Tag: travel

Rock Climbing with the Lads

/ Matt Talley / 2 Comments

This May saw the 2012 Orthopedic Big-Belly Hillbilly Climbing & Beer Drinking Association Cragfest. It was held at Smith Rock, OR and in Mt. Shasta City, CA. This was the 9th sort of-annual gathering in the last 13 years for our little band of over-educated, misshaped, crippled, wannabe climbers, profound thinkers and powerful drinkers. We spent a long week climbing, eating & drinking hopped beverages (I gained 6lbs!!), there were murderous 6-8 mile hikes up to crags, some nudity, 5 snake sightings (one reptile death), no broken bones, some quality routes climbed, limited blood loss, heavy rocks snuck into packs, laughter, video games, gas, Squid Billies, more laughter, and quality time spent catching up on each others’ lives…. A fine week off with buddies and away from the J-O-B.

This year’s cast of characters included:

Taint: A native son of Southern California. Strong climber, but easily confused by tri-cams and large hexes. A world traveler and new father who needs 11 hours of sleep a night to function and has absolutely no short term memory – none. An easy target for pranks and very poor at retaliation. Had to cancel his participation on an OBBHC&BDA trip two years ago because he had 2nd degree burns on the soles of his feet after helping with/leading a fire walking “class.”

Dr. Strippy-Socks: A writing, climbing, painting, fiddlin’, designing, and docterin’ polymath who was gracious enough to open his mountain home up to our little band of miscreants. A man who has an amazingly talented and giving spouse that allows him out of the house in polyester shirts, a visor, short-shorts, tall socks and sandals. This in an individual who in the course of a conversation will quote bolt torque specs, reference an obscure Ska band, outline the ideology of specific band of Orcs, and review the symptoms for early onset CHF in middle aged men.

The Bridesmaid Whisper: A bright, smart, medical resident with a dry sense of humor that borders the Sahara. The strongest climber of the trip, a man who developed the definitive definition of a #2 Pencil and made me tinkle myself a little while laughing hysterically in my sleeping bag. He is a man that can walk into a wedding reception and in short order has to wade through a throng of drunken bridesmaids who need his body like the Pope needs Jesus.

Smooth&Boney: Is a man who can sit on the couch for years, then walk outside and send a 5.12 sport route. Any mention of Jessica Alba will send him into smiling, wild-eyed fits of joy, followed by some alone time. Poor at hiking with a pack and once cried when his belayer tooted on him a little, has gear that predates Columbus, his favorite outdoor technical fabric is jean denim, and is the father to three adorable girls – the middle one loves me more than her uncle Rosy! When not climbing or wading through the estrogen that fills his life, he is a Designer/Engineer/Manager for the snazziest tool corporations in the world, but has yet to pass any cool shinny metal stuff on to his friends.

The Lawn Enforcement Officer: Father to two pale yet happy children and husband to a wife he doesn’t deserve: a mix of Betty Crocker/Belladonna/Ellen Page. I am the short, fat, balding, yard-obsessed, hairy, practical joking chronicler of this tale who now lives in Seattle in a 1928 house that is forever under reconstruction. The winner of The Deep Belly Button Award this year – A prize given to the fattest climber in the group for a given year.

Not-A-Biker: A great climber, brother to Smooth&Boney, and a generous friend who looks more like his father with the passing of each day. A man about to embark on an odyssey that will take him and his sweet southern, gvn-toting bride into the wilds of Philadelphia for a 3 to 29 year medical residency. He is someone who will freely give prostate exams to his friends (perfect strangers too…), has a questionable web search history, and who should never be allowed to even sit on a motorcycle. Was pantsed (sic) this year in full view of the entire group.

Missing this year was THE Mark Flood. Mark is the only man that Chuck Norris masturbates to. He is the strongest climber and hiker that any of us know, a gifted engineer, a good natured friend and drinking companion, and one of the toughest people you will ever meet. I have seen him drink from green stagnate pools one the sides of cliffs without any intestinal backlash and there have been things that have gone into his belly that would make a billie goat puke.

He has become a whispered legend in some circles after snatching falling climbers out of the air – mid fall – and saving them from a quick brutal death – truth. To punctuate the description/picture of Mr. Flood: He couldn’t join us this year because while hiking out of what was surely an epic day of climbing, he fell on the steep trail and a piece of iron rebar was shoved into his knee joint!! He tied a hankie around it and finished the walk out… His presence was duly missed this year and we all pray that he will be there for the next gathering to keep us all honest and safe.

The Alaska Airlines iPhone App is the Shiz-nit!

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I have been out of touch and away from my blog for a month or so: lots of travel including a 48hr trip to Ireland, a climbing vacation with the boys, a couple short trips to SoCal, and 5 days in the English countryside on a tour of round-a-bouts and concrete cows…

In the process of racking up a large hump of air-miles I have flown on 11 different airlines and I can say without a doubt that Alaska Airlines has been the carrier that has provided the fasted check-in, slickest and most useful App, and all my flights were somewhat on-time. The Alaska App was the clincher. I checked in on the way to the airport, chose my seat, fast-tracked through security, and the QR bar code on my iPhone was scanned at the gate for my boarding pass. From Taxi to assigned seat in the aircraft it took me a total of 23 minutes! Really, I timed it. Now, I still had to remove my shoes (fvck you very much asshat shoe-bombing terrorists!!) and take my laptop out of my bag, but that is just par for the course. If every flight check-in and trip to the gate was this great, then I wouldn’t complain at all about air travel.

Sweet, Sweet Desk Lovin’

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This is starting to get out of hand. We have six desks in our home and I need more. It may have now turned from fetish into a sickness. We are using them for all sorts of stuff: a work table, a liquor cabinet, a sewing/project center, paper repository, and for their intended purpose of writing and surfing the interwebs. Whenever I travel I have a wandering eye for bicycles and desk-like furniture – imagine Ron Jeremy leering at the contestants in a beauty pageant and you will have a good idea of what happens to me when I see a brazed bike frame or a Georgian secretary… I have seen a couple of pieces lately that I NEEDED! I needed them WAY down deep inside – like the Pope needs Jesus.

The one and only thing that keeps me from being more of a desk hoarder is my epic lack of proper funding. It makes me sad to leave them in the store all alone, where no one caresses their tops, opens the drawers slowly, tells them that they are pretty, and where they will end up with someone who will not treat them as nice as I would have.

Below is a selection from of desk-p0rn from the Sherlock Holmes Museum, the Charleston Antique district, Harrods in London, Restoration Hardware, misc. furniture shops, and my favorite Seattle antique store.

The Things They Carried…

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You don’t really own anything you can’t carry on your back at a dead run.
– Daniel Keys Moran

In 2004 there was a Flickr thread entitled “What’s in your bag?” that immediately captured a voyeuristic nerve with the denizens of the Web and since then about a gamillion people have posted pictures of all the crap they carry with them through their daily lives. You can see it all: packs, purses, pencil cases, hello kitty, descriptions, puppies (!?!), the entire Moleskine collection, pens, sunglasses, pistols, retainers, pocket knives, Apple products, and enough bike inner tubes to encircle the earth 12 times. Hours of my life have been lost peeping into other peoples lives through the contents of their purse/messenger bag/pockets. The phenomena has been around long enough now that there are subsets of bags and contents: Camera equipment, writers, hipsters, journalists, students, bike messengers, everyday carry (EDC), diaper bags, etc…

I came in after a recent craptastic day and started emptying my pockets and satchel. It seems I carry what professional organizers call “a lot of shit.” I was amazed to see, all stacked in one spot, how many different individual items I tote around all day. I took a picture and added it to the growing online show & tell/confessional.

Starbucks gum
2 dollar coins and a quarter
16GB USB with former puppy’s tag attached
Steel LAMY fountain pen – medium nib, brown ink
Moleskine work notebook – filled with sketches and task lists
iPad with case – pic shot from city wall in Essaouira, Morocco
iPhone, no case – pic of driftwood carving found at beach near the house
Truck/car/house keys with old dog tag
Silver bracelets (copies of John Wayne’s – google it)
Wedding ring – milled from and aircraft bearing
Kershaw – Ken Onion pocket knife
Eddie Bauer slim wallet and money clip – that’s right, big money: one WHOLE dollar
Milt Sparks knock-off IWB holster
Magazine loaded with 7 Gold Dots
Para Ordnance Black Watch .45 – some custom work
Ray-Ban birth control glasses
Bag: heavily modified US Army OD green map satchel

I sometimes carry a small flashlight in my satchel, a couple of other Moleskines, a roll of fountain pens, a spare magazine, sunglasses, my ORCA card, a kindle, a cheapo Bic lighter, and a small folding knife on my keychain. I forgot the light this morning and I flew recently and haven’t put the TSA-offending Victorinox back on my keys.

What do you carry with you during your day? Below are a representational photos of the phenomena including mine.

Touching the earth

/ Matt Talley / 2 Comments

My father-in-law, The Chatty Buddha, spent almost a week with us during the holidays and he likes to get me up REALLY early to run at the beach. Before each of these runs, he must say any number of chants and incantations to make the weather as crappy as possible – really, really. Anyway, just before we go and run through blizzards and gale-force winds, we will sit at the breakfast table and I will try to get a half a cup of coffee down while my father-in-law hums and vibrates with nervous energy. He tries so hard to be Zen, he really does, and I can only imagine how hard it is for him to sit and meditate while vibrating like the quarts crystal in a calculator watch.

On the first morning of this years annual Christmas-to-Jotunheim run, he just couldn’t contain all the penned up joy of expectation. He was asking questions, quoting Hafiz, stretching, standing up every 3 seconds…. I was shocked that he could focus his gaze on a single object and that he hadn’t yet vibed his way into a parallel dimension. His son was sitting with us and in about the same state of no coffee/walking dead as me. We needed a few minutes of calm before charging once more into the frigid breach, so I looked at The Chatty Buddha and told him to touch the earth – at the moment of enlightenment Buddha is said to have touched the ground with his right hand. It is depicted in about a billion statues. There was a brief moment of silence as he stared at me with his piercing blue eyes. A giggling smile broke out across his face and we all three had a big laugh. For the rest of their visit this year, he would start to spin like a dervish and remind him to touch the earth. He would look at me sideways, squint his eyes, and slip back into our dimension. In the spirit of the above, while we were in the UK and Ireland recently, I took some pictures for just for him – see below.

Elementary…

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Sherlock Holmes has become an everyday occurrence in my life. Last year my wife and I read a few of the Laurie King/Mary Russell books. She got The House of Silk and The Sherlockian for Christmas. I have started re-reading all the original Doyle stories and last, but not least… Sherlock Holmes is now a draftsman at my J-O-B. No really, I work with a man who’s actual real legal name, given at birth, is Sherlock Holmes. I wanted to hire the guy from the milli-second that I saw the heading of his resume, but he is actually a fantastic draftsman and a great asset.

Anyway, I have been and will be spending more than a little time in London and England in general this year and on my most recent trip I happened to find myself on Baker Street in London. Well, far be it from me to miss a weird travel opportunity. The wife and I walked down to the Sherlock Holmes “Museum” near the Baker Street tube stop and took the tour. We enjoyed the aside in our busy day and hammed it a photo-op. Stamps-With-Foot makes a pretty little Watson…

Drinking the black stuff in Ireland

/ Matt Talley / 1 Comment

I resolved not to travel as much in 2012 as I did in 2011 (over 150K air miles), but I am not off to an auspicious start: by January 17th, I already had just over 9,000 miles and I am booked for another British/European tour in March,  but I can say for a fact that 2012 has started off with much sweeter miles,  My J-O-B sent me to England and Ireland for 8 days and my sweet little wife, Stamps-With-Foot, got to tag along for the first time in years.  I can’t tell you how great it was to have her the with me!  I slept great, I didn’t miss her when I saw some new or interesting site since she was right there.  I had a dinner date every night and it was guaranteed that would be invited back to her place…

We had a day off in London and a night out in Dublin and we made the most of our time seeing old friends, visiting the V&A, taking the Globe Theatre tour, wandering through the Sherlock Homes “Museum”, visiting favorite shops, drinking Guinness, ogling the floor at Christchurch, more Guinness, and listening to Irish trad music on the top floor of Gogarty’s in Temple Bar.  It was a really nice mid-winter diversion for us, though there were some tears shed over Brodie, my wife’s puppy/fur-baby, not being there to snuggle her to sleep…

London Cycling

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Many a fine two-wheeled mistress have I, yet I am burdened with an oft wandering eye…  Last week in London I spent way too muck time ogling bicycles.  Locked up outside a store on the sidewalk, hung in shop windows, rolling down the street…  of all the cycles that caught my eye, the Bramptons that scurried about were the most quintessentially English.  I don’t think that I have ever seen a folding bike locked up here in the US, but it was common place in london, though that might be due to the killer bike racks…

Campaign Furniture

/ Matt Talley / 2 Comments

Charleston, SC is one one the places that makes Marta Stewart go all weak in the knees: it is antiques heaven.  I had just finished reading a post on the Lost Art Press Blog about a shop there that deals mainly in campaign furniture (a type of furniture made specifically for travel and/or military campaigning and something that makes  my inner Martha breathe heavy), when I got the serendipitous news that my J-O-B was sending me there for a few days. Well then…  I had one afternoon off and I drug a couple of coworkers to the antiques district downtown and hunted for the shop.  My, my, my….  The proprietor had original pieces from the British Raj that he let me fondle and covet.  I really wanted some personal alone time with a specific teak and wicker lounger.  Me, the chair, some port, candle light, and sweet, sweet love….

I am in the process of building my own campaign-style camp kitchen, chairs, table, and wet bar to take with us on the Lukowski-Gahagan-Talley Glamping trips planed for this spring and summer, where roughing it means the mushrooms are crimini instead of chantarails.   I snagged a few ideas from the shop and some additional research that I am incorporating.  I will post when somewhat complete, but in the meantime, take a look at some of the pictures I snapped and have included below.

MIA – last seen with paint on new pants and sawdust in eye

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I realized yesterday that haven’t posted anything for almost a month: no astute observations, not one pointed remark, no weird OCD-driven lists, no pictures of adventures at home and afield…. Nothing. Hmmmm.  I have just been REALLY busy!! It started with painting the living room, the kitched paint was next, we expanded into wiring a hot tub, I decided to finish up a furniture project, the breakfast table “needed” to be cut down, fancied up, and refinished.  I am heavy into finishing my incredibly overbuilt and way too complicated kitchen cabinets, Halloween came, there was Thanksgiving prep, I had to put the garden to sleep for the winter, blow all the water out of the yard irrigation system, clean the gutters (4th time this year – grumble, grumble… hate neighbor’s tree… grumble, grumble…). On top of it all, my J-O-B was INSANE: lots of late nights, weekends, travel, OT, pressure, stress, etc…

There is some proof of all the work that we have been doing – I have semi-updated the pictures on my project page, but remember that most were shot with an iPhone in crap conditions.  None of this pics are going to get me into National Geographic!

It hasn’t been all work though:  I have been able to go to the range with my cuddly .45s and punch holes in some zombies a good bit – fine, fine stress relief.  I mentioned Halloween – Stamps-With-Foot and I outdid ourselves again this year at our local Halloween party. We went as Wednesday and Pugsly Adams – a big hit at the festivities.   I went as a pimp to work – think Will Ferrel in The Other Guys movie: grill, blond ‘fro, leopard coat/fedora, purple faux croc high-heeled side-zippered boots, a pimp cane, crunk cup, loads of bling, coke nails – I had it down. A my fellow engi-nerds let me down though… Not one other costume in my group – not even a funny t-shirt!!  Sales had some good ones this year, HR was all in, the fiber optics group brought game, but Engineering sucked it! How is it all those people with big brains, imagination, and vast amounts of reasoning ability could not come up with something?! There are WOW players, Trekkies, SGA initiates, one D&D uber-geek, and every single one of them (including the female members of our team) have slave-girl Leia dreams…. They let me down, but I soldiered on and even gave a new-hire tour and orientation in my pimp-o-rific attire. I will not forget or forgive their breach of the nerd code! Philistines.

Speaking of my J-O-B, the long hours, travel, all the late meals out, and my general lack of physical motivation has gifted me with 20 extra pounds of fat compared to this time last year.  In essence, it is my own fault – my bikes are all sitting there waiting on me to love them, I have a sweet pair of new running kicks, A gym membership that we pay for every month, and a dusty yoga mat.  I HAVE to dig deep, put away work and get my butt moving or I will be the size of Jabba the Hutt in no time and the Wife is not into Slave Girl Leia…

I think that brings it all up to date for the most part. I will try to be more diligent about keeping up when life starts swirling around me.

Dublin and County Down

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My J-O-B sent me once again to Northern Ireland to address a possible issue. I REALLY didn’t want to fly into & stay in Belfast again (shiver) and make the daily hour drive through sheep country every morning.  Instead, we flew into Dublin, drove north an hour & 20 minutes, and stayed in the seaside town of Newcastle – a mere 10 minute morning commute each day from our intended work site. I was accompanied this time by two coworkers that had never been to the UK or Europe and it was great seeing it all new again through their eyes. I have noticed that I can be blind to a new experience or site in a place that I have been to for work more than a couple of times. They pointed out some really cool stuff and some mannerisms of the local population that I just had never noticed.

It wasn’t 100% work/sleep/work. We got an afternoon to explore Newcastle and spent the evening before we flew out in Dublin – great city! That last night, we stopped by Christ Church to marvel at the floors and spent 2+ hours (them not me) souvenir hunting/buying at Carroll’s, before I took them down to Temple Bar for dinner and so they could see the crowds and sights. After dinner and a little walking to work off the desert, we sat at a high table on Gogarty’s second floor, right next to the musicians bench, watched Irish dancing and listened to irish ballads as we put a few pints of the black stuff away.

Glamping

/ Matt Talley / 1 Comment

On a recent weekend, Stamps-With-foot and I met some friends at a campsite on the slopes of Mt. Rainer, situated next to a clear, cool, rushing river.  It was a welcome vacation from my iPhone, computer, the J-O-B, projects at home and was an adventure is truly luxurious camping: glamping.   We had soft warm double beds, million dollar views, canvas recliners, teak side tables, flowers in vases, steak for dinner, champagne both nights, a hardwood fueled fire, fresh pastries, good wine, table cloths, linen napkins, and a curtained canopied dining room. There were even antique Japanese pearls presented and worn (thanks for upping the b-day present giving bar Dave… you dick).  The only thing that separated it from a Victorian safari was the absence of white jacketed & gloved natives and the whole killing of endangered species thing.

All we brought to this gathering was a family sized tent, an air mattress, a set of cast iron Dutch ovens & griddle, some yummy food, good booze, and very sharp kitchen knives.  Our Portland friends added all the rest of the good stuff.  My normal camping experience often requires a nasty 10+ mile uphill hike (both ways), carrying all my junk (with most of the wife’s as well) & 25+ pounds of climbing gear.  Evenings and EARLY mornings are often spent hovering over a tiny stove to warm up some dehydrated crap-surprise, sleeping in a tiny tent, on a thin short blow-up pad, pumping my own water, and waking up to instant coffee. It might be age talking, but I think that I might prefer the linen napkin approach.   I am now plotting my own glamping plush set up.  Next time we all go camping together, it is going to look like a Moroccan Pasha has come over for a weekend – walled tents, plush pillows, curtains, chests, and feasting…

I feel the need to mention that the next time I see Dave I am going to hit him square in the taint for upping the ante with the amazing pearls…  Stamps-With-Foot is now expecting antique Japanese pearls, wrestled from the jaws of a giant clam by a tiny woman diver who held her breath for like 15 minutes and fought, almost to the death, for the prize… Yep, SMACK!! right in the baby-maker for this one David.   I hope your wife treated you well for the thought and originality of your beautiful gift, as you will soon look back on those halcyon nights of pleasure with non-functioning fondness.

Hipsters on a plane

/ Matt Talley / 2 Comments

I was fortunate enough to share a seat row on a flight from Chicago to Seattle with a young female member of the hipster mafia.  She had all the proper accessories: skinny-jeans, a Mac book, plaid, roughed up messenger bag, an ironic tattoo, bed-hair and of course big goofy Steve Urkel glasses that had no lenses in the frames.  There were affirmative grunts to the flight attendant and 4 tiny (under 3oz for the TSA – thank you very much asshole London liquid bombers for making us all know what 3oz looks like…) bottles of hooch in Listerine containers to mix with her tomato juice.  The aroma of sweat, cheap booze, and stale pot smoke lingered faintly in the background – all while the aforementioned macbook placed a cheesy 1970’s horror flick – after which she cracked open “Dont Hassel the Hoff” and read with gusto – Not making any of this up!

There was no sharing of the seat arm.  No ‘excuse me’ for repeatedly bumping into me while arranging the contents of her bag or when reaching across my face and over my book for another clandestined drink mixer.  Nope, I was sitting next to a late 20 something 15 year old.  It was not awesome.

So this is what we have wrought?  All our blog posts about nerd culture, bikes, beer snobbery, bluegrass, how amazing old vinyl is, and laments for the way things were back in the days when Kevin Bacon’s Footloose was cool and before we got real jobs working for the man.  We caused this – you and I with our own smugness.  Our own blathering on and on about bike polo and hot nerdy girls.  Our fault.

This girl and maybe millions like her are the worker bees that will fund the twilight of SSI and try to figure out how to clean up the mess we, our parents, and our grand parents have made of things here on terra firma.  We’re fucked.  How in the bejesus is all that going to happen when The League of Hipster Youth is trying, this very minute, to figure out how to extend their stay in mom’s basement indefinantly so they can use “their” money for music, handmade bikes, Apple products, PBR, and primo hindukush?!  Again, we’re fucked.

My Kindle e-reader is about to be even more awesome!

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I was reading the Seattle Times on my Kindle saturday morning while having my coffee and croissant and what appears before me: “Owners of the Kindle from Amazon will be able to download e-books from 11,000 U.S. libraries later this year, the company said Wednesday.” This is HUGE.  The one reason that I ever even give the Nook a passing glance is because I could use it at the library.  Living a few houses from my local branch has saved us some cash, but my wife mentioned last week that my e-book shopping is getting spendy.  Problem solved!  Man, I want to hop up from my bench, drop my oar and dance in the bilge, err I mean push away from my keyboard, leave my perfectly 5S’ed cubicle, and see the sun outside.

Spring in Belfast, Northern Ireland

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One of the reasons my J-O-B pays me the medium bucks is because I will travel anywhere in the world with little to zero notice.  I again proved that last week when, with two hours notice, I hopped on a plane from Seattle to Northern Ireland two days before the Memorial Day weekend.  Stamps-With-Foot was none too happy.  I bought her shiny objects while there to quell the violence in her heart.  Man, she really likes shinny stuff because I haven’t heard one more cross word from her about my trip and I am starting to wonder if she relishes when I travel so that she can display annoyance and mock anger to receive sparkly bobbles and guilt-heavy jewelry.

Some rough initial, unedited opinions of Belfast:

  1. Strong northern winds blowing when I arrived brought in the smell of cattle and pastures – the sweet decay of manure and decomposing grass.
  2. Road right-of-way here is on the left side of the road.  This makes me a hazard to curbs, rental cars and living beings.  I also noticed after repeatedly walking against the flow of foot traffic on the street that people here walk on the left of sidewalk and escalators are left-flow as well.  It’s the little things one notices.
  3. There exists a weird pocket version of adolescence rebellion Northern Ireland: lily-white 12-18 year old boys who are overly groomed, cell phone to ear with hip-hop blaring, trying to look tough – Impossible when one is wearing his collar popped and has his feet shod in white leather slip-ons.
  4. I went on a hop-on hop-off city tour that included drives down the Falls Road and Shankill Road areas of town were 40’ high barriers, blast walls, bullet scarred bricks, and where victims’ and martyrs’ murals take up the entire sides of buildings and.  There is not an inch of street in those neighborhoods that doesn’t hold some palpable sad memory for some.  It was spooky and sad and made me say a prayer of thanks for my lower-middle class childhood.  Growing up in Belfast during The Troubles, in a constant state of fear and vengeance would have probably led me to a very angry and short life.
  5. This land is a sea of red hair. Most of it real, some from a bottle, one 20-something lass walked into view with natural ginger roots and pink/red tips. An Asian teen and a black girl with red dos also strolled by my people-watching perch – Were they red-headed just to blend…?
  6. I happened to stop in at a mass at St. Mary’s (walked out of Kelly’s Bar and there was a church, what do you do?) and police had to be called because of drunk/high/ crazy lady (maybe she was all three) interrupted mass and tried to take over the microphone at the pulpit.  – High drama.
  7. Traveling without my wife is lonely and sucky.  The sharing of things and people seen, food eaten, and the smell of the flower and grocery markets is a thing not to be trivialized.
  8. Every third word I here is “fock” or “focking.”  Spoken with gusto by men, women, teens and kids (one lad with spiky hair, maybe ten, at an international food market said today: “Ah fock this ma, I wanta go home”). It seems that the Northern Irish have such a great affinity for this word and use it as much as possible in an apparent attempt to claim it as their own.
  9. I went to Madden’s Bar to drink a pint and listen to the advertised Irish trad music. Walked in for the last 30 minutes of the Champions League final between FC Barcelona and Manchester United. As I sat down, Barcelona scored (final was 3-1 Barcelona) and the crowd cheered.  Apparently, I was in a Nationalist/Republican Pub…  I kept my United love to my focking self and drank my focking Guinness as focking quietly as focking possible. Music was great though.
  10. For some reason biking in Belfast is not wide spread. It can’t be due to a northern Irish aversion to 2 wheels:  I arrived on a Thursday afternoon and the roadways between villages were packed with road bikers all kitted up in multi-colored spandex.  Really, hundreds of them, but in the city it seems like almost no one rides.  I went out walking on a mostly sunny afternoon in the central part of downtown and saw maybe 15 people riding all day.  There was only one fixed speed wonder and only 1 guy on a trials bike (Danny MacAskill fan I would bet) out hopping on to park benches, walls, and planters.  It is not the weather – London and Hamburg are full of bikes. The Belfast streets are broad and flat.  It must be something left over from The Troubles, I don’t know and didn’t get a chance to ask.
  11. As discovered when Stamps-With-Foot and I were in Dublin – Guinness is better in Ireland!

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Bad Luck or Karma Boomerang?

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When you open up your travel toiletries kit and you find that your toothbrush is broken in half after 20+ hours of flight-time and after arriving at your hotel just as all the local shops close, you have two choices:  Use the nub or go to bed with fuzzy teeth.  I chose the former and as I made a mess of things, I couldn’t help think that I must have set my karma on fire at some point in my recent travels in order to deserve the splotch of toothpaste that somehow landed in my right eye.  Did one of the ferns I took out of the yard have a Secret of NIMH expansion colony under it?  Did I cause a bride-to-be in transit to miss her wedding by taking a specific parking spot?  Was the taxi I took from the airport destined for more worthy/needy passengers?  Did I drink the last beer in the last keg of Guinness at a pub on St. Paddy’s Day and did violence ensue? 

The City of Light

/ Matt Talley / 3 Comments

Just before Christmas the news was filled with people stuck in the major European airports for days due to weather delays.  I was one of those souls.  I, however, made lemonade out of lemons and spent an afternoon roaming central Paris, the city of light!

I was bumped from two flights and told to come back to the gate for the next available flight – in 12.5 hours! Uhhh… OK….  I have been to Paris enough times over the last 10 years to have a pretty good handle on the transport system.  From Charles de Gaulle Airport there is a RER train that, for $10, will take you into the heart of the city, a trip that takes around 35 minutes.  It had been snowing like mad that morning, but when I stepped off the train at the Saint Michel Metro stop, the grey skis parted and the sky turned a brilliant blue.  It stayed that way for three hours before the clouds and snow moved back in.

I rushed over to Notre-Dame because in the 20-odd times that I have been to Paris, I have never been inside.  It always seems to be summer and the line to get in is normally oppressively long so I skip it.  Being a COLD winter day there was no line at all!  I removed my hat, opened the door walked into the naïve, kneeled, crossed myself, and proceeded to tear up like a little girl.  It was stunning!!  I walked around the church for almost two hours, exploring every corner.  There was so much beauty and a glossy magazine worthy picture opertunity at every turn.  I just wish Laurel and the kids could have been there to see it!  We will be back.

I reluctantly left Norte-Dame and headed over the Seine to Shakespeare & Co. bookstore.  It crowded dusty shelves make me oh so happy.  I browsed, listened to the proprietress’s sweet voice laugh and chit-chat in both French and English, I took a few pictures and bought a couple of books.  From there I walked to a Crepe stand in the Latin Quarter and ate my savory crepe in the shadow of the “oldest” tree in Paris.

At 4:00 I headed over for the Catacombs tour.  6+ million of Paris’s former residents now reside in former quarry tunnels under the city.  In a word, spooky!  I left the hour long tour is a pensive, reflective mood.  I took the RER back to the airport, my “scheduled” flight was still active and I settled in for a wait.  After a few more delays, I flew out just before all flights were cancelled and an hour before Terminal #2 was evacuated because of the weight of snow on the roof.

Traveling light is the key to airport happiness

/ Matt Talley / 1 Comment

Have you flown anywhere recently?  It SUCKS!  Getting through security means stripping, flights are canceled, there is no free food, getting a seat in an exit row or behind a bulkhead now costs extra, rental car rates are insane, lost bags are the rule, everyone is pissed off, and I recently paid $30 hotel tax on a $120 a night room.  I can’t throw my hands up and stay home – I work in the aircraft industry and often fly on business trips with NO notice.  Instead of just bitching about it all and suffering through, I decided to see what I could do to make the experience better.

I have drastically cut out the amount of crap I carry.  I used to travel in a suit, carry my laptop, assorted files, my running shoes, a couple changes of clothes, a couple books, my notebook, a camera, S³ kit, extra batteries, pens, noise-canceling headphones, etc…  For an overnight business trip now, I travel in running clothes, fold my work clothes flat next to my laptop (sometimes I leave the laptop and just take a Bluetooth keyboard for the phone), never check a bag, pack a couple of Clif bars, take one book (soon to be an eReader), one Moleskine notebook, an extra dress shirt, 2 pens, my iPhone, phone charger, 1 set of extra socks, small apple earphones, undies and undershirt, tooth brush, deodorant, toothpaste, and floss.  I use the soap and shampoo in the hotel – that is what it is there for. I grab a coffee in the terminal before the flight, pick up some fruit, and I am not beyond some social engineering to get a better seat: ‘Excuse me, but I am feeling really ill.  Is there an aisle seat near the bathroom?’

I pack just as light if I am flying to see the kids or as a tourist.  Couple shirts, flip-flops, extra jeans, hat, S³ kit, and I refuse to take a laptop on vacation.  It is not worth the security hassle and I may be tempted to work instead of relaxing or enjoying myself.  I have also been graced with a wife who does not pack a steamer trunk full of shoes for a weekend getaway.  It feels really freeing not to have to wait at baggage return or lug a heavy weight suitcase around.

I addition to the above, I have spent years (and lots of pain) developing Talley’s Rules of Travel.  I hope it helps someone: