Rugby World Cup 2015 - Leeds

Where do I begin? I mean, what is there to say about the least interesting city I've ever visited a place where I couldn't find anything to do but watch rugby?

When they announced all of the game venues for England's 2015 Rugby World Cup, I was initially annoyed that Scotland wasn't getting a game at home in Murrayfield. I mean, if they were bending the definition of 'England' to include Wales, they should bring Scotland in as well. Of course, I now realise that the referendum made that a damned if you do, damned if you don't situation for the organisers. Had Scotland voted for independence, claiming Edinburgh under the England umbrella would have been pretty politically challenging. On the other side, with Scotland remaining in the UK, calling their stadiums English would have been rubbing salt in the wound for many. Either way, Scots would've kicked off, so it was really the only sensible option for them to stay away.

Regardless, when the game lottery started a year ago, I assumed I'd be living in Scotland and picked 3 random games that I wanted to see, paying no attention to date or location. Given that I'm not living here at game time, it means an extra long trip, only half of which can be spent with Jody. And it all started with me flying into Leeds.

Supposedly Leeds is the UK's third largest city, its second biggest business hub, and its top destination for shopping. You'd never be able to tell any of that from the airport, which was small, dismal, and incredibly slow. I had to settle for the best hotel I could get in the RWC craziness, which claimed to be 10 minutes' walk from the city centre with lots to do nearby, but all we found within 10 minutes' walk was rundown old buildings. In actuality, it took at least a quarter of an hour to trek to the closest hole-in-the-wall takeaway places, with no sign of a city centre nearby. In addition, Leeds is in one of the highest pollen areas of all Great Britain, so within a few hours, Jody and I were both miserable and feeling like our faces were going to explode.

Determined to make the best of my visit to a new place, though, I opened my England guidebook to the West Yorkshire section and tried to find us something to do. There were 8 sightseeing options listed. Eight. That included two art galleries, three museums, and three historic sites, alongside mentions of "lively nightlife" and shopping that we weren't particularly keen on. So our Saturday night abroad was spent in our hotel room, downing decongestants and watching sports on TV.

On Sunday, I woke up early, stuck on a cap to shade me from the unseasonably warm and sunny weather, and left Jody behind to trudge the miles across town to my first Rugby World Cup game of 2015: Scotland versus USA.

Despite being confused by the signage and initially going in the wrong entrance, I eventually made it to my seat at Elland Road Stadium. I was in a very nice suite area of the ground so that the bar and such indoors were great, but the seat itself was so tiny that I had to keep my elbows glued to my sides all game and despite my medium-length legs, had my knees jammed into the back of the seat in front of me.

But it was worth it. The World Cup atmosphere is completely unlike anything else. There were roughly 33,500 people in the stadium. The majority were Scotland fans, there were a large number supporting the Americans, and some local folk just there to take it all in; all categories of fan were chatting across team lines, laughing, cheering, and generally loving rugby, together.

The game itself was a great one. The US team came out to play, while the Scots made mistake after mistake, which kept it close and had the Americans leading at halftime. In the second 40 minutes, though, things sort of reversed and Scotland came back to win 39-16, including 5 tries to get them a bonus point in the tournament. They're currently leading the pool with 2 tough games to go, so I can only hope they'll fight their natural predilection to pull defeat from the jaws of victory and get to the next stage.

After spending another night in with our allergy medication, Jody and I caught the train back to  Edinburgh Monday, where I'm now working and living normal life until it's time to venture out for more of the World Cup next week. Despite how quickly 4 years went by between games last time, the next one seems like ages from now. I can't wait!

The End of the Road... Trips

As I've planned more road trips this year, I've increased the mileage I needed to cover in a day each time to the point that I barely see the places I stop or write anything down about it; I'm just too exhausted. This was never more true than this last big drive across 5 states, particularly since it happened only 5 days after I came back from abroad (3 days of which found me in bed sick). I've been home from the last big road trip since Wednesday afternoon, and am only now starting to get my energy back.

So where did I leave you? Ah, yes, Ann Arbor, Michigan.

I had planned to spend my Labour Day driving around the bottom of Lake Michigan, from Ann Arbor to Madison, Wisconsin, with a stop at Notre Dame. But I've never had any particular feelings toward the University of Notre Dame, except occasionally being annoyed with their football team's ubiquity and liking the movie Rudy; it was just an arbitrary place to stop in Indiana. So I woke up Monday morning with a strong desire to skip the detour and stay on I-94 westbound instead.

In preparation for my day, I stopped at the famous Zingerman's Deli in Ann Arbor and picked up a corned beef/pastrami combination sandwich, because OBVIOUSLY. I got it packed to go so that I could find a nice park for a picnic lunch as an alternate stop in Indiana. From there, I drove off across Michigan, entertaining myself with various quotes from Freaks and Geeks when I saw signs for exits to [Some Number] Mile Road or Benton Harbor. I approach the world through popular culture; this is just how my brain works. Just after I crossed into Indiana, I hit stop and go (mostly stop) holiday traffic bottlenecked by the reduced lanes due to highway construction. Crossing Indiana at that point is about a 50 mile drive, but it took me nearly 2 hours to do so, never leaving the highway (since most of the exits were closed anyway). By the time I reached Illinois and exited to avoid the tollways, I couldn't have been happier to spend my time on wide open, lower speed limit back roads, surrounded by cornfields. At one point, I missed a turn and stayed off the Interstate for tens of extra miles, but I still ultimately got to the same place, and really didn't mind at all.

I had originally planned to visit Milwaukee as my city in Wisconsin, but when I re-planned my trip* I chose Madison instead. Way back when I was looking into graduate schools, the University of Wisconsin - Madison had one of my top two programs. I desperately wanted to go there, but then I allowed myself to be manipulated into staying close to Washington state instead. It all worked out, because I still got a fantastic education and it gave me the chance to live in Canada, but I still wanted to see what I missed by becoming a Highlander instead of a Badger. By the time I reached my hotel for the night, however, I'd been driving for over 9 hours with only stops to fill the car's tank or empty my own, so I ate my slightly worse for wear Zingerman's sandwich and went to bed.

On Tuesday, I had a much more reasonable distance to go to Chicago, so had a leisurely morning and then stopped in downtown Madison and parked to take a walk around. It seemed like a cool town, but it was raining pretty heavily, while still remaining disgustingly hot and humid out, so I lost the desire to be outside the car after about 10 minutes and hit the road.

In my effort to avoid paying tolls, I doubled the length of my journey and spent much of the drive on country roads surrounded by more cornfields (does anyone grow anything other than corn there?!), and then joined the heavy highway traffic into one of my favourite cities. The rain kept going, however, and my rental car had an annoying habit of fogging up the outside of all the side windows and mirrors in the rain. So I had no way to clear them, and no way to see anything when trying to change lanes in bumper to bumper traffic unless I drove around with all the windows rolled down. In the rain. Needless to say, by the time I finally reached my hotel in the Gold Coast neighbourhood, I had become more than a little cranky.

Let me take a moment here to say that I know Chicago well (once spent quite a bit of energy trying to move there, but they didn't seem to want me) and would not normally have chosen a hotel in its ritziest area. But when I went looking for a place to stay where I could park without paying a giant surcharge, this little boutique hotel was running a parking included special, making it the only place I could find in the Chicago part of Chicagoland with free parking. So I took it. Unfortunately, no matter how expensive my tastes become or how much money I make, I am working class at heart, and completely resent people wanting me to pay them for things I am perfectly capable of doing myself. Hence, my three first thoughts upon arriving at my hotel in Chicago:

1. The only parking is valet. I'm getting it free, but the ticket says it normally costs $56 a night. Why in the fuck would anyone pay you more than many people make in an entire day to drive a car in and out of parking space?
2. Stop insisting that you'll help me with my bags. You will not. I have schlepped this luggage around the world with absolutely no assistance and will not be giving you the hefty tip you expect to roll it into an elevator.
3. No coffee making facilities in the room. I shall require caffeine in the morning. Hm, here's a breakfast delivery menu: $9 for a small pot, $12 for a large. Uh, no. The tap water in the bathroom gets pretty hot, that will have to do. 

So it was in this mindset that I took a walk out for my night in Chicago and found nothing to do. Yes, it had stopped raining, and the view on nearby Lakeshore Drive was great, even on a cloudy day, but there wasn't much in the immediate vicinity. After walking several blocks, I came to an area with a few shops and bars, but at this point I was too exhausted and grouchy from all the mileage to see the good in anything, even a city I love. I spent a quiet night in my quirky but posh hotel room, and happily flew back to Seattle on Wednesday.

As soon as I got a good night's sleep in my own bed and my mood improved, though, I was sad that I missed out on my last night. The reason I added that night in Chicago is because I really dig that town and don't know if/when I'll have a reason be back; I hated having wasted my last time there.

As Neal reminded me, though, Chicago is always its own reason to visit. So maybe it wasn't my last time after all... as long as next time I'm in a better mood.


*It's not  that interesting, but here's the story. I had a flight booked to Louisville (6 hours of travel with a 1 hour layover) and one back from Milwaukee, but then the airline decided to bump my Louisville flight and instead stick me on one that would take 12 hours, with a 6 hour layover. When they wouldn't switch it back, I cancelled and chose a different airline, which let me add an extra night in Chicago and no longer tied me to Milwaukee.
 

400 More Miles

It's a holiday weekend, so masochist that I am, obviously I'm travelling.

I flew into Louisville, Kentucky (also known as Luhh-vuhl), on Saturday and picked up my rental car for what will likely be my last multi-state road trip.

Most of my knowledge of Luhh-vuhl comes from the movie Elizabethtown. The flick is often dismissed, but if you can get past Kirsten Dunst's generic-quirky-but-lovable-girl character and Orlando Bloom's weird American accent, it's a great Cameron Crowe film in which Susan Sarandon always makes me cry. And which is the reason I kept saying Don't miss 60B! while driving around last night. In the end, though, I didn't see too much of Louisville except from the road. It seems  a cool town, but I had much mileage to cover and no time to waste.

So today I woke up as early as the time change would let me and headed for my one tourist stop in Kentucky: a distillery tour. Of the many bourbon makers available, I chose the one that was the least out of my way and open on Sundays: the Bulleit Frontier Whiskey Experience. As I turned onto its street, I saw a big sign that said Diageo International and hoped it was just another nearby company, because, well, Diageo is what's wrong with the spirit industry. After seeing several industrial-looking buildings, I came to the gate, complete with a fake rustic wall and a security guard checking every car in and out. Well. I wasn't paying $10 for that corporate nonsense, so I skipped it and turned north toward Ohio.

My next planned stop was the Dayton Aviation Heritage National Historical Park... which was really just a visitor's centre and a few signs in the  middle of a downtown area, nothing much to see. Based on the signage, I went from there to Carillon Memorial Park. It was big and green, but again, there wasn't much to it. I went into the supposed brewing museum, which was just a brewpub with some old school 1800s equipment on display. I wasn't interested in eating or drinking, and it was way too hot to wander the park, so back on I-75 North.

Ohio must have a very large infrastructure budget, since there was major highway construction going on for about half of my drive up its length today. Also, they have these morbid signs that tell the number of traffic fatalities this year, to remind you to drive carefully. And maybe it works; the only dangerous moment of a full day's driving there wasn't caused by a driver, but by a tree. It fell suddenly from the shoulder to block 3 of the 4 lanes of the freeway, including the one I was in. Luckily traffic was light and everyone responded appropriately, so it wasn't the disaster it could have been.

Because I was on my way to Ann Arbor for the night, I spent a couple hours of the drive listening to Henry Rollins' Spoken Word Guy 2, which was recorded here. For probably 25 years I've been a fan of that guy, and maybe he's my hero. I don't know of anyone besides me and Hank who will pick up and go a random place alone, just because they've never been there and want to know what it's about. Sure, he goes to Iran and Syria where I visit Sweden and New Zealand, but he's been at it longer... I might still get to that level of road warrior. At any rate, I also live by his motto Knowledge without mileage is bullshit.

So I guess tonight, sitting in my third state of the day, I'm 400 more miles away from Bullshit. But there are always so many more to go...