Well, this sucks: it seems the Orient Express, the famed Paris-to-Istanbul train that’s been the setting of so many fictional mysteries and thrillers, will cease operation as of this Monday. Like so many other relics of a more elegant age, it’s been made obsolete by faster and more convenient alternatives. I don’t question its obsolescence — as I recently commented on someone else’s blog, who has two days to go anywhere on a train when you can catch a plane and be there in a few hours? — but as a history buff, a romantic, and someone who wishes he had the kind of leisure time that makes train travel practical, I mourn its passing.

The Orient Express has long held a place on my “probably will never happen” goal list (as opposed to the list of goals that are within reason for a middle-aged guy of moderate income and limited vacation time). Like a lot of other people, I suppose, I was drawn to the glamour and promise of adventure that lived in the train’s very name. “Orient Express.” It’s wonderfully evocative, isn’t it? I realize, of course, that these qualities stem more from the pages of Agatha Christie than the vehicle itself, but then I understand Concorde wasn’t all it was cracked up to be, either, and I still wanted to take a flight aboard her. But now the irresistible forward march of progress has taken both options off the table. Ah, well… there’s still an African safari and a trip to Antarctica to consider. Assuming that global warming doesn’t destroy both continents before I manage to secure my fortunes and quit that pesky day job…

Incidentally, and just to avoid confusion, there is another European train service called the Orient Express. That one is a luxury (i.e., very expensive) tourist experience aboard refurbished 1930s-vintage railcars running (mostly) between London and Venice. Think of it as a cruise-by-rail, I guess. That Orient Express isn’t affected by this news; the train that’s shutting down is the original, historic Orient Express, the one on which Sean Connery “honeymooned” with Daniela Bianchi in From Russia, With Love (still my favorite of all the Bond movies).

My longtime Loyal Readers will probably recognize the significance of Indy’s Clipper ship up there. It means I’m headed off on another adventure. Once again, my friend Cranky Robert has invited me to tag along on one of his business trips, as he did when we toured Pittsburgh and Gettysburg last year. This time, the destination is Washington, DC. I would’ve mentioned it sooner, but it’s come about at the last minute and of course I’ve had a difficult time lately blogging as much as I would like.

I’ve never been to our nation’s capitol before, so I’m pretty excited. As if there wasn’t enough to see there, I’ve also got plans in the works to visit an old high school and college friend who lives in the area. It ought to be a good trip, if a bit too short. I fly out at oh-dark-thirty tomorrow morning, and I’m back Sunday night. And, as is my usual pattern, I’ve waited until the last second to pack, so I’d better run along and do other things now.

See you all soon…

The Girlfriend tends to be something of a homebody, so our Friday evenings together are usually spent curled on the couch with Taco Bell or Totino’s pizzas, watching DVDs. Not the healthiest of lifestyles, I know, but pleasing in its own greasy, slothful way. Just a few minutes ago, however, she called with a rather unexpected suggestion:

She: “How about if I pick you up after work and we go hang out at Gateway?”

(For my non-local readers, Gateway is “an open-air contemporary destination” — i.e., a shopping mall without a roof — on the west side of Salt Lake, only a few blocks from my office.)

Me: “Um, okay.”

She (after a moment’s pause): “I miss people. And activity. And… and urban stuff.”

Me: “San Francisco?”

She: “Yes…”

Me: “You know Gateway isn’t going to compare, right?”

She (rather forlornly): “I know… but it’s the best we’ve got around here…”

Kids, consider this a PSA on the potential dangers of leaving home. You may just find out that home isn’t all that cool…

Hello? Is this thing on?

It’s kind of weird to be back online after a week away from this whole scene. I’ll be honest, I’m having a little trouble getting motivated to start blogging again. I find myself uncharacteristically (and rather disturbingly, at least for me) at a loss for words. But I’ll try, for the sake of my three loyal readers who’ve been so brave in my absence…

The Girlfriend and I arrived home late Saturday night, safe and sound, and we were back in our respective offices on Monday morning. From this, we’ve learned a valuable lesson: in the future, always plan on at least two buffer days before returning to work. We pretty much dithered away all of Sunday and now here it is three days since we got back and I’ve still got un-put-away luggage and souvenirs strewn all over the living room.

I hope to find the time over the next few days to write a nice long travelogue entry, but for now it’ll have to wait. It’s the usual story, work and mundane chores crowding out the good parts of life, and anyway I’ve got to sort out a few things in my head. At the moment, the previous week is just one big blur of remembered sensations: the caramel flavor of a strong Irish coffee, the dingity-ding-ding of cable-car bells in the street below our hotel room, the smell of baking sourdough, the dazzling blue skies the day we walked out onto the Golden Gate, the clammy embrace of the fog the night we toured Alcatraz.

When we got home Saturday night, Anne remarked that the air in Salt Lake felt heavier. I told her it’s actually much, much thinner way up here in the mountains; it feels heavy because we have to work harder to breathe than we did down in sea-level Frisco. There’s some kind of metaphor there, I think…

Anyway, net crap on the way for Cranky Robert, hopefully some decent content to follow.

Well, kids, I’m sorry, but you’re going to be on your own this week. The Girlfriend and I are leaving in the morning for a much-needed vacation. We’re going to the City by the Bay, San Francisco. For me, it’s a long-overdue return to the first place I ever traveled as a grown-up, seventeen long years ago, but it’ll be Anne’s first visit to one of America’s most cosmopolitan urban areas. We’ve both had a long, hard summer, we’re both tired and eager to be gone from our usual surroundings, and we can’t wait to get down there and find ourselves some adventure…

Play nice while we’re gone, and I’ll see you all in a few days!

I’ve seen this site, which enables you to make maps of places you’ve been in your travels, a couple of times before, but I’ve never really played with it. Ilya’s map this morning has inspired me, though, so here’s my own map of all the states in the U.S. I have visited:

create your own personalized map of the USA

Not very impressive, is it? Certainly not for a guy who fancies himself a big traveler, anyway. According to the helpful statistics provided by MyWorld66.com, I have visited 11 of the 50 states, or only about 21% of the country. (I’ve actually set foot in several more states, but I figured passing through an airport doesn’t count as actually visiting.) Ilya has done much better. However, in my defense, I would note that I have seen large tracts of many of the states I have visited, rather than just one or two cities or sights. I’ll elaborate a bit below the fold (and explain the title), if you’re at all interested…

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I don’t know what I expected — in fact, I’m not sure I even had a preconceived notion of how Gettysburg would look — but the actual place surprised me. The battlefield is huge, for one thing, probably several square miles across (although I admit to being lousy at estimating distances; my dad has long been frustrated by my tendency to think three inches look like one of them). I guess I must’ve imagined it as a modest hay field like the ones I remember growing up. It turned out to be a fan-shaped plain bounded by two ridges (well, they call them ridges, but they’re not dramatic vanes of rock bursting out of the earth like the ridges around here; they’re actually more like grassy linear hills). And I also figured it would be empty and solemn, with nothing but strands of grass to catch the fickle breeze. Instead, the place is lousy with monuments, statues, and cannons, and every rock where a general sat or rested a boot has a marker on it.

But that gives the wrong impression, makes the place sound vulgar or crass, and it’s really not. It is, in fact, beautiful. The whole area is, with rolling hills and thick woodsy patches and more green than Utah will ever see, short of an atomic explosion in a local paint factory. I found it quite soothing, actually, even with the knowledge of what happened on that field 145 years ago, of how many men lost their lives in three days of brutal fighting and how much blood must have soaked into that soil.

I’ve been wracking my brain trying to figure out how to shape a narrative out of my quickie Pennsylvania adventure, but the fact is, there just wasn’t much of a story there, so I think what I’ll do instead of telling a story is just offer up a few highlights. In bullet-point form! Because everyone loves bullet-points…

Continue Reading…

A couple weeks ago, I was on the phone with my “evil twin,” the inimitable Cranky Robert, who was telling me he had to go to Pittsburgh, PA, on business. He mentioned that while he was there, he was thinking of maybe taking a field trip to Gettysburg, the pivotal battlefield of the American Civil War, which is only a few hours from Pittsburgh by car. I said that sounded really cool, that I’ve always wanted to go there myself. He immediately suggested I fly out and join him for the weekend, that we do a good old-fashioned, no-girls-allowed road trip.

I leave tonight on a red-eye flight that’ll put me in Pittsburgh tomorrow morning.

I’m really looking forward to this. I haven’t done this sort of thing in a long time, and I think I could really use it. It’s going to be just like being 21 again, only with a lot less hair and about 40 extra pounds. C’est la vie…

You kids play nice while I’m gone. See you all next week…