The Cotswolds are a range of hills two hours West of London. It is a land of sheep and limestone with quaint villages, narrow roads and stone houses. It is a wonderful place to drive around and get lost. Something Camden and I managed to do. I wish I could have taken my road bike and just explored for weeks.

Someday we will travel to a far away village and stay put for a month or two. When I lived in Mexico, that is exactly what I did, residing in one place for five or six months. That is sufficient time to discover a town’s soul.

At this stage in my life, I merely sample places when I travel. We stay a day or two or three, just to see if we like it and would want to return when we have more time. Sampling is good if that is all you can do, but I look forward to the day when I can stay for the all the courses a town has to offer.

One of the more unusual towns we visited in England was Glastonbury. Its nearby lor (hill) is the home of many of the King Arthur legends. Wikipedia states it best, “Glastonbury today is a centre for religious tourism and pilgrimage. Diverse strains of mysticism and paganism co-exist alongside the followers of its Catholic heritage.” It reminded me of Berkeley in its ability to attract hippees who never moved on from the sixties. I loved it for its sheer funkiness.

Many of the pilgrims choose to climb the lor from its base. We were lazy and took a taxi halfway up the back side and then hiked the rest of the way. The view was incredible. For the record, we did climb down and walk back to town on our own.

Only the shell of the abbey remains, which makes it all the more mysterious. We met a visiting monk/priest who told us the story of how the monks were running short of funds to rebuild the abbey after a fire in 1184 so they a commissioned a dig to find the remains of King Arther and Queen Guinevere, who were rumored to be buried on the abbey grounds. When they found what they thought were the remains they moved the skeletons into the church, taking care to keep one of King Arthur’s bones out for visiting pilgrims to touch for good luck. Then they began marketing. They earned enough from paying visitors to rebuild the abbey. The remains have since been lost, yet the pilgrims including ourselves still come.

As this is Camden’s first trip to London, we visited the classic sites such as Buckingham Palace. What struck me about the guard outside was how young he looked.

More interesting, was the guard we saw being trained to hold his head high and walk a straight line.

And I never knew the puffy black hats the Queen’s Guard wear had handles.

Camden and I arrived in London today.  The first rule in fighting European jet lag is to spend the day outside in order to keep from fallling asleep, despite the restless night on the plane.

We ate lunch in Hyde Park, spent an hour touring Westminster Abbey and got a birds eye view of London on the British Airway’s London Eye, the worlds largest ferris wheel.  I actually had more fun taking pictures of the Eye itself rather than of what I could see from it.  Here are the ones in the series I liked best.

Bret Pondering along Artist’s Drive

Death Valley National Park is in the middle of nowhere so one has to make a concerted effort to get there.  We made the effort last Wednesday and were richly rewarded with stunning and bizarre vistas.

Artist’s Palette

Zabriskie Point

Devil’s Golf Course

Salt Crystals

Twenty Mule Team Canyon

On the outskirts of  Las Vegas lies the Red Rock Canyon National Recreation Area.  This morning we hiked in the Calico Basin area.  After four months of snow in Idaho, the world begins to look monochromatic so it was a pleasure to gaze on something as red as these cliffs.  Camden and Bret climbed to the top while LaPriel, Bre and I stayed closer to the base.

Several friends have asked why we would take Spring break in Las Vegas when we don’t gamble.  The simple answer is it is the closest place we could drive and ensure sunshine and warmth.  We had our doubts when we were in Southern Utah near Cedar City, a few hours from Las Vegas, and the weather was still windy and snowy.  But then the plateau ended and we descended 3600 feet over the last two hundred miles and found the temperate climate we’d been seeking.

I spent Tuesday in Los Angeles where I used my iPhone to snap this photo of folks waiting for a fashion show to start at The Grove, an outdoor shopping center where I had dinner. I didn’t stay for much of the show because the music was too loud.  The coolest thing I learned is they hold down red carpet with red duct tape.  I never knew they made red duct tape.

I then flew cross country to Orlando for a conference I’m attending.  One of my business partners is here with me.  His parents happened to be driving through on their way from Fort Lauderdale to their home in Ohio so they stopped to see him.

If you want to get to know your work colleagues better, I suggest taking their parents to dinner.  The meal was a delight.  I heard story after story from my partner’s childhood, many I suspect he didn’t want me to hear.  My favorite was of the family vacation they took when my partner was twelve.  They piled in the car and started driving west from Ohio.  A week or so later they found themselves in an Idaho town near my home watching the evening news.   During a commercial, an announcer came on raving about a huge piano and organ sale going on at a local hotel.  My colleague’s parents didn’t think much of it, but it caught my partner’s eye. The next day on their way out of town a pelting rainstorm forced them to pull over into a hotel parking lot. It happened to be where the big sale was being held.  My partner begged his parents to just go in and look.  Thirty minutes later, they were the proud owner of a new organ, which incidentally didn’t fit in the trunk of their car.  When they inquired about shipping the organ, they were told they would have to construct a wooden crate to house it.  Instead, they rented a trailer and pulled the organ from Idaho to the Grand Canyon and back to Ohio.

Some people by T-shirts for souvenirs.  Others by large musical instruments.

If I didn’t live in Idaho, one of my first choices of where to live would be Seattle. One reason I like Seattle is most of its residents have actually heard of Idaho, know it has mountains and that it isn’t a flat Midwestern farming state. In fact, the bellman at the hotel I stayed at called it by its official nickname, the Gem State. I was impressed, because I couldn’t return the favor and call Washington by its nickname. I just looked it up, “The Evergreen State.” Very fitting.

The college campus where I held my meeting was shrouded in fog this morning. It was good to see some green grass and crabapple blossoms in February. Sometimes I get tired of looking at snow.

As long as we are talking about “ifs”, one of the jobs I would choose to do if I didn’t do what I do now is own a grocery store. And if I owned a store, I’d model it like Seattle’s Metropolitan Market. Not only are their produce and prepared dishes amazing, but their organized shelves are works of art.

Seattle is known for its rain and clouds, but I’ve been fortunate to have sunshine for most of my visits. Mt. Rainier looked stunning as always.

I am putting this blog on hold for awhile – prompted in part because after repeated attempts I can’t get comments to turn back on. Blogging is too quiet when it’s a one way conversation.

LaPriel and I just got back from a wonderful trip to Maui. What a lovely place. I hope to return again soon. I’ve included a few of my favorite pictures in this post.

May you all have a delightful holiday season.

Mt. Rainier

Seattle is one of the more fascinating cities to approach by air. When flying there or departing, always sit on the left side of the plane to have the best views of Mt. Rainier. I wish I had something better than a cell phone to take the above picture, but I’m too lazy to haul a camera with me on overnight trips.

In addition to the stunning view of Mt. Rainier, my flight home from Seattle was notable for the man sitting in seat 2B. He was large, with a lengthy black beard, thick glasses and he wore a baseball cap. He leaned his head back and was asleep before the plane had pulled away from the jetway. Within minutes, the first class cabin was filled with a raucous snore. I’ve never heard someone snore so loud. My Bose noise canceling headsets and blaring iPod couldn’t block this Rip Van Winkle’s exhalations. The snoring continued incessantly for forty-five minutes, at which point the man awoke, well rested and oblivious. He then proceeded to stand and extract a jacket and belt from the overhead bin. He slipped on the jacket, tied the belt around his waist and retrieved a Torah. He remained standing in the aisle as he began to read prayers with an occasional head bow and bend of the knees. The ritual continued for five minutes, at which point he returned everything to the overhead bin and took his seat.

I admired his self-possession.

In other travel news, I can no longer recommend Samsonite rollerbags. After my first Samsonite handled flawlessly for years, I’ve gone through two in just eighteen months. I put too much faith in products with lifetime warranties. I assume if a company offers a lifetime guarantee that the product is of such high quality it rarely breaks so I don’t need to register the warranty. Which in the case of my last two rollerbags was a mistake. I junked the first one because the handle kept breaking. My current bag works fine except the wheel squeaks. I’ve tolerated the incessant whine for months, but I can no longer stand it. My friend, who meticulously researches everything before buying, recommends Travelpro luggage. Apparently, this is what airline pilots use, and I’ve never seen a pilot pulling a squeaky bag. My new 22 inch rollerbag should arrive this week.