First day in Lisbon

I went to bed early last night. I had a real problem being coherent. I answered some email and had to dance around the fact that I couldn’t remember the names of relatives I’ve known all my life. I finally caught up on my sleep and was ready to tackle the day. A beautiful day. 29 degrees. Stick that in your pipe and smoke it!
So I attacked it by going on a hop-on hop-off bus tour. The problem with these tours is guessing when is a good time to get off. If you guess wrong, you’ve got half an hour wait for the next one.
For the most part I got off at good points. The first stop I bailed off at was the Marquês de Pombal. There was an interesting statue in the middle of a large traffic circle. Only after the bus was gone did I realize that this particular Arc de Triumph didn’t have an underground passage for pedestrians. So I played Frogger with traffic to get to it.
After, I walked up Parque Eduard VII where I got beautiful views. And the bus would pass by. I missed part of the bus route, but according to another passenger, I didn’t miss much.
There were three British men who acted like they were too cool for the tour. They didn’t like anything and spent time talking about drunken escapades. I was just happy to be in warm Portugal.
The next stop I got off was in Belem; A very nice place. The Torre de Belem was there, but more importantly, it had stairs going down to the river/sea. I waded a bit, but I avoided the 10 meter long beach; It had seven dead jellyfish on it. I wandered around and looked at a fabulous monument with statues of explorers. I will say this, Portugal knows how to do public art. The marble statues seem to be doing something or are larger than life. The closest thing I’ve seen to it was the Gefion statue.
After that, the only other stop I risked leaving for was the Mosterio dos Jeronimos. Honestly though, I’m getting tired of cathedrals.

Nutrition

After transcribing the last entry I noticed it may have been construed as a plan to steal someone else’s casserole. Sorry if there was confusion. The lack of sleep was making it hard to keep a coherent train of thought.
The people in this hostel are friendly. I was asking reception for suggestions of where to go to eat and I was invited into the kitchen for the aforementioned casserole. Good food and good company. They even tried to ply me with red wine.
My roommate has said that the regular dinner that is served each night is good, hearty and cheap. Last night was not the regular fare, even though it was the same cook. It should be even better tonight.
Breakfast was a way to fill a void, but they made a mistake in letting me pour my own orange juice. The fools! I should maybe have eaten more, because I got hungry at around 2:30. I had to degrade myself and get a lunch. I did keep some respect and made it a two scoop lunch; Lemon and Strawberry.

Arrived in Lisbon

The Lisbon bus to the hostel was nice. A hot German lawyer sat next to me, in town to learn about Portuguese law. She’s from Munich so I got to hear what Oktoberfest is like for a resident: Not nice.
I got off my bus and walked my luggage to the hostel. It’s easier now that I’ve lightened it of souvenirs. When I got to the address, no hostel. Not even a hint of a hostel. Son of a … Every time!
The woman running the store at the address didn’t know English. But she wrote down an address and gave it to me. Maybe it is a hostel. Maybe it is a place she thinks I should stay. Maybe cousin Guido.
I headed off in the direction she’s pointed me towards. I got some other tourists with a better map to find the actual street. They’ve never heard of the place. Meanwhile it is getting dark and all the stores are closed.
I come across a payphone. I try to use it to call the hostel, but all it does is eat my money.
The address turns out to be correct. The hostel moved five months ago. The place seems nice. (One of the top ten hostels in the world as voted on hostelworld.com.) It is in a better location for everything and a lot of amenities are free. It even has a kitchen where I could cook a meal in. It looks like someone is making a casserole.
Well, I haven’t eaten since this morning. I think they eat later here. Food would be nice.

Gatwick express

I feel I wasted a trip to London. Don’t get me wrong, I had a great time, but I partied hard (although the only drink I bought the entire time was a water.) Most nights felt like I got four hours of sleep. With that grueling schedule I barely saw any of the actual city. It didn’t help that the hotel was so far away from anything that it took half an hour minimum to get anywhere. And when I did go out during the day I was dazed from lack of sleep.
I should have tried taking one of the bus tours again.
In a way this felt like the opposite of Berlin. There I did the culture stuff and didn’t party much.
I liked partying better. But it is easier to do on a weekend and where there are people you know. I won’t be able to say that about Portugal. But I’m treating this as my rest week.
I did get to have six hours of sleep last night, so I’m feeling quite alert right now. I also spent quite a bit of time rearranging my luggage so that weight is balanced better, and I can put heavy things in my carry-on easily. That should help me on my Canada flight. I’m confused about how this Portugal flights’ weight rules work. I hope I’ve got them right.

Last night in London

I had barely any sleep and I don’t seem to be making progress. I planned to leave the party earlier tonight. It was a low-key Sunday event, so it was expected. But I was having such a heavenly time that I lost track of how late it was. The people I wanted to carpool with weren’t interested in proper bedtimes. I reached the underground just as it shut down. Luckily I discovered that London has late night buses to compensate. There was one nearby that would take me to the same tube stop. Unluckily that took an hour. I did get to sit at the front of the top level of a double decker bus.
I went downtown (nebulous as that is) yesterday afternoon) in search of an internet café. I popped into interesting stores too. I saw a copy of season two of “The IT crowd” for sale. The first episode of that season aired right before I left on this vacation. I would have gotten it right there, but I’m pretty sure Europe DVDs don’t play well with North American players.
I bit the bullet and purchased Portugal tickets. It gives me a sense of relief to have a plan again. I wasn’t able to get them as cheaply as I had heard. But I decided to ignore the expense and have fun. (Like the Contiki tour guide said: “A vacation is a very poor investment.”)
Even though I would like to go home and fool around on the computer.
Some new friends had said they were going to Camden market. I HAD to do internet work so I couldn’t go with them. I popped by afterwards; A nice area with a lot of goth stores. There are two sets of people there, actual goths and tourists taking pictures. I never found my friends, but I did see their pictures later and it looks like they knew what to do there.

Way way too late

There was a girl I was flirting with (inasmuch as I can flirt) last night. I should have kissed her. I can never tell when it is appropriate to, and end up never trying.
I closed down the bar. It didn’t work out well. I got there before midnight and it shut down at 6:00 AM. My hotel is far away from anything, so taxis are prohibitively expensive. And the underground doesn’t start until 7:00 AM. So I waited for an hour, then spent half an hour tubing (and nearly falling asleep) to get back. I didn’t get to bed until 8:00 AM. I didn’t sleep well and was up at 10:45 for breakfast. I’m awake now, so I won’t be sleeping.
I’m very stressed about tomorrow. I am not sure what I will be doing. It just looks expensive. And what to do with luggage? I might have to take a long trip by tube tomorrow to Heathrow just to put the suitcases into storage.

Second day in London

Last night was fun. I found some other people going to the same club so we were able to carpool via taxi. At the club I saw some familiar faces and got reacquainted with old friends. Some I didn’t even expect. I guess London is a global crossroads.
I went home at 4:30 in the morning. The cab driver didn’t really know where he was going and got lost. I did get to cross Tower bridge. It looks different from that angle. Eventually at 5:00 in the morning I got to bed.
I got out of the hotel at 11:00 and took the tube downtown. I found internet access in a library and tried to figure out the next leg of my vacation. It is looking more expensive to fly to Portugal than I thought. I don’t even know what airports they are talking about. I’m going to consult with the hotel to better plan this out.
I spent the rest of the day wandering about. I did some shopping, but nothing too exciting. I’ll probably go to a club again tonight.

Baggage moving

That was an exhausting morning. I took my heavy suitcase on two tube routes. Just so I could put it into storage for an hour and a half. I wanted to rescue my other suitcase, but this late in the season, the Contiki office doesn´t open until 11:00. So I put my suitcase into a hotel storage and wandered the streets of London. I mostly spent time looking through book stores, trying to find a book unavailable in Canada. The weather is very nice though.
When Contiki opened, I claimed both my suitcases. With them I explored four different tube trains to get to my hotel. That was hell. It was getting hot, the bags were heavy, stairs were steep, and an escalator I needed had broken. I also got off at the wrong tube stop. But I finally got there at 12:30.
I went out and met some friends. I’m now resting before I go grab some dinner. There is a club, Mass, I want to go to tonight. Hopefully it will be fun. At least getting there will be easier. I can only assume the underground is more pleasant without suitcases.

England

The Chunnel was really a non-event. I might even have wasted it. I was sleepy so I closed my eyes and may have napped. I remember watching the sun rise while going over 200kph. Then I closed my eyes. When I opened them again I was in a tunnel. Nothing to see here, so the eyes shut again. Now I’m seeing the English countryside. A fellow passenger summarized it nicely: “The houses are ugly. This must be Britain.”

Chunnel train

I didn’t sleep well, but I did sleep. The room was fairly empty with just two Norwegians. I’m sort of wishing that I had gone all the way to Paris just so I could have slept longer.
Now I’m on the train, waiting in Brussels. Soon it will start and I’ll be Chunnel bound. Security was high. It was almost like flying.

Ferry crossing

This was a non-event. Train stops on ferry. Everyone gets out. Wait. Get back on. I went outside to the panoramic deck. Dark and rainy. Not even lights in the distance. I visited the duty free store and got a bottle a Akavit (Danish schnapps.) It was my duty. (This will be fun to lug in the sprint to the next train.) Then had Bearnaise Schnitzel for dinner.

Hide and Seek

I found the conductor. He will see what he can do, but I should talk to the German conductor after the ferry. I would prefer to talk to this Danish conductor. He is happy and friendly. I am having trouble imagining the German conductor as happy and friendly.
The loudspeaker comes on and starts talking in Danish or German for long periods. This makes me nervous. Then it ends in English to let us know we are boarding the ferry and we can shop on board.
Psych!
I can’t do too much on the train. It is dark outside so I can’t watch scenery. I have no book. I can’t keep harassing the people sitting nearby. (I’ve got another German businessman.) So the journal starts getting entries that I will need to transcribe.
Do people read them in the order I write them or in the order they appear on the web? It would be a shame if you read it out of order. You spoil the ending. You know how this will turn out before me.
Stop that.

Hope

The loudspeaker just said that it looks like we will make the ferry. That means we will only be half an hour late. The night train to Paris will wait if it is a matter of minutes. I assume that is the same train to Brussels.

The conductor is hiding. I can’t find him. I would like to start swearing now, but nobody would appreciate it.
Will I now hit the German rail strike?

Uh oh

There is a problem. We’re heading back a bit. I hope I can make my connection now. But I’m starting to doubt it. They say the delay could be up to an hour.
I only have half an hour between trains in Hamburg.

The itch

The person across from me is working on a Macbook Pro. He is programming an internet game in Flash. Watching him, I’m starting to want to get back to programming. I’m not so far gone as to want to do work programming, but my own Random Earth application is starting to call to me.

Leaving Copenhagen

I caught my train, and in the end that is what is really important. No, really, my last day was nice and relaxing. In the morning I borrowed a computer and updated my blog. I phoned a few relatives to thank them for their kindness. Then I took the metro to Copenhagen. I put my luggage into storage for two hours, which cost the same as 24 hours, and it isn’t cheap. Then I phoned my godmother’s son and he gave me a brief tour of the city, focusing a lot on architecture. After a top at a café, he helped me collect my things and get me on the right train. Now I’m heading to Hamburg.
I’ve heard there is going to be a railway strike in Germany tomorrow, so hopefully I’ll be out of the country in time. But I also heard it won’t affect international trains, so I’m not too worried.
Denmark has been nice to me. The weather improved quite a bit. My cold now only bothers me when I’m lying down. I got to relive my childhood and drink Tuborg Squash, an orange pop drink. If you have the means, I highly recommend it. Weinerbrod was consumed. And I got to see the forest.
I really must come back.
In summer.

Hot date

Tonight I went into town and met my cousin. We went for a walk along one of the five lakes, had dinner at a fancy restaurant, explored Copenhagen trying to find an ice cream store, and then back to her place to look at her vacation pictures. I would say it was all very romantic, but I’m not an inbred hillbilly. Still, it was nice to see her. It is the first dinner I’ve had in Denmark that I haven’t felt bloated at then end of. My relatives seem to want to fatten me up like a German child in a fairy tale.
This morning, the weather was beautiful so my uncle and I got on the Sundbus which took us across the sound to Sweden. Not just territorial waters, but Swedish soil. We had thought about going to Kullen, but that would have added a lot of driving time. Instead, I got to climb a civic monument that has taunted me for a long time, Kärnan. (It looked bigger the last time I was here.) There are 131 steps in the monument leading up to it. 44 steps outside the tower and 147 steps to the top. I don’t know why I count steps. I guess it makes the event of climbing feel more real and provable.
The view from the top isn’t that spectacular. Sweden isn’t as pretty as Denmark.

Fitness

I worry about getting fat. I think I have a genetic predisposition towards it, and I’ve been doing my best to fight it. This stress fracture has meant I shouldn’t run. Luckily, I’ve been doing a lot of walking while touring Europe.
Until lately. All my relatives seem very insistent on feeding me lots of food. And I get to be chauffeured many places. So I’m starting to get nervous.
I convinced my uncle to take me to the forest again. We went further today, but I still don’t feel comfortable doing really long distances. If my ankle was trustworthy I would try to get to the forest in the morning and spend all day running.
I’ve dreamed about running in this forest.
I just can’t remember the routes my grandfather took when we were on horseback. Even if I did, twenty years of growth would have totally changed them. I’ll cherish the memories I do have.
I lost my first thing today. A spare battery fell out of my camera case, probably while I was running. the batteries like to be in pairs so I might was well have lost both.
I hope this is the biggest thing I lose.

International waters at 6 knots

In Helsingør stands Kronburg castle, the former summer residence of the royalty of Denmark. The English of Shakespeare’s time were smart and only visited Denmark in the summer. So they became under the impression that this was the capital of Denmark. They bastardized the name to Elsinor for some play.
We spent twenty minutes doing a surgical strike tour of the place. It’s a beautiful palace, but I only really saw the moats and the courtyard.
We left because we had an appointment to go sailing with an old friend of my mother’s. I’ve never met him before, but he had a thirty foot sailboat and was happy to take guests out on it. We motored out of Helsingør harbor, then tacked into the wind until we were in Swedish waters. Then we turned and tacked back into Danish waters. We were going about six knots doing so. I thought we would be able to get back to the harbor quickly because now the wind was at our back. I was wrong. The wind may have been behind us, but now the current was against us. I could have walked back faster than the two knots we were going.
The channel was also busy with many large ships. I’ve heard it is one of the most crowded shipping lanes in the world.
Of course we did eventually get back, although we had to cheat and turn on the motor.
In the evening we went to dinner with an old family friends. She is my godmother, and married to the brother of the sailor. It was great to see them. It has been too long. I even got to see their son. I remember playing with him when we were young. He was a fantastic artist who would draw little cartoons. He is now an architect. He designed part of the new Copenhagen opera house.
It is wonderful to be in a place with so may relatives and friends. I can see why having family nearby is important. It is an aspect of my life that has been lacking.

My grandfather’s plans

I learned this at a dinner party tonight when my uncle repeated in English what he had heard about, in Danish, in front of me yesterday.
My grandfather was very progressive. He had used geothermal energy to heat the farmhouse we visited him at. He applied to have a windmill to provide electricity, but he couldn’t get approval. The reason: It would be too loud.
The new owners of the property built a small lake, or large pond, in what used to be a horse pasture. They expanded even further with funding from the EU because they were returning wilderness to its natural state and would help frogs breed. They even built a nice log shelter on its shores. Built with trees my grandfather had planted. You could even sleep there if the weather was nice.
He brought a girl out to do just that, but neither could get any sleep. The frogs were croaking all night. The next evening he brought out a decibel measuring tool. The sound was louder than is safe for humans.
This is an example of irony.

Memories

I tried to relive my childhood today. And in parts I succeeded, but it is true that you can never go home again.
We drove out to what used to be my grandparent’s farm. My family used to go there for a month every summer. But that was back when my grandparent’s were alive. It has been twenty years since they owned the place, so I was expecting it to change. I just didn’t expect that much.
Where to begin? It’s no longer a place for horses. Two cows and three pigs call it home. What used to be guest houses are now self-contained homes. Scary attics have been transformed into fully furnished lit second stories. Three families now live there. The stables are gone and have been replaced with a party room. The corral is a memory. Many of the fruit trees are gone or moved. No more red currants. But the place is so much more open. Pastures fenced in for horses are now lawns for people to use. They are growing grapes for wine. The grassy courtyard is laid with cobblestone now. There is a pond stocked with carp and crayfish (helped paid for by the EU.)
It is almost totally different from what I remember. But these owners have put a lot of work into it and made a beautiful home.
After reminiscing over lost childhood, we proceeded to another old haunt. There is a forest nearby where we used to go horseback riding. I have great memories of that too. My uncle rode a bike while I jogged around.
It is beautifully green still, even this late in the season. The beech trees stand tall and imposing.
There was the swimming hold where I spent happy times. The swinging rope was still there. More likely a descendant. Across the way was an island. Long ago I had swam out to it with some others and totally terrified my mother while doing so. The lake is dark, you can’t see the muddy bottom, and the lilypads actually make it creepy.
Continuing on, we got to the other entrance, which was a small village. I remember walking around the roads of that village and seeing miniature horses. I didn’t expect that they would still be there, but right at the entrance there was a pasture with a pair. Different place, but same result.
Back to the forest, we came upon the tombs. When I last saw them they had been fenced up, but now they were open again. My mother called them viking tombs, but they were actually neolithic burial grounds. The mound still sounded hollow.
The next stretch I was looking forward to. I remember it as long and dark. It totally scared me as a child. Unfortunately, it looks like a lot of trees have been culled, because it was light and sunny.
I could easily have spent all day in the forest, trying to find all the old trails I used to horseback ride. But the sun doesn’t shine forever and I can still feel the occasional twinge from my ankle.