Recently in Travel Category
It’s now my fourth day in Berlin, and things are starting to drag on a bit. Sure, I’m getting into a routine and all, but it’s been tough making this trip alone. I’ve been starting every morning with the gym, and to my surprise it seems that some (possibly highroller) hotel guests actually travel with their personal trainers. It’s pretty funny to be jogging along on the treadmill, only to find an older gentlemen being coached in German on the same activity mere meters away. “Schnell, schnell!”
Going to the research facility every day has afforded me the opportunity of a 4 kilometer walk, round trip. After the first day, I’ve found some shortcuts that don’t actually take me through Berlin’s red light district (didn’t know I could still run that fast).
I wish I that I had a way to fully articulate what it’s like to be the only American in an all German research facility. I hear maybe 2 sentences of English total within the 10 hours or so that I’m here each day. At the same time, they’ve continued to bring in what seems to be an endless supply of sandwiches that I can’t eat (darn pesto is in everything). Lately they’ve been sneaking in with some fruit that’s already been cut up, but it then has become a race against the clock before it all turns brown. But it’s alright. It’s a cultural experience. And between the brown fruit and constant stream of fizzy water, I may just spend that entire flight home in the washroom.
Last night I took a walk around the village, and found more charming holiday festivities going on. Street vendors have popped up everywhere, and I enjoyed what I think might have been my eleventh bratwurst this week. Ok, I exaggerate. Tenth. I also got to witness youth culture at its finest- an outdoor ice rink was put up just outside my hotel door. What better way to spend a Wednesday night than by grabbing your best fraulein and dance skating the night away?
As part of my continued predilection with visiting the same 5 cities in Western Europe over and over again, I’m spending this week in Berlin. We’ve definitely gotten into the bitter cold portion of the year, but it sort of adds to the experience.
This is, however, the first time I’ve been in Germany around Christmastime. From what I can see, the Germans have single handedly been the source for all the commercialized aspects of Christmas that we enjoy in the States today. Huge monuments of St. Nicholas are being erected all throughout town, and, as you’d assume, many of them depict him drinking from a half liter of Berliner Pilsner. Ah yes, national pride, you’ve managed to surface through every orifice possible.
For those who subscribe to my out of office email messages, you may know by now that I’m in town for a research study. Imagine my dismay when it came time to order lunch at the facility, and they handed me a menu for an Italian restaurant. “Umm, I’ll have the spaghetti and bratwurst, ja?"
I made up for it last night with a big plate of goulash (a traditional Hungarian dish). And believe me, this is not your Labrador Mountain goulash. This goulash put at least 200 more hairs on my chest before making over half of them stand on end. Ready to eat your feelings, Berlin? Well, me too!
Alright, I think it’s about time I call it a night. Just got done downloading the Oprah… and Jesus podcast from church this past weekend; seems like a surefire way to get some nightmares, guaranteed.
I grew up on the east coast in a small city called Syracuse. Although people in Syracuse will say it’s located in central New York, most folks from NYC would classify it as upstate New York. Then again, most New Yorkers will classify anything north of the Bronx as upstate. For the last 4 years, I’ve been out in Seattle. Quite a different experience from Syracuse, but an even bigger one from NYC.
While spending the week out in New York city, I’ve put together a small list of the ways New York differs from Seattle.
Enjoy, and chime in if I missed anything.
- Street crossing against the Don’t Walk sign is expected and encouraged. You do it with at least 2 dozen others, usually including 2-3 cops. If oncoming traffic gets too close, you usually slap one or two of the cars on the hood.
- No New Yorker will ever smile at you as they pass by. And they definitely won’t say “hi”.
- People go to symphonies on a week night, and the guys break out their best tweed blazers with elbow pads.
- Free Wi-Fi is not something your local Laundromat owner has ever thought of, or even understands.
- One drop of rain = thousands of umbrellas appear.
- When ordering out for lunch, the number of restaurants you can choose from within a 1 mile radius is approximately 3,248.
- The Apple Store is a tourist attraction, and no one has ever heard of a Zune.
- Coffee is fuel, not arm candy.
- Women in New York wear stilettos, a designer purse, a skirt, and no jacket in 20 degree weather. In Seattle, the ladies sport flip flops, a backpack (with Nalgene bottle), jeans (with stubble underneath), and a North Face fleece… in 45 degree weather.
In an attempt to stimulate their patrons’ brains, the Westin has been posting signs throughout their hotel with various tips for life, love, and increasing one’s intellectual horsepower. The latest, and perhaps most disturbing, includes a math problem posted on the shower wall. Naturally, updated daily.
Can you solve it? It’s actually not as hard as it seems.
My favorite part is how they have been periodically substituting in other signs that don’t have math problems at all. Instead, they tell me to “Take your workout to the next level by using Wii Fit”. Did they really not expect me to notice such blatant advertising?
P.S. – when you click to see the enlarged version, you’ll likely see the answer written upside down on the bottom left corner.
Just arrived in Barcelona this morning, one of the few times in my life that I'll be here in Spain and not be jet lagged. I'll definitely plan to soak that up and bask in the glow while the rest of my colleagues cradle their coffee and rub their watering eyes.
All was going well until I sent off some laundry. Being on the road for 13 days means I get to send some stuff out through the hotel, both for laundry and for dry cleaning. I was shocked to receive back my (now noticeably worn) brand new grey pants with a bit of a damp, laundered look!
I tried calling the housekeeping department, but of course, none of them spoke English. After a few minutes of me creating words that are barely Spanish and probably closer to Klingon, I just brought the pants down to the front desk.
After another 15 minutes and countless serfs bringing in their managers, I was told that someone who could actually compensate me for my now laundered dry-clean only pants would actually not be in until Monday. Monday, of course, is the big start of the conference so it was clear I wasn't going to be around to chat.
"What hours will he be in?", I asked. "9:00 to 3:00", she answered. Perfect.
To commemorate my last night in foggy London town, I decided to head out in search of the most traditional of English dishes: Fish and Chips. I wanted to find a restaurant that not only offered fresh fish, but also the rare crisp and succulent qualities that are often not present in today's mainstream instantiations of this classic dish.
Low and behold, I discovered a restaurant called Mermaid's Tail. Despite being intrigued, I decided against ordering the restaurant's namesake dish, for fear that it might actually be made from real mermaids. Or worse, a merman.
Either way, I'm happy to report that not only was it one of the largest cuts of fresh cod that I had ever seen fried, but also the most sweet and delicious. This restaurant will definitely be on my must-eat-at list for future visits to London. You've done it again, Brits!
After a week filled with analyst and press briefings, I decided to take a few hours and tour around London. I did this, of course, until all of Redmond woke up and started getting on email.
The day was absolutely perfect. Blue skies and temperatures into the mid fifties. There was even a point where I took off my jacket. I really enjoyed the chance to walk around the city and get knee deep in the culture.
I was even able to practice some Britishisms on the Starbuck's barista.
Me: What-o chap, how are you?
Barista: Very well, yeah, and you?
Me: Very well, thank you. Might I have a tall soy vanilla latte?
Barista: Yes, very much indeed, sir. Is that all?
Me: That would be just spiffy, old boy.
Barista: That will be 3 pounds, thirty, sir.
Me: Here's four quid.
Barista: Alright then.
Me: Cheers mate!
Being knee deep in the culture has its benefits. Instead of saying, "I'll call you", I get to say "I'll ring you". So much more descriptive, wouldn't you agree?
I was glad to be able to check out the National Gallery. I was there about 2 years ago with some friends, but as memory serves I was quite ill then (it was week 3 of a European backpacking). Being able to look at art and bits of culture with my normal body temperature proved to be quite a thrill. I even took a moment to sit on the front steps and enjoy the view.
Finally, I was able to make it over to Big Ben and Parliament. The Space Needle of London was right where I left it, looking old world and classy as ever! Well that's all for now, I need to find some food. Off to Barcelona tomorrow morning!
It's been a bit hectic for me lately. After having spent a week in New York and Los Angeles (involving one too many redeyes), I'm now back on the road- this time in London. After spending about 36 hours back in Seattle and getting approximately 4 total hours of sleep, it was becoming clear that I would likely pass out as soon as head hit pillow at my airplane seat.
On a side note, I really do think British Airways is one of the best ways to fly. The lie flat beds they offer in business class actually make long flights a pleasure instead of an hassle. And the flight attendants, busting out Britishisms left and right, are second to none in their bedside manner. It's enough to make me add the word "Cheers!" to my email signature.
After the 9 hour 20 minute direct flight concluded, I was able to check into the St. Martins Lane hotel in Central London. I had been in this area before, but frankly I don't remember it being so lively. Even on a Sunday evening, the streets were crowded and the cafes were packed.
Saying this hotel is modern would be an understatement. Walking in through a tinted revolving door into beams of florescent colors, you are greeted by strange dance remixes of popular music (Open Your Eyes by The Postal Service was thumping while I entered).
The lift (elevator to all you Yanks out there) is straight out of Star Trek. When you enter, the lights dim and you see flashing lights as the floors pass by. I might as well should have said, "Main bridge", open entering.
The hallways are long and again, from the 24th century. All of the room numbers are subtly written in the carpet. Even within the room, there are several oscillation controls by which you can adjust the color of lighting. A sign reads Light Your Mood.
I'll be in town all week with press and analyst briefings. Everything will be kicking off tomorrow morning so let's hope I get adjusted quickly to Greenwich Mean Time. Cheerio, mates!
After flying through the night, and kick starting my morning with the less-than-delicate shake of the flight attendant's hand, I am landed in New York City.
Somehow it seemed to make sense to fly red eye- I guess it's always one of those things that looks good on paper. But yet, here I am- eyes most likely at least a shade of pink.
I'll be in press/analyst meetings all day, so here's to being bright eyed and bushy tailed. At 8:14 am, I find it highly unlikely that my hotel will have a room ready for me. Hopefully they have an accomodating bathroom, for now, that will be my temporary command post. I'm really surprised that hotels don't have showers and a place to get changed/freshen up like an airline lounge.
Oh well, I think a teeth brushing is priority 0, everything else comes secondary.
And on a side note, I always enjoy picking my NYC transportation. Among a sea of cabs this Escalade emerged, cutting people off left and right - receiving several solid honks of the horn. I said with pride, "That's my driver".
