Day 2: Munich!

Up very early this morning. Don't expect the houseboat residents appreciated our luggage clattering along the cobblestones at 5 a.m. Took the Heathrow Express from Paddington, then the quick flight to Munich.

Navigating the ring road in our hire car was fun, particularly when we started hitting cul-de-sacs courtesy of metal barriers that our sat-nav knew nothing of. [Aside: we later learned that one of the 'avoidances' we always leave on -- toll roads -- was unnecessarily complicating our routes; apparently most of the autobahns are marked as toll roads on our 2009 maps.] Eventually we made it to the hotel, though, and then took the U-Bahn to Marienplatz.

As we emerged from the subway, raised voices and music could be heard. Initially, we laughed off Tea's guess of protests, only to have it confirmed by a local shortly thereafter. Hundreds, if not thousands, of folks carrying and wearing "Atomkraft? Nein danke!" lined streets and pathways. [Now that I'm connected again, I'll let this Deutsche Welle story tell the tale:

A focus of the protest was the formation of a human chain, about 10 kilometers long, through the center of the city... Organizers said that some 50,000 people in all took part in the day's events, while police put the number at around 25,000.

...

Social Democratic Party (SPD) leader Sigmar Gabriel said that the turnout revealed the level of opposition to a planned extension to the operating lifespans of Germany's nuclear power plants...]

Tea successfully navigated around that excitement, bringing us to the decidedly more jovial bustle of the Hofbräuhaus am Platzl.

Well, I have to say, the Hofbräuhaus franchise in Las Vegas is excellent. Much as there, music, laughter and the general buzz of good cheer washed over us as we explored the many rooms of the former royal brewery.

A friendly British couple who are living in Munich invited us to sit at a Stammtisch or local table, where we enjoyed pork knuckle, cabbage rolls and schnitzel, as well as the house original and dunkel (or dark beer) and radlers (or shandies). [Funnily enough, the direct translation of radler is cyclist; h'm...]

The whole atmosphere of the Hofbräuhaus is fantastic. That such a tourist attraction still reserves over a hundred tables for locals, and lets them lock up their steins in the entryway between visits, just strikes me as so... right.

From there, we made our way to the beautiful Neues Rathaus, or New Town Hall, where they seemed to be setting up for a concert of sorts. We stayed in the plaza for the hourly Rathaus-Glockenspiel show, and then made our way to a local grocery store. An hour or so later, ladened with many tasty biscuits, peanut-butter 'cheezies', and a jug of Neuschwansteiner beer -- literally, and a beautiful vessel it is -- we headed back to our rooms at the K+K hotel on the crowded subway.

Up next: Schloss Nymphenburg and Dachau

[Also, don't forget that all these pictures and more are available in my Picasa album.]

München trip: Day 1: London

I forgot how mad London is.

As we left home this morning, a light breeze tugged leaves from the trees across our lane. It was peaceful, watching them spiral down toward us as we walked to the train station, mingling with the Friday morning commuters. That seemed continents away as we crammed on the Piccadilly Line this evening.

Apparently the crowds were worse than usual because they'd decided to shut down the line upon discovering an unclaimed bag. That said, as Tea quickly pointed out, colliding with any London evening commute is more excitement than any of us are used to. (I wonder if they are more alert after the recent American announcements, that, happily, warn about travel both to here and our destination of Germany.)

Aside: it's hard to believe that the newspaper is dead after taking a trip like that: well over half the commuters had their noses buried in the printed word. And, when you think about it, it makes sense: with all the jostling that goes on, I'd surely drop a hand-held device. Plus, you can fold it in all sorts of ways to improve your grip. And when you're done, in the bin with it. But maybe that's just me, only truly comfortable with my devices when I'm on the couch or at the kitchen table.

Just outside Paddington Station

Staying at the Novotel near Paddington is neat: the houseboats lining the canal right outside the station seem so European; in a way much of the rest of the city doesn't strike me. That said, however, I wouldn't cover our next stop, Covent Garden, with that broad brush: it's so vibrant; a melting pot of language and cuisine. Speaking of which, the Jamie's Italian close by didn't disappoint.

Nancy and Stephen had met us at Paddington fresh from their overnight Atlantic crossing -- which is to say, excited, but far from rested -- but thoughts of napping were quickly dispelled by those of lunch at Jamie's; they're loyal readers of this blog, and were eager to experience the subject of such fuss.

The service at this location, always an unknown variable with any chain, was excellent: our waitress answered all of Stephen's (many) questions, and even brought us samples of a few dishes -- something he probably loves even more than quizzing folks. Our old standbys made yet another appearance, but I had a special of braised lamb this time; exquisite! We ended the meal with the lemon polenta cake -- again, possibly the best dessert on the planet.

Up next: Munich! "Hoi! Hoi! Hoi!"

Athens: touring amidst protests

The Parthenon

It's amazing what a difference a few hours make: we were off the ship and on the metro early enough to have pictures of the Parthenon with no one else in them. A few hours later -- after 10 a.m., say -- the wait was hours, and the place, a madhouse. By then, however, we'd enjoyed a snack -- more baklava and another pastry, called kadaifi on the menu -- and taking in the Temple of Zeus.

There was some sort of protest going on outside the President's residence, which, unfortunately, closed the nearby national gardens, so we skipped ahead on our itinerary and, as luck would have it, happened upon the changing of the guard outside the palace. Our luck continued as we found a covered patio moments before the skies opened, raining down buckets. And just as we were finishing up our fantastic Greek salads, the sun broke through again. (Oh, I tried ouzo for the first time as well -- very similar to sambuca, which I love.)

The Odeon

The Erechtheum

If you're as confused by all buildings as I was, check out the site plan on the Acropolis' Wikipedia page -- I could've used it a bit sooner!

Hadrian's Arch -- the Acropolis in the distance

We decided to catch the metro back to the ship at that point, and it's a good thing we did: the combination of the port authority jamming all the cruise passengers into a single line -- one of the cruise lines was registering hundreds of passengers who were about to begin their cruise, no less -- and a massive failure of the body scanners had us waiting for an hour to board the ship. And the worst part was that no one could tell us anything: Royal Caribbean personnel didn't even appear until half an hour had passed. With everyone pushing and squeezing closer and closer together, no air conditioning, no water, many languages, military dogs barking savagely... Well, honestly, you felt the anxiety approaching riot levels.

However, the worst moment for me was when a Greek soldier near the defunct body scanners pointed at me from behind their barricade, shouting, "Hey! You! Stop!"

The Temple of Zeus

I'd been filming (and photographing) all this, since no one from Royal Caribbean was around (at least, initially), and I figured they wouldn't believe me without some sort of evidence. (Some of the staff don't speak English very well, so it can really help things along if you have something to point at.) As the soldier hopped the barricade and approached me, I had visions of him taking my camera and smashing it, or simply confiscating it. Instead, he stopped beside me, pointed at the camera, and said, "Delete it!", watching and repeating the instruction as I deleted each video and photo in succession, back to a picture of Nancy and Stephen that I'd clearly taken on the docks. Then he simply nodded and walked back to their line. The adrenaline didn't hit me for a few minutes, but when it did, I was shaking for some time.

Tuesday, June 29, 2:30 p.m.: Epilogue

Stephen has an interesting theory about yesterday -- courtesy of his dad's speculations prior to our sailing. The chances of all three scanners failing simultaneously are astronomically small -- Stephen managed to find someone in the industry who claimed they're never interconnected -- so it's likely that at least one of the machines was working correctly, and they simply claimed that all of them were broken.

Why? Well, Greek government employees have been protesting government cuts to their wages (and benefits, possibly -- I'm not up on the details) for some time now, and the fact that the cruise line that was registering people seemed to cater to locals means that we could have been caught up in an attempt by the government employees -- both port authority workers and the army -- to gum up the works just enough to garner public support for negotiations regarding those cuts (even if only to get Greece back to normal from the layman's point of view).

I like the theory. Especially when you consider that all the scanners started working again simultaneously. Oh well, time to catch a few rays. Tomorrow we're in Naples (and possibly Pompeii).

Have a look at my Athens album for more pictures of the Parthenon and the Temple of Zeus:

2010 06 - Athens

Up next: Naples (our last port of call), Sorrento and Capri.

A last hurrah in Londinium

For Kae's last weekend here, we decided to spend it in London – a day or so beforehand. Thank goodness for lastminute.com: you can book a bunch of stuff there, and with hotels, you can get a great deal; the catch is you won't know exactly where you're staying until you pay.

It worked better than we could've imagined, giving us a great discount at this really posh hotel, The Grange St. Paul's, in the shadow of the beautiful St. Paul's Cathedral. I mean, I don't think we'll ever stay at a place like that in London again: you get your own plush slippers and robe, every room has this amazing spa bathroom, the smoked salmon in their continental breakfast just melts in your mouth, there's a great pool, etc. Suffice to say that our expectations were exceeded by a country mile.

Inside the Twinings shop

We were hungry when we got in, so we stopped at this gourmet burger restaurant – Gourmet Burger Kitchen – around the corner. They didn't have the selection of The Works, but it was in the same vein. It's amazing how many languages you hear in London, when you don't have loud American geeks behind you joking about poorly formed SQL queries, that is. We had to laugh. I had a tasty boar burger with a real ale from the same farm – Laverstoke Park Farm. Tea and Kae had some frosty milkshakes to go with their burgers.

Somerset House

Then it was time for some shopping. We spent some time in the oldest shop in London, the Twinings tea shop in the shadow of the impressive Courts of Justice, before making our way to Covent Garden; they have some really talented buskers performing there. Actually, before we got there, in one of those incredible coincidences, we ran into a Canadian we'd met on the tube in from Paddington earlier that day: we just standing there, admiring all that is Somerset House – with kids playing in the water, just like that scene in Last Chance Harvey – when we heard this, “Hey! I know you guys!” It's such a small world sometimes.

The girls' ultimate destination was Bravissimo near Oxford Circus, so I left them near the distinctive spire of All Souls Church in search of a pub. Before long, I'd found the Argyll Arms, and had a pint of the Landlord in one hand and William Gibson's Neuromancer in the other – Heaven for me, in other words.

At Ping Pong

Later, we met up and headed back to the hotel for a swim. Well, it turned into a nap for me, but the girls enjoyed the pool. Then it was out in search of Chinese dumplings at Ping Pong on Bread Street. Everything about the place, right down to their slogan – "little steamed parcels of deliciousness" – was so Tea (and Kae :-) ). And they were true to that delicious statement, from the martinis to the dozen or so selections we ordered.

Camden markets was on the docket for Saturday. The tube filled up as we got closer to our stop; initially, I'd thought the tattooed and pierced travellers were the ones heading there – I'd watched a few videos on the markets the night before – but, as we exited like a tide of people flowing out of the station, I realized that the Camden markets has something for everyone. Yes, there are plenty of places to get tattoos and T-shirts of the most irreverent variety, but there are also pottery shops, shops selling beautiful old luggage, guys wandering around with live kangaroos in their shirts, Hare Krishnas beside kids with pink spiked mohawks, and food.

Oh, the food. At times you felt like you were running a gauntlet – an aromatic, mouth-watering one – with Chinese, Thai, Mexican, Japanese, Indian (the list goes on) food vendors lining the lanes, holding out free samples. You could eat a meal's worth of samples easily, and I'm sure some of the people we saw were doing just that. We had a snack of something called a 'chipstix', where they cut and cooked a potato to yumminess right in front of you, on a stick, followed by Mexican for Tea and me, and Chinese for Kae.

Tea with a 'chipstix'

Next was some shopping – we picked up a fantastic old cribbage board, an old collection of Sherlock Holmes stories, and a bunch of comic books from Mega City Comics, nestled right in the middle of the markets – and people watching. We saw this guy who was the spitting image of Duckie – I'm sure he wasn't even born when that movie came out, but he must've seen it, he was that spot on. Then it was down the road for a pint at The Monarch. They had chairs set up on the stage, so we sat where there was no doubt live music later that night.

At YO! Sushi

Finally, it was back to the hotel for a swim – I joined the girls this time – followed by some YO! Sushi before bed. It was our first time there, and I have to say, as tired as I was, it was all really exciting: it's part game, part extra in some futuristic movie, and all tasty.

Sunday meant that it was time to say goodbye to Kae – we preferred au revoir – so we hired a car (at a flat rate that ended up saving us money – to say nothing of our backs) to take us to Heathrow, saw Kae off, and took the bus home from there. We all agreed it was a fantastic weekend. London's amazing for that: I think you could go there 52 weekends in a row and never retrace your steps or do the same thing twice.

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.

Vacation: Day 3: London: Even the police are confused

Initially, we'd planned to watch the changing of the guard with Tea's extended family, followed by the Notting Hill Festival in the afternoon. Once we got down to Buckingham Palace, however, we learned that it had been cancelled for the day, and decided to tour the estate rooms of the palace instead. Everything from the ticket – which looked more like an invitation to a fancy do – to the free audio tour was perfectly executed; we all thoroughly enjoyed it. The art collection alone was impressive; I recall a Rembrandt in particular – The Shipbuilder and His Wife – as simply breathtaking. There were a number of scenes of St. Mark's Square in Venice as well, and many portraits, of course.

Two other comments about the palace: the room off the music room – the Blue Room, I believe – had a secret passage behind a mirror to allow the Queen to receive guests without traipsing through all the various rooms; it was something right out of an Agatha Christie novel. And, finally, I got to see the gilded pucks that Rocket Richard and the Montreal Canadiens gave the Queen as a gift. Speaking of gifts, at the Gift Shop we learned that we could use our ticket stubs to sign up for free access to the estate rooms for a year, which is great 'cause I know we'll be back, probably with visitors in tow.

We had a quick snack in Green Park that was notable for the delicious beverage I had with it (see right); and then it was off to the Notting Hill Festival. We'd been told that Sunday was the better of the two days to attend, as things tended to get out of hand of the Monday, and it seemed like others took that advice; it took us a couple of tries to squeeze on a Central line train to the namesake station. (I have video of the crowds leaving the station – to say nothing of my festival footage – that I'll have to upload when I'm back on land.)

What can I say about the festival itself? It isn't to be believed, when it comes down to it. Truly, it's a marvel. I gather it's the second biggest street festival in the world, with crowds in excess of two million each year; I don't think this year was any exception either. One thing to note about my pictures: at no point did we double back; every shot of a crowd you see is made up of different folks. Mind boggling, really. As you can imagine, it wasn't easy getting out either. In fact, we were correcting information the bobbies gave us at one point. “Nobody knows what's goin' on!” one replied. But we survived, and had the time of our lives. And get this: the topper? Sunday carvery just around the corner from our hotel. Absolutely delicious.

Vacation: Day 2: London

Our landlord had highly recommended the Portobello Market for our Saturday morning in London, so we headed to our closest tube station – Stratford – at a reasonable hour. The street signs indicating the sections for antiques, new goods, old goods, and food spoke to the market's long tradition. Upon looking down the choked road that faded to an indistinguishable mass, Stephen exclaimed, “This is a city!”

As with the term 'history', I had to adjust my definition of 'antiques' in very short order. The old, polished tankards and flasks caught my attention immediately, but it was at a book seller's stand that I was most sorely tempted: he had a beautiful edition of Through The Looking-Glass published in 1940. I was able to resist because: 1) I knew our luggage back in the hotel was stuffed as it was, 2) the money problems I've described previously mean that we actually need to hang on to the cash we have for the moment, 3) there were no prices on any of the prominently-displayed books, and, finally, 4) I'm sure Tea and I will be back at some point.

Tea and Stephen found a stand selling hot dogs (amongst other things – it was actually a money changer, oddly enough), and after all the lamenting Stephen had heard about the lack of them over here, he had one in his hand in a shot. Happily, all four of us agreed that it was pretty good, meaning that Tea might not have to rely so heavily on her military friends, and their access to Canadian and American 'exchanges'.

About halfway down Portobello Road we came upon The Duke of Wellington, and decided that some food and a pint would go down well. I got myself a Young's Bitter, Tea had a Pimm's and lemonade – which looked amazing – Nancy had an Americano and Stephen had a lemonade; luckily, the bar was twenty minutes from offering a large menu too. We hadn't been sitting long before the bartender who'd poured our drinks came by with menus and then took our food orders. (She was thoroughly amused by my new Cows T-shirt that Nancy and Stephen brought over for me, and by Stephen's vehemence regarding a dislike of “smushy peas.”) That's the first time we've had our food order taken at the table in a pub over here; maybe they're more used to dealing with tourists in London. Either way, she was fantastic; a lot of fun (at one point, teasing Nancy about the veggies she'd left on her plate and reminding us all of one of my favourite vacation photos of Nancy leaning way back as a waiter attempts to choo-choo some asparagus toward her, determined-parent-style).

Finally, there was this great moment when one of the ladies behind the bar asked an older gentleman where his dog was. Down he went in a crouch, and he hadn't made more than a few quick calls before a Jack Russell terrier (or some similar small breed) came running into the pub and jumped up on his shoulder in one fluid motion. Two seconds after the photo to the right was taken, he stuck his tongue out in comic fashion; I wish I'd been able to catch that one.

We'd agreed to meet two sets of Tea and Nancy's aunts and uncles at the London Eye in the late afternoon, and the gaggle of us convened without too much difficulty. Mick was more than a little skeptical about the whole enterprise -- being afraid of heights -- and Robbie took great pleasure in spouting off various morbid theories behind the missing capsule we all noticed as the line approached the Eye. Once up, we had a spectacular view of Thames, including the oddity of a dining table replete with guests, suspended well above the ground by a crane. Hope no one dropped a fork!

With two feet solidly planted again, it was off to find a pub. At one point, the conversation turned to what woeful tales Mick and Daph would bring to Tea's folks back home of how she was faring, and Tea, ever the good sport, was on the sidewalk in a flash, saying, “Take a picture for evidence of how you found me, passed out drunk!”

We eventually made it to a bit of a posh place close to the Eye for a few pints and a snack, and then it was off to The Wellington at Waterloo: a fantastic mix of sports bar and grandiose pub. I tried Marston's for the first time, and really enjoyed both the Pedigree and the Long Hop. After that, it was back to the two couples' hotel lobby for a nightcap, and, finally, a tube ride home (which I, apparently, fell sound asleep on).