Tag Archives: roadtrips

We Hate Edith

Meet Edith

Meet Edith

We downloaded an app in Holland called NavFreeNL and it worked so great that when we got to Spain we downloaded NavFree Spain. NavFree speaks to us with a very refined female British accent so we have named her Edith after a dear friend in Northern England who is intelligent and extremely well organized. We have quickly discovered that the GPS Edith is none of these things. In fact, the GPS Edith is slow, dim witted and couldn’t find quicksand if she where buried to her neck in it.  And to make matters worse she’s a big fat liar.

Recently we were going to an intercity address in Bilbao to meet a friend of a friend. I transferred the address from my notebook into the phone and Edith led the way. Edith, being a little slow, has a tendency to point out exits just after you have passed them so working with her requires quite a few uturns, but this country has a lot of roundabouts so we have learned to compensate. We’re just like the Griswolds in European Vacation.

No matter, we have made it to Bilbao and have begun winding our way through the narrow streets in the old town. Only now the streets are getting narrower and with the height of the buildings we find ourselves in passageways that the sun never reaches. The doorways and alleys are filling up with pimps and streetwalkers. The police presence has increased.

Just a little scary.

Just a little scary.

We are clearly not in Kansas anymore and everyone is staring at us like we are foreign missionaries who have been beamed in from an alien church social. It feels as though people are slowly beginning to encircle the car. Right in the middle of this seedy decaying urban jungle our anxiety level has reached DefCom 5 when Edith proudly announces, “You have reached your destination.” Wendi, who’s a little nervous at this point, turns and says, “Bruce, get me out of here. NOW.” A few rights, a couple lefts, we burst out into the sunlight and find ourselves on a narrow passage that runs along the bank of the river. I’m not even sure it’s a road, most probably a pedestrian walkway, but we won’t be turning back at this point. Up ahead I see two well dressed men holding leather notebooks, talking with each other and pointing towards a dilapidated storefront and I think, architects or maybe developers, but clearly educated. I pull up next to them, roll down the window and say in the calmest voice I can muster, “Do you speak English?”. NO!

Undeterred I thrust my notebook at them gesturing wildly at the address written on the page. They take the notebook, study the address and begin to have a discussion about it. Two very scruffy North Africans wander over from a park bench and join the conversation. Now a nasty looking street person with some kind of psychotic disorder staggers up and stands a little off to one side keeping a close eye on the strange activities.

The four men are all passing my notebook around and talking at the same time as they gesture wildly. The whole group is doing a sort of dance now as they keep turning in complete circles clearly looking for some sort landmark or escape route perhaps. Finally, they all stop talking. One of the black men takes my notebook, leans into the car window and in absolutely perfect British School English says, “I am very sorry Sir, we don’t really know where this is, but it is not near here”. He then, very precisely, lays out a long and circuitous route that will take us across a bridge to the other, far more civilized, side of the river. Where we clearly belong.

Lovely Country Lanes or Death Defying Thoroughfares?

We’ve been to Turkey and thought that the driving was totally insane. The completely chaotic behavior of the drivers, the narrowness of the roads and the blaring horns left us rattled to the core. Then we came to Ireland and you know what? The Turks aren’t so bad.

Everyone on the left is double parked.

Everyone on the left and right is double parked.

Part of the problem is expectations. Every travel book we’ve read depicts SW Ireland as a land filled with lovely idyllic country roads and romantic windy lanes that fill the heart with joy and a longing for a simpler time when life moved slower and the whole world felt at peace. And it is.

The Beara Peninsula

The Beara Peninsula

What they neglected to inform us was that these 12’ wide roads can have speed limits as high as 80 kmh and are clogged with all manner of motor vehicles including SUVs, utility vans, cars dragging travel trailers, RVs, 35’ tour buses and 18 wheel freight trucks. And they’re used to it so you damn well better get out of the way. At a B&B in Kilkenny it was explained to us that the width of roads in Ireland was dictated by royal decree to be at least the width of two cows!

We were asked to get an insurance rider when we got here. Oh yea, I get it now. And did I mention they drive on the wrong side of the road.

The Wendi Files – Part 2

Drombeg Stone Circle

Drombeg Stone Circle

The Wacky Wendi Saga Continues.

Damn, I like that girl!

Chilly In Copenhagen

I thought the Dutch were tough. They’re whimps compared to the Danes. I haven’t been this cold in 20 years and they’re telling me it’s down right balmy. It’s 15 F out there and then an icy wind starts to blow. It creeps up your back and makes your jeans as penetrable as tissue paper. Do you think it slows these people down? Hell no! It’s spring in Denmark. They’re biking and walking and window shopping and setting at outdoor cafes with cold beer. The construction workers in front of our hotel started at 6am. They must have been trying to beat the afternoon heat. Nobody even notices the temperature. That’s the reason I’m complaining to you, the Danes don’t know what I’m talking about.

A frozen Nyhaven.

A frozen Nyhaven.

Hot or cold Copenhagen is a terrific town. It’s got a nice pulse with a lot of color and a youthful vibe. Cars and bikes and trucks and pedestrians all vying for dominance, and yet somehow cooperating with each other. Walking at night or taking public transport, although freezing, is relatively stress free as this is Europe’s safest city.

Copenhagen has lots of courtyards and private passages from one street to the next. I was intrigued with them 20 years ago and find that I still am.

There are a few things that every tourist is obligated, by law, to see.

And lots of shopping.

Nervous Shopper

Nervous Shopper

Grapes and Gravel

Bits and Pieces.

 A little of this and that with some of these and those.  Whenever we’re finishing up one of these roadtrips there are always a few images that don’t really fit into any group.

So these are just a few loose ends. See you all soon.

A Happy House

A Happy House

They're Watching!

They’re Watching!

 

Market Street, San Francisco

The Provocateur

 

The Inspector

The Inspector

Nap Time

Nap Time

The Beach at Cardiff By The Sea

The Beach at Cardiff By The Sea

 

The Sign Doesn't Fill Me With Confidence.

The Sign Doesn’t Fill Me With Confidence.

Bryar Is Ready For His Road Trip.

Bryar Is Ready To Go.

The Butcher Boy - SD Maritime Museum

The Butcher Boy – SD Maritime Museum

Johnson Outboard Motor

Johnson Sea-Horse

So Simple But So Scary.

So Simple But So Scary.

This is where the torpedo goes.

This is where the torpedo goes.

Stylin'

Stylin’