Showing posts with label Madrid. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Madrid. Show all posts

Monday, September 29, 2014

Seattle: A warmup for Daddy-daughter travel season




Plans to return to Munich, Germany over the weekend were shelved for a couple of nearer adventures here in the Northwest.  On Saturday, a dozen of us got together for a 17.6 mile hike/scramble on Mount Hood to the Mooney plane crash site and Mooney Tarn, including the Elk Cove trail, Pinnacle Ridge, and some off-trail action.  Stories and photos are coming soon!


Garth's Blog skips over many of my international travelogues (or I often post them later).  Friends who follow my blog grudgingly accept this.  But hopefully I'll be uploading more international posts now that Kathy is almost ready to let me take Lena along overseas!


For now, here is our OTHER adventure from this weekend:



We've come a long way since Lena: International Baby of Mystery (link).  At three years old, Lena already has Daddy's sense of adventure, exploration, and restlessness.

And I'm praying that our 8 1/2 month old Levi will, too!



Lena's vacation in Spain last Fall was so long ago...

En route to Madrid, Spain

...So, with Mommy's permission, I figure it's WAY past time to get Lena flying again.


Flying Lena to Seattle on Friday for lunch with my friend Michael Alben (living in Burien) was a good place to start.  Let's call this a "dress rehearsal" for some upcoming kid-modified, Garth-style international trips.



PDX Airport





Mommy holds back tears long enough to drop Lena and me off at curbside.  Kathy's dry eyes lasted all the way to the PDX cell phone waiting area, where she awaited my text assuring her that Lena and I were assigned seats on board.




A groggy Lena tugs her little roll-aboard luggage though the TSA checkpoint, charming everyone.



Lena's is giddy for her favorite part of flying:  The airport people-mover!



Delta'a PDX rampers Jeffy and Cindy load up our Skywest CRJ for departure.  Lena's car seat is sitting on the ground, next to the aft belt loader.



Seattle - Burien



Rather than this church parking lot, imagine Lena dragging her luggage to a kid-friendly hostel or friend's house in Italy... or anywhere in the world!


After Michael picked us up from SEA-TAC airport, he showed us around his house, his church, and the town of Burien.



Michael gives us a tour of Burien Evangelical Church (don't let the name "Evangelical" fool you), including the music room upstairs.



Downtown Burien


Seahurst Park, on Puget Sound




The journey home to Beaverton



Vine video-  End of a Daddy-daughter trip:  A sleepy Lena boards our flight home from Seattle to Portland.




Flying back to PDX:  Lena is too young to fly standby in Business Class, so we sat in the comfy Economy Comfort row again.



Riding the Max train home from PDX airport to Beaverton:  Lena is in desperate need of her afternoon nap.



Reunited with another future traveling, hiking, and climbing companion:  Baby Levi!



Garth's Blog will return in late October with...


Climbing Mount St. Helens again!



Sunday, November 17, 2013

Noordwijk, Netherlands: The almost daddy-daughter day trip

Running on Noordwijk Beach in the Netherlands last weekend, with friends from around the world


How did last weekend's impossibly fun day trip to Noordwijk turn out differently than planned? There were a couple of last minute changes:

  1. I swapped out a friend visit in Amsterdam for a one night stay in the coastal town of Noordwijk, the Netherlands.  Why?  Because...
  2. ...This trip was intended to be a daddy-daughter weekend away.  But at the last minute, the decision was made to keep our precious two year daughter old at home.
Lena would've loved her quality bonding time with Daddy in the Netherlands, and her hard working Mommy surely deserved a relaxing bachelorette weekend at home. And on the heels of my brief friend-visiting spree in northern Italy last month (link), I was anxious to squeeze in one more overseas family outing before our baby's January due date.




Sadly, Mommy was concerned that Lena may have still been recovering from a cold. So less than three hours prior to departure, Lena was removed from my flight listing.   Kathy requested that I reshape our travel plans for the Netherlands into to a solo day trip.


Even with these two last minute changes, the trip played out like a dream.




The bus from Amsterdam's Schiphol Airport to Noordwijk took about 1 1/2 hours (2 hours for the return trip to Amsterdam the next morning) to reach the coast.





The peaceful views of the Netherlands' misty countryside made my transition from a cushy 8 1/2 hours in Delta's Business Elite cabin to a public bus that much smoother.



My early morning arrival at the Flying Pig Beach Hostel gave me a chance to rest up before heading out for the day. Bianca from northern Ireland at the reception desk generously invited me to join the community for breakfast, making up in advance for my 5:45 a.m. checkout time that would send me away hungry the next morning.

I explored the town of Noordwijk for a while before heading back to the Flying Pig to round up some people.  A brisk beach run was the cure for my airplane/bus ride blues. Ishai and I assembled a crew of the willing and able from our hostel.  Israeli mountaineer Ishai, Brit Sophia (training for a marathon!), and Americans Christine, David and I all hit Noordwijk Beach to stretch out our legs.



It wasn't all sunshine and sand, of course. A couple miles or so in, a light drizzle escalated into a hail storm. We turned around, but not in time to spare our faces from a stinging microdermabrasion of ice pellets. We splintered apart into pairs running all directions, yet somehow hilariously got back to the hostel doorstep at the same time.

**********


Here's a first: That night, we stayed in. When checking into any hostel, my customary shtick is to drag my fellow backpackers/accomplices out of their beds, couches, hammocks, etc. to join me for a rambunctious night out on the town.

No need. The Flying Pig is already a popular hangout for Noordwijk's locals. And our beach hostel had all the right ingredients for a memorable night: a fun party atmosphere, music for dancing, comfortable places to chill, and the perfect mix of people.


Our night at the Flying Pig beach hostel begins!


As always, it was my mates who made the night so unforgettable. The night flew by for our gang of five fearless beach runners plus Stu, Mariah, Rick, Jacques, Keelie, Kat, Michael, Bianca, Vanessa, and everyone else who drew us in for the laughs, stories, surprisingly deep discussions, and ridiculous drama.  I wouldn't have traded a minute with those friends for the extra hour or so I could've spent sleeping.

My night continued straight on until dawn. It was cringe-worthy to wake up Sophia (and Kat!) at 5:45 a.m. to get my passport back, but the rest of my return trip went off with a hitch.  Fading quickly, I was out like a light as soon as I boarded the early morning bus to Amsterdam.

It seemed as though I didn't finally wake up until my plane prepared to land at PDX 13 hours later.



Waking up to the familiar views of two of my favorite climbs, Mount St. Helens and Mount Adams


Back in Portland I helped a friend in Italy fly back to the U.S. with one of my buddy passes, hooked up with a compadre here in Beaverton, and then hurried home to Lena and Kathy, the love of my life.  I walked into the house to find my baby girl in good health.

Lena, I'm glad that you're feeling better now. I still owe you a daddy-daughter trip.

Better start packing!



Coming up on Garth's Blog...

Recent family surfing weekends at the Oregon Coast!


And then...

Lena's 1st international trip to Madrid, Spain!!


Wednesday, November 6, 2013

Northern Italy, Pt. 2: Verona, Venice, and beyond

Readers:  This brief European visiting spree from a couple weeks ago was a mini-continuation of our family’s vacation in Spain, our trip that got cut short a few weeks earlier.  Stay tuned for our family’s Madrid travelogue from September, coming soon!




…Continued from last week’s Northern Italy: Confrontation in First Class (link), and written on the return train from Verona and also in my Venice hostel:


Planes, trains, automobiles, and boats.  Dabbling in nearly every conventional mode of motorized transportation was the only way to reach my first stop: Verona, Italy.

It felt like I had already been gone for days.  In reality, quick visits to friends in Edinburg, Leon, and Rome were sadly cut from the itinerary prior to my seatmate’s drunken scuffle with airline crews on the taxiway in New York.  It was a bummer to waste two whole travel days when Kathy and Lena were already on their way out of town… we USUALLY travel together as a family.  My goal was for us all to return home at roughly the same time, so the clock was ticking.

My Venice flight’s emergency return to the gate in JFK had delayed my arrival in Verona even longer.  Once the onboard hubbub died down, most of my comfy flight time was spent reading and studying. [11/6/13: Also see the comment section from last week’s post].  I should have been sleeping.

**********


After 20+ hours of driving, flying, and layovers, I hit the ground in Venice.  A ticket lady at Venice's Marco Polo airport directed me to a boat that would supposedly connect with my train to Verona.  I should’ve known there was an easier way.

The boat driver was in no hurry.  Now I’m not saying that he was slow, but at one point I seriously considered diving into the canal and swimming ahead to shave off some time.








Turns out the entire boat ride in Venice was both unnecessary and uncalled for.  The Italian woman at the ticket booth heard my request for “Verona” and must have translated it to “Murano.”   That’s right, Italian auto-correct in action.  She sold me an expensive ticket for a water taxi (no destination printed) that I caught at the docks, thinking that it would take me from the Venice airport to the train station.  Nope!


I switched boats.  A nautical hour later, our boat eventually floated into one of the narrow canals and docked next to a waterfront café.  The amazing race was on:  find the train station, and then catch a fast train to Verona.  I wouldn’t be racing untethered, though…

Euji from the boat christened me as her personal tour guide to untangle the confusing walkways of Venice.  My expertise must have been determined by me stepping onto dry land a whole five seconds before she did, right?  I didn’t have the heart to keep explaining to Euji about the American phrase, “the blind leading the blind.”


After hurriedly helping my enthusiastic Japanese friend locate a couple of tourist sites, I ran to the Venice station to hop a westbound fast train.  My friend staying near Verona was patiently waiting, although we had already scaled back our plans due to my late arrival in northern Italy.  A weekend of hiking, sightseeing, and whatnot was reduced to whatever we could squeeze into an afternoon and evening.



Carli, the WWOOF farmer, arrived about the same time as I did to meet me at the Verona Porta Nuova train station.

Sharp readers may remember Maggie's sister Carli and other friends from this trip being mentioned in previous posts.  Maggie's still awesome as always, and her and Carli are the the two sisters who signed up with Worldwide Workers on Organic Farms a couple years ago to WWOOF their way through Italy.

Maggie stayed in the U.S. this year as Carli returned to Italy in April for more exploring and farming, spending the bulk of her current stay working in and above the majestic Arpisson Valley.  Some earlier missteps this year tragically prevented me from visiting that beautiful countryside near Cogne.   But it was certainly worth the side trip to Verona yesterday to include her in my latest Italy visiting spree.  Maggie and Carli write about their adventures here, and a widget for their blog can also be found on my “Garth’s Blog” sidebar.


Being first time visitors in town, neither of us could tell apart Verona from Khumbu, Nepal.  We discovered that fans of Shakespeare’s “Romeo and Juliet” would find much to appreciate in the historic center, as well as ancient Roman and Gothic architecture buffs.  Some of the monuments and structures that we walked past dated back to the first century A.D., like the Arena di Verona coliseum.  Checking out the walking trails at nearby Lake Garda may have been a more fitting activity than urban sightseeing, though.

The friendly locals were brimming with that famous Italian hospitality of the region.  A helpful café owner even loaned us an umbrella for a few hours to fend off the rain as we explored the town.  And we weren’t even his customers!









Refreshing afternoon gelatos, antipasto, tasty pizza, and a calzone (the only actual meal I’ve had so far) took the edge off our hunger for the walk back to the train station.  If only I had remembered to grab the leftovers!  By the time I retrieved my backpack from the luggage locker, the last slow train to Venice was only a few minutes away from nearing the station.


Back in Venice, a boat picked me up in front of the train station, cruised through the city’s canals in the dark, and dropped me off at the Generator Hostel Venice around 1:30 a.m.  I’d need to rest up for joining my friend Chris in the morning near his campsite, and also for hooking up with the gang from the Tuscany region later on.

My exhausting, mostly sleepless string of travel hours should have sent me immediately into bunk bed hibernation.  But a rambunctious party in the common lounge downstairs tempted me with a more enticing option.  Bout in Venice, first round:  Much needed sleep vs. bonus fun with fellow backpackers.  Anyone who knows me can definitely guess which choice won out!

One of these days, I’ll learn.

**********


It remains to be seen if this trip will live up to the “beyond” section of this post title, as planned.  It all depends on my meager budget, time, and how close my other friends in Italy are at the moment.

But one thing’s for sure:  I can’t wait to get home to Kathy and Lena soon.  Unlike our family trip to Spain last month, our time off work and out-of-town schedules didn’t line up this time.  I’ll be hurrying home shortly, anxious to whisk them away to somewhere else across the globe!


11/6/13: Rather than further delaying this two-week old post to find free time for updating, I added the intro/pics today and pretty much published it as is. And now that I’m back in the States, I’ll consider adding a fourth wrap-up post (no promises!) to Part 3 about my less than smooth exit from Italy.

11/10/13: Part 3: Reunions in Venice was posted yesterday, but it has been removed indefinitely.  I'll replace that post with another post that I wrote here in Noordwijk, Netherlands.

And to all of you amazing friends still in Italy whom I had to bail on AGAIN… Nick, Ben, Jeremiah, Houtan, Eric, Gerardo, and pretty much everyone I know down south… we’ll have our day in the Italian sun some other time!


Coming this weekend on Garth’s Blog…


Reunions in Venice!

(11/10/13 Post removed)



And then…

Cold water surfing in Oregon with the fam!


And later this month…

Madrid, Spain:  Lena goes from nationwide to worldwide!