andamu

Vacation Fever

[ update ] I caught an actual glimpse of the Phantom Ice Cream Truck! Pretty bland, a white box with a few little stickers on the back window. When I grew up ice cream trucks were brightly painted with pictures, for maximum kid-attraction. I did manage to identify the tinkly tune this time, though: "Music Box Dancer." :: [ vacation ] Angel Face is SO excited. For the past few days she repeatedly interrupts whatever she's doing to tell us: "Doddamma and Mamma and Peddananna and me and Mamma and Doddamma are going to fly in the plane. We're going to fly to China! (Don't know where she got that bit.) It's big big big plane and we have to sit still and fasten our belts and all my friends are going to come with me (sorry, kid) and we're going to fly fly fly and you and me and Peddananna and Mamma and you - and me - are going to go in the plane!" I showed her her little finger on the left hand is Monday. The ringfinger is Tuesday, and the middle finger is Wednesday. Made a cross on that finger so that she can remember which one. So when she would come and yet again want to know when we are flying, we can play the finger game - seems to work well and helps her to manage this weird concept of time to which grown-ups seem shackled. She was afraid to go to sleep last night - scared she might miss the flight. We had to assure her that (a) we cannot go in the plane if she doesn't sleep, and (b) that she would still need another nap in the morning before we can fly. The flight only leaves around 2 p.m., which is why I am at work this morning. Means I only need to take a half-day today (and saves some hours for emergencies), plus I've finished packing and now don't need to get tense by the last minute scurrying at home. :: [ bugs ] Nini has a sore, scratchy throat and only about 25% voice. She assures me she is feeling fine otherwise - no body aches, no coughing, sneezing and the like. I feel so bad for her, and am trying to care of some of her responsibilities unobtrusively, while keeping at least ten feet away. I don't know why, but I have become a germ magnet all of a sudden. And once a bug gets me, it keeps me down as long as possible. The strangest thing though seems to be the timing. I might start feeling grotty around Wednesday or Thursday, be getting really bad on Friday yet just well enough to scrape through the day, and then sharply deteriorate once I get home. Spend the entire weekend seemingly at death's door until Sunday late afternoon when a slight improvement appears, and by Monday morning I can move around just well enough to go back to work. I am starting to suspect that all viruses and bacteria have signed contracts with my company to be allowed to operate in this area! :: We're taking the laptop along with us to the Bay, and of course the camera. My precious one, as usual, spent at least 5 days shopping around for the best hotel deals, and made sure that they had complimentary high-speed internet...

Posted on September 8, 2004 7:49 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Eventful Journeys

[ flight ] Flying from Portland always present the possibility of stunning views, provided of course that (a) it is reasonably clear (as it is in summer) and (b) it is daytime. We had a few discrete wispy clouds floating across our field of vision, but not obscuring the image of the sequence of bridges across the Willamette. And we needed a sweetener after the hour delay in our flight. Alaska handed out "Air Care Kits," little folders with $5 food vouchers, 10 min. calling cards and $25/1,000 mile flight coupons. Fortunately we had the foresight not to mention that we were delayed to the little one, so we avoided the endless toddler nagging, and we found enough of whimsical interest to keep her occupied until the flight boarded. The clouds became more dense later, so we did not get any spectacular views of the mountains, with the exception of Mt. Hood, my favorite. :: [ Sacramento ] Landing in Sacramento was reminiscent to Fargo in some ways - the patchwork of agricultural land, flat as far as the eye can see. The difference lay in the colors and the shiny straight ruler of the canal, and the irrigation ditches running across the fields. The fields were a softer version of a lime green with a dayglo quality to it. As we descended further, we could see the tiny yellow flowers through the darker green of the leaves, the combination giving the illusion of the unreal color from a distance. :: [ accident ] Despite arriving at the start of rush hour, the traffic was not too bad. There was the usual "jam-packed but moving freely, if well below the limit" stretches and a couple of miles of the "stop-and-start grind your teeth in frustration" type. Ironically, the accident happened after the road cleared up: each vehicle had space enough to maintain a legal following distance (if they were so inclined), and there were even clear stretches randomly interspersed in each of the three ordinary lanes, with larger empty spaces in the HOV lane where we four were traveling. On the whole the traffic was moving along somewhere between the speed limit and about ten miles over, when a car roared past at startling speed, weaving within the three ordinary lanes, stealing following distances, until his progress was blocked ahead. He was followed a moment later by another car, this one even faster, flicking between lanes and forcing spaces where none existed by changing lanes almost blindly, causing cars to swerve and brake to avoid running into him. When both of the vehicles landed in the third lane with no immediate way forward except through the HOV lane (which they both avoided) the first car suddenly slammed on his brakes, causing the second almost to rear-end him; apparently there was a direct engagement between the two, and had been for some distance. When a gap opened up again, off they both were, ducking and crocheting back and forth until the first car was in the third lane, the second in the first lane, and both aimed for the same gap in the center lane and broadsided one another. The second vehicle, damaged, spun out across the road to the right shoulder, and ended up facing the traffic. The first vehicled spun to his left, across the third lane, across the HOV lane, into the concrete barrier, bounced off, spun back, hit the barrier again, and finally came to a rest partly inside the HOV lane. Amazingly, not a single other vehicle was hit (that we could see) in the incident, and Nini saw both drivers grab their cell phones, so they were both alive. I was the next driver in the HOV lane, and had it not been for my relatively sedate pace and the great distance to the driver ahead of me, I might have slammed into that first car that bounced off the barrier. :: [ Sunnyvale/San Jose ] The motel for the first night was a total disappointment. It was poorly maintained and most features worked poorly. The air-conditioner was a window unit that was mounted in a hole in the wall, at the ceiling, and could not manage to make a dent in the hot, dense, stale air that hung inside the room. The bath was blackened in areas where the grime from thousands of dirty feet had been indifferently scrubbed, and the louvre window had a thick layer of dust with clumps stuck in the corners. The armchair smelled like a dirty woolly dog that had been caught in the rain. Their "high speed internet" was a secure wireless connection that had a whole instruction sheet on how to configure the laptop. After 1.5 hours both the Computer Engineer and the Electrical Engineer in our family gave up, and none of the staff knew anything about it: they just pointed helplessly to the instruction sheet. :: The highlight of the evening was seeing the quintessential San Jose sunset - looking east and seeing the hills tinted a dusky pink - to the west all you see is a watery non-descript amber glow. And of course the dinner at Mayuri on El Camino Real with Manas. It was wonderful to catch up again, even though he met us alone, and the food was as good as we remembered. I ended up going back three times for more charu (rasam), the best I have had in a very long time.

Posted on September 8, 2004 8:28 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Sunnyvale & Monterey

Yes, I am indeed messing with the dates. It seems to make more sense to let Friday's activities have Friday's date on their post. In general we had way too much fun, and reached the hotel way too late and tired to give me much time to fine tune a blog. :: We were so happy to leave the icky motel in Sunnyvale. The bed had been so uncomfortable that I got up in pain around midnight, threw the bed spread over the smelly chair and dozed fitfully in that the rest of the night. The "continental" breakfast turned out to be plastic coffee and long-life plastic-wrapped "danish." Dragging our suitcases down the stairs reeking of stale urine, across the cigar stubs littering the lawn and the green pool, we could not get out of there fast enough! :: We tried for a real breakfast at Komala Vilas. As always, the tiffin was great, and the attitude towards customers seemed greatly improved. It was the first time I had green upma - i.e. with a whole lot of cilantro chopped into it, but the result was very fresh and tasty. The sambar was true tiffin sambar, not meals sambar, and the coconut chutney was excellent. Angel Face wolfed down two entire (giant-sized) idli, and drank half of Nini's coffee. Then we did some shopping in India Cash and Carry, and bemoaned the fact that we couldn't take more of the fresh and frozen stuff back with us. And the little one was highly impressed with the fact that we managed to find "koei," her Marmite, or in this case, Vegemite! :: Then we headed South toward Monterey, with a quick detour to see our old duplex in Blossom Hill. We stopped at the Garlic Shop in Gilroy ("The Garlic Capital of the World") so that Nini could have a look at all things garlic, including garlic ice cream, and garlic and honey roasted peanuts. Strange how we change. Where before she would have been raring to try and buy, now she had only a kind of amused interest. I guess garlic really does get out of your system after a while - and she had been with us in our mostly garlic-free home for about ten months now. Not that we are fanatically anti-garlic, but I like it only as subtle flavoring, and all of us strongly dislike the after-effects. There were some horses in a camp on the hill at the exit, and the little one was over the moon, and insisted on some pictures. They were pretty far away, and while she did get her picture, I ended up snapping more of the hill, the gnarled trees, the texture and blue sky. :: Just before the Tourist Information building we pulled off at a little park with a fountain playing over a sculpture, and lots of ducks, geese and gulls. I ended up with tree gum all over my blouse after leaning across a low branch to get closer to some preening ducks. Fortunately the rental van had tinted windows, and since we had checked out of the first motel we had our suitcases with us, so I could do a quick change. Then it was on to Fisherman's Wharf where we played rubber-necking tourists, gaping at everything from the beautiful seaviews to the garden of succulents around the historic buildings. Angel Face had a marvelous time; running up and down, trying out the various benches, getting up close to fountains, climbing on every coin-operated ride, gaping at the displays and just generally reveling in the wonder of being a kid at the seaside. Lunch was at Abelonetti's which seemed to have the most options for vegetarians on offer - mpo was a little disappointed that they did not offer the mango margarita that he had for some reason set his heart on. The food was, well, variable. The pizzas were fine, but the antipasto was regrettable.

Posted on September 9, 2004 9:57 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Day's End

[ Thursday, continued ]
Leaving Fisherman's Wharf we got lost in town trying to find the scenic route and little park that mpo and I had visited with friends a few years ago. To my surprise, we did manage to stumble across it again, but by then the clouds had moved in much closer, and a few droplets spiked the wind. The few pictures I managed to grab has a moody quality to them.
Our previous visit had been in spring, and had made for much prettier views, including the dayglo magenta of the succulent flowers covering the entire cliff around the bay.
::
We returned to the Bay via California SR 1, which winds all along the coast for a slow drive but breath taking scenery, all the way up to Half Moon Bay, and then went to I280 to get to South San Francisco where we were to stay the next two nights.
Because the drive was slow and it was getting late, we did not stop anywhere along the way for pictures. Nini managed to snap a couple from the back seat.
::
Our hotel was far better than the one in which we had spent the previous night! The only drawback (there has to be one, of course) was that it had only one bed, a king, and a sleeper couch. Those things are medieval instruments of torture. Our best way around it seemed that Nini would sleep on the couch as a couch, without opening the bed - it was certainly long and comfortable enough for that, which would mean that Angel Face would end up in bed with me and mpo.
My usual complaint about king-size beds is that they are so big that we end up sleeping totally isolated on opposite ends, instead of cuddling frequently but with enough space to call our own on a queen. Add a little one to the bed, however, and even a king becomes too small; she seem to sleep spread-eagled and at odd angles.
At least we all got a decent night's sleep in clean, working surroundings, and the high-speed internet actually worked.
For dinner we drove to San Mateo to Bombay Garden. The food was quite nice for the standard mughlai-type place, even if the "South Indian Coffee" was made with instant powder.

Posted on September 9, 2004 11:37 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

San Francisco

It seemed as if the entire Bay area was covered in bold murals. From the window in our hotel room we could catch a glimpse of a brightly colored one, mostly obscured by fencing and intervening structures. Once we reached the CalTrain station we could see it in its full glory, painted under an overpass in the car park where the shelters are to wait for the train, a shaft of light at a random diagonal angle illuminating the image. :: The CalTrain took us in to San Francisco where we bought day passes for public transport. And then our expedition started. Catching the Muni (light rail) N Judah outbound, we went until 8th Avenue, where we caught the No. 44 Bus, thinking it would drop us close to the Japanese Tea Garden. It did not, instead stopping on the North side of the Golden Gate Park, so we decided to hike back into the park to the garden, where we promptly ran into a major construction project, with only vague indications of which way to get around it. In the mean time it was getting close to noon, and our breakfast, though much better at this hotel, was still very light and I had had no snack in between. My blood sugar plummeted and I started to feel all the signs of an impending crash: the shaking, clamminess, disorientation. Digging for my emergency glucose tablets, I manage to ward off immediate danger, but it told us clearly that we should look for a place to have lunch. Regretfully giving up the Japanese Tea Garden as out of our reach, we stopped for a few minutes to let the poppet work off some excess energy at the massive blue playground structure, before returning to the bus stand. At first we thought we would try to catch a bus going east, back to downtown, but ended up on the same No. 44, going back South of the Park. We trooped into an Indian restaurant advertising a lunch buffet, only to turn around again, since the meager choices were uninspiring. With several others to choose from, we ended inside Park Chow, a trendy restaurant with an interesting menu - all in all a good choice. :: Then back on the Muni, continuing westwards to 19th Avenue, where we went on a proper safari - even ended up going in circles - to find a bus stop for the No. 29. This bus route goes on Lincoln Boulevard along the West coast through the Golden Gate National Recreation Area, where we hoped to get some brilliant views of the bridge. And they were breath-taking! The bus made two unscheduled stops to let off other sightseers, and at the second of these, we decided to get down as well. Amazing views, but since it was an unscheduled stop, we were unsure of whether we would be able to get a bus again. We waited almost an hour for a bus that is supposed to run every 30 mins. and were getting truly desperate when one finally appeared. It turned out that the proper vista point and entrance to the bridge was less than 15 minutes' walk further along - if only we had known! This allowed us views of the bridge from the other angle as well, Alcatraz and all the touristy things like the section of the massive cable that is used in the bridge, and a close up of some of the >27,500 wires that make up that cable! :: Bus No. 28 took us eastwards, back toward town, No. 22 took us South a bit, and No. 1 took us into the heart of China Town. After browsing around a while, and gaping at the intricate details you only notice when looking up at the top levels of the buildings, we came to the conclusion that we were all knackered. We found a completely vegetarian Chinese restaurant for dinner, and then climbed the steps back up to California Avenue to grab the cable car. After all, no visit to San Francisco would be complete without a ride in one of these, right? We ended up going in the wrong direction, but fortunately since we had the daily passes, we just waited it out and rode it all the way back again to the Embarcadero where we wanted to be in the first place. :: The conductor was a jovial fellow who encouraged us to sit on the open benches after the majority of passengers had disembarked, and I clung to Angel Face for dear life after snaking my leg around one of the supports, so scared that she would impulsively lean forward and fall into the road. When we reached the terminus, the conductor invited her to ring the bell, and that absolutely made that little girl's day. At the Embarcadero we had to wait a while for the right Muni, and by the time we reach the Cal Train station, we had missed our train by 4 minutes. So, nothing could be done but settle in for an hour's wait for the next one. :: All in all a long, exhausting day, but a thoroughly satisfying one. We had missed out on two of our main agenda items: the Japanese Tea Gardens (due to the building projects in the park) and the crooked bit of Lombard Street (time constraints given the long waits for buses), but what we did see and experience more than made up for it. It had been my first visit to the Golden Gate bridge despite the fact that we had had visited there before and had even lived in the Bay area for a while, and for Nini the bridge was a particularly powerful and moving sight, one of the entries on her "Must-See before I die"-list.

Posted on September 10, 2004 8:59 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Leaving (on a jet plane)

Great news! My precious one had been walking up and down all across San Francisco, and had no pain. Well, he was tired, and had some aching muscles, but none of the pain in the calves or the buttocks that was a result of the occluded arteries prior to his angioplasties and the stents. This is the first real proof we've had that the procedures had been worth it. :: We decided to take El Camino Real instead of the highway down the Bay, so that Nini could see all the different communities and the way their characters change as we move southwards. Of all the sights we saw, the most unexpected and delightful was a very orthodox looking church with multiple onion domes, the main entire gold-leafed, and the smaller ones painted an azure blue with gold stars sprinkled all over. Some fast turns and crossed fingers brought us back to the spot so that we could snap some pictures - however we could not see any indication of the name or denomination of the church. The image of the incongruous domes glistening in the morning sun among the mundane houses and apartments will remain with us for a long time. :: Our El Camino trip ended at Mayuri and the Sabzi Masala by New India Bazar next door. The lunch buffet was the perfect way to say good bye to the desi milieu of the Bay, and we stocked up on a last few pieces of Indian and British/South African groceries. The best part was finding the beautifully fresh vegetables, and at bargain prices too. This meant a week back at home with fresh authentic food! :: It makes perfect sense of course to put up the maps of where we'd been and what we've done at the END of our trip. Actually it is because I haven't had the time to create them before now, but better late than never, right? It is not possible to put the maps up large enough here to see the detail, but clicking on them should open them nice and big in a new window.

Posted on September 11, 2004 9:08 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

"flysacramento"

Posted on September 12, 2004 7:39 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

The Contrariness of Sleep: Part II

Sunset at O'Hare, Dec. 31, '02, waiting for our flight to board.

Two years ago today we arrived at Heathrow for a two-and-a-half week vacation in the U.K. Vacation? In the U.K. in January?! Dear reader, your incredulity is certainly well-founded, but we had a number of reasons for going at that time. The advantage of going to Britain (or indeed most of Europe apart from the ski resorts) during winter is that it is outside the tourist season, resulting in lower prices and smaller crowds. Also, most private accommodations (Bed & breakfast, self-catering etc.) and many hotels, even four and five star ones, have neither air-conditioning, nor good ventilation; summer is generally too brief to warrant the expensive overhaul of ancient buildings. But during that period, the heat settles in like a hot wet blanket, suffocating and impossible to escape. Heating, on the other hand, they have had a lot of practice with!

The disadvantages are first, that it is outside tourist season, so a number of tourist attractions are either closed (like the London Eye’s annual maintenance overhaul) or have shortened hours, and second, that it is, well, midwinter! It is cold, especially when walking outside for extended periods, and daylight is precious. Sunrise and sunset when we arrived were at 8.06 a.m. and 4.02 p.m. respectively; by the time we left it had stretched to 7.58 a.m. and 4.23 p.m. On top of that, our trusty Dorling Kindersley travel guide warned us that the average daily hours of sunshine during January in both London and the “Heart of England” was a miserly 1.5.
::
I had had the opportunity to visit England and Wales for 8 weeks in the summer of 1996 as a journalist. It had been a wonderful experience, but also a very frustrating one. I did not have transport of my own (the vehicle was rented in another journalist's name), so unless we were in a city with a good public transport system, I was relatively stranded. Also the work hours were such, and the itinerary so cramped that I had the minimum free time (and much of that had to be spent at the laundrette).
I did however grab every possible opportunity to do as much sightseeing as possible, and this trip was an attempt to fill in the blanks for me, and for me to show mpo a lot of the things that I had valued on my previous trip.
::
Rule #1: NEVER plan to drive a significant distance straight off a transatlantic flight.

I sleep poorly – if at all – on planes, and the previous night had not seen much sleep either, given my excitement and the inevitable worry about little details.
In Britain, even spouses have to pay a sizeable extra fee to drive a rental car. Thus, given that I grew up, got my license and drove for ten years in a country where we drive on the left side of the road in right hand drive, stick shift vehicles, I became the sole driver of the ice blue Fiat Stilo.

The rhythmic slap of the windshield wipers through the pouring rain, the release of anticipatory tension and more than 48 hours with little or no sleep turned slumber into a heavy weight that slowly and inexorably pressed down on my eyes and the back of my head.
I tried everything I could to fight it off: frequently and violently shook my head, got mpo to talk to me in a constant stream, directed icy cold air full force on my face, turned on the radio full blast and experimented with classical, jazz, rock and talk radio, chewed gum, drank soda – but nothing, NOTHING could dissuade the creeping sleep for more than a few minutes at a time.

In desperation I pulled off at the first truck stop, parked the car in a quiet spot and put the seat back so that I could sleep for a while: and was immediately wide awake!
After half-an-hour of unsuccessfully trying to sleep, we got out, visited the rest rooms, had a belated lunch in the food court, stocked up on candy and soda, and grabbed some fresh air among the raindrops.
With daylight frittering away, we knew it would be disastrous to be on the road for too long after dark, so we got back on the highway. Within ten minutes, I was fighting off the same insistent, importune sleep.

We ended up hopping from truck stop to truck stop, (roughly thirty miles apart, if memory serves), until our nightmarish ride finally came to an end on the outskirts of Bristol. By now it was strongly dark, and we had to find our hotel in an unfamiliar city with a lot of confusing roundabouts. Which brings us to this:

Rule # 2: Avoid searching for addresses after dark, especially in unfamiliar places.

Posted on January 1, 2005 8:16 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)

Itinerary

Posted on January 2, 2005 6:04 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

Getting lost on the Roundabouts

Rule # 2: Avoid searching for addresses after dark, especially in unfamiliar places.

The biggest surprise about the room, after we triple-backed and found the hotel, was absence of a telephone. We had brought our GSM dual-band cell phone along and bought a local card for it, but my precious one had been dying to check e-mail and spend some time catching up on the latest news on the internet, and for that we needed a landline.
After steamy showers to wash away the grime of the flight and the day, we went looking for dinner, and found that very few restaurants were open in the evening on New Year’s Day; certainly none that we could find. We ended up buying sandwiches from a gas station convenience store for our first dinner in England.
::

Thursday, Jan. 2, 2003

We slept soundly – little surprise in our exhausted state – and awoke reasonably refreshed, if a little disoriented. We had a full agenda for the day and precious few daylight hours to get our sightseeing done, so we could not afford to sleep in; this was definitely going to be a very hardworking vacation.

Image of the Westbury White Horse, taken from this site. Uffington White Horse, taken from here

We planned to kick off our explorations with a visit to one of the ultimate tourist attractions, Stonehenge, then move on to Salisbury Cathedral and drop by Westbury for a quick look at the White Horse, 180 feet long and 107 feet high at the shoulder, carved into the limestone of the hill. This ancient carving, thought to commemorate Alfred the Great's victory over the Danes at Ethandun A.D. 878, is a much more realistic representation of a horse than the rather abstract one outside Uffington. But we had arrived in the midst of a series of floods in England and Wales, triggered by unusually heavy winter rains, with a broad swathe across the lower central part of the country affected. As we entered a small town on our way, we were diverted by police because of flooding ahead, and advised that a large part of our intended route would be closed. They made some suggestions for alternates, but we ended up lost and driving mostly on faith in the general direction of south, and hoping for the best.

We finally reached the town of Amesbury, completely confused, and having lost the signs for Stonehenge went round several roundabouts several times each, back and forth, until we finally decided to stop at a grocery store and ask for directions. It turned out that Amesbury is the closest town to Stonehenge, so we did not have too far to go, but what amazed us was that three of the employees of the store did not know how to get there.

Posted on January 3, 2005 12:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

The story behind the story

I started writing my United Kingdom travelogue because... because... well, truth be told, because I am incredibly verbose and I just can't make do with one word where I could possibly use fifteen.
I had been making some graphic layouts with some of the pictures from that journey, and I kept feeling the need to set the scene, place everything in context, tell the story behind the picture - which would ruin the layout but, without which, the layout is incomplete.
As a compromise I promised myself that I would write the whole story down, as a companion document.
"Uh-oh," you are no doubt thinking. "A brief to tell the whole story? Here comes trouble."
And you are right. As I progressed, I realized that telling every day, day-by-day is not enough. Now I have stories behind those stories to tell. And so the travelogue split into three pieces, distinct but complementary.

• The chronological sequence.
• The Rules. Actually an explanation or "translation" of things that would be unusual to people outside of the United Kingdom, along with some down-home travel tips.
• Some thoughts relating to preparation, including choice of travel guides, atlases, accommodation and the like.

Yes, I did warn you, didn't I?
Editing and reorganizing the (incomplete) work for blog posts brought a new dimension to the travelogue: I can now use hyperlinks to illustrate and annotate various aspects. And I will launch straight into that with this post.
You have already been exposed to Rules #1 and #2. Here then is Rule #3, because it is relevant, and will help make sense of both what came before and what is to come later.
::

Rule #3: Roundabouts are and are not Traffic Circles.

Roundabouts are unnerving and strange, and totally intimidating. The first three or four times that you use them, that is.
No matter how well you prepare you are likely to mess up a bit, miss your turn, land in the wrong lane, go around three times, and get a couple of horns blaring at you.

So what.

Like most things in life you'll soon get the hang of them and wonder what all the fuss had been about.
They are used all over Britain in place of traffic lights or entries and exits to highways.

SmartDriving has clear and simple advice on using a roundabout: Traffic moves around in a clockwise direction and you give way (yield) to traffic already circulating before you enter. 1. Turning left Approach in the left-hand lane with a left-turn signal. Maintain your signal and position as you drive to your exit. Cancel your signal after you leave the roundabout. 2. Going ahead Approach in the left-hand lane without a signal. Keep left as you drive to your exit. Signal left as you pass the exit before the one that you intend to take. 3. Turning right Signal right, approach in the right-hand lane, maintain your signal and position until you are passing the exit before the one you want, signal left and move to the left-hand lane in order to leave the roundabout. The 12 o’clock rule As a general rule, exits beyond ‘12 o’clock’ can be considered as right turns unless local conditions or markings indicate otherwise (this is a general rule - commonsense will guide you!)

::
Wikipedia has a very thorough article on roundabouts, including a marvelous animation of a roundabout in action, right down to the turn indicators on the little cars.
2pass has an interactive applet, with audio, and step-by-step animations.

Posted on January 4, 2005 8:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (8)

Stonehenge

Thursday, Jan. 2, 2003 (Continued)



Surprisingly little production was made of the site; throughout we had seen only the small brown tourist boards indicating directions, and now, driving from the less-traveled Amesbury side, we saw but one small, discreet sign indicating the way.

Stonehenge is quite isolated, on the top of a gentle hillock, set among a series of such hillocks, with a road running past it. The tourist parking lot is on the other side of the road, and a subway emerges with a direct view of the stones after taking pedestrians safely underneath the road.

It was an overcast day with sudden gusts of cold wind, occasional spatterings of raindrops and a few very rare, all too brief glimpses of sunshine – in other words, a typical day in January in England.
Since the ground was soaking and the volume of visitors relatively low, most of the walkway was closed off, and we were not able to circle the stones; we had to be content with a cord cutting across the perimeter. It did take us quite close to the main circle, however, and showed us some of the most famous views.

We had paid for the audio sticks with information on the site, a guided tour if you will, but it was clearly paced for summer, when the throngs slow down progress to a crawl, and one would be standing next to each rock along the way for quite a while. In winter, this was far too much information for all but the most dedicated of zealots, and after a few (increasingly less enthusiastic) attempts with the wind miserably seeking every exposed or thinly covered body part, we basically abandoned the idea of listening to the commentary.

The wind and intermittent sprinkles quickly became too much for mpo after he had his initial look, and he returned to wait in the car. To be honest, if I had not been so obsessed with trying to capture it from every possible angle available to me, and waiting desperately for a magic moment of sunshine to illuminate the ancient monument, I probably would have felt the same.
The view of the surrounding countryside also warranted a few snaps while waiting for the sun to appear: the vantage point from the top of the hill afforded views of the rolling and undulating landscape encircling us, with meadows and copses of trees and livestock roaming in the distance.
As it was, when the sun found a crack in the clouds it was worth the wait and cold: the color of the stones, the rich green of the grass, the golden light - it was all I could have imagined, and more. What a pity then that my lens had a few stray droplets on it and that they distorted every picture I had taken in the sun!



::
Thawing out in the car afterwards, we set off for Salisbury as my fingers slowly returned to life – the fine controls on a camera are difficult to work while wearing gloves.

Posted on January 6, 2005 6:52 AM | Permalink | Comments (5)

Reaching Salisbury

Detail above the massive main entrance. More images in the photo album of Salisbury Cathedral. This map from the official website of Salisbury Cathedral. The map is interactive, highlighting the key buildings on mouse over, and popping up a label with its name. The entire website is wonderful to browse for more information on the Cathedral and its history. Non-IE users might experience some problems with some of the interactive pages, however.

Thursday, Jan. 2, 2003 (Continued) Once we reached Salisbury we did not have too much trouble locating the cathedral compound - or more properly, the Cathedral Close - within the city; what did present great difficulty was finding some space to park. The only parking area that we could find within reasonable walking distance was located at the center of a maze of one way streets, and totally jam-packed. This brought home another truth to us: it is not only because gas sells at around $5.70 a gallon that the average car in Britain is at least two levels smaller than that in the U.S., it is also because of the narrowness of the roads – existing long before cars – and the extremely cramped parking spots. After our third circuit through that section of the city brought us back again to the same lot, and after we finally spied an opening, we managed to squeeze our vehicle in, and us out. The walk took us far longer than it usually would; first, remember that it was my first outing among all the old buildings on this trip to Britain, and second, remember all those beautiful old buildings! They just begged me to stop, bend my head backward and gape, even the half-timbered old hotel and pub, or perhaps especially the half-timbered old pub. The gatehouse entry into the Close has a high Gothic arch and seemed part of the continuous row of buildings. We were unprepared for a whole new (well, old really) town on the other side within the Close, and it was still a fair walk to the cathedral. The wondrous late afternoon light turned its lush lawn into an improbable green, with a modern work of art stuck seemingly randomly behind a grouping of benches. Of course, everyone knows this means that I spent a fair amount of time looking at (and photographing) this from every possible angle (and quite a few improbable ones too). It was around three o’clock already, with the sun sitting low in the sky on the other side of the cathedral, so our first view was of its silhouette. My initial impression was of a building quite similar in shape to the traditional churches among which I grew up, just much larger. In the gathering gloom on the eastern side it was difficult at first to make out much of the exterior detail, apart from the scaffolding and builders performing some much needed repairs. Even that could not hide the magnificence of the lines, the intricacy of the statuary and ornamentation, or the grandeur of the scale. I might have spent an hour outside looking at the details, were it not for the cold and the promise of the sights waiting inside.

Posted on January 9, 2005 3:28 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

Salisbury Cathedral

More images in the photo album of Salisbury Cathedral. This map from the official website of Salisbury Cathedral. The above is a wonderful website to browse for more information on the Cathedral and its history. Non-IE users might experience some problems with some of the interactive pages, however.

Thursday, Jan. 2, 2003 (Conclusion) And once we entered, oh, what sights awaited us! There were so many fine and interesting things throughout the Cathedral beyond the architecture itself. There were marvelous statues of great people buried there, smoothed stones with the engraved names of people laid to rest beneath them almost worn away, and the silent, moving display of the age-tattered and battle-scarred flags from the Wiltshire Regiment throughout centuries of war hanging in a row along the side. To me they all were merely incidental, bowever. My eye was drawn up along the slender columns to the magnificent ceilings above: The symmetry, the intricate patterns of the ribs, the play of light and shadow on the vaults, the detail, the design. Yes, it did not have the rich colors of Michelangelo’s masterpieces as in the Sistine Chapel – but it did not need it. In some ways, frescos would have ruined that ceiling, hiding the beauty of its structure. Along the nave the ceilings were decorated very simply, in fact, becoming slightly more elaborate in the Quire. Words are inadequate in attempting to describe it; literal attempts sound inadequate, and so an abstract will have to suffice: The Glory of Engineers, the Alleluias of Mathematicians, and the Odes of Architects. At the far end, in the Trinity Chapel, glowed a set of lancet windows, overwhelmingly blue, drawing the eye wherever one happened to be in the Nave. Outside in the Cloister Garth, a pair of trees towered in one corner, their free flowing forms a strong contrast to the strict symmetry and stark rigidity of the surrounding structure. The Cloister walk enclosing the garth had the same vaulted ceilings, with decorated arches framing the view to this inner sanctuary. The tearoom and shop hugged one side, set between the Cathedral and the Cloisters. It had a slanted glass ceiling like a conservatory through which we had a magnificent view of the bell tower. A quick cuppa fortified us for the walk back. When we left the Cathedral we found that twilight had already set in, which meant we had to scratch any thoughts of seeing the Westbury White Horse. In the end I suppose it is good to leave some things to do on a future trip. On the way to the car we ventured into a modern shopping mall disguised among historic buildings, and picked up a few sandwiches – more about those later.

Posted on January 13, 2005 1:09 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

An Ode to Portable Lunch

Posted on January 23, 2005 9:03 AM | Permalink | Comments (6)

Wells

More images in the photo album of Wells. I just found this map on the web, explaining our dilemma. Click to enlarge and pay close attention to the one-way direction arrows around the center, and you will understand why we kept circling, unable to find our way.

Friday, Jan. 3, 2003 The day’s program started with checking out of the hotel in Bristol. Despite spending two nights there, we left Bristol without exploring any of it, beyond getting lost in the dark trying to find an open restaurant on New Year's Day. Compared to the other items on our lists of must-sees, it became purely a convenient place to overnight; sad really, because I believe parts of it are lovely. After loading our bags in the car, we set off for Wells first, to be followed by Bath before driving through to Cardiff for the night. In England, the traditional definition of a city is a settlement with a diocesan Cathedral, which in turn is roughly defined as the seat of a bishop of a diocese. Contrary to popular belief the presence of a Cathedral alone is not enough; a royal charter designating a conurbation as a city is required (more detail).  Wells therefore is one of England’s smallest cities – but for the Cathedral it would have been a smallish market town. For such a small place it certainly gave us an inordinate amount of trouble to get where we wanted. The one way streets seemed to sweep us spiraling inward until, within reach of the Cathedral, we ran into a T-junction with a one way going in the (for us) wrong direction. At first unfazed we tried again, but no matter which route we followed, how different we tried to make our approach, at some stage we always ran into that same infuriating T-junction. We eventually gave up, pulled into a Park and Ride on the outskirts of town; and discovered a big map on a board which showed us how to get to a parking lot much closer to the Cathedral. Shifting to that lot turned out to be relatively painless after the preceding hour of frustration, and it allowed us to walk through the winding little streets and gaze at the beautiful old buildings on our way to the Cathedral. (Yes, I know I am breaking my own rule here, but only because Wells is such a tiny town – oops, city. Also, had we gone to Park and Ride first thing, we would have seen that route map right away and could have moved directly, instead of spending a useless hour spiraling and doubling back.) The sight of the Cathedral washed away all the irritations of getting there. It was simply magnificent. The West Front (main entrance) originally had more than 500 statues – many larger than life – in niches; today almost 300 of the originals remain. Started in 1180, it is the first completely English gothic cathedral. I am fascinated by cathedrals, with a particular fondness for gothic architecture. Those massive medieval monuments to God were built with none of the machinery considered crucial today, at fabulous cost among people who were starving in unimaginable conditions, stretching the boundaries of what was considered possible, breaking brand new engineering ground with every new design, both fuelling and consuming new mathematics and physics with every stone.

Posted on January 25, 2005 6:19 AM | Permalink | Comments (6)

How not to get lost