Welcome to Edinburgh! Haste Ye Back!

I loved this sign on all the doors at the airport

We arrived at our hotel in Edinburgh on Friday night, with a light rain falling.  Our hotel innkeeper pointed the way to the Royal Mile, a street that stretched between the Holyrood Palace (where Mary Queen of Scots was kept under house arrest prior to her execution) and Edinburgh Castle.  The street housed a mile of pubs, liquor stores (well, scotch whiskey stores, to be exact), and kilt shops.  I think the hope was that you’d crawl your way through the pubs, top off with a substantial whiskey tasting, and then lose all reason, and buy a kilt.   I think Bob might look good in a kilt, after all.  Well, maybe not “after all”, but at least after a pint of Guinness and a few shots of Scotch!

We started out with a walk from Holyrood Palace to the castle, and then we circled back to find a place to eat.  There was a highly rated restaurant called The Witchery which we tried to get into at 8 PM on a Friday night, but were turned away due to lack of reservations (unless we wanted to eat at 10:30 PM).  Instead, we selected a pub called Deacon Brody’s which had a lively bar downstairs and a cozy dining room upstairs.  The Guinness was great, the atmosphere fun, but the food was severely lacking that evening.  Not that we cared – anything would have tasted good after the day we’d had. 

My dinner sounded promising - sea bass with mashed potatoes and seasonal vegetables, while Bob ordered a vegetable pie.  The description of his dish was tantalizing – butternut squash, onions, and mushrooms in a pastry crust.  Unfortunately, both dishes seemed to have been cooked the day before then placed under a heat lamp for one to two hours until sufficiently dried to the consistency of beef jerky.  The fish was about as thick as a piece of stiff cardboard and tasted about the same.  The squash in Bob’s pie tasted as if it had been freeze-dried and only partially reconstituted.  We noticed the person across from us having similar issues with her squash – both Bob and this woman had built a little cairn of brown-orange cubes set on the side of the plate.  The poor couple next to us had it worse, though.  His dinner of prime rib and potatoes arrived with an apology from the kitchen – “Sorry to tell you there was a mix up in the order and your companion’s dish was not made, but will be up shortly.  I’ve brought a second plate in case you want to share your dinner with her.”  Oh, well, OK, the guy said.  His dinner looked and apparently tasted delicious. The couple slowly finished it trying to buy time waiting for hers to arrive.  After they had been done for 15 minutes or so, her dish was finally delivered.  At least hers appeared to be succulent and freshly made – she’d also ordered the sea bass – and the waitress told her she was sure the bill would be adjusted to reflect the inconvenience. 

 

Waiting for our dinners in the Deacon Brody dining room

 

Deacon Brody's - who could resist such a cute pub??

 

After dinner, we wandered through the whiskey stores and went into a really quaint, old bar to taste a flight of smoky, peaty whiskeys from the bar’s selection of over 100 bottles.  Scotch is definitely an acquired taste, and it was interesting to note how different the spirits tasted from each other.   We wrote down the names of some of the more interesting bottles, and when we returned to our room I searched Bevmo online to compare prices – very similar, so no need to lug a fragile bottle around with us.  Also, we had 40 pounds of coupons from Virgin for use on inflight shopping, so maybe a bottle would make its way home with us that way.  (We got the Virgin coupons as a “thank you” for volunteering to give up our seats on the flight from SF to Heathrow; turns out our seats weren’t needed but to say “thanks anyway”, the airline provided the vouchers).

 

 

We finished off the night with a really nice cheese course and then strolled home down the royal mile, feeling all romantic in the misty rain and golden glow of street lights on the medieval buildings.

Murphy's Law, Revisited

Murphy's Law, Revisited

 

Bob and I had the good fortune of being invited to visit our friends at their home in Scotland this fall.  Although we had several months' advance notice, we deliberately made no plans or arrangements other than booking our airfare, so this trip would have a chance at being a happy-go-lucky jaunt through the British Isles, beginning with Scotland and then moving on to visit relatives in Ireland.  Well, I don't know if it was the lack of planning, jet lag or just plain old senility, but Murphy's Law kicked in and all we can do now is laugh about it and wonder what the heck is the matter with us. 

We look so happy, before all the "fun" began!

 

Starting off the trip, our neighbor Bryan drove us to the airport and Bob left his phone in the car after we were dropped off.  Since he is constantly texting the girls, Bob realized it was missing before Bryan got too far away, and got the phone back before we finished checking in. 

Then, after landing at Heathrow for a 5 hour layover before heading up to Edinburgh, Bob somehow misplaced his phone again.  He noticed it was missing as we were sitting down for lunch, because I suddenly realized I'd left my laptop at the security checkpoint and in my panic, he started fumbling for his phone and found it was also gone.  I got my laptop back without issue, but Bob was not so lucky.  To make matters worse, this was a new iphone5, his second in two weeks.  He'd just replaced the first one because it went through the washing machine, presumably to rinse off the salt water from when he dropped it into Tomales Bay the week before that.  The bright side:  a good samaritan German tourist found the phone and took it home.  He called Marie to make arrangements to return it, and I believe it's on its way back to the States right now.  In the meantime, we bought a basic phone in Scotland for about $25.00 and now I am in charge of it.  Although that is not really much comfort....

 

After stressing over the phone (before we knew it was getting returned) we decided there was nothing that could be done, so we did a little shoppping at Heathrow and then I sat down with my newly recovered laptop to book a hotel in Scotland. After nearly finalizing my hotel reservation, I clicked on a link to view the parking and cancellation policies.  Little did I know that when I was returned to the reservation form, the dates of my reservation had defaulted back to some kind of standing date, which was December 10, 2012.  I completed my reservation and paid the non-cancellable fee before noticing this. Ugh!!  I tried to change the date using the "amend my reservation" button, but apparently that button is only meant for people with a working brain.  For people like me there was only a rude message reminding me my reservation was non-cancellable.  I booked a seccond reservation for that evening, hoping I could work something out with the front desk.  And, as luck would have it, the people of Scotland are nice and pleasant and are accustomed to senile old women. They very cheerfully fixed the mess I'd created and sent us on our way to the pubs to unwind after a very long day.

 

The next day, when we were refreshed, we did a little local sight-seeing then headed back to the airport to pick up our rental car and begin our journey to our friend's home in Moffat, with a detour to Stirling Castle and the monument to William Wallace (of "Braveheart" fame).  On the way there, we had a close encounter with a curb which ended up damaging the rental car tire to the tune of about $300.  The car agency told us to go to the nearest Hertz location to change the car, which happened to be Glasgow Airport, but upon arriving, they had no cars of any type available.  What next????  We begged and pleaded and eventually they found a car for us, called a "Juke".  Not as nice as the Audi we had, but at least it fit our monstrous amount of luggage.  So again, everything worked out. 

 

We spent several fun days with our friends, then departed today to head over by ferry to Ireland.  ViaMichelin, the MapQuest-equivalent over here, said to estimate 4.5 hours of driving time.  Our ferry left at 2:10 PM so we left Moffat at about 7 AM.  About an hour into the route, the GPS started talking to us, telling us there were traffic issues ahead.  It kindly informed us it was redirecting our route which took us off the main freeway and onto a winding maze of little side streets, all the while adding time to our trip. We did not have a reliable map so we were at the mercy of this demonic GPS.  At 11 AM, we pulled off to get fuel, and Guess What?  Another mishap.  Unleaded fuel into the Diesel engine.  UGHHHHHHH.  What NEXT????  We called Clyde the Mechanic who came down to siphon our tank, for the low price of only $200. And now we realized we are most likely going to miss our ferry.  OK, enough stress for one day. I decided to call the ferry company and change our tickets to the 5 PM ferry, and just pay the $30 change fee.  Except, due to the terrible storms that day, the 5 PM highspeed ferry had been cancelled and the next available ferry was not until the next day.  That meant paying the change fee and losing one night's deposit on our hotel in Dublin - another $150.   OK, give up on that idea. We are going to make that ferry.  The good news?  Bob was able to get us to the terminal with about 15 minutes to spare.  We ran inside to drop off the rental car......except the port rental car office was closed and a kindly sign suggested we drive into town and drop the car there.  Only a 5 minute walk back to the ferry building, it assured us.  Forget it.  We left the keys at the closed desk and called the car company and told them to come pick up the car.  No idea if that is going to cost us or not.  Don't care.  We made the ferry - last ones to board - arrived in Dublin and made it without incident to our hotel, where we are now hunkered down and getting ready for bed. 

In the US, diesel has a green handle.  In Scotland Unleaded has a green handle - hence the confusion!

 

These guys must make a killing siphoning out tanks, at the rates they charge!

 

 

After disembarking the ferry, Bob is still shell-shocked, so we commemorated the day with some shell-fish.  Oysters and Mussels, yum!

 

 

 

 



Man with Too Many Countries, The Sequel

In July 2011 I wrote a blog called Man with Too Many Countries which was inspired by a project I was working on that involved identifying the best online payment methods available for most of the countries in the world.  I find myself in the unlucky position of again having to search for the 2 digit ISO codes of a large number of countries, and I have again learned something new.  That Gabon, for exampe ("GA") is actually a country and not some kind of monkey.  And that the person who assigned the country code to Morocco probably couldn't spell, because Morocco's code is MA, where as Macao's code is MO.  Go figure.

Kayaking on Tomales Bay

Acting upon an inspiration from Dan Berger two years ago, I finally booked a weekend campsite at the boat-in sites on Tomales Bay, in Point Reyes National Seashore. We took the trip with 9 friends and an assortment of sea kayaks, river kayaks, and a raft to carry all our gear.  There were lots of choices of campgrounds, and Dan secured us a nice one with easy access to Hog Island and minimal impact from the wind and tides.

Pulling into camp which was directly across from Miller Point Boat Launch

Bob, Garen, Amber, and Candace relax on the beach

 (too bad no one put on sunscreen - we all paid later)

Our camp is established

Paddling around Hog Island

The seals - best when you stay upwind, they smell horrible!

Despite Amy's threats to beat us with her paddle, Bob and I remain asleep in our kayaks

Nesting Cormorants - they were on the island but made a tremendous amount of noise which sounded like the laugh track of a sitcom.  We could hear them all day at our camp.

Dan on Sunday morning - putting up with the mist.  It drizzled from about 6 PM Saturday until we left at 10:30 AM on Sunday

Garen is cooking cajun spiced salmon for the Eggs Benedict

Amy stirs the Hollandaise sauce

Tyler assembling his Eggs Benedict

Returning what's left of the beer to the people of mystery, who left the beer and all their gear on the shore the day before, then never returned.  Maybe they got lost in the fog. The tide kept rising so we had to move their things uphill three separate times. The whole sand beach behind Garen disappeared at high tide.

Hmmm.  How did that get there?  It should have a life preserver on it, wouldn't want it to fall overboard and float to the south seas...

Tyler and Courtney head home

Taking all the gear back through the fog

End of the journey:  A trip to Hog Island Oyster Cmpany for cold Lagunitas, plates of fresh oysters, and cheeses from Cowgirl Creamery - a perfect ending to the trip!

Insurance Pains

Marie ended up needing surgery so I have had to extend my stay in Boston.  I'd planned to return home on Monday the 30th but her surgery was scheduled for that day, so I was thanking my lucky stars I'd bought trip cancellation insurance for $16 from Priceline.  I would need to stay a few days longer to care for my daughter. 

I called priceline to inquire about changing my flight and having it covered by the insurance.  They referred me to the insurance company but also to their web page which had some info about the coverage, which included phrases like "pre-existing conditions are no problem" and "coverage provided for illness to yourself or your immediate family members".  Looked good so far.  That is, until I met Melanie.  Melanie promptly informed me that since Marie's arm was broken before I bought the insurance, the claim may not be covered. What about the pre-existing condition statement?  "Oh, that.  Well this is a different kind of pre-existing condition.  I can't tell you for sure but it might not be covered.  You need to book your replacement travel with the airline where the tickets were purchased and then file a claim and we'll let you know."

Hmm. Doesn't sound good. I call the airline.  "Oh, sorry.  There's nothing we can do to help you. You bought these tickets through priceline so you need to rebook there.  We're really sorry you sat on hold for 45 minutes, but please keep us in mind for your future travel requirements! We'd love to take you for a ride!"

OK, back to Priceline.  "What, this has to do with insurance? Oh, let me transfer you to our "special" agent.  I get Ana, who is very nice. We are disconnected and she calls me back!  Wow. I am feeling a little better.  "So," she says, in that tone doctors use on TV before they tell their patients they have terminal cancer. "Here's the thing.  I know you paid $199 for your ticket from BOS to SFO, but it really only cost $139.  The rest of the money was for taxes and fees which are not covered by the insurance.  To get you a new ticket home on Thursday will cost $467.  The airline will also charge a $100 change fee, and we charge a $30 change fee. So you are looking at a cost of about $600.  Now, your original ticket only cost $139, and the insurance only provides coverage up to the cost of the original ticket, so you will need to pay an additional $460 to change your ticket.  Would you like to proceed?"

What?  But on Virgin America's website, the tickets on Thursday night show that they only cost $199!  Why would you, a price discounter, charge me $467 for the same ticket?

"Well, those are special fares, only good for internet purchases directly from VA's website.  $467 is the best we can do. Would you like to purchase the new ticket? Or, you can save money by just buying the $200 ticket yourself and forgetting about the claim."

Note to self:  don't ever buy trip insurance again.  Also, don't ever buy a ticket from anyone but the airline directly. I already knew this, but I was in such a hurry to get this trip booked and everything was such a mess that I just went with what was easiest at the time.  C'est la vie.

As it turns out, this was just a warm up for the real insurance nightmare.  On the day of Marie's surgery to repair her arm, as they were wheeling her out of pre-op to the OR, I looked at the forms she'd signed and noticed that her school doctor had authorized the surgery, but she was listed as the approving doctor for Kaiser.  I knew Kaiser knew nothing about this surgery and that the doctor who approved was part of Marie's Blue Cross student insurance plan.  I asked the nurses if this was an issue because I wanted to ensure we had coverage for the surgery. They quickly talked to hospital business office who said we had better get Kaiser or Blue Cross on the phone to get an approval. We didn't have Marie's Blue Cross number with us so we tried Kaiser, as the surgeon, anesthesiologist, and nurses stood by.  At one point the surgeon grabbed the phone and started yelling at the Kaiser rep, saying this was an emergency and they needed to approve it so we could get her into the OR before her meds wore off.  In the end, no approval was granted but the doctors took her away, crying. I spent the next two hours in the business office of the hospital trying to get things cleared up.  As I was leaving, the hospital told me Blue Cross would be providing coverage based upon the fact that her primary care doctor with Blue Cross' routine care medical plan had provided approval.  Blue Cross was non-committal however. I think they are keeping the door open to subit the claim back to Kaiser.  And you thought the Superbowl was going to be a good fight...
 
Now we are back at the hotel while Marie recuperates, and our room is full of narcotics - Oxycontin, Vicodin, and Advil.  And Marie is surprisingly hungry (maybe this is how crack addicts feel?) - she's eaten cereal and milk, bananas, applesauce, crackers, udon soup, chicken broth with more crackers soaked in it, scrambled eggs, a pastry from the breakfast buffet, a cereal bar, lemonade, and some chocolate mochi. And the best thing of all, a new form of gourmet cuisine on the go, the SunBeam Quesadilla - all melty and grilled to perfection right in our own room (see picture below). Ingredients courtesy of Trader Joe's and Whole Paycheck, both of which are practically adjacent to our hotel.  

Using the hotel room appliances is not really such a bad idea.  We heated up the chicken broth by running it through the coffee maker, where the water is supposed to go. It tasted fine, no coffee after taste or anything. I ran a couple of pots of water through afterward to clean up - all seemed OK, so I decided to be more adventurous and I tried warming a tortilla on the coffee machine warmer, but it was too small.  Then I got the idea for the quesadillas using the iron, and now there's no limit to what I can make.  Anything George Foreman can do, I can do better with my sleek white SunBeam.  And the misting attachment is great for sprucing up the salad.  Ahh. the Good Life.  Bon Apetite!

The Mobile Office

I am enroute to Boston to check up on Marie, who broke her arm while snowboarding a couple days ago.  She apparently attempted to cartwheel down the hill but her puny little arms couldn’t handle the torque.  You’d think someone who got an A in Physics at MIT would have known better. 

Since this trip was unexpected, I have had to bring along my work with me, and thank goodness today’s modern planes are fully equipped.  I am flying Virgin Atlantic, which offers wifi (slightly faster than dial up internet) and power ports on all flights.  I arrived first to my row and quickly snagged both power ports. I would share, if asked.  But so far no one has asked.  I guess I am the only workaholic.  The other woman in my row is reading and also watching Oprah on the free satellite TV.  At least she gets the multi-tasking thing. 

I have answered  or sent about 20 emails so far, and am trying to get up enough nerve to log onto Skype to try to make a call.  That might be pushing things a little too far.  There is no one sitting next to me, so I have already claimed that real estate, laying out my files and using the extra seat's tray table for my supplies and coffee.  Haha!  I just got an idea!  Maybe I should offer to pay the woman in my row to do some admin work for me?  She might be able to earn enough to cover the cost of her flight!  But then again, she might get economy class syndrome while working and file a worker's comp claim against me.  I guess I'll just keep to my side of the row for now.

Mountain-Standard Time

I came up to NorthStar for New Year's and planned to return home on Monday, but somehow I got waylaid. It is beautiful and relaxing here, even if there is no snow.  Best of all, the internet is fast so I have been able to work from here.  Therefore, when Marie suggested we stay a couple more days, I couldn't say no. (Plus, it meant I could wait a couple more days before cleaning all the bathrooms and locking everything up at my dad's place... doesn't take much to convince me to put off those chores!)

For work, I have been interfacing with groups of people in India, Europe, and the Philippines which has meant getting up early for 5 AM or 6 AM calls, then staying up late for 9 PM or 10 PM calls.  It makes for a long day.  And this afternoon it dawned on me -- why am I working on their time zones instead of the other way around?  I have decided to create my own timezone.  I am going to call it Mountain-TMS timezone.  The business day runs from 6 AM to 10 AM, and then ends and starts again from 4 PM to 10 PM.  The time in between is for skiing, sort of like a First-World siesta break.  Hmm, it's 10 AM now.  Quitting time!