Rhys Bowen's Blog, page 11

Getting into the Olympic Spirit

I'm in London and it's hot. Very hot. Underground train muggy. We went across the city today with half empty suitcases and will take a second load tomorrow. This is because almost every Underground station has zillions of steps. Having been in a wheelchair and then incompacitated I feel so sorry for handicapped people in London. Definitely unfriendly. Only 6 stations out of the whole Central Line have elevantors and are wheelchair accessible.

Our home away from home a little strange--an old Victorian in what would have been a dubious part of town until recently. More stairs--kitchen in basement, living room up one flight, bedroom up another flight and there's one more floor above that. I'll be super fit by the time we leave!

We arrived back in Oxford Street in time to catch the torch relay. And saw the London police in action--what a difference from the US! Young bobbies smiling, joking with the crowd. "Step back a bit, please. You'll get all the pictures you want, I promise. And you can start by taking mine!"  No threats, no barked commands and good atmosphere all around. Then the torch went past (I can't tell you who was carrying it but it was on a double decker bus).

So it's my first taste of Olympic spirit and tomorrow I'll be settled in at our borrowed home to enjoy the Games.

Who is going to be watching the opening ceremony?

I Love Paris

News to report on Paris: the Parisians, like the New Yorkers, have become friendly, polite and altogether nice. Our hotel staff couldn't be more pleasant. The Metro is staffed with young information assistants who are students doing internships. The one who walked with us to the right Metro platform was at the same university as Sarcozy (but he failed the course, we were told)

We spent yesterday playing tourist--up to Montmartre, a cruise along the Seine, dinner on the Left Bank. And Paris is still one of the world's most beautiful cities. Ordinary buildings that would be purely functional in other cities are elegant, with pretty balconies, interesting rooftops. And no sky scrapers in the city center so that Notre Dame , Les Invalides and the Eiffel Tower dominate the skyline. The tower lit up at night is spectacular.

And on a personal front yesterday was the day of steps--up to Sacre Coeur, down to metro stations, up from the Seine. And my legs held up--only just, I confess by the end of the evening, but that's a miracle in itself. I brought a collapsible cane with me but I'm not going to need it.

Today I'm wallowing in Monet. The Musee D'Orsay in the morning and a trip out to Monet's house at Giverny in the afternoon. So exited!

I survive the Tour de France

In Paris. Fabulous weather.We headed first to the Place de Vosges in honor of my friend Cara Black and her first book Murder in the Marais. It really is one of the loveliest squares in Europe!

Then we walked around the Isle de la Cite but declined to stand in line for hours to get into Notre Dame. I can remember the days when one just strolled into churches and sat in silence taking in the atmosphere. Not any more. Then we went to the Place de la Concorde to watch the finish of the Tour de France. John took one look at the crowd and fled to the hotel to watch it on TV. I decided this was a once in a lifetime experience so I stood and stood. For two hours actually! Since I have only just begun to walk again this was an obvious sign of insanity. But I wasn't going to miss the chance of experiencing this. And they went right by me--in a flash. You have no idea how fast they go. It was like watching a speeding blur. But I did see Bradley Wiggins clearly in hi yellow jersey. Rule Britannia! I tried to take pictures but my pictures are just a blur of color.

And at night we walked down the Champs Elysees and ate moules et frites in a busy seafood restaurant.
It's a tough life! More tomorrow.

Reporting in from Paris

Interesting first day in London. Went to see the friend's house where we'll be staying close to the Olympic park. We got the one taxi driver in London who doesn't speak English and didn't know where he was going. And a volatile Somali to boot. We had to yell that he'd gone too far in the wrong direction. he screeched across traffic and stopped to program his TomTom. Since every London taxi driver has to pass The Knowledge, a very stiff test, we suspect he was borrowing a mate's cab. We should have taken the number and reported him.

Anyway, house is fine, relaxing and leafy garden behind it, easy walk to transport. Had a lovely Thai dinner with my friend, then collapsed from exhaustion.
Today we've flown to Paris for a few days and it's wonderful:
I can see the Arc de Triomphe from my hotel window (not Russia like a certain person claimed) and it's on a leafy boulevard. Nice room, pleasant girl at reception and the sun is shining. All it needs now is a good dinner and I shall be contente!

I'll take pictures tomorrow, especially when the Tour de France comes past us! I must remember not to fall out of the window as I cheer on Bradley Wiggins--first Brit to win the Tde F!

God bless American (Airlines that is)

I never thought I'd write a blog in praise of airlines these days, but I can't say enough good things about American Airlines last night. I used miiles to upgrade to business class and the service and food was wonderful. We chatted with the cabin crew. But we were delayed leaving San Francisco because of storms on the East Coast (and I see from friends'  posts that they had hail in NYC). When we were put in a holding pattern over Kennedy we really felt that we were not going to make our connection. It was definitely the last flight out for the night at 11 p.m. so we were wondering what on earth would happen to us. A night in the airport--not so attractive.

Anyway we finally landed at 10.45. We reached out gate at 10.50. Then one of the cabin crew, a lovely English woman called Kathy, ran ahead to the other gate to let them know we were coming and to keep the door open for us. Another flight attendant ran beside us, directing us down one concourse, down an escalator, under a runway, up and escalator and along another concourse. From gate 40 to gate 3.
We heard the time announced as eleven while we were still on a travelator and pretty much gave up. But then there was an American gate agent beckoning us. "Come on. You can make it," she called, and we did.
What's more our bags made it too and were first off the flight this morning.

And American business class from JFK to Heathrow--fabulous. Seats that fully reclined into beds, comforters, soft pillows, little bags of goodies like hand cream and such pleasant people. I don't know if the bankruptsy has made them more aware of customer service but every single one of the American people we encountered was outstanding.

And an interesting side note:Heathrow was empty. We got through immigration and customs in 10 minutes.
What if they gave an Olympics and nobody came?

Off for some sleep.
Rhys

Longing for the Good Old Days

I'm dashing around getting ready to leave for England tomorrow and I find myself longing for the good old days. And I don't just mean the days when flying was fun, airport workers were courteous, friends strolled right up to the plane to bid farewell, and they actually fed you real food.

I'm thinking more of the speed of our lives. Of the need for instant communication. Of all those people who whip out their cell phones as the wheels touch the tarmac and shout, "We just arrived."
When a member of my family went to Australia in the early 1900s the family didn't hear for six months that she had arrived safely. Actually when I went across Europe alone for the first time at the age of 12 I wrote my parents a letter to say I had arrived. Telephoning would have been unthinkable--expensive and the long distance lines were one big crackle.

I've been reminded this morning of all the annoyances and inconveniences that this age brings with it. I find on my computer two lots of contracts I have to sign and return. While I love getting contracts it's one more thing to do today. And I'm having major Facebook troubles: someone I didn't know tried to friend me on my personal friends page. This page is now reserved for a few personal friends. All my activity is on my author page. (Rhys Bowen, author) So I sent him a message telling him this--and got blocked with a warning by Facebook for trying to friend someone I didn't know.  Is this screwy or what?

One more small frustration that makes me long for the days when the cheery mail man came up my path at seven in the morning. When people actually met to have chats. And spoke in real sentences. And children played real games involving balls and bats and didn't kill people on Gameboys.
Oh my goodness--I am sounding like an old timer! But do you wish for a return to a slower, simpler age?

Off tomorrow. Stay tuned.

Thoughts on Facebook

Facebook seems to have taken over my life this week. I was closing in on the 5000 friends barrier and knew I'd have to move across to a fan page from a friends page. St Martin's kindly offered their IT guy to make it painless. Heaven knows how unpainless it would have been without him. I got messages saying that people couldn't find my new page, that when they clicked on my name their found themselves on my website. When I clicked on my new page I found myself on the section to purchase ads..

Now I think it's working okay, which is good because I'm about to leave for London and want to be able to update folks on my Olympic experience. It's funny that some people love Facebook and others hate it. I really enjoy seeing what my friends are doing and being able to post interesting snippets of my life. I love it that I can have instant interaction with my fans.

But husband, on the other hand, is an example of people who should never be allowed near
Facebook.He joined after he got an invitation from an old school chum. I helped him put up his profile. Then we came to 'find friends'. "I don't want to find any friends," he said petulantly. "Why would I want to find friends?"
"That is, uh, the whole idea," I said.
He remained friendless.
After a few days he came to, highly indignant. "Some man wants to be my friend!"
Me. "Do you know the man?"
He. "Well, yes. We went to school together."
Me. "So why don't you want to friend him?"
He. "I don't want to know what bloody people had for breakfast this morning. I don't want other people to know what I had for breakfast this morning."
Me. "Then perhaps you shouldn't be on Facebook."
He. "But there might be somebody I do want to get in touch with some day."
Me. "Then write them a letter. By carrier pigeon."

What are your feelings on Facebook?

News from Rhys

This isn't a real blog post, just a quickie, to say that I have had to move across from a Facebook friends page to a Facebook fan page now that I've reached my 5000 friends limit. If you want to see my updates and musings you now need to come across to Rhys Bowen, author and LIKE me.

(Isn't it funny the way we can write these things so easily now. I'd have died of embarrassment a few years ago asking anyone to officially LIKE me, or even 'friend' me.)

I'll be posting my daily updates from England, Olympics and Paris there.

Downton Here I come!

I'm rushing around in crazy mode this week because next week we're off to England. Our primary purpose is to go to the Olympics. A friend in London has a house within walking distance of the stadium so it was too good to miss. The slight glitch was that we couldn't get any tickets to any event in the stadium. We put in for 5 days of track, 5 days of swimming and got ZILCH.

It's all done on a lottery system and tickets are..well, rather expensive. We decided the maximum we wanted to spend per event and decided we really couldn't bring ourselves to spend $500 to watch Michael Phelps swim up and down a couple of times. So we've ended up with a strange mixture of events--the only one at the Olympic venue is women's water polo (and of course we have a strong tie to that sport as our daughter Jane is an All American who used to play on the US team)

Then we have women's soccer semi final (should be good), a day of badminton (not my idea--John's. Could be boring) And two days of tennis. At Wimbledon. Yeah! Go Andy Murray. Maybe he'll redeem himself and beat Federer for the gold?

And when I'm not Olympic watching I've got some other fun things lined up: a tour of Buckingham Palace. I've been to the Queen's Gallery before but never through the actual state rooms.(although I did have tea with the queen, it wasn't at the palace).
Then a tour of the Harry Potter experience at Warner Brothers studios. The actual sets and costumes etc. Big Harry fan.
And last,but not least... a tour of the real Downton Abbey.

Is this going to be fun or what? And to crown it all, we're coming home on the Queen Mary 2. This in anticipation of sending my heroine Lady Georgie across the Atlantic in next year's book!

I am so glad I worked hard at my physical therapy so that I can walk well again, otherwise a lot of this would have been impossible. So expect reports from me during the coming weeks. I'll be Our Gal in London to give you the latest scoop!

Dude!

I was in the spa at my health club yesterday when I overheard the following conversation:
"You can use all kinds of weapons--sword, hatchet, whatever and I just grabbed the guy and ripped his arm off."
"Dude!"
"It's like Gears of War 3 only more violent. Blood everywhere."
"Dude!"
And in the middle guess who shows up? Chaos!"
"No way!"
"Way!"
"Dude!"

Several things were interesting about this exchange. The first was that these were not kids. They were men, at least in their twenties. It took me a couple of sentences to realize that they were talking about a video game, and then my next reaction was that this was more real to them than real life.

We talk about growing violence in our society, about young men seeing life as cheap and yet we have men like this who are living vicariously by killing other creatures on screen. No wonder it's easy to pull a trigger in real life when someone pisses us off.

Another woman was sitting in the hot tub and she and I exchanged amused glances. As she left she murmured to me. "Three words. Get a life."

As I left I found myself thinking 'thank heavens I write historical novels.' First my characters express themselves in complete sentences. They have large vocabularies. They are careful not to mention distasteful subjects and in the case of my Royal Spyness novels all the young men would have fought in World War 1. They would have experienced the real horrors of war and would never want to play a violent video game--trust me.