Brighton - A hip and historic day out of London

We had a houseguest recently who wanted to take a day trip out of London. We discussed the usual suspects: Bath, Stratford, Stonehenge and many more and then it came to me, lets go to the seaside city

 of Brighton. An easy train ride from Victoria Station, it has the over-the-top Royal Pavilion, the Victorian Brighton pier and cool little shopping streets called the Lanes with all kinds of crazy stuff.

And so we went. The Indian/Chinese inspired Royal Pavilion was big fun -fantastic and fantastical all at the same time. I’ve been keen to see it for 20 years and I wasn’t disappointed. It was Monday so the Brighton Museum in the Pavilion gardens was closed. Too bad.

The Brighton pier is like most piers these days, filled with rides, arcade games and bad food. But if you try, you can almost imagine what it would have been like in Victorian times, when building a place for pleasure and entertainment jutting into the English Channel would have been exciting. As it was a cool, gray weekday, the rocky beach was empty except for the occasional rough sleeper and teenage smoker.

As part of its alternative and bohemian reputation, Brighton is known for its vegetarian restaurants and we had a superior lunch at one – Terre a Terre on East Street. Their publicity states that it will change your mind about vegetarian cuisine forever. Not really, but it did change my mind about excellent vegetarian restaurants. We loved it.

After our lovely lunch, we wandered around the Lanes looking for a non-homogenized shopping experience. We certainly found plenty of independent shops selling such essentials as vegetarian shoes as featured above. I was ecstatic when I found a bookstore selling desirable books at greatly reduced prices and filled my backpack with as many as it would hold.

On the train ride back, my American friend and I discussed what a jolly day it had been, historic and hip all at the same time, a great break from the relentless pace of London and while filled with tourists, ours were the only American accents we heard all day.

Cavemen, Honey and Kim Kardashian

No Crowds reporter Gary pointed out to us recently that No Crowds had reached a commercial fork in the road and like Yogi Berra, a legend of baseball and malapropisms, we took it.

Yes, the post from and about onefinestay supported a commercial operation but no, we did not then nor have we ever received financial consideration for liking stuff. OK, that’s the disclaimer taken care of. Maybe we’re just jealous having recently seen that Kim Kardashian gets $10,000 per Tweet so someday we might want to reconsider – just kidding.

But on to the cavemen and the honey. Thanks to our son Leland who introduced us to the idea of eating like a Neanderthal, we are on the Paleo diet. Long story short, if a caveman didn’t eat it, you shouldn’t either. Everyone in our family has lost 20 unwanted pounds and feels great. If you want to find out more about it, put Paleo into Google. All I can tell you it that it works.

So when I bumped in to my friend Nina who told me about this great honey company, I listened because: 1) honey is one of the few sweet things on the Paleo diet and 2) because there was an interesting travel story attached to the honey and the story goes like this.

 Ogilvy’s Honey is on a mission to make us fall in love with fine honey from all kinds of cool and interesting places such as the Himalayan highlands and Zambezi plains. All of Ogilvy’s honeys are unblended - either monofloral (the bees feed off only one plant or tree) or polyfloral (the bees feed of a variety of plants and trees local to their flying range) which, according to Ogilvy’s, makes for better honey.  Having tried the stuff – and liked it – the unblended story makes good sense to us.  But what we really enjoyed about Ogilvy’s was the global terroir, the romantic notion that a tiny piece of the Balkans, or the Himalayas or the Zambia was in our morning cuppa and we think that folks who like great travel experiences with no crowds would enjoy it too. Take that Kim Kardashian!

Occupy Thanksgiving

This year's remarks for our London Thanksgiving celebration:

I want to welcome all of you to the London encampment of Occupy Thanksgiving. – a movement dedicated to changing the public’s discourse about holiday inequality.

So I ask you, should 1% of the world’s population keep this holiday to themselves with their pilgrims and Indians and pumpkin pie and sweet potatoes. Hell no! For twenty years we have been out fighting the undue influence of America, and the banks, on Thanksgiving. We just didn’t know then that a small turkey dinner in Frankfurt would become what it is today. – an encampment and the center of a movement that will change the world. And I have a message for Boris Johnson and the Bishop of London. This house is private property and we’re not going anywhere.

Many of you, especially our friends from Germany, were present when we set out our manifesto– Thanksgiving is not just for Americans. Thanksgiving inequality will no longer be tolerated. It is a basic human right that should be available to all.  And since the politicians refuse to take on this task, my friends, the job has been left to us.

Now over the years, we have worked hard to grow our movement, as you can see, but despite our best and honest efforts, we can not keep up with those greedy, corrupt, fat cat Americans back in America racing ahead with their football games and parades and day off. Now I ask you, who couldn’t produce a lousy turkey dinner if the whole country was given the day off to do it. We are the 99% who had to go to school today. We are the 99% who had to go to work today. And, honest, hardworking holiday makers that we are - we must go to school and work tomorrow. Yes, it is true. We are the Thanksgiving 99%.

And our efforts have not gone unnoticed. I have here emails from leaders around the world: Gorbachev has compared us to perestroika, the Peoples Republic of China’s State News Agency said the thanksgiving protests exposed fundamental problems with the US economic and political systems. The Canadian Prime Minister expressed solidarity noting that Canada has its own Thanksgiving that is fair, progressive and favors the vulnerable.

Speaking of which, we know it took courage to come here tonight. From all over the world, you had to endure Heathrow, the M25 and the District Line. You had to schlep oysters and chairs and pies. You have to converse and eat in battle like conditions. Health and Safety laws have already been breached and more will be breached before the night is over.

But someday, when the history books have been wriiten and people from every corner of the globe and walk of life take time to share their bountiful tables with others, when children ask their parents, “Is it true?  In the olden days that only 1% of the world’s population celebrated Thanksgiving?” and those children will be told stories of you – the original occupiers - who understood that to make everyone’s life better, we need a global day of thanks where the virtues of togetherness, cooperation and community are embraced by all. And so now I ask everyone to raise a glass and drink to us, Occupy Thanksgiving, and the movement that changed the world. 

Sh*t Happens

Godparents are much in the news these days, what with Tony Blair donning white robes on the banks of the Jordan River, just like Jesus, for the christening of Grace Murdoch. So I am thinking about my own godmother, Gerd, and what she taught me many years ago.

When I was six, Gerd lived with us because my mother was in the hospital. Everyday, Gerd picked me up from school and said:

“It is important to have fun every day. Let’s do something fun shall we.”

So when the email exchange below came in, and with my godmother’s words ringing in my ears, I thought, this is so much fun that it must be shared.

For every partner who needs an excuse for a messy house, for anyone who has ever thought 'shit happens' was just an expression and for anyone who wants to have some fun today, this post is for you.

We have had a neighbourhood peacock (actually pea hen, so not even
attractive) hanging out outside the patio door for a few days now, pooping
constantly on the terrace outside. Smart guy that I am, I decided to sic
Turk on him to get rid of him once and for all. The ample reasons why Turk
will NOT be nominated for Rescue Dog of the Year now follow... 

Turk headed out the door, ambling by the peahen who looked at her curiously
and decided she posed no threat. Just to be on the safe side however, she
figured it would be smart to come inside ( while Turk flopped on the lawn).
I tried to chase her back out, but now she was scared and started to fly
around the house, perching on counters, bookshelves and other high objects
while trying to get away from me. In the process she is knocking over
objects, scattering feathers everywhere, and oh yes one other thing. When
peahens are upset, they poop constantly. When they are feeling calm and
peaceful, they poop constantly. I'm sure there is no change in behaviour
when they are flying, mating or anything else.  

So meanwhile I'm trying to catch her, which is not easy-this girl is the
size of a thanksgiving turkey, and very strong. I'm trying to grab her and
hold her wings in so she doesn't break them, but there is a lot of muscle
behind wings that can make a turkey fly, so she continually escapes. Plus
she's clearly experienced at this. I'm sure she has got a rap sheet as long
as your arm (wing) with counts of home invasion, creating mayhem, defecating
in public and heaven knows what else. 

Finally I get her calmed down enough so I can grab her (staying away from
her claws), take her outside and release her over the garden wall. I know
she can fly back over it, but I'm thinking she might not be that excited
about doing so any more...

I give you this story in all its detail because a) I know you'll find it
amusing and b) when you return and find feathers in the strangest places, I
want you to be sure that I have not been dating a feather-festooned gogo
dancer in your absence. I mean, imagine me proffering this explanation in
response to a suspicious question from you!

Love, me 

Sent from my iPad

Mom, Henry Miller Was One Wacky Guy

 

Today is Henry Miller's birthday. In his honor, I am reposting a story about how a mother and daughter spent a perfect afternoon at the Henry Miller Library in Big Sur, California during a memorable road trip.

“Look Eloise, is this not the most gorgeous, undeveloped, uncrowded stretch of road you have ever seen in your life?”
“It’s great Mom. How long until we get to our hotel?”
“Not too long, but first I want to stop at the Henry Miller Library.”
[Silence from the back seat.]
Don’t worry, it’s not a real library. It’s more like a Henry Miller experience. He was a really interesting writer who lived around here and a friend of his turned his house into a memorial to Henry Miller except he didn’t like memorials so it’s kind of a cultural happening. You can get a cup of tea and we don’t have to stay too long.

As it turned out, we stayed all afternoon. Eloise played ping pong in the garden with anyone who found it hard to tell a little girl “no”. We chatted with fellow travellers. Eloise met a teacher from New York and they discussed schools. I read “Travels with Charley”. We looked at books, the Paris and Beat Generation memorabilia, the crazy, larger-than-life crucifix made out of computer monitors. We sat in the sun and drank tea. On the way out, I asked Eloise what she thought of the whole thing. “Mom, Henry Miller was one wacky guy.” As we got back in the car, I imagined a much older Eloise, sitting in a literature class and holding forth on the Tropic of Cancer’s place in the American literary canon. Right then I made a wish that she would remember that once, when she was small, she spent a perfect afternoon hanging out with her old Mum at Miller’s anti-memorial memorial. I really hope she does remember.

A Meditation on Visiting Children

When my parents come to town, I can get a little whigged out. I love seeing them but I want them to be happy and comfortable and I know that when travelling, stuff happens that I can’t control. Like the last time my parents went through Heathrow and the airport was having one of its  ‘meltdown moments’. That’s not a safe place for anyone, much less an intrepid couple in their 80s. So when my parents come to town, I try to hyper-manage their visit and I worry – a lot.

Having just returned home after spending two weeks visiting my own children, I wonder; how was it for them? Do they get whigged-out when I roll in to town? Was I a good visiting parent?

Being a good visiting parent ain’t as easy as it looks. First , there is the whole role reversal thing. You are on holiday but they are working. You are in a strange place but they’re at home  - a new home, not their old home, sniff, sniff. Yup, there is nothing to bring home the fact that your chicks have flown the nest like visiting them in their new nests. And lets get down to the tough stuff. You are there to check up on them and they, in turn, know that you are there to check up on them.

All of this is true. But so is the fact that you can experience remarkable moments, like when you meet your children’s friends and you realize that they are surrounded by folks who care about them almost as much as you do. Even if you are unintentionally stressing them out during their work week, it’s great to get a glimpse of them in work mode.  Who knew they were so competent? How did they get their hands on such good housing without your involvement? And how did they learn to take care of their old Mum with such good grace.

So here’s my advice for being a good visiting parent. Come early and often. Travel light. Don’t stay with them. Offer to pay for everything but allow them to pay for somethings. Let them drive. Admire what they have built, on their own. Have fun. Your job is done.

Photo: Leland and I, after running Bay to Breakers together in San Francisco, a real highlight of my trip. Photo credit – thanks Erinn!

Customer Service, An Eurostar Refund and Mom's New iPhone

"Mom, there is no more customer service. Now it's all about what you do when they say no." Middle Son


"Mom, you of all people with an iPhone 4. What a waste." Youngest daughter


The younger generation has a different and adversarial view of customer service as witnessed by the above comment from my middle son.  But they use all these cool tools when companies don't perform and then supposedly things start to happen. So I went out and got an iPhone, right after my customer service problem with Eurostar. Inspired by my new status as part of the digital elite, I used state-of-the-art digital tools to advise Eurostar of my dissatisfaction.

And guess what? Last Friday, we connected. Eurostar customer service read my blog. They sent me an email. They responded to my tweets. I was so excited. They promised to look into why I hadn't been contacted. That is fine but let's not forget, what I want is a refund. Do you now understand why I was upset, why I deserve a refund and how to send the money to my bank account? I sent you those details as you requested and those are the questions to which I would like answers.

So what happens next Eurostar? Is my son right and we are going to have to go many more nasty rounds before this is settled or has social media (enhanced by smart phones) delivered a wonderful new world of customer service in which we understand each other better?

You can answer anytime. I now have an iPhone and despite what my daughter thinks, I'm digitally armed and ready for a great battle or great customer service. Now its up to you.

Eurostar Fail

Cows or Eurostar passengers?

The editor and I took a trip to Paris recently to check on our apartment.

On the way back to London we had an incident with the folks at Eurostar. The background to the incident can be summarized as follows: 1) the editor loses wallet 2) goes to Gare du Nord with receipt for ticket plus passport but no ticket which he must collect from machine with the now lost credit card 3) we explain that credit card has been lost and show proof of purchase + passport. 4) too bad for you, says Eurostar. If you want to go home you must buy a new ticket for EUR245) We have no choice. We buy ticket.

When we get home, we write Eurostar a nice email asking for our EUR245 back. To date, no response.

Which brings me to the point of my story. Why maintain a blog, plus a Facebook and a Twitter account, if you don't use these tools to encourage companies to respond when you are dissatisfied? So I am deploying my social media tools in an attempt to recover what I believe I am due. I've written this post, I've started a Facebook page called Eurostar Fail. I'm tweeting about it. Eurostar are you listening? We'll find out ...

And if you are interested, here is a copy of the email you neglected to answer:

Dear Sir or Madam,

On September 30, 2010, I received very poor customer service from Eurostar.

Earlier in the day, I lost my wallet. This is, of course, not Eurostar's fault but you can imagine that it was a distressing experience. When I arrived at Gare du Nord with a print out of my reservation including my booking number and payment information, and with my passport, I was told that without the credit card that I had used to book the ticket, my ticket could not be issued and that to travel to London on the same train, I would have to purchase a new ticket for EUR 245. I explained that I could not produce the card because it had been lost. Of course I expected a sympathetic response from Eurostar. Eurostar employees said there was nothing they could do except sell me another ticket.  They sent me to the SNCF as that was the issuing agency.  SNCF sent me back to Eurostar stating that Eurostar could issue a replacement boarding pass.

As I could prove that I had purchased a ticket, as I had the booking reference and as I had identification to prove who I was, I found this policy on the part of Eurostar not to issue a replacement boarding pass to be bureaucratic and unresponsive to my already distressing situation. I am a frequent Eurostar traveller and did not expect to be treated this way by your company.

Therefore, I ask that you refund the ticket which I was forced to purchase to get home when it was clear to everyone that I had already purchased a ticket. The booking reference for the ticket I was forced to buy to get home was QHKGHJ.  

I look forward to hearing from you.

Off-The-Grid Travel

Recently, the New York Times ran a story about five neuroscientists who took a  trip to the Glenn Canyon National Recreation area in Utah with the goal of studying how the heavy use of digital services and other technology changes how we think and behave. At the end of the trip, all five scientists were singing the praises of Off-the-Grid Travel.

Great premise, I thought. Off-the-Grid travel just might be the next big thing. It’s exotic, exclusive, difficult to achieve. It won’t be long before Abercrombie & Kent will be offering Off-the-Grid safaris. I should do something about this for No Crowds.

Two days later, I am in Hertfordshire, what Wikipedia calls “a non-metropolitan county in the East region of England”. Hardly the wilds of Utah, but for a committed London girl, a great place to perform her first  experiment with Off-the-Grid Travel.

My ground rules were simple:

1)   Leave electronic devices at home

2)   Drop off daughter at Lacrosse Camp in Hertforshire at 9:00 to be picked up at 4:00

3)   Find something to do for 6 hours

And here’s the thing, without devices or any forward planning, I had an absolutely splendid time for the next 3 days.

On day one, I took a walk and stumbled on Rothamsted Research, a huge agricultural research center that is also the oldest agricultural research station in the world where scientists have been tracking environmental changes over the last 150 years. The center includes a beautiful 17^th century manor house that is used to house the scientists and students.

On day two, I ended up at the home of the playwright George Bernard Shaw in the tiny village of Ayot St Lawrence. Run by the National Trust, Shaw’s Corner  (pictured above) is a great time warp. Much of his books and papers are there, including his Oscar for My Fair Lady. About that he had this to say. “I won’t say I’m insulted because no doubt they meant well, but I don’t work for competitions.” Who knew?

On day three, I pulled out all the stops and followed a sign to Hatfield House. For the last 400 years, the estate has been the home of the Cecils, one of England’s foremost political families. It’s a grand Jacobean place filled with inspiring stories and objects and one of the finest houses I have ever visited.

For three days, just like the neuroscientists in Utah, I wandered around and discovered things. It was fun. I paid attention to what I was doing. Twitter, Facebook and No Crowds did fine without me and I without them.

Off-the-Grid Travel. It really could be the next big thing.

Great Fakes?

We are off to Cadaques in Spain made famous by Salvador Dali. We’re going to the real one.  Not the official recreation that is being built in China for holidaymakers looking for a 'taste’ of Europe and not the unofficial real estate development, Cadaques Caribe, a reconstruction in the Dominican Republic.

“How surreal” I thought when I read about all those fake Cadaqueses in the Guardian newspaper but how fitting.  As one of the most forged artists in the world, aided by the habit of signing and selling off blank sheets of paper, Dali would most likely have enjoyed the whole thing. But it does raise an interesting question about authentic versus fake experiences, and whether we should or can embrace 'the real deal'.

On one end of the spectrum is Las Vegas. According to the website Without Baggage, it’s the fakest place on earth with a fake Rome, Venice, Paris and even a fake Treasure Island – a fake of a fake. OK, Las Vegas is an obvious and in some ways funny if not a bit ridiculous example but what about Colonial Williamsburg. I LOVE Williamsburg and it too is a complete reconstruction, perhaps a worthier reconstruction, but a fake just the same. 

So what makes a travel experience authentic? A trickier question than it first appears. Mark Jones a travel writer and frequent contributor on the BA Highlife website answers it this way:

“My definition is this: authentic places are those which are comfortable in their own skin. An authentic travel experience is when you get under the skin of that place. An authentic tourist is someone who is changed by a place and doesn’t seek to change it. Let’s celebrate them.”

A pretty good definition. You can read the entire article here and check out BA Highlife’s list of the 50 most authentic places on earth here.

The No Crowds definition, which borrows heavily from Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart regarding obscenity, is this:

Authentic? I know it when I see it, and the recreation of Cadaques on the coast of main land China is definitely not that.

So what’s your definition?

Will Travel Make You Happier?

The business section of the New York Times ran a major story on consumption and happiness this weekend.  To sum up the findings of a number of prominent psychologists quoted in the article, spending on an experience provides more lasting happiness than spending on stuff.

According to Sonja Lyubomirsky, a professor at the University of California, Riverside with a grant from the US National Institute of Mental Health to study the possibility of permanently increasing happiness, spending on travel experiences is a happiness ‘best buy’. She claims that travel provides longer-lasting happiness because unlike a new jacket or a TV, it cannot be consumed in one go. Travel enhances social relations.  It creates memories that can be savored. Most importantly, Lyubomirsky argues, we edit those memories to put a positive spin on the past. “That trip to Rome during which you waited in endless lines, broke your camera and argued with your spouse will typically be airbrushed with rosy recollection.”

I’m not so convinced about the ‘rosy recollection’ part, I remember a lot of terrible trips very vividly, but I am sold on the idea that travel experiences create the best emotional bang for your dollar – or pound, euro or whatever. I’m thinking, in fact, about this year’s summer trip to North Carolina. I’ve been back in London for almost a week, but I am still happier than when I left. Why? Because I am emotionally satisfied. It’s not so much what we did in North Carolina. In fact, we do the same things every year. We eat barbeque, go to the beach, play tennis and visit Chapel Hill. The reason I am emotionally satisfied is the simple but invaluable pleasure of doing those things with the same people every year, a collection of friends and relations with whom I hope to be forever connected. Whatever it cost to get to North Carolina this summer was money well spent and a much better buy than the new chairs I was considering. I think the New York Times is right. Spending on experiences, particularly travel experiences, does make you happier. 

Travel Advice for the Class of 2010 - and their parents

When my son graduated from business school in 2008 with plans to travel around the world and then find a job, I gave him sound advice.

“Son, we’re heading in to a really bad recession. You have only experienced boom markets. You have no idea what is about to happen. Under no circumstances should you take off now and see the world. Times are too tough. Why put all your hard work at risk. Trust me.”

And his reply? “Thanks, Mom. See you in 6 months.”

The conclusion to this story is instructive.  The young man in question went around the world, had countless amazing experiences, came back, struggled for a short while and then got himself an excellent job

So here is my top travel tip for members of the Class of 2010.  

Ignore your well-intended relatives and their advice as well as your own worries about earning a living. Take that trip. Go walkabout. Go (deeper) in to debt if you must. You have the rest of your life to pay it off. I don’t think it makes a huge difference where you go. Just go.

Now if you are a parent of a member of the Class of 2010, and you have bought into the idea that this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for your graduate, then here are some suggestions for a graduation present that may be imprudent but will never be forgotten.

A train ticket on either the 6,000 mile Trans-Siberian Express from Moscow to Beijing or the Ghan in Australia  - 2,980 miles in 54 hours from Adelaide to Darwin

A trip with either Global Volunteers – a well established organization offering the opportunity to live with locals and work on service programs or Relief Riders International providing humanitarian, medical and educational missions on horseback

A copy of Bill Bryson’s A Walk in the Woods, a budget of $3,000 - $5,000 and 5 – 7 months to hike the 2,000 mile Appalachian Trail

For far less money and time, tackle the 71 mile Apolobamba Trek in Bolivia –  part of the ancient road network of the Inca, without crowds, where less than $40 a day will get you a guide, a burro and accommodation and transport to and from La Paz

And I add this last suggestion just to make every mother’s blood run cold – a copy of Patrick Symmes’, Chasing Che: A Motorcycle Journey in Search of the Guevara Legend – a travelogue that recreates Che’s eight month motorcycle ride through South America - and how about a nice BMW?

Graduates of the Class of 2010 – off you go!

Is Your Hand in my Pocket Because You're Glad to See Me

Yesterday, the UN ranked Norway the best place to live based on education, wealth and life expectancy which reminded me that I had an instructive email from Gary languishing in my inbox about the need for travellers on the road to be vigilant with valuables ... even in the best place to live in the world!


Soon after we rendezvoused with our friends on arrival in Oslo, one of them somewhat randomly mentioned multiple signs they had seen mentioning the need to stay vigilant about pickpockets.

Ah well, our friends don’t travel that much, I thought, and haven’t endured multiple “pickpockets are working this area” announcements at innumerable London tube stations. Isn’t that sweet (and maybe a bit naïve) that Marianne is concerned about such things?

The next day we had decided to join the tourist crowds, which we occasionally do, and go to see the astounding sculptures of Gustav Vigeland, Norway’s most well known (and randiest, if you take a moment to study his work) sculptor. Vigeland Park is a huge outdoor museum, and we enjoyed ourselves, despite, or maybe because of the steel grey weather. Recommended, in spite of the crowds.

Heading back to our apartment, we decided to make use of our OsloPass, which afforded us free travel on the entire trolley system, we headed to the station just outside the park gates. I was a tourist among tourists – cargo shorts, backpack, water bottle, camera. Waiting for the trolley, I took this random picture of a couple of people, one of whom (not facing me) would become more important.

The crowd built up, so by the time the train came, there were a couple of dozen of us waiting to get on.As we scrummed to board the train, said guy, newspaper in hand, thoughtfully motioned me and my backpack ahead of him. Interesting I thought, because I had seen him talking earlier to his friend, the guy who was now in front of me. Maybe they’d had enough of each other. No biggie.

Slowly, the guy in front of me stopped, and even backed up a bit, appearing to be waving others in ahead of him. Meanwhile the guy in back kept moving forward, jostling me and poking me with various elbows and knees. Was he just impatient or was that…a hand in my pocket? Suddenly, Marianne’s words came back to me as my mind spun with visions of spending the vacation cancelling credit cards and replacing driving licenses (after all who cares about the cash?)

What I did next came directly from my amygdala – no cerebral cortex involvement, I assure you. I screamed loudly “Hey, give me back my wallet!” and grabbed his newspaper arm (having understood the purpose of the paper now). Tellingly, he did not react at all, which was probably better for both of us, since I was ready for a fight and he was 20 years my junior. Everyone looked at me and waited to see what would happen. By that time I realized that he had not been successful – my wallet was still in my pocket. I know I should have dragged him to the local constabulary, but I was so relieved that I let him go and he melted into the crowd.

SO there is a moral to this story, which by the way, is not about Oslo, since it could happen anywhere. Yes, it’s about being vigilant, but more than that, it is about what a wonderful idea it is to make a scene. Acting like an obnoxious American has its advantages, and it was clearly the right thing to do here. Lorraine tells me that women, especially are taught not to call attention to themselves, even in such circumstances. I can tell you that the vacation would have been a very different one.

The image is from Viegland Park (thanks to http://www.ilovephilosophy.com/) and pickpockets or not - I really want to go there!

The Last Three Feet

“The really crucial link in the international communication chain is the last three feet, which is bridged by personal contact, one person talking to another.”
Edward R. Murrow

Why did those Harvard kids create Facebook? The website talks about giving people the power to share and making the world more connected. Rubbish. Having just completed 6 weeks on a campus right down the road from Harvard, I know the real reason. Mark Zuckerberg had lots of homework. He was trying to avoid his homework - and presto – Facebook.

For the rest of us, procrastination does not lead to such obvious riches. My own case is instructive. Right now, I am sitting on a farm in North Carolina. I am way behind on my thesis. I haven’t written anything for No Crowds in over a month. I have 173 unread emails.

I blame everyone. Is it my fault that my southern family is super time consuming or that my son brought his girlfriend for a visit, that French friends touring the American South parked their RV in the yard? Can I help it that lightening struck the house and fried the broadband? Who can write with so much company and no broadband?

On the other hand, I have spent time with my parents (in their 80s) and my sister and family (from Australia) and helped take care of my sick aunt (getting better). I’ve met my son’s girlfriend (brilliant and fun), watched the Frenchies charm the pants off everyone (no more talk of “cheese eating surrender monkeys” in this town) Maybe I haven’t been procrastinating. Maybe I have been following Edward R Murrow’s advice to focus on the crucial “last three feet”. Maybe this unplugged summer has created something more valuable than Facebook after all.

Photo of Edward R Murrow and Harry S. Truman from Wikipedia

The Secret Life of Students

I used to wonder about these things but I get it now.

Why you refuse to go on a food plan. It’s all you can eat and it’s cheap.
It really is gross and not cheap either.

Then why can’t you stick to a reasonable food budget? There must be lots of cheap food around college campuses.
Have you seen the price of a cup of coffee lately. You can only eat so many burritos. It all adds up.

Why are there so many “lost key” charges on your bill?
It’s really easy to lose your keys and the University charges are punitive.

Why can't you get along with the campus police?
Because they don't like students. We're their 'bad guys'.

How can your clothes get soooo nasty. Don’t they have machines at your school?
Yes but they are expensive and inconvenient.

I send you things through the mail and you don’t even bother to go to your mailbox.
I can’t open my mailbox because its 1,000 years old, has a fiddly combination that doesn’t work.

What’s this “Incomplete” on your transcript. You have nothing to do but put your head down and finish your work.
So have you seen the syllabus for my course – 8 mini-papers, one big paper, a presentation, a simulation and a final not to mention the reading. Finishing ain’t as easy as it looks.

Why don’t you call?
Because I’m having too much fun.

I Love Paris When It's Striking

“You’ll never get back to London tomorrow. A national strike will shut down everything. There will be no Metro, no taxis, it will be complete chaos. Stay put.”

That was the advice of a Parisian friend but did we listen? No, we did not. Despite my visions of climbing over the barricades singing the Internationale with my suitcase, the Editor wanted to get back for a meeting and so we went.

Here’s what the media was reporting:

Ø 195 demonstrations across the country over the economic crisis
Ø Eight major unions participating – hundreds of thousands of workers striking
Ø Estimated cost of industrial action - €300 – 400 million

Here’s what we encountered:

Ø A blissfully deserted Paris (felt like August)
Ø Fully functioning Metro with empty trains
Ø Fully function Eurostar service to London (we arrived ahead of schedule)
Ø The best and easiest trip home ever!

Here’s what we learned:

Ø On days of national strikes, the French stay home, but you shouldn’t
Ø Stay underground, and stay away from the Bastille
Ø The French enjoy a good protest and you can too


Since we don’t expect economic conditions to improve any time soon (by their own estimates, the nation lost €300 to €400 million today), we expect these general strikes to continue but that’s no reason to stay away from this fabulous city. To paraphrase Cole Porter, “I even love Paris when it’s striking.”

Photo credit: Reuters

It's Off to Work We Go

And we thought Heathrow was bad. That was until we read last Friday’s article in the Daily Telegraph about the rise of criminal gangs in Sweden using dwarves to steal valuables from the luggage of unsuspecting passengers.

According to Swedish police, gangs are hiding dwarves in luggage which is then placed in the storage compartment of long-distance buses. Once the journey has begun, the stowaways unzip the bag, rifle through the belongings, steal the goods, zip themselves back into the bag and wait to be collected by their partners in crime. They are reported to have made off with thousands of pounds of jewellery, cash and other valuables in recent months.

And if you think this only affects Swedes, the article cited the fact that Swebus, which transports thousands of holidaying Brits across the country, has also been targeted. Toto, I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore.

Unusual Places to Go and Stay

Update: March 18, 2009

Jumbo Hostel, Arlanda/Stockholm

Spend the night in a former Boeing 747 which has been converted into a hostel at Stockholm's Arlanda airport. Book the cockpit suite and get an awesome view of the runway.

www.jumbohostel.com

Phone: 46 (0)8 593 60400

Our editor asked recently where we would like to go for our birthday. Having just pooh-poohed chain hotels in our recent list of New Year’s resolutions, we thought this would be a good opportunity to review our favourite websites describing weird and wonderful getaways from London. Here’s our list. Do you have any suggestions?

Havenkraan, Harlingden, Holland

This could be the ultimate NoCrowds experience, a one room hotel for two in an industrial harbour crane rising above the Wadden Sea in Holland. There are two lifts (think pneumatic tubes) which whisk you up the 17 meters where you will find all the modern cons including a showerbath for two, Charles Eames seating (whoever he is) and a “well designed bed”. Best of all, they let you drive the 65,000 kilo steel crane.
As they say on the website, “Scotty, beam me aboard!” The fact that the editor hates heights may kill this one for us but if you check the website, you’ll see you can also stay in a lighthouse or a lifeboat.

The Harlingden Harbour Crane
Dokkade 5 Harlingden
The Netherlands

http://www.havenkraan.nl/eng/index3.html


The Temple at Stancombe Park, England

Built by the original owner for trysts with a local gypsy girl and set in the famous Folly Gardens of Stancombe Park where Evelyn Waugh wrote Brideshead Revisited, the Temple gets our vote for the most romantic getaway in Britain. The price of £797 per night for 2 in low season (with a three night minimum) and £1,015 in high season sadly may put this option beyond our reach. But if we win the lottery, we’re so there.

Stancombe, near Wotton-under-Edge

http://www.thetemple.info/


Dasparkhotel, Ottensheim Austria

Now here’s one we can afford. Built out of recycled concrete drain pipes and located in a municipal park near Linz, Austria, Dasparkhotel is a “hospitality concept” which operates from May to October. Built by artists and conceived as an art installation, the sleeping pods operate on a “pay-as-you-like” system. Each drain pod comes equipped with a double bed, linens, storage, a small window, an electrical outlet and the all important internet connection. Everything else, like toilets, food and running water, can be found nearby in the park. Definitely not for claustrophobics and maybe not as much fun to visit as it is to write about, we still think this novel idea is worth considering.

For reservations: http://www.dasparkhotel.net/reservation/index.php

Baby Jumping in Castrillo de Murcia, Spain

We’ve heard that the running of the bulls in Pamplona has degenerated into a total zoo and is not much fun anymore. For a less touristic and less dangerous (at least for the visitors) festival, this year we’re considering heading for the El Calacho Baby Jumping Festival in Castrillo de Murchia. Every year since 1620 as part of the celebration of Corpus Christi, men dressed as the devil holding whips and truncheons leap over new born babies to cleanse them of evil. The babies are dressed in their finest and laid on decorated mattresses in the street. The festivities are organised by the Brotherhood of Santissimo Sacramento de Minerva who also make it their business to terrorize onlookers or anyone in need of a quick exorcism. To see a video of baby jumping, click here.

At this time, we have no idea where to stay or even how to get there but we’re working on it.


So there you have it, a crane, a temple, a drainpipe or a baby jumping festival. Where would you go?

Photo of the baby jumping in Castrillo de Murcia courtesy of Associated Press

Our Favourite London Loos

NoCrowds has been thinking a lot lately about toilets. The topic has been on our mind since we read last month that the Mayor of Paris was taking the matter of public urination in hand (no pun intended) by inventing “le mur anti-pipi”, a special kind of wall which undulates and miraculously sends the jet of pee back in the direction of its creator. Now that is a man of action!

Here in London, we take a more considered approach with the London Assembly conducting an investigation into the alarming decline in public toilets. The 53 page document makes depressing reading. Did you know that the number of public toilets in London has decreased 40% since 1999 with each toilet now serving approximately 18,000 Londoners? The Association of Professional Tourist Guides and Guild of Registered Tourist Guides have formed an “Inconvenience Committee” to challenge the poor state of toilets in this country and the impact on the tourist industry. OK, we’re convinced. There is a real problem.

In response, we are working on a definitive guide to the best places to go to the toilet in London which we plan to complete by the 2012 Olympics, thus saving the government from total embarrassment and earning us a fortune. In the interim, here is the list of our current favourite places to go. Being former New Yorkers, we’re not big users of the public facilities, which, for the record, is a stupid prejudice since public loos in London, diminishing though they may be, are pretty nice. What we prefer, though, are pleasant, hassle-free places that we have counted on over the years. Quicker than Starbucks (always a queue) and classier than McDonalds. Here’s our list of some nice loos in London. Feel free to add your own.

Around Piccadilly/Green Park

Waterstones Piccadilly
203 -206 Piccadilly
Open 10 to 10 Monday through Saturday and 6 on Sunday

Waterstones on Piccadilly is the largest bookstore in Europe. Housed in what was once the Simpson’s Department store, toilets are amply distributed though out the building. This is a great place for a pit stop and peek at the new titles and best of all, Waterstones stays open until 10 pm.

Around Mayfair

Claridges
Brook Street

Of course, all the grand London hotels have great loos but this is our favourite. A nice place for a break when Central London makes you crazy. Ladies loos conveniently located near the entrance. A great place for an expensive drink if you want to restart the whole process.

Around Oxford Street

John Lewis Department Store
Oxford Street
9:30 to 7, Thursday until 8 and Sunday 12 until 6

You gotta love a store that is still owned by its employees. This large quintessentially English retailer has plenty of loos with the quickest and easiest to be found to the rear of the building off the stairwell. Also great for home furnishings, fittings and appliances.

Around Sloane Square

Peter Jones Department Store
Sloane Square
9:30 to 7, Wednesday until 8 and Sunday 11 until 5

Call me old fashioned, but I also love the atmosphere in Peter Jones, part of the John Lewis Partnership. If you are looking for middle England, here it is in all its glory - properly dressed ladies, helpful staff and sensible products. And the loos reflect this sensibility. They are plentiful and sensible and to be found on alternating floors of the main stairwell. Take your granny. She’ll love it.

Around High Street Kensington

Whole Foods
63-97 Kensington High Street
8 to 10, Monday through Saturday and 12 to 6 on Sunday

The loos at recently opened Whole Food ( up the stairs and at the rear of the food court) have yet to be discovered by shoppers and are infinitely nicer than the ones at Marks and Spencer. Good for a break and a baguette. Stays open late and if you spend over £100 ( three or four heritage tomatoes should do the trick) the parking is free.

Photo of Marcel Duchamp's Fountain by Alfred Stieglitz, 1917

The Ultimate Burns Supper

Heavy rains and high winds may have cancelled Hogmanay (New Years) celebrations across Scotland, but here is an idea about how to participate in Scotland’s greatest celebration that is guaranteed to happen no matter what the weather or where in the world you are.

Forget virtual travel experiences (they don’t serve whiskey in cyberspace), what you really need if you want to feel as if you have taken a trip to Scotland is a good Burns Night Supper. These suppers have been in existence for over 200 years and Scots and anyone who has a fondness for Scotland, poetry and partying on or about January 25, gather across the globe to celebrate the life, the works and the philosophy of Robert Burns.

Until now, unless you were a Scot (or a client or close friend of one), the idea of sourcing a haggis and addressing it seemed totally daunting. But that was before Clark McGinn solved the problem for the rest of us with his definitive work, The Ultimate Burns Supper Book. This wonderful little book tells you everything you need to know to get in on the action whether you are a guest, a host or even just a couple enjoying a Burns Night Supper a deux.

Clark’s advice is so comprehensive, practical and fun, that there is no longer any excuse for missing out on the festivities. No matter where in the world you are, you can be an honorary Scot for the night. Having lived in the US for a period, Clark even knows which American butchers can get you a proper haggis (his favourite comes from Oregon). From invitations to recitation, it’s all in the Ultimate Burns Supper Book. So go ahead, buy the book and give it a go. Why? Because, in the words of Mr. McGinn, “A good Burns Supper creates a community amongst those present, based in equal parts on the conviviality of good company, the joy of fine Scottish food and drink, and the insight into our essential humanity captured by the songs and poems of one of the greatest Bards of any time in any language.”

Photo of Clark McGinn and haggis courtesy of http://www.seriousburns.com/