Home again, and there's gonna be laundry.

Actually,  not all that much,  but I thought that was a catchy title.

T.C. and I took a little jaunt down to Kingston for a few days to visit with her sis and hubby.  And no,  I mean Kingston, Ontario.  Not Jamaica.
Been to Jamaica,  might go back.  Not sure.

Anyhoo,  the weather wasn't really stellar,  as it rained all the way there,  and rained intermittently the whole time we were there.   Looks like the weather here cleared up,  and it also looks like I just might have to fuel up the mower and start cutting grass in very short order.

Kingston is a neat little town,  and sis-in-law and hubby bought a place that allows for walking to almost every possible amenity.
Of course,  the downside is,  they have to park on the street.  So that kinda sucks.  You can see here where I've parked the truck behind their vehicle:

It's the grey one with the green shutters.  Apparently,  Sir John A. Macdonald once lived there way back when he was more of a drunk than a politician.  Although,  he may very well have been both at the same time.   If you do happen to go to that article,  about half way down,  there's a picture of the house before it was divided into two residences.   So sis-in-law and hubby live in one half.  Kind of like a condo really,   except really old.

The place is 70 feet from front to back,  with a skinny little back yard to boot.  Oh,  and there just happens to be a ground hog hanging out back there as well.

Not that having a ground hog in your back yard is anything to be too proud of or anything.  I'm sure he's mostly harmless,  although I do recall that (back on the farm)  we'd go out about twice a year and dispatch as many groundhogs as we could find and fill in their holes,  so the livestock would not be stepping in them.   I suggested sis-in-law might get herself a 22,  but discharging a firearm in the city is kinda frowned on.  It's Canada and all.  We do have guns, but there are a few little rules, and we certainly don't hunt with an AR-15.

So where was I?

Right.  Well,  there was a lot of eating and drinking,  so I think I'll be giving my liver a rest this week.  I mean,  it's not like I got blindingly drunk or anything,  but we didn't exactly have "afternoon tea" either.

Took a little jaunt over to Gananoque for lunch at one of the many touristy spots.  I don't think I've been in Gananoque in over forty years,  as the last time I was there was with my parents,  and we took one of the 1000 Island Boat Tours.

Oh,  and for the unsure,  it's pronounced "Ganan-AWK-way".   I think that works.

Of course,  as cute and cool as this place was,  the food was somewhat average,  and I find that having pretty average food at outstanding spots seems to be a little something that I have discovered on more than one occasion.  

It was the The Gananoque Inn and Spa,  by the way.  Just saw how pricey the rooms are.  

Yikes.  

Won't be staying there.  Especially as we have a great spot to stay just down the road in Kingston.  Where the food is great,  by the way.

Our intrepid hosts.  Both quite talented in the kitchen.  I may need to fast for a few days.  Just saying.

Hubby is a retired architect,  but I think he could have done extremely well as a chef.  Sis-in-law is an artist,  and just about every piece of art we have in our house is something she has done.  Ranging from portraits to earlier work when she was doing illustrations for Hallmark Cards and such.

Well, getting close to time for tucky-tuck,  so I think I'll pack it.

Thanks for stopping by.

Keep your stick on the ice. 

I’m here. Really.

There seems to be certain subjects that do indeed bring forth the comments.  A snow storm seems to be one of them.   I don’t “do” religion or politics,  unless of course it involves making fun of politicians.  But that’s almost like cruelty to animals.  Dumb animals at that.

I guess I didn’t have anything to say yesterday that was worth saying.  I was a little taken aback to read about “Butterbean” Carpenter.  He last made a comment here on December 5th.  Maybe that’s why I just figured I had nothing worth while? 

We can get all maudlin and philosophical, but that won’t help matters any.

 

It’s a beautiful day here at the Ponderosa.  It snowed just enough this morning to make the parking lots greasy,  which makes it more of challenge to go on foot that by car.  There’s not much you can wear that will keep you from slipping in the snot.

 

I think the fellow across the road might have a bit of an issue getting into his place?  He lives up in Caledon on what I understand is a country property,  and I don’t know if he has a snow blower or a tractor with a blade.  Maybe he’s still snowed in?  Doubtful.

 

I didn’t mention what we did on Saturday,  did I?  During the storm.

Initially Travelling Companion wanted to go to a mass for her parents in Hamilton at EIGHT a.m.   And we managed to get about half way through town (it’s spread out,  so we’re talking maybe a couple miles) and decided to skip it.  There had been no plowing at all at that point in the morning and it was getting worse the farther west we went.  So it was back home for breakfast.

And that would have been all fine and dandy.  Hang out at home.  Shovel some snow.  No biggie.

However, there was a plan afoot to meet up with a former associate coming over from Austria who had stayed in Canada a couple extra days just to see us.  Just to see us. 

So we HAD to suck it up and go to Toronto later in the day.  There wasn’t going to be a “do over”.

This gentleman used to work with T.C. in the Company that Cannot Be Named,  and has since left to pursue other interests. 

Actually,  he told us later over dinner that he only stuck around as long as he did due to Travelling Companion.  When she said she was coming back to Canada,  he started getting ready for his exit.

He was in Nova Scotia for a few days seeing to a windmill venture that he’s involved in.   Really neat stuff,  but not exactly blog fodder.

He’s a huge hockey fan,  so we took him to the Hockey Hall of Fame down at the corner of Front Street and Young. 

I must say,  even though I’m not that big a hockey fan,  it was kinda cool.  Actually,  let me rephrase that.  I have no clue,  relatively speaking.  It has something to do with shooting a hard black round thingy into a net.  I’ll leave it at that.

We all enjoyed some of the neat displays. 

This is one of those times when,  even if you *think* you don’t know that much (see above) you begin to discover just how little you DO know?  My lack of hockey knowledge was staggering.

We were totally clueless as to how far back hockey goes in Canada,  and all the different types of equipment,  cups, trophies.  The list goes on.

There’s good old Lord Stanley.  Hence,  the “Stanley Cup,”   Not just some name pulled out of a hat.

That’s NOT the Stanley Cup,  by the way.

 

This is….  ↓

 

Or maybe it’s a replica?  I really have no clue.  All I know is,  if you had some random thought about grabbing it and running out the open door (yes,  the front door was open and it was freakin’ cold in there) I’m pretty sure there would be a bevy of Toronto’s finest chasing after you in fairly short order.  And, how you gonna get that thing under your coat?  Or run with it down the sidewalk?

So,  there were three different stops,  and three different underground parking garages.  (his hotel, the Hall of Fame and then dinner)   Didn’t have to trudge through the slush one bit.  Our friend had suggested taking the subway,  but I figured we could just crawl along Young street from his hotel on Gerrard to Front.  Wouldn’t have been any quicker by subway,  since you have to GET to the subway somehow.  

I probably shouldn’t offer any opinions on Toronto Transit,  since I don’t have to live there.  But I suspect that it’s not “The better way”.   That’s their motto.  And they’re not even using sarcastic font. 

Oh,  and they refer to themselves as a “World Class City”.  Try not to spit out your coffee!  

I don’t know man,  I don’t even OWN a crack pipe,  so I guess I’m missing out.

 

I shouldn’t bash Toronto I suppose,  but with the exception of a few new buildings, it still looks the same to me as it did back in the 60s when I first came to Ontario. 

 

So we made it there and back,  in spite of the roads.  Word is there were some 1700 traffic incidents on the weekend.  Or maybe it was just Saturday?  Not sure. 

I don’t quite know how to explain it.  It’s a heck of a sight more difficult these days to get your driver’s license in Ontario from back in the day when I got mine,  but the skill level has not improved.  If anything its gotten worse.  I don’t even think winter tires would help some of the dough heads that passed us going way too fast.  We caught up to at least one of them (that I recognised) who had spun out into the ditch.  The urge to stop and give a brief lecture is hard to resist.  But man oh man,  if there was ever a time…

 

Well,  I suppose I could go on about bad driving and poor infrastructure until my fingers start to hurt,  but that would begin to suck in a hurry.

I’m done.

 

Keep it between the ditches.

 

Thanks for looking.

And what about those fabric shops?

I thought I would start off with,  “The Stores!”,  but if I’m not careful,  I’ll once again be humming the opening tune to Green Acres. 

Wouldn’t be prudent.  You can go off and get your own theme song fix if you wish.  I’ll try not to get distracted.

 

Having just arrived in Paris at the “Gare de l'Est” on Thursday morning,  we were actually a bit too early to check in at our hotel.   That wasn’t too big a deal,  since we were able to stop by and drop off our luggage and carry on.  The fabric shopping area that we wanted to visit was also within walking distance,  and that was our destination.

This is at the base of View Larger Map' target=_blank>Montmartre. 

 

Here,  I’ll make it easy.

 

See now,  this was an area of the city where it was just a tad dirty.  Mostly OK,  but every so often there was some cr*p of some sort to be avoided,  some of which was of the doggy kind.  Gah.

There were very few tourists,  and the only ones I was aware of were headed in the direction of Sacré-Cœur,  or were quite possible lost.  Nobody of the tourist variety was particularly interested in buying fabric,  which isn’t to say the stores were standing empty.

So just to give you an idea,  each and every one of those awnings represents a fabric shop.  Well,  either fabrics or “notions”.   Typically “notions” aren’t in with the fabrics.  I have no idea why.

 

If you have the bandwidth,  you’re welcome to take a trip down that street compliments of Google.

 

There would be something like ten fabric shops,  and then a cafe or pub.  Gotta eat and drink,  ya know.

 

Needless to say,  there was lots to choose from.   By the time we got to this honkin’ big one,   T.C. was done.

Such a shame.  Didn’t go in.  *like I care*

Her biggest score was at this place.

 

You’re certainly welcome to go and check out their website,  which of course is in French.   This was also one of the few places that had both fabric and notions.   The other curious thing was,  they had everything already cut to three metres in length.  Interesting.  That meant there was no need to take up unnecessary space with a cutting table,  nor was there any need to track down someone to cut fabric for you.  According to T.C.,  you can make most any garment from three metres.  

I have no opinion.

If you click on that pic and take a closer look,  you’ll see the place is pretty busy.   I stayed outside.  

Most all of the places were busy,  and I think that was partially due to the fact that the prices were quite reasonable.  Again,  I have no opinion.  

 

Of course,  if you look at the *big picture* and factor in the cost of travel,  accommodations as well as the cost of filling our pie holes,  the fabric was pretty damned expensive.  But hey,  we were “on vacation”.

 

I can’t very well wrap up today’s drivel without mentioning one more little snippet of dreck.

While I was outside whiling away the minutes waiting for T.C.,  I couldn’t very well help but notice a public toilet that had been installed on the street corner. 

Like a dummy,  I didn’t take a picture of the actual device,  so I’ve had to pinch one off the internet.

Thus:

It’s a heck of an improvement over the old “pissoires” that they used to have.   No images available.   Use your imagination.

These modern marvels are fully automatic,  and self cleaning.  Well now,  isn’t that just grand?   The only thing is,  as they are open to the public,  there’s still a problem,  since most people are pigs.   I DID NOT take a picture of what I saw when the door finally opened (that guy was in there for a long,  long time)  but I’m pretty sure I saw at least one used diaper.   I wouldn’t kid you.  

And no,  I didn’t do a sniff test either.   *shudder*

Thankfully,  I was OK in the bladder department.  *phew*

I’ve had my moments I realise,  but I try to be careful.    Best to not scarf down a gallon of coffee and then go shopping.  That would be bad.

Oh, there was that really large beer issue from a previous Paris visit,  but let’s not dredge up things from the past,  shall we?

 

Once again,  I’ll refer you to a few more pics (and some repeats) over on the book of face.    I think I did it right this time.   They can spare the room on their servers.

You’ll see by the number of steps involved,  just why Travelling Companion was in dire need of a cab to get us back to our hotel.

 

 

Tomorrow,  we find out what I mean by a “once in a lifetime”.

 

Thanks for taking a look.  We aims to please.

 

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Depends on where you end up.

I know the whole dog poop issue sounds a bit harsh,  but it’s not a huge epidemic of doggie doo.   It all depends on where you go in Paris.   This too applies to the level of “dreck” that you’ll find.

So just let me back away from that first somewhat bad impression that I gave yesterday.   If you go into the touristy areas,  it’s not quite the same.    Take,  for example,  going to any of the museums.

On the Saturday,  we had this scheme to once again visit the Louvre just to,  you know,  see how long we could take it? 

When we arrived there,  there weren’t as many people as this.   .

At this point you had to line up to pay to get in.   We didn’t seem to have that problem,  even though there was a bit of a line up to get into the main entrance,  but that was because you have to put your back packs or bags or whatever through the scanner.   It’s that whole security thing.  

Once upon a time,  there were several entrances to the Louvre,  so you would get your ticket at whichever entrance that corresponded to whatever exhibit you wanted to see.  These days there’s the main entrance under the giant pyramid,  which then takes you underground to the various halls.

When I first read about this back in the 80s,  I thought it was kind of goofy,  but having experienced the whole thing,  I have to admit that it does work.   Getting too close to the smaller pyramids does present a tripping hazard though.  Don’t ask.

 

Actually,  Travelling Companion had somehow managed to miss seeing “Winged Victory”  the last time we were there,  so that was her little hidden agenda.  Me?  Meh,  I just go along.  I’ve probably forgotten more art that I’ve seen in the last while than most people see in a lifetime.  Besides, I took an “art appreciation”  class (or something like that,  I don’t remember!)  when I was going to school in Paris “back in the day”,  so I was in the Louvre several times a week,  for the three months it took me to complete my semester.   And no,  I’m not kidding.  We got special passes from the school,  so entry was dirt cheap.   Sure as heck not the €11 it is now.   There wasn’t even a senior’s discount!   At least I didn’t see one.  

But hey,  we were “on vacation”.

 

Can you find “Nike”?   That would be “Winged Victory”  for you common folk.

Earlier on,  the challenge was to try and figure out just where the heck we were,  so as to have a glimmer of a chance of trying to find her again.  I’m not sure how T.C. missed this area the last time,  and for my part,  I think I was just wandering around. 

I didn’t get a picture this time though.  Too many gawkers.   Don’t want them in my pics.  Sorry.   You can click the link and read all about it.   As a matter of fact,  you can probably have a better understanding of the history, construction and contents of the Louvre these days thanks to the internet than by actually going there.

I still recommend going there though.  It’s pretty awesome.   I’ve added a few more photos here,  but didn’t want to overdo it.

Oh,  and there was no poop.

I’ll be flogging this trip for a couple more days yet,  so do come on back.  

Hey,  there’s sweet f all to report on otherwise.   It’s dreary,  cold and snowing.   So there,  be happy if you’re somewhere where it’s not.

 

Keep those sticks on the ice.

 

Thanks for stopping in.

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*a quick edit* It seems that my facebook link doesn’t want to cooperate.  I beg your indifference.  I’ll try and sort it out,  or put the pics in a Picasa album.  grrr.

 

OK…me fix.   *sigh*  Used the wrong link.   oy.

Party’s over.

And yes,  that’s a bag of empty beer cans.  We didn’t really drink that much,  but did manage to fill up the rest of the bag over the last week.

I realise that a couple days have passed here and I’ve not uttered a peep.  Mea culpa.  Some days the force just isn’t strong in this one.

 

The “kids” are presently in Portorož, Slovenia.   I took them to the airport on Sunday to pick up their rental car.  They rented an apartment of some sort right on the coast.  I’m sure I’ll see pictures.  Travelling Companion and I briefly entertained the notion of tooling on down there with them for a very short while,  but as she would have needed to be back at work on Tuesday,  it just wasn’t something we were willing to do.  If I take a gander at Google maps, the drive is just under five hours.  No wonder that Daughter Number One sounded a bit frazzled when they called later on Sunday to report their safe arrival.  She and her cousin are more adept at driving standard than the significant other,  so I think he got to lounge in the back seat for the entire trip.   Lucky bugger.

Oh if I only got to lounge in the back seat once in a while.

 

I had to get the obligatory departure shot before they went to their car.

The whole experience is sort of like going to the cottage for a few days.  You know there’s the possibility of buying stuff when you’re there,  but there are still a few things worth taking along.   That,  then means having to lug it some how.  They managed.

 

The one thing that T.C. and I realised by having “the kids” here,  was just how much we’d like to be home.  It’s not like we live together or need to for that matter,  but when we are “home”, at least we’re all not only on the same continent,  but in the same city.  I’d even settle for the same continent. 

Don’t misunderstand.  Everyone needs their space,  but when you don’t get to see your offspring any more often than every six months to a year,  a little more familiarity would be quite acceptable.  I don’t need to know what pair of shoes you wore yesterday,  but a Sunday dinner once in a while would be pleasant.  Just being in the next room listening to them play scrabble was quite enjoyable.  I think I’ve already mentioned why I don’t play.  Something to do with attention span.

 

I think I left off my little travel saga in Salzburg.

Salzburg is pretty neat actually.  I do recommend it.

Up until a few days ago,  they did have the Salzburg Festival which,  for anyone not in attendance,  can be a bit of a mixed blessing.  Some areas of the core do get shut off for various performances.  So unless you’re going specifically to hear/see an opera,  it could be a bit frustrating.

 

Had we stuck around for the evening,  we could have seen Don Giovanni.  We weren’t sticking around. 

 

 

 

I’m not going to load you down with pictures of Salzburg, but I did want to stick in a couple here.

 

There’s the obligatory pic of Salzburg Castle.  More on that wiki article.

Just happened to notice the date on this church.  It’s a little hard to make out,  but it’s 1491.  Back when the world was flat.  You can come up with your own Columbus segue.

The girls wanted to explore the catacombs a bit,  so they were off.  You can read as little or as much as you’d about St. Peter’s cemetery and the catacombs.  Travelling Companion’s knees weren’t up to the climb,  so we stayed below.

 

Dana and Ljubi (Daughter Number One and cousin) are poking their heads out of one of the openings on the left. 

 

Now,  here’s something you’re definitely not going to see in your neck of the woods.

 

This was on a couple different doors that we noticed.  Magda (T.C.’s sister)  mentioned that they used to do this sort of thing when she lived over here.  Any ideas?

 

Well,  if you put the names Casper, Melchior and Balthazar in place of the three initials,  it might make a little more sense.   It’s a representation of the year 2012. 

I never had seen such a thing, or I might have seen it,  and had no clue what it was.

 

 

I’m skimming on ahead here,  since there’s no point in getting too long winded.  The next part of the trip was on to Spittal an der Drau. 

 

And there’s a whole history lesson there,  that I’ll try and relate tomorrow. 

Meh,  if I feel like it.

 

Come back if you can.

 

Thanks for your perseverance up to this point.

And yes,  keep that stick on the ice.

 

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Didn’t fall off.

Didn’t fall off the planet that is. 

Been on the run.   And I’m not going to get too carried away,  so no need to go and top up your coffee or anything.

First thing on the agenda was to secure a slightly bigger car on Monday afternoon.  Once in a while all those hours that T.C. puts in at the Company that Cannot be Named can get translated into a little favour or two.

The Passat on the right has just that much more room in the back seat to make having three bodies in there go from unbearable to sort of OK.   Somebody always ends up having to sit on the hump.  I knew where I’d be sitting.   As the designated spouse of the Divisional Controller,  I’m the only one other than her who is permitted to drive said vehicles,  even though Daughter Number One and her cousin can both drive standard.   Yes kids,  the BMW that we drive is an automatic,  but only because that’s what we asked for.  Most cars in Europe are standard.  

 

 

First leg of the journey Tuesday morning was to Salzburg.

Since that leg of the trip was going to be roughly three hours, and Daughter Number One and her cousin had no desire to sit in the back seat for that length of time,  they took the train from the Westbahnhof here in Vienna, over to Salzburg.   Travelling Companion and I have to take that trip one of these fine days.   They said it was great.  They had snacks,  coffee.   Relaxed.

We do enjoy travelling by train, but driving is certainly more cost effective,  and once you get there,  you have a car to use.  Just the same though,  we need to take that train to Salzburg for a visit, maybe on a weekend.  I said that,  didn’t I?  Maybe if I say it enough,  we’ll do it.  It’s a new service that is in direct competition with the Austrian Railway system,  and leaves the station every hour.   You simply get on the train,  buy your ticket,  and away you go. 

We didn’t discover until we arrived at the train station in Salzburg that the first 20 minutes of parking in their underground parking lot was free.   So that was a bonus.  I was actually willing to pay for the convenience,  but since the trains are quite consistently on time,  20 minutes is all time you really need to go up and meet your passengers.

The time in Salzburg was mostly spent wandering around,  and Travelling Companion had this particular salad on the brain that she had had the last time we were there.   My mission was to once again find that particular restaurant,  which wasn’t that much of a challenge.   Parking in Salzburg can be the challenge,  but that’s just part of having the convenience of a car.   You just have to suck it up.   Found underground parking once again,  and considering that it was a warm sunny day,  I’m OK with leaving the car in the shade of the underground for a few hours.

 

The restaurant in question was actually a pizzeria.

No salad for me.

‘Nuff said.

 

Anyhoo,  I have a couple more little errands to run today,  and maybe I’ll annoy you with the second and third legs of the trip a little later.

Tomorrow it’s off to the airport once again to fetch Daughter Number One’s significant other.   He couldn’t get as much time off as her,  so she left Canada without him.  It’s the way these things go sometimes.

 

Stay tuned.

 

Thanks for coming on by.

 

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The beer/pounds ratio.

I’m not referring to British Pounds Sterling either.  It’s more like the amount of beer consumed in relation to the number of pounds around my mid section. 

Turns out it was a bit of a false alarm.  I thought I had put on about three pounds,  but they sort of vanished over the course of Monday.  There’s a possible explanation,  but we won’t venture into those nether regions here.  It has to do with travelling and some of the “things” I’ve discovered as the years roll by.

Travelling Companion will once again be working late,  since she has something or other that she has to try and explain later in the week.  It involves a certain amount of dim-wittedness and a bunch of numbers, none of which is really within her control.   She took along a great wad of paper with us over the weekend,  thinking she’d look it over on the train,  or perhaps on one of the plane rides.  Didn’t get to it until the trip home,  at which point she declared that she really needed a calculator.  I had a bunch of stuff with me,  but not a calculator.  I wouldn’t have done well if quizzed by Monte Hall I’m thinking.

It does get considerably tougher to carry too much of anything these days if travelling by air.  I try and stick with the essentials whenever possible.   Passport,  wallet, jacket,  house keys along with a couple other things like reading glasses and Mentos (for that “ears popping during the decent” thing) and that’s about it.   Trousers that don’t require a belt if at all possible,  and my shirt has to have a front pocket for my boarding pass and passport.   For security,  the loose change and most anything else goes into the “man bag”,  which then goes into the bin.   I never beep.  That is the objective. 

Well, I did beep once about four years ago,  as I forgot to take my glasses out of my shirt pocket.  Pissed me off too,  since I was on about a ten year “beep free” run up to that point.   Hence the need for the “man bag”.  I rarely leave home without it.

Also,  stay away from cheap jewellery,  unless you’re willing to either take it off,  or get the wand shake down.  Nowadays I hear the TSA in the States even want to check out your junk.  Not happening.

Which of course means that,  when T.C. had to buy a fresh lipstick for our Saturday night outing,  I had NOTHING with me to try and open the goofy tight hard plastic wrapping around the tube.  Even though I had checked a bag,  I still hadn’t packed anything sharp. 

It just occurred to me that,  rather than mess around with uploading pictures here,  there’s a way to see a host of them that I plunked onto Facebook yesterday.

Hopefully,  by clicking this link,  you can snoop to your heart’s content. 

 

The whole time leading up to our departure on Friday,  I was debating about renting a car.   Now you have to understand,  I HAVE driven in the UK,  but I really and truly didn’t want the added stress,  especially driving in Birmingham.  I’ve driven in Birmingham.  I know this.   Besides which,  the flight possibilities were such that,  we either had to haul our butts out of bed at some ridiculous hour on the Saturday morning,  in order to arrive at our destination in the daylight (if going by rented car)  or simply take the much easier way of flying out Friday night.   We chose the Friday night program. 

That meant of course simply heading to Birmingham for a first stop,  and then continuing on to Shrewsbury the next day.   Anyway,  I worked it all out in terms of cost,  and even though there were trains and cabs involved,  it was still cheaper (but not by that much) to not go with the car rental program. 

Upon first investigation,  it looks as though renting a car would be cheaper,  until you start reading some of the fine print.   They don’t include the tax,  along with a bunch of other stuff.  No telling how much the fuel would have been,  but that’s another little hidden “gem”.

 

So then,  once you put aside any issues as to whether or not it’s more “cost effective” to use one means or another,  taking the train becomes much more attractive.  Besides,  Muggins here then doesn’t have to watch the road.  Along with everything else,  and drive on the left.

Besides,  I’ve done the drive to Shrewsbury once before,  way back in 2009.   So I know the drill.  I also know it can be done,  plus just how messed up the traffic can be in Shrewsbury.  If you’re desperate to find out more about that,  you can catch up on that here.  Knock yerself out.

 

That’s our train coming in.

 

Mind numbingly smooth.  Could have brought the laptop I suppose.  Didn’t really miss it though.

 

 

The only slight disadvantage with the train program, is that the train stations basically “need work”.   Here in Wienerland,  without having seen all of the train stations or subway stations,  I would still ascertain that there are adequate escalators and elevators in each and every one of them.   The train stations that we used had FAR too many stairs,  which does a royal number on Travelling Companion’s knees.   She managed,  but it was always a better situation if there were no wrong turns, since that would mean having to back track.  That’s never a good choice.  Plus, carrying luggage up a couple flights of stairs is such fun,  isn’t it?

In fairness,  the New Street station in Birmingham did have one escalator,  and a lift.   (elevator)  The lift however,  was no bigger than the one we have here at the apartment.  By contrast,  the lift at the Meidling train station is big enough to fit a small car.   Built for hoards of people.  Wouldn’t that make sense?

Plus,  I didn’t mind paying 30P to go pee,  but really,  an attendant would have been considerably more useful than some stupid change making machine. The barrier to get into the loo only took exact change.  There are in fact people looking for work in the UK,  it wouldn’t hurt to employ a couple more to man the toilets.

Well OK,  maybe “woman”  the toilets if you prefer.

 

Curiously enough, when I was just now looking over that old post from July of 2009,  I had used the term “quaint”  to describe the hotel where we stayed in Shrewsbury.   It turns out that “quaint” was the way I described my review of the Mytton and Mermaid as well.   I didn’t cheat.  Honest!

In this case it appeared that the hotel was originally built as an Inn,  and was a coach stopping point on the way to Holyhead and Ireland,  that was then later transmogrified into a ‘modern’ hotel.   This is where the problems come about.  It’s impossible to put in any kind of elevator,  which means you have to climb a set of gawd awful stairs with your luggage,  to then be confronted with a door at the top of the stairs that opens back towards you.   It’s all about those “fire regulations”  in a public building you see.   Plus,  I soon realised that “quaint”  also meant crashing into things. 

Oh and yes,  “quaint” also means having a bed that offers absolutely no support at all.  And here I was wondering why my back was beginning to complain during the flight the next day!   Now I remember.

 

Well,  I don’t want anyone to nod off and possibly spill coffee on themselves,   so I’ll call it a day right here.

 

Happy Travels to any of you who might be underway.

 

Thanks for lookin’.

 

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It’s Wednesday, right?

Monday was a holiday here in Austria,  as well as other parts of Europe.  The previous Sunday was “Pfingsten”,  which loosely translates as Pentecost.  

Anyway,  I remember quite vividly that, when I was studying at Albert Ludwig’s Universität in Freiburg,  back in ‘79,  I was rather taken aback to learn that the whole week would be a school holiday.  “Pfingspause”.   Gah!  What to do for a whole week?  And with very little in the way of monetary resources.  I shot off a quick note to a friend of mine who was studying in Duisburg,  and decided to hitch-hike to Krefeld where she was staying with a cousin,  who graciously put me up for the week.  I barely remember that week,  but I do remember hitch-hiking in Germany on the Autobahn.  My apartment-mate Lutz explained to me that you didn’t stand at the side of the road, since the cops would sort you out right quick,  but instead you asked people at Travel Plazas if they were driving to the next major town.  Best not to ask for the entire trip though,  since then it was easier to say ‘no’.   Anyway,  I made it with very little difficulty,  having secured the bulk of the trip with a very nice young couple driving a 7 series BMW,  which was awesome.   Not only that,  but they dropped me right at the door of my destination!   Pure luck.

Of course,  south of the 49th,  it was Memorial Day.  I have difficulty wishing people “Happy Memorial Day”,  since I find neither that day,  nor our Canadian Remembrance Day to be very happy occasions.   We did visit Washington D.C. during the week leading up to Memorial Day in 03,  and I found the expanse of commemorative structures such as the Vietnam Memorial and the World War 2 Memorial to be well,  overwhelming.    If you go to that second link and read a little,  you’ll realise that,  although the memorial wasn’t “officially” opened until the following year (April 2004),  we could still see it in it’s entirety in May of 03.   Again,  pure luck. 

For me,  photo wise,  it was the “pre-digital age”,  and I have prints of us in and around that area that are stored in a box somewhere,  in a house,  in Canada.  So you’ll just have to take my word for it.

 

 

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A tiny bit more about Prague:

 

 

After having lunch on Saturday at a little restaurant we found just off to one side of the Charles Bridge,  I spotted a music store nearby.  You’ll notice in the photo above that there’s a small sign in the middle with “Österreiches Restaurant”?  

mmmm…lunch.

  

See,  if you simply click on some of the links I’ve included,  it’s really a self guided tour.  You don’t need me to go on about it.

 

Wanna buy a Zither? 

I asked the lady in the music store if it was alright to take some photos, and she was OK with it.  Always best to ask I find.

While some folks might drool over something like this:

which was sitting in the Hard Rock Cafe btw,  and pretty cool I’ll readily admit.

 

 

Instead, I find these kinds of things,

to be at least as exciting.

 

Even these things, 

and I wouldn’t have a clue how to do anything more than make some horrible groaning noise.

 

 

More groaning noises probably…only amplified.

I continued to drool ever so slightly.

And what’s with the one in the middle?  It’s got like,  97 strings on it!   Whut issit??

 

I could probably play one of the saxomophones* in the photo above,  but it’s been a long,  long time.  I think things (like my lower lip) would start to hurt big time in about 90 seconds.  Plus,  I think I’d need to win some money to get me a sax.  Yikes,  saxophones have gotten pricey!   No wonder our band leader/music teacher back in high school got a little annoyed with us going down to the Collins Hotel for some “refreshments”  and then showing up at band practice.  I can just imagine the price tag of the brand new baritone saxophone I was entrusted with.   All those metal chairs and music stands!    That would have been about 1974,  and apparently my ability to remain upright while carrying a huge metal instrument all the while slightly inebriated was considerably better than anything I’ve been able to come up with over the last couple decades.  Youth and exuberance.  And good balance.

 

 

 

I’ve decided not to go on about the Prague trip,  since that would be too boring.  It’s the usual touristy stuff that most anyone can find on the net.  Travelling Companion has been to Prague four times.   This trip makes two for me.   For Ljuba it was her first,  which was the reason for the excursion.

On a slightly different note,  we did come across some sort of dance competition that was going on when we were making our way to the funicular. 

 

It was being held in the lower level of this rather imposing building.

Now get this,  it was an Irish Dance Competition,  and I found a link on the web!   We figure they had just finished up the competition,  and were about to hand out the trophies.

 

 

The one fellow in the second photo on the other side of the trophy table,  who is bending over (to put his shoes and socks back on)  is I believe,  one of the “adjudicators”,   and went up on stage to do a little dance.  He was pretty damned good.  AND,  the crowd,  mostly consisting of impressionable young ladies,  were going bonkers over the guy!  It was hilarious!

 

 

I made a gallant attempt at a video,  the first half of which is painfully out of focus.  Grrrr! 

Worth the wait though.  Hang in.   I just played it,  and you may need to turn up the volume.

 

 

OK,  I’ve just now done a little snooping around on the web,  and I think I’ve got it.  He must be John Carey,  which would put him in celebrity status among the young dance hopefuls.  Man,  the things you see when you’re not even looking!

 

Now aren’t you glad you stuck around?  Of course,  we had no clue what we were watching.  We’re just a bunch of dumb tourists.

 

That’s all for today folks.    Keep those quills sharp.

 

Thanks for coming by.

 

*all spelling mistakes are intentional.

 

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Off to Prague.

But you knew I would say that.

In keeping with the way these things go,  Travelling Companion has to be at work until 1:30,  which meant I drove her to work this morning and Ljuba and I will swing by and fetch her later.  

I haven’t quite decided on the route just yet,  but either way it looks to be just under four hours.  There are nuisance stops along the way,  such as getting a vignette at the border,  along with possible pee breaks.

Of course,  we’ll be picking T.C. up at her office,  so that changes the time somewhat,  although not necessarily the route.  The signs coming across the North Bridge out of Vienna can be a bit misleading,  since you can apparently go one way to “Praha” (Prague,  hello?) and the other way to Brno.   To my way of thinking,  going the one way up through Schrems,  looks to be “the scenic route”.  That might be fine in rural North America,  but I just want to get there, preferably before dark.   Besides,  I know of at least one spot on the way up through Schrems where there’s a radar trap.  I’m just saying.   And no,  it wasn’t me who found this out,  but more information shall not be forthcoming.

 

Having the car of course gives me a chance to top up the fuel and give it a bit of a sprucing up.   Just the outside though,  since I had no desire to fight with the big hose at the pay as you go vacuum cleaner thingy.  I do so miss having a driveway where I can just use my own.  No biggie I guess.

 

Here’s a new one for ya.

We had a pork tenderloin that I wasn’t quite sure what I wanted to do with,  so I cut it into medallions,  breaded it in a ground up pecan and bread crumb mixture and popped them in the oven.  Worked out pretty good.  It was an idea I saw “on the line” with a slight modification. 

 

This is done in a similar fashion to “February Chicken”,  which is Flour,  Egg and Breadcrumbs,  only with the addition of the pecans.   No browning in oil ahead of time either.  These guys are way too thin for that.

Oh and,  “February Chicken”  has nothing to do with the month.  It was so I could remember earlier on the order of the preparation.   Not the brightest bulb here kids.

The spinach that we had been searching for was made into a salad.

Along with the salad,  Ljuba also prepared scalloped potatoes.   I’m adding that one to the list.

 

 

OK,  now I’m getting  a bit peckish.  Need some lunch.

Stay tuned.

 

Thanks for lookin’.

 

 

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