When you gotta go

Stay hydrated - but find the facilities!

 We're back in the United States after a trip through four European countries - Italy, Switzerland, France and Britain. And while travel is always a wonderful way to expand your horizon and encounter new cultures, some travelers are leery about the cultural changes they might encounter....in the bathroom.

Jet lag

Venice from the air

The first time I ever made a trans-Atlantic flight I was in my mid-thirties. We flew from Seattle to Oslo, in business class on SAS. A pretty comfy flight, actually. But after changing planes in Copenhagen, and finally arriving in Oslo, I was a total mess. When it turned out our accommodations weren't as we expected, I burst into tears.

The next time I flew across the Atlantic, we flew from Seattle to London, direct. We landed at Heathrow and took a cab to a friend's home near Wimbledon. I remember I gamely tried to stay awake and converse, but within the first hour, our friends and [The Man I Love] sent me off to bed. After a four hour nap I was almost coherent.

Pink Saturday - Kerala pink

"I adore that pink! It's the navy blue of India," goes a quote attributed to style icon Diana Vreeland.

The little restaurant on Stoke Newington Church Street is the flagship restaurant of the Rasa restaurant chain, and its facade is painted the bright pink that Vreeland admired - in America we'd call it Barbie Pink.

He's back home, too!

After three weeks at summer camp, living the life of the dog pack, playing with a girl-shepherd named Kyra, Jack is back home with the pink, hairless monkeys who control his food supply and walkies.

He's also a little "jet-lagged", but he's happy.

The Housekeeping Chronicles - Transitions

"Les Raboteurs de Parquet,"  Gustave Caillebot, 1875, Musee d'Orsay

Before telling more about our travels, I'll report a recent transition in our domestic life.

We arrived home yesterday evening to discover than in our absence, our housekeeping couple committed what we determined was a "fire-able" offense.

Actually, to be fair, it was probably just Eigh, not Oeuf who was responsible for the act. When we left town, Eigh begged us not to suspend their services during our vacation, citing financial difficulties. So we left with a list of minor tasks, some of which were busy work, like watering potted plants.

I won't go into the gory details, but after a 15 hour international journey, we walked into an aftermath of disorder, dirt, and damage, created by Eigh's rash decision to perform an unrequested major home "repair", for which he lacked both the knowledge and craftsmanship.

This morning we called to inform him their services were no longer required. Insurance claim to follow.

He responded to the call with the usually hedging and argument and passive-aggressive guilt tripping we've come to expect from him, and since he needed to come by and pick up some tools he'd been storing here, we prepared ourselves for a drama-filled personal encounter. So we agreed to an appointed time, put put the tools on the porch, and waited to hear the doorbell

The time came and went, and we looked outside - the tools were gone and the house key was properly returned.

"Looks like he knows how to do this. He's probably done it before," commented [The Man I Love.]

We're home

Wrought iron finial from the Victoria & Albert Museum collection

We're back in LA now, but too tired to say more than that. Our trip was not without complications, but also ended up well. And our arrival was also not without complications - but ended up well. More later.

Here comes the sun

The sun came out - if only briefly. Here's me in the central garden at the Victoria and Albert Museum. So much more to show, but so little time to write!!!

Thanks to Thunder for reminding me about this song.

Rain rain rain

London, July 2012. This is the plaza in front of the Tate Modern adjoining the River Thames. Pouring. Rain rain rain.

We thought we'd go see the Tate Modern, then take the river taxi to the Tate Britain, down the river. But when we arrived, soaked, at the Modern, the place was filled with groups of school children, all smelling of damp flannel blazers, sitting in groups on the floor of the great concrete ramp, eating their lunches. We toured the galleries of surrealist painters, watched a Damien Hurst video of insects being incinerated on electrical wires, then decided to go right back toward our hotel and find a pub.

The one we found had this sign up. "Enoy the British Summer."

Uh huh. Damn, it's wet!

Up on the roof

Don't forget - you can click all photos to "embiggen"

The train takes you to a dreary looking suburb in Southeast London, and when you descend to the street, what you see makes you wonder what's next. Your guide leads you past the Jamaican produce stand, crosses in front of a zooming double decker bus, and walks toward a tatty looking multiplex cinema -  but just before the entrance, he veers right and goes round to follow signs to the car park.