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Alii Breakfast

A few nice vacation to hawaii images I found:


Alii Breakfast
vacation to hawaii
Image by sotheavy


P1010533
vacation to hawaii
Image by sotheavy

Nice Spa Resort Vacation photos

A few nice spa resort vacation images I found:


DSC_5153.JPG
spa resort vacation
Image by Angela Rutherford
Wyndham Sugar Bay Beach Resort and Spa, St. Thomas, USVI


DSC_5157.JPG
spa resort vacation
Image by Angela Rutherford
Wyndham Sugar Bay Beach Resort and Spa, St. Thomas, USVI


DSC_5138.JPG
spa resort vacation
Image by Angela Rutherford
Wyndham Sugar Bay Beach Resort and Spa, St. Thomas, USVI

Cool Vacations images

A few nice vacations images I found:


Holga 2011 Summer Vacation California 7-26-11 18
vacations
Image by stevendepolo


Holga 2011 Summer Vacation California 7-26-11 3
vacations
Image by stevendepolo


Holga 2011 Summer Vacation California 7-26-11 11
vacations
Image by stevendepolo

Cool Resort Vacation Club images

Some cool resort vacation club images:


Krystal International Vacation Club (KIVC) Cancun
resort vacation club
Image by Krystal International Vacation Club

Stingrays on the Sandbar

Check out these vacation travel images:


Stingrays on the Sandbar
vacation travel
Image by rcbodden
Multitudes of stingrays swim around me as I stand in the shallow waters of the sandbar off Rum Point, Grand Cayman, BWI. Published in Cayman Travel Guide for Yahoo Travel.

Published in Wordnik at: www.wordnik.com/words/in%20vogue


rambling man
vacation travel
Image by anjan58
broad street
philadelphia, pa

will be traveling/on vacation in 2 weeks. just starting to get that wonderful itchy, twitchy feeling in my feet.


'Endorheic Body of Water', Italy, Lago Tresimeno
vacation travel
Image by WanderingtheWorld (www.LostManProject.com)
Portfolio | Travel Blog | Tumblr | Youtube |Contact Me
Below is an excerpt from my travel blog. Cheers.

Lake Trasimeno is located in central Italy. It's a beautiful lake with some spectacular Italian sunsets. This lake is actually an endorheic body of water. An endorheic lake is a body of water that has no outlet. Some of the more noted endorheic bodies of water include the Aral Sea, the Great Salt Lake, the Dead Sea and the Black Sea. When in life would you ever need to know what an endorheic body of water is? I don't know. But if you somehow make it on the show, 'Who Wants to be a Millionare,' it might just be the million dollar question. You never know.

Cool Travel Vacation images

Check out these travel vacation images:


P7114822
travel vacation
Image by jon|k


P7114798
travel vacation
Image by jon|k

Nice Vacation Resort In Florida photos

Check out these vacation resort in florida images:



Perdido Cove RV Resort & Marina, Perdido Key Florida
vacation resort in florida
Image by Innisfree Hotels
We are a RV Resort, Marina & Vacation Townhouses in Perdido Key, FL. We have 56 RV sites, 24 deep water-slip marina and 7 fully furnished townhouses available for daily, weekly and monthly rentals. We are in Perdido Key directly on the Gulf Inter-Coastal waterway, conveniently situated approximately half way between Pensacola, Florida and Orange Beach, Alabama. Our resort and marina are just a couple miles from the endless sugar white sand beaches and emerald blue waters of the Gulf of Mexico, and only thirty minutes by boat to Pensacola Bay Pass and Alabama Point Pass.

Wausau, WI, date unknown

Some cool where to vacation images:


Wausau, WI, date unknown
where to vacation
Image by Sam Fam
B&W Photograph. The Chocola family frequently travelled to Wisconsin for vacation. Assuming this was one of the vacations where they caught quite a few fish!


i love this woman
where to vacation
Image by thecloverhunter
i bought a booklet of someone's european vacation photos. This woman is such a camera hog (or her husband loves to take her picture). I love her - these are a riot! I actually put some in the vintage paper packs but wtf am I going to do with them? I have tons of vintage photos and slides that just gather dust and garner a few laughs once every few years when I re-discover them.

This image is Creative Commons but PLEASE comment / flickr mail with where this is featured so I can visit it and beam with pride!


Croc Attack!
where to vacation
Image by PeacockParables.com
Messing around in Second Life. I can't remember where I took this picture. I used it to illustrate a post on my blog: blog.peacockparables.com/2011/04/02/separate-vacations/

Nice Vacation To Mexico photos

A few nice vacation to mexico images I found:


Mexico 2013
vacation to mexico
Image by tonitunes
Mexican Vacation with Greg & Kat June 24 to July 3, 2013


Mexico 2013
vacation to mexico
Image by tonitunes
Mexican Vacation with Greg & Kat June 24 to July 3, 2013

Cool Resort Vacation Rentals images

A few nice resort vacation rentals images I found:


Holiday Inn Resort Hotel, Pensacola Beach
resort vacation rentals
Image by Innisfree Hotels
holidayinnresortpensacolabeach.com/. The Holiday Inn Resort Beachfront Hotel is located directly on the Gulf of Mexico in beautiful Pensacola Beach, Florida. Our guests enjoy captivating views of emerald green waters and miles upon miles of sugar white sand blanketed by the Florida sun. The hotel is centrally located and walking distance from restaurants, night life, shopping and recreational activities. We are only a 30 minute drive from the Pensacola International Airport.

Cool Vacation Package images

A few nice vacation package images I found:


Swan Falls Dam Old vs. New
vacation package
Image by terriem
Swan Falls Dam is along the Snake River Birds of Prey Conservation area. They point out in the signs that the old historic power plant sits right next to the smaller, more efficient modern one. But the old one certainly looks much better. This reminded me of Mr. Jalopy's presentation at Maker Day, where he showed the the packaging for everyday things decades ago was clearly superior in its aesthetic sense.

Note added later: One thing that's cool about this is that they KEPT the older structure; I think you can arrange tours of it. When it comes to dams, I'm more of an Abbey-ist anyhow.

Checking Out the Shrimp

Some cool vacations for cheap images:


Checking Out the Shrimp
vacations for cheap
Image by Wootang01
9.4.09
The flight arrived on time; and the twelve hours while on board passed quickly and without incident. To be sure, the quality of the Cathay Pacific service was exemplary once again.

Heathrow reminds me of Newark International. The décor comes straight out of the sterile 80's and is less an eyesore than an insipid background to the rhythm of human activity, such hustle and bustle, at the fore. There certainly are faces from all races present, creating a rich mosaic of humanity which is refreshing if not completely revitalizing after swimming for so long in a sea of Chinese faces in Hong Kong.

Internet access is sealed in England, it seems. Nothing is free; everything is egregiously monetized from the wireless hotspots down to the desktop terminals. I guess Hong Kong has spoiled me with its abundant, free access to the information superhighway.


11.4.09
Despite staying in a room with five other backpackers, I have been sleeping well. The mattress and pillow are firm; my earplugs keep the noise out; and the sleeping quarters are as dark as a cave when the lights are out, and only as bright as, perhaps, a dreary rainy day when on. All in all, St. Paul's is a excellent place to stay for the gregarious, adventurous, and penurious city explorer - couchsurfing may be a tenable alternative; I'll test for next time.

Yesterday Connie and I gorged ourselves at the borough market where there were all sorts of delectable, savory victuals. There was definitely a European flavor to the food fair: simmering sausages were to be found everywhere; and much as the meat was plentiful, and genuine, so were the dairy delicacies, in the form of myriad rounds of cheese, stacked high behind checkered tabletops. Of course, we washed these tasty morsels down with copious amounts of alcohol that flowed from cups as though amber waterfalls. For the first time I tried mulled wine, which tasted like warm, rancid fruit punch - the ideal tonic for a drizzling London day, I suppose. We later killed the afternoon at the pub, shooting the breeze while imbibing several diminutive half-pints in the process. Getting smashed at four in the afternoon doesn't seem like such a bad thing anymore, especially when you are having fun in the company of friends; I can more appreciate why the English do it so much!

Earlier in the day, we visited the Tate Modern. Its turbine room lived up to its prominent billing what with a giant spider, complete with bulbous egg sac, anchoring the retrospective exhibit. The permanent galleries, too, were a delight upon which to feast one's eyes. Picasso, Warhol and Pollock ruled the chambers of the upper floors with the products of their lithe wrists; and I ended up becoming a huge fan of cubism, while developing a disdain for abstract art and its vacuous images, which, I feel, are devoid of both motivation and emotion.

My first trip yesterday morning was to Emirates Stadium, home of the Arsenal Gunners. It towers imperiously over the surrounding neighborhood; yet for all its majesty, the place sure was quiet! Business did pick up later, however, once the armory shop opened, and dozens of fans descended on it like bees to a hive. I, too, swooped in on a gift-buying mission, and wound up purchasing a book for Godfrey, a scarf for a student, and a jersey - on sale, of course - for good measure.

I'm sitting in the Westminster Abbey Museum now, resting my weary legs and burdened back. So far, I've been verily impressed with what I've seen, such a confluence of splendor and history before me that it would require days to absorb it all, when regretfully I can spare only a few hours. My favorite part of the abbey is the poets corner where no less a literary luminary than Samuel Johnson rests in peace - his bust confirms his homely presence, which was so vividly captured in his biography.

For lunch I had a steak and ale pie, served with mash, taken alongside a Guinness, extra cold - 2 degrees centigrade colder, the bartender explained. It went down well, like all the other delicious meals I've had in England; and no doubt by now I have grown accustomed to inebriation at half past two. Besides, Liverpool were playing inspired football against Blackburn; and my lunch was complete.

Having had my fill of football, I decided to skip my ticket scalping endeavor at Stamford Bridge and instead wandered over to the British Museum to inspect their extensive collections. Along the way, my eye caught a theater, its doors wide open and admitting customers. With much rapidity, I subsequently checked the show times, saw that a performance was set to begin, and at last rushed to the box office to purchase a discounted ticket - if you call a 40 pound ticket a deal, that is. That's how I grabbed a seat to watch Hairspray in the West End.

The show was worth forty pounds. The music was addictive; and the stage design and effects were not so much kitschy as delightfully stimulating - the pulsating background lights were at once scintillating and penetrating. The actors as well were vivacious, oozing charisma while they danced and delivered lines dripping in humor. Hairspray is a quality production and most definitely recommended.


12.4.09
At breakfast I sat across from a man who asked me to which country Hong Kong had been returned - China or Japan. That was pretty funny. Then he started spitting on my food as he spoke, completely oblivious to my breakfast becoming the receptacle in which the fruit of his inner churl was being placed. I guess I understand the convention nowadays of covering one's mouth whilst speaking and masticating at the same time!

We actually conversed on London life in general, and I praised London for its racial integration, the act of which is a prodigious leap of faith for any society, trying to be inclusive, accepting all sorts of people. It wasn't as though the Brits were trying in vain to be all things to all men, using Spanish with the visitors from Spain, German with the Germans and, even, Hindi with the Indians, regardless of whether or not Hindi was their native language; not even considering the absurd idea of encouraging the international adoption of their language; thereby completely keeping English in English hands and allowing its proud polyglots to "practice" their languages. Indeed, the attempt of the Londoners to avail themselves of the rich mosaic of ethnic knowledge, and to seek a common understanding with a ubiquitous English accent is an exemplar, and the bedrock for any world city.

I celebrated Jesus' resurrection at the St. Andrew's Street Church in Cambridge. The parishioners of this Baptist church were warm and affable, and I met several of them, including one visiting (Halliday) linguistics scholar from Zhongshan university in Guangzhou, who in fact had visited my tiny City University of Hong Kong in 2003. The service itself was more traditional and the believers fewer in number than the "progressive" services at any of the charismatic, evangelical churches in HK; yet that's what makes this part of the body of Christ unique; besides, the message was as brief as a powerpoint slide, and informative no less; the power word which spoke into my life being a question from John 21:22 - what is that to you?

Big trees; exquisite lawns; and old, pointy colleges; that's Cambridge in a nutshell. Sitting here, sipping on a half-pint of Woodforde's Wherry, I've had a leisurely, if not languorous, day so far; my sole duty consisting of walking around while absorbing the verdant environment as though a sponge, camera in tow.

I am back at the sublime beer, savoring a pint of Sharp's DoomBar before my fish and chips arrive; the drinking age is 18, but anyone whose visage even hints of youthful brilliance is likely to get carded these days, the bartender told me. The youth drinking culture here is almost as twisted as the university drinking culture in America.

My stay in Cambridge, relaxing and desultory as it may be, is about to end after this late lunch. I an not sure if there is anything left to see, save for the American graveyard which rests an impossible two miles away. I have had a wonderful time in this town; and am thankful for the access into its living history - the residents here must demonstrate remarkable patience and tolerance what with so many tourists ambling on the streets, peering - and photographing - into every nook and cranny.

13.4.09
There are no rubbish bins, yet I've seen on the streets many mixed race couples in which the men tend to be white - the women also belonging to a light colored ethnicity, usually some sort of Asian; as well saw some black dudes and Indian dudes with white chicks.

People here hold doors, even at the entrance to the toilet. Sometimes it appears as though they are going out on a limb, just waiting for the one who will take the responsibility for the door from them, at which point I rush out to relieve them of such a fortuitous burden.

I visited the British Museum this morning. The two hours I spent there did neither myself nor the exhibits any justice because there really is too much to survey, enough captivating stuff to last an entire day, I think. The bottomless well of artifacts from antiquity, drawing from sources as diverse as Korea, and Mesopotamia, is a credit to the British empire, without whose looting most of this amazing booty would be unavailable for our purview; better, I think, for these priceless treasures to be open to all in the grandest supermarket of history than away from human eyes, and worst yet, in the hands of unscrupulous collectors or in the rubbish bin, possibly.

Irene and I took in the ballet Giselle at The Royal Opera House in the afternoon. The building is a plush marvel, and a testament to this city's love for the arts. The ballet itself was satisfying, the first half being superior to the second, in which the nimble dancers demonstrated their phenomenal dexterity in, of all places, a graveyard covered in a cloak of smoke and darkness. I admit, their dance of the dead, in such a gloomy necropolis, did strike me as, strange.

Two amicable ladies from Kent convinced me to visit their hometown tomorrow, where, they told me, the authentic, "working" Leeds Castle and the mighty interesting home of Charles Darwin await.

I'm nursing a pint of Green King Ruddles and wondering about the profusion of British ales and lagers; the British have done a great deed for the world by creating an interminable line of low-alcohol session beers that can be enjoyed at breakfast, lunch, tea and dinner; and their disservice is this: besides this inexhaustible supply of cheap beer ensnaring my inner alcoholic, I feel myself putting on my freshman fifteen, almost ten years after the fact; I am going to have to run a bit harder back in Hong Kong if I want to burn all this malty fuel off.

Irene suggested I stop by the National Art Gallery since we were in the area; and it was an hour well spent. The gallery currently presents a special exhibit on Picasso, the non-ticketed section of which features several seductive renderings, including David spying on Bathsheba - repeated in clever variants - and parodies of other masters' works. Furthermore, the main gallery houses two fabulous portraits by Joshua Reynolds, who happens to be favorite of mine, he in life being a close friend of Samuel Johnson - I passed by Boswells, where its namesake first met Johnson, on my way to the opera house.

14.4.09
I prayed last night, and went through my list, lifting everyone on it up to the Lord. That felt good; that God is alive now, and ever present in my life and in the lives of my brothers and sisters.

Doubtless, then, I have felt quite wistful, as though a specter in the land of the living, being in a place where religious fervor, it seems, is a thing of the past, a trifling for many, to be hidden away in the opaque corners of centuries-old cathedrals that are more expensive tourist destinations than liberating homes of worship these days. Indeed, I have yet to see anyone pray, outside of the Easter service which I attended in Cambridge - for such an ecstatic moment in verily a grand church, would you believe that it was only attended by at most three dozen spirited ones. The people of England, and Europe in general, have, it is my hope, only locked away the Word, relegating it to the quiet vault of their hearts. May it be taken out in the sudden pause before mealtimes and in the still crisp mornings and cool, silent nights. There is still hope for a revival in this place, for faith to rise like that splendid sun every morning. God would love to rescue them, to deliver them in this day, it is certain.

I wonder what Londoners think, if anything at all, about their police state which, like a vine in the shadows, has taken root in all corners of daily life, from the terrorist notifications in the underground, which implore Londoners to report all things suspicious, to the pair of dogs which eagerly stroll through Euston. What makes this all the more incredible is the fact that even the United States, the indomitable nemesis of the fledgling, rebel order, doesn't dare bombard its citizens with such fear mongering these days, especially with Obama in office; maybe we've grown wise in these past few years to the dubious returns of surrendering civil liberties to the state, of having our bags checked everywhere - London Eye; Hairspray; and The Royal Opera House check bags in London while the museums do not; somehow, that doesn't add up for me.

I'm in a majestic bookshop on New Street in Birmingham, and certainly to confirm my suspicions, there are just as many books on the death of Christianity in Britain as there are books which attempt to murder Christianity everywhere. I did find, however, a nice biography on John Wesley by Roy Hattersley and The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis. I may pick up the former.

Lunch with Sally was pleasant and mirthful. We dined at a French restaurant nearby New Street - yes, Birmingham is a cultural capitol! Sally and I both tried their omelette, while her boyfriend had the fish, without chips. Conversation was light, the levity was there and so was our reminiscing about those fleeting moments during our first year in Hong Kong; it is amazing how friendships can resume so suddenly with a smile. On their recommendation, I am on my way to Warwick Castle - they also suggested that I visit Cadbury World, but they cannot take on additional visitors at the moment, the tourist office staff informed me, much to my disappointment!

Visiting Warwick Castle really made for a great day out. The castle, parts of which were established by William the Conquerer in 1068, is as much a kitschy tourist trap as a meticulous preservation of history, at times a sillier version of Ocean Park while at others a dignified dedication to a most glorious, inexorably English past. The castle caters to all visitors; and not surprisingly, that which delighted all audiences was a giant trebuchet siege engine, which for the five p.m. performance hurled a fireball high and far into the air - fantastic! Taliban beware!

15.4.09
I'm leaving on a jet plane this evening; don't know when I'll be back in England again. I'll miss this quirky, yet endearing place; and that I shall miss Irene and Tom who so generously welcomed me into their home, fed me, and suffered my use of their toilet and shower goes without saying. I'm grateful for God's many blessings on this trip.

On the itinerary today is a trip to John Wesley's home, followed by a visit to the Imperial War Museum. Already this morning I picked up a tube of Oilatum, a week late perhaps, which Teri recommended I use to treat this obstinate, dermal weakness of mine - I'm happy to report that my skin has stopped crying.

John Wesley's home is alive and well. Services are still held in the chapel everyday; and its crypt, so far from being a cellar for the dead, is a bright, spacious museum in which all things Wesley are on display - I never realized how much of an iconic figure he became in England; at the height of this idol frenzy, ironic in itself, he must have been as popular as the Beatles were at their apex. The house itself is a multi-story edifice with narrow, precipitous staircases and spacious rooms decorated in an 18th century fashion.

I found Samuel Johnson's house within a maze of red brick hidden alongside Fleet Street. To be in the home of the man who wrote the English dictionary, and whose indefatigable love for obscure words became the inspiration for my own lexical obsession, this, by far, is the climax of my visit to England! The best certainly has been saved for last.

There are a multitude of portraits hanging around the house like ornaments on a tree. Every likeness has its own story, meticulously retold on the crib sheets in each room. Celebrities abound, including David Garrick and Sir Joshua Reynolds, who painted several of the finer images in the house. I have developed a particular affinity for Oliver Goldsmith, of whom Boswell writes, "His person was short, his countenance coarse and vulgar, his deportment that of a scholar awkwardly affecting the easy gentleman. It appears as though I, too, could use a more flattering description of myself!

I regretfully couldn't stop to try the curry in England; I guess the CityU canteen's take on the dish will have to do. I did, however, have the opportune task of flirting with the cute Cathay Pacific counter staff who checked me in. She was gorgeous in red, light powder on her cheeks, with real diamond earrings, she said; and her small, delicate face, commanded by a posh British accent rendered her positively irresistible, electrifying. Not only did she grant me an aisle seat but she had the gumption to return my fawning with zest; she must be a pro at this by now.

I saw her again as she was pulling double-duty, collecting tickets prior to boarding. She remembered my quest for curry; and in the fog of infatuation, where nary a man has been made, I fumbled my words like the sloppy kid who has had too much punch. I am just an amateur, alas, an "Oliver Goldsmith" with the ladies - I got no game - booyah!

Some final, consequential bits: because of the chavs, Burberry no longer sells those fashionable baseball caps; because of the IRA, rubbish bins are no longer a commodity on the streets of London, and as a result, the streets and the Underground of the city are a soiled mess; and because of other terrorists from distant, more arid lands, going through a Western airport has taken on the tedium of perfunctory procedure that doesn't make me feel any safer from my invisible enemies.

At last, I saw so many Indians working at Heathrow that I could have easily mistaken the place for Mumbai. Their presence surprised me because their portion of the general population surely must be less than their portion of Heathrow staff, indicating some mysterious hiring bias. Regardless, they do a superb job with cursory airport checks, and in general are absurdly funny and witty when not tactless.

That's all for England!


The London Frontline Monkey
vacations for cheap
Image by Wootang01
9.4.09
The flight arrived on time; and the twelve hours while on board passed quickly and without incident. To be sure, the quality of the Cathay Pacific service was exemplary once again.

Heathrow reminds me of Newark International. The décor comes straight out of the sterile 80's and is less an eyesore than an insipid background to the rhythm of human activity, such hustle and bustle, at the fore. There certainly are faces from all races present, creating a rich mosaic of humanity which is refreshing if not completely revitalizing after swimming for so long in a sea of Chinese faces in Hong Kong.

Internet access is sealed in England, it seems. Nothing is free; everything is egregiously monetized from the wireless hotspots down to the desktop terminals. I guess Hong Kong has spoiled me with its abundant, free access to the information superhighway.


11.4.09
Despite staying in a room with five other backpackers, I have been sleeping well. The mattress and pillow are firm; my earplugs keep the noise out; and the sleeping quarters are as dark as a cave when the lights are out, and only as bright as, perhaps, a dreary rainy day when on. All in all, St. Paul's is a excellent place to stay for the gregarious, adventurous, and penurious city explorer - couchsurfing may be a tenable alternative; I'll test for next time.

Yesterday Connie and I gorged ourselves at the borough market where there were all sorts of delectable, savory victuals. There was definitely a European flavor to the food fair: simmering sausages were to be found everywhere; and much as the meat was plentiful, and genuine, so were the dairy delicacies, in the form of myriad rounds of cheese, stacked high behind checkered tabletops. Of course, we washed these tasty morsels down with copious amounts of alcohol that flowed from cups as though amber waterfalls. For the first time I tried mulled wine, which tasted like warm, rancid fruit punch - the ideal tonic for a drizzling London day, I suppose. We later killed the afternoon at the pub, shooting the breeze while imbibing several diminutive half-pints in the process. Getting smashed at four in the afternoon doesn't seem like such a bad thing anymore, especially when you are having fun in the company of friends; I can more appreciate why the English do it so much!

Earlier in the day, we visited the Tate Modern. Its turbine room lived up to its prominent billing what with a giant spider, complete with bulbous egg sac, anchoring the retrospective exhibit. The permanent galleries, too, were a delight upon which to feast one's eyes. Picasso, Warhol and Pollock ruled the chambers of the upper floors with the products of their lithe wrists; and I ended up becoming a huge fan of cubism, while developing a disdain for abstract art and its vacuous images, which, I feel, are devoid of both motivation and emotion.

My first trip yesterday morning was to Emirates Stadium, home of the Arsenal Gunners. It towers imperiously over the surrounding neighborhood; yet for all its majesty, the place sure was quiet! Business did pick up later, however, once the armory shop opened, and dozens of fans descended on it like bees to a hive. I, too, swooped in on a gift-buying mission, and wound up purchasing a book for Godfrey, a scarf for a student, and a jersey - on sale, of course - for good measure.

I'm sitting in the Westminster Abbey Museum now, resting my weary legs and burdened back. So far, I've been verily impressed with what I've seen, such a confluence of splendor and history before me that it would require days to absorb it all, when regretfully I can spare only a few hours. My favorite part of the abbey is the poets corner where no less a literary luminary than Samuel Johnson rests in peace - his bust confirms his homely presence, which was so vividly captured in his biography.

For lunch I had a steak and ale pie, served with mash, taken alongside a Guinness, extra cold - 2 degrees centigrade colder, the bartender explained. It went down well, like all the other delicious meals I've had in England; and no doubt by now I have grown accustomed to inebriation at half past two. Besides, Liverpool were playing inspired football against Blackburn; and my lunch was complete.

Having had my fill of football, I decided to skip my ticket scalping endeavor at Stamford Bridge and instead wandered over to the British Museum to inspect their extensive collections. Along the way, my eye caught a theater, its doors wide open and admitting customers. With much rapidity, I subsequently checked the show times, saw that a performance was set to begin, and at last rushed to the box office to purchase a discounted ticket - if you call a 40 pound ticket a deal, that is. That's how I grabbed a seat to watch Hairspray in the West End.

The show was worth forty pounds. The music was addictive; and the stage design and effects were not so much kitschy as delightfully stimulating - the pulsating background lights were at once scintillating and penetrating. The actors as well were vivacious, oozing charisma while they danced and delivered lines dripping in humor. Hairspray is a quality production and most definitely recommended.


12.4.09
At breakfast I sat across from a man who asked me to which country Hong Kong had been returned - China or Japan. That was pretty funny. Then he started spitting on my food as he spoke, completely oblivious to my breakfast becoming the receptacle in which the fruit of his inner churl was being placed. I guess I understand the convention nowadays of covering one's mouth whilst speaking and masticating at the same time!

We actually conversed on London life in general, and I praised London for its racial integration, the act of which is a prodigious leap of faith for any society, trying to be inclusive, accepting all sorts of people. It wasn't as though the Brits were trying in vain to be all things to all men, using Spanish with the visitors from Spain, German with the Germans and, even, Hindi with the Indians, regardless of whether or not Hindi was their native language; not even considering the absurd idea of encouraging the international adoption of their language; thereby completely keeping English in English hands and allowing its proud polyglots to "practice" their languages. Indeed, the attempt of the Londoners to avail themselves of the rich mosaic of ethnic knowledge, and to seek a common understanding with a ubiquitous English accent is an exemplar, and the bedrock for any world city.

I celebrated Jesus' resurrection at the St. Andrew's Street Church in Cambridge. The parishioners of this Baptist church were warm and affable, and I met several of them, including one visiting (Halliday) linguistics scholar from Zhongshan university in Guangzhou, who in fact had visited my tiny City University of Hong Kong in 2003. The service itself was more traditional and the believers fewer in number than the "progressive" services at any of the charismatic, evangelical churches in HK; yet that's what makes this part of the body of Christ unique; besides, the message was as brief as a powerpoint slide, and informative no less; the power word which spoke into my life being a question from John 21:22 - what is that to you?

Big trees; exquisite lawns; and old, pointy colleges; that's Cambridge in a nutshell. Sitting here, sipping on a half-pint of Woodforde's Wherry, I've had a leisurely, if not languorous, day so far; my sole duty consisting of walking around while absorbing the verdant environment as though a sponge, camera in tow.

I am back at the sublime beer, savoring a pint of Sharp's DoomBar before my fish and chips arrive; the drinking age is 18, but anyone whose visage even hints of youthful brilliance is likely to get carded these days, the bartender told me. The youth drinking culture here is almost as twisted as the university drinking culture in America.

My stay in Cambridge, relaxing and desultory as it may be, is about to end after this late lunch. I an not sure if there is anything left to see, save for the American graveyard which rests an impossible two miles away. I have had a wonderful time in this town; and am thankful for the access into its living history - the residents here must demonstrate remarkable patience and tolerance what with so many tourists ambling on the streets, peering - and photographing - into every nook and cranny.

13.4.09
There are no rubbish bins, yet I've seen on the streets many mixed race couples in which the men tend to be white - the women also belonging to a light colored ethnicity, usually some sort of Asian; as well saw some black dudes and Indian dudes with white chicks.

People here hold doors, even at the entrance to the toilet. Sometimes it appears as though they are going out on a limb, just waiting for the one who will take the responsibility for the door from them, at which point I rush out to relieve them of such a fortuitous burden.

I visited the British Museum this morning. The two hours I spent there did neither myself nor the exhibits any justice because there really is too much to survey, enough captivating stuff to last an entire day, I think. The bottomless well of artifacts from antiquity, drawing from sources as diverse as Korea, and Mesopotamia, is a credit to the British empire, without whose looting most of this amazing booty would be unavailable for our purview; better, I think, for these priceless treasures to be open to all in the grandest supermarket of history than away from human eyes, and worst yet, in the hands of unscrupulous collectors or in the rubbish bin, possibly.

Irene and I took in the ballet Giselle at The Royal Opera House in the afternoon. The building is a plush marvel, and a testament to this city's love for the arts. The ballet itself was satisfying, the first half being superior to the second, in which the nimble dancers demonstrated their phenomenal dexterity in, of all places, a graveyard covered in a cloak of smoke and darkness. I admit, their dance of the dead, in such a gloomy necropolis, did strike me as, strange.

Two amicable ladies from Kent convinced me to visit their hometown tomorrow, where, they told me, the authentic, "working" Leeds Castle and the mighty interesting home of Charles Darwin await.

I'm nursing a pint of Green King Ruddles and wondering about the profusion of British ales and lagers; the British have done a great deed for the world by creating an interminable line of low-alcohol session beers that can be enjoyed at breakfast, lunch, tea and dinner; and their disservice is this: besides this inexhaustible supply of cheap beer ensnaring my inner alcoholic, I feel myself putting on my freshman fifteen, almost ten years after the fact; I am going to have to run a bit harder back in Hong Kong if I want to burn all this malty fuel off.

Irene suggested I stop by the National Art Gallery since we were in the area; and it was an hour well spent. The gallery currently presents a special exhibit on Picasso, the non-ticketed section of which features several seductive renderings, including David spying on Bathsheba - repeated in clever variants - and parodies of other masters' works. Furthermore, the main gallery houses two fabulous portraits by Joshua Reynolds, who happens to be favorite of mine, he in life being a close friend of Samuel Johnson - I passed by Boswells, where its namesake first met Johnson, on my way to the opera house.

14.4.09
I prayed last night, and went through my list, lifting everyone on it up to the Lord. That felt good; that God is alive now, and ever present in my life and in the lives of my brothers and sisters.

Doubtless, then, I have felt quite wistful, as though a specter in the land of the living, being in a place where religious fervor, it seems, is a thing of the past, a trifling for many, to be hidden away in the opaque corners of centuries-old cathedrals that are more expensive tourist destinations than liberating homes of worship these days. Indeed, I have yet to see anyone pray, outside of the Easter service which I attended in Cambridge - for such an ecstatic moment in verily a grand church, would you believe that it was only attended by at most three dozen spirited ones. The people of England, and Europe in general, have, it is my hope, only locked away the Word, relegating it to the quiet vault of their hearts. May it be taken out in the sudden pause before mealtimes and in the still crisp mornings and cool, silent nights. There is still hope for a revival in this place, for faith to rise like that splendid sun every morning. God would love to rescue them, to deliver them in this day, it is certain.

I wonder what Londoners think, if anything at all, about their police state which, like a vine in the shadows, has taken root in all corners of daily life, from the terrorist notifications in the underground, which implore Londoners to report all things suspicious, to the pair of dogs which eagerly stroll through Euston. What makes this all the more incredible is the fact that even the United States, the indomitable nemesis of the fledgling, rebel order, doesn't dare bombard its citizens with such fear mongering these days, especially with Obama in office; maybe we've grown wise in these past few years to the dubious returns of surrendering civil liberties to the state, of having our bags checked everywhere - London Eye; Hairspray; and The Royal Opera House check bags in London while the museums do not; somehow, that doesn't add up for me.

I'm in a majestic bookshop on New Street in Birmingham, and certainly to confirm my suspicions, there are just as many books on the death of Christianity in Britain as there are books which attempt to murder Christianity everywhere. I did find, however, a nice biography on John Wesley by Roy Hattersley and The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis. I may pick up the former.

Lunch with Sally was pleasant and mirthful. We dined at a French restaurant nearby New Street - yes, Birmingham is a cultural capitol! Sally and I both tried their omelette, while her boyfriend had the fish, without chips. Conversation was light, the levity was there and so was our reminiscing about those fleeting moments during our first year in Hong Kong; it is amazing how friendships can resume so suddenly with a smile. On their recommendation, I am on my way to Warwick Castle - they also suggested that I visit Cadbury World, but they cannot take on additional visitors at the moment, the tourist office staff informed me, much to my disappointment!

Visiting Warwick Castle really made for a great day out. The castle, parts of which were established by William the Conquerer in 1068, is as much a kitschy tourist trap as a meticulous preservation of history, at times a sillier version of Ocean Park while at others a dignified dedication to a most glorious, inexorably English past. The castle caters to all visitors; and not surprisingly, that which delighted all audiences was a giant trebuchet siege engine, which for the five p.m. performance hurled a fireball high and far into the air - fantastic! Taliban beware!

15.4.09
I'm leaving on a jet plane this evening; don't know when I'll be back in England again. I'll miss this quirky, yet endearing place; and that I shall miss Irene and Tom who so generously welcomed me into their home, fed me, and suffered my use of their toilet and shower goes without saying. I'm grateful for God's many blessings on this trip.

On the itinerary today is a trip to John Wesley's home, followed by a visit to the Imperial War Museum. Already this morning I picked up a tube of Oilatum, a week late perhaps, which Teri recommended I use to treat this obstinate, dermal weakness of mine - I'm happy to report that my skin has stopped crying.

John Wesley's home is alive and well. Services are still held in the chapel everyday; and its crypt, so far from being a cellar for the dead, is a bright, spacious museum in which all things Wesley are on display - I never realized how much of an iconic figure he became in England; at the height of this idol frenzy, ironic in itself, he must have been as popular as the Beatles were at their apex. The house itself is a multi-story edifice with narrow, precipitous staircases and spacious rooms decorated in an 18th century fashion.

I found Samuel Johnson's house within a maze of red brick hidden alongside Fleet Street. To be in the home of the man who wrote the English dictionary, and whose indefatigable love for obscure words became the inspiration for my own lexical obsession, this, by far, is the climax of my visit to England! The best certainly has been saved for last.

There are a multitude of portraits hanging around the house like ornaments on a tree. Every likeness has its own story, meticulously retold on the crib sheets in each room. Celebrities abound, including David Garrick and Sir Joshua Reynolds, who painted several of the finer images in the house. I have developed a particular affinity for Oliver Goldsmith, of whom Boswell writes, "His person was short, his countenance coarse and vulgar, his deportment that of a scholar awkwardly affecting the easy gentleman. It appears as though I, too, could use a more flattering description of myself!

I regretfully couldn't stop to try the curry in England; I guess the CityU canteen's take on the dish will have to do. I did, however, have the opportune task of flirting with the cute Cathay Pacific counter staff who checked me in. She was gorgeous in red, light powder on her cheeks, with real diamond earrings, she said; and her small, delicate face, commanded by a posh British accent rendered her positively irresistible, electrifying. Not only did she grant me an aisle seat but she had the gumption to return my fawning with zest; she must be a pro at this by now.

I saw her again as she was pulling double-duty, collecting tickets prior to boarding. She remembered my quest for curry; and in the fog of infatuation, where nary a man has been made, I fumbled my words like the sloppy kid who has had too much punch. I am just an amateur, alas, an "Oliver Goldsmith" with the ladies - I got no game - booyah!

Some final, consequential bits: because of the chavs, Burberry no longer sells those fashionable baseball caps; because of the IRA, rubbish bins are no longer a commodity on the streets of London, and as a result, the streets and the Underground of the city are a soiled mess; and because of other terrorists from distant, more arid lands, going through a Western airport has taken on the tedium of perfunctory procedure that doesn't make me feel any safer from my invisible enemies.

At last, I saw so many Indians working at Heathrow that I could have easily mistaken the place for Mumbai. Their presence surprised me because their portion of the general population surely must be less than their portion of Heathrow staff, indicating some mysterious hiring bias. Regardless, they do a superb job with cursory airport checks, and in general are absurdly funny and witty when not tactless.

That's all for England!


Taipei: Gongguan
vacations for cheap
Image by bittermelon
Taiwan is all about portable, cheap, tasty snacks. Conducive for grazing. This was a Peking Duck-esque bun filled with juicy fatty carnita meat, peanut powder, and cilantro. Peg and I both agreed that it would be perfect without any sweetness

Cool Vegas Deals images

A few nice vegas deals images I found:


Christina Perri Kicks Off Her First Official U.S. Tour at Book & Stage at The Cosmopolitan of Las Vegas
vegas deals
Image by The Cosmopolitan of Las Vegas
Las Vegas, July 16, 2011 - Christina Perri played to a packed house at Book & Stage at The Cosmopolitan of Las Vegas, which was the kick-off of her first official U.S. tour.

In July 2010, a struggling singer-songwriter and musician named Christina Perri had a life-changing moment when she was asked to perform a song she had written, a defiant break-up anthem called “Jar of Hearts,” on the Fox show So You Think You Can Dance. The raw, emotional quality of her performance connected with viewers and catapulted the 24-year-old Philadelphia native into the public eye. “Jar of Hearts” went on to sell a million downloads and land Perri, who was then supporting herself as a café manager in Beverly Hills, a deal with Atlantic Records...continue reading more on Christina Perri.

See photos here from the Christina Perri Meet & Greet and private show with Mix 941 that took place earlier in the day at Marquee Nightclub's Boombox.

For upcoming shows and events at The Cosmopolitan see the Events Calendar.

Find The Cosmopolitan on...
Twitter: @Cosmopolitan_LV
Facebook: www.facebook.com/TheCosmopolitan
YouTube: www.youtube.com/user/TheCosmopolitanLV
Website: www.cosmopolitanlasvegas.com


Christina Perri Kicks Off Her First Official U.S. Tour at Book & Stage at The Cosmopolitan of Las Vegas
vegas deals
Image by The Cosmopolitan of Las Vegas
Las Vegas, July 16, 2011 - Christina Perri played to a packed house at Book & Stage at The Cosmopolitan of Las Vegas, which was the kick-off of her first official U.S. tour.

In July 2010, a struggling singer-songwriter and musician named Christina Perri had a life-changing moment when she was asked to perform a song she had written, a defiant break-up anthem called “Jar of Hearts,” on the Fox show So You Think You Can Dance. The raw, emotional quality of her performance connected with viewers and catapulted the 24-year-old Philadelphia native into the public eye. “Jar of Hearts” went on to sell a million downloads and land Perri, who was then supporting herself as a café manager in Beverly Hills, a deal with Atlantic Records...continue reading more on Christina Perri.

See photos here from the Christina Perri Meet & Greet and private show with Mix 941 that took place earlier in the day at Marquee Nightclub's Boombox.

For upcoming shows and events at The Cosmopolitan see the Events Calendar.

Find The Cosmopolitan on...
Twitter: @Cosmopolitan_LV
Facebook: www.facebook.com/TheCosmopolitan
YouTube: www.youtube.com/user/TheCosmopolitanLV
Website: www.cosmopolitanlasvegas.com


Christina Perri Kicks Off Her First Official U.S. Tour at Book & Stage at The Cosmopolitan of Las Vegas
vegas deals
Image by The Cosmopolitan of Las Vegas
Las Vegas, July 16, 2011 - Christina Perri played to a packed house at Book & Stage at The Cosmopolitan of Las Vegas, which was the kick-off of her first official U.S. tour.

In July 2010, a struggling singer-songwriter and musician named Christina Perri had a life-changing moment when she was asked to perform a song she had written, a defiant break-up anthem called “Jar of Hearts,” on the Fox show So You Think You Can Dance. The raw, emotional quality of her performance connected with viewers and catapulted the 24-year-old Philadelphia native into the public eye. “Jar of Hearts” went on to sell a million downloads and land Perri, who was then supporting herself as a café manager in Beverly Hills, a deal with Atlantic Records...continue reading more on Christina Perri.

See photos here from the Christina Perri Meet & Greet and private show with Mix 941 that took place earlier in the day at Marquee Nightclub's Boombox.

For upcoming shows and events at The Cosmopolitan see the Events Calendar.

Find The Cosmopolitan on...
Twitter: @Cosmopolitan_LV
Facebook: www.facebook.com/TheCosmopolitan
YouTube: www.youtube.com/user/TheCosmopolitanLV
Website: www.cosmopolitanlasvegas.com

Bay Lake Tower

A few nice resort vacation club images I found:


Bay Lake Tower
resort vacation club
Image by Sam Howzit
Bay Lake Tower at Disney's Contemporary Resort.


Bay Lake Tower
resort vacation club
Image by Sam Howzit
Bay Lake Tower at Disney's Contemporary Resort.


GC Villa Construction
resort vacation club
Image by auntie rain
Construction is underway for the new Disney Vacation Club villas at The Grand Californian. That's the Paradise Pier Resort in the background.

Picture taken from our room on the 4th floor of The Grand Californian,

Nice Vacations Cheap photos

Some cool vacations cheap images:


Junk Food Heaven
vacations cheap
Image by mynameisharsha
The junk food there is very cheap, most of them shown here are are like 5 or 10 Baht each, so we bought a lot of them to try out. Too bad we didn't quite like any of them though.


Tijuana dreaming
vacations cheap
Image by _Madolan_
I have been roasted, broiled, cooked, baked, charred, and deep-fried in the Californian and Mexican sunlight. This is no country for pale girls. But we've got cheap Mexican tequila with devils on the label, Warren Ellis shot glasses, and some incredibly dodgy Mexican pharmaceuticals. I do not expect to notice the sunburn for much longer.

Funny aside: if you enter one of those ubiquitous Mexican pharmacies and ask for aloe vera, they will try to sell you Viagra instead.


Roma 04 v2
vacations cheap
Image by Alkiol
Another Rome shot.

Trip to Italy last year. Old photos with an older/cheaper camera. It was on and off raining all day, but here at sunset the sun came out and the site were quite beautiful. This is one of the main museums in Roma (name slips my mind). Gorgeous view of Rome's ancient ruins from the back side of this museum.

Nice Vacation Specials photos

Some cool vacation specials images:


Another special moment
vacation specials
Image by ptpgrad
The boy kept playing around the fountains until the pattern changed and one squirted right up his pant leg.


Special
vacation specials
Image by Paul and Christa

IMG_3401

Some cool vacations all inclusive images:


IMG_3401
vacations all inclusive
Image by Carlanne McCrystal
The door placques now have the number in Braille as a part of the hotel's commitment to the comfort of all their guests.


Dinner at Albatros Restaurant at Riu Caribe Hotel - Cancun Mexico
vacations all inclusive
Image by Pictophile
It's so nice to just go in and get all the food you want whenever you want and not have to worry about spending more money. Amazingly, I only gained 2 pounds on the trip! (I think it is because I sweat the rest of it out during our visit to Chichen Itza).

P7114814

A few nice travel vacation images I found:


P7114814
travel vacation
Image by jon|k


P7114800
travel vacation
Image by jon|k


P7114799
travel vacation
Image by jon|k

Nice Vacation Packages photos

A few nice vacation packages images I found:


Chef Ana's Family
vacation packages
Image by La Villa Bonita Mexican Culinary Vacation
At La Villa Bonita, the packages are run as a part of daily family life.


Structure Synth 1.0 (Potemkin) Released
vacation packages
Image by Syntopia
I've released a new version of Structure Synth.

Binaries for Windows (XP and Vista).
Mac binaries (universal).
Linux is still source only (but for Debian and Ubuntu look out for the 'structure-synth' package which at some point will be upgraded to version 1.0)

Download here

New features since (0.9.5):
- Added a 'Recent files' menu entry.
- Optional depth-first recursion (using 'set recursion depth')
- Added application icon.
- Support for a new generic 'template' primitive

A new Template Export Browser:
- Shows the defined primitives in the template (highlighting used and missing).
- Integrated XML editor with syntax highlighting for quickly modifying the template.
- Automatic unique filename generation.
- Define output width and height.
- A post modification window allows you to modify the output before saving.

The template XML syntax has been updated:
- A new element.
- The 'substitution' element is now called 'primitive'
- Added 'defaultExtension' tag.
- Added 'runAfter' tag.

For (slightly) more information see this blog entry.

Oscoda Family Vacation 2011 September 25, 20113

A few nice vacations images I found:


Oscoda Family Vacation 2011 September 25, 20113
vacations
Image by stevendepolo

Harrah's Las Vegas

Check out these vegas deals images:


Harrah's Las Vegas
vegas deals
Image by Calgary Reviews
More about Harrah's Las Vegas Hotel and Casino Deals at www.lasvegashotelcasinodeals.com/


Mesa Grill - Ancho Chile Honey Glazed Salmon
vegas deals
Image by Calgary Reviews
More about Ancho Chile Honey Glazed Salmon at Mesa Grill Las Vegas

Find Great Vegas Deals


Vegas Royalty
vegas deals
Image by KidResorts
Located at The Grand Canal Shoppes at The Venetian (with another location in the Miracle Mile Shops at Planet Hollywood), Vegas Royalty has fun, club clothes for teens and young adults. There are some good deals to be had!

www.vegasroyaltylv.com/

Cool Vacation To Hawaii images

Some cool vacation to hawaii images:


P1010525
vacation to hawaii
Image by sotheavy


Road to Hana
vacation to hawaii
Image by sotheavy


P1010271
vacation to hawaii
Image by sotheavy

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