This unbelievable fair-trade organic Peruvian decaf from Barefoot Coffee Roasters makes them even stupider. Absolutely first-rate French press by any standard.
Monday, December 03, 2007
Astounding decaf
This unbelievable fair-trade organic Peruvian decaf from Barefoot Coffee Roasters makes them even stupider. Absolutely first-rate French press by any standard.
Friday, November 30, 2007
Now I have a phone that takes and mails pictures
Unfortunately when I mailed a photo to Kristiana, it showed up on her end as a winmail.dat file, not the expected JPEG. Ewwww.
But when I send a photo to myself, a coworker, or gmail, it comes out fine. So let's see how Blogger handles it.
Sunday, September 09, 2007
Reno
Well damn. Not even 6am, and I've already flatlined my camera battery.
I'm in Reno at my friend Margaret's behest, helping her get her home office set up. Internet, wireless printer, faxing, new computer, etc., etc. She's grateful for my help with this IT stuff. But she shuddered when I told her my fee: getting up long before dawn, because this is balloon race weekend in Reno.
I've come to the Great Reno Balloon Race three or four times before, but not in the last few years. The day begins early - we left the house at 4:15, which is early even for me, especially at altitude - so we can drive somewhere near the field, make our way through the streets
I'm in Reno at my friend Margaret's behest, helping her get her home office set up. Internet, wireless printer, faxing, new computer, etc., etc. She's grateful for my help with this IT stuff. But she shuddered when I told her my fee: getting up long before dawn, because this is balloon race weekend in Reno.
I've come to the Great Reno Balloon Race three or four times before, but not in the last few years. The day begins early - we left the house at 4:15, which is early even for me, especially at altitude - so we can drive somewhere near the field, make our way through the streets
Thursday, August 09, 2007
Halloween is here
I know because I saw great big crates of it on dollies outside the florist near my office.
No photo, unfortunately (gotta get me one of those cameraphones). But stacks of big boxes labeled "Halloween" at your local stores can mean only one thing: it's early August.
I haven't posted in a week because nothing's been happening. Kristiana and I have both been sick, which isn't interesting to write about no matter how hard I try. It's not even the mildly-entertaining, schadenfreude kind of sick; just ordinary sore-throat, sleepy-all-day, open-the-refrigerator-and-can't-remember-what-you-were-looking-for kind of sick. We're mostly over it now.
In other news...there is no other news.
See you when there is.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Asilomar
Kristiana promised (to Kristi, at least; I don't know to whom else) that I'd write some kind of post-trip wrap-up, but I'm not ready. Firstly because there are a handful more details about the trip I wanted to write before attempting some kind of grand (or not so) summation, and secondly because no sooner are we home from one trip and a little bit recovered from the time change than we're off on another -- or at least I am, but I'm hoping Kristiana will join me.
I'm writing from the main living room of Asilomar, where my company is holding a company retreat, spouses invited. Asilomar is a state park and rustic conference center / getaway on the Monterey coast which takes its name from the combination of two Spanish words, one signifying "beautiful view of the sea" and the other "no internet access." The latter had a couple of us pretty terrified, but it turns out that in a concession to us brittle city folk you can in fact get online from the main lodge where I am now. Despite which, out of force of habit I am writing on my blackberry.
The actual lodgings are spread out across the grounds in various directions. They do not have internet access, nor telephones, nor televisions. The intent is that you show up here and fully commit yourself to calm repose and the quiet contemplation of nature (unless you brought your smartphone which, well, pretty much all of us do). And if you absolutely, positively need your fix, you have only to roam a few hundred yards to the lodge, in the dark, stalked by bears or sea lions or whatever runs around out here, to get it.
I'm kidding, I'm kidding. I'm sure it will be very nice.
The plan is that tonight we will meet for cocktails (more accurately wine and cheese, but conceptually it's pre-meeting cocktails) in our conference room. Apparently this is slightly illicit, but because I was tasked with bringing the wine and cheese I didn't ask for details: it's probably better if I don't know. We will take dinner in the common dining hall, then retire to our rooms to read, meditate, enjoy the coastal air, and get a good night's sleep. Tomorrow, though, after a day of meetings we're going in to Carmel for dinner (at Bouchee, a favorite), and I'm pretty sure there will be real cocktails.
Kristiana unfortunately came home to a much less calm situation at work than I did, and isn't able to get away to be here tonight. I'm very much hoping she'll be able to manage it tomorrow.
Part of the reason I've lodged myself in the lodge is that I'm pretty sure I'm the first one here - everybody said they'd leave work around lunchtime, but I seem to be the only one who did - and I wanted to spot and greet the rest of of my group as thet checked in. Now that it's been a while, I'm thinking maybe I should go and hide instead. It's bad enough that I've just been on vacation for two weeks, I also sacrificed most of a day of work to jet-lag zombie disease, and now to arrive at our coporate retreat long before everyone else makes me look like a slacker.
Or maybe I'll just sit here and read my book. In keeping with the let's-work-smarter-not-harder theme of our retreat, I brought "Four Hour Work Week."
I'm writing from the main living room of Asilomar, where my company is holding a company retreat, spouses invited. Asilomar is a state park and rustic conference center / getaway on the Monterey coast which takes its name from the combination of two Spanish words, one signifying "beautiful view of the sea" and the other "no internet access." The latter had a couple of us pretty terrified, but it turns out that in a concession to us brittle city folk you can in fact get online from the main lodge where I am now. Despite which, out of force of habit I am writing on my blackberry.
The actual lodgings are spread out across the grounds in various directions. They do not have internet access, nor telephones, nor televisions. The intent is that you show up here and fully commit yourself to calm repose and the quiet contemplation of nature (unless you brought your smartphone which, well, pretty much all of us do). And if you absolutely, positively need your fix, you have only to roam a few hundred yards to the lodge, in the dark, stalked by bears or sea lions or whatever runs around out here, to get it.
I'm kidding, I'm kidding. I'm sure it will be very nice.
The plan is that tonight we will meet for cocktails (more accurately wine and cheese, but conceptually it's pre-meeting cocktails) in our conference room. Apparently this is slightly illicit, but because I was tasked with bringing the wine and cheese I didn't ask for details: it's probably better if I don't know. We will take dinner in the common dining hall, then retire to our rooms to read, meditate, enjoy the coastal air, and get a good night's sleep. Tomorrow, though, after a day of meetings we're going in to Carmel for dinner (at Bouchee, a favorite), and I'm pretty sure there will be real cocktails.
Kristiana unfortunately came home to a much less calm situation at work than I did, and isn't able to get away to be here tonight. I'm very much hoping she'll be able to manage it tomorrow.
Part of the reason I've lodged myself in the lodge is that I'm pretty sure I'm the first one here - everybody said they'd leave work around lunchtime, but I seem to be the only one who did - and I wanted to spot and greet the rest of of my group as thet checked in. Now that it's been a while, I'm thinking maybe I should go and hide instead. It's bad enough that I've just been on vacation for two weeks, I also sacrificed most of a day of work to jet-lag zombie disease, and now to arrive at our coporate retreat long before everyone else makes me look like a slacker.
Or maybe I'll just sit here and read my book. In keeping with the let's-work-smarter-not-harder theme of our retreat, I brought "Four Hour Work Week."
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Boarded for SFO
We've boarded our flight for home.
It was not in the least a routine effort. First our tube station - the one we used yesterday - was closed, necessitating a walk to the next one. Then there were delays at King's Cross, a string of trains help up due to someone becoming ill on board and then the subsequent train being taken out of service. Meanwhile the throngs continued to build up. The train we evenntually fit on stopped unaccountable for several minutes, one stop short of our goal. I don't have time to detail all that followed, but we made it abord with very little margin. Anyway, we're on our way home.
It was not in the least a routine effort. First our tube station - the one we used yesterday - was closed, necessitating a walk to the next one. Then there were delays at King's Cross, a string of trains help up due to someone becoming ill on board and then the subsequent train being taken out of service. Meanwhile the throngs continued to build up. The train we evenntually fit on stopped unaccountable for several minutes, one stop short of our goal. I don't have time to detail all that followed, but we made it abord with very little margin. Anyway, we're on our way home.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Funnier than the Black Death
We have obtained last-moment tickets to Monty Python's Spamalot. Fourth row.
London
We've arrived in London. We left out suitcases at Heathrow and came into town with just our carryons stuffed with what we need for one night.
While the hotel got our room ready we made our pilgrimage to Forbidden Planet. We're capable of spending a lot of time there, but after just an hour and a half Kristiana commanded me to remove her before she could add further to her growing stack of book purchases. Fearing for our luggage weight allowance, I agreed.
Now we're checked in at our hotel. For reasons mysterious to us both we have been upgraded to what I call a large, oddly-shaped room and what the hotel calls a suite. To me a suite implies space subdivided somehow by an interior doorway which our room lacks, but no matter, it is large and comfortable and above the city's noise.
Besides our bed, topped by a four foot square light green pillow like some sort of great woolen turndown mint, there is a sitting area with coffee table, a walk-in closet, a long bathroom with dual taps and separate tub and shower, and a desk slash master control station with enough outlets for a small press corps' worth of cell phone chargers (if they didn't want to use the 71-button - I'm not kidding - room telephone). The hanging lamp is decorative, and there are framed kimonos on the walls. The chief reminder that we are not really the sorts of people that a hotel puts in its _best_ suites is the view, which features an interior courtyard of roofs and ventilation ducts.
Plans for tonight are not set.
While the hotel got our room ready we made our pilgrimage to Forbidden Planet. We're capable of spending a lot of time there, but after just an hour and a half Kristiana commanded me to remove her before she could add further to her growing stack of book purchases. Fearing for our luggage weight allowance, I agreed.
Now we're checked in at our hotel. For reasons mysterious to us both we have been upgraded to what I call a large, oddly-shaped room and what the hotel calls a suite. To me a suite implies space subdivided somehow by an interior doorway which our room lacks, but no matter, it is large and comfortable and above the city's noise.
Besides our bed, topped by a four foot square light green pillow like some sort of great woolen turndown mint, there is a sitting area with coffee table, a walk-in closet, a long bathroom with dual taps and separate tub and shower, and a desk slash master control station with enough outlets for a small press corps' worth of cell phone chargers (if they didn't want to use the 71-button - I'm not kidding - room telephone). The hanging lamp is decorative, and there are framed kimonos on the walls. The chief reminder that we are not really the sorts of people that a hotel puts in its _best_ suites is the view, which features an interior courtyard of roofs and ventilation ducts.
Plans for tonight are not set.
We were upgraded at our London hotel
the walk-in closet.
Sea day and departure from Copenhagen
We're waiting to board our flight from Copenhagen to London. Not much to report about yesterday - between the rain and Kristiana's beginning thw Harry Potter book at breakfast, we declared it a virtual sea day - no ports of call - until evening when we went out to the Danish design center (a big disappointment) and Tivoli.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Photos from yesterday - an assortment
How the Danes get around
Cafe Ketchup
Tivoli by night
Whoosh
I'm not making this up, you know.
Suit up!
Madelyn under ice
Kristi, Phil and Madelyn at -5 degrees C
The end of a long day
Ketchup, ketchup
We went to the Absolut Icebar, and we closed the place down.
But before that we enjoyed a day out and about in Copenhagen, a stereophonic disappointment, several flavors of ice cream, dinner with friends at Tivoli, a terrifying thrill ride, and more ice cream.
After checking in to our highly modern hotel and room and dozing briefly - I don't know why we were sleepy, but we were - we each set out to wander the city on foot. I headed, in a roundabout way, for the Bang & Olufsen flagship store just off Kongens Nytorv which is a combination of monument, public space, and traffic circle - somewhat like Place de la Concorde in Paris. Hence: a proud location for any store, especially a company flagship.
I have some old B&O equipment from, believe it or not, the '70's, and I thought the main store might be able to help me with some of its special cabling and with a new turntable cartridge.
I overestimated B&O badly. They had no idea what to do with their superb location except to stock it with some equipment samples, a few explanatory placards, and a couple bored men sitting behind desks (who were unable, or too bored, to help me with my parts needs other than to suggest I might have better luck in America). It was shameful to the point of being irritating: perhaps the oldest design/lifestyle consumer electronics brand in existence, and their merchandising efforts make them look like ignorant hicks, an emarrassment to anyone who owns their gear. If the newest, rawest group of Apple Store trainees marched in and booted them all out, the professionalism of B&O's flagship store would be upgraded a hundredfold in a day.
But I rant. The rest of the day was good. After an afternoon of changing money, buying ice cream (tiramisu on a cone turns out to be less good than it sounds, and strawberry all too detectable on the breath by suspicious wives) walking among pretty and historic sights I won't bore you by listing, it was time to get ready for dinner at Tivoli with Kristi, her husband Phil who'd flown into town, and Madelyn.
Tivoli houses any number of restaurants, but to any Prairie Home cruiser there was only one thematically appropriate choice, Cafe Ketchup. You'd never guess it from the name but it's a well-reviewed Danish version of a French bistro, with dishes like roast cockerel and braised veal shank. And pasta bolognese for Madelyn.
It was as great a pleasure to meet Phil and enjoy dinner and conversation with him as it had been for the past week with Kristi and Madelyn alone, so it was nearly 10:30 by the time we left our table. After our full and lengthy meal, Kristiana and Madelyn had one destination in mind, the terrifying Demon roller coaster whose screaming passengers could be heard for some distance through the park. Phil was game too, while Kristi and I volunteered to stay behind to hold the ground down, as Kristi put it: "we'll make sure it's still here when you get back."
There's a spot where you can not only track the progress of the line but where the coaster itself passes so close that you don't just feel the breeze but are nearly tossed about by it. Fortunately it's near the end of the ride when passengers are out of breath, so the screams aren't too bad. Nonetheless by the time a dozen or so coaster-loads had passed by, Kristi had experienced enough vicarious terror for one night, so we went to the ride's exit just in time to see our heroes emerging. And wanting to go again.
The line was much shorter the second time, so we only had a few minutes to explore - specifically to search for ice cream, since coaster-riding gives excitable 9-year-old girls an appetite (and thirtysomething girls and fortysomething dads, as it turns out). We found a combination ice-cream and candy booth whose signature product seemed to be popsicle-sized slabs of candy on a stick. It had a soft look, like taffy, and came in a remarkable array of fruit flavors, some of which seemed not likely to be big hits back home.
Our crew emerged from the ride once again, Madelyn at a run saying "I want ice cream!" Though I was fairly sure she spoke for Kristiana as well, it was incumbent upon me to check.
"Dear, you've been hurled through the air, spun upside down, and twisted sideways while traveling unprotected at unmentionable speeds."
"Mm-hmm."
"And as you hurled towards the ground, sure to be dashed to death, your screams unheard above the tumult, I'm sure you thought..."
"Wouldn't this be a nice time for a slice of rhubarb pie."
"...slab of rhubarb taffy on a stick, actually."
"Eww, grossness."
So they all had ice cream.
Somehow it was still only 11:30, meaning we still had time to get to the Icebar before closing if we didn't dawdle. It wasn't a long walk, and in a few minutes we were in the Icebar's lobby, snowsuiting up (your cover charge includes use of a comfy and not unfashionable insulated poncho, and this is a very good thing, at least for us wimpy Californians). Copenhagen being an enlightened sort of place, Madelyn was allowed to go in too, though she was served juice instead of vodka.
Icebar is everything it ought to be: slightly subterranean, dimly lit in gloomy blueish tones, and built out of eerily beautiful, bubble-free blocks of clear, glossy ice. What's more, to my astonishment, the drinks were *good*, something unexpected but wholly welcome in a novelty bar.
By the time we were ready to go - both because of the cold and because the sumo imitations of a trio of businessmen possibly not on their first round had become uncomfortably loud in the reverberant space - the bar was closing anyway. Madelyn brought her glass - made of ice, of course - out with her so she could watch it melt. We said and hugged our goodbyes as the Icebar locked its doors and the businessmen disappeared into the night.
But before that we enjoyed a day out and about in Copenhagen, a stereophonic disappointment, several flavors of ice cream, dinner with friends at Tivoli, a terrifying thrill ride, and more ice cream.
After checking in to our highly modern hotel and room and dozing briefly - I don't know why we were sleepy, but we were - we each set out to wander the city on foot. I headed, in a roundabout way, for the Bang & Olufsen flagship store just off Kongens Nytorv which is a combination of monument, public space, and traffic circle - somewhat like Place de la Concorde in Paris. Hence: a proud location for any store, especially a company flagship.
I have some old B&O equipment from, believe it or not, the '70's, and I thought the main store might be able to help me with some of its special cabling and with a new turntable cartridge.
I overestimated B&O badly. They had no idea what to do with their superb location except to stock it with some equipment samples, a few explanatory placards, and a couple bored men sitting behind desks (who were unable, or too bored, to help me with my parts needs other than to suggest I might have better luck in America). It was shameful to the point of being irritating: perhaps the oldest design/lifestyle consumer electronics brand in existence, and their merchandising efforts make them look like ignorant hicks, an emarrassment to anyone who owns their gear. If the newest, rawest group of Apple Store trainees marched in and booted them all out, the professionalism of B&O's flagship store would be upgraded a hundredfold in a day.
But I rant. The rest of the day was good. After an afternoon of changing money, buying ice cream (tiramisu on a cone turns out to be less good than it sounds, and strawberry all too detectable on the breath by suspicious wives) walking among pretty and historic sights I won't bore you by listing, it was time to get ready for dinner at Tivoli with Kristi, her husband Phil who'd flown into town, and Madelyn.
Tivoli houses any number of restaurants, but to any Prairie Home cruiser there was only one thematically appropriate choice, Cafe Ketchup. You'd never guess it from the name but it's a well-reviewed Danish version of a French bistro, with dishes like roast cockerel and braised veal shank. And pasta bolognese for Madelyn.
It was as great a pleasure to meet Phil and enjoy dinner and conversation with him as it had been for the past week with Kristi and Madelyn alone, so it was nearly 10:30 by the time we left our table. After our full and lengthy meal, Kristiana and Madelyn had one destination in mind, the terrifying Demon roller coaster whose screaming passengers could be heard for some distance through the park. Phil was game too, while Kristi and I volunteered to stay behind to hold the ground down, as Kristi put it: "we'll make sure it's still here when you get back."
There's a spot where you can not only track the progress of the line but where the coaster itself passes so close that you don't just feel the breeze but are nearly tossed about by it. Fortunately it's near the end of the ride when passengers are out of breath, so the screams aren't too bad. Nonetheless by the time a dozen or so coaster-loads had passed by, Kristi had experienced enough vicarious terror for one night, so we went to the ride's exit just in time to see our heroes emerging. And wanting to go again.
The line was much shorter the second time, so we only had a few minutes to explore - specifically to search for ice cream, since coaster-riding gives excitable 9-year-old girls an appetite (and thirtysomething girls and fortysomething dads, as it turns out). We found a combination ice-cream and candy booth whose signature product seemed to be popsicle-sized slabs of candy on a stick. It had a soft look, like taffy, and came in a remarkable array of fruit flavors, some of which seemed not likely to be big hits back home.
Our crew emerged from the ride once again, Madelyn at a run saying "I want ice cream!" Though I was fairly sure she spoke for Kristiana as well, it was incumbent upon me to check.
"Dear, you've been hurled through the air, spun upside down, and twisted sideways while traveling unprotected at unmentionable speeds."
"Mm-hmm."
"And as you hurled towards the ground, sure to be dashed to death, your screams unheard above the tumult, I'm sure you thought..."
"Wouldn't this be a nice time for a slice of rhubarb pie."
"...slab of rhubarb taffy on a stick, actually."
"Eww, grossness."
So they all had ice cream.
Somehow it was still only 11:30, meaning we still had time to get to the Icebar before closing if we didn't dawdle. It wasn't a long walk, and in a few minutes we were in the Icebar's lobby, snowsuiting up (your cover charge includes use of a comfy and not unfashionable insulated poncho, and this is a very good thing, at least for us wimpy Californians). Copenhagen being an enlightened sort of place, Madelyn was allowed to go in too, though she was served juice instead of vodka.
Icebar is everything it ought to be: slightly subterranean, dimly lit in gloomy blueish tones, and built out of eerily beautiful, bubble-free blocks of clear, glossy ice. What's more, to my astonishment, the drinks were *good*, something unexpected but wholly welcome in a novelty bar.
By the time we were ready to go - both because of the cold and because the sumo imitations of a trio of businessmen possibly not on their first round had become uncomfortably loud in the reverberant space - the bar was closing anyway. Madelyn brought her glass - made of ice, of course - out with her so she could watch it melt. We said and hugged our goodbyes as the Icebar locked its doors and the businessmen disappeared into the night.
The View From Breakfast - addendum
bicycle in the rain. Taken outside our hotel, the Copenhagen 27.
Monday, July 23, 2007
Hotel Twentyseven Copenhagen
The first thing you notice about Hotel Twentyseven is that your cab has pulled up outside the Absolut Ice Bar (dress warmly, everything inside is made of ice, except when it's made of vodka). Then you see a small hotel entrance beside it. Directly ahead as you enter is a wall-sized photograph of a woman seated outside a forest whose skirt has been blown up by the wind, revealing expensive tastes in lingerie.
Certainly it is no less agreeable to contemplate whilst waiting to check in than the usual wooden-masted ship paintings found in more staid hotels. But should the sight begin to pale there are also the video fireplace, the 40-bottle cruvinet wine bar, and some kind of arty video something projected on the wall of a nearby room. The check-in process is accomplished at a freestanding bright red desk topped by three shiny iMac computers.
Our room is decorated in lipstick red, flat white, and matte and gloss black. It is Danish Modern carried to the point of selfconscious irony, and then carried a couple of steps further.
Kristiana's iPhone is right at home in this room.
Certainly it is no less agreeable to contemplate whilst waiting to check in than the usual wooden-masted ship paintings found in more staid hotels. But should the sight begin to pale there are also the video fireplace, the 40-bottle cruvinet wine bar, and some kind of arty video something projected on the wall of a nearby room. The check-in process is accomplished at a freestanding bright red desk topped by three shiny iMac computers.
Our room is decorated in lipstick red, flat white, and matte and gloss black. It is Danish Modern carried to the point of selfconscious irony, and then carried a couple of steps further.
Kristiana's iPhone is right at home in this room.
...our room was ready at 10am...
lying here, blogging, in Scandinavian comfort...
Michael gets grumpy
Last night's final Prairie Home how aboard ship was GREAT, lots of fun, every act got its turn, and the rhubarb, Guy Noir and ketchup scripts were even better than usual. A terrific send-off.
Unfortunately it was followed by some frenetic packing, because our luggage had to be out in the hallway by midnight. But that's not what I'm grumpy about.
I'm grumpy because they called our disembarcation group 65 minutes ahead of schedule, with no warning or apology. Picture a collective WTF?!?!? going up from the staterooms of all of groups 1, 2, and 3 Blue, the simultaneous dropping of doezens of forks across the dining room, and the waiting lines and phone lines of the front desk becoming instantly jammed with inquiries from borderline irate (or not so borderline) passengers. One of them was me.
It turned out that the buses for Green group were late and they'd tried to do a little creative reshuffling. Judging from the reception it got, I don't think they'll be trying that maneuver again.
Ultimately we left about halfway between our called time and our actual scheduled time. The wait for a taxi was not nearly so bad as we'd been led to believe, and soon we were dropping Kristi and Madelyn at their hotel and then arriving at ours.
Unfortunately it was followed by some frenetic packing, because our luggage had to be out in the hallway by midnight. But that's not what I'm grumpy about.
I'm grumpy because they called our disembarcation group 65 minutes ahead of schedule, with no warning or apology. Picture a collective WTF?!?!? going up from the staterooms of all of groups 1, 2, and 3 Blue, the simultaneous dropping of doezens of forks across the dining room, and the waiting lines and phone lines of the front desk becoming instantly jammed with inquiries from borderline irate (or not so borderline) passengers. One of them was me.
It turned out that the buses for Green group were late and they'd tried to do a little creative reshuffling. Judging from the reception it got, I don't think they'll be trying that maneuver again.
Ultimately we left about halfway between our called time and our actual scheduled time. The wait for a taxi was not nearly so bad as we'd been led to believe, and soon we were dropping Kristi and Madelyn at their hotel and then arriving at ours.
Sunday, July 22, 2007
The View From Breakfast, Part VIII
hour.
Saturday, July 21, 2007
Piano tuning
Every piano on board ship is tuned every morning. I've been in the presence of two such tuning already today. I just love that they take the musical part of the trip seriously enough to this.
Oslo
We docked just on the north side of the fortress wall that faces the sea from town, and from here on Deck 12 most of the fortress is below me, but not all of it. It's an impressive view. In this distance on the mountainside we can easily see the ski jump, which IMO is much overrated as a tourist attraction but which sure is big and sure is high. Not far from us are smaller docks and the city hall.
It turned out we'd missed connections with Kristiana's Norwegian relatives - currently up at their mountain cabin - so we wandered Oslo on our own. Kristiana bought tickets for the Harry poTter movie in town, and I discovered a terrific jazz store, the kind where you can walk in and say "I'm looking for Scandinavian jazz that I might not find in America, and I like so-and-so, so-and-so, and so-and-so" and be handed stacks of great local recordings by an enthusiastic proprietress and directed to a well-equipped listening station, which is what I did. I lost track of how much time I spent there. I left with my wallet considerably lightened but my mood more so, a pretty good trade.
I had intended to go back in the evening (they're open until midnight) while Kristiana, Kristi and Madelyn went to the movie (which they greatly enjoyed), but slept through the opportunity instead. Nuts.
It turned out we'd missed connections with Kristiana's Norwegian relatives - currently up at their mountain cabin - so we wandered Oslo on our own. Kristiana bought tickets for the Harry poTter movie in town, and I discovered a terrific jazz store, the kind where you can walk in and say "I'm looking for Scandinavian jazz that I might not find in America, and I like so-and-so, so-and-so, and so-and-so" and be handed stacks of great local recordings by an enthusiastic proprietress and directed to a well-equipped listening station, which is what I did. I lost track of how much time I spent there. I left with my wallet considerably lightened but my mood more so, a pretty good trade.
I had intended to go back in the evening (they're open until midnight) while Kristiana, Kristi and Madelyn went to the movie (which they greatly enjoyed), but slept through the opportunity instead. Nuts.
www.barejazz.com - my new favorite place in Oslo.
Kristiansand
After we reboarded from Bergen I spotted a chair massage station that had been set up by the pool, and signed up for 15 minutes. The masseuse zeroed right in on some longstanding tight spots ("a classic computer back," she said) and was so effective that I booked a full hour the next day.
That day our port was Kristiansand, and while Kristiana went ashore to explore, I headed up to the spa. I encountered GK in the locker room and we had a brief conversation, during which I explained a particularly painful stretch my trainer has me do, and GK asked me if my trainer were German.
The massage was extremely tenderizing, and not long after I met up with Kristiana in Kristiansand I was ready to reboard the ship, since my feet, where the masseuse had devoted 10 or so minutes, did not seem to be up to being walked upon for more than a few minutes. Which was too bad, because Kristiansand, which is the main day-ferry port from Denmark, is a very pretty resort town in which to amble away an afternoon. Kristiana's ambling had to siffice for both of us.
It was a busy night on board ship for entertainment: first a short three-act play by Sue Scott and Tim Russell, PHC's two main voice talents, about a man trying to overcome his voice-impressions addiction; then the passenger talent show hosted by GK, a mixed bag though mostly pretty good. A little while later PHC's sound effects man Fred Newman gave a talk which was partly about sound and its effects on personality and culture, and partly joke-telling. We didn't get to sleep until late.
That day our port was Kristiansand, and while Kristiana went ashore to explore, I headed up to the spa. I encountered GK in the locker room and we had a brief conversation, during which I explained a particularly painful stretch my trainer has me do, and GK asked me if my trainer were German.
The massage was extremely tenderizing, and not long after I met up with Kristiana in Kristiansand I was ready to reboard the ship, since my feet, where the masseuse had devoted 10 or so minutes, did not seem to be up to being walked upon for more than a few minutes. Which was too bad, because Kristiansand, which is the main day-ferry port from Denmark, is a very pretty resort town in which to amble away an afternoon. Kristiana's ambling had to siffice for both of us.
It was a busy night on board ship for entertainment: first a short three-act play by Sue Scott and Tim Russell, PHC's two main voice talents, about a man trying to overcome his voice-impressions addiction; then the passenger talent show hosted by GK, a mixed bag though mostly pretty good. A little while later PHC's sound effects man Fred Newman gave a talk which was partly about sound and its effects on personality and culture, and partly joke-telling. We didn't get to sleep until late.
Bergen
Thursday was our stopover in Bergen, Norway's "second city". and my favorite. With its hilly terrain and lovely structures, Bergen reminds me of a cross between Belvedere where I grew up, and the Claremont section of Oakland - but with the added advantages of a university, romantic cobblestoned streets, and a Swiss-style peak accessible by funicular with extraordinary views available from the top and trails leading from there into the forest.
So I was among the first down the gangway when it opened, and explored a park near the ship that I hadn't seen on our earlier visit. Kristiana caught up with me a little while later and we set off uphill, choosing our direction from a small sign pointing the way: Barista Kaffehous, 300m.
300m upwards into a hilly neighborhood is a fair distance, and took us past lots of homes, small squares, and vistas with sightlines across the city. Bergen is the kind of town where businesses appear inoffensively on residential streets - you don't need to go down to the city center to find a grocer, hairdresser or video rental - and it was on one of these streets that we found our kaffeehous, which was closed. Closed! Norway is in most respects a highly enlightened society, but a coffeehouse that doesn't open until 11am is in my opinion a throwback to barbaric times.
We continued upward, coffeeless, for some time until Kristiana's patience for my choosing the upward path at each fork was exhausted. She turned downward while I continued upward. Only a couple of minutes later we each, on our respective paths, encountered a station along the funicular path to to the city peak. The ticket machine at mine wasn't working, so Kristiana bought two tickets at hers, boarded, hopped out at mine and handed me a ticket through the rails, to the amusement of thr tram's conductor. Reaching the top we had the pleasure of a view of *everything*, which was quite a lot, as Bergen is a much more extensive city than is evident from its seaport. Eventually we'd had enough and took the tram back down, all the way to its base just a block or so off the tourist waterfront. The line waiting to board was immense - we would not have boarded had we been faced with it. We answered the "is it worth it?" questions of some fellow travelers with the advice that they walk to a higher station, but they seemed disinclined to do so. This was a pity in my opinion, because I thought those very streets the most charming part of my visit to the city.
We still had an important errand to do, a visit to Gallerie Bryggen, a sort of Viking/Norse/Celtic art/artifact shop where we had whiled away some hours on our previois visit buying, among other things, a very beautiful and somewhat expensive decorative mirror. A nightmare of shipping strikes, shipping delays, breakage and insurance failure followed which I will spare you except to say that both we and the gallery found ourselves hard done by, and we arguably somewhat more so. So this meeting was something of a settling of accounts, among parties too weary of the history to negotiate very hard. Ultimately our sadly missed mirror was transformed into an agreeable discount on a very beautful handmade silver pendant in the shape of a viking ship's prow, and we all emerged satsfied enough an on good terms.
We dawdled just a little more before our official all-aboard time of 2:30. To avoid the now dense mass of other tourists streaming to and from the ships we took one of the higher roads. This turned out to lead us past a small supermarket where we stocked up on bottled water at something less than the cruise's Evian prices.
So I was among the first down the gangway when it opened, and explored a park near the ship that I hadn't seen on our earlier visit. Kristiana caught up with me a little while later and we set off uphill, choosing our direction from a small sign pointing the way: Barista Kaffehous, 300m.
300m upwards into a hilly neighborhood is a fair distance, and took us past lots of homes, small squares, and vistas with sightlines across the city. Bergen is the kind of town where businesses appear inoffensively on residential streets - you don't need to go down to the city center to find a grocer, hairdresser or video rental - and it was on one of these streets that we found our kaffeehous, which was closed. Closed! Norway is in most respects a highly enlightened society, but a coffeehouse that doesn't open until 11am is in my opinion a throwback to barbaric times.
We continued upward, coffeeless, for some time until Kristiana's patience for my choosing the upward path at each fork was exhausted. She turned downward while I continued upward. Only a couple of minutes later we each, on our respective paths, encountered a station along the funicular path to to the city peak. The ticket machine at mine wasn't working, so Kristiana bought two tickets at hers, boarded, hopped out at mine and handed me a ticket through the rails, to the amusement of thr tram's conductor. Reaching the top we had the pleasure of a view of *everything*, which was quite a lot, as Bergen is a much more extensive city than is evident from its seaport. Eventually we'd had enough and took the tram back down, all the way to its base just a block or so off the tourist waterfront. The line waiting to board was immense - we would not have boarded had we been faced with it. We answered the "is it worth it?" questions of some fellow travelers with the advice that they walk to a higher station, but they seemed disinclined to do so. This was a pity in my opinion, because I thought those very streets the most charming part of my visit to the city.
We still had an important errand to do, a visit to Gallerie Bryggen, a sort of Viking/Norse/Celtic art/artifact shop where we had whiled away some hours on our previois visit buying, among other things, a very beautiful and somewhat expensive decorative mirror. A nightmare of shipping strikes, shipping delays, breakage and insurance failure followed which I will spare you except to say that both we and the gallery found ourselves hard done by, and we arguably somewhat more so. So this meeting was something of a settling of accounts, among parties too weary of the history to negotiate very hard. Ultimately our sadly missed mirror was transformed into an agreeable discount on a very beautful handmade silver pendant in the shape of a viking ship's prow, and we all emerged satsfied enough an on good terms.
We dawdled just a little more before our official all-aboard time of 2:30. To avoid the now dense mass of other tourists streaming to and from the ships we took one of the higher roads. This turned out to lead us past a small supermarket where we stocked up on bottled water at something less than the cruise's Evian prices.
Friday, July 20, 2007
While we were hanging out in Kristiansand
a nearby cargo container. We're thinking it's not local.
Things that happen in Norway that don't in the US, #46
In the supermarket, a line is brought to a standstill. It appears that
Cashier #1 is out of 20 kroner coins.
Cashiers 1 & 2 are separated from each other by (a) customers and (b)
a dividing wall.
Cashier #2 hands a roll of coins to a customer, who hands the roll to
Cashier #1.
Cashier hands a large kroner note to customer, who hands it to Cashier
#2.
Business resumes.
Cashier #1 is out of 20 kroner coins.
Cashiers 1 & 2 are separated from each other by (a) customers and (b)
a dividing wall.
Cashier #2 hands a roll of coins to a customer, who hands the roll to
Cashier #1.
Cashier hands a large kroner note to customer, who hands it to Cashier
#2.
Business resumes.
Observed in a supermarket by Kristiana
Sent from my iPhone
Contemplations on Kristiansand
...Apparently, the wedding business is booming - in my wanderings this
morning, I have seen five places specializing in wedding couture. And
I really haven't been here that long.
morning, I have seen five places specializing in wedding couture. And
I really haven't been here that long.
...It's frustrating to see a book title you're interested in, and then
to realize it's in Norwegian. Which, incidentally, you don't speak.
...Norwegians have Very Cool culinary tools, but somewhat questionable
taste in footwear, if the stores I've been investigating are any
indication.
...The moment the sun comes out, the Norwegians swarm outside. So
it's something when you spot a bunch of them inside one specific place
that looks like a combination of clothing store, bakery, and cafe. I
can take a hint. Lunch, anyone?
Blogged by Kristiana
Sent from my iPhone
Pro-Am Duet Slam
Pro-Am Duet Slam was the title of Wednesday night's entertainment with GK, the band, and four of the professional singers of the cruise. I had a sore throat and decided to skip it, go to bed early, and get the full report later from K, K, & M.
I was awakened by the wholly unfamiliar ring of the bedside cabin phone. "I'm going to be singing with Garrison in a few minutes," Kristiana said. "Can you come up?"
The event turned out to be GK and the pros taking turns singing in various combinations, with the occasional assistance of volunteers from among the passengers, the latter group including both Kristi and Kristiana. Kristi came up firstN singing a song I didn't recognize with one of the pro women. Some time later, almost at the very end of the program, Kristiana's turn came. Not having had a chance to comsult with Garrison and not knowing the extent of his vocal jazz repertoire, she had opted for the safe choice of one of the songs in the little cruise songbook that had been distributed to our rooms: "I will."
Kristiana of course sounded wonderful and GK complimented her that she could have had a career in singing, but it was not, if I may say so, the best singing I have heard from her. As I looked at the video later, this is what dawned on me: the bank and GK, knowing each other very well and Kristiana not at all, determined to hang back, take it slow, and follow her lead. Kristiana, as a trained ensemble performer, in her turn made it her business to follow as closely as possible the band's and co-singer GK's leads. With each party thus concerned foremost with not stepping on the heels of any of the others, the tempo of "I Will" (not a showy song to begin with even under better circumstances) proceeded downward until it reached a sort of least-common-denominator of stately comportment, with threatening and possibly destabilizing innovations such as eighth notes kept to the scarcest possible minimum.
But that's just me. To everyone else the song, and the entire show, appeared to be a rousing success, and in the day following, Kristiana and Kristi received many taps on the shoulder from strangers in the buffet line and elsewhere, praising their voices and their courage.
They really did sound good, and I think it's a pity neither has auditiooned to be part of tonight's passenger talent show.
I was awakened by the wholly unfamiliar ring of the bedside cabin phone. "I'm going to be singing with Garrison in a few minutes," Kristiana said. "Can you come up?"
The event turned out to be GK and the pros taking turns singing in various combinations, with the occasional assistance of volunteers from among the passengers, the latter group including both Kristi and Kristiana. Kristi came up firstN singing a song I didn't recognize with one of the pro women. Some time later, almost at the very end of the program, Kristiana's turn came. Not having had a chance to comsult with Garrison and not knowing the extent of his vocal jazz repertoire, she had opted for the safe choice of one of the songs in the little cruise songbook that had been distributed to our rooms: "I will."
Kristiana of course sounded wonderful and GK complimented her that she could have had a career in singing, but it was not, if I may say so, the best singing I have heard from her. As I looked at the video later, this is what dawned on me: the bank and GK, knowing each other very well and Kristiana not at all, determined to hang back, take it slow, and follow her lead. Kristiana, as a trained ensemble performer, in her turn made it her business to follow as closely as possible the band's and co-singer GK's leads. With each party thus concerned foremost with not stepping on the heels of any of the others, the tempo of "I Will" (not a showy song to begin with even under better circumstances) proceeded downward until it reached a sort of least-common-denominator of stately comportment, with threatening and possibly destabilizing innovations such as eighth notes kept to the scarcest possible minimum.
But that's just me. To everyone else the song, and the entire show, appeared to be a rousing success, and in the day following, Kristiana and Kristi received many taps on the shoulder from strangers in the buffet line and elsewhere, praising their voices and their courage.
They really did sound good, and I think it's a pity neither has auditiooned to be part of tonight's passenger talent show.
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Norway's migrant fisherfolk
settled in Minnesota and the Midwest, it seems a few hardier sorts
made their homes much further north. And during the Prairie Home
Norwegian cruise they are bringing their special magic to our ship's
most premium dining room.
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Geirangerfjord, yesterday
rain yesterday, when we could capture this:
Meet our dining table mates!
daughter, Madelyn. I say this not because we haven't mentioned them
previously, but because until now we've been spelling their names
wrong....
Dr. No's vessel
boats (smaller than I thought at first) that I mentioned before.
One-upped
The enormous Cunard liner Costa Magica has just sailed past us into port. As it passed I could see it has a big spiral *water slide* on its top deck. Where's Garrison? How come *we* don't get a water slide?
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
A series of not unfortunate non-events
The anticipated storm turned out to be nothing more - to us, at least - than an opportunity to be rocked to sleep in our stateroom, and as we awoke the walls of the Geirangerfjord were gliding by surprisingly near on either side, the water calm.
It is still raining quite steadily, though, and the prospect of riding a tender to explore the small, sleepy and hilly vacationer's village of Geiranger afoot in the rain appeals less than enjoying the view of said village from behind large windows and perhaps a book or two in the high forward lounge known as the Crow's Nest. And so we have set up camp in advantageous seats with outstanding views. On either side the fjord walls rise nearly sheer around us, and directly aheads lies Geiranger, its most visible feature at this distance - somewhat under a mile through the rain would be my guess - a very broad and curvy boulevard that descends serpentine through the center of town.
Through binoculars the boulevard resolves itself into not a street but a foamingly white and furiously running waterfall whose noise must be astounding in any of the structures within a hundred yards or so. It looks as if there is a tourist hotel built above the falls and through which the falls may in fact pass. That would be someplace to stay, I'm sure.
Abeam of us is an interesting vessel of some sort, festooned with radars and a searchlight, and very functional-looking, whose flag Kristiana thinks signifies a British colony: a marron field with the Union Jack in the upper field. It looks like some kind of research vessel perhaps except that its paintwork is in notably pristine shape, and on its aft deck are a sloop of 30 feet or so and a motorboat of perhaps twice that length, boat looking mostly, though not unambiguously, like pleasure craft.
Alongside the ship, which is titled Lone Ranger - Hamilton at its stern, lies a good-sized inflatable motor dinghy, and on a ridge behind it is an encampment of ten tents, mostly identical.
I'm going to have to google this ship later on, but for now my phone is registering "data connection refused," contributing to the quiet of this rainy day.
It is still raining quite steadily, though, and the prospect of riding a tender to explore the small, sleepy and hilly vacationer's village of Geiranger afoot in the rain appeals less than enjoying the view of said village from behind large windows and perhaps a book or two in the high forward lounge known as the Crow's Nest. And so we have set up camp in advantageous seats with outstanding views. On either side the fjord walls rise nearly sheer around us, and directly aheads lies Geiranger, its most visible feature at this distance - somewhat under a mile through the rain would be my guess - a very broad and curvy boulevard that descends serpentine through the center of town.
Through binoculars the boulevard resolves itself into not a street but a foamingly white and furiously running waterfall whose noise must be astounding in any of the structures within a hundred yards or so. It looks as if there is a tourist hotel built above the falls and through which the falls may in fact pass. That would be someplace to stay, I'm sure.
Abeam of us is an interesting vessel of some sort, festooned with radars and a searchlight, and very functional-looking, whose flag Kristiana thinks signifies a British colony: a marron field with the Union Jack in the upper field. It looks like some kind of research vessel perhaps except that its paintwork is in notably pristine shape, and on its aft deck are a sloop of 30 feet or so and a motorboat of perhaps twice that length, boat looking mostly, though not unambiguously, like pleasure craft.
Alongside the ship, which is titled Lone Ranger - Hamilton at its stern, lies a good-sized inflatable motor dinghy, and on a ridge behind it is an encampment of ten tents, mostly identical.
I'm going to have to google this ship later on, but for now my phone is registering "data connection refused," contributing to the quiet of this rainy day.
Could be an interesting night
We are at sea, between Trondheim and Geiranger. There are 29 knot winds. We are swaying noticeably. There are whitecaps in the swimming pool, which is sorta neat. The elevator is becoming a wiser choice than stairs even for journeys of a single floor. Discreet containers of white sickness bags have begun appearing at the elevator stops.
I'm guessing the captain knows something.
I'm guessing the captain knows something.
Trondheim
It's about noon-thirty and we're in the old part of Trondheim. Kristiana, Kristi and Madelyn are touring the old archbishop's palace, and I'm sitting outside the cathedral resting my legs which are suffering from my not limbering up before hitting the treadmill this morning.
Yesterday's tour of Alesund was a semi-bust, the town too rainy and our guide too quiet to make for an enjoyable, or even educational, walking tour. The sky cleared an hour or two later, and we did get in a little exploring in our damp clothes before returning to the ship and a hot shower.
The hot shower turned into a nap since we'd been up so early. We woke up a half hour into dinner service and rushed upstairs to join Kristi and Madelyn who'd already received their main courses. It was traditional-hat night in the dining room, it seems, and all the women had received little Dutch wimple-like headcovering, and the men had black seamen's caps with brims. If Kristiana hasn't blogged her photo of Madelyn in her wimple-thing admiring her dessert (chocolate mousse in a cup of chocolate), I'll make sure she does.
From dinner we went straight to the line for the night's Prairie Home Companion performance, and were rewarded with superb seats, a couch in the front seating the four of us plus a couple that K+M knew.
The show was pure pleasure as expected, and we kept our seats for the storytelling seminar that followed. That turned out to be a few introductory remarks from Garrison followed by nenbers of the audience being invited to get up and share their own stories, under Garrison's gentle prompting and guidance. It was lots of fun.
When we got out near midnight the sun had gone down but it was still fairly light outside. It's like that here. Not quite the midnight sun, but very much the midnight twilight.
Yesterday's tour of Alesund was a semi-bust, the town too rainy and our guide too quiet to make for an enjoyable, or even educational, walking tour. The sky cleared an hour or two later, and we did get in a little exploring in our damp clothes before returning to the ship and a hot shower.
The hot shower turned into a nap since we'd been up so early. We woke up a half hour into dinner service and rushed upstairs to join Kristi and Madelyn who'd already received their main courses. It was traditional-hat night in the dining room, it seems, and all the women had received little Dutch wimple-like headcovering, and the men had black seamen's caps with brims. If Kristiana hasn't blogged her photo of Madelyn in her wimple-thing admiring her dessert (chocolate mousse in a cup of chocolate), I'll make sure she does.
From dinner we went straight to the line for the night's Prairie Home Companion performance, and were rewarded with superb seats, a couch in the front seating the four of us plus a couple that K+M knew.
The show was pure pleasure as expected, and we kept our seats for the storytelling seminar that followed. That turned out to be a few introductory remarks from Garrison followed by nenbers of the audience being invited to get up and share their own stories, under Garrison's gentle prompting and guidance. It was lots of fun.
When we got out near midnight the sun had gone down but it was still fairly light outside. It's like that here. Not quite the midnight sun, but very much the midnight twilight.
Monday, July 16, 2007
Things I don't do when I'm not on vacation
2. Get up before my husband does
3. Wander around in the early morning, just to see what vistas I can
capture
4. Enjoy the complete solitude of the open ocean
5. Spend time on or near the ocean, period
6. Eat three actual meals per day
7. Go to bed before my husband does
posted by Kristiana, from my iPhone
We returned from our sojourn into Alesund
I hadn't thought that towelephants would be all that plentiful here.
posted by Kristiana, from my iPhone
Sunday, July 15, 2007
Monday morning
We are anchored - at least I think anchored, at any rate not moving much - off Alesund, and have just a little time before our shore excursion departs. So I will do my best to catch up before our next big day.
Sunday started dim and early, 3AM or so when I woke long enough to glance out our window and glimpse the enticing shadows of land masses and glimmers of village lights just becoming visible through the gloom. During my attempts to shoot some snaps through the window I woke Kristiana, and in due course we were bundled up and out on deck with our cameras. We shot until breakfast opened around six, and as we drew near Flam we breakfasted and got ready for our shore excursion.
I have just heard the announcement that we are in fact docked at Alesund, the shore available to us via gangway. This is welcome news, because at Flam we were only anchored, and the business of transferring to shore via ship's tender was tedious as well as being crowded and a bit diesel-scented.
Ashore in Flam we (those of us on our particular optional excursion) were directed to two buses which left promptly for the mountains above town. Our guide described the local area and economy (Flam is a big hydroelectric generating station, all those scenic waterfalls helping to power the country) before, as David Rakoff says, exhausting the subject and nattering on about things generally Norwegian - how populous the country is (4 million), the cost of a house (perhaps 3 million krone or half a million dollars), the VAT (25%), the referenda on EU membership (failed both times). An hour, one scenic overlook and many Norwegian factoids later we arrived at our little mountain hamlet and were ushered inside to our breakfast (seond today if you're counting, but we *had* been up for seven hours) of waffles, jam, sour cream and coffee.
A word about Norwegian waffles: they are served cold, which pretty much negates any chance of their being crisp either. A word about Norwegian sour cream: it has an odd consistency. It is stretchy. Glossy and stretchy, and resistant to being spread or otherwise manipulated in the usual foodlike ways to which Americans are accustomed. There is nothing wrong with the flavor, but its strange texture puts one in mind of a slightly creepy Chem professor demonstrating the faaascinating properties of ultra-long-chain molecules. Since the waffles are fairly soft and the sour cream rather, er, strong, trying to achieve a uniform sour cream-over-waffle layer was a messy business.
On return to the ship we supplemented our breakfasts with some noncarbohydrates from the buffet line - just for variety - then split up, Kristiana for a spa appointment and me for a nap. I awoke to find Kristiana preparing to sleep herself, not feeling too well. (Nothing serious, mostly a cumulative exhaustion thing. She's fine today.) She sent me off to dinner, and as it turned out the rest of the evening, alone though in the delightful company of Kristi and Madelyn.
We had the expected very nice dinner, then Kristi and I spent the evening in the library while Madelyn attended Prairie Home's sound effects impressrio Fred's seminar on how to make funny noises (no grown-ups allowed) before rejoining us. During this time the fjord pilot came aboard as we were enroute, a transfer procedure we could see most of from our vantage point almost directly above, and whose casual acceptance of thumping waves, cold, blinding salt spray and danger added yet another entry to my list of jobs I am not cut out for.
Returning from an 11:30pm reconnaisance mission, Madelyn reported that the dessert buffet was still open, clearly presenting a moral obligation on all our parts to partake. Kristi had some real food, I had one dessert, and Madelyn had, for lack of a more precise word, several: I don't know how to tally two cookies when they become one lemon-frozen-yogurt sandwich, or a cone that becomes its own dessert course while the chocolate sprinkes become another. Unlike the rest of us who might dally with eating this way on vacation, Madelyn doesn't gain weight; just energy. Oh to be a kid again.
Sunday started dim and early, 3AM or so when I woke long enough to glance out our window and glimpse the enticing shadows of land masses and glimmers of village lights just becoming visible through the gloom. During my attempts to shoot some snaps through the window I woke Kristiana, and in due course we were bundled up and out on deck with our cameras. We shot until breakfast opened around six, and as we drew near Flam we breakfasted and got ready for our shore excursion.
I have just heard the announcement that we are in fact docked at Alesund, the shore available to us via gangway. This is welcome news, because at Flam we were only anchored, and the business of transferring to shore via ship's tender was tedious as well as being crowded and a bit diesel-scented.
Ashore in Flam we (those of us on our particular optional excursion) were directed to two buses which left promptly for the mountains above town. Our guide described the local area and economy (Flam is a big hydroelectric generating station, all those scenic waterfalls helping to power the country) before, as David Rakoff says, exhausting the subject and nattering on about things generally Norwegian - how populous the country is (4 million), the cost of a house (perhaps 3 million krone or half a million dollars), the VAT (25%), the referenda on EU membership (failed both times). An hour, one scenic overlook and many Norwegian factoids later we arrived at our little mountain hamlet and were ushered inside to our breakfast (seond today if you're counting, but we *had* been up for seven hours) of waffles, jam, sour cream and coffee.
A word about Norwegian waffles: they are served cold, which pretty much negates any chance of their being crisp either. A word about Norwegian sour cream: it has an odd consistency. It is stretchy. Glossy and stretchy, and resistant to being spread or otherwise manipulated in the usual foodlike ways to which Americans are accustomed. There is nothing wrong with the flavor, but its strange texture puts one in mind of a slightly creepy Chem professor demonstrating the faaascinating properties of ultra-long-chain molecules. Since the waffles are fairly soft and the sour cream rather, er, strong, trying to achieve a uniform sour cream-over-waffle layer was a messy business.
On return to the ship we supplemented our breakfasts with some noncarbohydrates from the buffet line - just for variety - then split up, Kristiana for a spa appointment and me for a nap. I awoke to find Kristiana preparing to sleep herself, not feeling too well. (Nothing serious, mostly a cumulative exhaustion thing. She's fine today.) She sent me off to dinner, and as it turned out the rest of the evening, alone though in the delightful company of Kristi and Madelyn.
We had the expected very nice dinner, then Kristi and I spent the evening in the library while Madelyn attended Prairie Home's sound effects impressrio Fred's seminar on how to make funny noises (no grown-ups allowed) before rejoining us. During this time the fjord pilot came aboard as we were enroute, a transfer procedure we could see most of from our vantage point almost directly above, and whose casual acceptance of thumping waves, cold, blinding salt spray and danger added yet another entry to my list of jobs I am not cut out for.
Returning from an 11:30pm reconnaisance mission, Madelyn reported that the dessert buffet was still open, clearly presenting a moral obligation on all our parts to partake. Kristi had some real food, I had one dessert, and Madelyn had, for lack of a more precise word, several: I don't know how to tally two cookies when they become one lemon-frozen-yogurt sandwich, or a cone that becomes its own dessert course while the chocolate sprinkes become another. Unlike the rest of us who might dally with eating this way on vacation, Madelyn doesn't gain weight; just energy. Oh to be a kid again.
The View From Breakfast, Part II
today's port of call. While the pink sky this morning heralded the
likelihood we'd be seeing more rain today, it hasn't made the scenery
any less stunning.
-k
Aargh
It looks like blogspot-by-email drops all the text that follows a picture, and includes only the text that precedes the picture. So some of the posts sent from Kristiana's iPhone are missing some or all of their text. Sorry, didn't know it worked that way. We'll fix those up when we can.
Saturday, July 14, 2007
iPhone rocks. Totally.
latest acquisition and, frankly, the coolest vacation tool EVER.
This photo was taken with the iPhone earlier this morning, and I liked it so much I've already emailed it all over.
What's more, I have been able to surf the web without paying exorbitant prices for the privilege while on board the cruise ship.
Cover flow and photo sharing has been highly popular with everyone, and made showing off my company a real pleasure.
So thanks, Apple! You've really outdone yourselves this time. The iPhone ROCKS.
- Kristiana
Sent from my iPhone
Correction
Oh. We don't debark at 8:15. We sit in the nightclub and wait for debarkation instructions at 8:15.
Docked at Flam
Our first stop on the Norwegian coast. Having already spent time in Flam, Kristiana and I have booked a shore excursion, a coach to nearby Aurland and a farm where we'll be served coffee and waffles. This differs from the onboard cuisine principally in that it's on a farm. OK, that was mean. Still there's something about an excursion that ends with waffles that's intrinsically appealing. We debark in about 15 minutes.
You are missing some STUNNING scenery...
>
> Awakened this morning at 3am by shutter clicks, I found myself in
> the midst of a photographer's dream - no one else is up, and the
> light is perfect -so there are plenty of opportunities to wander the
> ship and find just the right vantage point to capture passing snow-
> capped mountains, sleepy towns, waterfalls, and the sunrise breaking
> through the stormclouds. It's still way early, and I'm tired, but
> also exhilarated by just being here.
>
> Sent from my iPhone
All at sea
Today is a sea day, a nautical term meaning succor for the jet-lagged. We have no ports of call and no shore time, and are sailing north from Copenhagen to a point partway up the Norwegian coast by the most direct route. We are out of sight of land and, for the most part, out of reach of GSM towers. It is, in short, a day perfectly suited to putting off both activities and blogging, and just catching up on sleep.
So I will write about yesterday instead, which was much more interesting. Over breakfast at our hotel we were pegged as Prairie Home cruisers by Marcia and Kurt, a very personable and interesting couple from Seattle who had done the cruise before. We decided to share a cab to the ship, and enjoyed their company throughout the ride, the various forms of processing we underwent, embarkation, and lunch. Exploring the ship afterwards we found, among many other things, the nightclub, the casino, the piano bar, the extremely well-stocked library with adjoining espresso bar, the various dining rooms, the tennis courts and assorted pools, and the teens-only themed tropical waterfall grotto with pools, which we envied.
We also toured the spa, which is not merely the onboard purveyor of spalike services but which you must pass throught to reach the gym. Nice bit of marketing, that. We each signed up for membership in the Thermal Suite, a set of rooms with steam, jacuzzi, and as their centerpiece a set of heated tile lounge chairs sort of extruded from the floor in which you basically lounge and melt. The perfect thing after a long day of sightseeing, we figure. We also bought some sessions in a shiny egglike pod which simultaneously warms and gently massages you while spraying you with soothing aromas - the better to relax you while the gently humming white pod clones your body for eventual possession by our alien masters, I imagine. Anyway, half an hour in The Pod is said to substitute for three hours of sleep. Anything that dares make a promise like that has to be tried, however poor the odds.
Dinner companions, randomly assigned and yours for the duration of the voyage, are always a source of trepidation on a cruise like this. Anything can happen from mere uncomfortable silences to the dread People With Whose Political Opinions We Disagree. So we were not merely pleasantly surprise but delighted (and here I wish my blackberry did italics) to make the acquaintance of tablemates Kristi, a mostly-retired opera singer now living in Dublin and reading up on theoretical physics, and Madeline, her 9-year-old daughter who is lovely and charming and everything else that a pretty much idealized 9-year-old can be. There will be many Kristi-and-Madeline stories in days to come, I'm sure.
After our *delightful* dinner we sought seats for the 10pm PHC show itself. What a pleasure. But I'll write about that later, because tonight's show is beginning.
So I will write about yesterday instead, which was much more interesting. Over breakfast at our hotel we were pegged as Prairie Home cruisers by Marcia and Kurt, a very personable and interesting couple from Seattle who had done the cruise before. We decided to share a cab to the ship, and enjoyed their company throughout the ride, the various forms of processing we underwent, embarkation, and lunch. Exploring the ship afterwards we found, among many other things, the nightclub, the casino, the piano bar, the extremely well-stocked library with adjoining espresso bar, the various dining rooms, the tennis courts and assorted pools, and the teens-only themed tropical waterfall grotto with pools, which we envied.
We also toured the spa, which is not merely the onboard purveyor of spalike services but which you must pass throught to reach the gym. Nice bit of marketing, that. We each signed up for membership in the Thermal Suite, a set of rooms with steam, jacuzzi, and as their centerpiece a set of heated tile lounge chairs sort of extruded from the floor in which you basically lounge and melt. The perfect thing after a long day of sightseeing, we figure. We also bought some sessions in a shiny egglike pod which simultaneously warms and gently massages you while spraying you with soothing aromas - the better to relax you while the gently humming white pod clones your body for eventual possession by our alien masters, I imagine. Anyway, half an hour in The Pod is said to substitute for three hours of sleep. Anything that dares make a promise like that has to be tried, however poor the odds.
Dinner companions, randomly assigned and yours for the duration of the voyage, are always a source of trepidation on a cruise like this. Anything can happen from mere uncomfortable silences to the dread People With Whose Political Opinions We Disagree. So we were not merely pleasantly surprise but delighted (and here I wish my blackberry did italics) to make the acquaintance of tablemates Kristi, a mostly-retired opera singer now living in Dublin and reading up on theoretical physics, and Madeline, her 9-year-old daughter who is lovely and charming and everything else that a pretty much idealized 9-year-old can be. There will be many Kristi-and-Madeline stories in days to come, I'm sure.
After our *delightful* dinner we sought seats for the 10pm PHC show itself. What a pleasure. But I'll write about that later, because tonight's show is beginning.
Thursday, July 12, 2007
Arrival in Copenhagen and return to consciousness
Copenhagen International Airport is nonsmoking, but you can tell Denmark is a smoking country with your first breath of air when you step inside from the jetway. During the entire walk from the gates (eerily similar to Oslo's in design as if they'd been copied from the same blueprints, but built from metal and linoleum instead of wood) through the very attractive shopping area through passport control, baggage claim and finally the terminal area I saw no smokers, yet the smell hung in the air everywhere.
Both of us were tired to the point of catalepsy during the short flight from London, so instead of the highly recommended quick and inexpensive public transit we took a cab to our hotel, the smallish but very pleasant Copenhagen Strand. One side of our room faces the water of the Inderhavnen canal, one of the large waterways that cuts through the city (if it were Venice, this would be the Grand Canal), and the other overlooks a little courtyard and back street. completely charming. Through our window little whiffs of the Jazz Festival drifted in, but we couldn't hear or see from where.
After freshening up a little it was about Fpm local time so we decided to put off the need for sleep just a little while and wander a little first. We walked two blocks up the waterside to Nyhavn, the short canalside street of outdoor cafes end to end that you can see in every guidebook and on the cover of ours. On the way to Nyhavn Kristiana thought she could hear jazz coming from several directions including across the channel (the Copenhagen Jazz Festival is HUGE), but once we turned on to Nyhavn the New Orleans style saxophone band at the far end of the street drowned all the others out.
Kristiana and I took different sides of the canal - she wanted the best vantage points for photos and I wanted to wander among the cafes themselves - and as I passed the bandstand I saw police arriving to divert traffic. Shortly some kind of march, perhaps 500-1000 people (I have no special skill at estimating crowds, but at the end of a day of international travel including a layover at Heathrow my sense was that it was a good three large superjets worth). The crowd was mostly though not uniformly young, and very passionate in their cause, though the loud synchronized chanting was all in Danish so I could not at this point tell you what that cause was. The procession was followed by a sort of mobile DJ van emblazoned "SUMMER OF 69 FOR A NON PROFIT KICK ASS CULTURE," and as it drew up to a point behind the bandstand it stopped and over its speakders boomed several minutes of speech - again in Danish so again I can't say what it was, but I got a couple minutes of video which I will try to post if I get a real connection later (I'm writing this on my Blackberry). At the end the chants resumedan and they moved on.
My need for sleep was now overwhelming so I went back to the hotel. Before I could finish texting Kristiana, she walked in the door as well. she was hungry but hadn't yet found anything that appealed to her, the plate-of-clams-and-a-pint-of-Carlsen cuisine of Nyhavn not really meeting her definition of jet-lag recovery food.
I napped briefly - less than the length of the album playing on my iPod (Wendy Luck's The Ancient Key, if you're interested), and awoke to the smells of Indian food that Kristiana had materialized from somewhere and had already eaten her fill of. (Note to Kristiana: how'd you do that - did you just rez it out of inventory or something? Do we have Build privileges here?)
Now it's morning, both local time and body time. Kristiana has gone out to shoot pictures in the morning light while I blog. As soon as I post this, I'm heading out to find her and get an espresso.
Both of us were tired to the point of catalepsy during the short flight from London, so instead of the highly recommended quick and inexpensive public transit we took a cab to our hotel, the smallish but very pleasant Copenhagen Strand. One side of our room faces the water of the Inderhavnen canal, one of the large waterways that cuts through the city (if it were Venice, this would be the Grand Canal), and the other overlooks a little courtyard and back street. completely charming. Through our window little whiffs of the Jazz Festival drifted in, but we couldn't hear or see from where.
After freshening up a little it was about Fpm local time so we decided to put off the need for sleep just a little while and wander a little first. We walked two blocks up the waterside to Nyhavn, the short canalside street of outdoor cafes end to end that you can see in every guidebook and on the cover of ours. On the way to Nyhavn Kristiana thought she could hear jazz coming from several directions including across the channel (the Copenhagen Jazz Festival is HUGE), but once we turned on to Nyhavn the New Orleans style saxophone band at the far end of the street drowned all the others out.
Kristiana and I took different sides of the canal - she wanted the best vantage points for photos and I wanted to wander among the cafes themselves - and as I passed the bandstand I saw police arriving to divert traffic. Shortly some kind of march, perhaps 500-1000 people (I have no special skill at estimating crowds, but at the end of a day of international travel including a layover at Heathrow my sense was that it was a good three large superjets worth). The crowd was mostly though not uniformly young, and very passionate in their cause, though the loud synchronized chanting was all in Danish so I could not at this point tell you what that cause was. The procession was followed by a sort of mobile DJ van emblazoned "SUMMER OF 69 FOR A NON PROFIT KICK ASS CULTURE," and as it drew up to a point behind the bandstand it stopped and over its speakders boomed several minutes of speech - again in Danish so again I can't say what it was, but I got a couple minutes of video which I will try to post if I get a real connection later (I'm writing this on my Blackberry). At the end the chants resumedan and they moved on.
My need for sleep was now overwhelming so I went back to the hotel. Before I could finish texting Kristiana, she walked in the door as well. she was hungry but hadn't yet found anything that appealed to her, the plate-of-clams-and-a-pint-of-Carlsen cuisine of Nyhavn not really meeting her definition of jet-lag recovery food.
I napped briefly - less than the length of the album playing on my iPod (Wendy Luck's The Ancient Key, if you're interested), and awoke to the smells of Indian food that Kristiana had materialized from somewhere and had already eaten her fill of. (Note to Kristiana: how'd you do that - did you just rez it out of inventory or something? Do we have Build privileges here?)
Now it's morning, both local time and body time. Kristiana has gone out to shoot pictures in the morning light while I blog. As soon as I post this, I'm heading out to find her and get an espresso.
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Just the luck, Part II
We're in the departure lounge @SFO. Kristiana just got word that a delivery has arrived in her cube at work. It's from Samsonite. Lovely. It's the suitcase she ordered weeks ago, which was delayed in shipping, which she cancelled unshipped over a week ago and has since replaced.
In other words it's a bloody damn nuisance that we'll have to do something about when we get back. Unless Josh, the friend/coworker who alerted us, follows through on his plan to pack himself up and check on as luggage to come along on our trip.
In other words it's a bloody damn nuisance that we'll have to do something about when we get back. Unless Josh, the friend/coworker who alerted us, follows through on his plan to pack himself up and check on as luggage to come along on our trip.
Just the luck
We leave in about, yikes, four hours. And after weeks of our being more or less complete social shut-ins, in the last 18 hours I've been pinged by three different friends that I haven't talked to in…well, far too long. Naturally I've been too frantic to really give any of them the level of attention they deserve. If you're reading this, I'm sorry I was so rushed, and I look forward to talking more when we get back.
I also definitely have come down with a flu. It's not a really bad case, but besides making me generally headachey, cranky and sweaty (all just lovely on a long flight), it's giving me those little mental lapses that slow down packing by 2x or 3x. Where's that phone charger I just had in my hand? Did I just put the bluetooth headset in the packed-in-luggage pouch instead of the carry-on pouch? Better open both up and see. Etc.
Our ride comes for us at 1:30.
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Last-minute shopping
the iPhone's headphone jack has too little clearance for standard headphones. There's an adaptor, but it sold out quickly. On a whim I called the Apple store this morning to see if they had gotten more. After the surreal experience of hearing Kristiana answer the call (she subbed for the regular autoattendant voice talent during the iPhone launch), I got through to a store employee who confirmed that yes, they were back in stock. Hooray - Kristiana will be able to listen on her favorite (Sony EX71SL) earphones during our flight.
Monday, July 09, 2007
Frequently Asked Questions, round 1
Thanks to Hollis and Stacey.
Do you just fly directly to Norway, or what?
We fly to London (insert rant about Heathrow here) then from there to Copenhagen. We have one night in Copenhagen (during its jazz festival but unfortunately a day too late to see Eliane Elias), then board the ship in Copenhagen the next day. The ship cruises up the coast of Norway and back, then returns us to Copenhagen, where we spend a little more time before flying back to London.
Do you have a picture of the ship?
There's a good one on the Cruise Norway main page.
How many people will be on it?
It's a 1,200-passenger liner, and the Prairie Home cruise has bought out the entire ship.
Have you been on a cruise before?
The most I've ever cruised was three days on the Hurtigruten freight/passenger liner up the coast of Norway. Besides that, just an overnight from Miami to Bahamas, and a couple nights on the Queen Mary (the ship that's now a hotel docked in Long Beach) with a view of the parking lot from my porthole. What can I say, my parents are airline people and I was raised on flight. Kristiana has been on "real" cruises before, and has opinions about the best lines. And the worst. I don't know if she's been on Holland America before.
What's the Prairie Home part of the cruise?
OK, you caught me. It's all on the website, and I haven't studied it. I know the general idea is that Prairie Home personages and guests are the on-ship entertainment for the cruise as well as setting the general tone and agenda, and I know there are lectures on writing and so forth, but I have been a bad boy about studying the details.
Will the food be Norwegian-themed? Will you drink Aquavit?
I can't imagine there won't be Norwegian-themed food, and I can't imagine there will only be Norwegian-themed food. I expect salmon, fiskeboller, and undoubtedly cod. Garrison is quoted as having uncomplimentary things to say about lutefisk, so I don't expect any except for humor value. I don't expect reindeer meat, which I think (I could be wrong here) is too precious to be wasted on the uninitiated or unappreciative. I will be curious to see whether our Norwegian seaman's meal from our last three-hour-tour, steamed shrimp on bread with mayonnaise and lemon juice, will be presented, and how it will go over.
As for Aquavit, sure, a little, why not? I've never developed a real taste for it, but I don't dislike it one bit.
Do you just fly directly to Norway, or what?
We fly to London (insert rant about Heathrow here) then from there to Copenhagen. We have one night in Copenhagen (during its jazz festival but unfortunately a day too late to see Eliane Elias), then board the ship in Copenhagen the next day. The ship cruises up the coast of Norway and back, then returns us to Copenhagen, where we spend a little more time before flying back to London.
Do you have a picture of the ship?
There's a good one on the Cruise Norway main page.
How many people will be on it?
It's a 1,200-passenger liner, and the Prairie Home cruise has bought out the entire ship.
Have you been on a cruise before?
The most I've ever cruised was three days on the Hurtigruten freight/passenger liner up the coast of Norway. Besides that, just an overnight from Miami to Bahamas, and a couple nights on the Queen Mary (the ship that's now a hotel docked in Long Beach) with a view of the parking lot from my porthole. What can I say, my parents are airline people and I was raised on flight. Kristiana has been on "real" cruises before, and has opinions about the best lines. And the worst. I don't know if she's been on Holland America before.
What's the Prairie Home part of the cruise?
OK, you caught me. It's all on the website, and I haven't studied it. I know the general idea is that Prairie Home personages and guests are the on-ship entertainment for the cruise as well as setting the general tone and agenda, and I know there are lectures on writing and so forth, but I have been a bad boy about studying the details.
Will the food be Norwegian-themed? Will you drink Aquavit?
I can't imagine there won't be Norwegian-themed food, and I can't imagine there will only be Norwegian-themed food. I expect salmon, fiskeboller, and undoubtedly cod. Garrison is quoted as having uncomplimentary things to say about lutefisk, so I don't expect any except for humor value. I don't expect reindeer meat, which I think (I could be wrong here) is too precious to be wasted on the uninitiated or unappreciative. I will be curious to see whether our Norwegian seaman's meal from our last three-hour-tour, steamed shrimp on bread with mayonnaise and lemon juice, will be presented, and how it will go over.
As for Aquavit, sure, a little, why not? I've never developed a real taste for it, but I don't dislike it one bit.
Sunday, July 08, 2007
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