Ireland Revisited

I’d go back in a heartbeat!

We booked a tour that included air fare from Baltimore to Shannon and back, one night in a hotel in Shannon, coupons for Bed & Breakfast Inns for six nights, and a rental car. As I recall, the entire trip – including round trip air fare from Atlanta to Baltimore and an overnight stay in Baltimore, cost us less than $2,500.

And this is one of the sites we saw on our first day in Ireland.

Cliffs of Moher

We took this trip along with six members of my extended family. My bride and I laid out what we considered reasonable plans before we ever left home. In fact, I’d already made reservations at six different B&Bs; we knew in advance where we’d finish each day. What we did in between was up to whatever whim caught our attention.

The other folks decided to be totally flexible. Thus, after the Irish Coffee reception, they sat around a table trying to decide what to do first. Lu and I listened for a bit, then got into our rental car and headed for the Cliffs of Moher.

It was already late in the afternoon when we decided to leave the tranquil beauty of the cliffs overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. As we approached the parking lot, we met the other members of our entourage. We didn’t chat long because the sun was setting and they had a long walk to get to the best vantage points. It was also getting quite cold and snow was beginning to fall.

Instead of heading directly back to the hotel, Lu and I decided to follow our noses and find a place to eat dinner. I believe we found ourselves in a fishing village named Ballyvaughan. We went into a pub and were immediately warmed by the peat and coal fire.

I don’t recall what I ordered, but Lu ordered bacon and cabbage. Well, let me tell you! That bacon was what we could call ham and there was plenty of it.

The next morning my bride and I headed for Killarney, but stopped in Limerick along the way. That’s where we discovered King John’s Castle. History tells us that King John never spent a night there – he died before he could get back to it. The medieval structure was extremely interesting and made more so by the Viking settlement that was discovered buried beneath the castle. Those ruins were discovered during a remodeling project.

Life is so unfair. My bride and I discovered nothing so interesting when we remodeled our kitchen.

The B&B we stayed at that night was very comfortable. We had our own sitting room complete with a peat fire. The structure gave us a magnificent view of the MacGillicuddy Reeks (a mountain range south of Killarney) and I found myself thinking of Lucille Ball.

The landlady asked if we’d care for porridge with our Irish breakfast (which was included each day). I made the mistake of saying I could do without the oatmeal. I was told in no uncertain terms that porridge and oatmeal were two very different beasts. So I agreed to have porridge with my breakfast. It sure tasted a lot like oatmeal.

Following a wonderful breakfast (that also included bacon, eggs, toast, blood pudding, and fruit) we were off for a tour of the Ring of Kerry. We’d been warned not to drive (although I was doing a pretty good job of staying on the other side of the road) and had made reservations for a bus tour.

That’s when we ran into the other members of our group. They had tried to take a boat ride to the Aran Islands but were told they needed to make reservations. They did for a day later and then headed for the Ring of Kerry.

Seacoast on the Ring of Kerry

There were a number of places we would have stopped had I been driving. Being at the mercy of the bus driver, we stopped where he was supposed to stop. Of course, even the professionals have to alter their routes from time to time.

Free Range Organic Sheep

The only reason the sheep are not in our lane is the driver got out and shooed them over.

Naturally our driver stopped in one little village where we were able to do some shopping. Lu bought a beautiful sweater that she wears all the time and I bought a CD and music book featuring the songs of Phil Coulter.

After our tour of the Ring of Kerry, our group parted company once more. Altough we’d planned on meeting at the Cronin Pub in the city of Cork, they never showed up. I believe they then headed back north for their Aran Island excursion while we headed east for a tour of the Waterford Crystal plant.

We ran into them again at Trinity College in Dublin where we’d all gone to see the Book of Kells and other points of interest. Naturally, we all took the tour of the Guinness brewery.

The Nectar of the Irish Gods

The following day my bride and I headed north to visit Newgrange, which can best be described as an underground Stonehenge. It’s one of those prehistoric structures that seems to be a tremendous effort to create a calendar.

Finally, we headed for Bunratty Castle.

Lu befriends an archer

While Lu tried to make friends with the locals, I headed for the roof to see what I could see.

A perfect view for an archer

Later, at the castle, Lu and I were treated to a medieval feast. The first course was turnip soup; we were handed a knife and a napkin. I doubt the people who originally lived in the castle were given napkins.

The soup was very thick and we were given chunks of bread to help us along the way. It was delicious soup and was followed by ribs and chicken and other delightful finger foods.

All the while we were entertained by our singing and dancing wait staff. It was an absolutely marvelous way to bring our first trip to Ireland to a close. The next morning we headed back to the Shannon airport and home.

I’d go back in a heartbeat!

Oh, to be in England again!

While digging out the photos I used the other day in connection with my thoughts on the telephone, I ran across this picture.

The Bell

The original portion of the Bell pub building was erected approximately thirty-two years before Columbus sailed the ocean blue. We Americans find such things totally fascinating. Many of us Americans also find it disgusting how developers thoughtlessly continue to tear down perfectly good buildings to make way for something newer.

As a taxpayer, I find it particularly appalling that a thirty year old sports stadium can be torn down decades before it’s even paid for. But that’s subject matter for another post at another time.

The picture of me standing in front of that pub was taken in 1997. My bride-to-be and I ate lunch in this fine establishment although we had to continuously remind ourselves that the structure had stood for five hundred and thirty-seven years; it was highly unlikely that it would decide to collapse while we were enjoying a hearty lunch.

The picture clearly shows that the structure was built a piece at a time. The inside was very similar. There were many variations in the height of the ceiling, and many walls, doorways, and ceilings were definitely crooked. Perhaps a crooked little man once lived there!

I’d been in London for over two months working on a project for IBM. Lu came and joined me for a week after the project was completed. We stayed with my good friend, Mike Newman.

Most of my work was done under the supervision of a lady named Vera Belling. Vera was born and raised in England and had many interesting stories to tell. However, one story in particular sticks in my mind.

It seems that Vera’s family name had once been Bellingham. That all changed when one of her ancestors did something that the King found upsetting. Fortunately for the ancestor, the King did not say, “Off with his head!” Instead, he said, “Off with his ham!”

A bit of research tells me that the ‘ham’ suffix to a surname means ‘town’. This would indicate that Mr. Bellingham was from the town of Belling. Would this indicate that the King was prohibiting the man from returning to his home?

More likely, the Bellingham family had risen to a state of nobility and lopping off the man’s ham reduced him back to the ranks of the unwashed.

Whatever the true story is, it was one more reminder that England is, indeed, a foreign country. And they think we’re strange!

A History Lesson

On November 5, 1997, I was working in London, England. Ed Sheredy and I were training IBM employees from England, Scotland, Ireland, and Wales to use a new software program that monitored customer contracts.

We were staying at the Strand Palace near the Waterloo Bridge. Each morning we’d walk across that bridge on our way to the IBM building on the South Bank of the River Thames. At the end of our workday, we’d reverse our travel, stop in the hotel long enough to drop off our briefcases, and then head back out into the London night to find something to eat.

After returning to the hotel, I’d write a letter to my intended bride, watch a bit of telly, and then turn in for the night.

My room was very reminiscent of a monk’s cell at a monastery. My bed was about the size of a standard door, which meant I had to take care while turning over to avoid finding myself on the floor.

On this particular night, I was barely asleep when the explosions started. I could see flashes of light and hear loud booms. I quickly got out of bed to look out my window.

My view represented both good and bad news. The bad news lied in the fact that my room was on the inside of the building and faced a courtyard… making it impossible for me to see what was happening on the streets below. The good news lied in that same fact – if someone was firing missiles at the hotel, I was relatively safe.

The bombardment continued for about thirty minutes… and then all was quiet. I considered getting dressed and going down to the lobby to investigate. I decided that if the hotel had been hit, some sort of alarm would’ve sounded and we would have been ordered to vacate. I decided to await orders. I soon fell asleep.

When I went down for breakfast in the morning, I was pleased to see that our hotel had no damage whatsoever. Surprisingly, no one was discussing the matter. One would think a terrorist attack would be the only topic of conversation. Ed entered the lobby as perplexed as I was. We went into the restaurant for breakfast and asked our waiter about the late night explosions.

Believe it not, it was simply folks celebrating Guy Fawkes’ Day. To learn more about Guy Fawkes, Click here to view a video about the foiled plot of 1605.

At first I failed to understand. I thought it was a spoof of Guy Fawkes and his group of dissident Catholics in their futile attempt to kill the king and the nobles who comprised the Parliament of the time. I later came to realize that the celebration was based on the fact that the plot was discovered and stopped before any damage could be done.

In any case, you are now officially warned. If you find yourself in London on the evening of November 5th, be prepared for the fireworks!

Where Crack is Legal

A few years ago we came across a travel offer we couldn’t refuse. We discovered it on a web site with a very peculiar name -Travel Zoo.

The deal included round trip airfare from Baltimore to Shannon, Ireland, a rental car, and bed & breakfast vouchers for a week. We booked the Ireland trip, as well as round trip Air Tran tickets between Atlanta and Baltimore, and arranged to meet a number of family members in Baltimore prior to flying across the Atlantic.

Amongst the eight of us who made the trip, we had three rental cars. My bride and I spent weeks planning our week in Ireland and made reservations at various B&Bs before we left home. The others decided to ‘wing it.’ They took the B&B directory with them and waited until the last minute of each day to decide where they’d sleep. It worked for them; but Lu and I usually prefer to know, in advance, where we’ll spend the night. As a result, after the first night, we all went our separate ways. Twice during the week, we bumped into each other – once as we were touring the Ring of Kerry, and again in Dublin at Trinity College.

We spent the first night at a hotel near the Shannon Airport. Between our arrival and turning in for the night, Lu and I attended a welcoming meeting and had our first taste of authentic Irish coffee – actually, Lu had a taste and I had two cups. Later, we drove over to see the Cliffs of Moher and dined at a pub in a small fishing village. My guess is that village saw very few tourists, which made it all the better for us. Lu had cabbage and bacon (their version of bacon was what we call ham) and I had Irish stew… along with a pint of Guinness.

The crack was just getting started as we finished our meal and prepared to leave. ‘Crack’ in Ireland is an evening of music and fun at a pub. People show up with their musical instruments; everyone orders pints of their favorite beverage, and the fun begins. It’s all perfectly legal, and lots of fun!

The next day we traveled to Limerick and toured King John’s Castle. We were the first to arrive when they opened for business and the lady at the counter did not have change. She simply told us to go on in and stop by to pay as we left. That gesture says a lot about the people of Ireland. But another occurrence during our trip says even more.

My nephew’s wife has a constant ringing in her ears and cannot sleep without the sound of a fan. She usually takes a small fan with her wherever she goes, but had forgotten to do so on this trip. She asked to borrow one at the hotel for her first night and was told to take it with her for the rest of the week. They just asked that she return it on her way back to the airport.

Our second night was spent in Killarney. While we didn’t see Bing Crosby’s mother, we did see the Macgillycuddy’s Reeks – a mountain range that might have inspired Lucille Ball when she made up names for her various characters.

Our hostess at the B&B asked if we would like to have porridge in addition to our traditional Irish breakfast. I made a comment that oatmeal might taste good in the morning. I was quickly informed that porridge is not the same as oatmeal. Rather than insult our hostess any more than I might have already done, we agreed to have porridge with our breakfast. I never told the woman, but porridge sure tasted a lot like oatmeal.

The Ring of Kerry was our next tour and we later regretted taking the bus. We’d been warned that the traffic could be horrendous and the roads narrow and difficult to negotiate. The traffic problem might have been true for summer visitors, but being there in late winter, the only congestion we encountered was a herd of sheep that had escaped a field.

There were many things we would have stopped to see, but the driver had to maintain his schedule.

Later that day we drove on to Cork City in County Cork. We’d agreed to meet the others for dinner at Cronin’s Pub. (My sister’s married name was Cronin, and we were going to dine with her, her son and his wife and daughters, and my brother.) Lu and I found the place. The others did not. So, we had dinner and moved on to our B&B. Later we learned that they had their hands full just finding a place to stay. (If I have this fact wrong, I’m sure I’ll hear about it!)

The next day we went on to visit the Waterford Crystal factory. As factory tours go, this one was less than so-so, and as we found ourselves in the gift shop (as seems to happen with all factory tours) we realized how expensive Waterford Crystal really is! We respectfully declined to take any souvenirs with us.

We spent the night just south of Dublin and had another enjoyable meal in a local pub. Our plan for the next day was to drive to a train station and take public transportation into and out of Dublin.

The great plan for Dublin was erased as we watched a train leave the station while we were parking the car. In truth, it took a few more minutes – long enough for us to walk to the platform and learn that the next train was scheduled for more than an hour later. So, back to the car we went with a renewed sense of adventure.

I’ve always hated driving in New York City and, after spending three months in London, knew I wouldn’t want to drive a car anywhere near the English capital. From what I’d read about Dublin, I had absolutely no desire to get within ten miles of the center of town… and yet I wound up within blocks of the city’s heart. Amazingly, I even found a free parking spot!

We had a marvelous time in Dublin – we took the ‘Hop On – Hop Off’ bus tour, learned more than we wanted to know about Molly Malone and her cockles and mussels, and saw the Book of Kells at Trinity College. More enjoyable for me was the tour of the Guinness Brewery. Once again, my bride had a taste of Ireland and I had two pints of it.

The traffic leaving Dublin was, indeed, horrendous, but we made it without any major mishap.

This is not to say we had no minor mishaps during the week. The first day driving a car with the steering wheel on the passenger side, I managed to come so close to a stand of bushes that I knocked the side view mirror out of whack. While Lu was able to move it back to its proper position, she realized she was in for a week of terror.

Many roads in Ireland are extremely narrow and the Irish people seem to take pleasure in building stone walls right up to the edge of the road. They are also big on planting trees and hedges as close to the road ways as possible. When a truck or bus came at me from the other direction, I had a tendency to move farther to my left than was necessary. I never hit a wall, but some bushes and trees suffered from my over compensation.

After leaving Dublin, we spent the night in a B&B to the north of the city so we’d be close to the next item on our agenda. Newgrange is similar to Stonehenge in that there are many theories about its origin, but nothing is known for sure. It was built at least 3,000 years ago, but we can only guess at the why?

What they do know is that on one day per year (the Winter Solstice) the sun shines through a passageway and lights up what appears to be an altar. Before modern man discovered the true nature of Newgrange, it was simply seen as one more hill on the Irish landscape.

From there we headed for Kildaire to see the church made famous by St. Brigid. Unfortunately, the church was closed for repairs, but we did get to experience something new and different.

In the center of town, there was a pay self-cleaning toilet. Lu went in first and tried to hold the door open so I could go in without paying. For whatever reason, I balked at the idea and left the door close as I fished for another twenty pence coin.

As we stood waiting to insert the additional coin, we heard the water begin to spray inside the toilet and I was extremely glad to be outside of the structure. This public facility made sure it was perfectly sanitized between users. I wonder how I would’ve felt had I been sanitized as well.

Our final experience in Ireland was a truly memorable evening in County Clare. The Bunratty Castle banquet was a highlight of our trip. We were served a four course meal and given nothing but a knife with which to eat it. Naturally, the first course was the soup!

In truth, the soup was either turnip or parsnip soup that was extremely thick and we were given lots of bread. Dipping the bread into the soup made it very easy to eat… and it was absolutely delicious. We also had chicken and baby back ribs, which were easily eaten using nothing but the fingers and the knife.

As I recall, the dessert was either pudding or ice cream, but our hosts relented and gave us spoons.

All the while we ate and drank (they served us mead as well as wine) the wait staff was singing and dancing and providing a wonderful floor show. It was a truly memorable experience.

In fact, the entire trip is one that I would gladly repeat. The Irish people are wonderful and their country is every bit as beautiful as the pictures we’ve all seen. The food and drink is as good as any you’ll find anywhere, and the crack is heartilly encouraged!.

Memories of Vienna

Vienna

To avoid getting in trouble by using copyrighted material, let me point out that the above photo came from Virtourist.com. The exact web address for this photo is: http://www.virtourist.com/europe/vienna/02.htm.

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In the late 1980s I was working for IBM E/ME/A, that is, Europe/Middle East/Africa. I was still reporting to an office in Atlanta, but representing those other parts of the world. My basic duties were to take training materials created in the U.S. and see that they were translated for the other countries. Since I am not fluent in any language besides English, my main responsibility in translation was to remove American cliches and examples.

When I signed on to this two to three year assignment, I had high hopes of traveling extensively at IBM’s expense. My trip to Vienna for a three day meeting was the sum total of the extensive travel. As luck would have it, my good friend in London was still working for IBM, so I was able to add a couple of days to the trip to visit England while conferring with my friend. As I recall, much of our conferring took place in pubs.

Being an adventurous person, when I arrived at the airport in Vienna I decided to travel as the locals would; rather than taking a limo to my hotel – at IBM’s expense – I asked the person at the currency exchange booth for the least expensive way to get to my hotel.

The instructions I was given included a bus ride into town, a subway ride across town, and a short walk. I didn’t have a lot of luggage – one medium sized suitcase and a briefcase – so I didn’t see any problem whatsoever in taking the proposed route.

The bus ride was the easiest part. I’d instructed the driver where I needed to get off as I boarded the bus. He was very accommodating and gave me plenty of warning. From that point on, things got rather interesting. I walked for several blocks looking for something resembling a subway station. Finally, I stopped in a small cafe and asked for directions. Fortunately, everyone I had encountered up to that point spoke very good English and I was soon on my way in search of a sign with a large “U”.

Who would have guessed the Austrians call their subway the U-Bahn, which is short for Untergrundbahn? That’s a German word meaning Underground Rapid Transit. I soon learned that German is the official language of Austria.

Once I found a U-Bahn station, I encountered a new set of problems. There was no one in a booth selling tickets. Instead, I found myself staring at a vending machine.

While I knew the address of my hotel, there was nothing about the machine to help me decide which train to take and how far to go on it. All instructions were in German, which made it impossible for me to decipher. (Or, as my German coworker back in the states would say, “It’s UN-possible!”) Furthermore, the machine only took coins and all I had was paper currency.

I considered going back up to the street and hailing a cab. That’s when a gentleman came up and offered to help me. I hadn’t realized I looked that desperate! I explained where I was trying to go and he told me which buttons to press and how much money to insert. When I told him I had nothing by paper money, he took a bill from me and led me to a bakery counter several feet away.

Soon a heated discussion took place. Since it was all in German, I had no idea of the problem. Finally, the man holding my money gave it to the shop keeper and received change. As he handed the money to me, my friend said, “They wanted to charge you ten percent for the exchange, but I wouldn’t allow it!” That’s the first reason I refer to the man as my friend.

We returned to the machine, purchased my ticket, and walked down to the platform. He then directed me to the tracks on my right, told me to take any train going in that direction and to get off at the third stop. I set down my luggage and turned to thank him, but he was gone. I saw him as he reached the top of the stairs and was hurrying on to whatever he was doing prior to stopping to help me. And that, my friends, is the second reason I called him my friend. Obviously, the man went far out of his way to help a stranger.

It took a while for the train to arrive and my curiosity led me to pick up my luggage and begin to wander around to see whatever there might be to see. Suddenly there was an elderly woman taking me by the arm and leading me back to where my friend had left me. I couldn’t understand a word she said, but I definitely understood her meaning. She had observed my arrival and determined that I obviously didn’t know where I was going. She was going to make sure I didn’t get lost!

I gave a lot of thought to those two people at the U-Bahn station and have concluded that they had been victims of Hitler’s Nazis. All those years later, they remembered the people who liberated them and they were more than willing to go a bit out of their way to return the favor.

When I arrived at my station and got back up to the street level, I saw a trolley car similar to the one in the photo running along a cobblestone street. I was surrounded by small shops and the aroma of bakeries and coffee. When I looked down a street and saw the Danube River, I was immediately transformed back to my childhood visits to downtown Pittsburgh. As I child in Pittsburgh, I’d ridden trolleys that looked almost exactly the same as the ones I saw in Vienna. And many streets in Pittsburgh at still made of cobblestone.  To me, Vienna was Pittsburgh stuck in a time warp. As for the aromas, I guess they’re basically the same in any reasonably sized city.

The next three days were a whirlwind of meetings. I wasn’t able to do much sightseeing, but I did find time to eat many foods I’d never seen before. I also discovered that almost every restaurant made its own beer.

Usually in a situation like that, I’ll try as many different local dishes as I can. However, I found that after having Tafelspitz for the first time, I had to order it again. Had I spent another day in Vienna, I’m sure I would’ve ordered it a third time.

For those who have no idea what Tafelspitz is, my initial explanation will leave you wondering how it could possibly taste good. Tafelspitz is boiled beef. They start with plain old water and add a wide assortment of things including chicken feet. Then they boil the meat for hours. Finally, they serve it with a mixture of applesauce and horseradish. It’s tender and delicious. Makes me want to go back to Vienna right now!

Besides the great food and beer, the thing I remember most about Vienna is the warmth of the people. Someday I’ll return and take in the sights. I understand they have at least four opera houses and numerous palaces. If I’m not mistaken, Vienna is also the home of the Spanish Riding School that features the Lipazzan stallions.

I realize three days is not a long enough time to get a true feel for a city, but, based on my experience, I’d say it’s a place worth visiting.

English Humor and Food

A Pub in England

The White Horse Inn is located about midway between London and Brighten. The date on the sign indicates the major difference between North America and the rest of the world. We’re lucky if we have buildings more than a hundred years old. It seems as though we’re always tearing something down to make way for something new.

When my bride and I visited England in 1997, we stopped in this establishment that was almost five hundred and fifty years old at the time and I had a pint of ale that was the best I’ve ever had. It was poured – gravity style – from a wooden keg sitting behind the bar.

We didn’t eat at this particular establishment, but certainly enjoyed the beverages, the friendliness of the customers and employees, and their subtle humor.

Send us Back to Paris

My bride and I visited Paris in February of 2007. If the song “I Love Paris” had been totally accurate, I might be singing “I love Paris in the winter, when it drizzles.” However, we didn’t get rained on during our stay. A while later, while in London, it was a different story.

Lu and Jim at the Louvre

As with any trip we take to a place we’ve never been, my bride and I read all sorts of travel brochures and surfed the Internet so we’d have a fairly good idea of exactly what we wanted to do during out limited time in the capital of France. When I discovered that many museums are free on Sundays, and most of them – including the Louvre – are free on the first Sunday of the month, I called our travel agent and had them switch a bus tour of the city from Sunday to Monday. That left us Sunday to freely wander around the world’s most famous museum.

Anyone who has ever been to the Louvre knows it’s almost indescribable. We saw the original Venus de Milo, the Mona Lisa, and many other famous works of art. We also saw portions of ancient buildings that left me in awe of the abilities of workers who erected such towering structures without the aid of our modern equipment.

Lu being dwarfed

Based on the size of this one column I can only imagine how immense the complete structure must have been. We saw many similar, intricately carved columns in different areas of the museum. In the above picture, we were in the Egyptian section. Columns of equal grandeur were also found in the Greek and Roman sections.

I should point out that the Louvre is a complex of numerous buildings spread over acres of land. Being a history buff, I found the construction of the buildings themselves to be enormously interesting. Before it was taken over by the democratic government, the complex of buildings served as the Royal Palace.

I spent a lot of time looking up!

The craftsmanship on the ceilings, doors, door and window frames was unbelievable. I was left wondering how much it cost for the Kings and Queens to have it done. For that matter, how much would it cost to have it done today? Could such skilled craftsmen even be found?

After spending hours being awestruck by the art work and the architecture, we left to find something to eat. That’s when we totally forgot the basic rules we found outlined in most of the reading material we’d gone through prior to the trip.

Rule number one: If it is a sidewalk cafe, eat inside where the food is cheaper. Rule number two: Remember that meals are ala carte; they don’t have value combo meals. Rule number three: Check the prices carefully prior to ordering.

Our first mistake: We stopped at a sidewalk cafe within a block of the Louvre. That was a guarantee that the prices would be higher. Secondly, it was such a beautiful day, we sat outside with a wonderful view of the River Seine. Well, it would’ve been a wonderful view if it wasn’t for the constant stream of traffic and the stone wall on the other side of the street.

Lu ordered a ham and cheese sandwich and a diet coke. When the waiter politely asked which she would prefer – a salad or French fries, she opted for the salad. I ordered a hot dog and a glass of beer. The waiter politely asked which side dish I would prefer; I took the fries.

The food was very good. The price of that meal was very bad. It cost us approximately sixty Euros which equated to about eighty dollars. The beer alone was almost twenty dollars. The salad and fries did not come with the sandwiches. Everything was priced separately. Live and learn!

On the way back to the hotel we stopped at a corner grocery store. I found a large bottle of the same beer – it would have filled my glass at least twice – priced at three dollars. That was all the information we needed.

The next day, after touring Notre Dame Cathedral, we stopped at a small bakery and bought open faced sandwiches. We then stopped at a little grocery and bought bottled water. After finding a bench overlooking the River Seine, we had a marvelous lunch that cost us less than ten dollars.

Now that we know how to survive in Paris, we want to go back. Unfortunately, we can’t afford the air fare and hotel. Therefore, we will gladly accept donations. Let me know if you’re interested in helping us out and I’ll set up a savings account at the local bank. Checks and cash will be gratefully accepted. Credit and debit cards are beyond my realm.

At the Eiffel Tower

Send us back to Paris… Please! It will make me as happy as Maurice Chevalier

A Tale of Two Cities

If Charles Dickens were alive today, I think he might agree with my assessment of modern day London. The capitol city of the United Kingdom is, without question, two cities in one. The past and the present coexist in this bustling metropolis and one doesn’t need a great imagination to recognize it.

Perhaps the most obvious example is found in the crossbreed government. On the one hand, there is the British Parliament where the members – representatives of the people – meet in business attire to enact legislation. The Prime Minister is often seen being chauffeured to various meetings in a Rolls-Royce. In the meantime, the Royal Family, and appointed officials such as the Lord Mayor of London, are commonly seen in their royal trappings while riding in magnificently ornate horse drawn carriages.

A bit less obvious is the English cuisine. After more than a month in London, I have found only one restaurant that specializes in English food. If I included the pubs, that number would be much higher. Italian, French, Indian, and Chinese restaurants are everywhere. There is even a sampling of Australian and Mexican restaurants. America is well represented by T.G.I. Fridays, McDonalds, Pizza Hut, and Kentucky Fried Chicken. Japanese and Thai restaurants can also be easily found. You name it… London’s got it. That is, except for English food. Porter’s Restaurant is the only place I’ve found. And it’s a shame. English food isn’t bad.

Porter’s menu offers many traditional dishes such as Steak and Kidney Pudding, Bubble and Squeak, Yorkshire Pudding, Spotted Dick pudding, and a wide assortment of meat pies. Naturally, I’ve tried them all. If anything, I’d say the Brits go a bit light on the spices. Other than that, the food is hearty and flavorful. Some of it, especially the puddings, is also loaded with fat and cholesterol.

The cafeteria at the office where I’ve been working has also given me an opportunity to try various English delicacies. For instance, I’ve had Shepherd’s pie, Bangers and Mash, Onion Bargies, and Pork Pie. I have yet to find Toad in a Hole, but am bound and determined to do so before I leave. I have also been told I should be able to find an excellent Steak and kidney PIE near the city of Leeds which is about 100 miles north of London. I’m this close; I have to go see if that is where my family originated.

Which reminds me, while I’m here I’ve decided to go to Kent and reclaim the Leeds Castle. Of course, the biggest problem will be getting it back to Georgia.

Getting back to the two cities… in talking to the English people, I’ve discovered that many of them still eat the traditional foods in their own homes. Thus, the old and the new coexist in the everyday diet.

Above all, the most obvious sign of the coexistence of the old and the new London is in the architecture and streets. The Olde Curiosity Shop sits on a narrow winding alley just as it did when Charles Dickens wrote about it. Only a few blocks away, glass enclosed skyscrapers house busy offices. One end of London resembles any modern American city, while most of the rest of the city appears unchanged – the same as it has been for hundreds of years. Any damage done to the buildings during World War II has been repaired and the ornate facades have been restored to their original luster. If I ignore the new cars, buses, and taxis, it is easy to imagine myself in London more than a hundred years ago.

The countless narrow lanes crisscrossing throughout the city are also a reminder of the London of Charles Dickens. I often find myself wondering which little shop was occupied by Scrooge and which small flat was the home of the Cratchet’s.

As Christmas approaches, more and more stores are hanging their decorations. I find myself wondering if the Ghosts of Christmas Past and Present aren’t looking down on the city trying to spot the next Scrooge who needs to be straightened out. As far as the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come is concerned, I’m praying that he or she will see to it that I’m safely home in Georgia to celebrate it with my friends and loved ones.

(This article was written in 1997 while I was working in London.)

Fee, Fie, Fo Fum, I Have the Blood of an Englishman

I’m sitting at my computer listening to Phil Coulter sing “Take Me Home” and I’m getting homesick. I’m also wondering why I’m getting homesick.

Phil Coulter is an Irishman. His songs are probably better known than he. Elvis fans might recognize a song called “My Boy.” It made it to number 3 in 1974. Other songs written by Mr. Coulter include “Steal Away” and “Gold and Silver Days.” Most of his music is about Ireland. I’m originally from Pittsburgh. So why do I get homesick listening to songs about Ireland.

I could say it all began when my bride and I visited Ireland (for the first time) a few years ago. But I think it goes back much farther than that. I think it goes back to the late 1940’s in Pittsburgh.

Old timers might remember that Pittsburgh was once known as the “Smokey City.” Old Smokey got its name from the heavy industry that covered Western Pennsylvania like a blanket of soot. The three rivers were lined with steel mills. The surrounding area was covered with coke furnaces, coal mines, and other factories related to the steel industry.

A modern shopping center now sits on a piece of land once used by the Jones & Laughlin Steel Corporation to dump slag – a worthless by-product of the steel making process. Families would spend an evening parked on state route 51 watching the slag dumped from giant rail cars. It was like watching a lava flow. To us children, it was an extra Fourth of July.

Prior to 1950, our home, and most other homes, schools, offices, and factories in the area, were kept warm in the winter by coal burning furnaces. In addition to the heavy smoke in the air of Pittsburgh, there was a very distinctive odor. And that brings us to the initial Irish connection.

As soon as we walked out of the airport in Shannon, Ireland, I was transported back to my childhood. The Irish, you see, still use coal extensively to heat their homes. They also use compressed peat, which produces a similar odor. Surprisingly few homes rely exclusively on central heating. Most of their sitting rooms include a small fireplace. Unlike the United States, instead of burning wood, they burn coal and compressed peat.

My bride and I had a marvelous time in Ireland. The people were extremely friendly and the countryside was beautiful. I could say similar things about many of the places I’ve visited, but Ireland was unique because of the pervasive odor. I think that was the one attribute that made me feel so at home.

The connection doesn’t stop there. Hang on to your hats while I explain a theory of mine and give you more reasons why I might be homesick for a place where I’ve never lived for any extended period of time.

I have a theory to explain reincarnation. We’ve all heard about people like Shirley MacLaine who, through hypnosis or other methods, discovered, and believe that they walked this earth many years, or centuries, ago. In prior lives they might have been a different sex and attained a higher or lower social position, but they firmly believe they’ve been here before.

Some religions consider reincarnation a fact of life. The scared cows of India are animals that cannot be slaughtered and eaten because they may be relatives who have returned to earth in a different form.

In 1967 I was working at a mental institution near Canonsburg, Pennsylvania. Some of you might recognize that Canonsburg was the birthplace of Perry Como. Bobby Vinton also grew up in that area. Neither spent any time in the place where I worked… that I’m aware of. Years before it had been a reform school for boys. One never knows!

One day a medical scientist came and gave a lecture on his research. The main thrust of his report was how he could control the behavior of laboratory rats by sending electrical impulses to different areas of the rats’ brains. While that was rather interesting, a side note is what really caught my attention.

The scientist explained how they trained rats to negotiate a maze by rewarding them with food. Once a rat learned the maze and could zip through it repeatedly, they killed the rat, chopped up its brain, and fed the brain to other rats. The rats that ate the chopped up brain learned the maze much more quickly than the rats that were not fed the chopped up brain.

I’m not sure what the scientist’s point was in this research. I don’t think he wanted us to chop up the brain of Albert Einstein and feed it to our children. I really don’t know what his purpose was.

I do know that it got me to thinking. The result of that experiment indicates to me that memories are stored in parts of the body other than the brain. By ingesting the brain cells of a rat that had learned the maze, the other rats were able to use the memories of the slain rat.

So what would stop us from gaining the memories of others by being created from their cells? Each of us was created by the combination of our parents’ cells. We know that our DNA is a direct result of that combination.

Perhaps we got more than our eye and hair color, facial features, general size, and intelligence from mom and dad. Perhaps we also picked up some of their more significant memories. And, since they inherited similar memories from their parents, we also acquired the memories of many generations.

It’s all in our cells someplace. We simply need the correct stimulus to bring it out. Be it hypnosis, a concussion, or some other type of shock, we’re all capable of recognizing something we’ve never seen before. Have you ever heard of Déjà Vu?

That’s my theory. Every one of us is a combination of all our ancestors. Would anyone like to guess where my ancestors came from? If you’re thinking somewhere in the British Isles, you’re absolutely right.

On my father’s side, we have traced the family tree back to 1620. That’s the year that Thomas Leeds was born in Kent, England. In 1676, he and his three sons left religious persecution and came to America. They settled in New Jersey. Twelve generations have passed and most of the Leeds men (in my line) have married woman of similar backgrounds. There is a liberal sprinkling of Scotch, Irish, and Welsh along with the English.

My mother’s maiden name was O’Hare. We haven’t been able to trace her ancestry as far back as my father’s, but we do know that most of her ancestors came from somewhere in the British Isles.

So there’s a second reason for me being homesick listening to an Irish song. Before I go any father, let me share the words of the song with you.

I sit here drinking while the sun is sinking low o’er the mountain and the dry dusty ground.

As the night is fallin’, I start recallin’ the nights in my own home town.

I see their faces in familiar places, I hear the music that we played back then:

My heart rejoices as I hear their voices calling me home again.

Home, oh! Take me home, home to the people I left behind.

Home to the love I know I’ll find: oh! Take me home.

As the sky is burning, my mind is turning to the cold winter evenings by my own fireside.

So far away now, but any day now, I’ll sail on the morning tide.

Home, oh! Take me home, home to the people I left behind.

Home to the love I know I’ll find: oh! Take me home.

Perhaps those words make you homesick for your own hometown. But they don’t make me homesick for Pittsburgh. They make me want to pack up and go to England, Ireland, Wales, or Scotland. As I mentioned, my bride and I were in Ireland several years ago.

Over the years my job took me to London four times. The first three were only for a day or so. The last trip lasted three months. I know I thoroughly enjoyed the atmosphere of the pubs; most visitors do. But I also loved the food. Steak and Kidney pie or pudding, fish and chips, bangers and mash, bubble and squeak, shepherd’s pie, and many other dishes made me feel right at home.

Maybe what I really miss is the British food and ale. I’ll have to cook myself a steak and kidney pie, get a six-pack of Bass Ale, and see if that cures me. For some reason, I think any effects will be temporary. Maybe I should stop listening to Phil Coulter.

Instant Envy

I received an email this morning from a woman who was a classmate of mine at Schaeffer School in the Crafton Heights section of Pittsburgh. She wanted me to know that she enjoyed reading my blog and, by the way, I might want to check out the blog she and her husband have been writing during their four month sojourn in various foreign countries.

I did check it out and invite you to do likewise. You can click on Bill & Claire’s Trip on the right (in the box labeled BLOGROLL). Let me know if it affects you as it did me – instant envy!

How many countries have you been to? Perhaps you live in one of the countries Bill & Claire have visited. How many world travelers are reading my ramblings? Let me know which countries are your favorites. Also, if you have any money saving tips for tourists, feel free to share them with us.

Maybe we can use this space to share thoughts on travel… especially with the dollar struggling against the Euro, Pound, and other currencies.

Come to think of it, Europeans should find travel to the states a real bargain. I have friends in many states. Let me know if you have any questions about U.S. destinations and we’ll try to get you answers from the common people – those who really know the best places to eat and stay.

Don’t forget to check out Bill & Claire’s blog.