tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-23773127974151531612024-02-07T21:01:45.895-08:00Strange and BenevolentChronicling Sarah, Tyler, Stella and Otto's Ongoing AdventuresThe Generalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13882212598013962066noreply@blogger.comBlogger382125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377312797415153161.post-41989554552542720502022-10-24T12:02:00.008-07:002022-10-24T12:02:47.546-07:00Exploring South Seattle with Cleo - Weeks 13 to 16<p><b> Tyler Reporting</b></p><p><i style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px;">Continuing my explorations of South Seattle, with our dog Cleo, during near-daily 2-3 mile walks.</i></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.2px;"><b>Weeks 13 & 14</b></span></p><div class="xdj266r x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs x126k92a" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">We started this pair of weeks by finishing out the Leshi quadrant, and braving the braving the I-90 floating bridge out to Mercer Island and back. Unfortunately, it ended up being our first rainy day in a long while, and hiking roughly 5 miles along a busy freeway, in the rain is about as glamorous as it sounds.</div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="background-color: white; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto" style="color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">After that, we moved back South, to the Rainier Beach area. This quadrant proved to feel like the Tale of Three <span style="font-family: inherit;"><a style="color: #385898; cursor: pointer; font-family: inherit;" tabindex="-1"></a></span>Cities. On the west side, you had the sleepy, suburban south end of Beacon Hill, in the center Rainier Valley with its string of immigrant (mainly East African) restuarants and businesses, then on the East edge, along Lake Washington the giant affluent houses with their gated driveways. It definitely made for an interestingwalk, when my route did go West to East.</div><div dir="auto" style="color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: center; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEqEuGF13Mvk7IcE6mGt4foXtD96Cc57a4FUZ2RmdxcWWATVRCFi_C9WmO-h4sFQBeKubjH1C-664p4sUdRcwj2iPbsdORPAZPUeqmUkScX6bfWozo6_kKPXtS9MOMs5b_29HloU8X1lluq-RfXI2RkliU9h_s6x1xoQ_wWvaxcx2GC-JqLN2pmTYw/s2048/Weeks13-14Map.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEqEuGF13Mvk7IcE6mGt4foXtD96Cc57a4FUZ2RmdxcWWATVRCFi_C9WmO-h4sFQBeKubjH1C-664p4sUdRcwj2iPbsdORPAZPUeqmUkScX6bfWozo6_kKPXtS9MOMs5b_29HloU8X1lluq-RfXI2RkliU9h_s6x1xoQ_wWvaxcx2GC-JqLN2pmTYw/w300-h400/Weeks13-14Map.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div dir="auto" style="color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: 15px; text-align: center; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="white-space: normal;"><i>Most of our exploring over the last two weeks has been in the Southeast corner of this image.</i></span></div><div dir="auto" style="color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: 15px; text-align: center; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="white-space: normal;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div dir="auto" style="color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: 15px; text-align: center; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="white-space: normal;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkvN8eF1tXcPZEXRi1petgm8iHZpXLrfT99mPDB10VwXO4wt9die747DzVj-QPGjfIFY_Tey7G8G9y9IBsmKY6S17_dIQFdAqBpeE21Hqx5R8hylsjE7H75vVlCkH0SFE2fH0i67i8Umz7yhfvOMzRRbBXinxo7JWgToFNdf0wfPKYVK2G-RPX2zVM/s2048/FloatingBridge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkvN8eF1tXcPZEXRi1petgm8iHZpXLrfT99mPDB10VwXO4wt9die747DzVj-QPGjfIFY_Tey7G8G9y9IBsmKY6S17_dIQFdAqBpeE21Hqx5R8hylsjE7H75vVlCkH0SFE2fH0i67i8Umz7yhfvOMzRRbBXinxo7JWgToFNdf0wfPKYVK2G-RPX2zVM/w300-h400/FloatingBridge.jpg" width="300" /></a></div></span><span style="text-align: start; white-space: normal;"><i>Not a great picture but gives you a sense of how pleasant it was crossing the I-90 floating bridge.</i></span></div><div dir="auto" style="color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: 15px; text-align: start; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="white-space: normal;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div dir="auto" style="color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: 15px; text-align: start; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="white-space: normal;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMjRz6RlpB2TmBYh5jbFMWoaKvP8foZu_AuONggtFmCiqzVnimCImyBHlqkSUV5cxl21LpGabCisR6QquxDqi-IFGiSMYIgLbcm7g4Kg27jVLJ52VdCoMymIdsGUGWrP12Sv8Q8gDhtxEWvKZ7yJB4Ah9qm3kZfBz4jp6TVcWKvcPbS6j7c5tXSshx/s2048/MercerIsland.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMjRz6RlpB2TmBYh5jbFMWoaKvP8foZu_AuONggtFmCiqzVnimCImyBHlqkSUV5cxl21LpGabCisR6QquxDqi-IFGiSMYIgLbcm7g4Kg27jVLJ52VdCoMymIdsGUGWrP12Sv8Q8gDhtxEWvKZ7yJB4Ah9qm3kZfBz4jp6TVcWKvcPbS6j7c5tXSshx/w300-h400/MercerIsland.jpg" width="300" /></a></div></span><span style="white-space: normal;"><i>First time leaving Seattle proper on our walks. Just swung by a nearby park to let Cleo take care of some business... then back across the bridge.</i></span></div><div dir="auto" style="color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: 15px; text-align: start; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="white-space: normal;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div dir="auto" style="color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: 15px; text-align: start; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="white-space: normal;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjll8BQLJBnfdGto_pCx51oAIaN6vbuT1glQbVhz13vM-I6wzpz37rwextNZiLpRrYFM7rQ829gifydFckmdiCmjMgQ_LitFicDXre8RjYXx6Q0RHzvpD_ZyrkXyEpSBLRifF5qDQCwqCCTuYP7OfEXIMXT30JygmDvNUiUlVj4vy4NHEKvl6wYL9yN/s2048/DirectionSign.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjll8BQLJBnfdGto_pCx51oAIaN6vbuT1glQbVhz13vM-I6wzpz37rwextNZiLpRrYFM7rQ829gifydFckmdiCmjMgQ_LitFicDXre8RjYXx6Q0RHzvpD_ZyrkXyEpSBLRifF5qDQCwqCCTuYP7OfEXIMXT30JygmDvNUiUlVj4vy4NHEKvl6wYL9yN/w300-h400/DirectionSign.jpg" width="300" /></a></div></span><span style="white-space: normal;"><i>Fun signage on the median between two curving roads. Also, note the Halloween decorations going up. Weird to think I started these walks back in June.</i></span></div><div dir="auto" style="color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: 15px; text-align: start; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="white-space: normal;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div dir="auto" style="text-align: start;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: 15px; white-space: normal;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyppIVBLl0O5MZnlel3vH07FmCBkHEg-hCIXUU_hhIBVMArDuur4vxN4a2Id6iiWxytG2cXa6ZaFGAmJx8elcfH0S3J3ViqSyWeESpNWCkfESaeJktmhg1Kl8mL9-QIrcOgIEtMbDn6aJ286HoHY7DJBYkPI03aOfZTsCTI_HcN7C7wsNSbmoK8NhQ/s2048/ColorfulConstruction.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyppIVBLl0O5MZnlel3vH07FmCBkHEg-hCIXUU_hhIBVMArDuur4vxN4a2Id6iiWxytG2cXa6ZaFGAmJx8elcfH0S3J3ViqSyWeESpNWCkfESaeJktmhg1Kl8mL9-QIrcOgIEtMbDn6aJ286HoHY7DJBYkPI03aOfZTsCTI_HcN7C7wsNSbmoK8NhQ/w400-h300/ColorfulConstruction.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></span><div style="color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: 15px; text-align: center; white-space: normal;"><i style="font-family: inherit;">Construction along Rainier Avenue. I appreciated the nod to the Ethiopian flag.</i></div><div style="color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: 15px; text-align: center; white-space: normal;"><i style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></i></div><div style="color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: 15px; text-align: center; white-space: normal;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU-YIMATlWeg4tKC81Rkiete0CtkLlWVcqW17SZOU5KMwBivnylQ_MMkY6lResgq5XyEJUjApr3eDJPEa3kE9zTKqxgsy8DAqtD99u-KdX5nG4NjWMOBVfmJp0p8-c5RfoVE-kJdG_KMAFbIweYVGIMlaXxYeU58f1K2ooYN3GGSgh3nLHcA96r0dy/s2048/Bunny.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjU-YIMATlWeg4tKC81Rkiete0CtkLlWVcqW17SZOU5KMwBivnylQ_MMkY6lResgq5XyEJUjApr3eDJPEa3kE9zTKqxgsy8DAqtD99u-KdX5nG4NjWMOBVfmJp0p8-c5RfoVE-kJdG_KMAFbIweYVGIMlaXxYeU58f1K2ooYN3GGSgh3nLHcA96r0dy/w400-h300/Bunny.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="text-align: start;"><i>Cleo... staring super-intently at yet another rabbit.</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvq1RlhYTmxEpCAfae3ukVZ_EvOvxkx5NQpYrXGR0wqYlFTcYsa5tutjn1XMUy0scCgm1dvJl4uCULocdkpun_IUevJ-U5c2uL36rSwmwuRV9VG0KlkTPQ9gEiJF0GIdk7I-RhiMWbd7gGhbAIw7rKjT2qVUaZXvaGP-opefM20EYHP7g4d4RNL7wB/s2048/Kitty.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvq1RlhYTmxEpCAfae3ukVZ_EvOvxkx5NQpYrXGR0wqYlFTcYsa5tutjn1XMUy0scCgm1dvJl4uCULocdkpun_IUevJ-U5c2uL36rSwmwuRV9VG0KlkTPQ9gEiJF0GIdk7I-RhiMWbd7gGhbAIw7rKjT2qVUaZXvaGP-opefM20EYHP7g4d4RNL7wB/w300-h400/Kitty.jpg" width="300" /></a></div></span></span><div style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: center;"><i>Cleo... staring super-intently at yet another cat.</i></div><div style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTTL2dsBa52ZujnXsJEk1Q93OlV7jN_n-nGepszYZUqUWmxvcD02YrOGGpQd2dBMhizUKyTO-tpyYPYLEDcbuCEslbxd-x-jgrpfpozSFQsEbOvsyT0vOSlCrSKDObLnTP4WQJhQn0MyYjvTfmDE38yyxv9nH1yjacriUDoO0FTwlXOiw_63rMX-or/s2048/RainierBeachSign.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTTL2dsBa52ZujnXsJEk1Q93OlV7jN_n-nGepszYZUqUWmxvcD02YrOGGpQd2dBMhizUKyTO-tpyYPYLEDcbuCEslbxd-x-jgrpfpozSFQsEbOvsyT0vOSlCrSKDObLnTP4WQJhQn0MyYjvTfmDE38yyxv9nH1yjacriUDoO0FTwlXOiw_63rMX-or/w300-h400/RainierBeachSign.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><span style="text-align: start;"><div style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: left;"><i>Entering Rainier Beach. Running out of Southeast neighborhoods, before hitting Seattle's border with Tukwila.</i></div><div style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigz7WbM8TK5y2O6Djw4YxakS33ddXQHrSnkJmy5saIdZdqfKoE7Os9SyDjC_I9VyLIY5IgdARlbCNczJByT1j49KbC6mFMezWh4utkvhgnSptVN9lt4J_qKStasD-cLvULpYYf5q35saDkBxnqRP_oSLjyhEOyB235yHiW_GAmUWQ_jI_Du_ZYHU1n/s2048/DonkeyKong.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigz7WbM8TK5y2O6Djw4YxakS33ddXQHrSnkJmy5saIdZdqfKoE7Os9SyDjC_I9VyLIY5IgdARlbCNczJByT1j49KbC6mFMezWh4utkvhgnSptVN9lt4J_qKStasD-cLvULpYYf5q35saDkBxnqRP_oSLjyhEOyB235yHiW_GAmUWQ_jI_Du_ZYHU1n/w400-h300/DonkeyKong.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; text-align: center;"><i>I liked the little windows on this gate, made from old Donkey Kong video game screen-frames.</i></div><div style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKyINd8ZvLAJ4A7w5t2rKeRRva-ARmvjla-i0xK7vWMmA35dsp4lF42u57Hf5jLAXfIs4d_H-NF2ynr365aIt0O6P0Bs_BsPG6MJamXpKZj_jqOHu6kl-o39rSXQqz-L-Oc9ZBjN_6I42b5SQlu02TAjoR-8F823sw-MaDO4CVWk-iJ3GAPwKmAgKm/s2048/HalloweenBushes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKyINd8ZvLAJ4A7w5t2rKeRRva-ARmvjla-i0xK7vWMmA35dsp4lF42u57Hf5jLAXfIs4d_H-NF2ynr365aIt0O6P0Bs_BsPG6MJamXpKZj_jqOHu6kl-o39rSXQqz-L-Oc9ZBjN_6I42b5SQlu02TAjoR-8F823sw-MaDO4CVWk-iJ3GAPwKmAgKm/w400-h300/HalloweenBushes.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="text-align: start;">More Halloween decorations. I was mainly amused by the bushes.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="font-style: italic; text-align: start;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-style: italic; text-align: start;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZohY3BvJsZPrgv9M70590AsItFONKjAyFS2AtTIZWXsObutnFFgIamTyN3kIVuQG46jqX3p12YCoYCYjeraH4wXFdE21417EWoqR4mvE-fQ981jMBRdr9pSbg2HiGx1_mjU6piQOibVTfDVy7WUbiY9nx5Mevzs9jzNFq3nTbjlfgZdXnstZz-gcr/s2048/LostChance.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZohY3BvJsZPrgv9M70590AsItFONKjAyFS2AtTIZWXsObutnFFgIamTyN3kIVuQG46jqX3p12YCoYCYjeraH4wXFdE21417EWoqR4mvE-fQ981jMBRdr9pSbg2HiGx1_mjU6piQOibVTfDVy7WUbiY9nx5Mevzs9jzNFq3nTbjlfgZdXnstZz-gcr/w300-h400/LostChance.jpg" width="300" /></a></div></span><span style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">Saw this lost dog sign on a couple of occasions, and I hope the owners found him eventually. But, also bemused by the vaguely existential tone of a sign reading "Lost Chance." Lost chance at what?!</span></div><div style="font-style: italic; text-align: start;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-style: italic; text-align: start;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi14pXZuVGvcRpzIwBpnuqa0tq8a-ouGsUDwHMqaHlIBnUnsqc0e16kO3U81qcxUMxZbuKHvcxwInzm64b7kXwYP_N8AI4H5uF6K0gbsWf80-Jg3rcAOQPV4PwuBF2pX7QrdeI5A0RvLmffsVgnzBPMWKdJean9ScFztBzOVvPch55XpVl3D5qamKH/s2048/StatueHead.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2020" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgi14pXZuVGvcRpzIwBpnuqa0tq8a-ouGsUDwHMqaHlIBnUnsqc0e16kO3U81qcxUMxZbuKHvcxwInzm64b7kXwYP_N8AI4H5uF6K0gbsWf80-Jg3rcAOQPV4PwuBF2pX7QrdeI5A0RvLmffsVgnzBPMWKdJean9ScFztBzOVvPch55XpVl3D5qamKH/w395-h400/StatueHead.jpg" width="395" /></a></div></span><span style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">A giant, inexplicable statue face, sitting on top of a storage container on an anonymous residential side street.</span></div><div style="font-style: italic; text-align: start;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-style: italic; text-align: start;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiJ3yNoZIH3raU-rNhEa-gpUj8i55iWVjMLZhbhk6k1JcPKKCBg-xT1nSE5mg9RATylGYj-eDWd8QYL9tr7ei1iw4NI8XI-if576hEWJoaUjaGMHP_E8JXALgq5wnPQIWxgGvIX6S47AUSrnV6ZAlcZSCq3DTAG1u2SBaewhuV9uTbNZG8fDZpwU0b/s2048/StreetClosed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiJ3yNoZIH3raU-rNhEa-gpUj8i55iWVjMLZhbhk6k1JcPKKCBg-xT1nSE5mg9RATylGYj-eDWd8QYL9tr7ei1iw4NI8XI-if576hEWJoaUjaGMHP_E8JXALgq5wnPQIWxgGvIX6S47AUSrnV6ZAlcZSCq3DTAG1u2SBaewhuV9uTbNZG8fDZpwU0b/w300-h400/StreetClosed.jpg" width="300" /></a></div></span><span style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">These signs went up early in the pandemic, to give people more options to go outside, during social distancing. I always wonder if anyone *really* used them but will say they make nice streets to walk down with Cleo.</span><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><br /><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3ju54T0xfgZt_dE4icpaBTJlXb-VJ7zbTAqcCAR1jFXwtXSFOpUhwiAUIj2gOXQsteBiJz-FeXB3XGoXfavNgAYOaAvri0VKfuio5XQSPwDIARUEpPUPVYHIcfXM1KODNkkBiDhuK7c9TrpqcHWmJxF71ecKzfPUcYrVL-GYBKLRvw1HXV0RWvc87/s2048/Greenway.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3ju54T0xfgZt_dE4icpaBTJlXb-VJ7zbTAqcCAR1jFXwtXSFOpUhwiAUIj2gOXQsteBiJz-FeXB3XGoXfavNgAYOaAvri0VKfuio5XQSPwDIARUEpPUPVYHIcfXM1KODNkkBiDhuK7c9TrpqcHWmJxF71ecKzfPUcYrVL-GYBKLRvw1HXV0RWvc87/w300-h400/Greenway.jpg" width="300" /></a></div></span><span style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">Likewise, these greenways and bike routes make good dog walking routes to. Usually comparatively flat and quiet.</span></div><div style="font-style: italic; text-align: start;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><b>Weeks 15 & 16</b></span></div><div style="font-style: italic; text-align: start;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><div class="xdj266r x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs x126k92a" style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">Tyler & Cleo Explore South Seattle - Weeks 15 & 16: This two-week chunk started with us wrapping up the Southeast quadrant we'd been working on, venturing south of Rainier Beach and over to the edges of one of my favorite parks in Seattle, Kubota Gardens.</div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">Then it was back to the Southwest, with a pair of walks explorer two remaining wedges of South Park, before jumping 509, and journeying up and down the evenly gridded streets of Highland Park, around West Crest Park and <span style="font-family: inherit;"><a style="color: #385898; cursor: pointer; font-family: inherit;" tabindex="-1"></a></span>skimming White Center.</div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; font-style: normal;">Today, we jumped to the Northwest, into the long stretches of warehouses, business parks and homeless encampments that is SoDo.</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; font-style: normal;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; font-style: normal; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioAz7cFsH_SoNFYGgKQoC2o1rx583Tm7PNOLmb9OchvHcQ1e7lD8obolJILZ4aykdCtP9Qnd7NDIg_ILKxWh7vA7SCbLtzQNFm2XFRqeQC5zXLLfa5-9Zwo3_q6bIFIES8z9CFJyeqP1yC97tgmLpuPQL2qjhiruceiiHU2MQ0PIbSBnDYRbXdQoUE/s2048/Weeks15016Map.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioAz7cFsH_SoNFYGgKQoC2o1rx583Tm7PNOLmb9OchvHcQ1e7lD8obolJILZ4aykdCtP9Qnd7NDIg_ILKxWh7vA7SCbLtzQNFm2XFRqeQC5zXLLfa5-9Zwo3_q6bIFIES8z9CFJyeqP1yC97tgmLpuPQL2qjhiruceiiHU2MQ0PIbSBnDYRbXdQoUE/w300-h400/Weeks15016Map.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="white-space: normal;"><i>The current state of the map. All the walks for the last two weeks have been spread amongst the far SE, SW and NW corners.</i></span></div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="white-space: normal;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="white-space: normal;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0bnjYzLt7xAnmeDI16yUpsHz7m0yPOjWQQPeZp8wuDEIDowpvQbCMESK1WV7tGT_tYGzUEZPzYoC_QOKy-4jDAMjHSU2XvqhiJMo_tK8CtORJVUucUjP0XBrYVvGXqJVR3cLkeE28hK7Y6NVZmAL44S3Oj6i3FnVM4kgr4Lut14mG74GGsOGFGrsC/s2048/CountryRoad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0bnjYzLt7xAnmeDI16yUpsHz7m0yPOjWQQPeZp8wuDEIDowpvQbCMESK1WV7tGT_tYGzUEZPzYoC_QOKy-4jDAMjHSU2XvqhiJMo_tK8CtORJVUucUjP0XBrYVvGXqJVR3cLkeE28hK7Y6NVZmAL44S3Oj6i3FnVM4kgr4Lut14mG74GGsOGFGrsC/w400-h300/CountryRoad.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></span><span style="white-space: normal;"><i>Here's Beacon Ave. It amuses me up that, Beacon Ave reappears south of Beacon Hill, but here it is effectively a country lane. To the right are horse pastures. Just surreal this is Seattle.</i></span></div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="white-space: normal;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="white-space: normal;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQVin57ngTkJrl1sSq0xYRgFv7fDHDXIrfW8-8TIjZJEDP_2Pk8ZYxx1_CRVC5omj4bAoXDfFBlQE4qXqEfdv2vf176sY6AcVPfveZN_SiPmIY0ndrOOUCDceT1JpLD5tfDpWnKIytGQnXmfdxIAh7Fwim9V514bbojgp2T2g0bweFOZJRQfoZtRFK/s2048/Cranes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQVin57ngTkJrl1sSq0xYRgFv7fDHDXIrfW8-8TIjZJEDP_2Pk8ZYxx1_CRVC5omj4bAoXDfFBlQE4qXqEfdv2vf176sY6AcVPfveZN_SiPmIY0ndrOOUCDceT1JpLD5tfDpWnKIytGQnXmfdxIAh7Fwim9V514bbojgp2T2g0bweFOZJRQfoZtRFK/w400-h300/Cranes.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></span><span style="white-space: normal;"><i>One of my two walks in South Park this time around was through a very industrial wedge of it. All cranes, factories, shipping and business.</i></span></div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="white-space: normal;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="white-space: normal;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYRsaWzEbrfToJFNdc28Z0Sy5F-9UwzIlSpb3vfnAAoca99df7MuFEB0To3qFrRzl3NozgKPcwZICLSsRmATs3ZeA7Ghf1pmnimXZw99uvcBiu-JSdzXAWPF0fIlniMA3z8i4f19jTHrPYYsQytwuTfGPuMLHNrlGqHBVEpsG6jV9MDyTaVfx5Lz9r/s2048/ShorelinePark.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYRsaWzEbrfToJFNdc28Z0Sy5F-9UwzIlSpb3vfnAAoca99df7MuFEB0To3qFrRzl3NozgKPcwZICLSsRmATs3ZeA7Ghf1pmnimXZw99uvcBiu-JSdzXAWPF0fIlniMA3z8i4f19jTHrPYYsQytwuTfGPuMLHNrlGqHBVEpsG6jV9MDyTaVfx5Lz9r/w400-h300/ShorelinePark.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></span><span style="white-space: normal;"><i>Another small pocket park on the Duwamish, with a traditional tribal name. There's actually an impressive number of these, but there are largely all wedged into areas with comparatively little pedestrian traffic.</i></span><span style="white-space: normal;"><br /><i><br /></i><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDme0dK6s5pvpewkxmOXqS8C5Am5DPr4SIDCZKIWQj26JrzYKp3wwm4LhVhmf4dGiRNuz-F0z2sCA9iNzWaYkF0uhglr05oaIA0bhR74yOXhA9fe2kcrRR-GXS3wVcgGWbp3wZFOKPyBBKa68uFcAF7JYbYJd0MloWV5DVEFwil8A3SbcJ0gp74QxG/s2048/RoadClosed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDme0dK6s5pvpewkxmOXqS8C5Am5DPr4SIDCZKIWQj26JrzYKp3wwm4LhVhmf4dGiRNuz-F0z2sCA9iNzWaYkF0uhglr05oaIA0bhR74yOXhA9fe2kcrRR-GXS3wVcgGWbp3wZFOKPyBBKa68uFcAF7JYbYJd0MloWV5DVEFwil8A3SbcJ0gp74QxG/w400-h300/RoadClosed.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></span><span style="white-space: normal;"><i>Adding another twist to the more industrial part of South Park, it's also undergoing a lot of road improvement... making it quite a maze to navigate.</i></span></div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="white-space: normal;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="white-space: normal;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf3z1sGmzkf-sZZe066okc9R7zlNRJ1AhtAJViltQiK9dKb51zEBU01wDOxVshF_Gu6YquMKYbSmteKuUhS-tVhpLt6sBVTF0roOiMZT4YI7tmdMpcyJ6efJkpHazQfcLkbbNGgbdaUGqtC4kc4EYi1o4H-u_j1DOqHkNAXUHkw3BuSyS606NYImLh/s2048/SlowCats.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="2048" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf3z1sGmzkf-sZZe066okc9R7zlNRJ1AhtAJViltQiK9dKb51zEBU01wDOxVshF_Gu6YquMKYbSmteKuUhS-tVhpLt6sBVTF0roOiMZT4YI7tmdMpcyJ6efJkpHazQfcLkbbNGgbdaUGqtC4kc4EYi1o4H-u_j1DOqHkNAXUHkw3BuSyS606NYImLh/w400-h400/SlowCats.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></span><span style="white-space: normal;"><i>Homemade signs in South Park that amused me. Cleo wants to know more about these "slow cats."</i></span><span style="white-space: normal;"><br /><i><br /></i></span></div></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYpIdSG57J0z7ovQ9fciEsj8BPYk01ytyC-dr9v6OubG3MekwePapAs47KrFUGcSND7srfyhAkxmZcKh_Hz89kPR2NJBPPEiibJ_qZzA18vJtFrfyrwPv05PxM_Akinyy8F_ar4jq1UhvnOXrwOufTCyHNV3hXE7ynydC_6ujq-ld2-XsoNfiE245_/s2048/TallHouse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYpIdSG57J0z7ovQ9fciEsj8BPYk01ytyC-dr9v6OubG3MekwePapAs47KrFUGcSND7srfyhAkxmZcKh_Hz89kPR2NJBPPEiibJ_qZzA18vJtFrfyrwPv05PxM_Akinyy8F_ar4jq1UhvnOXrwOufTCyHNV3hXE7ynydC_6ujq-ld2-XsoNfiE245_/w300-h400/TallHouse.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><span style="text-align: start;"><div style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: left;"><i>While the large houses along Lake Washington could be described at mansions, that large houses of South Park are more ramshackle and almost seem to be growing organically.</i></div><div style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinTHhurf9wy0TIdSaqNOpBrn9K1F75r77uGGQvzSXaRAtqs-XuNbs1SpXD8yYgOEE1woQM74H7fCp3jScMgdtu1QZvG0wuWY9sALW4sMu47tgJ5yuA0zJIRBM4-8mThldV-RooRGBssCBWEAL07W4OlYtddHq0SJBMb_uiSljiTx3K11M4_pNxItlR/s2048/Selfie1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinTHhurf9wy0TIdSaqNOpBrn9K1F75r77uGGQvzSXaRAtqs-XuNbs1SpXD8yYgOEE1woQM74H7fCp3jScMgdtu1QZvG0wuWY9sALW4sMu47tgJ5yuA0zJIRBM4-8mThldV-RooRGBssCBWEAL07W4OlYtddHq0SJBMb_uiSljiTx3K11M4_pNxItlR/w300-h400/Selfie1.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; text-align: center;"><i>Obligatory Beastie Boys mirror self-portrait.</i></div><div style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7cJOlJWDmzISK8VO8WkcRKyWWkR4X1-PY0I1dsBdDdufSIH-sF1N-E4tmkW2XQiMdiY8UEOEQfTaGwVbUQDkdaf1SDOeG9gvibGg9osN05HO_v5QFdD4os2RSUO-OtchNCkF17go8zc0Mkwi7N8dQQrAwE99LUB_0AlnHpoRIeF9hxTiyHqWO5lSA/s2048/Turkey.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7cJOlJWDmzISK8VO8WkcRKyWWkR4X1-PY0I1dsBdDdufSIH-sF1N-E4tmkW2XQiMdiY8UEOEQfTaGwVbUQDkdaf1SDOeG9gvibGg9osN05HO_v5QFdD4os2RSUO-OtchNCkF17go8zc0Mkwi7N8dQQrAwE99LUB_0AlnHpoRIeF9hxTiyHqWO5lSA/w300-h400/Turkey.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><span style="text-align: start;">On a quiet street in South Park, Cleo got to see her first live turkey.</span></div><div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHnSaxILt1LrZabXa2nhhI_LOKhPyZ17M41G2yVKNFrwpXGIAzPNNhOpEXPKu7p5ywiubLFClpPP_xf2INk_x4eLFAsNxzZJFs41ZWF33hdDLvE7KLeYM6qK8HbvF3c1vQAJwX408AdWOht-VjxcR-WJT4nXuPyDZNqau-1uGNxsFZ9enZ2k4zULj_/s2048/HalloweenDecorations1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHnSaxILt1LrZabXa2nhhI_LOKhPyZ17M41G2yVKNFrwpXGIAzPNNhOpEXPKu7p5ywiubLFClpPP_xf2INk_x4eLFAsNxzZJFs41ZWF33hdDLvE7KLeYM6qK8HbvF3c1vQAJwX408AdWOht-VjxcR-WJT4nXuPyDZNqau-1uGNxsFZ9enZ2k4zULj_/w400-h300/HalloweenDecorations1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></span><span style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">The houses and streets of Highland Park are pretty generically suburban. So, I found myself taking more photos of the Halloween decorations that are cropping up.</span><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><br /><span style="font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDBm11PNNc2SOWU7eG9mJIGDYNoOueaw2DnR_L0YjveINZr5UCGZ6sEXjpZpBGkpfJctBOKQlv_MMZ9_mkvIE9bis5qPnaMWOo80BzWXsal7UIkRt1N3A4ZgtnuaAWwyKVGxcQNMmBq963__lplwaGgoSnbZ2pEiFAbE6yacA_uldQeXcQ4b7jRT8J/s2048/MysteryTowers.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDBm11PNNc2SOWU7eG9mJIGDYNoOueaw2DnR_L0YjveINZr5UCGZ6sEXjpZpBGkpfJctBOKQlv_MMZ9_mkvIE9bis5qPnaMWOo80BzWXsal7UIkRt1N3A4ZgtnuaAWwyKVGxcQNMmBq963__lplwaGgoSnbZ2pEiFAbE6yacA_uldQeXcQ4b7jRT8J/w400-h300/MysteryTowers.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></span><span style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">Mysterious towers near Westcrest. Note, that's not fog, it's smoke from all the recent forest fires. I even ended up wearing a mask a couple of day, the air was so choked with smoke.</span><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><br /><span style="font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj34-W6yoEasAAlZrAMDWXU8lYopRy4rtQzRhJ-FBnNseDrDi6cCkLdvnsy_9Zvh7Bfkpp58-uG-BSmGV8rMpfLS32rmNBvTkjxuDIHkXXAwp_CDZJ8NJKIUXEzNnnwY4H4l2SxC6OF9PS-_qrlv01q9X-6OOPtRO2r7rdhxezU6qp16Othgrj8GBhj/s2048/BLMDriveway.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj34-W6yoEasAAlZrAMDWXU8lYopRy4rtQzRhJ-FBnNseDrDi6cCkLdvnsy_9Zvh7Bfkpp58-uG-BSmGV8rMpfLS32rmNBvTkjxuDIHkXXAwp_CDZJ8NJKIUXEzNnnwY4H4l2SxC6OF9PS-_qrlv01q9X-6OOPtRO2r7rdhxezU6qp16Othgrj8GBhj/w400-h300/BLMDriveway.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: start;">Driveway street art.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="font-style: italic; text-align: start;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-style: italic; text-align: start;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJU1pn7PWkZFIFlSnbfmZdqWUQ8AtqzkYCdQU8pYqdy6RHbsGpehpSWlRbmxu-63EcT1KtQlAbRjxbEFwpOrJN0lNwbrJfWl4_0xoebHct6JxYFOeGjAIWTtWVQpc2phjFRBo_LtqbPMdUmJUnHSrDPitqtUUeLkO-3rMSK5N-0T6heAR3IwFbjhc4/s2048/HalloweenDecorations2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJU1pn7PWkZFIFlSnbfmZdqWUQ8AtqzkYCdQU8pYqdy6RHbsGpehpSWlRbmxu-63EcT1KtQlAbRjxbEFwpOrJN0lNwbrJfWl4_0xoebHct6JxYFOeGjAIWTtWVQpc2phjFRBo_LtqbPMdUmJUnHSrDPitqtUUeLkO-3rMSK5N-0T6heAR3IwFbjhc4/w400-h300/HalloweenDecorations2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></span><span style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><div style="text-align: center;">Cleo is unamused by the decorations.</div></span><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="font-style: italic; text-align: start;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL90a9-1YjX3vfAxzprq3Y1aV-k61Xz4OAb94DuUVS87gSxFiQDDdKkFCB8yNm8sVTzRIlM_UnW_cGfolfMb40OfoDFlai0oHcFVJMwVaoQM0RspeIn8f-np5J8zE5GlA8sahMC7fD8vaI_dcBdL5yI1Lx8rbvicw-nMKQ4d9eVEvjZWt8YiqHLqov/s2048/SidewalkCurve.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL90a9-1YjX3vfAxzprq3Y1aV-k61Xz4OAb94DuUVS87gSxFiQDDdKkFCB8yNm8sVTzRIlM_UnW_cGfolfMb40OfoDFlai0oHcFVJMwVaoQM0RspeIn8f-np5J8zE5GlA8sahMC7fD8vaI_dcBdL5yI1Lx8rbvicw-nMKQ4d9eVEvjZWt8YiqHLqov/w300-h400/SidewalkCurve.jpg" width="300" /></a></div></span><span style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><div style="text-align: center;">I was sort of charmed by how the sidewalk goes around the tree. More of this, please.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSlSw3bqrUpTWnvZc9Nypq1siwE0l7G2FCZuqQigX5yAcOWaJwqmnJ8Y8aWw6TCWMlw0Yv2evcGqCeZuqYghutvOQ9XX_zmuzxjvA0w59ff5texp9f82UbxSJKi6VcqK8arnWomPA1KbcC1CDEzeBU_zwTf2CJiDZZKpCmWJqhTiJjbzIIOV0lYYz-/s2048/Selfie2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSlSw3bqrUpTWnvZc9Nypq1siwE0l7G2FCZuqQigX5yAcOWaJwqmnJ8Y8aWw6TCWMlw0Yv2evcGqCeZuqYghutvOQ9XX_zmuzxjvA0w59ff5texp9f82UbxSJKi6VcqK8arnWomPA1KbcC1CDEzeBU_zwTf2CJiDZZKpCmWJqhTiJjbzIIOV0lYYz-/w300-h400/Selfie2.jpg" width="300" /></a></div></span><span style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">Another selfie, only about a week after the last one. We've gone from hot and smokey to cold and rainy, like someone flipped a switch.</span></div><div style="font-style: italic; text-align: start;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></div><div style="font-style: italic; text-align: start;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihVBmUSZksWcXQcjKvD8lL1ardMUiuUKVGFYx1icW912qR099JqRQGejJFUUhLul026b53xRvRFYBciYVRwiVaZvyi-yw9Qzl5XMSxhSwdRDVLqqX8tVGKQ3r3lh6AgtBGDxXikUFFgFm1n7RQqpZ2CicLvKNpLeOgF3uffn9FL9RtQ49ojYehgIlZ/s2048/SignBack.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihVBmUSZksWcXQcjKvD8lL1ardMUiuUKVGFYx1icW912qR099JqRQGejJFUUhLul026b53xRvRFYBciYVRwiVaZvyi-yw9Qzl5XMSxhSwdRDVLqqX8tVGKQ3r3lh6AgtBGDxXikUFFgFm1n7RQqpZ2CicLvKNpLeOgF3uffn9FL9RtQ49ojYehgIlZ/w300-h400/SignBack.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><span style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">I'm not sure how or why the back of the sign got painted, but I thought it was kind of a cool way to activate an ignored space.</span></div><div style="font-style: italic; text-align: start;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-style: italic;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJdgdm-wCMcnGuDxf6pukylAqEX8yqeJEkvXknOyMb79I_TbjWclJnFXgEzd4T7xMyY0zjsmPffA3wgYH_OddSYrawXWLE5iuMIG-BsIYaCFyQY3C7mY0n1_VXV-lO5-_rosbW2nJMTcm3IlsjNhPw-hi697i1aI0nCEn810dMLzWK84b_cZpxiEZM/s2048/CarSprue.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJdgdm-wCMcnGuDxf6pukylAqEX8yqeJEkvXknOyMb79I_TbjWclJnFXgEzd4T7xMyY0zjsmPffA3wgYH_OddSYrawXWLE5iuMIG-BsIYaCFyQY3C7mY0n1_VXV-lO5-_rosbW2nJMTcm3IlsjNhPw-hi697i1aI0nCEn810dMLzWK84b_cZpxiEZM/w400-h300/CarSprue.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></span><span style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic;"><div style="text-align: center;">An auto shop in SoDo. I love how they've made a life-sized model car sprue.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqtiRBJG5P9xQj8nuKGwSmFO73_iMxCf1ll4xRAeVlt6upX23llabraXCqPYHNO3QiUH9spTAfnCZ_vuV-BUuAt3TUKC66wi-Bw-9p3TyYEkaOnfP0KmYClY9KGiicdRJi7cXxCggoopNCLdrCYs-XDkdzkaj1JqQXnZk97sza1XARuKBanvBDSeYu/s2048/Unhoused.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqtiRBJG5P9xQj8nuKGwSmFO73_iMxCf1ll4xRAeVlt6upX23llabraXCqPYHNO3QiUH9spTAfnCZ_vuV-BUuAt3TUKC66wi-Bw-9p3TyYEkaOnfP0KmYClY9KGiicdRJi7cXxCggoopNCLdrCYs-XDkdzkaj1JqQXnZk97sza1XARuKBanvBDSeYu/w400-h300/Unhoused.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></span><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;">I've avoided taking photos of the houseless encampments that dot South Seattle until now, not because I wanted to turn a blind eye to the problem, but instead because it feels icky and voyeuristically exploitative of people already in the direst of situations.</span></span><br style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal;" /><br style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal;" /><span style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: normal;">That said, as I reenter SoDo, where the situation is probably the worst, I felt that I should acknowledge that streets like this are all too common. Unfortunately, there doesn't seem to be the political will or resources to find a compassionate solution to the situation. Instead, the city seems to rely mainly on regular sweeps of camps, that seem both cruel and only push the problem around. Meanwhile, underfunded services struggle to even find places to operate in a city that suffers from extreme NIMBYism; and more and more people get pushed onto the streets through Seattle's astronomical housing prices and the current drug crisis. It's tragic on so many levels.</span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeJRYTFpiM9vcB2zRpnK7IiQ0nQo9JS_mGkTtMokI4gVIJmQFLYGI2s9UUuq1Dj1B8o5vO_ui29GrbG492LzLpHT04U7pZKpFaOXii0GOVNQRSPEKt8h81YKAWdKCd3OL7fIZaIyp6FyOry-7btuchyDACm0KMw1W4MCHSRxavPlgCy_ScWbh095gm/s2048/Neonsigns.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeJRYTFpiM9vcB2zRpnK7IiQ0nQo9JS_mGkTtMokI4gVIJmQFLYGI2s9UUuq1Dj1B8o5vO_ui29GrbG492LzLpHT04U7pZKpFaOXii0GOVNQRSPEKt8h81YKAWdKCd3OL7fIZaIyp6FyOry-7btuchyDACm0KMw1W4MCHSRxavPlgCy_ScWbh095gm/w400-h300/Neonsigns.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><i>A view into Western Neon's showroom. Someday I just want to go in and check it out, like an art gallery.</i></span><br /><span style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><br /><div style="font-style: italic; text-align: center;"><br /></div></span></div></div></div></span></div></div></span></div><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div><i style="color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: 15px; white-space: normal;"><br /></i></div><span style="color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: 15px; white-space: normal;"><i><br /><br /><br /><br /></i></span></div></div>The Generalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13882212598013962066noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377312797415153161.post-63276975115461637642022-10-10T12:03:00.003-07:002022-10-10T12:03:16.967-07:00Exploring South Seattle with Cleo - Weeks 9 to 12<p> <b>Tyler Reporting:</b></p><p><i>Continuing my explorations of South Seattle, with our dog Cleo, during near-daily 2-3 mile walks.</i></p><p><b>Weeks 9 & 10</b></p><div class="xdj266r x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs x126k92a" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2AIUiaWCVN2IT-8Vsr6CDnScguEe-EIfBFbwRQ5ScucfVbr8naVjaH6QZPo_YDmwtlrehfXQlcwPvXDvi69F2Ty4Urb-cxG2h0f8Y3sSvKqlBj5kKFmN-VwJObd3nOOITBHtkoyGdf6I5CRWW1WM96e_BVONTXjsM0jqUqph0WI8OT6unIN6aIsHh/s2048/Week9-10Map.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2AIUiaWCVN2IT-8Vsr6CDnScguEe-EIfBFbwRQ5ScucfVbr8naVjaH6QZPo_YDmwtlrehfXQlcwPvXDvi69F2Ty4Urb-cxG2h0f8Y3sSvKqlBj5kKFmN-VwJObd3nOOITBHtkoyGdf6I5CRWW1WM96e_BVONTXjsM0jqUqph0WI8OT6unIN6aIsHh/w300-h400/Week9-10Map.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><span style="white-space: normal;"><i>My walks these last two weeks were wrapping up the East Quadrant, then moving on to the South Quadrant where I bump into the city limits with Tukwila, then a little bit of the West Quadrant.</i></span><br /><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">These last two weeks explorations have been slowed a bit because of both a mid-week camping trip and some ongoing knee issues I'm having. Still, we managed to wrap up the Seward Park Quadrant, before moving on the new quadrant to the south, where we explored a wedge of Beacon Hill, around Boeing Field, and into South Park. We even picked up a bit of Georgetown/SoDo yesterday.</span></div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">You know what area I really enjoyed? South Park. <span style="font-family: inherit;"><a style="color: #385898; cursor: pointer; font-family: inherit;" tabindex="-1"></a></span>When Sarah and I first moved to South Seattle 14+ years ago, we had a running joke to the effect of "you know you are lost when you realize you are in South Park." But exploring it this week, it reminded me a lot of what appealed to me about Georgetown and Beacon Hill years ago: Diverse, working class and with a noticeable funky, artistic style. Plus, I think it's Seattle's only real community ON the Duwamish.</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_vdY_iYAID6VWUfzbIzVuMQgN13jGxkB92lKRGCzrOlcqe7MCUgIwlSG5LeYDYd3SE5UDZTD80TPr9maGK2qKsha-9hr6Dqf8RYjianujk9QCqf0D8fw7e_nungnbtXUQqBcb4WbNR07_QwHgcUI3H-x_GCl4SWxlUmD2jfecfFcbtkdSCekoA0OJ/s2048/SarahVest.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_vdY_iYAID6VWUfzbIzVuMQgN13jGxkB92lKRGCzrOlcqe7MCUgIwlSG5LeYDYd3SE5UDZTD80TPr9maGK2qKsha-9hr6Dqf8RYjianujk9QCqf0D8fw7e_nungnbtXUQqBcb4WbNR07_QwHgcUI3H-x_GCl4SWxlUmD2jfecfFcbtkdSCekoA0OJ/w400-h300/SarahVest.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="white-space: normal;"><i>Sarah joined me on one section, down along the Seward Park waterfront. She's wearing her weighted vest, in preparation for her backpacking trip which would start a couple days later.</i></span></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="white-space: normal;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqTy_yfkkqkbWaTKR2NWGptuMwLQbRKecyCAicKgfah0cC_7f4rkFxv5j9rLv7fPMTC3QTZ4YglZiV5idRGXJgR5aa5kAZncQSYEcGF5b3Li_1r_elqMOCzbYBYw6qhuoOWapSak2Y9JVTVGpgr5EmpC53MUFBFlfyTylYNXmo_wMin9vPqZr9Xc3p/s2048/BeastieMirror.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqTy_yfkkqkbWaTKR2NWGptuMwLQbRKecyCAicKgfah0cC_7f4rkFxv5j9rLv7fPMTC3QTZ4YglZiV5idRGXJgR5aa5kAZncQSYEcGF5b3Li_1r_elqMOCzbYBYw6qhuoOWapSak2Y9JVTVGpgr5EmpC53MUFBFlfyTylYNXmo_wMin9vPqZr9Xc3p/w400-h300/BeastieMirror.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i>A rare self-portrait of me. Taken in the Rainier Valley.</i></div></span><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8WnhCYklM9XpysFo1vKTKxLUHswWzKn7cnPLeW78MMBUqbHNIx-T2gkYBwpNCnijua7Pg8lzWuZkoDH9KmyG29G-3FoR_8_TdfPxUtw2Y1_7Y1bNYLTenLqp9Dqb89uBvVKVpYl0-FZw6ZPCSTGSFSIGCY_szWPBsrX1oDHfxl-vzMgIXtrqBNplA/s2048/LakeView.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8WnhCYklM9XpysFo1vKTKxLUHswWzKn7cnPLeW78MMBUqbHNIx-T2gkYBwpNCnijua7Pg8lzWuZkoDH9KmyG29G-3FoR_8_TdfPxUtw2Y1_7Y1bNYLTenLqp9Dqb89uBvVKVpYl0-FZw6ZPCSTGSFSIGCY_szWPBsrX1oDHfxl-vzMgIXtrqBNplA/w400-h300/LakeView.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i>A typical house and view in the Seward Park/Brighton Beach neighborhood.</i></div></span><div><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidzjIod3tLSXkhU7YAUWlQeJmINWYtRBxGSumxnvUIcYOQ_wXrR6b-TGi_jPulDo2jbThCrXjQpvqxs6t1rNV4k5jdJ4WkqwDBJ-59yZFr-LKtyZZlm5aLSej4AQxhlb5mxq-aAjTAFSZESML78Qsr6yyBl3zvddCCkYkYRAzyaKxblhF2i-6YOkDs/s2048/StripMall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidzjIod3tLSXkhU7YAUWlQeJmINWYtRBxGSumxnvUIcYOQ_wXrR6b-TGi_jPulDo2jbThCrXjQpvqxs6t1rNV4k5jdJ4WkqwDBJ-59yZFr-LKtyZZlm5aLSej4AQxhlb5mxq-aAjTAFSZESML78Qsr6yyBl3zvddCCkYkYRAzyaKxblhF2i-6YOkDs/w400-h300/StripMall.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><i>The International District might be the official neighborhood for Seattle immigrant communities, but most of the more recent immigrants live farther south, near the Othello Station and beyond. There's a lot of shopping centers like this one that definitely aren't catering to dotcom hipsters.</i></span></div><div><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY_hbobfmnlQYZhQzxsVebMB7DtIlhfF9j60T2S-AsfqHJGlfA5iOR9UiE9ILfeQoi17TmVlLRAsHb9qDiamvnlPSc9IWha7wpDw9xldp_TDH1m-qqpoDl0VeWtxjLwyGhe1nX-VkZ3uMZFk9uwz1PYozvZW81pqFVi0A1o9ua0ctG6Bcw46N8oKXG/s2048/Mural4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgY_hbobfmnlQYZhQzxsVebMB7DtIlhfF9j60T2S-AsfqHJGlfA5iOR9UiE9ILfeQoi17TmVlLRAsHb9qDiamvnlPSc9IWha7wpDw9xldp_TDH1m-qqpoDl0VeWtxjLwyGhe1nX-VkZ3uMZFk9uwz1PYozvZW81pqFVi0A1o9ua0ctG6Bcw46N8oKXG/w400-h300/Mural4.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></span><span style="background-color: white;"><div style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: center;"><i>A mural on a Safeway near the Othello Station.</i></div><div style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRq1LiCC-RWVoikDYBOlbzOk4SUjG8g-h5nnI1CfhyaVv57dHIlJ07ADc6GpGG1wyBnnUXXOx4FyQwEGDl9V3op9DP7FOM0hqOr3n2NjTVHKm5cS_Mhdmw6422TobxcyMajhtrjjcAia4oC737x8oz3HKqrg2AprJyGoyRg2oO9Dd6zMNBcvHmekwN/s2048/MilitaryRoad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRq1LiCC-RWVoikDYBOlbzOk4SUjG8g-h5nnI1CfhyaVv57dHIlJ07ADc6GpGG1wyBnnUXXOx4FyQwEGDl9V3op9DP7FOM0hqOr3n2NjTVHKm5cS_Mhdmw6422TobxcyMajhtrjjcAia4oC737x8oz3HKqrg2AprJyGoyRg2oO9Dd6zMNBcvHmekwN/w300-h400/MilitaryRoad.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><span style="text-align: start;"><div style="text-align: left;"><i>I've got a weird obsession with Military Road. Originally built to connect Fort Steillacoom and Fort Bellingham, in the 1850s, before Washington was even a state. It pre-dates any urban planning, and the remaining sections of it always run counter to any current grid system. This section is on Beacon Hill, but I've encountered other sections farther afield.</i></div></span><i><br /></i></div><div style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO9VGC9sD6cEiUzXpPaWj_DcI_F_N7TwbDBed2cmub5VNeVVGEBKJ_X4mrTaeTUwU3Yr0sNhGN1egMJewr7AlyeWls1uQNY_6PBkhb46Lx4q9MeD3Zrm9cqaz9mH4o1uZFk6T0ArAEVK7Lbiedkcy5KUsSTXIrUCrJrv4Wkalro9naud75tsKQmZGH/s2048/Duwamish_Bridge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiO9VGC9sD6cEiUzXpPaWj_DcI_F_N7TwbDBed2cmub5VNeVVGEBKJ_X4mrTaeTUwU3Yr0sNhGN1egMJewr7AlyeWls1uQNY_6PBkhb46Lx4q9MeD3Zrm9cqaz9mH4o1uZFk6T0ArAEVK7Lbiedkcy5KUsSTXIrUCrJrv4Wkalro9naud75tsKQmZGH/w300-h400/Duwamish_Bridge.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><span style="text-align: start;"><div style="text-align: left;"><i>Planes and boats. Crossing the South Park Bridge over the Duwamish. When Sarah and I first moved to South Seattle, this bridge was closed, making it feel like South Park was cut off from the rest of the city.</i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFOHkwcTvFpa2reG8AWWu9xOYlhquLzVoDUNwkim064NRNG-NMLjYGgeMyp61E2ooRVsK8uvNeD682hRNtzrvgnlTlM3fF3POcFlRs3zI2ljLuJULKjfszbtkjCJRwNlyk6omAXaAtKjyXsb6r5ZrbWA28SvO_0ERcCqp8l03iFcaWwU7lmS7lqv3q/s2048/BoeingTunnel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFOHkwcTvFpa2reG8AWWu9xOYlhquLzVoDUNwkim064NRNG-NMLjYGgeMyp61E2ooRVsK8uvNeD682hRNtzrvgnlTlM3fF3POcFlRs3zI2ljLuJULKjfszbtkjCJRwNlyk6omAXaAtKjyXsb6r5ZrbWA28SvO_0ERcCqp8l03iFcaWwU7lmS7lqv3q/w300-h400/BoeingTunnel.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i>A pedestrian underpass beneath East Marginal Way connecting two parts of the Boeing Plant.</i></div></i><i><br /></i></div></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1nv2fws4cw7d1LpNNBpOT8-onH8K6kayrtRLlWe3KUYlfzluPQibhqHo7WBFuANFcWchaVO5yahkp3n3z0pTtJgPfn1lj0S1NKcYnF45NXaBG3yP8tkY8DlBZHXXG-BCZt-4frFPG_hsouoyAtPiXTNPNQ6D8YAqs1kUPWXfGiUjhlnu8Ku-czwhd/s2048/BigTop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1nv2fws4cw7d1LpNNBpOT8-onH8K6kayrtRLlWe3KUYlfzluPQibhqHo7WBFuANFcWchaVO5yahkp3n3z0pTtJgPfn1lj0S1NKcYnF45NXaBG3yP8tkY8DlBZHXXG-BCZt-4frFPG_hsouoyAtPiXTNPNQ6D8YAqs1kUPWXfGiUjhlnu8Ku-czwhd/w400-h300/BigTop.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="text-align: start;"><i>The Big Top Curiosity Shop, in the center of South Park. I've been eternally curious about it, but have yet to go in.</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJssrzGJmHuxbBB8jQ4OEjCCDIU569GKzcq1-ygY9lo5mOGA4tqLoXUI4PSU5Kz9b0buGBO-O5gr_tG4eap6lRbR0ReYK7Dfhtf6sec_1hTofO5ID-SJThJMzevAj_KjO7R3V9dApjsZYLh6sQuiM1W93Ye89IqMr1Oz3LXYTg3NpvnlVxX5-h5zpv/s2048/DuwamishPArk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJssrzGJmHuxbBB8jQ4OEjCCDIU569GKzcq1-ygY9lo5mOGA4tqLoXUI4PSU5Kz9b0buGBO-O5gr_tG4eap6lRbR0ReYK7Dfhtf6sec_1hTofO5ID-SJThJMzevAj_KjO7R3V9dApjsZYLh6sQuiM1W93Ye89IqMr1Oz3LXYTg3NpvnlVxX5-h5zpv/w300-h400/DuwamishPArk.jpg" width="300" /></a></div></span></span><span style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i>A pocket park on the Duwamish in South Park.</i></div></span><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjznLnVm0yRb2K8qRjro0uwMrTyX90QgZQSzFby9Uno72LIetPe1XnsyFxxXGejQNffRqTKJ12FgAwxJZ-LiFHGpz3pPeC9hOcxRPVk8aSBeCezqdNMg4ci4xIvmVyNzNyEhdQyD-p0L69BsmLtXzRBmq4mzT_Ma2BNOgSGbhOSOkeNI6Z4qBFi0py/s2048/Duwamish_View.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjznLnVm0yRb2K8qRjro0uwMrTyX90QgZQSzFby9Uno72LIetPe1XnsyFxxXGejQNffRqTKJ12FgAwxJZ-LiFHGpz3pPeC9hOcxRPVk8aSBeCezqdNMg4ci4xIvmVyNzNyEhdQyD-p0L69BsmLtXzRBmq4mzT_Ma2BNOgSGbhOSOkeNI6Z4qBFi0py/w400-h300/Duwamish_View.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: start;"><i>Another view of the Duwamish, and the Boeing Plant beyond, taken from a pier extending out over the river.</i></span><br /><i style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ4q8ya_onn2G-jK04CMRW8_SnmzjISoeg-0bv5kBA0b_YOnZWtJX0Ucx8sX5x4gND2qUW0OXvwdMSesqSeCHi19JEMbVdFFTHncE5bKZBuiSCy6XMW4MXc--zCA1fKNLpAXtAPSkRMKVGtuudr2SAsrRIXCUZI4hs3U8qVUh2K2bEA-stYdBqrec8/s2048/PedOverpass.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZ4q8ya_onn2G-jK04CMRW8_SnmzjISoeg-0bv5kBA0b_YOnZWtJX0Ucx8sX5x4gND2qUW0OXvwdMSesqSeCHi19JEMbVdFFTHncE5bKZBuiSCy6XMW4MXc--zCA1fKNLpAXtAPSkRMKVGtuudr2SAsrRIXCUZI4hs3U8qVUh2K2bEA-stYdBqrec8/w400-h300/PedOverpass.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: start;"><i>A pedestrian overpass, crossing 99.</i></span><br /><i style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix_w42uvqeh7L6fqcwBMqQZ_2mQK2IqH8grKkBljC_o3U4YJ03iJ7-JcQ7fFXOCR0_c4DUHLzaHjPvxmzS0xnyfizP6JrQj5KEZxe6hmv_tIEblq5OVVgf8EtZSD5O--bdCB1yIpOfsvWM8rd_BLmJ6MqXBwH-WQ97GWzSa_fbZm4GDZfg4oEXd0hC/s2048/Stairs3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix_w42uvqeh7L6fqcwBMqQZ_2mQK2IqH8grKkBljC_o3U4YJ03iJ7-JcQ7fFXOCR0_c4DUHLzaHjPvxmzS0xnyfizP6JrQj5KEZxe6hmv_tIEblq5OVVgf8EtZSD5O--bdCB1yIpOfsvWM8rd_BLmJ6MqXBwH-WQ97GWzSa_fbZm4GDZfg4oEXd0hC/w300-h400/Stairs3.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><span style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: start;"><i>Obligatory stairs photo. Maybe the longest stairs we've encountered, only about a third of their length is visible here, since they bend and curve out of view.</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidudcDf6j9_2BZ2KrhprCWiezaUhCG_PCaVaUdJEhdaGwoeXOJ4yaIT0AHcYxJe8u_4K3SBVYDNxOmiXiEDmgRCvl15j0ho-Wknb4RH8K3A7xp55Qdjr1pWEgyAOiQ-57obUN5IDcdiVsyE9p6BCJ2iDFjSx-ShfUjPAiiR9WS3E2f0f8UKH6DBui3/s2048/BrandonStreet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidudcDf6j9_2BZ2KrhprCWiezaUhCG_PCaVaUdJEhdaGwoeXOJ4yaIT0AHcYxJe8u_4K3SBVYDNxOmiXiEDmgRCvl15j0ho-Wknb4RH8K3A7xp55Qdjr1pWEgyAOiQ-57obUN5IDcdiVsyE9p6BCJ2iDFjSx-ShfUjPAiiR9WS3E2f0f8UKH6DBui3/w300-h400/BrandonStreet.jpg" width="300" /></a></div></span></span><span style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><i>Going into SoDo, Seattle's massive unhoused population becomes more noticeable. These cement blocks are everywhere, presumably to keep people from parking their campers or setting up tents. This particular stretch has been turned into a bit of an art installation though.</i></span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><b>Weeks 11(-ish) & 12:</b></span></span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYIdqVSFtJUXDAdqq8aSIs29L15VZ8TatJU_qs5uk8X1gAL60VfySjQe9vlqHgrSzfL6QNX35yTEsTFfER-ESXn_fz1VyF1CxCY75EpZD6lpsUClZ9ImG_tjhTtNcYyMGZi4PjyYOjwsKZ3MIW639OaXi40iFE-ChdD2QZjlDNiE2LxZGDuuBritQU/s2048/Weeks11-12Map.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYIdqVSFtJUXDAdqq8aSIs29L15VZ8TatJU_qs5uk8X1gAL60VfySjQe9vlqHgrSzfL6QNX35yTEsTFfER-ESXn_fz1VyF1CxCY75EpZD6lpsUClZ9ImG_tjhTtNcYyMGZi4PjyYOjwsKZ3MIW639OaXi40iFE-ChdD2QZjlDNiE2LxZGDuuBritQU/w300-h400/Weeks11-12Map.jpg" width="300" /></a></div></span></span><span style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i>The map continues to grow. Most of the growth in the southwest, but a little in the northeast.</i></div></span><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><i><br /></i></span></span><div class="xdj266r x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs x126k92a" style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">"Week 11" ended up being spread over about 3 weeks, owing to our trip to Iceland, catching Covid and my ongoing knee issues. But we were back in the swing of things last week. </div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">Most of the last dozen walks were exploring Seattle's SODO neighborhood, South of the West Seattle bridge. And you know what no one has ever waxed poetic about? The beauty of SODO. And for good reason. SODO is largely dominated by shipping, <span style="font-family: inherit;"><a style="color: #385898; cursor: pointer; font-family: inherit;" tabindex="-1"></a></span>warehouses, long industrial strips, lined with semi rigs and tragic numbers of Seattle's unhoused population. Still, there were pockets of art and life: Murals, pocket parks and random restaurants or rogue houses left over from earlier times. </div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">Rounding out last week, we moved on to the next "quadrant" (can you have more than four quadrants?), and we were back into the giant houses and mansions of North Mount Baker and Leshi.</div></div></div></div></span></div><div><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0f9mNuJ2ud95mtij7bj-6-N4c6qfuwMVlQWiXtNWytZ4c5d0OyQtoxjwP7Fb93wYL9BoQ36OD11yXpM6FzS02r6jfNJkcsMGge5g3wAFvz6OucvOIBSy-cZZ9sZpVAOEfDbm_Ltq6PUD432d_uTr2wrPalGO8mxMJRNOy-A4LLEMZx-FZ8kDonnhD/s2048/WEstSeattleBridge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0f9mNuJ2ud95mtij7bj-6-N4c6qfuwMVlQWiXtNWytZ4c5d0OyQtoxjwP7Fb93wYL9BoQ36OD11yXpM6FzS02r6jfNJkcsMGge5g3wAFvz6OucvOIBSy-cZZ9sZpVAOEfDbm_Ltq6PUD432d_uTr2wrPalGO8mxMJRNOy-A4LLEMZx-FZ8kDonnhD/w400-h300/WEstSeattleBridge.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><i>A view of downtown, from SODO, looking under the West Seattle bridge. It has been closed since the start of the pandemic, but would open again a day or two later.</i></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white;"><div style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHXLUobT_EkDwrnkJqvG2Aw34F89vrTQDtbagWCyKHgVX0DXOSpX2qrMjTxBv83gySOU89B89nWt7Vi0BE564BUix2SDieQ7ygNTezqTV5Pl5Lb9lyzScTY9iKewOLKDWyoAYDZTFGwfc-rRzchZZEt0Rtun5x25_wvBD5KaX3TVv-bnmM7SPKAFjO/s2048/WolveMural.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHXLUobT_EkDwrnkJqvG2Aw34F89vrTQDtbagWCyKHgVX0DXOSpX2qrMjTxBv83gySOU89B89nWt7Vi0BE564BUix2SDieQ7ygNTezqTV5Pl5Lb9lyzScTY9iKewOLKDWyoAYDZTFGwfc-rRzchZZEt0Rtun5x25_wvBD5KaX3TVv-bnmM7SPKAFjO/w400-h300/WolveMural.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="text-align: start;"><i>Cleo found her pack.</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_4vjCjULpS__JUfaRTSNHoyaYYSK5NT1eo6nJekzoSEqdBfEJBBu4DsIZlBKF4e1LL_q8cu_jp6Vnto-IW1j8gLRn3GJ7oxS1e2j-aYVhwtMMcoWzg_JQ9HAmdZC0Z06a492bFUzXnJKgioixxfQvh5uS1YD6JxCZhxYQw5Bj0ev7m2UNYHjncPAo/s2048/Hangar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_4vjCjULpS__JUfaRTSNHoyaYYSK5NT1eo6nJekzoSEqdBfEJBBu4DsIZlBKF4e1LL_q8cu_jp6Vnto-IW1j8gLRn3GJ7oxS1e2j-aYVhwtMMcoWzg_JQ9HAmdZC0Z06a492bFUzXnJKgioixxfQvh5uS1YD6JxCZhxYQw5Bj0ev7m2UNYHjncPAo/w400-h300/Hangar.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></span></span><span style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><i>Neat (if very neglected) old hangar-style building. This is the type of place I'd point out to the kids and tell them it was where I'd open my board game cafe.</i></span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVdAHX6jz-pzsa1T8ZOzZzV2p6Uf4ZtBfi3mfg6JeWy3XV8EbKenNBRYTYcckLJZUe4Id1qbdvH6_utY5DTPx2ktPD8EROYAiisKx1dgvlFsgcwqbQ3RpG_oo8iCmNedrAyX-3qY_lrDgEdaAjnGkCAV0zy-pdiC-jQTvWwfURaXjmZmZs0COLWlc9/s2048/TrucksCrates.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVdAHX6jz-pzsa1T8ZOzZzV2p6Uf4ZtBfi3mfg6JeWy3XV8EbKenNBRYTYcckLJZUe4Id1qbdvH6_utY5DTPx2ktPD8EROYAiisKx1dgvlFsgcwqbQ3RpG_oo8iCmNedrAyX-3qY_lrDgEdaAjnGkCAV0zy-pdiC-jQTvWwfURaXjmZmZs0COLWlc9/w400-h300/TrucksCrates.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></span></span><i><span style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">Parked rigs and shipping containers. Pretty much </span><span style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">the order of the day in SODO. I thought the colors here at least had a Wes Anderson quality to them.</span></i><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><br /><i><br /></i><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2LDLXJpe0kYt9bC5n2iu8ffsuuv91ZlxW13aysrUgNja2qx68NGqMPrgStdIxL1mw4kaoYR66udRP4Nw5YFgCrwfDcQcg8JvWGDSuXOOMCmCXxgKxso--Pd1lsPB1UhK9NJjH5Oc9h-xLA3NKhFGdl9y-N0ZB4Bf8a2iY0TvmSXfYDJvLMTB4DQ5X/s2048/Sabaqah.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2LDLXJpe0kYt9bC5n2iu8ffsuuv91ZlxW13aysrUgNja2qx68NGqMPrgStdIxL1mw4kaoYR66udRP4Nw5YFgCrwfDcQcg8JvWGDSuXOOMCmCXxgKxso--Pd1lsPB1UhK9NJjH5Oc9h-xLA3NKhFGdl9y-N0ZB4Bf8a2iY0TvmSXfYDJvLMTB4DQ5X/w400-h300/Sabaqah.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></span></span><span style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i>A pocket park on the edge of the Duwamish River, with its original Duwamish name.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRjFrKklHAeaQfA7_UxzhfNqXK9YfdwBVcPTpOEOdso2rousTeXvZP--B3ijJjQt8v0SJVg5m9lPZozZadSoBiao_NY_dfifWFO6eq7ceDb0Hw9qmKa2Ea4ENNTXovHK3-pPQP9C4hAHQYTpgRvQTJ2R93MjJxTjoVlCFT_CgDX3CI8OX1AWKsYduQ/s2048/LakeDock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-size: medium; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRjFrKklHAeaQfA7_UxzhfNqXK9YfdwBVcPTpOEOdso2rousTeXvZP--B3ijJjQt8v0SJVg5m9lPZozZadSoBiao_NY_dfifWFO6eq7ceDb0Hw9qmKa2Ea4ENNTXovHK3-pPQP9C4hAHQYTpgRvQTJ2R93MjJxTjoVlCFT_CgDX3CI8OX1AWKsYduQ/w300-h400/LakeDock.jpg" width="300" /></a></div></span></div><i style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">Looking across Lake Washington. Bellevue is barely visible in the haze of forest fire smoke.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1qNhC_S3dAHcWb8mzk37xK0ZDuX1ZKGuJsZWZPypj0MKE5l0oDEpgISGmgZ1Fz2FKs3Mjta1l6Z0j3caebaNkbgdlWPWT_0dFtTRfVEGGNF8dWk4Jb6EU6JhR0-P8sTTim2LhsoSo1yt39rACPXM45TdYKzUFLjYXH_8_8X1QA7NobezFJrnFqDRu/s2048/BigBeastie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1qNhC_S3dAHcWb8mzk37xK0ZDuX1ZKGuJsZWZPypj0MKE5l0oDEpgISGmgZ1Fz2FKs3Mjta1l6Z0j3caebaNkbgdlWPWT_0dFtTRfVEGGNF8dWk4Jb6EU6JhR0-P8sTTim2LhsoSo1yt39rACPXM45TdYKzUFLjYXH_8_8X1QA7NobezFJrnFqDRu/w300-h400/BigBeastie.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">Another self-portrait of me and my walking companion.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivesRIIyRLKLQnnTTgul6HPTNmkZvEV2o0t0Adq4U36RTUSSus9EkWTwlw5W2UlM9DqySoqfWk7kr359gxL6ZfdjRRAhBAfhjxJhOYImOxHESPpH6tvx9GuXXNzP8ipOGNzN8KciUPyG5_l7HeWwKanjtNbHTdG6UiEYQISKiDODihD0AC2vJt17GW/s2048/RichStreet.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivesRIIyRLKLQnnTTgul6HPTNmkZvEV2o0t0Adq4U36RTUSSus9EkWTwlw5W2UlM9DqySoqfWk7kr359gxL6ZfdjRRAhBAfhjxJhOYImOxHESPpH6tvx9GuXXNzP8ipOGNzN8KciUPyG5_l7HeWwKanjtNbHTdG6UiEYQISKiDODihD0AC2vJt17GW/w400-h300/RichStreet.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">Some of the humble houses on the North end of Mount Baker.</i></div></span><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;">(At this point, I'm basically now caught up with where I am on my Facebook posts. I just posted the entry for Weeks 13 & 14 there. But I think I'll continue posting entries here in 1-month chunks. So, expect another entry here in about 2 weeks, then monthly going forward. Until I give up on this project.)</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></div></div></div>The Generalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13882212598013962066noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377312797415153161.post-1035130956503383992022-10-08T15:04:00.003-07:002022-10-08T15:04:36.741-07:00Exploring South Seattle with Cleo - Weeks 5 to 8<p> <b>Tyler Reporting:</b></p><p><i>As mentioned in my previous post, I've been walking 2-3 miles every day with our dog, Cleo. My goal being to explore as much of (South) Seattle as possible. I've been posting every other week about it, on Facebook, and I'm not transferring those posts here. </i></p><p><b>Weeks 5 & 6:</b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBJB-cwJdhUJQM-fEhc5VA_4ILjDQrPv2V-9kviQYGX2itBZ9cibNktDY2LzkgHdcx02lSpa_qJJVbZFIHgICKatn3PRLDuSRLSaQqkz7krOx5lBRdy1LoMgsc1iz1GBivj1HJKgB8PlL1hlIWmVVUYVnB-0-kC09qlb7xQTKfPTJZGv8aaXMCvG0K/s2048/Weeks5-6Map.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBJB-cwJdhUJQM-fEhc5VA_4ILjDQrPv2V-9kviQYGX2itBZ9cibNktDY2LzkgHdcx02lSpa_qJJVbZFIHgICKatn3PRLDuSRLSaQqkz7krOx5lBRdy1LoMgsc1iz1GBivj1HJKgB8PlL1hlIWmVVUYVnB-0-kC09qlb7xQTKfPTJZGv8aaXMCvG0K/w300-h400/Weeks5-6Map.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: left;"><i>Our progress so far. I think this weekend, we'll start a new quadrant to the East of the original one.</i></span></div><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Week 5 found us wrapping up the North end of Beacon Hill, in the shadow of the Pac Med Building; before dropping down to Rainier Valley and Mount Baker beyond it. Moving from Southwest to Northeast, Mount Baker's aggresively cute craftsmen houses slowly gave way to mansions as we approached Lake Washington. Then it was back up to Beacon, where we hiked across the Jose Rizal Bridge and zig-zagged through Little Saigon in the </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a style="color: #385898; cursor: pointer; font-family: inherit;" tabindex="-1"></a></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">International District. The last few days have been moving down Jackson and Yesler, slowly closer to the reclusive community of Leshi. We probsbly only have one or two more walks in this quadrant before moving on to a new one.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUgLwBvmFz5w2LsdasQPSSRugYs0xvdJGeUMl5ddP6ltdhN7pfyJH0PaG6mI_IGeo5H1vQlBcb6p5EqD5ZK-NnDZQF8BwZMl5Ns9xt_aFvADJ3Qt1YNdZITuqrvaNNd9BD5kQLZshe6RP6YvpCdSo6YHyprbUCxkO-0IOfUsg5YOYyZKViZqb09l2V/s2048/Bridge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgUgLwBvmFz5w2LsdasQPSSRugYs0xvdJGeUMl5ddP6ltdhN7pfyJH0PaG6mI_IGeo5H1vQlBcb6p5EqD5ZK-NnDZQF8BwZMl5Ns9xt_aFvADJ3Qt1YNdZITuqrvaNNd9BD5kQLZshe6RP6YvpCdSo6YHyprbUCxkO-0IOfUsg5YOYyZKViZqb09l2V/w400-h300/Bridge.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">Bridge extending over Rainier Ave, near where it intersects with MLK.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIAcbfiS5z97HhiF-FGUKOjYvAtxABFXx70t_ulKEBoxRfRCy2ih35wLMhux6U8lx5Eq9cpv5KK1Jiy1CT2guHshbd-wtirIZe0L606Y_2DULIJzhagJYWPlior5mJpQ-INjtLbPTkR6y9cIrwDAeGQv2_akSWua7XduV4gnN2OVpV4U5BJl4hKEUC/s2048/Stairs1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIAcbfiS5z97HhiF-FGUKOjYvAtxABFXx70t_ulKEBoxRfRCy2ih35wLMhux6U8lx5Eq9cpv5KK1Jiy1CT2guHshbd-wtirIZe0L606Y_2DULIJzhagJYWPlior5mJpQ-INjtLbPTkR6y9cIrwDAeGQv2_akSWua7XduV4gnN2OVpV4U5BJl4hKEUC/w300-h400/Stairs1.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><span style="background-color: white; text-align: start;"><div style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: center;"><i>If you are hiking around Seattle, you are probably hiking stairs. Seattle is maybe overly fond of stairs.</i></div><div style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7R34ysmxhS4xXXgGvXOr0m1uz9kvlF1VvCtvnyqIzFOhlNqDN6vAESdfp-yfWmerXqxeDdtRYtIAO0F0uEAcYQQ8F5nYuHTIy1d0XlhR6guCPDpkJU3B0lA_EYlY2UmP-hyJGF07Er75a7Iy3KcFmC0VEB1cU3eLmv5tRzZvEvQLh0mrXiveU7xkh/s2048/Beach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7R34ysmxhS4xXXgGvXOr0m1uz9kvlF1VvCtvnyqIzFOhlNqDN6vAESdfp-yfWmerXqxeDdtRYtIAO0F0uEAcYQQ8F5nYuHTIy1d0XlhR6guCPDpkJU3B0lA_EYlY2UmP-hyJGF07Er75a7Iy3KcFmC0VEB1cU3eLmv5tRzZvEvQLh0mrXiveU7xkh/w400-h300/Beach.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="text-align: start;"><i>For the first time, our walks take us along the shores of Lake Washington.</i></span></div><div style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: start;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: start;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLetT-Va3B7u9BjOg68qHBwZYZ8Ci4NThwKcgI8INz2a6B6SlAyZI2qUI1v6EFWKiz84ycq7DxmjIVYDd3ghy2nx85WqFVn32l3dalJVxE2qRoq4BycqOwXvXuyolCasrKhu95w-3DJxkaikpz-T0A_Ul_AGOtVXTEzskXd9LlVAI_-f_h_EuTH4eA/s2048/Gargoyle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLetT-Va3B7u9BjOg68qHBwZYZ8Ci4NThwKcgI8INz2a6B6SlAyZI2qUI1v6EFWKiz84ycq7DxmjIVYDd3ghy2nx85WqFVn32l3dalJVxE2qRoq4BycqOwXvXuyolCasrKhu95w-3DJxkaikpz-T0A_Ul_AGOtVXTEzskXd9LlVAI_-f_h_EuTH4eA/w300-h400/Gargoyle.jpg" width="300" /></a></div></span><span style="text-align: start;"><i>Most of the stairs between streets are pretty utilitarian. But, these neat stairs featured a rain gutter running alongside of them that terminated in this gargoyle.</i></span></div><div style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: start;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: start;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBVY183DsocEzYhu4Wk9i0HCXFa2bnySVEHeN3w15vGHEPeknVQefdJBLi2CXlb7roWa7-XuNeqY68af0sLJM5bPSrFprpixA1RWpI8RSef7yM0VyJoV2r8BYoovOrigBZhpX6z6DuxkmDIVypfGuXPtXBQXzI7mqSeBmkBgI9Z0OZvYo1YSh1BM1Q/s2048/CleoTunnel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBVY183DsocEzYhu4Wk9i0HCXFa2bnySVEHeN3w15vGHEPeknVQefdJBLi2CXlb7roWa7-XuNeqY68af0sLJM5bPSrFprpixA1RWpI8RSef7yM0VyJoV2r8BYoovOrigBZhpX6z6DuxkmDIVypfGuXPtXBQXzI7mqSeBmkBgI9Z0OZvYo1YSh1BM1Q/w300-h400/CleoTunnel.jpg" width="300" /></a></div></span><span style="text-align: start;"><i>One of the big discoveries on this leg was this pedestrian tunnel directly above the I-90 car tunnel connecting downtown with the floating bridge. It's roughly a quarter mile of dimly lit graffiti.</i></span></div><div style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: start;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: start;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl3HfOJbGsTld8BTcXkyz9koXIrEuwZ6nz9hCEMN-e6goNRBgsnMuHB3o7oyyWPPIJ9KLp_CHq5TAME0eIUuJ7qMR1_6qyBfFo-DRqk2csvflDTYkwXkuIkee_2dCNbOm26rCfPrwHWSVjuJ-oxXoRVmq51Xs7hmgbPbM17Vqb2bT11lqVONAPWWFq/s2048/Mural3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjl3HfOJbGsTld8BTcXkyz9koXIrEuwZ6nz9hCEMN-e6goNRBgsnMuHB3o7oyyWPPIJ9KLp_CHq5TAME0eIUuJ7qMR1_6qyBfFo-DRqk2csvflDTYkwXkuIkee_2dCNbOm26rCfPrwHWSVjuJ-oxXoRVmq51Xs7hmgbPbM17Vqb2bT11lqVONAPWWFq/w400-h300/Mural3.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></span><span style="text-align: start;"><i>A lot of graffiti in the tunnel was just random tagging, but there's also a few well-done pieces.<br /></i></span><span style="text-align: start;"><i><br /></i><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgchYnxbKUXse7vk6IznYAP2bCm7uTjusiAnFrNxxRL0AW4EH3I3-YrKOVFzFUxpBmVORWL4EYV2mbwJVaadHQXCBD2oEJno7XIFGOEP8zCn0MyafpXNZiW5UsxSzVNuF-HjYBTb-T71pJln5WDVjB9xWzzPLz-raBrC-3iK8bRSwzzXRYgpaaKem50/s2048/JoseRizal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgchYnxbKUXse7vk6IznYAP2bCm7uTjusiAnFrNxxRL0AW4EH3I3-YrKOVFzFUxpBmVORWL4EYV2mbwJVaadHQXCBD2oEJno7XIFGOEP8zCn0MyafpXNZiW5UsxSzVNuF-HjYBTb-T71pJln5WDVjB9xWzzPLz-raBrC-3iK8bRSwzzXRYgpaaKem50/w400-h300/JoseRizal.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></span><span style="text-align: start;"><i>Crossing the Jose Rizal Bridge that connects Beacon Hill with the International District. A lot of our walks just feel like random strolls through the suburbs, but this view was a nice reminder that, oh yeah, we are in a city.</i></span></div><div style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: start;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: start;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvQoH7-00VzDgRgsNoLMnjLDEUtFjgfvRB9LPSijrNyWCnO1iJR8OP0nH2naahxryTsnGTxuqfQzUeLooCasrUWUGzNCcjP_IhoNqI0PW6dlTG7-Xc4GKHHbB7EJ9IytqS2o3rzon3-J8iF2gAZZTN731ImzBOdWhNUirNaVhNNFJUJ3IAjhHq1fBE/s2048/MonkStatue.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvQoH7-00VzDgRgsNoLMnjLDEUtFjgfvRB9LPSijrNyWCnO1iJR8OP0nH2naahxryTsnGTxuqfQzUeLooCasrUWUGzNCcjP_IhoNqI0PW6dlTG7-Xc4GKHHbB7EJ9IytqS2o3rzon3-J8iF2gAZZTN731ImzBOdWhNUirNaVhNNFJUJ3IAjhHq1fBE/w300-h400/MonkStatue.jpg" width="300" /></a></div></span><span style="text-align: start;"><i>A statue of a Buddhist Pilgrim across the street from a Buddhist Temple in the ID.</i></span></div><div style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: start;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: start;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVN9XLPAVbLwGB1jjLqsWfBwYzjYk-SgNz_5AWXjthGNZ7PS1MJrTVeGX1izymEPOSBw35e25hEuFjFhKJJFbi9DjPEqEm1yRejqG5N3VUh7RSHtRSCBz6m_ioSvrjruZRaR2hB3_DWRdH72g9s6xMBDLBdxNxzwYCAqRogMblYR4NPcM04AjZlI6Q/s2048/Stairs2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVN9XLPAVbLwGB1jjLqsWfBwYzjYk-SgNz_5AWXjthGNZ7PS1MJrTVeGX1izymEPOSBw35e25hEuFjFhKJJFbi9DjPEqEm1yRejqG5N3VUh7RSHtRSCBz6m_ioSvrjruZRaR2hB3_DWRdH72g9s6xMBDLBdxNxzwYCAqRogMblYR4NPcM04AjZlI6Q/w300-h400/Stairs2.jpg" width="300" /></a></div></span><span style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: start;"><i>More stairs!!</i></span><span style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: start;"><br /><i><br /></i><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2kWfXzJw_uMNchj4bS27ZkKQ87cgZSyyXiJQvMD-j3yOpYVRy81CFtUOrRobo2HOHqqnv-eYDLwxzEy8R6Bb5MVdd7I_EvClV809oiGDN9Mr5GRQWlD2YGUbAOjsN8rrqiwpIwZc-UB4PMzdtAW5j9ys0mqkRtSkMYtkVayKvqQJar2t3aPPmeaiG/s2048/ParkTunnel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2kWfXzJw_uMNchj4bS27ZkKQ87cgZSyyXiJQvMD-j3yOpYVRy81CFtUOrRobo2HOHqqnv-eYDLwxzEy8R6Bb5MVdd7I_EvClV809oiGDN9Mr5GRQWlD2YGUbAOjsN8rrqiwpIwZc-UB4PMzdtAW5j9ys0mqkRtSkMYtkVayKvqQJar2t3aPPmeaiG/w300-h400/ParkTunnel.jpg" width="300" /></a></div></span><span style="text-align: start;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; font-style: italic;">Another pleasant surprise was Coleman Park, wedged between Mount Baker and Lake Washington. Lots of winding roads and pedestrian paths under them.</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><b>Weeks 7 & 8:</b></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBX5oY_nDE7XP9tqqbMIqsBwkcWv6dxUvE4HCWx3k15uj5B5XN6OPWrWn9VGG8UU0FDcbQ57d97GpnxTPgExC2sQMszczwfcyfCyoprbuWGIAVaFV_veNjSDZJPs9pNT5XHwtIWa-ABiyoMA2xNmKfgOLLuxos7JDHxUCJZ5Y9kAUMPiiiVmOqFfcG/s2048/Week7-8Map.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1611" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBX5oY_nDE7XP9tqqbMIqsBwkcWv6dxUvE4HCWx3k15uj5B5XN6OPWrWn9VGG8UU0FDcbQ57d97GpnxTPgExC2sQMszczwfcyfCyoprbuWGIAVaFV_veNjSDZJPs9pNT5XHwtIWa-ABiyoMA2xNmKfgOLLuxos7JDHxUCJZ5Y9kAUMPiiiVmOqFfcG/w315-h400/Week7-8Map.jpg" width="315" /></a></div><div style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: center;"><i>Our walks so far. Weeks 7 & 8 have all been in the green square to the right.</i></div><div style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: left;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: start; white-space: pre-wrap;">As predicted, we wrapped up our 2nd Quadrant the day after my last post, and moved into a new area, between Beacon Hill and Seward Park. Week 7 was largely spent exploring north from Genesee, toward the multi-million dollar homes overlooking Lake Washington. During that week also happened to be the ramp up to Seafair, so each day the neighborhood became increasingly hectic. While during Week 8 we began most of our walks on MLK, </span><span style="text-align: start; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a style="color: #385898; cursor: pointer; font-family: inherit;" tabindex="-1"></a></span><span style="text-align: start; white-space: pre-wrap;">and headed East, across Rainier, before turning around at Wilson and heading back West on a neighboring street. At this point in my explorations, I'm beginning to feel like I could write a paper on the Topography of Inequality, where I propose that if you tell me a lots elevation, proximity to a body of water, and distance from a major thoroughfare, I could likely tell you the type of house you'd encounter.</span></div><div style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: start; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3rA5pBY8fCy7XQUI7WWcFqEqml7zCLnXBzQyAwzHP8aN3Gi31D_0lwtdMbWz_Yy8T9KIxhUsCpk_AGazFYKFu6sdo5RKqFJ41vcBnegCWKKFc2dMB1vafgs39ZTAJQBZm272ExuHGb2PMoKz3ZMBfOerudc8e3dQ1mg09N61kFwnf-3oWIF0mL9I9/s2048/KingKing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3rA5pBY8fCy7XQUI7WWcFqEqml7zCLnXBzQyAwzHP8aN3Gi31D_0lwtdMbWz_Yy8T9KIxhUsCpk_AGazFYKFu6sdo5RKqFJ41vcBnegCWKKFc2dMB1vafgs39ZTAJQBZm272ExuHGb2PMoKz3ZMBfOerudc8e3dQ1mg09N61kFwnf-3oWIF0mL9I9/w300-h400/KingKing.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><span style="text-align: start;"><div style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: center;"><i>Taken on our last walk in Quadrant 2. I was just amused by the idea of someone saying they lived on the corner of King & King.</i></div><div style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSE7ju6jpVsbApVFum1ZXQ9BK0FUJCyEdk8_J4_3hVq8w5Wd59wHpbvnFbgaFoYFgch05zVkWOqYkSkyn_5HRmZpT10nW3wKBVNi5dQi-ypDx1TiWmDiySCb6xeyaTNMBDEeG7ZSGL7rB9_iRFb2iZhs11rjb4JVVavTwMb_gfgimm1hk0Ncpb9mbP/s2048/BigHouse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSE7ju6jpVsbApVFum1ZXQ9BK0FUJCyEdk8_J4_3hVq8w5Wd59wHpbvnFbgaFoYFgch05zVkWOqYkSkyn_5HRmZpT10nW3wKBVNi5dQi-ypDx1TiWmDiySCb6xeyaTNMBDEeG7ZSGL7rB9_iRFb2iZhs11rjb4JVVavTwMb_gfgimm1hk0Ncpb9mbP/w400-h300/BigHouse.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="text-align: start;"><i>A humble home, overlooking Lake Washington.</i></span></div><div style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: start;"><br /></span></div><div style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2beaQakMR3V7ERvFSgiuAvs9XH09uZmJaEYiL2wLxvu55Swq-AOQPyLxrjg4NHlu5eQ3CyJozTdTz0cECsaYAlJXMMPVof-xUGIndDdpMei2TydViB2yTawFhq9IupcYrUqIgiHLjmGWCe6724JatSuNfjDsFHB8Tf2nCSSYYNrxvnL985XeFipAr/s2048/Geese.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2beaQakMR3V7ERvFSgiuAvs9XH09uZmJaEYiL2wLxvu55Swq-AOQPyLxrjg4NHlu5eQ3CyJozTdTz0cECsaYAlJXMMPVof-xUGIndDdpMei2TydViB2yTawFhq9IupcYrUqIgiHLjmGWCe6724JatSuNfjDsFHB8Tf2nCSSYYNrxvnL985XeFipAr/w400-h300/Geese.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="text-align: start;"><i>Cleo encounters geese on the shores of Lake Washington.</i></span><br /><span style="text-align: start;"><br /></span></div><div style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyWMHk_H-mnzGA4o2eBBZgCMyuxqj3yy2L-_ayyVKaqXVUr3VZ8neMoDvuk3Vnmq5buNtxiH3nnaP7VEAZNd2nMHgqAK8BFn6wwYlNeo8MhX2tZUbuYvS2mDP72BKBmn1bNtdfIPze8oDXYMtO4S5-pZvK46JRameE-ahRUd9Xsz9xSw0jR5kLMCE8/s2048/StarisDown.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyWMHk_H-mnzGA4o2eBBZgCMyuxqj3yy2L-_ayyVKaqXVUr3VZ8neMoDvuk3Vnmq5buNtxiH3nnaP7VEAZNd2nMHgqAK8BFn6wwYlNeo8MhX2tZUbuYvS2mDP72BKBmn1bNtdfIPze8oDXYMtO4S5-pZvK46JRameE-ahRUd9Xsz9xSw0jR5kLMCE8/w300-h400/StarisDown.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><span style="text-align: start;"><i>Always with the stairs.</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRr_UQJTly0606l3E5hdZNoGZfiNu9mN6zRC_w8gEocSQYVYrkJkyBJRveuYYgUj4Xv0ywbNQ9oeskuJqLxwfjsS6x306ISiZg1yBMcV1vrOHuLfA3wbMG84O67J59DNjcGYmx-EDpn48xq4oXV9zsYHfS63XJPiVTCd7QZwSxbCal5w067nYphHMI/s2048/RoyalRoom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRr_UQJTly0606l3E5hdZNoGZfiNu9mN6zRC_w8gEocSQYVYrkJkyBJRveuYYgUj4Xv0ywbNQ9oeskuJqLxwfjsS6x306ISiZg1yBMcV1vrOHuLfA3wbMG84O67J59DNjcGYmx-EDpn48xq4oXV9zsYHfS63XJPiVTCd7QZwSxbCal5w067nYphHMI/w400-h300/RoyalRoom.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></span></span><span style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i>A memorial on the side wall of the Royal Room, a jazz club in Columbia City.</i></div></span><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHrgyfWlX_x2kpPQ3-WXydwrjYaRSUOoHZGrwD0EudTnvu7znX-mjwHy9LxdfFX7Cu1E66Xhlsq4d_yqJl9MJjmTVdOjnERxfelpatAcCI6xcqmRSBQVA8EvyIEYx6VA4PI5qUY60M9Br9xRJvPXbQbtkuqVGoxvM90ctMd3C-IutS3q9mTgj-5t62/s2048/MetalStairs.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHrgyfWlX_x2kpPQ3-WXydwrjYaRSUOoHZGrwD0EudTnvu7znX-mjwHy9LxdfFX7Cu1E66Xhlsq4d_yqJl9MJjmTVdOjnERxfelpatAcCI6xcqmRSBQVA8EvyIEYx6VA4PI5qUY60M9Br9xRJvPXbQbtkuqVGoxvM90ctMd3C-IutS3q9mTgj-5t62/w300-h400/MetalStairs.jpg" width="300" /></a></div></span></span><div style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: center;"><i>Not 100% sure if these stairs were city stairs, or if I accidentally cut through someone's yard. But they were cool.</i></div><div style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8-SWbGroexm1brCyK9QOBldb4DnZ-oXk3wOF1dZR_7HX9lwdxq6OCjUYtiZYKUXd5ak_9IkBXW8TiUx1pZQ2t1wKHgEs-Ea3QbXvL4t3kzi5W7Nws58VIgb4dQRGEcyyjs9IwluOs2PXKRREwMjKN3hpzIUqFK8rMqOgek_eNQBRCAIXQk-RyQ5kv/s2048/HittsHill.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8-SWbGroexm1brCyK9QOBldb4DnZ-oXk3wOF1dZR_7HX9lwdxq6OCjUYtiZYKUXd5ak_9IkBXW8TiUx1pZQ2t1wKHgEs-Ea3QbXvL4t3kzi5W7Nws58VIgb4dQRGEcyyjs9IwluOs2PXKRREwMjKN3hpzIUqFK8rMqOgek_eNQBRCAIXQk-RyQ5kv/w400-h300/HittsHill.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="text-align: start;"><i>Hitt's Hill Park. A tiny park almost within walking distance of my house. Just one trail through a shady couple of blocks, but still a nice surprise.</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV8vjdGgtGvDwBM1w_tKfdcae2gLro_i89g7P0d50m9SkDVYBullToqIPk18BNI5-DkKtWBwY7sNd1b-JDuRJA4BvqV6ukn7MJ6eRR7RoMfNsnn6SjEmMxSkxLXOslQQp8-JR7j_n5cKO3vctu6NYPHOfsUey_bXVqkzHUUKSCsW3jcHKJBCZ-BTL2/s2048/Skeleton.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV8vjdGgtGvDwBM1w_tKfdcae2gLro_i89g7P0d50m9SkDVYBullToqIPk18BNI5-DkKtWBwY7sNd1b-JDuRJA4BvqV6ukn7MJ6eRR7RoMfNsnn6SjEmMxSkxLXOslQQp8-JR7j_n5cKO3vctu6NYPHOfsUey_bXVqkzHUUKSCsW3jcHKJBCZ-BTL2/w300-h400/Skeleton.jpg" width="300" /></a></div></span></span><span style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i>August in Seattle.</i></div></span><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGPTULUw0khBCkOydibkNW3-jtwh36CvVex1cRxWTAV6yHDfcemMibl1Edt8dnhPJjKd-JRLICfm83p39gntxBK79Sa1KDPujJeUl-35F92DKLWpGTh1wZzQoGOEb4gu8cWUWHeu1EIH0r4zFDB0WIoQbMU_mAp_2TxKVkSWi5lG6eA_28g9vP9ju1/s2048/RamDass.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGPTULUw0khBCkOydibkNW3-jtwh36CvVex1cRxWTAV6yHDfcemMibl1Edt8dnhPJjKd-JRLICfm83p39gntxBK79Sa1KDPujJeUl-35F92DKLWpGTh1wZzQoGOEb4gu8cWUWHeu1EIH0r4zFDB0WIoQbMU_mAp_2TxKVkSWi5lG6eA_28g9vP9ju1/w300-h400/RamDass.jpg" width="300" /></a></div></span></span><div style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: center;"><i>I encountered a number of these while walking in these neighborhoods. Images of spiritual, cultural or civil rights leaders with famous quotes by them. This one being Ram Dass.</i></div><div style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSd9B7-vjzIA-NFkcQeryNiLIPS_BW8rYMe_ZBBDquGkhGGBJlAxgren6ewsJw6YKpZKCimeyjJlDx1pLbZLsDHsU2SUlwHtNxcuZWXMi8HSNsTsJMvGIvIWAdubXiZnUzTbny7jIuyRfEb__OLf0Y7o506Z-cOhinWzSoSDjD0zI6AJ-Z_Apt5Dfl/s2048/BlueHouse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSd9B7-vjzIA-NFkcQeryNiLIPS_BW8rYMe_ZBBDquGkhGGBJlAxgren6ewsJw6YKpZKCimeyjJlDx1pLbZLsDHsU2SUlwHtNxcuZWXMi8HSNsTsJMvGIvIWAdubXiZnUzTbny7jIuyRfEb__OLf0Y7o506Z-cOhinWzSoSDjD0zI6AJ-Z_Apt5Dfl/w400-h300/BlueHouse.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="text-align: start;"><i>This house, on an anonymous street, a quarter mile or so from the lake is definitely the exception to the rule. Most of the houses around it were significantly humbler.</i></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgeXL8lrTt4H65ILSWiUP-QIdvzE8iKfaPfaE74E201eXwNlaDIiyUc3icjHjptAEVlJOfzbaQ1gazKKysMCmJ6kzo6WNk_dDFTE951i715Inc9xzuRVB9vWZ1HSFrKxud78WodqRvJ4n7RwHlG48EWvURqql3ot7vnq172ANFOZV1y-1SgOKsCLDs/s2048/PawnPrints.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgeXL8lrTt4H65ILSWiUP-QIdvzE8iKfaPfaE74E201eXwNlaDIiyUc3icjHjptAEVlJOfzbaQ1gazKKysMCmJ6kzo6WNk_dDFTE951i715Inc9xzuRVB9vWZ1HSFrKxud78WodqRvJ4n7RwHlG48EWvURqql3ot7vnq172ANFOZV1y-1SgOKsCLDs/w400-h300/PawnPrints.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></span></span><span style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i>The passage of some animal, captured in time.</i></div></span><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-eMYSGH3Xb7iCpLW8QFSYzQvV4ooRpgc9AdTel9k4CkxOe8r4jkh75sQQWPZVK8c1mK6zKv7nwkwtaGHXDkxiGfLtA65EhEGcMbdIV_3C8b5xF0Jjk4jL5p7pKUq1iz7gPtqUxn9ReVWovZLcRsrxde8MsA-1Qd7NsPIiwbkfAoTl0Ti_MQsEAhYI/s2048/Dragons.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-eMYSGH3Xb7iCpLW8QFSYzQvV4ooRpgc9AdTel9k4CkxOe8r4jkh75sQQWPZVK8c1mK6zKv7nwkwtaGHXDkxiGfLtA65EhEGcMbdIV_3C8b5xF0Jjk4jL5p7pKUq1iz7gPtqUxn9ReVWovZLcRsrxde8MsA-1Qd7NsPIiwbkfAoTl0Ti_MQsEAhYI/w300-h400/Dragons.jpg" width="300" /></a></div></span></span><span style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><i>More street art of mysterious origins. I'm not sure if the lady with word balloon is the same series as the other images I'd encounter, but I found a few like her, too. In addition, the dragon/creature head to the right is part of a series of similar art hanging all over the area.</i></span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><i>(Editor's Note: In the comments, an old friend, Jer, found more information on the dragons. You can read about them <a href="https://www.thestranger.com/slog/2019/09/10/41335567/meet-the-artist-behind-the-strange-colorful-dragon-sculptures-in-seattle-and-portland">here</a>.)</i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: start;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4L4YfaYpPIfz7RXe8_o9IHkqmQSQzKU8v9FTnZmEqePov0Y1mropmxRsPPNVODIeFpMKpTh4-6MGhoDivdIE0T045BfnePT1D8o7sVpPkONYNzxWLGoJfEu1V5Vl-CpVXZU4F59PI9IAHEyR74c1IbSIfQUmfmEZRoXsAEaIvh2ty3sCEV-QOuw1Q/s2048/BuddhistYellow.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4L4YfaYpPIfz7RXe8_o9IHkqmQSQzKU8v9FTnZmEqePov0Y1mropmxRsPPNVODIeFpMKpTh4-6MGhoDivdIE0T045BfnePT1D8o7sVpPkONYNzxWLGoJfEu1V5Vl-CpVXZU4F59PI9IAHEyR74c1IbSIfQUmfmEZRoXsAEaIvh2ty3sCEV-QOuw1Q/w400-h300/BuddhistYellow.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></span></span><span style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i>A 1970's split level home that's apparently been converted into a Buddhist Temple of some sort.</i></div></span><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><i><br /><br /></i></span></span></div><i style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><br /></i></div><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div><i style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><br /></i></div><span style="color: #050505; font-family: Segoe UI Historic, Segoe UI, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 15px;"><i><br /></i></span></span></div><span style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: start;"><br /></span></div></span><span style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: start; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div><span style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><br /></span></div></span></div></span></div><p></p>The Generalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13882212598013962066noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377312797415153161.post-21521157498602643022022-10-07T10:37:00.003-07:002022-10-07T10:37:48.757-07:00Exploring South Seattle with Cleo - Weeks 1 to 4<p> <b>Tyler Reporting: </b></p><p><i>Editor's Note: Approximately14 weeks ago, with the kids out of school, I began walking our dog, Cleo, 2 to 3 miles every morning. In order to keep myself from getting bored of the same routes every day, I decided that I would try to do a new route every day, and track it on an old map of Seattle I owned. As I went, the process became more formalized, and I began taking pictures and notes along the way, and posting them on Facebook. </i></p><p><i>Now, in order to keep Facebook's feed from Memory Holing the earlier entries, I've decided to copy and paste them here. I feel that these walks have become an extension of this blogs goal of exploring our strange and benevolent world. </i></p><p><b>Weeks 1 & 2</b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ8h87efWFymp0QGpr9QYewKboPthSzrW78Rql9y0zJi6owoOSptxM4Hn93kHQt9n8azjcImPND5KZvHV5RxnpGwi29yGt-46R1DNVfw6axrQN0zywa94fB69NoqGYnfoy5MgCNVHiuxD3ZAoLNXFCZsQo3xU7SoomM94nPzdoHR4RVY8xrPo_J6QX/s2048/Week1-2Map.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ8h87efWFymp0QGpr9QYewKboPthSzrW78Rql9y0zJi6owoOSptxM4Hn93kHQt9n8azjcImPND5KZvHV5RxnpGwi29yGt-46R1DNVfw6axrQN0zywa94fB69NoqGYnfoy5MgCNVHiuxD3ZAoLNXFCZsQo3xU7SoomM94nPzdoHR4RVY8xrPo_J6QX/w300-h400/Week1-2Map.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;">With the kids out of school, I've begun taking Cleo on 2-3 mile walks each morning, with the idea of exploring all the streets in my neighborhood. We are still less than 2 weeks into this routine, and I'm already realizing I will need to expand to other neighborhoods.</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><i>(Sorry this first entry is so short, I hadn't fully grocked what I was doing yet.)</i></span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px;"><b>Weeks 3 & 4</b></span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOKaZT7vVvJABl72PDoPdE_AAmZXW90wb8_nOIG3XGQV1CAqod1br9zp_46H4fkxb6Ewo25_9nuAETt332bYIthQ8vLar_ijG45Vb0_z1HWGvFhd5tsxwyoKPZVa_PbEAmEbq3XS2AjtnmZwsedlfcs-DqzP29od0y8EN2qT8tEI8u10Z6YoF6VzHT/s2048/Week3-4Map.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOKaZT7vVvJABl72PDoPdE_AAmZXW90wb8_nOIG3XGQV1CAqod1br9zp_46H4fkxb6Ewo25_9nuAETt332bYIthQ8vLar_ijG45Vb0_z1HWGvFhd5tsxwyoKPZVa_PbEAmEbq3XS2AjtnmZwsedlfcs-DqzP29od0y8EN2qT8tEI8u10Z6YoF6VzHT/w300-h400/Week3-4Map.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><p></p><div class="xdj266r x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs x126k92a" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">Cleo and Tyler Explore South Seattle: Update 2. Two weeks ago, I posted a picture of a map showing all the streets that Cleo and I had explored since the kids got out of school. Since then, I've formalized the process a bit, and we've continued to expand and explore. A couple of my rules:</div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">1) 2-3 miles a day. Avoid re-walking the same street.</div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">2) The goal is the explore, not to be a completionist. We don't need to hit every street but try to cover each area enough that you <span style="font-family: inherit;"><a style="color: #385898; cursor: pointer; font-family: inherit;" tabindex="-1"></a></span>couldn't walk more than a block or two without hitting a street we've been on. </div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">3) I've begun marking off quadrants. We'll work though one, then move on to another.</div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">So, the last two weeks, we finished off our first quadrant. Strolling through the uniform houses of New Holly, past the Buddhist temple on Graham St (that causes the air in the surrounding streets to smell vaguely of incense, and reminds me of travel), down through Georgetown and exploring the neighborhood between MLK and Rainier Ave. Then it was on to North Beacon Hill, where we've walked long north-south stretches, crawling from the west (over I-5) to the east (eventually dropping down to Rainier Ave again).</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPGVBjPWffQ32wRWxTqR33rqOxpDZ0qjUbkuwilaBuFPzl3gc5JHIwETx9ouFdfsWulZMuELteFcYEXRDr6cbox23fuCmv7gSx0rduZOKcs7v75kgQfvuAJqPJjvbmMDLUPVESntnfbB0fa7klgzPzUDWYJAxentPHsoimvKWzMhS9m4jWiZa3yeRa/s2048/MutualFish.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPGVBjPWffQ32wRWxTqR33rqOxpDZ0qjUbkuwilaBuFPzl3gc5JHIwETx9ouFdfsWulZMuELteFcYEXRDr6cbox23fuCmv7gSx0rduZOKcs7v75kgQfvuAJqPJjvbmMDLUPVESntnfbB0fa7klgzPzUDWYJAxentPHsoimvKWzMhS9m4jWiZa3yeRa/w400-h300/MutualFish.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="white-space: normal;"><i>I haven't historically been a lover of seafood, but I sort of love this place that feels like a place out of time and so neighborhood-y. Ba-humbug to the fish markets at Pike Place.</i></span></div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="white-space: normal;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="white-space: normal;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg461fAco6MM87pWzLJbPuxv00B_LZk1UXWHO5j_JeuO_jzrtBUcR80rSXTzFO291z7DitUpsj_-9TTwY0a5fHu7tlcSWJfQ7l_5jnNcPIECobSRoIlWP64PaA8hg5-kBmx6GB5pqZDaiAKpZy3oMnYaKK0HbCz4OtmYoncmnYrC9mgWAT0EGKKa0IW/s2048/Chickens.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg461fAco6MM87pWzLJbPuxv00B_LZk1UXWHO5j_JeuO_jzrtBUcR80rSXTzFO291z7DitUpsj_-9TTwY0a5fHu7tlcSWJfQ7l_5jnNcPIECobSRoIlWP64PaA8hg5-kBmx6GB5pqZDaiAKpZy3oMnYaKK0HbCz4OtmYoncmnYrC9mgWAT0EGKKa0IW/w300-h400/Chickens.jpg" width="300" /></a></div></span><span style="white-space: normal;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: inherit;">A lot of the things we stop to look at are of more interest to Cleo than me.</i></div></span></div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="white-space: normal;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="white-space: normal;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyQuFtEgF11vpSDV3yNpu1xKjX_6VjA7OwLSQge0bynl8QyFLbk2ho2-uEpfK94Itf1aTDoFgoHXDAczhrbZgDNdF_bx3-yCNhqnBXu5AjA85fun32z9l9yogb4Q-goAN8471pWJc6Q4o-RZxld896J2xdHYxTx_7WePDOmWZP-ZiLJSU_Ikh04nlw/s2048/Mural1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1418" data-original-width="2048" height="278" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyQuFtEgF11vpSDV3yNpu1xKjX_6VjA7OwLSQge0bynl8QyFLbk2ho2-uEpfK94Itf1aTDoFgoHXDAczhrbZgDNdF_bx3-yCNhqnBXu5AjA85fun32z9l9yogb4Q-goAN8471pWJc6Q4o-RZxld896J2xdHYxTx_7WePDOmWZP-ZiLJSU_Ikh04nlw/w400-h278/Mural1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></span><span style="white-space: normal;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: inherit;">A mural up off Beacon Ave.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></i></div></span><span style="white-space: normal;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS2IztvMZqBEn_JNq2qxBklTFw0OcrU9UwnTfcAQ4K-4VLyDsvi-CFCsZDv7y8dHNpfP91EJ1ZPvTxvNBccDT90BxLeqKf8VrarKPBkGg_Mi7RrsxEWMlZm-vVunS91scL1lYsRPmNw-a8sWtU55994-nGWSVJPt01i4m5QyA8bfc_RKdM1VFT6gsT/s2048/TaunTaun.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiS2IztvMZqBEn_JNq2qxBklTFw0OcrU9UwnTfcAQ4K-4VLyDsvi-CFCsZDv7y8dHNpfP91EJ1ZPvTxvNBccDT90BxLeqKf8VrarKPBkGg_Mi7RrsxEWMlZm-vVunS91scL1lYsRPmNw-a8sWtU55994-nGWSVJPt01i4m5QyA8bfc_RKdM1VFT6gsT/w300-h400/TaunTaun.jpg" width="300" /></a></div></span><span style="white-space: normal;"><i>A giant sticker-thing of a taun-taun with an AT-AT head, under I-5. There's also a C-3PO with a Spock head on the next post over.</i></span><span style="white-space: normal;"><br /><i><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="white-space: normal;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="white-space: normal;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtCdotE_xDf0deTKrvC3HPhznLvG9a0t2agGAap8GQSKJMoEyeCeyiP8Z-2nWheNB8TknOctMpTuY2f0Z9GgfVFEq8ZRYWlZ6szhqyiTGfiCe3r6bWkFunNcBdc33e2gT84CLN0e169soZn4HeOAMIwxYxG5sJKNLfYIthOvZ4N1hiJTA83xqYHv1C/s2048/Dirt_Road.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtCdotE_xDf0deTKrvC3HPhznLvG9a0t2agGAap8GQSKJMoEyeCeyiP8Z-2nWheNB8TknOctMpTuY2f0Z9GgfVFEq8ZRYWlZ6szhqyiTGfiCe3r6bWkFunNcBdc33e2gT84CLN0e169soZn4HeOAMIwxYxG5sJKNLfYIthOvZ4N1hiJTA83xqYHv1C/w300-h400/Dirt_Road.jpg" width="300" /></a></div></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">A rare dirt road. This one between Rainier Ave and MLK. Almost felt like being in the country.</span></div><span style="white-space: normal;"><i><br /></i></span></div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="white-space: normal;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizPoglFD_jer1qbjo68znzoMYMyJIdup4FcqSfFbTs-IRDKnmkE8tigoO-h6oH_uFenYQ6acAOJigizLLTAI5klC5Dpj6tXNmsDCZts1Pi4RxojVdqPOXHV_idCXhNLK0BrdQ1W8boUDn3BASiu0wW6iFKaIR59vtBpL6HKBdUYd8W3taS8KoywjYz/s2048/Mural2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="999" data-original-width="2048" height="195" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizPoglFD_jer1qbjo68znzoMYMyJIdup4FcqSfFbTs-IRDKnmkE8tigoO-h6oH_uFenYQ6acAOJigizLLTAI5klC5Dpj6tXNmsDCZts1Pi4RxojVdqPOXHV_idCXhNLK0BrdQ1W8boUDn3BASiu0wW6iFKaIR59vtBpL6HKBdUYd8W3taS8KoywjYz/w400-h195/Mural2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">Another mural. This one on Rainier Ave, north of Columbia City.</span></div><span style="white-space: normal;"><i><br /></i></span></div><br /><br /></i></span></div></div>The Generalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13882212598013962066noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377312797415153161.post-10854142046464400252022-09-12T16:56:00.000-07:002022-09-12T16:56:09.227-07:00Return to Reykjavik and the Golden Circle<p><b>Tyler Reporting:</b></p><p><b>Day 7</b></p><p>Reykjavik is only the third international city that I've been back to more than once (the other two being Paris and Santiago). There is something comforting about going back to a city you've been to before (international or not). You don't feel the pressure to "see it all" and instead are able to focus on doing what you'd like to do. </p><p>I think, when initially planning the trip, Sarah and I had sort of presumed that we would spend the couple of days we had in Reykjavik re-showing the kids the city. But, with Stella still feeling under the weather, and Otto being a little burnt out from being drug all over Iceland, we decided to let them off the hook a bit and let them hang in the apartment while Sarah and I ran explored around a bit. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_PrCeK9jqZqlFQsBFOKqrNsGaksbGe3_jZRActcQ7ZxkUe47XVg34ddye-i4XVWwoHATujZ1_cQixfgFPLgKWOUzIAm-PpbiAhEM57MgUk20MOJqdTHoVefSE0CRBld3LRzX8Ktj8XEzTMuIpBl8TCYJ_HH2yDtnxVPdAUjm7PK9-1jrTeZ6FLPTi/s2778/defaultmode.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2778" data-original-width="1564" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_PrCeK9jqZqlFQsBFOKqrNsGaksbGe3_jZRActcQ7ZxkUe47XVg34ddye-i4XVWwoHATujZ1_cQixfgFPLgKWOUzIAm-PpbiAhEM57MgUk20MOJqdTHoVefSE0CRBld3LRzX8Ktj8XEzTMuIpBl8TCYJ_HH2yDtnxVPdAUjm7PK9-1jrTeZ6FLPTi/w225-h400/defaultmode.jpg" width="225" /></a></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Otto's default mode, when mom and dad weren't making him walk around Reykjavik. </i></div></i><p>That said, Otto and I did start the morning by going to one of Reykjavik's community pools. We'd actually been intending to go to one that we'd been to the previous visit, but we remembered our directions wrong and ended up at a different pool. This one wasn't as fun as the previous day's pool in <span style="font-family: times;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">Akureyi, but with its waterslide, hot pots and large swimming pool, it was still a good way to start the day. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: times;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222;">When we got back, we did make one quickish trip up to the main cathedral. I'd gotten it in my head to recreate a photo that was taken on our original trip. In the original, Sarah and the kids stood hand in hand looking up at the cathedral, all jetlagged from the flight in. I thought it would be fun to show them all in the same pose today. I think it turned out well...</span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgez4XCkUfS7g1XvZ6BRozmaS-1ZxnhI3FAr7XYcdh0p6fMgHZDdDcnJclFN6wt0IczJVKZCXBu8_4h2BOlC4pRe8zOq-yoh3kGTMkDOM5drADIWPdLctSaX4pVpeZrhmK5xDx-IZI4Yb7mAGZLW4-YjKWONAxUIzCSCrOH1EVTGzeoj0MIMm8qCK14/s1500/original.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1125" data-original-width="1500" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgez4XCkUfS7g1XvZ6BRozmaS-1ZxnhI3FAr7XYcdh0p6fMgHZDdDcnJclFN6wt0IczJVKZCXBu8_4h2BOlC4pRe8zOq-yoh3kGTMkDOM5drADIWPdLctSaX4pVpeZrhmK5xDx-IZI4Yb7mAGZLW4-YjKWONAxUIzCSCrOH1EVTGzeoj0MIMm8qCK14/w400-h300/original.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i>The original. </i></div></i><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIk2xyZWEeK26hEtR8x7q-_Ae6K6A3OIY8h22ssCCk8WiQf_P0ESU9wToDvIbMJSxxAJ2EkL4YW03KeUUiriUFpoDL4hPm0rxT7gGgJHDMoBZ5Wp6Tkq6ZFdmxcbtofTbVrYKfHalQtSUyRzLM0t0BILoZWEGIcqG16dx5e75J5Gezm8xM_xxLSJ0k/s3704/new.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2778" data-original-width="3704" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIk2xyZWEeK26hEtR8x7q-_Ae6K6A3OIY8h22ssCCk8WiQf_P0ESU9wToDvIbMJSxxAJ2EkL4YW03KeUUiriUFpoDL4hPm0rxT7gGgJHDMoBZ5Wp6Tkq6ZFdmxcbtofTbVrYKfHalQtSUyRzLM0t0BILoZWEGIcqG16dx5e75J5Gezm8xM_xxLSJ0k/w400-h300/new.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>...and today.</i></div><p>I'm pretty happy with how it turned out. After that, we lingered for a bit, taking in the crowds and sun, and enjoying some waffles from a nearby stand.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhdX7nrnKshW9EKRTQcHZll0KVNMD-1HedUQn6eFdeLzA1IRB9hatXXciSplpE7ASVzwRPWefdFaEGRdWOTiQE15h2U4JA-hZ4VMuYMoTyfRgQJHkQ_ekOW1l6btGuTpcW10J-lgRgZBdB-iKTiZdJN2B545umw-Cjz9HP1JZ1eHr5LlgEMMRemoyq/s2778/posing.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2778" data-original-width="2084" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhdX7nrnKshW9EKRTQcHZll0KVNMD-1HedUQn6eFdeLzA1IRB9hatXXciSplpE7ASVzwRPWefdFaEGRdWOTiQE15h2U4JA-hZ4VMuYMoTyfRgQJHkQ_ekOW1l6btGuTpcW10J-lgRgZBdB-iKTiZdJN2B545umw-Cjz9HP1JZ1eHr5LlgEMMRemoyq/w300-h400/posing.jpg" width="300" /></a><br /><i>Rock star posing.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSFewO9qCutuDT1--obrlzSLs4h8rg6uPrsBdtfZNkEMWkkZgA2pwLjxs-2Tea_szYgvNTTehb1He3vZTasdF2eveA1GEeS9mTrpVw2VH40Guias3dB5vrjQz9q5UEdLi4gmNVlD6MrZc1Acr1XggUH0PpfGuvBZwOZC59kyotnG5XoCDE5yv8fG6H/s2778/carefree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2778" data-original-width="1564" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSFewO9qCutuDT1--obrlzSLs4h8rg6uPrsBdtfZNkEMWkkZgA2pwLjxs-2Tea_szYgvNTTehb1He3vZTasdF2eveA1GEeS9mTrpVw2VH40Guias3dB5vrjQz9q5UEdLi4gmNVlD6MrZc1Acr1XggUH0PpfGuvBZwOZC59kyotnG5XoCDE5yv8fG6H/w225-h400/carefree.jpg" width="225" /></a></div><i>Just including this photo because it feels so cheerful and carefree. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;">We returned the apartment, long enough to drop off Stella and Otto. Then, we headed back out to explore around a bit. First off The Icelandic Punk Rock Museum! The Icelandic Punk Rock Museum is an old public bathroom that has been converted into what must be one of the smallest museums in the world: Basically, three stalls worth of information detailing the Icelandic punk rock up through Bjork and the Sugarcubes. </span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdXRjtPBYxDqrewQTKDXK7_5KH--d9eUgeP3AVMsf-Ge3yCFTUsBsi4vcmeVXLxZCJHj7-F4bsyJQeYbxCL4TJMUXWHai3pDbPqLr6-pDhBG8U8oyh_SkthEOFlXiG8gYcVnVy7K0LUd48wUtILAnuI3D66udWK-RgZR-v-r9cInMC4yCwkdoWWVq9/s3704/entrance.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2778" data-original-width="3704" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhdXRjtPBYxDqrewQTKDXK7_5KH--d9eUgeP3AVMsf-Ge3yCFTUsBsi4vcmeVXLxZCJHj7-F4bsyJQeYbxCL4TJMUXWHai3pDbPqLr6-pDhBG8U8oyh_SkthEOFlXiG8gYcVnVy7K0LUd48wUtILAnuI3D66udWK-RgZR-v-r9cInMC4yCwkdoWWVq9/w400-h300/entrance.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Punk Rock Museum entrance.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div></i><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgahiiN-pr7oRmQlaOPzR_VdS2tnYNHJXlIgxatZzLPZLQXQhU5bhBDFls1sHvuQEqM4zswy1Fp3djed0BGZ6t9ifVOliuSWEm1Q9sIqI05kZ8Kny76By1zhIcid7GHxvf3w1BgbISoX0umN1EWQfAK_3WVc7hrKFvLHarngBWoxtzudWpe6OMQkpI8/s4000/exampletext.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2252" data-original-width="4000" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgahiiN-pr7oRmQlaOPzR_VdS2tnYNHJXlIgxatZzLPZLQXQhU5bhBDFls1sHvuQEqM4zswy1Fp3djed0BGZ6t9ifVOliuSWEm1Q9sIqI05kZ8Kny76By1zhIcid7GHxvf3w1BgbISoX0umN1EWQfAK_3WVc7hrKFvLHarngBWoxtzudWpe6OMQkpI8/w400-h225/exampletext.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Some example text from inside the museum.</i></div></i></div><div><br /></div><div>After that, without an agenda, Sarah and I just wandered for a bit. Like, "let's just go that way a bit" wandering. Away from the crowds of the main drag, and with the sun out. It was relaxing an dnice to just aimlessly explore. </div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4vxl-ppZQ9zS0UHj4MK2UpwGcr-dGiccC0qvQ-O3cYiK-VDj6hy8ZQY-ZmXPLyTrMamgA7DtUaGRbfhVVabjKhHBr95oWmDRyu6P47peO0HPzNN7AxHJdRSQAEewSt95qDvDamS9eEiDGUdYUtS0MP8b8NVwqiTzOrOeCI2fw5VrpvCxq7KnUSlrA/s4000/pond.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2252" data-original-width="4000" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4vxl-ppZQ9zS0UHj4MK2UpwGcr-dGiccC0qvQ-O3cYiK-VDj6hy8ZQY-ZmXPLyTrMamgA7DtUaGRbfhVVabjKhHBr95oWmDRyu6P47peO0HPzNN7AxHJdRSQAEewSt95qDvDamS9eEiDGUdYUtS0MP8b8NVwqiTzOrOeCI2fw5VrpvCxq7KnUSlrA/w400-h225/pond.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Me, at the pond, which lies at one end of the main tourist thoroughfare, with Reykjavik spread out behind me.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyRKW9FMUihPjbGjuxhp6utldEFBxVaZvr3PwV4InaCkM44gVCorN4_JPlH78WI0brUTH99x-JaP418BDxa24rydTmdwyo0VK9RW-ZHnrblrUGPJgQ2oeUJ2IXU-W7o9WuGU69SA_7tkdK4i0oFnGPUNw4CYOueWvDsYHLKGE_Hcnxfy9pRioP0JCR/s3704/architecture.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2778" data-original-width="3704" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyRKW9FMUihPjbGjuxhp6utldEFBxVaZvr3PwV4InaCkM44gVCorN4_JPlH78WI0brUTH99x-JaP418BDxa24rydTmdwyo0VK9RW-ZHnrblrUGPJgQ2oeUJ2IXU-W7o9WuGU69SA_7tkdK4i0oFnGPUNw4CYOueWvDsYHLKGE_Hcnxfy9pRioP0JCR/w400-h300/architecture.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>A typical piece of architecture. Icelanders love their corrugated metal. </i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAEPEHbmCSubWdvDjvqo-Ic9s7rlTCQQcqm-Mss1fXanDfa7vxc92ATBWHR7xEX8gy2ZuaJPli2pqu-C7s4-jC-HpXPtYKhFjr3ENQdydOr5lR8xaOVp2Xz4fS6SPW_hsjC0hVUcZdq3L0xUEs8kEGUN8tkUg0_--OYy9-TVvnTsvcI9KjNAGp7_8S/s2778/mural.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2778" data-original-width="2084" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAEPEHbmCSubWdvDjvqo-Ic9s7rlTCQQcqm-Mss1fXanDfa7vxc92ATBWHR7xEX8gy2ZuaJPli2pqu-C7s4-jC-HpXPtYKhFjr3ENQdydOr5lR8xaOVp2Xz4fS6SPW_hsjC0hVUcZdq3L0xUEs8kEGUN8tkUg0_--OYy9-TVvnTsvcI9KjNAGp7_8S/w300-h400/mural.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i>A mural, just off the main drag. Murals are a pretty common sight, which also helps keep the graffiti down. </i></div></i><p>We then swung by the apartment just long enough to collect Otto for dinner at Reykjavik Fish & Chips Company. We'd been there on our previous visit, and remembered enjoying it, but also remember being really jetlagged. So, we thought it would be fun to revisit with our resident seafood connoisseur. It didn't disappoint. </p><p>After that, we decided to hike down to a waterfront portion of Reykjavik we hadn't been to before, to get ice cream. It was neat to see another side of the city, and it was also nice that this portion both a) didn't seem to cater exclusively to tourist, and b) also had a number of small boutique businesses and restaurants. </p><p>On our previous visit, our front Jody had introduced us to the owner of the Icelandic chocolate company Omnom. Since then, Omnom had opened up a storefront where they sold chocolate bars and ice cream. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOGwIpfEcgZVRKsRyq54pFrHOz5os_JqdlSUXg0N3KkDBGpCbCjfsuMWAaTMHBPZ7BEEKl_aFBxnPmdlTGwmqq7D79XJdXzAwhUlOSLAM2fInerPUD8HVrS6iVgL4GgWSjJn4IsuwqEw9mgHKmviHG8MWFwSlmPTpM5Ax6xWv0FCSwfl6U-d-2iK5B/s2778/omnom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2778" data-original-width="2084" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOGwIpfEcgZVRKsRyq54pFrHOz5os_JqdlSUXg0N3KkDBGpCbCjfsuMWAaTMHBPZ7BEEKl_aFBxnPmdlTGwmqq7D79XJdXzAwhUlOSLAM2fInerPUD8HVrS6iVgL4GgWSjJn4IsuwqEw9mgHKmviHG8MWFwSlmPTpM5Ax6xWv0FCSwfl6U-d-2iK5B/w300-h400/omnom.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i>The Omnom storefront, with its rainbow wolf logo. </i></div></i><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhND3A-4vFL74gfnm1teKCEB_2aG2jkZLDtB53y9T4XbUGutSlvKM7sxAw7udG_QPm0LCTcwENwsRwbK95CfwcUWx_iE8a3ledpk36B0New7OIDw7g8D4JQGPq9phI5-t_yLQdtMnidzpHB8kcnqiG8LaOwhUp-pY05IDiNESoiEzcmuFde2MK2b5WL/s2778/panda.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2778" data-original-width="1564" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhND3A-4vFL74gfnm1teKCEB_2aG2jkZLDtB53y9T4XbUGutSlvKM7sxAw7udG_QPm0LCTcwENwsRwbK95CfwcUWx_iE8a3ledpk36B0New7OIDw7g8D4JQGPq9phI5-t_yLQdtMnidzpHB8kcnqiG8LaOwhUp-pY05IDiNESoiEzcmuFde2MK2b5WL/w225-h400/panda.jpg" width="225" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>The Panda ice cream that we got for Stella, and then had to try to race home with before it melted. Semi-successfully. </i></div><p><b>Day 8</b></p><p>On the morning of the final day, Stella had begun to rally a bit... but unfortunately, I could feel myself fading a bit. My mantra was "just need to make it 19 more hours, and then I can fall apart at home."</p><p>We decided that, rather than linger around Reykjavik, we'd take the kids out to the Golden Circle. We'd been there on our first trip, and hadn't intended to do it again, but decide to call an audible, since it would involve less walking for Stella, and neither of the kids remembered it from the first time. But first: Hot dogs!</p><p>Another thing that the kids didn't remember was the Icelandic Hot Dog stand, so we decided to do our early lunch there. Especially since Otto is a bit of a hot dog connoisseur, too. He maintains New York hot dogs are good... but is critical of pretty much any other dog. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8uJ8b49WqGZEVurRuJfwzmn-1D7jcF7VO11pcAASbEgNf0J0JZ2YSlaQw1do9XSCXp5T0cIMBLjU6Jd2GUbPPScKBiI8iNVIE9CybwU6H3AgHA31a8ppUN97N62aCnpBn52JCiB6VnIdCu92ib6pCLK6P_JEqODx8wYeLrCMsi_8zzgEmgn54LOcc/s2778/hotdog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2778" data-original-width="1564" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8uJ8b49WqGZEVurRuJfwzmn-1D7jcF7VO11pcAASbEgNf0J0JZ2YSlaQw1do9XSCXp5T0cIMBLjU6Jd2GUbPPScKBiI8iNVIE9CybwU6H3AgHA31a8ppUN97N62aCnpBn52JCiB6VnIdCu92ib6pCLK6P_JEqODx8wYeLrCMsi_8zzgEmgn54LOcc/w225-h400/hotdog.jpg" width="225" /></a></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i>His verdict? Good. Not New York good. But good.</i></div></i></div><div><br /></div><div>Hoping back in the Rifter for one last day of driving, we headed out to the first stop on the Golden Circle, <span style="font-family: times;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;">Þingvellir. </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #202122; font-family: times;">Þingvellir is both the site where the North American and European tetonic plates are expanding away from each other and it was also the site of the annual gathering of lawmakers in the settling time. I'm sure that Sarah or I detailed it in greater detail in our original entry, so I won't bore you with it again. Still, here's some photos of our sunny and relaxed visit. </span></div><div><span style="color: #202122; font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMHMtQJymkmLj7qCW1K8vxnUQmnrHWiHOeIMiEY0rTGpCOzT_YJC6Fj5IWTa7Kos3fPcGB-ZJwD3qfXQjkgsgGVspCzQgHjbtdZ1PaCDyg_ccL-hy_Sew3u6S0TjAQ-ys6fKywNE1uH_9yyEaRunaY38fLC0BQpuVlq12TV7aSZwb9QZ8LLtpDJ7Lb/s4000/thingvellir.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2252" data-original-width="4000" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMHMtQJymkmLj7qCW1K8vxnUQmnrHWiHOeIMiEY0rTGpCOzT_YJC6Fj5IWTa7Kos3fPcGB-ZJwD3qfXQjkgsgGVspCzQgHjbtdZ1PaCDyg_ccL-hy_Sew3u6S0TjAQ-ys6fKywNE1uH_9yyEaRunaY38fLC0BQpuVlq12TV7aSZwb9QZ8LLtpDJ7Lb/w400-h225/thingvellir.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i>One of the other few pictures of the whole family, thanks to a friendly tourist. Not sure why my head appears to be put on crooked. </i></div></i><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8MkD8uM3BBg8qivCSDk0yQ2dnNr9Cu3uaalaOaJhIZotYhJkug2BODRwDI3QghGJE7ZBUoncwLsFMYg9rm2VMuh50I9DkptvhWndtDLMvTsjL7oyi8HUGOutqGLMl8X3mVAmXo19PAX-Yh2eFnysO409PJElYm4AOWzx8kysUsDLqzbSZevnS-akO/s4000/walkway.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2252" data-original-width="4000" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8MkD8uM3BBg8qivCSDk0yQ2dnNr9Cu3uaalaOaJhIZotYhJkug2BODRwDI3QghGJE7ZBUoncwLsFMYg9rm2VMuh50I9DkptvhWndtDLMvTsjL7oyi8HUGOutqGLMl8X3mVAmXo19PAX-Yh2eFnysO409PJElYm4AOWzx8kysUsDLqzbSZevnS-akO/w400-h225/walkway.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="color: #202122; font-family: times;"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #202122; font-family: times;"><i>Below the rocky rift that is the main tourist draw, there's a small wetlands, with a gangplank walkway. Here's Otto enjoying it.</i></span></div><br /></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDXD_tDGpeUXQ7nB69qE8HIibCyrhZItj35E7Y-UINQkNH0oTq__JWu9DpG_V7JtGjiLkifnWERUlkEs6XTa8M6B60IkrQOU6m3aLrIAT32kRNvgCX2O_jZzZpit020DtbOvjCQOp66lhy6NpU0Bnq3rGsxH3oK_ooKqA92il5PCunmGMGAe5z7DLV/s4000/kids.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2252" data-original-width="4000" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDXD_tDGpeUXQ7nB69qE8HIibCyrhZItj35E7Y-UINQkNH0oTq__JWu9DpG_V7JtGjiLkifnWERUlkEs6XTa8M6B60IkrQOU6m3aLrIAT32kRNvgCX2O_jZzZpit020DtbOvjCQOp66lhy6NpU0Bnq3rGsxH3oK_ooKqA92il5PCunmGMGAe5z7DLV/w400-h225/kids.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i>The kids, on our walk back up the hill to the parking lot. </i></div></i><p>After that, it was on to the geothermic area Haukadalur, the site of the original "Geyser" and Iceland's most spectacular geyser: Strokkur. When we'd been there, before, the area consisted of little more than a parking lot and dirt paths. So, we were amazed to find it now posted a fancy interpretive center complete with shop, restaurant and gas station. </p><p>Unfortunately, as we pulled into the parking lot, we also realized we were already running behind schedule, and that not only would we have to skip revisiting Gullfoss, but would have to even hurry our visit here. Still, Strokkur didn't disappoint, and erupted several time while we were there. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh6uEbFfIijhcetwH7AMg10Hgvk8jWYexOLd6s9rpPm9X7tdOp796bY6TGeB2FyPM-HtHhIC8TAM3bMUaaDP1ZTjBMhLa9jNo89wvxWGRJUIlh9BkJHIKWgxf1wBq9KMBvLGfQc7MERhh56_ADs4P8e1Tl4qM1fQt-oHdBEzTs5dtMIqjLCc_1b3L-/s2778/strokkur.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2778" data-original-width="1564" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh6uEbFfIijhcetwH7AMg10Hgvk8jWYexOLd6s9rpPm9X7tdOp796bY6TGeB2FyPM-HtHhIC8TAM3bMUaaDP1ZTjBMhLa9jNo89wvxWGRJUIlh9BkJHIKWgxf1wBq9KMBvLGfQc7MERhh56_ADs4P8e1Tl4qM1fQt-oHdBEzTs5dtMIqjLCc_1b3L-/w225-h400/strokkur.jpg" width="225" /></a></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i>The kids enjoy the geyser, while I make awkward conversation with a tourist who thought it was really important to remind us that -if Yellowstone erupted- it would kill my whole family. </i></div></i></div><div><br /></div><div>Having watched the geyser erupt, it was back in the Rifter, and back the way we came. Back past Reykjavik. Dropping off and saying "Goodbye" to the Rifter. Navigating the airport. And, home to Seattle. <br /><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p></div>The Generalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13882212598013962066noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377312797415153161.post-7724451436871597852022-09-11T11:10:00.001-07:002022-09-11T11:10:13.482-07:00Two days on the road<p><b>Tyler Reporting:</b></p><p><b>Day 5</b></p><p>Beyond <span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: trebuchet;">Eskifjörður, the Ring Road heads away from the East Coast, and overland toward Iceland's Northern Coast. So, loading our car up that morning, we had some overpriced breakfast at the towns one open restaurant (really just the dining area for a hotel). then set off inland. </span></p><p>I little over an hours' worth of driving, and a diversion down a a long dirt road brough us to <span style="font-family: times;"><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;">Stuðlagil</span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;"> Canyon. </span></span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: times; font-size: 16px;">Stuðlagil Canyon is a brilliant blue river cutting through a dramatic canyon of basalt rock formations. In an ideal world, we would have parked an hiked down the far side of the river, a several kilometer round trip that rewards you by letting you explore down to the rivers edge. But, because of my bum knee and our limited time, we limited our visit to just taking in the view from a precarious viewing platform on the main side of the river.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilRvXpbXsl9Q2mwSDMKoWUQsfcn3PrN5GoPsXCvf_cRP3mioU9fNF3Zi7kX66mBtqNTV-y395MYcclfNB4sl0jfcmQi-N81of87dY-JlHhEJ6f-GOwBLzNjMGkk26zNpUsX498y79urBbrVKfoyOwg7FukTNGdIHNAps7g_wsVUbO1HeKQE1W-bfgB/s4000/canyon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2252" data-original-width="4000" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilRvXpbXsl9Q2mwSDMKoWUQsfcn3PrN5GoPsXCvf_cRP3mioU9fNF3Zi7kX66mBtqNTV-y395MYcclfNB4sl0jfcmQi-N81of87dY-JlHhEJ6f-GOwBLzNjMGkk26zNpUsX498y79urBbrVKfoyOwg7FukTNGdIHNAps7g_wsVUbO1HeKQE1W-bfgB/w400-h225/canyon.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Looking one way down the river.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBCSDG6HhJtnb2H_JfLtLt73WXGm8u3cfPxAKP-lh8QbhgtbyDvMnsUTaKZKt9NBTawnEsXfoNl_2OL9Mybz8DHCpJzX4dUUXxR4GHmQ0pPzDUljMNITaji0ToXYagG2QbGCL7hi4HI8ngj-ia9711LNAXXVvb59zN48hqgsGX9LxoAx4_tkMFLNaN/s2778/rockformations.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2778" data-original-width="1564" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBCSDG6HhJtnb2H_JfLtLt73WXGm8u3cfPxAKP-lh8QbhgtbyDvMnsUTaKZKt9NBTawnEsXfoNl_2OL9Mybz8DHCpJzX4dUUXxR4GHmQ0pPzDUljMNITaji0ToXYagG2QbGCL7hi4HI8ngj-ia9711LNAXXVvb59zN48hqgsGX9LxoAx4_tkMFLNaN/w225-h400/rockformations.jpg" width="225" /></a></div><i>Some of the dramatic basalt formations.</i></div></i><span style="background-color: white; font-family: times; font-size: 16px;"><br /></span><p></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAVuelqx_vfgt--637saAw2tqYYsnzugmIOO-cNUSFZtEc93oDgrpuNq8NwcHvYOiQ9WJ9B-wi3l5WWTVEUXgWKhlw0C4O9o6Cx_xzBQvCK-SCdLpO3JwC5xQQY8J2QXWP0K3hEHQZC-xumnZUaRbZKmC2orQZRnpqpe-k8fm1M34l08Nr7njaGmp3/s3704/platform.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2778" data-original-width="3704" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAVuelqx_vfgt--637saAw2tqYYsnzugmIOO-cNUSFZtEc93oDgrpuNq8NwcHvYOiQ9WJ9B-wi3l5WWTVEUXgWKhlw0C4O9o6Cx_xzBQvCK-SCdLpO3JwC5xQQY8J2QXWP0K3hEHQZC-xumnZUaRbZKmC2orQZRnpqpe-k8fm1M34l08Nr7njaGmp3/w400-h300/platform.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Otto, who has a fear of heights, wouldn't come out on to this part of the platform, that hung over the river.</i></div></i><p></p><p>After a snack of Happy Wedding Cake and Kleine at a food cart, we climbed back into the Rifter, drove back down the dirt road and continued our trip into the interior of Iceland. While I'm not sure how high we were, the terrian had a definite altiplano feel to it, with little in the way of vegetation or landmarks. Then, rather suddenly, we found ourselves to be approaching a thick cloud bank that almost reminded us of a sandstorm out of something like <i>Fury Road</i>. Plunging into it, we were amazed at how deep and dense it was, turning the whole would claustrophobic and ethereal. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLGh4w771HqqfExb-bFfDjdAgREw16b30DuPnDa8F2krBUCvh1O-AwDXi3fVFRaqPyW3_8ImoBVZchoSkj1_MWgS8gscaVDZ5gfkgYYzeKE3GxjSybFZ_Fyf7hMykSokz6_265BMK8pPTP2Zwi_ramsbiqtmmWSILC7SQWG7H3YrKlOD2JZaMI8NG5/s4000/fog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2252" data-original-width="4000" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLGh4w771HqqfExb-bFfDjdAgREw16b30DuPnDa8F2krBUCvh1O-AwDXi3fVFRaqPyW3_8ImoBVZchoSkj1_MWgS8gscaVDZ5gfkgYYzeKE3GxjSybFZ_Fyf7hMykSokz6_265BMK8pPTP2Zwi_ramsbiqtmmWSILC7SQWG7H3YrKlOD2JZaMI8NG5/w400-h225/fog.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i>"Nothing to see here, move along."</i></div></i><p>At other points, driving, we noticed rows of large cairns running roughly parallel to the highway. Knowing how comparatively recent the modern Ring Road was, Sarah and I hypothesized that perhaps -pre-road- people traveling overland would simply follow this trails of cairns to get to their destination. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm5AuiwLtzq9CRss3McKn9qjbnluB2CA5T8O5pVFjpd9PFfxnovUWszF3DkwaIeOF3LvQwfX5dWTxDxpKBTr9oq2lfMhtecNkmwxSKdpbHw7CaOdm7qU1Z8Zi-g2Bj9yFDYiMksEJLCz8EdP4CE-vled7y20jjmr_cfkqAAu_CEsLCIbQj4RjqJ6TH/s4000/cairns.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2252" data-original-width="4000" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm5AuiwLtzq9CRss3McKn9qjbnluB2CA5T8O5pVFjpd9PFfxnovUWszF3DkwaIeOF3LvQwfX5dWTxDxpKBTr9oq2lfMhtecNkmwxSKdpbHw7CaOdm7qU1Z8Zi-g2Bj9yFDYiMksEJLCz8EdP4CE-vled7y20jjmr_cfkqAAu_CEsLCIbQj4RjqJ6TH/w400-h225/cairns.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>You can see the row of cairns on the left side of this image, which also shows what a lot of the terrain we drove through looked like.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="text-align: left;"><br /><div style="text-align: left;">Our next destination was <span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Krafla. Krafla was a site of a string of volcanic fissures that opened and spewed lava between 1975 and 1984. Today it a blasted, alien landscape of twisted black volcanic rock and cracks which still vent sulfurous steam. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnYOum16LBfBZsTMziGwbx4paT_AZfEFyKijzrf97zvnNFMwMMNR-Ngd5lsp2s33UPf_jGDxclBKott8PIHG8_HyfKznDJitTubv92gAUsqzK_RIHv6uAr4BO66SJcc0BXftQBhVT7kVUH9GdNc-AhVt1pnlOMDSS6T9zIbaObQ8G28ERjBXsw7w4F/s4000/moonscape.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2252" data-original-width="4000" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnYOum16LBfBZsTMziGwbx4paT_AZfEFyKijzrf97zvnNFMwMMNR-Ngd5lsp2s33UPf_jGDxclBKott8PIHG8_HyfKznDJitTubv92gAUsqzK_RIHv6uAr4BO66SJcc0BXftQBhVT7kVUH9GdNc-AhVt1pnlOMDSS6T9zIbaObQ8G28ERjBXsw7w4F/w400-h225/moonscape.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i>This image gives you a sense of the size and scope. The hill in the mid-right part of the photo is a lava crater where you can almost picture the way the magma poured out.</i></div></i></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQmKyAvopoUujLhAneBYjZdZ84PqCXT8OcXm87VW9n_fBWL9SxSW5B5qMAbdj9jqYfeWZkjMRk0VKAlxmyG9pGxTrtSCVLM5CMJnb102IWRmY5N3VLkKvXSfJthAYTVigR8M-LyHrqcoXLmaNOvgTxp7cwvcN6RnUfQ4EbP2loeewNLr8sCasba41F/s4000/monscape2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2252" data-original-width="4000" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQmKyAvopoUujLhAneBYjZdZ84PqCXT8OcXm87VW9n_fBWL9SxSW5B5qMAbdj9jqYfeWZkjMRk0VKAlxmyG9pGxTrtSCVLM5CMJnb102IWRmY5N3VLkKvXSfJthAYTVigR8M-LyHrqcoXLmaNOvgTxp7cwvcN6RnUfQ4EbP2loeewNLr8sCasba41F/w400-h225/monscape2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Striking a pose on a viewpoint. You can see the lava field spreading into the distance behind me.</i></div></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj41Jg6FnjcotH1EYy3PxgV5fpfjwPXpYgFuS1BO6eYrPZNgssFfaKTHPCIqDzfptWl1ruhM_MSxVdOTjj0kfR2GrZql04ZxxLHoVEqqMM1OIifGyvwuEuF5I9XCxhd4Rg0jFM9MyLWT31Qz5xgabkSYyj3kXyUdmh6WBwOtPGoEiEjEiTNldR2223A/s4000/palewater.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2252" data-original-width="4000" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj41Jg6FnjcotH1EYy3PxgV5fpfjwPXpYgFuS1BO6eYrPZNgssFfaKTHPCIqDzfptWl1ruhM_MSxVdOTjj0kfR2GrZql04ZxxLHoVEqqMM1OIifGyvwuEuF5I9XCxhd4Rg0jFM9MyLWT31Qz5xgabkSYyj3kXyUdmh6WBwOtPGoEiEjEiTNldR2223A/w400-h225/palewater.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>A surreal pale-blue pond. It's edges bubbled and sputtered as gas continued to vent from below. </div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK-OCdmGAWVH7_m4CjBh7F4-j7wwsHEI1SAU9XT7-A1vx3RLLt_0KidSkwgckW3cqsTUiWEQeFCjk_L5DLQF9dpcHDp82B7Oez1wi3mNvZhbXpDMgVEAIfqyOI2MHVjReWAHGQ13W1G0dLQZXahGECGTKJ6vi-q_I8FciesvKFuIOcZSaSi5zRH1-b/s2778/stomp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2778" data-original-width="2084" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK-OCdmGAWVH7_m4CjBh7F4-j7wwsHEI1SAU9XT7-A1vx3RLLt_0KidSkwgckW3cqsTUiWEQeFCjk_L5DLQF9dpcHDp82B7Oez1wi3mNvZhbXpDMgVEAIfqyOI2MHVjReWAHGQ13W1G0dLQZXahGECGTKJ6vi-q_I8FciesvKFuIOcZSaSi5zRH1-b/w300-h400/stomp.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Thunder stomp! An example of the striking rock formations.</i></div><span style="background-color: white;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBImSVOuxsDdC4mUAJD0PHh250idqaJyd4IDSnIH8rVVR7XpYDzphMyKtFffihPG5Sk4PZqWWDMIGzPfonOBVI9jTJIyuvNfN6sGiEb7sZxTFwmJWpEPHHlWdrdv-zIeFBWCJg_7lY_dsC2a0wgYd0U09dG1c-VEGc6w8JoqqZoq-uODyBq53W7452/s2271/volcaniclake.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2271" data-original-width="1564" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBImSVOuxsDdC4mUAJD0PHh250idqaJyd4IDSnIH8rVVR7XpYDzphMyKtFffihPG5Sk4PZqWWDMIGzPfonOBVI9jTJIyuvNfN6sGiEb7sZxTFwmJWpEPHHlWdrdv-zIeFBWCJg_7lY_dsC2a0wgYd0U09dG1c-VEGc6w8JoqqZoq-uODyBq53W7452/w275-h400/volcaniclake.jpg" width="275" /></a></div><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Also part of Krafla was this striking, if had to photograph, crater lake, You used to be able to walk all the way around it, but one side has collapsed a bit, making it unpassable. </i></div></span></span></div></span></div><p><span style="background-color: white; font-family: times; font-size: 16px;">Back in the car, we headed another 45 minutes or so down the road to </span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: times;">Goðafoss, or the Waterfall of the Gods. Purportedly, when Iceland converted to Christianity, around 1000, a local lawspeaker threw his idols of the old pagan gods off the waterfalls. </span></span></p><p>The falls were large and striking, even from the highway, but after hours of driving (and many, many waterfalls... like a LOT of waterfalls), they ended up warranting only a brief stop. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJuT5WqJK67jtRdFnnVe51LJr5-xNXHNhASAnn8RfqF5YZ-00rzlwcQOsSQnVIfYLLDJYrSVxdkppt04srDruwDNH004t6FmLjN94cu8yitPOH68pGRh5NLFrrTRJoax9lI6x6Rrv7_mbFY-Q8NHvJrJEPDRJeUeXOidYV6YncgXpd1Waa-UFbEno_/s3704/godafoss.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2778" data-original-width="3704" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJuT5WqJK67jtRdFnnVe51LJr5-xNXHNhASAnn8RfqF5YZ-00rzlwcQOsSQnVIfYLLDJYrSVxdkppt04srDruwDNH004t6FmLjN94cu8yitPOH68pGRh5NLFrrTRJoax9lI6x6Rrv7_mbFY-Q8NHvJrJEPDRJeUeXOidYV6YncgXpd1Waa-UFbEno_/w400-h300/godafoss.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i>One of only, like, 2 or 3 photos of the whole family from the trip.</i></div></i><div><br /></div><div>From there, it was only a short drive to Akureyi, Iceland's second largest city. But, first, we would pay our one toll of the trip, to drive through the 2nd most epic tunnel we'd drive through on the trip: 7.4km long!</div><div><br /></div><div>Entering Akureyi and driving straight to our apartment, we got checked in, and then it was time to reward the kids with a trip to the pool. As I''ve previously mentioned, photos aren't allowed inside the pool areas, but Sarah snapped this photo from the outside, that gives you an idea of the waterslides, at what was probably the largest and fanciest pool we visited the whole trip.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRATOiRoLy_PGQuHUAEY733dRNYE0M8EdeTjZHkkoIPBT5H2Xk6Jo-G75ktXJkx128aLctK84JCc0MTCZqWD5gUmxnjte4ah6xn2gwNFemVjHmr0L-rlAzCs2yxf972VW5xfIIahXi_dulWVld-oyDHwNHne4kAwFSkPdzqwSuN6IEXgG0JXCFrU-9/s2778/pool.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2778" data-original-width="1564" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRATOiRoLy_PGQuHUAEY733dRNYE0M8EdeTjZHkkoIPBT5H2Xk6Jo-G75ktXJkx128aLctK84JCc0MTCZqWD5gUmxnjte4ah6xn2gwNFemVjHmr0L-rlAzCs2yxf972VW5xfIIahXi_dulWVld-oyDHwNHne4kAwFSkPdzqwSuN6IEXgG0JXCFrU-9/w225-h400/pool.jpg" width="225" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Otto stares longingly at the waterslides.</i></div><div><br /><div>After an hour and a half at the pool, we headed into town for dinner, but the kids were fading fast from a long day of driving then swimming. So, while Otto went back to the apartment fro some screen time, the other three of us walked to a 24-hour grocery store to stock up for breakfast, and tomorrow's day on the road. </div><div><br /></div><div><b>Day 6</b></div><div><br /></div><div>The next morning, it was back on the road again. The drive to Reykjavik would be roughly 5 hours, so unfortunately, there wasn't a lot of time to linger in Akureyi. (Akureyi, we hardly knew ye!) Also unfortunately, Stella woke up sniffling and feeling under the weather. Stella has already struggled with allergies, so initially that's what we presumed she was struggling with. But, as we continued our drive, it became more and more apparent that she was struggling with some sort of head cold. Ultimaitely, she would spend most of the day napping in the backseat, as we raced across the Icelandic landscape.</div><div><br /></div><div>The drive from Akureyi to Reykjavik isn't as loaded with natural wonders to stop and check out, but our first stop was <span style="box-sizing: inherit;"><span style="font-family: times;">Borgarvirki, a "volcanic plug" that had been converted into a fort during settlement times. While the fortifications themselves were basic (basic rock walls built to reinforce the plugs natural defenses), you could definitely see why the site was chosen. From the "walls" it was easy to see dozens of miles in every direction.</span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPxs9rRL_gqcgiHqcqhmFygG05D9-XvJ7T3gmhmK0WzoXFtWIAR-Ex4UCD2GCT2e7T3xNmJNz28s-Q9dcJpxPCDRn0tVCzbYzHTqKrsX06B9Rm8BCdriL7sbjNJCQdl0MnvzJ9-ICTzL8dl7t64x_zCnXZI4s2MpmHBRV8dKB6eiIkdAujwGcni1wI/s4000/volcanicplug.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2252" data-original-width="4000" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPxs9rRL_gqcgiHqcqhmFygG05D9-XvJ7T3gmhmK0WzoXFtWIAR-Ex4UCD2GCT2e7T3xNmJNz28s-Q9dcJpxPCDRn0tVCzbYzHTqKrsX06B9Rm8BCdriL7sbjNJCQdl0MnvzJ9-ICTzL8dl7t64x_zCnXZI4s2MpmHBRV8dKB6eiIkdAujwGcni1wI/w400-h225/volcanicplug.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>The kids in the parking lot. Unlike some of the main sites we visited, we largely had this to ourselves.</i></div></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRTfYsnK6FyxirQjPeBLzCeBmF6xl5ChBsg7wUt5Z70RJ7h0XweZ2v_l1CGe2JMxZ7NboTaeW-UfT-ptfqTkrsGnT1H3mXixwde2izeh36CpKdYBmWteROnu0_fkynVemqCKiaJUn4q6Cx7V-LXMn-V7QfZXIu-R9ncxBplbZK6WIQrlSqlbmL_gvg/s4000/fortview.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2252" data-original-width="4000" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRTfYsnK6FyxirQjPeBLzCeBmF6xl5ChBsg7wUt5Z70RJ7h0XweZ2v_l1CGe2JMxZ7NboTaeW-UfT-ptfqTkrsGnT1H3mXixwde2izeh36CpKdYBmWteROnu0_fkynVemqCKiaJUn4q6Cx7V-LXMn-V7QfZXIu-R9ncxBplbZK6WIQrlSqlbmL_gvg/w400-h225/fortview.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i>The epic view from the fortification's walls spreads out behind me.</i></div></i></div><div><br /></div><div>From there, it was on to <span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;"><span style="font-family: times;">Grábrók: A striking volcanic cone and crater, with well-constructed gangplank walkways allowing you to explore around its edges. </span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipAmvn4tUI_HzokrA4Nsi21fgsWPzjJaX0UVhR5IcBeD8GNgCOSgRkyJ7z5SxcCcikaA4KEaRIGvU0ZqSPIM5tXRCA8kZ-B5MWXtk6CC881kVqLSn0k4XUZASEBSPEgwMrQSzZ2pRvkaDCGGI7eQ24bfxCEaAB0nmxYXz9OfvQjXGTcP0PgoNXKcyK/s4000/TylerClimb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2252" data-original-width="4000" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipAmvn4tUI_HzokrA4Nsi21fgsWPzjJaX0UVhR5IcBeD8GNgCOSgRkyJ7z5SxcCcikaA4KEaRIGvU0ZqSPIM5tXRCA8kZ-B5MWXtk6CC881kVqLSn0k4XUZASEBSPEgwMrQSzZ2pRvkaDCGGI7eQ24bfxCEaAB0nmxYXz9OfvQjXGTcP0PgoNXKcyK/w400-h225/TylerClimb.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Climbing the stairs. My poor old-man knees.</i></div></i></div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMi1bPmZbfOvpLz9pMkoe-Ev3kHwj1_NyMuc7hgq-TuJpfiqh4jh5bR6p8ZAsa_taZn2kFOLuc_Cm3L3WjNy1vAUOKxoxZOTcm9L7KQvGypfsFtjQjl_8gTWwPNzdcFarqlhPxu35y_7x79pByZXV_BVIJwNH8RSUcfWi7BYptdxZ89lzonCkL2MpU/s4000/smallercrater.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2252" data-original-width="4000" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMi1bPmZbfOvpLz9pMkoe-Ev3kHwj1_NyMuc7hgq-TuJpfiqh4jh5bR6p8ZAsa_taZn2kFOLuc_Cm3L3WjNy1vAUOKxoxZOTcm9L7KQvGypfsFtjQjl_8gTWwPNzdcFarqlhPxu35y_7x79pByZXV_BVIJwNH8RSUcfWi7BYptdxZ89lzonCkL2MpU/w400-h225/smallercrater.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i>A second, smaller crater next to the one we hiked around. </i></div></i><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFDstMh1Amqm7n5XFXjbOB7cEkxOjcgZhRAyi-NpsXW6e5TJbczlcMViz_sHPEtA8YFXS-nypYVxOCYiA2frvaM_4_082hrAioc5pyxACbcCQE8p-3v3xQEpnrlEzUv9-6O91ZOxeAKodSIhzvnNmFQPv2RnsART2vT0rKprh5jkmNYufDUrIX1RnX/s4000/Ottojump.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2252" data-original-width="4000" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFDstMh1Amqm7n5XFXjbOB7cEkxOjcgZhRAyi-NpsXW6e5TJbczlcMViz_sHPEtA8YFXS-nypYVxOCYiA2frvaM_4_082hrAioc5pyxACbcCQE8p-3v3xQEpnrlEzUv9-6O91ZOxeAKodSIhzvnNmFQPv2RnsART2vT0rKprh5jkmNYufDUrIX1RnX/w400-h225/Ottojump.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Otto virtually skipping his way around the ring.</i></div></i><div><br /></div><div>After that, it was on the Reykjavik. But, first, it was on to <i>the</i> most impressive tunnel of our trip: The <span style="background-color: white; color: #202122;"><span style="font-family: times;">Hvalfjörður Tunnel! At 5.77km, it isn't as long as the tunnel outside of Akureyi, <i style="font-weight: bold;">but it goes under a fjord!! </i>I mean, how often do you get to drive under a fjord?</span></span></div><div><span style="color: #202122; font-family: times;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCDXq6lwEf45-JjtFNqLZleJIucsaXL3Ua2YSrOuICIu4wMeMG_sKKhVA2jKL8XbHmWMhswUns9L1EcdlYxX2U-ui9DSDQfHbRd-xLtui5P9PHF1PelmhTDK8zcXPVesMBjGCFFZHda0PlLgzNJ5uSSBHfzYBnoHGsUUwY-ktX53mCNSugnkg4IvD6/s4000/fjord.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2252" data-original-width="4000" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCDXq6lwEf45-JjtFNqLZleJIucsaXL3Ua2YSrOuICIu4wMeMG_sKKhVA2jKL8XbHmWMhswUns9L1EcdlYxX2U-ui9DSDQfHbRd-xLtui5P9PHF1PelmhTDK8zcXPVesMBjGCFFZHda0PlLgzNJ5uSSBHfzYBnoHGsUUwY-ktX53mCNSugnkg4IvD6/w400-h225/fjord.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="color: #202122; font-family: times;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i>The fjord we drove under. Apparently, the tunnel reduces the drive time from over an hour down to 7 minutes.</i></div></span><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMoevGc9AsD0awb4DH24Dsostp11LkSUl7HL2dpzjGWveoMqPznxCdwM3Klo7YQ2pAdhR5mhVwrPg5kD_qxHFD33AkaGToKr9Az5mUcbP9RN1MCWnjpOwujJUayQSKooo85iBW6vw8fbkZo6iaP5vmxsviq08asfna9uDWawY0SCSP-kHJUqVcZKz4/s4000/tunnelentrance.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2252" data-original-width="4000" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMoevGc9AsD0awb4DH24Dsostp11LkSUl7HL2dpzjGWveoMqPznxCdwM3Klo7YQ2pAdhR5mhVwrPg5kD_qxHFD33AkaGToKr9Az5mUcbP9RN1MCWnjpOwujJUayQSKooo85iBW6vw8fbkZo6iaP5vmxsviq08asfna9uDWawY0SCSP-kHJUqVcZKz4/w400-h225/tunnelentrance.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>The tunnel entrance. Sarah also took a photo inside the tunnel, but really all you can see is all the bugs splattered on our windshield... we'd drove something like 1500k by this point.</i></div><div><br /></div><div>Arriving in Reykavik after a week on the Ring Road, the city seemed comparatively crowded and hectic. But, despite some confusing directions, we managed to find our rental, the Ice Apartments, and get checked in. We looked forward to exploring the town a bit more, tomorrow, but the time being, we were happy to let the kids rest and veg in the apartment, while Sarah and I went out to dinner at a fancy food court. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZrKrkBRtQbdmifnKpye-VCEQK2UfEiP6YN66fRJ_FmybtK2IWkZ2sa2ZuHJDxzMTpo_9tneJAy1CkcQ3LByjDjWLmJCosO8eLQIEW0rFgw5XUCp4_ZZMH-B4nXR9rFwo1nTbs5mL0kJ8-JsxgbkNv_zkDkcv7bcci_zoMfWyYG2Yo5qoUjaUmYA5Z/s3704/iceapts.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2778" data-original-width="3704" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZrKrkBRtQbdmifnKpye-VCEQK2UfEiP6YN66fRJ_FmybtK2IWkZ2sa2ZuHJDxzMTpo_9tneJAy1CkcQ3LByjDjWLmJCosO8eLQIEW0rFgw5XUCp4_ZZMH-B4nXR9rFwo1nTbs5mL0kJ8-JsxgbkNv_zkDkcv7bcci_zoMfWyYG2Yo5qoUjaUmYA5Z/w400-h300/iceapts.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Sarah outside the Ice Apartments. Surprisingly quiet, despite being one block off from one of Reykjavik's busiest intersections.</i></div></i><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span><div><br /><span style="font-family: times;"><br /></span><p><br /></p></div></div></div></div>The Generalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13882212598013962066noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377312797415153161.post-59064672566867089612022-09-09T12:42:00.001-07:002022-09-09T12:44:03.403-07:00Otto Matur & Rapscallion<p><b> Tyler Reporting:</b></p><p>Our rental outside of Hofn, like our previous residence, was one of several small, identical pre-fab feeling cabins. This seems to be a common arrangement for Icelandic rentals these days, and as we continued around the Ring Road we noticed little clumps of identical cabins sprouting like mushrooms across the countryside. Presumably it is an easy way for people to make some extra money with their property, and help Iceland's rapidly developing tourist infrastructure. </p><p>These particular cabins, unlike the previous ones, were clean and modern inside. In addition, they sat on a small bluff, overlooking scenic landscape that would only make itself visible a day later when clouds finally bean to lift.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX8zck9eyqOh_6bHjbvUQU7qAi4g--u0tyod6Hbv7JvY5Vum6ccLvBUBQlKiyW0PGm7qibymUZ4TtealKg7RAV9MWJcCdEe5lSCNTqlE6TOwCUWqBXkfRl75RYLp4AQqJrwCghCIsgmnGaY_kah80mjTK4yjp1csmLFHqXLY8fW88EKJ3mGWVYAlFT/s4000/2ndcabin.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2252" data-original-width="4000" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX8zck9eyqOh_6bHjbvUQU7qAi4g--u0tyod6Hbv7JvY5Vum6ccLvBUBQlKiyW0PGm7qibymUZ4TtealKg7RAV9MWJcCdEe5lSCNTqlE6TOwCUWqBXkfRl75RYLp4AQqJrwCghCIsgmnGaY_kah80mjTK4yjp1csmLFHqXLY8fW88EKJ3mGWVYAlFT/w400-h225/2ndcabin.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Our second cabin rental, and the view on the last day we were there.</i></div></i><p><b>Day 3:</b></p><p>Since this was our first day where we didn't need to be on the road, we decided to use it as an opportunity to rest of up a bit and explore around Hofn. </p><p>Our first destination saw Hofn's community pool. As people who read our previous Iceland entries might remember, one of our favorite parts of visiting Reykjavik was our near-daily trips to the local community pool. With a near unlimited supply of thermally heated water, pool culture is a central part of Icelandic culture. Pretty much every town larger than a couple hundred people has a community pool, generally featuring several hot tubs (hot pots) at different temperatures, a lap pool, kiddy pool and often a water slide or two. And Hofn was no exception. </p><p>As we'd hoped and expected, the kids loved our visit to the Hofn pool. While Sarah and I relaxed and soaked in the hot pots, the kids played and tookk countless trips down the water slides. Ok, maybe I did the water slides, too. In fact, the pool was such a hit, that promised visits to community pools would become the carrot that we'd use to entice the kids to make it through a day of sightseeing. "If you just let us take a look at this boring lavafield, we'll go to the pool this evening."</p><p>Because cameras aren't allowed inside the pools, though, you'll have to just imagine what they looked like. Just imagine if the YMCA designed a water park.</p><p>After our pool time, we took a 15 minute drive down the coast to Vesterhorn Mountain. Located on Stokkes Peninsula, Vesterhorn's serrated peaks rising dramatically from the black sand beaches are the source of countless iconic tourist photos of Iceland. But, as had been the case on the previous day, the clouds hung low like some sort of wooly dropped ceiling. So, our photos looked a little more like this...</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmQGb6elivG3e5Aq8jysJPOOG_aRE4X66aH4eds3TXYmNWgPplAQawzCb5wKA9pysuGIHYpv8Tcv5TfDgYlx-akEe4wYPJbzMdUfTuBRCznDqtpBirMY6D6n88aW16Xllo0Mm6aIjxNcL2Ra5S5vZwbIyPOWBr2miG8vEbcFJsskwY-sCLRXkdqpN7/s4000/nomountain.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2252" data-original-width="4000" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmQGb6elivG3e5Aq8jysJPOOG_aRE4X66aH4eds3TXYmNWgPplAQawzCb5wKA9pysuGIHYpv8Tcv5TfDgYlx-akEe4wYPJbzMdUfTuBRCznDqtpBirMY6D6n88aW16Xllo0Mm6aIjxNcL2Ra5S5vZwbIyPOWBr2miG8vEbcFJsskwY-sCLRXkdqpN7/w400-h225/nomountain.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Still, even without the dramatic mountains as a backdrop, the dark sand beaches, with their green grass-topped dunes, and the steel-grey seas made for some striking, moody exploring.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNoEZHVEktMR0sS5vCHw3p-gsyrGMBdHCZ5HSbV8dqExAkbo60nWAs7OWcz2sHr_zdH5M155YJW60YOonCNdnuzJTofigNlhRV94zitFx9pZlYBkjsiw-JwInq5GZyb-Wc7Fa9R9JJ_zW-gAEM3DXyALPULKE0gxsg7cWC5Qcq1CKVYrOe1qeV3JNQ/s4000/harshcoast.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2252" data-original-width="4000" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNoEZHVEktMR0sS5vCHw3p-gsyrGMBdHCZ5HSbV8dqExAkbo60nWAs7OWcz2sHr_zdH5M155YJW60YOonCNdnuzJTofigNlhRV94zitFx9pZlYBkjsiw-JwInq5GZyb-Wc7Fa9R9JJ_zW-gAEM3DXyALPULKE0gxsg7cWC5Qcq1CKVYrOe1qeV3JNQ/w400-h225/harshcoast.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Definite edge-of-the-world vibes.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">In addition to the natural views, the Vesterhorn beach features a Viking village. Not an actual village, but apparently a movie set. The village had been built for a movie that was going to be filmed here, but was aborted at the start of the pandemic. Now it serves more as a tourist attraction, allowing for some striking photos itself; and apparently it was featured in an episode of <i>The Witcher</i>. </div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8haRCwNdTpvjR5FfiNGm74J7CRI7_hE1tbjAYytj_O28vck9A-6t1x7hpMN4UfIEVaILNCFXuJiPPlCVrjOMT585cMfhlYcdslR8FdVzUaAal4fISrBV4RDVpAYhOYjEc5gfTS1RXanTEyFOxvCXV5nWYHWJWntGGs4P4kSVC2QZtGbG1CjvD7uOS/s3704/village.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2778" data-original-width="3704" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8haRCwNdTpvjR5FfiNGm74J7CRI7_hE1tbjAYytj_O28vck9A-6t1x7hpMN4UfIEVaILNCFXuJiPPlCVrjOMT585cMfhlYcdslR8FdVzUaAal4fISrBV4RDVpAYhOYjEc5gfTS1RXanTEyFOxvCXV5nWYHWJWntGGs4P4kSVC2QZtGbG1CjvD7uOS/w400-h300/village.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Almost feels like stepping back in time... if you ignore the tractor parked just outside.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Soggy and cold, it was time to head back to Hofn, and warm up with dinner at Otto Matur & Drykkur. "Matur & Drykkur" means "food and drink." But, with Otto's name, and the opportunity to make "Otto mature" jokes... how could we pass it up.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6wLV5uWd1UNxafuE8uZo0SP0qjSbKEA_V014ifYob1U8Vn5x2krGPGzAjNaywMf6ZxDE-ZBAaw7C7_4-aZMmfYweNKLokvCcxmxnUf8GvTGRaFr8oBM6R5tkB9kG4kpjbL10z5TqryFST-dDQNej0gBrl2t9zbD3WMEFL0dMbOOaRBYaoqmkTkt_-/s4000/matur.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2252" data-original-width="4000" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6wLV5uWd1UNxafuE8uZo0SP0qjSbKEA_V014ifYob1U8Vn5x2krGPGzAjNaywMf6ZxDE-ZBAaw7C7_4-aZMmfYweNKLokvCcxmxnUf8GvTGRaFr8oBM6R5tkB9kG4kpjbL10z5TqryFST-dDQNej0gBrl2t9zbD3WMEFL0dMbOOaRBYaoqmkTkt_-/w400-h225/matur.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Otto, looking very matur ...er, mature.</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguYIPH5KRBzgUe9pA2bc9jTW4ph9NOdDadvCLEUb601lUPqozR0m6y415vZfDAJHOsEMwo6J8O3KJ9lbYVovb2g0WAEyTX1E11X-xKJm4SxKu_6xL3HZAUffXs6WxL0VVXkepxcVWNfitqngQDpXuM9iRujbwtT_14EEBPzRpRbMyFow7zWK9uu9ZD/s2778/tablesetting.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2778" data-original-width="1564" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguYIPH5KRBzgUe9pA2bc9jTW4ph9NOdDadvCLEUb601lUPqozR0m6y415vZfDAJHOsEMwo6J8O3KJ9lbYVovb2g0WAEyTX1E11X-xKJm4SxKu_6xL3HZAUffXs6WxL0VVXkepxcVWNfitqngQDpXuM9iRujbwtT_14EEBPzRpRbMyFow7zWK9uu9ZD/w225-h400/tablesetting.jpg" width="225" /></a></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Sarah snapped this picture of one of the tables in Otto Matur & Drykkur which helps show the simple, yet considered, feel that was indicative of a lot of the places we visited on our trip.</i></div></i><div><br /></div><div>We our bellies full of food, and fading quickly from a long day and lingering jet lag, we returned to the cabin to crash.</div><div><br /></div><div><b>Day 4:</b></div><div><br /></div><div>That morning, the clouds finally broke (see the cabin picture above), and it was time to hit the road again. Saying goodbye to our cabin, we climbed aboard the Rifter and hit the road, passing Vesterhorn and driving through what we thought was an impressively long tunnel (but at 1.3km long, it would only be the fourth most impressive tunnel), and began making our way up the East Coast.</div><div><br /></div><div>This day's driving was dominated by one thing: Fjords. Lots of fjords. In and out of fjords. It wasn't uncommon to round a corner and the tip of a new fjord, look across at cars driving down the far side and think "well, there's where we'll be in 45 minutes or so." The whole time, dramatic mountains always rising to our left and ocean below us to our right.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggB-J1K41SjTl2p3rmgrAy1geMWkkS8urn0wv3c-881KW6RabCkB8NniiLAHuGtTjQKs1UlWHGa-72QSxhsbBGOfZEmNAAn9V263RgU1opojrUY7ZLAMYDGsRf8LinrBMbUx_tUJTb1YTb_51Pv2w8F_NtVkzEbeAuCSG-Oa6VpvG8AxoTDv1imEi-/s3704/dramaticmountains.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2778" data-original-width="3704" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggB-J1K41SjTl2p3rmgrAy1geMWkkS8urn0wv3c-881KW6RabCkB8NniiLAHuGtTjQKs1UlWHGa-72QSxhsbBGOfZEmNAAn9V263RgU1opojrUY7ZLAMYDGsRf8LinrBMbUx_tUJTb1YTb_51Pv2w8F_NtVkzEbeAuCSG-Oa6VpvG8AxoTDv1imEi-/w400-h300/dramaticmountains.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Some of the striking mountain on the first half of the drive. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9T4uJgT4D9eHGtyDs6SVI-52LCfBzcu8xMRPIhP-VHNloyClg5IV7CaJI80q18rYBmPki34Oc_eEyrMpEs-uxkgwkUGde2OUpb13AYYXjLrxYiTsJuRX-hMoeuY3tOi7wnVYfmWNuTgEXeZvx2LhYbZxtIiw0EVWYScIKZArwzvHG95oMcsPvDSPp/s3527/Sarahpose.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2537" data-original-width="3527" height="288" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9T4uJgT4D9eHGtyDs6SVI-52LCfBzcu8xMRPIhP-VHNloyClg5IV7CaJI80q18rYBmPki34Oc_eEyrMpEs-uxkgwkUGde2OUpb13AYYXjLrxYiTsJuRX-hMoeuY3tOi7wnVYfmWNuTgEXeZvx2LhYbZxtIiw0EVWYScIKZArwzvHG95oMcsPvDSPp/w400-h288/Sarahpose.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Sarah (and a distant Stella) with some of the coast spreading out behind them.</i></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiufOplwQ45fY52g3569wo8OB_7SYPxVP6oDDOgBNOrxwEdn0Dlt1XQLAZ_i0hjUse4RTuov97Bvmf0kEQXMchzSiBrzv8qJZtvk9nCYs1_ajJE9U4f9n_HUVwVwEklmqQC0GhEkYlTkIz6RYF_wWZ4AVjVI-uaoBT4kpTpWUOCMekvDUIozPTZpD82/s4000/Rifterpose.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2252" data-original-width="4000" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiufOplwQ45fY52g3569wo8OB_7SYPxVP6oDDOgBNOrxwEdn0Dlt1XQLAZ_i0hjUse4RTuov97Bvmf0kEQXMchzSiBrzv8qJZtvk9nCYs1_ajJE9U4f9n_HUVwVwEklmqQC0GhEkYlTkIz6RYF_wWZ4AVjVI-uaoBT4kpTpWUOCMekvDUIozPTZpD82/w400-h225/Rifterpose.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>The Rifter and I, striking a dramatic pose to match the dramatic scenery.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">While researching Iceland on Atlas Obscura, I remembered seeing and entry on a mysterious red chair mounted on a rock on a remote stretch of highway, so I probably surprised Sarah and the kids a bit when I suddenly announced "oh look! The chair!" I think that, ultimately, its a bit of tricky advertising by a nearby guesthouse, but it still makes a fun photo op.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsMRVPXtQ7cHWhdjuNJBU5kIuFh0SC-doZlmaLGW1fMDXwNu6jXGNc6uLT2Kz4dul8jHxEdeoRueTu2Hb07WJwvrIeBcz-8RJQQJJExphcSP3TWn9Oi9u0-RRaNpndd_PhbehSkl1Nurv8yk_VtVDK5_Wv1z2WAbIOcMeQ-DUbpNY5XZSTGWVKqYrD/s4000/redchair.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2252" data-original-width="4000" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsMRVPXtQ7cHWhdjuNJBU5kIuFh0SC-doZlmaLGW1fMDXwNu6jXGNc6uLT2Kz4dul8jHxEdeoRueTu2Hb07WJwvrIeBcz-8RJQQJJExphcSP3TWn9Oi9u0-RRaNpndd_PhbehSkl1Nurv8yk_VtVDK5_Wv1z2WAbIOcMeQ-DUbpNY5XZSTGWVKqYrD/w400-h225/redchair.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>The chair!</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbATS5LvdIC6zPej_QlbBR3B22_VaUUfU96MvW1IdNV9H55r-q0hjC4LUNkgLupYU6EgLk0zhWRUKubrS9aTuoWJ-A2jkj6aLv-QD6_s3WNZO43iqsNnUImjNSF_L6DDPcIRP3MQJ-dK3InBkwEYdh06eCLpL_LqosEzHJBdOV33uOyo31DP1V8Lxi/s4000/lighthouse.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2252" data-original-width="4000" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbATS5LvdIC6zPej_QlbBR3B22_VaUUfU96MvW1IdNV9H55r-q0hjC4LUNkgLupYU6EgLk0zhWRUKubrS9aTuoWJ-A2jkj6aLv-QD6_s3WNZO43iqsNnUImjNSF_L6DDPcIRP3MQJ-dK3InBkwEYdh06eCLpL_LqosEzHJBdOV33uOyo31DP1V8Lxi/w400-h225/lighthouse.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i>The East Coast of Iceland is dotted with this modest and brightly colored lighthouses. Needing an excuse to stretch out legs, we decided to hike out to this one.</i></div></i><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Then it was time to drive through the third most impressive tunnel of the trip (5.9km long), before making the final push to our destination town of<span style="font-family: trebuchet;"> Eskifjörður. Arriving a little early to town, we decided to reward the kids with a trip to Eskifjörður's community pool. Then, refreshed, we checked in to our super cute, little red cabin which sat right at the fjord's edge. Quaint, clean with a stunning view, and a hot tub that looked like a boat, it may have been my favorite place we stayed in Iceland. It even had a semi-tamed artic fox living on the property.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbyTPkTbkmxlfqplIs7OdnkopQ09RWEhxE7W97eO1EG-xro6Z9EzXSBsyDH_WlsMAjScslAC0LSUKs0nuEWS4bFtC6sYciZQG9CqHnTtdSNyRgSL7kAp7ZtXBHrbDgLAi1LhANalCz32mi_NGz_rf1shxsYk3SuASAs0SADRXqjXQQh6rmSbfm41WA/s4000/redcabin.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2252" data-original-width="4000" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbyTPkTbkmxlfqplIs7OdnkopQ09RWEhxE7W97eO1EG-xro6Z9EzXSBsyDH_WlsMAjScslAC0LSUKs0nuEWS4bFtC6sYciZQG9CqHnTtdSNyRgSL7kAp7ZtXBHrbDgLAi1LhANalCz32mi_NGz_rf1shxsYk3SuASAs0SADRXqjXQQh6rmSbfm41WA/w400-h225/redcabin.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Our cabin. You can't beat the location.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Lgj1UYckndwoY_4gVWATunGoxzVHP2FEpK1fs0MioM3xYLwhnlgPPSiVFCECeor9uh4VfQeOuxiOj1xpfxQOgUsmvBN9GF8sE6jISY58857XPwsz7IcQfOHk3oYOkTAkBexDsT1rj7jkSRbtdEiXQL9tpGn0VscwmQoEuGMeF7I3_5Ou_8Gxj0Rj/s1661/hottubboat.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1661" data-original-width="1564" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_Lgj1UYckndwoY_4gVWATunGoxzVHP2FEpK1fs0MioM3xYLwhnlgPPSiVFCECeor9uh4VfQeOuxiOj1xpfxQOgUsmvBN9GF8sE6jISY58857XPwsz7IcQfOHk3oYOkTAkBexDsT1rj7jkSRbtdEiXQL9tpGn0VscwmQoEuGMeF7I3_5Ou_8Gxj0Rj/w376-h400/hottubboat.jpg" width="376" /></a></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Never one to say no to a good pool, Otto tries out the hot tub boat.</i></div></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhOXsSwAbF1IwmUEnnKN8maTSfJDMKp7fddLX6Mr37Uar8txwyd_Kjfr9XAv9kl8PHZv3JF8JRX-tKQFvXOM6jMQjEDWJfrRsw0aojpQx-vOChkO5GZgeprFtFDfARRcm8FWOphfnMf49lSI3xTK_szHSbNSMkWSRInuEp3Dq34fSIgKY3-m5El_7B/s2778/fox.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2778" data-original-width="2084" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhOXsSwAbF1IwmUEnnKN8maTSfJDMKp7fddLX6Mr37Uar8txwyd_Kjfr9XAv9kl8PHZv3JF8JRX-tKQFvXOM6jMQjEDWJfrRsw0aojpQx-vOChkO5GZgeprFtFDfARRcm8FWOphfnMf49lSI3xTK_szHSbNSMkWSRInuEp3Dq34fSIgKY3-m5El_7B/w300-h400/fox.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: center;">The artic fox, which the kids named Rapscallion. It's not often you have a fox run up to greet you, when you arrive at a guest house. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>Dinner that evening was just a quick walk down the waterfront to an old fishing building turned restaurant and museum, Randulf's Sea House. They specialized in locale cuisine, like reindeer and puffin, and provided Otto with a chance to try <span style="background-color: white; color: #494949;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Hákarl (fermented shark). The </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #494949;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Hákarl wasn't as pungent as I remembered it from my previous time trying it, but Otto definitely was more a fan of the dried fish flakes (think fish jerky). </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #494949; font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghekfzQtWC6sAKZl7v2AxPF2XXGdtZsWO15kNMauMhxcZnzBA7keEUaubzfx0t2RkN8YINQU4pAyCeCIoqcwMprTxDI6KFDg0kv_jqkjnQ8ojbMwjZ7EY2rnTXfYH9ygDRkgSRo5SfVGuMAhuYWcZKlgWjy6IAO6FEBLDe8Wu-9qCztf0KhqpaqnVR/s3704/hakarl.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2778" data-original-width="3704" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghekfzQtWC6sAKZl7v2AxPF2XXGdtZsWO15kNMauMhxcZnzBA7keEUaubzfx0t2RkN8YINQU4pAyCeCIoqcwMprTxDI6KFDg0kv_jqkjnQ8ojbMwjZ7EY2rnTXfYH9ygDRkgSRo5SfVGuMAhuYWcZKlgWjy6IAO6FEBLDe8Wu-9qCztf0KhqpaqnVR/w400-h300/hakarl.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Otto with a piece of Hakarl. Definitely skeptical.</i></div></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">With dinner in us, it was off to bed. Tomorrow would bring another day of driving, this time crossing inland and headed to the Northern coast.<br /><span style="color: #494949; font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><br /></div></div></div></div>The Generalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13882212598013962066noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377312797415153161.post-86879799328001247172022-09-08T12:31:00.000-07:002022-09-08T12:31:06.723-07:00Back to Iceland<p><b> Tyler Reporting:</b></p><p><i>And, we're back!</i> </p><p>When I last posted almost exactly 3 years ago, it wasn't my intention to let the blog sit fallow for so long. In fact, just a couple of months after our trip to Japan, we actually spent a week at the end of the Dungeness Spit, living and working as Lighthouse Keepers. That was an amazing experience, and one that could have and should have made a great entry. An entry I had every intention of writing... but life had different plans. First, shortly after the new year, my grandmother passed away. Then, as the world is painfully aware, Covid arrived. Then I lost my job. <br /><br />So, it was a rough, wild year.<br /><br />But, life continued to soldier forward. I eventually found more work. Sarah's business kept her as busy as ever, just most of the time working from an improvised office in the corner of our bedroom. The kids suffered through a year of remote learning (well, actually, Stella seemed to thrive with remote learning, in some regards), and then returned to school, masked and physically distance. </p><p>Eventually, things began opening up again. Zoom calls with friends were replaced by first outdoor gatherings, then something close to normalcy. We camped. Hiked. Went to the coast. Went to Winthrop and Lake Diablo. Eventually, we even started to get on planes again, traveling both to Texas and to Hawaii. But a big, international trip remained elusive. Until, earlier this Summer, tired of pacing like caged lions, Sarah and I decided to buy tickets to Iceland. </p><p><i>And, we were back!</i></p><p>So, two Sunday's ago, we boarded an Iceland Air flight, to set out on a weeklong trip. Our goal this time: Drive Iceland's ring road. On our first trip to Iceland, the kids were young enough that we largely stuck to exploring Reykjavik and the Golden Circle. This time, we had a car rented, and our goal was to hit the ground running (er, driving). We had roughly a week to do a route that most guidebooks and videos claimed you needed closer to 10 days to do properly. </p><p><b>Day 1:</b></p><p>No matter what way you slice it, the flight to Iceland is brutal. It's only about 7 hours, which isn't bad in and of itself. But, something about the combination of flight time, the fact you inevitably seem to arrive in the morning and Iceland's long days just seems to make jetlag's punch a little sharper. </p><p>Still, after flying through a near sleepless night, we navigated the airport gauntlet and made our way to the car rental company, where we picked up our Renault Rifter, and hit the road. </p><p>Our first destination was about 45 minutes away. Just a little Southeast of the airport, the Fagradalsfjall volcano has been erupting and we were hoping to take a look at it, and maybe see some real-life hot lava. We pulled into the makeshift parking lot and began our walk across the windswept terrain. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicTgyEDwJRZVSugtfvP4CpLa3ElgoUTGtqiBfs_MXm325F-kzflTuORBvoUTjOy4wX1g0RKNay19oStHpRo_roRFXphkcjAN1BGjn3m7MHzd7LmFSXvG6LGb-C8aNpkl4EQQHIiPNqixVlBn9SfDSHlzL0x_6nz2R5i6T0ExZU25c5_KD286h1oHMx/s3248/windswpt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2436" data-original-width="3248" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicTgyEDwJRZVSugtfvP4CpLa3ElgoUTGtqiBfs_MXm325F-kzflTuORBvoUTjOy4wX1g0RKNay19oStHpRo_roRFXphkcjAN1BGjn3m7MHzd7LmFSXvG6LGb-C8aNpkl4EQQHIiPNqixVlBn9SfDSHlzL0x_6nz2R5i6T0ExZU25c5_KD286h1oHMx/w400-h300/windswpt.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><p>Did I say "windswept"? Maybe I meant wind-blasted. As we made our way up the first hill, Stella was literally blown off her feet. I'm not sure if I have ever felt such strong sustained winds in my life. The kids had to literally grip onto us to avoid getting blasted over, and we had to brace ourselves like football linemen to stay on our feet ourselves. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaGzb0H2xYodqan7OIoYsHZMMxZGnqEYdw0-SAAyR9cPzf6XwZhkOKeLM-kPKDA_TOybhSsmJbgIkl6LbMAnJdhcMTuHFTqHjm3NApW8s6llRl_E6GnHV4fx5zmO50RnUSgg2_Ri-cHNJGT4cVOeTD08LF1qcZjCR5B-SAH8jF0y8DnsvtFWdR45S1/s3704/stellahair.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2778" data-original-width="3704" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjaGzb0H2xYodqan7OIoYsHZMMxZGnqEYdw0-SAAyR9cPzf6XwZhkOKeLM-kPKDA_TOybhSsmJbgIkl6LbMAnJdhcMTuHFTqHjm3NApW8s6llRl_E6GnHV4fx5zmO50RnUSgg2_Ri-cHNJGT4cVOeTD08LF1qcZjCR5B-SAH8jF0y8DnsvtFWdR45S1/w400-h300/stellahair.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Stella enjoying the blasting wind.</i></div></i><p>Reaching our first viewpoint of a vast lava field, Otto and Sarah deemed the situation too squirrelly and decided to rest then head back. Stella and I, still gripped by fever dreams of seeing lava continued onward, first climbing a hairy set of switchbacks, and then cresting several smaller hills. It was only when we saw a sign saying that we'd only covered 2.7km, and still had 3.3km ahead of us that we decided to turn around ourselves, feeling a little defeated. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKiccSFNqyXyGVvkwspN5S3MNTxo7-4X8h4nleI-_i_5lc786EoNx1XxdJtonIXs1f97fT1CMMGuBoX7n26DumJgPnB1gL4RbD9OLGyRrxAEhT_JI7CJPyPcEl0yEh2BYzwV72PMt_9OZpxJpQ5N5Mpt8LEYwDytFSmWzMhdn9tJ1YBCRub8zlqEQa/s3704/lavafield.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2778" data-original-width="3704" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKiccSFNqyXyGVvkwspN5S3MNTxo7-4X8h4nleI-_i_5lc786EoNx1XxdJtonIXs1f97fT1CMMGuBoX7n26DumJgPnB1gL4RbD9OLGyRrxAEhT_JI7CJPyPcEl0yEh2BYzwV72PMt_9OZpxJpQ5N5Mpt8LEYwDytFSmWzMhdn9tJ1YBCRub8zlqEQa/w400-h300/lavafield.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i>No molten lava, just endless seeming, smoking lava fields.</i></div></i><p>Knowing we were all jetlagged and need some food, we decided to get some lunch, so we drove on to Selfoss, where we came across a burger restaurant that felt simple and straight forward. Let's check in to see how everyone was doing at that point:</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg46pFflvooSyospXPKQ599WuqWgADc7mP_iHQqKfjKqVfzikJMp9x1PiO6kMaxSd6CN1tb-d5UuB-Ujt5diRLsEhOKZ4Frv5m5wZZWTMQuX-_OUg9-cIGNRH6OL8w3wL1OUgKejzP62tKn1kay0L5xwOfAUG1v5JOciLs2FzBZRnJ6jdbWMbLQx3Ns/s3704/jetlagged.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2778" data-original-width="3704" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg46pFflvooSyospXPKQ599WuqWgADc7mP_iHQqKfjKqVfzikJMp9x1PiO6kMaxSd6CN1tb-d5UuB-Ujt5diRLsEhOKZ4Frv5m5wZZWTMQuX-_OUg9-cIGNRH6OL8w3wL1OUgKejzP62tKn1kay0L5xwOfAUG1v5JOciLs2FzBZRnJ6jdbWMbLQx3Ns/w400-h300/jetlagged.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div><br /></div>With burgers in our bellies, we made a quick (if not very productive... don't send a jetlagged Tyler and Stella to do grocery shopping) stop at a local supermarket, Bonus, then hit the road again. A short drive later, we arrived at our first lodgings.<div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSFSUxvchsLjwdr3wwjpB3CtB6qTS5FF7FK-SPxaF2JveWciVSvw4K_6nyN-O6_YAP9MZ79lv2fdza4CRkHdXTj4OsYDRNLpQVdo3lzVcvkzb6kHD-ffB8jH5QxQSGPoTNni_ny1GI8KiSd8DWSYDVNz3jK1f4uJ6PhXLzmaoCo-H5XaHE8DVumlvM/s3466/1stnight.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2286" data-original-width="3466" height="264" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSFSUxvchsLjwdr3wwjpB3CtB6qTS5FF7FK-SPxaF2JveWciVSvw4K_6nyN-O6_YAP9MZ79lv2fdza4CRkHdXTj4OsYDRNLpQVdo3lzVcvkzb6kHD-ffB8jH5QxQSGPoTNni_ny1GI8KiSd8DWSYDVNz3jK1f4uJ6PhXLzmaoCo-H5XaHE8DVumlvM/w400-h264/1stnight.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Our Rifter parked in front of our simple cabin, scenically nestled between the grassy hills of Eyvindarholar. </i></div></i></div><div><span style="font-family: Roboto, Arial, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: #f1f1f1; font-size: 13px;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">The kids almost immediately crashed, but Sarah and I sensed that we might not have enough food to make a good breakfast for tomorrow, so we set out to see if we could find a store of some sort. Unfortunately, Eyvindarholar is remote enough that there wasn't anything open within an easy drive, but, in exploring up the road, we stumbled across <span style="border: 0px; color: #494949; font-stretch: inherit; font-variant-east-asian: inherit; font-variant-numeric: inherit; line-height: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; vertical-align: baseline;">Skógafoss<span style="font-size: 14.4px;">. </span></span></span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #494949; font-family: trebuchet;">Skógafoss is a giant waterfall (you'll see waterfalls are a re-occuring theme in Iceland) that you can effectively walk up to the base of. While it didn't help us with our breakfast concerns, the waterfall provided a fun and beautiful surprise for Sarah and I to share before calling it an evening ourselves.</span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; color: #494949; font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></div><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtLwqDh-XT15Fq7XddYEgNj5qXcvr8KTGoPHMMDv4SDP2Ubvt1F7eXte8q6Phqv-o2yIonY7L_uOnf4cOsIBHIhYacS5R18zzkmXelOXOhz9UpG_xTQ1tUZ6seKpwyju6FI9AxVSyHNnmhWLwfiGmNL3Wt6ob6IGgUSZ2YE4mdD2NXSNsaolNz8p1J/s2560/skoggafoss.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1920" data-original-width="2560" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtLwqDh-XT15Fq7XddYEgNj5qXcvr8KTGoPHMMDv4SDP2Ubvt1F7eXte8q6Phqv-o2yIonY7L_uOnf4cOsIBHIhYacS5R18zzkmXelOXOhz9UpG_xTQ1tUZ6seKpwyju6FI9AxVSyHNnmhWLwfiGmNL3Wt6ob6IGgUSZ2YE4mdD2NXSNsaolNz8p1J/w400-h300/skoggafoss.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><span style="background-color: white; color: #494949; font-family: trebuchet;"><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Happy an excited to be traveling together, again!</i></div></span></div><div><br /></div><div><b>Day 2:</b></div><div><br /></div><div>Day 2 started early. Like 3am early, for the kids and I. Realizing that the three of us were all awake in the middle of the night, I decided to just accept the situation, and climbed up into their sleep loft where we spent the early morning hours watching a Hobbit movie, until the sun begin to slowly rise.</div><div><br /></div><div>Eventually, with the day properly started, we ate what little breakfast we had while the kids (especially Otto) ran up and down the steep hill next to our cabin.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXAftVGzaYL0-0YcnHI5R4lv82aAw2YcT22kIDd3xFugwNFVBRMA8cYWZcghhu_g0wSdCt_ww-Zmv58Q_RoKKPzlXDkub5cn2ldM9yDDUt4F0N8_w7NTqoAGWloJWLw6dW-NNWyBWE7p6tyhdl9jFmTLjVuCRu8-lNFSbaTmZdII1-RyFr0grSUwLd/s3704/ottoshill.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2778" data-original-width="3704" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXAftVGzaYL0-0YcnHI5R4lv82aAw2YcT22kIDd3xFugwNFVBRMA8cYWZcghhu_g0wSdCt_ww-Zmv58Q_RoKKPzlXDkub5cn2ldM9yDDUt4F0N8_w7NTqoAGWloJWLw6dW-NNWyBWE7p6tyhdl9jFmTLjVuCRu8-lNFSbaTmZdII1-RyFr0grSUwLd/w400-h300/ottoshill.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>The little waving dot is Otto. </i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz9Uykq-smbYOL2FkEO4-GmdcdspRf8WIUfWoixvejzzMp1BtgbsED0vdIo8HNGJKVU1-sKt69M6sGOD4fL-OaxEVksGD1MmDOpwxIPPpoHZQHoIHRX94TECH19P_0lfu6CjiKijZOeeS-jK_1JSwgTaQwE2oCXLx7AgQYPOSVn-TqUHVim2iWWvuc/s2778/breakfast.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2778" data-original-width="2084" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz9Uykq-smbYOL2FkEO4-GmdcdspRf8WIUfWoixvejzzMp1BtgbsED0vdIo8HNGJKVU1-sKt69M6sGOD4fL-OaxEVksGD1MmDOpwxIPPpoHZQHoIHRX94TECH19P_0lfu6CjiKijZOeeS-jK_1JSwgTaQwE2oCXLx7AgQYPOSVn-TqUHVim2iWWvuc/w300-h400/breakfast.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Skyre, Kleine fried bread and hair-braiding for breakfast.</i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Then it was on the road again. First, we double back to see a site we'd driven past the previous evening: <span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Seljalandsfoss. Or, as we more colloquially referred to it as: The waterfall you can hike behind.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Fortunately, because we were staying so close to it, and because we'd gotten moving so early, we beat the fleets of tour buses we'd seen parked at its base the day before and had the waterfall nearly to ourselves. Like pretty much every other waterfall in Iceland its scale was impressive, and just getting to hike behind it, and feel it's power and mist so closely was an incredible experience. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="background-color: white;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivhlg-R3VipV8ZAuKZamgepMahC6S3urvA5MUHp-k3wtubAvkegkR4dOF_ekWCle66bSAUIxYGVj40hByGZx8NBqAxC-kiyk6d1S_CkYH6OqYukbwAdrPKapPmn1m6S0qGIv7M27v-kHtdRjjkgDL7zh2BjuGqMGv47OFZZiANXucc7yLTbEAXgqUj/s3704/gettingready.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2778" data-original-width="3704" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivhlg-R3VipV8ZAuKZamgepMahC6S3urvA5MUHp-k3wtubAvkegkR4dOF_ekWCle66bSAUIxYGVj40hByGZx8NBqAxC-kiyk6d1S_CkYH6OqYukbwAdrPKapPmn1m6S0qGIv7M27v-kHtdRjjkgDL7zh2BjuGqMGv47OFZZiANXucc7yLTbEAXgqUj/w400-h300/gettingready.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>On the path to walk behind Seljalandsfoss.</i></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxS9FP5kwxbkCNJb1yqzF_3zjqZhfTUknChfsJN6aIWGT4i7KJmjxoWsjrIwwwUqEUyfvOHjfL3EqykiEE0NcZ6b1MfkyTHPmn0HYcxGAQrx9tQWTHVWp3eDlirw6HGpqhrLc0AskDB8vNWYDED4nuhBE_wf44xABoSYgrwhZivgZ2mNPD-8etU1jB/s3704/kidsforscale.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2778" data-original-width="3704" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxS9FP5kwxbkCNJb1yqzF_3zjqZhfTUknChfsJN6aIWGT4i7KJmjxoWsjrIwwwUqEUyfvOHjfL3EqykiEE0NcZ6b1MfkyTHPmn0HYcxGAQrx9tQWTHVWp3eDlirw6HGpqhrLc0AskDB8vNWYDED4nuhBE_wf44xABoSYgrwhZivgZ2mNPD-8etU1jB/w400-h300/kidsforscale.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Behind the falls. Kids for scale.</i></div></i><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Also, a short walk away, there was a second falls that was hidden up a narrow canyon. But, since it involved hiking up a river, and because it was still really, really cold, we decided to just take a peek at it from the outside.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihvZkNUlrWNVdpQmFU5PKIqI3_f5P8HuXTEnEzVAgdz-22kfKMRq1xYDLH7GA8QdSAmSlYiEd-uUCRtbu2VROCvW7m83KW6YdNAnHhB2k2OsMCjHNgBUWBK6QX9mtmsjMclezw_s8pJFAJGptX0wz_eE9Z9IaWp7diYwfT-5ypYvFdFi9wLOwjrB8K/s2778/peeking.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2778" data-original-width="2084" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihvZkNUlrWNVdpQmFU5PKIqI3_f5P8HuXTEnEzVAgdz-22kfKMRq1xYDLH7GA8QdSAmSlYiEd-uUCRtbu2VROCvW7m83KW6YdNAnHhB2k2OsMCjHNgBUWBK6QX9mtmsjMclezw_s8pJFAJGptX0wz_eE9Z9IaWp7diYwfT-5ypYvFdFi9wLOwjrB8K/w300-h400/peeking.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Tempting</i>.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Then it was back on the road, with a quick stop to see an old storehouse built into a rock formation. Apparently, this form of construction is particular to the southern coast of Iceland, and isn't found elsewhere on the island.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg93R_TgZwWbUlfrAlS9VwiMwBq6cUG0yme3QaMa51yTD7CPCi2Q4cH73WJbufry38o6-2MU2xJagv1yDhdiYkYecCe_H_HBiqWPS_zx-ZS57PzLivuElUV7P-iES3UGlHLOkaGLkJc71HFVtjcK3Mg1U9ZHP7cvwnGtlLAVU_bxg1VhG0BLtnGC_mB/s2778/storehouse.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2778" data-original-width="2084" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg93R_TgZwWbUlfrAlS9VwiMwBq6cUG0yme3QaMa51yTD7CPCi2Q4cH73WJbufry38o6-2MU2xJagv1yDhdiYkYecCe_H_HBiqWPS_zx-ZS57PzLivuElUV7P-iES3UGlHLOkaGLkJc71HFVtjcK3Mg1U9ZHP7cvwnGtlLAVU_bxg1VhG0BLtnGC_mB/w300-h400/storehouse.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Inside the storehouse, someone had set up a little "shrine" of gnome and elf statues. But, we'll leave that to your imagination. </i></div></i><div><br /></div><div>Since the kids hadn't seen Skogafoss the previous night, we stopped there quickly. This also gave Stella and Sarah a chance to hike up the path next to the waterfall, and see it from the top.</div><div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmUF74dN7LIhIcqMYsmN44qzqPsK9ph-szDwhnr9vizkDYVxuDWZOfLl91fW0hCPuV0UpXOksNmFr8uM5A91vpcq9wgBubTxiw4x9pQMx7TMyDfNFp_GTqSv3tOknfLpfc9gFrJQayeGik271b0Zsc1KVBmZbocWqp2tNZZMJhTGMo43iphx7OtzC-/s2778/skoggastella.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2778" data-original-width="2084" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmUF74dN7LIhIcqMYsmN44qzqPsK9ph-szDwhnr9vizkDYVxuDWZOfLl91fW0hCPuV0UpXOksNmFr8uM5A91vpcq9wgBubTxiw4x9pQMx7TMyDfNFp_GTqSv3tOknfLpfc9gFrJQayeGik271b0Zsc1KVBmZbocWqp2tNZZMJhTGMo43iphx7OtzC-/w300-h400/skoggastella.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Stella at the base of Skogafoss.</i></div></i><div><br /></div><div>Carrying on down the road, we reached the point on the Ring Road characterized by a string of glaciers reaching out toward the coastline like icy fingers. The first one we came to, <span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Sólheimajökull, had a parking lot and a short walk to a viewing area. But, most of the half dozen or so others we just viewed from our moving car. (Sarah's pictures probably better capture that portion of the trip, but as I write this, I just have access to my own photos.) But, the views were fairly epic in scope, as you realized that the vast sandy plains were driving across were largely created by the rivers of ice lined up across the horizon to the North of us. One glacier in particular was so wide that it was hard to even photograph properly. </span></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiveZmX9-oaBHcO-bIB51MTUclGxloUhGHRz80h8dETCsgHM3Xmzs4zmXZhNJndatl1rZlQilWXb4uxkyCMov4CyMjLKM20SyykBPB51GQWcRdkkZzKcCW4QmGMLl3pV2aKX1o-rmFiQGEF3ZZwiwnCHjlW1hmXGrR-eycewB1d8ohcsPii-zugz42Y/s3704/glacier1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2778" data-original-width="3704" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiveZmX9-oaBHcO-bIB51MTUclGxloUhGHRz80h8dETCsgHM3Xmzs4zmXZhNJndatl1rZlQilWXb4uxkyCMov4CyMjLKM20SyykBPB51GQWcRdkkZzKcCW4QmGMLl3pV2aKX1o-rmFiQGEF3ZZwiwnCHjlW1hmXGrR-eycewB1d8ohcsPii-zugz42Y/w400-h300/glacier1.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Solheimajokull. The first glacier we came across. This one you could easily walk to, but other distant glaciers we saw later in the day were even more impressive in the size.</i></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkfTYTEp-t4fEHplF3a2gH_uGInKqPfp-bBq_rI8l521y17ZzqbILJedDjE0npk0GUlMOlrojkA57hPueLNZYVMDNYDs6A12frSylr-yDIkXFqRoFVn2bDVGcEZI_JI6ozTVolVPoDJgDzbJAH01KcmlaabNuNq72JtNv4e0sC4Zg2q3NwnCsC7kdE/s3704/glacier2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2778" data-original-width="3704" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkfTYTEp-t4fEHplF3a2gH_uGInKqPfp-bBq_rI8l521y17ZzqbILJedDjE0npk0GUlMOlrojkA57hPueLNZYVMDNYDs6A12frSylr-yDIkXFqRoFVn2bDVGcEZI_JI6ozTVolVPoDJgDzbJAH01KcmlaabNuNq72JtNv4e0sC4Zg2q3NwnCsC7kdE/w400-h300/glacier2.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Sarah at a small view point off the side of the road. The view -with multiple glaciers readily visible- was evocative of that half of the days driving.</i></div></i></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white;">We also stopped at the town of Vi, which is known for its black sand beaches. But, unfortnately, it was so foggy and rainy at that point, that we didn't check them out. Instead, we ducked inside Restaurant </span><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">Suður for a lunch of pizza and artic char. </span></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white; font-size: 16px;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">The final stop of the day was the Diamond Beach. The Diamond Beach earned its name because a glacier dumps its ice into a nearby lagoon, and by the time those icebergs wash out of the lagoon and reach the neighboring beach, they've largely broken down to small pieces that liter the black sand, giving it the appearance of being covered with diamonds. </span></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: trebuchet;">But, similar to Vik, the weather was still pretty nasty. So foggy that the lagoon itself was barely visible (and overrun with tour buses), be we were still able to stroll down the beach itself marveling at the icy crystals littered across it. </span></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEianZLJEvBn44JyO37qYEPavG9HOLmK7kRqlhMQe7dY3V6OArPRfVUI3AVQmDhtBQ7e1G-115fSKwoIWPZLdsbCJkWzV_91GWElZJJH8AyF_X9pvemjxXtz4ZPNs_VUDbMZvPFDObpCH8I8snBimEPGJEHwYLGAjO2il06znm4iKCuom2QL2Saydo6b/s273/coldbeach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="205" data-original-width="273" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEianZLJEvBn44JyO37qYEPavG9HOLmK7kRqlhMQe7dY3V6OArPRfVUI3AVQmDhtBQ7e1G-115fSKwoIWPZLdsbCJkWzV_91GWElZJJH8AyF_X9pvemjxXtz4ZPNs_VUDbMZvPFDObpCH8I8snBimEPGJEHwYLGAjO2il06znm4iKCuom2QL2Saydo6b/w400-h300/coldbeach.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>Happy, but cold, on Diamond Beach. (OK, Otto might just still be jetlagged.)</i></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaLkdmZUjOCaUlZOjojZOWXrAAsWAmKZLUIftWFQPMLkCi0jath5_-b0I4lk0xREofCWiICZgfaE350eh3hCcUkCxztutCuiq2Bw96GIUkAbGBGO2090TDpVRjJCQtjzn13OgNw4eG9-mAfw0yNfSuhzwTp1tWHlrlUPh3EmViEnhOSeind-xeT8kN/s3704/diamondbeach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2778" data-original-width="3704" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaLkdmZUjOCaUlZOjojZOWXrAAsWAmKZLUIftWFQPMLkCi0jath5_-b0I4lk0xREofCWiICZgfaE350eh3hCcUkCxztutCuiq2Bw96GIUkAbGBGO2090TDpVRjJCQtjzn13OgNw4eG9-mAfw0yNfSuhzwTp1tWHlrlUPh3EmViEnhOSeind-xeT8kN/w400-h300/diamondbeach.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><i>This photo gives a bit of a sense of how blustery and socked in it was, but you can see the icebergs being buffeted by the waves.</i></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjqz3-Gs5Fzr4LZRHq79v00F-_vcMVft2ERW9Fvigc6KmkTyowfeEYyZiDpiHKbBxkDNByQ07aAgaKhQAVefuodsVDnGgkNpWyqqMU5EbEJuHh2nXMizNgW2uGxWbi5ZeWqNhe1Ar_gxwN5R0qmwX5t0SPCs4EGkMqynaooHl2mGVvTBPALrzbN6au/s3704/holdingadiamond.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2778" data-original-width="3704" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjqz3-Gs5Fzr4LZRHq79v00F-_vcMVft2ERW9Fvigc6KmkTyowfeEYyZiDpiHKbBxkDNByQ07aAgaKhQAVefuodsVDnGgkNpWyqqMU5EbEJuHh2nXMizNgW2uGxWbi5ZeWqNhe1Ar_gxwN5R0qmwX5t0SPCs4EGkMqynaooHl2mGVvTBPALrzbN6au/w400-h300/holdingadiamond.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><i><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Stella holds up a "diamond."</i></div></i></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white;">From there, it was just a short drive further to Hofn, where we'd check into our next cabin for the next two night. But, that's for the next entry.<br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="background-color: white;"><br /><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family: trebuchet;"><br /></span><div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div></div></div>The Generalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13882212598013962066noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377312797415153161.post-47452507119738541852019-08-14T23:27:00.001-07:002019-08-14T23:27:21.831-07:00Japan: Kyoto, torii gates and monkeys<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV-yB8TId2wiPY5l7UU_4AQxIs3KUy5Vsj1uNATD3YdEVudzYHangApb5CrIZVtWZSTI3yDPy_DaOWXG72BNtzQa3eyf_T4Iqac3CVSA1Gg8ReXRjLDGRF00vw1mjHq7pUq65sHXWxdYg/s1600/tyler_reporting.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="31" data-original-width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgV-yB8TId2wiPY5l7UU_4AQxIs3KUy5Vsj1uNATD3YdEVudzYHangApb5CrIZVtWZSTI3yDPy_DaOWXG72BNtzQa3eyf_T4Iqac3CVSA1Gg8ReXRjLDGRF00vw1mjHq7pUq65sHXWxdYg/s1600/tyler_reporting.jpg" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">As mentioned in the last entry, when we woke up for our last morning, in Nara, we packed and then made one last attempt to go back to the shaved ice place from the previous day, but were thwarted when the early reservations were already filled.</span> So, we went back to our rental, pulled on our bags, closed up our place, and began the trip to our final destination: Kyoto. </div>
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<i>Sarah, fully loaded! The kids both had small packs on this trip, but Sarah and I were still the main pack mules.</i></div>
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At the train station, we buy tickets for the express to Kyoto, but end up boarding the locale, which had, like, 8 more stops. But, fortunately, it only added about 20 minutes to our ride, so we sort of shrugged it off.</div>
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Arriving in Kyoto, we manage to get lost twice, basically right away. Both times, locales leapt to our rescue. The first time was coming out of Kyoto's enormous train station, which looked like an oversized set piece for <i>Robocop</i>. We'd managed to get turned around in an underground mall (again) looking for a bus stop (it made sense at the time), when a smartly dressed woman came up to us, practically pulled the phone from Sarah's hand, and lead us out of the mall, around a corner and pointed the bus out to us. A short time later, on a small side street, we got confused, thinking our Airbnb should be on it. An older gentleman stepped out of our place, and -after squinting at our phone for a moment- announced that the place was around the corner. </div>
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Soon, we were at our new rental, and though entering it involved walking down a dark alleyway to get there, it was probably our favorite apartment yet. </div>
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Tired and hot from our trip to Kyoto, we doubled back to a place we saw that served cold noodles and shaved ice... really big shaved ice.</div>
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<i>Stella head-sized shaved ice. At this place, the flavors were served on the side, and you added them yourself, to taste.</i></div>
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After lunch, we go by a dessert shop. But, while Stella and Sarah browser, Otto announced that he needed to go to the bathroom, so I walked him the few blocks back to our place. Which gave me a chance to use my first beer concession machine!</div>
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<i>I'd heard Japan had beer concession machines but, while the "coffee boss" machines were everywhere, this was the first, and only, one I came across on the trip.</i></div>
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After that, we all rested at the rental for a bit. (Well, I ran back to the cold noodle shop to use their wifi, since ours wasn't working.) Then, it was back out for dinner. Sarah had read up on Pontocho Street, a narrow pedestrian only street, that used to be more know for geisha's and gentleman's club, but had morphed into an unending strip of restaurants. It sounded promising, so we set off. </div>
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The hike there was long, but pleasantly, most of the time we were walking along the river waterfront. Eventually, we arrived, hungry and started down the street, which did not disappoint, in terms of ambiance and restaurant selection. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmYoonlaW7ZUZSgGxdxLq7i7Bwpy-acwWOQeGKmmJisCIYZ0qUKVVX0XVSXgc5z70Cqu7k_mbPmRppg0E4vNaVjSRgmpyin44-LEG3bZ2EOlEa0Sy4Tn71U9knE7znaF0HQ_HLymgFGP0/s1600/0731190139_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmYoonlaW7ZUZSgGxdxLq7i7Bwpy-acwWOQeGKmmJisCIYZ0qUKVVX0XVSXgc5z70Cqu7k_mbPmRppg0E4vNaVjSRgmpyin44-LEG3bZ2EOlEa0Sy4Tn71U9knE7znaF0HQ_HLymgFGP0/s400/0731190139_HDR.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>Walking along the Kamo-gawa River, on our way to Pontocho Street.</i></div>
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<i>Pontocho Street. Barely as wide as an alley, both sides are lined with restaurants selling just about any style of Japanese cuisine you'd want.</i></div>
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We end up, after much back-and-forth, at a yakitori restaurant. The restaurant itself, is barely 10ft wide, and we up sitting at the window on the 3rd floor. The yakitori itself, which included my dish, which was a skewers of a half dozen different chicken parts, wasn't amazing. But, it served it's purpose. </div>
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After, we crossed the river, and made our way home, letting the kids talk at us about whatever it was that crossed their minds, and taking in the view across the river. I was content. </div>
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<i>Riverfront restaurants, across the Kama-gawa River.</i></div>
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The next morning, we were up early, and back on the train, taking it two stops down to the Fushimi Inari Shrine, and it's 10,000 torii gates. Anyone whose reached travelling to Kyoto quickly learns about the Fushimi Inari Shrine. Its seemingly endless vermillion gates are on seemly every travel guide cover, and in any travel YouTube video with "Kyoto" in its title. </div>
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And now, having unloaded from the train, with the kids in town, and surrounded by a sea of sweating tourists, I could still already understand why. From the train, it was pretty much a straight climb to the temple entrance, and -after the customary claps, and bow, bell rings and coin toss- you join to slow moving crawl up through a seemingly endless tunnel of torii gates. So many gates.</div>
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But, also so very hot and sweaty. In fact, as we climb up, up and up again, I become convinced that I'm sweating more here than I did on the Kumano Kodo hikes. Plus, while the crowds start to thankfully thin as we move farther up the trail, Stella isn't really having it, and is moping and acting grumpy. </div>
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But, we soldier on, climbing past more shrines and through more gates... up, up, and more up. Eventually we reach a bit of a bit of a rest stop where we buy snacks and drinks from a vendor, and a nice Italian family makes conversation with us. </div>
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Finally, we do the top loop section and, while we are tired and hot, this section is the least crowded and probably most shaded, so it feels more forgiving in some regards. Eventually, we reach the top and start following the look back down again.</div>
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<i>The entrance to the main shrine complex. Giant gates and lots of crowds.</i></div>
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<i>Beginning of the path. Still really crowded. Also, lots of fox statues. The foxes, I believe are messengers for Inari, the rice god.</i></div>
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<i>Gates, gate and more gates. But, the crowds thankfully thin a bit.</i></div>
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<i>...and stairs. Lots of stairs.</i></div>
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<i>Toward the top, there were lots of shrine complexes like these, and places that seemed to be graveyards. At points like these, my knowledge breaks down, and I just let myself be awed by the volume and beauty of all of it.</i></div>
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After making our way back to the bottom, we board the train again, back to Kyoto Station. Once there, we head back to the underground mall we had been lost in the day before, to do something Sarah and Otto have been eager to have since we arrived: Conveyor belt sushi!</div>
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Now, we have a chain of conveyor belt sushi places in Seattle, Blue Sea Sushi; but we still knew we wanted to have the experience in Japan. And, Otto had been clambering for sushi at any opportunity he could have. He was in heaven.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYAd6Xq5mYoX-aYfbQMnseKGZtKeibpezZZdbppHvjDk2rNt1_IQ8TFYJ86NM36kWkA6kZnjS8hsAoOcEV6vPkOkkO6fJjxgwKnShfCmtdikzD7QKHfydus-Lg5WwFVVB1L7rSzd-smX0/s1600/0731192103_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYAd6Xq5mYoX-aYfbQMnseKGZtKeibpezZZdbppHvjDk2rNt1_IQ8TFYJ86NM36kWkA6kZnjS8hsAoOcEV6vPkOkkO6fJjxgwKnShfCmtdikzD7QKHfydus-Lg5WwFVVB1L7rSzd-smX0/s400/0731192103_HDR.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>You could either grab the sushi on the conveyor belt, as it passed by or -if you didn't see what you wanted- you could order from the iPad-like screen in front of you.</i></div>
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Stella doesn't really eat seafood, so she made due with cucumber rolls. But, afterward Sarah ran her over to a French bakery in the same mall, where she could get a baguette, and a brief respite from Japanese food. Then, while she ate, we browsed a book store, bought some manga and cooled off in the mall's A/C. </div>
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Our next destination was the "old town" of the Higishiyama District, so we took a bus to it (getting off early, and then catching a second bus). We start in a park, where we take another break, long enough for Stella and I to have "soda" flavored ice cream, which is blue and mildly citrusy. Then, making our way past a temple and through a large gate, into the historic old town. </div>
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While a lot of the more modern architecture we'd encountered in other parts of Osaka and Kyoto was utilitarian and underwhelming, this part of town definitely felt like what I'd always imaged historic Japan to feel like: sloping tile roofs, dark wood frames and white-washed walls, manicured garden spaces. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVLTf_z2pCmk4e2UgMtfaXNREizbBFGnSiq8G3fGns_hxBst9fgYuTTh-MK_epNx8TR6Q5dz-fhM9AOVZMhyphenhyphenNARW6DNFJa7TJ_Y6o9NXyCh2wyt-215CSKH17O32vpbFePv97-1664DLI/s1600/0731192215_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: #0066cc; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVLTf_z2pCmk4e2UgMtfaXNREizbBFGnSiq8G3fGns_hxBst9fgYuTTh-MK_epNx8TR6Q5dz-fhM9AOVZMhyphenhyphenNARW6DNFJa7TJ_Y6o9NXyCh2wyt-215CSKH17O32vpbFePv97-1664DLI/s400/0731192215_HDR.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>The kids, "reading" their newly purchased manga on the bus ride to Higishiyama District.</i></div>
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<i>Otto, seemingly unimpressed by the comparative calm of these streets.</i></div>
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<i>Traditional architecture, stone walls and lot of green.</i></div>
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As we wander, roughly following the path laid our in our DK guidebook, we notice that is seems to be a "thing" for Japanese women (and some men) to rent traditional kimonos, while they tour the neighborhood. While we weren't exactly sure why they were doing this, it did seem to present them with the opportunity to take well-staged photos, that probably made it look like they'd stepped back in time. </div>
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But, while the kids seems less impressed with the historic neighborhood that Sarah and I, we stumbled across something that did get their attention: A Miyazaki Store. Seeming to be an official shop, it had a ton of wonderful gifts in it, and the opportunity to take your picture next to a life-sized Totoro. </div>
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<i>All they need is an umbrella and some rain.</i></div>
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<i>So excited!</i></div>
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We carry on following the path in our guide book, and make our way onto Sannenzaka, or "the slope of 2 years" where, according to superstition, if you trip and fall, you get 2 years of bad luck. Otto, not knowing this, trips immediately... so we'll see how that goes. </div>
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Sannenzaka turns into Ninnezaka ("the slope of 3 years"), where I buy a pickle on a stick. Then, Ninnezaka dumps unceremoniously onto Hanamikoji Street, leading up to Kennin-ji Temple. At this point, the quaint appeal of the old town had been replaced by the overwhelming tourist shops and the usual press of tourists. So, while we continued up to the entrance of the temple, we decided to call it a day. We'd heard the main temple building was under restoration, anyhow, and the kids were getting worn out. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2FmV11nBHVewSQPmSrOF-a6A3j71TAlAe8d_ZEZQOMc9-AiHConPTcMWzp76HpYKRm_hnZoxUbsp9RU-bTSu8ny4k293wAZPiPUJKVOj7bFEmr70m9qzlPz3nhNV-e7IOKTmyhCRyHFM/s1600/0801190007_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2FmV11nBHVewSQPmSrOF-a6A3j71TAlAe8d_ZEZQOMc9-AiHConPTcMWzp76HpYKRm_hnZoxUbsp9RU-bTSu8ny4k293wAZPiPUJKVOj7bFEmr70m9qzlPz3nhNV-e7IOKTmyhCRyHFM/s400/0801190007_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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<i>The stairs of Ninnezaka. Still charming, but the crowds were getting thicker, and the shops more touristy. </i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2jkfzwXN0J0_V6ORran-14LFQ0XbdzSVf77cEq9U79taIUDnqwc19YwAOJgVLODCl-NB_HMf23kmiqYpoTq4ll8y3zQEmJ8K8G_sXOccxJZS0l9xYXffwD65FXG4uR7dKw8AOK3jIcXo/s1600/0801190021.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2jkfzwXN0J0_V6ORran-14LFQ0XbdzSVf77cEq9U79taIUDnqwc19YwAOJgVLODCl-NB_HMf23kmiqYpoTq4ll8y3zQEmJ8K8G_sXOccxJZS0l9xYXffwD65FXG4uR7dKw8AOK3jIcXo/s400/0801190021.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>The entrance to Kennin-ji Temple. Peering past these buildings, we could still see the main temple, wrapped in scaffolding. So, we decided to call it a day.</i></div>
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Our initial plan was to stop by the cold noodle place again, so the kids could have another shaved ice (can you tell we are just bribing them with shaved ice at this point), but it was closed. So, we head back to the rental to rest. </div>
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Later, we go out for a nice steak dinner. Having been burned a couple of times in Nara, for not having made reservations, we'd dutifully made reservations for this dinner... so of course we were the only people in the whole restaurant. Still, we enjoyed out meal.</div>
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For out last full day in Japan, we hop on a series of subways and trains, to the Kyoto suburb of Arashiyama. After the crowds yesterday, I was pleasantly surprised to step off the train into what seemed like a quiet, river-side community. But, as we first cross a small scenic bridge, then a larger bridge which spans the main portion of the river, I realize the we were just on the quiet-side of the river, and soon find ourselves amongst the tourists again. </div>
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We make our way down the river a bit, then turn inland, in search of our first destination: Arashiyama's famous bamboo grove. In route, we come across a fun surprise, a row of monk statues, each delightfully individual. I'm not sure who they all were but, based on the quite depiction of each, I had to imagine they were each characters from folklore or history. </div>
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<i>Crossing the first half of the river, before the crowds.</i></div>
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<i>Monk statues. Each individual in their own personality. I have to image each has his own story.</i></div>
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<i>More monks. The guy on the right is peeling his face back to reveal a second face.</i></div>
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After that, we take some time to explore a beautifully maintained garden, surrounding a temple. But, while it was neat to see actual zen rock gardens, Otto was growing hungry and cranky... and was far from zen himself.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXNai0hsKA6CCnlKn1Lo1hyjLyZBToFVivBVy7PEN8kt5Lhv_aHN3nKDdK1uvLXRV1kDt0usCPMOFrYvuI1qv-OqUfNBUU9j2rvWm-ZBfn8iYfyUmGVB-Rd7UtB02yNchhfaD0qDJvljk/s1600/0801191905_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXNai0hsKA6CCnlKn1Lo1hyjLyZBToFVivBVy7PEN8kt5Lhv_aHN3nKDdK1uvLXRV1kDt0usCPMOFrYvuI1qv-OqUfNBUU9j2rvWm-ZBfn8iYfyUmGVB-Rd7UtB02yNchhfaD0qDJvljk/s400/0801191905_HDR.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>A beautiful garden, a grumpy boy and a sister who is nominally trying to cheer him up, but really is just adding to his crankiness.</i></div>
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Beyond the garden, we reach the bamboo grove itself. The grove itself is visually amazing, but again, the tourist crowds are growing thick, and Otto continues to scowl at anyone who makes eye contact, so it's a bit hard to appreciate it all.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMSTmeG8I86A-gUW-xH0i5UXWRvKKGYI4bbR9Xsf0tNE4t_iCFirjajnBos6xzcShv_omwzIHXmZ2GmoFqLxYlQ21CdVViD0_HV77gyxhVDyvB2rE5ubT83Wf_PLKsL-6QwIrjqy6aAOk/s1600/0801191916_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMSTmeG8I86A-gUW-xH0i5UXWRvKKGYI4bbR9Xsf0tNE4t_iCFirjajnBos6xzcShv_omwzIHXmZ2GmoFqLxYlQ21CdVViD0_HV77gyxhVDyvB2rE5ubT83Wf_PLKsL-6QwIrjqy6aAOk/s400/0801191916_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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<i>I mean, sure the bamboo is majestic, but I'd like to draw your attention to the person in the lower left.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOjxa8_lPB_Xf68el85YhuJfpli19dbYMxvLwiUI6309Dyo9n1WMj9iiCNW_GqHsV5l8JpW-NDwJRXXM6F-AnuJiT2HAjF8iekLgZrGa4-1NBQY-_UmoqeEm2wq4IgUcApqIFhOV_8zJU/s1600/0801191917a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOjxa8_lPB_Xf68el85YhuJfpli19dbYMxvLwiUI6309Dyo9n1WMj9iiCNW_GqHsV5l8JpW-NDwJRXXM6F-AnuJiT2HAjF8iekLgZrGa4-1NBQY-_UmoqeEm2wq4IgUcApqIFhOV_8zJU/s400/0801191917a.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>If you look up, beyond the crowds and cranky 8-year-old, you can see the appeal.</i></div>
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Emerging from the other side of the grove, we run into another train station, and are finally able to get some food in Otto, which improves his mood greatly. But, we also realized that we somehow got turned around, and would need to double back to get to our next destination. </div>
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We head back through the grove, through another grove, where people are trying to sell tourists on rickshaw rides, and hurry down the crowded main drag, and back across the river to our second main destination: The monkey park!</div>
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Paying our admission, we enter the monkey park, and start down the path to the monkeys. Or, rather, start <b>up</b> the path to the monkeys. Because, apparently we weren't escaping Japan without another sweaty death march up a forested hill. But, at this point, we are old hat at hiking up hill in 95 degree weather, with 90% humidity. So, we make good time up it. </div>
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And, the monkey's don't disappoint. </div>
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The monkey park basically had two ways to watch and interact with the monkeys: There was a small building that you could enter and buy apple slices or peanuts in. Then, while still in the building you could feed the monkeys which stood on the window cells outside the building. It sort of felt like a reverse zoo. </div>
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The second way was to wander around outside the building. There you could walk freely amongst the monkey, which were kept loosely out of trouble by yellow-shirted minders who would shoo them away if they weren't where they should be, or got to aggressive with a tourist. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ9HpzBtO0Unf1_w6BtiKIg_yUE4UvA4Y3cdba5LuDfig3b5Og8kWPgQi2uv9Z6NboilJW3voH9bDL4tX_QTzYdJFoAnzGOUbdKLIcfLZQg8EIJy2Tdg-TYEfmxOYM8etAQa3B9KjBWlI/s1600/0801192101_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ9HpzBtO0Unf1_w6BtiKIg_yUE4UvA4Y3cdba5LuDfig3b5Og8kWPgQi2uv9Z6NboilJW3voH9bDL4tX_QTzYdJFoAnzGOUbdKLIcfLZQg8EIJy2Tdg-TYEfmxOYM8etAQa3B9KjBWlI/s400/0801192101_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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<i>Feeding a mom and baby monkey, inside the building. I tried to get a picture of the kids feeding the monkeys, but both the kids and the monkeys kept moving too quickly.</i> </div>
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<i>Monkeys on the roof of the building, eating food I think they stole from the minders. </i></div>
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<i>Otto, taking a break from the monkeys to look back to where we just hiked from.</i></div>
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<i>Not the best picture, but posting it because, right before we headed back down, another monkey came up behind this monkey, surprised it and it made a wild leap down and into the pool below. It was impressive.</i></div>
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Having had our fill of monkey business, we headed back down into town. At the base of the hill, we stopped for udon (where I had a nice spicy bowl), and then the obligatory stop for shaved ice. </div>
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A couple of train and subway stops later, we were back in the neighborhood of our rental, so we stop at the cold noodle place, so Otto can have another shave ice (and maybe -more importantly- Sarah and I could have a beer). At this point, the nice couple who ran the cold noodle place were becoming as close to friends as we had in Japan. Then, it was home for a rest. </div>
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Our evening plan was to head north by subway and bus, to the famous Philosopher's Walk. Once there, we'd planned on stopping at one of the restaurants we'd heard lined it. Unfortunately, we didn't consider how early it was going to get dark, and it was already night by the time we reached the neighborhood. </div>
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Even more unfortunately, it started to downpour. Hard. </div>
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Scurrying along, we made our way down the Philosopher's Path for several blocks, ducking under trees to break. But, we weren't seeing any signs of restaurants, and we were getting drenched. Totally soaked through. </div>
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<i>Sarah and Stella, dark and drenched on the Philosopher's Path. I'm sure there's some philosophical lesson to all this.</i></div>
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So, we cut back toward the main strip that the bus had originally dropped us off on, hoping to find a place to duck into, eat, dry off and ride out the rain. But, through we got back to the main drag, there still weren't any restaurants, so we took shelter under a bus stop, and plotted how to return to our neighborhood. </div>
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<i>Downpour!</i></div>
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As we stood there, waiting for a bus, a trio of American's jogged up, also soaking wet. The older man explained they were from Pennsylvania, and that they younger two were his sons. They'd been following a train just beyond the neighborhood we were in, when the rain started. Together we all waited under the shelter and swapped stories. At some point a random woman ran up, handing Sarah and the kids giant plastic bags, presumably to use as ponchos. Yet another random act of kindness.</div>
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Less familiar with Kyoto's public transportation, the trio followed our lead on the bus and subsequent subway, they waved farewell when we got off at our stop. Despite the scuttled walk down the Philosopher's Path, Sarah and I could both tell the dad was impressed both with how comfortable and assured we were, navigating home, and with how easily we were traveling with our comparatively young kids. And, I think we both felt a little proud. </div>
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Once back in our neighborhood, the rain had let up. We were all getting tired, but I pleaded my case, and the family agreed to pop in to a ramen restaurant we'd noticed previously. Looking like drowned rats, and now a little cold from the A/C, the kids probably would have preferred to just go home, but I was pleased they humored me. It might have not been the perfect, final evening in Japan, but with my beer and my bowl of ramen, I was happy. </div>
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<i>Ramen and a beer, not a bad last dinner.</i></div>
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And that was it, mostly. </div>
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The next morning, we woke up, finished packing and began our long trip home: Subway to train to monorail to plane to bus to plane to taxi. Then home. Lots of time sitting. Lots of time drifting around airports. And finally, walking through the front door, unpacking quickly and falling asleep in the middle of the afternoon from jet lag.</div>
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<i>Goodbye, Japan! It was amazing! Hope we can come back, someday!</i></div>
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<i>One last subway ride, loaded down with bags.</i></div>
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<i>One last random meal: noodles on a hotdog bun.</i></div>
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<i>Then, finally, home and sleep.</i></div>
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<br />The Generalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13882212598013962066noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377312797415153161.post-49693791388237270112019-08-08T22:10:00.001-07:002019-08-08T22:24:25.892-07:00Japan: Deer and Giant Buddhas in Nara<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg7WS9He7PZ1_Jf1OvmGflHzLlRXVBKYYHP7_TuNjHsgnRfJ4SOm0ykjrTOYnMyv330PGIaqv54GWV0sLdzJoWot9sizZan7VjJR5ZxUL0er6IP2qGgjw3E_Ib_i8LFwNdgqNZ4l_M7fk/s1600/tyler_reporting.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="31" data-original-width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjg7WS9He7PZ1_Jf1OvmGflHzLlRXVBKYYHP7_TuNjHsgnRfJ4SOm0ykjrTOYnMyv330PGIaqv54GWV0sLdzJoWot9sizZan7VjJR5ZxUL0er6IP2qGgjw3E_Ib_i8LFwNdgqNZ4l_M7fk/s1600/tyler_reporting.jpg" /></a></div>
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The next morning, we woke, early as usual, ate breakfast, packed and -with one last look at our charming guesthouse- hiked down the hill to the bus station. We took a short and uneventful bus ride to the train station in a neighboring town, bought our tickets and boarded our train. We also happened to run into the two hikers from the Netherlands again. The kids, again, seemed happy to see these two random guys, and it reminded me of our 7-month Round the World Trip, where we were perpetually becoming temporary best friends with other people whose paths overlapped with ours.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH6ob8SqKjn-rxaGWLSDYrda0P3JVYG5Ppe6qF9E_6tGMWxCmbRvsPYEBvR885JUwFv9OrysNOjQwPfzgnvXBPIJnEHcF9_-BLQvncxh1hzQVCeg2L0Ga2em7BFhy7lHXchvtY8goODVY/s1600/0728191707a_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgH6ob8SqKjn-rxaGWLSDYrda0P3JVYG5Ppe6qF9E_6tGMWxCmbRvsPYEBvR885JUwFv9OrysNOjQwPfzgnvXBPIJnEHcF9_-BLQvncxh1hzQVCeg2L0Ga2em7BFhy7lHXchvtY8goODVY/s400/0728191707a_HDR.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>The view from the front yard of our home stay guesthouse.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUH0O5WDcWQa3QtqEHLhJ32oajae2BhS9kjP7FwPvIxS9q_VOh0AizKt7RuHT9MX-zKAOIQYvWPsbbgF8O-S23HpGWU0Yc4DCDoZhXBDDbRYX5X-D52MRkWvrn1UF1ftjaIhGmKR9Az3A/s1600/0728192001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a>The train ride back to Osaka, wrapping around the Kii Peninsula, back to Osaka, was long but also uneventful.<br />
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<i>Sarah on the train back to Osaka. Sadly, not one of the famous bullet trains, but we made good time. </i></div>
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Back in Osaka, albeit briefly, we switched trains, for another hour-long trip to Nara. While we all wanted to go to Nara, it was sort of "Stella's pick" once she had heard about the deer that live there. Again, the ride went smooth, and we soon found ourselves to at Nara's train station. Next, to get to our guest house there... if we had one. </div>
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We'd been sort of loosey goosey with this portion of our trip. We weren't certain how we'd feel after the hike, and if we'd want to make our way to Kyoto quickly, or take the slow road. But, yesterday, after wrapping up our hike, we decided to head straight to Nara, so we could maximize our time there, before Kyoto. As a result, we hadn't even tried to arrange our AirBnb until that evening. And, while the AirBnb owner had responded, we still hadn't received any check in info. </div>
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Fortunately, we were able to navigate our way there, and found the rental, though we still didn't have instructions on how to get in. So, while Sarah stood guard with our luggage, I made the obligatory run to Lawson Station (the Family Mart competitor) to get snacks, with the kids. </div>
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By the time we came back, with our bag of snacks, Sarah happily exclaims that she just got a message from the Airbnb person: "Door's unlocked, we can let ourselves in!"</div>
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<i>The front of the rental house.</i></div>
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After several days of hiking, and then a day of traveling, the kids needed some down time. In addition, all of our clothes were dirty and sweaty, so we needed to do some laundry. So, while Sarah and the kids read and played video games, I tried to figure out the nearby laundromat. That ended up a lot of running back and forth, a trip back to Lawson Station for some laundry soap, and a lot of trips past what appeared to be a mysterious abandoned prison around the corner from our place. But, eventually, the laundry was done. </div>
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And we were all hungry. </div>
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I'd read about an isakaya a short walk away, so we tried to go there. But, when we arrived, it turned out to not only have a crowd of tourist milling around out front, but was also all booked up for the evening. So, we headed back to what appeared to be another izakaya, a half block from our place. We peaked inside and saw a woman bartender, with a single man sitting at the bar. The both looked a little confused to have some tourist poke their heads in, but smiled and waved us in.</div>
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What followed was a very entertaining meal. Isakaya's are basically bars, but they serve food and since Japan's laws are different, there's no problem with kids coming in, too. It's just not that conventional, and this place obviously wasn't a regular stop for tourists.</div>
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Fortunately, the man had lived in the US for a while, and while his English was a little rusty, he was more than happy to jump into a lively conversation with us, while refilling our sake cups. And, for her part, the bartender filled my beer mug and began passing food across the bar to us indiscriminately. The entire atmosphere was lively and fun, and the sake didn't hurt the situation. Eventually though, it was getting late. and a pair of women had also arrived, and lit cigarettes, and the small room was getting smoky fast, so we politely said our farewells, paid our tab, and made our way home. </div>
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The next morning, both Sarah and I woke up with slightly upset stomachs. Since the kids seemed fine, we blamed some pasta salad we'd had the night before. So, we had a slow morning, to make sure things didn't get worse. </div>
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Fortunately, a short time later, both Sarah and I are feeling better, so it was time to see some deer!</div>
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Heading out, we make our way to the main east-west street, Sanjodori Street, and start heading for Nara's large central park. </div>
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Our first stop was the Kofokuji Temple complex, which had once all belonged to the second most powerful family in Japan. And, while many of the original buildings have since burnt down or otherwise been lost, still had a number of shrines, temples and a 5-stories pagoda. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHRRLoRriGRSaE_4MvYZAx5iLkv-nVPqq9Wxs-QRjQ0IkZf4fb-WCp8YkRwBreGN_O4Uncar3UTqUY16u5Q5bjjqT5sCUXyDkzVaN-5apDkV5b2j0cV0_HlJt6VIWkqycjH5ZSiAq700g/s1600/0729191814_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgHRRLoRriGRSaE_4MvYZAx5iLkv-nVPqq9Wxs-QRjQ0IkZf4fb-WCp8YkRwBreGN_O4Uncar3UTqUY16u5Q5bjjqT5sCUXyDkzVaN-5apDkV5b2j0cV0_HlJt6VIWkqycjH5ZSiAq700g/s320/0729191814_HDR.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>The pagoda and neighboring temple.</i> </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhti3YicSMv6ERZ30BpOCEN-3JMS3isDoWBP8kTmIcurEaDYskjmHmH2H0chFS6bRFbJJIQZm51Kxl_a4eNjLvStQg53aYIkQykrGa7YRZbvrOzQzzCrlC3cZqIOu3vJbaO_uRGHnK4osc/s1600/0729192102_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhti3YicSMv6ERZ30BpOCEN-3JMS3isDoWBP8kTmIcurEaDYskjmHmH2H0chFS6bRFbJJIQZm51Kxl_a4eNjLvStQg53aYIkQykrGa7YRZbvrOzQzzCrlC3cZqIOu3vJbaO_uRGHnK4osc/s320/0729192102_HDR.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>Otto rings the bell on the main shrine.</i></div>
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It was also here that we got our first peak of the deer. Probably the main reason that people come to Nara these days is the deer. Originally, left alone because they were considered sacred, they have now become, er, semi-tame and fill Nara's large park and some of the surrounding neighborhoods. Over the years, the deer have learned that, if you bow to them, and they bow back, you will give them a cracker.</div>
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So, with that in mind, we bought some crackers from a nearby vendor, to feed the deer. </div>
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But, it turns out that the deer know when you are buying the crackers, and are eager to have the crackers... and, when you have a half dozen deer coming at you, it's sort of intimidating. I barely got a couple of crackers passed to Stella, before they were on me, tugging at my backpack, prematurely bowing and one even casually bit my butt. </div>
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So, while Stella backpedaled, and hastily passed out her crackers, Otto waved off my attempts to pass him crackers, and I handed the rest out myself.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7mzUdpApBZruBSGpTd7SqeXBrRHxBBanZu8hZr-jIb6Fkl4DKFdxpL_ygHAOdAkt-d1F8ScFiVOeFlEVGSAR1YhEM8s0ih2kduZ25YAowlfGTlY_I-AGl7-vhU0_JHyKF2Tj1vbTIDTA/s1600/0730191020b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7mzUdpApBZruBSGpTd7SqeXBrRHxBBanZu8hZr-jIb6Fkl4DKFdxpL_ygHAOdAkt-d1F8ScFiVOeFlEVGSAR1YhEM8s0ih2kduZ25YAowlfGTlY_I-AGl7-vhU0_JHyKF2Tj1vbTIDTA/s400/0730191020b.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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<i>Deer swarm!</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM6lsTLGYOD_Bb_8qrpN8m1srI4j4UMS7AfMOQUJP9gMdAcnY4fXkNjg9t8mn3uDjR0xkfQ8dM-4L4VRsc33oq425zmFIYmlLimfQc3gM1-MZ-mt6UoGEt_iWD8TaBc2Hr1omRmjJrjGY/s1600/0730191021d.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM6lsTLGYOD_Bb_8qrpN8m1srI4j4UMS7AfMOQUJP9gMdAcnY4fXkNjg9t8mn3uDjR0xkfQ8dM-4L4VRsc33oq425zmFIYmlLimfQc3gM1-MZ-mt6UoGEt_iWD8TaBc2Hr1omRmjJrjGY/s320/0730191021d.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Stella and a deer bowing to each other.</i></div>
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But, while it may have been a bit daunting to feed them, the deer were still really amazing to see. It was crazy to see so many of them, and most of them had no problem with people walking up and petting them, or even taking selfies with them. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioOgjIo5N9RmngoydFKhgx184SAyBdQh9cpbHXfpfcCXHFS4P3MrxL2VFkQH4FsMCZH491gI7ngL6XGFlAiYlvb3Ojr-j8cFqzDr6_dkD-hE4wvKPKuuwboQO1DhjHkl6e-dTHUc8k4bA/s1600/0729192056b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioOgjIo5N9RmngoydFKhgx184SAyBdQh9cpbHXfpfcCXHFS4P3MrxL2VFkQH4FsMCZH491gI7ngL6XGFlAiYlvb3Ojr-j8cFqzDr6_dkD-hE4wvKPKuuwboQO1DhjHkl6e-dTHUc8k4bA/s400/0729192056b.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>Deer selfie</i>!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjIsRQ0epggc8Xc1qrERz9knebFBAz0rWF8T6kwW36wUFJo6AcUYkooHpzGE0TuFj3LHdm5iRrz3SCb461t3OEfnr8XxXRcTtEMe5r2_ffBDBDWVrs7pXSYKEKvJKTbCn6yvK4w_3O4VA/s1600/0729191837_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjIsRQ0epggc8Xc1qrERz9knebFBAz0rWF8T6kwW36wUFJo6AcUYkooHpzGE0TuFj3LHdm5iRrz3SCb461t3OEfnr8XxXRcTtEMe5r2_ffBDBDWVrs7pXSYKEKvJKTbCn6yvK4w_3O4VA/s400/0729191837_HDR.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>They even seemed to understand crosswalks. This one waited at the intersection and the cross when the lights changed. Deer crossing!</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZgIniXAg653Ouyc15CTE7s4FKrtCxlpopuaxhOz3Jehd6AFSHB2mr3YkLmhed0O7amT93DaJk8iVSgU0v35cL6k-m5cppEBtCySy62q5gJ1O8CPkCLP3E6YGEpzGwkNYd7VvCJulQ7m8/s1600/0729191842a_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZgIniXAg653Ouyc15CTE7s4FKrtCxlpopuaxhOz3Jehd6AFSHB2mr3YkLmhed0O7amT93DaJk8iVSgU0v35cL6k-m5cppEBtCySy62q5gJ1O8CPkCLP3E6YGEpzGwkNYd7VvCJulQ7m8/s400/0729191842a_HDR.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>Other tourists being swarmed by deer.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWiHFLn7WusrpuTL_ALeVxTChJiF_BckSxbgk8Sz7SreUc_IpeAgeZflT_SNegsrtcWc-7oIYvL0s1odwKnCdjFktTa-4K84CQu1gAS_ZbeHQooKz5jcMcxRveg7egdyuo2QR1qV2z4eA/s1600/0729192055_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWiHFLn7WusrpuTL_ALeVxTChJiF_BckSxbgk8Sz7SreUc_IpeAgeZflT_SNegsrtcWc-7oIYvL0s1odwKnCdjFktTa-4K84CQu1gAS_ZbeHQooKz5jcMcxRveg7egdyuo2QR1qV2z4eA/s400/0729192055_HDR.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>Sarah's turn! She quickly learned than when the bucks bowed, they also inadvertently started waking you with their horns.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJHUf01VB164iqflFNQeKR4dKJe_l3HnY6ZQerZouOv5cYITxBAH2QUug8GuC_7jzbqvGBla6i5e21RSOxgUqpOdgSU92K7y4W1BIShSC3BsiK4CLVhVhjAR5OwJsjJUOoqSogR529TtQ/s1600/0729191952.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJHUf01VB164iqflFNQeKR4dKJe_l3HnY6ZQerZouOv5cYITxBAH2QUug8GuC_7jzbqvGBla6i5e21RSOxgUqpOdgSU92K7y4W1BIShSC3BsiK4CLVhVhjAR5OwJsjJUOoqSogR529TtQ/s400/0729191952.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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<i>The kids and a deer try to beat the heat with a misting machine at a souvenir shop.</i></div>
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But, while the deer are the main attraction for most visitors, they aren't Nara's only draw. Nara also has the world's largest Bronze cast Buddha, house in one of the world's largest wood buildings. So, weaving through deer and under a giant gate, we make our way there.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi343HNlK0n1TwFVedreEGJYKoJhqtjOg063xSV1ruc7lFthgm1I0TTEC3xWDxZlZYbO4ohCtrbqNXBASWlUzi6Opr5UpekoH0E7AcwQTNHXZo5KZCTnWLyLmMkWlvdSB8jTEWvK7DC6jU/s1600/0729191856_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi343HNlK0n1TwFVedreEGJYKoJhqtjOg063xSV1ruc7lFthgm1I0TTEC3xWDxZlZYbO4ohCtrbqNXBASWlUzi6Opr5UpekoH0E7AcwQTNHXZo5KZCTnWLyLmMkWlvdSB8jTEWvK7DC6jU/s400/0729191856_HDR.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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The temple housing the Giant Buddha. It's hard to get a sense of a scale, but just look at the tiny people walking into it. And, the fact that it's all wood gives it an unexpected sense of artistry. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYIZoIgNid8oaNzEqolFqrynDSqqkElEsjq-A5YS_mp_aVG9wIJQvfjrrL6LB1rFd984XdXgpzKPKCQeEXCLMdXZfAbhW5TsYqwJeOG7Klg1QXIrzrnCY14nqPXmK5kH2q-OScxxcxmto/s1600/0729191900a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYIZoIgNid8oaNzEqolFqrynDSqqkElEsjq-A5YS_mp_aVG9wIJQvfjrrL6LB1rFd984XdXgpzKPKCQeEXCLMdXZfAbhW5TsYqwJeOG7Klg1QXIrzrnCY14nqPXmK5kH2q-OScxxcxmto/s400/0729191900a.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>The Giant Buddha. Again, hard to get a sense of scale, but those little Buddha's are effectively life-sized. Apparently, it's lost it's head 3 times over it's history. Twice when the head melted when the temple burnt down, and it once fell off in a particularly strong earthquake.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifB6q-0UaiUyw2ZmP4EggSEKLenBXWu0M2QkqARNG6vBhLcnHHPVHEkyBXlqwNC7-moKI5IUKCThaLamODZs6iPgnSPxdMYqRSrTroMUGjneqhaJECB3QDYjJSO9yZ3hFA8NCorl6zPFc/s1600/0729191903.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifB6q-0UaiUyw2ZmP4EggSEKLenBXWu0M2QkqARNG6vBhLcnHHPVHEkyBXlqwNC7-moKI5IUKCThaLamODZs6iPgnSPxdMYqRSrTroMUGjneqhaJECB3QDYjJSO9yZ3hFA8NCorl6zPFc/s400/0729191903.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>There's also a number of other statues in the temple, including this fierce fellow.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip7C2zdQ5vo5IP_VVQbLpUQdhyphenhyphenuqYzdakxdWBR0iQ5PHfslSzlRmlOt8LrLVi4o_SvUHO5hJdnIbV38h6HCbIZ_oeuTyoPHWVUYULbxLKEBZD8GIUp85GWNSeGFmHrIBHqSxNvRrAvsts/s1600/0729191906.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip7C2zdQ5vo5IP_VVQbLpUQdhyphenhyphenuqYzdakxdWBR0iQ5PHfslSzlRmlOt8LrLVi4o_SvUHO5hJdnIbV38h6HCbIZ_oeuTyoPHWVUYULbxLKEBZD8GIUp85GWNSeGFmHrIBHqSxNvRrAvsts/s400/0729191906.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>In one corner of the temple, there is a post, with a hole carved in it. It's said that, if you can squeeze through it, you will achieve Enlightenment in your lifetime. After watching another tourist nearly get stuck, Sarah and I decided to pass, but the kids slipped through as quick as can be.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXzCbsdIGDgMAK05VaABey32_k0z5yINqm1CZfAuwQS85vgdhLLSGLnDRdDTynyVLZpcEgMUlRPDIMc4LeqhWTaAyAfdgI96OXcVUcSCZk3SWcNNtAdFs43N6d-y2yp_h89M7bmVnovAM/s1600/0729191906b.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXzCbsdIGDgMAK05VaABey32_k0z5yINqm1CZfAuwQS85vgdhLLSGLnDRdDTynyVLZpcEgMUlRPDIMc4LeqhWTaAyAfdgI96OXcVUcSCZk3SWcNNtAdFs43N6d-y2yp_h89M7bmVnovAM/s400/0729191906b.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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<i>They both literally squeezed through so quick, I couldn't get a good picture of either... so these will have to do. </i></div>
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<i>On either side of the Giant Buddha, there also sat additional Very Big Buddhas, who would be an impressive centerpiece in nearly any other temple.</i></div>
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After checking out the Giant Buddha, we continued to wander through the park some more, taking in a large golden pole and a shrine surrounded by dozens of stone lanterns. But, we were also starting to get hungry and tired, so we began looking for a place to get lunch. </div>
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Eventually, we settled on a place just outside the park, which served soba noodles. So, we enjoyed those, and some air conditioning.</div>
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<i>Dabbing for soba noodles.</i></div>
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As had become tradition, after lunch, the kids were promised shaved ice for dessert. So, after a little detour so Stella could check out a stationary store we'd seen on our walk to the park, we headed down a long, covered pedestrian street, looking for a fancy shaved ice place Sarah had read good things about. </div>
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Arriving at Hoseki Hako, we were shocked (socked, I say!) to see a "sold out" sign up on the front door. Apparently, in Nara, shaved ice places need reservations! But, while we stood there, looking at the storefront dejectedly, a minor miracle happened: One of the women working there walked to the front door, opened it, and said "would you like shaved ice? We've had some reservations cancel."</div>
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Hurrah!</div>
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So, we took our seats, and ordered our shaved ice... and it was amazing. We'd had quite a bit of shaved ice, since arriving in Japan, but most of it was pretty unexceptional: Roughly shaved ice, in a paper cup, with the invariable cherry, blue Hawaiian or macha green tea flavors. But, this set a new standard. Large, with exciting flavors and toppings and immaculately made and presented.</div>
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<i>My kiwi, basil and cream shaved ice.</i></div>
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<i>Sarah excited for her peach hibiscus shaved ice. Taking a bit of the peach on top, she declared: "This is the second best piece of peach I've had in my life!"</i></div>
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As we departed, the server explained that they opened at 10am, but people queued up before 9 to secure a reservation. We decided that we'd come back the next morning to get a 10 or 10:30 reservation and enjoy another shaved ice before catching out train. But, (spoilers) by the time we arrived at 8:30, those times were already sold out.</div>
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After enjoying out shaved ice, we made our way back to our place for some downtime. When it came time for dinner, we were excited to try out an amazing smelling yakitori restaurants, but -in a twist that should surprise no one- it was already all booked up for the evening. </div>
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So, faced with two starving kids who didn't have the patience to wander around looking for some random restaurant to please mom and dad, we just made our way to the next open place we could find: An unexceptional restaurant that at least had noodles and potstickers for the kids, and a beer for me and we amused ourselves with the odd and unappetizing translations on the English language menu.</div>
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<i>"Can I get the lungs tempura and random salad?"</i></div>
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With food in our bellies, and the light fading quickly, we made our way back to our place again; wrapping up our all too brief stay in Nara.</div>
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The Generalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13882212598013962066noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377312797415153161.post-23505727861485337782019-08-07T23:05:00.001-07:002019-08-08T22:24:12.672-07:00Japan: The Kumano Kodo Trail<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The next morning, after our failed visit to the Lion Shrine (and our more successful visit to the ramen shop), we got up, did our usual Family Mart breakfast, packed up and left our Osaka Airbnb, for the next step on our journey: Hiking the Kumano Kodo Trail. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">From the earliest stages of planning our Japan Trip, we had planned on doing a hiking portion. We've learned, after several trips with the kids, that it's best to balance busy city days with less hectic rural or wilderness days. Initially, we'd discussed going to Japanese northern-most major island, Hokkaido. But, when it became apparent that trying to get from the Kyoto region to Hokkaido would be difficult on our time table, we started looking for hiking opportunities closer to Kyoto. And, that's when we discovered the Kumano Kodo Trail. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The Kumano Kodo is an ancient Shinto pilgrimage trail, crisscrossing the Kii Pennisula and connecting three major Shinto Shrine. It is also one of two pilgrimages trails recognized as a UNESCO World Heritage site, the other being the more famous Camino de Santiago in Spain. To do the whole trail takes a week or more, but working with a travel agency, Sarah was able to arrange a 3 day version, stopping in a different village each night, and taking in two of the three major shrines. As an added bonus, they would drive our luggage to the next guesthouse for us, meaning we'd only have to carry day packs.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #001000; font-family: inherit;">We just had to get there. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #001000; font-family: inherit;">So, leaving our apartment, we caught a bus to the train station, and caught a train to the town of Tanabe, south of Osaka, in the nick of time. Unfortunately, the train was packed when we boarded, and we found ourselves standing, or in the kids case "sitting on the floor," for the first few stops; until the crowd thinned out and we could eventually grab a pair of seat.</span></div>
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<i>Riding the train. Stella, especially, was bummed to not get a seat right away.</i></div>
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A couple of hours later, we unloaded off the train in Tanabe, and quickly found the travel agencies offices, where we were about to drop off our bags. The bus we needed to catch, didn't arrive for a couple of hours, so we took in a Shrine, which was dedicated to a pair of roosters. The roosters had been apparently used by two armies, in a cock fight. Tanabe used to have a powerful navy, and it was determined that Tanabe's army would join the army whose rooster won the fight. The white rooster won, and Tanabe's navy joined the corresponding side, turning the tide in the way.</div>
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After that, it was lunch in a tiny pocket of a restaurant, down an alley, where the woman serving waved us in with her cigarette, and instructed us to pick three dishes each for the set price. The food was good, if unnoteworthy, but you could tell the whole situation was a bit daunting for the kids. So, after that, it was shaved ice, and then lounging at the bus station.</div>
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The bus ride itself was roughly two hours long, winding through wilderness valleys and stopping regularly for people to board or depart. We passed scenic house and farms, fishermen and foresty vistas. For the most part, the kids got along, playing nicely with each other... but as we neared the two hour mark, you could tell they were starting to get stir-crazy. As we neared our stop, I started to fret about where we were supposed to be dropped off, but eventually, we were deposited at the first major shrine, the Kumano Hongu Taisha.</div>
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The shrine itself was located across the street from the bus stop, and up some stairs... a lot of stairs. </div>
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<i>Going up.</i></div>
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As we hiked the flag lined stairs, we discussed with the kids the do's and don't of Shinto Shrines. How to ceremonially wash your hands. How to bow before and after ending. The ritual of deposit a coin, ring the bell, bow twice, clap twice, say a prayer and bow again. Mind you, we were just learning all that ourselves. </div>
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<i>Otto washing his hands.</i></div>
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At the top of the stairs was the main shrine itself. A number of buildings, each with a shrine which (we only learned after the fact) you were supposed to visit in a certain order. Then back down the stairs. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxz-uJQjqg42TVEsN0rbE_CJ2BzA4sl8fRA_784dP50Nvr_POLpmsLa64JnxkdB-xDzXNYvovZe9oiw-_o1wb44SbuyVU4lmRIOTfjYgPiC8NDy0IDgj1BKLtUwhsHvEn9mPJbA64jwFw/s1600/0725192314a_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxz-uJQjqg42TVEsN0rbE_CJ2BzA4sl8fRA_784dP50Nvr_POLpmsLa64JnxkdB-xDzXNYvovZe9oiw-_o1wb44SbuyVU4lmRIOTfjYgPiC8NDy0IDgj1BKLtUwhsHvEn9mPJbA64jwFw/s400/0725192314a_HDR.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>The shrine complex. On the flag, you can see the three-legged crow, which is the sign of the Kumano Kodo.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5x6jTyVJTAjrH3Q0HbJYX8gr1UsR7dDK3l5i7FOI5DIUZJxkDKBcUhaTr9dD4YFG-0wlpGJOq9aILbCvBkntjmCXS4Hhrp3d6Qg7IiRIpVqhrDNX9VrvZmFqHFGnKVB4jAbmuzVWeUpY/s1600/0725192322.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: #0066cc; font-family: Times New Roman; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5x6jTyVJTAjrH3Q0HbJYX8gr1UsR7dDK3l5i7FOI5DIUZJxkDKBcUhaTr9dD4YFG-0wlpGJOq9aILbCvBkntjmCXS4Hhrp3d6Qg7IiRIpVqhrDNX9VrvZmFqHFGnKVB4jAbmuzVWeUpY/s400/0725192322.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>...And back down.</i></div>
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Across the street, and down a path through a rice paddy, was the site of the original location of the shrine, and the present day site of Japan's largest torii gate. Truly awe inspiring in scale. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLHJp2zWac8zol67r67rggTrJzaXnbBZRQjqWYZLzdBh5vAJy6Pmh0GF-41oXc_o4cmmqYu09aFx3Dn-ryTcHyCIwS8kRh6EsyDJcJ08GyxfshYJSXtufbSVx8UrPhPRG7lOVZlZbb-zE/s1600/0725192327.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLHJp2zWac8zol67r67rggTrJzaXnbBZRQjqWYZLzdBh5vAJy6Pmh0GF-41oXc_o4cmmqYu09aFx3Dn-ryTcHyCIwS8kRh6EsyDJcJ08GyxfshYJSXtufbSVx8UrPhPRG7lOVZlZbb-zE/s400/0725192327.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>I love this picture, but...</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOc_h7XXAxZqxoTRNe2cGCyzMxEG9iaCMYQjcIQsGyaxw9wLnf6heD1q85iOT_CDASqu_3EmkGAEWdHZTJy0nVoxqxt1xVm2I9cvrETVul7PbVnEWqaQ-LNk2ospETiGbhyphenhyphenRcvJL331b0/s1600/0725192330a_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOc_h7XXAxZqxoTRNe2cGCyzMxEG9iaCMYQjcIQsGyaxw9wLnf6heD1q85iOT_CDASqu_3EmkGAEWdHZTJy0nVoxqxt1xVm2I9cvrETVul7PbVnEWqaQ-LNk2ospETiGbhyphenhyphenRcvJL331b0/s400/0725192330a_HDR.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>...this picture probably better depicts the gate's size. Note tiny Otto, who isn't even half the height of the gate's concrete base.</i></div>
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Beyond the gate was the original shrine's location, and then we began to follow the trail in earnest. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgBObkpR_r8NSui5eBJnCzGSfqrFVRfTUmDeDeOrECOwuzC2yAbbkF9PUWykuX6lBa3AEeRFpOj5OUhSp5J0uiRmCw5Sx-YbzLwJp_-qrASzvWZmwOTT2Pw2OPN0OzoWPzI6lwdW2cjzM/s1600/0725192345.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgBObkpR_r8NSui5eBJnCzGSfqrFVRfTUmDeDeOrECOwuzC2yAbbkF9PUWykuX6lBa3AEeRFpOj5OUhSp5J0uiRmCw5Sx-YbzLwJp_-qrASzvWZmwOTT2Pw2OPN0OzoWPzI6lwdW2cjzM/s400/0725192345.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>We're on the trail!</i></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The first portion of the trail was wound up... way up. This first day, we were only hiking about 2 miles, but we quickly realized that the first half of the day's hike would be a climb, and the second half would be an equally steep descent. Also, we got our first taste of hiking in 90 degree weather, with something like 90% humidity. Brutal. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDsER5GqCi0FrunVnDfyBkzmQYcgvp6AVcuDZ6Bn3tVbXkQy14z9hU0OWKFzY7Focx9RJ19OGhUVjtAITKg_-XW0ZbQqrQlxL0ses3r2ofS9SM2yxgww3Oefk5_wx-QjVZ98HR1vgO4fo/s1600/0725192355.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDsER5GqCi0FrunVnDfyBkzmQYcgvp6AVcuDZ6Bn3tVbXkQy14z9hU0OWKFzY7Focx9RJ19OGhUVjtAITKg_-XW0ZbQqrQlxL0ses3r2ofS9SM2yxgww3Oefk5_wx-QjVZ98HR1vgO4fo/s400/0725192355.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>Otto running ahead. Obviously more energy than his parents</i>.</div>
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But, in addition, to all the up-up-up, we also came across several small shrine in the woods, and neat signs of the trails age: In one set of steps, you could see foot prints worn into the stone from generations of pilgrims hiking over them.</div>
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As we reached the ridge, and began our decent down, that humidity only increased, and we began to feel the pitter-patter of rain around us, and on our heads and shoulders. And, as we reached our destination, the onsen town of Yumano, that pitter-pattered became a downpour. Fortunately, we were able to find our guesthouse quickly, and check in.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSZ5FwkhFilWXIGj2q8U_oL4Dh6apGOKRy1V9M6AVNOoA0nLpWndCD6i0-z6a1qyWklLouTkrIhgPi1eC0BgUTx-jJ3vyH44thPO3GFuMCTMV5j57paqTTEAydyacN928FTJ3Y84w8hXk/s1600/0726190049.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSZ5FwkhFilWXIGj2q8U_oL4Dh6apGOKRy1V9M6AVNOoA0nLpWndCD6i0-z6a1qyWklLouTkrIhgPi1eC0BgUTx-jJ3vyH44thPO3GFuMCTMV5j57paqTTEAydyacN928FTJ3Y84w8hXk/s400/0726190049.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>Entering Yumano. You could smell the sulfur of the hot springs over the smell of the rain.</i></div>
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The guesthouse, which had, maybe four guestrooms, and it's own private thermal tubs, was run by a friendly and talkative lady who gave us a thorough run down of what's what, while really, only speaking about six words of English. Dinner was served at a set time, so we had a brief time to relax before making our way to the dining room for what would be an amazing meal.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_pzr3Z-wumX9GAkpMJC9WEHxtpv5bt0e7XfHZ8o6XWYca3Mj84oiwuPYLhLivJFXRG-aURDIQf0hj3m5uiRzetkZYWcxbVvCXBSQqyhyVzhEuPxxQFXmfcqxksd3Od2UksKJtjxI8QNU/s1600/0726190149.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_pzr3Z-wumX9GAkpMJC9WEHxtpv5bt0e7XfHZ8o6XWYca3Mj84oiwuPYLhLivJFXRG-aURDIQf0hj3m5uiRzetkZYWcxbVvCXBSQqyhyVzhEuPxxQFXmfcqxksd3Od2UksKJtjxI8QNU/s400/0726190149.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>Too many courses to detail, but all immaculately well prepared, and fresh.</i> </div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">After dinner, it was time for our first baths in an onsen. To those unfamiliar with bathing at an onsen, like I was, it's quite an experience. Basically, you are divided up by gender and bath in a communal bathroom. First up, you sit, naked on a stool, where you soap and shampoo up, and then dump buckets of hot water over yourself to wash off. After that, you climb into a large tub, heated geothermally, to rest and relax. If you aren't used to semi-public nudity or are worried about making sure you follow local customs, it can be a bit daunting. But, since the guesthouse had it's own, private onsen, it allowed Otto and I to navigate our first baths with minimal embarrassment. </span></div>
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Back in our rooms, tired from hiking, full of food, and relaxed from the hot bath, we all crashed pretty much straight away. </div>
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The next morning, it was still downpouring. In fact, over breakfast, we heard from a pair of Danish hikers that there was actually a typhoon off the coast of Japan, and -while it wouldn't be coming inland- it was dumping a ton of water, and would be dumping water until sometime in the afternoon.</div>
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Still, the trail wasn't going to hike itself! So, we finished breakfast, packed our bags, threw on our rain jackets, checked out of our room, and headed out to catch the bus to the trailhead.</div>
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The town of Yumano is actually one of the major destinations along the trail. You see it in all the tourist videos. But, because of the rain, we sadly wouldn't get much opportunity to check it out. Still, making our way to the bus stop, we could take in some of it's charm and beauty. I could see that, if given more time and better weather, I would probably like it in the same way I enjoyed McCloud Ganj in India. </div>
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<i>In the rain, on the way to bus.</i></div>
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<i>The river steaming because of the hot springs, and roiling from the typhoon's rain.</i></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">A short bus ride later, and a quick stop from lunch food, and we began our first full day of hiking. This day would be roughly 8 miles long. 8 wet miles. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">But, even from the start, we were making delightful surprises, like mountain crabs! Did you know crabs live in the forest, in Japan? Well, apparently, they do. And, they're bright orange.</span></div>
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<i>These little crabs would appear on the trail from time to time. Usually, not far from small streams that, presumably are their main home. </i></div>
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Equally impressive, but maybe not quite as charming, were the giant, purple worms. How big where they? This big!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWYzL07ICl-ncidegLVIMZaFx6Op9RkVS5rtRBS17CREpmhJlpJRmCaQ5weZJG12-a7rM4On7AJcWzva-cCHhP0pOgFroHGQefo29sNLhnXi4I57Rrox7LgzS1oWkvL33G7iFgzYcfG0w/s1600/0726192050a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWYzL07ICl-ncidegLVIMZaFx6Op9RkVS5rtRBS17CREpmhJlpJRmCaQ5weZJG12-a7rM4On7AJcWzva-cCHhP0pOgFroHGQefo29sNLhnXi4I57Rrox7LgzS1oWkvL33G7iFgzYcfG0w/s400/0726192050a.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>This one was easily over a foot long, and thicker than any of the kids' fingers.</i></div>
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And what do the crabs eat? The giant worms, of course, as we learned later.</div>
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Also, early on, we see some small frogs, a snake and a centipede we'd been warned had a painful bite.</div>
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After several hours of hiking through heavy rain and mist, we reached a stunning viewpoint, and as luck would have it the clouds thinned, the rain reduced to a drizzle and things began to improve weather-wise. And, what a view it was!</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOmhXycr5UDXJs0-a8xoIMPAzAS6cKBMolY0T7e4gw4a60MPqxvkk-gqDqLLcOGUhpa43se4uw-LJ6ddO5DxgJJcHMEvoWDJP300NuebGruXAWPHrE_uBu0hvTI85HbRytHfwrn6DMN6c/s1600/0726191915_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOmhXycr5UDXJs0-a8xoIMPAzAS6cKBMolY0T7e4gw4a60MPqxvkk-gqDqLLcOGUhpa43se4uw-LJ6ddO5DxgJJcHMEvoWDJP300NuebGruXAWPHrE_uBu0hvTI85HbRytHfwrn6DMN6c/s400/0726191915_HDR.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>Clouds rising from the trees. Hills and mountains disappearing into the distance. You usually don't equate Japan with this sort of wilderness.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAyrfL9IWu9u9UXFVrPponMYtdwvW2amaBNO9J63J5mWdnzjp-gPNluZjAVXotrJS5ImONBLB_-8XZTTJvjSevJIu6QkG0UQVKAXSiHs0rnTuNSjbHn4ORYd-i2e-MCFJ05nIS0GGv1BA/s1600/0726191916b_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAyrfL9IWu9u9UXFVrPponMYtdwvW2amaBNO9J63J5mWdnzjp-gPNluZjAVXotrJS5ImONBLB_-8XZTTJvjSevJIu6QkG0UQVKAXSiHs0rnTuNSjbHn4ORYd-i2e-MCFJ05nIS0GGv1BA/s400/0726191916b_HDR.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>A rare photo of Sarah and I together, standing at the viewpoint. You can both see how soaked we are, and also see one of the countless little shrines that dotted the trail.</i></div>
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<span style="color: #004000;"></span><span style="font-family: inherit;">All along the trail, we'd encounter little shrines. Some would be simple statues, propped on a small base, but other's were more built up, after with unique details or piles or cairns of rock stacked around them. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Details from the trail...</i></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm3Ixmyu9MhhSUmIaSWefoEwBMRA9QgFLsGNJqEIGLwaBdMr27fUoIEzyewwLod4aBq-nC1XxzvtRLkX5OzbPPGIT__GV47i9qt4UY91mGRhBXI2xoJmtR1vjZpczQfu4ZA3_UQU_jKSc/s1600/0726192003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><i><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm3Ixmyu9MhhSUmIaSWefoEwBMRA9QgFLsGNJqEIGLwaBdMr27fUoIEzyewwLod4aBq-nC1XxzvtRLkX5OzbPPGIT__GV47i9qt4UY91mGRhBXI2xoJmtR1vjZpczQfu4ZA3_UQU_jKSc/s400/0726192003.jpg" width="300" /></i></a></div>
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<i>This shrine had countless stones piles around it, presumably from countless pilgrims.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvztGaacVjTinNqIqTkTurL5CW-2AxIsWlyRTkuheY6ZKOL_KhUbPGJjc1FAi_hyphenhyphen076UJ4DWgRybcAtfC3PeYZDuU470SVX0dQ4edbPrysjTRkt55AY0Zfr92L-4ULCocWWdY629cgDjc/s1600/0726192302_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvztGaacVjTinNqIqTkTurL5CW-2AxIsWlyRTkuheY6ZKOL_KhUbPGJjc1FAi_hyphenhyphen076UJ4DWgRybcAtfC3PeYZDuU470SVX0dQ4edbPrysjTRkt55AY0Zfr92L-4ULCocWWdY629cgDjc/s400/0726192302_HDR.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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<i>One of the more built up trailside shrines. It has a bell, and the plants seem to indicate someone maintains it.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtTBcDZQDHp-1Zupx5pRSOotMPAc0T9acGIrt62kx5pkleCg-u42fKC6DiifSfB9rtRQqqRR-LaLSTO10vi8Ame5dS3imbyPNVrLedJCjVP-zle6DrBz5mJFOJ-0FfgCqJhooW8oF9akw/s1600/0726192212.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtTBcDZQDHp-1Zupx5pRSOotMPAc0T9acGIrt62kx5pkleCg-u42fKC6DiifSfB9rtRQqqRR-LaLSTO10vi8Ame5dS3imbyPNVrLedJCjVP-zle6DrBz5mJFOJ-0FfgCqJhooW8oF9akw/s400/0726192212.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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<i>Another shrine being reclaimed by the forest</i>.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghC_WDLvYksLkvQ-VlJDcyfsPO6PbfIhMiqZDI4VVTEZbP53mZPD_7nJH4qHf_Z_9eO1Gtj8N-h1au4sdynpH5BsNKDD3XO8k9GZUJjxdlVIrRyIvueRgBayEWXy47QZtl4ALBS3nD3ZI/s1600/0726192114.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghC_WDLvYksLkvQ-VlJDcyfsPO6PbfIhMiqZDI4VVTEZbP53mZPD_7nJH4qHf_Z_9eO1Gtj8N-h1au4sdynpH5BsNKDD3XO8k9GZUJjxdlVIrRyIvueRgBayEWXy47QZtl4ALBS3nD3ZI/s400/0726192114.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>Not a shrine, but we'd occasionally hike along this ancient walls. Presumably part of the network of guesthouses and tea houses that used to dot the trail.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyUyptWLeXr2CtX-22tTe0WtRJawr36W-0_Nad5bEq1yUB13RLlPoOu_Fok-pirkRzw_XZWZBjtcuYidRnEIWlOkC4FaiNcqAOiXJIl_0ozw3XLy-TIP6ycRkXepiq67QNPWvyapF03Ys/s1600/0726192126.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyUyptWLeXr2CtX-22tTe0WtRJawr36W-0_Nad5bEq1yUB13RLlPoOu_Fok-pirkRzw_XZWZBjtcuYidRnEIWlOkC4FaiNcqAOiXJIl_0ozw3XLy-TIP6ycRkXepiq67QNPWvyapF03Ys/s400/0726192126.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>These poem stones started appearing late in the day. Sadly, no translation. </i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-f72q5GeyWBo2KryqeFLH0Xbh84bwn0HFq3u4N_OXXYQhR29Iml6aMwo1jJ1NbsCUvNpHVqWHtoRQpq2fu-WyhzEpKAf-GKq8UsJs8CalIxwbbf1XFCfmjJik8fcWItsZps_FRrkBnaQ/s1600/0726192030.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-f72q5GeyWBo2KryqeFLH0Xbh84bwn0HFq3u4N_OXXYQhR29Iml6aMwo1jJ1NbsCUvNpHVqWHtoRQpq2fu-WyhzEpKAf-GKq8UsJs8CalIxwbbf1XFCfmjJik8fcWItsZps_FRrkBnaQ/s320/0726192030.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>Less common, but at key point's there were also these stamp stations. The kids each had a "passport" that they could put their stamps in, as we came across them. Each stamp was unique with well designed images depicting the importance of the location. </i></div>
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<span style="color: #004000; font-family: inherit;">At lunch we were able to stop at a covered picnic table, where we able to dig into our rice balls, and other food from the little grocery store. We also shared the space with the Danes we'd talked to at breakfast. They were one of the few people we encountered on the trail (the only other people we saw were a middle aged Japanese couple that was following a bit behind us, and a single Japanese man we saw hiking the other direction).</span></div>
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<span style="color: #004000; font-family: inherit;">After lunch, the trail began to crawl down more and, while the rain had stopped, the rocks were slippery and felt more treacherous than when we'd been headed upward. The kids were doing well, overall, with Otto and I monologuing about (invented) "harranaga mushrooms" in an (equally invented) accent that sounded sort of like a drunk Woody Harrelson. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />Finally, we passed another covered area, next to the remains of an old teahouse, before descending down into the final valley of the hike. We crossed a bridge, had a soft drink break at a concession machine, then made the final push along the river, over a highway tunnel, and down into the small town we were supposed to meet the shuttle for our next guesthouse at.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">After getting lost briefly, we find the payphone, and Sarah calls the guesthouse, while I take the kids across the street to get a snack from a grocery store run by an extremely sweet older woman. Then, while we rest and wait for our shuttle, we see a large group of men in matching outfits come marching down out of the forest, singing and chanting the whole way. Obviously pilgrims. Having completed their hike for the day, they load into a pair of parked mini-vans and head off to wherever they were staying that night. </span></div>
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<i>The pilgrims emerging from the forest, singing the whole way.</i></div>
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<i>Snacks and a beer, while we wait.</i></div>
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The shuttle arrives and takes us a half hour's drive away, past a dozen or so beautiful waterfalls, to the onzen where we were staying that night. This place, which apparently used to be some sort of school or gymnasium, is a lot larger than the previous nights guesthouse. Tired from a long wet day, we eat quickly, bath and then crash. Tomorrow is the <i>long</i> day.</div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The next morning, we wake up early, pack, eat breakfast, collect our pre-made lunches (provided by the hotel) and catch the shuttle back to the trail head. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">This next part was the part we were probably the most worried about: 4.5km... almost entire straight uphill. And, the uphill starts nearly right away. First, it is a series of mossy, stone stairs, but eventually, that gives way to a rocky slope that seems to extend up forever through anonymous forest. </span><span style="font-size: x-small;"><br /></span></div>
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<i>Otto having triumphantly completed another flight of ancient stairs.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKx40kuCLzFDkt2SgItgxhaB1m9mjbmaTpiad-U7s3V9O0yj34B_6Vd5ieaLT6NLa0QPylUL2awMr9ri-bdICgMJwIS094863SAXRIfZqRj0PXxUS3shluNxi4ZVR3uWBwT0nr6qRSYOc/s1600/0727191843.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKx40kuCLzFDkt2SgItgxhaB1m9mjbmaTpiad-U7s3V9O0yj34B_6Vd5ieaLT6NLa0QPylUL2awMr9ri-bdICgMJwIS094863SAXRIfZqRj0PXxUS3shluNxi4ZVR3uWBwT0nr6qRSYOc/s320/0727191843.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<i>Up, up, a great day for up! This is what the trail looked like for a good 2 km.</i></div>
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<i></i><span style="font-family: inherit;"><br />By the time we were nearing the top of the big uphill portion, I was getting concerned. Otto was starting to get small blisters on his heel, Stella was complaining about a toe, and we'd already drunk nearly 3 of our 5 bottles of water. And, we still had 7+ miles of hiking ahead of us. In addition, we had these large bugs that may have been bees, or maybe just flies, circling us occasionally spooking the kids (and I). Morale was low. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">On the upside, we kept seeing charming little lizards skittering off the trail ahead of us.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Finally, we reach the highest point, and celebrate with some oranges. In the heat, and tired, they were amazing oranges. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Shortly after that we came across a scenic stream, and then a detour onto a logging road we knew we'd have to follow for about an hour. The river provided a fun distraction for Otto, as he and I splashed our faces in it.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Continuing down the road, despite seeing a deer, the kids begin to get cranky and whiny. Realizing they are hungry, we take a brief break to eat dried fruit and gummy candy. Then, continue on down the road. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Soon enough, the detour reunites with the trail, and we are treated to a surprise: An old teahouse location. And, next to that, a large, new shrine but -more importantly- a covered picnic table! A bathrooms! And concession machines!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">So, we buy cold drinks, plop ourselves down at picnic table, and dig into our pre-made lunches. Morale turns around quickly!</span></div>
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<i>Japanese style lunchboxes!</i></div>
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<i>The shrine, seen across a koi pond.</i></div>
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With bellies full of lunch, we head out to finish our hike. For a short while, we are walking along a paved mountain road, where the old trail (barely visible through the trees) run parallel and now lies abandoned. Otto uses this portion to continue to splash his face, and take "showers" with the water that emerges from the hillside. </div>
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After reuniting with the trail, we continue along, near a river, and occasionally our trail feels like a stream itself, with so much water from the previous days downpour still running down it.</div>
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<i>We can only imagine how much water would have been on the trail if we hiked this portion yesterday.</i></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">After this, it's ups and down... but on the trail, and emotionally. We are all tired, and the kids are obviously spent. Their moods waxing and waning with the trail condition. At times, they are chatty, talking our ears off about Minecraft or what they want to be when they grow up, and at other times they are angry, and only want to complain and ask when will we be there.</span></div>
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<i>A beetle. I just posted it here because it's pretty.</i></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">But, eventually, our trail emerges into what appears to be a large park, and we begin to wind down through it, past what appears to be a giant, metal slide, toward the final shrine: Kumano Nachi Taisha. After way too many stairs, we finally emerge onto Kumano Nachi Taisha, which actually consists of the shrine itself, a beautiful pagota, a Buddhist Temple and numerous other builds... and in the distance, Japanese tallest waterfall: Nachi-no-Otaki.</span></div>
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<i>The kids, taking in the view, having just hiked approximately 20 miles over three days.</i></div>
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<i>The pagoda with the waterfall in the background. (We actually saw the two guys from the Netherlands in the distance, while we were standing here. The kids tried to run after them like they were old friends, which probably went to show how desperate they were to talk to people who were their family.)</i></div>
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<i>Buddhist temples, part of the complex of buildings.</i></div>
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<i>The main Shinto shrine. A lot of the builds were covered and seemed to be in the middle of renovation. I've read somewhere that Shinto ideas of purity mean that they tear down and rebuild their shrines every 20 years.</i></div>
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<span style="color: #004000; font-family: inherit;">But, while the builds and waterfall were beautiful, we'd arrived late enough that everything was in the process of closing down. In addition, the kids were still tired, cranky and hungry, and we were beginning to worry we would be late to check into our guesthouse. So, we moved on, first getting lost for a bit, before finally finding the trail that descended down to our guesthouse.</span></div>
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<i>It would have been really beautiful, except at this point my knees were killing me, and we were rushing to check in before dinner.</i></div>
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The guesthouse this night was actually a really neat experience, since we were doing a home stay and actually staying at the house of an older Japanese woman. When we arrived at her beautifully landscaped house, she greeted us warming, helped us settle in, and drove us down to the neighborhood onzen to clean up while she made dinner. The onzen was a large building with modern cleaning stations and both an indoor and outdoor tub. Despite still feeling awkward, and worrying that my tattoos made me look like Yakuza, it was still a neat experience. </div>
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Returning to the house, we were treated to another really great meal, before retiring to bed satisfied. </div>
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Our hike complete.</div>
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<i>Sarah, delighted by another amazing meal.</i></div>
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<i>The kids, just grateful for some indoor screen time.</i></div>
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<br />The Generalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13882212598013962066noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377312797415153161.post-43983854562920834132019-08-05T22:43:00.001-07:002019-08-08T22:23:54.569-07:00Japan: Arrival and Osaka<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7oEeXQ577nXu8LBp5xVg8X8NldGOYv5T3ZHMql88dqapRp3S8mMyN_w-BCz-a9VpjvF_YgilSDsTp1AKhPajucj24aO99WGgqaXjas-UCgFFNDTwvoo40xQsaUbZZhyg1tVmdohW395U/s1600/tyler_reporting.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="31" data-original-width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7oEeXQ577nXu8LBp5xVg8X8NldGOYv5T3ZHMql88dqapRp3S8mMyN_w-BCz-a9VpjvF_YgilSDsTp1AKhPajucj24aO99WGgqaXjas-UCgFFNDTwvoo40xQsaUbZZhyg1tVmdohW395U/s1600/tyler_reporting.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: inherit;">Well, let's get this out of the way first: The route to Osaka was rough. In total it contained: An Uber ride, a 10 hour flight, an hour bus ride, a second hour long flight, a monorail, a train and subway... before we were finally deposited a couple blocks from our Airbnb, and spent a measurable amount of time standing in darkened backstreets, staring at Google maps on our phone, looking up at random doors and positing, "is that the door?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">It also didn't help that we only learned about the bus ride when we checked out luggage in at Sea-Tac airport, and the person there explained that while our flight to Tokyo landed in Narita Airport, our flight from there to Osaka departed from Haneda airport, roughly an hour away. Fortunately, while I tried to quell my stress with a beer, Sarah sprung into action and arranged a limousine bus ride the two, and we crossed our fingers that we'd be able to navigate collecting baggage, customs, catching our bus, dropping off luggage again and making it through Haneda security in the 3 hours we had. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">When we finally did arrive in Tokyo, 10 hours later, Otto (who had spent the entirety of the flight cheerful watching movies and playing video games) promptly fell sound asleep. Fortunately, while he wouldn't wake up fully, we could effectively guide him as he sleep walked through the rest of the commute, refusing to hold my hand, fearlessly careening through clumps of Japanese travelers, but generally, capably following our lead.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">From our seats in the limousine bus, Sarah and I got our first peaks of Japan, and we both agreed that we felt like it reminded us of Hawaii a bit: Lots of green. Green hills. Striking clouded skies. Sudden, fierce rain showers.</span></div>
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<i>Otto making his way to Japan.</i></div>
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<i></i><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">We made our flight to Osaka, and then navigated the series of railed vehicles, with the help of several friendly and helpful Japanese travelers and attendant. That was another thing Sarah and I noticed right away. No sooner would we stop to figure out where we were or to buy a ticket, than some random person would swoop in to help us. It was definitely appreciated, as we navigated the public transportation system, with several large backpacks, one tired kid and one sleepwalker in tow, while trying to climatize to the sweltering heat. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">All that said, we were able to successful navigate the gauntlet, and finally crashed onto our sleep mats, in our new, temporary home. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Because of the wonders of international travel, and crossing the date line, we left for Japan early on the 22nd, but didn't arrive until late the 23rd. So, our bodies awoke early on the 24th, both confused about what time it was, and eager to start exploring. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">I was the first to venture out, but just to run to a corner market, fittingly named Family Mart, to grab a selection of breakfast food. Family Mart, and it's compete chain, Lawson Station, would become our defacto breakfast provider for much of this trip, with a selection of pastries, mochi, yogurt and the all important "Coffee Boss" (actually "Craft Boss Coffee," but we just referred to it as "Coffee Boss").</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Full of food and coffee, we made our way to the subway station, bought a day pass, and caught the subway to Osaka Castle, located in a large green area, in the center of the city. Emerging from the subway, we were again blasted by the heat and humidity, and by the veritable roar of cicadas. We don't really have cicadas in Washington, or at least in any meaningful number, but I'd heard them a few times on other trips, but this was definitely taking things to the next level. </span></div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dwDrvrUWl_T6PxtyqCpXTtYdjGoPYeS3duyAgL9xfj0jOgP9BXco7TzCc_6cvqbGaUsleKKYmJnirIHb88ShA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">After a quick detour for Otto to get a messy ice cream cone from the omnipresent vending machines that fill Japan and for our first of many shaved ices, we wandered the grounds, taking in the awesome scale of both the castle itself, and the walls and moats that surround it. Avoiding large bees and marveling at giant black and blue butterflies. Nearing the entrance to the castle itself, we decided to not go in, but instead made our way around the backside to it, and began a long, hot, but beautiful walk to a curry Udon place we'd located. </span></div>
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<i>The outer moat and wall for the castle. </i></div>
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<i>Sarah and the kids, just outside the castle.</i></div>
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<i>Carrying on to the far side of the castle grounds.</i></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Despite our breakfast and several cool-down snacks, this was our first real meal in Japan, and it didn't disappoint. The curry udon was super tasty, the restaurant was small and quaint and the food was all severed by a cadre of elder Japanese women who seemed pleased to serve us despite the language barrier. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">After dinner, we decided to take a break from the heat, and caught a subway out to Osaka's Aquarium, on the city's revitalized waterfront. Now, while I don't think of aquariums as a "must see" destination, it seems like Sarah and I have now been to our fair share, having not just been to Seattle's, but also Dallas, Libon and Cape Town's aquariums. And, of those, Osaka's might have been the most impressive in terms of sheer scale. It's a winding corkscrew of tunnels and viewing areas, including such crowd pleasers as dolphins and penguins (probably the kids' favorite), but the literal and figurative centerpiece is a giant, multi-story tank big enough to include not one, but two whale sharks. I never thought I'd actually see a real whale shark, but here were two, swimming before me. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Pretty amazing. </span></div>
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<i>The kids watching the penguins. Their favorites.</i></div>
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<i>I would say "people for scale" but the curve of the glass actually makes the whale shark look smaller here than it did in real life.</i></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">Having spent several hours navigating the crowds and taking in everything from giant rays, to sea turtles to sun fish and jelly fish, we boarded the subway again, and returned home to give the kids a little downtime, and relax with a cold beers (and some burger flavored chips). </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;">After Sarah had a brief nap, and the kids some screen time, it was time to brave Dotonbori for dinner. To get an idea of what Dotonbori was like, imagine if Times Square was a seemingly never ending avenue, decorated with over the top Japanese signage, and giant animatronic crabs. Rather than describe it, though, let's just look at some pictures. </span></div>
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<i>One of, like, three animatronic crabs we saw.</i></div>
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<i>The canal, one street over, where some sort of ceremonial boat was being navigated down it, to the rhythm of a large drum.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu7Z3mfDtqGbdozkjfZgj-txPcF8F2Qvv5hSZ-pHwR_CRFHol42n9zB4I2jKM5RUOHZCa7PgfmjAZabUxfWzHZE4Hs8KMah0y8ZLp1skr8A25D2-5VzxCx-pfOQp5l55ymOArz6H1oRTs/s1600/0724190343_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu7Z3mfDtqGbdozkjfZgj-txPcF8F2Qvv5hSZ-pHwR_CRFHol42n9zB4I2jKM5RUOHZCa7PgfmjAZabUxfWzHZE4Hs8KMah0y8ZLp1skr8A25D2-5VzxCx-pfOQp5l55ymOArz6H1oRTs/s400/0724190343_HDR.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>Lights, sounds and crowds.</i></div>
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S<i>nack and water break.</i></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: small;"><i></i><br /></span></div>
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The plan had been to sort of eat our way down the length of Dotonbori, but while we did sample some Okonomiyaki (think a potato and cabbage pancake, with barbeque sauce and bonito flakes on it), jet lag was still catching up with us. All of us quickly began to feel overwhelmed, with Otto refusing to eat anything more than a couple of people of sushi, and the rest of us finding the noise and crowds more tiring than exhilarating. So, after soaking it the scene for a bit, we decided to call it a night and head back. </div>
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But... the night would have other plans for us. Earlier, when we got off the subway, I related how the writer in one article I had read had said that "every person gets lost at Namba Station at least once." Apparently, it was our turn. Namba Station and the attached Namba Park shopping mall is a sprawling, largely underground complex of subway stations and a warren of stores and restaurants, and almost as soon as we entered it, we were lost. </div>
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It quickly looked like things were going to get bleak, with both the kids fading fast, and Sarah and I quickly getting irritable at the situation and (possibly) each other. But, thankfully, we finally managed to track down our stop to get home. Usually, I like to brag about my navigation skills, but I'm pretty sure that Sarah gets credit that time. </div>
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The next morning starts very much like the first: A trip to Family Mart, some breakfast, coffee and out the door.<br />
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We decide to start our day by walking to Den-Den Town, a neighborhood that Otto knew he wanted to see, from the first time I described it to him. Den-Den Town (which translates to Electric Town) had original started as a neighborhood specializing in electronic, but in the years since, it's slowly become the cities anime, manga and video game mecca.<br />
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The hike to Den-Den Town wasn't long and -thankfully- it was still early enough that it hadn't gotten too hot yet. Stores were just beginning to open when we arrived. The first place we ducked into way a narrow, multi-story shop. The first floor was entirely dedicated to cell phone. The second, video games. The third rented manga DVDs and Blu-Rays. And the forth, final, floor was a manga library. Playing video games on the second floor, Otto seemed legit happy for the first time since we'd arrived.<br />
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<i>Oto playing "Arms" on the video game floor. "Can we get this one when we get home?"</i></div>
<i></i><br />
The next stop was another massive, multi-storied entertainment center. Each floor seemingly dedicated to different types of games: Crane machine games, dancing and music based games, fighting games, etc. It was amazing and overwhelming. Otto would have likely been content to spend the morning there, playing Street Fighter, and even Stella seemed to be enjoying trying her hand at winning a corgi stuffed animal at the crane game.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz-BZk5UAwm9i6Bl9K1XMJL9QNnAtbcSoTimRjkkrvMMh7PX5Di2vj9j0Mf7-cjgx5tVwnnyMilty6vx5NbiUb6Ldw0IO7iKnrsWtGDYSiOwX74Mm7gyap8FwEQ0683YN1ME2Yncyu4Uw/s1600/0724191820a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><i><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz-BZk5UAwm9i6Bl9K1XMJL9QNnAtbcSoTimRjkkrvMMh7PX5Di2vj9j0Mf7-cjgx5tVwnnyMilty6vx5NbiUb6Ldw0IO7iKnrsWtGDYSiOwX74Mm7gyap8FwEQ0683YN1ME2Yncyu4Uw/s400/0724191820a.jpg" width="400" /></i></a></div>
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<i>More video games!</i></div>
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<i>One of two floors dedicated to crane machine games.</i></div>
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We explored around Den-Den Town for a while longer, looking into several other shops, including one with a Miyazaki paper art section that delighted Sarah and Stella. But, eventually, we started to feel hungry, so it was on to our next stop: Kuroman Ichiba.<br />
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Kuroman Ichiba had apparently started out as a legit market, where restaurant owners would go to get their seafood, meat and produce for the day. But, in recent years, tourists have begun to discover the market, and most of the stall owners have begun to prepare and sell food on the side, setting up small tables and stools for people to eat at. In short, it was basically what Sarah and I had been hoping Dotonbori street would be like, the night before.<br />
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And we proceeded to eat our way down the market alleyway: Sushi, grilled rice balls, shaved ice, squid, scallops, salmon, octopus, kobe beef, pork cutlet, mochi, candied fruit... and much, much more. By the time we reached the far end, we had all found something we liked, and we were all stuffed.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNgE9lplvE1VOcNOBm8YQrpgkSk2cdhjfTp1Xn5FYt4KYQMvgK1PwuSTc1Gh6oBGc5x-xRgdy21uBKGW7hQunxoWN-G0W_ohU8HVAuVyqEG27MCBJykb2mjEWEWqHmwF8GYe38yETEFqs/s1600/0724192018_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNgE9lplvE1VOcNOBm8YQrpgkSk2cdhjfTp1Xn5FYt4KYQMvgK1PwuSTc1Gh6oBGc5x-xRgdy21uBKGW7hQunxoWN-G0W_ohU8HVAuVyqEG27MCBJykb2mjEWEWqHmwF8GYe38yETEFqs/s400/0724192018_HDR.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>A vendor prepares seafood skewers. Most of the food was prepared this way, simply, on a small grill with made just a splash of soy sauce.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwHSJL0sMeASj4w1pwmIXkdTSJTXD67kRBikSiacO-bSXmKwZXwEsF7jmKXdJlegvI8LfVSXNWpwDr5zSK64-16J9-ii7On03u_UinkmMpwJsWHx2IndTNCdlKPgqfGK0uxXQ4Xs-P20U/s1600/0724192025.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwHSJL0sMeASj4w1pwmIXkdTSJTXD67kRBikSiacO-bSXmKwZXwEsF7jmKXdJlegvI8LfVSXNWpwDr5zSK64-16J9-ii7On03u_UinkmMpwJsWHx2IndTNCdlKPgqfGK0uxXQ4Xs-P20U/s400/0724192025.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>The view down Kuroman Ichiba.</i></div>
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Despite the heat, and despite the fact that our route takes us through a long covered mall and back though Namba Station, we make it home uneventfully.<br />
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After some downtime, back at our place, we decide to make the hike to the nearby Namba Yasaka Shrine, which is known for it's giant Lion's head statue. Unfortunately, we lingered too long at our place, and by the time we make it there, the shrines gates are already closed and locked. Stella is bummed, almost surprisingly so, getting teary eyed and talking about how "this was our one chance to seem it."<br />
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To regroup, and hopefully get her mind off it a little bit, we take the kids over a simple, nearby park, where Stella and Otto are able to swing and play a little, while Sarah and I plan our next steps, while marveling at the young children seemingly playing unattended, without an adult to be scene: Something that feels both surprisingly in such an urban setting, but also reminds us how overprotective America culture has become since our own childhoods.<br />
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Eventually, we decide to try to go to another nearby temple, just because its near and then go back by the Namba Yasaka Shrine, because Stella wants to take another peak through the fence. The other temple is a bust, since it's also closed. But, when we reach the gate of the Lion Shrine, I realize that, by holding my phone up, I can take a picture of it over the gate, and I am even able to quickly lift Stella up so she can take a peak in person. All of which seems to cheer her up.<br />
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<i>My photo of the Lion's Head Shrine, over the gate.</i></div>
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After that, make our way across a busy street to a ramen shop. It's another narrow restaurant, with a long counter and some booths in the back. The cook directs us on how to order via a ticket machine, a process we'd read about but not encountered yet. And, soon we are all enjoying out dinners: Sarah and I happily slurping ramen and the kids eating several platters of potstickers.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrYCPm5Z_Axa9WjeE3dH2s7-3y727vhRDTiZydYPwFfQWssAWIl5fknA06bARnHM774XrD0nWz6oG1JnUUA81ZYkmzO-45C0XkIn7V-QbWF5BxeJydQZkEk8mko6E6pdXBcl1mVfsdllc/s1600/0725190240.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrYCPm5Z_Axa9WjeE3dH2s7-3y727vhRDTiZydYPwFfQWssAWIl5fknA06bARnHM774XrD0nWz6oG1JnUUA81ZYkmzO-45C0XkIn7V-QbWF5BxeJydQZkEk8mko6E6pdXBcl1mVfsdllc/s400/0725190240.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i>Enjoying dinner. I think Stella is puffing out, because the potsticker is fresh.. and hot.</i></div>
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With food in our bellies and the disappointment of the closed shrine behind us, we make our way home, passing possibly the world most exciting looking grocery store...<br />
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<i>From here on our QFC and Safeway will always look boring.</i></div>
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Tomorrow, we would leave Osaka, and head on to the Kumano Kodo Pilgrimage Trail...</div>
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br />The Generalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13882212598013962066noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377312797415153161.post-25001651538180668722018-09-13T20:56:00.002-07:002018-09-13T20:56:25.826-07:00Hiking Section H of the PCT: Days 11 & 12<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis9wILCddUW9us_0rEYzQlTsPS68UMpja_9HDZurSX7lZgXfriJbfumb2URqY-_tzfJNUPRCAdV_9eA3fQ6PArLirQgX5KVvm6l4Ecuh2TI7S1sot0s02kUwzK4hy-Qw2pjmjdW2BuXQE/s1600/tyler_reporting.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="31" data-original-width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEis9wILCddUW9us_0rEYzQlTsPS68UMpja_9HDZurSX7lZgXfriJbfumb2URqY-_tzfJNUPRCAdV_9eA3fQ6PArLirQgX5KVvm6l4Ecuh2TI7S1sot0s02kUwzK4hy-Qw2pjmjdW2BuXQE/s1600/tyler_reporting.jpg" /></a></div>
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Final entry! At this point, we are less than 20 mile from the Oregon border. </div>
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<b>Day 11: Rough!</b><b><br /></b></div>
<ul>
<li>Rough start to the morning: Woke up w/ an upset stomach, sore knee, shin splints and an all-you-can eat buffet of blisters. </li>
<li>In addition, during the night, a thru-hiker arrived in camp, long after "hiker midnight" <i>(aka 8pm)</i> and proceeded to make what seemed to be a multi-course meal - later, the hiker is dubbed "Chicken Cordon Bleu."</li>
<li>To make things rougher, day starts w/ 4 mile anonymous uphill, where I feel like I've got 0% energy left. </li>
<li>Thankfully, we eventually reach the top, things level out a bit, and we are treated to some views, including Mt. Adams <i>(now distant)</i> - "Can you believe we hiked from there?!"</li>
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<ul>
<li>Lunch in a campsite among tiny alpine trees.</li>
<li>After lunch we begin to gradually shift downhill.</li>
<li>Get our first views of the Columbia!! Also, amazing bluff-like hillsides.</li>
</ul>
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<ul>
<li>Make our way through first real clear cut on hike. </li>
<li>As we near powerlines that we'd planned to be next rest stop, trail becomes a switchback of sharp rocks. Sarah becomes frustrated, I still feel sick, so we throw our bags down in the middle of a dirt road for an impromptu -pleasant- break. </li>
</ul>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0HNomh5cR8neci6s1PMhZctTjHhsR_ZQ27c_xuVFMsOW4s_kXX7yG7oqTxeIt3xPxO705oHEXEnCRwL9giiehbcSsO-ceCf9goQ8QM1ig5pqC70vLpttUlKaM6lPNFdhZ_3qYyxdVvrQ/s1600/0829181449.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
<ul>
<li>After break, the forest starts to feel more like a large, lush park. </li>
</ul>
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<ul>
<li>We become worried we missed to planned campsite, but right after we resign ourselves to hiking another two miles... we find it. </li>
<li>"Toad water!" <i>(My nickname for the muddy stream we end up filtering our water from. Because there was a toad in it.)</i></li>
<li>Still feeling ill, I go to bed early w/o dinner.</li>
</ul>
<div>
<b>Day 12: ...And Out (The Bridge of Gods)</b><b><br /></b></div>
<ul>
<li>Wake up feeling thankfully better. </li>
<li>Eat breakfast and take down the campsite for last time. </li>
<li>Morning hiking similar to previous evening, almost park-like.</li>
<li>Ow!! Get stung by rando yellowjacket. </li>
<li>Cross a few small bridges and at one point Sarah spots two different types of snakes within a few feet of each other.</li>
</ul>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia3VfWkM5-L8d-2-HQp5x93GpWgtv-44btDSCS_1vEPTv2uOdZ1mhHtYIMwdZJusEy8iJ3-zG8Spg0V9gBlkv0_U-1iuByO72mT3ICAUFduPDHWh4L4dvJUKNYvyXQdWxcnMDfm9RDjkg/s1600/0830180846.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
<ul>
<li>Go around a couple of small lakes, and begin seeing more signs we are entering civilization -"private property" signs, the sounds of trains & machines, the distant power station/dam on the Columbia. </li>
<li>Pass a couple of hours, and PCT beings to run parallel to highway for about a mile. </li>
<li>Get first peaks of the bridge. </li>
<li>Then we are there!!</li>
</ul>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpwncPq0Pdw4VEvG3mJqXgMKbuTBLs8fQh-hJCmy7uoQqlU_7-tBUe0fD6Nm_RUBiSQJzrSmkTKDhCHb1N3HcjJHHQchqp3IiviaBMGvzvZr6rIRsN-Jkoq4fIDEYcVO96c9yHccnKQRE/s1600/0830181040a_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
<ul>
<li>Take a few pictures under a PCT sign, then set out across Bridge of Gods. Ambika, not a fan of the heights, races out ahead again.</li>
</ul>
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<ul>
<li>No pedestrian lane, so you walk on the road, facing oncoming traffic. But speed limit is only 15 mph.</li>
</ul>
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<ul>
<li>"Entering Oregon"</li>
<li>Exchange a "Enjoy Washington/Enjoy Oregon!" with hikers going other direction.</li>
<li>Say "goodbye" to the PCT on the other side, feeling momentarily sad looking at it continue on. <i>(Of the end of hike events, this one -surprisingly- caused me to feel the most emotional.)</i></li>
<li>Then make our way to Thunder Island Brewing for some well-earned beers in the sun.</li>
</ul>
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<ul>
<li>After Russ arrives, we have lunch at an amazing fish market... then being the long drive home. </li>
</ul>
The Generalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13882212598013962066noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377312797415153161.post-64798364896894417812018-09-12T08:46:00.000-07:002018-09-12T08:46:06.623-07:00Hiking Section H of the PCT: Days 9 & 10<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div>
<b>Day 9: Drying Off & Regrouping</b><b><br /></b></div>
<ul>
<li>Last night was wet. Soaking wet. Rain started falling in earnest shortly after we crawled into our tents, and continued through the night. </li>
<li>This morning we cleaned up the sopping mess and made pleasant conversation with another hiker who had arrived during the "night" - probably 7ish. </li>
<li>Dripping wet, we set out, but were happy to see that the rain seemed to have passed and the sun was beating back the clouds. </li>
</ul>
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<ul>
<li>At a view point, we stripped off much of our wet clothes, basked in the sun, and looked out over the view of mist rising from the surrounding forest. </li>
<li>After that it was down, down and more down, descending to the Panther river. </li>
</ul>
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<ul>
<li>We ate lunch on the rivers edge, near the bridge we'd just crossed, and planned our last couple of days. (<i>We'd started hiking more miles a day than we originally planned, so we were beginning to realize that we'd probably be ending about a half day early.)</i></li>
<li><i></i>Feeling we needed a rest, we decided to splurge on a camp site at the nearly empty Panther Creek campground. This allowed us access to fresh water, pit toilets and gave up half a day to rest and -more importantly- dry out all our gear.</li>
</ul>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTvKEV-38POgV8ozRjT8n02A3h2E13ZZZnJkC4GgbNuMfxKc9RkNZcoGTA9hyphenhyphenp7uHky3_r-SkHA90n5j4W7wIi1Hj1Ca0dYnF_mXtkfM7rMsRQkyzsecztSCAOk09yuowZtAX92ggSwn8/s1600/0827181734_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
<ul>
<li>Tomorrow, we set off on our final push: 15 miles. Then 10 and 10 again to get to the border!</li>
</ul>
<div>
<b>Day 10: A Tale of Two Hikes</b><b><br /></b></div>
<ul>
<li>Woke up in the morning feeling more human, owing to the campsites pump water, picnic table and pit toilets. </li>
<li>Set out with guy in a car following us to trail start, because he was curious where the PCT was.</li>
<li>Sunny, and initial hiking is across farmland. Across fields, over bridges, rolling hills, country roads. Easy and bucolic. </li>
</ul>
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br /></div>
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<ul>
<li>Take lunch on the Wind River, with bridge nearby, nice views and fish swimming. </li>
<li>Though Sarah and Ambika angry/grossed out by TP situation in forest nearby. </li>
</ul>
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<ul>
<li>After lunch, path begins uphill.... loooong uphill. Hot and hard work. </li>
</ul>
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<ul>
<li>Take our break on abandoned road. </li>
<li>Then it is down... down... down. Fortunately, the terrain turns lush and scenic, as we wind along cliff edges, Mossy trees, deep ravines and lot of green.</li>
</ul>
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<ul><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ8It0q-UfqRvjAr5A0hyfBkeOvetntZcccJ9quCbL_oGSsQsTJDFRGxwctEapYQNCVnUWOAQSswQND4yQ8jb8b0QL22dW3DQezK8R2HwQYyReYB-l2ijLJpGtFc8vzrC-U5lNHivCedQ/s1600/0828181909.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a>
<li>Almost stop on North Fork Rock Creek, but decided to push on to Rock Creek, where we eventually find a campsite wedged between path and river. </li>
<li>And Sarah makes tasty pad thai.</li>
</ul>
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The Generalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13882212598013962066noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377312797415153161.post-2656817232058848122018-09-11T18:45:00.000-07:002018-09-11T18:46:19.529-07:00Hiking Secton H of the PCT: Days 7 & 8<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div>
<b>Day 7: Trail Magic!</b><b><br /></b></div>
<ul>
<li>Woke up to a busy campsite w/ 4 other campers, plus us, but by the time we'd had out decadent breakfast of omelets & potatoes (thanks Sarah!) they'd all cleared out.</li>
</ul>
<div>
<br /></div>
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<ul>
<li><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVpemwSVWz3MVsg1HzsW4K-41-9j-tb4RmmAgH-07zYXn38pUXjKOdkjwvjX_7RQh75uzZiq3cp_RNzwtybcun1TsWX8JAo4DhSupZCtKP25JpsLi0rEcYVMyfhzxNo00XuaKmyz1X2TU/s1600/0825180756a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a>The trail for the first half of the day was uneventful, maybe even underwhelming, and I was sore from all our hiking. </li>
<li>starting the previous day, we'd begun hearing that there was "trail magic" on the road ahead of us, and this morning we'd learned it was a group of people who had set up camp and were giving out taco, watermelon and other goodies. </li>
<li>We were very excited when we finally came across them.</li>
<li>Tacos! And watermelon. </li>
<li>"And we also have pot here, if you're interested."</li>
<li>Sat in lawn chairs eating and listing to an Australian woman talk about her misadventures: "So, in one weekend, I rode with a woman who dresses as sasquatch and got invited to a UFO sighting. Welcome to America!"</li>
</ul>
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<ul>
<li>Tummy's full, we set off again. We'd covered a remarkable 9.5 miles in the morning and only had 5 or so for the afternoon. </li>
<li>Entered Indian Heaven Wilderness.</li>
<li>Go to watch NoBo <i>(Northbound)</i> hikers' faces light up when we told them about the trail magic ahead. </li>
<li>Like previous day, my left knee started giving me issues, but soon enough we'd reached the turn off to the lake we would camp at. Ended up camping at side lake. Small & weirdly warm. </li>
</ul>
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<ul>
<li>Super cold and misty / a little rain, but Sarah made an amazing, warm curry dish, which helped us through the evening.</li>
</ul>
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<div>
<b><br /></b>
<b>Day 8: Soggy!!</b><b><br /></b></div>
<ul>
<li>Woke up to a misty, cold morning. My knee still bothered me, so I wasn't excited about start.</li>
</ul>
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<ul>
<li>As we set off mist switched to actual rain at times, but dampness encouraged us to make good time. </li>
<li>Trail set up so the we rarely saw anything of interest. Instead just junctures with signs pointing off announcing a lake or hike.</li>
</ul>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsdJbeOSbYEtNi8Bp1YKAl9vZjtcFbI62MeiftAvgp6wee-5BMwRAC_OrOjD4fn96Cq8Iyh0zHZASaQrZS3abuGhSybMo6srd8oA0Jm_udm0GVWs98rSwhLRHUVuRQhd68W2x4nnbPctk/s1600/0826181025_HDR.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div>
<ul>
<li>Reach a point where we were on the edge of a ridge, which one side was dry-ish and the other was blasting rain. </li>
<li>Had quick lunch on the dry portion of the ridge.</li>
</ul>
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<ul>
<li>Began descent to a horse camp. Ambika, eager to be done, rushed ahead. Long flat section after switchbacks, ending at parking lot.</li>
</ul>
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<ul>
<li>Across the street was the camp, including pit toilets. But, decide to move on because there is no water. </li>
<li>At camp encounter older SoBo couple. She's friendly but he is... odd? Prickly?</li>
<li>Continue on over lava fields, with rain increasing. Keep leap frogging with SoBo couple. </li>
</ul>
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<div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><br /></div>
<ul>
<li>Reach first place we "think" there is a camp, but it's just a pipe w/ well water. </li>
<li>We decided to try for a second camp an additional 2.3 miles away (brining us to mearly 5 miles more than planned).</li>
<li>We make it to the camp site, which seems surprisingly dry, with a small spring. And, after a good pasta dinner, things feel positive again.</li>
</ul>
The Generalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13882212598013962066noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377312797415153161.post-76518209803499518642018-09-10T19:40:00.004-07:002018-09-10T19:40:52.366-07:00Hiking Section H of the PCT: Days 5 & 6<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div>
<b>Day 5: Mt. Adams</b><br />
<b><br /></b>
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</div>
<ul>
<li>Woke feeling well rested after sleeping next to the white noise of the river. </li>
<li>Begin gentle upward hike towards Adams, getting our first good views!</li>
</ul>
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<ul>
<li>Views continue to improve including... Looking back to the Northwest we can finally see Mt. Rainier!</li>
<li>Scenery is wonderful, idyllic sub-alpine terrain, w/ rolling hills, babbling streams and stumpy trees. </li>
<li>Always Adams towering above. </li>
<li>Take our first break on boulders, with view of field and Adams. Below a trio of hikers does yoga.</li>
<li>Further walking takes us to a "difficult water crossing." A rough-shod bridge made of a dozen branches, over a roiling, grey river.</li>
</ul>
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<ul>
<li>Further on, we reach a lava field which is a sea of black boulders. See our first horses. </li>
</ul>
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<ul>
<li>Take our lunch next to a nice, little stream, which we cross to move on.</li>
</ul>
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<ul>
<li>Afternoon break is at Sheep Lake (another Sheep Lake) where we talk at length with a mysterious, mournful man. Beyond that is a death march through a lovely but sad tree graveyard. The result of a forest fire.<i> ("Death march" in only that it was hot, we were getting tired and it seemed to go on forever.)</i></li>
<li>Rainier fades from view, but we can now see St. Helens and even <i>(Mt.)</i> Hood. </li>
</ul>
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<ul>
<li>Hoping for water, we diverge from the PCT a few hundred yards, onto Horseshoe Meadows, and set up camp next to a silty creek. Next to Adam and Margie, a talkative couple we met earlier and who are hiking around Adams. <i>(This campsite highlighted something about thru hikers. They are all using an app called Gut Hook to get their information about the trail. But, it only provides info about things on the trail itself, so we found that, if you located a camp site or water source that was even a few hundred yards off the trail, the thru hikers would be completely unaware of it. Like trail tunnel vision. Trail Vision.)</i></li>
</ul>
<div>
<b>Day 6: Halfway There! Restocking Food & Supplies</b><b><br /></b><br />
<ul>
<li><div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
Woke up this morning sooooo cold. "The ice planet of Hoth!"</div>
</li>
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Then stove broke, so no hot breakfast. </div>
</li>
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We all cheer when the sun crests Mt. Adams.<i> (Heat!)</i></div>
</li>
</ul>
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<ul>
<li><div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
<i></i>Quickly make our way down, down, down. Through more old forest fire damage. Snacking on berries. </div>
</li>
</ul>
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<li><div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
Make good time, barely breaking and arrive at the road we were planning on meeting Joe. </div>
</li>
<li><div style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">
Hang out, talking to the man who is parked there, giving out fruit and snacks to the hikers. Waiting for his son & friend to come along... which the eventually, heartwarmingly do. </div>
</li>
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Joe arrives! Photos of the kids are shared. Then we ask him to give us a ride down to Trout Creek to get supplies & a new stove. </div>
</li>
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First stop a small general store where we sort through our food<i> (in the stores parking lot)</i>. We are sending a lot back. with him.</div>
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Then head on to a Hardware store, where -even to the owners surprise- Sarah finds a tiny camp stove. We are back in business!</div>
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Joe gives us a ride back to the trail, we split a beer, say goodbye and start hiking up the trail.</div>
</li>
</ul>
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Lots of ups and downs. </div>
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Late lunch in a sunny field, making awkward conversation with a hiker.</div>
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My right knee starts acting up. </div>
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Find our camping spot, wedged between to streams. </div>
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Sadly! Sarah gets stung by a yellow jacket. </div>
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</ul>
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<i></i><br />The Generalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13882212598013962066noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377312797415153161.post-54548413390915268872018-09-09T12:15:00.002-07:002018-09-09T12:15:58.821-07:00Hiking Section H of the PCT: Days 3 & 4<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<div>
<b>Day 3: Cispus River</b><b><br /></b></div>
<ul>
<li>Bad night of sleep. Very windy. </li>
<li>Still windy in the morning but... the smoke has been blown away!</li>
<li>After a cold and windy breakfast, we set off, feeling optimistic because of the blue sky. </li>
</ul>
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<ul>
<li>After a couple of #blessed campsites, we see the Cispus River Tributary, a giant bowl fed by the Cispus River and several smaller rivers - and we can see it because of <b>no smoke!</b><i> (The "#blessed" comment is a joke we made regularly on the trail to describe campsites that might have amazing views, which you'd want to photograph for Instagram... but you'd never actually want to camp at because they were small and/or perched on a cliff.)</i></li>
</ul>
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<ul>
<li>Stumble across surprised waterfall. </li>
</ul>
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<ul>
<li>Cross Cispus River and begin climb out of tributary <i>(a basin, really, I think the map referred to it as a "tributary" so I kept using the word)</i>.</li>
<li>Another climb leads to another amazing valley, this one on the Yakima Reservation. </li>
<li>Signs that read "No trespassing. Stay on trail."</li>
</ul>
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<ul>
<li>Crazy hexagonal rocks push out of the earth, their broken off chunks looking like columns. </li>
</ul>
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<ul>
<li>Leaving the Reservation leads to a long, straight path which dominates the middle of the day. Hot!</li>
<li>Lunch at Sheep Lake. Lunch & wading. Dead salamanders. <i>(We would hike pass enough Sheep Lakes on this hike that it became a bit of a joke. "Is there just some sort of itinerate sheep that travels between all the Sheep Lakes?)</i></li>
<li>After long straight march, break at Walpus Lake trail turn off. Old man with torn white hat finds a campsite and asks us to deliver a message to the "Czech & Polish girls behind me."<i> (We had presumed they were friends, but when we later ran into the girls, who were significantly younger and quite attractive, they seemed perplexed. "We just met him this morning.")</i></li>
<li><i></i>Rest of the day is easy, flat walk through large trees. Ambika and Sarah talk the whole way. I'm exhausted from all the hiking and bad sleep. </li>
<li>Camp at curve in trail, next to small stream.<i> (There ended up being a bees nest in the site, but they seemed docile.)</i></li>
</ul>
<div>
<b>Day 4: March to the Lava Field</b><b><br /></b></div>
<ul>
<li>Woke up after decent nights sleep and weird dreams.</li>
<li>Made breakfast of hashbrowns with spam and peppers. <i>(Sarah, Ambika and I had divided meals up, so that we took turns with breakfasts and dinners. But, Sarah ended up planning mine and cooking over half of them. Because I'm spoiled rotten.)</i></li>
</ul>
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<ul>
<li><i></i>First half of the day, made great time, doing 5 miles before noon, through flat forests with lots of lakes and mushrooms.</li>
</ul>
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<ul>
<li>First lunch at lake side campsite. </li>
<li>Second lunch at small idyllic stream w/ frogs.<i> (Which we named.)</i></li>
</ul>
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<ul>
<li>Left Goat Rock Wilderness, crossed a small dirt parking lot and entered a hot, dry forest where the path stretched straight as an arrow, seemingly forever. Only thing breaking it up was a gravel road that also stretched straight in both directions. </li>
</ul>
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<ul>
<li>Finally, through the trees, we began to see the lava field, which looked like a wall of boulders stacked 50ft high and running in each direction like a wall built by giants. </li>
</ul>
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<ul>
<li>Beyond that, hazy in the distance, we could make out the white peak of Mt. Adams.</li>
<li>Shortly, we arrived at Lava Springs, a section of the wall where spring water emerged from beneath it, and a stone bridge over the resultant stream. </li>
</ul>
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<ul>
<li>Talked with friendly Northbound section hikers who told us about a "short cut." Also, a crazy yerba matte drinking guy w/ a dog. </li>
<li>A half mile hike uphill took us to our campsite next to the raging, brown, silt-filled Mudfork River.</li>
</ul>
The Generalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13882212598013962066noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377312797415153161.post-56633288653886930292018-09-08T16:44:00.004-07:002018-09-08T16:50:27.425-07:00Hiking Section H of the PCT: Day 1 & 2<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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So, last month, Sarah and I, along with our friend, Ambika, hiked Section H of the Pacific Crest Trail. Section H is approximately 150 miles long, and stretch from White Pass in the North (just southeast of Mt. Rainier) down to the Bridge of Gods on the Oregon border.<br />
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Sarah and Ambika, two years ago, had hiked Section I, directly north of Section H, but this was my first backpacking trip longer than 3 nights. It was intense, amazing and challenging both physically and mentally. And, while I'm still not sure I'm cut out for hikes that long, I'm glad that I did it and proud to have completed it.<br />
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To help navigate, I had printed out a series of Half Mile Maps, which detail the route, and most of the water and campsites to be found along the way. Each day, I would write notes on the back of one of the completed map sections, detailing what we'd experienced. I though it would be fun to transcribe those notes here, along with posting some pictures, and including some additional details. <i>(In italics, with parenthesis.)</i> This might not be as detailed, but I thought it might be fun and more immediate seeming.<br />
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Anyhow, let's get started...<br />
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<b>Day 1: Smokey!</b><br />
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<ul>
<li>Because of the fire, we started on a detour. Which turned out to be <b>much</b> longer. <i>(There was a forest fire, near White Pass. So, the Forest Service had detoured the PCT onto a side trail, to keep people at a safe distance.)</i></li>
<li>Saw first thru hikers. <i>(We were going Southbound, while most of the people doing the entire thing -aka "thru hikers"- go Northbound.)</i></li>
<li>Steep drop to a river crossing. Getting our feet wet.</li>
</ul>
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<ul>
<li>Trail splits w/ singage from the Forest Service, collapsed cabin and a woman w/ air filter. </li>
<li>Little frogs.</li>
<li>First person we talked to was a hunter, after lunch. Awkward conversation while he held a rifle. First indication that detour trail was longer than we thought.</li>
<li>Pass a tiny pond & camp site. Then cross a field toward and amazing and stunning bowl. </li>
</ul>
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<ul>
<li>People getting tired as we climb to Lost Hat Lake. At Lake more water & wade. </li>
</ul>
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<ul>
<li>Fish heads! <i>(Someone had obviously done some fishing in the lake.)</i></li>
<li>"Have you seen a young oriental dude?"<i> (This was a question that we were asked, while at the lake, but a thru hiker that looked like a malnourished Santa Claus. We had a bit of a "did he just say that?" moment. But, because he was older, looked like Santa Claus and seemed to be friends with the person in question, we just told him "yes" and pointed him in the direction his apparent friend had gone.)</i></li>
<li>After lake, more up-up-up. Across steep grass field, with view spread out in front.</li>
<li>Reach view point, run into a hiker from Florida who gives us a ton of info about distances, camps, etc. </li>
<li>As we descend through old forest fire white trees toward Lost Lake, I'm in <b>rough</b> shape.</li>
</ul>
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<ul>
<li>Rest & stretch at Lost Lake. </li>
<li>Easier going. Flatter. Walking along ridge. </li>
<li>Got water at creek and Ambika falls in.</li>
<li>Walk to campsite... which has a creek... that may have been the actual creek.<i> (We had heard there was a creek to get water at, and had presumed that the creek Ambika fell in was the creek. But, it was small and muddy. This creek, was probably the actual creek hikers had mentioned.)</i></li>
<li>Exhausted. Beans & rice!!</li>
</ul>
<div>
<b>Day 2: Knife's Edge!</b></div>
<ul>
<li>Long straight hike just below a ridge. No view because smoke, but several friendly and mostly female hikers.<i> (Ambika and Sarah had mentioned that it was mainly men on the trail. But, as I note here, we saw a lot of female hikers. The demographics are apparently changing on the PCT.)</i></li>
<li>Move to top of ridge, revealing huge arch of fallen stones, echoing w/ sounds of grasshoppers.</li>
</ul>
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<ul>
<li>Descend to Packwood Saddle, which was our planned destination for night 1.</li>
<li>Steep climb up mountain side, across fields of wild grass. "Imagine having to mow that!"<i> (A bad joke I kept making.)</i></li>
<li><i></i>Begin getting impressions of stunning views of "Egg Butt" and beyond.</li>
</ul>
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<ul>
<li>Finally, after a day and a half, reach the official PCT. Have lunch at detour/PCT sign, before beginning climb to Knife's Edge. See southbound hikers in silhouette on mountain top. </li>
</ul>
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<ul>
<li>As ascending to Knife's Edge, see mountain goats lounging in snowfields. </li>
<li>Path narrows to ledge before reaching.</li>
</ul>
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<ul>
<li>Knife's Edge is amazing! A winding path along a steep mountain ridge, up to "old snowy."</li>
</ul>
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<ul>
<li>Ambika is not a fan, and sets off just trying to get it over with.</li>
<li>Sarah not a fan of my attempts at humor. </li>
<li>Reaching the other side, we encounter a crew fixing the trail. Very grateful for their work moving the "singing rocks." <i>(I was calling the rocks "singing rocks" because the clattering, as we walked over them seems strangely musical.)</i></li>
</ul>
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<ul>
<li>Cross several small snowfields and watch one of the clean up crew bathing in a pool of snow water.</li>
<li>Beginning to head down through beautiful, scenic rock and grass fields with amazing boulder formations. </li>
<li>Pass the "Muppet Kingdom," a giant split boulder w/ muppet-like flowers around it.</li>
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<ul>
<li>Discover an amazing freshwater spring and -after refilling water for the first time that day- double back to a campsite we'd seen.</li>
</ul>
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<br />The Generalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13882212598013962066noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377312797415153161.post-70596018475469835152017-08-09T11:32:00.000-07:002017-08-09T11:32:06.659-07:00Days 23 & 24: Hiking and Whale Watching<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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(As I write this, it's the morning of our last full day in the Azores, so it feels unlikely that the final days will be written about until after we get back from the trip. The return home is a four flight affair: Azores -> Lisbon -> Paris -> NY -> Seattle, with two overnight layovers. So, wish us luck!)<br />
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<b>Day 23</b><br />
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<i>Doing laundry, island-style.</i> </div>
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This morning, instead of lingering over a long breakfast, we decided to hit the road early, and get a hike in before lunch. The plan was to do something closer to home so that, after lunch we could relax closer to the house and give the kids some down time (read: beach time). So, after getting loaded up, we headed 10 minutes up the coast to do a hike that Sarah had read about.<br />
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Starting at a picnic site, just off the main road, the trail wound down through a small village or houses. Conveniently, we realized that some agency in Sao Miguel was making an effort to make the trails more accessible, and the trail we followed zigged and zagged on rural streets, through farmland and into lush cliff-side forests, it was always easy to follow thanks to clear markings (using yellow and red bars) to indicate where to go and not go.<br />
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Leaving the town, we moved into farmland, and down a bamboo lined lane. Then, we veered from that, and dropped down into lush green forests that clung to the coastal cliffs and provided us with amazing views of the coastline. Soon, we came across a string of anonymous, white-painted buildings, built into the cliff face, that resembled something from<i> Lost</i>. From inside of them, we could hear gushing and gurgling, leading us to believe that they must be some sort of hydroelectric units. Regardless, we decided this would be a good place to take a snack break of fruit, chips and water.<br />
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<i>Coastline view, winding back to Mosterios in the distance. You can see a bit of our hiking trail lower, in the foreground.</i></div>
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<i>Sarah (and Otto) make their way along the cliffs. To the left you can see where a (currently dry) river would plunge off the cliff into the ocean.</i></div>
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Then, it was time to hike up and out, completing the loop. Unfortunately, the second half of the hike was neither as scenic or forgiving as the first half; and was more of a string of steep roads uphill, with little in the way of shade. The kids started to get hot and cranky, but fortunately, we were able to locate where we were, and assure them it wasn't far to the end. And, forgivingly, the last stretched returned to a less oppressive stroll through a wooded area.<br />
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<i>More evocative of the second half of the hike. A lot of uphill along dirty roads and lots of sun with little shade.</i></div>
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Back in the car, and then back in Mosterios, we decided -hot and hungry- to return to the balcony restaurant we'd eaten lunch at the previous day. For me it was a bifana (though not as good as the one at the roadside truck), for Sarah some pork loin and the kids did another random combination of cheese and bread.<br />
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Then, after lunch it was a promised visit to the beach, and since it was sunny and hot, even I decided to jump in. While the waves still broke roughly against the shore, a few yards out I could drift and relax a bit.<br />
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<i>The little dot in the center of the photo = me.</i></div>
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After the beach, it was another spaghetti meal at the house, and then while the kids enjoyed some TV inside, Sarah and I sat on the front deck, drinks in hand, watching the beach and sunset, then the slow appearance of the stars above us.<br />
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<i>Probably our best sunset of our stay in the Azores. The days have been sunny and hot, but the mornings and evenings are always a bit cloudy and grey. Still, can't complain about this.</i></div>
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<b>Day 24</b><br />
Whale Tour!<br />
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One our first day in town, Sarah had noticed a sightseeing operation in town (which seemed to be the only non-food related business with a store front) specializing in whale spotting. And, while the kids were a bit nervous about it ("what if I fall overboard and I'm eaten by a shark or whale?") Sarah and I agreed it would be a great opportunity, and signed up for the next available tour.<br />
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So, we woke early, got dressed and headed to their offices at 9:30am (which is the crack of dawn, the way we've been operating). There, they suited us up with lifejackets and waterproof jackets (that looked comically large on the kids). Then, with a group of about a half dozen others, they led us down to a motorized raft, and loaded us in. Sort of humorously, rather than sit in a traditional sense, you straddled your seat, like a horses saddle, and held on to a hand grip in front of you. Again, the kids looked silly with their little legs dangling.<br />
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<i>Excited kids, headed out to sea!</i></div>
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Leaving the bay slowly because it is so shallow, we soon picked up speed and headed down the coast. It wasn't long before we spotted our first wildlife: A shark! We could see it's iconic fin moving through the water, and as we moved closer, could make out its shape in the Clearwater, easily 8ft or longer. At first they were pretty sure it was a mako shark, since they are the most common in these waters; but looking closer, our guide suddenly declared: "No actually, that's a hammerhead shark! We know they are around, but this is the first I've ever seen! Exciting start!<br />
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<i>Sarah, optimistic about seeing me sea life.</i> </div>
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It wasn't long after that, that a flock of seabirds appeared to lead us to our second sea animal sighting: A pod of Atlantic Spotted Dolphins. And, while I saw some dolphins on a coastal tour in Hawaii, let me tell you that these dolphins didn't disappoint: Jumping, flipping, and careening around. Even a number of baby dolphins could be seen, swimming tightly next to their mothers.<br />
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As Stella noted: "The dolphins seem to like to show off!"<br />
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<i>Devilishly hard to photograph show off dolphins... but this gives you an idea of how close the action way.</i></div>
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Suddenly, we broke from the dolphins and headed away from the land: "Our spotter has spotted an whale, and we are going to try to go there now," the guide explained. Unfortunately, the whale seemed to be a long way off, as the skipper continued to gun the boat deeper and deeper into the ocean. Also, while Stella seemed to still be enjoying herself, smiling and announcing "this is probably going to be the best thing I've ever done," Otto was growing listless and seemed to be getting sea-sick. On my encouragement, he climbed from his saddle, into my lap and fell asleep.<br />
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O<i>tto looking less pleased. At first I thought he was getting bored, but it quickly became obvious he was starting to feel seasick. </i></div>
<i></i><br />
After what seemed like a long stretch, we finally slowed and began to circle. "The whale has done a deep dive, so now we wait." To pass the time, the skipper piloted over to where another pod of dolphins swam and showed off.<br />
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"Ugh, we've already seen dolphins," said Otto, jaded and seasick.<br />
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But, then the whale emerged, it's spout of water visible, followed by it's large grey back. "A female sperm whale," the guide said, noting that males are much larger. We all "oohed" "aahed" and tried to take pictures, as the whale dipped up and down for a short bit, then dove deep again.<br />
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"And that is it, for a while. It will not emerge for a long time." The guide said, indicating we'd be heading back. But, we hadn't gone far when she spotted a second whale. Again, we circled slowly as it performed a similar routine to the first. Then, a short time later, a third sperm whale. And, as that whale prepared to dive deep...<br />
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"Look there, you can see the shadow next to it. It has a baby!" And sure enough, next to it, you could make out the vague form of a second, smaller whale. Then, with a tail flip, the final whale was gone.<br />
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<i>The last whale dives. Probably to do awesome battle with a giant squid.</i></div>
<i></i><br />
The return trip went quickly, with several more pods of dolphins (really, they are show offs), and Otto continuing to rest uneasily in my arms. "It really does not get much better than that." The guide said, and -honestly- she didn't seem to be making a sales pitch.<br />
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Back on land, we had some lunch and the kids had some beach time. We were resting after our big morning, and because tonight would be a special dinner: Pizza.<br />
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Now, pizza doesn't seem like a big deal, but for Mosterios, it is. As I've mentioned, there's only about a half dozen restaurants in town, and all but one have effectively the same menus: A bunch of seafood, a couple pork dishes, omelets and some various of grilled cheese and/or ham and cheese. The only restaurant that deviates from this well-worn formula is: Pizzeria Fantasia.<br />
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Apparently, several years back a visiting Italian couple fell in love with Mosterios, and decided to stay and open a pizza place. The reviews are pretty universally positive, but with only, like, eight tables, and open hours from 8pm to 11pm, you need to make reservations in advance. Pizzeria Fantasia is kind of a big deal.<br />
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Anyhow, tonight was the night of our reservations. So, we piled into the car and drove the 5 minutes to the far side of town. There we made our way though a humble courtyard into the restaurant. We had three pizzas, Sarah and I split a bottle of wine and we all shared a dessert. Overall, I wouldn't claim that it was the best pizza I've ever had, but it was a well-made traditional woodfire pizza and -after nearly a week of the same three or four dishes it made for a very welcome change of pace.<br />
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<i>Should have gotten a "before" picture, but only thought to get an "after." A couple of remaining slices of the kids cheese pizza... which Sarah and I promptly ate.</i> </div>
<br />The Generalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13882212598013962066noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377312797415153161.post-19531470117883397672017-08-08T15:57:00.001-07:002017-08-08T15:57:24.213-07:00Days 21 & 22: Exploring the Interior<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>Day 21</b><br />
I woke up early on our first morning in the Azores, and peered outside to see grey and storming skies, with the surf continuing to crash violently on the black sand beach. I also noticed that, in a couple of places in the kitchen, it was raining hard enough that the roof was leaking; so I dug a couple of Tupperware bowls out of the cupboard and placed them around the kitchen. Then with the gentle "plip-plip" inside, the gusting wind outside and a cup of coffee in hand, I relaxed comfortably until Sarah and the kids awoke.<br />
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<i>Waking to a stormy coastline.</i></div>
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A short time later, breakfast had been served, showers taken, and the sky was clear enough that we decided to venture out and explore the island. Our plan (fingers crossed about the weather), was to drive up toward Lagoa do Fogo (the "lake of fire") in the center of the island, and do a hike that Sarah had read about nearby. This would allow us to take a look at the lake, which is one of the islands star attractions and stretch out legs in nature, which would be a good change of pace after three weeks of city living.<br />
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To get there, we'd have to drive around the west end of the island and up half the length of it's north shore, before diving into it's interior. This gave us our first chance to really get a good look at the Azores, while not completely sleep deprived. So, how to describe the Azores?<br />
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Let's start with Hawaii as the starting point. First, take away it's beaches and replace them with shorelines of black volcanic rock and only the occasional pocket beach of black sand. Now, replace 90% of the palm trees with blue hydrangea bushes. Instead of any sort of Polynesian influence to the towns and architecture, replace the towns with continental European villages. Including lots and lots of cows. Now, remove, say, 75% of the tourists. I mean, it's the height of their tourist season, and everything here can easily be described as "sleepy."<br />
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<i>This photo, take the next day, shows what a weirdo mash-up the Azores are. Blue hydrangeas. Cow pastures. Some fairy mound thing. Quaint villages. The ocean. Semi-tropical storm clouds. Seems totes fake.</i></div>
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The drive to Lagoa do Fogo went smoothly, except one or two times getting slightly lost, and one incident where someone had either driven off the road or been driven off the road. We came around the corner, only to find his car up on the curb, in our lane, facing the other direction. As we stopped to see if everything was OK, our first presumption was that he'd lost control going around the corner, 180-ed and hit the embankment. But, there was no signs of him skidding out. As I and another motorist approached, he stood on the edge of the road gesturing and shouting, obviously more angry than anything, but completely indecipherable in Portuguese. While he and the other driver talked loudly at each other, I did the shrug and be a dumb tourist thing. Then, once we could tell he was fine and his car still ran, I climbed back in the car and continued out drive. <br />
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Soon we wound our way high into the hills, past viewpoints and geothermal plants, until we arrived at the Lagoa do Fogo viewpoint. Parking "Portuguese style" (as we've come to call it when you park blocking as much of one lane of traffic as possible), we got out and took in a truly stunning view of the lake.<br />
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<i>An initial view of Lagoa do Fogo. Flowers for flair.</i></div>
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While standing there, we realized there was a trail down, and Otto actually proposed we hike that, instead of the hike we'd planned. That sounded a good to us, so Sarah and Stella went back to get better shoes for Stella at the car, and water; then began hiking down. Quickly we realized that it was actually a really steep drop, and also Stella realized that she was "starving to death." So, despite some pouting by Otto and I, Sarah encouraged us to turn around after hiking about half the way down.<br />
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Back in the car, and a mixture of hungry and frustrated, we doubled back the way we came to a food truck we'd seen parked outside some thermal baths. There, we parked, and while Sarah and I had bifanas, the kids had ham and cheese sandwiches. We considered that maybe, now we should do the thermal pools, but Sarah pointed out we didn't have swimsuits, so we were thwarted again, and I was beginning to feel like the whole day was going to be a series of misfires. Then, Sarah suggested that, instead of doing the original hike, maybe we should go back and hike down to Lagoa do Fogo the whole way.<br />
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Everyone was enthusiastic about that idea, so after a quick peek inside the thermal pools park -to see them and use their WC- we were back on the road again, headed up to Lagoa do Fogo... again.<br />
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Reaching the viewpoint, we discovered it wrapped in fog, and the lake suddenly invisible below. But, undaunted, we set off down the path, dropping into the caldera. The kids, stomachs full of food, soldiered ahead while we continued down. Occasionally, the clouds would part long enough to give us a peak at the lake, and pleasantly, the fog seemed to be detouring some of the hiking traffic we'd encountered before. <br />
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<i>Descending into the clouds. </i></div>
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Finally, we reached the bottom, and started to make our way around the edge of the lake, and were happy at how quiet and remote it felt, despite a few other hikers and Stella barking orders at Otto or giving us weather updates.<br />
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Reaching a beach, after a couple of bends, we decided to stop and give the kids some beach time. It was still foggy, and even flirting with raining, but the air was warm enough and the lake inviting enough that even I eventually decided to jump in. An amazing, peaceful swim.<br />
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<i>Wading into the lake. Peaceful and misty. A lot warming that this photo makes it look.</i></div>
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After letting the kids play, and taking a swim myself, it was time to hike back up out of the caldera. So, we set off back up the steep and winding path. As we hiked the clouds finally began to burn off, and by the time we which the viewpoint, it was hot and humid.<br />
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<i>The clouds clear, as we make our way back around the lake.</i> </div>
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<i>A steep and sweaty climb back up. The kids ran most of the way because they are insane.</i></div>
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<i>A super rare family picture, taken after hiking up from the lake. Plus some random tourists, for flavor.</i></div>
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We hopped back in the car, and -after stopping at one last viewpoint to get a look at the lake from another angle- we headed to the island's south coast and then back to Mosterios. Arriving back at the house, the kids were wiped, so they wanted to stay in the house, but Sarah and I didn't fancy eating at home, and drug them to the second of the town's half dozen restaurants, O Xico. O Xico was decorated with old record albums, and I proved hungry enough that I ordered and ate enough food for two human beings: Salt Cod, Shrimp, potatoes, fries, two salads, and two beers. Obviously the hike had worn me out too. <br />
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<b>Day 22</b><br />
One of the unspoken rules of our stay in the Azores is that the kids get at least an hour at the beach. So, after getting started late, we let them play in the surf for a little bit, while we worked out what we wanted to do.<br />
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<i>For lunch, before heading out, we tried another Mosterios restaurant: Café Ilhéu. With its sunny patio, decent food, excellent, local white wine and friendly staff, it's since become our defacto place to eat out. Here's Sarah trying the limpets, on this first visit.</i><span> </span></div>
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The basic play was to drive up to <span class="st">Lagoa das Sete Cidades have a look around, grab some lunch and hopefully do a small hike there. <span class="st">Lagoa das Sete Cidades is the pair of lakes (one green and one blue) the sit in the middle of a giant caldera on the western end of the island's interior. There's a small town nestled next to them, with a single small land bridge dividing them. If you pick up a guide book for the Azores, it's the picture on the cover. </span></span><br />
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A<span class="st"><span class="st">fter the kids were done frolicking, we loaded them into the car, and began the windy road up, up, up to the edge the caldera. Reaching the edge, we came across a small dirt parking lot, and a sign that seemed to indicate a viewpoint. So, we parked and all hopped out. Following the sign took us to a dirt road, instead of a view point. "Hmmm, maybe the view point is just a little up the road, and this is, like, an overflow parking lot."</span></span><br />
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So, we set off down the dirt road. After a little hiking, we still hadn't come to a view point, so we pushes through a little hedge, and what was revealed was a pretty cool view. Below us, the lush valley of the caldera spread out, including the town, several smaller calderas and what appeared to be one of the two lakes. But, it wasn't the quintessential view. One lake was hidden behind a small hill. "Hmm, maybe we'll get a better view, if we just walk a *little* further."<br />
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<i>Our first peek-a-boo view. Stunning, but not what we had thought we'd see. (Note: on the left you can see a caldera...inside the caldera.)</i></div>
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But, another ten minutes of walking just revealed more of the same. It was then that it slowly dawned on us that, instead of finding a viewpoint, we'd actually stumbled across the trail head of one of the caldera rim hikes we'd been considering doing. This was great, because we'd been hoping to hike it. But, was less than ideal because we hadn't eaten lunch yet, and had failed to grab any water when we got out of the car.<br />
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"We can go a *little* further. Maybe up to that radio tower we see up there." Both Sarah and I were game for hiking, and Otto seemed to be having fun. The only problem was that, in the span of about four paces, Stella went from "I'm enjoying this walk in the woods" to "I'm absolutely dying of thirst."<br />
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C'mon Stella, just be a team player and hike a little farther. We don't have water on us, but can get some when we get back to the car. But, Stella had no interest in being a "team player." Instead, she decided to drag her feet and whine as much as she could manage. She lingered. She moped. She drifted. She complained. And, maybe the this doesn't speak well of us as parents, but the more she continued with her theatrics, the more we just wanted to keep hiking.<br />
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<i>Hiking the flower-lined ridge of the caldera.</i> </div>
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So, after the radio tower, we noticed that the trail turned into a scenic ridge, and decide to walk that. And, after that, we noticed, in the distance, some sort of mid-century modern building that, frankly, looked like a James Bond villian's headquarters. "Look, Stella and Otto, that seems to be some sort of hotel. If we make it there, I bet they will have drinks and maybe ice cream."<br />
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That seemed to give the kids the motivation they needed to get to the end. So, eventually we broke from the trees and approached the hotel. Unfortunately, and somewhat surreally, the building was just an abandoned husked, overgrown with plants. Even more unfortunately, while there were some questionable bathrooms nearby, there was no sign of any sort of concession stand. So, no water or ice cream.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhu0ed6nXCztiODZvAQuShQB3wO9uGUpsiiq6qtPOjORBEaQe2aVNgS1hSo6_RCfh5cEwqxNdBkI2SN8Q9CZRtTcZq5kHnBxNcVsz7A5WrS_g6oCUk8NvOP40eCVl0NWl_msHiZs3lvzc/s1600/IMAG3421.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhu0ed6nXCztiODZvAQuShQB3wO9uGUpsiiq6qtPOjORBEaQe2aVNgS1hSo6_RCfh5cEwqxNdBkI2SN8Q9CZRtTcZq5kHnBxNcVsz7A5WrS_g6oCUk8NvOP40eCVl0NWl_msHiZs3lvzc/s320/IMAG3421.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>The mysterious hotel, which I've just looked up now, while typing this. You can read about it on <a href="http://www.atlasobscura.com/places/hotel-monte-palace" target="_blank">this Atlas Obscura page</a>.</i> </div>
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On the upside, the abandoned hotel was located at a pristine viewpoint, and Sarah and I finally got the image we wanted: Two lakes, blue and green, nestled in a valley, village next to them, and bridge dividing them.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpunSta3mlpTYFHiS-l51hMyGMYjS_UqS1bknxAAcuj8WcV0pb3ZqzaBgy8UwcMD4yEEEzavTvyhCrit7g52eKyflyOpJVFVU5zA7j3f_G0uKuh_03VvP7uSSlL9A4IdKZiI9CHpw5US4/s1600/20170805_180658.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpunSta3mlpTYFHiS-l51hMyGMYjS_UqS1bknxAAcuj8WcV0pb3ZqzaBgy8UwcMD4yEEEzavTvyhCrit7g52eKyflyOpJVFVU5zA7j3f_G0uKuh_03VvP7uSSlL9A4IdKZiI9CHpw5US4/s320/20170805_180658.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Otto in front of the quintessential view of the lake.</i> </div>
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Pictures taken, there was nothing to do but hike back. "OK, kids, not ice cream or drinks here, but if we get back to the car, there's water there and we'll go get food!" Somehow the kids were in better shape hiking back. There was still plenty "I'm tired" and "how much longer" but they solider along, and I even had a nice conversation with Stella at one point about how plants and animals might have arrived on the islands, before settlers did.<br />
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All in all, our visit to the viewpoint took about 3 hours, and involved hiking over 6 miles, but we did get our view. Sarah and I did feel a little bad for dragging the kids all that way, unprepared, but our guilt was tempered a little by Stella, who had been dying of thirst mere minutes before, taking the worlds smallest sip of water, before climbing into the car and commencing complaining about something else.<br />
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Back in our car, we descended into the Caldera, to the idyllic village of Sete Cidades for dinner. We parked our car, and wandered the quiet streets until we found a buffet-style restaurant Lagoa Azul the meals were on the expensive side, but the beer was free and it gave us a chance to try a number of local dishes.<br />
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After dinner, we wandered down to the lake, before driving to the bridge that separates the two lakes, Verde and Azul. Stella, Sarah and I got out (it was Otto's turn to be irrationally angry about something), and looked around, taking in the stillness. It was weirdly stirring, the idea that we were standing in the center of a giant, ancient volcano so massive, it now contained several lakes, a town and a considerable amount of farmland. The world inside the caldera seemed both so contained, yet also so remote from the rest of the world.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX2uIoKxXVMTB5-jzyOx4WuIftUOMhNymFquSqqFMwifrBJQRBihZLy_UZzW8TTxfmjso-ZgtMvE_Mj-xX1P9-X5LZlt8sqvFxjHilIRXIEO3oQFFreLXrbw9EH-4jsEPpmYeTKFAat68/s1600/IMAG3438.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX2uIoKxXVMTB5-jzyOx4WuIftUOMhNymFquSqqFMwifrBJQRBihZLy_UZzW8TTxfmjso-ZgtMvE_Mj-xX1P9-X5LZlt8sqvFxjHilIRXIEO3oQFFreLXrbw9EH-4jsEPpmYeTKFAat68/s320/IMAG3438.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<i>Sarah and I both tried to take a number of photos capturing the atmosphere of this area, the weird combination of stillness and peacefulness, mixed with isolation and the almost closed in feeling of the rim walls. In the end, I don't think either of us got the shot we wanted, so here's a picture of Stella and Sarah on the bridge, because I love them.</i></div>
<i><br /></i>
Moved by the stillness and remoteness, we returned to our car, and drove back to our apartment in Mosterios.The Generalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13882212598013962066noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377312797415153161.post-67162417902342664472017-08-07T11:09:00.000-07:002017-08-07T11:09:20.921-07:00Final Thoughts on Lisbon<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigSIPnxgvdbM12izFLYMu-CnDLdB1A_YlyvLT786-sqhp3Y9hI6jLMMEdKai5SIDwkE2zbsQ-N3yRjc1lQkPRplVPr42N_mApImVUrppJrL81fx93stlFCgO7HXaxUa8SLQlrqbdIaWVc/s1600/sarah_reporting.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="31" data-original-width="320" height="38" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigSIPnxgvdbM12izFLYMu-CnDLdB1A_YlyvLT786-sqhp3Y9hI6jLMMEdKai5SIDwkE2zbsQ-N3yRjc1lQkPRplVPr42N_mApImVUrppJrL81fx93stlFCgO7HXaxUa8SLQlrqbdIaWVc/s400/sarah_reporting.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "calibri light";"><span style="color: #4f545c;">I’d intended to write
this up on our last night in Lisbon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="color: #4f545c;">But
between laundry, packing, and adventures out in the heat to run errands, I just
didn’t have it in me, especially knowing we had a 3:30AM start the next
day.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="color: #4f545c;"> </span></span><span style="color: #4f545c;">But I figured it was worth a bit of
reflection, even if now I’m a week into life on Sao Miguel. </span></span></i><br />
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "calibri light";"><span style="color: #4f545c;"></span></span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri light";"><span style="color: #4f545c;">As you can see from our list of possible preferred things to do, we made a good dent:</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyD69wsBuJLo2tgCdqpZqU8RfrAouP_du5a5lw3m-0aTkoQHWlPZeCbZLK7EP-afwVdhYAK4Zf11bNbWJhsJq96VqyixHGgkvDXZGaQdyVvbL8CyAKLq0KTkCoMWo7bivESgwsCEdm5dw/s1600/list+of+things+to+do.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyD69wsBuJLo2tgCdqpZqU8RfrAouP_du5a5lw3m-0aTkoQHWlPZeCbZLK7EP-afwVdhYAK4Zf11bNbWJhsJq96VqyixHGgkvDXZGaQdyVvbL8CyAKLq0KTkCoMWo7bivESgwsCEdm5dw/s320/list+of+things+to+do.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE_TvFXytUiKEAiHq8VaZaiT_ZkyMGJYGrqjfLTUmy_foxSUWGXM6zLuUrwpPuhIrDyujrMCryOz5fCeY8zi_KNmRsx9JiWkDTfseBDfM4VhdkcLQcaA2jPY_45KppE0RWlK4O2Sm1r5g/s1600/otto+cabo+hike.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a> </div>
<span style="font-family: "calibri light";"><span style="color: #4f545c;">One big question for us on this trip was how we’d feel
staying for a longer time in one place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></span><span style="color: #4f545c;">On our last longer trip, we moved locations about once a week:</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="color: #4f545c;"> </span></span><span style="color: #4f545c;">Reykjavik, Paris, Arles in Provence.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="color: #4f545c;"> </span></span><span style="color: #4f545c;">It’s hard to know how that would feel with
the kids as they are today; it ended up feeling like a little much, like we
should have maybe just made two stops versus three.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="color: #4f545c;"> </span></span><span style="color: #4f545c;">I left Lisbon feeling like we could really
saw a lot of Lisbon and the nearby areas—it was enough time to
not feel compelled to go-go-go all the time while also being enough time to see
the sights we were most interested in.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="color: #4f545c;">
</span></span><span style="color: #4f545c;">It was nice to have a place to feel like home, nearby grocers we got to
know, some routines (like daily gelato) that could be established.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="color: #4f545c;"> </span></span><span style="color: #4f545c;">Leaving Lisbon after 12 days really cemented
the idea that we need to try more often to have two-week long vacations to
decompress, really feel the time for adventure, sightseeing, R&R and needed
down time.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri light";"><span style="color: #4f545c;">At this same time, I think we also left Lisbon feeling like
we might have been even happier in some of the nearby, smaller towns.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="color: #4f545c;">While I love living with the conveniences and
benefits that come from being in a bigger city, on vacation, I don’t mind
having fewer choices and a quieter life.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="color: #4f545c;">
</span></span><span style="color: #4f545c;">In retrospect, I would have happily spent a week in Sintra and a week in
Sesimbra, both coming in around 30,000 people.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="color: #4f545c;">
</span></span><span style="color: #4f545c;">Towns that are not full on built for tourists but still have a good
handful of interesting things to do (usually involving some
hiking/walking/being outdoors) and some of the conveniences of having some
tourist trade (decent restaurants).</span></span> </div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri light";"><span style="color: #4f545c;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPH0uwAG9iDyHlJxJ7eVzs2zpUxa1HTGJsfDNtkYOiTaFgJNoX_2s72S6Dfr3phDs0aP104BC8zfPUkHA_WqLy4Y-PPXAgWWnQlHtsghvkEn9Rw5jI_l7dGunXAYO1tWhEjdrMrhsgxsk/s1600/sintra.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPH0uwAG9iDyHlJxJ7eVzs2zpUxa1HTGJsfDNtkYOiTaFgJNoX_2s72S6Dfr3phDs0aP104BC8zfPUkHA_WqLy4Y-PPXAgWWnQlHtsghvkEn9Rw5jI_l7dGunXAYO1tWhEjdrMrhsgxsk/s320/sintra.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri light";"><span style="color: #4f545c;"><em>Last views of Sintra--was definitely sad to leave here after just one day</em></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri light";"><span style="color: #4f545c;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnkgsBBUeJ1GuArPi8HcySGWVntuo9szN5PGUzbWQrF7piNTqIzIPjj1uQ2SIlE_K72EV0KnyrbE9D0RAvnXHsmLRxV9ycqs3dnJEMz6B2ETtx5doWTZGKxKcorF7Ff1ikyxP0Stao4eQ/s1600/kids+sesimbra.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnkgsBBUeJ1GuArPi8HcySGWVntuo9szN5PGUzbWQrF7piNTqIzIPjj1uQ2SIlE_K72EV0KnyrbE9D0RAvnXHsmLRxV9ycqs3dnJEMz6B2ETtx5doWTZGKxKcorF7Ff1ikyxP0Stao4eQ/s320/kids+sesimbra.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri light";"><span style="color: #4f545c;"><em>Sesimbra--cute beachside town that we could have easily spent more than a few hours in</em></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri light";"><span style="color: #4f545c;"><o:p></o:p></span></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr_BWZ9YDuwmTj9FR6uy-nV-kO2iWusuFqzzJ1kvFummm1kfukNenB6TXxqH0xv0ZORI-be7medQBCrTpKXNnRLHU4qfmdsSwfS63go_zgOsfieE6EHloB8bgNwEtnaog4umOCvYdU9NU/s1600/tyler+cabo+de+roca.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgr_BWZ9YDuwmTj9FR6uy-nV-kO2iWusuFqzzJ1kvFummm1kfukNenB6TXxqH0xv0ZORI-be7medQBCrTpKXNnRLHU4qfmdsSwfS63go_zgOsfieE6EHloB8bgNwEtnaog4umOCvYdU9NU/s320/tyler+cabo+de+roca.jpg" width="320" /></a> </div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri light";"><span style="color: #4f545c;"><em>This hike by the westernmost point of Portugal was another highlight--with better preparation, we could have made quite a hike out of it</em></span></span></div>
<span style="color: #4f545c; font-family: Calibri Light;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri light";"><span style="color: #4f545c;">In retrospect, this was true for Tyler and I on our trip,
too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="color: #4f545c;">Toward the end we had the same
realization, which led us to stay in places like </span></span><a href="http://strangebenevolent.blogspot.pt/2007/06/pushkar-small-but-not-quiet.html"><span style="color: #80838a; font-family: "calibri light";">Pushkar</span></a><span style="color: #4f545c; font-family: "calibri light";">
and </span><a href="http://strangebenevolent.blogspot.pt/2007/06/scenes-of-bundi.html"><span style="color: #80838a; font-family: "calibri light";">Bundi</span></a><span style="font-family: "calibri light";"><span style="color: #4f545c;">,
in Rajasthan in India, versus Udaipur.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="color: #4f545c;">
</span></span><span style="color: #4f545c;">Or </span></span><a href="http://strangebenevolent.blogspot.pt/2007/09/monks-cats-and-rain.html"><span style="color: #80838a; font-family: "calibri light";">Veliko
Tornovo, Bulgaria</span></a><span style="font-family: "calibri light";"><span style="color: #4f545c;">, versus Sofia.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="color: #4f545c;">
</span></span><span style="color: #4f545c;">(Or, for that matter, seeing only </span></span><a href="http://strangebenevolent.blogspot.pt/search/label/Tasmania"><span style="color: #80838a; font-family: "calibri light";">Tasmania</span></a><span style="font-family: "calibri light";"><span style="color: #4f545c;">
versus anything on mainland Australia.)</span><span style="color: #4f545c;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri light";"><span style="color: #4f545c;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri light";"><span style="color: #4f545c;">As I’ve gotten older, I also feel more keenly the loss of
really getting to know a place by not knowing the language.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="color: #4f545c;">Portuguese just throws me for a total
loop.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="color: #4f545c;"> </span></span><span style="color: #4f545c;">(One example:</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="color: #4f545c;"> </span></span><span style="color: #4f545c;">Setubal looks like it should sound like “Set-too-bull”.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="color: #4f545c;"> </span></span><span style="color: #4f545c;">Nope, it’s “Schtu-bul”, naturally.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="color: #4f545c;"> </span></span><span style="color: #4f545c;">I’m sure if I took a few lessons or did
Duolingo I’d at least understand the logic of the sounds, but that just wasn’t
something I could squeeze into our pre-trip schedule.)</span><span style="color: #4f545c;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="color: #4f545c;">While
we could easily get by with ordering, going to tourist locations and otherwise
getting around town with English, I know we’re getting such a moderated
understanding of Portugal.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="color: #4f545c;"> </span></span><span style="color: #4f545c;">Sadly, I don’t
have the “language gene” and don’t easily pick up languages, so that’s not
likely to change anytime soon, but I notice it more than in my younger days.<o:p></o:p></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri light";"><span style="color: #4f545c;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "calibri light";"><span style="color: #4f545c;">I can also tell we still straddle the inclinations between
budget, longer-term travelers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="color: #4f545c;">Tyler and
I are still inclined to walk/bus/train versus cab/car for getting from Point A
to B. </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="color: #4f545c;"> </span></span><span style="color: #4f545c;">Pack lightly so we can carry our
stuff as needed.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="color: #4f545c;"> </span></span><span style="color: #4f545c;">Figure out how locals
do things versus tourists.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="color: #4f545c;"> </span></span><span style="color: #4f545c;">Sometimes
with the kids this may work against us, but maybe it’s not a bad ethos to
instill early on.</span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "calibri light";"><span style="color: #4f545c;">One thing about travelling as a family that's good and bad is we tend to get more roughly on the same schedule. The kids go to bed, sleep later. It's makes planning easy, and is convenient because, even with two bedrooms, our places are usually pretty cozy. But it does mean that Tyler and I get *less* one-on-one time together than at home, where we usually have a good hour or two between the kids' bedtime and ours. I tend to be ready to sleep with the kids. (Hence Tyler's more prolific blogging--gives him something to do while the rest of us sleep.) One positive development is that often the kids are more interested in talking to each other over dinner, so we do sometimes get some time together then.</span></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJjYMQySYXXRP3ezo56BxqWQ5q55tBfqKhQxur5NlfWTkkKDNlXw40p6di35GrdOBmjf1D0LN0ybU62B9d2o33m7zYlASiQdZtV87ShnrIIjExQjNDmVgtFz2NW5dD9pTiStNkpp5I-Tk/s1600/cute+tyler+dinner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJjYMQySYXXRP3ezo56BxqWQ5q55tBfqKhQxur5NlfWTkkKDNlXw40p6di35GrdOBmjf1D0LN0ybU62B9d2o33m7zYlASiQdZtV87ShnrIIjExQjNDmVgtFz2NW5dD9pTiStNkpp5I-Tk/s320/cute+tyler+dinner.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri light";"><span style="color: #4f545c;"><em>A bit of time with the boy over dinner</em></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri light";"><span style="color: #4f545c;">As for final thoughts on the kids?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="color: #4f545c;">Well, Stella left only wanting to call Lisbon
“Lisboa.”</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="color: #4f545c;"> </span></span><span style="color: #4f545c;">Otto gained a lot of
confidence in navigating the narrow, often sidewalk-less streets.</span><span style="color: #4f545c;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri light";"><span style="color: #4f545c;"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">Here are the kids' thoughts on staying in Lisbon, their favorite things, and if they would have preferred to move around more:</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri light";"><span style="color: #4f545c;">Per Stella:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="color: #4f545c;">“It was great, and it was nice and relaxing with lots of fun things. My favorite part was all the cool beaches. Oh, and I liked the Ascensor. I would have rather moved around more."</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri light";"><span style="color: #4f545c;">Per Otto:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="color: #4f545c;">“OK. I'll be the same as Stella."</span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #4f545c; font-family: Calibri Light;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJdGfyaWwl5LZeXJFy8rqicw1pIjPePjCPOEXmHMLSElxdhqwngN7R59jkGFwitvVxM0y-20kbq-X5ae-CasxILTK8DVNff-HYur5Ft7yQHjSht2yVUAWB7d-GbtKMy-zeRqElULcBf4g/s1600/stella+and+otto+timeout.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJdGfyaWwl5LZeXJFy8rqicw1pIjPePjCPOEXmHMLSElxdhqwngN7R59jkGFwitvVxM0y-20kbq-X5ae-CasxILTK8DVNff-HYur5Ft7yQHjSht2yVUAWB7d-GbtKMy-zeRqElULcBf4g/s320/stella+and+otto+timeout.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="color: #4f545c; font-family: Calibri Light;"><em>Being cute together</em></span></div>
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<span style="color: #4f545c; font-family: Calibri Light;"></span> </div>
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<span style="color: #4f545c; font-family: Calibri Light;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE_TvFXytUiKEAiHq8VaZaiT_ZkyMGJYGrqjfLTUmy_foxSUWGXM6zLuUrwpPuhIrDyujrMCryOz5fCeY8zi_KNmRsx9JiWkDTfseBDfM4VhdkcLQcaA2jPY_45KppE0RWlK4O2Sm1r5g/s1600/otto+cabo+hike.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiE_TvFXytUiKEAiHq8VaZaiT_ZkyMGJYGrqjfLTUmy_foxSUWGXM6zLuUrwpPuhIrDyujrMCryOz5fCeY8zi_KNmRsx9JiWkDTfseBDfM4VhdkcLQcaA2jPY_45KppE0RWlK4O2Sm1r5g/s320/otto+cabo+hike.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="color: #4f545c; font-family: Calibri Light;"><em>Despite Otto's lackluster response above, he was legitimately pretty thrilled with this hike</em></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri light";"><span style="color: #4f545c;">Sounds about right. We definitely know the kids love beaches, generally like hikes, and--frankly--probably would be just as happy in Kauai right now...</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "calibri light";"><span style="color: #4f545c;">I’ve definitely left Portugal wanting to see more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></span><span style="color: #4f545c;">We didn’t get south to the Algarve region,
which is full of parks and more rustic beaches.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="color: #4f545c;">
</span></span><span style="color: #4f545c;">We didn’t get north to Porto.</span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"><span style="color: #4f545c;"> </span></span><span style="color: #4f545c;">I
don’t know when our travels would bring us back, but I leave with an appetite
for more, which doesn’t seem like a bad way to depart.</span></span></div>
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Sarahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/10861760979468894638noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377312797415153161.post-12745001864821825932017-08-06T16:32:00.002-07:002017-08-06T16:32:40.251-07:00Day 20: Arrival in the Azores!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<img border="0" data-original-height="31" data-original-width="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPvXFmbXrb9lbPtE-4L_rqV7LoEuvF04jg7gWvflGIaVCzK5Z5eTl_ZnGpgvYlQg4JQX6UH_pMgGkOLEWXZhXnmRAWeveQuqY4dLH7pjCmb7AUAbrP_619cxs42kjDIt6MkSakR-7swHc/s1600/tyler_reporting.jpg" /></div>
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<b>Day 20</b><br />
This morning was a rough one. There's just no good way to wake up at 3:30am to catch a flight. Sarah and I actually did a great job of pre-packing, getting the kids and ourselves to bed at a reasonable time and being generally prepared... but you are still getting up at 3:30am.<br />
<br />
With kids.<br />
<br />
So, we got up, got ready, got the kids ready, said a tired goodbye to our apartment, and all blearily stumbled down the stairs and out onto the street to catch our ride to the airport. Fortunately, the car service we'd arranged was timely and the roads (being that it was 4:30am now) were pretty much completely empty.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcrVp-kRRT3QWNdBdvpsScEZ-QBnBde8c8uPQHM0ClrdfLBrYGv4m3b8jmJwjMra3I3lejahcGLoloylgNztfSNYWykOjTt2cxjKYQuldJL8tKvV1TA3-iVHrUBBMOhZddcbavg5e8HSc/s1600/20170803_042705.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcrVp-kRRT3QWNdBdvpsScEZ-QBnBde8c8uPQHM0ClrdfLBrYGv4m3b8jmJwjMra3I3lejahcGLoloylgNztfSNYWykOjTt2cxjKYQuldJL8tKvV1TA3-iVHrUBBMOhZddcbavg5e8HSc/s320/20170803_042705.jpg" width="180" /></a></div>
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<i>Totally awake on the streets of Lisbon, at 4:30am.</i></div>
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The driver dropped us off at the terminal for Easy Jet, which basically looked more like an IKEA warehouse with no furniture than an airport terminal, and after making it through security and a short wait, we boarded our flight and away we went to the Azores.<br />
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The flight itself seemed to go really quick. Partially because we were nodding off the whole time, and partially because Sarah and I had thought the flight was supposed to be 3 and a half hours and it turned out to be 2 and a half. Score.<br />
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Landing on Sao Miguel was one of those experiences where you look out your window and think: "Oh, we are just landing in the ocean" only to have land show up at the last minute. Our plane then taxied up to the terminal, next to, like four other planes, which seemed to be maximum capacity for the airport. Then we unloaded directly onto the tarmac and walked into the terminal... something that, no matter how many times I've done it, always feels cool and novel. Sort of how you'd expect vintage James Bond to disembark from a plane.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs4CFemu0dcBvKxMB4P3ZDyOILLOj0NAh5qUbmDZ3YdU-YP_OxgYuObiyErLxt8B0dqXU9kp3lvJHcgW4VKYgGeoiVLeRvHh6_IuAW_WQ53lVR7UhGuPq6zlKzeZvGQCq1qr53sjRlVjA/s1600/IMAG3339.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs4CFemu0dcBvKxMB4P3ZDyOILLOj0NAh5qUbmDZ3YdU-YP_OxgYuObiyErLxt8B0dqXU9kp3lvJHcgW4VKYgGeoiVLeRvHh6_IuAW_WQ53lVR7UhGuPq6zlKzeZvGQCq1qr53sjRlVjA/s320/IMAG3339.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Old-school disembarking from our plane. Just strutting across the tarmac.</i></div>
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In the terminal we were met by a representative from the car rental company Sarah had arranged. And, as we filled out our paperwork, I began to get the sensation that we were renting one of only a few cars they had to rent. As though crashing the car might kill 33.3% of their business.<br />
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Hooked up with our Fiat, we loaded the kids and hit the road. First up was a grocery store in Porto Delgada, to get some supplies. Or, rather, first up was getting quasi-lost in Porto Delgada. Either way, it allowed us a quick view at Sao Miguel's largest "city." With less than 70,000 inhabitants, and it's narrow streets and low lying buildings it barely felt like a village in comparison to the hustle and bustle of New York and Lisbon.<br />
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Eventually, we found a grocery store that was pen, despite the fact that the owners didn't seem to be bothered with turning the lights on, and with groceries in hand, it was back in the car and on the road to Mosterios, on the islands Westernmost coast.<br />
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Making our way down the windy roads, we were in awe of how green everything was in comparison to Lisbon (well, Sarah, Stella and I were, Otto was asleep). The green landscape punctuated by what we would learn are omnipresent hydrangea bushes, with their bright blue flowers. Hydrangeas everywhere. It was still early morning, and instead of being sunny, it was actually a little overcast and blustery, with a misty rain blurring our windshield from time to time.<br />
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About 45 minutes later, we peeled off the main road, and dove down a steep zigzag of asphalt to Mosterios. The directions Sarah was following led us straight to the house, a funky, old yellow building perched directly above Mosterios' black-sanded public beach. Waiting for the homeowner to arrive, we realized that we'd messed up telling her our arrival time, because of our time change; so we decided to take the kids down to look at the beach while we waited.<br />
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<img border="0" data-original-height="758" data-original-width="1600" height="151" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip1fOIMHzDDE0UmeGwNP46olhlRP_EQZxR5khV9mCNwOhcwBWwS7vygKRjmXmgp1CG-26aEReecJdUL9L0cVLf13n8rkUIrnrgb8g6_De6T8IjyRe9jlOm1h4NGc7hyphenhyphenE_W0_YlKTDBxeQ/s320/IMAG3354_1.jpg" width="320" /></div>
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<i>A view of our rental. It's the small yellow house on the left. Pretty crappy location.</i></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdMa6Uqrg4-0ur0eDrmR8itJstH_cYB-_MR7g8bZIvNx-5w6L4S_UBOw8G7Pcao4SjmsTFagX0kVyVZAD5hLU8QhwOIe9y4tNRb8MoCdY5vJND7G5_NPSfHVrgexw_agdJ1__3sE8ombI/s1600/IMAG3350.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdMa6Uqrg4-0ur0eDrmR8itJstH_cYB-_MR7g8bZIvNx-5w6L4S_UBOw8G7Pcao4SjmsTFagX0kVyVZAD5hLU8QhwOIe9y4tNRb8MoCdY5vJND7G5_NPSfHVrgexw_agdJ1__3sE8ombI/s320/IMAG3350.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>The view from our rental. Equally crappy.</i></div>
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Still windy and grey, the surf at the beach was intimidating, with huge waves crashing violently on its sandy shores. We were only made slightly safer feeling by the pair of lifeguards who sat smoking, huddled on some umbrellas. Still, the kids were thrilled. And, despite our attempts to discourage them they were both soon frolicking in the surf. Otto, still in his pajamas, had soon taken his shirt off, and rolled up his now-soggy pajama pants and was facing the coming waves like a Viking warrior, despite still having no idea how to swim.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVMIvLZqDGicb-wLkSa4wMgS1rsfEwYIPAi9XKj5j01oq-HIKAHActUubRuoAJirPV3sIhM-f7N20DKqCj0oNMgAK648enlwHTErPRlFqdRTvYFT2oNJOxKXTTi5zZNzV7WnLhEcpFMkY/s1600/IMAG3349.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVMIvLZqDGicb-wLkSa4wMgS1rsfEwYIPAi9XKj5j01oq-HIKAHActUubRuoAJirPV3sIhM-f7N20DKqCj0oNMgAK648enlwHTErPRlFqdRTvYFT2oNJOxKXTTi5zZNzV7WnLhEcpFMkY/s320/IMAG3349.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>Man versus nature. In this case, "man" is 6, and doesn't know how to swim, but still.</i></div>
<b></b><b><u><i><br /></i></u></b>
Eventually, the person showed up with the key, and we were let inside and made ourselves at home. That basically involved dumping our stuff in the entry, firing up a show on the iPad for the kids, Sarah promptly crashing on the bed, and me wandering around in a daze, half unpacking groceries.<br />
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A little while later, it was time for some lunch, so we wandered into town, looking for a restaurant, only to discover that Mosterios is so small it only has, maybe, five restaurants in the whole town. And that, aside from one "reservations only" Italian place that is open from 8pm to 11pm daily, they all pretty much have identical menus. So, after a death march looking for additional, non-existent food options, we made our way back to one of the two places we'd spotted. <br />
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The wait to get a seat proved surprisingly long, but the people running the simple restaurant were accommodating and nice, and Sarah and I both enjoyed our first bifana, which is a pork sandwich we seems to be sold pretty much everywhere.<br />
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After lunch, it was back to the house and then down to the beach for another round of watching the kids attempt to drown themselves in the still-enormous waves. Sarah and I were both amazed at how much energy they both seemed to have after such a long day already. But, eventually the tuckered out, and we headed back to base camp.<br />
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<i>Black sand beach!</i></div>
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Heading out for another meal for dinner seemed daunting, so instead I walked over to a small market we'd noticed earlier and got some additional groceries, which Sarah then used to whip up a dinner of pasta and salad at our new place.<br />
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<i>Sarah and her helper make dinner. Photo taken through a small peephole into our funky little kitchen space.</i></div>
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Exhausted, but excited about our new location and the coming days of exploration, we all crashed.The Generalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13882212598013962066noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377312797415153161.post-41972458392511964722017-08-05T16:33:00.001-07:002017-08-05T16:33:19.765-07:00Days 18 & 19: The final days in Lisbon<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>Day 18</b><br />
After nearly two weeks in Lisbon, we knew things would be wrapping up so, and since we also knew the last day would be filled with last minute chores, we figures this penultimate day would be a good day for one last big adventure.<br />
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Sarah and I both thought out first time renting a car was really successful, so that was what we initially thought would be a good idea, but when we suggested it to the kids, they balked at the idea: "We ride in cars all the time at home, but buses and trains are different." So, Sarah looked into how to head south by bus, while I moped a bit.<br />
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In the end, for what we had planned the train or bus didn't make sense, so it was Stella's turn to mope, while I reserved a car.<br />
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That morning, we hiked down to the car rental place, picked up our car and (after getting lost for a bit in Lisbon) we were on our way. We crossed the Tagus on the Ponte 25 de Abril bridge, which is supposedly a twin to the Golden Gate Bridge; and drove past the Christ the King statue, which is supposedly inspired by the Christ the Redeemer in Rio and headed due south to the beach resort town of Sesimbra. The idea was to grab lunch there, and then head to the beaches inside Arribida Natural Park.<br />
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Parking our car (illegally, apparently, as it scored us a parking ticket), we walked down to the waterfront to find food. While we found a decent lunch spot with beer and a nice view, the view proved a little problematic, because Otto couldn't understand why we wouldn't just hit the giant beach which was spread out before us. But we ended up distracting him with gelato, and headed back to our car.<br />
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<i>Stella, also skeptical of why we wouldn't just stay on this perfectly fine beach. (They even made a "sales pitch" as to how a certain part of the beach was less crowded, and therefor perfect for us.)</i><br />
Our departure from Sesimbra was only slightly delayed by the car in front of us stalling on a steep hill. This rapidly caused a huge back up of traffic, and groups of people began to gather around, presumably all shouting their thoughts and advice on how to get it running or out of the way. I climbed out to do my part shrugging and grinning like an idiot tourist. Eventually, a random guy wandered around the corner, jumped in the car, and managed to start it long enough to creep it out of the way, allowing traffic through. And we were off!<br />
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...until we managed to get lost on the fringes of the Natural Park. While following directions from Sarah, I panicked and swerved onto a side street. Rather than double back, we decided to forge ahead and see if we could find a new path... which lead us in a giant, 15-minute-long circle back to where we started.<br />
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So, back on track, we followed the actual route this time and wound our way into the park. The park itself was quite beautiful, with Cliffside roads running through scrubland with views of the ocean below. Sarah had learned in Sesimbra that the road that ran along the waterfront was one way, going in the opposite direction, so we had to drive east on a upper road before dropping down to the lower road to reach the beaches. But, this was fine, because it offered us a chance to take in the coastline from a number of viewpoints.<br />
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<i>Me posing next to our rented Audi, overlooking the stunning Atlantic coastline.</i></div>
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On the lower road, we quickly saw why the road was one way, because people had basically co-oped the other lane as parking for vast lengths of the road. After having no success finding parking for the first beach, we managed to grab a spot on the road ourselves, and make our way down to the second beach, via a steep, winding dirt path.<br />
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<i>"What's a Sesimbra?" The kids have obviously forgotten the previous beach, now that we've arrived.</i></div>
<i></i><br />
This beach was quite nice, with enough people to seem busy, but not oppressively so. But, after watching the kids play there for 30 minutes or so, I began to notice people making their way through the shallow waters on the right, around a rocks ledge to some other location. My curiosity piqued, I decided to check it out, first with the kids, but then on my own, after realizing the water got too deep for Otto to easily manage.<br />
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Around the corner was a second beach. Smaller, but even less crowded. Making my way back to Sarah and the kids, I told them that it looked like Sarah and Otto could reach the new beach through a network of trails, and that I could take Stella around via the water (since it was fun), and we all quickly met up at the new beach. There we spent the rest of the afternoon playing, and I fought the urge to see what was around the next bend.<br />
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<i>Otto overlooking the "new beach." Far fewer people and just as stunning.</i></div>
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<i>Family beach time!</i></div>
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Finally wrapping things up, we made our way back to the car, changed out of our swim gear, and hit the road again. Sarah had read up on a lighthouse not far from Sesimbra that was near an old pilgrimage spot and known for it's windswept desolation. And, since Sarah and I are fans of some good old fashioned desolation, we headed there.<br />
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The kids were less excited, that is until we pulled into the parking lot near the lighthouse, and discovered a snack truck selling fresh-made churros. They kids had never had churros before, but they successfully sold the kids on this final sight seeing location. (They were excellent churros, it must be mentioned.)<br />
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<i>Someone likes churros!</i></div>
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After our snack, we made our way around the cliffs surrounding the pilgrimage church and housing, being blasted by some of the strongest winds I've ever felt the whole time we walked. Gone was the sunny day, and lapping waves of the beach we'd just left, replaced by an unrelenting gale of wind. In the end, it did deliver on the desolation.<br />
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<i>How windy was it? This windy. (Also, note lighthouse in the background.)</i></div>
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So, having filled our day, we made our way back to Lisbon, dropped off the car and headed back to our apartment, exhausted and smelling of sea air.<br />
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<b>Day 19</b><br />
Partially driven by the kids being exhausted from a day on the beach and riding around in a car, and partially driven by our need to get chores done before we headed out, our final day in Lisbon was going to stay a little more lowkey.<br />
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While Sarah and planned what we needed to do to get ready to head to the Azores, we let the kids rattle and wrestle around the apartment, playing some unending and ever evolving game of Pokémon Battle School, or something. Then, as Sarah began packing, I did another laundry run to my Most Favorite Laundromat Ever. Then it was lunch, before heading out to run a couple of errands.<br />
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Sarah wanted to hit the Post Office and a Pharmacy, but as we were walking we passed a barbershop that looked like Ernest Hemmingway had set-designed a hangout for Ponyboy and his gang from the Outsiders. It looked cool, I've been in desperate need of a haircut, and the barber was just hanging out, so we popped in to see if I could get a cut.<br />
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"Sure, but we are a gentleman's only establishment," he replied, giving me a look telling me that the non-Gentlemen in our group would have to leave. So, Sarah and the kids gratuitously stepped outside while I had my most sexist haircut experience ever. Sarah eventually ran to the Post Office to finish that errand, while I got a cut and beard trim. The kneejerk liberal part of me still isn't entirely sure how I felt about the "men's only" rule, but I will admit it was a fun haircut experience, and I couldn't argue with the free beer they gave me while I was groomed.<br />
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<i>A photo from outside the barbershop. As Sarah noted: "At least, but not sitting inside, I didn't have to explain to the kids what a 'Playboy' was."</i></div>
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Stepping out with my new pompadour, I met up with Sarah and the kids and then tracked down a Pharmacy, before heading to the gelato place near our apartment for one last celebratory cone for everyone.<br />
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To keep things easy, we let the kids pick dinner, and they chose "the place with pasta," AKA La Petit Café. So, we went back there for our final dinner in Lisbon. Then home, to bed and fearing the 3:30 wake up alarm for our trip to the Azores.<br />
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<i>One last sunset over the Alfama. Goodbye Lisbon, you will be missed.</i></div>
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<br />The Generalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13882212598013962066noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377312797415153161.post-31035177426592007872017-08-04T16:25:00.000-07:002017-08-04T16:25:13.015-07:00Days 16 & 17: Headed west and exploring town<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>Day 16</b><br />
Bolstered by the success of our trip to Sintra, Sarah and I figured it was time to explore farther afield that the Lisbon city limits. So, I went online and rented us a car for the day with the idea that we'd head back toward Sintra, but check out some of the outlying sights we'd missed.<br />
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If this trip has taught me one thing its that I've gotten fussy enough that, when push comes to shove, I'd rather have my own vehicle and control my own itinerary, rather than be beholden to the schedules of public transportation. Hoping on a subway to ride a couple stops down is one thing, but navigating the queue, waits and confusing tickets for an hour train ride is another.<br />
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Anyhow, we awoke "early" by our standards on this trip, loaded our bags and hiked down the hill to the car rental. Getting the car was simple enough and -all things considered- navigating our way out of the city wasn't that bad either. We rapidly discovered that, while the narrow streets of the old town may we crowded and confusing, once you got outside of downtown, the highways and country roads of Portugal were smooth, coherent and blessedly clear of cars.<br />
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So, in no time we were nearing the coast, and entering Sintra-Cascais Natural Park, our destination: Cabo de Roca... the westernmost point in continental Europe. This was something that had been on Sarah's list since the beginning, but which I was also keen to check out. We'd already been to the northwesternmost point of the continental United States and the southern tip of Africa (I've also been to the southeasternmost point of the US), so it sounded good to check another extreme region off our list.<br />
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As we wound our way toward Cabo de Roca, more and more motorcycle seemed to roar past us, lane-slipping and passing us with increasing regularity. As we neared the lighthouse on the point of Cabo de Roca, it became apparent that some sort of motorcycle rally or meet up was happening, and literally hundreds of motorcycles filled the parking lot. But, as impressive as their sheer numbers were, the stark and cloudy cliffs of Cabo de Roca were even more impressive.<br />
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<i>Sarah and Stella... as far west as you can go in Europe, without falling all the cliffs behind them.</i></div>
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Sarah's commented that, as much as she understands the appeal of a good sunny beach, she prefers the stark isolation of a windswept coastline, and I have to admit that I generally agree. The point itself had an obligatory snack bar and stone cross demarking it, but the most stunning part were the sheer cliffs plunging down to the sea below and the sense of being at the "edge of the world."<br />
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After taking that in, we noticed a path winding down into a valley, and then rising to the next bluff. Feeling adventurous, we began climbing down, but after reaching the lowest point of the valley, and climbing up the the other side a bit, we realized we'd probably bit off more than we could chew, with just sandals and only a little water, so we turned back to the more well worn section. Still, it was nice to get some of that sense of isolation, by stepping away from the crowds (and motorcycles) for at least a bit.<br />
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<i>"Let's go check it out!" The path looks steep. In reality, it is. And, despite the wind and clouds of the coast, hot and tiring. A nice little side exploration though.</i></div>
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Climbing back into the car, we realized we needed food. Following the road down the coast on our maps, we saw the town of Colares, and figured that would be a good place to grab some food. So, we plugged it into our Garmin and headed out. Unfortunately, as we neared the town, we realized our Garmin had a strange idea about where the town actually was. After it tried to make us pull and impossible 345 degree turn up a narrow alley, we parked and decided to try walking up the alley.<br />
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That walk, a half more or so later turned out to be a dead end as the road turned into a rustic road, then a dirt road, then a dirt path. <br />
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<i>"I think this path with get us to town." No. It doesn't.</i></div>
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Returning to our car, we consulted Sarah's phone and drove a short distance to where it said Colares was. There we found a small network of buildings, but nothing looking like an organized town. After wandering in a circle there, starving, we ducked into a rustic restaurant serving chicken they were grilling outside... and it ended up being one of our favorite meals of the trip. Simple, but excellently cooked and seasoned chicken with a cheap beer. As I commented, "sometime where you need to be is not where you intend to be."<br />
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We left "Colares" happy and full... though still not entirely convinced we had ever actually gotten there.<br />
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Since the kids had been troopers so far, their reward was another trip to the beach. We'd read some good things about the beaches outside of Ericeira, so we continued our drive north, along the coast. As we made our way into Ericeira, my heart sank a little. It was obviously a European resort town where the buildings were all cookie cutter condos and the roads, while modern and wide, were packed with the cars of European vacationers looking for a weekend of sun.<br />
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(Also, incidentally, but cooler, the roads were packed with vintage Citreon cars, CV2's to be specific. It seems like there was some annual meet up of CV2 owners going on, and one parking lot in specific was overflowing with the charming, unusual looking car.)<br />
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Fortunately, punching through town and entering the beach, we discovered something much more manageable. Like the beaches of Cascais, there was a lot of people, but this beach was wide enough, open enough and had enough parking that at no time did it feel over crowded or unmanageable. The waves were bigger and the sand coarser, but the kids were unfazed and happy to have more playtime in the surf. <br />
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<i>Soooo excited to be at a beach again. (Really, the kids just think we should have taken them to a beach for a month.)</i><i></i></div>
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After letting them play for an hour or so, and after a 45 minute drive back, we dropped off our car and found ourselves back in Lisbon, tired and hungry. <br />
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Dinner that night was at a restaurant called La Petit Café. We'd read good reviews about it, and it promised pasta for the kids, so while a little more spendy, it seemed like a good choice. The restaurant was charming and easy going, with a menu of dishes that was a mix of French, Portuguese and Brazilian (with pasta!) that, by not being easily pigeonholed as one of those, and not feeling like it was just catering to touristic expectations managed to just provide really good meals. My Brazilian-style seak was good enough that I would revisit it on a later meal that week.<br />
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<i>Photobombed by another random tram, at La Petit Café.</i> </div>
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<b>Day 17</b><br />
Since Sunday had featured so much running around, we figured that Monday would be a good day to take it easy and stay closer to home. That meant sleeping in, multiple cups of coffee, Otto and I playing some Magic cards, the kids seguing into increasingly rowdy game and some lunch at "home" before finally heading out and about.<br />
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When we did finally head out, Sarah had wanted to get some stamps for postcards, so our initial errand was to find a post office and then do some sight seeing around town. After making our way down the hill, and buying more postcards in the Baixa neighborhood, we were given directions to the main post office several blocks away. We made our way there, and then set out toward Bairro Alto, which we hadn't properly seen yet.<br />
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We made a quick an impromptu stop to check out the "Sadrines from Outspace" gallery exhibit, which consisted of different artists art pieces created using a common silhouette of a sardine. Clever, and fun to just do something spur of the moment like that.<br />
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<i>Sardines. From Outerspace.</i></div>
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Hiking uphill again, we grabbed a drink at a courtyard kiosk, before making our way into the Carmo Convent. The Carmo Convent was a Gothic church whose roof collapse in the earthquake of 1755. At the time, the city didn't have the resources to properly restore it, so they left the ruin standing, with it's giant arches supporting a non-existent roof. Now, tourists can wandering through it, and also explore the attached museum of historical artifacts, including several mummified bodies... which serve as a morbid counterpoint to the biblical symbolism of looking up in a church whose roof is the literal heavens.<br />
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<i>Public square drinking is civic drinking.</i></div>
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<i>Literal heavens above, while...</i></div>
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<i>...While very earthly reminders of mortality within.</i></div>
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After that, we peaked around the corner from the Carmo Convent at one of the cities most famous landmarks, the Elevator of San Justa. Build by a student of Gustave Eiffel, the elevator's architecture reflect that same highly filigreed sensibility. Looking at it, and looking at the lines, Sarah, the kids and I agreed that we were happy to appreciate the appearance, without an obligatory ride. So, instead, we hiked several blocks north to catch one of Lisbon's famous Ascensors: Ascensor du Gloria. <br />
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<i>The Elevator of San Justa is basically Lisbon's Space Needle, if the Space Needle was a steampunk fever dream built 50 or so years earlier.</i></div>
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Similar in appearance to their famous trams, the Ascensors are simple versions of those built specifically to climb the steep hills of Lisbon's neighborhoods. Fortunately, because little people were getting tired and hungry, there were no lines to speak of, so we paid our Euros and climb right on board. The ride down was fun and novel if also brief, and also pretty much just a service for tourists at this point. But, I still enjoyed it.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj9Sg0PMWNzqTpoIlYpqXGZj1vVDfblFxLvsj_UH_oB5NEVCyCIlMnrgaO0EYZK4seaozqdm_1t0HqnIEEfyAVlFjK7PxdKGY1tZOIqgWV38LzPFHa0SaeJmqoGGxDFyMjeasxIW0pIk8/s1600/IMAG3299.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="1600" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgj9Sg0PMWNzqTpoIlYpqXGZj1vVDfblFxLvsj_UH_oB5NEVCyCIlMnrgaO0EYZK4seaozqdm_1t0HqnIEEfyAVlFjK7PxdKGY1tZOIqgWV38LzPFHa0SaeJmqoGGxDFyMjeasxIW0pIk8/s320/IMAG3299.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<i>If the trams are Lisbon's showboating photobombers, the acsensors are Lisbon's fancifully graffitied little work horse... even if they are only hauling tourists up and down the hills.</i></div>
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After that, for dinner, we made our way back to Time Out's Market, since the kids had enjoyed it, and Sarah wanted a second go at the restaurants there. She and I ended up getting a six course tasting menu from one place, while Stella got a burger and Otto got some salmon ("how do you get your kid to eat salmon?" one nearby couple asked incredulously as he wolfed it down). Then, post gelato, the walk home.<br />
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<br />The Generalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13882212598013962066noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2377312797415153161.post-24126021339288255582017-08-02T14:19:00.001-07:002017-08-02T14:19:26.397-07:00Days 14 & 15: Sintra and the Tile Museum<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<b>Day 14</b><br />
Two weeks of traveling!<br />
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We figured that Friday would be a good day to get out of town, so we got moving early and headed toward the Rossio Train Station, in central Lisbon. During out tuk tuk tour a couple days previous, the driver had explained that during WWII and after, because of Portugal's neutral status, the station and neighboring hotel had been a common meeting place for spies (even hinting the Ian Fleming had paid a visit or two), so I was intrigued to check head that direction.<br />
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<i>Rossio Train Station. Cloaked in mystery and subterfuge, and now going to take us to go see some quaint village.</i><i></i></div>
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While the outside of the station features a fanciful art nouveau entryway, the interior has been remodeled to a more midcentury style. Thankfully, the lines for the tickets weren't nearly as long as the ones at the Cais du Sodre station, and we boarded a train that was (also thankfully) not crowded.<br />
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Soon, we were speeding out of the Lisbon, passed it's epic aqueduct, toward the comparative greenness of Sintra and it's surrounding regions. The train was quick and uneventful, and soon we were dumped unceremoniously with a legion of other tourists at the Sintra train station, a kilometer downhill from the historic town center.<br />
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<i>Sintra. The Palace of Pena and Moorish Castle lie hidden in the clouds above. </i></div>
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The walk up to the town center was on a winding road lined with craft vendors and tuk tuk operators, but it was also pleasant and tree lined and a welcome departure after a week in the city. Reaching the town center, we (like the other tourists) began looking for something to eat. Sarah had the smarts to suggest we push on, up hill, and through some side streets; which rewarded us with a restaurant that wasn't already crowded with tourists and seemed to be making a little extra effort in the food department. While the actual food didn't completely amaze, they were coming at things with some thoughtful ideas (smoked cheddar and tomato salad served in a sealed jar filled with smoke) and presentation (a lot of the food items were served in ceramic pots), and the location was peaceful.<br />
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<i>Sarah and some artfully presented lunch.</i> </div>
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With food in our belly, we realized that the hike up to the palace (which is the centerpiece of any visit to Sintra) would probably be beyond the kids, so we hired a tuk tuk to run us up there. There were cheaper options, but the lack of hassle was worth the extra money, and the kids enjoy a good tuk tuk ride.<br />
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The driver dropped us off claiming (with an unknown level of truthfulness) that the main entrance to the palace would be a longer wait, and entering through the lower garden entrance would be easier. That ended up being a good solution for us, because the remaining 1000 meters or so were winding through a shaded forest, past ponds and ruined garden features to the lower reaches of the Palace of Pena.<br />
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<i>Sarah points out duck castles and whatnot in the gardens below the Pena Palace.</i> </div>
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<i>A first peak at Palace of Pena, as we make our way up from the gardens below.</i> </div>
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The multi-colored palace, which adorns the cover our of Lonely Planet did not disappoint. After refueling the kids with cold water and a donut, we first made our way around the perimeter wall, a narrow, vertigo inducing pathway which circles the main building. At first, it proved to scary for Otto, but after Stella and I made it around once unharmed, he mustered his courage for the entire family to make a second lap.<br />
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<i>Possibly the only photo of all four of us, so far. In one of the onion-top domes surrounding the palace.</i></div>
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Next it was inside. Dating only back to the mid-19th Century, the palace is still in really amazing shape, and Portugal is in the process of restoring it to reflect how it looked when the royal family fled to Brazil in 1910. That meant that while some rooms were still obviously undergoing restoration, other rooms, such as the queens quarters and smoking room, displayed an amazing decadence in the Romantic style.<br />
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After exploring the interior it was back down through the garden, passed the ponds, and onto another tuk tuk ride down the hill. If it had just been Sarah and I we would have tried a second site, like the Moorish Castle or the Town Palace, but the kids were running out of battery power and craved gelato.<br />
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After grabbing some gelato in town, and letting Sarah sample the locale pastry, it was back on the train to Lisbon. At home, as reward for our active day out, we let the kids rest and play in the apartment; while Sarah made a delightful pasta dinner. All in all a fun day, and Sarah and I both agreed that while we like the bustle of the city, we also both need the green and relaxation that come from smaller towns; and could have easily spent a second day in Sintra, at least.<br />
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<i>Another late-night attempted to get the quint-essential streetcar photo (this one by Sarah).</i> </div>
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<b>Day 15</b><br />
We'd heard that Lisbon had a good flea market on Tuesdays and Saturdays (both from the owner of our apartment and the tuk tuk driver), so since it was Saturday, and just around the corner, we figured we'd check it out. Hiking up to it, we were impressed by the size of it, spreading over several narrow streets. It looks to be divided into equal thirds of arts and crafts, interesting and authentic antiques and just random junk. Refreshingly, it was surprisingly free of the tourist tchotchkes we'd been seeing in too many stores. <br />
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<i>The Lisbon flea market, in the shadow of the massive mausoleum. Definitely some treasures hidden amongst the flotsam and jetsam. </i></div>
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After exploring it for a bit, we made our way over to the Church of Sao Vincente de Fora. In some ways it was actually more impressive than Lisbon Cathedral, including an organ that it considered one of the best in Europe. Outside the church, in its entry arches, a woman impressively sang opera music. Her voice echoing through the surrounding area.<br />
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After checking out the church, we poked into the courtyard which serves as the adjacent monastery's entrance. Cool, with flowers lining the walls, it made for a nice rest, and place for me to name more pigeons.<br />
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After going home and regrouping, it was time to head to the Tile Museum, something that Sarah and Stella were excited to do, but Otto and I were a little more ambivalent about. Rather that trying to navigate the buses, we decided to try to walk, which is a decision that quickly became on of this trips sweltering death marches, as we hiked down effectively one long, shade-free street.<br />
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Arriving at the museum was a bit of a revelation though. After very little but concrete and sunlight, we were greeted by an entrance enveloped in bushes and trees. We walked in and paid surprisingly small entrance fee of 5 Euros for all of us.<br />
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The Museum proved to be surprisingly empty, which would make you think that it was also surprisingly underwhelming, but -quite to the contrary- it exceeded all of my personal expectations. The tile collection as both large and stunning in it's detail, plus there was all a large and opulent church as it's centerpiece that -frankly- was more beautiful than the other churches we'd visited to far.<br />
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<i>Stella strikes a pose in front of one of the rooms. You can see some of the tiles behind her.</i> </div>
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<i>The centerpiece of the Tile Museum, this amazing church. Presumably it was the original purpose of the building, because it didn't have a whole lot to do with the tile work in the other rooms. But: Stunning in it's detail.</i> </div>
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After exploring the entire museum, and taking photos of all the bizarre mythical creatures featured in it's temporary exhibit. We retired to a palm tree shaded courtyard garden, next to the museum sack bar. While the kids ate ham and cheese sandwiches, and played with the turtles and goldfish in the nearby fountain, Sarah and I enjoyed a little white wine and the rare period of peace and quiet.<br />
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<i>The turtles are complete unaware of what the kids are planning for them.</i></div>
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Rather than make the death march back to our apartment, we decided to risk a bus ride. After waiting a short bit, and watching the kids play "chopsticks" we were relieved to have a near empty bus show up.<br />
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Back at home, we decided to let the kids pick dinner, which meant returning to the view point restaurant we'd eaten at on our second night. That was fine by Sarah and I because we had enjoyed the previous dinner, and appreciated that our slightly longer visit to Lisbon was allowing us to revisit places we liked. Dinner was happy and successful again, like our day.The Generalhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13882212598013962066noreply@blogger.com0