Buenos Aires: Exploring a wonderful city

The tango show Friday night was just amazing. Sadly Bobbi was in the hotel trying to persuade all the goo out of her head so it won’t pop when we fly home—can’t wait to bring her back and see it again. The place was a dinner-and-a-show affair, so the tango performance was sort of like dinner theater. Clearly there was a thread going throughout the various solo singing, tango numbers and band-only interludes, and I didn’t understand it (note to self: study Spanish before coming back!), but it was awesome. Very physical dancing, and girls with meat on their bones—nice to see! Wonderful music too (from a fabulous band)—very dramatic. Saturday morning greeted us with sorta sunny skies, and Bobbi was feeling better, so off we went. Got some nice gift-shopping in on Calle (BA-pronounciation: “Kai-sjay”) Florida, then further up a nice early and gianter-than-expected lunch at a great old, wood-and-brass encrusted place called The Richmond. We opted not to go around the corner to the ABC, an old German place where, in the mid 1950s (my Dad reports), serious-looking men with scars on their faces would come in to eat and the waiters would greet them with a resounding click of the heels. Eichman used to frequent the place then as well, he says. From there it was a long stroll to San Telmo, which is a very cool part of town with neat old buildings—some virtually abondoned, some very nicely restored—and it’s clearly the arty and boutiquey part of town. We stumbled up Estados Unidos and found the old San Telmo Mercardo, from 1897, which is still a market but now has antiques dealers all over, as well as the food vendors—butchers, vegetable sellers, and the like. Definitely worth a visit! A few blocks up and we found what we were looking for—Nonna Bianca, “Helado Artesanal”, or as we say it, DAMN yummy ice cream! Bobbi had the dulce de leche with walnuts and rum, and I kept it real with straight dulce de leche. Oh man, it was...just exactly what we needed after walking halfway across the city. After that I discovered a beautiful leather coat—they ain’t lying when they say this is the place for excellent leather!-- then it was into a cab and back to the hotel is pack up and check out. Got all that squared away, then back out into the city, and back up to San Telmo (it’s a night flight, so we got time! Yay!) for some more looking around the ‘hood. Wandered into an outdoor flea market and found some more fun items we needed to have, such as the scarf Bobbi bought from the little old lady who knitted it--then strolled the streets some more and down past Eva Peron Park to the waterfront area. It’s actually the old locks-and-docks section, where block after block of beautiful old warehouse buildings have been restored to house many restaurants, the Universidad Catholica, and so forth. Our excellent driver from yesterday, Julio, had recommended a Cuban Restaurant to us along these blocks—a place called Tocororo—and it was great. Got a table on the waterfront side, had some of the best Mojitos ever, some ceviche, some coconut shrimps, and a smattering of many different kinds of Cuban cuisine. Pablo our waiter was great, and very very interested in our iPhones. The sun was setting however so it was farewell Pablo, farewell Tocororo, then back to the hotel for the switch to the airport car and say farewell Buenos Aires. Got ourselves checked in and all set, then settled in for the overnight flight to Miami. I unglued my eyes as we passed Cuba, then braced myself for the guaranteed-not-fun of clearing customs and immigration, and connecting, in Miami. The experience was all true to form, but now we’re on the flight for Chicago and preparing for the lovefest with the puppies and the kitties, and for my sister’s arrival this afternoon from London, and for seeing my Dad, and all is good.

It’s been not only a productive trip, but just such a wonderful experience. To all the very nice people we met all over the world who each really went out of their way to help us feel comfortable and to help us experience their cultures and cuisines, we cannot thank you enough, we can’t wait to see you again soon, and we hope you’ll let us return the favor in Chicago some time!

Fun facts
Days away: 21
Number of different lodgings: 11
Miles travelled: about 40,000, each
Best hotel: St. Regis, Beijjing (so so comfy, plus they didn’t kick us out when I tried to burn the place down with my electrical shenanigans)
Wurst hotel: Four Points By Sheraton, Koln
Best airline: It’s a tie (JAL and British Airways)
Number of times travelled through Heathrow: 3
We ate: Indian food in Hong Kong, Cuban food in Buenos Aires, Italian food in Tokyo, and French food in Germany
Best overall cuisine: Barcelona
Best meat (and we ate a LOT of it, everywhere): Entrecote, in Paris
Best ice cream: Buenos Aires
Best driver: Mr. Yin (Beijing)—but Julio in Buenos Aires is a VERY close 2nd
Most pleasant surprise: Buenos Aires—this is an amazing city which we VERY much look forward to exploring many, many more times; we must be Porteños at heart!
Least pleasant surprise: the fly in my flan on the Iberia flight from London to Barcelona
Weirdest television experience: Ladies World Cup Soccer coverage on Al Jazeera; also, tourism commericals for Mauritius, Maldives, Qatar, Dubai, and Croatia in Paris
Best technology ambassador: the iPhone—security screeners especially were all excitied about it, and then very nice to us; also the HD monitor on my rig in Tiananmen Square—even the army guys and police were looking over my shoulder at the images.

That’s it, until next time!

Buenos Dias Buenos Aires

Spring is in the air! It’s Friday the 21st, and actually it’s the official first day of Spring. Schools are closed and lots of people are out walking about. The grass is green, and the trees are budding (my hope is to leave before my usual spring allergies wake up and smell the pollen). Yesterday when we got here we were more than a little burnt out. Why? Well, we left our hotel in Paris on Wednesday at 2pm, took a cab to a train to London into another cab to Heathrow onto a plane for Buenos Aires then into a cab for our client’s offices where we shot three interviews (and had a very nice little lunch of empanadas) then into a cab destined for our hotel (passing, along the way, a motorcycle shop where a huge, tricked out chopper was being polished under the watchful gaze of three color-wearing members of Hell’s Angels Argentina). By the time we got to the hotel we figured we’d been on the go for about 33 hours. Then we watched Latin American Idol and fell asleep.

Buenos Aires is an interesting city—a most definite european influence, but it has that somewhat-worn latin american thing going on, and not much separates the more-forgotten parts of town and the fancier parts of town. The famous obilisk is wrapped in the colors of Argentina and Germany, as they celebrate and commerate 150 years of diplomatic relations. The obilisk is in the center of the Av 9 de Julio, which is like fourteen lanes wide. I think it was somewhere near here where my Dad was in the mid-1950’s, hunkering down on the floor of the AP Bureau during the Revolution, as the percussion from the tank fire was lifting him off the floor. It still feels like politics is quite a sport here (people accusing each other of being Peronistas in the newspaper, that sort of thing). And there’s graffiti all over the place, mostly just the name of one of the presidential candidates, a guy named Lavagna, over and over and over again. We got out early and tried for some morning sun shots—starting with The Pink House (the White House of Argentina, home of the Executive Branch)—but el sol is hiding from us. Why is The Pink House pink? When it was constructed it was meant to show peace between the two dominant parties of the time: Los Federales, whose emblem was red, and Los Unitarios, known as “the white ones”. Anyway, our very nice driver Julio (formerly of the Cuban Navy, who believes that any problem you have can be sorted out if you go and just spend some time on the sea) is being patient with us as we wait for the sun. Got a quick cloudy stroll in along the San Martin park/square (where our hotel is located) then along Florida street, a store-packed pedestrian street, had a small snack of french food (quiche) and italian coffees—yes, we are dorks—now we’re back in the room once again awaiting bright sun and blue skies. Julio thinks it will happen soon, perhaps around 2pm. Forgot to mention breakfast this morning! So, we get the little continental breakfast and there is a tiny jar of dulce de leche, which brings happiness to the taste buds and brings back big memories of being 13 and watching my step-grandmother Alice, my step-aunt Nancy (my stepfather was born here I think, and their entire family spent MANY many years in Buenos Aires) and my mom all making dulce de leche in the kitchen. Ahhhh…., sweeet. Anyway, we continue to wait (it’s looking promising!), and we’re told that tonight we’re to go see a Tango, and perhaps we can find some yummy milanesas, or some sort of asado restaurant.

Au Revoir Paris; Now it’s under and over the seas

Another non-stop Wednesday greets us. Bobbi and I awaken still happy and full from our excellent (though late) entrecote. Got to the Le Relais de Venise last evening about 9:30 (after getting some nice sunset shots, then lightshow shots, of the Tour Eiffel, the Invalide, the Ecole Militaire, etc.) and of course the queue was fairly long. Finally got in the door about 10:45, then it was up the micro-stairway to the more intimate, completely lacquer-red upstairs dining room. Once seated we got the two questions: how do you want it cooked, which wine would you like to drink. It was…just perfect, the best way to end this leg of the journey. Major props to Stephanie in Austin for the fast intel! Anway, back to Wed AM… Bobbi organized our many items and got a box of books sent back home while I did a quick edit for our client’s upcoming Board meeting. Then the fun began: the too-long cab ride to Paris Nord station and the Eurostar platform; the Eurostar systems not finding---then finally finding, 10 minutes before departure--our pre-paid reservations; the very fast and fun and nap-inducing train ride through the northern France countryside in uncomfy, 2nd class seats. One thing we like about the Eurostar experience is….when you start in France, all announcements are first in French, and then in English; once you pop out on the other side of the Channel, the announcements are first in English and then in French. And vice versa. Anyway, our arrival at Waterloo was normal until Bobbi discovered that there are no loos in Waterloo once you exit the secured Eurostar platforms area. Who knew no loos? Perhaps a sign or an announcement might have been in order. After another long queue we stuffed all three of us and our bags into a black cab destined for Heathrow. Had a very nice driver who somehow managed to drive us past some of our fave places; the little pub across from Parliament (one of the ones with a Division Bell inside it which alerts Members that it’s time to drink up and head back to vote); the very clean and white Westminster Abbey (seems they’re cleaning all the important buildings up in the city; nice!); the Cabinet War Rooms, down along the gardens and past Buckingham Palace, then past another fun pub (the Bag o’ Nails), through Kensington and Chelsea and, 71 pounds later, to Heathrow Terminal 4. Discovered the 30 kg bag limit that BA has in Heathrow, and after some quick re-packing (hope our dirty laundry bag makes it to Buenos Aires) we were squared away. Next bit of new knowledge came when we learned about the VAT refund scam. In Paris we bought some small items. As you leave the EU, when you attempt to get your VAT refund on small items, they ask to see them. (“What, are you kidding? They’re packed! What kind of a scam is this?”). So after some huffing and puffing by me, followed by an apology by me, we got our VAT refunds sorted out, banged back some tall drinks in the British Airways lounge, and boarded our flight; 12 hours to Sao Paulo, a quick layover, then a few more hours on to Buenos Aires where we hit the ground running!

Factoids: BA Business Class seats on the 747; the most comfy yet! This is the first time either Kahunas have been below the equator (and the toilets do flush counterclockwise)!
Fun update: We’re still on the ground in Sao Paulo, and the new batch of passengers is boarding….and they are quite enthusiastic and loud! Viva Brasil!

Paris sweet Paris

A beautiful weekend in Paris, and even though we were both sick during most of it and stuck in our hotel room, we did manage to get some good shopping in. Of course, it helped that we were 2 short blocks off the Champs-Elysées, in a beautiful Art Deco hotel called the Prince De Galle. We managed to ding the Mont Blanc store, as well as a cool eyeglass store (new specs for us both—tres chic!). A few delicious Leffe beers and snacks at some of the lovely sidewalk cafes on the Champs helped keep us fortified. Mostly it was a room service weekend, although a few unexpected benefits of this approach included: Wild Wild West (the original series, not the lame-oh movie) and Casino, both dubbed into French. We also watched some French League soccer on a local arabic-language station, and of course the Rugby World Cup is happening here so that was on everywhere. We’ve been enjoying the OJ story from afar, and it’s cool to be here in France while Sarkozy and his crew bang on Iran. Monday we visited our client’s local facility in Colombes (much to the taxi driver’s chagrin), and met some very nice people, then it was back to the room to continue to rest and do some office work. Our attempt to get to Montmarte for dinner was thwarted by a cold drizzle (we’re both trying to get back to being healthy before our big flight to Argentina Wednesday evening, otherwise we’re worried our heads may pop). Today (Tuesday) we went to visit our client’s customer, a huge European defense and security company—they make drones and fighter aircraft and oh, by the way, the entire defense shield for Qatar—and it was something. Some places we could go, most places were off limits. The clouds are coming back in this afternoon, so it’s another chill-relax-ingest footage session before our last supper…which we’re hoping will be at an EXCELLENT Entrecote place we’ve been to before that’s just around the corner from the hotel…Realise de Venise. Tres tres bon!

Doing the Deutschland

Bird poo on the seats inside Barcelona airport—weird, and yet somehow poetic (you think you’re expert in the field of traveling through the air? Take that, and that!). Flight to Frankfurt took us through London Heathrow again, and another visit to the BA Business Lounge where a very vapid don’t-wanna-be-a-mommy was ignoring her VERY LOUD daughter’s vocalization of every single synaptic pulse she had. The businessmen were sending eyeball daggers towards the mommy, who would see them and kind of smile back, as though responding to perceived wordless advances. Got to Frankfurt and got into a cab—turns out the hotel was in another terminal of the same airport, and we could have gotten there via airport terminal train, but we were tired and loaded with gear, so instead we ruined a cabdriver’s night. Thems the breaks pal. Airport hotel was almost eerily silent—we heard not a single airplane. By the time we crashed it was clear we’re both coming down with little chest colds…all that travel and being in a world of smokers had caught up to us. Next morning it was up early and off to the IAA show in downtown-ish Frankfurt. Our client’s booth was WAY cool, and the concept car they were showing was sweeeet. Got to see a few other booths (Honda was showing motorcycles in their booth—and we saw one with a deployed airbag. Wouldn’t getting hit in the chest with an airbag while on a bike just pop you right over the back of the bike?) Then it was off to the Frankfurt hauptbanhof to get the rental minivan, collect our colleague Lee back at the hotel, and hit the autobahn for Krautscheid. Driving on the autobahn was fun; not so fun in a minivan, but I got her up to 170 km/h, and that was cool, but there were dudes overtaking me in their tricked out audi’s and bmw’s and benz’ like I was standing still. It was a beautiful afternoon as we zipped past Koblenz and got to our ausfarht. Our man in Krautscheid is Dr. Frank Toubartz, who runs our client’s facility there—the most advanced lead-acid battery recycling operation in the world--and his directions were great, although the last part (“just head down into the valley” made us a little wary (it was very “turn left where the old Müller place used to be”), but lo and behold, there they were, in the little valley a few km from beautiful downtown Bücholz. Being a sunny afternoon we got the idyllic exteriors first—cows and horses and rolling hills in the foreground, and the plant in the background—and then we got the presentation on the facility, which was pretty fascinating and full of history (there have been lead mining and smelting operations on the site since 50 B.C.,). Feeling well-prepped for the next day’s production we went to our nice little no-internet-access DorintResorts hotel in nearby Windhagen-Siebengbirge. Frank joined us there for a dinner of German-style French cuisine as we heard American pop music from the 50’s to the 80’s wafting in from the bar. Something about drinking a really tasty weisbrau and eating a very tasty bistec while hearing the details of how “Black Betty had a child, bama-lam, the damn thing went wild, bama-lam” was hurting my brain. Nothing a good night’s sleep couldn’t fix, and that’s what we got. Next day it was getting to know all the dirty yet very cool details about this amazing lead-acid battery recycling operation. Like, that they recycle something like 4 million car batteries a year, producing 50,000 metric tonnes of lead for reuse. The smelting was as you’d imagine it—very hot, lots of red, molten liquid metal everywhere—but also there was the unexpected, such as the popping sounds of big lead pylon-shaped forms cooling in the yard and the sight of the heat-shimmer they produced. We all looked a bit silly in our safety shoes and hart hards and coats, but hey, this is lead smelting and refining we’re talking about here, and we got right up-close and personal with it, so if they’d wanted us to wear clown noses and fright wigs for added safety we quite happily would have. By late afternoon we were done and on our way to Koln. Traffic into the city was yucky for a while, but we found our way to the hotel, right there across from the Koln hauptbanhof (behind the killer-huge Cathedral in the city—the Dome). Bobbi was feeling particularly pooky and wasn’t able to join the ultrafast but fun Koln tour conducted by our excellent JCI friend and colleague Thomas, who bopped in from nearby Burscheid. He took Lee and me around to see some of the nearby Roman sites—amazingly cool—then to Peters & Bambeck for some of the local kolsch beer, brats and dumplings for me, and goulash soup for Lee. We finished up just as some rain was passing, then off we went for a short stroll up the Reihn River for some fab nighttime city views. Thanks for the microtour and visit Thomas—can’t wait to see you in Milwaukee in a few weeks, where we can return the favor and tour such historical sites as the Blatz Brewery building, made famous in Laverne & Shirley!

And so now it’s Saturday, coming up on day 14 of the odyssy. From our train window we saw the heavy mist settled over westernmost Germany, but the sun is out now in Belgium, and it looks like it’ll be a beautiful weekend in Paris.

It don’t suck people, no indeed it don’t.

That's A Wrap, Barcelona-style

Another great day of production, on Catalunya Independence Day. The city is sunny and quiet, as all have gone out to enjoy the holiday with their grandmothers. After shooting home interiors and up at the big castle--Mont Jouic (sp?)--we made our way to La Bodegueta del Poble Sec, a bustley little old place on carrer de blai, a few blocks up from the Paral-el, and we enjoyed a proper, 3-hour long Catalonian wrap lunch. Wonderful foods—grilled vegetables, marinated olives and eggplant, lots of different sausages, tomato-infused breads, bistecs and pork and LOTS of wine. Wine which we consumed from a porro, making for competative, therefore plentiful, consumption. It just felt like the tastiest way to celebrate the holiday and a job well done. Got back to our room and crashed, we are told, in true Catalonian fashion, sleeping all through the night. This morning, Wednesday, our last morning here, we are again greeted with bright sun, giving us what we needed to make one last pass around town to capture images of Barcelona’s most iconic structures. Oh and also giving Mark his first chance to see the Mediterranean!

Huge thanks to Marc, Nuria, Esther, Dustin, Piao and The Bad News Bears for showing us this wonderful city—we can’t wait to come back! But now it’s time to watch Bobbi do her McGyver impersonation, attempting to set-up her iPhone for hands-free viewing on the plane’s tray table as we wing on to Germany and the excitement of the IAA Frankfurt Auto Show.

Barcelona observations: many here ride scooters, and the drone of them makes the city sound like it is under constant attack by the world’s biggest mosquitos; trying to eat your way through the huge variety of the region’s cured meats is the tastiest impossibility one can encounter; until you understand the local spelling of “tapas”, you’ll think there are record stores in almost every restaurant; La Rambla has the largest concentration per capita of statue people in the world (of all materials—copper, bronze, AND marble….and they seem to peacefully coexist quite nicely!)

Barcelona--Paris By The Sea

For the shoot here we rented a car—to be used as a picture car, so we got a convertible—and what a great way to explore and experience the city…top down and creeping up and down La Rambla (no, we did not purchase any of the iguanas), around Placa Espanya, up and down the Gran Via and the Diagonal—fabulous. By midday we had secured the rest of our gear and the sun was coming out, and it occurred to me that this part of the city very much resembles a mini Paris except for…for what? The beach people! Lots of beautiful tanned beachgoers walking among the old buildings and trees and tiny tiny lanes. Marc describes it as Paris-meets-San Diego. True, true.

The sun out, we head to our first location, and Bobbi got some very nice shots with our local talent at the Parc de La Ciuadella, a huge greenspace that was in the midst of preparing for Tuesday’s Catalunya Independence Day celebrations, then we all enjoyed a nice little lunch with very tasty…and interesting…foods. The rest of the day’s shooting continued with much success, then it was off to recce tomorrow’s locations and to reward ourselves with more tasty, bad-for-you cured meats and cheeses and San Miguel cervezas.

Factoid del Dia: so far we’ve each travelled about 15,000 air miles

A Lovely Day...in Bartha Town

Sunday morning, 8am. We’re half a block from the mostly-empty Plaza Espanya (Eh-Shpan-Ya). Mostly-empty save for those still out from the night before, like the posse of black-clad soccer hooligan types who pass on their way to the bodega across the street that was still open. Marc met us with Piya (sp?) in tow, the four-month old quadruped who is the new addition to the Marc-and-Nuira familia, and who was very happy to taste all that the street had to offer. We strolled in vain in search of coffee for some time, then settled on a place where the café con leche and the jambon sandwiches were muy muy bien, and the freshly-squeezed orange juice was phenomanal. After our fortifications we ambled towards La Rambla by way of a cool old bookseller’s market, then into the many intricate little streets that make the original Roman part of town so amazing. In some places you can still see original Roman foundations. Marc told us that, centuries ago, many of the streets in the area were controlled by guilds, and the historical impact still remains—we walked along the road where all the chocolatiers did—and still do—a brisk, sweet business. And each little street/guild has its patron saint, embedded in the walls for all to worship.

After rubbing elbows with centuries-old walls and hearing the near and far church bells, lunch started to sound like a good plan, and the Catalan tapas place Marc steered us towards offered the perfect munchies. I guess this region is not known for its tapas, but Marc has sussed out all the great places, so---it was good. Happy again we transitioned from Marc’s flat to Le Meridien Hotel, which is right on La Rambla, and got familiar with the concept of siesta. Ahhh, siesta. Bobbi thinks this needs to be a new RRBI company policy. I said we should sleep on it.

Up and out for a proper Barcelona dinner at 9pm, we met Marc and his better half Nuria, and their friends Dustin and Esther, and walked to a wonderful dinner at Origin 99.9. It was sort of tapas I guess---little-ish plates of food---and amazing. Wonderful little meats and cheeses, spinach pies and canalones and romesco peix and carrot soup and a few bottles of delicious wines from the little village Esther is from. An altercation between Nuria and Esther ensued about what gets rubbed onto the bread---garlic only (as in Nuria’s village) or both garlic and tomato (as in Esther’s village), but in the end Esther’s approach prevailed and all was tasty and good. Happy and full at 12:30a we ambled back along La Ramblas towards our hotel and off into dreamland.

What a difference a day makes

Mind warp. Awoke in Hong Kong at 6am Saturday; now it's beddy-bye time, 24 hours later, in Barcelona, and yet--it's still Saturday. The long leg of the flight was 6000 miles and took us over Central China (quite bumpy) Western Siberia (bumpy), the Urals (bumpy), and on into London (cloudy). Tip #1 of the day; don't load up on pork dumplings for breakfast, like I did in the Cathay Pacific lounge in HK, lest you part ways with them unhappily, like I did in the British Airways lounge in Heathrow. Tip #2; try to avoid Cathay Pacific Airlines. Nice staff, terrible seats (but good dumplings...however, don't be seduced by them!). Tip #3; don't waste your money going Business Class on Iberia on a within-EU flight. Same seats as Coach, with the added pleasure of icky food (a fly in my flan). It's nice and cool here in Barcelona, and Bobbi's excellent fixer-cousin Marc was at the airport to greet us and steer us into the city and his swell little casa. Now it's time to try and sleep before tomorrow's recce fun commences.

Bye Bye Beijing, Hello Hong Kong

Our evening sup in Beijing of Roast Duck with Chicago pals Shelagh and Mike and new Beijing pal Nancy was amazing, then it was up early Friday morning for one last mini-road trip with Mr. Yin—the 5am sprint to the airport, and hardly another soul on the road. Boarded our Cathay Pacific flight at 7:15, and after 3.5 hours of waiting for the local engineering crew to “fix something in the cockpit”, we were off to Hong Kong. Our intended arrival time of 11am having been extended to 2pm, I was still looking forward to the thrill of that real scary approach and landing, basically in between the big buildings like you see in all the movies…alas, there’s a new airport on a peninsula about 45 minutes from the center of civilization, so it was more like landing at LaGuardia. We were a bit amused by the large banners in the airport tram area advertising the upcoming Chinese Toy Builders and Suppliers Convention in Shanghai later this fall…will anyone attend?

We alighted from the terminal to find a quintessential Southeast-Asian late summer afternoon—the thick, showery, muggy haze sticking to us like a fine glue….and we did not rejoice. The drive in to the city past all the mountains was nice though, and after we crossed Tsing Ma, the world’s longest road and rail suspension bridge, we drove past a never-ending sea of cargo docks and the most gigantic collection of shipping containers I’ve ever seen. Who owns all those containers, how in the world do they keep track of them, and by the way…what in the world is in them?

We’re in the Sheraton, on the Kowloon side of the harbour--about a half-block from the waterfront and up on the 14th floor with, we are told, an amazing view of the Hong Kong side. The weather prevents us from enjoying it much, except at night, but we can see enough to know it’s way worth coming back. Our stroll up the Nathan Road past jillions of people trying to sell us Rolex watches and cameras and foot massages was uncomfortable on a number of levels—wicked muggy and damp and very jostley—so we opted for the relative calm of Kowloon Park. Later in the evening we caught some of the 8pm light show, where many of the buildings up against the harbour do a sort of coordinated light and split laser thing that’s pretty cool.

Now it’s time to prep for the fun that starts tomorrow at 6am…the main course of 13-hour flight to London, with a side dish of 3-hour layover at Heathrow, then for dessert a 3-hour flight onwards to Barcelona. Yum!