I imagine bugs and girls have a dim perception that nature played a cruel trick on them, but they lack the intelligence to really comprehend the magnitude of it.
- Bill Watterson, American cartoonist "Calvin and Hobbes"
Monday, October 31, 2011
Joshua Tree National Park
After the Patton Museum, we first tried to enter the Joshua Tree National Park through the south entrance, but it was closed due to flash floods (in September! Honestly!). So we decided to take the long, scenic route around the eastern end of the park before entering from the north. The park is vaguely eliptical in shape and the road we took can be called scenic - except that the scenery doesn't change much. It's desert and bare mountains all round.
We first missed our exit up north around the park, so I decided to take a wild turn across the narrow strip of brushwood and sand that divided the freeway, as I couldn't see a single exit until the next town, which was umpteen miles away. This extralegal maneuvre was met by general acclaim and whoo hoo's from the other two, who were by now resigned to the fact that I was a madman out to kill us all. (I had a brainfart last night that made me do some maneuvers that had them in stiches...)
The park itself is mighty purdy, with huge rocks strewn round like marbles, much like Arches National Park in Utah. There were the famous Joshua trees of course, and an area with a type of cacti where they also had a vewy cute little chipmunk who blatantly tried to beg food from us. While there we got to talking to a guy who'd been working in Florida and was now traveling around for three months in a Volkswagen van he'd bought and was taking with him to Europe in a while. It took me about 30 seconds to place the accent before I correctly greeted him as a Dane. Readers of this blog (both of you) will know how much I like Danes. We had a pleasant talk (good luck, Henning!) and left while Albie was still drooling over his van.
Later we stopped at a couple of places and got in some shots of a Joshua Tree and some rocks, before rounding it off with an hour at the incredibly beautiful Keys View. I took a shitload of pics both just outside and inside the park, all of 'em can be found here. There were so many, I decided to make a separate post outta Keys View, more about that in a later post.
Route 177, which runs along the eastern end of the park.
Different direction, different place, same fucking boring road.
Right after this pic was taken, the bush in the middle caught fire and began to speak to us. I believe a choir of angels could be heard in the distance.
This was the Cholla Cactus area where we met both the chipmunk and the Dane.
Ze chipmunk.
Incredible vistas.
The Joshua tree in all its splendor. I experimented a lot with different positions of the sun behind the tree. As you can see, in some of these pics the tree looks eerily transparent. First, some B & W arty-fartiness:
Note how the light makes it look like the upper part of the tree is slightly transparent.
Then in color.
Transparent.
We first missed our exit up north around the park, so I decided to take a wild turn across the narrow strip of brushwood and sand that divided the freeway, as I couldn't see a single exit until the next town, which was umpteen miles away. This extralegal maneuvre was met by general acclaim and whoo hoo's from the other two, who were by now resigned to the fact that I was a madman out to kill us all. (I had a brainfart last night that made me do some maneuvers that had them in stiches...)
The park itself is mighty purdy, with huge rocks strewn round like marbles, much like Arches National Park in Utah. There were the famous Joshua trees of course, and an area with a type of cacti where they also had a vewy cute little chipmunk who blatantly tried to beg food from us. While there we got to talking to a guy who'd been working in Florida and was now traveling around for three months in a Volkswagen van he'd bought and was taking with him to Europe in a while. It took me about 30 seconds to place the accent before I correctly greeted him as a Dane. Readers of this blog (both of you) will know how much I like Danes. We had a pleasant talk (good luck, Henning!) and left while Albie was still drooling over his van.
Later we stopped at a couple of places and got in some shots of a Joshua Tree and some rocks, before rounding it off with an hour at the incredibly beautiful Keys View. I took a shitload of pics both just outside and inside the park, all of 'em can be found here. There were so many, I decided to make a separate post outta Keys View, more about that in a later post.
Route 177, which runs along the eastern end of the park.
Different direction, different place, same fucking boring road.
Right after this pic was taken, the bush in the middle caught fire and began to speak to us. I believe a choir of angels could be heard in the distance.
This was the Cholla Cactus area where we met both the chipmunk and the Dane.
Ze chipmunk.
Incredible vistas.
The Joshua tree in all its splendor. I experimented a lot with different positions of the sun behind the tree. As you can see, in some of these pics the tree looks eerily transparent. First, some B & W arty-fartiness:
Note how the light makes it look like the upper part of the tree is slightly transparent.
Then in color.
Transparent.
General Patton Memorial
Spent an interesting morning Sunday at the General Patton Memorial Museum in Chiriaco Summit. Patton himself spent less than a year at the place, but the Army still has training centers all around the Californian desert. We (moi, Albie & Court) first saw an introduction movie, then wandered around, gaping at guns, cars, knives, artillery, posters, etc, etc. We even got to talk to an old guy who'd been in the American occupation force just after WW2 and whose main job (this is my personal interpretation) was probably to bore the Germans to death. Anyway, all pics here.
A statue of Patton.
This impressive topographical representation of the southwestern US was made as an engineering tool sometime in the... uhm... fifties, I think?
Makes kabo... ah y'all know the drill by now...
The Sherman tank. Piece of shit compared to the Kraut's Tigers, but the US made a helluvalot of 'em.
Nothing phallic here, no sirree.
A statue of Patton.
This impressive topographical representation of the southwestern US was made as an engineering tool sometime in the... uhm... fifties, I think?
Makes kabo... ah y'all know the drill by now...
The Sherman tank. Piece of shit compared to the Kraut's Tigers, but the US made a helluvalot of 'em.
Nothing phallic here, no sirree.
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Quote of the Day
Above all, we must realize that no arsenal, or no weapon in the arsenals of the world, is so formidable as the will and moral courage of free men and women. It is a weapon our adversaries in today's world do not have.
- Ronald Reagan
- Ronald Reagan
Cuyamaca Rancho State Park
My first proper travel diary from the good ole US of A! Wheeee! Today I drove from San Diego up to Indio, which is fairly close to Joshua Tree National Park, which I shall enter tomorrow. For most of the day I've driven on largely two-lane state routes, through a very scenic state park, the Cuyamaca Rancho. It was a very purdy area with lots of cozy groves and lakes and fields, and some stunning vistas out across the Vallecito Mountains and the Anza-Borrego Desert State Park, which is a huge stretch of desert going all the way east to the Salton Sea.
The 4-lane road going along the Salton Sea and all the surrounding area up to the foothills, lie below sea level and the temperatures are still quite warm here. As I drove through the desert I saw tons of people out playing with motorbikes or ATVs in the sand.
Black & White pic from the Park.
Same area.
A little further north. It was a very peaceful drive. Not much traffic and people seemed relaxed and smiling.
In many places it looked like the forest had spouted gray hairs. It was a wise old forest, that's for sure.
This was the view from a lookout point just south of the little town of Julian. A few minutes after this was taken I was driving on the road you can just make out cutting across the desert through the center-right of the pic.
It was so pretty up there.
And in the far, far distance you can just imagine the Salton Sea.
The 4-lane road going along the Salton Sea and all the surrounding area up to the foothills, lie below sea level and the temperatures are still quite warm here. As I drove through the desert I saw tons of people out playing with motorbikes or ATVs in the sand.
Black & White pic from the Park.
Same area.
A little further north. It was a very peaceful drive. Not much traffic and people seemed relaxed and smiling.
In many places it looked like the forest had spouted gray hairs. It was a wise old forest, that's for sure.
This was the view from a lookout point just south of the little town of Julian. A few minutes after this was taken I was driving on the road you can just make out cutting across the desert through the center-right of the pic.
It was so pretty up there.
And in the far, far distance you can just imagine the Salton Sea.
Saturday, October 29, 2011
Quote of the Day
There are no such things as limits to growth, because there are no limits on the human capacity for intelligence, imagination and wonder.
- Ronald Reagan
- Ronald Reagan
Friday, October 28, 2011
Quote of the Day
You and I are told we must choose between a left or right, but I suggest there is no such thing as a left or right. There is only an up or down. Up to man's age-old dream - the maximum of individual freedom consistent with order - or down to the ant heap of totalitarianism. Regardless of their sincerity, their humanitarian motives, those who would sacrifice freedom for security have embarked on this downward path.
- Ronald Reagan
- Ronald Reagan
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Conversations with Americans
I had a much more eventful travel to the US yesterday than usual. Or, rather the traveling in itself was pretty lame, it was what I went through when I got there that was interesting.
First, at Immigration Control I thought myself lucky. They were closing the line I was in, so I was the last one to be handled by that agent. "This will be quick and easy", I thought. "She wants to go home or take a break or whatever. I love Americans, they love me." Nah. She asked the standard questions, but also began to probe what it is I was doing in the US and what I did for a living, etc. I answered truthfully that I used to be a teacher and that I was now basically traveling the world. At the end she hollered to a colleague, who took my passport and that of two other Norwegians from other lines, and all three of us were shown into a back room where a lot of guys sat behind their computers.
This was the so-called "Secondary immigration" control, where people go through everything from a quick, extra paper check that takes 30 seconds to complete, to what I can only assume is a free vacation of unspecified length at Guantanamo Bay on the other end of the spectrum. While sitting there we Norwegians were speculating at the cause of our misfortune and commenting on the seeming slowness with which new people were called forward.
Finally, after the two others (and lots more) had been waved through without so much as a proper interview, it was my turn. The guy behind the counter was an African American, prolly in his 30s. First he asked me the purpose of my trip, to wich I replied something like "driving around for 90 days". "And you think I'm going to let you do that?", he asked. "Yup", I replied, grinning from ear to ear. From there on out it was all fluffy animals and roses. It was ice cream (vanilla) and apple pie. I believe I saw a unicorn at one point.
He told me "your accent leads me to believe you've spent a long time here before?" I told him I'd been to the US 8 times, but that I'd never lived there and that I'd had this accent the first time I arrived. I told him I'd been raised on country music and that I was an English teacher. He then gave me one of the greatest compliments an American can give me. He said "Ah know y'all learn English, but not THAT kinda English. That's American, man." He asked some more questions about my travel plans, etc, and seemed genuinely fascinated by my story of selling the house and just traveling for the better part of a year. I laid it all out, in, may I say, impeccable, American English.
Soon I realised that the problem was that ON PAPER I had no income. All his computer told him was that I was an unemployed, and for all he knew I was some kind of slob coming to work illegally or even steal my way across the USA. He seemed almost apologetical when he asked if I had some kind of documentation of my story. I told him I had a valid traveler's insurance, a ticket home in three months, that I had friends in the US, and offered to open up my laptop and get online to show him my Norwegian bank statements. He pondered this for a few seconds, then shook his head and smiled. He stamped my passport a couple of times, handed it to me and said "enjoy your trip, Sir".
The same thing happened at customs. A big, burly black guy looked over my papers and asked me questions. When I told him my story, he seemed even more fascinated than the guy at Immigration, and we had a little conversation about what ails "today's youth". He barely browsed the contents of my suitcases and didn't bother to ask how much the things I was bringing in as gifts cost (there's a $100 tax-free limit for non-Americans, which I was probably WAY over, what with all my chocolates and stuffed animals). "Well", he said, "I think you've got a legitimate reason to be fed up teaching. You have a good trip, Sir". And just like that I was through. In retrospect, the potentially unsavory combination of "former teacher", and a suitcase full of chocolate and stuffed animals should have set some alarm bells off, but it didn't...
This pattern repeated itself throughout the day. The woman at the Continental desk who finally managed to print me a boarding card, was nice and laughed when I exclaimed a little "wheeee" as the pass was printed.
The guy signing my boarding pass just before the inland security check gave my passport a sudden, second look, then shook his head and smiled before handing it back. I looked at him kinda surprised and he shrugged his shoulders apologetically and said "it's the hair". "Yeah", I replied, "it was a lot of hair ago" (the pic was taken sometime in the late 90s, when I was all hair.) And he gave me a genuine grin.
The stewardess on Continental's flight to San Diego, who told me, when the machine refused my credit card the first couple of times I tried to pay for my Thai Chicken Wrap: "You gotta do it just so, it's very temperamental. Must be a female", and then gave a throaty, raw laugh.
The guy at the Hertz counter too seemed genuinely interested when I told him my story and my travel plans. He asked several questions I'm pretty sure were not in the Hertz manual for customer care, but I was happy to talk.
So there you have it, dear reader. A long trip and more scrutiny than I'm used to from US authorities (I usually breeze through everything), but all smiles and complete professionalism throughout. All the other yanks I've met have been nice and smiling too. It's currently about 20 minutes past 8 in the morning here in San Diego and despite some jet lag over the next couple of days, I'm looking forward to the three best months of my life. I pwomise to keep y'all updated.
First, at Immigration Control I thought myself lucky. They were closing the line I was in, so I was the last one to be handled by that agent. "This will be quick and easy", I thought. "She wants to go home or take a break or whatever. I love Americans, they love me." Nah. She asked the standard questions, but also began to probe what it is I was doing in the US and what I did for a living, etc. I answered truthfully that I used to be a teacher and that I was now basically traveling the world. At the end she hollered to a colleague, who took my passport and that of two other Norwegians from other lines, and all three of us were shown into a back room where a lot of guys sat behind their computers.
This was the so-called "Secondary immigration" control, where people go through everything from a quick, extra paper check that takes 30 seconds to complete, to what I can only assume is a free vacation of unspecified length at Guantanamo Bay on the other end of the spectrum. While sitting there we Norwegians were speculating at the cause of our misfortune and commenting on the seeming slowness with which new people were called forward.
Finally, after the two others (and lots more) had been waved through without so much as a proper interview, it was my turn. The guy behind the counter was an African American, prolly in his 30s. First he asked me the purpose of my trip, to wich I replied something like "driving around for 90 days". "And you think I'm going to let you do that?", he asked. "Yup", I replied, grinning from ear to ear. From there on out it was all fluffy animals and roses. It was ice cream (vanilla) and apple pie. I believe I saw a unicorn at one point.
He told me "your accent leads me to believe you've spent a long time here before?" I told him I'd been to the US 8 times, but that I'd never lived there and that I'd had this accent the first time I arrived. I told him I'd been raised on country music and that I was an English teacher. He then gave me one of the greatest compliments an American can give me. He said "Ah know y'all learn English, but not THAT kinda English. That's American, man." He asked some more questions about my travel plans, etc, and seemed genuinely fascinated by my story of selling the house and just traveling for the better part of a year. I laid it all out, in, may I say, impeccable, American English.
Soon I realised that the problem was that ON PAPER I had no income. All his computer told him was that I was an unemployed, and for all he knew I was some kind of slob coming to work illegally or even steal my way across the USA. He seemed almost apologetical when he asked if I had some kind of documentation of my story. I told him I had a valid traveler's insurance, a ticket home in three months, that I had friends in the US, and offered to open up my laptop and get online to show him my Norwegian bank statements. He pondered this for a few seconds, then shook his head and smiled. He stamped my passport a couple of times, handed it to me and said "enjoy your trip, Sir".
The same thing happened at customs. A big, burly black guy looked over my papers and asked me questions. When I told him my story, he seemed even more fascinated than the guy at Immigration, and we had a little conversation about what ails "today's youth". He barely browsed the contents of my suitcases and didn't bother to ask how much the things I was bringing in as gifts cost (there's a $100 tax-free limit for non-Americans, which I was probably WAY over, what with all my chocolates and stuffed animals). "Well", he said, "I think you've got a legitimate reason to be fed up teaching. You have a good trip, Sir". And just like that I was through. In retrospect, the potentially unsavory combination of "former teacher", and a suitcase full of chocolate and stuffed animals should have set some alarm bells off, but it didn't...
This pattern repeated itself throughout the day. The woman at the Continental desk who finally managed to print me a boarding card, was nice and laughed when I exclaimed a little "wheeee" as the pass was printed.
The guy signing my boarding pass just before the inland security check gave my passport a sudden, second look, then shook his head and smiled before handing it back. I looked at him kinda surprised and he shrugged his shoulders apologetically and said "it's the hair". "Yeah", I replied, "it was a lot of hair ago" (the pic was taken sometime in the late 90s, when I was all hair.) And he gave me a genuine grin.
The stewardess on Continental's flight to San Diego, who told me, when the machine refused my credit card the first couple of times I tried to pay for my Thai Chicken Wrap: "You gotta do it just so, it's very temperamental. Must be a female", and then gave a throaty, raw laugh.
The guy at the Hertz counter too seemed genuinely interested when I told him my story and my travel plans. He asked several questions I'm pretty sure were not in the Hertz manual for customer care, but I was happy to talk.
So there you have it, dear reader. A long trip and more scrutiny than I'm used to from US authorities (I usually breeze through everything), but all smiles and complete professionalism throughout. All the other yanks I've met have been nice and smiling too. It's currently about 20 minutes past 8 in the morning here in San Diego and despite some jet lag over the next couple of days, I'm looking forward to the three best months of my life. I pwomise to keep y'all updated.
Quote of the Day
We who live in free market societies believe that growth, prosperity and ultimately human fulfillment, are created from the bottom up, not the government down. Only when the human spirit is allowed to invent and create, only when individuals are given a personal stake in deciding economic policies and benefitting from their success - only then can societies remain economically alive, dynamic, progressive, and free.
- Ronald Reagan
- Ronald Reagan
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Quote of the Day
The poet called Miss Liberty's torch, "the lamp beside the golden door." Well, that was the entrance to America, and it still is. The glistening hope of that lamp is still ours. Every promise, every opportunity is still golden in this land. And through that golden door our children can walk into tomorrow with the knowledge that no one can be denied the promise that is America. Her heart is full; her torch is still golden, her future bright. She has arms big enough to comfort and strong enough to support, for the strength in her arms is the strength of her people. She will carry on in the eighties unafraid, unashamed, and unsurpassed. In this springtime of hope, some lights seem eternal; America's is.
- Ronald Reagan
- Ronald Reagan
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Quote of the Day
Politics is not a bad profession. If you succeed there are many rewards, if you disgrace yourself you can always write a book.
- Ronald Reagan
- Ronald Reagan
Monday, October 24, 2011
Travel itinerary
I'm off to the US again on Wednesday. For the first time in ages, the itinerary is not 100% nailed as of departure. I'm going to look at my bank account, the excange rate and the price of gas before booking the last few weeks. If things go well I'll take a drive down to Key West and the Everglades, if things go bad I'll head back to San Diego. As of now I'm ready for a few days in Hawaii (again, the number depends on $$$) but I've decided against Alaska in winter. So I'll prolly come back and do my 50th state during a summer - possible as early as 2012.
Roughly, this is my plan: I'll stay in California the first 1.5 week, with trips to Joshua Tree National Park and Death Valley. With my friends in San Diego I'll then head up the coast to Seattle and back. The aforementioned event with Neil Gaiman & Amanda Palmer takes place there.
November 14 I'll start my trek east, doing some of the national parks in Utah and then making my way into New Mexico. On Friday the 18th I'll be joined by my good friend Astrid Meland, a journalist from Oslo. She swears she lacks the shopping gene, so hopefully she'll serve as a check on my impulse buying...
Astrid & I will then travel together up to Santa Fe, down to El Paso and across Texas to San Antonio and Houston. I'll stuff face in Houston on Thanksgiving, at the house of my old friend Mandy. Then we'll continue further east to New Orleans and then up through Mississippi to Vicksburg, Jackson and Tupelo, before rounding off with a weekend in Atlanta, from which Astrid will be flying home. I'm planning on seeing some friends in Atlanta on the Saturday, the ones I've written about before (scroll down).
Then I'll probably go west to see a friend in Huntsville, before heading northeast to see friends in Winston-Salem, then on to see friends in Wilmington... come to think of it, I have entirely too many friends in the US... anyway, this is where my itinerary gets foggy. I may dip down into Florida or I may begin my way back to California, taking my sweet time. In January sometime, Hawaii beckons. I'll keep y'all updated!
Roughly, this is my plan: I'll stay in California the first 1.5 week, with trips to Joshua Tree National Park and Death Valley. With my friends in San Diego I'll then head up the coast to Seattle and back. The aforementioned event with Neil Gaiman & Amanda Palmer takes place there.
November 14 I'll start my trek east, doing some of the national parks in Utah and then making my way into New Mexico. On Friday the 18th I'll be joined by my good friend Astrid Meland, a journalist from Oslo. She swears she lacks the shopping gene, so hopefully she'll serve as a check on my impulse buying...
Astrid & I will then travel together up to Santa Fe, down to El Paso and across Texas to San Antonio and Houston. I'll stuff face in Houston on Thanksgiving, at the house of my old friend Mandy. Then we'll continue further east to New Orleans and then up through Mississippi to Vicksburg, Jackson and Tupelo, before rounding off with a weekend in Atlanta, from which Astrid will be flying home. I'm planning on seeing some friends in Atlanta on the Saturday, the ones I've written about before (scroll down).
Then I'll probably go west to see a friend in Huntsville, before heading northeast to see friends in Winston-Salem, then on to see friends in Wilmington... come to think of it, I have entirely too many friends in the US... anyway, this is where my itinerary gets foggy. I may dip down into Florida or I may begin my way back to California, taking my sweet time. In January sometime, Hawaii beckons. I'll keep y'all updated!
Quote of the Day
I'm leaving for San Diego Wednesday, so this week will be devoted to Reagan quotes...
There were so many candidates on the platform that there were not enough promises to go around.
- Ronald Reagan
There were so many candidates on the platform that there were not enough promises to go around.
- Ronald Reagan
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Quote of the Day
The three great apostles of practical atheism, that make converts without persecuting, and retain them without preaching, are wealth, health, and power.
- Charles Caleb Colton
- Charles Caleb Colton
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Friday, October 21, 2011
Quote of the Day
A man who does not lose his reason over certain things has none to lose.
- Gotthold E. Lessing
- Gotthold E. Lessing
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Ticket to ride
Just got home from Engerland to Norway and what do you think was waiting for me? Sweet, sweet entertainment! I hold in my grubby, little hands three tickets to an evening with Amanda Palmer and the world's greatest living author, Neil Gaiman. Wednesday Nov. 9 in Seattle, WA baby! Wheeeeee!
The two other tickets are for my old friends Albie & her hubby Court. Iffin I don't just sell 'em on ebay. The tickets, not Albie & Court. Don't think that would be legal. Hmmmmmm. Maybe?
The two other tickets are for my old friends Albie & her hubby Court. Iffin I don't just sell 'em on ebay. The tickets, not Albie & Court. Don't think that would be legal. Hmmmmmm. Maybe?
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
Ashdown Forest
Today turned out to be a very good last day in Engerland. I went to Ashdown Forest, where A. A. Milne used the local area as a setting for this two books about Winnie the Pooh and Christopher Robin (who was modeled after his own son). Many of the places mentioned in the Pooh books can be found in real life. I also had the great fortune of seeing a deer up close, and even got in a photo of the poor thing as it fled the scene.
I also went in to the little village of Hartfield, just to the north of Ashdown National Forest and had the best pizza I've had in England at a small bar there.
All Ashdown Forest pics here.
I've mentioned this before I think - the tradition of naming benches after people is very English in style and just about the most rational thing one can do to remember someone. Much better than some memorial or tombstone. This guy sure got a good spot for his bench. RIP, Tony.
The memorial plaque for Milne and artist E. H. Shepard, who used actual scenes from the forest for his drawings. One thing about the landscape though - there are more trees now than there were in Milne's days.
View over East Sussex from the memorial plaque at Gill's Lap (Galleon Lap). Sigh. England, I heart thee!
Kanga & Roo's sandy pit. Wheeeee!
To be a child and PLAY among roots like these. Sigh.
The bottom of this valley is "Eeyores sad and gloomy place", while the Hundred Acre Forest is to the top left. In reality it's called FIVE hundred acre forest. Fo' real.
I declared this random stump the "North Pole". Because I can. So there.
The bridge where Pooh found the North Pole. Honestly, just read the books will you?
"...both that morning equally lay..." - the fuck they did. The one on the right led to a true hell of brushwood and stubby terrain through which I had to play Rambo IV to eventually get to the one on the left, which led to the bridge mentioned above. It was hard work, ah tells ya.
Two seconds after I'd taken the pic above, I heard something coming through the brushwood from the road just above me. I turned to behold the expected Briton with his/her dog and was stunned to see a couple of antlers moving through the vegetation towards me. I stood staring at a deer, eye to eye, but sadly I didn't get my camera up until the old boy was already in full flight down the field. It's little moments like this that make all the lousy meals and horrible hotel rooms worth it. Thank's England. We'll meet again, you know.
I also went in to the little village of Hartfield, just to the north of Ashdown National Forest and had the best pizza I've had in England at a small bar there.
All Ashdown Forest pics here.
I've mentioned this before I think - the tradition of naming benches after people is very English in style and just about the most rational thing one can do to remember someone. Much better than some memorial or tombstone. This guy sure got a good spot for his bench. RIP, Tony.
The memorial plaque for Milne and artist E. H. Shepard, who used actual scenes from the forest for his drawings. One thing about the landscape though - there are more trees now than there were in Milne's days.
View over East Sussex from the memorial plaque at Gill's Lap (Galleon Lap). Sigh. England, I heart thee!
Kanga & Roo's sandy pit. Wheeeee!
To be a child and PLAY among roots like these. Sigh.
The bottom of this valley is "Eeyores sad and gloomy place", while the Hundred Acre Forest is to the top left. In reality it's called FIVE hundred acre forest. Fo' real.
I declared this random stump the "North Pole". Because I can. So there.
The bridge where Pooh found the North Pole. Honestly, just read the books will you?
"...both that morning equally lay..." - the fuck they did. The one on the right led to a true hell of brushwood and stubby terrain through which I had to play Rambo IV to eventually get to the one on the left, which led to the bridge mentioned above. It was hard work, ah tells ya.
Two seconds after I'd taken the pic above, I heard something coming through the brushwood from the road just above me. I turned to behold the expected Briton with his/her dog and was stunned to see a couple of antlers moving through the vegetation towards me. I stood staring at a deer, eye to eye, but sadly I didn't get my camera up until the old boy was already in full flight down the field. It's little moments like this that make all the lousy meals and horrible hotel rooms worth it. Thank's England. We'll meet again, you know.
Quote of the Day
There are three ingredients to the good life; learning, earning, and yearning.
- Christopher Morley
- Christopher Morley
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Ashby de la Zouch
Yesterday I left Chester for a dump of a hotel called the Charnwood Arms, just outside Coalville. It had an internet connection slow as syrup, a showerhead mounted on the wall (seriously, NO ONE has that in Europe anymore) and I stood for five minutes as the only waiting guest in their restaurant, while employees walked right by me, studiously avoiding eye contact. Fuck that. I went into Coalville and got me a good Indian meal instead.
The castle I'd planned to see in Ashby I abandoned after 15 minutes, since it was windy and cold as a witch's tit, the audioguide was (for once) extremely annoying and the castle grounds was full of screamingmonsters kids. English Heritage, here's a free suggestion for you: Introduce children-free days. I don't care if you arrange them in the early morning or late at night, just give me the opportunity to enjoy your many wondrous properties without the ever present wailing of a child on 110 decibel in my ears. Thank you.
The castle itself contains little but ruins today. It was built originally in the 12th century and from sometime in the 1400s it was handed over to Lord Hastings, one of Edward IV's most trusted men who famously lost his head during the reign of Edward's brother Richard III (a horse, a horse, etc). It was blown up during the Civil War, then the hall was rebuilt for a while, but now it's all pretty much ruins. Ashby castle regained some fame when Walter Scott set a tournament there in his Ivanhoe (1819) and for a while it became a popular tourist destination.
All Ashby pics here.
This huge straw bear is some sort of marketing plot for an ice cream company. It was on the main road outta Chester and I just had to get a pic of it.
I did climb the 98 steps up the tall tower. Fuck me, it was windy up there.
'cept for the tower pretty much everything is in ruin...
Through the door to the left, there was an almost pitch black tunnel, which I walked into. I could hear voices coming from the other end; it was a mother and her two kids playing fucking "scooby doo", making a godawful noise. The two kids stopped dead silent when I came round the corner, and I bet if I had screamed "booo" at them, they would have turned and fled in horror. As it was I just nodded to their mother in the dark and went on my way, barely able to contain my evil laugh.
Ruins.
More ruins.
The castle I'd planned to see in Ashby I abandoned after 15 minutes, since it was windy and cold as a witch's tit, the audioguide was (for once) extremely annoying and the castle grounds was full of screaming
The castle itself contains little but ruins today. It was built originally in the 12th century and from sometime in the 1400s it was handed over to Lord Hastings, one of Edward IV's most trusted men who famously lost his head during the reign of Edward's brother Richard III (a horse, a horse, etc). It was blown up during the Civil War, then the hall was rebuilt for a while, but now it's all pretty much ruins. Ashby castle regained some fame when Walter Scott set a tournament there in his Ivanhoe (1819) and for a while it became a popular tourist destination.
All Ashby pics here.
This huge straw bear is some sort of marketing plot for an ice cream company. It was on the main road outta Chester and I just had to get a pic of it.
I did climb the 98 steps up the tall tower. Fuck me, it was windy up there.
'cept for the tower pretty much everything is in ruin...
Through the door to the left, there was an almost pitch black tunnel, which I walked into. I could hear voices coming from the other end; it was a mother and her two kids playing fucking "scooby doo", making a godawful noise. The two kids stopped dead silent when I came round the corner, and I bet if I had screamed "booo" at them, they would have turned and fled in horror. As it was I just nodded to their mother in the dark and went on my way, barely able to contain my evil laugh.
Ruins.
More ruins.
Chester
Spent the whole weekend in Chester, which is just southeast of Liverpool, and sort of a border town between England and Wales. It's a nice town, lots of old buildings and Tudor architecture, though some of it is from the Victorian Age, not Tudor times. Some streets have overhangs which protect from rain while you're shopping, and there are plenty of terraces and stuff, also medieval walls that follow the outline of the ancient Roman Walls.
Ah, the Romans. They've got plenty of Roman history in Chester, although I don't think they've been very good at maintaining & marketing it. Cases in point are 1) the amphitheatre, which used to house 6-7,000 people was almost bulldozed over to make a bypass a few years ago and 2) the "Roman Experience" museum (Dewa) is quite dull.
Saturday, my old friend Stef came down to visit. She's an engineer, and works for some sort of water/waste company. As far as I know she could be spending her working days swimming in sewage. She shared my misery at the Roman museum, but we both liked The Grosvenor Museum, which in addition to being free also houses several exhibitions on Chester's long history, including a whole house looking like it did in the Victorian Era. The name Grosvenor is, in that curious, British fashion pronounced without the s. There are lots of Grosvenors in town - streets, parks, etc.
We then spent some time on a tour bus, where at least to me the whole experience was wasted due to the combined forces of the wind and the old hag that mumbled throughout her comments. We also discovered that Stef's headache wasn't caused by me (not for lack of trying), but by a lack of caffeine (the woman goes through eight cups of tea per day at work, whaddya expect?).
All Chester pics here.
1274? I'm suspicious.
That sweet, sweet Tudor style.
Arty farty.
Hmmmm.
Reputedly the 2nd most photographed clock in Britain, after the one at the Palace of Westmister (Big Ben). T'was made for Queen Victoria's Diamond Jubilee (her 60th year of reigning o'er us as the song goes).
Ah, the Romans. They've got plenty of Roman history in Chester, although I don't think they've been very good at maintaining & marketing it. Cases in point are 1) the amphitheatre, which used to house 6-7,000 people was almost bulldozed over to make a bypass a few years ago and 2) the "Roman Experience" museum (Dewa) is quite dull.
Saturday, my old friend Stef came down to visit. She's an engineer, and works for some sort of water/waste company. As far as I know she could be spending her working days swimming in sewage. She shared my misery at the Roman museum, but we both liked The Grosvenor Museum, which in addition to being free also houses several exhibitions on Chester's long history, including a whole house looking like it did in the Victorian Era. The name Grosvenor is, in that curious, British fashion pronounced without the s. There are lots of Gro
We then spent some time on a tour bus, where at least to me the whole experience was wasted due to the combined forces of the wind and the old hag that mumbled throughout her comments. We also discovered that Stef's headache wasn't caused by me (not for lack of trying), but by a lack of caffeine (the woman goes through eight cups of tea per day at work, whaddya expect?).
All Chester pics here.
1274? I'm suspicious.
That sweet, sweet Tudor style.
Arty farty.
Hmmmm.
Reputedly the 2nd most photographed clock in Britain, after the one at the Palace of Westmister (Big Ben). T'was made for Queen Victoria's Diamond Jubilee (her 60th year of reigning o'er us as the song goes).
Quote of the Day
Life comes before literature, as the material always comes before the work. The hills are full of marble before the world blooms with statues.
- Phillips Brooks
- Phillips Brooks
Monday, October 17, 2011
Quote of the Day
No people in history have ever survived who thought they could protect their freedom by making themselves inoffensive to their enemies.
- Dean Acheson
- Dean Acheson
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Hotel cat
This little furball is Brookie, resident cat at the Brookside Hotel. She came to the hotel about 3 years ago, as a stray and it speaks volumes about the kind-hearted people at Brookside that she's been allowed to stay. Today she's a well fed, extremely affectionate and attention seeking little missus (her favorite thing to do in the evening is to rub against the flat screen of the PC, thus obscuring the vision of the employees...) She does try to nibble on your fingers every now and then, but generally she's a purring little loveball. So cute I just had to share. Back to our regular programming tomorrow!
Ah shees you. I wantsh cheezeburgerz!
Come pet me, human.
Ah shees you. I wantsh cheezeburgerz!
Come pet me, human.
Beeston Castle
After Hack Green I first had a horrible lunch at some pub; they even managed to fuck up a roastbeef sandwich. Sigh. Then I went on to Beeston Castle, where from the top you can reputedly look upon 8 counties. It was built in the 1220s, after its owner returned from the Crusades. The castle is a ruin, but the location is just about one of the most beautiful I've ever seen. Earlier people must have felt the same, because they've found Bronze and Iron age settlements up there.
All pics here. Including some arty-farty black & white photography.
The outer wall.
The inner wall of the castle today.
Incredible views.
View from the bridge at the castle front.
You can see all the way to Liverpool.
View to the east. Sho, sho purdy.
Some dramatic sky pics, this one in color.
And in b & w.
Sigh.
There's also a cave on the grounds, outside the outer wall.
All pics here. Including some arty-farty black & white photography.
The outer wall.
The inner wall of the castle today.
Incredible views.
View from the bridge at the castle front.
You can see all the way to Liverpool.
View to the east. Sho, sho purdy.
Some dramatic sky pics, this one in color.
And in b & w.
Sigh.
There's also a cave on the grounds, outside the outer wall.
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