Chapter XIII / Daintree National Park

I flew from Hong Kong to Cairns via Brisbane in order to meet up with two of my closest friends from college for a week in far North Queensland. 

I hadn't seen them for six months and nearly four years respectively, and it was superb to spot them in the arrivals hall at Cairns airport. We had each hoped to surprise each other from behind in the terminal, and after sending a decoy email directing them to baggage carousel two, I loitered in a cafe until I spotted them, at which point I crouched behind a variety of weary travelling parents and got about half a second of surprise before leaping on Tom and Tom.

En route I had enjoyed what tuned out to be the best view of the Great Barrier Reef:

We headed north in our rental car towards the World Heritage-listed Daintree Rainforest and the start of our weeklong adventure. 

Chapter IX / In which the Chinese train network yields some surprises

Part of China's wave of infrastructure investment has been channelled into a high-speed train network connecting many of the country's cities. Soon after arriving at Xiamen Bei ('Xiamen North') railway station, I could see that the traveling public had something to show for it:

Editor's note / In which a quick fix is found

I've become self-conscious at the time lag on this blog, since my latest post is about Tallinn, a city that I left more than ten days ago. The sluggish pace has been caused by equal parts procrastination and distraction, and has had the unfortunate consequence that I'm not publishing thoughts spontaneously but instead spending 'blog time' trying to remember what I did the week before last. I've been loath to simply 'skip' cities, for fear that I'd never come back to write about them and also for fear of jumbling the order on the blog, so instead I'm going to post a series of short 'placeholder' entries written in something closer to a stream of consciousness, and return to them later to add detail and edit. Vanity might prevent me from advertising these placeholders so if you don't see them on facebook you'll know why.

Chapter XII / Initial reactions upon landing in Australia

1. Broad sunshine bathing the tarmac, aka "It's good to be back" or "Winter? What winter?"

2. Australian delicacies, aka "I didn't realise how much I missed you"

3. Tony Abbott, the Australian Opposition Leader, aka "Trademark sh$t-eating grin":

Chapter XI / In which Hong Kong reminds why it's one of the world's great cities

I had another 30 hour stopover in Hong Kong, en route from Shanghai to Cairns and northeast Queensland. The highlight was a late night drink at Ozone Bar, the world's highest located on the 118th floor of the ICC Tower in Kowloon. None of my photos turned out but this gives you an idea of the vertiginous view:

Chapter X / In which Shanghai turns up the heat

From the Shanghai Daily on the morning of my departure:

"Shanghai has never seen four straight days with highs topping 40 degrees since 1873, when its Xujiahui observatory began recording temperatures, according to the Shanghai Meteorological Bureau." 

They went on to note "it was the eighth high temperature day this month" though it was not clear what temperatures qualify as 'high'. This contributed to a number of anomalies during my visit. The normally-busy Shanghai Sightseeing Bus Center apparently reported a big drop in passengers. The normally-popular tourist promenade along the Bund was empty. The normally-full parking lot was apparently empty. Even the normally-cool Marc Jacobs perfume pop-up next to the beautiful Jing'an Temple was apparently too hot to handle:

Chapter VIII / In which Xiamen puts on 'the wedding of a lifetime'

I had never heard of Xiamen until my friend François announced that it was to be the venue for his marriage to his fiancée Si (pronounced 'Sir'). But the four days I spent there were absolutely unforgettable.

Chapter VII / In which a Hong Kong monsoon makes for the briefest of stops

I had arranged to fly overnight from Helsinki to Hong Kong on the seemingly very popular Finnair flight AY61. (The only way to get a seat for less than €2,000 for this single flight alone was to buy a connecting flight from Tallinn; perhaps the Finns are trying to turn Helsinki into a travel hub for upwardly mobile Estonians?) 

The movie selections on Finnair are more appealing than they initially appear (the latter problem is perhaps due to their awkward menu system) and I squeezed three movies into the nine-hour flight: Side Effects, Identity Theft, and I Give It A Year. I'm wary of turning this site into a film review blog, so I'll keep this short. Side Effects is a well-composed psychological thriller starring Jude Law and Rooney Mara, reminiscent of Jude Law's earlier film Breaking and Entering, centered around the clinical treatment of depression. Identity Theft is a genuine feel-good comedy that left me smiling broadly and, unlike everyone else nearby in the cabin, untroubled by the persistent and violent screams of the child two rows behind. (He looked big enough to know better.) I Give It A Year I found uproariously, laugh-out-loud funny particularly in the first 30 minutes, and has the added bonus of Australian actors Rose Byrne and Simon Baker playing opposite each other as a Brit and American respectively. (His accent was a little more convincing than hers, but perhaps because the intrinsic difference between it nd their native Strine is larger.)

Despite taking a Zzzquil five hours into the flight after the third movie, I managed very little sleep until the last hour when I finally passed out, waking only when the wheels hit the tarmac. Nevertheless, itfelt great to be back in HK and I was able to repack and re-check my bag for my onward flight to Xiamen ten hours later (thank you Dragonair!) I took the brilliant MTR into the city feeling awake and happy, despite the rain and forecast of thunderstorms for the day (I had foolishly left my umbrella in my checked bag.) I learned that it's difficult to capture heavy rain in an image without taking a photo of a large puddle or splashing water onto the lens; my best shot is this one, but perhaps I should have taken a video instead. It really was very wet. 

I had a fun day wandering around Central, staying mostly dry and enjoying the heat and humidity. I had really loved Hong Kong on the one occasion I had previously visited in 2011, when I had tacked on a really fun weekend to a three-day work trip. It felt good to be back. 

Chapter V / In which the rain robs Tallinn of its chance to shine

One hour after arriving in Tallinn and still at its modern airport, I was not enthusiastic about my visit in Estonia. Whether it was the 30 minute wait for the airport-city bus, only for the doors to be closed on me since it was 'full', the grey brooding skies, or simply the fact that it was my first stop in which I wasn't visiting anyone, I was grumpy and mumbling curses under my breath like Mutley the dog. 

Fortunately, taxis in Estonia are very good value, so after a quick 20 minute, eight euro drive I was checking in to my charming room in a hotel in the old town. Undoubtedly part of its charm was imbued in the three flights of slightly creaky, irregular stairs at lay between it and the reception (when i asked for directions to the elevator, the receptionist pointed sardonically to the stairs), along with its lone small square window, located in the bottom left hand corner of the far wall. I decided that I was grateful for the novelty of sleeping in an authentic example of the 'Estonian attic style'. 

Having not slept as much as i would have liked the previous night, I decided to take a middle-of-the-day nap. After waking just after 1pm, I realized that was not only indulgent but also a bit foolish, since the clouds' brooding was now more sinister and threatened to wash out the walking tour of the old town I had planned. I set off nevertheless, along the cobbled streets and squares which reminded me of Belgium where I spent a semester living and studying in 2008. I had lunch at a delicious crêperie cafe off the main Vanalinn square, then ventured outside the walls of the old town where I saw a very impressive monument to a terrible (and relatively recent) tragedy:

The rain arrived in earnest in the mid afternoon, and since I had left my umbrella in the attic on the other side of town I followed two young people down a succession of ever-narrower lanes to the 'cool and untouristy' part of town, where I took refuge in the deep comfy seats, hot tea, free wifi and rich chocolate brownie of an excellent coffee shop. Whilst there I read in the local tourist magazine that Tallinn is "Europe's party capital" and boasts many excellent nightclubs. I carefully selected four for that evening but in the event, by 10pm the clouds were absolutely unloading rain onto the streets, and since it was a Tuesday, I figured this would probably dampen the locals' enthusiasm for going out in the same way it had dampened mine. So after an earlier-than-expected night, I awoke early the next morning and returned by taxi to Tallinn airport, to return to Helsinki for a proper look around.

Chapter VI / In which a chance encounter illuminates Helsinki

Flying via Helsinki the previous week en route to Stockholm, I spotted the lead news story of the day on the cover of the main English-language newspaper, the Helsinki Times:

I made a mental note for my return journey: Finns know how to party (or at least how to drink). Helsinki did not disappoint.

The next week I flew in from Tallinn on another overcast summer's day, and had better luck with the public bus, which deposited me in the main Rautatientori square. I had booked a simple room near the Botanic Gardens, and later when I used these to describe where I was staying to locals I was met with uniform blank faces, so they seem less prominent as the ones in Sydney, Melbourne, or Canberra, and this partly explains why I didn't actually go in during my 30 hours in Helsinki.

Before I had left Seattle, one of the loose ends I had to tie up was taking over my US work cell phone number, so that I wouldn't have to ask everyone to change my number in their phones. Unfortunately AT&T had thrown a large number of spanners at me in the 24 hours before I left Seattle, with the result that I had not been able to take over my number by the time I left Seattle. I decided to hang on to my work cell phone until I sorted it out, since as soon as I returned the phone, the contract would be cancelled and my number would be lost. During my hour at JFK I had the absolute pleasure of porting my number to Google Voice, which unlike assuming responsibility for it at AT&T took six clicks, ten minutes, and did not require multiple store visits, calls to their back office and to Experian, and emailing of identification. Unfortunately by this time I didn't have access to a mailbox, so I figured I would just drop it into one of our Scandinavian offices en route.

That explains in a roundabout way how I found myself in an elevator in Helsinki's CBD on a Wednesday late morning, boxed iPhone in hand. Exiting the elevator I passed three gentlemen about to take it back down to thr ground floor. Two steps on I saw the large sign announcing that the Helsinki Office was closed for summer vacation from 22 July to 2 August. In a stroke of immensely good fortune, one of the three gentlemen who had by now entered the elevator spotted me stopping dead in front of the door, and instead of hammering the 'close doors' button (or calling security), asked me whether I needed any help. It turned out that Donatello, Leonardo, and Michelangelo (I have given them ninja turtle names since I didn't check whether they were ok with featuring on this blog) were colleagues hard at work,in the office, notwithstanding the summer closure ("someone has to keep the lights on", Donatello joked) and were grabbing some lunch. I explained that I was also a colleague trying to return my phone, and when I politely declined their kind offer to let me in (figuring it would be hard to explain to the receptionist/mailroom colleagues in a note), they invited me to join them for lunch. 

Thus began a delightful "insider's guide to Helsinki". Fifty meters into our foodward walk I asked them whether they were all Finnish, and learned that they in fact hailed from Ireland, Turkey, and India, and were based in Helsinki, London, and Berlin. (Not the first time I've had such a conversation with colleagues over the last three years, and their own backgrounds made it easier to explain that I was an Australian who had moved from London to the West Coast of the US late last year.) We ended up sharing not a very fun lunch of middle eastern food, including some delicious lamb dishes. 

The afternoon brought rain, which scuppered my plans of taking Leonardo's tip and taking a boat to one of the scenic islands in Helsinki harbour, so instead I used the trusty NYT 36 hours guide to find a coffee shop, where I bought an oversized cinnamon bun (not as good as those from the Nordic Bakery in London, yet big enough to take half of it away afterwards) and read. After the rain had passed I wandered along the waterfront and spotted a visiting Japanese navy boat, a rolling piece of Melbourne, and a slightly controversial sculpture within 30 minutes of one another: 

For a moment I confused Finland with Norway and thought this ship had something to do with the 'axis of whaling'

Melbourne all the way down to the color scheme... No myki though

Controversial? 

I met Donatello and Leonardo for dinner that night (Michelangelo had flown home), at a great Mexican eatery run by Mexican expats who delighted in Helsinki's compact size ("I ride my bike to get around: it's great!") followed by drinks at the world's best cocktail bar ("A21") - which just happens to be in downtown Helsinki. 

Meeting these three new friends made for a *much* more enjoyable stay in Helsinki, not only because they had all sorts of local nous, but also because we had interesting conversations (and no, not about work!) Donatello had spent lots of time living in the US, and explained his take on the cultural differences between Americans and Finns. The US he said is a 'peach' society, in which it is easy to break through the surface i.e. meet other people and strike up a conversation, but rather difficult to get through the pip to reach the core (truly befriend them). Finland by contrast he dubbed a 'coconut' society, in which it is difficult to break through the surface but once you do, it's easy to reach the core (which is soft and creamy). Almost on cue, a group of Finns spotted Donatello and walked over to say hello! 

After drinks they turned in, and I decided to seize the opportunity presented by the clear night and went clubbing. After starting in a club where a foam party was in full swing, I made it to another bar full of jolly Japanese and Finnish sailors, well turned out in their uniforms but nevertheless making the most of their night ashore. The place was a bit like Gordon's wine bar in London - an underground warren of different rooms - and I was drawn to one room with quite a crowd listening to some live music. Two Finns in their 30s were pumping out hip hop in Finnish. The first looked as you might expect: shaved head, dark glasses, cocky expression, but the other was transfixing: he was sporting a very impressive 'mullet' hairdo underneath a baseball cap with large 'John Faulkner' glasses (apologies for the Australian references there), a grandmother knit jumper, a sternly serious facial expression, and Gangnam Style dance moves from left to right and back across the front of the stage. Not carrying my iPad I wasn't able to get a photo, recording or Shazaam grab, and I stupidly didn't ask the barmen or bouncers for the duo's stage name/s at the end of their set. Subsequent hours spent on Google searching for "Finnish hip hop duo" have been unsuccessful so far; if any of this rings any bells please let me know! All tips gratefully received. (Two weeks later I thought I heard the chorus bring played in a jeans shop in Cairns but it was in fact Counting Stars by OneRepublic.)

After being outclassed by some sailors on the dance floor I kicked on to a rooftop bar a couple of streets away, which I found purely by following a distant sound of voices and music. I met some more young Finns there and we had some good conversations about Finland's place in the world (I rattled off a pleasingly lost list of Finns I admired, from colleagues to F1 drivers and international lawyers), what made them most proud about their country (the lakes and not the F1 drivers), and Finland's reputed drinking problem which I had read about the previous week (exacerbated in their view by the boats that bring back Finns from Estonia armed with cheap booze.) I then went looking for the fsmed 'Aussie Bar' which has apparently turned into a popular franchise in Finland - only to be disappointed to rock up at closing time

Aussies as upside down people?

By the end of what was an excellent night, it was past 4am and so I had eaten some of the next day; by the time I woke up and ate brunch I had time for one last short stroll taking in the architecture in Helsinki, before taking the bus back to Vantaa airport and onwards to Hong Kong. 

Chapter IV / In which a gastronomic tour of Latvia is punctuated by adrenaline rushes

I arrived in Riga on Saturday afternoon, after a truly painless Ryanair flight. Without realising it, I had apparently flown from the world's greenest country (Sweden) to its second greenest (Latvia). However, mindful of the fallout from the leaving email I had sent at work a few days previously, in which I had lumped Latvia into 'Scandinavia', I was conscious that regardless of any apparent similarities, I had crossed a regional border into 'the Baltics'.

I had come to Latvia after an invitation from Ernest and Ljeta, friends from London who had recently returned to Riga where they both grew up. Their invite had anchored the entire Northern European (cf.  'Scandinavian'!) part of my journey, presenting an opportunity to see more of this lovely part of the world in its best season. 

I had a very enjoyable guided walking tour of central Riga, and learned that the height of an embassy's fence is proportional to how competitive their ice hockey team is in matches against Latvia. The British Embassy had no fence; the Russian fence was quite impressive:

Ernest offered me a large choice of Sunday activities, and I inadvertently designed a real 'adventure day': after driving north of Riga towards Sigulda, and the first stop was a bobsled course built in the Soviet era. In winter this is one of Latvia's premier training grounds for luge and other winter sports; for summer the concrete course entertains tourist families and young locals. There were two families with primary school-aged kids before us, and when the first set finished their ride and exclaimed that it was 'gentler than we expected' I was utterly lulled into thinking this would be a quiet jaunt, so much do that I went to fetch my phone from the car to take some scenic footage of the valley below. Even when we realised that we wouldn't be steering ourselves (the same lady was at the head of the car), I didn't grasp why. Even when the cheerful man fitting our helmets told me to 'keep neck strong' I thought nothing of it, until five seconds after we set off, when we began hurtling down the much-steeper-than-expected course and I tried my best to emulate Milo Kerrigan from Full Frontal. When I get back to my laptop I'll compress the video that I took; needless to say the first third of it does not contain the best camerawork.

After the bobsled, we drove to the 'Aerodium', which is basically a jumping castle with an enormously powerful fan beneath it, propelling willing visitors upwards so that they can fly like Superman. Perhaps because the safety demonstration was much more involved than at the bobsled and an instructor was nearby the whole time, the experience itself was much less terrifying, though certainly more exhilarating. 

By far the most memorable experience of the day was the Indiana Jones-style high-tree ropes course. The course cleverly escalated in difficulty, We tackled the gentle blue course and the manageable red course, which left the black course remaining.  I had neglected to calibrate the color codes before we started, so although I had a vague awareness that black was harder than red, I didn't really know by how much. I have never attempted a black ski run and can't imagine doing so any time soon, but for some reason I didn't think of the black ropes course in the same terms (i.e. severe pain), so I climbed the rope ladder to start the black course.

Yes, those circular blocks spin

I cannot remember being more afraid, as we navigated the system of ropes high above the ground below. To the extent I could rationalise it, the terror was not so much freefalling (since we continuously strapped ourselves in to the safety wires) but rather falling five meters and hanging suspended and helpless by the safety harness, unable to climb back up. I played M83 on the loudspeaker on my phone to try to calm my nerves, and when my legs started shaking after an improbably successful maneuver I craved a strong drink of the sort action heroes swig to calm their nerves, typically after surviving a gun fight. (I confirmed, not for the first time, that I wasn't cut out to be an action hero.) When I took the final flying fox back down to ground I felt a huge rush of triumph and relief. Despite some ropy moments on monkey bars and vertical ropes without underfoot wires, I had survived without falling. I took many grateful gulps of water, then collapsed in the car. Ernest joked that we might have to leave the bungee jump to the following day (bungee was the one adventure option I had not jumped at).

Holding on for dear life

We ate dinner at Aparjods, the best restaurant in the district and as Ljeta pointed out, mouth-wateringly good value compared to London. They thoughtfully provided throw blankets to guard against the dvening breeze so we installed ourselves at an outside table, wrapped up in the blankets, and exchanged war stories and some footage from the ropes course. I had the chance to try rupjmaizes kartojums, a tasty traditional Latvian dessert containing fine rye breadcrumbs layered with berry coulis, fresh berries, and whipped cream; it tastes somewhat similar to Eaton Mess. Afterwards Ernest drove us to Ljeta's parents' stunning country house, which looks out onto the Gulf of Riga (which in turn leads on to the Baltic Sea). The sun had at last set, and not for the first time this trip I was unable to stay awake (the jetlag having worn off, I claimed post-traumatic shock). I was grateful that Ernest was still so alert. 

The next day brought the first lazy Monday morning in a long time. After a simple brunch, featuring more tasty Rye bread as well as some edamame-like Latvian beans, Ljeta and Ernest taught me a new board fame, Kingdom Builder, on the beach. This reminded me of Settlers of Catan, which Ernest taught me last year, after having started a board games club at work. I resolved to play more board games at grad school over the next two years: they're social, they don't require a screen or wifi, and they have more novelty than card games like poker. Coupled with the backdrop of the Gulf of Riga rolling lazily onto the mostly-empty beach with its auburn sand, our game of Kingdom Builder was wonderfully relaxing. (I finished last.) By the time we finished, the afternoon had crept up on us so we drove back to Riga and did not detour for the bungee jump. (Ernest was doubtless keen to keep this up his sleeve as a 'hook' for my next visit, but in truth some of the many sore muscles above my hips might not have survived the thrill of the bungee cord.)

We had a tasty afternoon tea at Ljeta's favorite coffee house, where the portions of apple strudel were generous and not too sweet, followed by an afternoon nap and dinner at an excellent seafood restaurant. After a midnight stroll back through the Bastejkalns Par, along the Pilsetas Canal, it was time for bed; I had an early start the next morning for my journey onwards to Estonia. I hadn't realized that Tallinn is only four hours by car from Riga; Ernest cheerfully told me that if the flight went awry he'd happily drive me up there, and even though I wouldn't dream of saddling him with an eight hour round trip, I did wonder whether I should have rented a car instead of flying. That daydream drifted away as the wheels of the turboprop Air Baltic plane lifted off the runway, and we pierced through the low, damp clouds over Riga.

Chapter III / In which Stockholm presents an impossible choice

After a quick (30 minutes flat) pit stop in Helsinki airport, to have my passport stamped and to change planes, I reached Stockholm, which looked every bit as lovely as I remember from a lovely holiday in 2009:

The flight from New York to Helsinki was pleasant; I was seated next to a friendly, stocky young Finn on his way back from a very short holiday in New York. His chief interest was ice-hockey, a sport where "they try to beat the sh!t out of you, and you return the favor". After our 9am landing he was due at ice hockey training by 11, and he cheerfully predicted that the red-eye flight would make him 'angrier and crazier than usual' on the rink. This was apparently no mean feat, since the main reason the coach had him on the team was 'to beat the sh!t out of the other players'. Despite this (and perhaps because of my lack of sleep the previous night in Seattle) I had no qualms falling asleep next to him for the best part of five hours, aided by a Zzzquil and some tasty beef stew. 

Either side of sleep, I watched Admission, a new movie starring Tina Fey and Paul Rudd. Fey plays Portia, an undergrad admissions officer at Princeton who goes out of her way to admit Jeremiah, a brilliant student from an underprivileged background who goes to a startup school run by John (Rudd). Wallace Shawn (who I still think of as Cyrus, Eleanor Waldorf's partner from Gossip Girl) makes an appearance as Clarence, the outgoing Dean of Admissions. (Yesterday he popped up in A late quartet as the leader of a piano trio; perhaps soon he'll be satirizing himself in This Is The End 2?) I recently read Tina Fey's autobiography Bossypants, in which she describes feeling torn between having more kids (she has one), keeping 30 Rock running (she inferred that the show would fold if she took maternity leave, which I wasn't wholly convinced of), and taking up some of the exciting movie opportunities which were starting to arrive. It seems she's chosen the latter for now at least, and it's working out well.

In Stockholm I met up with Sabina, a friend I met when we were both working in San Francisco. She was extremely gracious in hosting me and showing me around many parts of town I hadn't seen on my previous trip, including Kungsholmen, Gamla Stan, and some fun parts of Södermalm. I learned that Stockholm has much less rental housing stock than most cities of its size, and so it's not uncommon for young people to buy a small apartment to live in rather than renting a shared group house. Sabina had done this, and her clever renovations to her sun-filled apartment overlooking the Klara Sjö canal in central Stockholm. She introduced me to a bunch of her friends and together we enjoyed the lovely summer evening over monitors and tasty pizza on her rooftop. My lasting regret will be the jetlag that led me to collapse at 10pm, missing out on what became a fun night if dancing and bar-hopping. I literally could not stay awake after 33 hours on the road. Although the next 9 hours of sleep were blissful, I swore the next morning that on my next visit I wold to short-change Stockholm in the same way. 

I spent a leisurely Saturday morning munching a fresh pain au chocolat and reading on Helgeansholmen, one of the smallest islands in central Stockholm, before realizing the time, running desperately to the bus station, and with thirty seconds to spare, boarding the Flygbus to Skavsta airport to board the plane for Riga and my first taste of the Baltics. 

Chapter II / In which a movie set in New York substitutes for the real thing

New York is one of my favorite cities. I've been lucky to have many friends spend time living there in recent years. Along with a few stopovers and holidays, visiting them has coloured my experience of the city with many happy memories, and I'm looking forward to seeing more of them when I move to Boston at the end of August. 

In the meantime, my time in NYC on this journey is sadly limited to two hours in Terminal 8 at JFK to change planes bound for Stockholm. There's not much to say about T8, but I did see an enjoyable film set in New York on the flight from Seattle: A Late Quartet starring Christopher Walken, Philip Seymour Hoffmann, and Catherine Keener. It's a story about a very successful string quartet which is falling apart. 

The quartet was formed 20+ years earlier by three Juilliard School students and one teacher (Walken), whose diagnosis with Parkinson's Disease at the start of the film provides the narrative drive. Two of the other quartet members (Hoffmann & Keener) are married with one daughter, Alexandra, who has gone into the family business and takes violin lessons from the fourth member, Daniel (Mark Ivanir). I learned cello from age 10 to 18, and although I was a woeful student blessed with a friendly teacher tolerant of my many shortcomings (Alexandra, by contrast, is a gifted student whose teacher throws her out after 10 minutes spent mostly berating her), these 'music lesson' scenes were somewhat familiar to me. Unlike painting, writing, or composing, a musical performance is created 'live' in front of the audience, and unlike theatre, opera, or dance, it's typically only meant to engage one of your senses, which can make it more intense. I'm not sure I ever exposed my soul through the cello, but I do remember feeling very self-conscious when playing.

The action takes place over a few weeks in wintry Manhattan, and there were some striking scenes set in Central Park. If the film is to be believed, some classical musicians in New York live very well, in large comfortable-looking apartments within jogging distance of the Jackie O reservoir. I found that comforting, particularly since my first thought after discovering that one of the characters has Parkinson's Disease was 'OMG, how will the poor bastard pay for healthcare?!' I would guess this prosperity isn't true of their counterparts in Sydney or London (elsewhere in Europe I'm not so sure) and if so, that's partly because of the relative strength of the New York economy which supports the arts and allows some artists to afford to live well there without being celebrities (Nigel Kennedy/Damien Hirst/Jay-Z). In 2010 New York's GDP was 4X Sydney's and 1.5X London's, and its GDP per capita was also higher (by 50% and 20% respectively).

Overall, A Late Quartet was engaging and enjoyable - and as it turned out, its scenes of Manhattan winter nicely matched the overcast skies around JFK on this mid-summer's day.

Chapter I / In which Duncan departs

Welcome to my travelblog! Without having made a spur-off-the-moment bet, I'm headed around the world in the next 30 days; here I'll tell some tales from my travels. 

Phileas Fogg started in London, took twenty thousand pounds in a carpet bag, and had the assistance of Passepartout; I'm starting in Seattle with no carpet bag but with an iPad... so although our itineraries have some places in common (New York, Hong Kong, Shanghai) I won't labour the comparisons.

After a final night in Seattle with less sleep than I would have liked, my sister Maggie kindly took me to Sea-Tac this morning. First stop: NYC.