radiopeter

I just submitted Meo at ICanHasCheezburger.com. I hope they post him!

The folks over at WhoNeedsAniPhone are acting right on cue.

Imitation is the highest form of flattery.

I said it on WindyCityQueercast and I’ve mentioned it to about a hundred people. The iPhone as brought two revolutionary concepts into being:

1) The GUI (that’s Graphical User Interface for you non-nerds) is simply amazing and is begging to be copied. The folks at WhoNeedsAniPhone are working that out on Windows ME as I type this.

2) Visual Voicemail (Apples’ term) where your voicemails come to your phone and are stored in a list. You can listen to any one, in any order, and scrub the audio back and forth. It’s pretty damn amazing and soon the copycats will begin working.

I bought it because Jobs and his kids do things right. And riding a tech wave, especially one of this sort, is extremely enjoyable. So all you naysayers, all you iPhone haters who produce lists of reasons why you hate my phone, all you plebeians who can’t simply say “Cool gizmo. Not for me, but cool gizmo” can ESAD**.

** Eat Shit And Die

Maybe it will be something good…

I was just reading Meredith Viera’s blog and she has a case of writers block. Maybe we should call it writers blog-ck. Nothing to write about it seems.

I’m a wordy guy. I like to talk and I like to tell stories. But like us all, sometimes I don’t have too much to say. Or do I… My suggestion to her was to tell a story from her past. It’s a good idea for a couple reasons:

1) Blogs = history. I can look back on the years I’ve been blogging and it’s just like a personal journal. My writing helps remind me of what I had going on at that time, and in a few instances, I’ve been able to avoid mistakes because I’ve been in similar situations. It’s my history. Right here.

2) Most of us weren’t blogging 10 years ago. But we’ve done many years of living. Lots of accumulated memories that may not be recorded anywhere. Blogs are certainly the place for that. Write about what you’ve done, where you’ve been, and how you felt. That’s good stuff.

3) Stories from your past are interesting. We are all human and we’re so similar to each other we tend to forget just how much we have in common. Sharing your past with other people helps reinforce just how human we are. At least that’s what I think. Plus, if you can tell me a story from your past, I might learn something and apply it to my future. That’s good stuff.

So Meredith, I know your plight. I’ve been there. But when my noggin comes up empty, I try and step back in time and tell my readers (or my blog) a story from my past.

It works like a charm every time.

My head isn’t 100% clear yet. Could be jet-lag. Could be aging. Could be the massive amounts of work I have pending on many fronts. I’m not sure.

Friday night I intended to get out much earlier than I did. Somehow I lost track of time and didn’t make it out of the house after work until 12:30am. So I guess I didn’t make it out on Friday, but instead, on Saturday. I meant to get to Spin earlier to see Judy Tenuta vs. The Shower Contest, but that didn’t happen. Instead, a few beers with the boys and I headed home to bed. Zzzz.

Saturday I woke up insanely early and did a ton of chores before my teacher arrived at 3:30 for my Japanese lesson. It went well and we gossiped for a while before digging into my next chapter. It’s getting painfully harder and I don’t feel like I’m learning as quickly as possible. So I need to kick things into a higher gear and figure out what I’m going to do to learn more Kanji.

Elaine and John arrived just shy of 5:00. She’s now the proud owner of my Razr. I have no need for it since I moved to the iPhone.

I should mention here that I’m still in love with the iPhone. Still REALLY in love with it. And I love when people who haven’t ever touched it first get a chance to play. The squeals of glee when they first use the pinch zoom are priceless.

Anyway, we headed out to Cesars for killer margaritas (they aren’t kidding) and Judy Tenuta at the Lakeshore Theatre. It was a really fun night in all, but it ended kinda early for me because I woke at the ass crack of dawn. Oh well, it happens right?

I was up early on Sunday and ended up going for a lovely bike ride with Ken and Brad up into Evanston. The weather was picture perfect and it felt good to get out and really ride. I’ve been riding with destinations-in-mind (home, work, etc.) lately, and it was nice just to wander around on two wheels. Somehow that seems more pure - cycling around with no time scale and no real destination. I need to do that more.

I’m finally back in the proper time zone in my head. I’ve been here since Tuesday, but have been more than loopy.

My entire London trip is blogged and photographed.

Glad I’m back. More to come next week…

I woke up, after having nicely packed my luggage the evening before, heavy hearted. I knew we’d be leaving today and I couldn’t help feeling sad.

It’s strange. I love living in Chicago. It makes me happy and safe and affords me a wonderful life. But every time I get a taste of another place, it tastes good.

Really good.

I’m not going to move here, but I could see myself living here for a bit I think. That’s definitely not something for now, and maybe not even in the near future. And with any luck, I’ll be returning for some business next year. But I’m sad to go. I’ve gotten used to being here and living in this routine.

I’m comfortable. That’s really what I like.

We’re off to the airport this afternoon. Then home. It’ll be wonderful to see my family and my cats. But I will miss London.

Cheers.

Tomorrow I will leave my little comfy hotel and the dramatic streets of London. Morning coffee and croissants, afternoon curry, and evening meals on the town will slip into a memory as I prepare to depart.

I’m a little sad actually. It’s been a wonderful trip, and even thought I have to be in the office tomorrow, today felt like my last day.

The morning brought some good meetings and some even better lunch time chats with coworkers. It was all good fun and I’m really happy to have met many of the people on this side of the pond.

In the evening, after work, a few of us headed to the pub across the way from the office for beers and some snack foods. They had something called, I think, an Indian Delight. It was a board with lots of tasty little bites of different Indian foods. Drinking my last pint of Bombardier left me a little melancholy.

The television is on now in my hotel room and I’m watching all these people flooded in various parts of the U.K.

Scary.

Perhaps HE rested on Sunday, but we didn’t. Up early and into the office to work work work. It wasn’t as bad as it sounds, but we put in a full day of this and that, tying up loose ends and getting our project off to a successful start.

It worked. Thank goodness it worked.

After eating at Pizza Express again for lunch, we were told Canary Wharf was something to see, so we got on the Northern line, transferred to the Jubilee, and exited at Canary Wharf.

Um, honestly, it wasn’t much. So we walked out of the area and basically trespassed into some residential areas to get a better view of the Millennium Dome.

Through some beautiful condos and apartment complexes, we were able to get on the water directly across from the dome, which looks more like a construction site than anything else.

History says that the wharf was originally one of the busiest ports in the world, employing up to 50,000. During WWII the docks were pretty much destroyed, and as far as I know it never really recovered.

Now it’s home to several major skyscrapers and more are on their way. With such a demand for new office space in London without destroying much of the historic areas, the wharf seemed to become fit the bill nicely.

Under the Maggie Thatcher regime, the wheels were set into motion and the Canary Wharf began to take shape. Now it looks like a very urban downtown section. Sort of a slice of Manhattan on the water, with small sections of river meandering through it. There’s tons of shops and lots of tall buildings, but avoid the area if you visit. It’s just boring.

Plus there was no good place to eat late on Sunday. So back on the tube to Leicester Square (pronounced Lester Square) we went because Karin had a taste for something from Chinatown.

A block from the tube stop she spied a menu that looked tasty. We popped in and sat and waited for what seemed forever to order. But it was worth the wait.

We started with hot and sour soup, which began very sour but as we ate it, and our palettes mellowed out, it was just right. Karin ordered red-cooked slow roasted pork with taro. I ordered crispy beef with chili sauce, Szechuan style.

Both were delicious. The pork was fatback, and had been roasted so long that the fat was smooth and spreadable, barely attached to soft meat that was flavorful with just a hint of anise. The taro was soft and delicious.

My crispy beef was crispy and full of chili flavor, but definitely not Szechuan in heat level. Not spicy. More sweet and candied with veggies. All in all delicious, and we had a plate of sweet oranges for dessert.

Another day of work, good eating, and some sights.

How on earth did they get all that stuff? That’s the question I kept (and keep) asking myself while we were at The British Museum. We started with a quick breakfast at McD’s and then sped off to the museum with the intention of spending most of the day wandering around.

Karin and I both wanted to see the mummies, but we stayed our pace and slowly winded our way through the museum. We began with Egyptian and Greek artifacts, slowly tracing through time as we moved among the cases. Row after row of artifacts, beautifully preserved and documented, in quantities that amazed me.

How did they come to have such a big collection?

At the end of the first floor galleries, you arrive in a reconstruction of the Acropolis. Sort of. There are marble carved paintings displayed around the entire interior of the rooms. I kept thinking “Why aren’t these in Greece?”

Don’t get me wrong, I was fascinated to see them. But I don’t understand why they are here.

By this time we were ready for lunch, so we set out to the small square opposite the museum and ducked into a tiny café for quiche, salad, and slices of apple tart with rich hot coffee. All completely satisfying and energizing for the rest of the day ahead.
We returned to the museum. Making our way up the stairs, we moved into the thickest crowds. You could hear cameras beeping and see flash bulbs popping off here and there. Ignorant fools. You shouldn’t use flash bulbs on three thousand year old artifacts. Thankfully everything is encased in glass, so some of the harm is mitigated.

Of course, we were in the section of Egyptian artifacts where mummies and sarcophagi are on display. Many of them were breathtaking in both color and size. But I had a nagging feeling that it just seemed plain wrong that they were here and not back in Egypt. Did they get here by legal means? Were they gifts? Why, why, why? I couldn’t shake a small twinge of guilt.

We moved on to some extraordinary collections of jade artifacts which led us into the Chinese exhibit. Beautiful, priceless, but the same feeling of guilt.

I understand paintings. I understand that there are auctions and bidding wars and secret contracts to move the art around from museum to museum. But paintings in general aren’t three-thousand year old artifacts.

What I don’t understand is how things like the ancient Chinese, Greek, and Egyptian art, presumably national treasures, aren’t returned to their native lands. It’s a little shocking.

We saw Japanese art:

and Korean, plus more works from other far flung lands. Five hours later, as we were leaving, I was pleased to have seen the collections. But still, I can’t shake the odd feeling of seeing so much of the world in such large quantities stored here in London. Just an odd feeling.

For some reason, we decided to head to Harrods. There were throngs of people outside protesting fur, but we made our way through and into the shop. It was madness, including the Diana memorial. Here are the pictures…

By now we’d been on our feet nearly seven hours. We decided to call it an early night and find some food close to the hotel. We settled on a place called Nandos for grilled chicken. After inhaling a half-chicken with chips and cole slaw, I was ready for bed and an early Sunday in the office.

Friday morning we set out for the office at a normal time. A quick croissant and a coffee and we were happily typing away at our desks when a co-worker from our Chicago offices popped up near our desks. He’d moved to the Tokyo offices, but it was grand to see him in London.

Am I that global? Do I know people in Tokyo, London, Chicago, and beyond? It made me pause for a moment.

The day was unremarkable. We ended up going to lunch with said co-worker and having Japanese from a small take-away (not to-go) place in Liverpool station called Moshi Moshi Sushi. I chose Oyako Don.

The words Oya and ko mean parent and child. Oyako Don is a mixture of chicken in sauce over rice, with an egg cracked over the hot bowl so it cooks instantly. It’s quite delicious and I loved eating it in Kyoto when I was last there.

The office was then set into a state of frenzy. Apparently there was a large desk move over the weekend (of course it was the weekend where we had vital business to carry out) and we decided to sneak out a bit early. Everyone was packing things up and such, so the timing seemed right.

The Victoria & Albert museum was our destination for the evening. It was a stunning museum with some very well kept pieces. We mostly had it to ourselves because we arrived there near to 5:30. There weren’t a lot of people, and we happily snapped away flash-free photographs of Chinese art, beautiful plaster casts of art from around the globe, and much more.

The whole plaster cast thing was a bit lost on me at first, but I soon read a plaque that explained it. Apparently in the 19th century, it was quite common for museums to exhibit plaster casts of famous places and items. Sort of a way to bring the world to the museum, and thus the public. Seeing some of the gigantic columns shocked me to no end. To imagine not only taking a cast of such an item, but then transporting the mouldings (note the U.K. spelling) back to wherever you needed to get them was amazing.

It makes you think.

Here are some of the notable photos:

After the museum we’d worked up quite an appetite, so we headed back to the South Bank to find a restaurant to dine at. We ended up at a chain called Pizza Express for some flat pizzas and lemonade, which is really Sprite. Apparently you have to specify something like Italian Lemonade, or hope they list a branded bottled kind on the menu and hope for the best.

Back to the hotel and back to sleep. The British Museum waits tomorrow.

I knew when I woke up that I didn’t really want to go out that night. We’d been doing serious amounts of walking each day and I was determined to keep it to a minimum that evening.

For breakfast we hit Pret a Mangier, a local chain that is very similar to Au Bon Pain here in the states. Croissants are very popular, and I had one filled with almonds. A cup of strong tea with milk and sugar, along with the croissant made for a great start to the day.

Work was good, and many meetings sorted out how we were going to handle the weekend work on our plate. For lunch, we headed to a sit-down Mediterranean restaurant near the office called Haz. Being a greedy American, I ordered the Cicek Meal, which was a huge place of starters, with four kinds of mains (remember, starters = appetizers, and mains = main couse). I had a Stella with lunch (shhh, don’t tell).

After leaving work we decided to take some time and wait on dinner. I did some work on my own web sites (some of these updates you’re seeing) and we met at seven to eat.

I’d spied a small tapas place in the guide book called Fuego, and Karin was up for it so we headed over. It’s on Pudding Lane, and it’s called Fuego because a very famous fire started right near the Monument station next door to the restaurant. In fact, Monument station is called Monument because there is a large monument erected in to remember the fire.

I chose wisely.

Dinner was fantastic, and the sangria was beyond delicious. I think they spike their sangria here with more booze than fruit juice, but it made everything better. Sliced tomatoes and shallots, meatballs in spicy sauce with peas, hot bread with garlic, onions and cheese to start. Then onto paella with chicken, mussels, prawns (no shrimp here), and saffron rice, red peppers stuffed with roasted veggies, fried potato slices with spicy tappenade, and for dessert, chocolate cake and cream brulee.

We rolled ourselves back to the hotel, a scant three blocks away, and I slept as soon as my head hit the pillow.

I’ve realized after looking over my previous entries that I’m basically eating everything in sight and walking around a lot while here in London. There’s nothing wrong with that, but what the hell am I going to do when I get back to Chicago? I need to bicycle more each day I think. Otherwise my gut and my butt will reach ever-further downward.

Blast you gravity, thou art mine sworn enemy.

Look at me. Trying to talk like the natives. Not really, but it’s awesome to hear all the varieties of accents here and the vastly different usage of the language. Let me translate a few things for you:

London: “Eat In or Take Away?”
Chicago: “Is that for here or to go?”

London: “Do you want it white or black?” **
Chicago: “Cream in your coffee?”
** No cream here, they use milk

London: “Anything for starters?”
Chicago: “Would you care for an appetizer?”

London: “Right, let me pop ’round ”
Chicago: “Sure, I’ll stop by ”

London: Way Out
Chicago: Exit

A few more things to note:

• You don’t need to tip in most places. It’s either included (check the bill) or not done. Don’t tip your bartenter.
• If you arrive at a pub and claim a table, walk over to the bar and order. No waiter/waitress will come by and you’ll be sitting there a very long time looking foolish.
• MIND THE GAP. Seriously. Many of the tube stations don’t fit snugly against the trains and there is sometimes a huge gap between the platform and the door. They aren’t kidding when they tell you to MIND THE GAP.
• In the City of London at least, look on the ground when you cross the street. It’ll tell you which way to look for oncoming traffic. If you’re an American, it’s the other way. Trust what the ground says or you’ll soil your pants. (Not your trousers, I actually mean your pants i.e. your underwear)

Now onto the day. We woke and had McDonalds for breakfast. The english muffins are less sweet here. Delightful nonetheless. And the McD’s coffee tastes better I think.

During lunch we ate from a place called the Thai Van, which is actually a van that drives parks on Petticoat Lane (no joke there) and serves wonderfully spicy food. Ask for it with extra chili powder if you dare to crank up the heat a bit more. I had a #8, red chicken curry on noodles. Mmmm.

In the evening we decided to peep the royals, or at least try to, so we headed back to Westminster station and set off for Number 10 Downing Street.

What they don’t tell you on television is that you cannot actually GET to Number 10 Downing Street because of the immense gates blocking the entrance to Downing Street. Not to mention the men with their fingers on the triggers of their machine guns. Karin and I were hoping to get a picture of each of us waving from in front of the door. But no luck. Secretly, I wanted to do the Maggie Thatcher wave from in front of the door. Oh well. *sigh*

From Downing Street, or at least the entrance of it, we headed up to Buckingham Palace via Trafalgar Square. Not too many pigeons, but enough to make me grossed out. Very touristy Trafalgar was. Meh.

Then we headed through the arch and into The Mall (which I think is pronounced mehl) toward the palace. It was a bit strange to be walking along that street for me. I clearly remember both Princess Diana’s Wedding and her Funeral proceeding along that strip of London. The ground is red. The trees are neatly manicured. And somehow, despite the immense number of black cabs, it’s fairly quiet.

It either feels sad or reserved there. I couldn’t tell.

Thinking we were slick, we saw the Palace entrance and thought we’d skirt around it to Hyde Park. Well, we ended up going around the ass end of the entire palace, staring at a wall with frightening spiky protrusions the entire time. I’m sure because I was carrying a backpack, we were on CCTV inside the palace for the entire trip. Had we thought about it and read our map properly (that’s pronounced prop-ly, not pro-per-ly) we would have gone through the park gate and over to Hyde Park in 5 minutes.

Instead we saw the incredibly beautiful buildings NEXT TO the palace. They are a sight to see. Row upon row of tall starkly ornate buildings facing a dull red brick wall. You’d think the palace would at least have a fancy wall surrounding it. No such luck.

By the time we got to the south east corner of Hyde Park, we were both hungry enough to consider the Hard Rock Café London. However, the wait was “nearly one-hour-thirty” so we headed down a small street and found the Rose and Crown pub.

Taking a cue from the locals, Karin grabbed a table right away near the door and we scanned our menus to decide. Pub food was the order of the day and we both had fish and chips. She had a pint of Guiness, and for me a pint of bitters, Bombardier, which is served not cold, not warm, but just right.

When I bellied up to the bar to order, the barkeep asked me “garden peas or mushy peas” to accompany the meal. Mushy didn’t sound exciting so I went with garden, which was good. Afterward I learned from several locals to skip mushy peas. I suppose it’s like a thick pea soup, but to hear them tell it, it’s better to avoid.

The fish was thickly coated and crisp from beginning to end. It was a half of a fish, over a foot long and thick, simply drenched in crispy brown coating. The chips (fries darlings, fries) were cut thickly, but not steak fry size. Imagine the thickness of nine McD’s fries, and you have the chips we had. Crispy and lightly salted on the outside, and soft, floury and steamy on the inside. Lots of malt vinegar over everything, plus a bit of tartar sauce on the side. I nearly passed out the food tasted so good. I could barely get myself together to hop on the tube and head back to the hotel.

We really are eating our way around London.

There is a tradition among the support folks we’re paired with while here in London. It’s called Biryani Tuesdays. A certain Pakistani restaurant called Al Badar near the office prepares quite delicious chicken wings and chicken biryani. The gents here head there each Tuesday to eat massive quantities of the stuff, which is basically a rice and spicy meat dish with a side of sliced tomatoes and onions in a yogurt sauce and hot buttery naan.

Deeee licious.

While trying not to fall asleep due to the large meal back in the office, I was able to get some great meetings with the local staff. Really good stuff, and it left me in a grand mood.

We decided to head for the South Bank to see the sights and have a go on the London Eye. We rode the tube to Westminster and came out to find Big Ben and Parliament. Simply remarkable and the puffy clouds and blue skies were amazing.

We crossed the river and headed towards the Eye. It really is beautiful and much large than it seems. Somehow I was reminded of Epcot in Florida because of the crowd. There was every kind of person imaginable queued up (translation: in line) for tickets.

The line wasn’t terrible. Karin clocked us at twenty minutes wait for our tickets, and the “flight” we were taking was scheduled for 7:30 pm, just 30 minutes from the time we purchased the tickets.

British Airways owns the Eye, so everything has a flight motif. You receive a time for your “flight” but in reality, it takes nearly 30 minutes to queue (wait in line) so it’s not noticeable. Plus there’s so much good people watching the time flies by.

You enter your carriage as the wheel is rotating. Anywhere from 10 to 25 people get inside a gigantic egg shaped capsule with a three-hundred-sixty degree view around you. The capsules are marked with the cardinal points as well. There’s a large oval bench in the middle and railings along each of the windows. It’s completely enclosed, and on one side is an air conditioning unit to keep things mildly cool. I say mildly because it did get a bit warm with all the sunshine we had.

The wheel takes around thirty minutes to make a full revolution. Your capsule stays level the entire time, and there’s no knocking or even much of a feeling of motion. Slowly you rise above London, and if you are there on a clear day the view is really amazing.

You must not visit London without visiting the Eye. It’s the single most fantastic thing I’ve done here yet, and the pictures tell the tale. Really awesome. Really.

After the Eye we walked along the South Bank for a long way, enjoying the waterside paths and crowds, and basically just enjoying a leisurely stroll.

Lots of bicycles in London, both on the walking paths and on the streets. It’s a bit frightening to think that cyclists ride among the extremely narrow streets here, but I suppose you could get used to it if you had to.

We decided to try and find this Greek Restaurant near Old Street but ended up eating at a place called Shish, which was simply delightful. A couple appetizers, some great beer (including a Strawberry beer which Karin said tasted like juice), and two delicious lamb kebobs on cous cous. Yummy.

Back to the hotel to a good nights sleep. Have I been here three days already?

Ok, so all was going swell with this blogging thing about each day and what not, but then I did something dumb. I transferred my logs to my work pc to post them. Then I deleted them from my laptop. Trouble is, they’re at work while I’m here in the hotel.

Duh, why DO I clean my trash bin on my laptop so often.

Anyway, so the blogging is interrupted for a bit. But fear not. I have to return to the office tomorrow on Sunday.

In other news, could I google the iPhone any more? I’ve had it for how long now and I can’t stop sifting news feeds for every little iPhone story out there. The latest app (aka website) or even the latest proposed hack.

I have not hacked my iPhone. Nor do I intend to at this time.

Somehow I have faith that the apple folks are out there listening to us and coding up a software release that enhances the less-than-stellar features. The ability to cut/paste and user assignable ringtones are on my list. So we’ll see.

Stay tuned, more London adventures ahead. I promise.