European Vacation - Jet Lag & The London Beat

 

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(Big gap between entries – deep in the heart of Italy, throwing my brain back to finish out the UK entries!!!!)

The London Beat… wraps up, NOW:

The night before I had set my alarm clock early – 7.30ish, assuming I would get a good night’s rest and go for a run in the nearby Regent’s Park. However, despite avoiding the red-eye flight, my internal clock was still on New York time, and I didn’t fall asleep until long after I went to bed.

Mind over matter! I knew I had gotten a good night’s sleep the night before and that if I could push through with my run and coffee, I could make it through the day. I suspected my mum was suffering from the lagging jet as well, but figured I’d focus on waking myself first. It was our only day in London to accomplish so many of the things that my friend had written out for us in his itinerary and there was no way that was going to happen if we slept until noon.

On went the running gear, and off I went. It was a foggy, drizzly London November morning – it was also a Monday morning, and the citizens of the city were up and about, on their way to school, work, what have you.

I love running in a new city/neighborhood – it’s a great way to explore and see unexpected sights. This run would be no different. I first ran along the duck pond before veering off and finding myself along a nearly deserted canal. It was spooky running along that fog-shrouded path and difficult to not conjure up thoughts of Jack the Ripper or envision some other serial killer haunting the canal banks. I did encounter a few friendly, chipper homeless men camped out under a bridge, which reminded me how rare a sight this is in European cities. A huge contrast to NYC and most American cities, big and small. I won’t get into the politics of homelessness in this post, as I’m no expert, but if we really want to solve this problem in the US it couldn’t hurt to see what’s being done overseas.

As I ran along the deserted canal, I eventually came across some simple, lengthy houseboats, reminiscent of those featured in the novel, The Golden Compass. Beautiful homes, anchored to the shore – an enviable way to live.

I was then forced back through the park and passed hundreds of “commuters” strolling to work, dogs walking their owners, and mothers & nannies pushing strollers. I completed my loop of the park and upon returned home where I found my jetlagged mother slowing getting herself ready. I could tell that 1) accomplishing much on our itinerary would be a stretch and 2) getting mom out of the AirBnB would be a chore!

We polished off two cups of coffee each, I bought us London Pass’s online, and I shoved mum out the door in the direction of the tube. Before going underground, we stopped off at a pharmacy to pick up some sleep aids for the evening – I didn’t want to risk trying to sleep through another night of jetlag.

Our first stop was St Paul’s Cathedral – the monstrous dome of which is visible throughout London and is considered by some the heart of the city. The structure is so large it took time just to find the entrance – and upon arrival I suddenly realized that I hadn’t activated the London Pass’s I just bought. With a grumble I had mom wait as I went to the nearest coffee shop to borrow their Wi-Fi to get online.

When I finally figured out how to download the proper application, I was prompted to enter an order number AND a confirmation number. The order number was clearly labeled as such on my receipt, but there was no reference anywhere to a confirmation number. Nor was there any reference to it on their site. Annoyed, I reactivated my cell phone service and called the London Pass’s customer service. Of course, the person reached had never heard of a “confirmation number” being required for activation. He put me on “hold for a few minutes to consult with a supervisor.” On a whim, I tried entering my email address into the confirmation number field – and sure enough it worked! (As someone who works in technology, especially with an eye towards user experience, crap design like this drives me insane! And London Pass is a huge part of the local tourist economy here – how have they not fixed this?!?!)

A half hour after arriving, we finally entered the church and were lucky enough to be taken on a free hour-long tour by one of the cathedral’s volunteer tour guides. The elderly gentleman enthusiastically showed us around the ground level of the cathedral and regaled us with ancient stories about the cathedral’s significance, how it was built, etc. The church was full of tour groups, including several for children, all decked out in their finest school uniforms. (I’m sure the kids resent having to wear them, but they sure look sharp!) Afterwards, we toured the tombs below, but mom refused to climb to the top of the dome.

Once complete, I introduced her to her first Wagamama – a unique, “fast food” sit-down Asian restaurant that is quite popular in the UK. We needed the food to provide us the fuel necessary for the remainder of the day (and I was hoping that by working in more sit-down breaks mum would have less physical pain by days end).

Back to the tube, zippity-boppity-boo, we were at Tower Hill, and spent the rest of the afternoon touring the elaborate Tower of London. We took a walking tour with a yeoman who shared a few nuggets of history, with a special focus on beheadings, torture, and the moats prior use as for sewage. We then explored the tower walls, castle buildings, and gandered at the Crown Jewels. I had forgotten how extensive the Tower is, and by the time we were done the sun had nearly set already.

I suspected I might be pushing my luck, but I really wanted to show mum the Tate Modern, just down the river - an old power plant that had been restored and reconfigured to serve as a massive modern art museum. Using the London Pass, we took a quick jaunt down the Thames to the museum and got in a half hour of contemporary art before closing.

We made our way across the Millennium Bridge towards the tube, first stopping at a historic pub to have a sit and a drink before heading home. After our drink we headed back to Baker Street, giving ourselves a moment to get changed, freshened up and relaxed for a moment. Per a recommendation from our AirBnB host we tried out Fischer’s, this fantastic Austrian restaurant a short walk from home. We had a fantastic meal and then returned home to turn in for the night.

Thanks to our sleeping aids, we turned in early that night and had a fantastic sleep. We were scheduled to leave London out of Kings Cross on a 11.45 train – plenty of time for a morning run and a tour of the miniscule The Sherlock Holmes Museum. London decided to see us out with a brisk rain, so I kept my run short and stuck to the same course as the prior day. We were first in line at the museum, and while it was fun being in an old Victorian era flat, the tour was so brief it was not the most rewarding of excursions. Still, we left with some cute gifts and souvenirs, so the trip was not a complete loss.

We then quickly returned to our flat, said farewell to our first short-term home, then I expertly guided two rolling suitcases through our final trip on the tube to Kings Cross where we boarded our train for our next destination, York!

 

 

European Vacation - London Calling Day 1

I was awoken from a deep slumber by the tolling of church bells and immediately knew I had broken the first rule of jetlag – don’t oversleep. I looked at my phone and sure enough, on the first day of our trip it was already 10.30am…. ugh. I dragged myself out of the bed and knocked on mum’s door to awaken her as well. I had forgotten to set my alarm or explain to mum the importance of getting up at normal times to avoid jet lag – she clearly would have slept another few hours had I let her. I had booked a day trip out of NYC to London to try and avoid jet lag as I knew neither of us would be able to sleep on a flight, but still our internal clocks were set to American time. 

The AirBnB host had generously left us some quality coffee and morning treats to help us get started, which we indulged in as we slowly gathered our wits, took showers, and prepared for a day of being a tourist. While mom was getting ready, I ran over to the cell phone shop at the local train station to purchase two electrical convertors – oversights on my part but only 30 pound for a set of two, much cheaper than buying them in the US. 

By the time we got out the door, phones charged, and shoelaces tied, it was already 1.30. Since the sun would be setting at some point during the 4 o’clock hour, I knew our explorations would be cut short. A good friend of mine had prepared a thoughtful and detailed itinerary for us, but it had assumed a slightly earlier start than we would be making!

Our first stop was The Old Operating Theatre Museum & Herb Garret, near Tower Hill and Borough Hall just off the Thames River. As my mom was a nurse, I suspected that she would be keen on visiting, but the hours were limited and for such a short trip we would only have the one opportunity to do so that afternoon. 

It was a short tube ride from our Baker Street adjacent flat, but being Sunday, the train was packed with weekend revelers. My Idaho-based mom has visited me many times in NYC, but not since the pandemic had she been so exposed to so many people in such a confined space. I could sense her anxiety rising, but the straphangers were all so joyous and festive that it was hard not to laugh along with them. 

 At our stop we followed hundreds of people through a warren of tunnels, stairs, and escalators to arise above ground amid the Borough Markets, with the Shard looming over us. It’s a breathtaking site to be surrounded by so many historic buildings while something as modern and extravagant as The Shard looms nearby. 

As I got orientated, I pointed us towards the museum, concurrently informing mom that the museum was in the attic of an old church and the only means of access was via a tight, stone spiral staircase. The staircase is so narrow, in fact, that they have a stoplight at either end to inform attendees when it was safe to proceed.

The museum was packed with historic medical artifacts, from saws for amputations, leeches for blood cleansing and a variety of pokey-proddy things for addressing an array of STDs. The highlight of the museum is the operating theatre itself, in which other doctors would line up on elevated rows overlooking the stage upon which surgeries were performed. 

It’s a small museum, but very engaging and accessible – especially since the space was once, itself, a medical facility for the poor. 

After an hour visiting this chamber of tortures, we descended back to ground level and mingled with the locals (and other tourists) at the Borough Market, indulging in pastries and mulled wine (a shot of rum for 1 pound extra? Yes please!).

We then ambled along the riverfront where we found a replica of The Golden Hinde, the boat our distant “relative”, Sir Francis Drake, captured during his explorations. We considered reclaiming this long-lost family heirloom but decided to take the tube over to Westminster instead.

It was too late in the afternoon to try and go into any of the historic buildings at Westminster, but during our wanders we came across a military parade outside of Green Park.

We strolled through the beautiful park, which was heavily populated with a variety of waterfowl, some of which made it clear that our presence was not welcome. As twilight fell, we followed the lake paths to a magnificent mid-point, Buckingham Palace. It was my first time there, and I’m not sure if the roads surrounding it are typically closed, but the drunks, families, bikers, and tourists by the hundreds were all wandering around in front, below the statue of Queen Victoria, all pleasantly engaged.

By this time, mum’s legs were acting up, however, and it was time to beat feet through the rest of Green Park to the nearest tube entrance. We knew that between some recent back and knee problems, extended walks would need to be kept to a minimum, and after 4 hours on her feet it was time to go home. Once we got home, we rested for an hour then went to a lovely English pub, The Larrik, for a nice English dinner. While the service certainly took its sweet time – as it can do in England – the food and drink were fantastic. Then home again, back to bed, to sleep off our jet lag and get a fresh start on what would be our last full day in London.

European Vacation - Adventures in Heathrow!

 

When one goes on a two-week trip in Europe with one’s mum, it’s a guarantee that something is going to go wrong. However, I did not expect it to occur before we even left the London airport!

This trip to Europe is my mom’s first time ever going overseas, so I knew she was having some anxiety about the trip in the first place. While I wouldn’t consider myself an expert, I’ve done enough trips Europe to feel comfortable on an overseas adventure, especially when the first week would be spent in an English-speaking country! I know some of her friends, along with myself, had spent some time coaching her on some of the logistics around travelling overseas. Admittedly, the laws and regulations tend to change so quickly and so often that even I have a tough time keeping up on what’s best to do regarding money (when to withdraw cash? Do you even need cash?), communication (do you pay for a costly international plan and does it work in every country), and transportation (how close is where we are staying from the airport?).

Our first three nights of our trip would be in London, in which we would be staying at a small 2-bedroom flat off of Baker Street I found on AirBnB. Having only been to London once before, I wasn’t familiar with the neighborhood but based on the reviews both the location and neighborhood were quite popular. However, the host would have to meet us at the apartment himself to welcome us and hand over a physical key as he was not allowed to install any lock box or technical solution. He made me promise to message him via WhatsApp once I got to customs.

After a relatively smooth flight, we landed at Heathrow around 8.30pm. Being American, Mum and I were allowed to proceed with many of the others from our flight through the “express” passport line, which was being “manned” by a series of broken scanner machines in which we were supposed to scan our passports ourselves. We skipped the ensuing mess, opting for a human interaction with an attendant. Next, we picked up our luggage in customs, I messaged our AirBnB host, and we headed straight for the Heathrow Express train that would be bring us straight into the city. All in all, we appeared to be making good time.

You may have picked up on the subtle indications that this is the moment when the drama begins!

While the Heathrow Express train may be fast once you are on it – getting to said train involves a hike through a warren of interconnected tunnels. My mum, who has been dealing with some knee and back issues for the last few years, was going to have to do a bit of walking. She managed it like a champ though, and within 45 minutes of exiting our plan, we were on the Heathrow Express headed…. the wrong way!

The express train makes multiple stops within Heathrow, and I had accidentally put us on the train headed deeper into the airport, away from London and our accommodation. A big whoops on my part, yet, as it would turn out, a saving grace!

Once we realized the error, we got off the train at the next stop to wait for a train going in the correct direction. As we waited and chatted, I sent an update to our AirBnB host letting him know about my little mistake and that we would be slightly delayed by ten minutes as a result.

It was right around this time that my mum looked me in the face and said, “Daryl, that’s not my suitcase.”

She was correct – it was not her suitcase. It was a rose-colored suitcase, similar in shape and size to the new one she just purchased, but the name tag on this one read Joanne – and this is very much not my mother’s name.

The Proper Suitcase

“Shit, damn-it, argh!” went the voice in my head! “Don’t worry, I got it, we can fix this!” were the words that came out of mouth though.

We weren’t sure what to do, but we got back on the train and headed back to the platform we originally boarded at. I tried calling the number on the name tag for Joanne, but it was difficult to read and for whatever reason my call did not go through.

Back through the tunnels we went, me pushing two suitcases (mine and Joanne’s), with my mum in tow. She knew I was annoyed, and I could tell she felt dumb, but I figured it would best to not talk about it. When we got to the ticketing gate where we had scanned our passes, I had her sit a bench there and wait – there was no point in dragging her all the way back through the tunnels to Heathrow to facilitate a luggage exchange that I could navigate myself. As I left her I realized that I had previously told her that we would be using WhatsApp, which was of course dependent on logging into Wi-Fi, which I wasn’t sure she could do or would know how to do. I had this brief thought that if mum tries to get up and follow me back, we could get endlessly separated and this could get much worse.

Back through the tunnels I went, the rude American rushing and brushing past people as I made my way back to Heathrow. Once I arrived at customs, I was guided to a phone from which I could call United luggage crew for assistance. Luckily, they were immediately aware of the situation and had my mum’s suitcase in hand AND poor Joanne as well! For whatever reason they kept me waiting outside the customs exit for close to an hour, coordinating the meeting of myself, my luggage, and the unfortunate victim of my mum’s accidental thievery.

When they all finally arrived, Joanne was thankfully quite sweet about it all. The exchange was made and back I went to pick up mum and restart the journey back to London via Heathrow Express.

Upon disembarking at Piccadilly station, we caught a cab to our apartment building where Sam, our host, patiently awaited our arrival (nearly two hours later than anticipated). He was cheekily pleasant about our snafu and very welcoming to us overall. After showing us around the flat, he drove us around the immediate neighborhood pointing out restaurants of note, the entrance to the tube and other helpful highlights of the neighborhood. He dropped us off at a busy intersection near our flat, and we indulged in pizza and beer from the only restaurant that was open.

We returned home and within moments, I was fast asleep.

May this bump in the road be our one and only!

Promise Fulfilled - European Vacation

 I write this from 35,000 feet over the Atlantic, in Economy Class of United Flight 964, sandwiched between my mother and a random stranger, enroute to a 2 week European vacation. My mothers 70^th birthday was on Christmas Day the December of 2019. I announced to her and my siblings that I would take her on an overseas trip – her first – during 2020 to celebrate the milestone.

I still recall our visiting a Travel Agent in our hometown of Seward,
Alaska – as one did back then – making plans to visit our family in the Lower 48. Left to my own devices I recall leafing through brochures and flyers promoting exotic vacations in remote international locations, an early sign of my desire to travel.

Upon leaving the travel agency, with preprinted tickets for another domestic trip to Seattle, I promised my mum that one day I would take her overseas. And now was the time to make good on that promise.

We didn’t make specific, detailed plans, but when asked about where she would like to go, she decided on Scotland. Her love of the Middle Ages and stories about swords and sorcery, knights and fair maidens, have long intrigued her, and having an opportunity to visit castles excited her.

Of course when March of 2020 and COVID rolled around, our trip and planning was indefinitely delayed. Instead, Travis and I spent most of our time on travels within the US, mostly visiting family in Arizona or Idaho. As the pandemic dragged on, slowing ebbing over time, it seemed like an opportunity would never present itself.

Finally in the Spring of 2022, I reengaged my mother on the topic, insisting that this would be the year to do it. I told her we would go for two weeks around Thanksgiving, visiting both the United Kingdom and Italy (the country from which her family originated and a personal favorite).  She nervously agreed, and with I booked our tickets before she could change her mind! We would fly into London to start and out of Edinburgh a week later into Venice, finally flying backing to NYC from Milan.

After a summer of hesitancy as the result of a back injury and subsequent minor back operation that made walking difficult, in September we reconfirmed our trip and the booking of hotels began!

We left early this morning on an 8.30am flight out of Newark, NJ to London, at which we will touchdown at 8.30pm. I deliberately avoided the typical redeye flight to Europe as I’ve never managed to sleep on a flight before and didn’t want to start the trip off with extreme jet lag.

My mom and I have always been very close, but we realized that we both have not been on a flight together since I was a child – a trip that was probably planned at that very same travel agent at which I made my original promise. I have no doubt that at that time, my mom probably kept a close eye on my siblings as we passed through security and boarded the flight. The role was somewhat reversed this time as I helped my mom navigate the complexities of Newark airport and an international flight. The pleasures of still roomy(ish) seats, being served a meal, free wine and beer – the things that used to make flying a pleasure but are now only reserved for the wealthy or overseas travelers.

Our first three nights will be in London – and I’ll share ore about those adventures in my next post.

To Union or Not?

 Generally, as a progressively minded person, I find myself favoring unions - after all, beyond government agency's, it's really the only way for employees to stand up for their rights. Over the last year or so, after many seemingly waning years, unionization appears to be gaining steam. A number of Starbucks shops have created individual unions - it seems like it's only a matter of time until this becomes a reality for all Starbucks employees, no? And even though it's only just begun, considering the size of Amazon and the well documented poor treatment of it's employees, it would seem as though it's only a matter of time until a union forms for their factory workers.

And again - to me - this all sounds like a good thing. 

Then you get to something like police unions and suddenly all of the positives are overwhelmed by all of the negatives. Sure, it's great that these unions look after their employees and that they have so much power, but unlike with other workers, so much of what they stand for compromises the safety and security of those who they are sworn to protect. 

Police unions are so committed to the status quo that they are unwilling and unable to consider alternatives. The Daily podcast today had an entire episode focused on stopping pulling over drivers for minor traffic stops, which are an "enforcement" technique used to question a potential suspect of something more devious. Subsequently, people of color are disproportionately pulled over with no tangible impact to driving down crime. In fact, there is at least one town in which the Chief of Police actively told his officers to stop pulling over drivers for minor infractions and instead focusing on serious crime. This was all to the benefit of that community. 

Of course, since it was not in line with standard police training, the unions dismissed the practice as a fluke. 

I don't pretend to have the answers for policing, but it's clear to me that unions need to have caps on their level of influence and what they can control.

Thank you for reading my random thoughts on unions!

War Today, Gone Tomorrow...

A week ago, the seemingly unthinkable happened. Donny Chump's puppet master, Vladimir Putin, decided to roll back the world theatre by 30 years and restart another Cold War by moving Russian troops into Ukraine. So far, the Ukrainian people, through courage and a "hometown" advantage, have managed to keep Putin and his soldiers at bay. But it feels like this episode of David & Goliath can only last so long and eventually this much more disadvantaged country will fall to Putin's army - the only question is around how much death and destruction may accompany this fall. 

The US and the EU seem pretty set on avoiding being militarily involved in the conflict, a perspective I understand and support. Were the US to get involved, the entire situation could escalate dangerously and I would fear as to at what point nuclear weapons might come into play. For the rest of the EU, they are mostly underprepared to contribute in any significant militaristic way, at least that is my perception. 

Instead, collectively, they are pressuring Putin and, especially, the Russian people through sanctions, both economic and in lifestyle. Historically sanction have proven ineffective, however in this case, I suspect they may have more influence. The Russian people have led relatively comfortable lives and are seemingly disinterested and disgusted in Putin's pursuit to destroy the Ukraine and/or reunite it's people and property with their own land. And while they may not realize it, through sheer overwhelming numbers they could eventually turn the tide against their dictator's regime. 

Surely there a number of people in power that support Putin, but based on what I've read about his isolationist nature, it seems like he has more in common with a leader like Andrew Cuomo. A man who has been effective, yet brutal in the administration of his power, ruling through fear and failing to make friends or enemies who will support them in their time of need.

Hopefully word gets through to the Russian people, including the soldiers and police whom one may suspect do not want to harm their own people, let alone the Ukrainians. As a collective, if they turned out in huge numbers I have no doubt that they could topple the current government in Russia. Sure, they country would be in disarray for a period of time, but no more so than it was when the Cold War ended.

And it is also possible that someone else of great power within Russia could pull strings to have Putin assassinated. Clearly it's a mindset that is more familiar and comfortable with the Russian populace than it is in most Western countries and not as far-fetched as one may think. 

Sliding Doors

 Back in 2005, prior to moving to NYC, I was suffering through five or six months of unemployment in Seattle when an unusual work opportunity presented itself that would have changed the trajectory of my life. 

I had been in Seattle for four years at that point and while I loved the city, after being unexpectedly laid off, I had no prospects for a new job after all this time. I good friend of mine informed me of an opportunity that had popped up in the Bay Area, working as a personal assistant to one of the cities wealthiest denizens, Peter Thiel. I knew nothing about being a PA beyond what I had seen represented in film and tv, and was completely unaware of Thiel, who at that time was still not quite as wealthy and influential as he would become. But the prospect of moving to a new city that I was quite fond of appealed to me so I bit at the opportunity.

The first step was a telephone job interview, and we had a pretty good, albeit brief conversation. He was intrigued by my time spent living in New Zealand, but made it (understandably) clear that he couldn't hire someone for this role based on a telephone conversation. So a few days later I found myself on an all expenses paid trip down to San Francisco to be interviewed by himself and a few key people in his professional life.

Sadly (?) I never got to meet him in person - after a few interviews with some of his existing staff, including his retiring PA who stated that she was trying to get him to hire one of her friends, I was dismissed from the interview process. I honestly can't recall what snafu's I  may have made, but I most likely wasn't qualified for the job.

So it's been interesting to see his name come up, time and again, in the news for a variety of reasons. His attack on Gawker via the Hulk Hogan lawsuit destroyed the company, all because they outed him. I knew he was gay those many years prior during the interview process, via word of mouth, and recall wondering during the Gawker incident whether or not his rebuttal was due to some insecurity around being gay or just out of spite? 

Over the last four years he has been continuously supporting Donny Chump and his ilk, a move I find both peculiar and disturbing. How can someone who is clearly so smart and influential be supporting someone as incompetent and ridiculous as Chump? What could possibly be his motivation? Some bitter, twisted heartlessness resulting from spending so much time in the closet during his younger years?

How could I have fit into this puzzle? How much could I have influenced him if I were his PA? And conversely, how much could he have influenced me? Considering my age and prospective role, presumably his influence may have impacted me more than the other way around.

Still, it's interesting to think how much different my life may have turned out if I had been offered that position. Still, I can't complain, as only a few months after those interviews did I find myself sleeping on a couch in my best friends one bedroom apartment, restarting my life.