Journal of an Urbane Gorilla

The Langley Bank Guest House

Sometimes you plan and plan a trip and end up in an okay place to stay. But, sometimes, you play it by the seat of your pants and find a gem of a place. The Langley Guest House is just such a gem.

We were all tired and cranky when we pulled into Ayr. We had been traveling all day. There had been at least one wild goose chase through Hexham. Now I can appreciate a charming little village as well as the next person, but, my bum was numb by the time we got to Ayr.

We knew that we were booked at The Langley Bank Guest House. We had no idea where it was however. So, we were tired, lost and hungry. Marian and Grams had found the The Langley Bank on the web. They checked out the website and said, “That looks cozy!” But, when it came down to it, we had no idea whether Langley Bank was good or not.

After getting quite lost, we called the Langley on the mobile and got directions (we had been one stop away before turning around and going the wrong way. It figures, doesn’t it?). Mrs. Mitchell greeted us warmly and gave us our choice of 2 rooms. I went with Marian and Emlyn since they got the family room. Big Guy and Grams took the room at the back. They referred to it as, “the servants’ quarters,” but it was quite comfortable too with plenty of room.

As I said, we were hungry and weren’t looking forward to driving anywhere to eat. Mrs. Mitchell kindly directed us across the street and down a few steps to the Carrick Lodge; which has dining facilities. What could be easier? We bopped across the street and plopped down. And what a wonderful supper we had! It was only surpassed the next morning by the full Scottish breakfast at the Langley Bank. It was the beginning of an eat fest that had us waddling back to Wales at the end of our adventures.

The Langley Bank turned out to be The ‘find’ of our entire trip. The Mitchells made us feel as if we were guests in their home. Every little thing was thought of. It’s true that I couldn’t get on-line there, but not for want of trying on their part. One afternoon, as I sat in the breakfast room writing and musing, I could hear the Mitchells with their staff in the kitchen. They were laughing and happy and they obviously treat their staff as well as they treat their guests.

So, I recommend the Langley Bank unreservedly. Ayr is a wonderful town and Langley Bank Guest House is the perfect place to stay. Or, as Marian and Grams said as they clinked their wine glasses at dinner that first night, “We done good!”

A dopo e Moochas Smoochas,

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And, of course

平和 に 働 き

(heiwa ni hataraki: work for peace)

hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys and reels, put life and mettle in their heels . . .

We walked down a little lane to the Brig O’Doon in the town of Ayr. I never knew what the Brig O’Doon was exactly. I hadn’t delved into the writings of Robbie Burns, so when Marian explained that it was the Bridge over the river Doon, it all made sense.

There’s a sign next to the bridge that tells the story of Tam O’Shanter and how he got away from the Cutty Sark witch on his horse Meg. Meg lost her tail to the witch, but saved Tam O’Shanter. Well, that’s settled now.

Big Guy, who worked at MGM where the movie “Brig O’Doon” was filmed, loved walking over the real bridge. The only one he’d ever seen before was the one that had been re-created on Lot 2 at MGM in Culver City, California. When he saw the real thing he said that he could really appreciate the research that went into creating the magic in the movie.

Looking down on the river Doon, we saw the beautiful garden below.
After lunch in the Brig O’Doon Tearoom, I took the picture of the garden from the other side, looking toward the bridge. I couldn’t get over all the shades of green and the Japanese maple right in the middle. Isn’t it gorgeous? The tearoom is located under the Brig O’Doon Hotel – are you sensing a theme here? The tearoom serves a very fine meal. The pea soup tasted as if the peas had just been picked. Grams had pâté. I gave her the ‘look.’

We strolled back to the minivan full and happy and, in honor of Robbie Burns, singing, Auld Lang Syne. “And we'll tak a cup o kindness yet, for auld lang syne!”

A dopo e Moochas Smoochas,

Please give what you can to Médecins sans Frontières (Doctors without Borders) and support Kiva.

And, of course

平和 に 働 き

(heiwa ni hataraki: work for peace)

The Road to Nowhere

We took a little road trip to Lompoc, along the central coast. Big Guy had an idea that we could go to this little beach were we had gone so often before. It’s on a little spit of land next to where the Santa Ynez River empties out into the Pacific. The trains go right over the spot on a trestle that straddles each side of the river. There’s a place to picnic and even barbeque. We usually pack a lunch and after eating we walk under the train trestle to the beach.

From March to September there are signs everywhere to watch out for the nesting snowy plovers. Most of the dunes are roped off, just in case you forget. Grams loves the roar of the ocean at this beach. Because it’s a west-facing beach, there’s a lot of wave action.

Well, this time when we went to turn on to the road to get to the picnic area, the gate was locked and there was big sign, “Road flooded.” Big Guy drove up to the top of the bluff over-looking the road and we looked down. Sure enough the road disappeared into the water. Since one of Grams more irrational fears is driving into the water (she freaks out at the thought. Don’t ask, I don’t get it), she couldn’t look more than a few secs.

We drove on to a place just east of where we were. It turned out there was a way to get to the beach from there. That’s where I took this pic of the little beach abode. It’s not much, but we call it ‘home.’ Don’t laugh, to get a place like this along the central California coast, you’d have to pay over a million bucks. Of course Grams is certain that the ocean levels are rising. You couldn’t pay her to live on the beach. Her problem is that she can’t stand to be too far from the ocean, so we live on a bluff above the Pacific. “Don’t worry, Gweeds, soon enough it’ll be ocean-front property,” she laughs.

Since we hadn’t packed a lunch, we went into Lompoc for lunch. I had found us a place that looked good on the web before we left home. It was called, “Sugar Magnolias” and it was very good. Healthy veggie food and great lemon tarts.

After lunch we went looking for the murals that Lompoc is well-known for. I loved this one. Lompoc was settled by temperance folks and this mural is about the evils of demon rum. Isn’t that guy great? Needless to say, Lompoc isn't temperate anymore.

A dopo e Moochas Smoochas,

Please give what you can to Médecins sans Frontières (Doctors without Borders) and support Kiva.

And, of course

平和 に 働 き

(hewa ni hataraki: work for peace)

The falling leaves drift by the window . . . C’est une chanson, qui nous ressemble*

Yes, I’ve been away for a while. The Gweeds has been under the weather. My lungs are more delicate than other sentient beings, and I do suffer when the weather turns cold. And it has been very cold here in Santa Tourista.

Grams keeps trying to get me to ride with her and Big Guy in the mornings when she bikes to work. I have peeked out from under my duvet long enough to see the frost on the roof tops across the way. She waves up to me as she gets on her bike and I can see her breath coming out of her mouth. “Come on Gweeds! It’s just brisk!” Brisk my eye! It was 28° F (-2° C) yesterday morning.

She laughed later when she got back home. “Wow! I thought that my nose would fall off this morning!” And she thought that I would come with her?!? She’s nuts! So, I’ve been rambling around the house, reading, looking at DVDs, and generally twiddling my thumbs. Grams has been feeding me so much chicken soup, that I think I might sprout feathers any day now. There’s one thing I’m sure of: I have cabin fever.

At least Grams has stopped complaining about it being eternal spring here old S.T. “Ahhhh, Gweeds, it’s finally autumn! Feel that chill in the air!” No, thanks. I’ll crawl back under the duvet with a hot water bottle. Yesterday, Grams came up to my room when she got home and dumped the leaves in the photo on my bed. “Look! Autumn leaves! Aren’t they gorgeous! If only it would snow here!”

Snow?!? That’s all I need. I’m used to a tropical climate. What is wrong with the woman? I do have to admit that this weather brings out the best in her culinary skills. She’s made lots of chili, and she always has a hot toddy for me. Also, she’s broken out the egg nog. She has lots of liquor in it, so I’m limited to my intake (“I don’t want you stumbling down the stairs, mister!”).

I know that one of these mornings, when she’s decided that I’m feeling better, she’s going to toss my jacket, muffler, mittens, and cap to me and make me come with her. In the meantime, I’m coughing and blowing my nose loudly when she’s nearby. She’s going to catch on soon, so keep the Gweeds in your thoughts.

From our house to yours,
Feliz Navidad and may the New Year bring real peace on earth.

A dopo e Moochas Smoochas,

Please give what you can to Médecins sans Frontières (Doctors without Borders).

And, of course

平和 に 働 き

(hewa ni hataraki: work for peace)

*Autumn Leaves

The falling leaves drift by the window
The autumn leaves of red and gold
I see your lips, the summer kisses
The sun-burned hands I used to hold

Since you went away the days grow long
And soon I'll hear old winter's song
But I miss you most of all my darling
When autumn leaves start to fall

C’est une chanson, qui nous ressemble
Toi tu m’aimais et je t'aimais
Nous vivions tous, les deux ensemble
Toi que m’aimais moi qui t'aimais
Mais la vie sépare ceux qui s’aiment
Tout doucement sans faire de bruit
Et la mer efface sur le sable les pas des amants désunis

(French Lyrics by Jacques Prévert,
English Lyrics by Johnny Mercer,
Music by Joseph Kosma)

La Muerte está en el Ojo . . .

One of my favourite days of the year is The Day of the Dead. I can’t explain it. I know that many folks think that it’s positively morbid, but just the thought of it cheers me. Maybe it’s all the colours, maybe it’s just the silliness of it all.

It’s part of the culture of Mexico. They treat death in a whole different way. The dead are friendly characters. There’s nothing sad or morbid about it. It started in prehistoric Mexico as a way to honour children and the dead. There was even a “Lady of the Dead” who protected the children and the dead. The soul of the departed was brought back to the bosom of its family. La Dia de los Muertos was originally celebrated in July, but the priests who came with the conquistadors decided that it would be better to celebrate the pagan holiday to coincide with All Soul’s Day, the 1st of November, in order to make it more Christian.

What I like best are the little confections that are made to look like skeletons and skulls. Sometimes they’re made out of pan dulce, sometimes just sugar. Of course, happening right after Halloween, I usually have my quota of sugar by then.

A dopo e Moochas Smoochas,

Please give what you can to Médecins sans Frontières (Doctors without Borders).

And, of course

平和 に 働 き

(hewa ni hataraki: work for peace)

Monet in the backyard

I was getting ready to write about a fireplug in Vienna, when I ran across these photos from the weekend. We had biked down to the slough and, not for the first time, I realized how much the scenery looked like something out of a Monet painting.

Then, I turned back and got this shot under the bridge that crosses the slough. The water was so still in the creek, and it shimmered on the underpinnings of the bridge.
Just I was getting that shot, Big Guy said, “Look over here, Gweeds!” That’s when I saw the ‘plein air’ palms. It was such a California shot.




The palm trees mark the spot of one of our favourite restaurants. It’s right on the beach where the slough empties out into the ocean. I know why it’s Grams’ fave: they make wicked Key Lime martinis. Every time we go there, I always think about the time when Henri was very little and he chased a mouse around the outdoor patio. Since the El Niño storms of a few years back, the mice can’t get into the patio anymore. The wave action was so huge that the patio just about washed away. So, they built a short concrete wall all the way around the patio.

The last pic is from the Lemon Festival. That’s Grams with Sparky the firedog. Can you guess what she’s holding in the box? Yup, it’s a piece of lemon cream pie. Yum!

It's funny about the Monet slough: sometimes what you're longing for is right there in your own backyard.








A dopo e Moochas Smoochas,






Please give what you can to Médecins sans Frontières (Doctors without Borders).

And, of course

平和 に 働 き

(hewa ni hataraki: work for peace)

Undercover at Schloss Schönbrunn

Sometimes, when we’re travelling I find that my short legs keep me at the end of the line. I just can’t seem to keep up with Big Guy and Grams. But, this unfortunate circumstance of heredity has allowed me to see things that others might miss.

This photo is a case in point. We were strolling around the grounds of the Schönbrunn Palace in Vienna, when I saw this statue. Why it was covered up, I’ll never know. I thought that maybe in the winter the statues were covered up to protect them against the elements. But, it was spring. As a matter of fact, it was almost Easter. Maybe, the cover comes off on Easter Sunday. As I said, I’ll never know.

By the way, doesn’t that sky look great? I was gobsmacked every day that we were in Vienna by the skies. The weather moves very fast through Vienna. The storms are fierce and the clearing skies are amazing. Frankly, I was expecting leaden skies after watching, “The Third Man.” Grams had made me watch it before we went. Needless to say, I was very pleasantly surprised by the beauty of it.

Ooooh, all this makes me think of Sacher Torte. Yummy, yummy chocolately Sacher Torte.

A dopo e Moochas Smoochas,

Please give what you can to Médecins sans Frontières (Doctors without Borders).

And, of course

平和 に 働 き

(hewa ni hataraki: work for peace)

When life hands you lemons . . .

The day started out without much promise. It was foggy again. Grams talked me into riding in her basket on her bike (yes, I’m a fool). This time we went up the highway all the way to the old gas station. This station was built in the early part of the last century. It’s that classic phoney baloney Spanish style that proliferates throughout Santa Tourista. Of course, this is out in the sticks, far from the hubbub of the big city of ST. I love this building. It’s supposed to have been restored, but that was promised years ago and nothing has happened yet.

We had delicious chili for lunch and then headed off to the Lemon Festival. Lemons used to be a big crop in Santa Tourista. Naturally, the trees were mostly cut down and replaced by homes a long time ago. So, every year the locals celebrate the memory of the lemons with a festival. There’re lemon bars, lemon pie, lemonade, lemon beer, lemon ice cream, lemon pizza: well, you get the drift.

We usually go to see our neighbour’s daughter dance. She is a Spanish dancer. She also plays the saxophone and the piano. So, we sit on bales of hay and yell, “Ole!” and clap madly. That's her.

Yes, I had a lemon bar and it was so very good.

A dopo e Moochas Smoochas,

Please give what you can to Médecins sans Frontières (Doctors without Borders).

And, of course

平和 に 働 き

(hewa ni hataraki: work for peace)

Food, glorious food!*

I was on my way to my laptop to write a post about carousels in Paris and Florence, when I passed by la cocina. Well, actually I kind of floated toward the cocina because I smelled chili. Now, I’ve probably mentioned that Grams makes the best chili in the world, and if I haven’t, now I have.

Here’s how she gets that beautiful red colour: it’s the chili! That’s right, there’s no tomato sauce in Grams’ chili: it’s all ground chili. Is it hot? Hah! Just what do you think that bear does in the woods? (maybe that’s not an apt comparison) She makes a kind of béchamel with the ground chili. Eating it makes my eyes water and nose run. I know that it cures the common cold. Hoo-boy! It is good!

I pulled up a step stool next to the stove and stood on it. Then, I sang to her:

I'd do anything,
For you, dear, anything,
For you mean everything to me.
I know that
I'd go anywhere,
For your smile, anywhere,
For your smile everywhere I'd see.

“Well, Gweeds you came just in time, as usual,” she laughed. I’m about to add the textured soy protein (t.s.p.).” She tells everyone else that it’s chicken, but I know that it’s not. That’s because I’m a vegan, and she understands my needs.

I made her wait while I went to get my camera. Then I took a photo of the chili itself, because the sauce was so beautiful. After she added the t.s.p. and I took the second pic. But, it wasn’t ready yet. It had to cook for a while longer. Something about reduction and smoothness. Whatever it is, it’s delish!

A dopo e Moochas Smoochas,

Please give what you can to Médecins sans Frontières (Doctors without Borders).

And, of course

平和 に 働 き

(hewa ni hataraki: work for peace)

*Food, glorious food!
Eat right through the menu.
Just loosen your belt
Two inches and then you
Work up a new appetite.
In this interlude --
Then food,
Once again, food
Fabulous food,
Glorious food!
-both songs are from “Oliver,” but you knew that, right?

One day Alice came to a fork in the road and saw a Cheshire cat in a tree.*

It’s always been my dream to own a pub and to name it The Frog and the Tuba.** So, when we got to Chester and spied The Frog and Nightingale; I insisted that we dip in for a pint. We ended up staying for a meal and a few pints.

Pub food is just about the best thing going when you’re roaming around the UK. British food has taken an unfair hit, as far as I’m concerned; but we’ve never been disappointed with pub food. We were with Marian, Emlyn and Bronwyn. Grams, Marian and Bronwyn were shopping their way through Chester while we guys cooled our heels and looked at all the old Tudor architecture (some new-made-to-look-old, but mostly really old). They even hit the Oxfam used book store (You can’t keep Grams out of a book store, new or used), where Grams found an old edition of “Diary of a Nobody.”

As we waited, I noticed the canal at the end of a walk-street. As I rounded the corner, there was The Frog and Nightingale. Hurrying back to the guys, I told them about this little gem. As it was nearing the end of the lunch hour, we dragged the women out of the Oxfam shop and made our way to the pub. The meal was delish’ and the Guinness superb.

We waddled out to the canal and there we found some wonderful canal boats. Canal boats always make me think of the film, “The Horse’s Mouth,” because I think the Alec Guinness character lived on one. Of course it might have been another Alec Guinness film. Anyway, one of my favourite quotes is in that movie. Alec Guinness as Gully says, “Go away. Scram. Tie lead weights to your feet, fireworks in your hair, kiss your mother goodbye and jump in the river. I don't know you. I don't want to know you. Buzz off! Explode!” I’ve been waiting for ages to say that to someone. Grams has a fave from the movie, “The Fountainhead.” A critic says to the Gary Cooper character, “What must you think of me?” and Gary Cooper says, “But, I don’t think of you.” We’ll probably both be waiting a long time. But, I digress.

Canal boats are gloriously decorated and well loved. You can book one for the summer and boat along in the canals through England. Of course you need to know what you’re doing. The canals and locks are very tricky, I hear. Grams would love to spend a summer on a canal boat. Big Guy isn’t all that sure. Since we all know that I don’t do water, I’ll wait for them in Wales; cuddling with my honey, Bronwyn.

The best parts of canal boats are the little touches that you can’t see unless you peek in. Isn’t that little scene painted on the inside of the stern wonderful? As for the roses, I could almost smell them.

A dopo e Moochas Smoochas,

Please give what you can to Médecins sans Frontières (Doctors without Borders).

And, of course

平和 に 働 き

(hewa ni hataraki: work for peace)

* One day Alice came to a fork in the road and saw a Cheshire cat in a tree. “Which road do I take?” she asked. “Where do you want to go?” was his response. I don't know, Alice answered. Then, said the cat, it doesn't matter.
-Lewis Carroll

**Okay, I’ll tell you why; but only because you asked: Big Guy is always saying, “Watch out for the frogs!” just before he 'steps' on one. Henri used to ‘toot,’ “tubas.” Ergo: the Frog and the Tuba.