Caernarfon, Cymru - Sunday, September 20, 2015

Today's adventure was a drive down to North Wales and the royal town of Caernarfon to tour the castle there with the "British history, tour and discussion" meetup group I belong to.  I have never been to Wales before, but everyone around here talks about how beautiful North Wales is, so I was really looking forward to this excursion.  I briefly entertained the notion of driving down Saturday and spending the night, but since I just returned last Monday (September 14) from two weeks of home leave in the USA, I decided I preferred to spend the night at home with Mona Kitty.

The border of Wales is actually only about a 40 minute drive from me, cruising southwest on the M56, past Chester.  A roadside sign and the sudden presence of red dragons everywhere let me know I was in a different country.  I was surprised that every single sign was in both English and Welsh.  I knew that Welsh was still spoken, of course, but I guess I didn't realize that the northern part of Wales is fully bilingual with Welsh being the first language of choice for locals.

The drive was lovely.  The day was overcast, and there were occasional drizzles, but stormy weather tends to make coastal areas and mountains even more beautiful, I think.  At one point, I decided to slow way down behind a lorry to snap a photo of something that made me laugh.  This first sign was an accident (tapped too early), but I saved it, because it was relevant.  Yes, it really was an Area Of Outstanding Natural Beauty!  (remember you can click on the photo to see it full-size)

This is the photo that made me laugh:

Badgers!  There must be a ton of badgers in Wales, because I noticed at least 4 of these road signs.  The Welsh word for badgers is ‘moch daear’, which translates to 'earth pig'.  Although I saw the signs, I did not actually see any live moch daear, unfortunately.

Arriving in Caernarfon (about an hour and 45 minutes drive, total), I parked and made my way into the castle, catching up with 3 Meetup companions.  I knew Andrew, who runs the Meetup, but the other two people were new to me.  Seemed very nice.  My English Heritage membership is worth 50% off the price of admission for CADW sites, so that continues to pay for itself.  :-)

Caernarfon Castle is part of the UNESCO World Heritage site identified as Castles and Town Walls of King Edward in Gwynedd, which are four well-preserved fortresses all built by King Edward I after he conquered Wales in 1282–84.  We started with a short guided tour that was very interesting.  The guide gave us some history and pointed out some features that I would not have known about or noticed without him.

King Edward I (House of Plantagenet) reigned from 1272–1307 and was known as "Edward Longshanks", because he was so tall -- 6'2", which was a giant for that era.  Prior to his conquest, Wales was ruled by the Prince of Wales, who at that time was a fellow named Llywelyn ap Gruffudd, who now has the unfortunate moniker of "Llywelyn the Last", since he was the last sovereign prince and king of Wales.  He was killed in a skirmish with English soldiers, and Edward Longshanks took over, in time investing his own son, Edward II, as Prince Of Wales, a practice which has continued since 1301 until today (I'm looking at you, HRH The Prince Charles).

Caernarfon Castle was never actually finished.  The guide pointed out features that made the castle look like a ruin, but they were actually areas where future walls and floors had been intended to be built.  Some of those features can be seen in the photo below.

What happened?  Why wasn't the castle finished?  Well, King Edward I ran out of time and money.  In addition to being called "Longshanks", Edward I is also famously known as the "Hammer Of The Scots".  Edward got tied up fighting the Scots, in particular suppressing the rebellion of William Wallace and later trying to tackle Robert The Bruce.  Yup, we're talking about this bad guy - 

who captured and executed this good guy -

Only my history-buff companions as well as the tour guide assured me that the "history" shown in the movie Braveheart is 95% bunk except for some of the names.  The English remember Edward I as one of their greatest kings, but I'm pretty sure the Welsh and the Scots wouldn't agree.

We explored and climbed up to the top of the Eagle Tower, which is where King Edward II (the first English Prince of Wales) was born.

Inside the Tower, there was a cool display of medieval kings set up like a chess board.  It immediately brought to mind the giant Wizards Chess game in Harry Potter and The Sorcerer's Stone.  The size of the figures was relative to their importance/impact on Caernarfon.

Also on display was the throne that Queen Elizabeth II sat upon and the stool that Prince Charles knelt upon when he was invested as Prince of Wales on the Caernarfon Castle green in 1969.

On the second floor, there was a lovely display interpreting the life of Queen Eleanor of Castile (Spain), the beloved wife of Edward I and mother of Edward II.  There was soft medieval music playing in the background, and it was really well-done.

When Queen Eleanor died in 1290, history says that Edward Longshanks was heart-broken.  They had had an arranged marriage and married very young, but had ended up falling in love with each other.  The King ordered that crosses be erected at each site where her funeral procession stopped overnight, as her remains were transported back to London.  Twelve crosses were built, intended to remind passers by to say a prayer for the soul of the Queen (you can read the full story at this link).  Today, only three remain, as the passing of time, the Reformation and Civil War destroyed the others.  A Victorian replica stands today at Charing Cross railway station in London, Eleanor's last stop before Westminster Abbey.

The view from the top of the Eagle Tower wasn't too bad, either.

Walking around ancient castles with uneven floors and steps can be hazardous, so you do have to be mindful.

After we finished exploring the castle, we walked into town to eat lunch.  One of our group (Lynne) had stayed over Saturday night and recommended the inn she had stayed at, The Black Boy.  Excellent choice.  The food was outstanding.  I had a seafood crumble, which was a casserole of mixed fish pieces, prawns and cockles, cooked in a creamy sauce with vegetables, breadcrumbs and cheese topping.  It was really, really good.  Lynne said it was a nice inn, too, so when I go back for a full weekend some time (which I must do), I know I can stay at The Black Boy and be very happy.

It was really a nice day.  It was cool to hear Welsh spoken and to hear English with a thick Welsh accent (although now I have another accent I have to learn how to understand, and it's a hard one).  I am definitely looking forward to spending more time in Wales and seeing more of the castles and natural beauty there.

The only remaining excitement was on the drive home along the coast.  Driving down, you go through some tunnels cut into hills/cliffs along the water.  Driving back, you drive on the outside of those tunnels, right on the edge of the cliff with nothing but water beyond.  When I realized that, I got a little freaked out, but it sure made for an impressive view.

For anyone who hasn't seen enough photos, all of the photos that I took today are posted here: https://goo.gl/photos/ErrVRqaDkkc7qYV36

Castles and British Weather - Sunday, July 26, 2015

I recently found out about and signed up for a "British history, tour and discussion" Meetup Group, which is all about visiting historical sites and museums in the area.  One of the first things I did after moving here was to buy memberships in both the National Trust and English Heritage, and I love history and sightseeing, so this Meetup was absolutely perfect for me.

Today was the first chance I've had to go to one of their meetups - a visit to Beeston Castle and Woodland Park, located 11 miles southeast of Chester, Cheshire.  The weather forecast did not look good, but I've learned that if you wait for great weather to do anything around the British Isles, you wait for a very long time and you don't do very much.  You just have to soldier on and do what you want to do, in spite of the weather.

Over the course of the 45 minute drive down to Beeston, what started out as merely an overcast morning turned into the kind of gray, solid rain that you knew was going to last for hours.  Oh well.  We hiked up to the top of the sandstone crag anyways, and we encountered plenty of other people doing the exact same thing.  True Brits.

I will say that it's past time I invest in some new rain wear for myself (my old rain jacket got ripped).  Trying to take photos while holding an umbrella is a pain.

Right.  Beeston Castle.  Today I learned that archaeological evidence shows human activity on the site dating back to the Neolithic period (3500–2000 BC).  When you stand on the summit, you can understand why.  It's a high, rocky crag that towers 350 feet over the Cheshire Plain, naturally defended on three sides by steep cliffs.  The views over the plain are absolutely commanding (even in foul weather).







Beeston is said to offer one of the most spectacular views of any castle in England.  Unfortunately, not today.  :-(



No one could sneak up on you, and there's only one, sloping side that could be used for attack.  Natural Neolithic defenses evolved into earthwork and wood defenses in the Bronze and Iron Ages.  The hillfort became a metalworking and trading centre, and there are some small copper pieces, pottery fragments and other small finds on display in the tiny museum attached to the visitors center.  It was interesting to note that for whatever reason, there were no signs of significant Roman presence at the hillfort.  Perhaps their garrison at nearby Chester was sufficient?

Ranulf de Blondeville, 6th Earl of Chester, received the lands from King John, and he began building his "Castle of the Rock" in the 1220s after his return from The Crusades and during the reign of King Henry III.  (Sorry, the Game Of Thrones dork in me could not help but think of Casterly Rock.)  It was a defense against his rivals and a statement of his power, and his builders began right on top of the Iron Age defenses, adapting and incorporating them into their design.



Inside the visitors center -- Small models of the Castle of the Rock in medieval times, showing the Outer and Inner Wards.  The outer bailey walls utilized the original Iron Age ramparts, which is why the Outer Ward is so large.



The D-shaped towers allowed defenders to fire arrows across the walls.



The rock-cut defensive ditch.  Although currently overgrown, this ditch is up to 30 feet deep and provided an extra layer of defense for the vulnerable East side.


The only way across the deep, defensive ditch today is via the modern bridge.

The next few centuries of history for Beeston were a little boring (seized by King Henry III from Ranulf's female-only heirs, periodic building, etc.), except for the legend of a large gold treasure hidden in the Inner Ward's well by King Richard II (Richard of Bordeaux), never found.  This well is 370 feet deep, one of the deepest castle wells in England.  (Back when they were digging the well in the 13th century, how did they know they'd find water down there if they just kept digging?)  Apparently historians and archaeologists have sent cameras down the well, but still no treasure.




Then things at Beeston got exciting again during the English Civil War (1642–1651), when Royalists held the castle and were besieged by Parliamentarians.  After the Royalists surrendered in November 1645, the castle was destroyed to prevent it being used in the future against the new government.  During the 18th century, the ruins were used for a quarry, leading to further destruction.




Not much remains of the inner bailey today.

The Peckforton estate, land and castle ruins were acquired in 1840 by John Tollemache, who later became 1st Lord Tollemache of Helmingham.  He partially reconstructed parts of the castle and turned the outer ward into a park, repairing part of the outer curtain wall and planting fir trees.





Tollemache also added a new gatehouse, which served as the ticket turnstile for visitors and tourists.  This building was designed to imitate the medieval inner ward gatehouse.  Today, it is still the entrance and the English Heritage visitors center and gift shop.
  



Compare to the original (with modern bridge):



There are supposed to be some lovely woodland paths around the castle grounds, but at this point we were all damp and cold, so we headed back inside the visitors center to warm up and to grab a small bite from the cafe.  Despite being damp and cold, they had Cheshire Farm Real Dairy Ice Cream, and I have had a hankering for ice cream for about a week now, so I got a little cup of honeycomb ice cream.  I had never eaten honeycomb before, and mixed in with the vanilla ice cream, it was DELICIOUS.  I recently have discovered the wonder of Fentimans fizzy drinks, so I also got a ginger beer.  Not the healthiest lunch, but I had just hiked up a 350 feet tall crag, so I didn't feel at all guilty.



After our break, we headed just across the way to Peckforton Castle.  John Tollemache began building Peckforton in 1842, as a medieval castle reproduction, but of course, without true military defenses and with all of the modern comforts and amenities of the age.  It took nine years to design and build, and the result is glorious.  It still stands intact today, as a luxury hotel, spa and resort.




We had hoped to be able to enjoy a posh coffee at the castle, but as it is peak season and they had a wedding happening, they were booked solid and were only seating hotel guests or people with reservations.  Instead, we just peeked around a bit.

They have a large birds of prey aviary and Falconry program.


As well as a peacock wandering about and here a white peahen perched on a wall.



The castle's Great Hall was beautifully decorated for the soon-to-start wedding.



The atmospheric Wine Cellar, illuminated with candles, would be the scene of the post-wedding cocktails.



I would love to do a weekend getaway to Peckforton sometime, maybe even give archery or falconry a try.

One of the ladies in the group was an Art & Architectural History specialist who used to work as an inspector for historical buildings, and she provided great commentary about the architectural features of Peckforton.  I also met a very nice Chinese lady who moved here just 3 months ago, so I got to use a little bit of the Mandarin I've been learning.  All in all, it was a lovely afternoon with a great group of people.  Who needs sunshine?

When I got home, though, I had to admit defeat on the temperature and turn on my central heat.  In July.

UK Electoral Registration - Tuesday, July 21, 2015

File this one under "things that are different in the UK".

I received a form in the mail today, asking me to verify voter registration eligibility for anyone living at this residence.  The inside of the form had a 14 digit security code on it.  I could either complete the paper form and mail it back or complete it via the internet.  If everything on the form was already correct, that could be verified with a quick phone call or text message.

The letter did warn me that if I didn't provide the information requested, I could be fined £1000.  THAT seems harsh!!!  Well, thank goodness I actually opened up the envelope instead of throwing it in the recycling bin, like I normally do with things that arrive addressed to The Occupier.  I don't know how often such fines are actually assessed, but since I live in this country by the good grace of Her Majesty The Queen, I try to be careful about following all of her laws and rules.

(Speaking of HM The Queen, her great-grandson might be one of the cutest little boys on the entire planet.  This photo is much more interesting than my "Your vote matters" letter anyways.  Happy 2nd Birthday, Prince George!)

Back to boring voting stuff --

So I logged in to the website and very quickly and easily provided the information that none of the residents are eligible to vote because of their nationality, American.

Here's the part that I like -- the previous occupiers hadn't updated their voter registration, and the Council's Electoral Registration office still showed them eligible to vote at this address.  With a few clicks of my mouse, I was able to remove them from my address and indicate that they no longer live here.  Boom.  They are now ineligible to vote until they update their registration wherever they live now.

Apparently, this is happening because the UK voter registration law is changing.  Currently, UK voter registration is done by household, with one person in the household filling in a form that registers everyone in that household at the same time.  Now, everyone will need to register themselves individually, so local elections offices have to go through all of their records to confirm who and where people are.

The whole process seems to be pretty tight and secure to prevent electoral fraud.  I'm impressed.

Two things that strike me as different/strange about the UK electoral process compared to the USA --

1.  The UK electoral register is used for checking credit applications.  Really?  Maybe it's done in the USA, too, and I just never knew about it.  I guess voting registration files are public records.  Huh.

2.  Commonwealth and European Union citizens who are resident in the UK are eligible to vote in UK elections.  Commonwealth and Republic of Ireland citizens can vote in general elections.  EU citizens can vote in elections for local government and the European parliament.  I remember discussing this with an Irish friend of mine in regards to the May elections.  Ireland won independence in 1922 after a bloody war, and they left the Commonwealth in 1949, but they still get to vote in the UK if they live here.  My Irish friend seemed to think this was totally fair and all good.  I personally just cannot wrap my head around the notion of non-citizens voting in a country's elections.  It's a totally different paradigm.

All of this electoral stuff should get very interesting to watch as Britain gets ready for their planned referendum on EU membership.

In which an American girl visits the Middle East for the first time...

Part I.  Sunday, June 7, 2015 - Friday, June 12, 2015:  United Arab Emirates

WOW.  Where to start?  I suppose I should start first with a disclaimer / preemptive apology.  People nowadays love to be outraged over perceived slights, perceived racism, perceived xenophobia, whatever.  I am the product of my country, my upbringing in the 1970s/1980s, my experiences in the greater metropolitan area of Detroit, Michigan, 9/11, etc., and this was my first time ever in the Middle East.  I undoubtedly have some opinions or notions that might come across as ignorant or offensive.  So excuse me.  I'm not saying I'm right or superior or anything.  I have an opinion, and I'm sure my opinions are informed by a bias.  Right or wrong, these are my honest thoughts at this point in time.

When I took my current job, I knew the role would be focused immediately on Brazil, India and China, with the possibility of the Middle East developing at some point 3 to 5 years in the future.  The company I work for has a joint venture in Saudi Arabia, but as a Western woman, working in the KSA was always something I rejected outright.  Working with any other part of the Middle East seemed unlikely and intangible.  Then, the company's Middle Eastern growth opportunities bloomed rapidly and unexpectedly.  In a very short period of time, the Middle East changed from a distant, future possibility to an immediate imperative.  My company had a distributor, customers, suppliers, and we were bidding on and winning jobs.  The future became today in a matter of months.

Before this June, I didn't know much about the United Arab Emirates.  It never got much news coverage in the USA, probably because bad stuff generally wasn't happening there, and the news is all about bad stuff, right?  Honestly, I didn't know that the Emirate of Kuwait even existed until Saddam Hussein invaded it back in 1990.  No one ever invaded the UAE, so I supposed I had no reason to learn about it.  I have since learned that it was established in December 1971 as a federation of seven independent emirates which used to be British Protectorates.  (People around the world love to blame the USA for the geopolitical state of the Middle East, but I tell you what, the British share a fair bit of the blame, too.)  In the early 2000s, as much as I ever probably knew about the UAE was the Burj Al Arab hotel.  But I distinctly remember seeing the 60 Minutes segment about Dubai and Sheikh Mohammed in 2007.  Dubai at that time was hailed as being an open, tolerant, Westernized "Middle East Lite".  Didn't that all Westernization go horribly wrong in Iran and Afghanistan?  So far, at least, it seems to be working out okay in the UAE.  Anyways, the 60 Minutes segments were fascinating and are still worth viewing today, when you have the time to spare:

http://www.cbsnews.com/news/a-visit-to-dubai-inc/3/

http://www.cbsnews.com/videos/part-2-dubai-inc/

My next data point was the Formula One Grand Prix of Abu Dhabi, starting in 2009.  Same basic narrative in the American media that I saw -- the UAE is a modern Middle Eastern country that is booming, thanks to insane wealth from oil revenues and leaders looking to develop societies that can outlast the inevitable future depletion of their oil reserves.  Environmental sustainability and human rights being, perhaps, collateral damage...

For eight years, people have been saying the UAE is a speculative bubble ready to burst.  Certainly, the country took a major blow with the global economic crisis and downturn of 2008 to 2010.  Dubai was one of the worst hit cities in the entire world.  Everything came to a halt.  Companies went out of business overnight.  I heard from my Dubai colleagues that luxury cars were abandoned at the airport as investors and entrepreneurs fled the country and the prospect of being jailed for debts.  While driving from Dubai to Abu Dhabi one day, we saw an entire field of brand new trucks and cars, imported in anticipation of being sold and now sitting parked for years in desert inventory.  You read about this stuff, but it's just surreal actually to see it in person with your own two eyes.  Then there is this building, just across the way from our office, on prime Free Zone real estate:

It apparently has been sitting in a semi-finished, abandoned state since the crash and is currently tied up by litigation.  The powder coating on the extrusions was evidently defective (or improperly specified) and is peeling and falling off.  That will cost someone a small fortune to remedy.  My colleagues said that before the crash everyone was building everything as fast as they possibly could.  Obviously, Quality was sometimes sacrificed in the rush to build.

Now, just as parts of the world have started to recover, the countries dependent upon oil revenues have taken another economic hit with oil prices dropping from $100 down to $50 a barrel in 2014.  At the beginning of this year, people were saying that the UAE would enter another recession.

However, I personally saw no evidence of an actual or incipient recession.  The announcement in November 2013 that Dubai would host the World Expo 2020 seems to have filled everyone with renewed confidence and excitement.  Construction cranes were operational.  Lights were on in existing buildings, and new buildings were underway.  The streets were filled with cars, the sidewalks were filled with people, and the beaches were filled with tourists.  My company's representatives are getting more inquiries and requests for bids than they can handle.  The building where they are located in one of the Free Zones has a waiting list to rent office space.  (For those who don't know, the Dubai Free Zones are specially designated economic zones where business activities of expatriate investors are tax and duty free.  My employer's representatives there are a Free Zone Enterprise (FZE).)  I visited three suppliers (two in the UAE and one in Oman), and all three are in the process of completing major capital investments and facility expansions to increase their capacity.  One of the suppliers had an analogy for what he saw in Dubai in particular and in the UAE in general today.  He said --

It's like you're looking at a huge pile of money on the ground, and you have two minutes to grab as much as you can.  As big as your hands are, and as much as you can handle, you have to go after that money right now, because after two minutes, the money will be gone.

The clock has started ticking now, in 2015, and it will run until October 20, 2020, when the World Expo opens.  After that, who knows?

So now that I've bored everyone with economics, what about my own experiences and impressions?  Well, in preparation for the trip, I did some basic reading up on the area, on business norms, and I messaged a sorority sister currently living in Doha, Qatar for her thoughts.  In general, I was told the society would be very open, modern and Westernized.  Emiratis wear traditional clothing, and the Emirati women wear black headscarves (hijab) and long black robes (abaya); however, Western women are not expected to dress that way.  It was suggested that I wear conservative clothing if out in public, but it would be equivalent to how you would be expected to be covered to go into a Catholic cathedral or the Vatican (no bare shoulders, no excessive cleavage showing and legs covered at least below the knees).  The regular work week is Sunday to Thursday.  Friday prayers mean that Friday and Saturday are the weekend, although many people and certainly laborers work on Saturdays.  Business meetings would begin with a tea or coffee (rude to refuse one), and there should be some courteous conversation and general chatting before any real business began.  Because Islam teaches that it is "Haram" for a man to touch a woman who is not related to him, I should wait for a Muslim man to extend his hand for a handshake first and not be offended if he does not offer his hand.  Alcohol would be readily available in hotels and restaurants, but if I wanted a personal stash, it would be easier to buy it at Duty Free in the airport.  Lastly, there is a zero-tolerance policy for all drugs, and I should be very careful to bring only essential medications and nothing narcotic under any circumstances.  In the UK, paracetamol with codeine is legal without a prescription, but it would cause you a huge problem if you attempted to bring it with you into the UAE.  International SOS rates the country as very safe, very stable and with a low risk of terrorism, so I had nothing to worry about in terms of security.

Emirates flies three non-stop flights each day between Manchester and Dubai, so getting there was easy enough.  Although as a former Detroiter and Atlantan I try to fly Delta and SkyTeam Alliance whenever possible (to consolidate my frequent flier miles and earn towards Medallion/Elite status), there was no way I was willing to add on a layover to what would be a 7 hour flight to begin with.  So I registered with Emirates Skywards and booked their non-stop Saturday night flight, departing Manchester at 21:10, arriving Dubai at 07:25 local time.  I was very impressed with the Emirates experience.  Flying business class, I was eligible for their complimentary Chauffeur-drive service, so I reserved a car for all of my airport transfers.  I had access to the Emirates business lounge, which had free wireless and a wide array of hot and cold foods and beverages.  Bottomless French champagne!  The flight itself was on one of their massive double-decker A380 Airbus jetliners.  This plane is so flipping enormous that you can really feel it lumbering on take-off, like Dumbo the Elephant getting ready to fly, and you feel inertia and gravity pulling at you during the ascent.  Once up in the air, it was unquestionably the most posh in-flight experience I had ever had, from any airline, in my life.  The Emirates website has a good description with a lot of photos.  Their overnight amenities kit is made by Bvlgari.  I mean, seriously?  I can only imagine how glorious their First Class experience must be.

Landing in Dubai International Airport (DXB) -- the world's busiest airport by international passenger traffic -- was the start of some serious "Shock and Awe" (sorry; I couldn't resist the reference).  Terminal 3 is the largest airport terminal in the world.  The airport facilities are already overloaded and further expansion and building is underway.  We exited the plane on the tarmac and boarded a bus, and it took the bus at least 15 minutes, maybe longer, to wind its way around the airport property to our entrance gate, so I got a good look at the size and scale of the place.  I also got a good look at the ground workers and a busload of construction workers with the dark coloring and features of Indians, Pakistanis, Bangladeshis, or various other Asians and not a single Arab-looking man.  The population of the UAE is estimated to be 9.4 million souls, but almost 90% of them are expatriates and not citizens.  Nearly 40% of the foreign workers are from India and Pakistan.  Those countries are only a 3 hour flight away, which is nice for any expatriate worker that has the money and his passport to fly home for holidays.

My only complaint about the DXB airport is that it is too freaking BIG, and there are not enough moving walkways and apparently no "plane train" either (I never thought I would miss Atlanta's plane train, but there you go).  So you walk, walk, walk, dodge shoppers in the duty free stores, dodge clueless people who don't know where they're going, walk some more, and then you walk again.  After the DXB Death March, you finally reach passport control and your first glimpse of real, live Emiratis.  I guess they save the Immigration and Customs jobs for citizens.  As a US citizen, I was eligible a free 30-day visa upon arrival.  First and Business class passengers on Emirates get a "fast lane" card so you get through the border without waiting in line.  Two pleasant-looking Emirati men greeted me and took my passport.  They were dressed in traditional bright-white, ankle-length robes (kandoora) with white headscarves (keffiyeh) secured with what looked like black hosepipe (aghals).  The men all seemed to be wearing some kind of white mesh or crocheted cap like a giant doily underneath their keffiyehs, which I don't know if it was part of the scarf or a separate prayer cap that stayed on whenever the scarf came off.  My best guess is that it was a prayer cap, because that scarf would have to get in the way of bending over and praying and need to be removed, and you would want the cap underneath to be as light and air-flow-friendly as possible.

I didn't take any pictures of people, but this image is a good representation of what I saw throughout the week as typical Emirati attire:

Very simple, plain and 100% black or white.  Some of the women added some "bling" with black sequin decorations or embroidery sewn on, but that was pretty much it.  I did see a few women with the added face mask covering them from the nose down (niqab), but I would say that it was the exception rather than the rule, and I did not see a single full veil niqab that completely covered their eyes.

Anyways, the very nice Immigration men scanned my passport and stamped me in without so much as a question.  I get more interrogation entering my own country!

Because DXB does a huge amount of international transfer traffic, inside the secure part of the airport still feels very international, like going through Schiphol or Paris CDG.  Once outside, though, you very much realize you are now in the Middle East.  The heat and sun hitting you like a blast furnace is one good indication.  The much higher percentage of people wearing local attire is another.  There is something incongruous about a man in traditional attire that probably hasn't changed very much in a few centuries talking on a mobile phone while climbing behind the wheel of a car.  The other thing you notice right away is all of the sand and dust in the air and atmosphere.  At first, I thought it was pollution and smog like Los Angeles, but it's not.  When it's dry and windy, the atmosphere fills with sand and dust, and the horizon looks tan.  I'm sure the Burj Khalifa (the world's tallest building) is a sight to behold, and the views from it must be amazing, but all I saw during the week was a fuzzy, sandy silhouette, and I figured there was no sense in going up to the "At The Top" observation deck on Levels 148 and 124 under those conditions.

Dubai is the first and only city I've been in where you feel like you are driving through time into the 23rd century when you arrive.  The skyline is endless skyscrapers, but they aren't just glass boxes.  The architecture is different, unique, bold and futuristic.  I half-expected to see flying cars and The Jetsons.  Welcome to Dubai!

Bank Holiday Monday (May 4)

For anyone reading this who is not American, first let me explain the connotation of the term "bank holiday" for an American.  A "bank holiday" to an American is a bad joke.  It's the pathetic, sorry-excuse of a holiday that no one celebrates or gets off work unless you actually work in a bank or for the government.  Americans tend to distinguish between real holidays, like Thanksgiving and Independence Day, and not-real holidays, i.e., the bank holidays, like Presidents' Day.  Most of the time we forget the bank holidays even exist, until one of our friends posts something about it on Facebook or we wonder why our mail didn't get delivered or why the trash wasn't picked up.  Advertisements for furniture (especially mattress) sales always presage bank holidays, too.

For my American friends reading this, a "bank holiday" in the UK is a Big Freaking Deal.  There is only one type of holiday, and it's a bank holiday.  It's a statutory, public holiday that everyone gets as a day off, unless you are one of the poor unfortunates working in a service industry like grocery, dining or tourism.  But in general, most businesses shut down.  Mini-holiday getaways over the long weekend are common, but a lot of people just enjoy a "staycation" and stay at home to relax, work in the garden, whatever.

Having had some past experience with the frequency of German and French holidays, I had high hopes for the UK, but the British are fairly stingy with their bank holidays, as stingy as the Americans.  Most American companies I have worked for in my life give you at least 9 or 10 paid holidays.  In the UK, you only get 8!  For 2015, they are:

• New Year's Day (Jan 1)
• Good Friday & Easter Monday (Apr 3 and 6)
• Early May (May 4)
• Spring (May 25)
• Summer (Aug 31)
• Christmas Day (Dec 25) and Boxing Day (Dec 26)

If a holiday falls on a weekend, you get either the Friday or the Monday off instead as a 'substitute' day.

For the past few years, there has been debate about making St. George's Day (the feast day for the patron saint of England) a Bank Holiday as England's national day on April 23.  Apparently there are some concerns that this might offend the Scots, Irish or Welsh (or all of the above) as well as concerns about the economic costs associated with adding another statutory public holiday, so it hasn't happened yet.  I can't really see people getting excited about a patron saint who never actually even set foot in the country, but whatever.  If it's another day off of work, I am ALL for it.

If I could pick a day to get behind, personally, I would pick November 5, because that was the date that William of Orange (William III of England) landed in 1688 during the Glorious Revolution.  The Glorious Revolution was the last time that anyone ever successfully invaded and conquered England.  It was a bloodless event which arguably established the "modern" British monarchy by deposing a hold-out believer in the Divine Right of Kings (James II).  November 5 has the benefit of occurring during a time of the year that currently lacks any bank holidays.

So yesterday (Monday) was the Early May Bank Holiday.  Why a holiday on that day?  I'm not entirely sure, but I would guess it has something to do with May Day and just picking the first Monday in the month of May.  There are still a lot of May Day and Beltane celebrations around the British Isles.  They could have come up with a more interesting name than "Early May" holiday with some minimal effort, one would think.

Anyways, after my big city escape to Amsterdam the previous weekend, I decided that this holiday weekend I should just stay home and get caught up on things and relax.  I had the best kind of Monday imaginable.  I slept in, did very little and took a nap.  My big accomplishment was making a robust breakfast.

(I don't bother with tomatoes, mushrooms or black pudding with my brekkie.  Only the good stuff.)

It wasn't raining, so I felt like I ought to get outside for a little bit of sunshine and fresh air.  I ended up taking about a 1 1/2 mile walk around my neighborhood and down to the Stamford Park, which is a medium-sized city park a couple of blocks away.  The park was filled with families out enjoying the day and was very pleasant for a stroll.  The Friends of Stamford Park volunteer group has obviously worked very hard with the landscaping, and the Springtime blooms were beautiful.  I was enjoying observing the water fowl at the pond, when I had a WTF? moment.

It's just Mama and Papa Goose keeping watch over their goslings, right?  It's always heart-warming to observe protective animal parents.

This is normal behavior for Canadian geese; they've even been known to attack humans to protect their young.

...

Canadian geese.  WTF are Canadian geese doing in England???  Canadian geese are a nuisance.  If there is any one animal I would like to hunt for the sheer joy of killing it, it would be a Canadian goose.  I've heard they are not even tasty to eat; I don't care.  I just hate them.  Why are there Canadian geese in the UK?  Apparently, some idiot introduced them here back in the day, and now there is a well-established, wild, native population to poop on everything.  Go figure.

That was my Bank Holiday Monday.  I wish every Monday could be like that.  :-)

An unexpectedly pleasant Saturday (May 2)

I don't know if I'll ever get around to filling in the gaps between December and May, but here's what happened yesterday...

As usual, my stupid internal alarm clock woke me up at 6:30 AM, regardless of it being both a Saturday and a long bank holiday weekend.  And as usual, I refused to accept being awake so early, so I laid in bed playing with my phone and re-reading the 3rd Outlander book, Voyager, until after 10:00 AM.  I'm obsessed with Outlander, and finishing all 8 books, re-reading 3 of them so far, and watching each STARZ TV episode 3+ times does not assuage the obsession.  The morning was cold, rainy and dreary anyways, so motivation to get out of bed was low.  My continuously rumbling stomach is what finally made me get up and go downstairs to make breakfast.  After treating myself to some eggs, streaky bacon, coffee and a jam-covered crumpet (I normally just have a yogurt or something quick and easy for breakfast), I took care of a couple of financial things and bills, which gave me an excuse to continue being lazy in my pajamas for a few more hours.  If I hadn't made plans with a friend, I honestly might not have showered or gotten out of my PJs at all.  However, plans I had made, so after 1:00 PM, I finally hopped in the shower, made myself presentable, grabbed my umbrella and caught the 2:31 PM tram into the city centre.

I knew when I rented this house that it was close to the train station, but living here, I have truly come to love the proximity, as much as I loved living walking distance to the MARTA station when I lived in Decatur, Georgia.  From locking my door to getting on the tram (including time to buy a ticket from the machine) takes me 8 minutes or 10 minutes maximum.  It is so convenient, especially since the trams run every 12 minutes, and an offpeak return fare is only £4.60.  I'm at Altrincham Station, and it's 11 stops or ~25 minutes to get to St. Peter's Square in the city centre.  So total trip time is 35 to 40 minutes, and I don't have to worry about traffic, parking, if my car will get broken into or stolen or (perhaps most importantly) how many pints I consume.  :-)

St. Peter's Square is currently the scene of a small homeless protest, which involves perhaps a dozen people camping out together.  They were outside the city hall, were forced to move, and have now set up camp outside the public library.  I've been searching my heart to try to find any drop of interest or compassion for the "plight" of these people who feel they are not being given enough that was taken out of the pockets of working people, and I keep coming up dry.

This afternoon I was meeting up with a new friend, M, whom I met a couple of weeks ago chatting in a pub.  I had to laugh at myself with my big umbrella compared to him, a proper Manc with no umbrella and just a tweed newsboy cap on his head.  The subject of the homeless protest was best not discussed, since he is an openly avowed socialist who works for the government in the delivery of social services, and I think it's safe to say our opinions on the matter diverge.

A potentially less contentious subject was that morning's Royal Birth.  I do not have strong opinions one way or the other on the British monarchy, my own ancestors having successfully rebelled and thrown off the chains of kings 232 years ago.  I enjoy some casual Royal Family watching (it's quaint), and I think it would be difficult for anyone not to find joy in the safe birth of a healthy baby.  My friend unsurprisingly is anti-Royal (quite right, as any good socialist should be!), but even he could find no fault with celebrating the birth of the princess.  And, as I pointed out, it's not like people are still living under King George III, that "old, mad, blind, despised, and dying King".  The Royal Family today are largely symbolic, and I'm not sure they do (or can do) any real harm.

Ironically, we were having this discussion just around the corner from the site of the infamous Peterloo Massacre, the event which inspired Percy Bysshe Shelly's famous poem, England in 1819.

There's some pretty amazing history in Manchester.

St. Peter's and politics behind us, we started at the Manchester Art Gallery, a smallish but quite varied and interesting public art museum just off St. Peter's Square.  Some of the 18th and 19th c English art and portraiture was average, but in all fairness, anything would seem average after the mind-blowing Late Rembrandt exhibit I had just seen at the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam last Monday.  Their special East Asian Craft and Design exhibit of Japanese and Chinese arts and crafts was very well done and fascinating.  They also had a wonderful special exhibit called "Emily Allchurch In the Footsteps of a Master", juxtaposing 19th c. Japanese printmaker Utagawa Hiroshige landscape prints with modern interpretations of those scenes, made by Emily Allchurch using digital photograph collages and backlit in lightboxes.  Truly beautiful work.

My favorite experience, though, was seeing two famous paintings that I know very well and recognized immediately, although I had had no idea that they were located in the Manchester museum.  Stumbling across them so unexpectedly and then being able to enjoy them in person instead of just a printed photograph on a page in a book was a thrill.  The first one was John William Waterhouse's Hylas and the Nymphs.

Then I turned and looked across the room right into the sad, depressed eyes of Auguste Charles Mengin's Sappho, getting ready to jump off a cliff.  She has graced the cover of a recent novel; some of my friends may recognize her.

I enjoyed the entire museum, but seeing those two paintings alone made the entire excursion worthwhile to me.

After the museum, we walked over to Brewdog Manchester for a pint.  The place was doing lively business, but we were able to find two stools sharing a table with some other people.  One of their guest taps was a Stone Ruination IPA, which M tried, so I told him all about the beautiful Stone brewery in San Diego, California, which I visited a number of years ago.  It's wonderful to see some American craft breweries becoming more prevalent and popular over here in the UK.  M had suggested maybe trying out a stand-up comedy club for our next activity.  Along the way, we stopped at a lovely heritage pub, The Briton's Protection, for a quick half-pint before proceeding to The Comedy Store at the Deansgate Locks for their 7:00 PM show.

I actually love stand-up comedy, and I think it has been more than 4 years since I've been to a show.  It was a blast.  There were 4 acts - an American from San Francisco, a Canadian, and then two local Englishmen.  They all got some belly-laughs out of me, but the last two were definitely the best overall.  I just about died when the last comedian (a local chap from Warrington) joked about Americans trying to adjust to the English attitude towards customer service.  Then he role-played an American customer service interaction as it would play out in the USA versus how things would go with a Brit in the UK.  I laughed so hard I could hardly breathe, because it was spot-on.  Customer service over here generally does not exist, and where it does exist, it is barely a notch above "sod off".  Even though my previous travel experiences had somewhat prepared me for the lack of customer service that is common in European countries, it has still been a big adjustment, and seeing his take on it was hysterical.

The show ended at 9:00 PM, and with a 40 minute journey home, I figured it was time to call it an evening.  Besides, things in the Deansgate area were already starting to turn into a stereotypical Saturday night out in a northern England city centre, which means that the hard core party was well-underway, and the shit storm of drunken debauchery with public pissing and vomiting was imminent.  I've seen it in Leeds; I've seen it in Liverpool; I am disinclined to witness it in Manchester, too, not unless someday it is actually my own hen party (unlikely in any event).

I bid farewell to my friend and hopped on the tram at the Deansgate Metrolink station just up the stairs there for the short ride home.  It was a good night.

Escape from Mordor [or, a day-trip to Huddersfield] (Saturday, Dec 13)

After a wonderful Friday (Dec 12) evening together, Jenn and I agreed to meet up again the next day, Saturday (December 13).  Pete would be spending more time with his family, and Jenn still had some shopping she wanted to do.  This seemed like the perfect opportunity for me to get away from Manchester for a little bit, where it had rained every day for the last 10 days in a row.

The rain in Manchester is something the natives ignore and the non-natives alternately bitch or joke about non-stop.  Since I'm a non-native, I can't ignore it, and I'm not yet at the point where I can joke about it.  Everyone told me I arrived in England at the worst possible time of the year in terms of weather, and I believe them.  Cold, dreary and wet every day is just depressing.

There's this funny article I found online called, How often does it rain in Manchester?  It has some great advice, such as "if you're ever lost here and need directions, don't ask anyone with an umbrella ... Seek out those resembling a drowned rat. Proper Manc! They'll know their way around."  Which is so true!  But the best line is this -- "Drive 20 miles in any direction away from Manchester. Check the rear-view mirror. It looks like Mordor."  Yes, Mordor, Tolkien's Land of Shadow, bounded by mountains.  This is a surprisingly apt analogy.

Manchester is surrounded by the West Pennine Moors to the northwest, the South Pennines to the north and north east, and the Peak District to the east and southeast.  Weather patterns and moisture come in from the ocean, across the Cheshire plain, get stopped by the hills and peaks, and concentrate over Manchester.  Pete explained that all of that rain and humidity is what made the area ideal for the textile industry.  Wool and cotton threads didn't break as often when being worked in a damp environment.  Fascinating history, but since I'm not weaving textiles, I'm not very appreciative of the unique benefits of this climate.

I mention all of this as background to my drive up to Huddersfield on Saturday.  Pete is originally from Brighouse, and Hudderfield is the closest major city with a nice hotel in between Manchester (for the airport) and Brighouse (for the family), so that's where they were staying.  I woke up in Manchester to pea-soup fog.  This was my Facebook status:

The fog this morning on the Quays is as thick as pea soup. Old Trafford and the studio buildings across the way have disappeared; all I can see are the illuminated "itv" letters. The canal waters are as still as glass, except where the surface has been disturbed by the flapping wings of the seagulls over head. A cold and dreary Saturday morning indeed.

In terms of Middle Earth, think of the Dead Marshes.  There probably *are* a lot of dead bodies at the bottom of the Manchester canals....  Anyways, I got up, dressed and ready, and headed out on the road.  The drive winds northeast up the M62 and takes about 45 minutes to an hour, depending on traffic and weather.

As you get out of Manchester towards the north east, you start climbing from ~38 metres above sea level up the South Pennines, heading over "The Tops", reaching a height of 372 m above sea level at Windy Hill, which is the highest point of any motorway in England.  I know this because they put up a sign.  I marked it on the map above with a black arrow.

The immediate change in weather was stunning.  One second I was surrounded by deadly fog, icy mist and patches of snow in The Tops, and the next second I burst free into a bright, clear blue sky and abundant sunshine.  I had spotted a large stone marker bearing the white rose of York, welcoming me to Yorkshire.  I think I heard choirs of angels singing.  I checked my rear-view mirror and could see Mordor behind me.  Seeing the traditional white rose of York also gave this history buff a little thrill.

The countryside with the rolling moorlands and farms was beautiful.  In some ways it reminded me of Montana, if you ever saw 200+ year old stone manor houses dotting the Montana landscape, while driving on the wrong side of the road.  My mood brightened commensurate with the sunshine.

An accident near the Huddersfield junction forced me to do a little creative re-routing with the aid of my GPS, but I made it to Pete and Jenn's hotel just a few minutes late.  I gave Jenn her present which I had found at the Altrincham Christmas Market, a handmade metal headband with beads and decoration, sort of like a tiara (which fit Jenn's style perfectly).  Pete headed off for his family time, and Jenn and I headed to the city centre for our Huddersfield shopping adventure.

Since it was a market day, traffic was busy and parking was difficult.  I took this picture to try to capture the image of the railroad viaduct (very cool structure), but it also accurately shows how much of a clusterf*** the traffic was.

I dropped Jenn off at the Laura Ashley store and finally found a street parking spot.  I tend to think of Laura Ashley as the overly flowery clothing we wore back in the early 1990's, but it's actually a very nice home and furnishings collection.  I wasn't planning to buy anything, but I ended up finding these pretty little faceted crystal tea light holders (on sale!) that I knew would fit perfectly on my electric fireplace.  Here they are, now in place:

Afterwards, we walked over to the Huddersfield Open Market to explore their Saturday Second-Hand market.  The quarter surrounding the market appeared to be filled with discount and used furniture stores; it looked like the perfect place to pick up a deal on home goods.  In general the city centre has some beautiful architecture to admire.  The market building itself is a Grade 2 listed structure, with a restored Victorian cast iron and glass roof canopy.  To be honest, I had low expectations, but it was really nice.

They also do an antiques market one Sunday a month that I would love to check out sometime.

Jenn and I had a ball chatting and browsing up and down the aisles.  My rental house doesn't have many light fixtures, in two places, it's bare light bulbs hanging down from the ceiling, and I found a lovely light shade for only £10.  It was brand new with the original box; the seller said someone likely had bought it, didn't use it and couldn't be bothered to return it.  I've seen the same shade for sale at home stores since for £20 and more, so I know I got a good deal.  Here it is now hanging at home.  That's £10 well-spent!

Jenn found a good deal on a set of new luggage.  The luggage was necessary because she had done so much shopping, she needed more bags to transport everything home.  :-)  While she was taking care of that purchase, I enjoyed watching a butcher hawk his meat over a loudspeaker.  Now this was something I had never seen before.  I've been to markets before, but he was taking selling to a new level of showmanship.  I took a short video, because he had an incredible accent, and I just loved watching him in action.  Be sure to watch the video where you can turn up the sound to appreciate the accent.

Professor Henry Higgins would be in ecstasy.

After our successful, fun shopping excursion, we headed over to the Yorkshire Rose for lunch.  We really came for dessert, but we had to eat some lunch first.  I don't remember the main meal, but I'm sure it was tasty.  We are all about the dessert -- Jam Roly Poly, and no, there was NO sharing.  There is no "we" in Jam Roly Poly.  Their version was a yellow cake (technically, I guess, a suet pudding) rolled with raspberry jam, cooked and served warm with custard.  Delicious comfort food.

Unfortunately, I did eventually have to return Jenn to her husband.  :-(  We made a swing through Costa Coffee and then met back up with Pete at a Homebase store that was going out of business.  We didn't find any great deals, but I did pick up a metric tape measure.  Back at their hotel there were lots of big hugs good-bye, and then I started the sad drive back to Land of Shadow and endless rain.

Footnote:

While googling stuff related to driving over the Pennines, I stumbled across this wonderful blog post about The Stanza Stones, poems by Simon Armitage carved into stones across the area.  If you have extra time, I recommend a read.  Or you can buy the book.  The ode to RAIN seems especially appropriate for me.  It starts:

Be glad of these freshwater tears,
Each pearled droplet some salty old sea-bullet
Air-lifted out of the waves, then laundered and sieved, recast as a soft bead and returned.