No, That's a Terrible Idea (Not Like You Asked...)

I don't know what it was but today, something about something got me thinking about the little "quirks" (to put it nicely) that come with living in London apartments. I could say English or UK apartments, but since I have only lived in London I am going to limit my complaining to London abodes.

First of all, what is up with the water here? And why would you put a black counter top in a kitchen when the water is so bad? I don't get that. Both of our apartments have had black granite counter tops. And they both got the nastiest, stuck-on stains. The water here is so hard (I think that's the right term) and so minerally/limescaley that the counters get stained with the limescale almost immediately. The owners of our current apartment left a note saying the counter had to be wiped down every day. OK, yeah, I try, but you know sometimes, call me crazy, water ends up on counters. I don't know why, maybe because there is a FAUCET? No matter what you do the counters get white. And on black counters that is not good. Some may find them aesthetically pleasing (not me after living here), but they are just not functional.

And building on that, black counters also show every teeny, tiny crumb and water mark. I'm not even talking about the limescale residue, just in general. You wipe down a black counter and unless you completely dry it then voila - water spots. So for a person who maybe isn't quite the neatest then black counters aren't good. And conversely, if you are anal and start wiping everything down to get rid of every last crumb, then black counters can make you crazy. You just keep wiping, and wiping, and wiping. It is truly a vicious cycle.

Another thing - why are there NO outlets in bathrooms? Why? WHY? I do not understand that. The first apartment Dave lived in, before I moved here, did have one little outlet, located in a shelf in the back of the bathroom. Out of the way, but still handy. Our two apartments since have had NO outlets. Dave said he was talking about this with people (common complaint) and someone suggested it's a safety issue. But why have shaver outlets then? Every bathroom seems to have those, but yet try to dry or straighten your hair IN the bathroom and you are out of luck. Not to mention using an electric toothbrush. I keep on thinking of getting one (I like good oral hygiene) but then I'll have to charge it in the bedroom and that kind of grosses me out. So my teeth suffer. And I end up straightening my hair in the hallway because there is a mirror AND an outlet there. Someone thought ahead, what a genius. But seriously, why aren't there outlets in bathrooms? I am wondering if they are just not used to having them so no one ever puts one in. That makes sense to me, more than the so called "safety" issue does.

And speaking of safety, we don't have an outlet in the bathroom, but we do have a marble step leading up to the shower. So when you step OUT of the shower you have to step down, onto a MARBLE step with wet feet (slippery) that happens to be about five inches deep. Smmmaaaaarrrrtttt. I know one of us will eventually fall off it. It's bound to happen. But at least I don't have to worry that when the fall happens either Dave or I won't be simultaneously holding an electrical appliance that could electrocute us. I feel so much better.

Another complaint? I now hate mail slots that are smack in the middle of the door. We didn't have one like that in our old place, and certainly didn't back home so we were unaware that some people like to stick their hands through such mail slots and open other people's doors and then walk in and rob them. Cute little pastime I say.

Oy, I guess I should stop. I feel like I could go on and on...carpet that sucks up every piece of dirt, and god forbid liquid; the idiotic dual washer/dryers; those tiny dishwashers that hold about two cups and two bowls. But enough. For today. And I promise the upcoming posts will be more upbeat. I still have to write about our trip to Helsinki and Estonia. So you can look forward to that!

How Do You Replace the Irreplaceable?

I started looking at new wedding and engagement rings. I use the term "engagement ring" lightly since Dave and I are obviously not getting engaged (...as we're married in case you hadn't figured that out), so to me it's a sort of engagement ring for an engagement that happened almost 10 (!) years ago. Actually, I have been looking at rings for some time now, but am finally getting serious about it since we are going home in September, and it could be that price-wise (yeah! Pound at 1.64. Go down, go down, go down...) it's smarter to buy something paying dollars and not pounds. So I am trying to narrow down my choices and decide what I like and what I want, coupled with what I had and what I am used to.

I don't want what I had, I know that. First of all, my engagement ring had way too much personal meaning and value that can never, ever be recaptured. It truly was irreplaceable. Second of all, I don't want to look down and see the same rings and think

"hey, my rings. Wait a minute. Those aren't my real rings. Some @%$#^&$ has my real rings.       These are my rings that aren't the rings I got when I got engaged and married but they look the same and are the same, but they were replaced because some *&%#%^& decided to break into our house and rob us."

I know, long train of thought. It takes me a while to process things in my head. But the conclusion I ultimately come to is that I don't want the exact same rings I had before because they would be imitators. So the question is what do I want? I was so used to wearing certain rings for (again, almost) 9 and 10 years that putting something different on is like all of a sudden wearing your shoes on the wrong feet. I fear I lose my rings about three times a day as I was so used to wearing them and now don't. I'll reach into my pocket, pull my hand out, feel I don't have my rings on and panic, thinking they fell on the ground. Or I'll leave the house, realize my finger is naked and start to turn around to go back in to get them. Old habits die hard!

Of course I feel fortunate that I can replace my rings, and hopefully soon will be wearing something on my hand showing that I'm not single. Although...that is pretty nice. I mean free drinks, pick up lines, making people wonder if Dave and I are having an affair as he's out with his ring, and I am ring free. Fun times! But I am having such a hard time deciding what I want as I hoped to never be in this situation, at least the way it happened. Especially regarding my engagement ring. If only I could have that back, I would gladly let the ^$#%*(^(($@ keep the other stuff. But, alas, that's impossible. So the search continues. I am trying to replace something that can't be replaced, something with such huge sentimental value, with something new and shiny and sparkly that will, at least in the beginning (and only the beginning I hope) be a reminder of exactly why I am wearing a new ring, and not my old, original ones that I was so happy to be wearing. Because some &&^$^$^%$@! wearing nasty perfume robbed us.

And thus ends the venting.

Edited to add: I am also terrible at making decisions. So I have that going for me too. 

I Am Going to Start Sleeping with One Eye Open

I decided to give Riley a haircut. Yes, I have become a dog groomer. I am going to get a sign and come up with a catchy name and start charging the dogs in the 'hood.

I decided that I should be the one to do her 'do (is that a good name? "Do her 'do") because she gets so darn nervous every time we go to the groomer. No joke, one time we walked NEAR the groomer and she started shaking. She would not get any closer, she just stood on the sidewalk, shaking. Like the nervous, nervous dog that she is. So rather than force her to go to the groomer where they apparently probe her and conduct frightening experiments, I thought it best that I be the one to tame her locks. So I ordered myself some snazzy scissors, then once they arrived I changed into clothes that ended up attracting each and every piece of fur I cut, and went to work. Two hours and two blisters later, voila! A new doggie! And just to be clear, those blisters were on my fingers, so don't go thinking I hurt my dog. Well, maybe I did mentally, but not physically.

Now lest you think it was easy, you should be aware that she whined and wiggled the entire time I was cutting her leg fur. Having me cut her hair was apparently no less traumatizing than having some stranger do it. After spending over an hour chopping the fur off four furry legs she finally realized she had no other options but to submit. And one looong hour later, she was done. But she wasn't happy about the whole thing. She hates being groomed - getting brushed, a haircut, her teeth cleaned - it's all utter agony to her, even though she is so vain. In fact, look at what she did after - she attacked my shoe. I worry that's what she wants to do to my head one night while I sleep. Do you see the terror and anger in her eyes?

Today I ordered a tooth cleaning gel for her so I am really worried about my safety once I start brushing her teeth.

Here are some before and after shots of my work. What do you think? Should I abandon my "law" career and become a groomer? I think much of what I learned in law school may apply.

 Before the torture commenced. Fluffy doggie.

After leg #1, the rear leg. She's so bashful, she refused to show off my work.

She got a treat after all her "hard" work (after one leg).

 

After all four legs were done. She's looking a little less enthusiastic.

 

At the end. Look at her. The hatred, the anger, just emanating from her.

But she sure does look pretty!

My blisters. 

And finally, the aftermath.

Our bedroom floor. I am not kidding, the fur got everywhere. My previously blue pants are now a nice wheat color. 

It looks like she's posing with another dog! A flat dog, but a furry one. I thought about using the fur for something, like a pillow, or maybe knitting a sweater, but I decided against it. 

And just to make her even happier, I stuck a bow on her, and called it a day! 

No Pictures, Please

I love this picture of Riley. It looks like she's not cooperating and not in the mood to be photographed. I know she's a bit high maintenance and moody, but you would think she'd like modeling and showing off her pretty little face.

In actuality she doesn't like the flash. So yes, she is particular about pictures. You really can't please this dog.

Heartcore. More like Sorecore

Or some other name that adequately conveys how SORE my entire body is after doing one of those classes. Ahhh, Heartcore.

Anyone who knows me knows that I am not the most sporty person. Sure I could go out and run a half marathon right now, if I wanted to (no, I couldn't). Or go for a 200k bike ride before dinner (nope, can't do that either). In school when we had to do those stupid fitness tests and run a timed mile I was always the one coming in last or very close to last, mainly because I stopped to talk to my friends half way through. I never agreed with those state fitness tests, so I refused to comply. (I do not understand the directions so I will not obey) And I also hated to run as a kid so the thought of running a mile made me want to gossip. Or not run. I took Racquetball for P.E. my freshman year of high school only because I knew it would involve the LEAST amount of fitness/running of any P.E. classes on offer. Considering we spent the class period in separate concrete cubes, again mainly talking, while our teacher went back and forth spending about 5 minutes "coaching" in each court, I was right. Total cake walk for those of us who were less fitness inclined. I did join the tennis team my senior year of high school, but that was only because I needed the P.E. credit to graduate. I miscalculated and found out my one semester of racquetball wasn't enough to carry me through to college so tennis team it was.

After college (or high school for that matter) I pretty much retired my fitness gear and spent the last oh, let's call it 5 (give or take 8) years not doing much. I started going to the Bar Method while living in San Francisco, and that worked for a while. I needed motivation to go, nicely provided by a friend. When she got me to go, it was great, and we got to gossip before class started. Otherwise, no dice, I hardly ever went alone. Since getting Riley I have had to take her for walks and that gets me out during the day. She loves walks so when her walker doesn't come she relies on me to take her out for at least one hour a day.

However after moving to London I wanted to find something exercise related to do other than catering to my dog. While reading a free Vogue supplement I got from H&M last spring (random) I learned about Heartcore and saw they offered a free class to first timers, so I did it. I bit the bullet, took out the spandex (is it still spandex? Lycra?) and went to their Notting Hill studio. And I liked it. Sure, I couldn't walk for the next day, or five, but I went back. And I have now been doing it for over a year. I tend to take a few weeks off here and there but overall I do find myself going back. Since I started last year they opened a studio on King's Road, which is very convenient for me, so now I have no excuse. OK, I have a couple, and they are good ones, but I am not going to list them here.

Well, I did take about two months off after the robbery, you know, during my "robbery period." I eventually tried to find a time to go back but my favorite instructor was always booked. I managed to schedule a class for yesterday and so returned, after a two month absence. My instructor asked me how long it had been and I told him "two months." He replied by saying "so today should be interesting." I said in return, "no, tomorrow will be interesting," referring to the soreness I knew I would encounter. And hot damn am I sore today. Last night I made the mistake of trying to turn over in bed, which uses an amazing amount of stomach muscles. And walking Riley this morning I looked like I just got off a horse after riding for 48 hours straight. I also sneezed, and as soon as I felt my stomach sort of clench up in anticipation of the sneeze leaving I immediately tried to abort it, to no avail. So that felt good.

What I like about the classes, soreness aside, is that they are all different and so hold my attention and keep me from getting bored. And I have managed to stick with them for over a year, a record for me. Well, I took tennis for a few years growing up, but that was what, one hour a week with a friend, talking half the time? Doesn't count. (By the way, notice a pattern? I seem to like talking more than working out. Huh.) And eventually you get over the soreness. I thought having done the classes for a while I wouldn't get sore even with the break, but I was wrong. Very, very wrong. But I know that when I go back, either this week or next it will get better, and I will get to the point, hopefully after two or three more classes where I won't be sore at all. I am SO looking forward to that day.

One final thing about the classes. Yesterday we did reverse lunges, which means we stood on the machine facing backwards, moving one leg forward to lunge. When looking down at the machine in that position it looks like this:

I kid you not, the machine stares back at you with a sad face. And often, while doing reverse lunges that is exactly the way I feel. I had to stop myself from laughing because I did not want to be one of those weirdos who spontaneously laughs during lunges while the rest of the class sits there thinking "what a nut job. Who laughs during lunges?" So I held it in, and continued my lunges and am now paying the price. But I will be back. Once the soreness is gone, so maybe in a month or two.
                                                          

I Hope She's Dreaming of Me

I did manage to get a video of Riley while she's sleeping. Now before you leave and go to a more entertaining website, please be aware the video isn't just of her sleeping; it shows her twitching in her sleep. Infinitely more exciting!

I like to think she's dreaming of seeing me across some meadow, and she is wagging her tail in anticipation of greeting me while she leaps through wildflowers and tall grasses. In reality she is probably dreaming of either Marta, her dog walker, or the little mini-Pinscher that apparently nips at her feet while they are in the park. If that's the case she is probably dreaming of kicking the dog in the face.

And lest you think Riley sleeps all day, here she is awake and probably expecting a treat for her modeling efforts. She didn't get one.

Italy on My Mind

Last night, before I fell asleep, I was thinking of bruschetta. I have no idea why. Normally when I can't fall asleep I think about obscure diseases, the ones they show on TV shows like "The Horrible Disease that Almost Killed Me," or "Fear For Your Life: Dingle-Manheim Syndrome and You." Or else I am thinking about doing laundry and what I need to buy at Waitrose. But last night it was all about bruschetta. So today I made some. I think I was motivated in part by my new basil plant. I am worried that if I don't start using it it will eventually shrivel up and die on my windowsill. And then I will need to buy another plant, but I won't and then I'll want to make something with basil and I won't have any and it will be a huge disaster. So I used some today. Yeah! (All of two leaves but that's neither here nor there.)

Blech, bad picture*

I made a really simple bruschetta with tomatoes, some olives (kalamata truth be told, so Greek ones), basil (obviously), S&P, olive oil and balsamic. Then I put it on bread (French bread, if you must know. I got tired of waiting for the Italian breads to be stocked at Waitrose so I gave up and bought French rather than aimlessly wandering around the store looking like a weirdo). Then I put some cheese on it and stuck it under the broiler to melt the cheese. I put cheese because cheese is just plain good. Et voila! Lunch was served. It was good. I liked it and I think Dave would like it too. Riley wanted some but she didn't get any. Instead she got carrots on her food. She actually likes carrots but they didn't work this time, she wanted something better. Tough luck, doggie. By the way, she was just lying on the floor snoring and I didn't get a chance to film her. I'm going to try, it's pretty funny to see and hear. I'll keep you posted...

* I need to work on my kitchen photography skills. The shiny black countertop doesn't help matters. Nor does the Hawaiian potholder. But that cheese looks especially bad. It looks like the cheese you'd find on some "Molto Italiano Melt-thingy" from Burger King. Yuck.

Pimlico Road Farmers' Market

We went to the market on Saturday and while Riley may not enjoy going (she doesn't get anything out it - no sausage, no cheese, no pastries, nothing) I was glad I got to pick up a few things. I bought some lavender, which is putting me in the mood for our trip to Provence in August.

I also got a basil plant which reminds me of our trip to Italy last week. Sort of. It actually reminds me of the pesto I made two weeks ago. I am not a huge pesto fan (Dave likes it a lot) but I had some basil left over so decided to make pesto. (When life hands you basil...) You can find the recipe here. I liked the added arugula (AKA rocket) and lemon peel as it gave the pesto a fresher and lighter taste. I would make it again.

Finally, I got some blueberries (no photo, so sorry) that remind me of nothing but make me crave really good pancakes. Actually, I guess the blueberries remind me of Al's Breakfast in Minneapolis. We were in Minneapolis for a wedding last summer and had blueberry pancakes at Al's twice. They were so good. I really, really miss good pancakes as they are very hard to find in London. And unfortunately I don't think I will be going back to Minneapolis any time soon. I guess I need to find a good blueberry pancake recipe. I better get on that.

Thursday Travels - Ahhh, Italy (or was it the US?)

I love Italy. I could go there once a month and be happy. Our dog walker is from Rome and she just told me how she doesn't feel the need to go back to Italy since she's from there. I, of course, think she's crazy. But I guess it's the same as if she wanted to travel around the US Midwest. That's the last trip I want to take, but it would be new to her, and therefore exciting. But really, Italy or Indiana? Please.

We took a short weekend trip to Florence, and made day trips to Bologna and Siena while there. None of these cities was new to us, but we found a cheap fare on BA, found a sale on a Florence hotel on Jetsetter.com, and we were off. We hadn't been to Italy since Dec. 2009, and I found myself thinking "wow, it's been a year and a half since we've been to Italy." My next thought was "wow, the fact that we can even go to Italy once every 18 months is amazing. That's the benefit of living in London and having Europe on our doorstep!"

We flew to Pisa, caught the train to Florence and arrived about midnight Friday. We checked in to our hotel and immediately went out to find food, or more importantly, gelato. I must admit, I love Oddono's here in London. I think it's so good, and even better that some of the crap places IN Italy. But still, having gelato in Italy is pretty nice. The first night we had mediocre stuff, so really Oddono's would have been better, but at least we were in Italy!

On Saturday we took the train to Bologna. The train is only 40 minutes (but also 25 euros one-way) so super easy. Bologna is a very pretty city. We went there in Nov. 2009 for the weekend and enjoyed it so were happy to return for the day. We walked around, looked at the architecture, which is quite interesting, and then ate lunch and of course got gelato. We returned to Osteria dell'Orsa, a place we ate at on our last trip. It's good food and cheap too. We had gelato at Sorbeteria Castiglione (also a repeat visit), which was MUCH better than the previous night. I was happy. We took the train back to Florence and witnessed our first of three Italian arguments. This one had to do with a train ticket, as two people thought they had reserved the same seat. After much heated arguing and yelling the man finally realized the woman had a ticket for the day before so he made sure to make that as clear as possible, yelling it and shaking the ticket in her face. She then spent the rest of the ride walking back and forth and trying to gain sympathy from the conductor. Not sure if she succeeded.

Later that day we walked around Florence. I spent a summer studying there after my sophomore year of college, so Florence will always hold a soft spot in my heart. However, we remembered what traveling in Europe is like during the summer as Florence was OVERRUN with Americans. They were everywhere. Last summer we stayed away from typically touristy cities so our Florence weekend with 9 million other Americans was a harsh reminder of what Europe can be like in the dead of summer. We heard more English than Italian, overheard way too many asinine American conversations (seemingly conducted in the loudest voice possible) and probably got caught in almost every photo taken of the Duomo and Ponte Vecchio. But still, we were in Italy. I can't complain...too much. We ate pizza (pretty good, doughy crust which I like, fairly cheap, at il Pizzaiuolo near Santa Croce) and we had gelato. Yes, we had more.

On Saturday we took the bus to Siena for the day. FYI, if you go to Siena from Florence in the middle of summer get to the bus station early. We got there 25 minutes before the bus left and we got two of the last seats, and we sat apart. However, we did get to witness the second Italian argument, this one between an older woman and the bus driver. She was complaining about the bus leaving late. And man did she complain. She really yelled at the driver. It was pretty funny to see a small gray haired woman vigorously argue the finer points of timeliness. And she wouldn't stop! The bus driver couldn't have cared less.

We also happened to miss the Palio by one day and I am ok with that. Here we did the same - walked, saw Americans, listened to Americans, dodged American photos, ate in a restaurant while an American teenager went through EVERY single event her high school puts on (prom, homecoming, spirit week, grad week, a dance where girls ask guys, some other week long thing and on and on). Thanks to a brilliant suggestion we ate at La Taverna di San Giuseppe. I had spinach and ricotta gnudi with a ragu and they were really good. Dave liked his red wine risotto with sausage. Without the rec we would have never found the place so score! Oh, we also got gelato. This time at Grom, the chain.

After taking the bus back to Florence (much emptier than the first trip) we had an hour to kill so we tried to get a sandwich at the great hole-in-the-wall place near Dante's house. But alas it was closed so we had to settle for gelato. I am starting to sound like a broken record. This time - Perche No. Still one of our faves even though it's right in the heart of tourist land. Then it was time for the train to Pisa and our 11pm flight to Gatwick. At the airport we saw our third and final argument. This time it was between an older man and the security people. He was quite pissed he had to check his bag and he too really yelled at everyone. It went on, and on, and on. And one of the women with him then tried to take three full bottles of water and iced tea through security. I really didn't know people were still unaware of the no liquids rule. She then got really mad when they confiscated all three bottles. It was a good time all around.

We stayed at the Hotel Helvetia & Bristol because we found the sale rate on Jetsetter. We had never stayed there before and actually we liked it. The location is great, especially if you are coming from the train station. It's about a 10 minute walk from the station, and the hotel is located right by Piazza della Republica so very close to all the main sites in Florence. We had the most basic room, but it wasn't tiny by any means. I would stay there again, if only because the location was so convenient. It was also nice not to be too near the Ponte Vecchio, as it is hard to avoid the crowds when staying right there.

Even though I just spent the whole post complaining about the tourists I do love Italy. I love the food, the culture, the cities, the sights, the fiery Italians and all their hilarious arguments. I hope to see more of the country. And soon!

OK, Riley Rating time! (And no snazzy rating picture yet, sorry Riley)

I'm not sure if Riley would like Italy. For one thing, too many people. She would have to do a lot of dodging. And also, the streets might be a little rough on her paws, what with the cobblestones/uneven paving. There aren't a lot of grassy parks in the city centers, so no place for her to run. We didn't see that many other dogs, so she may not be able to socialize very much, and trust me, she likes to socialize. So overall Florence, Bologna and Siena get 3 Rileys. Pretty cities, good food, but probably not very Riley friendly. But still, it's Italy, so that counts for something!

Up next - Helsinki and Tallinn. But that's in two weeks so stay tuned.

Three Things

1. Is it just me or is this sign sort of...inappropriate? Dave had some dermatology appointments at Ealing Hospital and we ended up spending three mornings there, about three too many if you ask me.* We got very familiar with the parking lot since we took the bus there each time (and it stops in the parking lot if you didn't figure that out). I saw this sign in the lot and I find the wording a liiiiittttttlllle strange.

I don't know about you but I don't think any words relating to death, dying and killing should be out in the open on hospital grounds. I think they could say "SLOW DOWN!" and the message would get across. Instead, the hospital is imploring people to kill something, which hopefully the hospital is not concurrently doing.

2. The other night we landed at Gatwick about 12:20am, caught one of the last Gatwick Express trains to Victoria, then stood around Victoria trying to catch a cab. While waiting I saw a cab pull up and the driver ran into the station (not sure where, it was pretty much closed) and then I noticed it - he was driving a courtesy car cab! How cute is that? I guess his cab was in the shop so he was given another cab, a courtesy vehicle to drive around in the meantime. So his cab, which wasn't his cab, was a loaner, so he could keep doing his cabbing.

Sorry, that's a bad picture, but you get the idea. I had no idea they offer courtesy black cab cars. I guess, why not? Cabbies need to keep driving, so if their car is out of commission they have a loaner. Maybe I'm the only person who is fascinated by this. But you have to understand, it was late, we were trying to get home, I was tired....

3. I finally, finally took one of the old Routemaster buses today. I have been wanting to take one for a while and today both the 19 and 22 NEVER came, so I finally got on a 9 to Hyde Park Corner. It was ok. Maybe not quite as exciting as I expected, but I also didn't sit upstairs. So I obviously didn't take full advantage of the situation. I guess I was more annoyed that for some reason about seven 22's passed by the Green Park stop for no apparent reason (and no 19 ever came). And now I feel like my 9 ride was tarnished, and I have to do it again. So in actuality it was a total bust. Great. But at least I got to see this guy, and take the 9 with him, and transfer to the 137 with him, AND get off at Sloane Square with him.

And the entire time I was trying to figure out what the hell was up with the wig. I never did come to any conclusions.

See the 9? Yes, I was one of those dorks who takes pictures while riding the old buses. I tried to be sly, trust me.

Bonus 4. Riley has created a new game that only she seems to enjoy playing. After she eats (more like pigs out) she whines for more food. Yes, our dog communicates by whining, but it actually works for us, so don't judge. She whines, and whines and finally I get up to make her more food. Once she sees me pour some food into her bowl she immediately takes off for the bedroom and doesn't come out for hours. She has me trained, I admit it. She probably gets together with her dog friends and tells them about this stupid human she's working on. How she's teaching me to respond to certain whines, and I do it, and she doesn't even need to give me a treat. In fact, she's probably getting paid to teach her friends how to do it with their humans. I wouldn't put it past her.

* I just posted this and realized Dave is going to read this and I guarantee his thought process will be "Sorry I had to go to Ealing Hospital. You didn't have to come with me. I didn't mean to force you to go." And that is NOT what I was implying. My point, DAVE, was that I wish we didn't have to go at all. But of course I wanted to go with you. I would not have skipped it, even if we had to go 1,537,291 times. So there!

Go Li! Come On Ding! Here We Go Guo! And Guo #2!*

So the Olympic ticket hoopla has died down for the most part, and now that it's over I think most people, save for the few that got every ticket they wanted, would say it was a disaster. Only 700,000 people got tickets in the first round, and I was one of the 1.2 million who lost out. I thought I would get at least one ticket, maybe two if I was lucky, but I really assumed I would get something. See what assuming does? I decided to enter the second round of tickets, where all the sports with availability were opened up at 6am and everyone scrambled online to buy something, anything so they could say they are attending the London Olympics. I chose my sports from the oh so wide availability then spent 40 minutes refreshing my browser to get the purchase to go through. Since it was first come-first served, I had an inkling that my delay in buying would cost me some of my three chosen events, and I was right. So what did I get?

Table Tennis Baby! 

That's right, Dave and I have tickets to arguably the GREATEST Olympic sport of all time. Oh wait, no. But still I think some would admit to being envious they won't see the rapid fire action of the women's semi-finals (or something, I can't even remember what round I got). I will be fortunate enough to see the loop, flying off the penhold. I'll watch the players adjust their blades before they call time-out. And maybe the matches will be interrupted by lets. OK, I am plum out of table tennis terminology.

I think I'll refrain from asking people if I am in the right venue for "whiff-waff" as table tennis is apparently called somewhere.  Nor will I am ask the diehards, "excuse me, is this where they're playing flim flam?"I will give table tennis the respect it deserves. Maybe I'll even buy a table tennis racket and little tiny case for it and then carry it with me to the event, like you see people doing with tennis rackets at Wimbledon. You know, acting like they are big time players themselves. I would look so cool. Don't be jealous.

* Those are the top 4 ranked women's table tennis players in the world right now. Bet you didn't know that.

Thursday Travels - Bordeaux

Wait, it's not Thursday.

Two weekends ago we went to Bordeaux. Dave had a conference down there so I flew down on Friday and met him and we explored the area for two days. Initial impressions - it's pretty. It's sort of like a mini-Paris (would they be offended by that? Would the Parisians?) They don't have a ton of bakeries, much to our chagrin, but they do sell a hell of a lot of caneles. They like wine. Well, duh! They really, really like wine. Am I stating the obvious?

So what did we do? Mainly we walked around the city. It's fairly large, but the main part, the old part, is where most tourists go, and is the main shopping and restaurant area. Oh yeah, I forgot to put that in my initial impressions above. They have a TON of restaurants there. And rather diverse ones as well. We saw quite a few Asian restaurants (Japanese, Vietnamese, Chinese), so the whole city is not comprised solely of French bistros. We ate at two good ones. The first, Brasserie Bordelaise seemed to be known for steak. I am not kidding, everyone in that place ate steak, EXCEPT FOR DAVE. We sat down to eat about 10pm and even people that sat down when we were having dessert, about 11:15pm, were eating steak. BUT NOT DAVE. My steak was good (sorry, no pix, I haven't progressed to that yet). He liked the chicken, I ate his stuffing, we both ate the fries.

The second, La Tupina, was also quite good. I read that the restaurant gets generally good reviews but is frequented by tourists, and damn it if that wasn't true. Literally EVERY table was filled with tourists. Want proof? Well, we had a nice little table out on a small balcony over looking the street, but we were still close to two other tables, too close in fact. One table was filled with five people, two women, three men, perhaps from...I'm not sure. At one point they were talking about their favorite restaurants in Napa (Rutherford Grill, Mustards. TOURISTS) but I didn't get the sense they were Californians. Anyhoodle, when the waitress came to take their order one man said "how you doin'?" and then proceeded to ask her if she knew where that phrase originated. Of course she had NO clue. Why would she, as he was talking about the TV show Friends. Yes, he was quoting Joey from Friends. To a French waitress. Maybe she watched the show, who knows, but I sincerely doubt that Joey's catchphrase registered highly enough with her that after the show ended in 2004 she kept it stored in her head in the hopes that an American tourist would quiz her on it one day.

The other table was filled with European tourists who asked if the wine list they were perusing was the only one, or whether they could see the reserve list since what was on offer clearly wasn't good enough. Well, excuse me. I also think we ended up in about three pictures taken of the front of the restaurant, you know, for the scrapbook. I had the braised lamb shoulder which was very good and very tender. I thoroughly enjoyed it. And Dave enjoyed his CHICKEN. Yes, he had chicken AGAIN. I ate his stuffing again.

We also went to Saint-Emilion for the day, a pretty little town about 40 minutes away from Bordeaux by train. And you know what? They like wine there too. Sheesh. It's very cute though, and luckily the German-to-us tourists we followed from the train station to the town knew the way. We followed them blindly, as did two other girls, and the Germans who were actually American led us the right way (it's about a 15 minute walk). Their hiking gear threw me off, it screamed German. We walked around, saw the town from a few different vantage points, looked at some grapevines, ate some mediocre pizza (too harsh, Dave?), and then went back to Bordeaux to catch our flight home.

We stayed at the Hotel Seeko'o, which is a very strange name. It was fine. Our room, a junior suite (la di dah) was fairly large. Truthfully, the lowest room category is a junior suite, so go figure. But for Europe it was a large room. The location was convenient, and yet not. The hotel is across from a new-ish development that converted warehouses into restaurants and shops (outlet shops for the most part). The warehouses get a fair amount of foot traffic, and a lot of the city converges on the river front to walk, ride bikes, stroll, but you need to take a tram into the main part of town.

A really artistic* shot of the Seeko'o at night.    *Yes, this picture is technically a mistake.

This is fine if the tram is running. The tram in Bordeaux is unique in that the overhead power wires are not used in the old town, so there are no unsightly obstructions (the power comes from the ground in that area). But the tram seems to stop running at will, as we were twice left high and dry for no apparent reason. They had a festival along the river and it seems as though people/crowds were the "reason" the tram stopped, but the tracks were never obscured. So who knows. Luckily they have the Parisian/London bike rentals so we used those to get back from dinner Saturday night. It was a long walk otherwise, so one thing to consider regarding the Seeko'o. But hey, those fancy curtain thingys more than make up for it.

That fluffy thing in the picture above is the curtain separating the hotel bedroom from bathroom.

Overall, it was a nice weekend, we weren't pressured to run around and see a ton of sites, we ate well, and we enjoyed walking around. And the area around Saint-Emilion was really pretty. But I don't feel a need to go back. I can cross it off my list.

A new feature - RILEY RATING!**

I am going to start rating cities based on if Riley would like them and whether they seem to be dog friendly. I give Bordeaux 4 out of 5 Rileys.

The city is flat, there is the nice river front walk, there were a TON of dogs (yet it wasn't too dirty, if you know what I mean), there was a dog bar (so chic! although the beverage on offer was nasty), we saw a dog hogging a tram seat so dogs can ride the rails, and Riley would probably like the caneles. But we didn't see many parks, so there could be a grass issue, or lack thereof.

Au revoir for now! Or I should say arrivederci as we are off to Italy today.

** I hope to design a cute Riley Rating image soon. Hopefully by November...