Saturday, May 18, 2013
Friday, May 17, 2013
I know I will regret not ordering the bear. I already do. How often is bear on the menu? Especially with the explanation, "Marinated in rare spices and cooked over a fire, in honour of Waldemar II, the brave King of Denmark."
Kristin and I stumbled upon this weird Medieval restaurant in Tallinn. The Chefs are historians and have created a menu consistent with Medieval cuisine. It was a strange menu, some of my favorite quotes were "A generous share of the finest Elk filet, in honour and glory of the noble Master of the Order" and "Himalayan Lamb dish with warming spices - Mountain people style."
Thursday, May 16, 2013
We saw odd Scandinavian games, some resembling Stinky Grundlefingers, others looked like psychic red rover with teachers carrying around pool toys filled with beads and shouting strange words. It was odd, and loud, but also wildly entertaining. We were also able to sneak in to the park for free, using the kids as a diversion. This was a huge boon for us as we are on day two of our first ever trip with budgeting, and it has become a sort of game for us. A great and annoying game.
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
I have a system where I do not sleep until it gets dark. This works great in Asia because arrivals are generally late afternoon to late evening. Europe is tougher with AM arrivals. I try to walk around a lot and stay outside. It tricks my body into complying. But about waiting for sunset...
Rare is the odyssey that begins with a credit card declination. Rarer still is the shabby beginning we experienced at the closest thing to a starting line that is readily conceivable in the mind for our journey, this day, 2013 year of our lord.
It was not early, we were not in any way overconfident or with excessive zeal of any kind, but we were caught flat footed in one of the most deplorable and embarrassing schemes ever to begin an odyssey. I will just get right to it. My primary debit card was declined. At Auntie Anne's. For the an $8 purchase of pretzels. To make matters even more proletariat, we had not only declined the upsell additions of nacho cheese and honey mustard condiments, but demanded the free Heinz Mustard packet before our journey came to an unflattering end just as it began. We looked like a pair of bozo pretzel amateurs. Our North African pretzel attendant sneered at us from behind her flour specked smock.