Day 3  Sunday 4^th August.

I love San Francisco!  People are genuinely very friendly. Stop to look at your map, someone stops to help.  Ride on the Muni (SF version of The Tube) and grey-haired ladies are offered a seat.  I will keep a tally to see if,  in this respect, SF lives up to London’s record of 100%. Going well so far.

The place is buzzing, up-beat, colourful.  It is the Summer school holidays here, so lots of families out and about.  At Fisherman’s Wharf everyone had maps.  Probably no native San Franciscans about at all;  except the highly diverting tram and cable car drivers, and traffic wardens.  Tram driver over the microphone – “What you doing pulling the bell all the time.  It givin’ me the headache.  It right beside my ear.  Pull it once and stop.  I hear all right!”  Cable car driver, (they have to have superior upper body strength, as that is the only force holding the brakes on the wheels coming down those big hills), at a stop, “Other side! other side!   Too many people hanging off that side now.  Come hang off this side now!”  These cable-cars would have ninety-nine OH&S Police coming out of the woodwork in Oz.  Odd.  I thought the OH&S revolution, like all good things that come to Oz, had originated in the USA.  Maybe it did, but not in San Francisco.  

Fell off the cable car at the Lombard Street intersection – it’s the one billed as the crookedest street in the world.  It is spectacular, but the crookedness is the result of traffic-calming – the street itself is quite straight.  The traffic calming projections (necessary because of the extreme steepness of the street) are bursting with hydrangeas in full bloom.  Pink this year.  I wonder if they change the acid content of the soil and put on a blue display next year?  

Then walked on down the street and along to Fisherman’s Wharf.  Bigger than the Seattle version, but without that spectacular fish-throwing exercise that has made Seattle’s famous – as a management methodology as much as a tourist resort.  Alcatraz sits out in the bay keeping an eye on everything.  Clam chowder and Prohibition ale (for Sophie – I had a nice Californian Sav Blanc) at about 3.30.

San Franciscans love their dogs. They (the dogs) have interesting wardrobes.  On the tram from Fisherman's Wharf to Embarcardero, I could not see out, being of a height that puts me between the low windows and the high windows.  So I sought interest within the tram and found this young couple and their therapy dog.

Saturday 3^rd August, again.

Ground-hog day. Left Sydney 3.30pm Saturday, flew for 14 hours, got to SF 11.30 am Saturday.  The Body does not like crossing the international date line; after finding the airbnb accommodation in Lower Haight – very good – and taking a forced walk to make sure the limbs still worked,  collapsed into bed at 7.30pm and slept for 17 hours. Yes!

North to Alaska

The Gadfly is on the move again. North to Alaska! Day 1 Friday 2nd August I am standing on the deck giving Rhodes and Hobson a final cuddle. They have known something is going on for a few days, I am sure of it. They have been more than usually attentive, with accusatory gazes.

Below, Wayne is tending to his chooks, encouraging them to pass through the covered walkway from their night quarters to their day-pen. They are the only chooks in town who live on a complete block of land with their own letter box. I wonder who writes to them. They would of course be getting regular rates notices from the Regional Council. The skinny wiry old chap who is rebuilding Wayne’s collapsing retaining wall is hard at work with his cement mixer, has been since 6.30. Dave is putting palms he cut down yesterday onto Wayne’s trailer, so his yard is cleaned up well and truly before the big house going up below him blocks his access. The big house is having its concrete slab poured at the moment, in front of huge cages of chicken wire stuffed with stones to retain the land and drain the water. (They will need that – I am one who knows.) Beyond all this activity stretch the acres of canefields, their feathery pink I-am-ready-to-harvest arrows shimmering in the morning light. And beyond them, the sea with the sun just up out of it.

And I am wondering, why am I going away from this. Where is anything better? Answer – I am going to see my son. Years ago, when he was offered work in Seattle and said “Will I take it, Mum?” I said “Oh Sydney or Seattle, only a bit longer plane ride from home”. I know now the plane ride is much longer….

Now I am at the station, waiting for the 10.35 tilt train to Brisbane. Some of Bundaberg’s best wait with me. There is a young dad, clothed in board shorts and t-shirt, both of which feature semi-naked, well-endowed women falling out of their very little clothing . He is accompanied by his little girl, about 5, and boy, about 8. Up the platform is a young mum, little one in stroller and toddler wandering dangerously close to the yellow line at the edge of the platform. She is dressed in a summer maxi tied behind her neck, the vast flesh of her back fully on show except for a purple bra stretched tight into the folds. As I watch, she pulls out a two-litre bottle of ccoca-cola and pours some down stroller’s throat, and then gives toddler a guzzle too. They will achieve her BMI in no time at all.

 On the train, I am seated next to a kindly, quiet gentleman. But we are forced into a conversation about how best to kill the phone of the woman in front of us. Its ring tone, set at top volume, is the opening bars of Dancing Queen. The Queen tries to begin dancing at least 27 times, and that is before Maryborough. An Abba fan, I can not tolerate this sacrilege. I get out my iShuffle. I will listen to David Hobson and Teddy Tahu Rhodes and block out the racket. The iShuffle will not play – low battery, it bleats at me. I was sure I had dotted every I and crossed every T, but the iShuffle is flat! Fail! And I am not even at Brisbane yet.

 Evening: a very pleasant meal with a dear friend in Brisbane, (we used to catch the train from Bundaberg to Brisbane together in boarding school days) and a good working over of the state of Australia. She has read “The stalking of Julia Gillard”. I have it on the Kindle for in-flight reading. She thought it was good reading, and it will deter her from voting for K. Rudd. She has not read Anne Summers’ “The mysogyny factor”, but I have that on the Kindle too. Neither of us took to Matthew Condon’s “Three Crooked Kings”, mainly because it is so poorly written. He manages to make a hot subject mind-numbingly boring, listing instead of writing. I did not even finish it. We also tut-tutted about the obesity epidemic in Bundaberg. It enjoys the dubious distinction of being Australia’s “best” in that regard.

Saturday August 3rd. Now at Sydney airport. An early rising, and an uneventful flight from Brisbane. Again seated beside a kindly quiet gentleman. And of course, no phones. Hallelujah. But something new. (It is a wee while since I have travelled). In flight entertainment is now delivered via one’s own iPad. Tucked in the seat in front of you. I did not use it, but there it was anyway. But before boarding in Brisbane, I saw this - a toddler, about 18 months, with one of those smallish plastic bottles of coca-cola, to which had been attached a teat, sucking furiously. I despair.

Now sitting quietly, through all the rungs and rings, charging up the iShuffle so I can calm myself on the long flight to SF with Rhodes and Hobson singing to me. Grateful to Sydney Airport Corp for free internet access and power. Though probably someone parking their car for $37 per hour is paying for it. Sophie will join me shortly from Melbourne, and we will be North to Alaska.

A new year - 2012

This is New Year's Greetings to all friends of the fly.  The flightdeck has been quiet, and flysprings and their friends have been buzzing around. No 1 has now gone off to have some time in Paris and then Spain.  No 2 leaves in a few days for home.

However, Alsace, which ALWAYS has White Christmases, did not manage it this year.  A light dusting on a couple of days, and since then some rain to wash it away again. It has been unseasonably warm, at which the locals are delighted of course. They do not care how long the snow holds off, although they know it will come.

It is only a week now before it is time to leave Alsace.  It is a magic place, but home is beckoning also!

Fly and Flyspring No 1 in the village of Ribeauville.

Fly and Flyspring Numbers 1 and 2 in the vineyards.

Haut-Koenigsbourg in the mists.

Christmas markets in Obernai

Freiburg, hot chocolate and apfel strudel.

Light snow in Eichhoffen.  The peugeot was not perturbed.

Roads ploughed

 Up on Mont St Odile again, - icy

Christmas greetings from the flight deck

This is Happy Christmas to all readers of the Gadflights blog.  Have a joyful festive season, and may we all enjoy good health and contentment in 2012. 

(Picture taken at the London Museum of Natural History - they have an ice-skating rink set up at the front of it for the Christmas Season.) 

More London

Thursday, we boated down the Thames to Greenwich, and had lunch in a good old pub. A very interesting afternoon at the Royal Observatory, including pictures standing on the 0.0.0 meridian.  Must read ‘Longitude’.   Boat back in the dark, though only 4.30pm.  The tube from Westminster to Oxford Circus, two stops, cost four pounds each.  Found Liberty’s and eventually found the floor with needle craft stuffs, as I wanted to buy a cross stitch.  I had good memories of Liberty’s from when I was living  in London quite some years ago.  But today’s experience was quite underwhelming.  The lifts did not work, no escalators, five floors of stairs to the top.  Found my cross stitch, went to a cash point, where a young woman was trying to purchase a coat.  The coat was marked £120, with a 20% discount. The cashier wanted to charge her £127.  She said that could not be right.  He rang it all up again, came to the same conclusion.  She objected again, explained why it could not be right.  He asked to borrow her iPhone to use as a calculator……  At that point I went off to another cash point, where, when I proffered my Visa card to pay, I was asked for ID.  I produced my passport, which the woman scanned, (very slowly) and wrote down the number.  I asked why this was, and she said the Banks required it.  I said I had been in Europe for months using the card and had never been asked for ID.  She came back saying that she really should have been calling the bank to authorise my expenditure of over 50 pounds.  I was speechless at that.  I’ve decided she must have been former staff called back to cope with the Christmas rush. 

We had very little time, and so had a snack at MacDonalds.  MacDonalds Oxford Street = Bedlam.  Nothing more to say.  

Finally found our way to the London Palladium where we saw The Wizard of Oz – Christmas present from Flyspring No 3.  We enjoyed it very much,  it was an energetic and colourful production.  But there also seemed to me to be an influence in the staging that was post -“Wicked”.  It had a flavour that lacked the innocence of the original Wizard film and book.  Cowardly Lion is portrayed as gay, and the scenes in the Wicked Witch’s castle/dungeon had a strong homosexual bondage character.  Children would not (maybe?) pick up on that, but it does jar with the overall feel of the show.  It is an Andrew Lloyd Webber production, and he and Tim Rice wrote a couple of extra numbers.  They fit in pretty well, musically.  Apparently there was a talent quest for the girl to play Dorothy.  We saw the runner-up a Welsh girl of seventeen, and she was really wonderful. Michael Crawford as the Wizard did not really have much to do.  It is Dorothy’s story of course, and a huge role – she is on stage the whole time. 

Friday

Tube Day.  Discovered there is a day ticket, which makes tube-usage not quite so astronomically expensive.  First to the Embankment and a walk along to the Houses of Parliament and Westminster Abbey.  Jeremy Irons does a very sexy commentary on the audio guides.  These are handed out “free”, but after you have paid £16 to go into the Abbey.  I found all my musicians and poets and novelists, and Flyspring found her scientists.  We noted on the tomb of David Livingstone that he was born in Blantyre, Lanarkshire.  Family interest there for us.  There were vergers everywhere, in red and green academic-looking gowns, and a couple of priests in the full soutane and clerical collar, leading tours. The place looks somewhat overcrowded to me.  How many more tombs can they really fit in?  The most recentt I saw was Ted Hughes, 1997.  I think it is not really surprising that Charles chose St Paul’s for his wedding, preferring its architecture.  And of course the big disadvantage of the Abbey is that the nave is completely screened off from the high altar and the quire where all the action is, so that members of the congregation cannot see anything.  For The Wedding, you would have been better off at home watching on TV.  One thing – if anyone remembers when Catherine walked up the aisle, she went around one spot on the floor – that was the tomb of the Unknown Soldier.  The bridal procession then proceeded to walk right over Sir Winston Churchill.  

We ate lunch in the cloisters (freezing).  But the hot spiced tomato soup and ham and piccalilli sandwich was very good. 

The Palace. You can only stand outside the gates.  Queenie had left, for Sandringham for Christmas probably; her standard had been taken down and the Union Jack was flying.  We saw one set of frozen soldiers replaced by another set.  They do have warm coats, but their feet must freeze just standing complete still for an hour. 

On through Green Park, along the Princess Diana Memorial Walk, fed a squirrel who fought off four pigeons to keep his bounty, and then took the tube to South Kensington to ‘do’ the museums. Flyspring went  into the Museum of Natural History (in front of which was another of the many ice skating rinks spotted around London for the Season) and Fly went to the V&A.  There were only a couple of hours left before closing, and after a bit of a wander, Fly felt overwhelmed, decided a week was needed  not a couple of hours, and sat down with a glass of pinot gris instead.  This was a good idea, as fortification was needed to tackle Harrods later on.  We bought a star (50% off) for the Christmas tree back in Eichhoffen.  

 At the Tower

Skating outside the Museum of Natural History

London still

Fly and Flyspring No 2 had a very full day, getting on and off the on-and-off bus and seeing something of London.  The traffic was pretty awful, so the buses moved very slowly, but that gives plenty of gawking around and photo opportunities.  Apparently traffic is extra bad because there are ongoing demonstrations – the Occupy London movement.  Near Saint Paul’s there is a tent city – they can have that, in this weather.  Traffic is being diverted around various points, - the guide on the bus said it has been going on for some months.  Late in the day the buses could not go along the route that has a stop near our hotel, so diverted along Oxford and Regent Streets.  We got out intending to get the tube from Oxford Circus, but could not get within coo-ee of the underground station.  There are two entrances to the underground either side of the road, and both were chock-a-block with stolid Brits waiting with impassive faces to get down the stairs to the tube.  They spilled out over the road and blocked traffic.  I asked a chap in a uniform with an Information badge if this was a regular occurrence, and he said yes, when the tube station gets full of people, they close it until some of the people get cleared off by trains coming through.  The waiting throng must stand on the stairs, on the surrounding roads etc. I did not ask how many cycles of opening-closing of the station a waiting person might expect to endure……  We walked back Euston Square….

But… a good slab of time during the day was spent at The Tower of London.  This is done very well, British thoroughness.  Very good presentations and commentaries.  There were plenty of people about, though not enough to slow down progress at any point;   probably it was good to be seeing it at this time of year rather than in full tourist season in the summer.  One of the several winter outdoor skating rinks around London has been set up by the Tower.  Another in Hyde Park, another in the courtyard of Somerset House.  Although experienced as a skater, being a former member of the well-known “Off-cuts”, Fly did not take to the ice.

Later in the afternoon, 4.30 pm but quite dark, we were disgorged from the bus back in Regent Street, the bus being unable to take the route which went reasonably near to hotel-home.  So we had a wonderful hour in Hamley’s – the oldest toy store in the world, so they claim.  It was magic - five floors of toys, with so much energy going.  Lots of young people demonstrating various current-season toys and generally having a very good time with each other and with customers.  Children, young and old, (including the two flies) wide-eyed with wonder.  Outside on the pavement, Santa’s elves dance and throw sweets at everyone they see.  And of course the cash registers were ringing.  A great retailing environment. Even the fly bought two toys for goodness’ sake!  Like I need toys!!! (I noticed yesterday too, that in contrast to our big department stores at home, where sometimes if takes an effort to find someone to take your money, Selfridges and Debenhams were dripping staff. Not sure what this says about our comparative economic situations.  One thing I have noticed is that items here have a price which I would think was appropriate at home, but it is pounds not Aus dollars.  So things are expensive.  

After Hamley’s we got lost trying to find Liberty’s, and then came the confrontation with Oxford Circus underground, and the crisp walk home as the alternative. 

 No pics - I forgot to bring the piece of electronic paraphernalia that allows downloading of pics from camera to computer.  

MIGs - I have managed to acquire for each of you, not a William and Kate tea-towel, but a fridge magnet which captures the magic moment of 'The Kiss' on the balcony of Buckingham Palace.  I know you will love them.