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Cool Resort Vacation images

A few nice resort vacation images I found:




Perdido Cove RV Resort & Marina, Perdido Key Florida
resort vacation
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.

Holiday Inn Resort Hotel, Pensacola Beach

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.



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.

Walt Disney World resort trip 2008

Some cool vacation resort in florida images:


Walt Disney World resort trip 2008
vacation resort in florida
Image by HeySandra
me and dad in front of the sorcerer's hat


Walt Disney World resort trip 2008
vacation resort in florida
Image by HeySandra
What the heck are they trying to represent here? it's a big stick stuck in the middle of earth....showing distance. Of what? No clue.

Nice Resort Spa Vacation photos

Check out these resort spa vacation images:


Father and Daughter time
resort spa vacation
Image by Ranchseeker (www.ranchseeker.com)
Imagine horseback riding over 15,000 acres of rolling rangelands! That’s what you see when you look out of your room or chalet when on vacation at our ranch & spa!

Ranch Seeker

Cool Vacations Cheap images

Check out these vacations cheap images:


Miami Sea Aquarium
vacations cheap
Image by dania102100


Josh Walking Away - Key Biscayne, Florida
vacations cheap
Image by dania102100


Westin Diplomat Pool in Hallandales
vacations cheap
Image by dania102100

Nice Where To Vacation photos

Check out these where to vacation images:


Section 60 (November 11, 2012) ...item 3.. Freedom Remembered (December 23, 2012) ...item 5.. U.S. soldier stabbed to death in the back by Afghan teen (1 April 2013) ...
where to vacation
Image by marsmet491
People grieve at a gravesite in Section 60, an area where members of the U.S. military who were killed in action in Iraq and Afghanistan are buried, during Veterans Day observances at Arlington National Cemetery in Arlington, Virginia, on November 11, 2012. (Reuters / Jonathan Ernst)
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........*****All images are copyrighted by their respective authors ........
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.....item 1).... The Atlantic ... www.theatlantic.com ...

with Alan Taylor - In Focus

Afghanistan: November 2012
DEC 3, 2012

www.theatlantic.com/infocus/2012/12/afghanistan-november-...

Most media attention paid to Afghanistan this month revolved around a scandal involving General David Petraeus and General John Allen, the two most recent U.S. military commanders there. However, that scandal has had little or no impact on daily life in Afghanistan. Of greater concern there is the continued insecurity. As the 2014 withdrawal of NATO troops approaches, people are leaving Afghanistan at a higher rate than they have since 2002. Iran and Saudi Arabia, rivals for regional influence, are making investments in the country's infrastructure, each hoping to be the stronger partner after 2014. But it's far from clear what the future will bring. These photos show just a glimpse of this conflict over the past month, part of the ongoing series here on Afghanistan. [37 photos]
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.....item 2).... Operation Enduring Freedom ... iCasualties.org ...

icasualties.org/oef/

News

--- 12/24/12 Tolonews: Policewoman in Insider Attack Likely Acted With Premeditation
The Afghan policewoman who allegedly shot and killed a US civilian adviser near the Kabul police chief's compound appeared to be acting with premeditation and crossed three checkpoints to get inside the highly secure enclave, sources tell TOLOnews.

--- 12/24/12 pottsmerc: Pottstown native Navy SEAL commander Job Price dies
Pottstown High School graduate Navy SEAL Cdr. Job W. Price, 42, died Saturday while serving in southern Afghanistan...The Associated Press reported Sunday that a U.S. military official said the death “appears to be the result of suicide.” The official spoke on condition of anonymity because the death is still being investigated.

--- 12/24/12 DoD: Navy Casualty Identified
Cdr. Job W. Price, 42, of Pottstown, Pa., died Dec. 22 of a non-combat related injury while supporting stability operations in Uruzgan Province, Afghanistan. Price was assigned to an East Coast-based Naval Special Warfare unit in Virginia Beach, Va.

--- 12/24/12 NATO: ISAF casualty
An International Security Assistance Force service member died following an insurgent attack in eastern Afghanistan today. The insurgent attack in which this ISAF service member died is unrelated to the shooting at the Kabul police headquarters today.

--- 12/24/12 AP: Afghan police say policewoman killed US adviser
An Afghan policewoman shot and killed an American adviser Monday outside police headquarters in Kabul, a senior Afghan official said. The circumstances of the killing were not immediately clear, but the shooting could be another insider attack by Afghans against their foreign allies.
12/23/12 BNA: Mine Blast Martyrs Frontier Policeman, Wounds 2 In Nangarhar
A frontier policeman was martyred and two others wounded in explosion of a mine in Chaparhar district of Nangarhar province. Edress Mohmand spokesman for Nangarhar frontier police commandment said to BNA, this explosion occurred in Dago area, Chaparhar district while the vehicle of frontier police was passsing from the area.

--- 12/23/12 thenews: Three Polish soldiers wounded in Afghanistan
Three Polish soldiers were injured on Saturday morning after coming under attack in the province of Ghazni, eastern Afghanistan. The incident took place while the soldiers were on a routine patrol in the south western part of the province.

--- 12/23/12 rferl: Huge Fire Devastates Kabul Market
A major fire has swept through a market area near the center of the Afghan capital, Kabul. There were no reports of casualties, but hundreds of shops and stalls were destroyed and Kabul's nearby currency-exchange center was evacuated, authorities say.

--- 12/22/12 WNA: Two militants killed in Herat coordinated operation
Joint Afghan National Army (ANA) troops and the coalition forces, repelled an attack by insurgent forces in Alibad village of Shindand district, the alliance said Saturday. Two enemy fighters were killed during the attack on Afghan National Security Forces, who were conducting a presence patrol in the area, the statement said.

--- 12/22/12 AP: Afghan girl shot in face by Taliban is recovering after reconstructive surgery at NY hospital
A 6-year-old girl from Afghanistan is recovering at a Long Island hospital after undergoing surgery on her face to repair damage done by a Taliban bullet. Newsday reports that the child, named Marizeh, held a toy unicorn and blew kisses as a nurse carried her past well-wishers before her surgery Friday at South Nassau Communities Hospital in Oceanside, New York.

--- 12/22/12 AP: ND native recovers from attack in Afghanistan
Army Capt. Seth Nieman, a Calvin, N.D., native, is spending Christmas at Walter Reed National Military Medical Center in Bethesda, Md. But he'd rather be back in Afghanistan with the Special Forces "A-Team" that he leads. Nieman is recuperating from wounds, including the loss of part of his right leg, suffered Nov. 27 when a roadside bomb exploded while he and five fellow soldiers were on mounted patrol in Wardak province near Kabul.

--- 12/22/12 AP: Gunmen kill 11 Pakistanis‚ Afghans in SW Pakistan
An official says gunmen have killed eleven Pakistanis and Afghans in a border town of southwestern Pakistan as they were trying to cross to Iran to travel on to Europe as illegal migrants. Local government official Zubair Ahmed said Saturday the shooting took place late Friday in the Sunsar town of southwestern Baluchistan province.
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.....item 3).... Freedom Remembered ... Remembering Our Troops ... freedomremembered.com

freedomremembered.com/index.php/category/operation-enduri...

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freedomremembered.com/index.php/cdr-job-w-price/

freedomremembered.com/index.php/lt-leonard-robinson/

freedomremembered.com/index.php/sgt-1st-class-kevin-e-lip...

freedomremembered.com/index.php/staff-sgt-nicholas-j-reid/

freedomremembered.com/index.php/staff-sgt-nelson-d-trent/

freedomremembered.com/index.php/sgt-michael-j-guillory/

freedomremembered.com/index.php/staff-sgt-wesley-r-williams/

freedomremembered.com/index.php/po-1st-class-nicolas-d-ch...

freedomremembered.com/index.php/sgt-1st-class-darren-m-li...

freedomremembered.com/index.php/spc-tyler-j-orgaard/
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.....item 4).... youtube video ... Justin Hayward and John Lodge - Blue Jays (Full Album) ... 50:50 minutes...

www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ri4OcEbM7Vs

theoldtavern

Published on Nov 8, 2012

Blue Jays is a 1975 album by Justin Hayward and John Lodge. It was recorded and released during the Moody Blues' five-year hiatus.

The track "Blue Guitar", originally released as a non-album single credited to Hayward and Lodge in September 1975 but performed by Hayward with the band 10cc, was added to the album upon its re-release on CD in 1987.

In 2004, the album was remastered and released on CD with the same bonus tracks.

Side One

"This Morning" (Justin Hayward) - 00:01
"Remember Me (My Friend)" (Hayward, John Lodge) - 05:55
"My Brother" (Hayward) - 11:21
"You" (Lodge) - 14:52
"Nights Winters Years" (Hayward) - 19:27

Side Two

"Saved by the Music" (Lodge) - 23:04
"I Dreamed Last Night" (Hayward) - 29:17
"Who Are You Now" (Hayward) - 33:45
"Maybe" (Lodge) - 36:12
"When You Wake Up" (Hayward, Lodge) - 41:55

1987 Bonus tracks (also 2004 remaster)
"Blue Guitar" (Hayward) - 47:10

Justin Hayward -- guitar, vocals
John Lodge -- bass, vocals
Jim Cockey -- violin
Tim Tompkins -- cello
Tom Tompkins -- viola
Kirk Duncan -- piano
Graham Deakin -- drums

Blue Guitar"
Justin Hayward - guitar, lead vocals
Lol Creme - guitar, vocals
Kevin Godley - drums, vocals
Graham Gouldman - bass, vocals
Eric Stewart - keyboards, vocals

Category
Music

License
Standard YouTube License
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.....item 5).... 'He was always a kid at heart': U.S. soldier stabbed to death in the back by Afghan teen as he played with local kids ..

... Mail Online - Daily Mail ... www.dailymail.co.uk/news/ ...

By KATIE DAVIES
PUBLISHED: 12:30 EST, 1 April 2013 | UPDATED: 15:40 EST, 1 April 2013

www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2302437/He-kid-heart-U-S...

A Kentucky soldier two months from coming home was stabbed to death by a teenager in Afghanistan after he stopped to play with a group of local children, it emerged today.

Sgt Michael Cable, 26, of Philpot, Kentucky, was guarding a meeting between Afghan and U.S. officials in the east of the country near the Pakistan border on Wednesday when a teenager, believed to be aged 16, attacked him from behind with a large knife.

The soldier, who would have been returning from Afghanistan for a vacation in June and then permanently in September, was playing with local children when the attack took place, according to reports.
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img code photo ... Sgt. Michael Cable, 26, of Philpot, Kentucky

i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2013/04/01/article-0-1908A9D40000...

Killed: Sgt. Michael Cable, 26, of Philpot, Kentucky, was stabbed to death in Afghanistan on Wednesday

Facebook

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img code photo ... A U.S. Army team carried his remains

i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2013/04/01/article-0-1907FA5F0000...

Remembered: A U.S. Army team carried his remains to be transported home on Thursday. He was remembered by family and friends for his fun-loving spirit

AP

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He died of stab wounds to the neck.

Members of his family flew to Dover Air Base in Delaware on Thursday to watch his body returned to U.S. soil and remembered their fun, outdoors loving son.

His older sister Wendy Dickens remembered his surprise visit to the family in November.

'He was goofy the whole time and riding and pushing himself on a cart through the store even though he was a grown-up. He just, he was always a kid at heart,' she told Tri-state.com

His mother Vickie Johnson said: 'I'm so proud of him because he done it for the United States of America.'

Ms Dickens and Cable's other sister Lisa spoke of his great rapport with their children and how difficult it would be to explain his death to them.

'I miss him so much,' Lisa Osborne said. 'I had already started day dreaming about when he came home. Playing football with Dave and Kids in back yard. My boys have always seen him as their hero.'
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img code photo ... Dedication: Michael Cable signed up in 2007 and had already served in Iraq.

i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2013/04/01/article-0-1907FAE30000...

Dedication: Michael Cable signed up in 2007 and had already served in Iraq. He was due to return home in June for a vacation and permanently in September

AP

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img code photo ... Prayer:

i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2013/04/01/article-0-1907FE190000...

Prayer: Fellow soldiers paid their respects on Thursday

AP

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Writing on Facebook, Dickens wrote: 'Trying to figure out how to answer a 5 yr and 9 yr olds questions about death and dying. My little brother was my children's hero they thought he was invincible. He was there own special GI Joe and now he's gone.'

The fact that he was being kind to the local community when he died has been noted by the family, who say he went into the army to 'help'. He signed up in 2007 and had already completed a tour of Iraq.

'He was very determined,' his brother Raymond Johnston Jr - named after their father - told the Courier Press.

'He just felt that he could really be a good soldier. He wanted to help. He was prepared before he left for anything that happened.'

Former school friends from Daviess County High remembered his sense of humor and athleticism.
He was a Daviess County runner and becomes the second soldier in his running class to be killed.

Cable's teammate Matt Rowe, who currently coaches at Daviess County, said. 'Michael's attitude was contagious. He loved life, cared deeply for his friends, and was always the first to make you laugh. He was the type of person that always had your back, even though he might be going through a tougher situation at the time. His friendship was so sincere and Michael is someone that none of us will ever forget.'

Michael Cable's death is another in a tragic month for U.S. forces in Afghanistan.

14 soldiers have been killed this month, a sharp increase in the death toll which was 4 in January and February.

An investigation into Cable's death is ongoing.

He was guarding swearing-in ceremony of Afghan Local Police in Shinwar district in Nangarhar province.

The young man who carried out the attack escaped into Pakistan. The Taliban said he was acting independently but had joined the Islamic militant movement since fleeing the scene.

Cable's funeral will take place on Saturday


Read more:
Brother: Slain Western Kentucky soldier prepared for 'anything'
American Hero Honored and Remembered
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Nice Vacation Sell Off photos

Check out these vacation sell off images:


Pigeons on the Pavement
vacation sell off
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 British Museum Lion
vacation sell off
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!

My date for the Bon Jovi concert

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My date for the Bon Jovi concert
vacations for cheap
Image by vsmoothe
We wanted to stop buy H&M to buy some cheap slutty underwear to throw on the stage (we were in the 3rd row), but there was just too much to do. No time!

IMG_2510

Some cool vacations all inclusive images:


IMG_2510
vacations all inclusive
Image by cdedbdme


IMG_2530
vacations all inclusive
Image by cdedbdme

Stone Walls in the Ring of Kerry

Check out these vacation sell off images:


Stone Walls in the Ring of Kerry
vacation sell off
Image by dlkinney
The Ring of Kerry is fill of the stone walls you see at the bottom of this photo. (Again, taken through the tour bus window while moving.) The prevalence of stone walls is due to a law enacted by the British to gain control over the lands of the Catholics. A Protestant could bequeath all of his lands to a single heir, but a Catholic had to bequeath equals shares of his land to each of his children. Stone walls had to be erected showing the division of land. Thus, even a Catholic who owned a very large farm couldn't expect his great grand children to own enough land off of which to feed themselves by farming. When those great grandchildren inherited the land and could not live off of it, they would have to sell it to the rich English absentee landlords and then rent a larger piece of land back from an English lord. All of this was quite effective in getting all of the land out of Irish hands and into the hands of English nobility in less than a century.

Beach on Coronado island

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Beach on Coronado island
vacations on the beach
Image by vkp_patel
I have never seen such clear water and a serene beach. Simply loved the place.


On the beach at San Blas
vacations on the beach
Image by JennyYo

Nice Weekend Getaways photos

Some cool weekend getaways images:


Street art near Chinatown Montreal
weekend getaways
Image by Downtown Traveler


Montreal street art
weekend getaways
Image by Downtown Traveler


DSC_0605
weekend getaways
Image by azbarkmans

Cool Vacation Spots images

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@ Antel Grand Village - 03
vacation spots
Image by Dexter Panganiban
@Antel Grand Village .. for more information send me a note thru contact page @ techathand.net


@ Antel Grand Village - 21
vacation spots
Image by Dexter Panganiban
@Antel Grand Village .. for more information send me a note thru contact page @ techathand.net

Cool Vacation And Travel images

Some cool vacation and travel images:


Peru Travel: Andean masks in Cusco
vacation and travel
Image by Latin America For Less
The Andean cultures continue to thrive in Cusco and the surrounding area, reflected in the range of masks and hats that are on sale.

You can use this image on your blog or website, but please link and attribute:
Peru travel photos © Matthew Barker, Peru For Less

Mayan

Check out these vacation to mexico images:


Mayan
vacation to mexico
Image by C. Strife
ive been behind on uploading some recent stuff. so ill upload most recent.

we recently went to Riviera Maya in Mexico for vacation. Man it was awesome, despite it raining most of the time. Here are some stuff i was able to take

scultpure that was in the resort we stayed at.


México
vacation to mexico
Image by Matthew Burpee
Heading to the coast with vacationers from Buenos Aires

Cool Vacation Packages images

A few nice vacation packages images I found:



\\\
vacation packages
Image by M I S C H E L L E
tumblr \ blog

tagged by Queen Kimberly ∞ + pen.ah

1. spent my whole afternoon reading a book on notable american reburials for u.s. (halfway done)
2. painted my nails in milani disco lights yesterday.
3. received a package from teen ink; got published again! yay
4. i noticed that the trees in our yard are dead now-- it's winterrr
5. my parents think i don't do anything when i'm at home. i have a fuckload of shit to do every day, you can't just tell me organize four bags of laundry when i'm trying to start an essay.
6. can't wait till winter vacation.
7. i just want to sleep okay
8. i love being able to tell if someone is lying, just to see how hard they try.
9. i have to make a cake for my sister's birthday tomorrow.
10. i would honestly hate to be friends with harry potter if i went to hogwarts.


Leica X1 Review
vacation packages
Image by elviskennedy
For the full set of Leica X1 sample images go to the Leica X1 Sample Images set in the elviskennedy photostream here; www.flickr.com/photos/elviskennedy/sets/72157626825279684...

The Leica X1 looks and feels like the precision instrument that you would expect it to be. It is a Leica after all. For over 100 years Leica has engineered and crafted state-of-the-art optical instruments, and the Leica X1 is no exception - it continues the tradition.

What is the Leica X1? Simply put it is a large sensor, small body digital camera. By large sensor Elvis means much bigger than the sensors found in pocket sized point and shoot cameras. In fact, the sensor in the X1 is almost as large as the sensors found in digital SLR cameras. Larger sensor usually means higher image quality (more on that in a moment). By small body Elvis means much smaller than digital SLR cameras. Smaller body means easier to carry and have with you (and easier to hide for you secret agent types).

What does all of this mean? Essentially it means that you can have image quality almost as high as an SLR camera in a package almost as small as a point and shoot camera. These are both very good things.



You can note that the Leica X1 is not a do everything camera and be disappointed. It does not have lots of menus filled with shooting options, post processing options or an array of fancy shooting gimmicks and tricks. It doesn't have (gasp!) video. You're stuck with a 35mm field of view lens. Or you can take the alternative view as Elvis does and look at the Leica X1 as a do one thing very well camera and be happy.

The Leica X1 is simple to operate. You won't miss shots because you left your menu settings on some silly option. You won't waste time over-thinking which shooting option or which lens to use. You won't be disappointed with the shaky video that you get with most SLR cameras. You will be amazed at the image quality. And you'll be tickled with the famous Leica "look" that you can only get with genuine Leica lenses.

Top 5 Reasons to Love the Leica X1

The Leica lens and the Leica lens "look"
It compliments your digital SLR
Ease of use
Image Quality
Image Quality

NOTE: Elvis' reviews are based on equipment that Elvis purchased with his own, hard-earned money. This means that Elvis went through some sort of justification in buying the piece of equipment and/or that it was likely to fill some need. Elvis doesn't buy stuff just to review it. Therefore, if you're looking for reasons not to like the Leica X1 you'll need to look elsewhere. Elvis is a lover, not a hater. The intent of this review is to show you what the X1 can and cannot do, how it works in actual operation and what you can expect in end results. The intent is not to nit pick the X1 or to compare it to a variety of other cameras in some sort of contest.

The Leica Lens & The Leica "Look"

The Leica lens included with each X1 is a valid reason to purchase the X1. It's a 24mm f/2.8 Elmarit. Leica aficionados recognize that to be a world class lens. To those new to Leica, allow Elvis to assure you that the lens quality is of the highest order. The "look" of a lens, or family of lenses is difficult to describe. Ineffable, really. It won't stop Elvis from trying though. Elvis' two favorite lenses ever are the Leica 35 f/2 Summicron aspherical and the Nikon 85 f/1.4. These two lenses are bright, sharp, have a remarkable flatness of field and when used correctly produce very pleasing out of focus ( bokeh ) areas. These attributes make for great landscapes and stunning portraits. Elvis argues that these two lenses are so good that you can justify buying a good camera body on which to attach them. They really are that good.

What does that have to do with the lens on the X1? The 24mm on the X1 produces photographs that give a "look" that is similar to Elvis' two favorite lenses described above. Bright, sharp, flat field and pleasing out-of-focus areas. And don't let the 24mm moniker concern you. As an APS-C sensor camera there is a multiplication factor to consider: 1.5. That 24mm on the X1 gives you a 35mm field of view, which is just about the most versatile field of view there is.

Take a close look at the sample images provided by Elvis. Click on each image to view the images in their full-file glory. And click on More Images to see, well, More Images.

It Compliments Your Digital SLR

The X1 is the perfect (and Elvis means perfect) camera with which to compliment your digital SLR. Your SLR gives you lots of shooting options, lots of lens choices, video and all kinds of fun tricks to play around with. That's your main camera. The Leica X1 compliments this by being small and pocketable with high image quality. Going on vacation? Use your SLR at Disney World, on the vehicle trip to the mountaintop lookout and on photography specific excursions. Pack the X1 for street shooting, at the beach, hiking and when out to dinner. Shooting a sporting event? The SLR is great for action shots during the game. The X1 is great for shooting the team during pre-game pep talks, players on the sidelines and after game celebrations and team activities. Weddings? SLR is great for formals and receptions. Leica X1 is great for during the ceremony since it is silent in operation. You get the idea. With an SLR and an X1 you are well equipped for any photographic opportunity.

Ease of Use

In use the Leica X1 is terrific. Take a few minutes to understand the few shooting options that the X1 offers, set your favorites and you are now ready to shoot at a moment's notice. There is nothing to the X1 that will slow you down. It's a photographic machine - plain and simple.

Is it the fastest focusing camera ever? No it isn't. In dim light it can take a few seconds to focus. But keep in mind that the Leica lens is sharp and what you want is precise focusing to take advantage of that sharp lens. Just like a manually focused lens it can take a moment to get it critically correct. And in medium to bright light it's fast. (See Elvis' test of the improved focusing speed with new firmware HERE).

The battery and charger are both small and portable. The SD cards used in the X1 are universally accepted, fast and durable (and inexpensive). The DNG files can be opened with almost any photo editing software and are claimed to be future-proof.

The small size and light weight of the Leica X1 cannot be overstated. The camera is incredibly easy to handle, use and pocket. But don't let the size and weight fool you - it is built to exacting standards and is jewel-like and elegant to hold.

It may very well be the camera with the highest image quality that you could hand to a stranger to take your picture in front of (name landmark here) and not need to explain to the stranger how to use it. It's simplicity belies it's strength.


Image Quality

If you are familiar with Leica imaging you will immediately recognize that pedigree in the X1 photographs. If you are new to Leica you are in for a treat. The X1, like the Leica M series of cameras and lenses, produces sparkling, clear and crisp photographs with smooth and pleasing out of focus areas. Lack of flare and lack of field curvature are other traits in the world of Leica.

You needn't look hard to discern Leica photographs. It's immediately apparent. Elvis is particularly fond of the crispness of Leica photographs. It's not exactly sharpness and it's not exactly contrast - it's crispness (Elvis warned you at the outset of this review that these are difficult things to define). Just look at the samples and see if you can note these things.

Point and shoot cameras and 4/3rds cameras are no match for the Leica X1 when it comes to image quality. Some DSLRs can have a slight edge but at a size and weight cost. The Fuji X100 is a close match in a different (not as simple) body, and should be a camera that you consider (see Elvis' comparison of the Leica X1 and Fuji X100 HERE), but it won't give you the Leica "look", ease of use or pocket ability.

When it comes to image quality, engineering matters. Leica excels at engineering. Some primary keys are; sensor quality, lens (glass, not plastic) quality, lens-to-sensor distance, lens element positioning and consistency, lens element coatings, use of aspherical surfaces, durability of materials used. All of these areas are strengths of the Leica company and have been for generations.

Superior lens glass is more important than a high resolution image monitor. A superior sensor is more important than a video mode. A clean and simple but highly technical light path is more important than page after page of shooting and post processing options. You get the idea here. Leica focused on the image path and little else.

A larger image sensor is a very good thing. All things being equal, a larger sensor captures images with a greater dynamic range than a smaller sensor. Essentially, greater dynamic range means more detail in dark areas, medium areas and light areas of the scene. Higher image quality. As a bonus, larger image sensors produce a smaller depth of field for any given aperture setting, allowing for superior out of focus areas and image "pop".

Leica managed to mount a large image sensor into a small camera and for the first time we have a pocketable camera that can generate high image quality. Some thought that the so-called four thirds system cameras were going to be the solution. The sensor in the Leica X1 is roughly 60% larger than the four thirds sensors and in Elvis' estimation the resulting image quality is at least double. There's nothing wrong with the four thirds cameras but the X1 image quality is higher. The image sensor in the X1 is 8 to 10 times larger than the sensors in typical point and shoot cameras. You don't need Elvis to do that math for you.

In a world of do-it-all cameras with options too numerous to mention (let alone fully understand) one could say that Leica took a flyer with the X1. Ignoring video, not being tempted with gimmicks and gadgets could be considered a risk. But that would be a complete misunderstanding of what Leica is. Leica has always been about stripping photography down to it's bare essence. Focus on the image. Let other companies throw out dozens of options to see what sticks. Leica should be applauded for putting a superior, large sensor behind a true Leica lens and stuffing both into an elegant and portable body.

For a full set of sample images taken with the Leica X1 got to Elvis Kennedy's Leica X1 group folder of the photostream. The result of all of this engineering is that you can get a high image quality producing machine in a small and elegant package. A true industry leading product, the Leica X1.

For the full set of sample photographs go HERE, and be sure to hit the "O" button above each image to see them in their Original, full size.

For more go to www.elviskennedy.com

Cool Vacation Specials images

Some cool vacation specials images:



Special breakfast
vacation specials
Image by animaltourism.com

Weekend getaway day one, swimming at Lake Elsinore

Check out these weekend getaways images:


Weekend getaway day one, swimming at Lake Elsinore
weekend getaways
Image by danboarder
Weekend getaway day one, swimming at Lake Elsinore


Seattle Weekend Getaway
weekend getaways
Image by Carolyn Coles
Last weekend we headed South of the border for a little weekend getaway! We checked in to our hotel (the Hotel Max: www.hotelmaxseattle.com. ) then hit the city for some exploring! We rounded the night out with an amazing meal at Matt's in the Market and drinks at Red Fin.

On Sunday, we lazed all morning, hit the market, ate our body weight in Seafood at the Crab Pot, walked the waterfront, wandered the city, ate icecream, visited the Troll, and then made it home - in record time (not without a quick "stop" at the border).

Nice Resort Vacation Rentals photos

A few nice resort vacation rentals images I found:



Jeda Villa bali
resort vacation rentals
Image by Jeda Villa Bali
Jeda Villa bali. Garden.


Jeda Villa Bali
resort vacation rentals
Image by Jeda Villa Bali
Jeda Villa Bali. Pool.

Cool Vegas Deals images

Some cool vegas deals images:


Vegas For Beginners?
vegas deals
Image by Liz Brooks
I hadn't been to a Chuck E Cheese since I was ten, so obviously Penny's never been... but she caught right on to the whole "earn tickets to exchange for prizes" scam and excitedly plunged into the deal.



vegas deals
Image by spinnerin
The view from our room at The Mirage (only ! I have no idea how we got such a crazy good deal).


Secreto of Iberico Pork
vegas deals
Image by sygyzy
Secreto of Iberico Pork
chanterelle, meat jus

The final savory course consisted of what is know literally as the "secret" of pork, a prized cut from behind the shoulder blade. And of course, being this is é, we are not talking about any pig; only an iberico would do.

This is probably the best piece of pork I've had, or a close second to the one I had at Corton. That piece was Mangalista, though. If you look at the cross section, the secreto does not look like a heavily fatty meat at all. The beauty of it is that you are not dealing with huge pieces of solid fat deposit. Instead, the marbling is very fine and well integrated in the meat. One chew and you instantly know you've hit on that magical balance between fat and protein.

We were told that previous incarnations of this dish had black truffle on top but now that the season is over ...

We were presented with the meat before it was sliced and it was a sizeable piece (for six diners). What we ended up getting was just three small slices each. Stephanie explained that they trimmed off all the external gristle and fat and any pieces deemed too thin or not perfect. This is what's left.

Cool Vacation Sell Off images

Some cool vacation sell off images:


myhood in Fontana, CA
vacation sell off
Image by abstrakone
more zoom'd in version of my childhood home.


Lego Space - Set 497 Galaxy Explorer
vacation sell off
Image by InSapphoWeTrust
Set 497, Galaxy Explorer, released in 1979, was the flagship of the original Lego Space universe, portraying a large passenger/cargo spaceship with its landing pad on the lunar surface. At 338 pieces and four astronaut minifigures (two red, two white), sprawling over two 25cmx25cm baseplates, this is a spectacular set, with a list price ( in 1979 dollars) to match.

Set 497 was the US-market designation; in Europe, the same set was sold as Set 928, Space Cruiser and Moonbase, and the European set number 928 is imprinted on the sides of the spaceship. It is interesting to note that in the US market, the "Space Cruiser" designation was instead used on Set 487, which was a smaller, simpler, cheaper version of Galaxy Explorer.

Finding a complete Galaxy Explorer is considered the holy grail of vintage Lego Space collecting, and I was able to score one on eBay in March 2013. While the set is complete and the price fair, many pieces do have signs of yellowing from excessive sun exposure, one 6x6 light gray tile has an edge that has cracked off, and one 1x3 black tile was replaced by three 1x1 black tiles. The incorrect and damaged parts can easily be replaced, however, since they are common standard Lego parts.

The completed set. Despite the signs of age, still an awesome sight to behold. The ship has enough space for two (or even three) astronauts plus the moon buggy, making it a perfect vehicle for an exploration trip to the asteroids or a distant planet, or for a vacation run back to Earth.


"Buy me! Buy me!"
vacation sell off
Image by Peter Garnhum
A constant, unintentionally horrible sales pitch from these young Hmong girls. We winced every time we heard it. :)

I should add that as bad as this looks, all the kids were apparently on summer vacation during our visit, so they could sell little bits of embroidery to help their families. Is it really ethical or good to see? No, but the kids didn't seem to take it all too seriously -- if you said "No", they'd happily bugger off and play.

Cool Resort Vacation Club images

Check out these resort vacation club images:



Disney Vacation Club Open House at Disney's BoardWalk
resort vacation club
Image by Loren Javier

DSC01944

A few nice vacation to mexico images I found:


DSC01944
vacation to mexico
Image by Wyscan

Nice Vacations All Inclusive photos

Some cool vacations all inclusive images:


IMG_2691
vacations all inclusive
Image by cdedbdme


IMG_2556
vacations all inclusive
Image by cdedbdme

Nice Vacation And Travel photos

A few nice vacation and travel images I found:



Boys
vacation and travel
Image by Mait Jüriado
Morocco/Marrakech
Dec '09


Wesley's New Room, Bryste
vacation and travel
Image by Dogfael

Nice Vacations Cheap photos

A few nice vacations cheap images I found:


A Birmingham Building
vacations 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!



Out on the Town
vacations cheap
Image by velo_city
Got into Munich a little late. Found a cheap place to stay and went directly to one of the beer gardens: Augustiner--Keller. Set the timer on the camera a top a beer glass and smooshed in with my travelling cohorts.

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