Saranac - It's Not Just A Beer Anymore

Miles driven: 4,318

Greetings from Lake Saranac in upstate New York. We've had a wonderful 9 days up this way, seeing lots of places I have been meaning to get to for years. After a night near Buffalo (including a night out at Duff's, a buffalo wing institution), we headed to the Finger Lakes. It's a beautiful 60 miles lazy loop around Seneca Lake (where we stayed), and we enjoyed a few of the many wineries along the way. This stuff won't be winning any awards, but it's drinkable and the winery settings more than made up for it. We then spent a couple of nights in a cottage in the Green Mountains of Vermont...small towns, covered bridges, farmers markets, lots of fresh produce....bliss. Next up was Burlington, which has an enviable location on Lake Champlain...more good eats and great scenery. Finally we took the ferry across the lake and are now in Saranac. We rented a boat today for a couple of hours and cruised the lake (my favorite), followed by some kayaking (Andrea's favorite). There is nothing better than being on the water.

It's a slower pace up this way, and the other night at the pub I started making some notes on what I've observed about being back in America. Please forgive my sweeping stereotypes, but here are 12 brief things I scrawled down:

- The good beer is unbelievably high in alcohol
- Gas in unbelievably cheap
- I don't get carded anymore
- People don't drive small American cars because they all suck
- Service is really, really good
- People are really, really friendly
- There are a lot of Jesus radio stations
- Food portions are 50-70% too large
- Tipping has just gone way too far
- This country doesn't feel that big if take your time crossing it
- America still farms – a lot!
- Saying you have been living in England can end a conversation (people fear what they can't find on a map)

So there you have it – America, summarized on one beer coaster.

Tomorrow it's off to indulge in one of my favorite guilty American pleasures – a day at Saratoga, betting on the ponies!!

Head East Young Man

Miles driven: 3,677

We have now left the Midwest. Wanting to add some international flair to our cross country trip, we took the shorter Canadian route, crossing at Detroit and then re-entering the US at Niagara Falls. I say international flair, but in reality the 4 hours across Canada involved dead straight motorway, corn fields, and a mediocre lunch on the side of the road in London, Canada. I was actually excited to stop in London – they have a River Thames and a Hyde Park and a few other places named after the real deal back in England. However, it basically resembled the suburbs of Anytown, Anywhere -- less than impressive.

And after hours of squinting at the small kilometer numbers on my speedometer, we arrived at the the threshold of hell, otherwise known as Niagara Falls, Canada. Imagine the worst seaside boardwalk you have ever seen, built along what was once probably one of the most scenic nature spots on earth. Throw in tens of thousands of bloated North Americans with bad haircuts and even worse tattoos. News flash, Canada: Hooters, funnel cake, and the Seventh Wonder of the World don't mix. We high tailed it back to the US, where at least New York has the decency to enclose the falls area into a state park.

Luckily, we spent the prior 5 days in two really cool college towns – Madison, Wisconsin and Ann Arbor, Michigan. Madison has one of the most amazing settings anywhere – a thin strip of land between two beautiful lakes. Throw in some awesome Wisconsin dairy (cheeses and ice creams) and tons of local beers, and life by the lake is good. Ann Arbor doesn't have the same setting, but the town feels more alive. The main drag in town is full of people eating and drinking outside, there is a huge local arts scene, and a life changing deli called Zingerman's. Put the town of Ann Arbor in Madison's setting, and you might just have the most perfect college town on Earth.

Across the board, we had a really positive experience in the Midwest. We ate and drank well almost everywhere, and except for one night in Spearfish, South Dakota, the towns we stayed in were full of charm. Maybe we got lucky, but “fly over country” had a lot more flavor than I expected.

Minnesota

Miles driven: 2,566

So I'm in Minnesota right now, and it smells like shit. This isn't some deep blog metaphor – it actually does smell like cow shit here. It stings the nostrils, and not in a good way. We had to drive through about 7,000 miles of corn crops to get here, and once we arrived we discovered that there is a distinct lack of good beer. Plus, everyone has that funny Minnesota (MinnesOOOta) accent.

So it would be fine to be a bit depressed after leaving the majestic sights of the Rocky Mountains or the beautiful Black Hills of South Dakota. Except I'm finding myself quite happy here. Lanesboro, where we are staying, has a Main Street, and along it are American flags flying every 20 feet. We met a couple tonight whose son is recovering from losing a leg in Iraq (quite well, I might add – he recently ran the Army 10 Miler in DC, which I on the other hand, have not). Much of the town gathered at the local theatre for a performance tonight, probably just as they do at the high school during football season. People eat beef for dinner, so much so that the local restaurant ran out tonight. There are a lot of giant pickup trucks around. So, it really feels like small town Middle America here – and this is exactly what I came to see.

We've had a good few days leading up to this as well. We lit candle lanterns and climbed through an off-trail section of Wind Cave, South Dakota with a park ranger. We drove through Spearfish Canyon and hiked through the amazing scenery of the Badlands National Park. The stretch of country from the Tetons, Wyoming to the Badlands, South Dakota must be one of the most amazing on Earth. I have a new affection for this part of the world.

Not that these parts don't have their more confounding sides. Read the papers, the poll numbers, and the bumper stickers, and you recognize that this part of the country is not particularly sympathetic to the Middle East – and yet, and I cannot find a way to stress this enough – EVERYONE here drives a massive truck or SUV. And these massive vehicles burn TONS of fuel – which helps keep us dependent on the Middle East for energy. I can't tell you how many times I've watched a Ford F-9000 Super Triton Maxi-Cab truck take 5 attempts to get into a normal parking space...and then one person gets out of it. You would expect this part of the country to lead the charge on sticking the middle finger up to OPEC – and yet, they happily fill up their monster trucks on cheap fuel from a place they detest. It quite simply makes no sense. I would start a debate -- but hell, most of these people are armed and I'm driving a European car and still speak with a slight British inflection. Mum did not raise no fool.

Nonetheless, I am embracing the rural experience. After all, it still represents 97% of the land in America. And there is no doubt that us city folk get a warmer welcome here in the country, than the other way around.

Man versus Bison

Miles driven: 1,521

I am writing this from the Herbert Hoover suite at the Occidental Hotel in Buffalo, Wyoming. President Hoover actually stayed in our room in 1932, during his presidency. In fact, the tub is the same, so Andrea and I are going to soak our bums tonight where a sitting president once did. Or perhaps I will just shower.

It's been quite a week. After leaving Idaho we crossed into Wyoming and spent a couple of nights in Jackson Hole. Our town, Teton Village, was a quiet resort and had its own private entrance into Grand Teton National Park -- which in the summer is a wonderful thing. Despite the reviews of crowds in the parks during the summer, we were often the only people at the gate. We took a 5 mile hike up a glacier canyon, took pictures from the vantage point that made Ansel Adams famous, and enjoyed some perfect 70 degree top down days. We also encountered a herd of bison, as my blog title alludes to. Which at first seemed perfectly innocent...some bison crossing the road. We were smiling and taking pictures as the first few bison passed near by, as were the other people in their family cars. The problem is that the family cars around us resembled armored personnel carriers, whereas my Audi with the top down resembled lunch. The bison started grunting and surrounding the “weakling” vehicle. In a Mario Andretti-esque driving manuever, I reversed the Audi, circled behind a minivan for shelter, and quickly hit the “top up” button. Surrounded by 3 whole layers of fabric, we bravely rode out the onslaught of bison, unscathed (pics on the Picasa website). In retaliation, I ate a bison flank steak that night back in Jackson Hole. It was delicious.

Yellowstone was no less impressive, and the geysers really performed. Of course we saw Old Faithful -- but Castle Geyser, which erupts once per day unpredictably, went off in a spectacular display literally as we walked up. Further along, Beehive Geyser, which erupts roughly every 30 hours, also erupted, firing water and steam 200 feet high. This is a place that just feels primordial – sulfur hangs in the air all over the place, steam vents appear out of nowhere, and water bubbles in ponds all over the park. Then of course you have the Yellowstone Canyon, home to Lower Falls, which is twice the height of Niagara. We hiked down from the canyon rim to the top of it – and to watch that much water fall that far, that fast, is just inspiring. I could have watched it all day.

I'll end on a food note (always near and dear to my heart) – the streak ended today. Our dinner tonight (bison burger) was served with a bag of Lay's potato chips, and Andrea's appetizer dip came with packaged crackers. So perhaps the food revolution hasn't quite made it to this corner of Wyoming...

Food Fight

Miles driven: 999

So a few of you have recommended a book called The Omnivore's Dilemma, and I thought I would give it a go. The gist of the book is that America has a food chain that is mostly untraceable and often based on corn – look at any label and see the amount of high fructose corn syrup, corn starch, citric acid – your Chicken McNuggets are (only slightly) chicken that is fed corn, breaded in corn, and fried in corn oil (plus some petroleum). Beef cows are fed a diet of corn (not a natural food for them) and antibiotics. We are now even breeding salmon that can eat corn. So much food in general is over-processed and over-refined.

I should note that I still have about 100 pages left in the book – but it's not exactly a glowing picture of the American food system. Now Britain doesn't have the best reputation in the culinary scene – but cows there can only be grass fed, and eggs are only free range (it becomes illegal to cage hens in the UK as of next year). There are no preservatives to speak of – I dare you to find a loaf of bread in a London market that doesn't expire tomorrow. Beer is hand pumped from wooden casks that spoil in 3 days once tapped. The cheapest onions, grapes, and strawberries in the grocery store are still organic.

So I've had a fair amount of dread about what I was going to find when I got home. But the simple truth is that I have been absolutely shocked and awed – in a good way. Of course quality food is always available if you have the cash...but even within our meager travel means I have found the following: Hawaii – opah fish in the grocery store, line caught that morning and on ice by 4pm. Los Angeles – a farmer's market selling goat cheese made less than 50 miles away, and $1.29 tacos made with real meat and chicken. Portland – food trucks cooking with fresh ingredients, handmade beer literally on every corner. Walla Walla – a corner bistro serving Washington river wild salmon tartare, grass fed steak frites, and organic wines. Boise, Idaho – BOISE, FREAKING IDAHO, PEOPLE – the corner pub we went to listed their suppliers by name with grass fed beef for burgers, happy outdoor pigs for ribs, hand made Idaho cheeses and organic potatoes. The beer list included how many miles each beer had travelled to get to you in case you care to reduce your carbon footprint. Jackson Hole, Wyoming – another corner pub, and yet the salmon and trout are listed by which river they come from, the bison meat is from a farm down the street, and burger meat is also local and grass fed.

I keep waiting for the big disappointment. We said after Portland that the food scene would be bleak. When Boise amazed us, we said Wyoming was where we where we would be let down on food. But that hasn't happened. Eventually, I know we will be forced to eat at some chain, serving over-processed marginal food -- but so far I am absolutely loving what I see.

The Road Trip Begins....

Miles driven: 321

We are underway! After one of the easiest car buying experiences imaginable (“check is in the mail? I trust you, go ahead and take the car now”), we are on the open road.

But not after 3 very cool days in Portland, Oregon. We ate well and drank even better – the brew houses here are just incredible. Take, for instance, Rogue Brewing. You beer drinkers out there probably know Rogue Dead Guy Ale – but at the brewhouse, that beer is buried under about 25 other varieties that are all on tap. We were handed a beer binder when we walked in that described gravity levels and scales of hopiness – it was heavenly. And just as Portland led the country in the microbrewing craze in the 1990's, you can see the next trend already taking shape -- the food trucks, serving inventive local food at good prices. We really enjoyed the vibe of the city overall – there is such an emphasis on local food and drink, every place has outdoor seating, and the people are friendly and laid back.

From Portland, we dropped the top and drove through the beautiful Pacific northwest up to Mount Hood (where they are still skiing this time of year!), and then along the stunning Columbia River Gorge east to Walla Walla, Washington. Walla Walla is a small town that has become a wine epicenter out this way. It's a hot climate so lots of Cabernet Savignon, Merlot, and Syrah. We are not typically Merlot drinkers but the goods out this way are spectacular. Walla Walla itself is excellent – the downtown area (maybe 6 or 7 blocks) has about 15 winery tasting rooms plus some nice spots for food, and tonight we found some live music and the locals dancing the night away. It's exactly what I wanted to find out this way – small town America, full of life, lots of local food and drink, everyone knows everyone. The locals seem to know they have a good thing going, and we've loved it too.

In the morning it's off to the weekend farmers market, and then to Idaho for a couple of days before we make our assault on Yellowstone and Grand Teton Park in Wyoming.

California Dreamin'

We've spent the last two weeks in California, and it's been awesome. Lots of good quality time with our siblings – I hadn't seen my sister Ashleigh and her husband Jeff, who live in LA, in 18 months – plus lots of barbeques, sleeping in, and living the California dream (as much of a dream as a bankrupt state can have). We divided our time between Los Angeles (staying with Ash and Jeff), the desert near Edwards Air Force Base (two hours north of LA, staying with John), and then a roadtrip up California Route 1 to Monterey (midweek trip for just the two of us).

A few things I love about California:

1)Predictability. Primarily this comes into play with the weather. During our time in Los Angeles, the daytime high varied wildly between 73 and 74 degrees. Out in the desert where John lives, it was predictably 95 degrees. Along the Monterey coast, it was 68 degrees each day without fail. It never rained. If this state employs even one weatherman, it's gross overkill.

2)The food. I have eaten – I kid you not – three straight days at a place called Tacos Delta. It's a walk up stand near Ashleigh and Jeff's, selling tacos for $1.29 apiece – nothing fancy, just good fresh Mexican food. There is just so much good stuff here – the farmers markets have gleaming produce, the seafood counter here has piles of line-caught California fish, and the local wines and microbrewed beers are just incredible. We have grilled about 10 times in the past two weeks and it has made me very, very happy.

3)The scenery. This state has a little bit of everything -- in LA, we did 2 hikes in the Hollywood hills, and watched seal lions swim along the gorgeous Malibu coast one afternoon. Out near John there are mountains and giant dry lakebeds in the desert, which fill up with about a foot of water each winter. Heading up towards Monterey, we drove through more mountains, lush crops in the valley, and vineyards along the coast. And of course there is the indescribable coastal drive from San Simeon to Monterey. It is simply one of the best in the world – cliffside cruising with mountains on one side and the Pacific on the other, and cove after beautiful cove with teal water crashing below. Just breathtaking.

Tonight we are flying to Portland, Oregon to buy a car and begin the cross country drive. We are excited to be getting on the road, but it's been so good to see everyone out west. A big thanks to Ashleigh, Jeff, and John for hosting us...and to Laura, Matthew, and Dana for flying out for the 4th of July weekend.

Maui Waui

Maui must be one of the most predictable locations on earth. 6 days and it never rained, just like the last time we were here. It was religiously 86 degrees during the day and 70 degrees at night, just like the last time we were here. The sun set each night over crystal blue waters, also much like last time. The ono and mahi mahi were fresh off the boat...no one wants to read this.

But we did mix it up a bit. First of all, we flew to Maui from the Big Island on a 8-passenger single-engine Cessna. It was freaking awesome. We were dropped off at the private aviation terminal in Kona (no security, no silly liquid ban), Andrea and I sat directly behind Dimitri the pilot, and up we went. We crossed the 26 miles of water separating the two islands at 5,000 feet – and then Dimitri descended down to 1,000 feet, and we literally flew up the Road to Hana. Those of you who have driven the road know that it's considered one of the best drives in the world, with more than a waterfall per mile. It was just awe inspiring to see from the air -- we bobbed and weaved our way along, zooming past waterfalls and waves crashing on the coastline as we skimmed over lush green hills. This is old school flying – kind of like getting out of a dead quiet Lexus and driving a 1964 ragtop Mustang. It's about as far removed from the sanitized experience of a Emirates 777 or a Qantas A330 as you can imagine, and it made me never want to fly on a big jet again. Andrea might have loved it even more than I did.

We also did some amazing snorkeling. Not far from the Marriot where we were staying is a well regarded spot, so we dove in one afternoon. Good reef, lots of fish, and just as we were about to head in... I saw the outline of a turtle in the distant water. I grabbed Andrea, managed to say “turtle” as I swallowed about a gallon of sea water, and out we went along the reef to look for him. Fifteen minutes later, no turtle, so we started to turn back in – and then he appeared – a giant sea turtle, easily a couple of hundred pounds in size. We stopped moving and he passed right in front of us, taking a look and then slowly moving along. We ended up swimming with two more sea turtles on the same reef later in the week – just incredible stuff.

Maui is just an amazing place. Sure, there are loads of bloated mainland Americans lounging in the sun, and when visitors are offered the local Hawaiian ales, you regularly hear “you got any Bud Light?”. But if you can get past that and find your own way of doing things here, it's as rewarding an island as any.

Brian and the Volcano

We've spent 6 days on the Big Island now, with 4 days lounging on the Kona coast and 2 days in Volcanoes National Park. This is a really different Hawaii. There is black lava literally everywhere. Land at any other airport in Hawaii, and you feel like you have landed directly in the middle of paradise. Land at Kona airport, and you feel like you've landed on the dark side of the moon. Assuming the dark side of the moon has baggage carousels and rental car shuttles.

But it is lovely, and more than anywhere else we've ever been in Hawaii, the Big Island feels quiet and local. At the beach, Hawaiians outnumber the mainlanders. You drive through sleepy villages between the coasts that look scarcely touched by tourism. We saw signs selling an acre of land on the Big Island for $299 (guess what Andrea is getting for our anniversary?). Don't get me wrong, there are still plenty of tourists around – but it's nothing like we've seen elsewhere. Last time in Maui, I regularly had to set off the car alarm to locate my vehicle, because every parking lot was full of white Chrysler Sebring convertibles that were identical to mine.

The beaches here are beautiful too, ranging from powder white to true black sand beaches (made from the ocean pulverizing fresh lava). The snorkeling has been impressive, with sea turtles, beautiful coral, and every tropical fish under the sun.

But in my opinion, the star of the show here on the Big Island is the volcano. 100 miles southeast of Kona is Volcanoes National Park, home to Kilauea, the most active volcano on earth. Today (and it literally changes every day), the caldera is simmering. During the day, plumes of white sulphuric smoke belch from the top – but as the sun sets the red glow of the caldera really comes alive. The glow fades and then brightens, it moves from yellow to pink to red, the smoke billows, and the acrid spell hit your nostrils – this thing is very much alive. And you are watching this from an observatory located less than a mile away, perched up high on the rim of the caldera – it's absolutely wicked. It also means slightly jumpy sleep – we are staying at a B&B less than 3 miles from the action. A car backfired last night and I almost evacuated.

The rest of Volcanoes National Park is impressive too – we hiked across a crater and lava lake from the 1959 eruption today (about 2 miles from the current fireworks), which is still venting steam. We also drove through the park down along the ocean until the road abruptly ended, thanks to a 2003 lava flow (definitely check out our Picasa pics for this – it's just incredible). In fact, lava has been flowing down the coast and into the water continually since 1983 – the longest recorded eruption in human history. You find steam venting all over the park, cracks in the earth that are popping (it sounds like Rice Crispies), and lava tubes big enough to hike through. It's a living, breathing place – even a 2006 guidebook in our room has completely useless information on where the volcano is erupting, which roads are closed, etc. So no promises on what this place will look like even next week – but the next time you are in Hawaii and want to do something other than drink mai tais on the beach (not that there is anything wrong with that), put this place on your list.

It's off to Maui tomorrow. I've got sushi to eat, sunsets to watch, fish to snorkel with, and car alarms to set off.

Coming To America

Ladies and gentlemen, we have re-entered the country. Despite my longish hair (I can hear my father from here - “you look like a terrorist”), bloodshot eyes from a sleepless night on the flight from Sydney, and a passport full of random stamps, we were waved back into the 50th state with a warm “welcome home” from the customs agent.

It's wonderful to be here, and also somewhat bittersweet. Andrea and I haven't spent more than two straight weeks in the US in more than three years – so there is excitement but also some sadness that this chapter of our overseas life has now ended.

Luckily, Hawaii is a brilliant place for such a re-entry because as far as US states go, it's actually more of a halfway house. We are over 2,000 miles from the mainland, the people are different, the food is different, and there is a natural beauty to these islands that's almost impossible to beat. And as far as I can tell, nothing stressful has happened in Hawaii since December 1941.

At the same time, we are back on the US dollar, we've already rejoined car culture by driving absolutely everywhere (stay on the right Brian, stay on the right Brian), and we are enjoying the local bounty – we've had homemade salsa and chips from the Big Island, beers from Kona Brewing Company, and some amazingly fresh opah fish on the grill – and it all feels great.

Pondering Sydney

I normally type my blog entries in about 20 or 30 minutes. For my Sydney entry, I'm now on hour two tonight, and I've started over three times. Why? Well because after years of watching Sydney win every travel award on earth, I came in with very high expecatations – and I'm still not quite sure how I feel about the place.

There is a simple way to my heart in big cities. Interesting local food and drink, good transportation to get me around, helpful locals, a nice assortment of places to explore, and prices within reason. Sydney can be maddening on some of these points. 5 million people, and yet it's often 15 minutes between subway trains. Want a 7 day visitors pass for the trains and buses? That will be an eye popping $141. Good, inexpensive local food is difficult to come across, and ditto for relaxed local pubs – the vibe is much more see and be seen, women unable to walk because their heels are so high, and people happily paying $45 for a plate of pasta. And the city neighborhoods don't exude tons of charm – new enough to be ugly, yet somehow old enough to be crumbling.

We have had our bright moments. A friendly waitress pointed us to an unmarked underground pub that served some stellar beers. We had an incredible meat pie topped with mashed potatoes, mushy peas, and gravy at a waterfront institution called Harry's Cafe de Wheels. Another local pointed us to a brilliant little Malaysian place where we waited 30 minutes for a table on a Monday night.

And despite my griping, Sydney does have one undeniable ace up its sleeve – and it's a big one. Quite simply, this is one of the best settings on earth. There is water everywhere, and it's the most perfect complement of beaches, cliffs, and city you can imagine. First you have Sydney Harbour – the iconic Opera House, the massive Sydney Bridge, the beautiful Botanic Gardens. We climbed to the top of the Sydney Bridge today, and I could have watched life go by on this massive harbour for hours. Then you have the coastline – the walk from Bondi Beach to Coogee is just awe inspiring. You alternate from cliffs to beautiful beach coves and then back again for kilometers. We took the ferry to a food and wine festival at Manly Beach over the weekend, the waves crashing as loads of surfers bobbed in the ocean – just 3 miles from city centre.

And the day to day life is very different. People my age ride skateboards around town. Office workers head to the beach at lunch to watch the surfers. Everyone seems to get outside whenever they can, and it's not surprising why -- this is early winter here and yet the days are still predictably bright and warm. You start to see why Sydney wins the awards – and you start to overlook the part time subway system and the extra work it takes to find a decent meal. When you are naturally this good looking, all of these faults suddenly become a lot easier to forgive.

Off The Grid On Kangaroo Island, Australia

“Our mobile phone doesn't have a signal anywhere on this island. Did you email our parents with where we were going to be?”, asks my lovely wife. No, I didn't. And of course I would email them now, except for the fact that the nearest internet cafe is a 2 hour roundtrip drive. Bugger.

We are in the middle of freaking nowhere, otherwise known as Kangaroo Island. A place where even the 1980's “Saved By The Bell” Zack Morris style giant cellphone has yet to make a debut. Not content with the remoteness of the “busy” port town where the ferry dropped us (population 600), I booked us a cypress log cabin clear on the far side of the island -- 150km away. We stopped at the last general store before our cabin, an hour before, to stock up on “provisions”. We came away with 2 packets of instant noodles, 3 apples, and 2 bottles of stout beer. This place makes Borneo look like midtown Manhattan.

But it is magnificent here. We've seen 3 koalas lounging in the trees on the property. The last 3 nights, we've watched the sunset from our porch as kangaroos and wallabies graze right in front of us. The coastline is just as amazing – our first day here, we watched bright blue waves crash against a whiter than white powder beach, as a surf fisherman reeled in 2 ocean salmon. Yesterday we explored more of the coastline, with hundreds of New Zealand fur seals lounging under the lighthouse near the crashing waves. Today, we drove 70km along a treacherous washboard dirt road, but the end result was worth it – the highest cliffs in Australia (250 meters), plunging into impossibly green water. It's true Australian bush country mixed with an incredible coastline, and it's breathtaking to see.

Tomorrow it's off to Sydney, which is 1,000 physical miles and about 1,000,000 mental miles from here. It will certainly be nice to have internet and proper access to food and our BlackBerry say something other than “No Service” -- but one more night with the koalas and kangaroos certainly won't hurt.

Sipping Some Badass Shiraz In The Barossa

This trip has taken us to some pretty cool wine regions – Burgundy in France, Tuscany in Italy, Marlborough and Central Otago in New Zealand. All of these places make world renowned wine – Burgundy makes the best pinot noir in France, and that is saying a lot for a country that is basically covered top to bottom in grapes. The two most famous Tuscan wines, Brunello and Barolo, are some of the most velvety red wines on earth. New Zealand's pinot noirs and savignon blancs are winning worldwide acclaim for being soft and smooth. And now we are in the Barossa Valley, where the local shiraz is famous for ripping your head off and not apologizing. Most wines on this trip have pared well with fruit, cheese and crackers. Barossa shiraz pares best with a bucket of rusty nails, or in a pinch, a big fillet of kangaroo (our choice).

I am in heaven. For months, I've been drinking these nice friendly easygoing wines where there is lots of nuance in tasting. You looks for hints of elderberry, or ripe fig, or the dew of a fresh spring morning. And I've quite enjoyed it – my palate isn't going to win any awards and so it's been very educational. But deep down inside, I like big, angry red wines. Forget the essence of green apple -- I want a wine that looks like motor oil when you pour it and makes your eyes water. And so I am like a kid in a candy store here in the Barossa.

Adding to the charm is that it is true small town living here. We are staying in the biggest town in the valley, Tanunda, yet on our first night the only place open for dinner was the neighborhood club. There are no BMWs and Mercedes cruising around, just pickup trucks driven by people in overalls. It seems to be a salt of the earth type place, perhaps how Napa and Sonoma looked 35 years ago. The cellar door tasting rooms are run by universally friendly people, we usually have the place to ourselves, and the generous pours are almost always free (we did pay $5 at one place, but they opened a $100 bottle and a $165 bottle for us to taste – all was quickly forgiven). A great place to chill out, drink some absolutely brilliant red wine, and watch the world go by.

On a final note, it's back to just the two of us travelling now, after 5 weeks of the trip being 3, 4, and 6 of us at different times. Dana left this morning, two days later than planned after a random conversation about “you should change your ticket and come to the Barossa with us” turned into reality. We've absolutely loved having everyone along.

A Love Affair With Mother Nature

I've learned a few things about myself during this little jaunt around the world. Left to my own devices, I will go to bed at 2am and wake up around 10am. My ideal outdoor temperature is 58 degrees, no warmer and no cooler. I can live without TV quite easily, but really like having the internet. I will eat local food, even if it isn't very good (newest addition to my diet in Australia – Vegemite). And while I do like working, I could pretty happily keep this lifestyle up for a few more years (sadly not an option).

But perhaps the most interesting thing I've learned is that I really, really like nature. And this is big for me. I once spent an entire week immersed in nature with my good friend Andy at Boy Scout summer camp – and it sucked. I just remember it being hot and buggy and wondering why on earth anyone would leave the comforts of air conditioning, chlorinated water, and paved roads to come to this hell hole. It didn't help that I failed my swimming test, the toilet was a hole in the ground, and my scoutmaster used to take his teeth out after meals. But I don't remember even taking the smallest enjoyment in the lake and the trees and the sky and the fresh air.

This trip is different. I am loving the solitude and remoteness of the back country. Admittedly we've picked some good spots to enjoy nature – the rainforest in Borneo, the fjords and sounds of New Zealand, the towering limestone coast of south Australia – but I'm finding that I could walk endlessly through nature reserves, stare at the stars each night, wander around lake fronts and rolling hills. It's quite a departure from most of the travel I've done in my life – Europe to me has been mostly about the small villages, Africa has been about different cultures, Asia has been about the food. Even in the US, I've been to Las Vegas five times, and the Grand Canyon just once. But down in this part of the world, nature seems to be my thing. We are off now for a bush walk on the gorgeous south coast of Australia – just call me the modern day Mic Dundee.

Notes From A Small Island

In October 2001, as America was about to kick down the front door in Afghanistan, I remember watching a Taliban press conference on CNN. A Kiwi reporter asked the Taliban, "is New Zealand at risk of a terrorist attack at home because we've aligned ourselves with the US"? "Where did you say you are from?”, asked the Taliban leader. The reporter replied, “New Zealand. It's a small country off the east coast of Australia”. The Taliban was speechless and just moved on to the next question.

So perhaps New Zealand isn't huge on the international stage, but this little country packs quite a punch. We spent the last 16 days on the South Island, and it just a staggeringly beautiful place. We had some great company on this part of the trip too – the Sadlons joined us for 10 days, John (Andrea's brother) joined us for 14 days, and Dana was here the whole time. Lots of laughs, lots of wine, lots of card games – a great couple of weeks.

We started in the Waipara valley and rented a converted barn at a winery for a couple of days, enjoying bonfires and the local pinot noirs at night. After that was the Marlborough Sounds, where I could spend the next year happily staring at the serene crystal green waters. The local specialty is green lip mussels, and they are both delicious and massive (some people cut each mussel in half with a knife). Following that was a trip to the Franz Josef glacier, where we spent part of the day climbing through blue ice under equally blue skies. Then came Queenstown, the adventure capital, where a few in the group chose to fling themselves off a bridge with a rubber band attached to their ankles. We followed that up with a trip to the Milford Sound, often considered the 8th wonder of the world. 9,000 foot mountains rise straight up out of the sound, and thousands of waterfalls suddenly appear on rainy days (which we had our second day there), crashing down thousands of feet of mountain -- it was just absolutely amazing to see. We then headed to Mount Cook, the highest peak in New Zealand, where we hiked to a glacier (under more impossibly blue skies), followed by a dinner of fresh salmon on the BBQ that had been caught that morning. Finally, we wrapped things up in Christchurch with a fine evening of Guinness and Burmese food. And of course all of this happened on a small island, not even the size of Virginia. Yet we saw 3 wine valleys, 3 glaciers, massive crysal blue lakes, green sounds, giant mountain peaks, and endless rolling fields dotted with sheep.

New Zealand is so easy to fall in love with – jaw dropping scenery, the people are lovely and over-the-top friendly, prices are reasonable, roads are in great condition – and everything is just very laid back. Very good living.

We are on our way back to Australia now – and coming from here, they have a lot to live up to.

Cheating Death Down Under

Given how long it's been since I last posted, some of you might have thought I had perished. And it's not a bad guess because there are loads of things here in Australia that are trying their damnedest to kill you. Every ditch on the side of the road has a crocodile warning next to it. You have to swim inside a protective net at the beach due to sharks and the box jellyfish, which induces cardiac arrest in 10 seconds. And we saw a death spider (admittedly a name we assigned it) in the rainforest that looked big enough to take down prey perhaps the size of, say, Andrea.

But despite these creatures' best efforts, we are alive and well. We've just wrapped up 10 days in Port Douglas, on the northeast coast. It was just what we needed – a string of days where we really didn't have much of anything to do at all besides throw some local fish on the barby, crack open a beer, and watch the sun set over the Coral Sea. The most cultural activity we participated in was watching the waterfront pub feed a 200 pound grouper (named George) a giant salmon head tied to a big rope in the late afternoon. It was during one of these sessions (we went 3 times) that I reflected on the fact that 4 months ago, I was probably in a meeting in London discussing the charge off patterns of our customers in risk twentile 18. Now, oversized fish feeding down under is the order of the day.

Of course, one of the key reasons we were in Port Douglas is what sits 40 miles offshore – the Great Barrier Reef. We took a trip out once our good friend Dana arrived (she's spending the next month with us), and snorkeled for a couple of hours in a few different spots. It is simply stunning. We've snorkeled in some pretty good places in Hawaii and the Caribbean, but there is just no comparison. You can never put your feet down because there is no place that isn't covered in coral. The formations are amazing, coming in every color, shape and size you can imagine. The fish are much the same -- the quantity and sheer variety of the fish is incredible. And then there are the other creatures – 3 sharks (including one that passed directly under me and Andrea, causing a momentary flutter of the hearts), a blue speckled lagoon ray, and a giant sea turtle. Andrea and I gentlly swam behind the sea turtle for a bit, watching it lazily take a breath, then dive, then do it over again. Absolutely amazing.

It's down to Brisbane now for a couple of days before heading over to New Zealand (and then back to Australia after that). Time is flying! Hope all of you are well.

Two months on the road...

63 days now since we left London. Some random stats from the road:

Miles flown: 13,751

Coldest temperature recorded: 28 degrees (car gauge in Beaune, France)
Hottest temperature recorded: 98 degrees (hotel gauge in Dubai, UAE)

Longest flight: Dubai to Hong Kong (6.5 hours)
Shortest flight: Gunung Mulu, Borneo to Miri, Borneo (27 minutes)

Cost of a black cab - London Hyde Park to Paddington Station (10 mins): $16
Cost of a red cab - Hong Kong Central to our hotel (10 mins): $7
Cost of a white cab - Penang waterfront to lunch (10 mins): $3

Cost to traverse the Mont Blanc Tunnel (11 km): $47 USD
Cost to traverse the Hong Kong tram line (16km): 20 cents USD

Stingiest place with toilet paper: tie, China and Malaysia (backup called twice in each)

Most expensive dinner: $107 USD, La Coline, Bayeux, France
Cheapest dinner: $2.80 USD, Gurney Drive Hawker Centre, Penang, Malaysia

Books read by Andrea: 4
Books read by Brian: 0

Easiest border crossing: France to Italy (50 mph, blurred photo)
Hardest border crossing: Singapore to Australia (two sniffer dogs, bags opened)

First word uttered when foreigners learn you are American: Obama! (spontaneous, out of context, inexplicable, happening everywhere)

Singapore -- Me Love You Long Time

We've just left Changi Airport in Singapore, now bound for Australia. We have the exit row to ourselves and plenty of space to stretch out -- but it's one of those days where we are just glad to be flying, given the shutdown of European skies. We met a British woman at the cactus garden rooftop bar at Changi Airport (you quickly see why this airport wins every award on the planet) who had been in transit for 4 days going from London to her home in Thailand. She appears to be one of the lucky ones....the queues at the Air France and British Airways desks were massive, loads of people trying to get to Europe and clearly going nowhere. We are lucky to be heading the opposite way.

It was a brilliant 3 weeks in Asia, and Singapore was just the way to end it. It's just good living there – friendly, clean, safe, English speaking, and some of the best street food on Earth. We ate and drank our way through the hawker food centres (certainly the theme of our Asian time), lounged by the pool, and wandered through some parks and neighborhoods we missed on our last visit 14 months ago. In my mind, Singapore is a perfect example of today's Asia. Old Chinese shophouses sit underneath giant skyscrapers, and big BMWs drift by as local workers push wooden carts down the street. The old and the new, living side by side – it's a story being played out across much of the continent. There is also incredible diversity here -- mosques, churches, and Buddhist and Hindu temples share the same neighborhoods, and you see every ethnicity you can imagine on the streets. Of course with that diversity comes the amazing food – best found in the local hawker centres where the dishes run you about $3USD. And unlike some spots in Asia, you can pretty much eat wherever and whatever you want without much thought– food stalls are graded on hygiene (A to D), and Singapore is famous for strict practices. You know, a two year expat assignment here might just give us enough time to hit up all the stalls we wanted to get to. Food for thought.

Welcome To The Jungle

It's reasonably well known amongst family and friends that I am not the outdoorsy type. I think of the Holiday Inn as a form of camping. After all, if God didn't want us to have comfortable accomodations when we travel, he wouldn't have given us the brains to create the Heavenly Bed or the 3 nozzle rain shower. But year after year, we've noticed that about half of the finalists in the BBC Wildlife Photography competition take their photo in the jungles of Borneo. So here I am, deep in the rainforest, typing this from under a mosquito net while Andrea hoses me in nuclear-grade bug spray at 20 minute intervals.

Except it's actually not that bad. We arrived in Borneo's Gunung Mulu Park on a prop (it's either that or a 10 hour ride on a longboat – no roads in or out). The flight was excellent in the sense that we had incredible views as we skimmed the treetops, and also that we didn't crash. Our room even has air conditioning (one of the few), a private bathroom (you still need to wear your flip flops), electricity much of the time, and the food here is surprisingly good.

We started with a guided walk through the primary rainforest, ending at Deer Cave, which is the largest cave passage on Earth. It is almost too big to comprehend -- Wembley Stadium in London would fit inside, 15 times over. We explored the cave, enjoyed the scent of Mulu Perfume (bat guano) and then waited outside for the big show – at 6pm, 3 million bats exit the cave to feed. They leave in giant waves – it looks like snakes in the sky – a pattern to protect them from the local bat hawks. These bats then proceed to hoover up 50 tons of bugs a night from the local rainforest, including some right over our heads. We sat outside to watch a tropical downpour last night, and the bats kept buzzing inches over us. We were brave for 5 minutes, but then made a tactical retreat to our room.

We've also taken a traditional longboat up the river to a local tribal village, and then on to 2 more caves. The most amazing thing about these caves is the light. Essentially the ceilings have collapsed in spots and the sun filters in through the giant holes – you stare up hundreds of feet and there is water dripping, mist swirling, birds flying, and bright green moss growing. It is an amazing sight.

The rainforest itself is just as impressive. Everything is impossibly green, colorful butterflies swirl around your feet, leaves on some of the trees are as big as Andrea. And it is loud! Interesting and unknown sounds come from everywhere. We took a night walk through the rainforest with a guide, finding tarantulas, giant snails, and all kinds of exotic insects – a brilliant lesson in evolution and adaptation. We also took a rainforest canopy walk, across 16 ropebridges built in the treetops. Now typically when my life is dependent on a suspension system high above the ground (ski lifts, bridges), I prefer it to be built by the Swiss or the Germans. This particular rope bridge, as I learned, had been constructed by the local Iban tribe. But despite some creakiness and some interesting looking rope knots, we made it across it one piece – and to see the rainforest from above is just incredible.

We've absolutely loved the Borneo jungle. That being said, I think I'll hold on to my reservation at the Marriott tonight.

Penang Eats

** WARNING ** If you don't enjoy reading about food, this blog entry will be 5 minutes of your life you don't get back.

We are now winging our way to Borneo after 3 days on Penang Island in Malaysia. My good friend Andy joked (or at least I think it was a joke) after my Hong Kong writeup that I might need a seatbelt extender for the flight home. Well, Penang definitely did its part to make that dream a reality. Penang is considered the foodie destination in Malaysia, and we took full advantage.

We spent 2 evenings in the local hawker centre, which is basically 50 or 60 vendors in small stalls cooking food. I put my sanitation concerns aside (first child syndrome, mom washed my hands too much), and we dove in – it was awesome and a great insight into local life here. Highlights were fried koay teow (fried noodles, minced garlic, fresh prawns, soy, bean sprouts, egg), wan tan mee (pork and prawn dumpling, sliced BBQ pork, shredded chicken, done in a soy broth with noodles), and fried oyster (egg omelette made with tapioca flour to make gooey, then oysters fried in chili paste are added). Each dish costs between 3 and 6 Malaysian Ringgits – 90 cents to $1.80 USD.

Assam laksa is the signature dish of Penang, and after scanning endless food blogs, we settled on a place in the old town called Kek Seng. I had to check the address twice when we arrived. There was an older man and woman (the owners), both sweating profusely, which only made me sweat profusely. There was a cart with various unknown ingredients laying out in the sun. There was a single worthless fan circulating hot air, the walls were peeling, and there were just a couple of plastic stools to sit on. But the dish was nothing short of incredible – assam laksa is made by poaching whole mackerel, then deboning it, then added back into the broth with fresh chillies, lemongrass, and heaps of tamarind. Rice noodles are put in the bowl first, then Chinese lettuce, shredded cucumber, onions, pineapple, ginger, and heaps of mint leaves. The soup is then poured over it, and then shrimp paste is swirled in (incredibly strong, but the taste dissipates in your mouth quickly). The variety of flavors is amazing – spicy, sweet, sour, and each bite is different. A large bowl of what many believe to be the best assam laksa in Malaysia costs 3 Malaysian Ringgits (90 cents).

The higher end of the dining scene is worthwhile too. Last night we went to Bali Hai, a local seafood institution. Everything is swimming in the tanks when you arrive, you basically point to what you want and then talk with the resident expert on how you want it prepared. We did a whole black grouper steamed in soy and green onion, clams barbequed in local spices, baby octopus grilled with smoky peppers, plus a big pot of seafood noodles. It was about as extravagant as you can go on this island, and even with beer it set us back barely $50 USD.

And I now believe in food comas. At 6:45am on Tuesday morning there was a 7.8 earthquake on the island of Sumatra, which shook Penang and apparently sent residents out of their homes. This was followed by a tsunami warning for the very waterfront our hotel faced, which was in effect until 9am. We both woke up at 10am, none the wiser and having missed the whole thing.

We did spend some time exploring the old town, and there are some nice temples and some interesting old streets lined with Chinese shophouses. But mostly this was 3 days of good old fashioned island life – we stayed at a wonderful hotel on the waterfront and just lounged by the pool, made happy hour our only daily commitment, and above all, ate our way through Penang.

High in Hong Kong

Marginally interesting factoid -- 40% of Hong Kong's population lives in a residence above the 14th floor. The highest I have ever been (in a residential sense) was our 9th floor flat in Nottingham. Even our NYC friends (Seth/Jamie, Mark/Karyn) don't currently live above 14 – and yet it's basically a way of life in Hong Kong.

Life is different here in other ways too. There are public outdoor escalators to climb the hills of Hong Kong Island, and it's amazing to see the locals read the paper while they glide towards home or their next meeting. We recognized less than half the products in the average market (I would joke with Andrea that things were sheep's penis, until we started to think they actually were). Heavy competition keeps prices astoundingly low -- we had all our laundry, 27 pounds of it, washed and folded for $12USD – and I had 6 dress shirts custom tailored at a renowned place for less than off-the-rack prices at Brooks Brothers. And I'm convinced that no matter how long you stayed, you would never get a bad meal. Honestly, we ate nonstop for 6 days straight and not once did I have a meal that would even be described as mediocre. Everything was very good, and a few things were just exceptional. Highlights included the 2 of us devouring a perfectly prepared whole Peking duck (often ordered for a group of 4 to 6), and some legendary dim sum on two occasions. But even a normal meal is excellent. Last night we went to a very local restaurant (only white people in the place), and ordered 3 main courses - BBQ pork, beef with vegetables, and shrimp and pork fried noodles - plus Tsing Tao beer. The whole thing came to $210HKD ($27USD), and it was delicious. The style of the meal suits me too – ambiance is sacrificed for better quality ingredients (apparently the locals are suspicious of any place that looks too nice), food is brought out as it is cooked, you basically use chopsticks as a shovel between your noodle bowl and your mouth, and a messy tablecloth is considered the sign of a good meal. Bliss.

There is also a certain efficiency in Hong Kong that I love. More so that anywhere else I have been, people seem to work together to keep the place humming. Pleasantries are rarely exchanged in public – the coin changer at the ferry terminal knows you are trying to catch the next boat and quickly slaps the correct denominations down for you with a nod, and the waiters drop off food at your table without even slowing down. Servers also stand over you while you pay, not to be rude but to give you your change and get you moving. I used to get frustrated in London with the idiots with giant golf umbrellas in the narrow alleyways, people standing on the left on the Tube escalators, or waiters wandering off for eons. Here in Hong Kong, with a couple million people more than London in about half the space, they seem to have figured it out.

That's not to say Hong Kong doesn't have its problems. The air is filthy and getting worse – they are downwind from some of China's most industrial areas. While the Chinese government claims there were only 30 unhealthy air days in 2009, they use a pretty loose definition. By American EPA standards, they had a staggering 300 unhealthy days. And for all the efficiency, it is a very, very crowded place. I had a co-worker from Hong Kong who said that after having so much space in London, she could never move back. I thought that was funny – until now. It's a wonderful city for a week, but probably not number 1 on our future expat dream list. Off to Malaysia to keep eating -- stay tuned!

First Impressions -- Hong Kong

Someone accused me (I think it was either my mom, Laura Casey, or Lauren Sadlon) of claiming to really like every place I go. And that is entirely false, because I hate Venice, Italy. What a tourist trap overpriced apathetic riding on its laurels dump, and I pray to God that I am never made to go back.

But actually my mom/Laura/Lauren do have a point, because I tend to find something magical about most places, whether it be the people or the food or the scenery. So let me share some first Hong Kong impressions after 24 hours here.

This city is absolutely brilliant. We rocked into town about 11pm last night, and I was hungry (not new). The front desk recommended the McDonalds down the road. But we pushed on for one more block, and I found a noodle joint. Menu outside was only in Chinese but there were pictures, so we took a gamble and came away with some incredible shrimp dumplings with yellow noodles and broth. Today, we walked to Central Hong Kong Island (maybe 1.5 miles), passing shops selling shark fins, herbal remedies involving dried geckos, live fish in the wet markets waiting to meet their maker, random meats hanging on hooks, roasted ducks dripping fat in the windows, and loads more. We had dim sum for lunch at Luk Yu, an institution in the city – and the food was just amazing, basket after basket of lovely dumplings. We followed it up with a herbal remedy tea at the local pharmacy – not sure exactly what we each drank, but I'm praying mine expands my stomach ten-fold so I can keep eating.

And your Yankee dollar goes on forever here. Noodle shop last night ran me $4 for 2 orders, dim sum for 2 at a legendary place was $35, the local tram is 25 cents no matter how far you go, and the Star Ferry across Victoria Harbor (one of the best ferry rides in the world) is 22 cents in economy (downstairs), 28 cents in first class (upstairs). We decided to spring for the upgrade.

We have 5 more days in Hong Kong – but as you could have predicted, Mom/Laura/Lauren – I do love it here.

(Middle) East Meets West

We left Dubai just about 3 hours ago, taking a flight route out over the Persian Gulf, skirting along the Iranian coast, over tribal Pakistan just south of Afghanistan, and as I type we are cruising through northern India with Mount Everest in the distance. I love these flights that take me over places I'm not likely to visit anytime soon. Most impressive in recent days was the Nile River in Egypt, on the flight from France to Dubai. We crossed in darkness, and there is nothing – it is literally black – in the surrounding area, but along the river itself there are lights, towns, villages, life. You can follow the bends and curves in the Nile for tens of miles out the window because the lights of the riverside villages along it guide the way. Quite a spectacle and I wish a photo would do it justice – but it didn't – a good reminder of why we travel.

On to Dubai. It is no doubt a polarising place, much like London or New York or Las Vegas – but multiply that by 10 in the Middle East. You love it or hate it, and we fell more on the side of the former. We stayed in Bur Dubai (literally Old Dubai), which sits along Dubai Creek. This part of town has its own dress code – around the rest of Dubai, westerners can dress more or less as they do at home, but here we needed to wear pants (even with the mercury at 90 degrees), and the call to prayer bellows from the mosques 5 times a day. The people here are mainly from the Gulf region (mostly Iran, Syria, Lebanon), India, Pakistan, Phillipines, and of course the Emiratis themselves. The food is just amazing -- lamb kebabs marinated overnight in yogurt, fresh ground hommus, and the best lime and mint fruit juice you have ever had. Just across the creek sits the Gold Souk (biggest gold market in the Middle East), the Spice Souk, and the perfume markets. The vendors are friendly and always ask where you come from (the middle eastern way of establishing status we were told). A reply of America brought a response of either "Obama!" or "My shop is an Obama shop!" or something to that effect. America is suddenly cool again amongst the Dubai shopkeepers. We did spend a day out in Jumeirah beach, home to the western resorts, party atmosphere, big beaches, and big prices – but definitely preferred the authenticity of Bur Dubai.

Dubai's population is 85% expat, but the term means something different than we are accustomed to. In London, the average expat tends to be a Westerner making a hefty salary (present company excluded). Here in Dubai, an expat tends to be a construction worker from Sri Lanka or a taxi driver from Pakistan. It goes back to one of my earlier posts on Hadrian's Wall in England – it is amazing what one can do with an endless supply of cheap labor (average worker wages in Dubai are about $300 USD a month) -- and that is exactly what is happening here.

But you have to respect what Dubai is trying to do. This emirate is a sea of (relative) calm in a powder keg region. They know the oil is going to run out one day (indeed, Dubai doesn't have much oil to begin with) and they are trying to build both a financial centre and a desert oasis, kind of like Las Vegas but without the booze, strippers, and gambling. This is officially the fastest growing city in the world (population just 50 years ago was 55,000, just bigger than Harrisonburg, VA) and their boldness is visible everywhere – we could see the tallest building on Earth from our hotel window, two days ago they hosted the biggest purse horse race in history ($10M USD), and they are building residences along every foot of waterfront and on manmade reefs that are visible from space. Will it all work? Is it all just a desert mirage here in the Middle East? I can't wait to watch in the coming years and find out.


PS – As some of you may know, Andrea and I were in a car accident in a taxi two nights ago in Dubai. We are thankfully okay, just some sore ribs and aching backs. A reminder that moving around this globe is occasionally hazardous, but we are doing fine and the police and paramedics in Dubai were professional and made sure we were okay. The paramedic also sternly informed me that in his country (Syria), a one year age difference between husband and wife is definitely not enough – a bit of levity to calm some shocked nerves. We loved Dubai but won't miss the manic Middle East driving, and are pretty excited to be on foot and public transport in Asia for the next few weeks.

It's So Hard To Say Goodbye

It was really, really hard for us to leave Europe. And I mean that in a physical sense. Apparently the French went cheapo on their navigation system at Nice Airport, and some low clouds (yes, run of the mill clouds) caused our inbound Emirates flight to divert to Milan. Then our first officer became ill before the flight, and another had to be flown in from Munich. We should have arrived in Dubai late last night, but instead I watched the sun rise out the window over Saudi Arabia this morning.

Mentally it was much easier to leave Europe than I thought. I was expecting to be sad and wistful after 3 years of life on the continent. Perhaps I was exhausted from the delays, but mostly I felt glad to be on my way to Dubai. Europe was comfortable, relaxed, and pretty easy to live in and travel through. But as we started to roll down the runway, I was pretty excited (and Andrea was too) to be heading somewhere...well...foreign. This evening we took a stroll along Dubai Creek and through the outdoor souks. We heard the call to prayer erupting from the mosques at sunset, there wasn't a bottle of wine in sight on restaurant tables, and the smells of sheesha (flavored tobacco waterpipes) and kebabs filled the air along the waterfront. I think it's going to be a good few days here.

Toscana

We've spent 4 days in Tuscany now, with 4 more to go. I really do love it here. There are tiny hilltop villages as far as the eye can see, and each is charming and worthy of a postcard. The sun has been shining every day, the food is brilliant (think beautifully aged cheeses, piles of truffle, cloudy olive oil, and cannelloni beans that have never tasted so good), the local wines cost less than water and they are excellent. But more than that, I am really enjoying the style to life here. Firstly, these people make the French appear to be hardworking and industrious. The shops open at 9:30am (no need to get up early) and then close at 12:30 for lunch. Lunch lasts until 4pm (yep, 3.5 hours). It is not lost on me that you would actually have time to go home, drink a bottle of wine, take a nap, sober up, and get back to work on time. Then they reopen at 4pm and close again at 7pm. Start to finish, we are talking a 6 hour workday. Of course these are the long and tedious hours of private enterprise. Most public services, including the post office and library, only open from 9:30 to 12:30 four days a week, and never re-open in the afternoon. This has forced more planning on our part (after all, the butchers and grocery shops close for lunch like everyone else), but we are in the habit of buying meats, cheeses, and bread early in the morning and taking it with us until we find a good spot for lunch.

I'm also really enjoying the interactions with the locals here. We've ordered our evening meals in Italian since we got here – I'm sure many of the staff actually do speak some English, but they are very happy to let you give it a go and work with you. We've been to one trattoria in Pienza twice now, and they brought us extra dessert, a trio of local pecorino cheeses (fresh, aged in olive leaves, and aged in olive oil), and crepes on the house with a wink and a “think nothing of it” smile. We visited a local artist's shop today and bought some handmade pottery -- she spoke only broken English that often slipped into Italian, but could not have been happier to spend 20 minutes showing us pictures of her work, the 2 feet of snow that fell in Tuscany recently (biggest snow since 1956, sound familiar Washingtonians?), and chat about life in general. Most conversations end with about 50 grazies and ciaos and lots of smiles. Italy is magnificent, but small town Italy is even more so.

At Home In Italy

France was the first major European economy to come out of recession last year, and last week I figured out why. The toll to use the Mont Blanc Tunnel, a mere 11 kilometers long, is 35.10 euros. It would have been marginally cheaper to abandon the car and hire a sherpa to cross the Alps.

But boy, what a difference 11 kilometers can make. We came blazing out of the tunnel into Italy, and all of the sudden the sun was shining, it was 20 degrees warmer, and everyone was wearing cool sunglasses. I might be exaggerating a bit, but you get the idea.

Our first stop was the Cinque Terre. We pulled into Manarola a bit after dark, and I stayed with our illegally parked car on the edge of the village (vehicles aren't allowed in any of the Cinque Terre villages, which is completely charming and also massively inconvenient) while Andrea went in search of our B&B. As she is walking along in the dark, looking for a place that has no address, a grandmotherly woman starts screaming out the window, “Aria de Mare! Aria de Mare!”, which is the name of our B&B. By dinnertime we are in the family's restaurant, enjoying fresh anchovies in lemon and olive oil, and drinking good cheap Italian table wine.

We spent the next 3 days wandering between the five villages. It is just a stunning part of the world. All of the hills around the towns are big terraced affairs with grapes and herbs growing everywhere. The towns themselves are ancient, with fishing boats pulled up onto the streets along the water, and the lack of cars makes the place magic. We had a big balcony off our room that overlooked the sea, and I think we both could have sat there for weeks. What I love the most is that you often find the locals in Italy enjoying the view too, a sure sign they know they have it good.

On the last morning, we had a nice chat with the grandmother. She literally didn't know a word of English, but we cobbled together a few words in Italian, and did some miming too. She told us about the speed camera in the first tunnel out of town, but that after that we could drive as fast as we like. She wanted to know how old my parents were, and where in Italy the LoBalbos had come from. She put her hand on Andrea when they were talking, and Andrea (who does not ever like contact with strangers) put her hand on the grandmother. And finally, she gave us a carbon copy receipt for our stay, which was for the cost of 1 night instead of the 3 we stayed. When Andrea gave her a puzzled look, the grandmother said “dei carabineiri” -- or for the tax man.

It's tough to think of too many other countries where an interaction like this happens. We've both said to each other how comfortable Italy can make you feel. Plus they all know how to pronouce LoBalbo. I might just stay.

Oh yes, Beaune

Over breakfast at our Normandy B&B, the owner asked where we were off to next in France. I replied "Beaune", pronounced "Bone" according to my Lonely Planet book. The owner gave me a blank look. I said it again -- Beaune. Nothing. Finally, he thought for a minute and said, "oh yes, you mean Beaune". Which, as far as I could tell, is exactly what I said. This is not a new experience -- it has happened to us over the years in at least 4 or 5 European languages. Now, if a foreigner said to me they were headed to Wushington or New Yark or Les Vegas, I think I would probably get the drift. Not so in Europe. But I digress.

Beaune is in Burgundy, the primo wine region of France. No blends allowed here -- the reds are only pinot noir, the whites are only chardonnay, and there is a grading system that is roughly comparable in complexity to the IRS tax code. We went to a bistro the first night where you pick your own bottle of wine from their cellar -- we went cheap (in Burgundy terms - 26 euros) and ended up with an absolutely stunning 2005 old vine Burgundy pinot noir. It was clear these folks were not messing about. Our good friend Josh came down from Paris and spent the 3 days with us -- we ate, we drank, we learned a grand cru from a premier cru from a village appelation (Andrea could teach a sommelier course at this point, while Josh and I focused more on the the ingesting of alcohol aspect). But most glamorously, we did laundry at a laundromat for the first time. Andrea and I are carrying 12 days worth of stuff with us -- we did our first laundry in Scotland at our friend Lisa's house, but this was the first run in public. Thank god Josh was there, and not just because he speaks/reads fluent French. Neither Andrea nor I have ever done laundry at a laundromat (I can hear our big city friends groan) and so the concept of how to buy soap from the machine, where you pour it, how you buy dryer time, and general laundromat etiquette (can I head out for a baguette or do I have to stay here and stare at my sole belongings spin round and round?) were all lost on us. I'm happy to report we left Beaune with happy taste buds, whites still white, and brights still bright.

A surrender at Normandy

On our previously mentioned 45 minute flight from England to France, Andrea carried a giant, 600 page paperback book onboard. Our British seatmate took one look at it and said to Andrea, "you must be expecting a very long flight". The British are full of one-liners and their quick sense of humor is one of my favorite things about them. My other loves include their hand pumped ale and the proverbial British stiff upper lip. We are talking about a country that stayed on a rationing system after WWII for 11 years -- and as far as I can tell no one seemed to mind. They even have a phrase for it -- Keep Calm and Carry On. I admire the attitude and had assumed that at least some of it would have rubbed off on me in the past 3 years. But it took less than 48 hours in France to realize this wasn't so. It was cold in France -- just about freezing to be precise, with a steady 20 mph wind. A strong breeze is fine in Aruba or Hawaii, but less so in northern Europe during March -- and I was not happy about it. I've read that the Nazis took France in 4 weeks -- if the invasion took place during a cold winter, it becomes easier to see why (sacre bleu, we surrender!)

But we bundled up -- and the plain truth is that Normandy is one of the most awe inspiring places I have ever been. You can walk, as we did, into the bomb craters at Pointe du Hoc, or climb inside the giant German gun emplacements at Longues sur Mer. But most impressive is Omaha. The beach is massive -- maybe 2 miles long -- remarkably flat with low cliffs just ashore. You can picture the German guns creating absolute hell from above. Ten kilometers to the west, we lost just 12 soldiers during the initial storming at Utah -- but here at Omaha over 1,000 American lives were lost on the beach during the morning of 6 June 1944. The American cemetery above Omaha is staggering. Perhaps "Saving Private Ryan" creates a glimpse -- but walking amongst the gravestones is unforgettable. Some lost their lives on 6 June, some in the weeks and months after. The names from New York are often Italian, the names from Texas and Georgia are often southern. And most of them were predictably young -- 18, 19, 20 years old. Scattered amongst them are the unknowns, their graves marked simply as "Here rests in honored glory, a comrade in arms known but to God". Most impressive to me is how perfectly the whole thing is constructed. Stand anywhere amongst the graves and slowly rotate -- from every possible angle, the tombstones are perfectly aligned. The uniformity of the place is amazing, the upkeep is magnificent -- it makes you very proud to be American. There will shortly be pictures on our Picasa website -- but do yourself a favor and go see it for yourself.

45 Minutes

Our time in England ended much as it began – at our friend Kate’s house, sitting by the fire, drinking wine and chatting. Kate and I started at Capital One Europe the same week, so we had our welcoming party together and quickly became friends. She had Andrea and me over for a BBQ almost as soon as we arrived, and her friendliness and warm welcome went further than she will ever know in helping us make Nottingham our home. Thank you again Kate, we will no doubt see you again soon.

Two final orders of business in Nottingham before we left – a pint at Ye Olde Trip to Jerusalem (oldest pub in England, opened in 1091), and lunch at Brown Bettys. It’s a small family operation – Mom, Dad, and 2 sons. I haven’t been in 6 months, Andrea hasn’t been in 14 months, but incredibly they remembered my “usual” sandwich order. It was a fantastic farewell to Nottingham.

We flew to France in the evening, 45 minutes in the air from Nottingham to Dinard. It really is incredible how compact Europe is. From London, 45 minutes in the air will get you to Paris, Brussels, Amsterdam, Edinburgh, Cologne, or Dublin. A 90 minute flight gets you to the fjords of Norway, the French Riviera, or the Swiss Alps. But these short hops lull you in to a false sense of security. Two weeks of driving in the UK undid every bit of my 15 years of American driving, and all of the sudden what should be the familiar side of the road felt anything but. In the morning we went to the grocery store – we couldn’t find bottled water, we couldn’t find plastic utensils or napkins (for car snacks), and the bananas we tried to purchase had to be weighed in the fruit section rather than at the checkout. So we left them behind, and ended up with a single small bag of hot and spicy tortilla chips. I’m in France, gastronomic capital of the Earth, and I’m eating tortilla chips for breakfast. Welcome to the joie de vivre.

King Of My Castle

We are spending tonight in a castle in north England. I surprised Andrea with a stay here -- we've never stayed in a castle and given that tomorrow night is our last in England, time is on the short side. It's called Lumley Castle, just outside of Newcastle (drinking the namesake beer as I type this by the big fire), and it is a lovely spot. The floors creak, the ceiling in our room is 20 feet high, and my car is parked in the old horse paddock for the night. Very charming and in some ways it encapsulates this country for me....old, crumbling, drafty....and magnificent. Earlier today we went out to Hadrian's Wall -- built around AD 100 by the Romans, it cuts across northern England from sea to sea. The purpose is up for debate, it was either to mark the end of the Roman empire, or (more likely) it was an effort to keep the Celts out (or some other tribe, my history is rubbish). Even after 3 years of living here, I still look wide-eyed at all the castle ruins, ancient walls, lopsided pubs, and other signs of times very long ago. It's always a wonderful reminder of what one can do with an endless supply of very cheap labor.
We've driven about 1,700 miles now -- all on the wrong side of the road -- and I'm really glad we took this final jaunt around the Kingdom. If you haven't spent much time over here you really should, it's a brilliant country. Tomorrow it's off to Nottingham for a final night out with friends there. In 48 hours, I will be in my beret and eating a croissants on the other side of the Channel.

Houston, We Have A Problem (Week 1)

As I now type this entry, I'm sipping on a nice bottle of Chocolate Block on the Isle of Arran in Scotland. It's a stunning wine from South Africa I had been saving at home, forgot to drink before we moved, and have been toting around the UK until tonight. At the start of the trip, you would have also found a 1995 Jade Mountain and something French and expensive in the trunk of my rented Vauxhall. There is still one bottle to go, a Saronsberg wine not sold outside of South Africa. It is lovely and I can't bring myself to drink it because I CAN NOT REPLACE IT. But given that this time next week I will be in France where they grow this stuff en masse (for those of you that don't parlez vous Francais, that means in mass), it might be time.

I'm particularly pleased to be drinking this wine in Scotland tonight because for awhile this week I thought our 6 month trip might be wrapping up in week 1. You see, last week I found some blood in my urine and became...umm...alarmed. Going to the doctor did not help. He wasn't exactly thrilled with my condition either, so blood and urine tests began. And then we waited 2 days for the results. In the end, it looks like I will live to see another day. A follow up test in Italy next month will give me the final all clear, but I like my chances.

Between my panic attacks, we've actually managed to cover a lot of ground. We spent 2 nights in the lovely village of Lacock (pronounced Lay-Cock for those of you with gutter minds -- actually, maybe that makes it worse), then 3 nights out in Cornwall (gorgeous), then a night with my former boss in the West Midlands, then a night in the Lake District, and now 3 nights here on the Isle of Arran. Tomorrow we head to see our friend Lisa, just north of Edinburgh.

There are some initial pictures here < www.picasaweb.google.com/lobalboUK >

Lesson of the week -- drink your good wine. Tonight. Because life is unpredictable.

Leaving London

So last week we bid farewell to our home of the last 14 months, London. We climbed into a black cab on Friday morning to head to Waterloo Station -- the drive took us by Hyde Park, Green Park, Buckingham Palace, then a quick trip past Westminster Abbey and then over the bridge in front of Big Ben to Waterloo. All icons of this great city and it made me very sad. I will say this -- London is far and away the best place I have ever lived and probably ever will.

What I will miss the most:

- Having raw oysters every Sunday at the farmers market behind my flat. The oysters come out of the water at 5am in Maldon and are in my Marylebone backyard at 10am. 6 oysters for a fiver, served by a salty fisherman. Bliss.
- London's skyline -- or lack thereof. The city is low, the charm is in walking the streets rather than looking at the city from afar. My office was only on the 7th floor, and I had a clear view to Big Ben and the London Eye, both about 2 miles away.
- The quiet. Once you leave the mayhem of Soho and Piccadilly behind, the only sounds you hear in most local neighborhoods is the rattle of the black cabs. It can be a very quiet, peaceful city.
- Having Regent's Park just 2 blocks from home. London is full of green spaces everywhere. I could drop you in 3 different parks within Zone 1 where you might as well be in the fields of Virginia (with less rednecks).
- The pubs. They are mostly ancient, the food is often dreadful, the toilets haven't been cleaned since most of them opened in the 1600s. But they are the heart of the city day and night.
- The weather and more importantly, how the city reacts to it. Most days have both rain and sun. People walk with umbrellas literally in their hands in case it starts to rain. And yet outdoor seating is everywhere, and used any time the sun comes out.
- The lifestyle. An article in New Yorker magazine said that if London had a slogan like New York's "I Love NY", it would be "London is just fine for me". It certainly lacks the brashness and edginess of New York. But that fits this ancient city, founded by the Romans as Londinium some 2,000 years ago. And for all its faults, of which there are many (Tube delays, crumbling infrastructure, indifferent service, astronomical prices), it is a magical place.

I hope to one day be back.

Blogging -- never before....

Most people start a blog with a faux-inspirational statement about some gifted insight they have to share with the broader world. I have no such statement to make.

As my favorite Despair.com (if you haven't seen the website, carve off a good 2 hours and get on it) poster states, "Blogging -- Never Before Have So Many People Had So Little To Say". Which basically captures the essence of why I've never bothered (that and a moderate dose of laziness). As far as the social interweb goes, I'm not even on the map. I'm not on Facebook connecting with people that I haven't seen since puberty. I don't do Twitter (10:32am - attention world - I just broke wind). I've never much been in need of a Polish bride or a Thai lady boy. And I found my beautiful wife the pre-Match.com way -- at college, where I plied her with copious amounts of cheap beer and made her laugh and/or feel sorry for me.

But after being literally inundated with 2 requests to start a blog about us and our travels, I've reflected a bit and have decided to give it a go. Why the change of heart? Well it could be that I have some free time on my hands. Or it could be that I'm taking the advice of my career coach and "getting out there on the web". But mostly I think it's because deep inside I know that we've been up to something pretty extraordinary, and a) I'm getting older and need to start writing stuff down, and b) just maybe it will inspire someone else out there who's contemplating travel, either big or small, to give it a go. Or inspire them not to, it's not clear which way this will go.

Our story began in February 2007, when sight unseen, I accepted a transfer with my company to move from Washington, DC to Nottingham, England. Six short weeks later, Andrea and I were strapped in to our rear-facing business class sleeper seats on a British Airways 777. And then it began -- we've always been travellers but we decided to engage the warp drive. In 30 months we visited 30 countries on 4 continents, and took 97 flights covering some 200,000 miles. And now starts our biggest trip yet -- a six month jaunt around the globe.

As we literally pack up our lives here in London, I'm going to use this blog to share some marginally insightful ramblings as we move around the globe for the next little bit. A gold star for those of you who have actually made it this far without the help of powerful stimulants.

See you on the road!