The rain in Spain falls mainly in...England?

OK, so I know I've been complaining to everyone that this summer has been raining constantly. I can count on one hand the number of times in the last 2 months that we've seen two non-rainy days together. We'll occasionally get a sunny afternoon, or *gasp* even a full 24 hours without rain. But then it turns back into truly crappy weather.

London itself (at the moment) isn't under the water that places just to the north, west & south of us are. But we've definitely had our fair share of impacts:
- Our building gym is flooded. It'd just been refurbished after flooding just before we moved in. Grrr.
- Most of the restaurants we tried to eat at within about 3 blocks of our flat had flooded last Friday.
- About 1/5 of the stores I saw in Notting Hill/Portobello Rd were closed last Saturday, at the height of tourist season, because their roofs had leaked or the sewer lines overflowing had flooded their basements.
- The tube system was at least 60% blocked (not just delayed) for most of Friday & a lot of Saturday.

So, when I said it was raining a LOT, you believe me now, dontcha??

BTW, our flat is on the 4th floor. We haven't needed to buy a boat. Yet.

Do we remember the way to San Jose?

I know that Hank and I have mentioned to several people that we were looking at trying to get my assignment extended by work to stay here a bit longer. After being in limbo for about a month, we found out last week that the director of my department decided not to extend me out here. As California is the main home of the company, and we're a pretty small team still out here in London, there is more need for me to head back to the main hive.

I haven't really said anything about how I feel about this so far, because really I'm torn straight down the middle. I loved working in CA, lots of exciting things happen there, it's easier to get things done when there are so many more people you can ask questions to in the hallways. But I have loved working in the smaller London office where you get to know the people you're working with so much more - it's like being at a start-up again (a very, very well-funded start-up). CA has nice lovely sun. Living in London lets me wear scarves that I like to knit... and hats are really fabulous accessories! I have friends I miss tons in CA. I have new friends I've met in London that I don't want to leave. Professionally it's better for me to go back to CA. Professionally I've done well here in London and there's still more that I can do, and you get to wear all sorts of different hats in a smaller office. We've got our nice house with a good back yard for BBQs in CA. We live in an area in London where I can walk to get anything I might need, eat at 100 different restaurants, see movies, shop, etc.

So really there are as many reasons to be in one place as there are in the other. I've been a bit teary about this a few times, but I always come back to two points: 1) I knew this was temporary when I signed up, and 2) we're insanely lucky to have had the opportunity to do this at all.

My assignment expires Aug 31. We're planning to travel around for a few weeks afterwards, then head home sometime in September. That's all we've worked out thus far... will give updates once we have actual details for the plan.

Quote from today:

"...Six to nine hours of torrential rains..."

And now back to our regularly scheduled summer...??

An open letter to tourists of London

Dear Tourists in London,
I'm glad you're here enjoying this great city. It's awesome (except of course for the rain we've had every day since June 1, how hot the tube gets when the temperature goes over 75 deg F, and the fact that everything here costs 2x as much as it does anywhere else in the world). I love this city, I hope you do too.

However, I have a couple of suggestions/favors I'd like to propose to you today regarding London's public transportation system. It's easy, gets you where you want to go, albeit at astronomically high cost. So consider these the few freebies you'll get:

1. As you get on the tube, please try to do so in something resembling the orderly manner that the British have refined down to an art form. It's not the Continent - we queue here. I like queuing - it works. (No cuts, no butts, no coconuts.)
   
2. For example, your 3' x '3 x 2' backpack in which you seemed to have packed your entire life for a 2 week jaunt around England won't fit through the turnstiles no matter how much you try to pull it through like the Little Tortoise That Could. (Now un-wedge your backpack and step aside or I'll miss my train; that makes me grumpy. )
   
3. When you race up to be the first person at the turnstile, don't choose that time to find your transport ticket. If it's not in your hand, you've negated your place at the front of the line. (Excuse you, now move over. )
   
4. I realize London's streets are a total nightmare - I mean, it takes cabbies like 2 years of study just to qualify to take the certification test. The "London A to Z" (yes, I do pronounce it "A to Zed") is a wise investment. But I advise not you to choose one step past the exit turnstile of the tube, the bottom of the stairs exiting Victoria station (the single busiest station in London), or crowd the dead-center of the sidewalk just outside of the station to start consulting with your entire tour group of 18 over your "A to Z". (I happen to know where I'm going, so get outta my way.)
   

So, I hope these hints are just reminders of common sense that I'm sure all tourists innately possess, but may forget temporarily amid the excitement of this fabulous city.

Think of the tube entrances & exits as well as the sidewalks as our highways & interstates, since most of us don't have cars here. Anything you'd give me the finger for at home if I did on the highway, I equally would consider un-advisable when you're on the roads & public transport systems here. (And just as an FYI, road rash doesn't look good on you, so would you mind moving out of my way now?)

Best regards,
A fast-walking lady who's got somewhere to be that isn't Madame Tussaud's.


PS - for those thinking I've completely gone mental, I point out that there's not a little bit of sarcasm in this! ;)

The Algarve

Hank and I opted for a beach holiday this time, and we got some great recommendations about the Algarve area of Portugal (the very southern part of the country from the coast all the way to Spain). We've been doing so much city touring that having some time to just sit and read books (or play our entirely-too-addictive new PSP game) was such a treat!

We stayed in a beach town called Armacao de Pera, and the hotel was right in front of a long, busy beach section. Mostly we hung out at the pool-side area nearby steps that led down the the beach. (It was happily convenient to the pool-side bar area... imagine that!) We also had 6 solid days of perfectly sunny weather - something I haven't seen in London since May (... mutter, grumble). I'm doing my best now to savor having my skin color be something besides translucent for once. Hank, usually the king of first-day sunburns, managed to stave off getting fairly pink until our last day - hurray!

The hotel was a bit of the "cheap & cheerful" variety, but we had a killer room setup with a huge living room area and two windows both looking out over the beach. My afternoon naps were to the sounds of the waves less than 100 yards away... (man, I could use one of those now). The pool/beach area was really nice, however, and since that's where most of our time was, the rest of the hotel didn't matter a whole lot. The city of A. de Pera was definitely not tourist-gentrified, but still had lots of good restaurants and cafes. There was even a "circus" in town (with really freaky clown posters up all week... yes, Julie, I thought about you!) on the last night of our stay... we walked down to where the carnival area was going on, and they had the usual rigged games and questionably-safe rides. We opted instead for some churros freshly-made and rolled in cinnamon-sugar (not those nasty frozen ones most fairs get now) and continued our wander around town.

Portugal is very popular with British tourists... we were never without an English menu or someone to help take our order in English (although "sangria" doesn't really need too much translation). There's also the other European factor I hadn't considered when opting for a beach holiday, which was the prevalence of older gents in speedos. I'll not apologize for saying that unless you're a speedo MODEL, just don't go there.

In the evenings we picked a few of the nearby cities to visit, the largest one being Albuferia. There was a crappy, tourist trap area of that city that we mistakenly showed up at, and then a cooler, old-town area down the hill by the beach that we hiked down to. We even went back on our last day there to look around when the shops were open before heading off to catch our plane home. We ate a delicious dinner at a restaurant called A Ruina (The Ruin, located in what I'm guessing is a restored bit of old building) where you ordered by going up to the fish counter and pointing out the fish you wanted to eat. The calamari was so unbelievably tender and un-chewy - I never really knew squid came anything but rubber-bandy!! No sauce, just lemon... I'd go back in an instant just for that dish.

Ooh, and for the shocker of all shocks, on our first evening in Portugal, Hank said he had an announcement... HE NOW EATS FISH!! And he did, too - like every night! We shared some really delicious fish dishes like prawns in spicy piri piri sauce, some red snapper, and on his first night of eating FLESH in >16 years, he ate most of two swordfish steaks. Now really, is it *that* far a leap to starting to eat bacon?? ;)

Happy Wednesday!!

To all our friends in California (or Massachusetts or Illinois or where ever), we hope you have a nice Wednesday. It's yet another rainy day here in London, with no flags, no bbqs, no fireworks you illegally smuggled back from the next state over that sells "the good ones." Anyway, we hope you're enjoying your no-frills-here-in-England Wednesday however you like, as they try to repress the sad memories of the-one-that-got-away.

Now time for a cup of tea with one of my British co-workers, no doubt descendants of those crazy, rascally red-coats. Viva la revolution!