Saturday, 8/12/2000

Started out good, but the limo driver was a little late. We made plane with time to spare. Battling a horde of short, slant-eyes and flash photography, we diligently made our way to Gate 58. Morons and their bags. Who would’ve thought you need a seat for your bags? We sat on the floor and our asses went numb.

The flight was smooth, very little turb. But get this, two fucking hours into the flight, the airmonkeys decide we have a bum plane and *TURN* back. Something about a back-up generator not working. Seems like we'd break some FFA rules if we flew over water. Soooo, two more hours back to SFO and not even a guaranty that we'll get out of CA alive.

Not to worry though, they gave us free candy to make it all better. How about some booze to wash those M&M’s down? Bitch, come back here and wipe off my arm from the tray you dumped on me an hour ago!

People stink. Smell bad, that is.

At least we have 5 gigs of mp3s to keep us from losing our mind to the air-radio.

Kara's back hurts. Fucking faggot plane seats.

Kids in the seat in front of us are about to see how long they'll fall at 35,000 feet.

More to come, I'm sure…

Chef makes everything alright. (Chocolate salty balls.) …

The night stay in SFO was free, courtesy of United.

We had to deal with the ticket agent to get a food and hotel voucher. She wasn't very quick. She had one of those cheap plastic fake jewelry bracelets. The kind you give to kids because it's worthless and if they loss it, no big deal. She was oogly too. I asked for Free miles and she disappeared. I asked to make sure our connecting flight was taken care of she had a confused look on her face and had to call someone. All in all, we lost a day. A day we both want a refund for.

So after the gated agent mumbled were to go for a hotel shuttle, we were greeted by egg-man-chu. He wasn't all that quick either. In fact, I'm sure that he shouldn't walk and chew gum at the same time. On of those people who spit while they talk (shutup!). Kara went to talk to him and ended up being blinded by his self-defense spitting technique. That's how he backs people off. Everything gets sorted out and ended up on a HUGE bus full of Italians and they like old American jazz. :) That was only the beginning of the singing for the night.

The Ramada looks like a shit hole from the outside, but the room was decent and they gave us big people a big bed.

The dinner in SFO (courtesy of United) was at Max's Opera Cafe. We both had two slabs of cow death (LARGE porterhouse steaks). I finished mine (big mistake) and Kara only ate one third (she's a smart girl). The sign on the door was correct; we didn't walk away hungry. The thing about Max's *Opera* Cafe is that the wait staff sings. Let's just say we know why there working at a restaurant. Our waiter was alright, but a bit on the fruity/energetic side. One girl even sang with sign language, too.

The breakfast was good, again at Max's. What we had wasn't important. The huge food allowance for dinner & breakfast was apparently supposed to placate us, and so far it’s working. We are too full/loagy/lazy to complain or raise a ruckus.

But we want the 24 hours back!

Sunday, 8/13/00, 08:10 AM Frankfurt time, Germany

2 days after we originally left SFO. The second try of flight 900 was a success and we're here 20 some hours late. Arrived 7:00am. Yay!

The flight from SF was a little bumpy at times, and boy did people ripen on the second day. Icky fat pee lady invaded our noses. Note to fat pee lady, carry an extra set of diapers in your carry-on.

We're sitting in a restaurant in the Frankfurt airport. I ordered a fruit salad -- we were expecting a canned fruit cocktail thing, but they show up with fresh fruit. Apples, mellons, grapes, really sour-bitter currant berries, sticky orange balls with a stem and seeds, and purple alien Mentos-tasting green goo and seeds. Beware of the juice.

We have a good view of the airport outside and it's *really* busy with big planes all over the place.

Kara's not feeling very good, her tummy is upset. Mostly likely the wonderful airplane food.

I need to change my clothes. My shirt and pants are stained. I wanted a cup of coffee on the plane, had the Stew pour me a cup and the bloody thing *explodes*. Needless to say it looks like I peed on myself. Mental note: don't drink cold OJ then ask for hot coffee in those cheap-ass airplane plastic cups.

The flight to Ibiza from Frankfurt is at 12:50 PM. First we have to go to Luxembourg then change planes, then we get to Ibzia at 5:25 PM. Nothing like a six-hour lay over.

Since we were put up in a hotel the night before, we didn't have our bags. No bags, no fresh clothes. No bags, no familiar tooth brushes and deodorant. So, we're suffering with achy pit itch, "farfed up" hair, and the need for a good night's sleep. No bags, and Kara has to dry her undies with hairdryer. "Hot crotch!"

The flight between Frankfurt and Luxembourg was very quick. Up then down. The plane was designed for short and thin Europeans in mind. The sexy stews had see-through shirts, but Rob wouldn't know since he slept through the entire flight.

The next flight from Lux to Ibiza sucked. Same kind of plane, noisy people, and NO room to breath or move. We endured the flight because it was going to Ibiza. Rob’s head was so slumped forward onto the seat four inches in front of him that the stew came by and asked Kara "Is he OK?". Apparently, he looked utterly sick and/or depressed. Go figure.

Monday, 8/14/00

At the airport, our bags were not on the plane we flew in on. We were standing there fighting the horde of jibber-gabbing, hot, sweaty and stinky people to find out that Rob’s bag had already arrived. It was sitting up against the wall by the luggage carousel and that Kara's didn't arrive at all. We filed a lost baggage claim with the luggage monkeys. Trying to understand a thick Spanish accent is a fun time, let me tell you. After we filed the claim we decided to take another look around and low and behold, the bag showed up on the next flight in. Funny that.

The taxi ride from the airport to the hotel was stinky. Seems there is a factory of some sort in the middle of way to the hotel.

The Hotel S'Argamassa Palace is in Santa Eulalia, which is 20 to 30 minutes from the airport. It's nice, well crafted and clean. Marble everywhere and the room is decent size, on the third (top) floor, on the quiet end corner. The shower is even tall enough for us! The shower head is detachable so we can clean those hard to reach areas. The pool is nice, the bottom is tiled with dolphins.

The only drawbacks are that they don't have a clock in the room, we have to tie (with our robe belts) two single beds together to make a full bed, and we can't call the outside world. "Pardon me, I can't call the USA." "Try in two minutes.", 5 minutes go by... "I still can't call out.", "Just wait longer."

I slept in the crack.

The first night in we passed out after taking a shower. The intention was to wake up and go out, but that didn't happen and we missed Josh Wink. 12 hours of sleep, it was worth it.

Tuesday, 8/15/00

We woke up STARVING and went to breakfast. The hotel had a nice spread of breakfast food out and we helped ourselves, and ate out on the warm patio. It was good, but there were noisy kids. Mental note: Other people suck.

After breakfast, we took a taxi to the caves in Saint Miguel. Took the hour tour. Don't think we've ever sweated so much underground before. The tour guide spoke 4 different languages fluently and gave her spiel in them. Of course, Kara was playing with and pointing out all of the phallic stalagmites. There weren’t many stalactites due to people breaking them off. The caves were over 100 thousand years old. We saw fossils of pre-historic mice. Yay! The caves were once used by pirates to hide their booty.

They played this funky-assed lightshow for this man-made underground waterfall. Completely fake, but cool none the less. Rob got some decent pictures of the waterfall.

In the caves, all water and lakes is artificially pumped in during non-rainy seasons, but condensation does build up on the ceilings. Well, wouldn't you know it? We got dripped on A LOT. So much, that Kara took a load in the mouth.

Out of most of the places, the cave didn't stink too much. The people stank more. From the walk way down to the caves, you could see the water and the beaches. Since we were a good 300 feet up, we got a really good view of the whole area. We saw a speedboat pulling a long, yellow inner-tube looking thing, "The Banana", with 6 people on the top. We also saw lots of boats, jet-skis, kayaks, and a very cool island with a castle-like house on it. From that distance, we also saw a few hundred people giving themselves skin cancer.

After the cave tour, we walked a good mile or so down hill on a funky slippery sidewalk. Cut through a resort and ended up on the beach trying to rent a boat.

We put our name in at a small boat rental place but the boats were really small and we didn't want to wait 2 hours for it. We sat at a small bar next to the beach and got some soda to help cool us down. During the walk down from the caves we got so hot and sweated so much that Kara’s little black leather purse/backback left black dye marks on her skin. Ever-prepared, she whips out a wet nap and cleans her self off. Man I love that woman. :)

During the time we were sitting next to the beach we were "ground zero" to the Banana boat. We saw small naked blonde toddler bouncing up and down on the Banana trying to ride it.

We got tired of sweating while waiting for the boat and decided to work our way back to our hotel. Since there wasn't a taxi in sight, we had to walk 1/2 mile or so down the road to a bus stop. The bus was a good 20 to 30 minutes away so we went across the street to a little pub and had some sangria to help cool us down. During the wait we saw a few small lizards and noisy people waiting for the bus. Big fat French man in a tight and waaaay too small of a Speedo. Though he did have some good tips on beaches.

The bus ride was breezy and uneventful, but the bus took us to the wrong town (Eivissa) and from there we took a taxi back to the Hotel.

Back at the hotel we partook of the wonderful pool, then showered and relaxed.

Took a nap and woke up later that night and ate dinner at the restaurant in the Hotel. Good food (King prawns and squid), good wine. After dinner we went to Pacha which is near the harbor in Eivissa. Kara had a bad headache and red eyes from the pool, but she endured the smoky club. Paul Oakenfold was spinning that night and it rocked. Small club, good vibe, and loud Kawa-head-hurting music. Because Rob is a generous stripper, I mean tipper, we got to sit in the so-called VIP section upstairs for the night, rather than the packed floor. Monkey drank countless cokes and Kawa drank vodka with pineapple juice. On way out, a glass broke under Kawa's sexpot shoes, ouch! We bought some swag in the Pacha store, then taxi back to the hotel (had to really fight tooth and nail to grab a taxi, is this NY?) and crashed out around 6am? Clubs don't even get going until about 3 AM.

Wednesday, 8/16/00

Woke up late (afternoon). Every Wednesday on Ibiza is the "hippy market" near Es Canar, so we thought we'd explore it. Being in the next town over from our hotel in Santa Eulalia, we walked down the beach in search of food first. We ended up at Cesar's, a little snack bar restaurant thingy that mainly catered to British tourists and also rented boats, water-skis, parasailing, etc. Ate some grub and proceeded to meander the coastline towards the hippy market. Very hot, very bright, thank God for sunblock. Lots of nekkid boobies on the beach, packed with sunbathers.

The hippy market was like a flea market with outdoor stalls and booths of handmade goods for sale, as well as other (probably hot) stuff. Constantly gulping down bottled waters and juice drinks, we shopped around. Bought some jewelry, t-shirts, hemp goodies, tie-dyed scarf wrap thingy, etc. Big monkey butt almost broke a cheezy plastic chair and fell on his arse. Ibiza, and travelling in Europe in general, is not made for big fat asses like us. We are giants! Took lots of pictures, and walked our way back to the hotel along the water again. Soil by the pine trees has lots of red dust, and when stuck to our sweaty legs, made us almost appear tan. Haha.

Cool down siesta time, Rob snored and Kawa swam, then joined the nap in the crevasse bed. Woke up in the late evening, and got dressed for more clubbing. Tonight is Privilege, out in the middle of nowhere in the countryside. Guinness book of world records largest dance club. We ate at the nice restaurant inside the club, huge ox entrecote and duck boob (breast), delicious red wine, warm goat cheese salad, everything was SO good. We could hear the good music from inside the dining area, but it was not deafeningly loud. Because we ate late at the club's restaurant, we were able to slip into the main part of the club for free, avoiding the fee at the gate. There were many different rooms, stairways, terraces, etc. inside and out, including an outdoor dome structure (like a big jungle gym) open-air (ahhhh - breeze!) and a melted/morphed disco ball in hanging in the center. There were also cages with birds and hamsters (gerbils?). No, it's not a gay club. It was "renaissance" night, with freaky costumed Privilege residents that were bald, painted, on stilts, in hanging gymnast contraptions, belly-dancers, sparkler-wielding dancers. It was so hot inside, your clothing stuck to your body and sweat dripped down your face. Wild jungle looking dwarf statue with a large dingly-dangly stood outside. We managed to get the camera inside and snap some pics. Music provided by Left Field, Carl Cox, Digweed, etc. We bailed around 5am? Taxi "home" to hotel. The lady on the hotel night watch is getting used to us coming in late, and unlocks the door for us. P.S. Kawa is getting glitter everywhere. Also, farfed it in high-heeled platform shoes and twisted ankle. Farfa. Swollen, but can still walk. Bedtime before sun comes up.

Thursday, 8/17/00

Woke up late again, had breakfast/lunch at the hotel restaurant. Ogled at the octagonal lobster tank, live lobsters of every size and color (blue!). Grabbed a taxi to the Cap Blanc aquarium outside San Antoni, other side of island. The "aquarium" was originally a naturally-formed aquatic cave on the coast in the rocks. We looked at various fish, eels, rays, and a dead-looking turtle. A glass-bottom boat came and dropped off a butt-load of tourists, so we left and walked along the coast in search of a semi-private beach to swim and cool off. We walked and walked, paths and rocks, but every beach we came upon was super crowded. San Antoni was a lot like Waikiki in Hawaii, over-developed with too many high-rise hotels and packed, dirty beaches. We checked out the San Antoni harbor, and the town's famous egg statue (Columbus was supposedly from that town, long story). Kept walking (and sweating) down the beaches, saw a menu at a cafe that had beans on toast. Yum (not). Too hot, and no nice quiet beach in sight. Hailed a cab back to Santa Eulalia, not our hotel area, but the harbor and main Passeig. Stopped into the "chemist" for some Ibuprofin for Kawa's headache (fucking faggot heat hurts head) and also found some peach Smint!!!!! Cured the headache. :) As we strolled through the harbor, Rob coveted all the big boats and luxury yachts. Drool. We saw lots of fishies in the harbor water, took lots of pics. Feet are achy, so we taxi'd back to the hotel for shower and nap.

Woke up in a cafuffle, cuz from some sleepy/loopy reason (like NO CLOCK in the room!) Kawa thought it was after 1 AM. Jumped into the shower to get ready for Amnesia, but then realized it was only like 11:30 PM. Farfa. Kawa dressed like a purple amazon, with fake purple hair thingy we got at the hippy market. ee-haw. Called front desk to once more arrange a taxi for us (are they getting tired of us yet?). Taxi driver said that the club Amnesia had no restaurant. Guh. So plans changed and we went to Eivissa town for dinner. Stumbled upon a sushi bar down an alley, after rejecting the cabbie's choice of the "Jackpot" restaurant. Didn't want to gamble or play slots. Zen sushi bar was yummy, and waiter was most helpful. He had lived in the U.S. before (snow bum in Colorado) and knew the killer beaches in Ibiza, the ones we were hoping for, off the beaten path. He marked some choices on a map/magazine, which he gave to us. Didn't even mind when we made a big mess on the dinner table. :) The restaurant was in a little open-air plaza of various other restaurants. Across from where we sat was a show-off bartender that was flipping glasses, bottles, ice cubes, you name it. People-watched as we ate and drank, so many different people from different places, and they all come out at night (after midnight).

Took another cab to Amnesia, kind of near Privilege, not in the city, but outskirts of nothing. Big huge line to get inside, one for VIPs and ticket-holders, and one for schlepps like us. All the freaks are dressed to out-do each other, even saw some transvestites/transsexuals. Inside, it was PACKED, no room to breathe on the dance floor, but at least they had ceiling fans blowing. Paul Van Dyk and other DJ's were spinning in the main room, and secondary room was a bit less crowded. Bartenders were grumpy, probably due to rude British boys yelling and demanding attention. Oy! Cool jungle atmosphere again, trees growing inside, trippy video screens. Lots of drunk/drugged people (that's a given).

Back to hotel to rest. By this time, we tied the bed legs together with Rob's spare phone cords. Seemed to hold together better than the robe belts. The maid must hate us, because it is very difficult to make up the beds (bed).

Friday, 8/18/00

Last day on Ibiza. sniff L

Our mission on the last day in Ibiza was to find a pretty, unspoiled, relatively-uncrowded beach. On the Zen sushi bar waiter’s suggestion, we attempted to find Aquas Blancas, which he had so nicely marked on the Ministry magazine/map for us the night before. Woke up around the usual time (1 PM?) got ready, and meandered down the street from our hotel to find a quick lunch. Because it was around 3 PM already, most cafes were closed for siesta already, but we found one open where we grabbed a hot dog and turkey burger and cokes (always with lemon slice). Walked across the street to the little grocery store for some beach essentials – sunflower seeds, more bottled water, granola bars, sun crème, and more peach Smint. Also bought some postcards, postage, and pen at the hotel shop so I could write postcard while lounging on the beach. Now we were ready!

Pointed and gestured on a map to the female taxi driver (the same one we’d had the day we went to the caves), trying to explain where we wanted to go. After reaching a somewhat sketchy bilingual understanding, we were off. Aquas Blancas was up north, and the taxi driver could only take us to the upper parking lot, where we walked from there – a steep twisty road, then some steps down to the beach. It was beautiful, as promised, but there was quite a bunch of people, all in various states of undress (from bathing suits, to topless, to completely nude, none of whom had ever seen a razor, I think). It was a narrow strip of clean tawny sand, then tall cliffs rising up behind it. The water was almost clear, and gradually more turquoise farther out. We trekked down the sand, past sun-worshippers in various stages of pre-skin-cancer, we were quite obviously the whitest people on the beach. We then scrambled though some rock jumbles/tidepools, and came upon a slightly less crowded area. Rob promptly found some shade and sprawled out for a nap on a beach towel, while Kawa stripped down (no, not completely naked) and dove into the warm water for a swim.

There were no sharp rocks, no freaky fish, no seaweed – it was perfectly clean and clear water and soft sand. Looking down into the water, you could see the bottom, and every detail of the sand, from 10 feet above! While Rob slept Kawa frolicked in the waves, trying not to get salt water up the nose. Hung out and played with some cute dogs that were waiting for their owner to finish a swim, and enjoyed the not-too-unbearably-warm, comfortable weather and gorgeous scenery. In every direction there were small islands and a few boats sailing.

The weather and water were warm enough to swim until about 7pm, when we then reluctantly shook off, packed up and made the reverse uphill trek back to civilization. Little beach café bartender called a taxi for us, as we heard the Bloodhound Gang (Burn, Mother Fucker, Burn) playing on the radio! Panting and sweating we scrambled up the hill (mountain?) to meet the taxi. Saw the same two dogs from the beach running along, and then, being naughty, ditched their poor owner by jumping a fence into a farmer’s yard, probably chasing chickens. Breezy ride back to the hotel, open windows, wind rushing in our beach-crusty-sunned faces.

For our last evening, we wanted to have dinner in old town Eivissa, so after a rest and shower, grabbed yet another taxi into town. Cabbie couldn’t find the restaurant we had been recommended by hotel manager, but dropped us off in the vicinity. We plodded around, exploring, in search of food, and ended up in this quaint pub/café row, tree-lined street for pedestrians only. Drank a glass of champagne and ate some dinner at Henri’s Pub (?), sitting outdoors and people watching as freaks walked by. A stray cat (or maybe it belonged to one of the shops) padded over and ended up climbing a tree above our heads, and proceeded to fall asleep on a limb in the crotch of the tree branches. Adorable. After dinner we walked around with a hankering sweet-tooth, and stopped in at Haagen Daas for some ice cream. Walked through the town, had a glimpse of the old tower all lit up at night, and then the crowded harbor. Taxi’d back to S’Argamassa Palace for sleep and packing for early flight the next day (in only a few hours – ugh!).

Saturday, 8/19/00

Wake-up call at 5:30 AM. Yawn. Last shower in marble bathroom, finished packing, and out the door, luggage in tow. Taxi had been reserved the night before, and room already paid for, so we just took that final ride to the airport as the sun came up. Check-in went smoothly (so we thought) and flight to Barcelona was short and sweet (business class – I can move my legs!). Arrived in Barcelona, and waited at gate marked on boarding pass for next flight to Brussels. Came time to board, and discovered we were at the wrong gate (complete opposite gate, in fact) and began jogging across the airport to find the gate they told us to go to. Breathless, we arrived, but our flight was not there and wasn’t marked on any overhead monitors! Asked an Iberia agent what gate, and got directed back the way we just came! Jogged again to middle gate, and boarded plane just in the nick of time before they took off. Phew! Didn’t take long to get to Brussels, unfortunately our luggage didn’t make it. We searched and hunted and double-checked every carousel dozens of times, but no bags. Kawa’s ankles are swollen. Got in the long-assed line for baggage claims and filed the paperwork. Gettin’ to be pros at this by now. Two hours after arriving in Brussels, we were finally on the train to Antwerp. We had to change trains halfway, but helpful train station info lady guided us with time to spare. Rob dozed, as the train sped through the countryside and cities, but Kawa struggled to stay awake so we wouldn’t miss our stop. We almost got off at the wrong Antwerpen stop (there were 3), but a local corrected us, and we disembarked correctly at the next stop, Antwerpen Main train station. The place was tall and HUGE, almost like a cathedral, with detailed architecture everywhere and sun shining in high windows. We began to follow signs for taxis, ended up outside out front, and then by chance looked up and saw our hotel less than a block away! Eagle-eye Kawa. So sans bags to carry, we crossed the street and checked into our hotel, no taxi needed.

The Alfa deKeyser Hotel seemed alright at first, somewhat wanna-be classy but stuck in the 70’s look and feel. Our room was on the ninth (top) floor and unbearably hot. We tried to refresh and relax, despite having NO clean clothes, toothbrush, etc. We were notified that our now-found luggage would be delivered between 9 PM and midnight. Groovy. Rob immediately plugged his laptop in (ahhhh, sweet Internet fix!) and checked email. Telephoned Belgian friend (and Nextron co-worker) Dave Meyvis and made tentative arrangements for dinner or clubs after 10 PM, then settled in for a nap. Dave wasn’t around when we woke up, so we went out for dinner ourselves. Hotel concierge recommended a restaurant called "Doppelstein" (the dice), so we took a taxi in the sprinkling, humid rain through town, and then wound through smaller cobbled streets to find the quaint restaurant on a small, barely-marked street called Pelgrim Strasse. The interior atmosphere was quite nautical, and food menu diverse (with things like ostrich, kangaroo, buffalo, pigeon, etc.) We both ordered beef, garlic and pepper cream, with a delicious bottle of Australian red wine, and enjoyed people-watching and conversation at a small crowded table by candlelight. After some yummy chocolate mousse for dessert, we got to roll the dice to determine if we won a free deal. We lost. Hostess called us a cab, and we waited outside in the moist street, and watched people, dogs, and cats go by. One cat seemed particularly fascinated with something down a street grate, and we tried to see what it was she saw/heard/smelled down there, but no success. Hope it wasn’t trapped kitten babies, most likely a mouse.

Back at the hotel at 1:30 AM, and our bags had JUST arrived.

Then began the night from Hell… We figured by the time we got back from dinner, the room would be cooled down by the AC. We were wrong. The air conditioning was totally farfed, and the room was hotter than ever! We called the front desk, who talked us through the various AC knobs (duh!) and then after finally believing us that it was completely broken, told us that maintenance was not available at that hour. Tossed and turned all night, fitful bursts of sleep, sweaty sticky sheets, frantically trying to fan each other with damp towels, taking cold showers, and drinking nearly every beverage in the mini-bar! Why didn’t our fucking window open?!? Maybe they didn’t want us jumping out the top floor window and committing suicide?

Sunday, 8/20/00

We were planning the meet up with Dave and his wife for brunch around 12 noon, but Rob had the lines crossed and they were ready, waiting for us downstairs in the hotel lobby by 10:30 AM. Jumped into the shower and rushed to get ready. Shower was a joke, because the moment we stepped out, we were hot and sweaty again. Met them downstairs, walked outside (ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh – air!!!) and into their BMW, and headed into the city center to find a café. Ate at an outdoor patio in partial sun, hoping it wouldn’t rain again, we had omelets and funky fried egg & ham on toast, while talking and getting to know Dave and Heidi.

After breakfast, we were shown the highlights and tourist spots of the city center by Dave and his whirlwind foot tour. We saw (and snapped endless digital pictures of) the fountain depicting the giant losing his hand (Antwerpen = "throw the hand"), the guild’s houses decorated in gold, the city building with all the world’s flags, the harbor, bridge, maritime museum, and the "Cathedral of our Lady". The Cathedral was immense, mind-blowing detail in every nook and cranny with carvings, paintings (many by Ruben), stonework, brickwork, etc. Even the ceilings were works of art. Under the floor and in underground catacombs there were people buried – eww. We ogled the pillars, arches, and the giant tall tower almost reaching into the clouds.

We took a break off our feet and sat down at an outdoor table at Haagen Daas for a milkshake (runny strawberry concoction), and gossiped about Nextron poop. We made our way back to the car, winding through more cobblestone streets, stopping at a chocolate shop to get some handmade Belgium chocolates to being home as gifts. Back in front of the cathedral a crowd had gathered to watch a lady dressed like Mary holding a baby doll (ala baby Jesus) and painted from head to toe (including skin) to look like an alabaster stone statue. She almost looked like a real statue, but would sometime slowly wave or slyly smile when someone dropped coins in her basket.

Dave dropped us off back near our hotel, and as we walked the rest of the way, he pointed out another square that had many restaurants of every type (Italian, Belgian, Chinese, African, etc.) only one block nearby the hotel, where we could find a nice dinner later. Dave offered to come in to help complain and raise a ruckus with the hotel clerk, as we demanded another room (with properly working air conditioning). They gave us a new room on the 7^th floor this time, opposite side of the building. We thanked Dave and Heidi for their time showing us around Antwerp, and they were on their way to rescue their doggies.

What a difference! The new hotel room was a nice, livable temperature, with a good view of the city below (rather than a view of a dingy side of another building). We packed and moved our stuff from one room to the other, then got ready for the second part of the day sightseeing – at the Antwerp zoo, which Dave and Heidi had recommended, after hearing about Kawa’s obsession with animals.

As luck would have it, the zoo itself was again walking distance from the hotel (right near the train station). It was open until 6:00 PM, so we had three hours left of animal viewing (and smelling – PU). The zoo was fairly large, and seemed to have animals of every conceivable species, and we took pictures of all the cutest ones. Favorites were the polar bear, lions, tigers, monkeys, gorillas, baby giraffe, and turtles. The gardens were beautifully landscaped, with ponds and sculptured bushes, a Noah’s ark completely crafted out of different plants, a giant tree stump head with glasses and nostrils big enough for Rob to stick his fist up them. Mmm, mossy boogers. Some of the animals looked unhappy, either due to small dirty cages or the humid summer weather. Right at closing, it began to sprinkle some rain, so we headed back to the hotel.

After a nap and shower, we got dressed for dinner, and walked over to the square nearby to try to find Valentijn’s restaurant (as recommended by Dave). The menu was all in Dutch, but the waiter helped explain what the dishes were. Again, we had salad with warm goat cheese (yum), Rob had the double entrecot (huge slab of cow) and Kara had garlic scampis. We shared a bottle of delicious, barely-sparkling wine again, celebrating the last day of our vacation, and ended with tiramisu and coffee. We witnessed a fender-bender right outside the window, which led to a heated argument, as well as a probable drug deal go down in the alley. Wow – dinnertime excitement! J

Monday, 8/21/00

Ugh, up early, pack, and check out. Hotel clerks seemed to think we had withdrawn some Dutch or Swedish (?) money from the hotel bank, maybe somehow mixed up because of the room swap, but it wasn’t us! Check-out was a drag, because finally after the money situation was somewhat cleared up, we had to complain once again about the first crappy room to get a discount. A little behind schedule grabbing a taxi to the Antwerp airport, but ended up waiting there anyway. Found a mailbox to mail my Belgium postcards, and bought some more Belgian chocolate to munch. KLM airlines turbo-prop plane to Amsterdam was a little scary and loud, then we had to literally run and jog from one end of Amsterdam airport to the other to find our United Gate for the flight to DC. Sweaty and out-of-breath, we found out that check-in was already over, we’d have to go straight to the gate. But first, customs people had to interrogate the two (suspicious?) sweating Americans wearing sunglasses & carrying a laptop. Passports and stories in order, we were assured that our bags would be transferred properly, and boarded the plane. Whew! Now for the painfully long-assed (long painful-assed?) flight back to America…

Once again cramped into coach seats, middle of middle aisle. Watched (German?) bloke next to me get progressively more drunk throughout the flight. After MANY boring, uncomfortable hours and neck cramps, we arrived in Washington Dulles airport in DC. We only had 55-60 minutes between flights again (not enough time!), and this time we had to grab our luggage and take it through customs with us. Might have worked if our bags arrived. After waiting and waiting and checking every carousel (sound familiar? we are now truly experts), Rob joined the other schmucks in the "I’m fucked" line and waited to file another lost luggage claim. Kawa, in her urgency to find a bathroom, crossed through the customs line without luggage or special slip of paper saying so, and got yelled at and chastised by a dumpy customs dork, so went back to wait with Rob. They told us to go make our flight, and then file a claim when we reached our final destination. Sigh

Rush onward to find our faraway gate for our final United flight to San Francisco, only to discover that departure was delayed. Hurry up and wait. Finally caught up on US news of what had been going on since we left.

Last flight got a window seat, and were able to see glimpses of Yosemite from the air. Almost finished the 730-page Harry Potter book. Home again, and limo driver was ready and waiting for us with a smile, what a nice change of pace! Filed the necessary United Airlines lost luggage claim, and drove home in peace, finally comfort and leg room!

Good to be home, but dreading going back to work so soon.

P.S. Luggage arrived home four days later.