I'm back at Chicago-O'Hare waiting on my flight to Philly. I swear I spend more time in this airport than the people who work here. The trip over from Dubuque wasn't bad. On time — a little early even.
Dubuque is still Dubuque. Like a lot of other small towns, there's not a lot going on there. But the people are friendly and the weather's been nice. I put a couple more pictures on my Web site.
Next week I'll be in Burr Ridge, Ill. through Wednesday then in New York City for the rest of the week. After that, it sounds like I'm headed to Winter Park, Fla. in early October. I'll keep y'all posted.
Enjoy.
Friday, September 21, 2007
Thursday, September 20, 2007
Dubuque
I know, I know. I promised posts from Dubuque. I have a good reason, but I'll get to that later. For now, I have a few pictures from my last couple Dubuque trips.
Dubuque, IA - Dubuque Regional Airport.
Dubuque, IA - Downtown Scenes, Shot Tower and Old Star Brewery.
Dubuque, IA - The Mississippi River.
So the reason I haven't posted it yet is because I've been busy prepping photos from the SEA trip for public viewing. They're online now at my Web site.
So the reason I haven't posted it yet is because I've been busy prepping photos from the SEA trip for public viewing. They're online now at my Web site.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
ORD
O'Hare isn't the worst airport in the country, though I might have told you different Friday. At the moment, I'm sitting at one of the courtesy charging stations in Terminal 3 plugged in and WiFi'd up, waiting for my flight back to Dubuque. I just finished a pair of char dogs from the Gold Coast in the little food court around the corner. Tasty, but the guy forgot the sport peppers. Life's about as good as it gets in an airport terminal with another hour of layover ahead.
Chicago-style hot dog from Gold Coast Dogs.
Friday, I was returning to Philly from Dubuque. As usual, I started checking airport delays around noon to see what the evening had in store. The FAA site was already showing delays into O'Hare of close to an hour because of the winds. Thankfully, they didn't grow through the day.
At the airport, the board showed delay. The woman behind the American Eagle counter checking me into my flight (she's also half of both the baggage and ground crews) assured me that the flight out would go and wouldn't even be that late departing. They started boarding at the alloted time, but as we loaded up, the pilot came over the loud speaker, "Well folks, the good news is the ground stop has been canceled ... The bad news is traffic is backed up into Chicago. Dubuque's a small town, so we're pretty far down on the priority list." He went on to explain that we were going to be delayed taking off by an hour and a half, but the time was sliding slowly our direction, so we were going to sit in the plane on the runway ready to go at the drop of a hat.
Thankfully, the delay only lasted 50 minutes in the end and we made to ORD in one piece. We had to swing out over the lake and come in from the east to so the little plane could land in the wind. We had a nice, dancing landing — one of those where the plane waves back and forth on the way in and skips around a bit once it hits the ground — but alls well that ends well, right?
And I lucked out, my flight to Philly was delayed just like the flight from DBQ, so I got to experience the full two hours of layover. I think I've spent more time sitting in O'Hare this year than I have at at the office.
I'll try to put up some photos of Dubuque this week. I fully intended to last week, but the first week on the road after the time off left me a little less than energetic in the evenings.
Enjoy.
Friday, I was returning to Philly from Dubuque. As usual, I started checking airport delays around noon to see what the evening had in store. The FAA site was already showing delays into O'Hare of close to an hour because of the winds. Thankfully, they didn't grow through the day.
At the airport, the board showed delay. The woman behind the American Eagle counter checking me into my flight (she's also half of both the baggage and ground crews) assured me that the flight out would go and wouldn't even be that late departing. They started boarding at the alloted time, but as we loaded up, the pilot came over the loud speaker, "Well folks, the good news is the ground stop has been canceled ... The bad news is traffic is backed up into Chicago. Dubuque's a small town, so we're pretty far down on the priority list." He went on to explain that we were going to be delayed taking off by an hour and a half, but the time was sliding slowly our direction, so we were going to sit in the plane on the runway ready to go at the drop of a hat.
Thankfully, the delay only lasted 50 minutes in the end and we made to ORD in one piece. We had to swing out over the lake and come in from the east to so the little plane could land in the wind. We had a nice, dancing landing — one of those where the plane waves back and forth on the way in and skips around a bit once it hits the ground — but alls well that ends well, right?
And I lucked out, my flight to Philly was delayed just like the flight from DBQ, so I got to experience the full two hours of layover. I think I've spent more time sitting in O'Hare this year than I have at at the office.
I'll try to put up some photos of Dubuque this week. I fully intended to last week, but the first week on the road after the time off left me a little less than energetic in the evenings.
Enjoy.
Monday, September 3, 2007
Home again, home again ...
We've made it safely back to Philly. After an awesome breakfast at Roscoe's Chicken and Waffles, we said goodbye to Lucie and Richie and hopped our flight back home. The trip was uneventful, but we did have a bit of a scare in the PHL baggage claim (What, baggage problems at the philly airport? Never ...). They had to shut our carousel down for a while because a bag was caught in the conveyor down below. Of course we assumed it was one of our strappy backpacks gumming up the works. We managed to travel all over Southeast Asia without a baggage hitch, but, you know, it's PHL. Turned out someone else's bag was causing the problems, and after a bit of standing around our bags made it out intact.
We got home to find that Garrett, our renter, left the house significantly cleaner than we left it on the way out. Thank you, Garrett. Unfortunately, it seems our house has developed some sort of wiring issue where the circuit serving most of the upstairs trips its breaker at random intervals, so Meg will get to have fun dealing with that before she starts work next week.
I'm in Philly this week, but head to Dubuque next week for work. There's not much to do in Dubuque, so maybe I'll continue the blog there. Not quite as exotic and exciting as Asia, but it'd keep me entertained. We'll see.
Enjoy.
We got home to find that Garrett, our renter, left the house significantly cleaner than we left it on the way out. Thank you, Garrett. Unfortunately, it seems our house has developed some sort of wiring issue where the circuit serving most of the upstairs trips its breaker at random intervals, so Meg will get to have fun dealing with that before she starts work next week.
I'm in Philly this week, but head to Dubuque next week for work. There's not much to do in Dubuque, so maybe I'll continue the blog there. Not quite as exotic and exciting as Asia, but it'd keep me entertained. We'll see.
Enjoy.
Back in the USA
Eric and I made it back to the States and through customs with no issues tonight. Richie was nice enough to pick us up from LAX, and we are having a lovely (though too short) visit with him and Lucie -- and their fuzzy pooch Brando. We're heading back to Philly tomorrow at noon and should arrive about 8pm...assuming that the travel gods continue giving us good luck. Back to work for Eric on Tuesday...so sad.
Sunday, September 2, 2007
Heading home
We're to the point now where we're counting down the hours until our flight leaves Bangkok for the LA, at which point we'll see if Phuket and Bangkok have served their purposes of easing us back into Western culture.
The Reclining Buddha, Wat Pho.
We spent yesterday seeing the sites of Bangkok. We started with Wat Pho, home of the giant (15m tall and 45m long) reclining Buddha sculpture. The sculpture is beautiful -- the entire thing is plated in gold with mother-of-pearl detailing, including more than 108 scenes from the life of Buddha depicted on the soles of its feet. The wat itself is pretty wonderful as well. The buildings are all blindingly white with gilded roofs of brightly colored tile.
After the wat, we went next door to the Grand Palace complex, a wonder in it's own right. After seeing the Royal Palace in Phnom Penh and the Presidential Mansion in Vientiane, I must say the Thais got it right, managing to go completely over the top in almost every way. There's even a building that's sole purpose is to provide a place for members of the royal family to lay in state.
The Throne Hall of the Thai Royal Palace.
From there, we hiked up to the infamous backpacker haven, Khao San Road. The place was packed with Western tourists and locals trying to sell them things. We had lunch ata decent little restaurant on the road while the bar across the way serenaded us with a driving techno beat.
We ended the day at the Weekend Market, a massive labyrinth of stalls selling just about everything under the sun. Meg found a few dresses and I got some crappy t-shirts.
Today we've been sort of mellow. We took the Skytrain a couple of stops over to visit the consumerist mecca that is Siam Center and the Siam Paragon. Gotta love a mall with an entire floor dedicated to ultra-high-end auto dealers. Now we're just killing some time before we need to hop in a cab to the airport. The next time you hear from us we'll be back in the States. We spend the night in LA before heading back to Philly Monday. Here's to hoping we have a enough time to hit an In-N-Out Burger in LA.
Enjoy.
BTW, Meg added a couple of posts below and I threw some pictures up as well.
We spent yesterday seeing the sites of Bangkok. We started with Wat Pho, home of the giant (15m tall and 45m long) reclining Buddha sculpture. The sculpture is beautiful -- the entire thing is plated in gold with mother-of-pearl detailing, including more than 108 scenes from the life of Buddha depicted on the soles of its feet. The wat itself is pretty wonderful as well. The buildings are all blindingly white with gilded roofs of brightly colored tile.
After the wat, we went next door to the Grand Palace complex, a wonder in it's own right. After seeing the Royal Palace in Phnom Penh and the Presidential Mansion in Vientiane, I must say the Thais got it right, managing to go completely over the top in almost every way. There's even a building that's sole purpose is to provide a place for members of the royal family to lay in state.
From there, we hiked up to the infamous backpacker haven, Khao San Road. The place was packed with Western tourists and locals trying to sell them things. We had lunch ata decent little restaurant on the road while the bar across the way serenaded us with a driving techno beat.
We ended the day at the Weekend Market, a massive labyrinth of stalls selling just about everything under the sun. Meg found a few dresses and I got some crappy t-shirts.
Today we've been sort of mellow. We took the Skytrain a couple of stops over to visit the consumerist mecca that is Siam Center and the Siam Paragon. Gotta love a mall with an entire floor dedicated to ultra-high-end auto dealers. Now we're just killing some time before we need to hop in a cab to the airport. The next time you hear from us we'll be back in the States. We spend the night in LA before heading back to Philly Monday. Here's to hoping we have a enough time to hit an In-N-Out Burger in LA.
Enjoy.
BTW, Meg added a couple of posts below and I threw some pictures up as well.
Egg-plosion
In my continuing quest to convince everyone in my near vicinity that Americans really are crazy, I made a giant mess at breakfast yesterday morning.
Let me preface this story by saying that since we arrived in SEA I have been on an unsuccessful quest to locate the perfect soft-boiled egg. Other times I have been here, I ate many lovely soft-boiled eggs, but this time, such eggs have been elusive. I have found fried eggs, omelettes, and scrambled eggs -- and even the occasional hard-boiled egg...but alas, no soft-boiled eggs to sop up with toast.
Thus, when I opened the menu at the Atlanta Hotel and saw "boiled eggs" under the breakfast options, I jumped with glee. I was certain that the Atlanta could deliver my fabulous eggs! I carefully ordered two eggs -- specifying repeatedly that they should be soft-boiled, not hard-boiled. And out they came -- two shining globes in metal eggcups patiently awaiting my toast.
And that's where the problem arose. I had no spoon, and I wasn't sure the proper protocol for opening an egg sitting casually in an egg cup. In Laos, I always peeled the whole egg and dropped it into a baguette. At home, I smush the eggs in a bowl.
I tapped on the top of the first egg with my knife. It refused to give. I tapped on it with my fork. No luck. So I decided to do what I would do at home and peel the whole egg. Fine idea -- poor execution. I tapped the egg a little too hard on my plate and crushed it, sending runny yolk shooting all over my plate and my hand just as the waitress walked past and the French ladies at the next table glanced my way.
The waitress dashed to our table and told me to wait for a spoon. By now most of the restaurant patrons were staring unabashedly at me.
The waitress then returned with a spoon, replaced the crushed egg in its eggcup and proceeded to remove the top herself...and give me a long explanation on eating soft-boiled eggs...most of which I knew, but none of which I could ignore at that point. As if all of this wasn't embarrassing enough, once I finished my first egg and picked up the spoon to break into the second one, over dashed the waitress again. She took the spoon for me and opened the top of the egg, all the while muttering about me being her "baby." Oh dear... I'm surprised she didn't feed me every bite of the darn egg.
So today I order muesli. I'll eat eggs at home in the future. The cats don't mind when I make a mess.
Let me preface this story by saying that since we arrived in SEA I have been on an unsuccessful quest to locate the perfect soft-boiled egg. Other times I have been here, I ate many lovely soft-boiled eggs, but this time, such eggs have been elusive. I have found fried eggs, omelettes, and scrambled eggs -- and even the occasional hard-boiled egg...but alas, no soft-boiled eggs to sop up with toast.
Thus, when I opened the menu at the Atlanta Hotel and saw "boiled eggs" under the breakfast options, I jumped with glee. I was certain that the Atlanta could deliver my fabulous eggs! I carefully ordered two eggs -- specifying repeatedly that they should be soft-boiled, not hard-boiled. And out they came -- two shining globes in metal eggcups patiently awaiting my toast.
And that's where the problem arose. I had no spoon, and I wasn't sure the proper protocol for opening an egg sitting casually in an egg cup. In Laos, I always peeled the whole egg and dropped it into a baguette. At home, I smush the eggs in a bowl.
I tapped on the top of the first egg with my knife. It refused to give. I tapped on it with my fork. No luck. So I decided to do what I would do at home and peel the whole egg. Fine idea -- poor execution. I tapped the egg a little too hard on my plate and crushed it, sending runny yolk shooting all over my plate and my hand just as the waitress walked past and the French ladies at the next table glanced my way.
The waitress dashed to our table and told me to wait for a spoon. By now most of the restaurant patrons were staring unabashedly at me.
The waitress then returned with a spoon, replaced the crushed egg in its eggcup and proceeded to remove the top herself...and give me a long explanation on eating soft-boiled eggs...most of which I knew, but none of which I could ignore at that point. As if all of this wasn't embarrassing enough, once I finished my first egg and picked up the spoon to break into the second one, over dashed the waitress again. She took the spoon for me and opened the top of the egg, all the while muttering about me being her "baby." Oh dear... I'm surprised she didn't feed me every bite of the darn egg.
So today I order muesli. I'll eat eggs at home in the future. The cats don't mind when I make a mess.
Then Eric got punched by a ladyboy...
First off, I must admit that all of this was my idea, not Eric's. Anyone who knows me knows that I am always a little too inclined to do things "for the story" (ask Kathryn about our visit to Patpong if you're in doubt about that one). So "for the story" I decided that Eric and I really should go to a ladyboy cabaret on Phuket -- and conveniently enough, in the packet of tourist information I collected at the airport, there was an ad for "Katoys R Us" -- a cabaret in Patong Beach with nightly shows starting at 9:30.
For those of you who haven't had the pleasure of visiting Phuket, let me just say that it's tourist hell -- and Patong Beach is sex tourist hell. Yep, go-go bars and ping-pong shows from one end of the main drag to the other (with some random tailors mixed in here and there -- oddly enough -- and a variety of chain restaurants near the beach ... yippee for Starbucks and strippers all in one local!). There are ladyboys prancing about ready to hop into your photos, and men carrying iguanas and monkeys about for the same reason. (And here & there are families wandering wide-eyed about with their children -- some people really ought not procreate...but I digress)
Back to the point...
Soi Eric in TH Bangla, Patong Beach, Phuket.
Eric and I wandered around in Patong Beach for a bit looking at the generalized nastiness and wondering what is becoming of the world. I got a good picture of Soi Eric (Eric Street), a side lane lined on both sides with go-go bars, and Eric took a photo of me in front of a for sale sign hanging on one of the bars (who needs to be a lawyer when you can run off to manage your very own go-go bar?!).
Finally 9:20 rolled around, and we headed to the show. Well, we headed to the bar -- which was completely empty of patrons, but full of ladyboys. As soon as we peaked inside, out came a gaggle of ladyboys to drag us to the nearest table and explain that the show would be starting soon. Eric and I ordered beers since one needs liquor for these sorts of excursions. And two lovely ladyboys joined us at our table. You guessed it -- like trashy strip clubs in the US, the show might be free at the cabaret, but you're supposed to buy the ladies drinks in exchange for their company. We probably could have sent them away, but when you're the only patron, you feel at least a little obligation to help pay the ladies' salaries. As a result, we had two ladyboys join our party.
Meg and the (lady)boys.
About then an older Australian man and his wife entered the bar. The man looked like a jolly, non-winking, Aussie version of Popeye. His wife looked, well, wifely (grandmotherly, even) and less than amused by the situation. They plopped down at the table beside ours, and before I could say "boo," there were four ladyboys swarming around them. I think that they too decided that two was enough and sent the others away to dance on the bar and frolic outside.
All the while there were ladyboys dancing on poles in the middle of the room and shedding clothing in the bar window. (Apparently one of the less clothed ones kept making very obscene gestures at Eric every time I turned my back) The ladyboys at our table decided that what would liven up the place was some audience participation...unfortunately that translated into "Meg" participation. Yep, men don't get to participate, and there was no way in hell anyone was getting the grandmotherly Australian to do anything more than control her anger long enough not to kill her husband in public. Go figure that this was one of the occasions in life when being drunk would have assisted, and when I wasn't. Bother.
An investment opportunity.
Thus sober me was dragged onto the bar to dance and pose with the ladyboys. That lasted all of five minutes before I decided that I had participated more than enough. Eric got a good laugh off that one!
Thankfully the cabaret was finally ready to start, so I was left alone for a bit. Poor Katoys R Us! It's a bit low-rent, I must admit -- nothing like Christie's on Samui. The costumes didn't quite fit, and about half of the backup dancers looked anything but excited.
I do believe the highlight of the show was a fat drag queen who belly danced to Hava Negila. Yes, I am well aware of the many, many things wrong with that performance. Let's see -- ere, there are a million middle easterners wandering the streets of Phuket, and I really doubt they would be happy to see a tranny belly dancing. Then there's the issue with the song being a JEWISH folk song, not a belly dancing fave. Then there's the problem in general with short, fat, somewhat hairy men belly dancing in public arenas ... But hey, it was funny in that sad, inappropriate way.
There were several other performances that were more, ere, traditional and thus more appropriately enjoyable (if anything at a ladyboy cabaret can really be defined as "appropriate"). Lucky me was again dragged into the spotlight after the Australian wife angrily refused to dance with the first "singer." And again my participation lasted exactly as long as it took for me to politely escape back to my bar stool.
While the show as going on, some of the other ladyboys were wandering around the bar. The world's foremost ladyboy body builder (imagine a stocky, ripped man with large fake boobies) came over and began punching said bosoms with great force for some reason (I kept wanting to issue a warning about the dangers of exploding implants -- just ask one of those WWE lady wrestlers) -- but couldn't find the appropriate words. The little body builder was hassling the Australian -- and may have punched him in the arm -- I'm not sure what was going on. Then it was our turn. The ladyboy came to our table with some little packages of damp towels (which they had in large supply at the bar for some reason). She handed one to me, then turned to Eric and punched him right in the chest with the other one -- it exploded with a great boom, and Eric nearly fell off his stool. Odd really. (I'm not sure that was necessary in the name of damp towelettes, but hey, I'm not sure any of this was really necessary in the traditional sense of the word.)
About the time I was thinking I was ready to flee the scene (but wondering how to duck out when we were two of four in the audience), the show ended. We snapped a couple more pictures then ran from Patong Beach. Oh my...
For those of you who haven't had the pleasure of visiting Phuket, let me just say that it's tourist hell -- and Patong Beach is sex tourist hell. Yep, go-go bars and ping-pong shows from one end of the main drag to the other (with some random tailors mixed in here and there -- oddly enough -- and a variety of chain restaurants near the beach ... yippee for Starbucks and strippers all in one local!). There are ladyboys prancing about ready to hop into your photos, and men carrying iguanas and monkeys about for the same reason. (And here & there are families wandering wide-eyed about with their children -- some people really ought not procreate...but I digress)
Back to the point...
Eric and I wandered around in Patong Beach for a bit looking at the generalized nastiness and wondering what is becoming of the world. I got a good picture of Soi Eric (Eric Street), a side lane lined on both sides with go-go bars, and Eric took a photo of me in front of a for sale sign hanging on one of the bars (who needs to be a lawyer when you can run off to manage your very own go-go bar?!).
Finally 9:20 rolled around, and we headed to the show. Well, we headed to the bar -- which was completely empty of patrons, but full of ladyboys. As soon as we peaked inside, out came a gaggle of ladyboys to drag us to the nearest table and explain that the show would be starting soon. Eric and I ordered beers since one needs liquor for these sorts of excursions. And two lovely ladyboys joined us at our table. You guessed it -- like trashy strip clubs in the US, the show might be free at the cabaret, but you're supposed to buy the ladies drinks in exchange for their company. We probably could have sent them away, but when you're the only patron, you feel at least a little obligation to help pay the ladies' salaries. As a result, we had two ladyboys join our party.
About then an older Australian man and his wife entered the bar. The man looked like a jolly, non-winking, Aussie version of Popeye. His wife looked, well, wifely (grandmotherly, even) and less than amused by the situation. They plopped down at the table beside ours, and before I could say "boo," there were four ladyboys swarming around them. I think that they too decided that two was enough and sent the others away to dance on the bar and frolic outside.
All the while there were ladyboys dancing on poles in the middle of the room and shedding clothing in the bar window. (Apparently one of the less clothed ones kept making very obscene gestures at Eric every time I turned my back) The ladyboys at our table decided that what would liven up the place was some audience participation...unfortunately that translated into "Meg" participation. Yep, men don't get to participate, and there was no way in hell anyone was getting the grandmotherly Australian to do anything more than control her anger long enough not to kill her husband in public. Go figure that this was one of the occasions in life when being drunk would have assisted, and when I wasn't. Bother.
Thus sober me was dragged onto the bar to dance and pose with the ladyboys. That lasted all of five minutes before I decided that I had participated more than enough. Eric got a good laugh off that one!
Thankfully the cabaret was finally ready to start, so I was left alone for a bit. Poor Katoys R Us! It's a bit low-rent, I must admit -- nothing like Christie's on Samui. The costumes didn't quite fit, and about half of the backup dancers looked anything but excited.
I do believe the highlight of the show was a fat drag queen who belly danced to Hava Negila. Yes, I am well aware of the many, many things wrong with that performance. Let's see -- ere, there are a million middle easterners wandering the streets of Phuket, and I really doubt they would be happy to see a tranny belly dancing. Then there's the issue with the song being a JEWISH folk song, not a belly dancing fave. Then there's the problem in general with short, fat, somewhat hairy men belly dancing in public arenas ... But hey, it was funny in that sad, inappropriate way.
There were several other performances that were more, ere, traditional and thus more appropriately enjoyable (if anything at a ladyboy cabaret can really be defined as "appropriate"). Lucky me was again dragged into the spotlight after the Australian wife angrily refused to dance with the first "singer." And again my participation lasted exactly as long as it took for me to politely escape back to my bar stool.
While the show as going on, some of the other ladyboys were wandering around the bar. The world's foremost ladyboy body builder (imagine a stocky, ripped man with large fake boobies) came over and began punching said bosoms with great force for some reason (I kept wanting to issue a warning about the dangers of exploding implants -- just ask one of those WWE lady wrestlers) -- but couldn't find the appropriate words. The little body builder was hassling the Australian -- and may have punched him in the arm -- I'm not sure what was going on. Then it was our turn. The ladyboy came to our table with some little packages of damp towels (which they had in large supply at the bar for some reason). She handed one to me, then turned to Eric and punched him right in the chest with the other one -- it exploded with a great boom, and Eric nearly fell off his stool. Odd really. (I'm not sure that was necessary in the name of damp towelettes, but hey, I'm not sure any of this was really necessary in the traditional sense of the word.)
About the time I was thinking I was ready to flee the scene (but wondering how to duck out when we were two of four in the audience), the show ended. We snapped a couple more pictures then ran from Patong Beach. Oh my...
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