So my sub-head includes the words “easily distracted” and I wanted to share a roundabout example of the things I am so easily distracted by.

The Main Distractor and I went to brunch yesterday, a place close by as he is on call this weekend and liable to be called to the laptop for hours at a time, fixing mysterious things. It had recently come up, prompted by my looking at a map (DANGEROUS!) that if we had, you know, all the money we could want and all the free time that would magically materialize if we had all the money we could want, we’d like to go on holiday to somewhere in, say, the South Pacific or Indian Ocean or something, one of those palpably foreign kinds of places. There was an ad on the TV for some Julia Roberts movie that had a tie-in contest to go to Bali, and so I started exploring Bali destinations on my iPhone. This was all mode more tricky by the fact that I don’t care to go somewhere with chancy politics, likelihood of a coup, or that exploits its people like serfs. Complicated still more as my knowledge of the politics of this part of the world is sketchy at best :p (“Let’s go to Fiji!” “OK.” “Oh wait, their politics are terrible, we can’t go there.” “OK.” “Oh, let’s go to Tahiti! Gauguin! but you would fall in love with a beautiful woman and not care about me any more!” “They speak French there. I don’t speak the language.” “You could learn! I speak French!” “Let’s go to Hawaii. I speak English.” “Hawaii had a royal family who were treated terribly, I think.”) This all led to some semi-serious research in that while there are lots of $500/day hotels in Bali and environs, there are also some that are a little more accessible for the likes of us, although the airfare makes a trip to Europe look cheap.

One of the hotels I found had a pet elephant, and looking a little more, I found several hotels in Indonesia and in India that have either house elephants or proximity to nature reserve elephants or a sort of elephant show, which certainly startled me. I couldn’t and still can’t decide whether this is a good thing, I mean saving the poor loves from starving or being poached is clearly a good thing, but confinement and exploitation are somewhat in the eye of the beholder and potentially quite different from the POV of the elephants. So I’m not sure what to think, although I know I would be completely enchanted to meet an elephant. (There’s so much you can learn/when you’re on a pachyderm!)

Another bit of travel that we are unable to complete just now, but which I cross my fingers for a massive cash infusion more than usual just at the moment, is to go to London in early October in order to attend a William Gibson Board mass meat-up in celebration of the release of his newest, Zero History (available for pre-order now at the usual places! or go buy it September 7 at your local indie bookseller!). Friends met and unmet will be there, and I haven’t been to London in far too long. So I looked at London hotels, and came up with a good few that I would love to stay in. It’s always tricky with the budget-no-object places though, since while I have a certain tolerance for frou frou and baroque whatnot before my eyes start rolling, the Main Distractor’s uniform of choice–baggy shorts and a concert t-shirt–tends not to fit in snooty surroundings, and there’s a limit on how often I can ask him to wear long pants, basically. Not that my wardrobe is stylish enough for 5-star London hotels, either! but I would be willing to upgrade if the need became apparent

In any case, if the gods smile on us and we’re able to suddenly take off first class to LHR (between $5K and $15K per person, depending on airline and desirability of the itinerary), we have a choice of two suitable suites available on the desired dates (one at £6K or so for the week, and one at £11K or so). I will let him choose without showing him the prices (The thing is, they’re far from the most expensive digs available. The other thing is, that if the many zeroes in my bank balance all appeared to the right of a whole number, rather than to the left, I would be perfectly fine with spending practically a year’s salary for a week in London in order to catch up with friends but I’m crazy that way, I guess.)

And that’s how I end up knowing things like the fact that there are elephant hotels, and the Savoy won’t re-open from its 2.5 year renovation ordeal until just after we would want to stay there (I took my parents to tea at the Savoy a few years ago, and loved it), and the Dorchester will prepare you a Champagne picnic basket so you can dine al fresco, and Brown’s (where I have also had tea) is really terrifyingly expensive to stay at although proximity to Smythson’s makes it a seductive location nonetheless, and the really top shelf places don’t check you in at a front desk, but apparently whisk you directly to your room (to spare you the inconvenience/humiliation of queuing in public, perhaps?), and while I don’t mind the Paddington Express, I think it would be rather nice to ride into town in a fancy car from Heathrow sometime, as I’ve never done it.

Because one should always be prepared for any eventuality, however remote.

The lovely and talented Woodrow Phoenix (can you call a guy lovely? well I think he is), a super-talented artist and writer (he created the very font in my very own header, even), has had a nice mention in the Times Online. Well, I thought, “It should be made mandatory reading for everyone, everywhere,” was a pretty nice mention.

W00t!

Take a picture of yourself right now.
Don’t change your clothes, don’t fix your hair . . . just take a picture.
Post that picture with NO editing.
Post these instructions with your picture.

meme

Berlin, Berlin, Berlin. The last time I was in Berlin, it was I think 1988, January? there was still a Wall. Rodrigo and I were an item. Rainbirds was still his band. He didn’t have a wikipedia entry yet! I was still in University. I knew about three words of German.

So a long time has passed, and I hardly saw anything I recognized this time, since I didn’t make it to KaDeWe (omg, SHOOT ME! I really should have gone. I didn’t hit the Ku-Damm at all). I speak maybe 300 words of German. HA! anyway.

First order of the day was to see my last Radiohead show. Some pics from Kindl-Bühne Wuhlheide:

Radiohead has one or two fans in Berlin...

The last time the band played there was in 2001. September 11, 2001.

The steam rising from the crowd after the pouring rain stopped.

A good show.

The next few days I met up with a friend from the WGB, and he kindly showed me around. We went to the Pergamon Museum, and several photography exhibitions. We ate Japanese and Currywürst, and had a few. It was lots of fun!

All of the museums in Europe are currently being renovated!

A Long Island Iced Tea gets an umbrella? who knew?

We went to see Rodrigo’s band, Die Ärzte, at Kindl-Bühne. Radiohead sold out one night; DA sold out three.

Die Ärzte on stage. Rodrigo is on the right.

He's still pretty cute!

And Hasa got a shot of us backstage, oh the glamour

Hasa_2006 picture.

Another day, another train, another sandwich from a train station vendor.

Yesterday was awesome. My hosts barbecued carne asada and char siu, There was potato salad (the good kind, with egg). There was homemade sponge cake and strawberries and cream.

The internet crapped out sometime during the evening for no apparent reason and I was unable to connect with my possible ride from Brugge to Werchter, but oh well. I guess I hadn’t sent my mobile number to Thomas after all. Also unable to check trains or weather or all those million things one does as a matter of course these days.

This morning, woke up early after a nice sleep (unfortunately, the cat didn’t visit, but what a supersweet cat! man I miss my dogs). We eventually got ourselves out of the house and wandered Brugge, really pretty town. Got some chocolates, yay! went to the market, but my hostess was having an allergic reaction, maybe to the strawberries she had for breakfast? not sure but I hope she’s better soon.

Anyway, waited for the late bus, made it to the station and (of course) missed my train by three minutes. Silver lining: the train I am currently on (yes, typing offline, it’s kinda weird but) goes through to Leuven so I won’t have to change in Brussels. I also found my ticket from Brussels to Leuven that was included with my festival ticket, so yay! I had forgotten that I printed it.

It’s raining but perhaps it will stop by the time I get to Werchter. Wardrobe choices will be rather tricky of it’s really wet. My warmest shoes are my Adidas, but if they get all muddy and stuff, I will be pretty unhappy. I only brought my good Adidas, not the older, muckier ones. I also didn’t really have a good choice for rain jacket, and forgot to pack that wee umbrella I have, dammit. I had intended to. I don’t even have a hat! which is another thing I had tossed around but didn’t come to a decision.

Sigh. We’ll see. Perhaps there will be ponchos for sale at the station in Leuven or something.

So I have spent today trying to get to Bruges from Amsterdam. It’s a matter of a couple hundred kilometres, no big deal. From one country to the next, one train ticket, yada yada yada.

This morning I get up bright and early and have my breakfast, pack up my stuff, pick up a bouquet for my hosts in Bruges, and go to the train station to get my ticket. I go first to the lady, who tells me it’s cheaper if I get the ticket from the machine. I get the impression that she doesn’t want to stop surfing Perez Hilton or whatever it is she’s doing to actually serve a customer. OK fine. I go to the machine. The machine eventually lets me know that it doesn’t take my credit card. Oh, OK. My budget included transport on credit cards; I actually have bought some of my tickets in advance–with credit cards. but not this one as I wasn’t sure of my timing exactly.

So I go back to the lady and she tells me that she doesn’t take credit cards either. OhhhhhhhhK. We try my bank card. No go. Fine, cash it is. (FUCK.)

I get my ticket, I decide to hop an earlier train for Schiphol so I can change some more of my dwindling cash supply. I do that, get raped not quite as badly as by the last money changer,

I find my platform for my IC train to Antwerpen and beyond. I get on my train, which is announced many times as “International IC train to Belgium.” I ride through charming, be-cowed countryside with little canals everywhere. The train eventually stops somewhere, I can’t read the town name, and it doesn’t continue. I think, hmmm. I wait. I look out the door and find that it’s scheduled to depart at 43 after the hour, it’s now the half hour. OK, I didn’t have a proper schedule and my ideas of distance in these (relatively) miniature countries are sketchy at best. Eventually it stairs, the train, and it …goes back the way it came. WHAT?

A conductor passes by, I ask if we’re in the direction for Antwerpen. No! he says, we’re going to Amsterdam Centraal. Well shit I just came from Amsterdam, what should I do, I’m supposed to go to Antwerp and there was no announcement on the train, I thought it was my IC train to Belgium!

Oh you’d better get out at Rotterdam and catch another train there. OK.

I get out at Rotterdam, ask a train lady at the bottom of the stairs which platform for Antwerpen, and miss the train by, literally, seconds. No train for half an hour, it’s a Thalys to Paris Nord. Or I can wait and get the next one that I missed in an hour. I want to get there ASAP, people are waiting and likely have reorganized their days for me. So I talk my way onto the Thalys with no reservation, it’s an €18 supplement to sit in the little jumpseat. Well I have this annoying rolly bag and big bunch of flowers, so I’m OK with the jumpseat really, it saves me either leaving my bag unattended or trying to hoist it somewhere unhoistable, and dealing with the bouquet.

I get to Antwerpen, approximately 2 minutes after the train to Bruges leaves. I ask at information for the next train to Bruges. Antwerp is under drastic construction, and I’m not the only one asking for help, the big boards are noticeably absent. The girl there looks me up two different trips, one involving a change and getting in a mere 13 minutes sooner…I decide to just go with the original plan, the direct train.

I’m philosophical by this point. I text my host that I’m going to be another hour later than I expected.

I sit on the platform, eat the tuna sandwich I brought from Rotterdam, and wait for the train. The train doesn’t come. It’s not announced on the board on the platform, I think, perhaps it’s late? Eventually a chap who’s been waiting for the same train goes exploring and finds that it’s just left, from another platform. I have been listening closely to the announcements, and can guarantee that none was made regarding this train to Oostende.

And so, another hour.

Three hours late from my original ETA. The train has been announced for its originally scheduled platform now. I should be in Bruges in another hour and a half or so.

I have never ever had this sort of trouble with European trains before. I wonder what happened to them. Language notwithstanding, I know how to, you know, get on a train.

Well, not really, I guess. I’m just tired and sleeping a lot. Weather’s been nice. Serbia and Kosovo situation is alarming to say the least. Obama won the “Democrats Abroad” primary which is pretty cool. Tonight, another debate. Oh, after Jenn’s show, I hope (Project X, 19:30 on CBC; they have a bona fide website now).

Radiohead is playing not one, but two nights at that Coachella East show, what’s it called. Maybe I’ll win the lottery…haven’t been to NYC in AGES. Actually, I was thinking that the kind of commentary I tend to make on the road would be perfectly natural in NYC, and people wouldn’t get all affronted there either. I should get a FUCK YOU I’M FROM NYC bumper sticker or something.

I’m exceedingly cranky about the lack of formalization of the Werchter lineup. YES I AM A BRAT.

Five weeks until a bunch of non-strangers whom I’ve never met will converge upon Vancouver for a William Gibson-oriented meetup. Plans are in progress for a tour of Spook Country locations, a Ministry show, cake…what else do you need for a fun weekend? perhaps karaoke; I heard of a place with rooms for rent for not too much money. I have to go there though and see if the book’s any good. Otherwise maybe the hobo-oke from the Vespa rally. At least the drinks are cheap, and it’s close by some of the less-salubrious Gibson locations.