Ornoth

When I heard that a tour featuring Devo and the B-52s was going to visit Austin, I knew it was a must-see. Both bands’ songs can be hit-or-miss, but their best ones are exceptional. From the moment I saw them play on the Merv Griffin show on October 16, 1980, Devo – for whatever reason – were a formative part of my adolescence. But opportunities to see them have been extremely rare; I had to wait 28 years before I finally managed to catch them headlining a Boston show in 2008… And I’ve waited nearly two more decades for my next opportunity!

B-52s Love Shack

Devo Jocko Homo

Devo Going Under

The timing wasn’t great, tho. The Austin show was on Saturday November 1, the night before the Livestrong Challenge: a 100-mile bike ride I was signed up for. I started the day of the show by laying out all my ride gear, then made my way to a photoshoot at Livestrong headquarters with my Team Kermit friends. Then an early dinner of takeout Thai food, which was accompanied by ominous thunder.

With threatening weather surrounding Austin, I took hope from a rainbow I saw on the drive to the Circuit of the Americas Formula 1 racetrack where the open-air show was being held. I got there really early to score good parking, but was “asked” to stay in the car due to lightning in the area.

I promptly ignored that “request” and walked the kilometer to queue up at the main entry gate, along with the most disappointing selection of humanity I’ve seen in a long time. It was 6pm: about an hour before the gates opened, and two hours before showtime.

By 7pm there were obvious lightning bolts and thunder, and the skies opened up for about 20 minutes, absolutely soaking everyone. Security told people to take cover in their cars or a distant parking garage, but I obstinately hovered nearby and waited.

After having stood around idly for two hours as the storm abated, we finally were let into the venue at 8pm – the original show time – and were told the performers would go on at 9pm. I grabbed some paper napkins from a vendor to dry off my soaking wet seat and waited: chilly, damp, and shivering.

They dispensed with the opening act – Lene Lovitch – and the B-52s came on at 9pm, which would have been their normal time slot. I like the band, and am especially fond of lead man Fred Schneider’s distinctive vocals and quirky lyrics. Their set included the upbeat “Cosmic Thing”, plus several of their less distinctive, melodic songs that I tend to ignore, and I was disappointed that they passed over the edgier “Channel Z”. And it would have been nice to include something from Fred’s solo career, like “Monster” or even “Coconut”. Overall, they put on a passable show. I’m glad I got to see them once.

I’ll mention here that a couple, seated two rows in front of me, decided to stand through the entire set, which meant I had to do so as well, if I wanted to see anything. So between the wait outside the venue and the concert, I stood in place for an agonizing 4½ hours… on the evening before a 100-mile bike ride!

After the stage was rearranged, Devo came on and also played for an hour. I had low expectations, since they’re known for never changing their setlist or show, but they’d updated some of their visuals and delivered the songs with more energy than you’d expect if you thought of them as a one-hit wonder from four and a half decades ago. They played personal favorite “Going Under”, but not the newer “Mind Games”, and they did not perform “Beautiful World” or their cover of “Satisfaction”. Despite my concerns, they delivered a fast-paced, very satisfying show.

After the bad weather and delays, I was delighted that both headliners were able to take the stage and perform their full sets without having to truncate the show. Scratching the opener was the ideal response to the weather situation.

The Germania Amphitheater at the Circuit of the Americas has a reputation as a horrible place to see a show, mostly because of the long walk between parking and the entry gate, how far it is out of town, and how much of a cluster it is to get into and out of. I found it tolerable, and I somehow managed to get out pretty easily after the show.

Getting home and ready for bed around 1am left me just four hours to sleep before my pre-ride wakeup alarm. And even the bonus hour of sleep I’d get from the autumnal time change that night meant that Sunday was gonna be a grim day in the saddle. But that’s a story for another blogpo…

Having just picked up the new Google Pixel 6 Pro, specifically for some of its photo capabilities, it's time for me to share my first look at the Pixel's camera features and performance.

My previous two cellphones were the HTC One 11 and the HTC One M8, both of which received high marks for their cameras. But in 2017 Google bought most of HTC's R&D team and integrated them into their efforts to improve the Pixel lineup. So I've been closely following the Pixel line, and between the need to upgrade to 5G and the Pixel 6 Pro's new 4x optical zoom camera, its October release convinced me to finally replace my beloved HTC.

So on the first sunny day after getting my new unit all set up, I took a little photo walkabout in Pittsburgh's Southside, capturing the images that follow. All images were uploaded to Flickr exactly as they came out of the camera, unaltered in any way, although you have to click through to the full-sized versions to see the actual, untouched originals and their full level of detail.

Let's begin with a couple basic snaps that I took just because they caught my eye. These were taken at various levels of zoom (more on that in a bit). Under conditions of harsh afternoon light, the Pixel's HDR processing did a good job pulling detail out of the shadows, even if in some cases that was desired, and in some cases it wasn't.

Aside from the fairly subtle HDR, Google's next image processing trick is "portrait mode", which identifies a human subject in your shot, and then applies a not very subtle blur to everything else. Here's a couple portrait-treated shots, and a normal shot for comparison.

A couple shots to test the Pixel's color handling. Nothing too special here.

Next we have two panoramic images, as created by the Camera app's image processor. The stitching is pretty good, and produces very usable results.

Like any panoramic photo, the wider the scene, the more lens distortion occurs at the edges. While it's not noticeable in the first image, it's far more noticeable in the second, which spans a nearly 180° arc.

Google has included beta versions of two tools that try to capture motion. The first motion capture mode is "long exposure". The idea is to simulate taking a long exposure, where static elements appear clear, but moving elements are blurred.

Sometimes this works well (the moving cyclist below left), and sometimes it doesn't (the ghost bicycle at right). Sadly, Google's camera app doesn't offer the kind of "clear image plus light trail" effect you'd normally get on an SLR with a flash synced to the front or rear curtain.

Note that in these cases where the Pixel is post-processing images, it saves both the altered image as well as the original.

The final feature I wanted to test was the Pixel's "magic eraser" function, which allows you to selectively remove unwanted objects in your photo, kind of like an intelligent version of Photoshop's healing brush.

The left photo below is another action pan shot I took, this time with two cyclists in the frame. The lead cyclist is in focus, but the trailing rider is a little blurry, so I chose to remove her.

She definitely was erased from the image, although I might not go so far as to call it "magic". The Pixel did a good job figuring out what I wanted to remove, and how to back-fill the area, and matched up the berm and railroad tracks well. But I did have to go back and run the tool a second time, in order to also remove the rider's shadow, an oversight that many users might easily make.

The overall result isn't bad, especially given how little user input it required. Good enough for casual use, but for better quality I'd still do the work in a desktop photo editor.

Overall, I'd say I'm very happy with the results. Big plusses are graduating from my old phone's 12MP main camera to the Pixel's 50MP, and the amazing 4x optical zoom. I'm happy with the panorama mode, and am more than willing to play with the good but imperfect magic eraser and motion blur modes. I'm also looking forward to testing out the Pixel's improved low-light and video capabilities.

From a photographic point of view, there's very little to complain about. The Pixel 6's noticeable "camera bar" design hasn't been an issue for me so far. The only serious shortcoming I've noticed is that the front-facing selfie shooter is a meager 11MP, which is 31% smaller than the 16MP on my 5 year-old HTC.

That's all for today, but watch this space -- and my cycling blog -- for more images from the new Pixel 6 Pro!

With the end of cycling’s high season, I was free to spend a week with Inna checking out Portland. Not the familiar largest city in Maine, where I lived for eight years, but its namesake, the largest city in the state of Oregon.

Although we’d both visited before, neither of us had experienced much of the city itself. My 2004 visit was based an hour east of Portland, at Timberline Lodge on the slopes of Mt. Hood; and in 2008 my second visit was even farther away in coastal Astoria and Seaside. Inna’s only visit had been for a brief convention. So Portland was a new city to us. But we had pretty high hopes, based on its reputation and several friends’ experiences.

Wed 2 October

Inna framed by the Columbia River at Vista House

Travel day, flying Pittsburgh to Chicago to Portland. Upon arriving at O’Hare, we had to wait for another aircraft to vacate our gate; and a long delay because the jetbridge at the gate wouldn’t work. The second leg was no better: a delay on the taxiway, and the paid in-flight WiFi internet service was broken. That’s four strikes against United Airlines.

It didn’t get much better at Enterprise car rental, which had a line about 40 people long waiting for customer reps, followed by another dozen in line at the vehicle pool. At the counter Inna confirmed that she had premium status, so we’ll know to cut the line next time.

Finally we were on the road for the four-mile drive to the AirBNB Inna had reserved. We got into the cute and modern over-garage studio unit with no problem. It would provide a comfortable base and refuge for our time in town.

Still midafternoon, we went on a walking tour up and down nearby Alberta Street, one of Portland’s more “artsy” neighborhoods. At Melville Books I picked up “The Essential Dogen” and Jack Kornfield’s “The Buddha Is Still Teaching”. At cat shop Roar I picked up a tee shirt, sticker, and a krinkle toy for Begemot. Stuck my head in Gladys Bikes and got the local scoop while Inna hit the herbalist next door. Stopped at haute coiffure (sic) Salt & Straw ice cream for a malted shake, which was forgettable; Inna tossed most of her coffee-chocolate, which was disappointingly over-salted. Then dinner at Cha Ba Thai, which I’m pretty certain I visited back in 2008.

All that walking was hard for me due to an achilles injury I picked up in late August. But over the course of the week it would improve, despite the ton of walking we did.

Drooping, we headed home, catching one of our hosts on the way in. We admired the little kitty solarium built into the side of their house—although there were very few kitty sightings—and an apple left by a squirrel atop a high wooden fence between the neighbors.

We unpacked and were in bed around 8:30pm, tho to be fair, that’s nearly midnight Eastern time...

Thu 3 October

After a very satisfying shower, we had an expensive breakfast at Vita Cafe on Alberta, then visited Inna’s employer’s local office. As a satellite for the Seattle office, it wound up being little more than two guys in a suburban office park conference room.

Then a stop at Powell’s Books at Cedar Crossing. Inna was overwhelmed by choice, and I chose poorly, getting two books by my former meditation teacher Larry Rosenberg (one of which I later learned I already own), and a tiny book entitled “Rebirth Explained”. Thinking it was written by Bhavana Society founder Bhante G., it was only later that I realized that the author wasn’t H. Gunaratana, but V.F. Gunaratna. At least I'd only spent $1.95 on it! While browsing the manga section, I was amused to find “the life-changing manga of tidying up: a magical story” (sic) by cleaning (but apparently not grammar) guru marie kondo (sic).

Heading downtown, a quick but fruitless peek into Western Bikeworks was followed by a stop at Eb & Bean frozen yogurt; I had vanilla with chopped hazelnuts and white chocolate bits, which was serviceable but unremarkable, tho Inna enjoyed her ginger with streusel topping. Then the city visitors’ center, where the singleminded attendant piled us high with neighborhood-level brochures when we repeatedly asked for a city-wide map.

The most productive stop of the day was at West End Bikes, where I talked to a very forthcoming guy about the local road scene before it turned—horror movie style—into a mad soliloquy about sedentary car drivers being sheep and the desperate imperative of eating healthy.

After freeing myself, Inna and I hit Powell’s flagship downtown store, but by that point we were both too overstimulated to fight the crowds. We headed back to our home base, where we had another brief chat with the other half of our host couple. Then a stockpiling trip to the grocery store and a frozen pizza for dinner.

Fri 4 October

Orny & Inna after dinner at Kachka

Panoramic view of the hiking trail in Forest Park

The view upriver from Vista House

Multnomah Falls

Pond & bridge @ Japanese Garden

Sand & stone garden

Tortured treelimbs

Pavilion and foliage

Full Portland Photoset

Fatigued, we took most of Friday off. While Inna slept, I turned in accumulated reward points for a timely $500 credit on my Visa card.

We stopped at an herb shop on Alberta, but for the second time found them closed. I gained nothing from checking into both River City Cycles locations.

Then dinner at Kachka, a restaurant founded by a second-generation Russian immigrant, and whose cookbook (of the same name) Inna enjoyed… although the fake Cyrillic font constantly misleads both of us to read the name as “Kdsnkd”. Inna's initial excitement wore off the more she ate; whereas I received a chicken leg and overcooked potatoes, which—due to my skepticism and narrow palate—I considered a culinary victory until I received the check.

Friday evening Inna dropped me off at the Portland Friends of the Dhamma meditation group. It seemed like a nice, friendly, focused group of a dozen experienced practitioners. We chanted the refuges in Pali, sat for 45 minutes, and participated in their ongoing discussion of the Vitakkasanthana Sutta (MN 20).

Afterward, I walked through a neighborhood full of bread factories and delivery trucks to where Inna had simultaneously attended a regular Portland Authentic Relating Meetup, where she’d met a new local friend named Lauren. We compared experiences on the drive back to our lodgings.

Sat 5 October

Saturday morning, Inna bounced out of bed like a Muppet in order to get to the big Portland Farmers’ Market at Portland State University, which we verified upon seeing dorm windows with My Little Pony drapery.

With such an abundance of agricultural crops in the Pacific Northwest, the market’s nearly 200 stalls were indeed impressive, including tons of fresh flowers, live pepper charring, and Mexican food fried on huge, round grills, but surprisingly no ice cream. Inna picked up mushrooms, chard, tempeh, and a rice ball, while I came away with chocolate-covered hazelnuts and cayenne kettle popcorn.

From there, we drove over to peruse the art offerings at the riverside Portland Saturday Market. Inna acquired some baseball cap technology, some tiles featuring chickadee artworks, and a “purrmaid” card from Whatif Creations for our catsitters, and I picked up a Bike Portland tee from Local922. We stopped to enjoy the sun, a burrito and ice cream, and watch people on a suicide prevention walk-a-thon along the river.

After an abortive attempt to park at the Portland Japanese Garden, we drove up into the hills and walked one of the trails through Portland’s wooded Forest Park. Although it was true all week long, this is a good time to mention that our visit coincided with some striking autumnal foliage, to Inna’s constant delight.

Some neighborhood exploring led Inna to another herb shop, while I scouted around and discovered Ruby Jewel, an ice cream shop with an unwelcoming, boarded up door, but which immediately won me over by playing Devo background music.

With weary legs, we turned back toward our local grocery store, where I picked up ravioli and alfredo sauce to cook at home, while Inna fried up her marketplace haul.

Sun 6 October

Sunday it was my turn to get up early, leaving Inna to sleep in while I drove to a 9am orientation group at the Portland Insight Meditation Community. The founding teacher, Robert Beatty, arrived late due to the Portland Marathon running through town. I spent the extra time staring out the window at the cats in the neighbor’s yard.

Eventually he arrived and asked myself and the seven women who’d showed up to introduce ourselves and say what question brought us there; my question was whether he knew the cats’ names. Then Robert provided a very eloquent summary of Vipassana meditation, punctuated by a squirrel pausing on a fence inches outside the window and staring in. Then it was time for the 10am sitting in the main hall.

PIMC owns a large former church, and around 90 people attended the sitting. They sung (not chanted) the Three Refuges in English (not Pali), accompanied by Robert on guitar, and the unexpected aura of American folk spirituality jangled my nerves. Then a 45-minute lightly guided meditation, followed by 10 minutes of qigong movements that I declined. Then Robert gave a rambling dhamma talk on afflictive emotions like anger. The group seemed to have the same basic lineage and connections as Portland Friends of the Dhamma, but more diluted and Americanized.

I made my way back to the house to catch a soccer game. Inna was out having brunch with her new friend Lauren, whom she subsequently brought over for a brief visit.

Other than that, we mostly hung around all day, taking it easy. I noticed that—with respect to my achilles injury—my heel felt better than it had in weeks, but for some reason my calf had begun hurting more.

Mon 7 October

After another aborted plan to hit the Japanese Garden, I offered to take Inna on the old scenic highway along the Columbia River Gorge, since she hadn’t seen the river yet. With some fall colors, the drive was very picturesque.

Our first stop was at Vista House, which I’d visited in 2005 with my DargonZine authors. As you’d infer, the little observation tower perched on a high bluff provides a great viewpoint up and down the great river.

Next we continued on to Multnomah Falls, which I’d also visited back in ’05. Despite it being a Monday morning, the limited parking area produced a real traffic jam, which we luckily avoided by having someone pull out of a parking spot directly in front of us as we inched along. We admired the staggeringly high falls, and climbed up to the footbridge perched between the upper and lower cascades.

I was headachey and the crowd was getting to both of us, so we turned back homeward. Inna picked a food joint along the way. McMenamin’s Edgefield turned out to be a huge 74-acre complex that began life as the county “poor farm”, but their restaurant fulfilled our needs.

After resting at home, we went to NEPO 42, a local pub, for burgers, and had a lengthy and enjoyable conversation with Lauren, who met us there.

Tue 8 October

Our final morning in Portland saw us pack up and leave the AirBNB at 11am, but we had all day (and evening) to kill before our midnight flight.

While a heavy rain passed, we took up residence at Cool Moon Ice Cream, which we both agreed was our best ice cream experience in Portland.

After the rain departed, we made our final, successful trip to the Portland Japanese Garden, which was wonderful and would have been amazing in better weather. The pictures do it more justice than any writeup.

A brief stop at The Meadow—a shop selling literally “Salt - Chocolate - Bitters - Flowers”—was followed by a terrible snack at The Fireside gastropub. Then off to the Game Knight Lounge, a gaming cafe where we killed a plateful of nachos and a few hours playing different games.

Then the usual dance of gassing up the rental car, dropping it off at the airport, getting through security, and finding our gate. True to form, our flight—which had only an 8 percent on-time record—was late arriving, which delayed our departure. And then...

Wed 9 October

The redeye flight was painful for me thanks to United’s ludicrous and Scroogian definition of “legroom”, and Inna was so uncomfortable that she barely got any sleep. When we arrived at our intermediate stop in Newark, they threw us another curveball by moving our outbound flight to a completely different terminal, necessitating a hurried shuttle bus ride. We hustled along as quickly as we could, and managed to make our tight connection just as they began boarding.

Then—let me be clear which airline this was—United hit us with a final insult by announcing that our flight was at least twentieth in line for takeoff, and they were multiplexing one runway for both takeoffs and landings, so we’d be delayed another 30 minutes. Fortunately, we didn’t have to worry about any further connections and could relax. Following the flight: the drive home, and an enthusiastic welcome home by the resident house-tiger. Job done!

Overall Impressions

Thinking about Portland as a possible place to live, let’s start with the positives. Like the other cities we’ve visited, it does meet much of our absolute baseline criteria. In addition, it doesn’t really snow in Portland. And for an outdoorsman, the environment is amazing: ocean, rivers, nice flat areas, hills, mountains, and even volcanos and hot springs, and woodland everywhere! It’s incredibly scenic and great for an outdoorsy person.

Unfortunately, that’s kinda it. In contrast, there are a pile of less-than-desirable features.

The climate is cooler, overcast, and drizzly, especially in winter. Not the nice, warm oasis I’m hoping for.

The entire town felt shabby, underdeveloped, run-down… even what passed for a central business district. Lots of boarded-up buildings. It didn’t show any signs of the vibrance and growth I’d been led to expect. It left me concerned about the tech job market. And despite—or perhaps because of—the drivers being extraordinarily timid, it was surprisingly slow/difficult to get around by car.

I didn’t get any sense that Portland has distinctive neighborhoods; there were no obviously affluent sections and no lower-income hoods, just an endless, undifferentiated mass of bland urban standalones amid strips of half-occupied, depressed-looking commercial buildings.

In the same way, also I found none of the ethnic diversity you’d expect in a thriving city. Just a lot of nondescript middle-class white people doing your average mainstream white people things.

Portland would also make it difficult for us to travel. The small airport has limited direct flights, necessitating connections on United at O’Hare, Newark, or Denver (and if you’ve read this far, you’ll already appreciate my feelings toward United). And it’s pretty prohibitively far from our preferred travel destinations: Pittsburgh, Albany, the Caribbean, Europe, and (potentially for Inna) Israel.

There’s also no kyudo in the city at all; the nearest group is three hours away in Seattle. And no casinos nearby.

So on balance, Portland doesn’t seem like the place I would pick if I had the unimpeded opportunity to choose where I want to live… and I do.

The Big Picture

This was the third expedition on our tour of places we might want to live, and the last of our “first tier” options, having hit Boulder & Denver in July, and Raleigh/Durham/Chapel Hill & Charlotte (no writeup yet; hopefully forthcoming) way back in March.

At this point, the routine is getting awfully tedious: making arrangements, traveling back and forth, trying to feed ourselves, driving around residential neighborhoods, interrogating the locals, asking the same questions. It’s a big expense and a lot of physical, mental, and emotional effort.

We have yet to hammer out our conclusions, but all these cities have their own advantages and disadvantages, which are different for the two of us. It would be silly to think we’d find any place that was absolutely perfect for either of us; and we’ve long known that—due to our perpetually mismatched preferences—no city could ever be ideal for both of us.

With that in mind, there’s no clear and obvious winner among our candidate cities. So our next step is to sit down and decide what compromises we can each live with, and whether it makes any sense to “satisfice” or incur additional delay to look beyond our initial top picks for something else.

Since my March trip to Southeast Asia wasn’t enough travel, in May I spent a week in Tuscany, just outside Florence, Italy.

Long before Inna accepted a six-month work assignment in Malaysia, her not-too-far-flung immediate family held a small reunion in Washington DC. They enjoyed that gathering so much that they decided the only way to improve upon it would be to repeat it… in Italy! Thus plans were laid.

The villa driveway, lined with olive trees

Our villa and grapevines seen from the road

The south side of our villa, with backdrop

Arches and patio on the south side

I’m in a Tuscan villa!

West side villa entrance

North side patio & our bedroom

Inna & Ornoth on the north patio

Tuscan daybreak

View from our villa bedroom door

More farm villas northwest of us

To the northeast: hillsides

Villa east of us

Eastern villa framed

View south, toward the road

Italian cypress cones

Pottery gravel

A poppy in the road

Tuscan flowery

Stray felis has something to say!

Understanding that I’m very much not a family person, Inna offered me the option of staying home. However, the closest I’ve ever gotten to Europe was a 2002 trip to Scotland, and it was also a chance for us to spend more time together in the middle of her long work assignment in Malaysia. Furthermore, Tuscany has a well-advertised reputation as a cycling paradise.

It even seemed like the right thing to do financially! I’d just closed my mother’s estate and received my share of her residual assets. She would have wanted me to use the money for something fun, rather than simply socking it away, and my using some of it on a trip to Europe would have pleased her. Though she would have raised a forbearing eyebrow at my earlier trip to Malaysia, Thailand, and Singapore!

Booking our flights was challenging. Back in March, Inna had obtained her tickets through her employer, piggy-backing an Italy stopover onto the end of a company-paid visit home from Kuala Lumpur. I purchased my flights separately a month later, which made it very difficult for us to travel together; more on that below.

When May rolled around, Inna came back to Pittsburgh for a brief but welcome stay at home before our departure for Florence.

Friday, May 11 2018

We had a relaxed day, with oddly-timed evening departures. I was booked on United 6015 from Pittsburgh to Dulles, leaving at 7:30pm. Inna’s Lufthansa flight 8797—also from Pittsburgh to Dulles—was scheduled to leave just ten minutes later.

Although convenient, having two flights ten minutes apart to the same destination seemed bizarre. So I looked into it when I checked in, and discovered that LH 8797 was just a codeshare with UA 6015. So although we were on different flight numbers, on different airlines, with different departure and arrival times, we were actually on the same flight!

Although Inna was out shopping at that time, I signed into the Lufthansa site under her name and changed her seat assignment so that we could sit together, which was a pleasant surprise.

We had dinner at an airport restaurant, where Inna had a veggie burger with real bacon: something she can’t get in Muslim Malaysia. I had pulled pork with jalapenos over french fries and two colas, which caused a lot of inopportune cramping on the brief flight to DC. Fortunately, I was distracted from my gastric distress by a Debbie Harry-lookalike stewardess, complete with platinum blonde hair, stiletto heels, and drugged-out demeanor. Once I had a love, and it was a gas…

We enjoyed the traditional people-crawler transfer at Dulles and noted the stark, outdated architecture, recalling that our friend Sheela’s father had helped construct the terminal buildings. Then it was time for the big intercontinental redeye from DC to Munich.

I’d known from the start that we would be together on this flight, and had booked myself a seat just across the aisle from Inna. However once we boarded, our goal was for me to swap seats with the person next to her. The guy was cheerfully willing, so we happily got to be together once more! It made the travel much easier for both of us.

Neither of us sleep well on planes, and that proved true again this time. And while we were in the air, not sleeping, we crossed over into:

Saturday, May 12 2018

A little after noon local time, we arrived in Munich. It was my first-ever landfall in continental Europe, and my new record for farthest travel to the east (having set new high-water marks south- and westward six weeks earlier). And upon entering the European Union, we each got a new piece of German “cheese” at immigration. I should mention that we call passport stamps “cheese” because it’s the little reward we traveling rodents seek at the end of the rat-maze of stanchions and rope cords.

The Munich airport was a wonderful experience. No televisions, no crowd-control music… even the people were quiet! So refreshing!

However, here Inna and I finally had to go separate ways. When I’d booked my travel, her 2:40pm flight had been full, so I was relegated to the subsequent flight, four hours later. At her gate, we learned that the guy I’d swapped seats with on our last flight was also headed to Florence. He and Inna struck up a conversation and boarded the bus to their flight; meanwhile I had something to take care of…

When we’d arrived in Munich, it hadn’t been clear whether we had to do the baggage claim-and-recheck shuffle upon entering the EU. We’d just skipped it, but having received “baggage exception” warnings by text message at both Dulles and Munich, I decided to ask an attendant what we should do. He said to exit the terminal and go to baggage claim, which I did. When our bags weren’t there, I went to the lost baggage counter, where a helpful woman told me that our bags would automatically be sent on to Florence. This was happily confirmed an hour later, when Inna landed and retrieved her bag.

Meanwhile, I went back through a security checkpoint into the terminal for my 7:05 departure. At the far end of an hour and a half flight to Florence, my bag jauntily popped out of the carousel, and I went outside to catch the rental car shuttle. I got no Italian “cheese” for travel within the EU.

I was a little wary of the car rental agency, since Inna’s sister and her boyfriend had just been declined by theirs. However, with my international driving permit in hand, my experience went smoothly. In a few minutes I was piloting a sizeable manual-transmission diesel Peugeot SUV onto the notoriously challenging streets of Italy, in the dark!

Fortunately, I’d downloaded offline data for Google Maps, and its directions were unambiguous and accurate. I made my way to the highway, negotiated an interchange onto the toll Autostrada, got to my local exit, and paid the toll in Euros I’d converted in Munich. But then I discovered the challenges of the Italian street network.

Oh my gawd! Ridiculously steep hillsides, blind turns every 300 meters, and roads rarely wide enough for a car and bicycle to pass, never mind two cars. In many places it’s so narrow that only one car can pass, and there are signs indicating whether cars approaching the bottleneck from one direction or the other have right of way! It reminded me of driving on Caribbean islands like St. John and St. Thomas. Although frequently maligned, I found Italian drivers predictable and safe; it’s the roads that are insane!

Eventually I found the right unmarked gate on the right tiny back road that led to the villa that Inna’s family had rented in Mezzomonte, halfway between the suburban towns of Impruneta and Grassina. At the end of a long gravel driveway between olive trees, I parked to find Inna, her mother, her father, her sister, and her sister’s boyfriend sitting outside on a terrace enjoying the evening.

After suitable greetings, I found the bedroom, unpacked, and settled in for a good night of sleep.

Sunday, May 13 2018

Everyone’s primary goal Sunday morning was to sleep off their jet lag, get settled, and stock up on groceries. That suited me, especially since I wanted my own cache of food and couldn’t rent a bike on Sunday.

When I got up, I noticed text messages from Inna’s sister, saying she and her father were leaving for the grocery. I quickly messaged back that I wanted to go with them, and wound up climbing up the hill to the gate to meet them as they waited.

They’d found a substantial grocery store in Grassina, where—after briefly trying to shop collaboratively with Inna’s foodie relatives—I strode off on my own and expeditiously got the things I needed for the week.

Back at the villa, Inna gave me a tour of the 15th century farm, which included a pool, several patios, two kitchens, a tower loft bedroom, and wood-fired bread oven. With a view over the olive trees and grape vines to the cascade of distant ridges and valleys beyond, it was picturesque and idyllic. Inna and I also appreciated the eclectic collection of foreign-language books, and the framed artwork mounted at cat’s-eye level!

We had an informal group lunch of pasta, accompanied by lots of linguistics talk that switched between Russian, Italian, English, and Spanish, with a little French, German, and Hebrew thrown in. Supper was boiled chickpeas and a tomato salad, thankfully accompanied by meatballs.

All told, a quiet day of getting settled and exploring the villa. The weather was surprisingly cool for Tuscany and partly cloudy.

Monday, May 13 2018

I got up and gathered some early-morning photos in a heavy overcast. I discovered that in such an ancient place, the gravel roads are nearly half comprised of old shards of broken pottery, so I collected a few interesting bits to take home as mementos.

Having purchased 72-hour tourist passes, the family all left for the first of three days in Florence. Having other plans, I made myself breakfast, then drove to a bike shop in nearby Falciani and rented a bike. I brought it home and took a short but effort-ful six-mile spin as a shakedown ride.

Rather than going into it here, I’ve put all the details about my cycling exploits into my Tuscany cycling blogpost on my cycling blog. Read that if you want more detail about my rental bike, rides, and impressions of Tuscany as a cycling destination.

While the family had dinner in Florence, I enjoyed having the villa to myself and making my own supper. When the family returned later that evening, they retreated directly to their respective rooms and climbed into bed.

Tuesday, May 15 2018

Inna decided to stay at the villa and spend Tuesday with me, while the others returned for another day in Florence. It was a quiet day with very English/European weather: heavy overcast, cool and breezy, with about 10 percent sun and 20 percent rain.

Inna and I made an afternoon trip to Impruneta, then off to neighboring Tavarnuzze to hit a small grocery, since Inna hadn’t come with us on Sunday. Pulling out of the parking spot, I scraped the side of the car against a plastic bollard. The barely-noticeable marks were just enough to evoke some added anxiety for the rest of the week, having heard rumors of Italian rental places aggressively charging foreigners for damages both new and pre-existing.

Wednesday, May 16 2018

Woke up to another day of cool rain and overcast. I had to agree with our friend Noah, who compared it to Oregon. Tho to be honest, my numerous trips to the Pacific Northwest have all been graced by better weather than we had in Tuscany.

Everyone set off for a final day in Florence. Although I had little faith in the weather, I decided to attempt a modest 27-mile ride. I experienced missed turns, pouring rain, closed roads, and the route I’d downloaded from the bike shop went off-road onto impassable farm paths. I abandoned the bike shop’s route and proceeded on busier but well-paved primary roads. You can read more about the ride in my Tuscany cycling blogpost.

After returning to the villa, I made myself another chicken dinner, making best use of the villa’s limited spice selection. The family, after having difficulty with their car’s headlights the night before, got home early and made pasta carbonara for dinner, which I sampled and enjoyed, despite having eaten already.

Thursday, May 17 2018

Having exhausted their tourist passes, Inna’s sister and father took off and explored historic San Gimignano, while the others stayed at home and rested.

One of the things I’d most looked forward to was spending a day at the Giro d’Italia, a major three-week professional cycling stage race, the Italian sister event to the Tour de France. Stage 12 finished in Imola on Thursday, two hours’ drive each way, which was as close as it would come to Florence.

However, at the exact same time as the Giro stage finish in Imola, online registration was going to open for a meditation retreat that I absolutely wanted to get into. Ironically, while meditation retreats are a haven of silence and peace, they’re also in high demand, so the registration process can be as competitive and frenetic as trying to secure tickets to a Pink Floyd or Led Zeppelin concert. If I wanted to get in, I had to be online when registration opened.

There was no way to do both, and in the end I stayed home and registered for the retreat, missing the Giro in much the same way as I’d missed the Tour de Langkawi professional bike race during my recent visit to Malaysia.

In addition, I wanted to get one last bike ride in on Thursday, because I had to return the rental the next morning. Although I’d hoped to get at least one long ride in, I had to be back at the villa by 3pm to register for the retreat.

So I set out for a short ride down into the Chianti region and back, this time following only primary roads. When the clouds opened up and poured on me again, I was glad I hadn’t planned anything more ambitious. Again, more details in the Tuscany cycling blogpost.

Supper was more pasta with the family, then a round of an Italian “spaghetti western” game called “Bang!”, followed by a silly Russian game called “Privyet Valyet”.

Friday, May 18 2018

After breakfast and a group photo, the family set off to visit Siena. I would have eagerly tagged along and checked out the Torre del Mangia—the inspiration for Boston’s Pine Street Inn and Provincetown’s Pilgrim Monument—but I had to return the bike to the rental shop. While out, I saw numerous cyclists out on the roads, enjoying what wound up being the first warm, sunny day since we’d arrived.

Back at the villa, I ran a load of laundry, checked into my flights back to Pittsburgh, and tried to eat as many of the leftover groceries as I could.

When everyone came home, a stray tuxedo cat who’d been hanging around the neighborhood showed up, so I hustled Inna outside, where she made a new friend.

The villa’s guest book advertised lots of local sights and services, and Inna’s father and sister had secretly contracted to have a recommended local chef come to the villa and prepare dinner on our last night at the villa as a surprise offering for Inna’s imminent birthday.

The menu included eggplant, gnocchi, chicken, zucchini, and ricotta. The more culinarily adventurous enjoyed it, although it was difficult for me. I would rather have selected my own food, especially right before a 21-hour journey.

Saturday, May 19 2018

For the first time in a week, the morning of our departure provided a sunny, cloudless sky, and temperatures well into the 70s.

After final packing and loading up the car, we went downstairs to the owner’s patio for a light breakfast. Inna and I had to leave for the airport at 10am, so we said our goodbyes to everyone else, as they would later drive up to Venice to spend another day or two.

Despite missing the on-ramp for the Autostrade, Inna and I got into town, returned the rental car, hopped the shuttle, and got to the airport in reasonable time. At baggage check, I got stuck behind five American girls (exchange students) and their 15 pieces of luggage, and noted that in the line and throughout the airport the population was a solid 75 percent female.

My flight (to Pittsburgh via Frankfurt and Chicago) was at 1pm, but Inna’s (to Kuala Lumpur via Amsterdam) wasn’t until 5. Because it was too early to check her bag, she was unable go through security to see me off, so we said our goodbyes and I continued to my gate, while she killed time on her own. It’ll be another 2-3 months before I see her again.

After another bus-to-the-plane and boarding, I was seated in the middle of thirty of those American girls heading home. But I did enjoy when the Lufthansa stewardess offered, “Haben sie ein schön und schnell pflug.”

90 minutes to Frankfurt, where I got my EU exit visa stamp and boarded the long 9-hour flight to O’Hare. I think it was my first time in a 747, and I wasn’t looking forward to it, since I’d had to take an internal middle seat, rather than my usual window. I was surprised to find that I was seated in a bulkhead row, and that I’d booked a “premium economy” seat, which was a noticeable upgrade from cattle car. So although I couldn’t sleep, the flight was tolerably uncomfortable…

… except for landing behind schedule, which was the beginning of O’Hare Airport Hell. Our late arrival ate 30 minutes out of my 2-hour layover, followed by an extended delay getting off the 747. I fast-walked to customs only to see a line of people waiting. Huh, a long line. No, a fucking unbelievable line! A line—with no exaggeration— two or three people wide, the length of two football fields. So much for my connection!

Somehow, the line started moving, and I eventually got through customs and immigration. From there it was all lightning-sprint through baggage claim, baggage re-check, the inter-terminal tram, through Concourse B, and the underground moving walks to Concourse C. As I reached my gate, they were boarding the last stragglers of Boarding Group 4, and I was the fourth-to-last person to board.

It was ironic that with a two-hour layover I’d barely made my connection, while we’d been very concerned about Inna having less than 90 minutes to make her connection in Amsterdam, which she made quite comfortably. But at least I made it!

The short flight to Pittsburgh was my 16th flight in the past 6 weeks, and six of those flights have been longer than 7 hours; so I was extremely happy to finally be headed home! The only remaining question was whether my checked bag was coming home, too.

To my relief, my bag was the second one out of the baggage claim carousel, proudly bearing a big orange and black “Express Connection” sticker. It being shortly after midnight local time, I was eager to get home and crash. I hopped in the car, blitzed home, greeted a very affectionate house tiger, and climbed into bed at 1am. Inna was still in the air, with 2 hours left before landing on the opposite side of the planet, followed by an hour cab ride.

Overall

With certain caveats, it was a nice trip. Our villa was exquisite and serene, with a beautiful view overlooking vineyards, fields of olive trees, and wooded Apennine ridges. The villages were full of character and charm, and the roads scenic and pleasant. I got to spend more time with Inna, while also doing the things I preferred, like exploring the area by bike. Rather than hustling through museums and restaurants and tourist meccas, I prefer luxuriating in the natural environment and intimately experiencing the countryside.

Tuscany: whether you are into cycling, art, history, architecture, or food, it’s supposed to be amazing. But with such a lofty reputation preceding it, I expected a lot, and wound up disappointed in ways that are important to me.

The weather obviously wasn’t what I’d been led to expect from Italy. The days of cold rain—which the bike shop owner described as “terrible”—severely curtailed how much I could ride, and diminished my enjoyment of what riding I did do. That might not seem like a big loss to some people, but as a cyclist it was a primary goal of my trip, which I reserved several days for.

The other cause of disappointment was the coincidental timing of the nearest Giro d’Itala stage, the opening of registration for my meditation retreat, my desire to do a long ride, the family’s expedition to Siena, and having to return the bike early on Friday. Sadly, registering for the retreat and returning the bike on time were the least interesting but most important options in that list.

While Tuscany didn’t live up to its reputation or my own expectations, it was still a worthwhile and enjoyable trip, especially for Inna, whose perspective you can get here. Despite Tuscany’s allure and reputation as a cycling paradise, after a succession of cold, wet rides, I was glad to get back home to Pittsburgh, where it’s warm and sunny at least part of the time!

Panorama of our villa, looking north over the hills

Just twenty-four hours after I landed in Kuala Lumpur, Inna turned me around and we flew out of KL for a weekend expedition to Singapore.

This blogpost covers just that weekend side-trip. You can read about the rest of my two weeks in Malaysia here, and our other weekend side-trip to Thailand in another separate post, here.

Saturday, 17 March 2018

We got up early Saturday morning for an hour-long cab ride back to the airport. After being dropped at KLIA’s main terminal, we discovered that our airline, Scoot, flew out of the separate KLIA2 terminal. We had some stress and confusion finding the train between terminals, but eventually got there and passed through customs, where I added a Malaysian exit stamp to my passport. Along the way, we passed a saffron-robed Buddhist monk, which delighted me to no end.

Singapore at Night from Dragonfly Bridge

Sands & Helix Bridge

Supertrees at Night

Inna Posed at the Merlion

Selfie with Supertrees

Rocking Out to the Bear Necessities

The Flowers & The Trees

Cloud Forest Dome

Sands Framed

Sakura in the Flower Dome

Enjoying the Roof Pool Skyline

Singapore Roof Pool Panorama

Full Singapore Photoset

As we’d find at other airports, there was no central security checkpoint at KLIA2. Instead, you go through security screening at the entrance to each gate. That meant waiting in the airport hallways until the checkpoint was manned an hour before the flight, and until then you couldn’t get through to the copious seating at the gate. It seemed inefficient and inconvenient.

After a 90-minute flight—which felt trivial to me!—we were on final approach when I noticed the dozens of cargo ships moored in Singapore’s harbor. We landed, passed through customs to get our passports stamped, changed money, and stepped aside for a casual breakfast at a place called Paris Baguette.

At less than two degrees north latitude, Singapore is only 85 miles north of the Equator. That’s farther south than some parts of Brazil! And also a new record for the furthest south I’ve ever traveled. Yay!

We picked up some MRT tourist passes and hopped a train into town. We successfully made a couple transfers, while Inna marveled at the changing indicator LEDS on the train’s subway map, and I “marveled” at the natives’ indifference toward body odor; Singapore may be clean, but its citizens still stink! We exited into a strange semi-outdoor shopping plaza (South Beach Avenue) and dragged our bags a few blocks in the ultra-humid heat to our hotel: Naumi.

Naumi is one of those chic boutique hotels, and its interiors are an interesting example of trend-conscious but user-unfriendly design. There’s an immense glass foot (sculpture, apparently) in the lobby. The room numbers were hidden, lighting controls were unintuitive, and the electric windowshades were difficult to control. Both the shower and bathroom had glass windows into the living area, which only turned opaque at the flip of a switch… and the switch was eerily located on the *outside* of those rooms, rather than the inside! Having set out early that morning and lugged our belongings around all day, Inna and I both collapsed and siestaed from 2 to 6pm.

When dinnertime sneaked up upon us, we faced our first decision, and a difference of philosophies. I figured we should consult a map and decide where to eat before leaving; Inna wanted to walk toward the Singapore Flyer ferris wheel and pick something up at random along the way. I skeptically gave in, and off we plodded, down the street, through two malls, all the way to the Flyer, without seeing anything to eat that we could agree on.

Although the Flyer—the second tallest ferris wheel in the world—had been Inna’s destination, there weren’t any people around, and it appeared idle. There was no obvious indication, but we’d later learn that a couple weeks earlier they had shut it down due to “technical issues”, and it would re-open two weeks after we left. Disappointing, but not the end of the world.

A bit grumpy from flying, humidity, walking, and lack of dinner, we regrouped along the Marine Promenade and made our way slowly across the Helix Bridge toward the famous Marina Bay Sands hotel and Inna’s main objective for the weekend: the Gardens By The Bay.

There we faced more confusion as we tried to navigate toward the Gardens. We walked around the Sands, then back through it, then around again, and finally found ourselves at a landing across a small lagoon from the Gardens, whose man-made 165-foot Supertrees were captivatingly lit up in their regular evening light show. We sat down and rested our weary feet and watched the end of the show, then fought against the flow of a huge crowd across the Dragonfly Bridge to a tall platform that offered a closer view of the Supertrees and the walkway—suspended in mid-air 75 feet off the ground—that encircles them.

By then it was after 9pm and the walkway had closed, so we reluctantly turned back toward the Sands, which was still a chore to get around. Eventually we gave up and hopped a cab back to the hotel. Still hungry, we arived just before the restaurant’s 10:30pm closing time. I had a tasty rogan josh, but Inna was sickened by the acrid smell of the chemical air freshener the hotel used, so she ate quickly and headed straight upstairs. While the Trees were nice, it had been a tiring and trying evening for both of us.

That night I could only sleep from about midnight to 4am. Inna woke up and we had a nice conversation before she fell back asleep, and I used the early morning time for my daily meditation.

Sunday, 18 March 2018

Sunday—our only full day in Singapore—we headed out early to try to beat the heat. The plan was to walk to a quick photo op at the nearby Merlion statue, then hop a cab and spend the balance of the day exploring the Gardens By The Bay in detail. However, barely a block into our walk, Inna announced that she was already getting cooked by the heat and humidity.

I convinced her to carry on, and we kept to what shade we could find as we walked through the WW2 War Memorial Park, past the Theatres On The Bay, and down some stairs to the Waterfront Promenade, a short way from the Merlion.

Visiting the Merlion was my idea: the one thing I wanted to see in Singapore. Not because it’s particularly impressive; rather the opposite. It’s a bit of a story…

Although I’m not much of a mass media maven, one of my side interests is anime. One show that was running at that time was called “A Place Further than the Universe”, wherein four Japanese high school girls join a scientific expedition to Antarctica. In Episode 6, which aired a couple weeks before my trip, they spend a couple days in Singapore, which is depicted in realistic detail, including the Sands, the Flyer, the Theatres, the Gardens, and much more.

At 6:15 into the episode, one of the girls expresses particular interest in taking a posed shot in front of the Merlion statue, which is famous in Japan for being one of the “Three Major Disappointments of the World”. While getting their shot, the girls express chagrin that it’s just not as disappointing as they had heard. With that as background, the one thing I wanted to be sure to do in Singapore was recreate their photo.

When we arrived, I just about spewed myself because the Esplanade, the footbridge across the harbor, and the platforms around the Merlion were all absolutely jammed to overflowing with—who would have guessed it?—Japanese tourists!

Between the walk, the heat, and the crowds, Inna wanted absolutely nothing but to find a cab and go somewhere else. Trying to be sensitive to that, I quickly positioned her, got something close to the image I wanted, and got out. It’s unfortunate that we couldn’t enjoy it in the moment because it was all so rushed in our desperation to leave.

A quick cab ride later, we arrived at the Gardens By The Bay and found a little cafe for breakfast. I had a raspberry donut while Inna regained her spirits thanks to their air conditioning.

From there, we went back out into the hotness to walk around and explore the grounds. I spent some time exploring the cactus section, while Inna danced along to the sound of Disney’s “Bear Necessities” song being played at their kiddie splash fountain. We took our time and did a full circuit of the park, which included an immense sculpture of a floating baby, some interesting topiary, a mushroom den, and lots more. Leaving aside the obscene giant baby, the plantings and displays were satisfying and creatively done.

We bought tickets for the two massive greenhouse exhibits: the Cloud Forest and the Flower Dome. The former was absolutely breathtaking, beginning with a 115-foot waterfall, climbing up a 140-foot forested mountain, then descending down a suspended walkway encircling the mountain… all man-made and within the greenhouse dome! It deserves a much longer writeup, but the photos will convey the experience far better than I could describe.

After successfully exiting through the gift shop, we secured a table and had lunch at a nearby restaurant. I had a spaghetti carbonara, which seems to be a staple tourist dish in Southeast Asia. By the time we finished, some taiko performers (Japanese ritual drummers from the local group Hibikiya) had begun performing, which amused me because I was already signed up to take a four-week taiko class myself beginning four days after I got back to Pittsburgh (which you can read about here)!

The taiko group were part of the Gardens’ spring sakura matsuri (the Japanese cherry blossom festival). Inna and I made our way into the second greenhouse—the Flower Dome—where a chorus was singing amidst dozens of cherry trees, with an incongruous bonus anime cosplay demonstration taking up a far corner.

Besides the sakura, and as compared to the Cloud Forest, the Flower Dome’s displays were somewhat mundane: simple regional collections from succulents to baobabs to a “California garden” featuring such exotic plants as thyme, beets, pumpkin, and carrots!

With heavy legs after a long day of wandering, and tired of fighting the increasing crowds, Inna and I decided to bolt, walking back through the Sands hotel and taking another cab back to our hotel, where we rested and downloaded our pictures.

Instead of wandering around at random looking for food, I made an executive decision, choosing a nearby Swensons, an American franchise ice cream shop. We’d walked past one in the Singapore airport, which had brought back memories of being taken to a Swensons in NYC’s Greenwich Village on one of my first dates with my ex-wife. The dinner was mediocre, and very expensive for what we got.

Completely spent, we walked back to the hotel and crashed.

Monday, 19 March 2018

After my first lengthy sleep since arriving in Asia, we had the morning to kill before our late-afternoon flight back to Kuala Lumpur. I decided to mosey up to the 10th floor to spend some time in the hotel’s rooftop infinity pool. There was a wonderful view of the Singapore skyline, and in the distance you could clearly make out the profile of the Merlion statue and the jet of water he spews out into the harbor. Eventually I was joined by a couple Japanese girls taking selfies, and Inna came by and hung out for a while. I was surprised to see a tall high-rise where people had long poles projecting outward with clothes hanging from them like clotheslines.

As I air-dried, I suddenly realized that after leaving a snowy Pittsburgh, I was sunbathing, at the Equator, on the day before the vernal equinox, when the sun passes directly above the Equator. I took a few minutes to appreciate that fact and catch a few extra sunbeams before rejoining Inna downstairs.

After packing, we checked out and walked back through the shops at South Beach Avenue, opting to have lunch at an Italian place called Atmastel, where I had a delicious ziti in tomato cream sauce with sweet sausage. Between the call of nature and my curiosity about Singapore’s reputed fastidiousness, I stepped outside to a public bathroom and found it had a push-button electric sliding door, heavy HVAC and scenting, and was of course spotlessly clean.

We took the train back to the airport, returned our MRT passes, then killed some time at a Krispy Kreme (egad!) before making our way through the computerized immigration stations. Having gotten through first, I watched as Inna navigated the automatic stalls and unintuitive fingerprint scanner. Sadly, no exit stamps from Singapore for my passport. Hanging around outside our gate (due to the at-gate security checkpoints), Inna decided to try one of those free leg-massage chairs, making the most diverse set of faces I’ve seen in ages, ranging from pleasure to confusion to horror!

On the flight back to KL, I did my daily meditation, which garnered me two “achievements”: 60 consecutive days of sitting, and 1,200 days total. Arriving at KLIA2 and getting another Malaysian entry stamp, I exchanged my Singapore dollars while Inna hit a convenience store, then we cabbed back to her hotel. I had my first Malaysian dish at the hotel restaurant: nasi lemak (aka chicken drumstick in curry gravy with coconut rice). Then we went back upstairs and turned in.

My overall impression of Singapore is that it’s attractive, comfortable, artsy, and very expensive. For the most part, I felt at home, since English is the primary language. Surprisingly, the widely-publicized police state wasn’t visible, and seems to have succeeded at making the place cleaner and nicer than anywhere else I’ve been. I particularly noted the lack of sirens being heard, as compared to other large cities I’ve visited.

Despite a lot of fatigue and some irritability, we both enjoyed Singapore, and are glad we went. The architecture was a constant highlight, and the Gardens By The Bay were amazing.

While I’ve shared a few good photos here, be sure to check out my full Singapore photoset. Then get Inna’s perspective in her own Singapore Day 1 and Day 2 blogposts.

As mentioned above, you can continue reading about the rest of my trip in my separate Malaysia blogpost, as well as the side trip we made to Phuket the following weekend in my Thailand blogpost.

Inna wanted to go to the 2017 Meetin national celebration in Seattle in September, and it made sense to piggyback that with a detour up to Victoria BC to visit my brother, since—after my mother’s death—he’s unlikely to be coming east any longer.

The logistics were enough of a nightmare that we actually needed a travel agent’s services. Inna and her mother flew direct to SFO to visit family for a few days. Then Inna flew OAK (not SFO) to SEA while I simultaneously got from PIT to SEA via IAD. After the Meetin gathering, we’d take the ferry to Victoria BC, then eventually get home flying Air Canada together from YYJ to YYZ to PIT. Meanwhile, Inna’s mother returned on a direct flight from SFO. Yeah. Glad to have an agent handle all that.

Seattle Skyline & Rainier

Danger Man

Self-Portrait in Steel

Inna's on the Ball

The Sky's the Limit

Family @ Observatory Hill

Sunken Garden

Japanese Garden

Full Seattle photoset Full Victoria photoset

Tuesday, the day before I left, was memorable for two reasons.

First, having just gotten over a three-week long summer cold, I woke up with another sore throat, heralding another ugly illness spanning the duration of the trip.

Second, that evening I had a ticket to go see “Walk With Me”, a movie centered around Buddhist icon Thich Nhat Hanh’s meditative community at Plum Village. Between this and other previous films, I’ve become convinced that the medium of film really isn’t a good vehicle for introducing Buddhist philosophy to the masses. But that’s really not a topic for this blogpost…

After I returned home, my sore throat left me with a sleepless night before an early Wednesday morning walk to the bus stop, then a two-bus expedition out to the Pittsburgh airport. Having lived without owning a car for more than twenty years, I hadn’t even thought about driving!

My first flight—from Pittsburgh to DC—was delayed 30 minutes by a maintenance issue, causing me to skip my planned combined breakfast and lunch as I loped through Dulles seeking my connecting flight.

After five hours with absolutely zero legroom in a United cattle car, I touched down at SeaTac hungry, tired, and sick. I ignored the seventeen text messages from our catsitting friend and hoofed it to the Uber lot to meet up with Inna, who had flown in separately from Oakland CA.

Although I’ve made half a dozen trips to the PNW, I’d never been to Seattle, so everything here was new to me.

After a lengthy drive into downtown Seattle, we tried to check into our hotel—the Inn at the WAC—only to discover that our room wasn’t ready. We had only planned to drop our bags before heading out for dinner anyways, so we simply got a recommendation from the desk clerk and headed straight to the nearby Tap House Grill. I had a French dip sandwich and ice cream, while Inna ordered shrimp and tiramisu ice cream, which wound up being her favorite meal of the trip.

We returned to the hotel to find a tray with hot tea, cocoa, a chocolate bar, and a handwritten note—to Mr. and Mrs. Nirenburg—waiting in our room, since the staff had overheard Inna mentioning my illness. Inna tracked down Sheela and Monika, our Pittsburgh friends who were also attending the Meetin gathering, and the four of us chatted briefly in our room. After a long day of travel for me, we opted to skip arrival-day festivities in favor of rest and a quiet evening in bed.

Thursday morning we were up early to join a small group of Meetin people exploring Pike Place Market. Along the way, I snagged a cinnamon bun for breakfast. We observed the market’s outdated manual daily stall-assignment ceremony, then took a brief guided tour with still more Meetin peeps. With tired legs, Inna and I wandered off for some overpriced ice cream. Then I spied a stall selling roasted corn on the cob, but balked at the ludicrous $5 price tag. We both eyed the beautiful ristra hot pepper arrangements—each for different reasons—but realized they would be impossible to transport back to Pittsburgh.

We joined another big Meetin group for lunch at the Pike Brewing Company, but left before ordering when Inna realized she wasn’t sure if she had forgotten her medications in San Francisco. That led to an afternoon of phone tag with doctors and chasing around drugstores before we returned to the hotel, where she found them hidden in the bottom of her bag.

But along the way, Inna picked up some dahlias for our room, and I ducked into Metsker Maps, where a postcard with a bicycle and the phrase “Conquer the Hill” called out to me in anticipation of my upcoming Dirty Dozen ride.

Tired after so much walking, we were content to rest in the hotel until the evening event: a meet-and-greet at the top of Smith Tower. On the way, we experienced elevator malfunctions in both our hotel and our destination. Smith Tower is a lot like Boston’s Custom House Tower. Both are about 35 stories and 490 feet tall, with an open-air skywalk observation deck at the top. We took a few pictures of the view, then went in to chat with other Meetin folks. Those included Mary McDaid (Portland OR), event organizers Anita Christensen (Portland) and Helene Pincus (Las Vegas), and I had to interrogate Deanna Cochener, whose cellphone case loudly announced that she was a Portland Timbers supporter.

Afterward we wandered around with Monika, stopping to admire the Seattle Public Library. The steep hills in downtown Seattle were vaguely reminiscent of Pittsburgh, and we shared an uncomfortable laugh when one woman apologized to us as her dog’s feces literally rolled and bounced down the steep sidewalk into our path. In Westlake Park plaza we found a giant-sized Connect Four game, and I promptly destroyed Inna twice running, despite never having played before. The girls stopped in a mall for Pike Place Chowder, while I brought a theoretically fast Mod Pizza back to the room.

Friday was really the main Meetin day. After Uber failed us—and charged us anyways—we got ourselves invited to share a Lyft summoned by New Yorkers Ricky Evans & Zhenya Brisker. That dropped us at the morning’s activity: a duck tour. While waiting, Inna & I chatted with Laurelee Langan, who was there representing Boston. Despite my having been through at least two dozen duck tours, the tour itself was fine, featuring Amazon’s HQ, the Fremont Troll, houseboats and floatplanes on Lake Union, and lots more. Near the Belltown Apartments, the tour guide indicated we were passing through a quiet zone, which I happily observed, having lived for ten years on the Boston duck tour route myself.

Afterward, rather than spending $33 each to get into the Museum of Pop Culture, we opted to visit a local food court with Sheela and Portlanders Bijana & Ankesh Kadakia. Still illin’, nothing appealed to me but fries.

After lunch, the “Meeps” gathered up again to go through the Chihuly Garden and Glass museum. The exhibit was short but breathtaking. In the middle of the tour, I remembered to show people that the abstract background image on my cellphone has for many years been a close-up of a green-and-yellow work of Chihuly glass that I took back at the 2000 Dargon Summit at Pittsburgh’s Phipps Conservatory, which you can see here.

After that, Inna and I returned briefly to the food court before walking down to the Olympic Sculpture Park and rejoining the larger group. We wandered around, enjoying another warm, sunny afternoon. While resting at one point, a kid ran up to Inna asking in an incredulous voice, “Hey lady, is that your belly?!?” She was taken aback but about to respond affirmatively when the kid’s caretaker came up to explain that the kid wasn’t actually referring to her stomach, but the rumbling sound of a nearby passing train!

I walked down to the harborside, having a nice conversation with Bijana, before the group split again, with most people headed predictably toward a bar. Meanwhile, Cha Cha Chen (DC) and I collected Inna and ambled off to meet Anita and the main group of Meeps for a ride up the Space Needle.

The Space Needle was a lot like Boston’s Customs House Tower and the Smith Tower from the day before: a reception room and elevators surrounded by a narrow exterior observation deck. The main difference is that the Needle was crowded to absolute capacity. But it did provide the requisite view of the city, the bay, and the mountains in the distance.

Inna & I were among the first to punt and make our way to the Belltown Pub, the first stop in the group’s planned bar crawl. I had a chicken sandwich and a cookie while we chatted with Helene and Ricky. Eventually we’d skip the bar crawl and drag Helene, Ricky, Zhenya, Sheela, and Monika back to the hotel’s common room for an evening of games: specifically Cheating Moth and Coup.

Saturday that same group got together for breakfast, having been lured away from the Meetin brunch by the promise of Quaffles—waffles made out of croissant dough and cinnamon—at Anchorhead Coffee. On the way there, we posed beneath a huge flower pot and watering can sculpture, and got unexpectedly sprayed with water. The Quaffles made up for it, as probably the best food we had during the entire trip.

Having no interest in the Meetin group activities planned for that day, Inna and I shooed the others away and walked aimlessly around the city, winding up at a Russian bakery called Piroshky Piroshky that Inna had sought out. She sampled their pelmeni (little dumplings), piroshki (potato and cabbage dumplings), and Napoleon cake, but pronounced them all mediocre. Then back to Pioneer Square, where I dragged Inna into Magic Mouse Toys and picked up perennial favorite Fluxx, while waiting for our underground tour.

In brief, Seattle used to have problematic above-ground sewage pipes. Then, after Seattle’s big fire, they decided to put them underground… Not by digging trenches, but by running them down the middle of the street, then filling them over and putting an elevated street over the top. Meanwhile, as buildings were being rebuilt, owners were required to build their primary entrances on the second floor, rather than the first. Wooden planks allowed people to get from the elevated street to the elevated second-floor entrances, spanning the open pits that was the old sidewalks, since they were still at the former street level. The old sidewalks were never filled in, just eventually roofed over, leaving downtown Seattle a maze of underground sidewalks connecting the basements (former first floors) of the surrounding buildings. Much of this work was financed by the mistress of several houses of ill repute. It was an interesting tour.

After that, we wandered around town some more, checking out Seattle’s K&L Gates building, the “Pittsburgh” Lunch, and so forth. Then hopped an Uber to take us to the suburban Seattle Meowtropolitan cat cafe, where we enjoyed some time with a few blasé felines. After an Uber back, I picked up a very yummy dinner from Mae Phim Thai. I spent the evening resting in the hotel room while Inna rejoined the Meetin crew for karaoke.

It felt odd to me, because the Meetin event was nominally a weekend thing, but we’d spent the entire day Saturday on our own. It felt like the social element of the trip had petered out, doubly so because our ferry to Victoria prohibited us from attending the farewell brunch on Sunday.

So the next morning we slept in a little, had a decent breakfast in the hotel, ran into Ricky and Zhenya in the lobby, and made our way to the ferry.

Looking back on Seattle, it seemed an okay town, but throughout its history it seems to have been very poorly slapped together, whether you’re thinking about their former sewage problems or the current explosive growth accompanying Microsoft and Amazon. We did have absolutely gorgeous, sunny weather up until the day we departed, but it’s probably a lot less fun in the rain. The accommodations were really great, except for the horrible elevators. My cold was mostly manageable, but I did wish I’d had the strength to bring my SLR camera along. And the Meetin group were generally enjoyable, although predictably more party- and drinking-oriented than Inna and I.

But overall, I really enjoyed my time in Seattle and could have stayed longer.

At the dock, our Victoria Clipper ferry bobbed and weaved in the wind-blown rain and heavy seas, and Inna didn’t have a particularly pleasant 90 minutes crossing over to Victoria. And as expected, we didn’t get passport stamps for our entry into Canada; cheap bastards.

However, by the time we docked, the seas had calmed and the sun was out, and we walked through downtown and past the Empress Hotel on the way to our lodgings at the Hotel Rialto. After nearly a year, it was really, really enjoyable to be outside the authority of the Trump Presidency. Tired from our journey, we had Indian at nearby Sizzling Tandoor before going back to the hotel and crashing.

Monday I let Inna sleep late, then we hoofed it through Chinatown to pick up our rental car, where we wound up with a RAV4 rather than a VW because the Hertz dealer somehow lost the keys when he got out of the vehicle after driving it up. We’d hoped to drive along the coastline of Vancouver Island up to my brother’s home, but had to settle for the inland highway because they were pressed for time.

We had Thai food for lunch and a nice visit with my brother, plus my sister-in-law, whom I haven’t seen in several years. We took separate cars and met up at the top of Observatory Hill for a brisk but breathtaking panoramic view of the island. Then they headed home while I took Inna up to Victoria’s famous Butchart Gardens.

The gardens were predictably amazing, and predictably crowded. What didn’t run according to plan was the weather, as the predicted day-long rain held off completely. Inna bought me some gelato in the Italian garden, and we took our time enjoying the scenery.

Tired from the walking we’d done all week, we gave up on dinner and just got some basics at 7-Eleven, including some products that you’d have to find in imported food shops at home.

Tuesday morning we wandered around downtown a bit. We looked into the John Fluevog shoe store, chatted with the proprietor of North48 Bicycles, perused the surprisingly well-stocked MEC sporting goods co-op (c.f. REI), and discovered Baggins Shoes, who will print any custom design you want onto a pair of Chuck Taylors or Vans. Then we had brunch with my brother at Willy’s, a diner in town. Sadly, my sister-in-law’s back trouble prevented her from tagging along.

After saying farewell to my brother, Inna and I moseyed down to Craigdarroch Castle—a Victorian mansion rather than a medieval castle, of course—which was cute but not particularly engaging, though Inna found some interest in the stained glass and examples of actual filled-out “dance cards”. By the time we dragged ourselves back to the hotel, we were both completely done with the walking and tourist thing and ready to go home. We had dinner at the hotel—a cube of mac and cheese, topped with tandoori chicken!—before showering, checking into our homeward flights, and turning in.

Wednesday we were up and out, with a quick drive up to Victoria’s leetle jetport. Our Air Canada flight to Toronto was long but uneventful. YYZ was a nightmare of maze-like corridors, eventually leading to a mid-corridor dungeon of a waiting area, with a tileless suspended ceiling and bare light fixtures dangling from their wires. Impatient to get home, we took an Uber from the airport rather than wait for the bus, and were very happy to arrive.

Inna enjoyed Victoria and would have liked to have spent more time there. Like Seattle, we were very fortunate to enjoy unseasonable and atypically good weather. It was especially nice to see my sister-in-law, since her health hasn’t permitted her to travel for some time.

Between the two cities, it was a pretty successful trip, though as always it was really nice to get back home again.

I haven’t made a lot of noise about my mother’s death in January, and I don’t intend that to change. Everyone has their own method of dealing with loss, and I feel that making a big emotional scene is about the least respectful thing I could do in most cases.

I’m also not going to devote any more space in my blog to the hardships of five months away from home, enduring a very much unwanted Maine winter. There’s no need to discuss my role as caregiver during the ups and downs of her hospitalization, my tasks arranging the funeral, dealing with probate, selling her car and furniture, closing her apartment, and wrapping up her finances. I’ll even skip over seeing members of my family and a few long-lost high school friends I caught up with.

I’ll only briefly mention the powerful sense of relief once I had all those things behind me, and how very, very, very good it has been to finally be back home.

It sounds like I’ve ruled out just about everything I could possibly write, thus obviating any need for this post. But no, there is one thing I do want to share, and that’s a handful of laughs. One of that trip’s bigger realizations was how deeply important humor is to me, and its usefulness as a way to cope with even the most stressful times.

Amidst all the difficulties of the past four months, there were a handful of precious smiles worth remembering. Here’s a few.

One morning my brother and I were at her nursing home with my mother when she required emergency transport to the hospital. When the EMTs showed up, I briefed them on her condition, what medication she was on and when she had last taken each, the measures the nursing home had taken in response to her situation, and so forth. I was apparently so organized and on top of the medical lingo that—as I later found out—they actually thought I was the resident doctor!

During her emergency room trips, my brother and I sometimes hung out in the ER’s little kitchen area. Being me, I snooped through their cupboards and was surprised to find a gallon jug of molasses. Wondering what the heck they’d need so much molasses for, I consulted Google and immediately regretted it. Whatever you do, *DO* *NOT* google “emergency room molasses”!

At one point she was in the cardiac unit and a nurse and I were helping her walk. She fainted in our arms, and since the nurse was unable to reach a call button, she slapped a button pinned on her uniform. “CODE YELLOW, CCU ROOM 1! CODE YELLOW, CCU ROOM 1!” blared over the intercom and more than a dozen doctors and nurses ran into the room. Apparently “code yellow” is their shorthand for “patient out of control”, normally used for unruly or violent situations; kind of silly for an unconscious 90 year-old!

She was in and out of the hospital several times, occupying a dozen different rooms. However, after a two week stay in Room 118, her next readmission was coincidentally right back in to the same familiar room.

At one point, a prisoner from some local jail was in for treatment, with a policeman posted outside his room. His family brought a cat in with them for a visit, which is pretty surprising to begin with, in a hospital. But apparently the cat got loose in the middle of the night, resulting in a penitentiary-style lockdown of the ward and all the patient rooms until they recaptured it!

Whenever a newborn was delivered in obstetrics, they played a lullaby tune over the intercom. My mother enjoyed hearing it, although it felt very odd to hear it playing during two of my mother’s worse sessions.

The hospital allows visiting family to raid the small kitchens in the ward, so my brother and I started enjoying free ice creams during our occasional opportunities to step out of her room. I joked that I was doing my part to increase US healthcare costs.

One of the few things my mother would reliably eat was milkshakes, made with two cups of ice cream. So when the floor ran out of ice cream, my brother and I blamed her (even if we’d eaten more than our fair share)!

The doctors also ordered that the staff keep tabs on my mother’s blood sugar levels. We joked that it was because so much of their ice cream had disappeared…

It confused the hell out of me that I couldn’t buy a sugared cola drink anywhere in the entire facility: not on the floors, not in the ER, not in the cafeteria or coffee shop, nor in any of their vending machines. Apparently sugar is strictly verboten! But I couldn’t square that with all the free ice cream stocked on the floors for patients and family!

Ordering lunch one day from “Room Service” (when I worked there as a high school student, it was called “Dietary”), my mother wanted tomato soup. Asked if she wanted a bowl or a cup of soup, mom asked for a bowlful of tomato soup, but in a cup…

Auto-on, motion-detecting faucets… Great for keeping one’s hands sanitary, but a complete disaster when they’re placed in the only open section of countertop in the room. On multiple times someone would move mom’s dinner tray to the counter next to the sink, only to have the faucet helpfully spray the tray, the person, and entire room with water.

Although we came to know most of the hospital staff by name, one day a new nurse came in. Seeing two guests, she asked, “Husband and son, I presume?” Yeah, no. My brother might be aging, but he was still 22 years younger than my mother. I might better understand “Son and grandson”, since there’s nearly a full generation between he and I…

Her treatment included regular doses of morphine, which naturally zonked her out. Even at her worst, just before a new dose she would relate a list of things like medications that the nurse should know about and take care of before she “lost time” due to the effects of the morphine. My mother was always both very organized and very much a take-charge person.

She had been a lifelong nurse, so there were some things in life that were normal for us but which seem strange in retrospect. For example, most kitchens have a pair of tongs for grabbing hot items like baked potato or corn on the cob. We didn’t have that… Mom had several old pairs of stainless steel surgical forceps that she used for cooking!

And finally, the thing I think is ludicrous but which no one else seems to appreciate. Mom would naturally use empty cans or plastic containers to store stuff in. In cleaning out her freezer, I came across a couple plastic tubs that originally held a spread product called “I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter!”, which my mother used for storing… (wait for it…) butter! Doh!

These were the kinds of things that kept us on our toes and provided brief moments of much-needed levity during an incredibly stressful time. Looking back, some of them remind me that my mother was a normal person. Normal people have all kinds of quirks and idiosyncrasies, which you discover during the rare times when you have to pore over their belongings in detail.

For three hundred and sixty-three days out of the year, our apartment is located a couple blocks from Schenley Park, the second largest municipal park in Pittsburgh. But for two days every July, the park—and our neighborhood—are taken over by the Pittsburgh Vintage Grand Prix, a free motorsports festival that draws hundreds of racers and a quarter million spectators. And from our house, the roar of the action sounds like a big hive of extremely angry bees.

Having been a racing fan in a previous life, I had to check it out. There really isn’t a lot of story to tell, but I did bring my SLR and took a few hundred action shots of the cars powering along roads I typically bike on. In this case, the photos probably tell the story better than words could.

Here are a handful of my better shots, but if you like these, you can see a couple dozen more in my PVGP Flickr album.

Prior to getting our own cat, Inna and I welcomed her mother’s cat into our house for three weeks while she was traveling. Kika aka Pumpy is quite a character, known for hiding her toys (and the occasional passport book) in caches underneath rugs, staring you down with her thoroughly cross-eyed gaze, and her extremely broad range of utterly incomprehensible vocalizations.

Here are a handful of shots I took to remember her visit by. As always, click for teh bigness.

If you *concentrate* really, really hard, you might be able to figure out why I think this is one of the more amusing ingredient lists I’ve ever read.

Once you realize that juice from concentrate includes juice concentrate, the obvious next question becomes what filtered water contains…