Falling in love (twice) in Spain - the second time

Before we went to Barcelona, I talked to several people who had been and they absolutely RAVED about how WONDERFUL Barcelona is. I was listening to everyone talk about it and started to get irritated. I mean, how great could one city actually be. I’ve been to quite a few city in my young age – with Chicago, NY, Rejkavik, Copenhagen, and Stockholm being a top the list of my favorite cities. Granted, I still had a lot more to explore, but really, could it be that great?

The short, emphatic answer is YES! It is AWESOME!

With only one day in BCN, we knew we had a big task ahead of us: see as much of Barcelona as we possibly can in one day. On Sunday night, as James was furiously researching Hapimag and real estate in Costa Brava, I got a couple of tourist maps and started plotting our Monday. There was A TON to see and there was not a whole lot that was clustered together. It was supposed to rain so we thought we would do the 100% tourist thing and get on one of those red open-top buses. After 3 days of golf and a few hours of driving, we slept in fairly late – after 9 – but got moving fairly quickly. After a very filling buffet breakfast, we decided we would walk since it wasn't raining too bad – just a light mist.

Segrada Famlia (the back)

First stop – Segrada Familia. What a sight to see. Beautiful, gigantic, such pristine detail. We debated – far too long – whether or not to go inside the church. It was €13.50 EACH. As if that wasn’t a big enough deterrent, the line wrapped half way around the building. I would estimate that it was at least a 2 hour wait to get inside. With so much to see, we opted to wait until the next time we visited to see the inside.

Next stop: La Pedrera. I had never seen a picture of a Gaudi building much less an actual Gaudi building so I had no idea what I was in for. We took somewhat of a detour and James was looking at the map, pointed to a building and said ”that should be it.” I looked up and was completely UNDERwhelmed. I could not figure out why everyone raved about Gaudi so much. This building looked exactly the same as the others. Thoroughly disappointed, we moved on. 

La Pedrera

As we were standing at an intersection, I looked down the road and saw the most breath taking building I’ve seen. It literally made me gasp and scream in excitement – ”look at that building.” That first building we thought was a Gaudi, was, in fact, just a regular old building. We were off by one block. Very clearly, my favorite building is La Pedrera. At €20 per person to go inside and quite the long line (although WAY shorter than Segrada Familia), we opted to visit the inside another time as well. The outside was awesome. The roof looked very promising and exciting.

Casa Batllo

Next stop: Casa Batlló – another Gaudi. We ventured down Pg de Grácia which is a very cool street. When we came upon Casa Batlló, I was very excited to see another breath-taking and astonishing building, but again, at €20 per person to go inside, we opted to continue on our quest to see as much of BCN as we could.

We hit Palau de la Música Catalana, Barri Gotic, the Cathedral, Parc de Ciutadella, Cap de Barcelona, Mall de Boschi, took a cable car to Castell de Montjuic (AMAZING views), the Olympic Stadium, MNAC, Font Magica de Montjuic, Palau Guell (last Gaudi we saw and charged only €12/person to get inside though by this time we had been walking for over 5 hours and our feet were screaming for a rest), and finished by walking up La Rambla (won’t likely return there) and Rambla Catalunya where we had the most wonderful bread with vanilla filling (we hadn’t eaten since breakfast at 9:30 and it was 5:30!!!!!). The walk down Avenue Diagonal back to our hotel seemed like it was never going to end, but alas, we made it back to the hotel. James cracked me up – he literally flopped face first on the bed just to get off his feet. We both had blisters and the aches in our feet and legs were discussed at length. We got off our feet and managed to stay awake long enough to have dinner at a nearby restaurant – Piscabolis – before crashing for the night.

Pictures from the second part of the trip can be found here: https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10151548148199653.1073741827.755859652&type=1&l=6730708756

Thanks very much to Kyle K and his sister-in-law for the wonderful ideas of things to see and do while we were there. We got to everything except a few, but the insider knowledge was great.

I can’t put my finger on exactly what makes this city so amazing. It is a combination of so many things: the history, the architecture, the quaint cafes and restaurants, the outdoor seating, the food, the culture.......it’s all there. It’s beautiful and fun and exciting. I absolutely canont wait until we have another opportunity to visit. Hopefully it is not too far away.

Falling in love (twice) in Spain – the first time

Our planned itinerary was as follows: Friday night, Saturday, and Sunday in Costa Brava. Sunday night, Monday, Tuesday morning in Barcelona.

View from our room

We arrived in BCN late Thursday night and drove the 1 hour and 20 minute drive to Costa Brava arriving at about 1:30 AM. Fortunately, we were able to sleep in because we were exhausted. We had a room with a most beautiful view! It was breathtaking. After filling our bellies at the breakfast buffet, we drove the 30 minutes to PGA at Catalunya. It was a sunny, somewhat warm day and the course was AMAZING. It had the most beautiful views of the Pyrenees, full of hilly lies, and very tight and tough fairways and greens. It was amazing. 

The 13th hole at PGA at Catalunya

Friday night, our friend Ned arrived with one of his friends, Brian. We had a nice dinner and went to bed early(ish) to get a good rest before our round at Emporda Links. The sun was up when we woke up, but by the time we finished breakfast, it was raining BUCKETS. We figured bu the time we got to the course, it would pass. And it did. We teed off at 11:30 and it was a GORGEOUS course. Beautiful views, difficult holes, and great company. We had a blast, until about the 8th hole. The 8th hole was a fairly long par 5 made more difficult bu the HAIL and wind that accompanied us.

It stopped by 9 and then started again on 12. And by the time we teed off on 12, we realized we had a HUGE problem. The hail nor the rain was a problem. The MASSIVE streaks of lightning (and the INSANELY LOUD thunder) made us feel a bit unsafe. Unfortunately, there was no shelter anywhere nearby. We managed to get off the course and walk towards a field where there was a little hut that we all cuddled up against for a good 30 minutes. 

The thunder was so loud I literally thought Spain, and more specifically Emporda Links, was getting bombed (likely by North Korea). When we eventually got back out, we finished #12, teed off on 13, saw the impeding storm coming so tried to rush, finished 13, teed off on 14 and the hail/rain/wind began again. We opted to go in. It was too bad and we didn’t want to get caught out in the open again with no shelter. So we made the 10 minute trek back inside. Cold and soaking wet.

As we were looking outside, we noticed the sun was coming back out and we made the decision  to go back out and play (admittedly, I was frustrated. I don’t like revisiting decisions.) So we got a ride back out to 15. It was a par 3 surrounded by sand and all four of us went in the sand. Wait, let me clarify..........all four of us ended up in water in the sand. We all took relief and then realized we had to carry the water in the sand, get out of the sand, and then carry a good 10 foot wide/long pool of water on the GREEN. This game just got a whole lot harder. My frustration did not subside. Holes 16-18 were three of the best holes on the course. It was at this time that I was happy that we came back out. I also played these holes well and evened out the match that my partner and I were significantly behind in, making these holes all the prettier :-) On 16 green, the thunder started again. By 17 tee, it was raining buckets. By 17 green it stopped raining, the sun came out and there was a most beautiful full rainbow. We made a pit stop at the 19th hole and had the most delicious Patatas Bravas – our new favorite of the tapas.

Saturday night we had a great night out at a seafood restaurant (I got steak). Sunday we were off to play Plata d’Aro. The views and beauty of this course were unprecedented. The course left a bit to be desired – a bit quirky, some blind shots, VERY, VERY tight, and lots of places to lose balls. I played HORRIBLY, but I blame the beauty of the course. I was so distracted. You’ll have to take a look at the pictures, but the pictures just don’t do it justice.

On the 7th-ish hole, we saw a great little community with gorgeous homes, a supermarket, this tiny little town with signs indicating it was called Hapimag. More on that in a minute. We had a wonderful time followed by less delicious Patatas Bravas at the 19th, but still our favorite of the tapas. At this time, we left Ned and Brian and headed back to Barcelona. On the way back to BCN, James asked to borrow my phone. He spent as much of the ride back to BCN as he could researching Hapimag. Turns out it is kind of like an ownership/timeshare type deal. You buy into it, you get a certain number of points that you can use towards weeks of vacations, etc. Over the course of the next day (until he got wind of how wonderful BCN is), he researched, diligently, places to live in and around Costa Brava.  When we arrived in BCN, we hit the executive lounge for tapas and drinks (where the Hapimag research continued). We decided to take a walk (it was very late). Got a bit lost and crashed as soon as we got back to the hotel.

Pictures from part 1 posted here: https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10151545786939653.1073741826.755859652&type=1&l=6f1067480b

Up the next day and you’ll have to read the next post for that. Barcelona is where we fell in love all over again. Twice in 5 days.

Casablanca, Morocco - part 2

After my unpleasant experience on Thursday in Casablanca, I had a greater excitement optimism about our trip on Friday. Thursday night at dinner, James' colleague, Jay, and I decided that we would venture out on Friday (in between my teleconferences and whilst James was in Rabat). Jay and I were trying to find a place where he could get some gifts for his kids. Eventually, we were taken to a mall-type place, but it was like America in Casablanca. That wouldn’t help. So we went back to the harassment-filled bazaar I had gone to the day before. This time, I had my hair up, my head and hair covered, and my sunglasses on. Other than my leather jacket, jeans, and Converse, no one could tell I was American J

Fortunately, I wasn’t harassed at all. I don’t know if it was because Jay was with me or because my blonde hair and pale skin wasn’t visible, but it was a much more enjoyable outing. Whilst we were at the American Mall (it's called Anfa Place and is in the "rich" part of Casablanca), we walked around outside a bit and saw a beach and the mosque (that James and I were going to visit the next day). It was a really neat little outdoor center with shops, cafes, benches for sitting and views of the beach. I finally got excited optimistic about touring around on Saturday with James.

Friday night James and I found a “hidden gem” (to use his words), called Jimmy’s (appropriately). It was a great and CHEAP little bar with the most attentive manager. We didn’t stay long, but really enjoyed it. We headed to Rick’s Café – apparently created recently (2004-ish) to replicate the Casablanca movie. On our way, we got detoured down a road that was pure, authentic Casablanca. For me, it was absolutely awesome. For James, I think it was a bit nerve-wracking. LOADS of Moroccans were sitting lined up on the street selling all kinds of stuff. They would put out a blanket/tarp and they place all of their goods on top – everything from underwear to fresh fruit to phone covers to plastic storage containers. Anything you could possibly want or need if you are a native.  Of course we were followed, but I let James take the brunt of the harassment. One guy said “this is real Morocco. Out there is fake Morocco. This is real Morocco.” And that was the truth. The poverty screamed at us, but I finally gained the sense of culture that I was seeking. I wanted to see how “real Moroccans” lived and what they did. We ventured down a street far too many tourists would be scared to go down or would be told to avoid, and it was one of the best parts of the trips. James prohibited me from taking any photos, but the images are etched in my mind for a lifetime.

Saturday we headed to the mosque. The mosque is the largest in Morocco and the third largest in the world! It was absolutely gorgeous. It was huge and the designs so intricate and pretty. Loads of pictures will be available soon. After our walk, we went to the lighthouse, the beach, and then tried to find our way to the “twin center” and the royal palace. We walked for over 5 hours and by the end, our feet and legs were in a great deal of pain. But, we managed to see everything we wanted – and even got yelled at by the royal palace guards (apparently taking any photographs is not allowed. I don’t follow instructions well). The pictures will tell the story.

The country is stricken with poverty. It is sad and depressing, but really makes you appreciate everything we are afforded in our lives. Although so much of the spoken language is French or Arabic (or a combination of the two), quite a few of the Moroccans knew English, which I found very impressive. The food leaves a bit to be desired. I ordered risotto and it looked like soup with rice. We went to a Thai restaurant and that was decent, but overall, nothing all that great.

Saturday night we had a blast. We returned to Jimmy’s. We started the night listening to MTV-ish English (either American or British) top hits. All of a sudden they changed the channel and I was quite irritated. We were both pleasantly surprised when they turned on the Wales versus England Six Nations Rugby match. This match would determine the champion and we had completely forgotten this was happening (admittedly, I was rooting for Scotland and James was rooting for Ireland, but neither were able to win the whole thing, so we both routed for Wales). It was really exciting for us. I can imagine most of our American friends reading this are going to think we’ve become traitors – fans of rugby. And I guess we are. We were SO excited. Americans, sitting in Africa, watching England/Wales – a truly global experience.

Sunday, James was heading to Barcelona and I was heading back home. Normally after a vacation, I am depressed heading home and getting back into the routine of things. I felt really excited to be going home and getting back to work…………until Monday when the lives of approximately 10,000 people (mine and James included) were disrupted at the hands of one man. Stay tuned for that update.

 I am really glad to have gone to Casablanca, but it is not on my list of places to visit again.

Casablanca, Morocco - part 1

Let me tell you a couple of stories:

James and Morocco
The first time James ever went to Morocco was just a few weeks ago in February. For his journey home, he was due to leave Rabat around 6:30 in the morning and arrive home around 2PM on a Saturday with a connection through either Brussels or Barcelona. He texted me at about 10AM to tell me that he still hadn't left Rabat! This meant he would more than likely miss his connection. Long story short, he didn't ever leave Rabat on Saturday. Sunday, he left and connected through Brussels/Barcelona and missed his connection so he didn't get home until about 7PM Sunday night. Nice weekend.

Trip 2 started on Tuesday, March 12. After a 4-hour delay in Manchester, he did eventually make it to Casablanca (because his connection in Brussels was delayed as well), but his bag did not. Lovely. Fortunately, I was flying out the next day and would be able to pick up his bag and bring it to him at the hotel.

Speaking of which.............

Me and Morocco
I had a very uneventful series of flights, though it did include a 7 hour and 45 minute layover in Brussels (and a 4am alarm). Upon arrival in Casablanca, I had to track down James' bag. I did, successfully. Then I had to find my bag. All the bags from my flight came out on the belt and the belt stopped. And my bag wasn't on it.  About 10 minutes after wondering what I was going to do, the belt started moving again. I'm watching where all the bags come out and there are no bags coming out. Then, in slow motion, I see my blue suitcase emerge from the outside, come down the little ramp, THUD onto the circular belt, and take forever to get to me. BUT - my bag had arrived. This is where things get a bit murky.

I had to get cash out of the ATM which was surprisingly easy once I found the ATM. Upon exiting the airport, there was a small gathering of men standing outside and cars parked along the road. I didn't know which were cabs, which were illegally parked cars, and which had just been abandoned for what appeared to be the last 6 months. I honestly couldn't tell the difference between any of the cars. I walked past the first group of guys asking if I wanted a taxi. I decided I should pretend I didn't speak French, Arabic, or English (I only had to pretend about 2 of those things) and kept my head down. I figured when I cleared the initial smattering, it would be perfectly logical where the taxi line was (just like NY when you come out of Penn Station) and I would get in the first cab in line that had a prominently displayed "TAXI" sign on it and a driver that didn't scare the daylights out of me. I was wrong.

Eventually, this very old man came up to me and asked if I needed a ride (presumably, he was speaking either French or Arabic, but apparently "taxi" is a universal word like "no").  I figured this guy was safe because I could out-run him and probably beat him up if he was going to put me in danger. Then the guy passed me to someone else. This guy was younger, but still old. I tried to barter the fare - the sign said 250 Dirham to center city (where our hotel was). James apparently paid 350 the night before. This guy said 300. Fine. Or so I thought. (side note: 100 Dirham is about $11USD. Keep this in mind when I tell you about the cost of a beer).

As I get in the cab, I monitored them putting my suitcases in the trunk (the first old guy and now this guy that was going to drive me.). I get in the back seat and the first older guy starts banging on my window, yelling in French/Arabic. I eventually make out the word "tip" (apparently another universal word). I ignored him. This may all sound harsh, but I just wanted to get the hell out of dodge. So we start driving and I notice the front passenger door is rattling - like it's going to fly open. I just hope it doesn't.  As if I'm on an episode of The Amazing Race, the guy has to stop for gas. He never shuts off the enging, pumps some gas (all the while 3 other guys come over to the car and are BSing with him and I'm getting nervous like I need to remember my Tae Kwon Do), doesn't pay (I guess that's optional?), tries to fix the rattling passenger side door by slamming it 3 times, and we take off again. I notice that the gas indicator is still below empty. And as I look at the dash, I notice the odometer doesn't work, and I wonder if there is THAT litle gas in the car or if the gas indicator is broken as well. The handle on the door on the other side (I'm in the back) is also busted off. I find comfort knowing at least there is a handle on my door though I don't know if it is going to work when I pull on it.

As we are driving, initially on a highway, I notice that the lines drawn on the road do not mean anything. It was a 2 lane highway and we rode right down the middle of it with cars zooming around this puttering Mercedes taxi from approximately 1959. Eventaully, there are 4 vehicles in front of us and a bunch behind us when 3 mattresses go flying off one of the trucks in front of us and splatter all across the 2 lane highway. People jam on breaks and/or swerve around; all using the horn as if the guy intentionally let 3 mattresses fly off his truck and or didn't realize it happened. We narrowly avoid meeting the back bumber of the car in front of us (and maybe the side of a few other cars). I'm fairly certain James would have had a heart attack by now so I resolve to enjoy the experience knowing I likely won't die (hopefully).

As we get closer to the city, we get onto a 3 lane road - by definition - a road with 3 lanes as detailed by the white lines very clearly drawn on the road. Apparently these are invisible to the people of Morocco because they have made this a FIVE lane road. Seriously, not even in straight lines, they just stack themselves as wide as possible in a road regardless of how many cars are supposed to be there. Oh - and blinkers are optional, but horns are not. If you are driving in Morocco, you MUST have a horn and you MUST use it all the time. Each time we stop, the driver has to open the window because the smell of gas in the car is so strong.

We make it to the hotel (my door handle DOES work) where James has texted me he and his colleague are at the bar having a beer (beers). We venture out to dinner where, even though the hotel confirmed we had a reservation, the restaurant has informed us that we did not. We waited for a while trying to weasle our way in before giving up and trying another place.

So my journey thus far as been very interesting. On Thursday, I have to work most of the day (James is gone all day), but I have a break in the afternoon. It appears to be very sunny outside my hotel window so I get dressed and decide I will take a walk. I go to the concierge to ask for a map because I want to take a walk. He looks at me as if I'm crazy. I guess that should have been my first clue. He takes out the map and draws a circle. He says you can walk here, but take a small cab (they are called "petit taxi" here) with a meter if you go anywhere else. I reckon that should have been clue #2. I walk outside, cross the street and make it about 30 yards when the staring starts. I have full pants, long sleeve shirt, and sunglasses on. I figured I was obeying all female-clothing-requirements. As I continue walking, I hear time and time again "welcome to Morocco." It was not a friendly statement - it was almost taunting or maybe mocking. I continued to walk and continued to get stares from the people lining the streets. Honestly, I could have been a unicorn. They must know blond hair exists! This made me start to feel uncomfortable. What made it worse is that as I stopped to cross a road, this guy comes up to me and says he works at the hotel (lie) and that I was so lucky because today is the only day in the whole year that something happened and he was going to take me to it. Yea, sure. He follows me talking to me the whole way before I - politely as I could - told him "thank you so much, but I'm just going to walk around on my own. Thank you." and I dart away from him.

The direction in which I darted was a good one - there was this really cool outdoor market. I was so excited to go in and see what people had and were selling. I figured there would be the usual aggressive salesmen. I didn't realize that I would be pursued - followed - every where I went. It got so uncomfortable. And it wasn't just one guy - it was multiple guys. I tried to ignore it, but it got really aggressive. They (somehow) knew I was American and could speak English just fine. I thought - maybe if I reply in Spanish they will leave me alone. Eventually I stopped walking looked at them and said "I am not interested in buying anything. I am just walking." That apparently wasn't the right thing to say as the aggression came out with statements like "this is my job," "I am being polite" and loads of other stuff that I tried to ignore, but that made me want to flee. Which is exactly what I did. On the way back to the hotel, it grew increasingly uncomfortable as the comments and the following me continued. All I wanted to do was take a walk, learn about the city and absorb some of the culture.  I love taking pictures and I didn't feel comofrtable enough to take my camera out at all. And there was a lot I wanted to photograph. Very bummed the day went like that.

I sit now next to a fountain in the hotel lobby where there is a man banging away on a synthesizer playing all American music - Simon and Garfunkel, Chicago, Bryan Adams - awesome. It's nice and funny at the same time. Tomorrow James is working (as am I) during the day. I do have breaks where I could take walks, but I think I'll be cooped up in the hotel room for the day. Although, I'm quite stubborn so I might wrap my scarf around my head to hide the hair and try again.

That's it for now. Here's hoping James gets a big deal in Morocco and our journey allows for us to explore and enjoy what this city is!

That whole "love thy neighbor" thing.....

I believe the date was Saturday, January 26 at approximately 4:40AM. Actually, I know it was 4:40AM because I remember looking at my phone wondering why the hell anyone would be blasting music and having a party with drunk-sing-a-longs that STARTED at 4:40AM. James and I were dead asleep when the thumping bass started. You can read the blog about the first two incidents and how I handled them here: http://www.desireeheadley.blogspot.com/2013_01_01_archive.html

On Friday, February 8 at 3:59AM, a fourth incident begins (I never mentioned incident #3 as it was only loud music on a Sunday night until about 11PM - still not acceptable, but not the anger-enducing incidents of before or #4). The thumping bass, the loud people, the drunk sing-a-longs - AT THREE FIFTY NINE IN THE MORNING and I have to get up for work in 2 hours. I once again put my clothes on, venture down to apartment 9, bang on the door - incessantly, loudly, persistently until someone comes to the door (I kid you not, my fist was sore later that day). The guy is the definition of an asshole. Opens the door looking all bothered and pompous that he had to get off his fat ass to open the door. He cannot coherently speak so I get right to the point - "please can you turn the music down?" I am not nasty about this. I am taking the "you get more bees with honey rather than sugar" or whatever that statement is.He mumbles something else that I don't understand and I walk back up to the apartment. The noise does not stop, in fact, it gets louder.

By 4:45, James is out of bed because now he is awake. His alarm - which was set for 5:30 because he had a very early flight to Belfast - no longer necessary. I lie in bed hoping it will stop and I can get back to sleep. By 5, I am up and I hear James talking to someone. He's called the non-emergency police line who told him to call the Cheshire council and also the Environmental Protection Agency (interesting). He has emails for them all so sends emails. I get a load of laundry in the washer. We are fuming mad. I go out on the balcony and look over the edge. Sure enough, there are 2 guys sitting outside smoking. I ask if they own the place, they say they do not and they don't even know the guy that lives there. They were invited back to drink and party and they did. I asked who invited them back and they replied it was the guy that lives there - Giles. Sweet, now I have a name. I expressed my displeasure at being awakened at 4AM, they apologized profusely, they asked if I wanted to come down for a drink (oh yes, sure, let me just get dressed and I'll be right down), they asked if they could cook me breakfast, and the invited me to breakfast with Giles at the Alderley Bar and Grill at 10AM. Hmmm, this gives me an idea. Crash breakfast? Make a scene? No. Maybe just wake Giles up early in the afternoon.

The music stops at 6:20AM. James takes off for the airport and I drag myself to the gym. I fully intend on leaving work early to discuss this niose situation with Giles. And I do. I text James and tell him I am going to talk to the guy downstairs and if I don't arrive at the airport to pick him up, I have probably been murdered.  I have a plan in my head. Knock on the door, DO NOT, under any circumstances, accept an invitation INTO the apartment. Politely decline and tell him that you just want to speak with him very quickly. Be every kind and explain to him that both my husband and I work and need to be up early in the morning and that we cannot live with the noise issues at 4AM. And of course, everything goes to plan.

Prior to going down, I peak over the balcony to see if there is any movement in the apartment below ours. The door to the apartment 9 balcony is open. Okay, he is home. I begin my journey down the 15 steps to the 2nd floor, heart pounding, blood rushing to my face, adrenaline pumping. I knock on the door - 5 consecutive, polite wraps. No answer. I know he is there and I'm not giving up on this. 5 more polite wraps - a slight bit harder this time - and I wait enough time for someone to get up and walk to the door. No answer. I decide I will try one more time. 5 wraps - for the third and final time - MUCH harder. I hear movement. Okay, this is happening. How should I stand. Arms across my chest seems pissy. Hands in my pockets? Hands folded in front of me? I want to be non-confrontational. I go with hands in back pockets. I don't know why. It felt comfortable. I hear the deadbolt unlock and the chain is being pulled through. Here goes, the door opens and what I see shocks me into a stutter.

A short, blonde lady approximately 60 or so years old answers the door and looks at me as if to say "yes, what do you want?" I finally gather myself (no WAY this lady is partying at 4AM) and ask if Giles is home. She says yes and asks who I am to which I reply "I'm a neighbor." She invites me in. Oh crap, this was not part of the plan! I agree and tell her I will just wait in the foyer. She calls back to Giles who tells her to send the neighbor back. Okay, surely he won't murder me with this woman here, right? I go back and Giles is stting down unwrapping cigars out of plastic wrapping and putting them into a cigar box. He doesn't get up and barely looks up as I begin my dissertation. Giles has short, dark hair swept over to the side and appears a bit tired. Our exhange goes something like this:

Desiree: Hi Giles, my name is Desiree and my husband and I recently moved into the building. At least 3 times now we have been woken up at approximately 4 in the morning by excessive noise  coming from this apartment.

At this point, Giles gets out of his chair - I guess getting ancy that I'm calling him out? As he gets up, I notice a limp, a metal brace on one of his legs, and his arm is somewhat limp.

Giles: Oh, we had an outrageous party last night.
D: Yes, I know. I heard it all night.
G: Oh, well, that's just a once in a blue moon type of thing.
D: No, actually it's not. This is the third time this has happened and we've only been here for 5 weeks.
G: No, that is not true. I haven't even been home that much. Last night was the first party I've had in ages.

Not wanting to argue, I get to the point.
D: Okay, well, I hope it is not a problem ever again in the future, but if it is, how would you like me to let you know that your party is keeping us awake? Twice I have come down and knocked on the door and someone who was obviously not you answered. When I asked for the music to be turned down, it wasn't. So what would you like me to do if the noise gets too loud again?
G: Where is your bedroom?

I must point out what an incredibly STUPID quesiton this is. Our apartment is directly above ours. All of the apartments in the building are fairly standard and EXACTLY the same if they are in the same part of th ebuilding (i.e., one on top of the other). I look at him - displaying just how stupid I thought his question was.

G: is your bedroom above where we are standing right now? We were in his kitchen.
D: no, Giles. our apartment is the same as yours. It is directly above yours.
G: Well, if your bedroom is back there, you aren't hearing my music. I NEVER play music in the bedroom.

At this point, this man's stupidity is beginning to irritate me - and it begins to show. Keep in mind, I had very little sleep.

D: Giles, do you not think that sound can travel through walls and doors? Do you not think that if you play music in your kitchen, the sound will travel to your bedroom if it is loud enough?

Lady: my name is Elaine and I am Giles' mother. Giles has a disability and I come up quite often to help him around the apartment. Maybe one evening you and Giles can do a sound test to see what volume is too loud because sometimes it's not about the volume, it's just the bass.
D: yes, sure (all smiles) that might be a good idea.

What I really wanted to say was: Well, thank you dear Elaine. What a great idea, except that i don't care what volume is too loud or what bass level to thumping because THERE SHOULD NOT BE ANY MUSIC PLAYING EVER AT FOUR IN THE MORNING!

Elaine: You see, Giles doesn't work so a party on Thursday night is not a big deal to him.
G: THAT'S NOT TRUE! I work.
E: Well, he doesn't work on Fridays .
G: Yes, I work for the government and don't have to work on Fridays. I am not here a lot and that is why I know that the noise you heard three times wasn't me. It was me last night, but it must have been the people next door.

WHAT??????? What government shuts down on Fridays? I would like a job with that government. (it was brought to my attention by a friend later that perhaps what he meant by "I work for the government" is that he was accepting unemployment checks from the government. Clever. I don't know what his story is and I have no desire or intent to really find out).

D: Well, my husband and I both work on Fridays and need to be up early every morning. Playing loud music between the hours of 4 AM and 6 AM is not acceptable. So, what would you like me to do when your music and the people in your apartment are so loud at that hour? As I mentioned, this is the third time this has happened.
G: No, I did not have any other parties.
D: Okay, please just let me know what you would like me to do to let you know that your party is too loud. Obviously knocking on your door is not helping.

At this point, I believe Giles is getting a bit nervous because his mom is there. As he glances between the two of us, he says "hold on."

Giles goes into another room, Elaine and I exchange insincere smiles, and Giles and emerges with a silver case and hands me a business card. NOW we are getting somewhere.

G: here, take this. If it gets too loud, my phone number is on there and you can call that.
D: Great, thank you. I hope to never have to call you, but I appreciate you giving me this.
G: Well, if you call because it's noisy and I'm not here, I'll have you call the cops!

Apparently this was an attempt at humor. I showed a fake smile.
D: Thank you very much for this card. I honestly hope I'll never have to call you.
G: sure.

As I begin to make my way towards the door, Elaine says "aren't you going to walk her out?"

WHAT?!?!?! NO! I don't want him to walk me out.  it's literally about 20 steps to the door. I don't need help, thank you.

As we walk toward the door, Giles behind me, he says (again) I'm not here that often and I don't keep a car here so if you ever need an extra parking space, let me know.

WHAT? You and I are not friends, Giles. I am being polite to you, but I would really like to punch you in your face for keeping me and James awake all night.

So that's the end. I went upstairs, I realized I watch too many episodes of Criminal Minds. I could just imagine Elaine and Giles sitting in their apartment plotting how to kill me. The old "mom-obsessed-with-disabled-son-so-doesn't-mind-giving-him-everything-he-wants-including-feeding-his-killing-desires" storyline??? I laughed at myself (and hope it's not the case......just stop watching scary psychological thrillers).

We have had no episodes since, but this whole "love thy neighbor" thing is not an easy task.

Scotland - A novel

What an AMAZING adventure! Here are my stories (James may have different versions. If he would like to share, he is free to draft a blog):

The plan
According to our GPS, it was going to take me 5 hours to drive from Alderley Park (where I work) to Dundee, Scotland (where James was staying as he had a meeting in Dundee on Friday morning). I was going to work from the hotel Friday and then we were going to drive down to St. Andrews for golf on Saturday and Sunday.  The Old Course at St. Andrews was closed Friday and Saturday for a local tournament. It is closed every Sunday so "locals can enjoy walking the famous links." This is, undoubtedly, the worst use of a world-renowned, beautiful golf course I have ever heard of. Seriously? You are closing an entire golf course so people can walk around? Goodness me. I digress. We pre-booked a tee time for Sunday on The Jubilee Course, but we could only walk-on on The New Course on Saturday so we were playing that by ear.

The drive
On Thursday afternoon, I took off shortly after 4PM to head to Dundee. It took, what seemed like forever, getting through Manchester. Lots of traffic. I eventually hit the highway. It gets dark around 4:45 so I knew most of the drive would be in the dark. It took about 2 hours to get to Scotland and I had another - at least - 2.5 hours to go. So far, the weather is perfect. A few notes about driving in the UK:

• There are no lights on the highway (or very few and only in certain sections). To rectify this problem, people often drive with their high beams on. This is bad on a number of levels. If the car on your side of the highway has their high beams on and you pass that person, the high beams blind you in your rear view. Then there's the obvious problem with the people in the opposing lane.
• The drivers are VERY picky about passing lanes. Picture this, I'm in the middle lane (keep in mind, the FAST lane is the RIGHT lane of the highway). A car pulls up behind me in the LEFT (slow) lane and is going faster than I. There is no one else around us and said driver opts to pull behind me, then over into the right lane, then back in front of me, and then back into the left lane. I thought this was just a one-off oddity until it happened 4 times in the span of a couple of hours. There was very little time when I wasn't around other cars.
• The radio stations are all the same - effectively. So there are abou15 stations along the ride from which to choose and each station has the same announcer/song playing on 3 or 4 stations. So everytime I hit "scan" I had to listen to the same song 3 or 4 times before finally getting to a new song/station.

And about our lovely car. The new car - a Peugeot something-or-other - is a POS (not to be confused with Jeff Argus' company). James hates that it doesn't have cruise control (not a problem for a driver like me, but definitely a problem for him). It is an automatic, but it changes gears like a manual. It actually stops accelerating and then shifts. It's also a hatchback, which means it's big and means it still sucks to park in our tiny little parking space. Anyhoo, a few notes about the windshield wipers (which are a critical piece of equipment when you are driving in the rain):

• The windshield wipers clear the passenger side first (not convenient).
• The windshield wipers, as they return to their starting position, flick water from the passenger blade directly into my line of sight on the drivers side (not convenient).
• The windshield wipers have 3 speeds: intermittent, slow, and slower (REALLY not convenient when you are drivng in rainy Scotland).

Then the wather changed and it sucked. (Mom, dad, and James, please stop reading here). I'm fairly certain I should have died a few times. The big trucks kicking up the water, trying to pass them with very little visibility, and I don't drive slow. I divulge my speed, but I'll say I made a 5 hour drive, with 16 minutes of traffic (based on the GPS) in 4 hours and 30 minutes. I arrived safe and sound (except for my random knee injury). The hotel in Dundee was awesome. It overlooked a lake/river/some body of water with a huge bridge. The moon looked awesome, it was beautiful.

Exploring St. Andrews
We traveled to St. Andrews Friday afternoon. I had a bunch of calls for work until after 4 so we took off exploring St. Andrews after that. It was SO COLD and the wind was blowing quite strong. We stopped first by The University of St. Andrews. Lovely campus. Stumbled upon St. Andrews Castle and eventually to St. Andrews Cathedral. We didn't go in any because they were closed by the time we got there (plus I'm planning on taking my parents there at which time we'll explore in more detail). Took loads of pictures and eventually found our way to a non-touristy, non-taken-over-by-college-kids bar called the Whey Pat Tavern. It was AWESOME. Great local beers, reasonably priced, and loads of really friendly folks. We ended up staying much longer than anticipated on account of meeting an overly friendly gentlemen (and we weren't in a rush anyway).  Had an okay meal at a local restaurant and headed for bed early on account of golf the next time.

We tried as many Scottish beers as we could and we loved quite a few of them. I think my favorites were actually St. Andrews Ale (could have been the picture on the bottle that sold me, but honestly, the beer was really good) and Fraoch. The pubs are pretty cool.

It is such a great little city with so much history and charm. The buildings are beautiful and it is so quaint. And all the people are so nice (I now know where I get it.....my grandfather was born in Scotland so that's must be why I'm so nice :-) HAHAHA!!). Anyway, can't wait to go back!

The golf
Golfing in St. Andrews is everything it's cracked up to be........if you're into that kind of thing. James is not a windy-weather golfer. I love golf, but don't like playing poorly (which I did). Saturday we got off on the New Course at about 10:20 or so. It is a great little track, but - for my taste - didn't leave a huge impression. There were not a lot of holes that I though "wow, that was a great hole." It was windy - they indicated 15 MPH and it was cold (about 28 degrees), but it was SUNNY and there wasn't a drop of rain the entire day! The back 9 was much warmer than the front. James kicked my BUTT. It was quite humorous because on several holes, we couldn't have been farther apart. He was hooking the hell out of the ball and I was slicing the hell out of the ball. The Old Course, the New Course, and the Jubilee Course all run parallel to each other at certain points. When we were playing the New Course (it's in the middle of the Old Course and the Jubilee Course), there were several holes where James was left on the Old Course, and I was right on the Jubilee Course. It was funny after a while (and then not funny when I couldn't figure out what I was doing). 

Uber frustrating were these stupid little mats we had to hit off of in the fairway. Admittedly, James and I (with our hooking and slicing) didn't need the fairway mats all that often, but when we did, it was very difficult and I actually broke my mat once (managed to put it back together). That part sucked, but, like I said, we weren't in the fairway all that much anyway :-)

We had a great day and enjoyed really awesome beverages afterwards. Local brews - really good stuff.

We played The Jubilee Course on Sunday. It was MUCH warmer - 45 degrees - but there was 35 MPH winds so it felt like 36. And when I say there were 35MPH winds, I don't mean "gusts up to" or "at a max." I mean there were CONSISTENT 35 mph winds.  I liked the Jubilee Course much better (coincidentally, I fould my swing so that helped a lot). The holes were a lot more memorable, the fairways had more character, and there was a lot more trouble.  It really is a completely different game to what we play back home.

The pictures will tell a lot more about our golfing experience, but a few notes:

• There were SEVERAL - not just 1 or 2 - SEVERAL holes where James' tee box was IN FRONT of mine AND par was the same. My favorite example is #11 on The Jubilee Course. It was a 500+ yard par five, DIRECTLY into the (35MPH) wind. James' tee box is FORTY YARDS (at least) in front of my tee box...........and it's a par 5 for him as well. WHAT?!?!?!
• The courses were both relatively flat. My knee was okay walking on these courses. Had we been in Ireland playing the courses we played last summer, I would not have been able to play (I can walk, but can't do steps or hills or running).
• Greens in Scotland were in much better shape - even in the dead of winter - than the greens in Ireland - which we played in the dead of summer (and it was a similar temperature, wetter, and about the same wind speed). Hmmm. 
• Scottish golf and Irish golf are completely different (granted I've only played 2 courses in Scotland and they were both at St. Andrews).

Pictures available: https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10151430458029653.515163.755859652&type=1&l=6e621b9b8d

First Beer Festival

So, we went to our first beer festival in Manchester. The walk to Alderley Edge train station is approximately 4 minutes (we stopped at the AWESOME bakery on the way and picked up a few treats). Train to Picadilly Station (in Manchester) is about 30 minutes. It was about a 1.5 mile walk to the beer festival from the train station. It was a GORGEOUS day and the walk was lovely. We arrived at approximately 1:30 and it took a good 10 minutes for us to figure what the heck was going on. Huge room. People everywhere. Beer taps everywhere. Fortunately, we bought a guide book, but that didn't prove useful just yet either. We bought our glasses (2 pounds 50 pence for each) and eventually cozied up to bar #4 (not really sure why) and picked a beer in order to give us time to figure out how this day was going to work.

It was pretty awesome. By about 4:30, we thought "we'll have a couple more and then go." And then we ran into a fellow American. Really nice guy who is teaching down in Wales. He came up by himself and was staying at a nearby hostel in Manchester so we hung out with him for a while. That led to us running into people that work at AstraZeneca and we didn't leave until about 8:30.

When we first got there, we started making notations about each of the beers we tried until we met a bunch of people and it got too difficult. The notations in the book indicate we tried 20 different beers. Some were really good, others, not so much. We were only drinking 1/3 pints so it's not as bad as it initially sounds.

So, as we decide to leave, we walk outside for our 1.5 mile walk back to the train station and it's drizzling. About 1/10 of a mile in, it starts raining harder. And it's cold. We are less than 1/2 mile from the train station and I pull out the train schedule. I see that there is a train in FIVE MINUTES. James asks if I'm sure. Annoyed, I tell him he can look at the schedule and give (throw) it at him. He says he trusts me so WE START RUNNING. It's pouring rain. We get to the train station and are frantically looking at the board to find our train track. What? The train isn't for 40 minutes???? I scramble to get the train schedule from my bag, open the schedule and YES, there is supposed to be a train right now................on Sunday. And today is Saturday. Son of a.......... Sorry James :-(

Pictures are on facebook: https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10151384261869653.512858.755859652&type=1&l=7b074e500f

Post on Scotland coming up soon.