Oklahoma City

I'm currently waiting at the airport to leave my 50th state.

We did it! Great job, everybody! High fives all around!

Ahem. So anyway. I've just spent a couple of nights in Oklahoma City -- Oklahoma being the last remaining state I hadn't visited. I arrived at the airport to pick up my rental car, and the man working the desk confirmed every stereotype in two statements:

1) I may have reserved a midsize vehicle, but everyone here drives either a truck or an SUV, so that was my choice (I took the SUV, still too big for my taste)

2) The steak here is the best, so I should go to The Cattleman and ask for the Presidential special; it's George Bush's favourite

But Rental Car Dude aside, I found OKC to be a pretty cool town with friendly people, lots to do, and a seemingly widespread focus on local products. Of course, we all notice what matters to us, so my experience was shaped by what I was looking for, and it wasn't a big steak (much as I do like a big steak).

After wrestling the SUV to my hotel, I went out for provisions and then spent the evening in watching sports. Which is how I would have spent it anywhere in the world. Nothing to report.

Sunday started with a rugby semifinal on TV and then a visit to the Oklahoma City Museum of Art. Unfortunately half of it was closed, in the process of changing exhibits, so I only got to see the painting / sculpture gallery and the Dale Chihuly collection. Both were perfectly nice, but there wasn't enough modern art for my taste. And Chihuly's glass... Well... It's pretty and all, I get it, but if I have never been interested enough to see anything of his in Seattle where he is from, then it probably won't turn me on in Oklahoma either.

The Oklahoma City bombing memorial was just a few blocks away, so I took a walk over and spent some time there. It's very well done, because while it does include the sad memorial to those who lost their lives, it also includes a real tribute to the human spirit and perseverance, particularly around the large tree that survived the destruction around it. It was balanced and impactful in just the right way.

All of that didn't take long, and I had no other plans for the day, so I stopped into a locally focused grocery store (Native Roots) downtown for a few things. Then I spent the rest of the evening watching Saving Grace, a fantastic, weird, dark TV show that I had forgotten about until I was wandering the city where it's based this weekend.

Today I checked out of the hotel and went right to the National Cowboy and Western Heritage Museum, because obviously it had to be done. It is a big building with way more Cowboy, Native American, and general Old West stuff than I could fit into my brain. It's not that I don't think it's interesting or an important part of American history, I guess I just can't relate. I'm a city girl and my ancestors are Europeans who came to this continent in its relatively recent past. But it is really an impressive place, so I was still able to spend around an hour there before grabbing a burrito from a local Mexican joint, heading here to the airport, and soon, back to Seattle.

And I guess I have to thank that one temperamental rental car: I'm glad I never made the day trip down from Kansas City to see just the corner of Oklahoma, because I would have missed out on all this.

Travel Weary on a Small Island

Sitting in a hotel room in Newcastle, looking out over the Tyne River, exhausted and generally unenthusiastic. I feel like I've been gone too long.

I knew that I tend to hit the wall at two weeks of travel, but figured Jody's presence would help. And the part with him did just fly by. But because he is his company, he doesn't have the luxury I do of skipping work to traipse around England for a week, while still receiving full pay. So I knew I'd have a few days on my own while he kept up his quizzing, then could look forward to him being back with me in Newcastle on the weekend. Only he isn't. Because this weekend is also the Scottish Green Conference in Glasgow, so he's going there instead. Internally I threw a tantrum at his decision, but it's a one-time only political event that I'd hate for him to miss. Newcastle and I can be seen anytime. But that doesn't help me feel any less fed up with travel today.

Anyway. Newcastle is my last stop on the rugby tour. I was coming to see Scotland's last game in the pool tomorrow, but last week I noticed (relatively) cheap tickets were still available for the All Blacks and Tonga  tonight, so I'm going to both while I'm here.

In between RWC stops, I spent a couple of days in London. I arrived at St Pancras on Wednesday afternoon, dragged all my luggage on the Tube to the hotel, went right back out shopping, and within minutes was lying flat on the pavement. I tripped while walking too fast to stop the forward momentum and went right down. Apart from bruised and scraped knees, I walked away fine... But once a klutz, always a klutz, and it did remind me to watch where I'm going. It's shocking how many times I can fall over or crash into things without learning that lesson for good. Shrug.

The rest of the day passed without incident, and I started Thursday at the Victoria and Albert Museum, which was incredible. It's massive, and there's so much to see. I spent about an hour wandering through and then, as Karl Pilkington might say, my eyes were full. I think I missed 2 full floors and most of Asia, but I couldn't take in any more. I guess I'll need to go back next time. The rest of the day was spent shopping, although sadly not buying, because I couldn't find anything I wanted.

So now another busy train ride later, I'm on my last stop of the tour, trying to muster some energy. Really hope it works, because I have two games to cheer for and won't get to do this again for another 4 years...

Rugby World Cup 2015 - Leicester

Because I'm spending a bit of time in new English cities for this tournament, I brought along my England guidebook. When I dumped off the book I'd finished reading at the Edinburgh flat, Jody thought I was also leaving the guide behind.

I said, "No, I'm taking it with me. There might be something I need to see in Leicester."

Jody replied, "As someone who's lived there, trust me, there isn't."

But he did add later that it's "not a shithole like Leeds." So I guess that's something.

As it turned out, I haven't seen much of Leicester after all, but it's not the city's fault. I came down with a cold on the way back from football in Aberdeen on Saturday, spent Sunday feeling like complete ass, and hadn't improved terribly by the time I boarded the train here Monday. The weather also turned when I left Scotland, so seeing Leicester meant trudging around in the pouring rain, coughing up a lung. Fun! Even so, I can attest to the fact that Jody's correct, and Leicester is not a shithole.

I spent Monday evening in bed, watching TV and trying to get over my virus, but I did check out the guidebook and found the New Walk Museum and Art Gallery, which was actually on my way to the rugby stadium, and decided I'd leave early on Tuesday afternoon to stop in there before the game. So I slept in late, lazed around drinking coffee, then gathered up all my stuff to take the 10 minute walk to the museum.

After about 5 minutes it started raining. Pouring. No, those aren't strong enough words... Dumping water from every direction, I guess. By the time I got to New Walk, every part of me was completely soaked through and dripping, aside from a small area around my head that the umbrella covered, and my feet/ankles under the protection of rubber boots. That's exactly why I bought the wellies -- the first pair I've owned since I was probably 6 years old. There's nothing worse than sitting through a sporting event with soaked shoes and socks, toes pruning up and making you miserable.

The museum and art gallery was nice enough, a bit small and kid-oriented for me, but not bad. I definitely would have enjoyed it more had I not been so cold and damp during my wander through.

By the time I emerged to head to the game, the sun had come out, and it did a good job of drying me out on my walk to the stadium. The game itself was a pretty good one, if you had no affiliation with either of the teams. Canada went up 15-0, only to have Romania come back to win 17-15 in about the last 25 minutes. The jubilant Canadians putting back bucketfuls of beer turned angry drunk toward the end, and I was happy to get out of there before a fight broke out when one threw his full beverage at the field, meaning mostly all over the fans in front of him.

Along those lines, the drunken fans around me spilled more beer than I've ever seen at any sporting event. My handbag was on the ground, so I was keeping an eye out to ensure it stayed in a dry spot. As I got up to leave, though, I found that the booze had seeped under from behind and there was a rectangular puddle where it had collected under my bag. I dried it with napkins from the snack bar, then cleaned it when I got back to the hotel, and thought that was it sorted. However, picking it up this morning to leave, the bottom was still damp inside and out, and it's clear that the beer was absorbed into the leather. I'm not sure it can be cleaned, especially in a hotel room, so I may need to spend some time this week purse shopping. Damn Canadians!

Anyway, today I'm off to London. No rugby tickets for me, just a detour because it's there. London is its own reason to visit. Obviously.