Gelato

Amorino. It's official - this is the best Gelato in Paris. In fact, it may be the best frozen thing to touch my tongue in my young life. Don't tell Italy... they'll hate me.

While I'm here, since I skipped a bit of posting while touring the UK - a couple random questions.. please weigh in:

1) Why is there such an unbelievable shortage of garbage cans in London? I almost had to take my trash with me back to Paris.
2) Is there a reason people seem to feel free to break wind at any time, in any place in Ireland?

Today is officially my last day in Europe, but my travels continue to Toronto - so if anything fascinating happens, the posts will continue.

Au revoir!

Alps Revisited

You may recall my somewhat angry post from the valley of Chamonix earlier this month. I thought I would give a visual to help explain. In the pic below, the red circle is about where I was, the red arrow is pointing generally where I needed to get to... and I should mention that my right knee had opted to administer shooting pains with every downward step. 4000 or so feet down, lightning storm most of the way, ran out of drinkable water at the top. No one to blame but myself, but as you'd imagine... in that moment, it's more fulfilling to blame everyone else. Took about 5 hours to hobble down.

The second picture is the visual equivelant of my frame of mind when I made that post. I may look happy, but look again.

There Once Was a Man from Nantucket...

Oh, admit it - when you hear the word "Limerick", that's the first thing you think of, too.

And strangely, a dirty joke seems entirely appropriate for the town of Limerick, Ireland - which seems to be a small industrial town utterly devoid of character. To be fair, I've only spent one cold, overcast day here.. but usually walking around the core gives you a pretty good sense for the place, and the sense I got was "dirty" and "uninspired". When hearing I was coming here, my cab driver in Cork said "Ah, going to Stab city are ye"... a nickname Limerick apparently received because it is home to a lot of gang violence. Amusing how Dubliners look down on Cork, and Corkies (I made that up) look down on Limerick.

I actually found Cork somewhat charming in a dirty way, and the core around St. Patrick St. has been renovated nicely over the last few years to give it a modern cosmopolitan feel in-line with being Ireland's second biggest city. Didn't hurt that I had a fantastic room in a brand new hotel with a giant picture window overlooking the River Lee. Also makes a convenient home base for tours of Blarney Castle (yes, I kissed the stone... I expect to break out in cold sores or some sort of rash at any time) and the Ring of Kerry, including Dingle Bay. Both were fantastic, though as the blood flow to my feet was cut off from the pressure on my knees from the seat in front, I remembered why I tend not to take coach buses. Pics up on Flickr - see the badge to the right for a few highlights.

Since I've been remiss in posting, I should also mention one of the highlights of my time in Dublin - the obligatory visit to the Guinness Storehouse. The building used to be the home of the fermentation process, but was converted to a very modern tourist facility that smoothly takes you through 7 floors starting with the brewing process and proceeding through the company history, transporation/distribution innovations, and a slew of advertising memorabilia. It's all well presented, but the clincher is the "free" (read: built into the entrance price) pint of Guinness at the top of the building in the Gravity Bar. With 360 degree views out over Dublin, it's a nice place to top off the experience, but really the brilliance is in getting you mildly tipsy before you leave. Just try and walk out with a negative impression at that point... "Arthur Guinness... I love you, man!". Also, I don't want to brag - but I was made an honorary apprentice, so I've got that going for me.

As for Limerick, I'm opting to leave a day early and head over to Galway. No offense, but I prefer the dirty poem.

Thanks a Million

Grabbed an Aer Lingus flight from Paris to Dublin earlier today. I saved the english-speaking leg of my trip until the end, knowing I'd be in dire need of some familiar language by the time I was 2 months in. It was a hot and humid day in Paris today - not my favorite kind, so I was overheated and miserable by the time I got to the airport. Then, I stepped on to the plane and was greeted by a smiling flight attendant who looked at my boarding pass, and said in that fantastic Irish accent "Thanks a million!". A smile suddenly crossed my face, and has pretty much been there ever since.

Leaving the airport, I grabbed a cab and totally confounded the driver by letting myself into the right hand side while he was looking off to the left wondering where I went. Note to self: In Ireland, driver's side is on the right. We eventually sorted it out, and continued on our way. Now, I'm a pretty laid back person (that may be an understatement), but the only way I can describe myself on the way to the hotel is 'giddy'. I was so excited to be somewhere with people defaulting to english, that I kept the cab driver talking the entire way there. Didn't hurt that he was friendly and sarcastic in typical Irish fashion.

Was dreading my search for dinner tonight, but kudos to Dublin for having a great selection of vegetarian restaurants - 2 of which happen to be a very short walk from my hotel in Temple Bar. I chose Cornucopia, and ventured out into the downpour that had formed. I know what you're thinking; "Rain.... in Ireland??" ("A tiger.... in Africa?" 2 points for placing that nerd quote). My stomach is now full of moroccan puy lentil tagine, brilliant side salads and a cheddar cheese scone and my smile...? Still wide. Ah, Ireland.

P.S. Has anyone ever been to a Haagen Dazs where they ask you to wait to be seated? That was a new one for me.

Portraits and Pirates

Yesterday, I finally made it down to the Musee d'Orsay, after cutting through the Tuileries to watch a few mini-sailboats afloat in the fountain, commanded by children with sticks.

Anyways, back to the museum. If you're not familiar, the Musee d'Orsay was originally a train station built to coincide with the Exposition Universelle in 1900. Platforms were too short for modern trains, so instead of being torn down it was eventually converted to a museum in the 1970s. Lucky for us European cities generally believe in preserving history. It's a fantastic space, open and airy as you'd expect - and so, much like the Getty in LA, I found myself more drawn to photographing the architecture than to the artwork itself. Though, unlike the Getty - there are some first-rate works here - so I did do some wandering through the impressionists and sculpture areas. Unfortunately, the Picasso exhibit and photography areas were closed off for renovation/additions. Food options for vegetarians were once again non-existent (would you like chicken, ham or chicken?), so I didn't last as long in the museum as I'd have liked.

After a little dose of french culture, I decided to take in a little high-end American artistic expression for balance. Headed east to Odeon and grabbed a slice of pizza before sitting down to watch Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End. It's about what I expected - cheesy, trying unsuccessfully to switch between drama and comedy... Keira Knightly's attempted 'Braveheart'-style speech may have in fact been the funniest thing in the movie, though I'm going to assume that was unintentional. Still, it was visually pleasing and Jack Sparrow is always fun to watch... so, as a much-needed hit of American cinema, it did the trick. I noticed that the french theatres (at least the UGC chain) seem to reverse things and do previews first and the commercials second, just before the movie. Seems wise from a business perspective - more people in their seats while the commercials are running. However, gotta tell ya, from a consumer perspective - unbelievably annoying. Just hammers home my great joy in paying 9.50 (this time it's euros) to be advertised to for 20 minutes.

Off to Dublin tomorrow.

Tied at 1

After a day of knee recovery, I hit the mountains again today - this time with a little more mechanical assistance. First I rode the Aigulle du Midi cable car to 3842 meters (that's ~12000 feet or so) and stared down at the clouds and across at the tallest peak in Europe - Mont Blanc. Surprising number of climbers traversing the snow/glaciers on their way to the top.

Then, I spent about 30 minutes dangling alone in a small gondola crossing over to Point Hellbringer (ok, it's Hellbronner, but the nickname I gave it. It calls me VS1. Not very original, but what do you want, it's just a landmass) in Italy. Rather than break out my passport, I took a couple pics and headed back across again. I can honestly say that particular crossing is one of the most thrilling and most terrifying things I've experienced.

On my return, I dropped back down to the half-way point on the Aigulle du Midi cablecar, which is otherwise known as Plan de l'Aigulle - it connects you to the Grand Balcon Nord hike across the valley side of the mountains. Along the way, I was able to capture pics of the scene of Sunday's crime (my previous post), once back in Paris I'll put those up to explain my liberal use of f-bombs. Knee pain came back but I fought through it and finally reached the Mer de Glace glacier, which is just phenomenal. From there I took a leisurely ride on the rack and pinion Montenvers train back to Chamonix. Pics to come - if they don't blow your mind, I'll eat my camera. Mmm... shutter.

Alps 1 - Me 0

Yesterday managed to become a contender for the "Worst F'ing Day of my Life" award. If you know me, you know I don't swear a lot - even in PG-condensed-form, so that should make my point, but while I'm at it...

F you Tourist Office for having to close for 2 hours to eat lunch. F you grocery store for the same thing, only 3.5 hours. F you La Flégère cablecar. F you Lac Blanc. F you snow. F you rain. F you lightning. F you John for poor planning. Most importantly, F you left knee. That is all.

P.S. F you french keyboard for making me hit shift for a period. . . .