Dear loyal readers, you were more aware than I of the incomplete published ending to my three-week hop around parts of Europe. To remedy this large gap, and to discredit any rumours that I had disappeared into the Bermuda Triangle, I will now briefly document my final week of travels.
Monday 16
After briefly exploring the unnaturally quiet Duisburg downtown, I enjoyed a quick and scenic trip south along the Rhine River with its geographically-constrained villages and castles. After meeting my friend in Frieburg, I was exposed to the "enthusiasm" of youthful German fussboll fans. Deutschland!
Tuesday 17
A day that threatened to rain led us to travel to Basel, Switzerland, to visit a museum dedicated to Swiss artist Jean Tinguely, containing many of his famous "kinetic art:" sculptures of junk attached to a motor. Highlights: a machine you could walk through, one that played music, monsters made from fire-scarred metal and animal skulls, and (my personal favorite) a mechanical representation of a high bar Olympic gymnast's routine.
Wednesday 18
Further exploring of Frieburg by bicycle yielded a city with very different transportation priorities than most US metropoli: no cars allowed in the city center, no bikes allowed in the pedestrian heart. That evening, on my way to London, I visited France for less than five minutes as I walked from the airport bus stop to the Swiss side of the airport.
Thursday 19
What does someone like me do when in London? Clearly, first stop would be to sit in on a session of the House of Parliament at Westminster, discussing the ever-important complaints of some small town residents over "excessive ringing" of church bells. You would be correct to assume that the second stop would be the London Transport Museum. And yes, finally, one would visit and photograph the Tower Bridge just before sunset, and lots of other Thames River bridges for that matter.
Friday 20
Because I only had half a day left in London, I hurried through the British Museum, quickly noting Minoan pottery, Mayan jade, the Rosetta Stone, and pieces of the Parthanon. Not too long afterwards I was on my 2-hour ride to the airport, and finally back to Belfast by sunset.
Saturday 21
Tying up loose ends in Belfast in only one day meant getting my bags from storage (a friend), visiting the city market, and tasting one last whisky with friends. I was sad to wave goodbye to Belfast the city, but very welcome to say goodbye to the cold rainy weather.
Sunday-Monday 22-23
I combine these two days because they were supposed to be one. The seven-hour flight across the ocean went quite smoothly until, on approach to Newark, we went into a holding pattern to wait for thunderstorms to skedaddle. Unfortunately, they did not obey before we ran out of fuel and were forced to land on an Air Force base in New York. Of course, we had to wait for a thunderstorm to arrive and depart our area before refueling could commence. We finally landed at Newark after a quick hop, but our wait was not over yet. First, no gate was ready. Then another thunderstorm dropped blinding rain and golf-ball-sized hail. Finally we exited the plane after 13 hours on board. I would have thought that a 4.5-hour layover would be enough to transfer planes, but alas, I just missed the Portland flight. Luckily my airline provided a hotel room for the night and a seat on next mornings's flight. Thus, I enjoyed an unexpected lovely night somewhere 30 minutes from Newark, New Jersey, on my way home.
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