Flying Foxes and Fjords

Sunday, May 8 - Flying Foxes
South Island

Sunday was the day that I would be zipping from tree to tree with ZipTrek Ecotours, an eco-friendly zip-line (or flying fox, as the Kiwis call it) company with a set-up in Queenstown. Before I could do any zipping, however, we first had to make it to the top of the gondola line at the Skyline Complex that sits over the city.  It was a drizzly morning, but the view was still pretty amazing so high up.

In our gondola

Sheep having breakfast.

It doesn't look it, but this mountain side was steep!

The view of Queenstown from the Skyline.

And a good luck kiss before I went zipping.

Soon enough it was time to meet up with the guides for the flying fox at the first jumping platform a short walk down from the Skyline. As Chris isn't so fond of heights, I did this one without him, though not on my own. Along with three other flyers, I geared up and set out to take a ride through the treetops, expertly guided by Haley and Julia. Between the 2 Aussies, local Kiwi, American me and our Canadian guides, we were a diverse group, but you gotta love it when four different countries still equal just one language.

The first platform

Since ZipTrek is not just your typical adventure tour company, from platform to platform we learned about how they work to not only offer adventure tours without damaging the environment, but also how they use these tours to teach sustainability, minimizing our impact on our environment, and the benefits of community outreach.  Much of the money made from their tours goes to local charities and community projects, and even the platforms and lines between trees, once removed, will not cause irreparable damage to the forest.

The first line was scary only because it was the first, and a lovely Kiwi woman named Sonsoray stepped up to go first. (Forgive my phonetic spelling, it's such a beautiful name!) The feeling of flying among the trees through early morning, misty air was exhilarating and freeing.  Doing so while hanging upside down was a whole other experience! I took along our Flip Video camera to capture what I could - beware, wind and screaming may call for you to lower your volume. Upon further inspection, I opted not to include the video of me flying upside down, as there's the slightest chance some profanity made its way out of my mouth, and my mom reads this! (Yes, I'm a goody goody who wants to believe my parents don't know I know such words, let alone speak them.) But here is the one where I stepped off the platform backwards, arms out.

The first five lines were fun, not scary as they weren't steep.  Line number six, however, was another animal.  The sixth and final line of our tour was (and still is, I suspect) the steepest tree-to-tree zip-line in the world.  And I couldn't wait!  I wasn't able to record this one because of safety precautions.  Because the braking system is different for so steep a line, you can't have anything attached to you, like a camera, lest it get caught and royally screw up your chances of a safe landing in the event that the first brake fails. Lucky for us - and everyone else who's taken this tour - everyone made it safely to the final landing site, and from there we hiked down a bit further to the base of the gondola line to take off our gear and say goodbye. As I left my flying fox friends to meet up with Chris in town, I decided that though it was early in the trip, THIS would be my favorite part.

Chris and I met up down by the wharf, where we ran into a bunch of Wilsons on their way out to celebrate Mother's Day. Such great people, and a reminder to try to call home. We headed back toward the gondolas to lunch in one of Queentown's most loved, local eateries, Fergburger. When I tell you we had burgers, it is impossible for you to fully comprehend what we actually ate. Kiwis may make the best hamburgers in the world. Their menu had burgers with beef, venison, chicken, tofu, or lamb, topped with everything from streaky bacon, avocado, all kinds of cheese, curry, and vegetables.  These burgers had to be eaten partially wrapped in paper or it'd never make it to your mouth in one piece, so heavy and dripping with savory goodness were they. Fergburger started off as a shack and is now treated like a national treasure, in Queenstown at least. We felt honored to have been able to digest a little bit of that treasure.

Later in the afternoon was our ride on a jet boat on the Kawarau River.  Everyone put on their waterproof pants and jackets and loaded up for our hour long, high speed ride down the river, complete with 360 degree spins. If we were on a road and not a river, we'd have left some serious skid marks from the hard braking and spinning. It was a blast.

With nothing else booked and the need to chill for a bit, we took in a movie at a cute little theater in town  before meeting up with Kristin, Matt, and friends at a pub for drinks.  It was nice to kick back with friendly people over pints with a rugby game on, though we didn't make it too late of a night.  We had ot be up early for our tour of Milford Sound the next morning.


Monday, May 9 - Milford Sound 

Milford Sound is one of the best known and most visited areas in the Fjordland National Park on the South Island. We booked a tour with the BBQ Bus so we could sit back and enjoy the 5 hour ride there and back, which was great first thing in the morning when the fog gave us all good reason to nod off for a bit.  

Our driver and guide, Nick, told us stories from local lore, as well as the real stories of how several of New Zealand's animals came to the islands. Rabbits were introduced for hunting way back by the Brits, then when they did what rabbits do, the stoat was introduced to control the exploding rabbit population, a mean little cousin of the ferret.  Stoats were ideal because they can run, climb, swim, whatever to catch a bite to eat, and they eat almost anything.  Unfortunately, the stoats soon caught on that whereas rabbits ran very quickly, the native kiwi bird did not quite have speed on their side.  Kiwi birds are ground-dwelling birds with round bodies, that apparently are heaven on a plate to a stoat. It is due in large part to this that the kiwi has become an endangered species in NZ.

Something we saw a lot of on our way out to Milford were deer farms, something we didn't expect. Just as beef cattle are raised for their meat, and sheep raised for their wool (and lambs), deer here are raised in the same way. It was a little strange at first to pass by fenced in fields of adult deer with their antlers sawed off, but it made sense as venison is a popular meat choice in many places.

We made a stop in the town of Te Anau for some breakfast and a pick-up before we got to Milford. Before meeting Jamie from Fresno, Chris and I wandered down the road from where Nick parked the van to get a couple of pies from a tiny roadside shop.  Clearly all those deer farms had made us hungry, for we both went for a venison pie for breakfast. Yum. We have GOT to learn to make meat pies!

Along the way we made several stops to admire more of the area's unique characteristics, and it was nice to get out of the van and take a short walk here and there. Our stops allowed for short walks through forest to see a couple of lakes and a gorgeous chasm carved out by the rushing waters.

                         
                           Mirror Lake

        The walk to Lake Gunn

The Chasm

One really great thing about visiting New Zealand in the late fall is that it's NOT tourist season, and every tour we went on reflected this in its low numbers of people.  It was nice.  Our group of five (all American) was joined only by two other groups on the cruise boat, so there was plenty of room and plenty of food at the nice little lunch buffet.  We found it a little odd that the food was mostly Asian, but hey, it was a good deal.

The day was mostly sunny and the water was beautiful.  The heavy low-hanging clouds lolled on the tops of mountains around us, but that just added to the beauty of it all. We saw one seal asleep on some rocks, got right up under a gorgeous waterfall, and I tried not to fall (more than once) on my rear when the boat tilted.

There's something about being out in the middle of something so enormous as this.  When the boat's engines were quieted, the only sounds came from birds and waterfalls.  The silence between is something beautiful, too, as there seems to be nothing but you and the air you breathe for a moment out on the water.  It's easy to forget that there are people around you and you start to wonder when you last heard silence so heavy and calm.

The drive back to Queenstown was as beautiful, as the fog had burned off in the afternoon sun and we could see the landscape around us. I'm drawn to water, be it sea or lake.  As I look over our pictures, it's apparent that the photos below are my favorite to take.

It was a full day and we were saturated by the amazing beauty of this place.  Until tomorrow then.

July 14-15: The Journey Home

We ate our final Scottish breakfast, haggis and all, a little sad this morning.  We didn't want to go home.  We talked with David and dragged our things to the car, perhaps hoping a minor natural disaster would strand us there a little while longer.  But it didn't happen, so it was time to go, but not without a print-out from a fabulous website that caters to British ex-pats living all over Europe.  Mail-order haggis, my friend!  David was truly an exceptional host.

We drove to New Castle, England to catch our overnight ferry back to Continental Europe.  It was a first for us both to actually sleep over on any kind of boat, so the Princess of Norway would be a small adventure.  Our toilet may have been in the shower, but we had a decent window looking out over the sea and the bed was surprisingly comfortable.  Chris and I explored the Princess with interest, but came up empty when it came to things we might actually enjoy.  The casino (or 6 machines lined up behind a partition) isn't something we're into, and the lounge was loud with the on-board entertainment, something we could do without.  Are we just boring people?  I don't know, but the 70s Disco Hour and over-the-top singers weren't doing it for us, so we got a drink and watched the water for a little while before dinner.

When it was time for bed, what was lulling before kept us awake most of the night.  The ship rocked and stuttered here and there when a sizable wave smashed into our side of the boat head-on, and whereas the former is quite comforting, the latter was quite loud and jarred us awake.  That made for a longer drive the following day.

Regardless of how amazing a trip away has been, nothing beats the feel of coming home and sleeping in your own bed.  Scotland, however, has come the closest.

*********************

Some parting thoughts about this trip...

I can't be sure if it was just the common language that made the people connections on this trip more prevalent, but there is something entirely different about Scotland.  Maybe when part of you comes from a place it just feels more comfortable.

From the first time I set foot in the country of Ireland, I was in love with her hills and her people.  When people talked about how fantastic Scotland was, I always replied with a declaration of love for the Emerald Isle just west of there.  Even when those who had been to both places stuck to the opinion that Scotland far out-weighed Ireland, I wouldn't even consider it a possibility.  I admit, from the first moments our car rolled into the southern hills of Scotland I felt a twinge of guilt.  And now, after all is said and done, I'm afraid I've abandoned my devotion to Ireland, though I still love that place, in favor of the other.  It's a little rockier, a little more severe, and a little more magical, Scotland, and the people are phenomenal.

Funny how we spent a couple days between Belgium and England, but didn't meet a truly friendly face until we got to Stonehaven.  From Alan and his mum at the B&B, and Gary and the pub owner we couldn't understand; Ian and some other local artists near Loch Ness and in the Isle of Skye; Andrew and his dog, Nelson, in the park and Mum's guy in Edinburgh; from one of Johanna's favorite restaurants to Bernie and Sarah's dining room, this trip has been fuller of personal interaction than any other by miles.  So give credit to the fact that we didn't have to pantomime to communicate, but don't discount the beauty and love that live and breathe in Scotland.  It is now one of my favorite places in the world, and a place I will always want to revisit.

July 13: Finally - Bernie Day!

And so it was Tuesday, the day Queen Elizabeth would be arriving to her Edinburgh palace.  We went to Glasgow instead to see some new friends.

Statue of Robert Burns

But before dinner at Bernie's house, we had a day to fill, so we made our way to his once home-town to do some looking around.  It only makes sense that we began the morning on a quest to locate something called a bacon roll.  We'd had sausage rolls along the trip so far, a delicious sausage lovingly surrounded by a doughy embrace most bakeries carried, but bacon?  We hadn't seen it.  And since this elusive bacon roll had apparently changed Jo's life (in Edinburgh), it only seemed right we should seek it out.  I'm not sure if what we had was what she had, but it was decent.  The way people in Glasgow looked at us when we described what we thought it was, it's either an Edinburgh thing, or we were way off.

We walked George Square and moseyed about the Modern Art Museum for a while.  We walked Argyle Street (the pedestrian shopping street) and High Street that ran through the center of things.  We found St. Mungo Cathedral, named for Glasgow's patron saint, though it sounded more like a college nickname to me.  And whether it was because we had come to the end of our trip and were growing exhausted, or had just surpassed or capacity to be overly impressed, we felt satisfied and moved on.

Having some time to kill and just a half hour drive to Bernie and Sarah's suburban town, we found a grocery store and packed the trunk with cases of Bulmers and Magners cider, an assortment of shortbread cookies, brown sauce, and potato chips.  Gluttons, you might say, but none of these things are findable in the rest of Europe, aside from a pint in a pub.  Bulmers is a British cider and Magners an Irish one, that we have searched for high and low.  Nowhere but in the UK have we found these fantastic hard ciders available at a regular grocer.  And Chris loves shortbread, so why not try a few fancy kinds they've got in the homeland?  Brown sauce is as common in the UK as barbecue sauce in the US; also yummy but impossible to find elsewhere.  And the chips...that one's mine.  I love chips.  I can't often allow myself to buy chips because they last such a minuscule amount of time in my presence, it's hardly worth the ungodly number of calories they carry.  But when you're staring at such an odd selection of flavors found only on the shelves of a foreign grocery store, it's difficult not to justify a few bags.  You know, to try.  So yes, we hit that grocery store and we hit it good.







And then it was time to see Bernie and meet Sarah.  I think I was a little surprised that it was actually happening, as it seems these kinds of plans are often meant at the time, but easily fall through.  But here we were on our way, with Belgian beer, flowers, and baby gift in hand, as Sarah was about seven months pregnant.  When we rang the bell of their pretty house I felt nervous, but Sarah's friendly smile put both of us at ease pretty quickly.  We said our hellos and I handed Sarah the flowers, thanking her for her hospitality, then quickly handed her the baby gift we'd brought them.  She was clearly surprised, and she thanked us and set it aside to open once Bernie was home from work.  Sarah showed us around their house a bit, explaining changes they'd made and how parts of the house had been somewhat falling apart when they moved in.  It was a tall home, four levels, I believe, with a few rooms per floor, beautifully arranged with a sophisticated touch.  As we stepped through the kitchen to get to the garden, it smelled amazing and I suddenly couldn't wait for dinner.  Out in their gorgeous garden, Sarah walked us around, pointing out the green house and the pond, the flowers and vines growing here and there.  It had come with the house, of course, but you could see they put a lot of love into it.  Sarah told us how the small pond had been frozen over when they moved in, so they hadn't known until the thaw that there were two fish inside - still alive!  They fed them and marveled over how they'd managed to survive all that time under the ice.  Then one day a bird swooped down, and that was it for the fish.

Bernie got home soon after and there were more handshakes and hugs all around and within a few minutes we were seated at the dining table talking over some nice Rose' wine.  Now we had already been told that Sarah was a great cook, but we still weren't prepared for the spread that was about to hit the table, one course at a time.  Half-way through this trip I'd wished I would have had the mind to photograph the food, just to add a visual to my raving reviews.  This was the night I did.

Course #1: Blood pudding with dark green salad with homemade croûtons and apples, and balsamic drizzle.

When she sat our plates down she said right off that she wouldn't be offended if we didn't like it.  She and Bernie just really wanted to give us a real traditional Scottish feast.  Now the blood pudding, we'd had, but not like this.  Nothing at all like this.  This was thick and rich in flavor with hints of nutmeg.  Sarah explained they got their meat from a local butcher who handmade things like blood pudding and haggis on-site.  It was all local and lovingly made, none of that mass-produced stuff many Bed&Breakfasts served with breakfast.  No one left a morsel on their plate.

Course #2: Smoked salmon with cream and crackers; rare venison sliced over skirlie; and a haggis, neeps, and tattie tower.

I ate my smoked salmon without noticing the cream and crackers, it was so delicious.  The venison was heavenly and tender, over what is apparently an old Scottish favorite Sarah's dad suggested she pair with it, made of onion, oatmeal, butter, salt and pepper.  Yum!  And then the haggis...oh, the haggis.  Now we already liked haggis, but had yet to have it like this.  The haggis we'd had up till this point had been served on a platter in a more ground up state between blobs of mashed potatoes and mashed turnips.  When made into a tower, the haggis or cooked in a way that keeps it together a bit more, also making it possible to get a taste of all three elements with a single stab of the fork.  Insanely delicious!  We had no idea Sarah was a gourmet!

Course #3: Tea with sugar cookies, fresh raspberries, and a cheese plate.

With smooth green tea all around, we indulged further in this amazing spread Bernie and Sarah made possible.  It had been an incredibly enjoyable evening between the wonderful company and ridiculously great food, and I was so happy this came together.

I think what took me by surprise the most was how comfortable the whole night was.  We talked and laughed easily, and Bernie and Sarah seemed just as excited as we were to get together.  Bernie had even told some people at work about the Americans he had coming over for dinner, which made me laugh - I'm not used to being considered so exotic.  It seems he also relayed to them the whole rescue story from Prague, the strange coincidences there and the plan to meet back up here.  They thanked us again for saving Bernie from the dark and scary woods of the Czech Republic, swearing that a European wouldn't have done him the same kindness.  We said we'd just been happy to help out a nice person in need, and by the way, thanks for the feast!

Bernie and Sarah talked about old TV shows from the States they'd watched growing up, and Chris and I asked them about slang terms Americans associate with people from the UK.  Like did you know a Scottish person will likely have no inkling as to what you mean if you call him 'limey'?  As the wine flowed and the evening wore on our small attempts to mimic an English or Scottish accent were met with much laughter, and even a compliment or two.  We learned that the term 'Brit' refers to anyone living inside the UK, including people from Scotland, Wales, and Northern Ireland, not just those from England.  We learned that 'bloody' is pretty universally used, but 'ginger' is rather derogatory.

They opened the baby gift we'd brought and we were endlessly pleased they seemed to like it so much - a baby duck bath set and a onesie with an electric guitar on it for daddy.  We did meet Bernie at a metal music festival, after all.  Apparently because the pregnancy came so quickly after the wedding this was the first baby gift they'd really received, and we were excited to have contributed to the new addition.

When we left it felt like we were hugging goodbye old friends, promising to keep in touch and swap pictures.  It was the perfect way to end our Scottish vacation, in the comfort of someone's home over the best meal we'd had all trip, by far, and fantastic company.  Thanks again, Bernie and Sarah, for a fabulous evening!

July 12: Edinburgh, part 2

We started the day with The Real Mary King's Close tour of the underground.  Mary King was a prominent businesswoman back in her time, which was highly rare, so much so that they named one of Edinburgh's closes after her along the Royal Mile.  The closes were the narrow streets that lead to apartments of Edinburgh's original city, something over which the current city has been built.   It was an interesting historical tour lead by a colorful character.  Because it was tight quarters down there, our guide made sure to pull the "wee'ns" to the front and direct the "big'ns" to the back when we were all meant to peer in at something through a doorway, window, or hole in the wall.  An entire underground world has been uncovered and to walk through the rooms that once housed families struggling against the Plague was eerie.  The room that felt the strangest was that where a young girl was said to have been left to die many years ago.  As her ghost has been allegedly sighted often looking for a favorite toy, there is a great pile of dolls, teddy bears, and other toys that people have brought her to put her at ease.  This tiny room with its mound of children's toys was by far the coldest we entered, despite its being on the same level as several other rooms.

After walking the underground rooms of the city, we took our turn walking through some devoted to some of Scotland's greatest authors at the Writer's Museum.  I don't generally last long in museums, but I wandered from one case holding these writers' journal entries, first editions and tools to the next, reading every plaque of information with interest.  I liked reading about the lives of Walter Scott, Robert Burns, and Robert Louis Stevenson, and seeing a writing desk once belonging to Burns gave me chill bumps.

Makar's Court is a courtyard outside the museum, and is paved with more and more flagstones bearing quotes from various Scottish writers.  It's an ever-growing literary monument just under your feet.  I photographed each one, even the ones I couldn't understand.  These are two of my favorites.

After the Writer's Museum but before venturing into The National Scottish Museum we came upon Greyfriar's Bobby, the statue of a dog who was so devoted to his person, he waited for him on his grave for years after his death, until eventually Bobby's time here ended, as well.  It's a famous story and people stop to take pictures with the statue often.  Just past the statue is the graveyard where Bobby the dog waited, and where he, too, is buried.  His grave is just inside the entrance gate, covered over with a great pile of sticks people place in remembrance.  I left one, too.

Moving on, we found a rather enticing looking menu down a side street from Chamber Street.  Mum's Real Comfort Food called to us from its unassuming position, humble and well-kept.  It was Mum's sausage and mash offer that held our appetites hostage, and brought us back from visiting the next place, Monster Mash, for a look at the menu a couple doors down.  Mum's menu offered a traditional spread of Scottish comfort food with a rather gourmet flair.  If you chose the sausage and mash, and we did, you got to choose which fancy sausages you'd like from the daily board on the wall, then which mashed potatoes caught your attention and which savory gravy from the menu.  We each tried one lamb, honey, and mustard sausage and one chicken and garlic, and Chris had Mum's house herbed pork sausage, too.  Then we both went for the red onion mash and sun-dried tomato and basil gravy.  The guy who owns and runs Mum's sat with us and chatted while he took our orders, explaining about the local beers he carried to help Chris decide.  I was happy with a Magners, as always.

It should be said that before we moved to Italy in 2004, I wasn't much of a sausage fan, and I have never been a fan of gravy.  Sauces I can drown in, but that typical brown goop people have to have at all the big holiday meals grosses me out.  But as with all of our travels, that which is typical, local, and/or strange sounding will make it to our plates at some point, and besides, it all SOUNDED really good.  Seriously, this may have been on of the best meals on the entire trip.  The sausages, ground up and made in the kitchen with all kinds of love and tastiness tasted like something off of a fine-dining menu, and the mash only complimented each bite with its subtle kiss of red onion.  But the gravy...oh, the gravy.  It converted me.  It's done and there's no going back for me; I wanted to drink it from my plate - and nearly did!








As we breathed in and drooled over our food we made conversation here and there with the owner when he wasn't busy.  We talked about Edinburgh's Annual Fringe Festival, and how we'd really love to make it back next August for it.  We talked about music and for a half hour after we'd finished eating, he told us his story and the story of this place, which turned out to be only in its third week.  (I'm realizing we never actually got the guy's name, and I feel a little terrible about that.)  So Mum's guy was traveling through Asia to set up a new location for Monster Mash, his former restaurant, leaving someone else in charge back in Scotland to manage things in his absence.  Having felt no need to legally protect the name of his restaurant, his trust was promptly betrayed the minute the contract was up, and said manager trademarked "Monster Mash."  What a welcome home!  So they packed up and took his restaurant name - three doors down the same road!  They were planning on capitalizing off of the reputation Monster Mash and its owner had built, and I'm sure did for a while.  Mum's guy got burned, but in the end decided to fight them in the business sense and let things fall where they may.  So he opened Mum's and they're growing in popularity, and rightly so.  Monster Mash's quality has fallen, and here's hoping their would-be customers are following their noses to Mum's a few doors down, because not only is the quality some of the finest we've experienced, the atmosphere is warm, inviting, and quite friendly.  At Mum's it's all local and homemade quality food with none of the pretension.  I told Mum's guy I'd be blogging about him, that I wanted to help spread along the kind of word-of-mouth that would bring him more and more hungry diners, so here it is!  So if you're ever in Edinburgh, really, you HAVE to eat at Mum's.

http://www.monstermashcafe.co.uk/index.html

Feeling as if we'd made another friend in town, we walked back up the the National Museum for a little while.  But as I've mentioned, neither of us are big on museums usually, and we tired quickly of all the beautiful artifacts and history. At least we tried.

Chris and I took our time walking the streets and enjoyed being in the city.  That's our kind of travel, after all. We made sure to make it by Cornelius, the wine store in town that carried Andrew's wine from Porto, a red called Pinalta, picking up a couple bottles to take home and try.  Then we headed on back to the A-Haven to drop them off at the room. Whenever we saw David, either at breakfast or in passing as we came and went he always asked about our day or plans for it, and seemed genuinely interested.  He was also bursting with helpful information about everything we could possibly think of, which was nice.

When we ventured back out of the A-Haven we were on our way to that night's Literary Pub Crawl, something I kind of dragged Chris into.  It was a fun couple of hours, walking between a handful of pubs once frequented by Edinburgh's finest writers and watching the interplay of our hosts in full character, bickering back and forth about the lives of these writers and keeping us entertained.  We'd been a little concerned that we would be the older ones in the group; as it turned out, we were the youngest.  It was fun, anyway, even if we didn't have much to talk about with Baby Boomers from South Carolina, Iowa, and Georgia.

Having left dinner till after, our options were surprisingly few.  Honestly, who knew even the kitchens in the pubs closed before 10pm?  We figured it would happen, that we'd end up having at least one bad meal on this trip, so we weren't too upset about our day-old dinners.  We found a fish and chips shop, the kind of take-away place that stays open late into the night with such delicacies as fried cod, meat pies, and fried haggis, to name a few, which wouldn't be so bad if they hadn't been sitting under heat lamps since morning time.  So Chris had his fish and chips and I tucked into a rather stale piece of fried haggis with chips (fries), as well.  With rumbling stomachs and now greasy fingers, we sat in a small square near a strip of pubs and ate, too hungry to care how gross it really was.  As we talked over a meal at quite the opposite end of the spectrum from lunch, a man approached Chris and asked if he intended to finish his food.  Chris had momentarily set it down, but told the man he was, in fact, going to eat it, but asked if he'd like some fries.  The man, clearly homeless and a little drunk, said yes, thanks, and asked Chris to put some on the napkin.  I found this rather considerate, as it would make it so the man wouldn't have to stick his dirty fingers into Chris' food.  Chris did so, the man said thanks again and sorry to bother us, and wandered off across the square.  He hadn't asked for money, and he hadn't harrassed us.  He was just hungry, so it didn't take long to decide to buy him his own take-out from the shop our food had come from.  I was disappointed when I couldn't see him, but after a little while when we were done and ready to leave he walked in our direction again, wandering.  I stopped him and asked if we could buy him some dinner, and he accepted, choosing a meat pie and chips from the counter.  His name was Randle, and we stood and talked to him for a good while.  He told us about where he'd been, what he'd been through, where he often slept and how excited he was to be getting the keys to his own place in a matter of a couple of days.  It seemed a church he often went to for help with food and work and a place to sleep had set him up with a program that provided him a place of his own, given he attended therapy and rehab regularly, and got a steady job. He was doing it this time, he told us, and he was going to clean his life up and reconnect with his children, currently living in England.  He carried a cell phone so they could always get in touch with him, wherever he was, though it had been recently stolen while he slept in a nearby graveyard.  He started to cry when he spoke of them, unsure of how he would get their numbers with his chip missing with the phone.  He had no other way to contact them, and it broke my heart.  Randle seemed sincere and sad, and I was happy to have contributed in a small way with some dinner and a compassionate ear - or four.  As we talked he caught sight of an overstuffed, green lounge chair discarded by a dumpster, and made his way there to eat and eventually, sleep.  We wished him well, encouraged him to stick with it for his kids, and then we actually hugged him goodbye.  Are we weird?  Maybe, but drunk or not, this man had shared some of himself with us and we wanted him to know someone cared, even if we never saw him again.

Back at the hotel we checked email and finally heard back from Bernie (see Sonisphere Prague post).  Everything was set for our get-together the following day, so we headed to bed soon after so we could get up early to head over to Glasgow for the day.