One windy afternoon in the Cotswolds, atop the Broadway Tower, we attempted to take a few selfies. It was a folly.
Tuesday, July 10, 2018
Cotswolds
We took the tube from our Airbnb in Camden to Heathrow where I got behind the wheel of a manual right-hand drive Citroën and we drove off to the Cotswolds. Two hours later we were unpacking our luggage in to a two hundred year old cottage that still has a functioning spring and spa in the basement. And soon after that we did what they do over there - we took a foot path to get to the nearest town, Stow-on-the-Wold. Where we found a pub and got ourselves a few pints. Followed by a basket of fish and chips with vinegar.
The Cotswolds are a funny sort of place. Besides Stow-on-the-Wold, there is Moreton-in-Marsh, Bourton-on-the-Water, Ascott-under-Wychwood, Chipping Camden and Chipping Norton, Little and Great Barrington, Upper and Lower Slaughter, and so on. The whole place is utterly beautiful in a understated way. No jagged peaks and crashing waves, but lots of rolling green hills and sheep and horses and dry stacked stone fences and small towns and villages older than dirt made out of honey colored Cotswold limestone.
And these lovely villages are connected by single lane winding roads with tall over grown hedges on both sides, and a complicated system of footpaths and maddeningly accurate and polite signage. Evan being the shortest could never see whatever the rest of us were looking at over the hedges and repeated at least one hundred times "I hate hedges unless they are in a maze".
Hamilton in London
It sounds crazy to say that we went to London to see Hamilton. But as Jo informs me, it isn't crazy. We got cheap airplane tickets and direct flights on Norwegian from Austin to London, making it an easier and most likely less expensive journey from Austin than almost any place besides DFW airport. The Victoria Palace theater has managed to severely cut down on price gouging in the secondary market by imposing a maximum of four tickets per transaction online, and requiring the party had to present the credit card which had been used for the online transaction to print the tickets at the theater. So Jo bought literally the best tickets in the house at a fair price.
Hamilton was a smashing success. I knew next to nothing about the show. The opening words "How does a bastard, orphan, son of a whore..." grabbed my attention and never let go till the very end. I must say I was slightly distracted thinking about what the English members of the audience may have been thinking during the show. The story of the defeat of the English is told in a decidedly American patriotic tone. And the only comic relief is the English monarch, King George III, dressed in a scarlet frock with an ermine cape and the English crown on his head. Turns out I wasn't the only one worrying. Check out the New Yorker's story: How Will “Hamilton” Play in England? It also explains why Hamilton provides an Obama-esque vision of America as opposed to a Trumpian one - with an all black and Asian cast except for the white King George III, and songs like Immigrants (We get the job done).
The kids absolutely loved the show. And Jo was ready to plan a second trip back to London to do it all over again. After the show we went to Rani's house for dinner and when I mentioned the first words from Hamilton, there was a spirited discussion about what the words meant. Turns out Vivian and Evan know what a bastard means, but not a whore. Well, maybe now they do.
And what's a trip to London without the obligatory shot of the family falling asleep in the back of a London taxi on the drive from the airport to the hotel? Or the train station to the Airbnb.
Hamilton was a smashing success. I knew next to nothing about the show. The opening words "How does a bastard, orphan, son of a whore..." grabbed my attention and never let go till the very end. I must say I was slightly distracted thinking about what the English members of the audience may have been thinking during the show. The story of the defeat of the English is told in a decidedly American patriotic tone. And the only comic relief is the English monarch, King George III, dressed in a scarlet frock with an ermine cape and the English crown on his head. Turns out I wasn't the only one worrying. Check out the New Yorker's story: How Will “Hamilton” Play in England? It also explains why Hamilton provides an Obama-esque vision of America as opposed to a Trumpian one - with an all black and Asian cast except for the white King George III, and songs like Immigrants (We get the job done).
The kids absolutely loved the show. And Jo was ready to plan a second trip back to London to do it all over again. After the show we went to Rani's house for dinner and when I mentioned the first words from Hamilton, there was a spirited discussion about what the words meant. Turns out Vivian and Evan know what a bastard means, but not a whore. Well, maybe now they do.
And what's a trip to London without the obligatory shot of the family falling asleep in the back of a London taxi on the drive from the airport to the hotel? Or the train station to the Airbnb.
Hotel California
While the kids were at camp, we made a quick decision to go somewhere cool. Temperature wise, that is. It was a 104 degrees in Austin last week. Most of the east coast was almost as bad. Which left California and perhaps Minnesota, but we didn't check that. Jo booked our trip, with return tickets for Friday in case Evan did not want to do Week 3 at camp. So this post doesn't have a single photo of Vivian or Evan.
We set up our camp at the Palace Hotel in San Francisco. When it opened in 1875 it was the biggest hotel in the world. We ate breakfast at the Garden Court with it's huge stained glass dome and marble columns and Austrian chandeliers. Turns out that the same thing you have to give away for free at a Holiday Inn costs mucho bucks when it's served under an ancient glass dome.
Jo and I spent our first day in the Bay Area in a haze with cousin Stephanie and her family at the very retro Elk's Lodge 4th of July party, and then continuing with a birthday party at Ash's home where I met my Pilani peeps. While being driven all around the Bay Area by speed demons in strange cars with stranger people, we learned all about Uber Express Pool. It's a thing.
For our second day we made amends to our bodies by hiking from Land's End to the Golden Gate bridge, taking our time and meandering through rocky bluffs, high cliffs, sandy beaches, posh neighborhoods, and finally, the crowds at the bridge. Then we rewarded ourselves with a late seafood lunch at North Beach. I met Abhik after dinner and he showed me some of the cooler drinking spots around Market. Without the kids we took lots of selfies and photos of Jo who now understands why Evan is grumpy when I get camera happy.
While we were walking, we got a call from the camp counselor telling us that Evan had decided to stay for Week 3. Vivian had already made that decision during her first week at camp. So Jo changed our tickets from Friday to Sunday, and the next day we went back to partying with Stephanie's clan.
On Sunday we drove to Sonoma and indulged in a bit of wine tasting. At some point a few bottles of wine should show up at our door step along with half a pound of English cheese, though neither will taste as good as we remember during the tasting.
For our last evening, we drove out to the Marin Headlands and trekked down to Muir beach and watched the day crowds leave and the evening crowds show up with bundles of firewood and blankets. Strange people, these Californians. Then we drove up to near the look out point and walked a few dozen steps from the road and sat down and watched the sun set. And took more selfies. Jo wants a house right there. About 300 feet above the Pacific, with nothing else around because it's a national reserve.
The next morning we wandered around Golden Gate park. I was hell bent on seeing things that were free, so we didn't go into the de Young museum, the California Academy of Sciences, the Japanese Tea Garden, or the Conservatory of Flowers. We did however stroll around the outdoor sculptures and either stuck our heads in their holes or critiqued them vigorously.
Later that afternoon we stopped for lunch at Pakwan in the Mission district. Alu had introduced me to this Pakistani eatery about two decades ago when he lived in the Bay Area, and Arjun and I used to frequent it during our startup days. They seem to have done well and survived longer than Neonyoyo did, with several branches all around the place now.
In the Mission district, as around Market, Jo and I noticed the dirt and dinginess and homeless people. It isn't like it was in the 80's and 90's when someone took a poop right in front of you, but you do need to step smartly otherwise you'll step in it. What does a city do? Turn Nazi on them and make it very hard for a homeless person to live there? Or be more welcoming like California, Oregon and Washington, but then you have a large homeless population and body fluids on sidewalks?
We took the evening flight out of San Francisco airport, landed in Austin at 10pm with everyone else on the planet, ubered back home, and were at 24 Diner till midnight. Only 93 degrees today. And still no kids Sweet home!
We set up our camp at the Palace Hotel in San Francisco. When it opened in 1875 it was the biggest hotel in the world. We ate breakfast at the Garden Court with it's huge stained glass dome and marble columns and Austrian chandeliers. Turns out that the same thing you have to give away for free at a Holiday Inn costs mucho bucks when it's served under an ancient glass dome.
For our second day we made amends to our bodies by hiking from Land's End to the Golden Gate bridge, taking our time and meandering through rocky bluffs, high cliffs, sandy beaches, posh neighborhoods, and finally, the crowds at the bridge. Then we rewarded ourselves with a late seafood lunch at North Beach. I met Abhik after dinner and he showed me some of the cooler drinking spots around Market. Without the kids we took lots of selfies and photos of Jo who now understands why Evan is grumpy when I get camera happy.
While we were walking, we got a call from the camp counselor telling us that Evan had decided to stay for Week 3. Vivian had already made that decision during her first week at camp. So Jo changed our tickets from Friday to Sunday, and the next day we went back to partying with Stephanie's clan.
On Sunday we drove to Sonoma and indulged in a bit of wine tasting. At some point a few bottles of wine should show up at our door step along with half a pound of English cheese, though neither will taste as good as we remember during the tasting.
For our last evening, we drove out to the Marin Headlands and trekked down to Muir beach and watched the day crowds leave and the evening crowds show up with bundles of firewood and blankets. Strange people, these Californians. Then we drove up to near the look out point and walked a few dozen steps from the road and sat down and watched the sun set. And took more selfies. Jo wants a house right there. About 300 feet above the Pacific, with nothing else around because it's a national reserve.
The next morning we wandered around Golden Gate park. I was hell bent on seeing things that were free, so we didn't go into the de Young museum, the California Academy of Sciences, the Japanese Tea Garden, or the Conservatory of Flowers. We did however stroll around the outdoor sculptures and either stuck our heads in their holes or critiqued them vigorously.
Later that afternoon we stopped for lunch at Pakwan in the Mission district. Alu had introduced me to this Pakistani eatery about two decades ago when he lived in the Bay Area, and Arjun and I used to frequent it during our startup days. They seem to have done well and survived longer than Neonyoyo did, with several branches all around the place now.
In the Mission district, as around Market, Jo and I noticed the dirt and dinginess and homeless people. It isn't like it was in the 80's and 90's when someone took a poop right in front of you, but you do need to step smartly otherwise you'll step in it. What does a city do? Turn Nazi on them and make it very hard for a homeless person to live there? Or be more welcoming like California, Oregon and Washington, but then you have a large homeless population and body fluids on sidewalks?
We took the evening flight out of San Francisco airport, landed in Austin at 10pm with everyone else on the planet, ubered back home, and were at 24 Diner till midnight. Only 93 degrees today. And still no kids Sweet home!
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