Solo Trip around Funchal

Okay, so this is about my first solo trip along the water in Funchal.  I am sure I will attempt the streets uphill later, but no need to bite off more than I can chew.  The nice thing is, there is this huge mountain in the way of any urban sprawl.  That means everything is within walking distance of the ocean.  If you get lost, walk downhill, then find a landmark and walk back uphill to your destination.

For me, the landmark is the Castle and the Municipal Garden.  I know that my apartment is two blocks uphill and one block north of those two places.

After grocery shopping Thursday night, I was not yet hungry - my stomach has adjusted to the eating schedule here and it was only 6pm.  There was plenty of daylight left, so I grabbed my bag and headed downhill to see what I could see.  As is true of all waterfront towns, there are plenty of views, food carts, pieces of art, and colorful people to entertain a casual pedestrian.  I also found that many places were obvious meeting places for young couples.  Yes, kids, public displays of affection are no big deal. Your spanish/french/italian/german teacher was not lying to you back in school.

I'm not in Portland anymore

This being my first trip outside of the US, I knew I would encounter many new things.  Several of them have been inside my apartment!

Here is my version of "staying in Europe for dummies":

This is very important.  When you first walk into your hotel room, you must put your keycard in this slot.  If you do not, the power will not turn on. Anywhere.

These are everywhere, and are in the floor. They are doorstops. Watch your toes.

I have no clue what this cord in my shower is for.  Could be to turn on the fan. Could be to call the ambulance. I am not willing to pull it and find out.

Seems easy. No clue how to change it from hot to cold, and Celsius to Fahrenheit makes my brain hurt.

Which of these switches is in the "on" position?  Guess again!  Up is off, down is on.

And of course - the gigantic outlets. Thanks again to Valerie for the loan of the adapter!

Hospitality

If there is one word I would use to describe the Island Monkeys, it would be hospitable.  Literally from the moment I arrived at my hotel room, I have had an entourage of good friends there to welcome me and to help me adapt to a new city.  Whether it be invitations to dinner, helpful tips about the city, walking me back to my hotel after, or just speaking for me in public places, I cannot possibly say enough kind things about my friends here in Funchal.

My first night, I met Juan, Florian, and Matteo, who provided me with chicken soup, wine, beer, and many good laughs.  My first full day you just read about - there is no way I would have been able to enjoy myself as much as I did had I not been in the company I was.  Monday morning, I met Irina, Raquel, and Calado, who have completed my welcome to the island.  They even took the time to find out what my likes and dislikes were, so the snacks in the office kitchen had things I would enjoy!  I have been invited into people's homes and have learned so much more about them all than I ever could have via internet.

Tonight after work, I finally made it to the market - Pingo Doce - and have stocked my kitchen with much help from Irina.  A recent addition to the island herself, she guided me around the things I should try (tomato jam!), the things I recognized (bugles!), and the things I should avoid.  With many thanks to her, I enjoyed my first 'home-cooked' meal since I arrived five days ago.

Volcanoes are Steep

We started Sunday - Easter Day and my first full day on Madeira - with a walk down to the water for breakfast.  Florian and I collected Matteo, then met Joey at the cafe.  After much debate, we decided to head up to Monte by way of the teleferico. This is a cable car that goes up over Funchal to the gardens and church at the top of the hill.

There was no attendant, on account of the holiday, but none was really needed since everyone else had been on the trip before.  This was the first time I had truly gotten to see the city, and it did not disappoint.  I asked, and yes there is a law dictating what colors a house can be: white, yellow, or pink.

The first thing we did was climb the steps up to the church, which was not open to visitors.  Being Easter, most places were closed. We walked past the Municipal Gardens (also not open today), and headed back down hill on foot.  Madeira, for those of you who do not know, is the tip of a shield volcano.  Monte is at 600m (approx 1970ft) elevation, and Funchal is at sea level.  The distance is 3.5km (approx 2 miles), so this is not a gentle slope.

Our fearless band wandered along the streets, levadas, and alleys, stopping to enjoy the view or just to talk.  We accosted locals whenever we found them in order to have photos taken of the whole group.  There were gardens and houses to admire, dogs to greet, and oddities to explore.

The one thing we could not find was a place to eat. After many attempts and disappointments, we did find an open bar which served beer and Madeira, but no food.  Somehow Juan discovered a place to purchase a bag of chips and some sausages.  We lingered quite a while, talking and watching children play futbol. It didn't really seem strange that we had only just met - after nearly two years of working together, everyone seemed like old friends immediately.

As we finally wound our way down to the streets of of Funchal, we settled on dinner at Mozart. It is a place that clearly caters to tourists, but the food was excellent.  Each meal came with ten drinks - which is apparently calculated by times the waiter tops off your glass - so clearly they want their patrons to enjoy the evening.  Of course we sat on the sidewalk, since the night was too nice to waste by going inside.

Dinner completed, the boys declared that I should end my first island day by having my first Poncha.  Just a few door down, we found a bar that fit the bill. The six of us wound down the evening there, before heading back to our apartments.  Joey was kind enough to help me find my way back; having become accustomed to streets on a grid, I still need to learn how to navigate these winding streets.

Finally home after a wonderful day, it was not at all difficult to fall asleep regardless of the time zone.

A Very Long Day

12:00 - arrive SFO. locate checkin line, and hope everything is as it should be (it was. both bags were under the maximum weight)

12:30 - admire display of Italian Motorcycles in the case.  wonder if Luis would admire them as well.

13:00 - find gate, and accompanying 'bistro'.  because all airport food is of course just like sitting in France sipping a coffee.  lunch was on par with school cafeteria food.  commence waiting.

14:20 - boarding time. glad to see that there is an empty seat next to me.  very nice lady on the other side of the empty seat tries to strike up conversation. sadly, neither of us can speak the other's language, so lots of gestures and smiles ensue.  we agree to share the empty seat as a place for our stuff.  at least I think we agree to that.

as predicted, the flight was long and uneventful.  there is a video showing where we are with animations of what the view would be, if we were not at 40k ft elevation and if it were not dark.

sleeping was okay, but not restorative.  

over Iceland (or perhaps Canada), I enjoyed my in-flight treat from Becca. tasty!

8:30 local time (00:30 PDT) - breakfast. nondescript potato hash, fruit cup, and a roll. nice german lady offered me her fruit cup. this is much tastier than the hash, so I happily accept.  decide to finally watch The Artist. the dialogue is captivating.

10:30 local time (1:30 PDT) - arrival in Frankfurt.  this is what we call an "efficient" building.  not a lot of time or resources were wasted on the aesthetic.  try to decide whether I should exchange my $10 into euros. decide to just get cash instead.  have a pretzel and sprite for whatever mealtime you call this.  more waiting.

13:00 local time (3:00 PDT) - they announce our gate has changed. people are annoyed. we all dash for Gate 1. I am grateful that I can understand the german numbers, because the announcer is not bilingual and mangles the english translation.

13:50 local time (3:50 PDT) - board an adorable little plane bound for Porto. this one has announcements in three languages.

15:35 local time (7:35 PDT) - arrive in Porto.  I am the only one heading toward "connecting flights".  the airport is almost empty, I presume due to the fact that tomorrow is Easter.  This was the longest layover and I wasn't sure I was going to make it to the other side completely sane.

18:00 local time (10:00 PDT) - children start arriving for the flight.  please, please no. sadly, yes. 15 of them. apparently it is "take the kids to see the island for Easter" flight. ugh.

18:20 local time (10:20 PDT) - finally boarding.  my window seat is on the other side of a woman and her two kids.  I suggest she just move over so we don't hold up the line. she asks her teen daughter to climb over to the window seat.  I am now sitting next to a mother and a babe in arms. lovely.

18:40 local time (10:40 PDT) - takeoff. the emergency instructions video is entertaining at least. something about wooden puppets and how people don't float like they do so we should use our life vests.  said babe in arms is a nightmare. thank you, ipod.

20:30 local time (12:30 PDT) - arrive in Madeira.  the sunset is amazing. head to baggage claim. hope everything is still there.

21:00 local time (13:00 PDT) - finally have my luggage. all accounted for. head toward the door to meet my car. no car. ugh.

21:30 local time (13:30 PDT) - call hotel. they have no idea about a car. I grab a taxi.

22:00 local time (14:00 PDT) - check in to hotel. can't figure out how to turn on the lights. figure it out, change clothes, and make a quick phone call.  then I am off to Juan's for whatever mealtime it is. so good to see familiar faces again. yay! monkeys!

5:00 local time (21:00 PDT) - finally time to sleep.  yay! monkeys with spare bedrooms!

11:00 local time (3:00 PDT) - first day on the island begins!

Live from Monkey HQ

Tuesday brought another full list of things to do in the office, and another tasty lunch at the Ferry Building.  This time, it was a sandwich from a shop which promised "tasty salted pig parts" and it most certainly delivered on that promise.  I had started my lunch hour looking for things away from the water - figuring I should mix it up a bit - but the only things to see were employees of the financial district and a small Occupy protest outside the Federal Reserve Building.  Not exactly the sort of things which are noteworthy, or photo-worthy; I can see both of these back home.

 I wandered back toward the water, thinking I could duck in to the Cablecar Museum for a bit or at least get a few obiligatory pictures fit for a box of Rice-a-Roni.  Next to the Museum (I decided it was much to nice a day to go indoors), I found a very large fountain made of granite.  It resembles a waterworks but with all right angles rather than customary tubes.  The juxtaposition of hard angles and stone against flowing water begged to be photographed, and I obliged.  On the east side of the fountain, I found a monument to those who fought in the Spanish Civil War.  

Palm trees along The Embarcadero

Following my workday, I grabbed one more meal prior to heading south to Palo Alto.  No sense sitting in rush hour, when one can be sitting at a dockside counter enjoying the view.  This time, I opted for a seafood bar and had the dubious honor of sitting next to a gentleman who purported to be a food critic.
Even if one is in a place that is frequented by tourists, one should never assume that one's neighbor is completely clueless.  Contrary to my neighbor's assumptions, having a plate of smoked salmon and lox was not a new occasion for me, and no I did not need to be told how the good people of the Pacific Northwest prefer said dish to be served.  I decided against telling him that the salmon in question had been named for my family, since that would have just elongated the conversation.
He ordered three entrees, two desserts, four beverages, then prompted left his seat (after asking me to look after his book), and never returned.
At least his ill-based critiques of the food were less disruptive than the standard cockroach in the salad approach to fine dining for free.

My ride to Palo Alto, however, was full of very pleasant conversation.  The driver was very curious about SurveyMonkey, and my travels.  I settled into my room at a bed and breakfast near the office, and after a call home I got the early night I had denied myself the day before.

 This was not my first visit to Monkey HQ, so I already know my way around.  We have a close working relationship between the offices, so I know many of the people here.  Those I hadn't met I had heard of or emailed, and it was nice to get to know some of them better.  The good ladies of finance seemed to either enjoy or tolerate my sense of humor, while I enjoyed their company and the fact that it was sunny for the rest of the week.

Wednesday is Beer Night, so I joined the team - along with our fearless Seattle team - for some good old-fashioned ambassadoring.  That means we had beer and talked about vacations, work, and of course tips for flying internationally.  Having a diverse employee base means there is plenty of free advice to be had, and many new people to meet.  Everyone seemed to have heard of me, and I like to think that it is because of my sparkling personality and quick wit.

Thursday was my last full day in the States, so I was in full prep mode.  Becca was kind enough to ferry me around and hunt down some good, authentic, Mexican food for me.  Somehow I don't think the carnitas in Europe will be quite the same (if one can even find such a thing).  A little flan for the road and I got my fix.  I also got some contraband spices to bring along so that I can do some American cooking for the Island Monkeys when I get there.

Thursday night I took some time to explore a local botanical garden; I had missed my walk the night before and it was good to have a few hours of quiet alone.  The gardens surround a Victorian home, and mix standard flower and vegetable beds with manicured gardens closer to the main house.  If only it were closer, this would be a perfect place for tea.

Friday morning was a quick jumble of emails, last minute instructions, paperwork, and pleasant goodbyes. Just to prove how particularly awesome she is,  Becca brought me a macaroon - sans chocolate - to enjoy in-flight. My car came right at 11:00, and I was off on my first trans-Atlantic flight.

Day One: oh, so very early

Monday mornings are always too early, but this one started at 3:15.   This is what I get for living on the opposite side of town from the airport and taking a commuter flight.  Since I have checked luggage - for the first time in forever - I have to arrive two hours early.   Very happy to only have one bag to check, since I don't know how I would be able to wrangle more.  Wheeled bags are handy, but they do tend to get a mind of their own if you don't keep an eye on them.

It is surprising how quickly one can get clear across the metro area when there is no traffic to deal with.  I am starting to get used to the site of Ikea approaching which means we're almost there.  Is there a reason why Ikea is always near an airport?  Maybe to make the Scandinavians feel at home when they arrive.  After all, there was a time when having a roving band of Norsemen was an ill portent.  Perhaps letting them know they have already conquered this land with their quizzical directions quiets their inborn need to pillage and destroy.

Security and check-in was normal, as this was my domestic flight.  It is very odd to be travelling so 'heavy' on a flight full of commuters.  Of course there is the obligatory family who inexplicably decides to fly with an infant, departing at 6:30 am.

As we begin to taxi, light started to dawn over the tarmac.  The sunrise was beautiful, lighting up Mt. Hood with rosy embers as the plane tipped away westward.  It was good to be leaving Portland when she was looking beautiful, and not under the cover of grey we have been seeing of late.  As we reached cruising altitude, a thin layer of clouds wisped below us like cotton batting that has been pulled apart.

After landing, it was off to San Francisco.  I had not been there since I was in school, visiting my sister.  Hotel Griffin is a tiny hotel whose main asset is its location one block from the Ferry Building.  The concierge was attentive but I am pretty sure his main income is from hustling tourists for over-priced towncars.  Since the office I was visiting is literally one block away, that didn't affect me.

I spent my first day working with Herman, who taught me the ins and outs of billing on his tool which I will be taking over in July.  He was a very gracious host and put up with my questions and requests that he repeat things so I know I have it down.  I squeezed in a bit of sightseeing - and a lunch of fish and chips - at midday, and managed to not fall asleep at my desk.

At 4:00, all I wanted to do was go back to my room and sleep.  However, this was to be my only evening in San Francisco so I forced myself to put on my walking shoes.  I walked along the waterfront, stopping at piers and shops to take pictures and enjoy the view.  The views of the Bay Bridge and the ships going by were like postcards with every step.

Being me, I of course decided that the two mile walk to Fisherman's Wharf would be no trouble at all.  By this point, I was waking up a bit and really enjoying the sights.  The cable cars were going by, dinging as they do, but I wasn't tempted to hop on.  It was rush hour, after all, and why get on a crowded car when there is sea air to breathe?

I stopped at Pier 39, which I had visited as a teen with my sisters.  Last time, I had bought a Beatles t-shirt form a rock memorabilia shop.  This time, I just wandered about and resisted the temptations of a Swiss restaurant that was quite maliciously emanating the siren scents of fondue and fresh-cooked bread.  When in Rome, one does not do as the Swiss do.  I had a date with sourdough.

Behind Fisherman's Wharf, I explored the working docks.  Just behind the slick shops and tourist traps there are, of course, the lives of those who work the Bay day in and day out.  Ever fascinated by urban decay and things not shiny nor packaged, I of course slowed my pace and enjoyed the break from the tourist crowd.

Finally I reached my goal - the pier at San Francisco Maritime Park.  I was too late to tour the tall ship, but just in time to watch the sun set behind the Golden Gate Bridge and turn Angel Island gold.  The pier is in the shape of a hook, and so forms a protected harbor which means there is a tiny sandy beach.  There were swimmers in wetsuits who apparently where trying to escape to the infamous island; fortune favors the bold so perhaps they made it.  The view was amazing, and it was definitely worth the walk and the lack of a nap.

On my way back to my room, I enjoyed a light supper of french onion soup in the obligatory bread bowl and some good company at Bourdin.  The night was still warm, so I took my time strolling back.  Everything was lit up, making for a whole new set of sights although I was retracing my steps entirely.

This was a very long day - I made it to bed after 9:00 pm - but a full day as well.  The Grand Adventure was off to a good start.