San Francisco April 17, 2012

Bob and I arrived at the airport dark and early.  The sun had not yet risen.  We made it through security unscathed but I did get my very first- wait for it- PAT DOWN!  Maybe it was my suspicious gait and demeanor, or maybe it was the strip tease I did while disrobing.  Shoes, jacket, belt...It's all about perspective.  I could've taken them all off the way I do at home, but how often do I get an audience of a hundred or so people?  The pat down was not as intimate as I had hoped for, but after all, it was my first time.

While I on the plane I watched the flight attendant model and display the oxygen mask.  How does one acquire a flight oxygen mask without actually participating in a flight disaster?  Any ideas?

In the Dallas Airport I saw these very strange signs:

I can't imagine what kind of severe weather would be happening in there, unless they are referring to the automatic flushing toilets.  In case you think it might be a female thing; there was one at the men's room too.

From the airport we took a shared shuttle.  The young girl sitting in the front seat insisted on keeping her headphones in her ears and saying, "What? What? What?" the woman behind us kept complaining about how long she'd been sitting in the shuttle, and the driver, who's accent was was thick and voice far too low to reach the back seat, kept having to repeat himself, "Miss Diana...where you go?" while driving AND trying to program his GPS.  The young girl asked if he would like her to take the wheel.  That's when he decided to pull over.

While at the airport we found the pariah section jokingly called the smoking section.  It's inside the green lines.  Yes, San Francisco, the most unfriendly city to smokers in the world.

We arrived safe and sound at our host's home where he was waiting for us with a smile.  He showed us around his home, which was built in 1883, and ran off to work.  We headed out to get some transportation passes and then down to Fisherman's Wharf.  We didn't actually make it that far.  The temperature was dropping and I needed some socks.  Yes, I know that socks with Birkenstocks will make me stand out as the tourist that I am, but I'm okay with that.

We found a little restaurant in the Ferry Building where I ordered far more than my stomach can possibly hold.  Then we took a trolley back home.

Along our travels we saw one man who didn't seem to be bothered by the cold at all.

While I'm usually the first to say, "When in Rome..." I'm not taking my clothes off.

Off to Chinatown today. Anyone need me to pick them up a chicken or two?

London 17 August 2011

Today is our last day.  There are some things that should be clarified before I leave this small island.  I came here with a few misconceptions.

Myth #1: European portions are smaller.  They are NOT.  I have not been able to finish one single meal out since we arrived except for the appetizer I ate in Paris.

Myth #2: The English love their queues. I have not seen one yet.  I've looked, believe me.  While in McDonald's, standing in a zig-zaggity undefined line, I commented to the woman in front of me, "I keep waiting to see the queues the English are so famous for."  She responded, "It's a fallacy."

Myth #3: There is a girth dearth.  No there isn't.  The percentage of big people isn't as great, but England has no lack of them.

Myth #4: English people are quiet and reserved.  I found lots of people who not only talked to me, but were friendly and laughed and smiled.  I was not able to get any to spill any secrets, except for the couple who told me how many children they hope to have, but I think it's from lack of time.  Bob even got invited out to a pub by a bunch of construction workers working next door.

Myth #5: English food is all bad.  I really enjoyed Steak and Ale pie.  Mushy peas, not so much, but no one can be all things to all people.

Myth #6: The English are polite.  I have heard some of the foulest language from cell phone (that's "mobile" here, pronounced moh-byle) users.  "You tell that f#cking b$tch that next time I see her I am going to spit right at her!  Do you hear me?  I am going to spit right on that f#cking b$tch, bl@h, bl@h, bl@h!"

Myth #7: (This one mostly applies to a friend of mine back home was concerned that my Birkenstocks would make me stand out here) European women's shoes are more fashionable.  I'll let you decide:

These truly were fashionable, too bad the band-aids detracted from it.

Of all of the shoes I saw, these were my favourites.  Oh...wait...these were mine, standing beside a German woman who was wearing the EXACT same shoes.  I said, "I like your shoes,"  she said, "Thanks,"  then looked down and said, "Oh, you have the same ones, ha ha ha".  Well, she didn't really SAY ha ha ha, she laughed instead.  I will tell you though, I was disheartened to learn that Europeans have the same sad attitude about Birkenstock wearers as Americans.  We are not all a bunch of hippie vegans, okay?  Some of us are normal people who just like comfortable shoes!  We eat meat, we vote, we shave our legs, and even work real jobs, it's time to put that stereotype to bed.  (We might be a tad sensitive though.)

England in general and London in particular have taken quite a ribbing from me, but the truth is that I love this place and I will be coming back.  I don't know when, but you can count on it.

I think I may leave a little piece of myself here, just so I have an excuse to come back...