Canal Street by taking Magazine Street, the main shopping drag of Uptown.

I am walking the portion of Magazine Street between Louisiana and Washington Avenues.

Magazine is narrow, and lined with unique shops run by locals or smaller chains, rather than big chains. There is a lot of personality here. I would consider this to be the New Orleans equivalent to San Francisco's Haight Street or Los Angeles's Melrose Avenue. In addition to clothing boutiques and stores for daily necessities, I can also find restaurants at all price levels.

I checked out Francesca's Collections, right behind me. Lovely collection of clothing and accessories, though I wasn't exactly in a shopping mood. I will return to one of its locations closer to my home before long, however.

Walking up Washington Avenue to return to St. Charles. And here is a peek into a typical Louisiana cemetery.

Because of the moist ground close to sea level in this part of the world, it makes no sense to bury the deceased in underground graves; too often, the wooden coffin may rot and collapse (along with the tombstone above it) as it fills with water, or if the coffin is watertight, it will simply float up and away in a flood. As a result, graves are above the ground. New Orleans grave tours are actually popular, though I'll have to save that for a future return visit.

I especially love the grave that has a Virgin Mary standing in front.

I took the streetcar back to the nearest stop to my hotel - at Robert E. Lee memorial at the foot of the bridge. And returning to my hotel takes me in front of the official National World War II Memorial (official by an Act of US Congress) - so I made sure to stop by, especially fitting since it's Memorial Day. The exhibits covered civilian sacrifices and a ramp-up of the war effort, as well as political developments in Allied and Axis nations and the logistics of the warfighting both in the Atlantic and Pacific theaters. All in excruciating detail, just so that I have a faint idea of what it would feel like to try to land in Normandy, carrying 75 pounds of gear, with bullets flying all around. I ended up spending over two hours in the museum.

The reason for locating the World War II Memorial in New Orleans is due to the amphibious landing boats used in Normandy and elsewhere in the war being designed and built in New Orleans. General Eisenhower is quoted as saying that had it not been for the boats, a whole different strategy would have been required to retake Europe from the Nazis. The designer/builder of the boats, Andrew Jackson Higgins, is remembered with a street named after him - the street that runs from my hotel via the Memorial to the Robert E. Lee Memorial and its streetcar stops.

Sometimes it's the propaganda that is the most memorable about wars. And American propaganda posters depicting the Japanese as savage beasts, rats, or other despicable subhuman beings, are well known. But what really stuck to my mind is this Japanese propaganda poster.

The poster uses a young woman to symbolize Japan. She is washing her hair - and as she does so, corrupting Western barbarian influences - such as individualism, liberalism, and materialism - are being washed away. Japan framed its fight against the US and the Allies, as a "noble struggle to protect the people of Asia from the Western barbarians, under the benevolence of the almighty superior, pure Yamato race." The reason why this poster stuck out in my mind is because it pits the communal, authoritarian mindset of Asian cultures against the more individual mindset of the West - a culture clash that continues to play out in Asian-American communities, and in my own life as well.

Indeed, Japan was one formidable enemy. Trained under bushido, Japanese soldiers valued honor more than life, and would rather take their own lives (or launch a suicidal attack, like banzai or kamikaze) than peacefully surrender. Japan's navy was also formidable, and the Pacific theater of WWII indeed saw the largest naval battle and the largest air carrier battle ever fought. And it bears remembering Japan's outright barbaric treatment of the people it had conquered, between surrendered American troops in Bataan, Philippines to the civilians of Nanjing and other Chinese cities. This may have precipitated the nuking of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, rather than risking a huge amphibious assault on Kyushu, codenamed Olympic, that had originally been planned.

I do hope to go to Japan later this year (just like New Orleans before this weekend, a glaring gap in my travels), for a look at this past and culture, though under a more peaceful context of course. And this wraps up my New Orleans experience as well - I am glad to have come, and hope to come back before too long. Though next time, I hope to come in my car, as part of a longer road trip - and as I see numerous cars around New Orleans sporting California or Atlantic seaboard license plates, I hope to be driving one of them myself in the future.

New Orleans, Day 2 of 3

2010-05-30T22:18:00.000-07:00

New Orleans is keeping me quite engaged, despite the humidity that wears me down fast. Here is a recap of my day.

I started late morning by taking the St. Charles streetcar to Canal Street, for a McDonald's lunch. Afterwards, I transferred to the Canal Street streetcar and took it to the terminus at the City Park, leaving me only a quick walk away from New Orleans Museum of Art.

This museum does have a decent Asian art collection. I am starting on a familiar note, with a wooden Chinese Kwan Yin from about 1175.

The Chinese and Japanese collections put some emphasis on pottery made for European export. One of the Chinese examples was made for France's Louis XV, complete with a fleur-de-lis - and that's very appropriate for New Orleans, given that the fleur-de-lis continues to represent New Orleans and its French heritage.

The museum's Asian collections also include the other major culture, India. Here is one of two bronze Indian Avalokitesvaras in the collection. Of course, Avalokitesvara is the earlier, Indian male form of Kwan Yin.

Other Asian cultures are hard to find here. There are a couple of Cambodian stone sculptures in the hallway, but that's about it. While some larger museums elsewhere are trying to get their hands on some Korean art, that's not happened here yet, and I can forget about Thai or Vietnamese art as well.

It does have a nice overview of art of the Americas (various North American tribes, as well as some civilizations in and around Aztec and Maya areas, and even some Nazca art) as well as a look at African art, where art is in everyday objects, and animist religions put no emphasis on a higher power but heavy emphasis on various initiation ceremonies (where some of the art objects would come to use).

The museum's claim to fame, honestly, is the Faberge collection, seen here. A Facebook friend of mine, Wendy Westfaul, who is based in Houston but considers New Orleans her hometown, recommended the museum to me for this collection alone.

Love that turquoise serpent paperweight on the right, under the portrait!

The museum also has a great collection of miniature porcelain art, primarily from Meissen in Germany but some also from its key competitor Sevres in France.

This is a monkey band made by Meissen.

This museum is not known for British paintings, but this one made it here. It is entitled The Fifth Plague of Egypt, and was painted in 1800 by Joseph Mallord William Turner. While it depicts one of the plagues that descended on Egypt according to the Book of Exodus in the Bible, it really depicts the seventh plague, hailstorm, rather than the actual fifth, the death of livestock.

It actually belongs to the Indianapolis Museum of Art, known for its outstanding collection of British paintings. I was supposed to visit it during my Indianapolis visit in 2008, but ended up not going there, as I had to cut my miserable business trip early.

There is a story for the painting coming down to New Orleans. As the Indianapolis Colts and the New Orleans Saints became the two teams facing off in Super Bowl XLIV earlier this year, the two museums made a bet. Namely, the losing city's museum would loan a key artwork to the winning city's museum for three months. Of course, with the Saints' win, Indianapolis ended up sending this masterpiece this way.

The caption from the curator made that clear - and also made sure to add, GEAUX SAINTS!

It's pouring outside as I wrap up the museum. But it's still hot and muggy. I'm not liking this weather at all.

At least the view out is wonderful. City Park also has lots of oak trees. It is one of the largest urban parks in the US, in the same league as New York's Central Park, San Francisco's Golden Gate Park, and Chicago's Grant Park - though Los Angeles's mountainous Griffith Park trumps them all. Flooded and severely damaged by Hurricane Katrina, restorations and improvements are ongoing.

Nearby is this lovely botanical garden, home to some rose gardens, a small Japanese garden, a model railroad garden that uses rolling stock and buildings native to New Orleans, and a conservatory housing "living fossil" plants.

This waterlily pond is my favorite, however. But the muggy weather and the showers do make it miserable.

After a lengthy wait, I took the streetcars back to the hotel, for some Internet surfing, before coming back out to Bourbon Street around sunset, for a Philly cheesesteak sandwich and some soaking in of the atmosphere. This was also the first time I actually ventured into Bourbon beyond St. Ann Street. St. Ann is the de facto dividing line between the heterosexual Bourbon and the gay Bourbon (and the quiet residential areas beyond). The gay Bourbon had great men's activity, not so much in terms of lesbians.

While I was out and about, I picked up a phone message from local friend Morwen Madrigal. After phone tagging a few times, I got one final message from her - from her cell phone that had a 909 (yes, as in my neck of woods) area code! She used to have a work assignment in Southern California at the time, hence the 909 cell phone. I eventually met up with her, and her partner Betty Ann Davis, for a nice chat at a quiet local bar - we talked about lots of current events related things, including the oil spill, the teabaggers, the Catholic pedophile priests, and more. Morwen and I talk about these things over Facebook anyway, but it was a lovely opportunity to move the talk into the real world. The night ended with Betty driving me back to my hotel - saving me the trouble of walking all the way back to Canal for the streetcar.

New Orleans: kickoff

2010-05-29T20:02:00.000-07:00

Pausing my old Europe recap for a minute, as I am on the road NOW.

I have just finished my first of three days in New Orleans - this is my first-ever visit, and so far I am very pleased, despite the heat and humidity. I especially love le Vieux Carre (French Quarter), and especially Bourbon Street, where just about anything goes!

Here is my recap of today.

This is actually yesterday afternoon, as I leave Los Angeles on United Airlines.

I am only a Premier, the lowest-level elite (though that's still more than what I'm used to), so I don't qualify to use the lounge for free. But I took the photo anyway, because of the name. United Airlines' lounge is named the Red Carpet Club, and since I've been working on a novel involving a redhead lesbian United flight attendant for forever, the lounge name is a perfect double-entendre for me.

United logistics were dreadful yesterday. Mechanical delays galore, including an Australia-bound flight running 23 1/2 hours late. My New Orleans run was itself 2 hours late - and actually had to use a plane from Orlando, rather than the originally scheduled plane from San Francisco. On the other hand, the Orlando plane had a larger first class section, and I got an automatic upgrade to an empty first class seat as part of my elite benefits.

Despite the late arrival, I was up and running before too long, once the sun was up. This is the view from my hotel room. My hotel is in the Warehouse District at the foot of the Mississippi River Bridge (US-90 Business), and I have a view of the Superdome (a mess during Katrina evacuations, but now a symbol of triumph with the Saints' win of Super Bowl) and the skyscrapers of the business district. A block behind me is the Convention Center, which hosted the 1988 Republican National Convention that nominated Vice President Poppy Bush as the presidential candidate, and Dan Quayle as his running mate.

I took in the hotel's breakfast buffet, before coming back to my room to do the research for my initial sightseeing.

My initial plans were to take the streetcar to the French Quarter, but given that the nearest streetcar stop was already halfway to the French Quarter, and that service frequency was a joke, I decided to walk along the waterfront toward the foot of Canal Street, and tour the Audubon Aquarium.

Here is one of the exhibits.

Louisiana's wetlands south of New Orleans, stretching into the sea as the Mississippi empties, are known for their alligators. Here is an albino alligator.

I was thinking of a local friend here in New Orleans, Morwen Madrigal (yes, the one who told me she had licked all the Grand Tetons back in the day), who likes to joke about feeding the "Conservamooks" to the bayou alligators. I am in touch with her and plan on getting together with her and her partner later on during the stay.

The aquarium also hosts an IMAX theater, and I took in a movie about Hurricane Katrina's impact on the Louisiana coastline, and the effect of human developments (levees in particular) in stopping the flow of sediment into the wetlands, the resulting erosion of existing wetlands, and the shrunken wetlands being less able to protect New Orleans from hurricane surges.

The Audubon Institute runs, in addition to the aquarium, an insectarium and a zoo. I bought a combination ticket that allows me to visit all three AND watch an IMAX movie for barely more than just two of the sights - for $34.95. The insectarium is located on the ground floor of the old US Customs House.

While the insectarium has many interesting displays - including a cockroach-infested kitchen and various termite labs - this one, a butterfly house in the form of a Japanese garden. And sure enough, these butterflies are having a Japanese lunch.

I walked further up Canal Street, which is the main wide thoroughfare in New Orleans with plenty of shopping. To its north-northeast is the French Quarter. To its south-southwest is the newer part of New Orleans for Anglo Americans. I walked up to Bourbon, then turned right to enter the heart of the French Quarter.

Here is a souvenir shop with T-shirts for sale. Loving them all - especially the one with the built-in boobs.

Bourbon is the street of debauchery. It is full of bars, clubs, strip clubs, and yes, even a club where I can watch live sex acts. Based on the photos, it looks like I can watch hetero acts and lesbian acts.

While I am loving all the debauchery, I would rather come back in the future with a pervert friend or two. I just don't feel like going into that live sex club alone, as a lone female.

Royal is the street immediately to the south of Bourbon. It is a more sedate street primarily lined with art galleries.

But this particular antiques store still manages to get sexy. Here are some East Asian sculptures depicting sexy scenes - including the group sex arch on the top.

It was only mid-afternoon, but I was already worn out thanks to the short sleep in the morning as well as the humidity, so I made a long walk back to the hotel for a quick shower and rest. But upon finding that the Riverwalk, the shopping mall next to the Convention Center and the closest eateries to me, was closing at 7 in the evening, I had to hurry and get back out, intending only to eat dinner and come right back.

But I thought it would be very stupid to go back in, without experiencing the debauchery of Bourbon Street at night. I headed back to the French Quarter, this time walking on Chartres Street.

And I love this bumper sticker, found on a Toyota pickup truck. Louisiana may be a teabagger state best known for Senator David Vitter and Governor Piyush "Bobby" Jindal, and even New Orleans' own Congressman is Vietnamese refugee and Republican Joseph Cao, but New Orleans is more of a carpetmuncher city overall, and I certainly appreciate the anything-goes atmosphere of the French Quarter.

Continuing to follow Chartres Street toward Jackson Square, the most iconic spot in New Orleans due to it bordering a cathedral.

These buildings really show off the trademark architecture of the French Quarter. I especially love the balconies and their ornate railings.

Between the architecture and the narrow streets, it almost feels like France. The fleur-de-lis, the symbol of French heritage, is everywhere as well (and is used by the city government and the Saints football team). Despite the fact that no place in France is actually this muggy, and despite the fact that the French Quarter street grid is typical North American rectangular rather than the irregular pattern I would find back in France, I really feel that French vibe. Of course, New Orleans adds its own Cajun and creole culture to really make things far more interesting.

It's not quite dark, but it's about sunset. And there is a shower. Thunder rumbles in the distance. Bourbon is really starting to come alive - a lounge singer was doing a great rendition of Melissa Etheridge's "Come to My Window" at one of the bars, and several other bars were really starting to come alive.

I think Bourbon Street alone justifies all the trouble one goes through in order to visit New Orleans, though the city definitely has more to offer, and I have two more days to find out.

I walked Bourbon back to Canal, and found and checked out a Hustler store near Canal. Loved some of the sex toys there (especially vaginas that claim to be molded after those of famous porn actresses), and also went through tons of porn DVDs, though I wasn't too impressed with girl-on-girl porn that was clearly intended for male consumption rather than any realistic depiction of lesbianism, and I was certainly NOT happy with all the "Asian tranny" porn that I consider to be exploitation of disowned young Asian gay boys (give them shelter, but feed them estrogen and make them do porn against their will...).

Glad to have finally gotten to know New Orleans, which I had recently been seeing as the "last American destination worth visiting that I haven't visited." I expect to spend the remaining two days using the streetcars to venture out to outlying parks - Audubon Park and its zoo, and City Park and the Conservatory. Audubon Park is connected to central New Orleans by Magazine Street, which has its own bus line and is also the greatest shopping street supposedly. Those two parks plus any extra sightseeing around the French Quarter should wrap things up nicely.

Europe recap 2003, Day 2: Paris

2010-05-26T00:40:00.000-07:00

Monday, November 3rd, 2003, had me leave London for the midday train hop to Paris.

The Eurostar ticket had been booked directly at the railroad website before I had left the US, though I did need to manually check in before departure. As for Paris, I had two nights booked, via Priceline.com, at a Mercure hotel in the Montmartre district, not too far from the sleazy sex shops of Boulevard de Clichy making up the infamous Pigalle district. I was not impressed with the price, with the condition of the room, nor with the amenities.

My hotel is only a minute or two away on foot from the world-famous Moulin Rouge ("red mill") cabaret and its topless can-can dancers. This intersection also contains a Métro station - Blanche on Line 2.

The Comfort Inn I had stayed in back in 1998 was located very close to Abbesses Station on Line 12, which is only a few more minutes away on foot.

I would return in the evening to take in the touristy can-can show, but for now, I am sightseeing around Paris. And also getting to use the new Euro currency for the first time, as France had used the franc back in 1998 (and I still hold on to a 50-franc note honoring Antoine de St. Exupery, and his book Le Petit Prince).

While there is a Quick hamburger restaurant, France's homegrown answer to McDonald's, to the right, I don't think I dined at this particular location during this visit.

I don't remember if this arch is from Blanche Station, or from Pigalle Station one stop to the east, but it is one of a number of original Métropolitain arches that mark the entrance to a subway station.

At one time, Paris was busy removing arches like this to "modernize" the Métro, but outcry from the public and tourists saved some of these unique arches. And I love finding quirks like this whenever I travel to France.

I decided to visit a sight that I had missed in 1998: the Picasso Museum in the Marais. A good look at not only Pablo Picasso's artwork, from conceptual pieces like this nude to cubism and other styles, but also at his non-art activities, including politics.

Did not enjoy the experience too much though. Pre-planning via the museum website had been a bit difficult due to it being only in French, and communicating with the locals is a bit of a challenge, between my much rustier French (compared to 1998 anyway) and the reluctance of the locals to speak English. And sticking around for just two nights is NOT conducive to being immersed in the French experience either.

In any case, it was a good decision to visit the Picasso Museum. For my next Paris visit (exactly six years later), Picasso Museum was closed for renovations.

Continuing to walk around the Marais, whose reputation as Jewish and gay enclave I had somehow picked up. Place des Vosges is a plaza that serves as a key focal point of this older neighborhood.

Still having a bit of trouble connecting with Paris, however. In addition to the language barrier, I am also getting a few unwanted stares in the Métro. It is a reminder that while France may not be Spain or Italy, it is still a Latin country with a bit of machismo. The demons from my 1999 Amsterdam trip are still bugging me somewhat, even though Paris had been good to me in the past, and even on this trip, it was not outright rude either (especially a good thing, considering that Americans were really bashing France in 2003 for its refusal to support the invasion of Iraq).

Before returning to the hotel area and the Moulin Rouge cabaret, I will be taking in some modern artwork at Centre Georges Pompidou. Don't remember much about the modern art that was mixing up quite badly in my brain. But do remember the coat check, where the male attendants were clocking me as a visitor from South Korea. I did correct them by identifying Los Angeles as my home, however. In any case, not having a good day, but glad to know that the French were NOT reciprocating all the American French-bashing.

From the upper floors of this building, I also enjoyed the lovely sight of both the Sacre-Coeur Basilica and the Eiffel Tower, as the sun set and the city lights started to take over.

And again, the Moulin Rouge cabaret, with its touristy French-English bilingual shows with a primarily Chinese audience, wrapped up the evening. It was notable to know that children as young as six were allowed to attend; while the mere glimpse of an exposed nipple scars an American child forever, a French child thinks nothing of it, certainly.

The next day, Day 3, November 4th, 2003, would find me taking a half-day trip out to Amiens, then returning to Paris to tour the one major art museum I had not checked out previously - Musée d'Orsay.

Europe 2003 recap, Day 1: London

2010-05-26T00:04:00.000-07:00

As the Korean tension gets out of hand (though I do think an all-out war is unlikely, and my Seoul plans look safe), I am looking back to a happier time in November 2003, when I made my fourth European visit. Having been clobbered by the Amsterdam thugs in my previous European visit, my decision was to be sure I would feel cozy with the parts of Europe I was already familiar with - England and France, my stomping grounds from 1996 and 1998. Also this was my first Europe return after the difficult days of 2000 and 2001 had put a stop to my overseas travels.

More importantly, this was my first trip that involved the use of a digital camera. I used a 3-megapixel Kodak example, state-of-the-art for the time, and it was certainly a huge improvement over using film-based cameras.

Saturday, November 1st, 2003. My starting point is my home, Los Angeles. My previous trips had departed from New York or San Francisco, so I am finally glad to be able to launch a Europe trip from my real home.

This is the world-famous Theme Tower which is a symbol of Los Angeles International Airport.

To really stick to the "old familiar cozy" theme (and to save money), I am flying my usual favorite airline, United. The trip to Heathrow will involve a change of planes at John F. Kennedy Airport in New York City. Both the Los Angeles - New York and the New York - London services are familiar to me from my 1990s college days.

Now I am airborne. United 6, having taken off to the west over the Santa Monica Bay, now has turned around back toward the airport, to overfly it and head northeast toward New York.

This is my first flight on United in over three years - due to my financial difficulties, I had stopped flying altogether. Thanks to various non-travel schemes to keep earning frequent flier miles however, my frequent flier account at United did not lapse despite three years of no flight activity.

The throwback to my college days will indeed be the key during this 4 1/2 hour flight. I am watching Friends reruns (featuring, of course, my favorite Greek Goddess, Jennifer Aniston), while listening to my mid-1990s idol Mariah Carey.

It's late afternoon, and I have landed at JFK a bit early. This is my first time back in New York since finishing college. So nice to see the Manhattan skyline again during the final approach, but so sad to see the World Trade Center missing.

This is the plane that brought me in from Los Angeles. Now it's about to shoot back to Los Angeles. It is named City of Chicago, registered N606UA, and had been the very first Boeing 767 to carry paying passengers back in September 1982. Despite the age, it was quite clean. Old 767s like this, in a 3-class configuration, served United's premium service between Los Angeles and New York, both back in my college days and in 2003. One of those 767s, registered N612UA, was a regular on this route as well, but sadly that was the very plane involved in the World Trade Center crash on September 11th, 2001.

United retired these 767s, and replaced them with dedicated 3-class Boeing 757s, in 2004 and 2005, and branded the premium service as simply p.s. In any case, this ended up being my last time on this service, once the mainstay of my air travel experience.

A Boeing 777, operating as Flight 956, took over from here for the continuation flight to London's Heathrow Airport. I landed there around 7 in the morning the next day (Sunday, November 2nd), and used the cheapest way to get into town - Piccadilly Line of the Underground, taking me directly from Heathrow to King's Cross Station.

My itinerary called for overnighting in London in the neighborhood of Islington, a short walk away from King's Cross Station, before proceeding to Paris for two nights.

In J. K. Rowling's Harry Potter series of books, Harry and the other aspiring wizards travel from London to Hogwarts School of Wizardry on a train leaving from King's Cross Station. And the departure point is Platform 9 3/4 - not accessible to "muggles" (non-wizards) but accessible to wizards after walking through a wall. And sure enough, I do see Platform 9 3/4 at King's Cross!

The street layout in this area is confusing, so it took me a few minutes to get proper bearings and get to my hotel - a part of Thistle chain (a pricey, often beat-up British luxury chain) that had offered me a single for one night, for under £40 (USD $64) - a steal by London standards, even if it were a budget hotel with a shared toilet down the hall. The good part was that I found the hotel alright. The bad part was that there was no way I was going to check in until 2PM - and it was still before 9AM. All I could do was to store my bags and walk back out.

I got back on the Tube to head out to Kensington Park. It is a cloudy, cool, dreary day, stereotypical English weather. Between the weather, the fact that I am not dressed warmly (I had left my jacket in my bag at the hotel), and my jet lag (I had gotten zero sleep on the flights), I was feeling quite groggy. At least I was chugging along somewhat, thanks to a breakfast I had had at a nearby Pret à Manger, a sandwich chain that had been started up by McDonald's for the UK market.

At least the swans, and the kids feeding them, are a lovely sight.

And a nice sight of a squirrel too, making the park its home and eating off of a trash bin.

I will spend some time touring Kensington Palace, the official home of the Princess of Wales. That title belonged to the late Princess Diana, so some of the palace involved dresses that had been worn by Diana during her days as a princess. Unfortunately, a strict no-photos policy was in effect.

Still feeling groggy, but I am pushing ahead. This gilded memorial is Prince Albert Memorial, commemorating the husband of the long-reigning, and draconian, Queen Victoria.

I had heard of this key London landmark for ages, but never gotten a chance to see it up close until this time.

And just across the street to the south is this building. This is Royal Albert Hall, also honoring Prince Albert, and one of the key music performance venues (classical and popular) for London.

The jet lag is still too much, so I immediately shot back to the hotel, where it was still just before noon. The front desk was determined to not let me check in early. I took a much-needed nap to pass the time, then finally managed to check in at 2PM. At least my single, though tiny, was quite well-appointed, complete with a multimedia television set and a luxurious private bathroom.

After some more nap, I changed into a miniskirt suit, and headed back out, as the sun started to set on this cloudy day.

I wanted to get some of that millennium frenzy that had swept through London after my previous visit. That included the Millennium Dome toward the east (closed), as well as the British Airways London Eye, seen here. It's a quick walk from Waterloo Station, which I wanted to scope anyway for the next day's departure to Paris, and where I had a fast food dinner.

And I am grateful that thanks to having a digital camera, I can actually take a night photo without having to change to a more sensitive film. However, I am also finding that due to the low light conditions, the exposure times are longer, and blurs are a major issue.

The view from above is absolutely lovely. I can see the Houses of Parliament (seen here), St. Paul's Cathedral toward the old City, a number of other landmarks, and all the busy train action right below at Waterloo and Charing Cross stations.

I was so relieved to know that I had made it back to one of my favorite cities in the world at last, and that thanks to my work at my family business, I could actually afford this trip. (Even though the financial difficulties had clobbered my credit, and my credit cards' limits were too low to allow me to comfortably make all my reservations.)

Day 2 (November 3rd) would find me taking a late morning Eurostar train to Paris, where I would return to my previous stomping grounds of the Montmartre district and spend two nights.

Possible complications to this summer

2010-05-19T08:32:00.000-07:00

In late March, the South Korean naval destroyer Cheonan sank under mysterious circumstances, claiming 46 lives. And as an international investigation concludes, it appears that not surprisingly, a North Korean torpedo is most likely to blame.

BBC

As I prepare for what may become several more months of life in Seoul, it bears remembering that the war never ended on the Korean peninsula, and only a 57-year-old cease-fire is keeping the hostilities from resuming. Having made the border areas part of my 2008 road trip, I have seen things first-hand.

This despicable development, according to those in the know (including, according to another BBC analytic article, a North Korean lieutenant who defected south and claims to continue contacts with his former colleagues north), is a way for North Korea to respond to South Korea's cutoff of unconditional aids, and to pressures from the US and the international community to return to nuclear disarmament talks. There is also a need for North Korea to "demonstrate" that even in the midst of a power transfer from Kim Jong-il to his third son, things remain "in control." Though methinks a deadly form of provocation like this is very likely to backfire badly.

Any sign of open hostilities would easily put my meditation plans into chaos, for sure. But on the other hand, even sitting in the US will not be a guarantee of safety. The South Korean far-right and the Korean-Americans, having already successfully convinced half of America that President Obama is a Muslim extremist, do need their excuse for more despicable McCarthyist activities after all, and there is no better excuse than northern hostilities. I will be vigilant wherever I am - and I am staying away from far-right propaganda-laden Korean restaurants (that's all Korean restaurants in the US, except for Brothers in San Francisco), until further notice. (I'm also boycotting fellow McCarthyists of Vietnamese restaurants for the same reason.)

Vegas...

2010-05-17T09:20:00.000-07:00

Just spent a quick weekend in Las Vegas, attending a sales presentation for additional rights to my existing timeshare.

However, what I enjoyed more (despite my continuing sore throat) was the ability to experience Cher's Caesars Palace residency in person. That means I have seen all four residencies at Caesars - Celine Dion, Sir Elton John, and Bette Midler being the other three. (Though with Celine Dion slated to return in 2011, I may have to check her out again.) Despite her age, Cher was awesome as ever, with the show giving a lot of emphasis to her early days (with the late Sonny Bono) and her crazy exhibitionist costumes (yes, she looks good in them even today). The historical footage included even a photo where Cher and Sonny were seen with their baby daughter Chastity (who is, of course, now a transman named Chaz). This was, based on presentation, my favorite Caesars show to date (even though I personally did enjoy Sir Elton more, since I am actually a fan of his).

But more important was a change in my road trip paradigm. The last time I took a long drive like this, in a plain four-cylinder car, was back in my teens, using a carbureted Toyota Corolla, because that's all the car my family could afford. All my stateside drives in the past 15 years or so involved used at least six cylinders - and in recent years, I went ever more posh, relying on such luxuries as outside temperature gauge, as I insisted on using a BMW 3-series, then a Hyundai Genesis, for my long drives. But this time, I was back to a plain-jane four-banger - specifically, a beater Honda Accord from work that is now legally mine. The car had had some mechanical issues due to previous improper maintenance and repairs, but I've had them all worked out in the past month, and now it runs like a dream. This was the first time I roadtripped in a car over five years old (this car is 8 1/2 years old) or with odometer reading over 50,000 miles (135,000 in this case), but even on those long, steep inclines between Baker and the Nevada state line, I did just fine. I didn't save too much on fuel costs, as the Accord's fuel economy isn't significantly better than the Genesis's, but I am still happy, since the Accord is cheaper to maintain, and I'd rather save the Genesis for much longer drives (i.e. to Seattle and Vancouver) where I can really use its quietness and comfort.

Photos will upload in a few days.

Asia again?

2010-05-13T16:06:00.000-07:00

When I logged three months in Seoul in late 2008, it was in the form of a meditation regimen that wasn't quite finished at the conclusion of my stay. While meditation was valuable, I also found my travel and cultural experiences, throughout Seoul, the rest of South Korea, and into Hong Kong, to be just as valuable.

It looks like as my work slows down a bit, I will once again make Seoul my home for a bit, for a few months, to continue where I had left off. The goal will be to restore my health to the levels I had when I was wrapping up my initial stint, and to further bring up my energy-pooling abilities to a point where I can easily meditate even in an energy-vortex-devoid place like Southern California. (Only then will I be able to even consider spreading my good energy to others; right now, it's more like spreading negativity.)

Only preliminary details are being put down now, but I am in touch with my contacts in Seoul, and it looks like I will resume Seoul in 2-3 months. I was glad that a number of people found my tidbits from Seoul very valuable, and I am glad to continue on that path. I am also glad to know that supporters of South Korea's far-right government (including the vast majority of Korean-Americans) will once more find their blood pressure going up, as I dig up even more inconvenient truths; however, Chinese speakers will be a bit bummed, as I don't intend to go to a Chinese-speaking area this time - I expect to spend my off-time in Japan instead, which will be my first stint in Japan.

In addition to Japan (which will most likely take me to Tokyo, plus a more traditional part of Japan), I expect to do two trips within South Korea - one road trip to fill in the gaps from my initial 2008 one, and one quick flight to Jeju Island in the far south; both will also have an emphasis on South Korea's democratic struggle against domestic dictatorships, as places like Gwangju, Yeosu, and Jeju have been well-known for pro-democracy demonstrations, as well as the violent response from the right-wing dictators.

Assuming that the far-right government isn't out to ban me, I may even look at possible options for future work stints. I can run my US-based business by email and Internet just fine, my physical presence in the US will be necessary once a month at most. Of course, I will apply for proper work visa before I take up any employment. Proper work authorization will also mean that I can do economic activities (bank accounts, etc.) in South Korea and also enroll in its public health insurance plan, though it also means that I must cough up my alien registration number to the police state authorities to do my Internet activities. Will see what happens.

Old European Photos

2010-05-10T11:23:00.000-07:00

As part of moving my travel photos here from Facebook, I am going way back in time - to my 1990s European trips.

I had three European stints in the 1990s, as follows:

March 1996, London and Southern England
March 1998, Belgium, France, and England
December 1999, Netherlands and Germany

The latter two are featured in this post. Photos are scans of Advanced Photo System photos from a cheap camera - back then, I thought that was the greatest thing ever in photography. How times change.

My first four trips to Europe (the fourth was in 2003) had me arrive at London's Heathrow Airport on United Airlines. And this second arrival, on Flight 2 from New York on the morning of March 14, 1998, was certainly the most memorable - it was the only one that actually gave me a lovely view of central London, as seen here.

Due to a technical delay back in New York, this flight is running 80 minutes late. And that's a bit of cause for concern, as I had to get to Waterloo Station (visible in this photo) and take a Eurostar train to my first destination of Brussels. As it turned out, I made it to the train right on time.

The lack of London Eye certainly dates this photo to the 20th Century, rather than the 21st. And the fact that United was running New York - London services, especially as part of an Around-the-World service, further adds to the dating; both services became victims of cost-cutting when the airline went bankrupt in 2002.

The next day is a cloudy one. In fact, my entire Belgian stay turned out to be cloudy.

I am touring Brussels, and I am finding myself in the north end of the city at Bruparck, in the neighborhood of Heysel/Heizel. That is the Atomium, built for the 1958 Expo and intended to be Brussels' answer to Paris' Eiffel Tower. The elevator takes me up to the top atom via the vertical shaft, and I walk down to the ground via the diagonal shafts.

With Belgium being a center for comic strips, some of the interior displays of the Atomium had exhibits dedicated to comic strips, some featuring the Atomium itself. But that was one thing about Belgium that I had not known until after the fact. Fact-gathering in the 1990s, when the World Wide Web was still in its infancy, was not easy - often I had to rely on a few cut-rate guidebooks that were obsolete the moment they were printed.

The following day was spent over in Brugge in Flemish Belgium (Bruges in French and English) as a day trip.

This is the main town square, and the Dutch architecture of the Flemish Region is very evident. Bruges also treated me to lovely canalside scenes, living up to its reputation as the Venice of the North. Bruges was once a major trading and industrial powerhouse, with sea access only a stone's throw away, before silting and more modern ports (such as Antwerp) took away the trade, reducing the city to a medieval time capsule and a modern-day tourist magnet.

Belgium is bilingual. The Flemish speak Dutch, while the southern Walloons speak French. Brussels is officially bilingual, though in reality, most residents speak French. The animosity between the two groups is considerable - so much so that the safest way to go is to speak a neutral language, like English. That works out fine for me, especially in the Flemish areas, since I speak some French but zero Dutch. Besides, European travel infrastructure accommodates foreigners with zero language proficiency quite well anyway.

After wrapping up what to this date remains my only visit to Belgium, I moved on to Paris for four nights. Paris had been a city on top of my wishlist since childhood, so it was priceless to actually get there for once.

It's March 20th, the last full day in Paris. Trying to get to the Bateaux-Mouches cruise along the Seine, I'm walking close to Place d'Alma - and I am noting some graffiti around this tunnel. It was the previous August 31st when Princess Diana had a fatal car crash in this very tunnel. And sure enough, some graffiti has renamed this area from Place d'Alma to "Place Diana." I even looked into the tunnel, and sure enough, the crash marks were still there.

Place d'Alma isn't too far from the Eiffel Tower; in fact, one of the legs is visible in this photo.

This wide-angle Advanced Photo Systems photo was something I used to pride myself on for a while.

After wrapping up Paris, I returned to London, where I did a two-day pre-arranged car rental. The Citroën Xantia LX 1.8 I ended up driving was quite memorable, just by virtue of being my first stickshift, my first right-hand-drive car, and my first European drive. The infamous Citroën self-leveling adjustable air suspension only added to the confusion. I did okay, even after finding that my South London hotel had never been confirmed. After spending my first London night partying overnight at a goth club near the Angel Tube station (thanks to a local goth friend I had met in Canterbury), I picked a pricey airport hotel for the second and final night, and immediately set out for Stonehenge.

The sight of Stonehenge was worth all the trouble. This will remain one of my favorite travel experiences for a long time to come. The crows flying around, the desolateness of the Salisbury Plains, my own all-black outfit, on Spring Equinox, it was just perfect. Too bad my car was green and French.

The only regret was that I had to return to New York and my studies the next day. Already I was returning a day late, but I really didn't want to go back. I did prolong my London experience by four more hours, by voluntarily getting myself bumped from the return flight. United Airlines gave me $600 in credits as compensation, and that went on to fund my next European trip.

December 2nd, 1999. By this time I was in the San Francisco Bay Area, trying to get my bite out of that dot-com pie, but the bubble was already hurting me badly. I knew that I was NOT going to be working for December 1999, so I decided to instead take a joyride to Amsterdam using the airline credit, and spend a week there.

United 930 is now taking me out of San Francisco, on a nonstop flight again to London Heathrow, where another United flight would complete my journey to Amsterdam.

As it turned out, however, Flight 930 was the ONLY part of the whole journey that went according to plan. My trip into the airport had been marred by a fire on my BART train - I had to change trains as a result. And once in London, Amsterdam's severe winds resulted in airport closure - and United canceled my connection, and handed me over to Air France, so that I could ride the delay out in Paris. Instead of arriving at 11 in the morning in Amsterdam, I got there at 5 in the afternoon, after dark - and I hated being greeted by Amsterdam's racist, sexist thugs (who themselves were Third World immigrants, interestingly). Door-to-door time from my apartment in the Bay Area to my hotel in Amsterdam was 27 very long hours.

December 4th, 1999, my first full day sightseeing in Amsterdam.

I beat the crowds and entered Anne Frank House, at 263 Prinsengracht, as soon as it opened at 9 in the morning - barely after sunrise thanks to the northerly latitudes. It would get dark again by 4.

This was a lovely, yet sad, sight. I could tour the storefront run by Anne's father Otto even during the Nazi occupation of the Netherlands, with video testimony provided by his secretary Miep Gies, who continued to live in Amsterdam until her 2009 death. I then opened the bookcase and climbed up to the Secret Annexe, which was surprisingly roomy, making for very comfortable accommodations for the eight people who hid there for two years. I could even see posters of movie stars and royalties that Anne admired - including a young Princess Elizabeth, who would become the Queen of England in 1952. The tour ended with the aftermath of the eight (only Otto survived), as well as translations of Anne's diary in various languages.

I ended up buying a copy of the diary at the house's bookstore - of course, the book came with an extra sticker to denote that it was indeed purchased at the house. I also signed the guestbook, noting the ongoing prejudice and hatred outside the house's walls, though this time coming from the Third World immigrant thugs I just mentioned. I had initially identified them as Surinamese, based on longtime Dutch colonial rule in Suriname, but a native Dutch friend of mine who lives in nearby IJmuiden tells me that those thugs, while a severe menace, are more likely to be from elsewhere, possibly Morocco.

Sunday, December 5th, 1999, was set aside as a day trip to Cologne, Germany, a 3-hour train ride away from Amsterdam. Bad idea to schedule a visit to Germany on a Sunday, thanks to Quiet Day Sunday laws in Germany.

My Cologne itinerary included a tour of Imhoff-Stollwerck chocolate factory, as well as a visit to Romano-German Museum and its Roman mosaic floor. But this streetside musician's performance, using cups filled with different levels of water for different notes, is what clings to my mind the most from this day. People like him kept the main shopping streets lively, even with all the stores closed.

But again, the rather primitive nature of the Internet during this timeframe meant that I had not learned much about Cologne beforehand, so there wasn't much I could do around here, except for a teaser into Germany. The one thing I noticed was the similarity between German and Dutch languages - entrance and exit were "ingang" and "uitgang" in Dutch, and "Eingang" and "Ausgang" in German.

I left after seven hours in Cologne, vowing to return to Germany sooner than later. Due to my worsening financial situation in the next few years, my next Germany visit would have to wait until October 2009.

Tuesday, December 7th, 1999. Another day trip away from the Amsterdam thugs. This time, I am in Den Haag (The Hague in English), served from Amsterdam by very frequent trains via the airport and Leiden.

The Hague is best known for Madurodam, a miniature village depicting a generic Dutch city but using real-life landmarks from throughout the country. Many of the miniatures, from cars to even the airplanes at the village's international airport, actually move.

It was a very miserable rainy, windy day - typical of Holland - but I nevertheless spent a lot of time walking around here, and walking through a large park toward a different part of the town. I visited some anthropology exhibits at the Museon, before returning to the train station and taking some tram joyrides out to Vreispalace (Peace Palace, UN International Court) and the Scheveningen Beach. Tiring and miserable, but staying in Amsterdam to take abuse from the thugs would've been even worse.

Wednesday, December 8th, 1999, last full day in the Netherlands. I am north of Amsterdam this time, having taken a city bus into Zaandam area.

My destination is Zaanse Schans, a folk village. December is not a good time to visit, as most of its live folk demonstrations are summer only, but I can still look at some old windmills that actually work. Zaanse Schans is a good approximation of a traditional Dutch industrial town powered by windmills, though the windmills are collected from elsewhere in the country rather than originally erected here.

It's always rainy and windy this time of the year in this part of the world. But that makes those windmills very valuable. But the misery, both from the climate and from the Amsterdam thugs, was really getting to me.

The next day - Thursday, December 9th - was a relief for that reason. I was so relieved to arrive at Schiphol Airport, clear the departure passport check, and see this United plane sit at the gate, waiting to take me out of the misery. Flight 947 will take me to Dulles Airport outside Washington, DC, where I will connect to a San Francisco-bound flight.

In any case, I am so sick and tired of all the racist, sexist, homophobic thugs in Amsterdam, that I am glad to be flying United, rather than one of the KLM planes in the background. Especially when I could count on a Melissa Etheridge-only audio channel as part of the United inflight programming for this millennial holiday season - LESBIAN POWER, BABY! Even to this day, the mere sight of a KLM plane is guaranteed to raise my blood pressure, and similarly sighting a United plane is guaranteed to leave me feeling some lesbian power.

Some people have been incensed that I am choosing to side with a large, evil American corporation rather than "tolerant, anything-goes" Netherlands. But when tolerance includes tolerance of ethnic thugs in the name of political correctness, I am having none of it - especially when similar thugs have ganged up to take my rights away in California as well.

For those reasons, this moment remains quite iconic even today. I think of this moment, whenever I board any United flight, whenever I send a letter of commendation (or complaint - "you were so awesome that day, why were you so awful today?") to United Airlines, whenever I listen to George Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue (the official United Airlines theme music), or whenever I listen to Melissa Etheridge.

As for my travel patterns, I had trouble connecting with Europeans as a result of the abuse I took in Amsterdam. Even my return to London and Paris in 2003, to bring some of the good feelings back, didn't quite work out - partly due to London's own Jamaican thugs on the Southbank (though London as a whole remains a city I love). Only with the 2009 European trip would I completely lose the demons.

Going Rogue

2010-05-10T10:06:00.000-07:00

No, I'm not talking about the Sarah Palin "memoir," and I am not turning this blog back to politics just yet (though this post is a bit political in nature).

I'm talking about Facebook, and its CEO Mark Zuckerberg, especially since a lot of people are on Facebook these days - over 400 million worldwide. I myself have relied heavily on Facebook to meet and befriend new people, from progressive activists to members of the LGBT community to Unitarians. Zuckerberg had started Facebook as a way of communicating with his Harvard classmates, but soon it grew beyond collegiate settings and became an easy-to-use, worldwide phenomenon, replacing Rupert Murdoch's MySpace service in the capacity.

But the following articles state that Facebook has betrayed its origins as a service that gave users control over their information, and now is more of a service where users are collecting and involuntarily giving up information to Zuckerberg so that he can sell them off.

Wired
Electronic Frontier Foundation

Facebook uses some form of algorithm, details virtually unknown to the public, to mine data regarding users, so that Zuckerberg can sell ads that target the users by their interests. And based on what I see, Facebook seems to have profiled me to be something similar to Zuckerberg himself - a far-right Republican. Perhaps my profile as a far-right Republican is based on my demographic information (model minority Asian elitist in upper-class Southern California suburb, speaking the most important Republican language - Korean). Zuckerberg would've been right on about me, if I were Christian and heterosexual; sorry, but I'm neither. Facebook is convinced that I am scared of Hillary Clinton scheming with the United Nations to destroy the Second Amendment, and that I would join over a million other Facebook users in praying for the death of President Barack Obama. (The fact that Facebook refuses to remove that Obama death prayer group, in itself, is a good indication of Zuckerberg's far-right leanings, especially considering that Facebook aggressively removes groups that are tongue-in-cheek jokes about Glenn Beck or Sarah Palin.)

The only good thing I see out of this is that just like America Online, Netscape, and MySpace before it, Facebook will eventually be replaced by something even greater and more accountable to the public. Ten years ago, the world couldn't imagine an online world without AOL or Netscape, the way Facebook is so intergral to Internet experience today. Facebook's no-privacy police state will eventually be its own undoing. For many, a much simpler service like Twitter may do - though I find Twitter to be too limited and not to my liking. Eventually as proprietary America Online gave way to public Internet-based discussion boards on common protocols, Facebook should give way to something similar but more public, and that'll be a very good development for the future of the Internet.

Up until now, I've used Facebook to a point where my travel photos go there first before coming here. That will change. I will once again feature my travel photos here, then have my Facebook profile link here. I am cutting down on other Facebook activities, and limiting my activities to discussions, and comments on friends' statuses.

Europe recap: Days 13-14, Paris and the end

2010-05-01T04:56:00.000-07:00

This will be the final Europe recap post, covering photos from Friday, November 6th, 2009, as well as the logistics of my US return the following day. So my recap of the two weeks, which started three months after the fact, now ends, six months after the fact. This was a lovely trip that will go down the memory lanes, and more importantly, I felt a new sense of connection to the Europeans in ways I had never done since the disaster called Amsterdam in 1999.

The final sightseeing day started out with a morning visit to Versailles, and its world-famous royal Château. I bought the full fare to Versailles at the local subway station, making sure not to repeat the mistake I had made back in 1998, when I had used a basic subway fare to get to the RER transfer point, then had to buy a full RER Versailles fare at that point. As I waited for the RER trains, I noted that each train had a catchy four-letter name, the first letter corresponding to the first letter of the destination station. The French have a sense of humor like that. I have to say, however, that the graffiti-laden RER trains were less than pleasant, made worse by a musician who asked for my change even though I was clearly NOT interested in his music. (I gave him only 20 cents.)

Versailles, again, is a repeat visit.

One of the first rooms visited is this royal chapel, with all these marvelous wall and ceiling paintings.

The price of admission includes audio tour guides in a choice of ten languages, where I need to press a three-digit number for each room to listen to whatever's relevant. I made sure to specify Korean for my mother, since that way, there would be a lot less translation for me to do for her, and that would also make things less obnoxious for fellow visitors. Nevertheless, there was a large group of Chinese-speaking visitors, and they did make things obnoxious between their loud chats and tendency to photograph anything/everything in sight.

The Hall of Mirrors. Glad to be here again.

One recurring theme in royal palaces is propaganda. Just like the Wittelsbachs back in Germany, the French monarchy wanted to legitimize itself by linking itself to ancient Roman emperors. This Roman teabagger statue should do it.

And here is a companion for him - an ancient carpetmuncher statue. Given the US political developments which are NOT exactly to my liking, I am nevertheless turning them into an excuse for humor. Again, every male nude is a teabagger in my books, and every female nude is a carpetmuncher.

Teabaggers and carpetmunchers will remain my recurring theme for the whole day.

And I am starting to feel tired of the same royal propaganda over and over. My mother and I both agree at this point - two weeks on the road is a bit more than we can take at one time.

Here is a more contemporary propaganda - a painting showing the coronation of Emperor Napoleon.

Now we're outside, in the huge royal garden to the rear of the palace. Again, glad to see that mile-long reservoir again.

Back in 1998, I had dined at a café somewhere out there, named La Flotille - implying that the body of water was so large, it had its own naval flotilla.

Looking back toward the palace, with details of a fountain.

I'm not liking it too much - it's partly sunny and bright out, but the winds are quite fierce. I'm blaming it on the geography of this part of Europe, where there are no major mountain ranges, and winds from the north can easily blow in without much in the way of obstructions. In fact, this is the Europe I've known from all my previous visits, until earlier this trip, when I was actually hitting some rugged mountains.

The gardeners keep a few cats around, and this one at least seems very friendly.

Back to Paris, having napped a bit on a quieter RER train. Now we're shooting for a walking tour of the Marais District. While the hotel is located in the far north fringes of the Marais in the 10th District, the real Marais is mostly the 3rd District.

On the way, we're passing Hôtel de Ville. While foreigners often mistake a "Hôtel de Ville" for a hotel, especially in smaller towns that don't have hotels, "Hôtel de Ville" is simply French for a city hall.

The previous night, I had gotten an email letting me know that Bank of America had placed my mother's debit card on hold, due to the large, unusual transaction done earlier in the day (Louis Vuitton purses, paid for in Euro). I ducked into a pay phone and tried to call Bank of America, using the instructions in the phone booth for a US-bound phone call service. Had no luck getting through - the US-based operator couldn't help me. At least I was using an American Express to pay for travel expenses, so I wasn't too worried, besides I'd be back in the US the next day anyway.

Walking past Centre Pompidou. And here is a location of Flunch - another French take on fast food. This place will certainly be worth a try, but I would not get a chance to go in this time.

In fact, my mother had insisted on going back to the very same Japanese place from the previous day, while my intention was to grab a light salad from a neighborhood café - often the cheapest dining option in Paris. Honestly, when I came all the way to Europe, the last thing I wanted to do was to eat the same Asian stuff, stuff that I eat both in the US and in Asia, over and over, At least I should've been grateful that Asian eateries in Europe don't come with Christian extremist propaganda, the way every Korean diner in the US does.

Paris is a major cultural center of the world, and also the only national capital included in this trip (I am not counting the drive through Bern). That means foreign countries' cultural centers are a very common sight throughout the city.

The Swiss Cultural Center is located on a quiet side street in the Marais, as seen above.

The Marais, just like Montmartre, did not get modernized wide boulevards in the 19th Century, one reason why it is a very desirable neighborhood today.

Place des Vosges, the main neighborhood plaza of the Marais.

I'd like to hang around, but my mother is showing zero interest. Tired from two weeks on the road, she is now only looking for big "bragging rights" sights before going home, rather than having any thoughts on French cultural nuances. Even my attempts to explain French pronunciation rules (which final consonants get pronounced and which ones don't) are more information than she wants to ever bother with.

Now we've walked through the Marais, and are nearing the site of the Bastille Prison.

These bicycles belong to Vélib, a city program that allows citizens to rent a bicycle for free, for up to 30 minutes at a time. With hundreds of bicycle racks throughout the city like this, it's possible to rent a bike here, ride a short distance, return the bike, do a few things, then rent another bike for another short hop elsewhere. Nice idea.

Now at Bastille. The prison was destroyed in the 1789 Revolution, and has been France's greatest non-sight ever since. Today, Bastille is better known for a modern opera house, on the left.

The peasants' rise to overthrow the monarchy, behead the elites, and destroy the elites' tools of oppression, made for a strong message to powered elites everywhere. Ironically, the French monarchy had bankrupted the economy while fighting a war in North America against the hated British, ensuring the independence of the United States, and the promotion of its own radical ideas, in the process. But now, the US is a mature society with its own haves and have-nots as well, and the US powered elites, having seen what happened during the French Revolution, have really rigged the system from the era of President Reagan on, to ensure that the peasants will NOT rise to overthrow them. That explains why the US is one of the few countries that refuses to use the metric system, which was a product of the French Revolution, and also why the US media/propaganda machine has been so well-oiled, to a point where the peasants are now ready for a revolution, but to further weaken themselves and give more power to the aristocracy - the whole point of the teabagging movement.

Next up: one of Paris' storied department stores. We're visiting Galeries Lafayette, where the Christmas decorations are already up in full force. Love the glass dome on the top.

This building is dedicated to women's fashion, so I am taking good mental notes on the French fashion trends. The French women have a "je ne sais quoi" quality when it comes to their fashion statements - always subdued, never obsessed with the "it" trends, but nevertheless far more chic than Americans and Asians. I didn't do any shopping here though.

Men's fashion and other items are in an adjacent building.

The department store was next to the Garnier opera house, where I also located a stop for Roissybus, Paris' city bus service that goes nonstop to Charles de Gaulle Airport. I needed to locate it, as I wanted to use the service, rather than the overpriced Air France coaches or the pickpocket-infested RER, to get to the airport the next day to fly home.

A wide boulevard runs from Opera Garnier straight toward the Louvre, and I have crossed the Louvre onto the Seine shore. Across the river, I see l'Academie Française, the national academy best known for "defending the purity of the French language," by, for example, coming up with French equivalent words to such commonly used English expressions as the Web or e-mail, and encouraging French speakers to use them. Its work sees mixed success.

The evening was spent frantically running through the Louvre, the absolute final sight of this two-week trip through Europe. We waited for the reduced-price admissions hour at 5PM, during which we had a salad dinner at the Louvre's own café (I paid a bit more, just for the privilege of sitting down a table). We also picked up the museum map to plot an efficient route through the "big hits" at the museum; again, my mother was looking for the big hits, not interested in taking an impromptu art history lesson at all. Besides, the Louvre's huge size makes it impossible to see it all in just a few hours (I know, I tried in 1998).

The Louvre is mostly concerned with European art, but it does have a good collection of Egyptian art too, as seen in this female statue. She is posed very similar to the idealized Greek male nude statues (kouros) that followed centuries later.

And when it comes to Egyptian art, I cannot skip my favorite Egyptian deity - Goddess Bastet, who often takes the form of a cat, like this. Not as large as the example that sits in London as the symbol of the British Museum, but just as spectacular.

The Louvre was itself a royal palace back in the day, and served as a royal museum, before becoming public in the wake of the 1789 Revolution. And these ceiling friezes give away that royal grandeur of the past. This room is dedicated to royal jewelry and heirlooms.

Possibly the biggest star at the Louvre - Mona Lisa, known as La Joconde in French.

I was lucky enough to get a clear shot of the painting without any adoring tourist masses in the way.

La Grande Odalisque, by Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres in 1804. A well-known painting, and over at the now-dormant Christy's Art Blog, uploaded a few times back in the day as Christy's concession to me. She originally had a series of "Art for Boys" featuring female nudes, and "Art for Girls" featuring male nudes, but upon my protest, added a "Vintage for Ally McLesbian" series featuring vintage female nudes just for me.

I had seen this one over at Versailles just hours before. Coronation of Napoleon, as painted by Louis David in 1806-1807 for a 1808 exhibition.

This teabagger is simply labeled as a fighting warrior. It is on loan from Villa Borghese in Rome, alongside many others. Estimated date for the statue is about 100 BC.

This is a Roman Venus statue, dated to 2nd Century, but labeled as "completed in 6th Century."

While the Louvre overflows with teabaggers, there are enough carpetmunchers like this to keep the place sane.

The presence of grapes and wine gives away the identity of this particular teabagger as Bacchus. It is from the 2nd Century.

Love this Cupid sculpture.

Another major star at the Louvre - Venus de Milo, found on the Greek island of Milos (therefore being Venus' original Greek version, Aphrodite, instead of Roman Venus), and made of two pieces of marble.

This is one Greek Goddess who can keep me smitten.

This teabagger turns out to be messenger Hermes, based on the way he puts the sandals on. He dates to approximately the 2nd Century, and was found at the Marcellus Theatre in Rome.

Three lovely nymphs found at a Roman villa, date unknown but assumed to be about 2nd Century. They are entitled "Three Graces." What a lovely sight - again, there are enough carpetmunchers around here to relieve me from the sight of all those numerous, hideous teabaggers.

Though I was not happy with this sculpture at all. I first approached from the back, where the sculpture looked the part of a lovely nymph, with soft, round, feminine curves. The sculpture was labeled "Hermaphrodite" - and is a 16th Century reproduction of a 1st Century Roman original. And coming around to this side, I continue to notice feminine features, including boobs, but I also do see a sizable manhood. In fact, this "nymph" has a bigger manhood than the macho muscular teabagger warriors standing throughout the museum.

I was expecting Hermaphrodite to be more ambiguous, rather than being the loveliest nymph who also happened to be the most phallic. Apparently, the ancient Romans weren't merely into teabagging, they were into shemale porn as well. Not a good thought for me.

And this pretty much marked the end of my Paris and European sightseeing, as the next day, Saturday the 7th, was dedicated to the return journey.

The journey started with a midmorning bus hop to Opera Garnier (even paying the bus fare involved buying subway-style magnetic tickets from the driver, then having them punch validated, though the tickets were useless for transfers). Roissybus promptly took us to De Gaulle Airport, and its aged Terminal 1, where we killed time at the Lufthansa lounge (courtesy of Mercedes-Benz) for a few hours. The initial leg, leaving around 1PM, took us back to Munich, on an Embraer 195 regional jet flown by Augsburg Airways, a regional affiliate of Lufthansa; I was pleased with the clockwork-like service of flight attendants, as well as a snack (yes, even on this very short flight).

We arrived in Munich right on time to clear the EU departure check, get the tax-free refund form stamped by German customs, and to board Lufthansa 452 to Los Angeles - again, an Airbus 340-600. I also noted that my flight was leaving from a dedicated area at the south end of Terminal 2, to comply with any additional US security checks needed - all US-bound Lufthansa flights, and all United flights, were operating from the three southernmost gates. The long flight back to Los Angeles took a very northerly route, straying well north of the Arctic Circle and in the dark for the first half of the flight, before the sun came back up from the west for the flight over Canada. Entry into Canada was well to the north of Hudson Bay, and after passing Edmonton and Banff, entry to the US was toward Spokane, where the sun started to set again. The rest of the flight path into Los Angeles was due south over Reno, and was uneventful, and I was again appreciating the highly professional Lufthansa service, down to tips on filling out US immigration forms (no umlauts if I have a German name - add an E after the offending vowel, otherwise US Department of Homeland Security can't process the forms) and navigating through the Bradley International Terminal. An on-time arrival at 7PM local time in Los Angeles marked the end of this lovely two-week adventure through Europe, one that introduced me to three new countries, gave me a true introduction to a fourth, and allowed me to fall in love with an old favorite too. And again, shaking the Amsterdam demons off was probably the biggest plus of the trip.

And I continue to travel on. My United Premier status renewed into 2010 thanks to this journey, and New Orleans shall await me later in May.

Europe recap, Day 12: Paris, Day 1

2010-04-26T22:58:00.000-07:00

This is my 1,000th blog post - I am glad to hit this milestone. And this post will recap Thursday, November 5th, 2009, which was spent as the first of two full days in France as I wrapped up my two-week European tour. This also happened to be exactly six years after wrapping up my previous Paris visit, when I had come in from London on Eurostar and spent two nights.

While all my previous sights in this trip were brand-new territory for me, Paris is a return visit, done primarily for the benefit of my mother. I simply did not want to leave Europe without taking her to one of Europe's three "star attraction" cities - London, Paris, and Rome - and Paris made the most sense, as including Rome in an itinerary involving a new luxury car was asking for trouble, and London was just too far away (and the UK does not arouse my mother's curiosity all that much). I am navigating Paris and playing tour guide for my mother, using not only tips from Rick Steves' guidebook but also from my own past experiences. It also helps that I know enough French to eavesdrop in on some conversations, and to read subway ads and discover their nuances - two luxuries I did not have in German-speaking regions and Italy.

To stick to my "repeat visit" theme, I am starting my Parisian tour at my favorite sight in all of the city, which I had previously discovered during my very first visit in 1998. This is Sainte-Chapelle, a two-tiered chapel on Ile de la Cité in the dead middle of the city.

This is a two-tiered royal chapel, and I am starting on the lower level, which is already quite stunning in its own right. This level would've been used for visitors to the royal facilities.

But the lower level pales when compared to the magnificent upper level, reserved for the royalty, renowned for its stained-glass windows. Back in 1998, this place had left me awestruck - and I wanted my mother to have that same awestruck feeling, the reason for starting my Paris tour here.

The stained-glass windows were intended to tell the biblical stories in an era when many people were illiterate. They go from the Creation to the Resurrection of Jesus in clockwise order.

It's not as awesome as it should be, thanks to a somewhat hazy/cloudy weather for the day, but it's still quite a sight.

Details on the wall. The stained glass windows, one saint statue, and the unmistakable fleur-de-lis, a French motif also commonly seen in formerly French areas of North America, like Québec and Louisiana.

It's only a short walk from Sainte-Chapelle to the Notre-Dame Cathedral. While I don't really need any more cathedrals at this point of my trip, I do need to squeeze in a bragging rights sight for my mother while I can.

Here is one of the entryways, with a prominent "Madonna with Child" statue on the center pillar and flanked by angels, disciples, and saints.

On the left side, third from the left, there is a headless saint standing, holding his head in his hands. That would be St. Denis, a local martyr. Legends say that when he was beheaded for his Christian faith, he simply picked up his severed head and walked away. Such imagery to reinforce people's faith in Christianity have widely been used throughout the Middle Ages and beyond in Europe, and even in today's more secular era, religion continues on - though mercifully, more as a cultural relic and heritage rather than an obsession that it is stateside.

Jeanne d'Arc, housed in Notre-Dame Cathedral as a saint.

Ironic, considering that Jeanne d'Arc was burned at the stake during the Hundred Years' War, not because of her patriotism, but because of her gender-bending ways and refusal to follow conventions. Which makes it all the sweeter to come across her likeness here - almost like meeting a pair of Kwan Yins in the midst of a teabagger-infested Residenz back in Munich.

The lofty ceiling of Notre-Dame Cathedral with its own stained-glass windows.

The last time I came here in 1998, I could not get a good photograph of the interior, only a glow of the stained-glass windows. Back then, my camera was a very cheap Kodak Advanced Photo System model, and I had thought the easy film cartridge loading and the adjustable photo aspect ratio were awesome things! How times have changed - I am now on my third digital camera, purchased duty-free at the end of the 2008 Korean stint, one that also happens to do very well in low-light conditions.

Just behind the Notre-Dame Catheral is this sight I had not visited before: the Deportation Memorial. It remembers the 200,000 French people who were sent off to the Nazi concentration camps for one reason or another during World War II, never to return. The interior of the memorial is purposely built to be very stifling, to symbolize the arbitrary taking away of freedoms and basic rights, and the only view out is the flowing waters of the Seine.

This sign explains the various "undesirable" categories of people the Nazis wanted to exterminate. Each category had an upside-down triangle which would be sewed on to the prison uniform of the person in question, as shown in the legend above. The legend is as follows:

Red: German political prisoner
Red, with letter F: French political prisoner
Red, with yellow imposed for a Star of David appearance: Jewish political prisoner
Brown: Gypsy
Violet: Jehovah's Witness
Blue: Stateless person
Black: "Antisocial" which was a catch word for many things, including mental illness
Pink: Homosexual
Green: Professional criminal
Yellow Star of David: Jewish, with the word "Jew" in the local language

Very sad and somber to be here, and at the same time, even sadder to realize that sometimes people repeat history's past mistakes, as often seen in US politics. At least the Nazis were consistent in their hatred and disdain for these "inferior" people; the US Republican Party instead often pits one of these groups against another, and the Nazi analogy, in that case, would be anointing the Jews to round up and exterminate Gypsies, gays, and the mentally ill first, before turning on, and exterminating, the Jews themselves.

Now walking around on the Left Bank, with this postcard view of the Notre-Dame Cathedral. This cathedral's flying buttresses are especially spectacular, even though flying buttresses were a common means of supporting a cathedral's structural weight in the Gothic era (and a state-of-the-art innovation at the time).

I am walking around the Left Bank, especially around the Latin Quarter, an area I had neglected in my previous Paris visits. This photo is the preserved ruins of what appears to have been a house of worship or a study hall.

The Latin Quarter got its name due to its universities, where the language of choice for all scholarly pursuits was, of course, Latin. It feels less academic today, but used book cubicles still line the Seine shore.

I emerged onto a nice expanse of open space. This is Jardin du Luxembourg, which belongs to Luxembourg Palace and now is a city park just like all other former royal gardens.

Loving all those classical statues toward the distance.

The black monolith toward the distance is Montparnasse Tower, one of the few modern skyscrapers within Paris city limits. Some say that its observatory is the best place to take in Paris city views, because from there, you can see the Eiffel Tower but cannot see the ugly Montparnasse Tower itself. I would not get a chance to find out on this visit. All subsequent skyscrapers in Paris were actually built to the northwest, in La Défense outside city limits.

And here is a mix of cultures. An East Asian man doing tai chi on the grounds of Jardin du Luxembourg.

Paris is one humongous melting pot of cultures. West African migrants with very dark complexion are especially common, having arrived from former French colonies. France today is actually more of "a nation of immigrants" than the US ever was. My mother is surprised and a bit shocked at all the West Africans, and I am doing my best to fill her in on the social developments in France, especially in regards to the high immigrant populations, the challenges posed by Muslims not integrating into the mainstream, the anti-immigrant backlash especially in the form of the far-right National Front, and even the fact that the current center-right President, Nicolas Sarkozy, is himself the son of Hungarian immigrants. I even went back to some of the colonial history itself, and recalled the opening match of FIFA World Cup 2002, where Senegal's soccer squad had upset the former colonial master (and defending champion) France and felt VERY proud of it.

At this time, we were looking for a place to eat lunch. My mother wanted some warm soup/porridge type of meal, and she wanted to get to a Japanese place that we had passed earlier, under the shadows of Notre-Dame Cathedral. We ate a cheap lunch there.

We are now at the Invalides, having come here via a quick hop on the RER commuter train system. The RER trains are analogous to the German S-Bahns, since they are part of the national rail system but use standard subway tickets. And speaking of subway fares, I am using a carnet of ten tickets as much as possible, which saves about 40% over single fares. The base fare is good for any journey within Paris city limits. I also noted that the RER trains were now boasting a new name - "transilien," or trans-Ile de France (the region that includes Paris) service.

The Invalides is an early form of veterans' hospital. And sure enough, I love the sight of all those cannons as well as a defensive moat. This is certainly a reminder that for a long time, France was one of the world's leading military powers, and its spread its power and influence through warfare. However, devastation from the two World Wars has changed the French, to a point where the Americans now consider the French to be "surrender monkeys" for their refusal to support American war efforts, especially the Iraq War of 2003.

France weakened primarily because it had expended its resources too much via warfare. That's certainly something for America, a nation that counts France as its first ally, to learn from. On the other hand, French nationalism, evidenced from all the tricouleurs fluttering around every Paris block, is as blatant as ever, unmatched in Europe and matched only by the Americans and the Koreans in my experience, though French nationalism is saner as far as I can tell.

The Invalides was not a destination for us - it simply happened to be on the way to Musée Rodin. This is another return visit for me. While my mother couldn't care less about art, she is familiar with Rodin, which justified this particular museum. This, and the Louvre, would be the only Paris museums I would hit (though another fine one, Musée d'Orsay, was part of my 2003 visit).

And it can't get more Paris than the garden, with Le Penseur still pondering something in the middle, and the spire of the Eiffel Tower in the background. According to the Rick Steves guidebook, Le Penseur would've been the typical star football player or frat boy of his day, suddenly realizing that there was more to life than all the booze, parties, and sex, and starting to develop intellectual processes in response. Certainly, his muscular build alludes to that frat boy background.

I am not uploading too many Musée Rodin photos as they are of artwork well known worldwide via easily seen photos and replica casts.

Though this subway station is worth photographing. This is the Varenne Station on Line 13, which is the closest station to Musée Rodin. Even more Rodin sculptures here, to make the point.

Our next order of business, as rain starts to drop and suddenly pour, is to hit the Champs-Elysées and do some shopping. In particular, we looked for a Louis Vuitton store, to buy two purses - one for my mother, and one as a gift. And sure enough, there was the largest Louis Vuitton store of my life - a three-floor example at that. Normally I couldn't care less about brand-name luxury fashion goods, but this Louis Vuitton store had me all smitten, starting from entry, where we were given plastic bags to put our wet umbrellas away in. Granted, the visit was really to ensure that we could buy the purses and get the Value-Added Tax refunded for huge savings over US prices (which would also include tariffs), but even without that, the store was quite something. I was corrupted this day - and now I can definitely see myself buying a Louis Vuitton purse in the future (and use it as the pink straps stain to a nice shade of tan, as intended). Indeed, we bought the two purses we wanted, had the purchase charged in Euro (rather than US dollars, a convenience service done at lousy exchange rates and fees), and had the tax refund paperwork filled out, which would require a customs stamp at my final European Union departure point (which would be Munich, Germany, in this case).

Due to the rain, and with no desire to lug those purses around Paris, we returned to the hotel for a bit of break. I also talked to the hotel receptionist - who was a very unresponsive West African with so-so English - to get the Internet access code, since I had not gotten online after leaving Austria five days prior. The news feed over the Internet wasn't too great - Maine had re-banned gay marriage in a repeat of the previous year's Prop 8 fight in California, and teabaggers had won key victories in Virginia - but a good news was that Washington State had approved Referendum 71, which was necessary to keep the legalization of the domestic partnership law in force.

While my mother tuned in to some television, I briefed her a bit more on French politics, complete with the utter breakdown of the center-left Socialists that led to the current unpopular Sarkozy government. I also described Sarkozy's wild personal life, including divorce and remarriage in office, the current wife Carla Bruni, and his reputation as "Monsieur Bling" with a penchant for shiny things. I compared Sarkozy and the current French state of affairs to something my mother has good knowledge of - South Korea's Lee Myung-bak government and a broken left there as well - though I made sure to stress that Sarkozy is a pragmatic center-rightist, rather than a far-right nutjob that Lee is.

While the discussions go on, I decided to photograph the Euro coins in my possession. Since every Eurozone nation designs its own national side, collecting Euro coins can be a very interesting activity. Regardless of national designs, any Euro coin is legal tender throughout the Eurozone.

Here are the big-value coins, with the €2 being brass with silver border, and €1 reversing that. My coin captions below are a copy-paste of what I had written for my Facebook profile photo album.

The foremost €2 piece is a 2009 issue commemorating the tenth anniversary of the implementation of the Euro in France. (In reality, the franc, with its value fixed to the Euro in 1999, continued to exist in cash form for three more years, since a large amount of physical Euro currency had to be made for circulation.) The two left ones show the German eagle; German coins were the most common during my journey, due to the amount of time I spent there, and due to Germany's larger economy. The other two commemorate France's European Union presidency in 2008.

The €1 piece has an Austrian example with Mozart in the far back, and the other three have the German eagle.

The Italian €1 uses the Leonardo da Vinci study of the male nude as its national design. It was too phallic for my hardcore lesbian (and anti-teabagging) tastes, so I tended to dump it as soon as I could, which is why it is not in these photos.

The brass coins are in 50, 20, and 10 cent denominations. I didn't have any 50 cent coins in my possession, and these are all 20s (left, petaled) and 10s (right).

At first, I had found these three denominations to be very difficult to distinguish. But remembering that the 20 has its own unique design, the 50 is large, and the 10 is small, things became easier. The 20's unique design is also similar to the British pound giving the 20-pence coin a unique design (one of my favorite coin designs).

The front right 20-cent piece is Greek. The others show an Italian sculpture (identified by the RI mark) or the German Brandenburg Gate.

The front right 10-cent piece is St. Stephen's Cathedral in Vienna; Austrians have tended to put the coin denomination even into the national sides, a practice that the European Central Bank discourages. The other two are the German Brandenburg Gate.

While the vast majority of Euro coins I had used were German, I came home with very few of them, more likely bringing French ones instead.

The copper pieces make up the 1, 2, and 5 cent coins in the Euro system. In Europe, posted prices always include sales taxes, and depending on the country, the tendency is to use nice even numbers, making these smaller coins unnecessary. I saw plenty of use for these smaller coins in Germany, but never in France.

These are 5-cent pieces. The front three are German oak leaves - an image previously seen on the old pfennig coins.

The rear, from left to right are: Spanish (cathedral), French (Marianne, the feminine presentation of France), and Italian (Colosseum).

I am finding Wikipedia to be very useful as I try to figure out where each design originates, and what the design stands for.

Finally, a 2-cent (front) and two 1-cent (rear) coins. And yes, they are all German.

Even the common side of the Euro coin has been redesigned since the introduction of the cash Euro, as seen here.

The left is the original design, dating back to 1999 when the first coins started to be minted. Its map of Europe shows the fifteen members of the EU that existed at that time - regardless of their actual participation in the Euro currency. (Norway and Switzerland are notably missing.)

The right is the current design, and shows all of the European continent, even non-EU members. The EU expanded to 25 members, including many Eastern Bloc countries, in 2004.

Back out after some relaxation. The Trocadéro is a very good place to resume sightseeing, as the rain stops, it starts to get dark, and the city lights start to come alive. There is nothing like approaching the Eiffel Tower from here across the Seine.

Many African immigrants are along the way, trying hard to sell us Eiffel Tower souvenirs.

I remember being surprised at just how sturdy the Eiffel Tower actually was, despite its delicate appearance from the distance and in the photos, when I first visited in person in 1998. Back then, I ended up going all the way to the top level, but this time, my mother has declined, and we will settle for a city vista from the Montmartre at night. But she certainly got a good look at the tower's sturdy construction, from right underneath. Another thing I remember then, and missing now, is a countdown display on the tower, which was counting the number of days remaining until January 1st, 2000.

A quick shot on Métro Line 6 (with its peculiar ride, thanks to rubber tires) brought us back to the Champs-Elysées. And that calls for a visit to the Arc de Triomphe, in the middle of the Etoile, a traffic circle with 12 streets radiating out.

A climb to the top is another pay activity that my mother has declined; I am not too keen on it either since I had done it in 1998 (though I certainly remember the 12 streets of the Etoile radiating at exact 30-degree angles, quite a sight). But even at the ground level, I can be reminded of France's past military history, again.

This is the grave of an unknown soldier from World War I who "died for his fatherland" - and has an eternal flame.

In the far distance can be seen the modern developments of La Défense, with its 110-meter-high La Grande Arche, which is a modern-day complement to Arc de Triomphe.

And here is another marker. It says: "11 November 1918. Alsace and Lorraine return to France."

Alsace and Lorraine are along the Rhine shore, frequently swapping hands between France and Germany, most recently becoming French at the end of World War I. Of course, Strasbourg is the main city in the area. No wonder the Germans are p*ssed, still insisting on spelling Strasbourg as Straßburg. Thankfully, the modern-day cooperation under the European Union framework has made France and Germany strategic partners rather than bitter enemies, leaving the UK, and the US (the prime sponsor of European integration to prevent future wars), in the cold by comparison.

As promised back in Switzerland to my mother, the dinner takes the form of a visit to a Quick restaurant and its hamburgers. Quick's menus are very similar to its primary competitor McDonald's, but it is always nice to eat American-style fast food with a French flair, complete with dipping pommes frites (French fries, which are actually a Belgian invention) in my choice of either ketchup (as is usually done stateside) or mayonnaise (almost never done stateside). I also made sure to explain to my mother that unlike in the US, where fast food hamburgers are the cheapest and the least desirable form of eating, a Quick meal is more expensive than a neighborhood café meal and is done as a cultural novelty of sorts. And I do love eating hamburgers overseas - if only because the ingredients are better and the cashiers actually able to count my money correctly.

Time to leave the Champs-Elysées, as I take a quick snapshot of this Citroën showroom. Already my mother is noting that Citroën is an automotive brand I am smitten with - thanks to my penchant for classic cars like the 2CV and the DS, as well as my 1998 England drive having used the Xantia, not to mention my continuing adoration for some current-model Citroëns (the C6 executive car is very reminiscent of the DS, in fact) and their sleek designs.

I didn't bother going in, however, because even though this showroom showcases Citroën's racing successes, it uses current-model vehicles, not classics, to tell the story (it's a showroom for selling cars after all), and I'd rather see a few examples of the DS (déesse - "goddess") or its cheaper version ID (idée - "idea") than a generic C3 or C4.

I am wrapping up by walking around the Montmartre district, which was my "home neighborhood" for my two previous Paris visits. After climbing up the hill on foot (rather than using the funicular, which involves a long line AND a full subway fare), I am looking at modern-day painters selling their works of art, just like back in the old days. Gentrification has made Montmartre a bit too pricey for struggling artists today, so it's very nice to still be able to see scenes like this.

I did not get as good a view from Sacre-Coeur Basilica as I had hoped, but it was still a decent view (though no photos to show for it). At my mother's suggestion, we even ducked into the basilica itself to catch the tail end of a midweek Mass, complete with a lovely choir and a benediction; even though we are not Catholics and I strongly denounce the Vatican, there is no harm done in anonymously ducking into a worship service and taking in some music. We also loved walking around the narrow streets that are so typical of most European cities but not so typical of Paris, as most of Paris had its streets significantly widened in the 19th Century for military and transportation purposes; the narrower Montmartre streets also meant that buildings from before the 19th Century still have a chance to stand and show off their charms. Granted, tacky souvenir shops crashed some of the ambiance, but that was just about the only downside. The only way to add to this experience would've been to enter a café to sip some wine, but it was late and we were full already.

We proceeded to the Pigalle subway station, located at the fringes of the notorious red-light district of the same name (nicknamed "Pig Alley" by American soldiers during World War II, which I certainly noted) to return to the hotel and wrap up the day.

The next post will be the final post for this recap of Europe. It will cover Versailles, the Grands Magasins, and the Louvre, as well as the return journey to Los Angeles.

Europe recap, Day 11: Stuttgart to Paris

2010-04-21T00:43:00.000-07:00

Only five photos from Wednesday, November 4th, 2009, as it was a long day heavy on driving and paperwork, with little downtime except for a few late afternoon hours in Stuttgart.

The morning began again at Goldswil just outside Interlaken, Switzerland, with a hearty hotel breakfast, before checking out. The cost for the two nights came out to about 200 Swiss francs - pretty nice, especially given tons of personality in that rustic cabin type building. After bidding the proprietors farewell, it was time to get moving again.

Driving back into Interlaken to check back on one particular souvenir store turned out to be tough luck; the owner probably was taking a lengthy holiday somewhere, and the store remained closed. I decided in the meantime, to pull into an unmanned Avia gas station to buy a bit extra gasoline, to ensure that I could make it to Stuttgart; unfortunately, the German-only instructions left me confounded, and the pump only issued a receipt saying that I deposited 20 francs without fueling - which indeed was the case! I decided I'd have to visit another Avia later on to redeem the credit.

My originally planned routing would have taken me from Bern toward Zurich, entering Germany on surface roads and shooting straight to Sindelfingen on Autobahn 81. But I had decided the previous night that I wanted to enjoy the Rhine and Black Forest scenery, by entering Germany from Basel and heading north on Autobahn 5. The first stretch to the Swiss capital, Bern, was the same as originally planned, heading west on Autobahn 8 and merging onto Autobahn 6 at Thun (motorway-grade roads all the way from here); from there on, I continued on Autobahn 1, which would indeed be the routing to Zurich, but upon meeting Autobahn 2 again, turned off onto it to head for Basel and connect to German Autobahn 5 there. As the high Alpine peaks faded away, the landscape was replaced by rolling hills, farms, picturesque houses, and pretty cityscapes - what little Bern I could see from the motorway, it was definitely nicer than many other cities around the world. My driving music for this stretch would've best been Swiss yodeling or classical, but actually I was rocking away to a 2-CD Michael Jackson compilation, still finding it hard to believe of his passing, followed by a Mariah Carey compilation CD that had done some heavy duty during my mad South Korean drive of 2008.

I had no luck finding an Avia gas station on the way, but just before Basel, I did pull into a rest area, to shop for extra Swiss souvenirs for my extended family. Besides, it looked like I would have enough fuel to continue well into Germany, so I drove on. I noted that Basel was forming a metropolitan area with the French city of Mulhouse and the German city of Freiburg, and that Basel's airport was actually sitting in Mulhouse.

At the German border, which was a bridge on the Rhine River, signs indicated that I still had to have my passport ready at this particular checkpoint. But just holding up a closed passport booklet was good enough for me to be waved through the checkpoint, and soon I was cruising the Rhine shore along Autobahn 5, though the trees were completely blocking my view of the river. It was rainy and wet, and a 120 km/h speed limit sign with an additional sign bei Nässe under it (with a skidding car diagram) indicated that I had to obey the limit while it was wet. Now that the Mercedes-Benz was fully broken in and I was back in Germany, I wanted to do some speeding before sending the car off to America, but the 120 wet speed limit remained on for about 30 minutes! At least I played the Haydn Emperor Hymn again - it may be a long time before I ever listen to the German national anthem while speeding on an Autobahn in a Mercedes-Benz again.

Just as I was starting to note that I was not too far from the French city of Strasbourg, and that German road signs were often insisting on the German-style spelling Straßburg to indicate that the city had once indeed been German (unusual in modern-day Europe, where the spelling locally used in the given city is always officially recognized), I could finally find an unlimited stretch, and seeing that the pavement was dry, started to speed. Previously, my mother had not thought too much of the analog speedometer readings, but now that I had told her that the analog needle was in MILES per hour, she started freaking out again as soon as she saw the needle go up toward the 90 mark. She was determined to not let me speed within Germany, but save it for a future stateside drive, but I was NOT happy about it, as the US not only has strict speed limits, but unpredictable cut-rate drivers too. And sure enough, I was enjoying the courteous, predictable German drivers, even though the best I could do this day - and the whole trip - was 147 km/h. Based on prevailing conditions, I judged that I could do 160-170 quite safely, so it was disappointing.

Before too long, I approached Karlsruhe, where I picked up Autobahn 8 heading back toward Stuttgart. The 8, again, is an older Autobahn, built early on under the Nazi rule, so many sections remain curvy and tight - so it was a bit more difficult to maintain speed, made worse by steep inclines that slowed trucks down. Sections remained wet - and as I drove on a particular empty wet section, I noted that among the three lanes, only the far right lane had dry tire tracks on it; this was proof that indeed, everyone is expected to drive as far right as possible except to pass. I also noted that with under 100 kilometers to Stuttgart, I would be making it in with fuel to spare - it's not fun shipping the car to America with a fairly full tank of overpriced European gasoline.

With only 20 kilometers remaining, however, I ran into a severe traffic jam, the worst I had seen anywhere in the world. I had no idea what was going on - had no way of getting the info short of radio traffic reports, and even then, I wouldn't be able to understand the face-paced German-language traffic updates. At this point, I had to remember the traffic jam rules on the Autobahn: make a gap between lanes 1 and 2 to allow emergency vehicles through, and I may also pass on the right assuming that I am going no faster than 60 km/h. With Leonberg and Stuttgart not too far away, I decided to ride the traffic jam out, especially since it was only after 1 in the afternoon, and the shipping company would remain open until 4. While stuck in traffic, I also noted a white US-market S-class cruising alongside me, with export plates expiring 3 days after mine.

But the traffic was so horrendous, it was well past 2 already, and I had to take an exit right after the northbound Autobahn 81 junction. My intention was to follow clearly posted official detour routes (indicated by the letter U followed by a number) toward the southbound Autobahn 81 turnoff. But just as I started driving on the official detour, I noticed a yellow sign pointing me off of it toward Sindelfingen - it was a shortcut I had not been aware of! I started driving on the shortcut, which indeed brought me into the older section of Sindelfingen, and back to the Mercedes-Benz assembly plant, in no time.

Not sure of my bearings, I made an almost full counterclockwise circle around the assembly plant. My mother noted that returning to Sindelfingen after a week on the road was kind of like coming back to an old hometown; I replied that for the car, it was indeed homecoming - a return to the birthplace it will never see again. After making the circle, I located the Kundencenter, where I had taken delivery of the vehicle - and made a further short drive, crossing the railroad tracks that take finished cars to ports in northern Germany for shipment worldwide, before ending up on an alley, flanked by a Muslim mosque on the left and an office of Simovic Car Service on the right. Simovic would be the agent for E. H. Harms, the company responsible for shipment of the car to North America.

Now I have arrived at Simovic. I am about to head into the office to start the paperwork for shipping the Mercedes-Benz.

And a nice sight of an old, yet charming, Citroën 2CV. It more than stands its ground in a lot full of North America-bound luxury cars.

Upon entering the office - adorned with, among other things, a map of the United States - the lady inside let me know that it was a 600-liter gasoline spill that had caused the massive backup on Autobahn 8. That explained everything! The paperwork proceeded. I had to fill out a US EPA form certifying that the vehicle fully meets applicable US emissions standards, sign a shipping contract that stated that the car is to be delivered to Mercedes-Benz's Vehicle Preparation Center in Long Beach, California with the cost prepaid, a US power of attorney authorizing E. H. Harms to customs-clear the car on my behalf, and an inspection form indicating that no damage to the car was done, aside from leaves stuck on the doors due to the rain, during the European drive. (That relieved my mother of her biggest worry.)

At this point, I had to empty everything that was NOT listed as part of the car's factory equipment - all personal belongings, the manuals, the registration papers, and even a sample CD provided with the car for testing the Harman-Kardon Logic7 sound system. I made sure to remove all the CDs from the CD changer as well. Copies of registration papers were made to indicate to the US Customs that this car was being imported as privately owned, while I got to keep the originals.

Soon, the white S-class came in as well. Turned out that it was driven by an elderly Cuban emigré couple sending the car to Miami. The gentleman who had been driving asked me how I beat him - and I told him about the shortcut I took, which he had not been aware of. He asked me where I was from, and when I said Los Angeles, we did an instant comparison between Miami's Little Havana and Los Angeles's Koreatown. Two very similar ethnic communities indeed, with the strongest common link being McCarthyism, though there was no need for me to disclose my severe displeasure toward Little Havana and Koreatown to him. The Cuban-American couple was about to miss the flight to Paris due to the traffic jam; on the other hand, my mother and I still had ample time left over for the train hop to Paris.

My final look at the car before shipment, surrounded by a number of other export Mercedes-Benz vehicles. There is also a BMW 7-series in the lot, though not pictured - E. H. Harms is the designated European Delivery shipper for all European automakers that offer the program to Americans.

As it would turn out, the car would be taken by train to Bremerhaven in northern Germany on Saturday the 7th, and put on an NYK Lines ship on the 14th. The ship would arrive in Long Beach on December 10th, and the car customs-cleared by the 16th, though due to the Christmas holidays, Vehicle Preparation Center wouldn't add the iPod connector and US-spec First Aid Kit and deliver the car to the dealership until January 5th. The dealership refueled, detailed, and re-delivered the car to me the following day.

The shipping office lady informed me that the car would be shipped to the US as is, complete with the toll stickers and German export plates. I did know that the car would have to be washed in the US for the USDA agricultural inspection, but expected the car to show up as is otherwise. But I was later told that the Vehicle Preparation Center removed all stickers (I didn't care for the toll stickers, but wanted to keep the emissions and German nationality stickers), and the car came to the dealership with only the German export plates, plus the window sticker that's normally given to new cars imported for sale but not to privately owned European Delivery cars like this. Bummer. The export plates were removed by the dealership, replaced with dealer insignia, but the saleswoman made sure to give the removed export plates to me as souvenirs - my mother still has them.

Now it was time to move on. I had the shipping office call a local cab company, so that my mother and I could head for the nearest S-Bahn station at Böblingen to get into Stuttgart. I was again finding it frustrating that my mother was leaving all logistics up to me, and not even bothering to know what an S-Bahn was, despite having spent days in Munich and Stuttgart at the beginning of this trip. At the station, we lucked out - the next train to Stuttgart was actually a nonstop Regio train, which I could still ride with the S-Bahn fare. As the train approached Stuttgart, I was glad to see the rolling hills with vineyards again, as well as charming residential neighborhoods. I also noted a blue French TGV bullet train in the yard as the Regio train approached the station - I knew that would be my ride to Paris.

Back in Stuttgart. I arrived around 3:50ish thanks to the fast nonstop Regio train. With the Paris train leaving at 6:52, I had three hours available. Just like back in Munich, all bags were put away in a station locker, and I am back on Königstraße one final time.

Glad to see the vibrancy from the people and in the air. Again, I was feeling that Stuttgart region was not merely the hometown of the Mercedes-Benz that I have just sent to America - it was becoming a hometown of sorts for me too.

Having an early, light dinner. My vantage point is the outdoors terrace of the sixth floor café at Karstadt department store. (Of course, I'm eating inside, it's too cold out here especially after the rain, I'm out only for photo ops.)

Looking north toward the train station. I definitely remember that old church clock tower from the previous week.

And looking east toward a newer clock tower, with the hills and an observation tower in the distance.

Karstadt turned out to be more than a meal stop. Shopping continued - though this time, my mother was shopping for Christmas ornaments for her new home, in the form of three porcelain angels with glitter wings. And in any case, window-shopping an upscale German department store is never a bad thing - especially when I am walking around in the toy section and finding that not all stuffed animals have to come from Chinese sweatshops.

I also made my own purchase - Mariah Carey's newest album, Memoirs of an Imperfect Angel, which features a lovely cover of a 1980s Foreigner hit, "I Want to Know What Love Is." I had been in Las Vegas in mid-September to see a special Mariah Carey concert and enjoy that particular song (though admittedly, this concert was a dud, and I had to make up for it with another, far superior, Mariah concert in Los Angeles in February). My original plan had been to buy the CD before starting the drive to listen while driving, but that didn't quite turn out - but better than never. This also meant that I was buying my Mariah Carey CDs from four different markets - US, UK, South Korea, and now Germany.

(But as it would turn out, I wouldn't open the CD packaging until arriving in the US - only to find that it had a manufacturing defect, packaging with no CD inside. Too late to ask for a refund without a lot of costly hassles.)

We returned to Hauptbahnhof about an hour before departure, saying our final farewells to Stuttgart, now an adopted hometown and certainly the most pleasant surprise during this trip. After grabbing some ice cream and retrieving our bags, we finally found the TGV boarding - though disappointed to see that our seats faced backward. I made sure to remind my mother of the previous year's train trip together - Seoul to Busan on South Korea's KTX bullet train - and also remind her that this train was exactly the same model, except for crummier passenger cabin and slightly newer locomotives.

The train departed with mostly German commuters on board, disembarking at the first stop of Karlsruhe. All announcements were in German, French, then English - and from Strasbourg on, French coming before German. The train crewmembers had both Deutsche Bahn and SNCF pins on their uniforms. As the train entered Strasbourg, I clearly saw the German phone signals fade away, and manually switched to French phone carriers and French-language dates and times. Dead tired by now, both of us slept soundly through the high-speed run, waking up barely in time for the arrival at Paris' Gare de l'Est around 10:30 at night. The hotel I booked, a Best Western "in the Marais district" - actually the very northern fringes of the Marais, not really Marais at all - was two longish blocks away, and the walk went through unexpectedly seedy neighborhoods. We were knocked out by the time we entered our corner double room, though glad that we wouldn't have to hop around hotels again, this Best Western being our final European hotel.

Europe recap, Day 10: Jungfrau

2010-04-14T21:32:00.000-07:00

Tuesday, November 3, 2009. No driving involved this day, as all my day was spent hiking up in the Alps. As Rick Steves likes to say, any day in Switzerland that is not spent hiking in the Alps is outright criminal.

The day started with the first Jungfraubahn train leaving Interlaken Ost Station at 6:35. I was glad to see that at every row on the train, I could see the map of the area, showing major points of interest (transfer points, villages, etc.) and their altitude in meters. I was starting at Interlaken, which was at under 600 meters altitude (around 1,800 feet), and ending up two hours later at Jungfraujoch, at 3,500 meters altitude (close to 12,000 feet!). A fairly conventional train took me as far as Lauterbrunnen, from where I had to transfer to a narrow-gauge cogwheel train, full of aged Alpine flair, for the second leg up to Kleine Scheidegg.

Now, I am on another cogwheel train, having just pulled out of snow-covered Kleine Scheidegg Station, for the final push up to Jungfrau. It's quite chilly outside already, and altitude at this point is already over 2,000 meters.

The train, intended for tourist use, is quite posh, and the cabin has video screens playing introductory video to the region and the railway. Narrations are in eight languages: German, English, French, Italian, Spanish, Japanese, Mandarin Chinese, then Korean. The crowd this day was very Asian indeed.

The wall on the left is part of Eiger (Ogre), while the peak on the right is Mönch (Monk). In the legends, Mönch protects Jungfrau (Maiden), further to the right, from Eiger.

Another look at Eiger, and its infamous North Face, before entering the tunnel portion.

The tunnel starts at Eiger's anus (ewww!) and works up his intestines, before transferring to Mönch and going under his robe, to finish at Jungfraujoch, the mountain pass between Mönch and Jungfrau.

Inside the tunnel, the train makes a couple of intermediate stops, to allow passengers to disembark and take a look outside.

The outside views are okay, but not spectacular, as the Plexiglass windows are all fogged up. It's quite chilly in the tunnel, but still balmy (at least above freezing) compared to the harsh conditions outside.

The first stop, well inside Eiger's guts, is already at 2,700 meters above sea level. From this point on, hypoxia becomes a real issue; staying fully alert becomes a bit of a challenge, and nausea is common for weaker travelers.

I am now at the Sphinx, the observatory located on top of Jungfraujoch. It is a lengthy elevator ride (about 100 meters up) from Jungfraujoch's train station.

My elevation is now at 3,571 meters, or 11,782 feet, above sea level; Jungfraujoch is, indeed, called the "Top of Europe," and its railway station is the highest in Europe. And those temperature readings (barely above zero, if converted to Fahrenheit) and wind gusts are certainly NOT conducive for a hike outside. Between the hypoxia, the cold, and the wind chills, I'd pass out within minutes and freeze to death, if I ever dared to go all the way to Jungfrau's summit.

At least I am able to move about. My mother is completely clobbered, and she is forced to lie down on a bench near the train platforms and rest.

I am looking north in the direction of Interlaken, which would be hidden in the east-west valley in the distance. Gotta love these glacier-carved mountain cliffs and valleys, something I don't see on a daily basis.

Looking west at Jungfrau herself.

Before I came on this trip, I was having some mountain-related discussions with two Facebook friends - Morwen Madrigal of New Orleans, who used to work for the US Geological Survey back in the day and brags about "having licked all the Grand Tetons," and Angela LaChic of Calgary, who loves to climb the Canadian Rockies close to her home. As all three of us are lesbians, we joked about selectively climbing, and licking, the summits of mountains with female names, and of course, I had to mention my planned visit to Jungfrau.

Unfortunately, again, due to the bitter conditions outside, this is as close as I'll ever get to licking the summit of that maiden, clad in a beautiful white dress.

That Swiss flag marks an observation point, and the start of the trail to the Jungfrau summit. But then, again, due to the brisk conditions, it'll be a challenge for me to get even that far, and walk on the glacier, much less attempt the summit of Jungfrau, which is at 4,100 meters above sea level, and will definitely clobber me.

Granted, I've been at high altitudes like this before - just four months prior, I had been at Rocky Mountain National Park, where I actually drove to 12,000 feet in a car - but it is harder now, due to a much faster ascent this time. At Rocky Mountain, I had spent the previous day or two at altitudes around 5,000 feet and a bit higher, so I had some chance to get used to the thinner air, but I don't have that benefit here at Jungfraujoch.

This is a lovely view to the south, showing a glacier stretching in the direction of Italy.

It won't be Italy right away where the glacier disappears into the clouds, but over there, I do have to speak Italian. Over here at the Top of Europe, the language spoken is German, though I can easily get by in English and Asian languages due to the tourist traffic.

To the east lies Mönch. Nice view of snow blowing off the summit.

To my mountaineering friends and others, I jokingly refer to Mönch as "your stereotypical Catholic pedophile priest" - one who has gone commando under his robe, and whose pee-pee I had to endure watching as I had ridden up the tunnel. According to tradition, Mönch protects Jungfrau from Eiger behind him, but right now, it's me protecting Jungfrau from that pervert monk.

I took this particular photo outside the sheltered dome of the Sphinx. I found it impossible to stand outside for more than 30 seconds at a time.

I am back into the visitor services area. One of its features is the Ice Palace, a tunnel dug into the glacier.

It is surely cold in here, and hypoxia is still trying to clobber me. But I am finding that moving around is the best defense against hypoxia.

The Ice Palace is lined with many ice sculptures, like these polar bears.

Early visitors to Jungfraujoch would have come dressed in outfits similar to this.

Practicality and warmth, while still showing off style and femininity, that's really my thing.

A number of snack items are available, but everything is grossly overpriced, because of the added complexity of hauling everything up from Interlaken.

Here is an interesting choice. I can buy a small cup of "Jungfraujoch Bowl Noodle" - which is just standard bowl of instant ramen from South Korea's Nongshim Foods. The price is an obscene 7.50 Swiss francs, and if I need extra hot water or chopsticks on top of what the attendant provides, that will cost me a small fortune as well. For comparison, buying the same bowl at a grocery store in Seoul or Los Angeles will cost under a franc - and not much more at one of the Asian grocery stores back in Interlaken.

Not exactly the most authentic way to go, but I took up on the offer, just for the experience. The chilly environs of Jungfraujoch make the hot noodles a good choice, as well as a memory to savor.

It is notable that the menu is done not in local languages, but in English and Korean, indicating that the noodles are targeted to Asian tour groups. And sure enough, every visitor today is either Japanese or Korean. My mother and I are chatting with the Korean visitors in Korean - though they have no idea (and no need to know) that we are really Americans independently traveling in a European Delivery Mercedes-Benz, rather than fellow group tourists from South Korea.

Now I am back to saner altitudes of Kleine Scheidegg, and my mother has finally come back to full vitality.

I have been previously advised that Jungfraujoch tends to be sunny in the early morning hours, before clouding up very fast for the rest of the day. And I am finding that to be indeed true. Good thing I took the early morning train. This photo shows Mönch on the left, Jungfrau on the right, and the Sphinx observatory in the middle.

Jungfrau would soon hide in the clouds and never show herself to my eyes again. She is indeed one very shy maiden. Glad to have come face to face with her.

We proceeded downhill, to Wengen, just below the snowline. The initial plan was to take a cable car over to Grindelwald, and return to Interlaken there. But as it turns out, the cable cars are all shut down throughout the region; between the summer hiking season and the winter ski season, they were all shut down for routine maintenance, and indeed, that also explained why the Jungfrau Region was overrun primarily by Asian tour groups, rather than independent travelers and locals.

It would be another hour before another train would come to Wengen to allow me to continue downhill to Lauterbrunnen. Since the nearby hiking signs indicated that walking to Lauterbrunnen would take an hour anyway, I decided to walk down instead. This would also be an opportunity for my mother to enjoy the fresh Swiss Alpine air and fully recover from the hypoxia.

Downhill hiking is the best way to really take in the postcard Switzerland - the huts, the cows, the cowbell sounds, and the lush grass, as well as gorgeous views of the glacial valleys that look similar to Yosemite Valley (itself glacial). And excellent signage keep indicating which way to walk toward my destination, as well as estimated walking time.

The Lauterbrunnen walk time of one hour was said to have been timed by local senior citizen volunteers. Even at my more youthful walking pace, the one-hour estimate was right on the mark; these senior citizen volunteers are certainly master hikers.

As I walk further downhill, I can see a waterfall on the other side of the Lauterbrunnen Valley. I am again reminded of Yosemite Valley back in California.

And now I close in on Lauterbrunnen. In the lower left, I can see the cogwheel railroad.

As I walk down, I am sharing with my mother the basics of how the European economy works. I discussed the role of the European Union, even though I also stressed that neutral Switzerland is not an EU member, and also that the UK, despite being a member, tends to not march in lockstep with the Continent. I also discussed the European taxation policies with hefty income and sales taxes but smaller to no property taxes, as well as how the taxation pays for various government services, including universal healthcare and top-notch transportation network. I compared and contrasted the European Union's mechanisms with those of the US federal government, and wrapped up with an observation that while Americans may possess more materially (including the Mercedes-Benz we're driving around in, and sending to America the next day), Europeans have the basics (i.e. healthcare) better covered while consuming only a fraction of the resources.

Now I am back in Lauterbrunnen, with only a few more minutes to go to the train station.

More evidence of heavy Asian tourist traffic. That hostel-style accommodation displays a South Korean flag, and has signs in Korean, though it turns out to actually have a Japanese owner.

For East Asian independent travelers to Europe, places like these can be a very good way to mingle with fellow travelers speaking the same language, eat the home cuisine, and gather travel information. This American with full English and limited French proficiency prefers to hang out with the locals and eat local food, but can certainly appreciate the value of this travel infrastructure for East Asians who want to go beyond the group tours but don't have the advantage of European language proficiency. It's thanks to places like this hostel that South Koreans have learned to travel through Europe on a budget - and also learned that the neoliberalism, Christian conservatism, and homophobia, taught to them by their former military dictatorship and its US Republican masters, are not the prevailing ways of the civilized world (and I am grateful, having seen the mentality improvements back in South Korea first-hand in 2008).

From Lauterbrunnen, twice-hourly commuter trains run back to Interlaken Ost. Now I am back in Interlaken but am not retiring to my hotel just yet.

I am at the expanse of grass where I had seen grazing cows the previous day. Cows are still grazing, but this time I have the photo of these statues instead.

Again, thanks to the rise of the word "Tea Party" and "teabagging" to denote the anti-Obama neoliberal protests in the US, I am referring to all male nudes as "teabaggers," and chuckling at them. In this case, however, the male nude has a female companion, and I have chosen to call the female nudes "carpetmunchers" for a contrast. I was indeed wishing that a sane, progressive countermovement to the teabaggers would start in the US, and that it would indeed call itself the "carpetmunchers"; that would eventually happen in early 2010, though its name would be the Coffee Party USA instead.

And nearby, these elderly men are playing a game of boules - a game where the objective is to roll a large metal ball as close to the smaller target ball as possible without hitting it.

I had seen the game in the Rick Steves videos, and am glad to see it in action.

Now heading back to the train station, then on to the hotel in Goldswil. Here is a better look at the Japanese garden that I had seen the previous day.

As it turns out, this garden was a gift of the Japanese city of Otsu, which had been an Interlaken sister city since 1978, when Japanese tourists started arriving here in droves. The garden was built in 1995, with elements symbolizing the Berner Oberland mountains and lakes.

At this point, my mother and I did some souvenir shopping - though one particular souvenir shop, featuring some bells (not cowbells, but ceramic) that my mother wanted, was not open. In fact, it was the only shop with such bells, and it would not open for the duration of my Interlaken stay. Also, the cold air and hypoxia in the mountains had done their work on my mother, and she wanted to buy some cold medication; a pharmacie (as opposed to a smaller Apotheke which I normally see in German-speaking areas) next to Interlaken Ost helped us. While the English-speaking pharmacist did not recognize the American brand name Tylenol, she did choose a local-brand equivalent, and upon reading the packaging and the instruction sheet, I could indeed discern that it was a cold medicine, and could also figure out the proper doses. This being Switzerland, the instructions were trilingual - and again, when three languages are used, chances are good that I understand at least one (French in my case).

Upon retiring to the hotel, I took time to clean out and prepare the Mercedes-Benz for the shipping the next day, while my mother took it easy in the room. I also fired up my laptop and its Microsoft AutoRoute, so that my mother would finally have an idea of the route I had taken her through so far - as well as the route remaining (drive to Stuttgart, then TGV to Paris for a 3-night stay before flying home via Munich). Speaking of the car, its odometer reading was approaching 2,000 kilometers - and just over 1,200 miles when the units were switched to Imperial. I had driven a lot, and there was some more driving to do the next day.

The return to Stuttgart, the shipment of the vehicle, and the continuation to Paris will be the next post.

Update - Disneyland

2010-04-12T22:56:00.000-07:00

I want to mention that I visited Disneyland in Anaheim this past weekend, though its photos won't be uploaded right away.

This was a logical extension of my visit to the Walt Disney World back in 2008. Of course, Disneyland is only a short drive from me, so I could go at will, but my last visit had been in 2002, so a repeat visit was due. This particular visit was prompted by the revival of Captain EO, a 17-minute 3D movie starring Michael Jackson that had initially run from 1986 to 1997, being revived now as a tribute to Jackson after his death last year. Another consideration was Star Tours, a Star Wars-themed motion simulator dating from 1987 that is now set to close for refurbishment and reprogramming.

Of course, I've also made mentions of Walt Disney's far right politics and his inability to tell any stories in an authentic manner. But I also find that every trip to a Disney park is a great look at how Disney could turn his pile of crap into an alternate reality that everyone, regardless of beliefs or age, could easily soak themselves into. That was what Disney was good at, and why the name Disney is more than just an entertainment company or a theme park, especially to children and their parents.

Again, photos will upload once I finish the Europe recap and also upload the photos from Tucson last month.

Europe recap, Day 9: on to Interlaken

2010-04-12T22:43:00.000-07:00

The journey continues on November 2nd, 2009, as I push my way out of Italy and into Switzerland.

I woke up to a very cloudy, drizzly morning in the Como area, and after eating the ample breakfast buffet at Hotel Cruise, checked out and continued driving. I do want to say that Hotel Cruise was one of the most modern places I had ever stayed in, although it had all the character of a business/convention hotel rather than one that leaves an impression in the minds of tourists. Nevertheless, if I ever find myself driving around Como again, I will stay there again.

Although re-entering Autostrada 9 would have led immediately to Swiss Autobahn 2, I decided not to do that; instead, I decided to take a leisurely drive along the west shore of the Como. Although I honestly wanted to get to the village of Bellagio (the namesake of Las Vegas's posh Hotel Bellagio, which comes with its own Lake Como) in the dead middle of the lake, my study of the Microsoft AutoRoute map hinted that its streets seemed impossible to negotiate, so I decided to settle for Menaggio halfway up the west shore, from where I could drive on to the Swiss city of Lugano and join Autobahn 2 there.

I fueled up at a Shell station at the edge of Como, but had no luck buying a Swiss toll sticker. I decided to continue on, following a road that was signed as SS340; despite the numbered route status, the road was ridiculously narrow, and I was forced to share the road with big vans and other awkward vehicles, on a road that was too often barely 1 lane wide. My progress was painfully slow, and although the cliffs and the villas looked as fabulous as they had on the Rick Steves videos, I had zero view of the lake nor the mountains around thanks to the fog. Moreover, my mother was really getting on my nerves; due to the narrow road, she was convinced that I was going to scratch her brand-new luxury car right here, and every moment she shouted and whined, I was being distracted, and stepping ever closer to actually getting the car scratched. I was relieved to reach Menaggio, where SS340 took a tunnel and turned west toward Lugano - but even then, the road was just as narrow and dreadful, with hardly any view.

I entered Switzerland through a narrow pass under a cliff and through tunnels. As Switzerland is now part of the Schengen Zone, I could enter without flashing my passport, but as it is still a neutral country and not part of the European Union, I did see prominent customs checkpoints through which I had to slow down, ready to stop as needed. Now, I was in my fourth country of the trip and eighth European country overall, noting the default speed limits of 50 km/h urban, 80 rural, and 120 motorway. Another Shell gas station, just beyond the Swiss border, was where I ended up stopping to get the required Swiss motorway toll sticker - 40 Swiss francs or 26 Euro for a sticker good from December 2008 to January 2010 (I cannot get any shorter duration in Switzerland).

I was very relieved to emerge into the Lugano city street grid; at least, I had two to three lanes to choose from in my travel direction. Following the signs carefully, I eventually entered the northbound Autobahn 2, in the direction of San Gottardo (St. Gottthard Tunnel). For now, I was still in an Italian-speaking zone, with placenames in Italian and motorway exits labeled as "USCITA." I noted the gasoline prices around 1.60 - thinking it was expensive as hell.

As I climbed up the hills, the two-lane motorway shrank to one, and it was two-way traffic, as I entered St. Gotthard Tunnel, with the speed limit down to 80. This tunnel passage took forever - it appeared the tunnel was over 25 kilometers long (it certainly looked pretty long on the map), and with the lower speed, transit took a while. And I did note the outside temperature climbing up into the 80s Fahrenheit (the US-market car's temperature readings were all permanently fixed into Fahrenheit) as I continued through the nearly endless tunnel. At least there were no exhaust fume smells, thanks to excellent ventilation.

When I finally emerged outside the tunnel, I started noting placenames in German again, and indeed, exits were labeled as "AUSFAHRT." Soon afterwards, I pulled into a rest area for a quick meal, and also to obtain Swiss francs. At that time, I realized that those high fuel prices were in Swiss francs, rather than in Euro; at that point, those prices looked a lot more friendly, because Swiss francs were at parity to the US dollar, while one Euro was 1.40 in either currency. That would make Swiss gas prices at around $6.25 or so per US gallon, while German prices would be closer to $8. In any case, having filled up back in Como, I didn't need to fill up again just yet, and that was just fine, since there is nothing fun in spending well over USD $100 to fill up a passenger car.

With 200 Swiss francs in hand, I continued to drive, until the Autobahn 8 turnoff. There was less than an hour's driving left until Interlaken. Switzerland is a truly compact country, and I was overestimating my distances and travel times again. Sure, 250 miles is a long way to go, but it sounds worse when it's expressed as 400 kilometers, because of the higher numerical value.

I am proceeding westward through a very scenic landscape that is picture perfect Switzerland, filled with glacial lakes like this photo.

In fact, Interlaken itself is squeezed between two very similar lakes - hence its name, "between the lakes."

I have pulled over into a turnout for a quick nap and rest.

Yes, I am seeing turnouts, rather than rest areas. Autobahn 8 is an Autobahn in name only; it uses sections of normal highways for its routing, and often is reduced to a main street going through a rural town. It is a nice two-way traffic, two-lane road, but that's about it. Speed limit is only 80 km/h as a result. There are some sections that are truly crooked and I have to really slow down to around 40. The dual carriageway Autobahn-grade section wouldn't even start until I actually was within a few kilometers of Interlaken.

I have now arrived, and having parked the car at the hotel, now I am walking into Interlaken to get information on the Jungfrau trains.

That town in the distance is Goldswil, just outside Interlaken town limits. That's where I am staying - I am at a hut-style hotel named Schönegg, a very nice property with lots of personality and decent rates.

Interlaken Ost train station is only a 5-minute walk from Goldswil, and that is my reason for staying there. Interlaken Ost is the departure point for all train services toward Jungfrau.

In fact, I ducked into Interlaken Ost Station first, to get the timetable for the Jungfrau trains, and to buy a morning special ticket for 160 francs per person. The morning special would allow me to board only the first two trains of the next day - 6:35 and 7:05. This would be probably the most expensive train ticket of my life, given the rather short distance traveled.

I am continuing into town - and passing this Japanese friendship garden. I would spend a bit more time here the next day.

This is Interlaken's grandest hotel, built when the town became a key tourist stop in the 19th Century, with the opening of Jungfraubahn, the cogwheel railway up the slopes of Jungfrau. In fact, I am here to ride that very railway the next morning.

This hotel also holds a casino, which caters to the big East Asian tour groups that descend on Interlaken all the time.

And as evidenced in this photo, I can also find a Hooters restaurant here. Hooters is the most revolting excuse of a restaurant that I know of - cut-rate food and crummy service, the only draw being the scantily clad young women for the guys' viewing pleasure.

On the town's main green, cows graze on the grass. I am loving this sight!

Of course, I can't forget the Swiss cowbells either...

Another tourist-oriented business: "Last Sex-Shop before the Jungfrau," where I can go in and watch some porn videos. I skipped, of course.

I did walk around the entire length of town, however, spending some time in shopping centers. Near Interlaken West train station (even this tiny town has two train stations), I found a shopping center that seemed to have a department store of sorts inside; I could also find an Asian grocery store nearby, presumably doing business off of the East Asian tour groups. And back near the Interlaken Ost station (only 15 minutes from Interlaken West on foot), I found another shopping center, where I ended up doing some minor grocery shopping at the supermarket on the ground floor. I had tried to pay for some fruits having only bagged them, without weighing the contents and putting on a price tag first - the cashier had to run back and do it for me, quite embarrassing.

While out and about in Interlaken, I had also ducked into a McDonald's for an early dinner. Again, thank my mother's lack of adventurous spirit when it comes to food. This turned out to be the most expensive Big Mac meal of my life: 12 Swiss francs. I had to ask my mother not to keep going back to McDonald's - and also promised her that once we hit Paris, I'd take her to the French competitor, Quick.

Now I am walking back to Goldswil. And this is the waterway that links the two lakes which frame Interlaken (and give the town its name). It's certainly glacial melt. I have never before, and never since, seen water in this color. What a sight!

And I am now back in Goldswil, looking back toward Interlaken Ost and the majestic peaks further south. The valley leading there would be Lauterbrunnen Valley, and that's where my train ride would go through the next morning.

And the road in the foreground is the bridge that goes over the glacial waterway of the previous photo, to connect Goldswil to Interlaken. And that's also how I had driven into Goldswil in the first place.

It's still early evening, and I would spend the rest of the evening getting some rest, watching TV, and plotting the next day's sightseeing up in the mountains. And since this was trilingual Switzerland, I could actually stick to local French-language channels (plus additional ones from France) which I could somewhat comprehend, rather than German and Italian stuff I had zero comprehension of; I no longer had to rely on English language channels alone, though it was fun tuning into BBC and watch an installment of The Weakest Link the way it was meant to seen - without the commercial breaks that had driven the American version to failure.

Europe recap, Day 8: Venice

2010-04-08T00:47:00.000-07:00

I am now proud to say that after having attracted the wrath of supporters of South Korea's far-right government as a result of my commentaries from Seoul in 2008, I am now attracting similar wrath from the People's Republic of China, where some bloggers are leaving me comments about how obscene the contents of this free-wheeling, Western liberalism-corrupted blog are. Of course, none of them will ever squeak past the moderation stage. It is notable that the Chinese are making their comments in Simplified Chinese, whereas the Koreans did in English, the language of the almighty superior masters of the US neocon movement; nevertheless, even between the far-right South Korean government and the nominally communist Chinese government, I see a common thread - that of Confucian authoritarianism.

In the meantime, I am glad to keep on traveling to places where Confucian authoritarianism is rightfully dismissed as backward barbarism. Like permissive Europe. And my recap continues - this covers November 1st, 2009, and my walks throughout the marvelous Italian water city of Venice.

As noted in my previous post, my Venice stay was cut from two planned nights to one, due to my mother's complaints. In the morning, I took the hotel's nice continental breakfast, then checked out, expressing my regrets to Signore Piero, the handsome son of Signore Roberto, the proprietor of the hotel who had checked me in. After paying for just one night, I did return to the hotel's guestbook, and did put in positive notes there - my mother's protests notwithstanding, I did like Pensione Guerrato, recommend it as heartily as Rick Steves does, and intend to return there on a future Venice visit.

I wasn't quite done with Venice, however; when I bought the water bus ticket, I made sure to choose the 12-hour pass at €16, since after getting to Tronchetto to load the car up, I wanted to come back into town to cram as much sightseeing as I could into the day. I was not going to leave this unique place without at least scratching the surface.

I am using the No. 2 water bus to get around. Starting at Rialto (or in some cases, St. Mark's), it travels up the Grand Canal toward the train station, Piazzale Roma, and Tronchetto, then continues on around the western periphery between Venice proper and an island to the west, before finishing at St. Mark's (and runs the other direction as well). For the Grand Canal portion only between St. Mark's and Piazzale Roma, the No. 2 runs as an express service, while the No. 1 makes all local stops.

And riding around in a water bus can give me some really lovely views of some of the buildings along the way, like the above. Only in Venice.

The last stop on No. 2 before it terminates at St. Mark's is San Giorgio Island, home to this lovely cathedral. I disembarked to check the place out.

Although the cathedral comes with its own Campanile-like tower that offers great views (the tower is very visible when looking from St. Mark's), I refused to pay the admission.

This is the interior of the cathedral. Small and cozy, a contrast from the grand cathedrals I tend to see elsewhere in Europe and North America.

This cathedral's claim to fame is Tintoretto's rendition of the Last Supper. It was one of the paintings I had studied in my college art humanities class, as a contrast from the earlier Michelangelo version and its Renaissance geometric balance.

And now I'm looking back at St. Mark's Square.

In front, the water is almost up to the pavement level. It's high tide, and back at Rialto Bridge as I was leaving the hotel, I had noted that the water was starting to flood a sidewalk.

Venice had been built on a former sandy river delta (the river is today's Grand Canal), that had shrunk to an island 2.5 miles off the shore due to sinking. The sinking continues, and global warming and the resulting rise in sea levels don't help either. And sure enough, after I leave on this day, Venice would see an Acqua Alta - or High Water - that left St. Mark's Square under two feet of water on Christmas.

Now I am back at St. Mark's, and my next sight will be the Doge's Palace (Palazzo Ducalo), Venice's greatest sight. The Doge was an "elected" leader of Venice who nevertheless wielded dictatorial powers, and because of Venice's status as a maritime power and a trade powerhouse, the Doge was easily the most powerful man in Europe.

That is the Bridge of Sighs, which connects the palace to its prison annex. Condemned prisoners, as they are led away to their cell, would sigh here, looking out toward the beauty of Venice and knowing that it would be a long time before they would see it again. A psychological taunt, much like Alcatraz that's so near, yet so far, from San Francisco.

Both the palace and the prison annex are undergoing facade cleaning/restoration. The scaffolding is covered with advertisement, in order to generate income for the city government. This is controversial, of course.

Behind me along the waterfront, African immigrants are peddling fake purses and other fashion goods. While they are illegal - by buying from them, even I break the law and become subject to a €1,000 fine - they somehow find ways to keep themselves in business.

I have now paid admissions and entered the Doge's Palace. This staircase would've been where the visiting guests were welcomed into the palace.

The palace's elements are like other palaces' - including the Residenz back in Munich. In other words, propaganda elements to assert the power, legitimacy, and superiority of the inhabitant. Now that I am a week into this trip, I am starting to feel tired of the palaces. My mother's interest in home decorations leads her to palaces, while I would rather hit a museum for art history, which she can't stand.

The Doge's Palace does not offer a stand-alone admissions ticket. Starting this day, for the winter season it sells a ticket which also allows entrance to the Correr Museum next door, showcasing city treasures. For the summer season, the ticket costs a bit more, and I can choose from one of seven additional museums throughout Venice and nearby islands. Although I bought the winter combination ticket, I really didn't feel like going to Correr.

At least this is preferable to stuffy royal decorations. I am in the prison annex, and this is the ceiling of one of the cells, with prisoners' graffiti.

Casanova was known to have spent some time in this prison himself. His love prowess was such that according to Rick Steves' guidebook, when Venice's police was out in full force trying to apprehend Casanova, Casanova himself was enjoying some wild sex with the police chief's wife!

As I walk back to the palace to finish my tour, it's now my turn to peek out from the Bridge of Sighs, and sigh. Thanks to the scaffolding, the view out isn't as beautiful as I'd like.

I walked back in the direction or Rialto Bridge, and had a slice of pizza in the vicinity, thankfully in a pizzeria that was not too touristy.

Now, I am at a water bus stop for the No. 1, trying to get in the direction of Accademia, then walking from there back to St. Mark's Square, in time to enter St. Mark's Basilica, the other major Venice sight. The basilica, of course, had been closed in the morning due to the Sunday mass.

Loving this Grand Canal scene. The Grand Canal homes, back in their heyday, were the most opulent palaces/residences in the city. They still look grand.

I can also spot a water taxi. Here in Venice, every vehicle is water vehicle - even UPS delivery trucks have to be boats.

Now moving on toward Accademia. A look at more Grand Canal palaces, as well as a narrow side canal, one of many.

Historical preservation laws prevent major remodeling and demolition, and too often it's easier to let the buildings decay than to modernize them. Also, the rising water level also means for some of the buildings, the ground floor is no longer usable due to flooding.

This is clearly a city that is slowly dying, or at least becoming a tourist trap rather than a real city, as the residents flee. But because of the tourist traffic, efforts are being made to control water levels and ensure Venice's existence for many, many more years.

As mentioned in the last post, the Grand Canal can be crossed by only four bridges: two near the train station, one in the middle (Rialto), and one toward the south end (Accademia). To make crossings easier, traghetti (singular: traghetto) operate at seven points along the Grand Canal. The traghetti are retired gondola boats that are converted to shuttle duty, and cost 50 cents to ride; as they are privately operated independent of the mass transit, they don't accept transit passes.

Of course, the gondolas themselves are iconic of Venice as well, but prices are pretty high for a 50-minute ride. My mother didn't seem too interested, and I didn't feel like riding without her either, so I guess a Venice gondola ride will have to wait for a future visit.

I did get to St. Mark's Basilica, and waited a bit in line until its opening time. But its true gems are in a paid area, an upstairs museum that houses the original four horses from Constantinople (the current ones outside are modern replicas) and other relics; again, I refused to pay. The sanctuary was rather a dud.

At this point, I didn't see much point in extending my Venice experience. Walking through the crowds was not too fun, my mother was sick and tired of the place, and even for me, I wanted to be somewhere with more open space, and wanted to come back to Venice on a future visit to explore my favorite sights in-depth at a more leisurely pace. Besides, I wanted to get going toward my next destination, Switzerland, and try to get to a comfortable hotel on the way for the night.

Now I am back on the No. 2 water bus, returning from St. Mark's to Tronchetto via the periphery route. This is my farewell look at Venice. The crowds, the decay, and my mother's complaints really put a damper in my mood, but from this vantage point, it looks fabulous. And the fact that such a lovely city can rise out of the water, in itself, is simply incredible. Venice is one of those places that I didn't love too much while I was there, but lingers in my mind long after I left for good.

Back at Tronchetto, my parking came out to be €21, the 24-hour rate. I exited Venice the same way I came in - Liberty Causeway, drive through Mestre, and Autostrada 4. I decided to push west and just stop at some hotel when I got tired; I pushed past Verona, where I had come in via Autostrada 22, without stopping. I did stop at a nearby rest stop for a nap and a snack, during which I could hear German (!) national anthem in the concessions area (turns out, it was a telecast of a soccer game) and see some Italian men flock around the Mercedes-Benz (the E550 with a German export plate is certainly an unusual sight in Italy, and in any case, the E550 designation is for North America only, the European domestic models are designated as E500 even with 5.5L engine displacement).

Continuing to push west took me through some scenic areas, interspersed with sizable towns, though I continued to fight the Italian drivers and their reckless driving. It felt a lot like Los Angeles, though I must make it clear that unlike Los Angeles drivers, at least Italian drivers know how to drive, they simply show no respect to the law. Autostrada 4 continued to have three smooth lanes, increasing to four once I entered the Milan area. The tollway ended there, I paid another €18 or so in tolls, and I transferred to Autostrada 9, heading north through two turnpike-style toll booths to the Lake Como area and the Swiss border.

I exited at Como South exit, right after the last turnpike toll booth, when I spotted some "Drive Motel" signs guiding me off the autostrada. I had trouble finding Drive Motel, and after a while I switched my search over to a Hotel Ibis at €69. But I had even less luck finding Ibis, so I reverted my search to Drive Motel. Its signs appeared alongside signs for Hotel Cruise, which turned out to be its sister property. I eventually found the joint property, to find a nice surprise; in this case, the "motel" referred to a motor hotel, not a cheap hotel, and that meant that check-in and check-out were drive-through, and every room had its own garage. I went to the drive-through check-in, where a light-skinned, blue-eyed blonde greeted me (she certainly looked more Northern European than typical Italian), and advised me that while a night at the Drive Motel would cost me €95 with no breakfast, checking in on the Hotel Cruise side would be €90 with breakfast. I heeded her advice, went around to the Hotel Cruise side, and checked in for one night. This was a very modern, nice property, and I was glad to stay there - and so was my mother, thanks to television service.

The next morning would have me continue my journey. Como is on the Swiss border, so most of my driving would be in Switzerland, and I would find myself in Interlaken, my destination, by early afternoon.

Europe recap, Day 7: Brenner Pass into Venice

2010-04-05T23:25:00.000-07:00

This post recaps my Halloween 2009, which saw me halfway into a two-week tour of Europe. It was my first introduction to Italy, as I entered via Brenner Pass and the Dolomites, and headed for the famed water city of Venice. Italy became the seventh European country I get to check off.

As noted in the Day 6 recap, I ended up not visiting any of the salt mines near Salzburg. I simply took the shortest route out to Autobahn 1, then headed west back into Germany; even though the approach to Brenner Pass is via Innsbruck in western Austria, it is actually faster to dip briefly into Germany, due to lack of Autobahn connections between Salzburg and Innsbruck. After driving on German Autobahn 8 toward Munich for about 30 minutes, I found the Autobahn 93 turn-off, with clearly marked "I" oval, denoting access to Italy.

Autobahn 93 followed up the course of the Inn River, and before long, took me back into Austria, becoming Austrian Autobahn 12. Surrounded by old castles and snow-capped Alpine peaks, I made sure to enjoy the drive to the fullest. The CD player played the soundtrack to The Sound of Music movie from 1965, and I followed up with my modern-day favorite from back in California, Anna Nalick.

I am now taking a brief toilet break in Innsbruck, as Autobahn 13 splits off from the 12 to climb up the Brenner Pass and take me to Italy.

Innsbruck ("Bridge on the Inn River") is a very scenic town, best known as a ski resort, particularly attractive to those who live in countries without steep mountains (think England and the Netherlands). Unfortunately, between my need to continue to Venice and the difficulties I would certainly experience driving into town and parking, this will be all the Innsbruck I end up experiencing. Having to mind my mother's constant concerns regarding possible damage to the car is really piling on my stress level.

And here is an obligatory shot of the car against the Alpine peaks.

Austria has the strictest motorist regulations among the countries I am driving in. In addition to a toll sticker for the Autobahn system, I am also required to carry a safety vest inside the passenger compartment, to be worn in case of a roadside emergency; the vest was provided free of charge by Mercedes-Benz back in Sindelfingen. And more importantly, I am required to use winter tires between November and April, but that is also taken care of, since (1) I am leaving Austria for good on this October 31st, and (2) this car's all-season tires, thanks to their Mud + Snow designation, meet the requirement. Austrian driving in the winter on performance summer tires is not only dangerous, it is outright illegal, with a fine of €5,000.

Brenner Pass is only 30 minutes from Innsbruck, but in order to drive this short distance, I am required to pay a supplemental toll of €8 in cash on top of the toll sticker. Before long, the obligatory border slowdown took place, and in the midst of outlet stores, I could see a sign - European Union flag with the word "ITALIA" in the middle. I entered Italy. Shortly following were the default speed limit sign, showing Italian speed limits at 50 km/h urban, 90 rural, 110 on blue-signed free motorways, and 130 on green-signed toll motorways (Autostrada); the days of German-style unlimited Italian autostrade were long gone.

The initial drive through the rugged terrain was kept at 110 km/h, despite being a green-signed Autostrada. This 110 would persist throughout my drive on Autostrada 22 (the Italian extension of Austrian Autobahn 13). Soon, a toll booth issued me a magnetic toll ticket; Italian autostrade use a thruway-type toll collection system using tickets or transponders.

Autostrada 22 heads south from the Brenner Pass, through the lovely, rugged Dolomite Mountains, known for their stunning marble cliffs like this photo. This photo is just a tiny hint of all the gorgeous cliffs I could spot while driving, but couldn't photograph due to my need to put driving first. This photo is from a rest stop about 30 minutes north of Verona, where I would take the eastbound Autostrada 4 toward Venice (marked as Venezia on signs).

Up to this point, I am in the region known as Alto Adige, and as this region is historically populated by the Germanic people, all placenames have Italian and German versions, and all road signs and messages are in both Italian and German. Indeed, I am reminded that back when Germany's national anthem was sung as "Deutschland über alles," its lyrics included the phrase "From the Meuse to the Memel, From the Adige to the Belt" - a swath of territory that is now lost through losses in two World Wars. The Brenner Pass has historically connected this region to the rest of the Germanic world, and this road is dotted with castles - tollbooths back in the day, complete with accommodations for tolljumpers.

But make no mistakes, this is Italy. I am actually finding the Autostrada system to be better built and maintained than the German Autobahns; thanks to the nicer Italian climate, the road surfaces are in even better shape than the already excellent ones in Germany. Aside from acceleration and deceleration lanes which are mere afterthoughts drawn onto the shoulder, the autostrada is built to higher standards than the autobahn.

But I have to say that the real reminder of Italy comes from the reckless drivers. In Germany, I could count on all drivers obeying the strict regulations, such as no-passing-on-right and adherence to any mandatory speed limits. But here in Italy, I am finding that traffic regulations were meant to be ignored. Speeding and lane changes without signaling were very common, and while passing on the right was nowhere near the epidemic levels I see in California, I could still occasionally see it. I could also count on a mad flash of the high beams from behind if I did not vacate the fast lane in a microsecond, and a frustrated honk if I decided to treat stop signs (i.e. at this rest stop) as a full stop rather than a California stop.

I found that the worst a-holes on Italian autostrade were Audi drivers, filling in the niche occupied by BMW drivers in California. The worst slowpokes, just like in California, were Toyota drivers. Van drivers, be it the Central American theocrats in California driving a Chevrolet Astro, or brutes in South Korea driving a Hyundai Starex, used to push my buttons a lot, but they are less of a factor in Europe; the Astro is nonexistent, and drivers of the Starex and similar vans are well-behaved in Europe (aside from an occasional tendency to speed). Another demographic that used to push my buttons in South Korea - drivers of Ssangyong SUVs - also drove pretty well in Europe.

I refueled at this rest stop before continuing my way. Italian gas prices are similar to Austrian levels and much cheaper than German levels; I could expect to pay €1.00 per liter, and I only needed to pay for regular unleaded, which was already 95 octane (91 US octane), making premium at 98 octane a useless splurge. While Autostrada 22 continues south to Modena, home of Ferrari, I was more than happy to transfer to eastbound Autostrada 4 once in Verona, enjoying its 3 lanes all the way to Venice as well as consistent 130 km/h speed limit. It went through a flatter landscape surrounded by rolling hills, farms, and even an American military base. As I approached Venice, I stumbled into a "KARTE" lane at the toll booth, and paid with a debit card; the toll came out to be €21, definitely not cheap, and I had intended to pay at a cash lane, whose money icon I couldn't recognize right away. (Good thing I didn't use the TELEPASS lane for transponders.) Thanks to European distances being delightfully short and motorway speeds being fast, I arrived in Venice ahead of schedule - something that happened on every major driving day for me.

Once in Venice, I proceeded through Mestre before getting on the 2.5-mile Liberty Causeway to the water city itself. I parked at the enormous Tronchetto Garage, which I appreciated for its American-scale ramps and parking spaces, and fumbled my way to the vaporetto (water bus) stop, for a ride on the No. 2 water bus to Rialto Bridge. My mother was thinking "Harlem slum style decay" rather than "a former powerhouse" as the water bus made its way into the Grand Canal, and upon reaching Pensione Guerrato (Rick Steves' favorite hotel) and finding that the €130/night room I had booked was an attic room above fourth floor (sixth floor if counted American style) with no television, she was fuming. I fumed right back too, telling her to shove it with her Asian-American model minority materialism and excess. This trip was at its breaking point.

Cooler heads eventually prevailed, as I gladly let my mother know that I've myself been let down by another European city that other visitors rave about - namely, Amsterdam and its Surinamese thugs. Now the goal has become salvaging the Venice experience somehow, even if Venice falls way short of the sanitized/romanticized depictions in the movies and as seen at the Venetian Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas.

From the hotel near the Rialto Bridge, we are walking in the general direction of "Piazza San Marco" (St. Mark's Square). And every time a pedestrian path goes over a water canal, I am treated to views like this, an alleyway accessible only by water, served by a gondola. The path crosses the canal in the form of an elevated bridge, with a few steps up and down on either side, and that gets tiring after a while walking around Venice.

The primary method of getting around Venice is by walking through very narrow pathways, as this is a water city without any land vehicles, and land area is at a huge premium. In particular, the pathways between the Rialto Bridge and the St. Mark's Square, the two tourist magnets of Venice, can be extremely crowded.

And with all the tourist traffic passing by, the stores often sell very catchy items, like this chess set made up of cats and dogs. I almost wanted to buy one.

Now this is a bit more like it - an open expanse. This is St. Mark's Square, with the Campanile and St. Mark's Basilica standing proudly as ever.

I would quickly learn that open spaces like this are at a very huge premium in Venice, and that I would need to enjoy every moment I spend in one.

As it's sunset already, I am not planning on doing any sightseeing this day. I am supposed to stay in Venice for two nights, and that gives me all of All Saints' Day as a full day to explore the city. I will now walk back toward the Rialto Bridge.

Another store, selling masks that are a good reminder of Venice's past decadence in the form of masquerade parties. I am loving the fact that many of the masks are cat-shaped.

It's dinnertime. As Venice is now a place where tourists outnumber residents, getting into a non-touristy restaurant is wishful thinking in many parts of town. And since I am still on the main paths between St. Mark's and Rialto, I need to duck into a touristy eatery - and entered a spaghetti joint run by an East Asian immigrant.

This joint's walls are covered with photos of international movie actors who have attended the annual Venice Film Festival. And I am lucky to be eating under the photo of my favorite - Calista Flockhart and Harrison Ford. I'm always fond of Calista Flockhart for her portrayal of that neurotic skinny miniskirt-suited lesbian lawyer Ally McBeal; glad to be reminded of her here in faraway Italy. I am also realizing that in just eleven days, Calista would turn 45; when Ally had first aired, Calista was only 33, and Ally was supposed to be merely 28. Certainly, a key part of looking young is having a geriatric boyfriend, in the form of Harrison Ford.

Continuing past Rialto toward the northeastern portions of Venice, the one part of the city that actually still has residents.

I don't know what the significance of this community theater is, nor who the namesake, Carlo Goldoni, is, but I had to take this photo for the lovely lighting on the sign.

In Venice's labyrinthine path pattern, navigating by street names is impossible. One's sense of directions completely melts away after a few minutes of walking. The only way to keep going is to refer to yellow signs pointing to the direction of a major landmark (S. MARCO for St. Mark's Square, P. RIALTO for Rialto Bridge, FERROVIA for train station, etc.), and use that landmark as a reference point to get to the final destination from. I'm actually walking toward the train station at the north end of the water city.

I am looking at some lanterns lit to mark All Saints' Day the next day.

I am walking on a rather wide pathway - wide enough to handle two trucks easily, if trucks had a way of getting there. This is the residential part of Venice, complete with a grocery market and other services catering to residents rather than tourists. And this being Halloween, I am seeing costumed children out trick-or-treating. While Americans tend to treat Halloween as a commercialized holiday, Europeans give it the same treatment AND celebrate the very reason for Halloween's existence - All Saints' Day the next day.

I'm actually liking the fact that I am spending Halloween in Venice, a city known for masquerades and other disguises.

I am now next to the train station. I am inside the Church of St. Mary of Nazareth, which I am not visiting for any particular reason, but because I needed a place to take a quick breath - and to photograph some lovely interior elements.

And now I am outside, crossing the Grand Canal via one of only four pedestrian bridges spanning it.

To the right is the Church of St. Mary of Nazareth. Toward the back is what is referred to on the signs as "Ferrovia" - Santa Lucia train station, where trains terminate after coming in from the mainland over the Liberty Causeway. Needless to say, the presence of the train station makes this place a transportation hub. In front of the train station are docks that serve as water bus stops, and indeed a couple of water buses are operating. In front of the church, smaller docks serve water taxis. Even a water bus ride in Venice is expensive - €6.50 for a ticket good for an hour - and a taxi ride is prohibitively expensive. (However, passes can bring the cost of water bus rides down significantly.)

Within walking distance, behind the train station, is Piazzale Roma, where Venice residents have a parking garage to keep their cars in. Piazzale Roma is the only part of Venice accessible to land vehicles, and is served by land buses from the mainland.

While my hotel is on the west side of the Grand Canal, most of the sights covered above are on the east side. Now that I crossed back west at the train station, now I am wondering again through a new set of labyrinthine paths to attempt to get to Rialto Bridge (and the hotel).

This open square is an example of Venice's traditional water collection systems. As Venice sits 2.5 miles off the coast and has no source of fresh water, residents used squares like this as water collection systems. Rainwater would pool toward the center of the square and lower into a well below, collected there for the residents' use. This system remained in use until the 19th Century, when an aqueduct was built to the mainland, bringing water from the Italian Alps.

Toward the back is a typical bridge going over a narrow side canal. After dozens of those in an hour or two, walking around in Venice can get very tiresome, fast.

Eventually we stumbled back to the hotel and retired to the attic room. The windows remained open for ventilation - but my mother continued to complain, primarily thanks to the Halloween revelers' noise outside. She simply was NOT liking Venice, period, and a decision was made to leave the next morning - a day early. I'd have to cancel the second night's reservation, and would have to try to find a place to sleep on the way to Switzerland. Driving hotshot through Europe without a confirmed hotel room - that in itself could be exciting!

Future travel plans

2010-03-28T20:41:00.000-07:00

It's a bit of an old news, but I want to mention some travel plans for the future even as I reminisce a major past trip.

Before long, I expect to be in New Orleans, possibly the biggest gap in my US travels. I am planning on spending three full days there - should be enough to get the basics, like the French Quarter, taken care of, plus meet a few local friends. Again, this is my first visit to New Orleans (or Louisiana for that matter) and this should be lovely! Unfortunately, it'll be unlikely that I head out to see my longtime friend Christy Cole of Christy's Art Blog, since she's located close to Shreveport, 250 miles away.

I do not expect to use a car in New Orleans, but I have already reserved my air transportation and lodging. While the logical airline choice for New Orleans is Delta, because of its name coming from the Mississippi Delta, and Delta indeed flies nonstop from Los Angeles, I will stick to my usual lesbian-friendly airline, United, with its own nonstops, to take advantage of elite-level perks while I still can. In fact, I used a $150 apology credit from my previous United journey - a nightmare flight out of Toronto.

Later on in the year, I expect to see my business wind down quite a bit. That may free up more time for travel, while maintaining a reasonable amount of income to fund the trips. Ideally, I would like to spend a week in Japan, which is my biggest East Asian travel gap the way New Orleans is my biggest US travel gap. Most of that week should be spent in Tokyo, while a side trip to Kyoto for two nights or so will let me experience traditional Japan. I need to see my schedule to determine how this will be carried out, however; if I somehow decide on resuming my South Korean meditation regimen, I could pull off a quick Tokyo weekend from Seoul very easily, the way I had done Hong Kong. Once I check Japan off, Taiwan will be my final East Asian gap to fill in, though I would also be very interested in covering the parts of mainland China I have yet to see.

Other destinations I can consider are the Canadian Rockies as well as some points within the US (Boston definitely needs a return visit, as I have NEVER had a chance to explore it). Returning to Europe is not on my agenda this year. And while Latin America and Southeast Asia also deserve my attention, for now I want to concentrate on filling in the gaps in the parts of the world I had covered previously.

I do hope I can cover both New Orleans and Japan this year in a satisfactory manner!

Europe recap: Day 6, Salzburg

2010-03-28T20:03:00.000-07:00

As I recap my Europe trip (now 5 months in the past), I have a very good reminder of that trip today. Namely, the very star of this trip, the European Delivery Mercedes-Benz E-class, is now sitting in my garage. Ever since the end of this trip, it had been a sleeping beauty - first on a transatlantic freighter, then in my folks' garage. I needed to drive it a bit during my folks' absence, in order to keep it in good working order; and of course, I also wanted to re-live the memories.

Back to the recap. This post covers Friday, October 30, 2009, which had me explore Salzburg, Austria, on foot all day, with no driving involved. At the Best Western I was staying at, I found that I had free Internet access in the lobby; this was a big deal, since most other places wanted to charge me about €8 per hour on average. Taking advantage of this, I made sure to do some of my sightseeing research while I could - and also catch up with work email.

The Best Western also provided me with complimentary hot breakfast buffet, hearty enough to last me all day.

The sightseeing began with a short walk to Mirabell Palace and its gardens. Due to the timing of my visit, I could not see much in the way of actual roses. But this is certainly a familiar angle; behind me are some stone steps, and this is where the last few phrases of "Do, Re, Mi" were sung in the 1965 movie adaptation of the musical, The Sound of Music.

And if that fortress in the distance, Hohensalzburg, doesn't tell me I'm in Salzburg, I don't know what does. I am remindful of the fact that for the first time in ten years, I am exploring a brand-new European country. So far, I am grateful that I am connecting with the locals quite well, and that I am doing a reasonably good job of putting those Amsterdam demons from 1999 to rest. At least Austria is another Germanic country, so signs remain in familiar-by-now German and it's not too difficult to figure things out.

My first sight, in fact, will be Hohensalzburg Fortress. Hohensalzburg means "Upper Salzburg." And Salzburg, for that matter, means "Salt Fortress," due to huge deposits of salt in the surrounding areas. Salzburg had built its fortune on mining and exporting its salt, and the Salzach River, which I'm crossing, was the main means of transportation for exporting salt.

The Salzach is spanned by several bridges, some of them footbridges, some vehicular. I am crossing from Mirabell Gardens toward the Altstadt (old town), and getting up to Hohensalzburg will require me to walk through Altstadt.

I am still walking toward Hohensalzburg, having passed through most of Altstadt. I am now passing through a large square near the main cathedral.

I am loving the sight of these horse carriages. The Sound of Music had had the seven children and Maria riding through Altstadt on one of them.

Also in The Sound of Music, this square was featured in a scene - being heavily covered with Nazi insignia, in the wake of the Anschluss (the annexation of Austria by Nazi Germany). The movie (and the musical), of course, had featured Captain Von Trapp, and a key element of the storyline was his principled, strong opposition to the Nazis.

Another, smaller plaza, as I near the funicular that will bring me up to Hohensalzburg.

On the right, the ball is a piece of artwork. And the boy on top of the ball - not real, but part of the artwork too.

On the left, there is a giant chess set and board. Nobody is playing chess on this cool, overcast day, however.

Now I have entered the fortress.

This cannon, along with the thick wall, is a reminder that Hohensalzburg, unlike the Mad King Ludwig fantasy castles, is a real fortress built with defense as a key consideration. Its history stretches back almost a thousand years, and the fortress was rebuilt and expanded several times over its lifetime. And thanks to its sturdy defenses, it was never successfully overrun by invaders.

In medieval times, torture was a very common means of punishment. Here are some torture instruments.

The interior areas of the fortress are managed as museums, some of them showcasing the rulers' living quarters and others dedicated to military history and other relevant topics.

Here is a three-tiered fireplace. This ceramic contraption carries motifs that represent the royal coat of arms, Christian beliefs, and more.

This fireplace is very similar to fireplaces I had seen, but couldn't photograph, over at the fantasy castles.

Modern-day heating is done via electric heaters. And I am walking on an elevated walkway, to protect the royal quarters' original wooden floors. Compared to contemporary buildings, this place was state of the art; while indoor plumbing was an unknown (and would remain so for a few more centuries), I could see an indoor toilet at a bedroom (though I am pretty sure that it would've smelled very badly, and had to be manually emptied by servants).

Seen at a souvenir shop within Hohensalzburg: this souvenir T-shirt. And it's a common sight throughout Salzburg.

Of course, most international visitors easily mix up Austria and Australia. But it bears remembering that Australia is Southern Land, based on the Latin word austral, while Austria's correct spelling is Österreich, or Eastern Kingdom.

Austria, of course, forms the eastern portions of traditional Germanic territory. While most Germans lived in a Holy Roman Empire that was a collection of a few hundred independent principalities, Austria was ruled by the powerful Habsburgs early on, and was a strong, well-defined nation-state that also included Hungary and the Magyar people until World War I. In fact, modern-day Germany, dating back only to 1871, consists of the Germanic territory that Austria didn't cover - and even then, about half of it was lost through the two World Wars.

In fact, Austrians seem to see themselves as the true heritage keepers of the Germanic people. And they note that by using the Austrian flag, rather than the German flag, to denote that a given caption/service is provided in German (alongside British/American split flag for English, French tricouleurs for French, and so forth).

Leaving the fortress, I stayed close to the hill, and went through some very narrow, steep alleyways, with good peeks into some apartment balconies and private backyards. That led me to this place - Nonnberg Convent.

Of course, this is where the nuns in The Sound of Music lived, including aspiring nun Maria.

There is a cemetery outside for past nuns as seen in the photo, and inside, there is a dark yet cozy and lovely sanctuary. A 50-cent coin illuminates some old paintings in the back of the sanctuary, but of course, I declined that option.

The views of the southwestern fringes of town, from the street just outside the convent, are marvelous, with green hills and beautiful houses framed by jagged mountains. Truly, the hills are alive, with the sound of music...

Crossing back to the Mirabell side, I am now walking an alley called Steingasse, which runs southeast out of town. It may be a very narrow back alley today, but it was the main Roman trading road back in its day.

This house is very typical of buildings built on Steingasse - and in many other parts of Salzburg. Due to the steep rocky hills and cliffs that characterize the city terrain, many buildings are built with very little depth, as seen here. And the cliff wall simply becomes the back wall of the house.

Of course, rocks fall from the cliff often, and some falling rock used to result in damaged buildings and even dead occupants. Rock climbers, removing loose rock before they became rock slides, became a very important occupation in Salzburg as a result.

Seen at the No. 9 house on Steingasse: this marker claims that Joseph Mohr, the composer of the well-known Christmas tune "Silent Night, Holy Night," was born at this house on December 11th, 1792.

I found this marker thanks to my Fodor's guidebook covering both Bavaria and Salzburg. The guidebook, however, noted that Mohr's actual birthplace was No. 31, rather than this house.

Salzburg certainly has more music connections than the impressive credentials already established by Mozart and The Sound of Music.

Emerging out of Steingasse onto a more populated pedestrian street, I did some window shopping at a few of the stores lining the eastbound street.

I am at a church cemetery. This is the grave of Constance Mozart, the wife of the famous composer Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. Mozart himself was thrown into an unmarked grave - the 1984 movie Amadeus had that scene.

And back to that 1965 The Sound of Music movie, this cemetery was the scene where the Von Trapp family hid out while trying to run from the Nazis, and where Rolfe, the former telegram delivery boy turned into a Nazi soldier, faced off with Captain Von Trapp who was trying to talk him out of Nazism. Rolfe eventually stuck to Nazism - and the family ran away using the nunnery car toward nearby mountains, then walking their way to neutral Switzerland. (Of course, in real life, Switzerland is 100 miles away, but the musical and the movie moved Switzerland closer for dramatic effect.)

Salzburg feels very religious, just like Bavaria, only a few miles away. In fact, the Bavarian greeting "Grüß Gott" (God's Greetings), used nowhere else in the German-speaking world, could be seen at a restaurant nearby.

Salzburg preserves two Mozart houses. The one in front of Mirabell Palace is where Mozart grew up as a teen. And this one in Altstadt is where he was born.

There are some exhibits in here, but very few of them really belong to Mozart and his family. This was a mere rental apartment back in the day.

And this is where my walking tour ends for the day.

Using a pay elevator, I climbed up Mönchsberg, a rocky cliff just northwest of Altstadt. This is where Julie Andrews, playing Maria, taught the seven Von Trapp children the basics of singing, with that famous song "Do, Re, Mi." I am not at that exact spot, however; this is as close as I can get, as the exact spot now has a modern art museum, erected in 2004.

Of course, the challenge is to run down the hill on foot (rather than cheating with an elevator), ride all over Altstadt on a horse carriage, then run to Mirabell Gardens to finish the song off, all in the space of just a few minutes. I couldn't do it. Even cheating by using the elevator, I simply couldn't see how I could run across the river back to Mirabell Gardens and continue singing in that timeframe; I figured I'd need 15 minutes (and I'd be out of breath and unable to sing) for myself, and 30 minutes at least for the youngest Von Trapp children.

It was only mid-afternoon when I returned to the hotel. My initial plan was to attend a Mozart concert in the early evening hours - after all, it'd be only appropriate as part of a visit to his hometown. But after the jet lag-induced nap stretched too long, neither my mother nor I felt like going out on the town again - so this was all the Salzburg I ended up seeing and experiencing. I will have to return on a future visit to this part of the world - combining with Munich again.

Another reason to return: I ended up not visiting any of the salt mines in the area. The nearest one, Hallein, was only a short drive away on Autobahn 10, with ample free parking according to the mine's website, but my mother simply wanted to have none of me driving more than absolutely necessary, by the time I was starting to make my drive out of Salzburg the next morning. The next post, covering Halloween 2009, will start with the skipping of the salt mines, and will cover my drive over the Brenner Pass into Italy, with some first impressions of Venice.

Europe Recap: Day 5, Fantasy Castles

2010-03-23T00:16:00.000-07:00

It's already Thursday, October 29th - about a third of the way into the trip already, even though it felt like I was just getting started. Already, the previous night in the town of Hohenschwangau was going to be my last of five nights in German territory; at the end of the day, I was going into Austria.

Again, jet lag has gotten the better of me. It's about 4 in the morning, and sleepless again, I am out and about in the hotel parking area, where the temperatures are barely above freezing. Sure, sheltering myself in the car helps a bit, since I need to continue to fiddle with its settings to get to know them better. At least the factory had made sure to provide me with the North American English manuals for the car itself, and for the COMAND navigation system, so that I wouldn't be left in the dark regarding the car's features. (I would get another set of the manuals upon redelivery in the US.)

At least I am enjoying this stunning view of floodlit Hohenschwangau Castle. Hohenschwangau remains lit all night, while Neuschwanstein's floodlights are turned off at 1:30 in the morning, according to the hotel night clerk. Though it's gonna still be a long wait before morning comes, the castles open for visit, and I take my turn visiting each.

It's morning, and I have just purchased tickets for the combined Royal Tour, covering both castles in order. However, since it will be a while before my English-language tour starts, so I'm walking around the town.

This is Alpsee. In German, a placename ending with "-see" can be any body of water, often a lake. This lake is usually framed as the stunning backdrop on posters depicting an aerial view of Neuschwanstein. It's still chilly this morning, but feels extremely fresh here at the base of the Alps, and I'm loving it. And for the record, this is my first time experiencing rugged terrain in Europe.

Nearby trails indicate that a short walk along the lake's shores and beyond will take me into Austria's Tirol province.

Now checked out of the Lisl, and I am looking back at this pricey but very charming hotel.

As it turned out, breakfast was not part of my rate, and it cost me another €20 for two buffet breakfasts. Final cost for the night was €140 or so with the breakfasts - just over USD $200 as shown on my credit card statement, certainly NOT cheap for just a night. If I were traveling alone that'd be prohibitively expensive, but for two, this was a nice splurge.

The Lisl was the only hotel in my itinerary that had been booked for only one night. All other hotels involved at least two nights (though plans would eventually change...).

Now it's time for the first castle tour - Hohenschwangau. I have now climbed up to the courtyard of the castle, waiting for my tour.

The two castles feature many custom frescoes on the interior walls, and due to copyright issues over them, all interior photographs are prohibited. That means I have very few photos to share for this particular day. The only sure way to fully experience these castles is simply to visit in person.

Hohenschwangau's architecture resembles that of traditional medieval castles, but it's really a 19th Century Romantic reinterpretation of medieval themes, a motif that had been popular at the time. The interior frescoes are Romanticized motifs of knights and chivalry; while there are many battle scenes, there is no bloodshed, for example. The room that was used by Ludwig II has images of frolicking nude maidens - and I liked that.

In this photo, I can see the window shades, and they feature the Bavarian color scheme again. Between BMWs, the logo of the famous FC Bayern soccer club of the Bundesliga, and all the blatant displays of Bavarian nationalism, it's impossible to miss the Blau mit Weiß. Even now, every sight of a BMW automobile immediately reminds me of my Bavarian moments, and a BMW with color-altered roundels (red/white and black/silver are two common examples), common in Los Angeles but NEVER seen within Bavaria, makes me cringe. (But then, I now cringe at all BMWs anyway thanks to its involvement with the Pope.)

There is this nice patio garden at the courtyard level, but as it's cold today, I am not seeing much life. On a summer day this place would be much nicer. But then, maybe the tourist mob may NOT be such a good idea. These castles are notorious for long lines and sold-out tours, but since my visit is at the tail end of October, I am spared from that insanity.

Here is a detail of a courtyard fountain, showing a Catholic motif of Madonna and Child. After all, Bavaria's Catholicism is to be duly noted again and again. The gold-leafed halo is, again, a medieval inspiration. Also love the balance of the Bavarian blue/white on the left with the red swan knight imagery on the right.

Neuschwanstein is visible in the distance. When the sun rises, the sun rays strike Neuschwanstein first - it's quite a sight. It had been the site of two previous medieval castles, and for the same reasons, King Ludwig II placed the castle there in the 1880s.

Ludwig II ruled at a time when Bavaria ended up losing its sovereignty. He simply refused to deal with the political headaches, and simply withdrew himself to his longtime fantasy, castle-building, which had been inspired by his father. He bankrupted the national treasury and his own family fortune building a number of fantasy castles throughout Bavaria; the largest of them, at Herrechiemsee (on a huge lake on the way to Salzburg), was to feature a huge Hall of Mirrors even grander than the famous one at Versailles in France. Eventually, he was declared mentally unfit to rule (hence the "Mad King" title), and two days later, he was found dead; suicide or murder, the cause of death was never conclusively proven. The castles eventually opened to the public for tours within weeks.

Done with Hohenschwangau, now I have arrived at Neuschwanstein, after a mile-long hike from the town. The climb can also be done with horse-pulled carriages or a bus, though at a price. A nice waterfall at Marienbrücke (St. Mary's Bridge), on a back trail, was a stunning sight that I did not get to experience up close, though I could constantly hear the waterfall roar while waiting for this castle's tours and afterwards.

While the castle's architecture is very medieval Gothic, again, it dates only from the 1880s. And the walls are so clean and stain-free that from this point, the castle looks even newer.

The interior features a stunning Byzantine throne room, but otherwise is disappointing. The castle had been designed with five levels, but only the top two were ever completed, and one of the uncompleted levels served as a souvenir shop. The living level, to fulfill Ludwig's fantasies, even had a miniature cavern, which I walked through.

Neuschwanstein affords an excellent view of the town of Füssen as well. Those red tiled roofs are quite a sight - and a very common motif throughout Bavaria.

The body of water seen here, Forggensee, is an artificial reservoir dating back only to 1959. That means my view is even better than the view that Mad King Ludwig himself had ever had.

And here is a truly magnificent view of Alpsee from Neuschwanstein, as I wrap up my tour. Because of the fall foliage, October is considered by many to be the best time to visit the castles, and I am glad that this is indeed my timeframe.

It is early afternoon, and aside from the two castles, there are no other sights of interest in the immediate area. Time to start driving again. I headed back into Füssen first, to buy some gasoline as well as the Austrian toll sticker. While a supermarket sold me premium 95-octane (91-octane by US methods, German regular is 91 European/87 US) gasoline at about €1.38 or so per liter, it could not sell me a toll sticker, so I had to go to a retail gas station down the street. Unfortunately, when I asked the elderly lady cashier there "Sprechen-Sie Englisch?" the answer was a flat-out "Nein," and that simply became an opportunity for me to put the scraps of German I had picked up to good use. She and I strung together the words "Österreich vignette zehn Tagen" (Austrian toll sticker, ten days validity), and I walked away with a properly validated ten-day toll sticker for €7.70.

I returned to Autobahn 7, where the onramp indeed indicated "Austrian toll sticker required beyond this point" - and the Autobahn immediately entered a tunnel, and there was a European Union sign with the letter A in the middle. Yes, it was the Austrian border - and the border crossing was as much of a non-event as crossing US state lines. Austria became my sixth European country with this entry, and the first new European country I entered since entering Germany from Amsterdam for a day trip in December 1999.

My routing started on Austrian Highway 179, the natural extension of Autobahn 7, proceeding through a very scenic Alpine country straight out of postcards. A turn-off onto Highway 187 would take me back to Germany, right under the slopes of the Zugspitze and into Garmisch-Partenkirchen. I loved the Austrian scenery, but did not care for Garmisch too much; on a future visit, I would love to return to Garmisch, if only to ride the Zugspitzebahn up to Germany's highest point, but on this trip, where Jungfrau is on the agenda, it was better to push ahead.

Back in Germany, I picked up Autobahn 95 out of Garmisch, which returned me to Munich - in fact, within a few blocks of the neighborhood I had stayed in a few days earlier. After some surface street driving to navigate the ring road, I finally picked up the eastbound Autobahn 8 for the hourlong drive to Salzburg.

Just outside Munich, I pulled into a rest area, where I decided to eat a Burger King meal (my mother's suggestion, I would've chosen something more local). The young lady at the cash register, presumably an Eastern European immigrant, spoke no English; again, time to string together a few German words to place my order. As I ate, I was able to watch a family-friendly television program; but this being Europe rather than puritan US, even a family-friendly television program could easily involve nudity - in this case, a woman trying on new bras after a reconstructive surgery. And no, no need to pixelate the nipples either; this was nonsexual nudity and necessary to tell the positive story of self-image, so it would actually be a subversion of the message to pixelate anything. I love this European no-nonsense approach to nudity and body image, vastly preferable to the US BS where a mere sight of an exposed nipple is supposed to scar a child for life.

Back on the road, a bit of traffic build-up around Autobahn 93 junction (the turn-off for Innsbruck and Italy) tested my patience a bit. I slipped into my bad California habits and almost passed a fast-lane slowpoke on the right, before pulling back at the last minute; my mother protested, and when I explained the no-passing-on-right rule, she refused to believe it, at least until I showed other motorists obeying the same rule. Eventually the slowpoke moved right and traffic resumed at a normal speed, but Autobahn 8 was an old, curvy road, and while there was no hard speed limit, even the "recommended speed limit" (blue rectangle, rather than red-bordered white circle used for hard limits) was a mere 110 km/h rather than the standard 130, so I had to keep my speed down and be careful. There were plenty of rest stops on the way offering more Austrian toll stickers, and I could buy toll stickers all the way to the border itself, so there was no excuse for not having one.

As it started to darken, I found myself again in mountainous territory, and speed limits dropped significantly as I neared the customs checkpoints at the German-Austrian border. Sure, a passenger car can breeze right through - there are no checkpoints anymore in the main lanes - but trucks were still expected to pull over for an inspection, as well as cars that still needed to get a toll sticker. I also noted the "default speed limit" signs that are found at every European national border - the only reminders of a given country's speed limits, which I am expected to remember and obey in the absence of any other limits. (That'd be 90 km/h surface and 130 km/h motorway for Austria, and 50 km/h urban, 100 km/h rural, and "recommended 130 km/h but can be legally exceeded" motorway for Germany.)

In Austria, the 8 immediately split into two - Autobahn 1 toward Vienna, and Autobahn 10 toward Graz. I took the 1 for a few kilometers, and picking out a route I had previously studied, exited the motorway to proceed slowly into the heart of Salzburg. I ended up at a nice Best Western, located between the train station and the old city core, for a two-night stay, while the car, not necessary within town, would be parked at a dedicated outdoors lot, for the duration of my stay, for free as a paying guest of the hotel.

The Salzburg walking tour, covering sights related to Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, The Sound of Music, and more, would make up the next day, and will be the next post.

Europe recap: Day 4, Rothenburg/Füssen

2010-03-21T23:53:00.000-07:00

Wednesday, October 28, 2009. Finally time to hit the open road, now that the Mercedes-Benz is in my possession and I have sort of gotten acquainted with it. I made sure to drink a lot of coffee at the hotel breakfast buffet, just to make sure that I wouldn't fall asleep at the wheel while speeding on the Autobahn; granted, the 2010 E-class has standard "Attention Assist" drowsiness monitor, but I didn't want to take the chance.

Now I am checked out of the hotel, but still in the underground garage. And here is an interesting sight - a Chrysler that's not found back in the US. This is the wagon version of that gangsta rapster favorite, the 300. Back in the US, this vehicle (minus some luxury appointments) is sold as the Dodge Magnum. But for the European market, where the Dodge brand is reserved for the Viper and trucks, the Magnum is turned into the wagon version of the 300.

I would end up finding a fair number of Chryslers on European highways over the next week - even cut-rate models like the Caliber and the Nitro.

Getting out of the garage was a struggle in itself. The narrow, tight spiral ramp meant that I scraped the left rear tire sidewall again. My mother was getting ever more hysterical, and I had to repeatedly assure her that urban acrobatics, like the previous day's drive through Stuttgart traffic, would not be on the agenda again. The route I picked to leave Stuttgart - Bundesbahns 27 and 10 - at least had 2-3 lanes to choose from, plus each lane was clearly marked with the route number.

Those two Bundesbahns eventually led me to northbound Autobahn 81, and it would be about two hours to Rothenburg ob der Tauber, my first destination, nearly all of my drive on the Autobahn system. I was ecstatic that for the first time, I was experiencing something most car buffs can only dream of - a drive on the famed German Autobahn system. For the first five minutes or so, frequent speed limit signs reminded me that I was limited to 120 km/h, but once the all-clear sign showed up, it was basically a free-for-all, with many cars driving in excess of 160. I decided to drive just above the recommended limit, 130 km/h, in the interest of proper break-in; since the analog speedometer was only in miles per hour for this US-market vehicle, I relied on a supplementary digital display to get my speed in kilometers per hour.

The routing to Rothenburg involved northbound Autobahn 81, then eastbound Autobahn 6 to northbound Autobahn 7. Autobahns show their directions not by cardinal directions as US interstates do, but by major cities (i.e. "Nürnberg" for eastbound Autobahn 6). I loved the drive, thanks to very smooth pavement as well as very predictable drivers; I had already known that I had to drive in the farthest right lane possible except to pass, and that I could not pass on the right, and it was lovely to know that all other drivers obeyed the exact same rules. No wonder speeding is very safe on the Autobahn; similar acts of speeding would indeed be a sure bloodbath if done with the moronic drivers back in California.

I decided to savor the moment. In the COMAND system CD player, I played a Haydn composition - Emperor's Hymn, written for the Habsburg emperor in 1797. Since this composition is now the German national anthem, there is no better way to listen to it than in a speeding Mercedes-Benz on the Autobahn. It is as befitting as, say, listening to George Gershwin's Rhapsody in Blue while traveling even faster, at 600 mph, in a United Airlines jumbo jet, given that Rhapsody is the official theme music of that airline.

It didn't take too long to get to Rothenburg ob der Tauber, even though I did not really speed.

Rothenburg's claim to fame is the preservation of its medieval character. It had once been a boom town, located at the intersection of key trading routes. Then the Hundred Years' War devastated the town; Rothenburg paid dearly for being a Protestant town in a Catholic region. Yes, Rothenburg is in Bavaria - barely. The town never recovered, until the 19th Century, when the Romantic travelers rediscovered it. Today it is a key sight along the famed Romantic Road.

I parked the car outside the town walls in the newer town, and walked into the historic walled town. While the orange service vehicles detract from the medieval feel, the cobblestoned streets, and this tourist horse carriage, make up for that.

Today's Rothenburg feels like a tourist trap. Most of the businesses within the town walls cater to tourists, and some have prominent Japanese signs. In fact, it even seemed I would do better by speaking Japanese, than by speaking German.

I am inside a teddy bear store. Here are some nice teddy bears - many of them made by the famous German toy maker, Bund. Still made in Germany (as opposed to Chinese sweatshop teddy bears I normally find stateside), and extremely pricey, but worth every penny.

Some of the teddy bears in this store, of course, are for tourist consumption, wearing an "I love Germany" T-shirt, for example.

I bought a few teddy bears here myself as gifts.

As the full name of the town, Rothenburg ob der Tauber, indicates, the town overlooks the Tauber River. In fact, it is located on top of a high cliff. The cliff location aids with defense, while the river is handy for commerce; both would be very important considerations in a medieval town.

This is a lovely sight indeed. Rolling hills and lush landscape! Not an easy sight to get hold of if I am traveling with public transportation, as was the case for my previous trip; having a car is definitely a good thing. Though already, I am painfully aware that a Mercedes-Benz E-class is just too big, a complete overkill, and that the only reason I tolerate it is because it will head for America at the end of the trip.

Some lovely gnomes under a tree overlooking the Tauber River. Lovely sight again, and things like these are even more endearing that spotting a famous, over-photographed landmark.

I am continuing to walk around the town. Here is the main town square - a familiar sight from some of those Rick Steves travelogues on PBS.

Historically, this would've been the upper class section of town. The poor masses lived downhill, toward the southern gate (well behind me). But in modern times, the real residents are found outside the walls, and these upper-class homes serve as hotels and restaurants.

In the middle, there is a cart - cooking yams and other food items on the spot. It's kind of chilly out here - temperatures barely above 10 degrees Centigrade - so it's a nice idea, though I didn't bother to grab a bite.

I'm already getting a bit bored. Many tour guides describe Rothenburg as a medieval time capsule, but honestly I felt this place was too much of a tourist trap, between all the Japanese signs and the souvenir shops.

I am inside another toy store, with more teddy bears for sale. These are limited-edition examples with serial numbers - definitely outside my budget!

The black-robed nightwatchman is a symbol of Rothenburg.

If I came on a summer evening, it would be possible to take a nighttime sentry tour of the town, with a nightwatchman-costumed tour guide explaining/narrating various sights. That would also be a sure way to lose that "tourist trap" feeling. But today it's too cold for an evening walking tour - besides, I have more driving to do later in the day.

A better look at the town hall facing the town square.

The facade includes a 24-hour clock. Just like that Munich city hall clock, this is a Glockenspiel with complicated movements. Here in Rothenburg, the movements show a retired mayor, who offers to save the town from the Catholic invaders by drinking a jug of wine in one gulp; the legend says that he did succeed, and saved the town's population for the time being.

Unfortunately, the Glockenspiel is under renovation on this particular day.

Now it's time to move on. I am now walking away from the walled town - but not before looking back for a glimpse of this southeastern gate, complete with a watchtower.

Sure, this was a LOVELY medieval town, but I had seen other European medieval towns that were more to my liking, and had less touristy feel. The town of Brugge (Bruges in French and English) in Belgium, which I had visited back in 1998, was one such town.

My game plan at this point was to start driving south on the scenic Romantic Road, following it to the next major town of Dinkelsbühl - described in my Fodors guidebook as "Rothenburg minus the touristy atmosphere." While the Romantic Road, clearly signposted in German and Japanese, followed many numbered Bundesbahns, I was finding that some sections actually did NOT even have two full lanes, forcing me to slow down and watch for oncoming traffic! And when I missed one "Umleitung" (detour) because I did NOT know what an "Umleitung" was, I ended up running into a section that was completely ripped up for reconstruction. Frustrated, I backtracked all the way to Rothenburg before deciding to stick to Autobahn 7 all the way to Füssen, the last exit before entering Austria.

This was another lovely drive. I drove a bit faster - up to 143 km/h before my mother reminded me to slow down. The well-behaved German drivers made driving a pleasure. I also made sure to obey any posted speed limits very seriously - since the mere presence of an actual limit, rather than no limits, had to be for good reasons. (Other drivers strictly obeyed them too.) I also loved the rest areas, well-stocked with convenience stores and food concessions; while the toilets required me to pay 50 cents, the toilet turnstile gave me a refund in the form of a coupon, which I could use toward buying anything in the concession area. As I continued to drive south past Autobahn 8, I could see the Alps rise toward the horizon; that was one sight that I may not forget for a LONG time. And while my Microsoft AutoRoute had shown Autobahn 7 ending several kilometers before Füssen, the final stretch to the Austrian border was now complete and opened to make my life easier; the completion was only a month prior, if I remember correctly.

I am now done driving for the day. I have arrived in Hohenschwangau, just outside Füssen, where I am spending the night.

By this point, I was finding out that the rental Garmin GPS's suction cup wasn't working too well - the GPS would fall off after an hour or two of driving. Not so good when speeding on the Autobahn. I put it away in the trunk for good, and relied on prior planning via Microsoft AutoRoute on my laptop from this point on. Fortunately, clear, logical signage throughout Europe made my navigating much easier.

Hohenschwangau is best known for two very famous castles belonging to the Bavarian royal family, the Wittelsbachs.

This is Hohenschwangau, from which the town draws its name. It was the summer vacation residence of the Wittelsbachs - and the most famous Bavarian king, Ludwig II ("Mad King Ludwig"), grew up here.

As the name gives away, swan (schwan) is a major motif in this area. Swans were well associated with the medieval knights who had been based in this area.

In the distance is the other castle, Neuschwanstein, the fantasy project of Ludwig II. Its fantasy architecture was duplicated in many places - including the Sleeping Beauty Castle at Disneyland, as well as the Magic Castle at Seoul's Lotte World where I had hung out in December 2008.

My very reason for overnighting here at Hohenschwangau is to tour those two castles. And it looks like most of the hotels, as well as the ticket office in town, are controlled by one owner. The hotel in front, the Lisl, is one of them; I am staying there for the night. I had known of the Lisl due to it being one of the hotels available for complimentary stay for Mercedes-Benz customers; I am paying out-of-pocket, however, due to having spent my free nights back in Stuttgart. There is no Internet access here, as nobody comes to Hohenschwangau for business, but my room's bathroom had pink wallpaper, old-fashioned standalone bath, and French plumbing fixtures (yes, "C" is chaude, NOT cold) - positively the most memorable hotel bathroom ever.

As it was morning back at my office in Los Angeles, I decided to give a call to check for anything I may need to be aware of. As it turned out, I did not have any usable signals inside my room, and I had to walk out onto the main town thoroughfare to get any signal. Even then, O2 was the only carrier available. I did manage to successfully call my office and talk to my assistant for three minutes.

In order to properly dial, I had set my iPhone to German regional settings, meaning that holding the 0 button (for the "+" international access code symbol) would make the phone dial 00, rather than 011 it would dial stateside. While the phone continued to display menus in English (since I did NOT change the language setting to German), it was displaying date and time using the German format and with German month/day of the week names. I made sure to note that this was one rare case where the German obsession with logic and consistency breaks down; Wednesday does NOT end in "-tag" as all other days of the week do, but is merely "Mittwoch" - midweek.

Europe recap: Day 3, Sindelfingen/Stuttgart

2010-03-16T00:57:00.000-07:00

Updates halted again as I spent some time here and there, including back in Tucson for the first real time since I was forced to leave in my poverty days. But for now, I want to continue my European travelogue.

This post goes back to the big day - Tuesday, October 27th, the day I took delivery of the Mercedes-Benz. Although Mercedes-Benz USA advises a three-month lead time for European Delivery orders, I was able to secure a delivery date with only a 2-month notice, thanks to ordering the most common color - silver. And this was going to be a LONG day that would really involve anything/everything Mercedes-Benz. This may be the one post on this blog that will come the closest to being a Mercedes-Benz commercial.

The Customer Center ("Kundencenter" in German) is located at the main Mercedes-Benz factory in Sindelfingen, about a 30-minute taxi ride away. I had to take a cab ride, paid for with a Mercedes-Benz voucher. Interestingly enough, the cab itself was a previous E-class, with cheaper interior and a diesel engine. The cab ride, had I paid out of my pocket, would've been €45 plus tips - NOT cheap. The ride took me on Bundesbahn 14, proceeding through city streets and through a LONG tunnel (complete with an intersection in the middle) before taking me on to Autobahn 831 and 81; although 831 and 81 were Autobahnen, they were hopelessly congested construction zones, and speed limit was set at 100 km/h anyway.

My Kundencenter arrival time was around 8:30 AM, and after check-in, I had to wait for a while due to extra paperwork required for a US-market car.

The delivery bay is a very pleasant place, as I am finding out while having a continental breakfast on an upper-level terrace. Factory delivery is a popular option for European owners of Mercedes-Benz vehicles; they show up, take delivery, and take the leisurely drive home. But occasionally, North American market models show up here as well, for Americans and Canadians who want to come to the factory for the car, then use the car for some European sightseeing. North Americans, for obvious reasons, are not allowed to take delivery of models that are built only in North America, such as the M-class and the R-class.

This huge space has cars coming in and leaving constantly. Despite the exhaust, I am not feeling anything - the ventilation system here is robust. And despite all the amount of airflow required, I am not feeling even a hint of a breeze inside. I do airflow for a living, so I had to take note of this.

I am loving this place. It has all the feel of a nursery for newborn babies, complete with brightly colored banners. The "babies" here are brand-new cars waiting to meet their owners for the first time, of course. All the cars have been built to order, so they were spoken for before they were ever scheduled for production. This place is really designed to bring out the maternal instinct in the owner - there is a reason why according to my saleswoman, women love European Delivery more than men do.

I'm still waiting, walking around a merchandise store and other displays introducing various Mercedes-Benz products and programs.

This display showcases the Young Classics program, which restores, sells, and services vintage Mercedes-Benz models. The 1982 model in the back is a good example of cars available under this program. The front display has various OEM parts for 1970s models - and they are all still available via the Young Classics program.

If it turns out that the relationship my mother and I start on this day with the E-class end up stretching for a LONG time, it looks like I won't have trouble getting parts and service. After all, Young Classics has a US showroom too - in Irvine, California.

I'm still waiting to do the paperwork, but I am seeing this silver E-class come in. The front side amber reflectors indicate that this is a North American model. I also noticed the red-striped export plates as the car came in. It may as well be the car that I am here to pick up.

Sure enough, I was summoned by an English-speaking rep in a minute, to start the paperwork, confirming my initial order for the vehicle. I had to sign and verify a number of forms, including German and international registration cards, German and international ("Green Card") insurance booklets, a waiver from the State of Baden-Württemberg allowing registration of a US-market car, and acknowledgment of the terms and conditions of the tourist registration.

I was also given two telephone hotlines: one for roadside assistance, and one for AXA insurance adjusters in the unlikely case of a claim. I was instructed that as this is a US-market car, European service and roadside assistance will need to use the chassis VIN rather than the VIN for the fully completed vehicle.

A few more minutes of wait, and an English-speaking gentleman introduced me to the features of the vehicle. His break-in recommendation was to stay under 90 MPH and 4,000 RPM. Yes, as this is a US-market car, speedometer is in miles per hour only, and I had to turn on a setting to enable the digital speedometer in kilometers per hour, and to use metric units for the trip computer. I also took possession of a free rental Garmin GPS unit, as the COMAND unit built into the car was specific to North America and couldn't take European maps.

Odometer reading: 7 miles or 11 kilometers, totally brand-new except for a standard test run within the factory. I drove out the delivery bay door, and parked at a lot just outside, to further review the car's features while waiting for a complimentary factory tour.

And it's waiting time for now. I am at last in possession of a Mercedes-Benz! This one is an E550, with a big honking V8; while I had insisted that the V6-powered E350 was more than adequate, my folks put in the order as the E550, just for a larger number on the trunk. After all, Mercedes-Benz used to use numbers, rather than lettered series, to identify models until 1993.

The export plate was issued at the town of Böblingen, on the other side of Autobahn 81, as indicated by the "BB" label. The three numbers on the red stripe - 10 11 09 - indicate that the plates expire on November 10th, 2009; while the basic registration tax covers up to 3 months, the standard insurance that came with the car lasts only two weeks (more than enough for me), and the plates are set to expire with the insurance. If I wanted longer insurance, I could've prepaid the extra amount, but would have had to do so about a week prior to enable proper processing of registration and insurance.

Because the export plate does not have a nationality indicator, I have to indicate the registration nationality the old-fashion way - with an oval decal. D, of course, indicates Germany. Without this oval, I cannot leave Germany.

Also, the front windshield has had an emissions level sticker added as well. This car's emissions level is 4, the most stringent, applicable to any gasoline-powered car built in 1996 and later; without it, I am banned from entering many German metropolitan areas, otherwise I will need to pay a fine. And I need to enter Stuttgart later in the day, just to park at the hotel.

I am also finding out, as a rude awakening, that the rear turn signals blink red, unlike the amber that's standard within Europe and in the rest of the world. I consider red turn signals to be a uniquely American annoyance, like libertarianism and some aspects of the gun culture, and I'm appalled that more and more German cars are using red blinkers on US-market models.

After a while, I joined an English-language tour of the Sindelfingen factory. It is home to the C-class, the E-class (including this example), the S-class, and the CLS-class. The tour banned all photographs, but I still remember all the burning metal smell from the stamping and welding shops. Quite an amazing sight. It is one thing to build a solid car, but another to design a solid car that is easy to weld and assemble; I am glad to have seen the process at work. The stamping and welding shops I toured were for the E-class (yes, the very stamping molds and welding robots that built this car), while the final assembly line, still primarily done with manual labor, was for the S-class; every car in the final assembly had a paper slip attached, listing the destination market of the car and the list of options to be installed, and I noted that the vast majority of cars being built this day were going to China. I thoroughly enjoyed the tour - my first-ever for a car factory.

I wrapped up with a lunch (paid for by Mercedes-Benz) at the Kundencenter restaurant. Nice lunch, but not THAT great, in my opinion. It was early afternoon already, and my first drive in the E550 would take me back to Stuttgart, and to Mercedes-Benz's outstanding museum in the eastern part of the city.

Getting here turned out to be a bit troublesome. I had some trouble navigating the narrow surface streets of Stuttgart. And when I arrived at the museum and was parking in the garage (located below a Bundesbahn-grade freeway between the museum and the Mercedes-Benz engine plant next door), the narrow entryways meant that I ended up scraping the left rear tire sidewall against the curb. All of this was driving up my mother's hysteria level; she was convinced that I was going to permanently damage a $63K luxury car on its first day out of the factory.

At least the museum was a good place to calm down. This is a very lovely museum with all sorts of cars, including this one: the 1886 Benz Patent-Wagen. This three-wheeled contraption was powered by a single-cylinder engine and could run at 10 miles per hour; it was the first car built by Karl Benz. While only one genuine example exists, a few hundred replicas have also been built in recent years; I can have one for myself for about USD $60,000.

This is a 1902 Mercedes-Simplex 40 PS, a touring car with a 6.8-liter 4-cylinder engine producing 40 horsepower and doing 50 MPH.

In the beginning, Gottlieb Daimler and Karl Benz operated separately. Benz was more of a master of gasoline engines while Daimler tried to use steam and other propulsion methods in his vehicles. One of the Daimler brand names was Mercedes, named after the daughter of a prominent customer. The post-World War I Germany's difficult economy forced Daimler and Benz to merge forces; in 1924, the two combined into a company named Daimler-Benz, and the product line took the current name Mercedes-Benz. The full Mercedes-Benz symbol incorporates the Daimler three-pointed star, surrounded by the Benz laurel. Most Americans simply reduce the name to Mercedes, while most Asians reduce the name to Benz (with some great meanings if written in Chinese characters), but the only truthful way to refer to the post-1924 product line is to use the full Mercedes-Benz name, reserving the Mercedes and Benz names only for cars before then.

This is a 1955 180. It is better known by its nickname, the Ponton. After World War II devastated Germany, Mercedes-Benz had to build a rugged, reliable model to reassert its place in the marketplace, and this was it. All Mercedes-Benz sedans ever since can trace their ancestry back to the Ponton - including the 2010 E550 that I just picked up earlier in the day.

Mercedes-Benz also made some sleeker, less practical models at the same time. The 300SL was a very desirable sports car in its day (it still is now), available in either a cabriolet (background) or a gullwing coupe (foreground).

Some exhibits at this museum are dedicated to certain themes. This section has vehicles that had seen use in some prominent fashion - including the unthinkable, Britain's Princess Diana driving a 1991 SL. The star attraction in this photo is the yellow bus, which was the official transportation for the West German soccer squad in the 1974 FIFA World Cup, indeed hosted in and won by West Germany.

This particular model of motorcoach was one of the models licensed by a budding South Korean upstart named Hyundai; while Hyundai had gotten its first passenger cars from Ford, it indeed got its first bus from Mercedes-Benz. Today, Hyundai, alongside Ford, has won a place in my heart as a manufacturer of cars that play a key role in my travels; those two companies had done something even the almighty Bavarians at BMW had failed to do. Various Hyundai and Ford vehicles have made my heart race with anticipation for that next great trip - joined by other travel vehicles like TGV trains and Boeing 777 airliners; now, can Mercedes-Benz, with the brand-spanking-new E550, match that feat? I'm about to find out over the next week or so.

More interesting exhibits continue. This exhibit hall is dedicated to the expansion of Mercedes-Benz into worldwide markets as a purveyor of fine luxury cars. And this particular car is a 1995 S600, sold new to actor Arnold Schwarzenegger. It served with Schwarzenegger until 2003, the year he became California's governor. Now, the car has returned to Stuttgart to become a museum exhibit.

In fact, it still carries California license plates - though the plate number (5CVF609) was certainly issued at the time Schwarzenegger had sold the car, rather than when he had the car. It is the only car in the museum with US license plates.

I guess from now on, "goodbye" in German is not "Auf Wiedersehen," but rather, "Hasta la Vista, Baby."

And while I'm obsessing with the cars, I also happen to get a nice glimpse of the outside world. This is Stuttgart landscape in a nutshell - a hilly city, with many of the hills occupied by wineries. Again, this is the first hilly locale in Europe that I am visiting, and I certainly had expected Stuttgart to be an industrial powerhouse (thanks to Mercedes-Benz and Porsche) rather than a pleasant, scenic city full of wineries. The beauty of Stuttgart is very mesmerizing; it more than makes up for the lack of major sights there.

If I had to pick a hometown in Germany, Stuttgart would easily be at the top of the list, not because it's flashy, but because it's pleasant.

Mercedes-Benz's race cars are well known by the legendary Silver Arrow name. Here is a fleet of Silver Arrows from over the decades. What a sight!

The museum includes a gift shop as well as a full-fledged new car dealership and a Young Classics showroom. That's quite an impressive fleet of 1980s vintage vehicles, at prices around €10,000 or so.

Getting back to the hotel was in itself quite dicey, due to the Stuttgart street layout, confusing instructions from the Garmin GPS, and the cramped parking garage under the hotel. By this point, my mother was begging me to reconsider my driving plans; she hadn't even considered that European driving conditions are more Asian cramped than American spacious! She was absolutely convinced, again, that if I insist on sticking to my schedule, I was guaranteed to do some damage to a brand-new $63K luxury car. We ended up winding down with a stroll on Königstraße (this time together, rather than by myself as was the case the previous night) to further take in the lovely Stuttgart atmosphere, before retiring early for the night to ensure proper rest for the long drive the next day.

Though as it would turn out, I'd end up waking up way too early, and spending three hours or so of the pre-dawn hours camping out in the car to further figure out its functions. I activated the COMAND navigation system anyway - and programmed my folks' address into it; it wanted to take a long swim to Baltimore, then take the US interstate system to California, to make the 9,500-kilometer trip. At least it had a rudimentary map of Europe with terrain data, but no road data. I also made sure to load six CDs into the CD changer to prepare for the drive, then back in the room just before dawn, pulled out my laptop, found that Microsoft AutoRoute (European version of Streets & Trips) had been installed after all, and used it to plot my route out of Stuttgart and toward the day's destinations.

Europe recap: Day 2, Stuttgart

2010-03-04T00:09:00.000-08:00

October 26th was my arrival date in Stuttgart, to prepare to take delivery of the Mercedes-Benz the next day. The train ride took me through flat terrain at first, but eventually through lovely, hilly terrain covered with wineries; this was the first time I was looking at European hills, as my previous trips had covered only very flat areas. After checking in at the hotel, I took a nap for the rest of the afternoon, as the jet lag was still clobbering me.

In the early evening hours, I decided to take a stroll on the long pedestrian street next to me, Königstraße ("King Street"), to get a bit of workout and get acquainted with Stuttgart.

Königstraße stretches about a kilometer, heading southwest from Hauptbahnhof. I'm about halfway down, at the corner of an open space called Schlossplatz ("Castle Place," located in front of a palace), where I am coming across a temporary ice skating rink. Due to the lighting, it looks quite pretty, and I am loving the German fashionstas' military-inspired looks as well. I didn't do any skating, however.

Continuing on. While evening shopping after work is normally an unheard-of concept in Europe, I am finding it fortunate that stores remain open until 8 in the evening on Königstraße. That is actually giving me some thing to do, as I window-shop some of the stores. In fact, store hours on Königstraße run to 8PM every day, six days a week - only Quiet Day Sunday can bring the street to a standstill. Some restaurants remain open even later - there is even a McDonald's that remains open until 5 the next morning.

Königstraße is considered the greatest pedestrian shopping street in Germany, and I believe it.

The "buchhaus" on the right is obviously a "bookhouse" - a bookstore. I have zero command of German - and at this point, I am still having trouble blurting out "Sprechen Sie Englisch?" much less count numbers or do anything else - but due to the German language's logical, building block nature, sometimes guessing at the meanings of strange words can be surprisingly easy.

Another store. And yes, if that word "schuhe" sounds like "shoe," that's correct. This is the place to pick up those equestrian leather boots that are a must-have for the German fashionista.

Prices are somewhat higher than US prices, but not by too much, and only because of the strength of the Euro. In addition, the 19% value added tax (sales tax) is built into the price. Also refreshing is that the goods I can find in Europe are as likely to be from local manufacturers as to be from some sweatshop in China; while manufacturing a given product in Europe is much more expensive due to labor costs, that can be more than made up with superior quality and durability.

An old church tower, surrounded by newer buildings. This kind of architectural mix is typical of German cities, as many ordinary buildings were destroyed during World War II by the Allied air raids, and had to be rebuilt, often hastily without regard to traditional architecture. Sturdier buildings, like churches, usually survived. Germany is normally not the European country to go to if traditional architecture is desired.

Back to Schlossplatz and a look at a gazebo, with the palace in the background. I had to take this photo - in fact, it was posted on this blog on this very day - for a reason. One of my Facebook friends, Saniye McFadden, is a Turkish-German, and back in the day, she had had a photo of herself taken at this gazebo; she has since married an American soldier and moved to Virginia. I had to take the photo just to share with Saniye and give her a pleasant surprise.

I am visiting another "buchhaus" - where some DVDs are for sale as well. And yes, I can pick up a copy of Marley & Me, starring none other than Jennifer Aniston, my favorite Greek Goddess. The packaging is in German, but the DVD can be played in German or English - though I will need a code-free DVD player with PAL capability if I am going to play this Region 2 DVD outside Europe. (I do have a cheap code-free DVD player at home.)

As it was 8 and shops started closing, I had to start heading back to the hotel. A call of nature, however, necessitated that I duck into a 30-cent self-washing toilet. It was a nice experience, however.

The jet lag meant that I got up at around 4 in the morning on Tuesday the 27th, and walked around the hotel's lower floors to pass the time, before the breakfast buffet opened around 6. I noted that the German word for breakfast was Frühstück - another handy word to remember for me. (Rührei, what I previously had at McDonald's, would simply mean "scrambled eggs.") It was imperative that I got out to Sindelfingen and its Mercedes-Benz Customer Center early, in order to avoid any lengthy waits. The cab ride to Sindelfingen (free, thanks to Mercedes-Benz provided vouchers) would allow me to get more familiar with the hilly Stuttgart cityscape. The factory and delivery photos will be my next installment.

Europe recap: Day 2, Munich

2010-02-25T01:26:00.000-08:00

These are photos from the morning hours of October 26th, 2009, as I wrapped up my Munich itinerary and moved on to Stuttgart. My brief Munich fling was only a mere teaser, little more than time to lose the jet lag, but Munich nevertheless managed to impress; I will certainly be back.

I started on a sleepless morning, by taking a walk around my hotel area in the southern part of the city. With the fresh air and the rain-dampened streets, it was quite pleasant.

Automotive observations continue, since this trip IS automotive in character. And again, drawing my attention are small, spunky cars, like this Kia cee'd, that I cannot find stateside.

Back when American car companies ruled the world, they marketed completely separate lineups of vehicles for North America and Europe, with very little commonality, if any, between them. Then the Japanese rose to prominence, and while they eventually started to differentiate their American and European models to fit market tastes and needs, they kept more commonality in. Now that the Koreans are rising to their own prominence, they are following the Japanese example; this cee'd, designed at Hyundai-Kia's European research center in Germany, is made and sold only in Europe, but it is related to the Hyundai i30, which is available throughout the world outside North America (and in case of the wagon, even in North America as the Elantra Touring) as well as the Hyundai Elantra (primarily for South Korean domestic market and North America).

The Koreans do have a sizable presence in Europe. Daewoo used to do well before its bankruptcy, and even now, Daewoo-built models, like the Matiz microcar and the Captiva SUV, continue to sell well, though now that Daewoo is part of General Motors, they now make up the European Chevrolet range. SUV builder Ssangyong also manages to move a few of its light trucks in the European market as well, though its raised-wingspan logo is different from the Korean domestic market double-oval logo. Hyundai-Kia offers most of its lineup, including commercial vehicles, but does not offer the bad-ass Genesis luxury sedan, which is just way too big for Europe.

I also want to note the German license plate format. A standard plate, like the one above, has a blue nationality band on the left (EU stars and "D" for Germany), and letters/numbers to identify the vehicle. The first batch (GM in this case) identifies the registration office that processed the car's registration; since Munich is just M, this car is an out-of-towner. My Mercedes-Benz won't get the standard plate, but a special temporary plate reserved for export vehicles driven by tourists.

Now on to pop culture observations.

I am looking at a pole being used as an advertising board, featuring various concerts. While most are of interest to locals primarily, I am noticing a very familiar name: P!nk. Yes, the bad-ass punk girl with very catchy songs - and I especially love her confrontational lyrics - and someone I would definitely love to see myself.

P!nk's Munich performance will be on June 6th, 2010, taking place at a venue in the eastern suburb of Riem.

Continuing my walkaround, now I spot this street scene.

The signs indicate that I can either walk down the stairs to take the U-Bahn, or stay on the street level and take a streetcar (Stadtbahn). I can even do a "park-and-ride" here, judging from the bike rack.

In the background, I see a Deutsche Telekom store, with the familiar pink T. Deutsche Telekom's mobile phone division is known as T-Mobile, and it is a major player not only within Germany, but in the UK and the US as well, though very few Americans ever realize that T-Mobile is really a German company. Deutsche Telekom also operates pretty much all pay phones in Germany, so this is the company to talk to if I need calling cards to use the pay phones.

And that "Einbahnstraße" sign can only be Onewaystreet. German is a language constructed like building blocks, where complex concepts can be described using a compound word made up of simpler words. It is also very logical in its grammar and syntax. For someone who is logic-obsessed (read: me), German is a great language to learn and speak. Unfortunately for me, German is not all that useful in my everyday life; even my French has pretty much gone to waste, and what I really need to speak are Spanish and East Asian languages.

Back to automotive observations. Here is a Fahrschule, or a driving school, where the window shows some of the international traffic signs that are standard in Europe and the rest of the world outside North America. I will need to get familiar with them before I hit the road; at least, they are vastly preferable to anything written out in verbose German that I cannot comprehend. Fortunately, verbose words are not used in Europe, unlike the US where trying to drive without understanding English can be REALLY dicey.

In fact, I would indeed find that there were only 6-7 words of "traffic German" I needed to understand, in order to navigate. I had already studied up on European traffic regulations, so I knew that the primary means of navigating into/out of towns was signs written as "town center" or "all directions" in the local language ("Stadtmitte" and "alle Richtungen" in German respectively), and that I would need to follow numbered routes using destination cities, rather than a cardinal direction.

If I were to move to Germany permanently, I would need to enroll in a driving school like this, and spend a fortune studying for the written exam, as my first step in getting a German driving license. It would then be followed up with an exhaustive behind-the-wheels program and a thorough health exam. And yes, I would need to do the whole thing; while Germany has reciprocity agreements for drivers from within the European Union as well as Canada and major East Asian nations, its treatment for US drivers depends on the state, and drivers from states notorious for cut-rate driving (that means California and Nevada) must start over from scratch.

Another European car worth a look. This is the current European Ford Focus.

The Focus was the first Ford that truly was a global car. The 1981 Escort was supposed to have been that global car, but massive bickering between North American and European engineers resulted in completely different cars. The 1994 Mondeo was almost a success in being a global car, but while it was an upscale family car in most of the world, it was marketed as a cheaper personal car in North America (where it was known as the Contour, with some external differences), and cost-cutting to fit the target North American market resulted in severe quality compromises for the Contour (something I know too well personally, as I used to drive a '99 Contour which I really hated).

And while the original Focus was identical across the world at last, it eventually diverged. The European version got a full redesign in 2005, and this is the redesign. The American version only got a facelift, before getting its own 2008 redesign, and now the two cars are no longer identical. The 2012 Focus will once again be identical across the world, however. In any case I hate the styling of this Focus; I vastly prefer the original.

The tighter streets and parking spots of Europe necessitate that a Focus-class car serve as a mainstream family car, a duty usually left to much larger cars like the Toyota Camry in North America. High fuel costs also necessitate the smaller size - and smaller engine displacement as well (also since engine displacement is a common basis for taxation). Despite being smaller and underpowered, the European versions of a given car often come with high-end options and higher price tags, to fit their higher-up market duties.

Another concert poster. This one features a familiar Irish name - U2. I can expect to see them at the Olympic Stadium on September 15th, 2010, according to the poster.

It's fitting that the poster is located at the entrance to a subway station, which is served by none other than the U2 line. The U2 line, in fact, will terminate at Olympic Stadium, so yes, someone in this neighborhood will ride the U2 to see U2.

Due to my presence in Germany, I am missing out on a U2 concert back home at Rose Bowl in Pasadena. I am making up for this with another U2 show in Anaheim, on June 6th, 2010 - the same day I can expect to find P!nk here in Munich.

At this point, I checked out of the hotel, and stored my bags at the pay lockers at Hauptbahnhof (the central train station in a given German city). Due to frequent train service to Stuttgart (twice an hour on InterCity-grade trains), I had not reserved seats in advance; I went to a vending machine to make sure to buy a pair of tickets, and to also buy reservations just in case, for a departure close to noon.

Now I am walking around one of the pedestrian shopping streets that fan out from Marienplatz. It's about 10 in the morning and the shops are starting to open up. These are my first moments on a German shopping street during normal business hours; my only previous German experience, a day trip into Cologne from Amsterdam, had been a Sunday too.

Walking around a German shopping area like this is always a joy. In addition to Bavarian themed tourist souvenirs, there are lots of things to look at, and a department store is also a delight as well. Some shops are specific to Germany, while others are well known international chains, like Sweden's H&M or San Francisco's Gap. And even some familiar names carry surprises; Esprit, which I normally consider to be a women's brand, sells both women's and men's clothing in its German stores, while H&M tends to be spread out over 3-4 adjacent smaller stores, rather than one larger store as is often the case in the US.

I'm also noting the trends favored by the German fashionistas: leather equestrian boots, usually black, paired with matching-colored tights and coat. German women are businesslike and rather masculine in their presentation. Those equestrian boots did give me a case of shoe envy, in any case. If I were to pick a pair up, I could expect to pay around €100 for a good example.

In addition to shopping and window-shopping, I am also doing some minor sightseeing as well.

My chosen sight for this morning is Frauenkirche, the building with the twin onion-domed bell towers. I am still incensed at the Vatican and its hatemongering ways, so my policy during this trip is to visit cathedrals to take in the sights and the arts but refuse to support the Church in any form. The Frauenkirche, where the nave is free but the bell towers charge admissions, is my first application of the philosophy.

I am, again, reminded that Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, now Pope Benedict XVI, is a Bavarian, and was the Archibishop of Munich around 1980, being based out of this very church.

This footprint goes back much longer, however. It is from the legend that arose from the construction of the church between 1468 and 1488 (fast by cathedral standards). As the architect designed the church, Satan approached him, and offered to help with the construction if the church would be built with no windows. The architect took up on the offer, and upon completion of the church, brought Satan to this very spot, at the nave entrance. While the church does have many lovely stained-glass windows, from this particular spot only one window is visible. Realizing that he's been had, Satan stomped his foot in anger, leaving this footprint, before descending back into Hell.

And I have that view Satan had back in the day. Indeed, that's the only window I can see. The church's interior is also very plain.

And this wrapped up my Munich tour. I soon walked back to Hauptbahnhof, grabbing some lunch snacks on the way, retrieved my bags, and hopped on the EuroCity (that's InterCity with an international portion - this particular train, though German, had originated in Graz, Austria) train, which arrived 20 minutes behind schedule. Nevertheless, I was only 10 minutes late into Stuttgart, and before long, was relaxing in the luxury hotel next to Stuttgart's own Hauptbahnhof, where I had a two-night reservation that was paid for by Mercedes-Benz.

The first Stuttgart photos from that evening will be my next installment.

Mariah Carey - again!

2010-02-24T13:56:00.000-08:00

Yes, again, just five months after my last time seeing her, and for the sixth time overall! I have to pause my European travelogue (which I haven't been diligent with anyway) for this. At least it's appropriate given that Mariah Carey is very well weaved into my travel memories.

After that mini-residency in Las Vegas in September and October 2009, as well as a visit of Asia and Europe for the promotion of her newest album Memoirs of an Imperfect Angel, Mariah Carey launched a new tour in North America, entitled The Angels Advocate Tour, starting off at New York's Madison Square Garden on New Year's Eve. And her Los Angeles stops are last night and tonight, at Gibson Amphitheatre at Universal Studios Hollywood.

When it came to Mariah Carey, I had some oddities with her; despite all my previous experiences with her, none of them were in Los Angeles, and I had not bought any tour merchandise from her either. But as of last night, both of that have changed, and I am glad to say so. The merchandise tally consists of a $5 keyring, a $20 tote bag, and a $20 coffee mug.

The concert, like the 2006 The Adventures of Mimi Tour and the 2009 Vegas residency, was built around her newer numbers, including the big hits found on her three most recent albums, such as "We Belong Together" and "Don't Forget About Us." The show was clearly targeted at the younger fans, no doubt about that; the crowd was racially well mixed but mostly twentysomethings, leaving me feeling a bit geriatric. But unlike the 2009 Vegas residency, which felt quite rough at the edges and left me less than happy, this time around it felt quite polished, very entertaining, and very satisfying.

I was a bit disappointed that Mariah chose to resort to lip-synching for a few songs with more complex arrangements, such as "Angels Cry." I do know that she needed to save her voice given her hard tour schedule, but still, when I listen to a first-rate vocalist in a first-rate concert venue, lip-synching is not what I look forward to. Fortunately, her live vocals in all other numbers were superb enough to allow me to forgive that shortcoming.

Back to the numbers, they seemed pretty well chosen, and while I didn't get the power ballads I prefer, the upbeat R&B-inspired numbers were more than entertaining enough for a good evening. Singing along to "Shake It Off" or "Touch My Body" is never a bad thing in my books. She at least did save the best for last; the encore number was the one key power ballad, "Hero," which made sure to send me off in tears again - for the fifth time!

I had a very good impression of the performance last night. And reviews seem to confirm this. Professional reviewers in Vegas, and in the early shows of this tour, weren't too thrilled, but the two shows prior to last night - Houston and Phoenix - had glowing reviews.

Looking forward to even more Mariah Carey concerts in the future. She's now a 20-year veteran of the showbiz, so she has a lot of material to draw from for her shows; that's always a plus.

And I'm barely getting started. This weekend will have me enjoy Bon Jovi for the first time, while my second U2 concert looms on the horizon in June. I would also love to continue enjoying other great acts new to me, while continuing to revisit some of my proven favorites such as Sarah McLachlan.

Europe recap: Day 1, Munich, Part 2

2010-02-09T00:31:00.000-08:00

The rest of my Munich experience on 25 October 2009, after wrapping up the Residenz tour... The Residenz was much bigger than I had expected, and due to the Quiet Day Sunday rendering even convenience stores closed, I was growing hungry.

My first goal after the Residenz was to walk over to the three Pinakotheks ("picture galleries") - Alte Pinakothek (pre-1800), Neue Pinakothek (19th Century), and Pinakothek der Moderne (20th Century) - for some art. Sunday admissions was supposed to be only a single Euro anyway, so time to take in some art.

On my way, I came across this plaza with this eternal flame. A nearby sign read Platz der Opfer des Nationalsozialismus, or Place for the Victims of National Socialism. It bore remembering that Bavaria's conservatism played a key part in the formation of the Nazi ideology. Adolf Hitler, though Austrian by birth, started his movement right here in Bavaria, and while the Nazis were fringe extremists at first, Hitler's masterful manipulation of public opinion won him ever more support, until he was the Führer once and for all, and destroyed millions and millions of lives.

While Bavaria remains very conservative, Munich is the liberal hotspot of the region, and I am treasuring its vibrancy. If Bavaria is indeed Texas, then Munich is its Austin. And for that matter, if Bavaria is California (since California is very conservative as well), then Munich is its San Francisco.

More reminder that I am in Bavaria. Even the police cruisers are made by Bayerische Motorenwerke, better known by its English name Bavarian Motor Works, and shortened to BMW. And sure enough, Munich is BMW's home city.

The BMW emblem, called the Roundel, depicts a spinning aircraft propeller, since BMW's first product line was aircraft engines. And its colors are blue and white - the colors of Bavaria. In fact, the letters BMW officially also stand for Blau mit Weiß, or Blue and White. Driving a BMW is, when it comes down to it, all about the Bavarian pride.

I am once again reminded that for several years, I had dreamed of coming to Munich, to take delivery of a BMW of my own. My original goal, in fact, was to simply terminate the lease on my 2004 325i (fourth generation, codename E46) in early 2007, order a fifth-generation 3-series (E90/91, like the ones above) as a replacement, and come to Munich for the pickup. But eventually, I ended up purchasing the 2004 outright - and selling it in anger over BMW's continued support of far-right causes, including the Pope and Fox News Channel.

And yes, Pope Benedict XVI, a noted homophobic a-hole, is Bavarian, and thanks to BMW's generous corporate sponsorship, hasn't bought a car in decades.

I am glad to finally be in Munich, as a stopover on my way to Stuttgart to pick up a Mercedes-Benz instead. And to keep the Mercedes-Benz theme, I am skipping the BMW Welt next to Olympic Park in the northern reaches of the city. BMW Welt has a museum consisting of vintage BMWs, but very few vintage BMWs are of any interest to me anyway.

Shortly thereafter, I arrived at the Pinakotheks. My intention was to only see the Alte Pinakothek, since it was mid-afternoon already and I wanted to save the greatest artwork for Paris and its Louvre. But with the admission jacked up to €7 for a temporary exhibition I couldn't opt out of, I decided to skip all Pinakotheks. Instead, I decided to hop on the U-Bahn for a quick hop over to Deutsches Museum, Germany's answer to the Smithsonian science museums in Washington, DC and one of the finest science museums in the world.

Here is a display I liked - the original Apple Macintosh.

The Deutsches Museum is extremely hardcore. When it comes to computers, I don't just see a Mac - I see a zillion other computers throughout history, all the way back to rudimentary adding machines of the 19th Century. This particular example is an IBM 7074, built in 1962, and used by Allianz. It was state-of-the-art for its day, using punchcards for data input and using something more reliable than vacuum tubes for memory. Even then, its storage capacity was well under a megabyte.

The museum is so hardcore, and covers so many subjects, that trying to cram it into an afternoon, as I tried, is utterly hopeless. I can go from the watermills that powered the Industrial Revolution to a whole catalog of Pratt & Whitney jet engines, and a lot more, even including agricultural technologies. For an engineering enthusiast, this place is pure fantasy.

The museum also runs separate facilities elsewhere in the Munich area to house its land vehicles and aircraft. They will have to wait for a future visit.

But when it comes down to it, Munich's Old World charms are far important than all the technology and the sights. And I am getting yet another glimpse of the city skyline from one of the Deutsches Museum staircases. I can see the spires of the Frauenkirche and the Neue Rathaus, among other buildings. This is a skyline that I don't get tired of easily.

I had to wind the day down at this point, given the realities of Quiet Day Sunday and also my mother's foot pains. The jet lag was also bugging me, and a bottle of water that I had bought in the U-Bahn turned out to be carbonated water, and not so great tasting. I had to retire, collapse on my hotel bed, and try to figure out a way to overcome the jet lag.

Next up: Monday, October 26th, involving some final moments in Munich before the train run to Stuttgart.