Sometime in the late 90s I stepped out into Gaylord's back alley (arf arf) and found, lodged in the dumpster, an ageing road bike. Being the, erm, bargain-hunter that I am I fished it out and took a look. Frame, fork, wheels, tyres, brakes all accounted for. No obvious damage, not even a puncture. Other than a slightly uriney color there was nowt wrong with it, it was just tossed aside because the cost of living in America is artificially low. So it has been my trusty steed for the past decade. Then midlife crisis got to me and I've splurged actual money (albeit on ebay) for something that might actually require brakes (as opposed to friction) to slow down. "Introducing" the bleeding badger...
Hoping to have struck Craigslist gold again. We've sublet the Clarkson St abode for 6 months, mid-Sept -> mid-March to some doctor types. Meanwhile, we've secured a condo with hottub in Noe Valley, San Fran. It's allegedly in one of the sunny parts of the city, hooked into Bart & Light Rail and bordering the barmongous Mission district. Should be good times, although probably not without hitches. Now if only craigslist could pack up our house & drive the contents over the mountains / desert.
OK, so it's always up there, alongside Melbourne and Geneva in those (probably Swiss/Australian-based) studies into quality of life. But I never gave a moment's thought to Vancouver as a place to go. In fact, I'd studiously avoided Canada as a country for a decade. Why go to Detroit-facing Toronto when there's Chicago over the way? Why listen to poorly pronounced French when you can go to Paris? Why go to Vancouver when I have spent twenty-something weeks in the Pacific Northwest courtesy of Portland?
Well suffice to say that a trip to those parts for (parents') Independence Day over July 4 weekend left me suitably impressed. Thanks to Al&Jane, Erin and AlBraaan for showing us the ropes. Sydney-style inlets / beaches, the most spectacular urban park in N America and mountains-on-the-doorstep. The summery weather may have helped but it's a top-3 contender for West-Coast N American cities to inhabit. Of course, there's only one non-coastal place to live in, but that goes without saying...
Meddling Kids
Wednesday, 01 July 2009
mi manca il mare mediterraneo
Every time I visit the Mediterranean I wonder why-oh-why am I not living somewhere on its shores, preferably in a country with outstanding cuisine and an abundance of high-speed trains / lowcost airlines delivering you to its door. This trip I was barred from going to the obvious choice, Italy, on the basis of variety being the spice of life. Where else to go?
We were plunged into an existential vortex of doubt and despair, pondering godforsaken purpose-built resort complexes because they offered free childcare. Greece / Turkey seemed a bridge too far, especially after the transatlantic flight.Oscillating between France and Spain, the strength (or lack thereof) of the dollar got the best of us and we went for Spain. Beautiful beaches abound on the Costa Brava, where the pines roll of the hills into secluded bays. But the tapas got the best of us; there's only so much jamon one can take, even in 10 days. That aside, it was a good time.
So back to the asphalt jungle that is the US, presumably I would be longing for the cutesy Eurostreets when I got back. Did I heck...
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