Ashes to Ashes

While I was in London, I picked up the first series of "Ashes to Ashes". I just had a chance to watch the whole series over the last few days. It was only eight episodes -- UK series tend to be shorter than we have here in the US -- but it was absolutely incredible.

I loved "Life on Mars", the original, and I had heard that they were going to be doing a sequel. At some point, it'll come to cable over here, but I've never been very good at waiting. So when I saw the series, I had to pick it up.

It continues with some of the same characters: Gene, Ray and Chris, but they've moved from the outskirts of Manchester to the crime infested city of London. They've continued with the great fish out of motif of the modern day liberated copper dropped into 1981, where many of the social changes that we've taken for granted haven't happened yet. The cops then are rough and tumble: racist, homophobic, alpha males that don't fit into the way we see the world today.

And as we saw in "Life on Mars", the main character (Keeley Hawes as DI Alex Drake) is struggling to understand what's happening and the rules of the new world that she's in. There's also an interesting mystery element throughout the first series having to do with Drake's personal history.

I recommend it highly. I can't wait to see the next season.

Unemployment

Oh, the joy that is a bureaucracy. I got a recorded message yesterday telling me that due to an unexpectedly large call volume people with the last social security number's digit as I had to call on Tuesday. I gave them a call as soon as things opened up this morning. They said that there could be up to a ten minute delay until I spoke to someone. It was closer to forty.

Then I had to call the arbitrator to deal with some other problems and that was another forty-five minutes. Ugh.

I can't wait until this is behind me.

Eurotrip!

Apologies: This post will be edited, when I get home. There will be links to restaurants and photos.

Coming back to a city where you used to live is a little like pulling on an old sweater in Autumn. It's comfortable, but there's a certain pull about things that aren't quite as you remember them to be. It was a little surreal, but much of that might have been due to the little sleep that I had managed to get on the flight from Boston. London still felt like home. The tube was hotter and more crowded than I remembered, but certainly familiar. The free daily, the Metro had stories about the global economic crisis and talked of possible sanctions between Iceland and England over bank collapses. I put that aside and rushed to meet with old friends. I dragged them to Soho to go to Garlic and Shots, it's a divey little Scandinavian bar that's a home to two things that I surprise myself by liking: the honey rum garlic shots and the garlic poppers -- a roasted garlic battered appetizer that I can't get enough of. I met another friend for breakfast, the next morning, before my train to Paris and we talked US politics and the news from the previous day about the economy. He was upbeat, but being unemployed, I was more worried.

Paris, however, felt a little worse for wear. The streets seemed grubbier, there were more homeless and lurid red headlines at the news stands that I couldn't understand only made me feel more anxious. The only word I could make out was 'Crisis'. The first day, when I arrived, I wandered around a little, but didn't do anything major. Had a bite to eat (how could you not eat in Paris?) and wandered. Did my best to fight off jetlag with more sleep. The second day was for sightseeing. I saw the Cathedral of Notre Dame and the city in Quasimodo vision from the towers; it was definitely something to remind you of your nascent fear of heights. The cathedral is absolutely spectacular. It is a tourist trap and a wonder of Christendom all in one. Climbing the bowed marble steps to the towers, you can feel the sometimes oppressive weight of history upon you, but the sight of the city on a clear day makes it all worth it. Fantastique. More of the marvelous French food and walking along the Siene. Relaxed in a French coffee house and coughed on the French cigarette smoke.

That brings me to Brussels. My first view of the city scared the hell out of me. Unlike Paris and London, the train station wasn't in the middle of the city. Here, it's off in a nondescript warehouse district. Looking around, I thought I had made an awful mistake coming here. Rather than walking, I decided on a cab to the hotel, which I thought might be a tiny little hotel, similar to where I stayed in Paris. (Not that the place wasn't clean or the staff very nice, but it was tiny.) The hotel that I found online was an enormous Marriott, under a different name here. The room is ginormous with all the amenities that I've been spoiled by in the States - including in room Internet and an on-site jacuzzi. After a day of walking around the city center and taking in the sites (and more than my share of Belgian fries), I used the jacuzzi to help with the sore muscles..

Insomnia continues to plague me. The only reason that I'm writing this now is because I woke up after three uninterrupted hours of sleep. I feel rested again and will try again to sleep. Slept for another seven or so hours, which made me wake up feeling fantastic. I'm going to miss the big comfy bed full of down pillows. Boy, do I feel pampered. The only problem is that I found out on Monday that all of the museums that I wanted to go to were closed on Monday. Another day of wandering around the city, getting architecture and municipal sculpture pictures and now I can go curl up on the bed and read. Heaven.

Managed to make my way into the city on Monday night. Had dinner in the gay quarter. Found a Chinese restaurant, mostly because they had pictures on the menu so I could point and nod. The Bear Bar was closed - I assume it's only open on the weekends, but I couldn't read the sign. I went to a tiny little bar called Homo Erectus. Saw a handful of very cute young men chatting with older men and drinking soft drinks. It's probably a sign of encroaching age-related pessimism that my first thought was that they might be rent boys. I couldn't make myself understood, when I asked for a cider, but the bartender understood beer. I had the local bier: Jupiler. It came in a small glass, rather than the pints I had in England and Ireland and it was good. Really good. Who knew that my friend was right. It's not beer, it's American mass-produced swill I don't like. Now I just have to find out more about it and find out if there's a microbrew like that at home.

Off to Amsterdam next. I have my travel documents and passport ready at a moment's notice. Time to saddle up and head down to the lobby to check out and wait for my taxi.

Do'h. There is a disadvantage to not speaking either of the local languages. They changed the track that my train was on, but I was blissfully unaware of it. I could have paid a little extra to get on the next train, but I had a book and an iPod, so I was perfectly happy to wait a little longer and take a free train to Amsterdam.

I got to Amsterdam without a problem. Happily, everyone here was used to tourists and they all spoke English. (Unfortunately, I kept lapsing into my meager French and kept saying 'hello' and 'Pardon me, do you speak English?' which didn't endear me to anyone. The bed and breakfast that I was staying at gave me clear useful directions, which helped me get right to the door without much trouble.

The B&B is spectacular and the room enormous. It was right in the heart of Amsterdam. A short walk from their equivalent of the flea market, or to the original gay hub, as well as being a longer walk from anywhere else I might want to go. Didn't go to half the museums that I wanted to, but had a lot of fun. I met a local and was squired around to the gay bars. The next day, I checked out the red light district and saw some scary stuff: prostitution is legal, but that doesn't change the fact that it's a rough job that takes a lot out of the people doing it. And some of the women that I saw working the day shifts definitely looked a little rougher than otherwise.

There was one surreal moment, when I was wandering around with my guide book in the drizzle and turned a corner to try to get my bearings. I didn't realize that I was up against one of the red light windows and a woman old enough to be my mother was inside tarted up and doing her best to try to entice me inside. Alas, some Oedipal fantasies I just don't understand. Sadly, the look on my face must have let her know that, because her face grew chilly and she waved me off.

Then there was a Thalys train from Amsterdam to Paris. There was an older man working on an academic paper with a gorgeous twenty-something boy that looked nothing like him. Again, my mind went into the gutter and I felt guilty about it. Once I got to Paris, it was a mad dash to the Eurostar gate. Twenty minutes between arrival and exit cut it a little close. Especially, with a labor strike at the train station. I got on my train and in my seat with only a few moments to spare. This leg of the train ride was a blast. I ended up sitting next to an Australian woman that was over in Europe on holiday. We chatted for the three hour train ride back to London. As always, I managed to put my foot in my mouth. She was talking about how much she wanted a nice shower, so I mentioned that I was going to my hotel to settle in, and asked if she wanted to pop over to take a shower before meeting her friends. I didn't mean it as a pick up, but unfortunately...

The next two days were in London, seeing friends, relaxing and in general having a blast. Then it was back home to Boston on Sunday night.

OMG. Leg room!

OMG. Leg room! Thank you, BA.

Halloween Candy!

It's my favorite time of the year and two of my favorite Halloween candies are in the stores now:
candy corn and Tootsie Flavor Rolls (tm).

They're fresh to the stores and not stale and hard like they are at other times of the year.

The word for the day is nom nom nom....

Sinfest: The Webcomic To End all Webcomics

Sinfest: The Webcomic To End all Webcomics

I Love Boston

I love Boston
Where else do you see stuff like this?

Halloween is Coming

Halloween is coming
This is my favorite time of the year and I missed the insanity when I was in London.