Ah, no place like-- well, not quite home

we have returned from the whirlwind tour of europe, and have found england to finally have warmed up. and as Phil has pointed out-- not much has changed in the past 60 years in europe.

the germans are delightful and bring kind heart warming thoughts
the french are angry... just angry. and they 'won' the war.
the belgians are, well, disapointing but none the less, our brothers in arms (that armada was built for something.)
and the dutch are the canadians of europe. just so darn nice.

but aside from this, spring has made itself known in england, with flowers abound, and no longer a need for my coat to stay clasped to my body. although I* will miss the pocket space it provided for my things.

*by "I" I mean "my sister who loads many a thing on me due to her refusal to wearing cargo pants or pants with any form of pocket space, but also refuses the insecure form of a purse in which I am in a limbo state of opinion"

I realized why the stories of tulips are so exorbiant, in that they are just that gosh darn pretty. pretty enough to sell a whole castle for 12 of them? perhaps not. but still, almost worth the 12 british pound sterling for a bulb, coincidence at the number patern? I think not.

I found out that it is superstition here that tree blossoms are bad luck to have indoors, so the nice hosts of my sister who I thought I was bringing cheer and love and life into by bringing the fruit of spring in to her home. was in fact a symbol of death and proverbial house rape to which my sister gave me a scolding.

funny, van gogh once said that blossoms are rarely frowned upon and admired by all when he did his orchard series and the almond blossom painting for his nephew's birth.

I suppose it is a brit thing to have a distaste for them.

well, now I know. now I know.

News of the World

a summary of our adventures, in order as best can be done.

Weeze = a lovely little airport which I suspect to have had no flights that day but our own. and a former US-armed forces base.
Dusseldorf = efficient
Munich = Efficient and charming in every way. say for a slight duck attack hannah had to endure (long side the laughter of the sole response of "OH SNAP!" to the onslaught of flapping duck 5cm from her face.)
Hamburg = closed on weekends, but delicious hamburgers (and efficient)
Berlin = Efficient, still under construction from that whole WWII thing and Communist oppressive rule
Frankfurt = lovely railport....once again, efficient
Germany as a whole: I would move to Bavaria, the people are kind, upstanding, understanding, intelligent, quick, efficient, fashionable, attractive and efficient. the "ICE" is the best means of transport ever short of private aircraft and teleportation, or what ever Doctor Who uses. they are so on the game with the high speed trains that "You do not need a reservation in Germany" quoath the kind but straightforward conductor on the first ICE train we took (All other countries require reservation on the highspeed trains) did I mention that their trains run EXACTLY on time and they know WHICH platform a train 5 days in advance will land on and all clocks ding at the same time?
amazing.

Paris = Inefficient, lovely sights, lack of storage lockers and English speakers, overrated, over cost, over sexed.
Nice = The Mediterranean sun powered my mighty Californian fuel cells for action. wonderful flower market and enough to see and do for 2 days of fun action.
Monaco/Monte Carlo = many a Ferrari and yacht, Broke their bank, not invited back.
Paris = the begging women have pimps and are organized, do not believe their lies.
France as a whole: Eh. over rated. arrogant, unforgiving, ethnocentric, scared of change. and their computer systems will NEVER live up to American, or German expectations (they didn't know when trains would even arrive exactly, 2 of our trains were "retard" and it was unknown where it would even land.

Bruxelles = what a lovely little rail station, surely this place is on the up and up, ooo waffles, oh wait, our train has arrived to Holland yay!

Amsterdam = got lost, didn't want to be there till realized its kick ass was not to be determined by a prozzie that would not stop smacking her gum (click, SMACK...click............................click. smack smack smack--click *AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!* but all in my mind did I scream I did.) and holding her legs apart with her hand in the: "I am 2 cm from the masturbation position and you know I want to. but I am reading this surely shitty print out sheet, but for 10Euro I will," whilst sitting across from me, and you know that thing where you look at a person because they vex you so, but they think you are checking them out? made me (and the nice british couple whom she had forced her self next to (I suspect was kicked out of the past car)) pray for her understanding that no one wanted her around them whist she did that insufferable smacking.... it really was that bad.
lovely canals, tall sail ships (Which we stayed on, the Admiral something something, a fine little 9 sail ship with a kindly crew lead by "Casper" the nicest man yet met. an ambassador for the Dutch people indeed-- and made up for the fear instilled from the train ride in with prozzies, kindly bikers (think mad dog kind of biker) and accidentally thinking that he train station was in the middle of nowhere so we returned to rottenham only to realize it was hidden away from the beautiful town square by construction blockades oh silly me.)
friendly people, and something to do even for those who don't smoke or partake of prozzies. truly beautiful people. and if need be, I would not mind living there. although my heart would always be in Baveria.

Bruxelles= was unfortunate.

Belgium as a whole: total shit hole. seriously, they don't pick up their dog's crap-- ever. it litters the streets everywhere you go. the people are unattractive, uncaring, and have the work ethic and just over all appeal to the equivalent of the mexico of Europe. I regret building this country up to what I did. although the atonium and the planetarium was enjoyable. oh, and the motel six of a room costs more than I wanted to pay. and the Belgians are always asking for money from people, almost as bad as the french. but at least the french you get something out of it-- sometimes.
the France that wishes it was France but isn't cool enough even to be the lacky of France. and France as we all know is just the lacky of itself. which is kind of sad.

but, all and all, a good 9 days spent. with many letters and notes taken in the moleskin and in correspondence.

but I warn all of you, nothing good comes from Belgium. that prozzie I had to sit near, and the massive amounts of beggars (who wore nice clothes and had the whole family in on it. lousy pikers)

Met a nice Canadianan man (Ian) on our travels from Paris to nice and through nice and Monaco (along side a half french/new Yorker who once resided in Shasta, CA named Rick)

met up with Sara from Oxford in the Van Gogh Museum line, enjoyed one of my favorite artists of all time. and then went to the redlight district to observe the system of prozzies, gatekeeper-enforcer-and-hierarch pimps and johns.

and enjoyed a delightful little lunch with Sara and Hannah as well as a brewery tour (all sorts of mad stuff went on in there!)

saw my friend, David Carnes', Doppelganger in Brussels (he had slight stubble facial hair as well, thus making him the evil one. as well the all black and top coat with the upturned collar helped this issue as well, that and he was waiting for a long time in the central plaza of the shopping/business district and had that "I am David and I am only 9 minutes from the perfect robbery" face.)

all and all, we can tell where my favorite place was and who I think should head the permanent members of the UN security council rather than France.

just sayin' the Germans have something to bring to the party everytime (and I tell ya, it isn't 4 euro cans of coke like those other folk to the west.) and don't bitch about people speaking English in the EU headquarters.

Here comes the (t)rain

Ah English weather.

just as the cold and bitter winds pass as the first day of spring entered almost as quickly if a chapter in a book had turned. The first paragraph of this spring chapter was not merely into its first sentence when the rains of England had greeted me and joined with me in my mile walks to the bus stop in Headington-- because heavens know that Risinghurst deserves no bus stop that is effective at all.

in my notation of public transport, I have discovered, despite all its errs, Los Angeles has a more cost friendly and commendable train system from the outskirts to the inner city areas (IE San Bernardino to Hollywood) for a much more reasonable price.

now, seeing as exchange rates are still in place, and the value still shifts. I will use the great example of the cost of food. And not just any food, but stadium food.

for the cost of two dodger dogs, or a Chipotle Burrito with Soda and an extra little thing of salsa (8.50 USD or around 5.20GBP). One can get a return (two way) ticket from San Bernardino to Hollywood (around 80miles, or 120km)
this includes a day pass on the LAMETRO system of buses and underground railways.

conversely, the cost of a trip to London from Oxford (51miles, or 87km) via train
2 large strawberries with creme at wimbly, or 4 creme teas at Queen Street Coffee (oldest coffee house in the world) (12GBP or around 21.50USD)
for a single (one way) to London. Standard seating. No day pass for the underground whilst in London. Nor buses.
4 large strawberries with creme at wimbly, or a nice meal for a you and a lady friend that you met at lecture and want to woe (at the beef eater, one of the better restaurants in England, but English food will be another subject entirely) (24GBP or around 40USD)
for a return (two way) to London and if you have a student card, that's right, no underground daypass.

Now, often I hear "California has such a horrible public transportation system, we should emulate the Europeans" to which I simply state "Nein Herr Dummkopf" or as the Spanish would say "No Señor Pendejo" and I abstain from the French due to the French to English dictionary I have is on strike.

now that I think about it, the librarians are on strike here in England, as with the city mantiance union, and the civic workers as well. All over their pention schemes that are becoming insolvent.

fortunately, my umbrella, English-made by London Fog (which I have yet to experience in my adventures here) has not failed me like theParisiann system of society (which mind you her majesty's foreign office has, as of 5 days ago declared "UNSAFE" for travelers) and at the cost of the train system, I doubt that they will be striking any time soon.

Row Row Row your Boat

Ah Emma was a fine dingy, in fact, one of the finest in the fleet of Her Majesty's Royal Thames River Armada. Swift and exact along the river's waters she went.

this would be true, however, if an ore had worked properly, not giving my right arm the mighty difference in stream controls. Thus careening the vessel into the banks of the canals and low hanging branches. Some causing us to duck into the vessel's hull, barely skimming the low hang of the thick extentions and growths. Fortunately, away from the prying eyes of the construction workers that I had gain'd nonmocking passage by understanding the following

the second bar to lady of Spain.

yes, but whistling the tune to the old sailors hymn, I had gained applauds and safe passage on to the magdalin college's stretch of river. Our course to the Thames was underway. Fortunately for our egos, no errors of commanding the ship had occurred short of the pull out from the docks, always a tricky maneuver to attempt. Or a 4 point turn under the magdalin college bridge....Which was caused by the turn out from the docking. Aided by record low river levels.

with fairly low to do, we encountered a tree branch, which, mind you, the two sets of eyes... Women's eyes mind you, had failed to warn me of entirely. Thus sending us under its wispy wrath of small branches and twiggery which caused no damage and lead to a fit of the giggles amongst the crew.

on the second of such encounters, first mate Hannah made the statement of "if the impact wont kill us. The cold of the water surely will"

aside from this, no major incidents occurred. Barring the full on collation (mind you, after a WOMAN was given charge over the port side ore) with the river bank, to the awe of a score and 4 English citizens, forced to watch the shame of such a proud English ship.

I count a score and 4, as the other 5 were Chinese, and counted not as it was merely another photograph moment to behold the English culture.

if only they knew.

Patrion Saint of the Irish vs. Jonathan

Saw a man dressed in silver with a glass ball. the day after st patrick's day

and a few heroin addicts asking for handouts.

it is a serious problem it seems in the UK (hence the success of pieces such as Reqrium for a Dream, or Trainspotting). but not so serious that I can't say "zee velfar state ziz veiry large, und you arure not in ze crack" when they ask for "loose change"

I say it in a thickin'd accent as to remove any anti american attitudes (4 pt alliteration!)

it is fun to apply Haym Solomon to real life situations.
if oh how I wish to become as fluent in multiple languages as that man (eight languages). perhaps another trip is inorder to this continent sans Hannah or other Americans to force language skills.

Jonathan: *whislt walking into an Irish Pub in toe with sister and two other americans* "Ustedes Necesitan reconastar-- Nostoros somos Mexicanos"
Elise: ok, so not Americans, got it.

refrained from Alcohol again. at the last minute
Jonathan: If I am going to do this, I am going to do it right. I will have a guiness
*5 minutes pass*
Jonathan: I already feel woosy...best stop that drink order *run down the stairs to Elise who is about to have the drink poured*
"BELAY THAT ORDER!"
Barkeep:"Yes sir!"
Jonathan:".....grenadine and sprite...."
Elise: Pansy.

although, I got to be the designated walker/bus getter/take care of alcohol induced folk.

seriously, this one mile walk from the bus stop through a dodgy part of town is what makes me do this....seriously guys.

Today hannah and I went to the two big museums here in Oxford, saw the Ashmonian and the Oxford University of Natural History (got to see Dinosaur bones and the stuffed Dodo bird and said man in silver with a glass ball.)

In other news:
Figured out Finances for current expedition, of about a 5GBP a day budget-- no more...unless some benefactors donates to the paypal link, if I am going to go to the EU (France, Germany, Belgium, Luxemburg, Netherlands) visa vi Eurail and utilize a Bed and Breakfast in Nice so I may say that I swam in the Mediterrianian Sea.

of course, this plan is tenitive unless we can find some nice little island with nice little greeks on it.....or half greeks, we are not picky. I mean, prince charles is half greek.

I HEART THE MONARCHY.

so you may be saying-- 5 quid!? that is hardly enough for a sandwich and an orange juice! let alone a play, or a concert, or tax to look at a statue or to buy a blanket to keep you warm in those cold cold winternights!

ouch? not quite. blankets will be shipped into us in the next few days from homebase to prevent further cold nights. but seriously, sandwiches and orange juice....and rumor has it, the water is not up to American standards, FYI...click the link, donate with your visas, or your mom's visa, come on, think of all the great things I have done for you. like told you you look good, or how you should totally get on that (Job/Project/Assignment/Girl/Boy).

my love isn't free ya'lls. and I am collecting past due torts.....

I have made it as ze de'facto fühur und ubermïtch (I love the international keyboard setting) of the class by sole tenacity. and doing my required monologues as RoboKaupf from We Are Robots, and Kiefer Sutherland's Jack Bauer doing "Lady Winhimmer's Fan" by Oscar Wilde.


this was also inpart to a sore voice from coughing all night. although my austrian-german accent for robokaupf was spot on and gained a riot of laughter from the acting class.

seriously, it was all like "You mean more to me than anything else in the world, what does your husband give you? nothing, everything he has he gives back to the terrorist-- THERE'S NO TIME!"

and that is the kind of action that gets jonathan--- (the best way to end this is "Laid" but, seriously, has that yet to happen? naye my faithful readers...naye.)-- into high places (that one works out.).

despite my self conciousness of the whole bit, whether or not I did well or not, I think it was fun and I had a blast doing it. which is what public speaking and acting is all about.

In family news recently figured out that mother has been slated for something big in the world of humanitarian aide

like I always say: great things come from the Shidlers.

Oh! and my big brother is coming down from Spokane (the great cold, white north of grunge music and bitter nights) to come work with my dad at Shidler Real Estate Development Inc. what a wonderful turn of events indeed.

although I was plotting to head up there as soon as summer was coming round and cash flows returned from employment of my skills into the world. (note, not a job, just utilization of the awesome that is within me staged from the very creation of the universe)

mi qui' indeed... mi qui'...

So, 5 Americans Walk into a Pub....

went to a pub to do karaoke, got kicked out for NOT drinking alcohol
(their fault, didn't know how to make a sherly temple)
Belligerent Pub-Provider: Will we be drinking tonight?
Jonathan: oh, do you need ID, I don't drink, but here ya--
Belligerent Pub-Provider: --I need to know will we be drinkin' tonight? ya know this is how I make my livin' *imagin this in the most forceful tone a british man from the southshires can put on.)
Jonathan: I understand that everyone needs to make a living, so, I will have a sherly temple
BP: ?
Jonathan: Sprite and Grenadine--preferably cherry.
BP (or was it the unattractive wench? I forget.): we don't make cocktails here, only beer
Jonathan: do you have Cranberry Juice?
BP: no
Jonathan: I see. well, we are waiting for a mate to swing by, and it is always rude to start drinking without your mate. and it is also bad to drink before you do karaoke, which is why we came, so we are going to wait for her to start singing, then we are going to rouse it up
(lies on the we part of drinking on the portion of Jonathan. unless they could prove to me that fermented grains could gain me a stable walk home.)
BP: grumble-- *stares at the group of fellows for a while and my already plastered, forerunner of the sortie, friend (who he gave the same chat to hence purchased 2 pints worth of something fierce)
*5 minutes pass as we wait for our friend*
BP: *out of the blue* if you aren't going to be drinking, I wont hold these tables for you, now either buy some beer or get out (mind you, the place was empty, say 5 Americans, and 7 brits and yours truly)
Jonathan: are we going to be drinking?
Alex: *in his '3 kinds of wendsdays' slur* fuckno! this place had to put club soda into your beer to give it fiz the ugly ass-- (which was true...and he had to put club soda into his stuff because it had gone flat too.)

once again, my nonalcoholism has pushed the world to the edge...nay, the brink.

and I don't mind it at all. not at all.

Ohhh Headington--!

So, I live in this little town called Risinghurst on Kiln Lane (yes, that Kiln Lane) literally 5 houses down from CS Lewis' home 'The Kilns'

aside from that, just down the street lies the marvelous shark of headington.
now, I had not known earlier of the status of the famous shark of anti nuclear action and art. But it truly looks as though someone punched it through the roof, so much so that a kind family of pidgons are residing in the top level of the home, complete with their pidgony mess and nests.

as for the state of the town, cold is the buzz word for us Americans staying in the local homes and cottages, cold but lacking snow of any significance. How a climate can get below Zero Celsius and precipitation on a regular basis, yet retain that snow is rare is a phenomenon of serious consequences to my ability to contain frustrations at the climate.

not only did I just escape a moist-wet cold atmosphere of an unusual winter in Redlands with dips into the 5c and below temperatures or sometimes unusually warm spikes of 22c at random through out the course of 8 days or so-- no more. Where my newly adapting and resituating body chemistry was preparing for spring's cool embrace with flowers and fields to be observed in golden splendor was tricked and befuddled with mixings of hot and cold, but never temperate-- naye, but once temperate with a nice 12-18c day blue skies too boot.

alas, the moist seeps through the layers of clothing, through the nylon-cotton, silk, the wool, and the cotton again. With the tips of my fingers to suffer as the cold bites at their being and makes me clumbsy with delicate things of writing and key handling. Save only for thick snow built gloves that clash both in fashion and in ability to maintain regulation with the need to constantly utilize the builtin blow buttons to add warm breath into the vents that warm my finger tips.

this cold is to pass in time in a week or so the cold front will have left the island nation and rain can be of no bother to me as it was in the Californian landscape months before where a shirt and a covering were all that was needed to maintain face.

courses at Oriel College have been enlightening as well as bolstering of my fabric, pitching a tent of self sufficiency of thought and confidence in mind. As tutorials go about I find that theatre courses are more experience and research based than expected and political science (which, go hand in hand.) allows me to speak my mind-- much to the dismay of my sister who has found the music collection here quite to her liking


and really, that has made all the difference.