Berlin: "Even monkeys know this!"

Early Tuesday morning we caught the Orlybus, right outside our hotel, to Paris-Orly airport for our Air Berlin flight to Tegel. It couldn't have gone smoother: the bus ride was less than half an hour, our packs fit perfectly in the overhead compartments, and we got these delicious fresh pretzels filled with butter as a snack on the short flight.

The cab ride to our apartment in Prenzlauer Berg, in former East Berlin, was one of the most entertaining of our lives: every taboo associated with the country's history had come up before we were even off the airport property, and it just went from there. A Berliner of Moroccan decent, he was nine when the wall came down. When asked what it was like, he said that the former East Berliners "just went crazy." Suddenly the world was available to them, and they wanted it in a single bite. "Bananas... They went crazy for them. But they didn't know how to open them. We had to teach them! Even monkeys know this!" While he was definitely hamming it up for us, a picture of the time emerged from the hyperbole.

What sticks with me now is how adrift he seemed: unable to fit in in the city of his birth because of the colour of his skin, his hair -- he told stories about a professor who was excited to supervise his work until they met face-to-face, fares now saying how good his German is and asking when he will be going home, the constant searches every time he travels -- and unable to fit in in Morocco (where his parents have now retired) because he doesn't speak Arabic. He repeated many times how he would leave Berlin after university; go anywhere else in Europe.

In some very small way, I could sympathize with his plight: as friendly as the Brits have been to us these last two years, those constant questions about how long we've been here, when we're going home, etc., ensure that this never truly feels like home. I am more thankful than ever that I do have a place to call home; where everyone sounds like me and... Well, I could go on and on about how much I've come to appreciate Canada, but let's get back to Berlin.

The main purpose of this leg of the trip was to see a few of the 50-odd Christmas markets and 80-odd pubs -- with Around Berlin in 80 Beers as our guide -- the city has to offer. I'll highlight a few of each, quickly comment on the others we visited, and then finish with the other sights we took in in between, during our five days in the German capital.

Note: all the places I'll mention were easily reachable from our apartment in Prenzlauer Berg, including what is considered the more remote borough of Spandau; cheaply as well: the passes we used for the whole trip, purchased at a convenience store near our apartment, gave us passage on any train (U- and S-Bahn) or tram, all for little more than €30 each.

Weihnachtsmarkts (Christmas Markets)

Topping our list is the WeihnachtsZauber Gendarmenmarkt, nestling between the French and German Cathedrals. We first happened upon it as the early sunset drew the afternoon fog to evening. It was almost magical, with the festive lights, smells and music, and the bigger city left in the mists. We enjoyed it so much that we stopped by the next day, enjoying delicious fried potato medallions, sausages and mulled wine before making our way to Checkpoint Charlie.

Next up would have to be the market at Charlotteburg Palace. Approaching it at night, walking up Schloss (Palace) Strasse, was a treat; it really was beautifully lit. With a good mix of outdoor stalls and heated indoor shopping, it was easy to spend some time there as well. Some local celebrities seemed to be on hand the night we visited: we turned a corner to find the avenue of stalls lit bright white, cameras following these two wide-smiling folks slowly making their way along, chatting with 'locals' in a clearly staged manner.

Other Christmas markets we visited included:

• Alexanderplatz: a frequent stop, as it was closest to our apartment. Dominated by an enormous, beautifully-lit replica of a Christmas Pyramid, all in the shadow of Television Tower.
• Der Grosse Berliner: like a fair or ex, with big rides and shooting galleries amongst the usual stalls and tasty fare.
• Nostalgischer Weihnachtsmarkt: a nice market in Berlin's historic centre. Chips in a paper cone was a rare (and tasty!) treat there.
• Potsdamer Platz: surrounded by skyscrapers, including the beautiful Sony Center (more on that later), we learned about the Hungarian origins of trdelnik (a Tea favourite) and bombed down a man-made icy slope in an inner tube!
• City Weihnachtsmarkt: a bustling market in the shadow of the unique Kaiser Wilhelm Memorial Church.
• Spandau Weihnachtsmarkt: about twenty minutes west of the famous Friedrichstrasse station by commuter train, this was well worth the trip. It had a small town feel and great community spirit. Plus the stalls serving Baileys in cocoa were a big hit. (And there was a great brewpub out there as well; more on that shortly.)
• Lucia Weihnachtsmarkt in Kulturbrauerei: the last one we visited, with a medieval feel. There was some sort of reading going on in a nearby warehouse; the place had an awesome vibe. I saw German translations of Craig Thompson and Guy Delisle favourites on sale.

Stephen at Weihnachtsmarkt Alexanderplatz

Pubs and Brewpubs

Tea gave me a copy of Around Berlin in 80 Beers by Peter Sutcliffe a few days before we left, and, for me, it made the trip. There are just so many choices in Berlin -- well, in Germany in general, from what I've seen -- that you need a plan going in. This was reinforced right from the outset, as our first pick, Brauhaus Mitte, was amazing, and my #1 of those we visited. Everything Sutcliffe says is bang-on: you'd never know you're in a mall -- great atmosphere, really -- and while all four of their beers (brewed on-site) in the sampler were tasty, their Hefeweisse Hell was the star. And to top it all off, the meal was excellent as well.

"Tastes like chicken!"

My second choice is a bit tougher. In the end, I'll go with another brewpub, Lindenbrau, for a few reasons: we could see the roof of the beautiful Sony Center from where we were sitting; the one beer they brew, their Hofbrau-Weiße, was excellent; and, most importantly, when Tea asked the waiter to surprise her with a meal, not only did he fail to hesitate, he brought the winning meal in our minds: this beautiful cooked breast of duck. Great spot!

Other pubs we visited included:

• zum Paddenwirt: a quiet, cosy pub; we'd popped in for a snack, and their soups hit the spot.
• Mommsen-Eck (Haus der 100 Biere): yeah, that's a hundred beers, all right. Sutcliffe's recommendation was perfect: a rauchbier or smoked lager. The best bit? When I ordered it, the waiter got this big ole smile on his face, "Tastes like chicken!" He wasn't wrong.
• Berliner Republik: great li'l' irreverent pub. Inspired by Tea's success at Lindenbrau, we all got fowl -- duck, duck, goose as she kept saying all night. Great food, I enjoyed my krug (two?) of Zwick'l, and we stuck around to see the stock ticker of beer prices start up: prices fluctuate based on volumes ordered!
• Brauhaus in Spandau: as stated earlier, this is a bit out from the centre, but well worth the trip. As Sutcliffe says, their property is almost a neighbourhood, and there's a really warm, welcoming atmosphere. We tried their strong, deceptively smooth Weihnachtsbier (or seasonal specialty) and lighter Havelbrau, as well as enjoying a great supper.
• Zillemarkt: the 'house beer' Zillebrau (technically, brewed off-site, but specifically for them) was excellent, as were our meals: my cabbage roll was epic! The works of Heinrich Zille are also on display throughout, and well worth a peek.
• Alois S.: last, but not least, it's more of a restaurant (specializing in tapas, actually) than a pub. Unfortunately, they no longer have the Augustiner Edelstoff on tap, but the brewery's Hell is still very good. We tested it as a late night dessert spot, and, wow, did it blow our socks off. A great end to the trip.

The 'stock ticker' in Berliner Republik

Note: a comment or two about two misses:

1. Eschenbrau: doesn't open 'til later. I have no excuse, as Sutcliffe lists all the hours for every entry, but as it's a bit out of the way (in Wedding) and I was very disappointed to find it closed, I just thought I'd highlight it.
2. Willy Bresch: probably because it was so close to our apartment, I took this one for granted. Don't. Set aside a weeknight for it if you can, as it's really small, and, when busy, as it was the Friday we tried to go, incredibly smoky. (And I'm not normally overly bothered by that sort of thing.) A shame, as it's Sutcliffe's favourite pub in Berlin.

Sights

Visiting the Berlin Wall Memorial was a humbling experience. Across the street from the remaining section, the view on high really drives home how much more it was than a wall. Historical accounts, both there and at the Checkpoint Charlie Museum, were so immersive: they even had some of the modes of escape on display in the latter. Finally, the Window of Remembrance (also at the memorial) seemed to dampen all ambient sound: as I stared at the portraits of all those who died trying to escape, it seemed that nature itself mirrored the solemn moment.

The first victim shot trying to escape after the wall went up in '61

The nearby Chapel of Reconciliation provides a segue for the lasting impression the city left on me: that of a creative hub, still working to reinvent itself. The architecture on display -- the chapel, the Sony Center, and the Reichstag Dome all being excellent examples -- really made a big impression on me. It truly is a beautiful city.

Inside the Chapel of Reconciliation

Speaking of the Reichstag, you have to book tours of the Dome in advance. Luckily we found this out early enough in the trip to book a slot in the morning of our last full day in Berlin. What an impressive structure! That, the view, and the excellent audio guide made for an entertaining and educational hour or so -- from detailing the skyline, to discussion of how the cone reflects light down to the parliament floor and reclaims water, to describing the functions of the government itself. Certainly a highlight of the trip!

Although I was a bit too young (and immature) to appreciate the significance of those views of the Brandenburg Gate in 1989, no one can approach it today, particularly at night along Unter den Linden, free from the weight of history. That evening we then cut across the immense Tiergarten parkland to Potsdamer Platz, the leaves crunching underfoot in the near black adding to the solemnity of the occasion.

Finally, we spent a few hours in the Berlin Zoo as well. Highlights included the hippopotamuses -- one of the young ones stole the show -- the condors -- the whoop, whoop of their wings as they flew from perch to perch was truly awesome -- and the lions at feeding time: nearly wet my pants during the latter, if I'm honest; that cage looked like tinfoil by the time they all finally had their huge chunks o' meat.

Up next: the trip movie!

PS: Check out our Picasa album for more pictures from the trip.

Homecoming

It's our last night in Ottawa. It's been great, catching up with friends, some of whom we haven't seen in more than two years. It seems trite, but living abroad has opened our eyes to this beautiful city; Tea confessed as much to me yesterday, as, independently, it was coalescing for me.

My heart will always be on the east coast, but I can now imagine a life here again, in a year or so.

Cardiff: day out

It's been another great weekend so far. Mom's last one of this trip. We took Friday off, and with poor weather predicted for the weekend, decided to make the most of the sun with a day out in Cardiff. It's become a ritual to stop at Coffee #1 near the train station: they're really friendly, and always have a tempting selection of treats on display. After I'd ordered Triple Belgian Chocolate Brownies and tea for my ladies, the woman behind the counter said, "I have to ask. Where are you from?" My response brought gushes, not only from her, but also from the woman behind Mom in the queue: family, friends who'd been, loved it, wanted to go back, saving to go. The consistent enthusiasm for Canada that I've encountered in the UK and abroad over these past two years fills me with such pride. I really do count myself lucky -- the accident of my birth, as they say -- more fundamentally than I did back home, even as a proud Canadian and a proud Newfoundlander.

The Cardiff Market was our next stop: for welsh cakes and a browse of secondhand books; another ritual. Tea had a bit of shopping to do as well, so we agreed to meet at the castle later on. A new favourite of mine is the microbrewery Zero Degrees, and while I was a day too early for their Oktoberfestbier, I enjoyed a pint of their seasonal amber ale before meeting Tea and Mom at the gates of Cardiff Castle.

They'd added a new World War II shelter exhibit since our last visit. The kitchen display caught Mom's eye: she pointed out the old oil heater, imposing at three feet or so, and cast-iron with a large handle: they had one when she was growing up, to heat the front room or parlour when guests were over; the only source of heat outside the kitchen stove.

Mom w. Brains Dark at the Goat Major

We toured the walls, grounds and keep 'til closing, and then popped across the street for a pint at the Goat Major. A Brains pub with an impressive history of guest ales (if the pump clips behind the bar are any indication), we enjoyed pints of Brains' Legends, Dark and gravity-dispensed SA in its warm atmosphere. It was only as we made our way to Zero Degrees for supper that we realized we'd missed a heavy rain shower.

Once there, we had a great meal on an interior balcony that overlooked the kitchen. Tea and Mom were mesmerized by the delicate dance around the wood oven -- their menu focusses on pizza, which Tea again raved about. Plus, Mom really enjoyed their Mango Ale. I can't say enough about their Pale Ale -- a really nice hoppy character I keep going to back to -- and I finished with a half pint of their Black Lager: nice body with heavy coffee notes.

Supper at Zero Degrees

Check out our Picasa album for more pictures from the day.

* * *

Yesterday, we were invited to a big barbecue the Americans had organized at Witcombe Cricket Club. We even got to be guest judges at their chili competition, a highly-anticipated annual event. (I had a tough time, going back for seconds to break ties, but persevered -- yes, the consummate professional, folks.) It was a fantastic atmosphere: great spread, games for the kids, and nice location and weather (early on, anyway) -- they even had an ice cream truck show up!

Later, we took Mom to see Jane Eyre, which we all really enjoyed; particularly the setting. And speaking of film, I should sign off and grab a shower; the main event (from my Mom's point of view) is on deck as a matinee: Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy. She's over the moon that it opened here ahead of the North American release.

Puttin' the Kae in UK

Kae's visiting again! Woo hoo!

Trooper that she is, after much excitement and a big breakfast, the three of us then went shopping in Gloucester. Well, Tea and Kae shopped, for our imminent tour of Belgium and the Netherlands, while I'll kicked back in the New Inn with a book and a pint. I got chatting with a local, Don -- thanks, again, to the Roots swag I picked up in January; that stuff is aces for starting conversations about Canada -- who'd visited a fair bit of our beautiful country.

Many of the old travel guides I've been reading lately reference rail lines that no longer exist, including the old Honeybourne Line, which Don remembered from his college days, travelling from his home, then, in South Wales, to Cheltenham. I said that our rail network pales in comparison to theirs, and while he agreed, he said it's as the modern system does to that of his youth, when, for example, Cheltenham had three stations, and there were twice as many stations along his route to the college.

He and his family visited Canada in 2008, and had planned that part of the journey would be by rail. When they got to the station in Toronto, they learned that some signalling error had caused a derailment, and that Via was now putting buses on. (Their destination was Montreal.) Coincidentally, this was in late July, and they'd just learned about the terrible fate of Tim McLean. None of them slept a wink on that leg.

Overall, they really enjoyed Canada, though. They got to see Niagara, Toronto, Ottawa, Quebec City and Montreal during their time there. I was surprised by what impressed him the most about our country, however: how apologetic the French Canadians they met were about their poor English. He said it was just so unexpected and genuine.

As I packed up to move on, he said I could come back and visit him at his 'office' any time. I love the New Inn!

From there, with the girls still occupied, I moved to another pub I'd been meaning to try: Dick Whittington's. Like the New Inn, it is also a historic building. I was surprised to find, in Darrel's book, The Story of Gloucester's Pubs, that the pub had suffered from poor management recently. I strongly suspect that's no longer the case, as the publican who served me was very friendly and generous with bar snacks. He also had an excellent spread of real ales on, including two from the Great Western Brewing Company, which I'd never tried before. Excellent stuff.

* * *

The next day -- a very special one for Tea -- we decided to go to Birmingham, for a day out and supper at Jamie's Italian. While standing around at our train station wondering why there were only buses on, who should appear before us but Matt, picking up his tickets for Edinburgh in a week's time. Having nothing better to do, he agreed to join us, on what would now be our drive to B'ham (for the first time).

The trip was seamless -- surprising, considering we were driving in the second biggest city in the UK -- and, as happened the day before, the girls soon left me -- with company this time! -- agreeing to meet at Jamie's later.

Aside: prior to splitting up, we'd all been shocked to discover a wide range of 'American' foodstuffs at the Food Hall of beautifully-designed Selfridges store in the Bull Ring: we're talkin' Jif and Skippy peanut butter (from Ohio!), Aunt Jemima pancake mix, Lucky Charms, a whole 'American baking' section... The list goes on. How the heck we've been ignorant of this mecca for so long is beyond me.

You'll no doubt be shocked to learn that we found ourselves at a pub shortly thereafter. First, the Wellington, which was much calmer than the last time I'd been there, and then the Anchor again. The highlight of the afternoon was definitely Beowulf's Killer Stout, which we wisely consumed as half-pints (7.9% ABV).

Eventually we found our way to Jamie's -- much later than the girls, we learned, sitting in the Anchor. Having had to walk by the patio at Jamie's to get from the Wellington to the Anchor, both Matt and I somehow failed to notice them waving at us. Ahem! A few missed calls and texts later, we sheepishly finished up our pints. Thankfully Jamie's wasn't busy, so we were quickly sat, once we'd made our way back -- and only ten times off our agreed time, I must add!

You must (must) be tired of hearing this by now, but, yet again, Jamie's failed to disappoint. In fact, my special of pork loin with beetroot and basil that had been honey-glazed and roasted, was one of the best dishes I've had to date. We got the antipasti plank again, and the bread selection; just a fantastic spread. This was Matt's first time at a Jamie's, and I'm sure he'll be bringing the family to one when they're over for a visit.

All in all, a great weekend. Now, off to pack!

Up next: Brussels

"Are you a *real* Canadian?"

We had a better plan this year, buying a return bus fare that got the six of us to the Tewkesbury Winter Ale Festival a bit before noon -- we'd heard they were limiting the attendance to 300 this year, and didn't want to miss out. I don't know if they got that many, but it was certainly well attended, and better stocked this year, with plenty of choices left on this, the last day. (Last year they had little left but cider less than halfway through the final day.)

A great selection too, that I was largely unfamiliar with: I knew maybe half a dozen of the 70 ales available! Favourites included Orkney's Raven -- lovely nose, almost like pine needles -- Black Ops (can't remember the brewer) and a whopper, at 10%, called... Old Thakey? Thakes? Something like that; more like a port than an ale, but really smooth and tasty. [Correction: I didn't do too bad, actually: the Raven was by Thornbridge, Black Ops was by Salopian (the same folks that do the Lemon Dream that Tea and her friend, Liv, love), and, finally, the whopper was Thomas Sykes Ale by Burton Bridge. Thanks to Matt for digging out the pamphlet.] The entertainment was also excellent: the Tewkesbury town band, followed by Six Nations rugby on the big screen.

On one trip to the cask room, Tea was stopped by two gentlemen serving food, "Are you a real Canadian?" pointing at her recently acquired Roots swag.

"Yeeesss."

"We have a question for you: how do Eskimos bury their dead?"

Tea, Matt (a fellow Canadian) and I exchanged looks and shrugs. I don't think they believed any of our suggestions, which included cremation and boat graves. (We had no clue. Turns out the answer is just like us, and, historically, under cairns.)

Awesome mustard we'd had earlier

Good times. We hit the Bank House for some grub once back in town, followed by a nightcap at a friend's place. Check out our Picasa album for more pictures from the festival.

The united, but disparate, kingdom

We'd anticipated some adjustments with living over here, and failed to grasp a whole bunch more (as regular readers will no doubt know), but one of the stranger ones -- for me, anyway -- is the causes for celebration (or lack thereof). Those of you who remember my confusion over the silent passing of Robbie Burns' Day -- Burns Night here -- probably assumed I'd get the point, and, oh, I don't know, expect very little of Saint Patrick's Day. Well, I'm a bit thick like that, I guess, 'cause I get up today, throw on my green, and express genuine surprise when the day passes unmarked, on the radio, at work, etc.

Now, I'm sure there'll be plenty of celebrations this evening, but you have to understand that the town is in the grips of the event of the year right now: the Cheltenham Festival. Many, many Irish visitors make the trip over for the week, which usually coincidences with Saint Patrick's Day, apparently -- so many, that I've heard it said that some pubs can sell enough champagne and Guinness this week to pay their operating costs for the rest of the year. But the pints raised to Ireland's patron saint outside that contingent are few and far between, I've been told. Again, why does this surprise me?

I guess I'm still wrestling with just how significant the Scottish, Irish and Welsh roots are to the way I grew up in Newfoundland and Maritimes. As I said on that occasion this year, Robbie Burns' Day wasn't celebrated when I was growing up, but it was a grand occasion amongst my circle of friends back in Ottawa, thanks to Joe's pride in his Scottish heritage (and his love of whisky, it must be said). Even with this shining discrepancy in my past, though, it's slow to sink in.

In my defence, a friend was saying today that even the day set aside to celebrate England's patron saint, Saint George, isn't enthusiastically observed. (That remains to be seen, of course, next month.) It's a provincial holiday in Newfoundland and Labrador, something I'd completely forgotten about until reading a bit for this post. (Someone from back home'll probably comment now, wondering how I could forget the Saint George's Day parades or something. :-P ) Apparently, Saint David's Day, for the patron saint of Wales, is even a bigger deal here -- although not by much.

Well, that's what's been kickin' around the old noggin' today, as I watch our quiet little town turned upside down in pursuit of the Gold Cup and other laurels.

PS: To those offended by my sweeping generalities and blatant inaccuracies regarding your kingdom, did you really expect better from a colonist? ;-)

The green, green grass of home

Since getting back from Bruges -- I'm still editing the many photos from that trip -- Tea 'n' I have been takin' it easy. Last weekend we went to Tewkesbury for a beer festival, and had a great time. Their abbey really is worth all the chatter we hear on BBC Radio Gloucestershire, and the town exemplifies the best of what we mean when we say 'small'. We met a woman in the tourist information centre who'd been to Ottawa a number of times with a touring company she worked for. (She loved it, of course.) The coincidences continued as we met a few Americans at the beer festival, and had a great chat over a few pints.

This weekend has been all about the Olympics, of course. One more point on the local radio: Eddie 'The Eagle' is from here, and some guest they had on the other day had Tea 'n' I in stitches as he was just cuttin' into Eddie, in the sharp, yet self-deprecating, way the British seem to excel at. "Oh, God, yes, we wheel him out every four years. Only in Britain would we make a national hero of someone who's rubbish. [scathing emphasis] God love us."

The opening ceremony was fantastic; Tea's favourite part was k.d.'s rendition of Hallelujah -- I enjoyed it too, but I'm still partial to Jeff Buckley's cover -- and mine was the fiddlers, closely followed by that amazing "Powering the city" sequence against the representation of the Rockies. The BBC seems to be the only channel that carried it over here. (And the only one that's carrying the Games in general, if only partially, unfortunately.) Still, it's neat getting a foreign perspective on Canada, as they complain about how foreigners only got the minimum amount of time on the hills -- a complaint against the host nation every year, their athlete-turned-commentator was quick to point out -- and marvel at the beauty of Vancouver and the Rockies, and the diversity of our heritage. (They had all sorts of trivia about the Governor General, the RCMP, our flag and anthem -- it was great!) I've only ever flown over the Rockies -- and once at that -- and now, more than ever, I want to see them when I get back. I've got a list, actually, that includes some stuff I really should've done before now, like the Cabot Trail (I've done every other part of that coast, oddly), Gros Morne, Banff and St. Anthony, to name a few.

On that note, a new British friend, Pete, is in Ottawa right now, taking in the ice sculptures and skating, gorging himself on Beavertails. He's even made it out to Edelweiss snowboarding. I'm seeing my home through new eyes -- thanks to mobile uploads to Facebook -- and falling in love with it all over again. There's some truth to that statement about the green grass, I tell ya.

* * *

I've been writing this over a few days. We just got back from a stroll to town for a spot of lunch at one of our favourite spots, Gusto, and a bit of shopping. I actually made Tea breakfast in bed this morning! Probably shouldn't be such a rarity, but I had to mention it, as it turned out so well. I made pancakes -- from a mix of imported Aunt Jemima (thanks, Michelle!), it's true, but that's still a challenge for me -- and they were so fluffy! Tea's now promised to call on my limited skills more often, which is of course the rub with these sorts of successes. (Just kidding!)

'Arctic' living

Well, we've been having great fun the last few days. Comments like, "You must feel right at home," abound as a cold snap, and a nice bit of snow, hit Britain. Southern England has probably seen close to 30 cm of snow over the last two days -- the most they've seen in some 30 years! -- with temperatures hovering around minus 10 degrees Celsius today.


Our backyard Wed. mornHeadlines of "Frozen Britain" and "Arctic conditions" are rarely out of the news. Tea and I must've been in bed for an extra forty minutes this morning, shaking our heads and laughing as BBC Radio Gloucester talked about it almost non-stop. Seriously! "Is it safe for my eighteen-month-old cat to go outside?" and "How do the ducks keep warm?" squeezed out all but a thirty-second piece on the lacklustre coup attempt in the Labour Party. People were phoning in with the temperatures in their areas like they were entering the most lucrative of contests.

We've had a couple of beautiful walks to work; particularly yesterday, when the snow was still fluffy, with that pleasant scrunch; and it was so quiet, with most folks staying home. It's actually getting a bit treacherous now, as sidewalk snow that wasn't cleared has now been compressed to an icy sheen. And I guess that's the main message in all this: they just can't cope. 'Grit' (i.e., rock salt) is running low, side streets haven't been touched, villages are snowed in -- not in a Canadian sense, but a hill of any size, covered in icy snow is too much for most vehicles, especially considering the tires here -- and folks are trying to stay warm in rubber boots. Grocery stores are packed; it'd be like them forecasting another ice-storm at home, I'd imagine.

And there's more snow on the way this weekend, apparently. Still, even if it gets down to the minus 20 °C they're talking about, I find it much nicer than winter in Ottawa: they simply don't get that biting wind here -- well, in the city proper, anyway; my boss lives up on the surrounding hills and paints a slightly different picture. I also like the child-like novelty of it all: a bunch of the younger crowd organized an impromptu snowball fight over lunch yesterday, and everyone's eager to share pictures of the snowmen (and snow-dogs, in one case) they've made. Look for that to wear off as this continues, though; proper mitts, snow shovels and scrappers are all in short supply over here, and cat flaps and mail slots don't do well for keeping houses warm.

Christmas in Bath

Pub planning 101

Tea's been talking about Christmas markets -- and all the wonderful childhood memories she has tied up with them -- since we arrived, and after seeing some of the stuff in Cardiff and in town -- not to mention the Good Food Show in Birmingham, although I didn't go with her for that -- it was time to head out for our first one... in Bath. We'd heard that parking was extremely scarce, so, much like our trip to Wales, we packed a backpack and jumped on a train. (We even threw in our swimsuits in the hopes of spending a bit of time in the Roman baths, but, being the last weekend of the Christmas market, it was far too busy.)

Unlike some of our other day trips, we got started nice 'n' early, arriving just after the market opened at 10 a.m. Before long we were snacking on banana and caramel crepes and sipping mulled wine -- it was almost noon, Mom, honest! -- taking in all the festive sights, sounds and smells. Somewhere between the curried parsnip soup and the bratwurst I realized that I was already close to topping out my short-term memory, and fished out my notebook. As I'm scratching down some key details, I hear this older lady's voice from somewhere in front of me say, "Would you like my number? Or am I too old for you?" Awesome! (My little black Moleskine does look like an address book, although I hadn't noticed it before.) There were also stalls that didn't serve food or drink, of course, and I'd be remiss if I didn't highlight the Wooden Ties one: I'll have to put something up on YouTube demonstrating the fantastic tie I picked up; it was quite a hit at work.

Bath is absolutely amazing to walk around, but we decided that we'd focus on the market areas this time, knowing we'd be back again soon. We had some great chats with folks, like the guy who'd set up an enormous Christmas card for passers-by to sign that'd be sent to British soldiers serving overseas. He got really excited when we found out we were Canadian, talking about how much he liked the idea of the Highway of Heroes, and how folks were trying to get a similar designation for the M5 over here. Then there was the local in the Old Green Tree pub who was still up 'n' at it from the night before! He felt so bad about mistaking us for Americans; he kept offering to buy our round, but I knew we were only stopping for a quick one. (At some point, early in the conversation, he leaned over all conspiratorially and said, "Do you realize there's a lady rootin' around in your pack?" He was just tickled that she ordered a full pint too.) It was such a beautiful find -- that Good Beer Guide is worth its substantial weight in gold! -- with a great selection: Tea had Butcombe's Christmas Steps and I had a Keystone Porter. Don't miss this gem of a pub if you're in Bath!

Tea with our new friend
in the Old Green Tree

PS: I'm experimenting with some new features in Blogger, so let me know if you notice any changes in the layout, etc. that you like (or don't like). Thanks.

Update: One thing I've already noticed is that Blogger copies over the pictures, as opposed to linking to Picasa. You can always go there to see all the other pictures associated with any of our adventures (i.e., Best of December 2009 in this case); plus, the slide-show to the right pulls them from there as well (and may even show you ones that I haven't got around to posting about yet.)

Vacation: Day 4: London: It's dark underground

We decided to take it easy on our last day in London. First on the bill was a trial run of our departure for Southampton the following day. On the tube ride to the Waterloo station – where we'd catch our train – a family with the cutest little girl sat next to us. She kept insisting, “Daddy, I don't want to get off in the dark.” Which sounded like “dawk” with her cute little accent. (Hey, give me a break: I'm runnin' out of adjectives.) And then, as they were getting off: “Daddy, it's still dark.” Priceless!

Once we'd confirmed that our paper tickets were sufficient for the following day, it was off to Hyde Park Corner for a few things that we'd missed up to that point: mainly the war memorials for the fallen from Canada, New Zealand and Australia. I was really impressed by the Canadian war memorial – which I'd somehow managed to miss on the house-hunting trip – and the way the leaves from the maple trees surrounding it would mingle with those that had been carved into it.

Harrods was next on the list, after lunch at this fantastic corner pub in the area called The Tea Clipper. I tried a few new pints -- Hog's Back and Doom Bar -- to wash down the special that day: cottage pie. Tea had an amazing Med. platter... the spread really was quite something. And while Harrods was nothing to write home about, the tube ride back to the hotel was: without really thinking about it, we grabbed a Central line train and ended up smack in the middle of revellers returning from the second day of the Notting Hill Festival.

Note: Unbeknowst to me, I hit Picasa's upper limit of 500 pictures per album with my London set. As a kludge, I've made a separate album of our last day in London.

Bluesfest in Ottawa

We decided to take a break from all the prep. work -- just a few more weeks! -- and headed down to Lebreton Flats to meet Kae at Bluesfest. The name is a misnomer -- even the organizers joke about it now -- with Sam Roberts and Jackson Browne on the bill that night.

The bus was packed with riders carrying folded camping chairs by the time it reached the venue. We joined the throng that was being directed away from the busiest entrance, and were in and outfitted with our "of drinking age" bracelets in no time.


The array of food stands was really impressive. I don't remember having that wide a selection in years past, although the last one we went to was in front of City Hall (a few years ago now, I guess). Tea and Kae had hot dogs -- Tea, with poutine, and Kae, with sweet potato fries -- and I had a fantastic turkey and pancetta panini with a pasta salad on the side. The Indian food -- Rose's, I think -- looked great and seemed very popular, The Works was there; it was all very expensive, of course, but really tasty and well organized. We also enjoyed Kettle Corn popcorn and a Nutella-topped Beavertail before the night was through.

They had a bigger selection of beers and wines at "The Lounge", so I found myself there regularly. One of my many runs stands out, though: I was in line for another beer -- they had Creemore Springs Lager, which, unlike their pilsner, I really enjoy -- when I saw this guy making his way back down the line asking a question. When he got to me, he asked, "How many are ya gettin'?"

"One," I said.

"Would ya buy me one?" he said.

"Sure," I said.

His eyes had looked a little glassy, but that perked him right up. Clearly he hadn't had much success with the venture, and had expected more of the same. After a bit of head bobbin', chuckling, and muttering "Great!", he realized he hadn't given me any money and began patting his pockets. Coors was $6, so the five- and twenty-dollar bills to his name brought on a deep pondering as he tried to figure out how to ensure we both had enough legal tender to complete our transactions separately. Before I could tell him the fiver was good, he ran up to the front of the line to bum a loonie off his buddies.

That settled, Stephen, as he introduced himself, looked much relieved, commenting, "That's really good of you. I mean, I'm not a bad guy; just looking to get a bit more beer is all." -- the policy was two per customer per transaction, as I later found out, although I still kept buying one beer at a time all night for some reason.

So Stephen and I were chattin' away -- turned out he's a Newfie too -- and we're about two-thirds of the way through the line when he got that concerned look again. "Hang on now; what'd'you get outta this?"

"Don't worry about it, man," I said.

"No, no; you were nice enough to help me out, so I wanna do something for ya," he said, and wouldn't be dissuaded.

Funny enough, what he finally settled on -- again, after much deliberation -- was to buy my beer. This turned into a double rye 'n' coke once we were at the counter, but, hey, I wasn't complaining. We chatted a bit more after that, and, before breaking off to go back to our groups, Stephen said, "Good eye contact, man; keep it up." Hilarious! The kindness of slightly-inebriated strangers prevailed again!

Oddly enough, it was the festival atmosphere that really captured my attention that night. Sam Roberts put on a really good show, and we did wander over to take in some of Jackson Browne's performance, but, for the most part, we just hung out, chatted with other friends we ran into there, and made runs to The Lounge. After the bus ride home, we capped off the night with more good times and music in the form of drunken Rock Band! Superstar!

Back home (for a month or so)

Looking at our pictures from yesterday, I found the urge to blog was still there and thought, "Why not?" Yes, we're home for a bit, but very shortly we'll be back in the UK, so why break the habit.

I was up early yesterday and had some time to work on my drawing class before Tea got up. We decided to continue working on the inventory we'd started the previous evening -- the inventory of our books, music and movies has been done for some time, but now we've finished the furniture, most of the kitchen and some of the electronics. (I still have to take photos of everything too.) Tea dictates and I type; we both feel like we have the easiest job, which works out well.


She's about to have another piece
Then Kae came by for a visit, bearing a gift for our wedding anniversary: a fantastic chocolate cream pie! As you can see from this picture, we're already well into it a day later.

Then the inventory of the kitchen continued, but with the wine flowing now as we looked ahead to our anniversary supper at one of our favourite restaurants, Fiamma, just a short walk away. As you can imagine, our pace diminished -- at some point I started echoing Tea as I typed so she'd realize how far behind I was falling -- 'til Tea gave up entirely and called her sister. The two of them decided to have an interactive opening of the birthday presents Tea'd sent her -- over Skype -- and much hilarity ensued.

Then it was off to Fiamma. Foolishly thinking that the sidewalk was a safe place for a slightly-inebriated person such as myself, in one of those both-zigging-when-one-should-zag situations, I was almost run over by a young man on a barely-coasting bicycle. Thankfully, the rest of the walk was uneventful.

We began the meal with more wine, an anti-pasti tray, and PEI mussels in a white wine and garlic sauce. Yum! Tea had chicken parmesan with fettucine alfredo, and I had linguine pescatore with scallops, squid and more mussels. They really know how to cook pasta at Fiamma, and this time was no exception.

Then it was home for a bit of drunken cribbage. Tea was kickin' my butt all over that half-acre, so I decided to call it a night. At no point did I fall asleep in the middle of a hand -- ah, the advantages of being the blogger/historian.