The Navi Lady

Back in Germany, our car had a Navi which was essential for getting around efficiently, especially in the older areas of cities where the convoluted mess of roads clearly evolved from ancient trails and cowpaths that were established long before cars came on the scene. The confounding interface of the Navi in our Audi included a multifunction control that tilts like a joy stick, turns like a knob and pushes like a button. Once we mastered it (i.e. got some training from the kids), it was actually pretty nice to use. Yeah, sure, it takes some of the fun out of learning your way around by getting lost and unfolding actual printed maps, but we found new ways to entertain ourselves.

The Navi lady spoke excellent German, with a soothing and slightly sultry voice. We could have changed it to English, but the voice wasn't nearly as nice, and besides, it was a good way for the whole family to get some German practice. Initially, various little misunderstandings made driving a bit crazy, especially in city traffic with lots of turns. But the Navi's limited vocabulary allowed us to pick up the basic lingo pretty quickly and soon we all had our Navi speak down. Occasionally she would utter new and unfamiliar phrases, causing brief panic, often followed by the words 'berechnet die Route' (recalculating the route), a nice way of saying that we screwed up. Other times, the road signs, the dashboard map and the Navi lady all seemed to conflict, but for the most part, she was really pretty good at getting us to our destination. The addition of helpful passengers reading the road signs, looking at maps, listening to the Navi lady and coming up with additional helpful advice for the driver usually led to chaos along with admonishments for wrong turns and arguments with the driver who was never forgiven, despite the info overload. Thankfully, the Navi lady doesn't admonish or argue (but something tells me that there's an untapped marketing angle somewhere in that.)


The crazy streets of Madrid were enough to cause the Navi fits and we laughed as it went berserk with impossible directions down streets that ran the wrong way or didn't even exist. Madrid posed another challenge with it's ring highway that tunnels under the city for miles, splitting off here and there with incomprehensible signs to various unfamiliar destinations. In moments the navi lost it's satellite connection and suddenly, we were on our own with no visual landmarks and no clue where we were going. Back to paper maps and dead reckoning and a good dose of yelling. Oy!

Notting Hill Carnival

According to Wikipedia, this is the second largest street fair in the world, with a million or two people going crazy in Notting Hill, only a few blocks from our hotel. But what they don't say is that it's probably the loudest, too. The carnival consists of an endless parade that winds through Notting Hill, with blocks and blocks of food stalls grilling away, storefronts selling drinks, souvenirs or what ever they had to sell, enormous sound systems pounding out deafening music, mostly reggae, and thousands upon thousands of people of all ages and many colors. It's a pretty big assault on the senses and once you push your way in, there's no refuge. The costumed paraders come through the main route every 10 or 15 minutes, usually with a bus or truck full of speakers blasting away at the front and another at the back, squeezing the crowds into the curb. The crowd becomes part of the parade, filling in after each group slowly moves by.






The streets were lined with barbecue booths grilling chicken and corn, pubs selling beer and Pims on every corner, and an all day parade that included flatbed trucks with enormous deafening sound systems blasting Reggae loud enough to shake the pavement and nearby buildings.
Outrageously decorated people were either buried deep in their costumes or had barely any costume at all.The famously friendly London Bobbies were out in force, quietly watching over the proceedings. On rare occasion they were also seen arresting and handcuffing a few rowdy teens, so I guess they really do know how to take care of business when they have to.

Garbage filled the gutters... there were virtually no rubbish containers in site. A massive street cleanup was to take place at midnight, with plans to recycle virtually everything. The next day there was little evidence of the huge party anywhere.

Borough Market

A favorite place of many in London is Borough Market, one of the most fantastic outdoor markets I've ever been to. Of course it has had some time to mature and become a true fixture in London having started in 1755. (note to Chris: all good things in time!)

The market has grown over the years from a tiny triangle of land to a huge complex covering several city blocks. Like many places in London, there is construction going on (everything is getting fixed up for the 2012 Olympics) and half the market is closed, but it's still huge and bustling. The old iron work is still very visible and beautiful but now some of the market has been moved to a new area with a more modern frame sporting a bright translucent canopy high up over a field of colorful umbrellas.

Barbecues smoking with bratwursts, chicken and lamb greet us upon arrival and we succumb to the aroma and buy something immediately, like just about everyone around us. Then we wander around and enjoy tasting various fruit, cheeses, breads and ciders. I gave in to the curry next.

It's hard to hold back, knowing we'll only be here a week, but we head home with bags of goodies anyway, trying not to eat everything on the way. People are really friendly, the weather is beautiful and we have great food in England of all places. We finish things off with a sangria and a Pimm's, one of those uniquely English drinks that you gotta have while in London.

London Grocery Tech

In London, we were encourage by grocery store staff to use the self service checkout... and it seemed reasonable when we observed that the checkout stations with humans were mostly being used by the elderly and invalid. It looked easy enough, too... slide your items across the barcode reader, just like you've been watching the pros do for years, bag it, insert money and you're on your way. Couldn't be simpler. But this machine is capable of so much more, like knowing when you lift the bag off the bagging platform and popping up a message that doesn't make any sense because it's in English English with words that have slightly different connotation than American English. There is an attendant running around helping people who are struggling with their checkouts... which seems to be just about everyone. We call her over and she pushes a couple of buttons while she mumbles something in English English, coupled with a foreign accent that makes it sound like Dutch or Hindi or something. We're up and running again, but in moments fall victim to the same problem when I remove the next bag. The attendant arrives almost on cue after completing another lap around self service machines, helping people in various states of despair and frustration. No one appears to get through unscathed. This time we stop her mid flight to get a more detailed explanation of the machine's functions. For some confounding reason, the machine simply wants us to acknowledge when a new bag is being used, because they charge for bags here. Fine. Push the button. We're almost done. But then we need special authorization for something. The attendant arrives after yet another round, without a hint of frenzy in what must be a mind-numbing job dealing with endless clueless people who can't seem to read plain English or push a few buttons (even though we use far more complex technology every day.) She calls over a supervisor, who has the special card to authorize the alcoholic beverages in our bag (aha!). An anxious queue is growing behind us as we pick through the still unfamiliar English coins and bills and insert them in slow motion into the machine. Finally, we're on our way. Maybe foreigners should stick to the checkout lanes with humans.

Kensington Palace

We got an early start today, so by the time we got to our hotel in the west end of London (near Notting Hill), we still had a good amount of the day left. Our hotel was only a 10 minute walk from Kensington Palace and gardens, so we thought we ought to give the namesake of our California hometown a good tour. Of course it's London, so we got treated to rain right off... good day for palace tours. Kensington Palace is not very deserving of the 'palace' moniker. OK, so it has this really ornate gate with gold leaf out front...


...but beyond that it looks more like some kind asylum for the mentally ill. Apparently it allowed the royalty to escape the horrible London smog (from all that coal burning) over 300 years ago by purchasing this place out a few miles to the West. Major royalty only inhabited the place for a few years before it was turned over to a bunch of minor dukes, duchesses, princes and princesses, who lived here, leading typically bizarre and often miserable royal lives, right through to Diana who lived here until her death. The funny thing about this palace is that it currently isn't presented in the typical English museum quality way, restored to it's former royal look. Instead, it seems that a bunch of artists got hold of it and went crazy with a kind of flair that would have the former residents flipping in their tombs. They shuffled things around, created various moods with lighting and haunted sounds of voices from the past and turned it into a sort of a funhouse of artifacts, old and new, with a story line about the Palace and it's former inhabitants. They warn you when you show up that it's not the typical 'restored to it's former glory' type of palace. Then they make a game out of figuring out who each of the princesses were who inhabited the place, which we were supposed to write down on our 'dance cards'. This seemed kinda lame and my expectations were in the gutter. As we started up the stairs, which were 'artistically' scrawled with child-like graffiti, it seemed like this was going to be a waste of an afternoon, not to mention my 12 quid. But the whole thing was rescued by highly knowledgeable docents in costume and in character, stationed around the palace, and who were able to answer all manner of questions at length, telling endless stories about almost anyone in the royal family and any of the paintings and sculptures which turned out to be quite interesting, especially when you learned their backstories. It was actually quite fun and enlightening and I even had my Elizabeths, Marys, Annes and Victorias all straight for a bit.

Home away from Home

The high speed Chunnel train from Brussels to London only takes 2 hours and it's super smooth, clean and quiet. The train was full, but comfortable. It's a rather magical transformation cruising through the rolling Belgian country side, into the tunnel under the channel, then out to the foggy English farms about 20 minutes later. Such a splendid way to travel...

Navigating High Tech Europe

Traveling provides all manner of new experiences with technology such Belgian transit ticket machines, British self service checkouts and German navigation systems, not to mention simpler technologies like stoplights, elevators and washing machines. You can tell the good technology because it quickly becomes invisible and just does it's job. But the frustrating thing about many of these devices in Europe is that they are all familiar, yet slightly different, and it's that difference that makes a simple task like buying a train ticket, turn into a fist pounding, teeth clenching, expletive laced battle. Even worse, is the added pressure of a train that's about to depart or queues of anxious people forming behind you, who might as well be sitting on your shoulders, the pressure seems so great. It's enough to even make calm, mild-mannered well-versed technology users like me break into a sweat.


Take a look at this tram ticket machine in Brussels. Although you can't really see it, the screen is telling us that we need to go to the next page, but there is no button or knob anywhere for paging forward or back. (And unlike our beloved iPhones, the screen has no touch.) Frustration mounts as pushing all the buttons multiple times does nothing and anxious, grumbling ticket buyers queue up behind us. Fortunately, we have a teenager, which can actually be useful in situations like this, and Zoë immediately reached out and turned the wheel around the green button, providing the necessary navigational tool, despite the fact that there is no arrow, label or even knurling on the wheel to indicate that it should be turned. How do teenagers know that?

Brussels

The center of Brussels by night is enchanting. It looks and feels different than Germany in subtle ways. People beep at you more and drive a little crazier. Things are a bit less organized and tidy. The buildings are more ornate, and the cobblestones are loose and don't have fancy patterns. The beer and chocolate are fantastic. However, the only hint of the serious bike racing madness in this little country, was a picture from the Tour of Flanders in this travel office dedicated to Flanders. I think that's Belgian champion Tom Boonen hammering up one of the many outrageously steep cobbled climbs of that most famous one day bike race. Gotta come back for that one spring soon!

The Sur la Table of Belgium

In Belgium, I guess having an English name like 'Home of Cooking' can also imply 'expensive cookware'

Kalyan Winds Down

A Visit with Uncle Pete

In Bremen we start with a typical German breakfast with all sorts of ham, cheese and some very serious German bread...


...back to Peter's place to hang out for the afternoon...


...then out again in the Viertel for some coffee and spaghetti eis... ice cream that's extruded like spaghetti which some how makes it lighter and tastier...


...and finish off the day with a walk through the Schnoor with all it's narrow string like roads and interesting shops and restaurants. Lots of the buildings here date back to the 1600's.

Bremer Stadtmusikanten

The tale of the Four Town Musicians of Bremen is immortalized in a bronze statue at the center of Bremen, the shadow of which looked more interesting at night (with Zoë pulling the cats tail). The story is about a donkey, a dog, a cat and a rooster, who together escape their horrible lives on the farm by traveling to Bremen to become musicians, but they sorta get sidetracked along the way and actually never quite make it to Bremen, but chase some robbers from a house and live there happily ever after anyway.

Öffentlicher Fernsprecher

Me: 'Who uses these things?'... Zoë: 'Why is that phone pink?'

Motoring Along

On the way to Bremen (more about Spain later) we spotted this guy motoring along and clearly having a great time on the A3 autobahn from Frankfurt to Köln. (Anyone know what kind of car this is?) He was only noodling along at about 130 or 140Kph, so we took the opportunity to drive by and shot a few pictures. A friend in a black Lotus Elise followed along where ever he went. Every so often we'd pass an old Deux Chevaux or something creeping along on the right, like the unidentified black car, below. Then an Audi or two would blow by on the left at well over 200kph. Thankfully the well-trained German drivers usually exhibit good autobahn etiquette and are quick to get out of the fast lane when necessary.

The King of Granada

One of the great things in Europe is strolling through the old town that inhabits the center of many a great city, like, say, Granada. This almost always consists of a cluster of centuries old buildings, restored and maintained to show off their beautiful old-world charm, surrounded by delightful cobblestone roads and paths devoid of car traffic, all lit up and glowing at night, scattered with groups of people hanging out and enjoying the warm summer breeze. Then you walk around the corner and find that someone has gone and stuck the most absolutely dreadful of American brands they can find in there. Makes you just want to pick up one of those cobblestones and throw it through the window.

Semar Elite

At some point, Jereme and I had to hunt down the best racing-minded bike shop in Granada. Like many great bike shops in Europe, you can tell when you find it... it's tiny, bikes are crammed into every available space, lots of Campy Record and Dura-Ace, sew-up tires hanging from the rafters, boxes and boxes of components in piles, racks of clothing, helmets and shoes jammed into a tiny loft upstairs, a workshop the size of a small bathroom with 3 or 4 people working in it, almost no room for customers, fit looking employees who know where the racers meet, large posters of Lance, Andy and, of course, Alberto. Granada's Semar Elite bike shop fit the picture perfectly...

El Desfiladero de Despeñaperros

On our trip south from Madrid to Granada on the A4, we wound our way through the spectacular Sierra Morena mountains over a pass called El Desfiladero de Despeñaperros. A new super highway was being built to enable cars to fly almost straight through the pass and the view will probably be fantastic, but there's something nice about cruising the slower switchbacks and taking in the changing landscape. On the other hand, maybe the new highway will make the slow road into a great bike route.

Spain

Arrived in Madrid on Tuesday. Lots of churches and red-tiled roofs, shops everywhere stuffed with jamon and strange new ways of making money on the street.

Death by Schnitzel and Beer

Back in Frankfurt area for a weekend with the relatives and it's all schnitzel and beer... the German national pastime (or is that Austria?) It's one of the best ways to overcome the language barrier... you talk about the food, figure out what to order, order, then stuff your face and talk about it some more. But hey, it's a good way to keep the conversation from going too technical or political (which quickly becomes hopeless for all but the most fluent). This place was a little out of control... each order had a full plate-sized schnitzel on it and then you start eating and discover another one just as big hiding underneath! Must be a ploy to sell more beer.

Dom & Turm

Two of the most dominant features of the Berlin skyline: the Berliner Dom (cathedral) and the Fernsehturm (TV tower) by night. The turm is the tallest structure in Germany (368m) and is also nicknamed 'The Pope's Revenge' because of the cross that appears on the observation ball when the sun shines on it, something the atheist designers had not intended. (Click the photo to enlarge... much more impressive!)

Living Brightly

Mixing English and German is the cool thing to do here, but sometimes you have to wonder. The direct translation of hell is light (as in the opposite of dark), and here I suppose it means bright or brightly (depending on whether you consider 'living' to be a noun or a verb.) So I suppose this furniture business is all about brightening up your living spaces, and, I presume, not creating a living hell.

Die Mauer

If there is one thing that almost defines Berlin, it's The Wall. After the 1989 Fall of the Wall, East and West Germans were anxious to tear it down and move forward with unification and now 20 years later, most of it is long gone. However there are still constant reminders of it everywhere you go. We usually saw at least one remnant of the Wall almost every day in Berlin, and each one leaves you more aware of the immense waste of human effort and degradation of society that goes with any kind of wall building. Furthermore, it's remnants and well publicized history serve as a stark reminder that we need to continue to work on breaking down walls, physical and mental. Oddly enough, this very date (August 13) is the 49th anniversary of the initial construction of the wall... a date that needs no celebration, or maybe an anti-celebration? (Click photos to enlarge.)

Where the wall no longer exists, there is usually a trail of cobblestones indicating it's former path through Berlin.

Graffiti'ed chunks of the wall can be seen hanging like artwork on the sides of buildings.

Small sections can be found tucked away, here and there...

Near Checkpoint Charlie, the most famous crossing point between East and West during the cold war, the parts of a small homemade plane that was famously used in one lucky family's escape, hang on the side of the building.

At least 136 hopeful escapees were not so fortunate, having met their death at the wall. They are now immortalized in a grim, monument of etched glass photos encased in rusting steel, which stands eerily in a patch of the former death strip behind one of the few stretches of wall that have been preserved as a monument to it's confounding construction and existence.

In a more upbeat and hopeful memorial, there is the East Side Gallery, a mile long stretch of wall covered with brightly painted murals of reunification, freedom and peace as well as abstract, emotional outpourings of artwork that seek to liberate our mental walls that have yet to be dissolved.



Probably the most famous mural of the East Side Gallery, 'Brotherhood Kiss', is based on a real photo of Soviet leader Leonid Brezhnev kissing East German leader Erich Honecker (builder of the Wall), taking jab at the extremely homophobic regime. The original mural painted in 1990 was destroyed by officials about a year ago, but it's back and it's everywhere, in your face. The caption says: 'My God, help me survive this deadly love.'

Although it's not my favorite Pink Floyd record*, The Wall would have provided superb accompaniment to a stroll along the East Side Gallery. It clearly inspired this mural, which appears to be based on the cover art from the 1980 album. Be sure to bring that on your iPod when you visit.
(*Pink Floyd's brilliant first album, Piper at the Gates of Dawn, was never outdone in my opinion, not even by Dark Side of the Moon.)