Chaos Leaves Town

After resting up at my brother’s house just a couple weeks, I was surprisingly ready to travel again. At least in my comfortable RV. Pretty happy I wouldn’t have to live out of a carry on bag for a long while. I was ready to head north to avoid the heat of the desert. Off I went on June 30th. By July 1st, was enjoying the cool air of the Mt. Shasta area and later that day, I was all set up at Rolling Hills RV Park in Fairview, Oregon. Not my favorite RV park in the country, but it’s just so damned conveniently placed near my friends.

Continue reading →

Well, folks, these are my last few days in Europe…

Here I was in the suburbs of Dublin, in an apartment built in the 1850’s for coal miners, with nothing touristy nearby, and I couldn’t bring myself to leave the apartment. I was mentally and physically exhausted by travel. Living out of a carry on bag had it’s advantages of course, but it’s limitations as well. While I was in Paris I thought it might be cool to go to the west coast of France, rent a house and hole up there for a month, but figured I might miss out on visiting all the other places I’d been since. Prague, Berlin, London, Bath. So I’d kept moving. And eventually, that takes some travel enthusiasm out of you. My host has a large video library and I ended up doing nothing but watch movies and surf the net.

While web surfing, I discover there’s a road in Northern Ireland named Ballymongan. That is interesting because I was just doing some random searches for my family name, Mongan, and found that it links to Ballymongan. With the suggestion in articles I’m reading that’s where my family hails from originally. Back in the states I’d spent 100’s of hours researching the families Irish roots but had never stumbled onto Ballymongan. I had traced the surname Mongan back to the year 630, but had never pinpointed an area of origin this concisely. Ballymongan is basically just an ‘area’ of Ireland now. The family is fairly scattered. Three hour drive NW of Dublin, and less than an hours drive due east of Donegal.

Back in the early 1960s, one of my distant cousins had traveled to Ireland and came back with pictures of what they said was the Mongan family castle. I remember looking at them, and it’s as you would expect, the pictures showed a ruin. Still, if I could get over there to Ballymongan and perhaps find a long lost relative, maybe visit the castle if it’s still there, that would be cool.

So I ask my host if he’d have the time to drive me over there. I’d pay for everything of course. Unfortunately, he’s too busy to make the trip. So close, yet so far.

I start trying to find some means of transport over there that would work and find an AirBnB apartment to stay at…but travel exhaustion was hitting me hard. Couldn’t bring myself to do it. My European trip was over. I just wanted to get back home, sleep for a week, and then rest for a month without traveling anywhere. To hell with it. I checked ticket prices for Irish Air and bought a ticket for a couple days on that gave a $1,000 break on the price over a flight tomorrow. When my host got home later, I asked if I could stay another night (I’d only booked 2 nights). Necessary for that airline ticket price discount. But turned out he had another guest showing up the day I wanted. So back online, I find a nice hotel that was having a price special and reserved a room. This would put me right downtown Dublin so I could do a walkabout whenever I wished while I stayed there.

2nd Day in Dublin…

Next morning, showered, had breakfast, cleaned up my messes, locked up and dropped my key in the mailbox slot as I trudged off into town. And as I passed a gentleman my age behind his fence, I asked where the nearest bus stop was? He stares at me for a few moments, mumbles a couple words I couldn’t make heads or tails out of,  turns and walks back into his house. What the hell? I had my Android tablet set up with GPS mapping and decided to hoof it instead of taking the bus. It wasn’t all that far. That would give me more of a personal view of Dublin and her people.

Soon I was near the river, just a couple blocks distant. My GPS mapping was working fine as I walked into a newly rebuilt area with fancy condos, a hotel, government buildings, a small park, the works. All spruced up. Without a single fukin’ street sign on any street corner, or on any building like they do in so many cities. WTF? This huge area had absolutely no help for someone trying to find an address. There weren’t even any building numbers I could find. And my GPS got confused around this time. I think it was because of being surrounded by highrises.

Now, I knew I was only a few blocks away from where I wanted to be, no biggie, but it would have helped if the city of Dublin would have required building contractors to install street signs in this large area of town. Wow. I did find a city crew working in an alley and I got to talk to the foreman a bit. I was laughingly complaining about the lack of street signs after I’d gotten directions from him and he didn’t believe me. Until we walked into that new area and I pointed it out to him. He’d never noticed. Funny.

Following his easy directions, I was soon right where I wanted to be. This is the main drag and the hotel is nearby. I haven’t been yet, I’m approaching it though. Dragging my bags.

This statue is on O’Connell Street, downtown. Sort of the city center. A way on is O’Connell bridge that has some famous history. But, remember I was sick of traveling so I didn’t bother to investigate the history of Dublin.  Everything is nice and modern. They even have a trolley system.

Continue reading →

Since I now had a full blown cold, I wasn’t going to travel, mainly because my next junket was to fly to Dublin. If you’ve ever flown, you know the pounding headache you can get if you have a cold at the same time. So that was off the table. Besides, it’s fun, interesting, and informative here in Bath. Really enjoying my stay.

I pleaded with the nice gurl who always seemed to be at the hostel’s sign in desk to get me into a room where there aren’t too many people so as to protect as many as I could from the germs I was spewing out fairly regularly as the cold symptoms peaked. She did her best but the 4rd night I was there I ended up in a 10 person room as the smaller rooms had been booked by groups of people traveling together. My bunk was a bottom one, in a fairly large room, and apart from the main grouping of bunks. So that helped, and it was her doing. As the roommates came in downstairs, she’d warn them about my cold and I did the same up in the room. Yes, I did try to get a private room but those too were booked. Some of them weeks in advance so it wouldn’t have been fair to those people for the hostel to cancel on them. And, I did keep my Nyquil very close at hand and keep a cover over my mouth as much as possible. Gah. No fun.

Since I spent so much time in the hostel’s seating/dining area, thought I show some pictures. I’m on a not-very-comfortable vinyl couch. Nearby is an electrical outlet for my tablet, and a handy cup of coffee. The bar and kitchen are off in the direction of that blue sign above the entryway. They have a few big screen TVs and I soon found that this bar was fairly popular with the local Aussies who would come in here en masse, packing the joint while they all watched satellite broadcasts of their favorite rugby team that had reached the finals back home. That had happened two nights ago, and was to happen again tonight. I didn’t mind of course, it’s kind of fun being around a bunch of fans whooping it up during a game.  It was funny, but I knew what the rugby schedule was by now, and a guy with a thick Aussie accent who had just arrived to stay in the hostel, as he passed me he muttered something about missing the rugby match. I was able to point out that no, he hadn’t. That it was on the tellie, here, tonight. Gained a new friend and someone to talk to for a time.

Don’t remember what the hell this is. Looks like part of the hostel though.

Oh, wait, yes, I do remember. They had a basement club. This is the main room early on so there’s no one here. Big screen TV. Sort of looks like a speakeasy.

Continue reading →

Today is going to be a thrill ride into the English countryside. Really. I’d booked myself on a countryside tour with Mad Max Tours and was pretty excited about it. If it hadn’t been for my cold, now in it’s 5th or 6th day, I’d have been much more enthused. We are heading for Glastonbury, Cotswolds, & Stonehenge! Yea!

The company uses a minibus which seats 16. I’m to meet the bus just a couple hundred yards from the hostel, but first, I walked over to the Avon to try to get a nice picture of the tour boat I was on the day before. Unfortunately, the boat wasn’t there this early in the morning. And I don’t know where they hide. I didn’t see any of the big tour boats moored anywhere along the river when I took the tour yesterday.

This V shaped water step is for water retainment. It’s function is to back up water so it’s deep enough in this area for boats. The slack water on the left fronts the weir gate and the tour boat parks there along the wall in the slack water. When the Avon is in flood, they open that gate to let excess water run off. It’s a fairly modern fix, even though the metal works of the gate look aged. The Romans had to raise part of the baths at one point because of the recurrent floods, so flooding was an ongoing problem for thousands of years in this area. I’m a little curious about why the Romans, famed for their excellent water engineering skills, didn’t do something extraordinary about the flooding to protect the baths. Perhaps they did, but the evidence has been destroyed.

Water works like this helped maintain a constant volume of water flow so that the downstream water wheels, used for powering industry, had consistent power. There were a few water wheels in this upper portion of the river as well but the damming slowed the flow upstream from here, making the downstream section a better choice for siting a water wheel. I didn’t visit any mills but I believe there were several in Bath downstream from here during medieval times.

I had enough time to get a better shot of the Grand Parade. I am disappointed that I can’t find a history of it. I’m pretty sure that the tour boat guide told us it had been built for women only, and may have been built atop a Roman walkway. The story was fascinating, but that’s all I remember about it. I did find this info on the Parade Gardens. I’ve included the link here because of the excellent photos of the area. The Gardens are just beyond the buildings in this shot, that tree there peeking up on the left is actually in the gardens. And just beyond that is the Abbey Hotel where I would meet the tour bus.

Continue reading →

Next morning, it was obvious that the cold had taken strong hold of my immune system and was shaking it by the boots. Laughing in the face of my do nothing white cells. Dribbling out various orifices like columns of soldiers on the way to attack more innocents. Blah. Hack, cough.

I seem to be drifting into hyperbole here, it actually wasn’t too bad. I could feel the cold for sure, but a slug of Nyquil (or was it Dayquil?) every four hours really knocked back any symptoms. I’d had worse colds, this one was comparatively mild.

Had a leisurely breakfast and sloshed down a pot of coffee while web surfing. It was afternoon when I finally ventured out clutching a pocketful of tissues. My choice of activity was to wander over to the river and maybe take a boat tour up the river. I was curious about whether or not there were any Roman ruins upstream. As you can see, the weather was glorious. Mild, warm, plenty of sunshine. And this is the river Avon. Though Avon just translates as River. And it’s not the famous Avon. That’s a different river. You’ve heard of it I’m sure. I had about a half hour to kill while waiting for the next cruise so the next few pictures are from the general area of the boat dock.

This is the Pulteney Weir. Note the slack water on the left. It’s slack in front of the weir that’s thrown open during floods. The old mechanism was pretty interesting. The doors, gears and works are all old metal craft designs. Should have taken a picture.

There’s Bath Abbey in the distance. I think that’s a hotel in the foreground.

Continue reading →

It was interesting to wander around Bath my first evening here. And the hostel was old and quaint. A pub, restaurant and hostel all in one 3 story building. Here’s an interactive map of the street the hostel is on…Belushi’s is the building at the end of the street and on the left: Green St., Bath This street is typical of many in Bath. If you walk towards the church there at the end of the street and turn around, here’s Belushi’s…

I had the free hostel breakfast in Belushi’s the next morning. Kind of sparse but, you wouldn’t starve. Here’s a shot of the reception area that I found online. It’s probably a copyrighted picture and it’s not being used here for commercial purposes (except indirectly), but as an example of their fine establishment. If I knew who to ask, I’d get permission:

Pretty nice here, huh? In the mornings, those tables are pushed together and breakfast goodies are set on them. I tried ordering an eggs, bacon, and toast breakfast here one morning and got the same undercooked toast, bacon, and runny eggs I’ve gotten for breakfast several places in Europe. Don’t understand what the cooks in Europe have against thoroughly cooked bacon, or eggs for that matter.

I spent many hours here during my stay, and also in the other section of the bar where they’ve got overstuffed furniture. This hostel, like all the others I’d stayed at in Europe, has brochures of various excursions you can take and I could tell that first morning that I might need to stay a little longer than the 3 days I’d originally planned, because of all the cool things tourists could do I’d found presented in the brochures.

Continue reading →

So today was a hang out, don’t do much day and after breakfast, I found the laundry room and started my laundry. I’d be stuck here for and hour and a half while my laundry was busy so I spent the time surfing for info on my next adventure, checked for tours of London like I’d had in Rome, read the newspaper while my tablet was charging, that sort of thing. Soon enough, my laundry had gone through the wash, and I stuffed it all in the dryer. And inserted my coins. Pushed the button and nothing happened. Damn. So I put more coins in. Still nothing. These are really expensive machines and I was getting a little perturbed that the machine wouldn’t start. Then I noticed, or rather finally figured out what the cryptic signs meant…I’d been putting money in the wrong machine. Crap! And there was already someone else’s clothes in the dryer I’d been coining. And these machines are the type that add time when you add coins.

I sat there for a while, pulled my clothes out of the dryer and set them aside, and waited. Got bored, ran upstairs for a quick coffee. Came back down and hung around the laundry room. Eventually, a couple of young adults came back in surprised their dryer was still running. I explained all the extra money I’d plugged in, they took their very dry clothes out, I popped mine in and off I went for another 35 minutes of waiting. So that cost me an extra half hour. And around $10 US for what should have been $5.

Time for folding clothes, straightening up my belongings, and a shower and I’m all set. Best time for a shower at a hostel is around 10-11 AM as there are so many that have checked out or headed off on tours by that time of the morning. In my case, my roommates luggage was all gone so they’d moved on and I had the room to myself. When I’m all ready, I head downstairs and talk to two of the desk clerks to find out if they know where I can find a new charger for my tablet. Sure enough, they do, and off I go to Kings Cross to grab a specific bus which heads for High Street. The directions I’d gotten, while convoluted, were concise and I soon found myself to be in the ‘hip’ neighborhood of London. The place where all the kids go to find adventure. Where artists go for cheap rent. And the place to go to find street vendors during the day. It’s a low cost neighborhood where I’d soon find a flea market, a couple music venues, an eclectic feel to it, and strange art strewn about here and there.

But before I got there, here’s a shot of King’s Cross Station where the bus, local trains, and tube all come together. Right behind me is where the buses line up. I walked here from the hostel and sure enough, it’s only a 10 minute stroll. This is where I came every day to make my way around the city.

I jumped aboard a double decker bus heading my direction. We’re on our way to High Street where I’ve been assured all my wildest dreams of finding a new charger will come true.

And a look at the top deck of the bus before anyone joined me. Comfy seats.

Continue reading →

After a restful night in my large bottom bunk bed, under a nice window that I’d cracked open the night before for a cooling breeze, I dressed and hurried down to breakfast in the basement. It was 6:30 ish as I’d gone to bed early and awoke early. I’d toured the low ceiling room last night and found there were only so many outlets and this morning I’d found my slow charger had not topped off my tablet overnight. Crap. So I found a seat at a four person table, right next to an outlet, plugged in and proceeded to load my tray with free breakfast goodies. Cereal, milk, coffee, toast, jam, and a couple slices of cheese. They had cold cuts, but I don’t have meat for breakfast as a rule. Except on weekends, and I forgot that today was Sunday. Hah. I should have gone out and had an interesting English breakfast…too late now, I was already stuffing my face by the time I thought of it.

And then this really cute 20 something gurl sits across from me at this not very wide table and proceeds to cough and hack the entire time she sat there. Gah! Go away! I don’t want no fuk’n cold! I tried to lean far, far away from her zone of germs…as far as my electrical charging cord would allow. Since the breakfast room was packed now, I had nowhere to move and still charge up my tablet.

After checking my email and reading my comics, I see that I’ve got even less battery charge left on my tablet then before. This ain’t right. Normally it would fully charge overnight. And barely lose any charge while plugged in while I’m using it. I’d replaced my charger with a substitute when one of the originals ‘legs’, the part that plugs into the wall socket, got all wiggly a month before because it had a broken solder joint. I also took a close look at the specs printed on the devices and found that the substitute charger I was now using a 1 Amp charger whereas the original was a 2 Amp. In addition, the cord for the original charger was thicker and heavier than any of the spare cables I’d brought. Damn.

I finished breakfast and surfing, then trudged upstairs trying to figure out what to do about the slow charging rate on my tablet. For starters, I figured I could charge it up all day in my room while I’m gone. That’s scary of course because there weren’t any lockable storage containers in the room at all, and I really couldn’t afford to have my tablet stolen. It had all my plans, links, phone numbers, notes, travel bargain bookmarks on it. It even has a working phone built in. Even if I find a secret place to charge the thing, I’m going to have to find a better charger somewhere in London to replace the bad one. Well, screw it, I’m in London and want to tour the town and charge my tablet. I looked all over the room trying to find a place where it wouldn’t be so visible. Eventually, I pulled out my heavy bunk bed and there was an outlet hidden behind it. Oh, great! I plugged in my charger, hid my tablet and charging cord under dirty clothes, blankets and pillows, pushed the bunk bed back against the wall so none of my roommates would spot it and off I went exploring London. And while exploring, I’d be looking for an electronics shop where I could buy a new charger.

The hostel had a walking tour assembling outside the building and I joined that group. We briskly set off towards King’s Cross to board the tube, and stopped every few minutes as our guide regaled us with stories of ancient daring do.

“The time has come,” the Walrus said, “To talk of many things: Of shoes–and ships–and sealing-wax–Of cabbages–and kings–

And why the sea is boiling hot–
And whether pigs have wings.”

And so, along our walk—we talked of many things. But sadly, as was our lot—saw nary a pig with wings.

We did, however, see some typical English neighborhoods with their typical cabs and lorries.

Continue reading →

It was May 31st, 2014 when I arrived in London. The bus from Amsterdam dropped us off at a non-descript bus station in what seemed like the middle of town. It was 6:30 AM and I was a little rummy from lack of sleep. As I headed off with my luggage, I asked a couple guys I’d talked to during the bus ride if they knew where I needed to go to find my hostel. With the new directions in hand, and discovering that the hostel was fairly close, I invited one of the guys for some coffee so I could pick his brain about London since he lived here and all. He didn’t have much money left after his trip on the continent and appreciated the breakfast I paid for while I appreciated the info he gave me about London. And then he says, “I’ve got some time, would you like to walk over to Buckingham Palace after breakfast?” Hah! Now that’s handy. Sure, let’s do it. So off we went to BP. This early in the morning, traffic is light, not many tourists around, and I was totally unaware that we only needed to walk maybe 5-6 blocks.  See that flag? It means that the Queen IS in residence in the palace.

I asked him where the doorbell is, because I wanted to say Hi to the queen, and share some crumpets and tea. And invite her to take over the colonies again since our congress didn’t seem to have any idea how to govern anymore. We couldn’t find a single doorbell. Damn.

Continue reading →

Next morning I quickly checked for any answers from AirBnB hosts for a room in Amsterdam. Nothing but a couple more rejections. Damn. Well, I thought, when I get to Amsterdam I’ll impose on a taxi driver to find me a hotel room or something. Still wondered what the deal was…why everything was booked? I began to wonder, based on the kinds of rejection notes I was getting, that had I’d been a cute 20 something woman if the hosts might not have suddenly had an open bed for me.

Well, whatever, made my way to the train station and off we went.

Pretty nice train. Large comfortable seats with enough empties that I had a table all to myself. Have to say it was really fast and smooth ride too. Boarded around 9:30 AM. 

Continue reading →