Went to Boston with Diane and took a tour of the USS Constitution.
--Rob
Monday, May 31, 2010
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Colorado coffeehouse
My wife likes Swedish horses, and I like my wife. Photo taken in Parker, Colorado where we were attending my younger daughter's high school graduation this past week.
--Rob
Monday, May 17, 2010
Travel blogging from the other side
I just discovered a very cool blog called ConfessInns: The Inkeeper Chronicles
The profile states:
"You are cordially invited to learn what really goes on behind the scenes of your ‘perfect stay’ and how a hotel really works. Meet the ever changing cast of characters that frequent The Inn, get to know their stories and pick-up some secret travel tips you won’t get from the friendly concierge… or anyone else."
The stories are well-written and very entertaining. And it's a nice reminder that when you stay at a hotel, you are dealing with real people who have to put up with your incessant demand for towels, your bizarre wake-up call times, and your dirty sheets. These folks aren't, like you, on vacation. My motto is be polite, tip well, and mind that karmic bank account.
--Diane
The profile states:
"You are cordially invited to learn what really goes on behind the scenes of your ‘perfect stay’ and how a hotel really works. Meet the ever changing cast of characters that frequent The Inn, get to know their stories and pick-up some secret travel tips you won’t get from the friendly concierge… or anyone else."
The stories are well-written and very entertaining. And it's a nice reminder that when you stay at a hotel, you are dealing with real people who have to put up with your incessant demand for towels, your bizarre wake-up call times, and your dirty sheets. These folks aren't, like you, on vacation. My motto is be polite, tip well, and mind that karmic bank account.
--Diane
Monday, May 10, 2010
What does this have to do with travel, you ask...
Check out this site, which is really funny:
I don't want to spoil the surprise, so I'll post my commentary behind the cut...
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Christopher Creek
I spent the first two weeks of August every year for 15 years looking at this creek just off the football field of Camp Tontozona. The team no longer goes there but there were some nice views to be had.
--Rob
Saturday, May 1, 2010
May Day Memories
Reading the news about May Day rallies around Europe (and, this year, around the U.S. in protest of Arizona's new immigration law) reminds us of our own May Day experience from 2003.
Rob and I were visiting London and had spent the day tooling around town on a double-decker tour bus. It was mid-afternoon and we were tired. We were thinking about heading back to our hotel when we looked out the window and saw police in riot gear running down an alleyway.
We never spoke a word, but when the bus stopped at the next corner we both lunged off and hit the pavement running. We had no idea what the police were chasing, but we knew it was bound to be more interesting than anything we could find on a tour bus.
It was May 1, 2003, two months after the United States—with help from the United Kingdom—invaded Iraq using the justification that Saddam Hussein was developing weapons of mass destruction.
Having grown up in the U.S., I always associated May Day with leaving baskets of flowers on neighbors’ doorsteps. But in many other countries, May Day is also International Workers’ Day, a day of political demonstrations. As we followed the police into Trafalgar Square, we found ourselves in the middle of one.
The focus of the protest, naturally, was our involvement in Iraq. We spoke to a few of the protesters, who were quite friendly to us in spite of our obviously USian accents. Although the police arrested a few people, there was, thankfully, no serious violence at this rally.
Near the end of the demonstration, Rob wandered off to get some good photos, while I stayed put chatting with one of the locals. It was 7:00, the hour the police had announced the demonstration had to end, and they made it happen by forming a line that no one was allowed to cross. Naturally, Rob and I were on opposite sides of the line. I hung out in the National Gallery for a while, until eventually the crowd dispersed and we were reunited.
Rob and I were visiting London and had spent the day tooling around town on a double-decker tour bus. It was mid-afternoon and we were tired. We were thinking about heading back to our hotel when we looked out the window and saw police in riot gear running down an alleyway.
We never spoke a word, but when the bus stopped at the next corner we both lunged off and hit the pavement running. We had no idea what the police were chasing, but we knew it was bound to be more interesting than anything we could find on a tour bus.
It was May 1, 2003, two months after the United States—with help from the United Kingdom—invaded Iraq using the justification that Saddam Hussein was developing weapons of mass destruction.
Having grown up in the U.S., I always associated May Day with leaving baskets of flowers on neighbors’ doorsteps. But in many other countries, May Day is also International Workers’ Day, a day of political demonstrations. As we followed the police into Trafalgar Square, we found ourselves in the middle of one.
The focus of the protest, naturally, was our involvement in Iraq. We spoke to a few of the protesters, who were quite friendly to us in spite of our obviously USian accents. Although the police arrested a few people, there was, thankfully, no serious violence at this rally.
Near the end of the demonstration, Rob wandered off to get some good photos, while I stayed put chatting with one of the locals. It was 7:00, the hour the police had announced the demonstration had to end, and they made it happen by forming a line that no one was allowed to cross. Naturally, Rob and I were on opposite sides of the line. I hung out in the National Gallery for a while, until eventually the crowd dispersed and we were reunited.
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