While planning my trip through Europe, I had to get myself from my hotel in Antwerp back to Schiphol Airport in Amsterdam for the flight to Sweden. The airport posted a notice advising passengers to arrive four hours before their flight. Which just seemed obnoxious. I devised a plan that would get me there by train with 2.5 hours to spare.

Well, when I arrived, I understood what they meant. They don’t pay their security staff enough, so the lines went out the door to the next terminal over, and looped back again.

I found myself in line behind a pair of grad students who were on their way to present at a conference on extremophiles – those bacteria and other organisms that like to hang out in volcanoes and hydrothermal vents and the like. Their flight left a half hour before mine. It was clear at one point that they would not make their flight if they stayed in this shambling line, so with our line-neighbors’ blessing, the three of us booked it through the line, cutting in front of whole line segments at a time, always apologetic.

We parted ways after security and booked it to our respective flights. I arrived at my gate greeted by this sight:

Me: “That’s my plane.”

Gate attendant: “Oh, I’m sorry, you’ve missed your flight.”

“Yeah, I know. What do I do now?”

“Head over to T2 transfers to get yourself re-booked.”

I find myself in another line, this one no more than a couple hundred feet long, but which stood at a near standstill. Very few staff on hand.

After three hours we were nearly at the front, when we were then told, “Go away, there’s no one to help you here, get yourself re-booked online and go to this website here for reimbursement.” Gravy.

So I managed to snag one of the last tickets out of Amsterdam late that evening, which is better than some of my other line-buddies fared, as some of them had to get flights for the following day and deal with hotel bookings.

My flight sorted, I then had to deal with luggage. KLM was nice enough not to put my bag on the flight, so it was sitting in a holding area somewhere in the airport. I was told I’d have to go out past security to a baggage claim office to get it rerouted to my new flight later that evening. Off I went, only to find myself in a third slow-moving line. And like the last one, by the time I got to the front, I was told, “Sorry, there’s no one here that can help you, come back tomorrow.”

I sat down to mull my options. It was 3:30pm. Just then I got a text message saying my flight – which was scheduled for late that evening – had been delayed to 4:30pm. Nonsensical, but hey, if there was a chance I could get to Sweden before 11pm, I was gonna take it. I decided to let Amsterdam keep my luggage overnight and I’d see if the airline could be convinced to get me my luggage later that week.

To get to the gate I’d have to go back through security. I managed to skip about 90% of the line by sneaking through a weak point in the guide-posts. After security I booked it again to the gate, debating with myself the whole time whether this was really worth it. I arrived at last-call before the boarding doors were closing, and the very kind gate agent got my ticket adjusted for this flight and waved me through the gate.

We landed at about 7pm and Gothenburg Airport actually knew how to keep staff around. The desk agent took my info and hotel address and said not a problem, I could expect my luggage to arrive later that evening, or the next day at the latest. Fan-fricking-tastic.

Well, the night came and went, as did the next day. No luggage. I checked online repeatedly and only ever saw “search underway, check back later.” That, along with news articles from earlier in the summer detailing how atrocious the situation was in Amsterdam – 16,000 abandoned pieces of luggage – put me in a dour mood.

But then, during a talk on the second day of the conference, I randomly checked again and the status changed to “luggage in transit, expected delivery by 10pm.” Oh thank heavens, I was so excited to wear fresh clothes.

I was marveling at my luck on this trip, but it was about to run out. That evening I went out with colleagues for dinner, and felt a bit of a scratch in my throat. The next day this developed into an infection that felt pretty darn viral. Nothing for it but for me to just hang out in my hotel room the whole day. Missed 2/3rds of the conference that had been the whole point of me traveling in the first place. I eventually got myself medicated and feeling great, enough to eat out one last time and get myself home.

As I transited back through Amsterdam airport, I felt kinship with these unfortunate souls who were waiting in line to get out of the main thoroughfare and into baggage claim. Can’t imagine what the hold-up was. Maybe they needed all available space in baggage claim to hold the security line?

In the end, I’ll always have a part of me left in Sweden. Specifically, my trusty Apple water bottle I’ve kept on me since 2013, which fractured after I dropped it on my way out of the hotel room.

All the best old friend.

…is the word I would use to describe this trip so far, decorated as it was with so many happy little accidents and moments. What follows is a description mostly confined to the first two legs of my trip: Amsterdam and Antwerp. I’ll follow up with a separate post about Sweden.

For anyone whose first reaction to glancing at the length of this is ain’t-nobody-got-time-for-that, here’s a few selections that are worth reading:

• Most serendipitous moment arising from a t-shirt
• Best meal
• Most disturbing museum exhibit
• Best dog
• Most cathartic experience

The ratio of stuff to do, vs the time to write about done stuff, is too dang high, as the meme goes. But this morning there was a confluence of two factors: (a) the lovely weather has finally run its course and it looks like it’s gonna be a wet one today, and (b) I’ve run all out of clean clothes. So I’m beginning this post in a laundromat in Antwerp.

The laundromat saga is pretty funny. It starts hours before heading out to the Seattle airport. I hadn’t felt like shoving in two whole weeks’ worth of clothes into my suitcase, and figured I’d just use the laundry machines in the hotel half-way through the trip. Totally unrelatedly, I’d read online that you can buy pretty much anything with credit cards, and if you need cash you can just go to one of the many ATM machines located throughout these large cities.

So off I went on a trip with no euros and no clothes for the last half of the trip. And until this morning it was just as fine as they’d said, never had to use cash once (with the exception of a late-night grocery store that wouldn’t let me buy apples).

To summarize this tale:

• Hotels will clean your clothes, but you have to pay for it, and my five days’ worth of laundry would have cost me about €100 (€1 ≈ $1). No thanks.
• ATMs will take credit cards, but you need to have set up a PIN. If you haven’t done that before, you can start the process online but they will mail you your initial PIN. Big help.
• The laundromat will take cards, but not Visa, only European banking cards.
• I found a currency exchange which did take my last $20 bill and exchange it for €17, but they wouldn’t give me any more than two €1 coins, citing a shortage of coins generally. I knew from scoping out the laundromat that I’d need more coins than that to get the detergent I’d need.
• The payment terminal at the laundromat did give me an extra €2 coin as change, but the vending machine ate it. Sigh.
• A happy ending: the only other person in the laundromat spoke just enough English to help me call the proprietor, and spoke with him on the phone. The proprietor remotely instructed the payment terminal to spit out an extra €2, and now my laundry is humming along.

After this I’ll probably catch a train down to Brussels for the day. This evening is a concert back here in Antwerp by Sofi Tukker (here’s a couple of their songs; I recommend playing it in the background, their music videos are weird). Tomorrow will be an interesting day. I catch a train in the morning back to Amsterdam, then another train to the airport, then a flight to Sweden, where the conference is located. Articles like these indicate I might be in for a rough time getting into the air. (Also, wow, just saw that the airport’s CEO is stepping down due to these delays and labor shortages.)

But let’s rewind to Amsterdam.

[Editor’s note: I am no longer in a laundromat in Antwerp, and have since made it to Sweden in a thrilling tale that I’ll convey in a follow-up post.]

Most serendipitous moment arising from a t-shirt

While packing in Washington for my flight, I decided to wear a shirt Hayden had gotten for me bearing the U.C. Davis brand. After landing in Amsterdam just after noon, I had plenty of time to wander around the city, so I got a’ walkin’.

My first stop was some fish and chips for lunch, during which I took a bit of a snoozer. After that was the “Rembrandt House”, a museum erected within the house in which Rembrandt lived and worked. It was here that I learned that “box beds” are a thing, and I’m supremely glad I don’t live in those times.

After that I wandered past a clock tower where a tour had just begun and I managed to catch up to them. The views from the top were excellent; I loved seeing how various rooftop gardens were arranged.

I exchanged a few words with someone on the tour, related to the workings of the clock. After we had exited to ground level he smiled and bid me goodbye. I asked him – hey, do you know of any good places to eat around here? He suggested a dense area of shops nearby, and in particular a good Thai restaurant. I headed there and was able to get a table upstairs near the back. Before sitting down a man dining alone at a neighboring table asked me about my shirt, if I’d gone to U.C. Davis. We struck up a conversation and I ended up eating with him at his table. His name was Paul and he owns a small estate planning firm in northern California, which gives him the opportunity to routinely travel for the heck of it.

Real fun connection, thanks to Hayden’s shirt.

Worst tourist mistake

This is a close tie between catching a 45-minute train to The Hague the next day without buying a proper ticket, and deciding to go The Hague on a Monday, when nearly everything is closed.

When I arrived in Amsterdam on Sunday I bought a three-day transit pass for Amsterdam. I wasn’t sure whether The Hague would qualify, but hey that pass got me onto the train platform on Monday morning so maybe it would be fine. After I arrived I tried to exit, and no joy. That’s fine, I’d just look around for a ticket kiosk and square things up. But whoops, the only ticket kiosks were on the other side of the gates. As a final resort I buzzed information to explain the situation, and got quite a tongue lashing from someone apparently very frustrated with American tourists and their careless ways.

“Ok can you look at your ticket? It says Amsterdam. And do you know what city you’re currently in? You need to inform yourself, you can’t use an Amsterdam ticket in The Hague.”

“I know, I made a mistake.”

Sigh “You made a mistake. You’re always making mistakes. You need to inform yourself before you travel. You need to buy the right ticket. I’m opening the gate, go on through.”

Anywho. After that I went straight to the kiosk and bought a two-way ticket from The Hague back to Amsterdam, to cover the cost of my stolen transit.

I found myself in a pretty quiet part of town, and headed towards the commercial center. I was greeted with empty squares and muted streets. Most places were still closed for the morning, and others were just closed for all of Monday, including a few art galleries that looked interesting. Boo hoo.

I grabbed some sushi for lunch (“Dutch rolls” are not tasty) and then wandered towards a big park, which turned out to have some lovely walking trails, with plenty of people taking their dogs on a stroll.

I exited not far from Madurodam, a place Google Maps characterized as a “theme park”, and decided to check it out. It was too small to have any proper rides, so I was wondering what all the fuss was about. It turned out to be full of miniature models of buildings and other objects of interest throughout the Netherlands. There was an extensive model train network that ran through the whole park, an airport with taxiing planes, and tiny cargo shipping containers moving up and down the waterways.

Thus far on this trip I’d been traveling exclusively on foot (excepting the train between cities). I saw I was not terribly far from a beach and decided to rent an e-bike, as my feet were starting to feel it.

Spent an hour or so at the beach, and then had to make a timely departure back to Amsterdam.

Best meal

That would be the chicken burger I had after returning from The Hague, but it requires some backstory. When I arrived on Sunday I did some walking around and came across a “cultural literary center” whose doors were open to the public, and had a lovely courtyard. On a poster I spotted that on Monday evening they’d be holding a violin, saxophone, and percussion performance. Tickets were only €7, so I made plans to be there.

I had to book it from the beach in The Hague back to Amsterdam, but made it just in time for the 7:30pm showing. I hadn’t eaten dinner yet.

It was an intimate affair, only 20 or so people in attendance. I took a seat right next to some drums. I made passing note of the fact that they each had a bamboo reed affixed via suction cup to the center of the drum skin. Curious, but didn’t dwell on it. When the organizer initiated the proceedings, he asked if anyone here did not speak Dutch. I was the only one to raise my hand, so the rest of the intro was conducted in English. This was gonna be neat, a real authentic experience.

When the violinist began her performance, I became a bit confused. I was given to understand that this person was well-practiced with her instrument and knew more-or-less how to use it to produce musical tones. But that did not come across at all; what emanated instead alternated between violent screeching and unharmonious twanging. I wanted to ask her, “Do you.. do you need help? I can pull up a video if you’re confused about what that should sound like.”

I looked around and could tell there were others in the audience that were similarly put off. When she was finally done, we all politely clapped. The organizer stood and said, “thanks very much for that musical… lecture.” I was starting to feel pretty hungry.

Next up was a pair of musicians playing the saxophone and percussion. As they were preparing, it dawned on me that the reeds I’d seen attached to the drums were actually going to serve a purpose in this weird concert. The percussionist dipped his fingers into a bowl of water and ran them up and down the reeds, getting them nice and wet.

He then proceeded to strum up and down the reeds and tap them on their ends. To be fair, this did produce some interesting sounds that I would classify as musical, but for the most part they weren’t arranged in any kind of melodious sequence.

His partner on the saxophone was just as bad as the violinist. Like, I wanted to say, “Sir, you are wrong. That is an incorrect noise you are making.”

They finished their number, after which point they introduced themselves. Oh no. This was gonna keep going. I was getting pretty hangry now. There had been an intermission after the violinist, and I should have taken the chance to escape. Freedom was just two feet through the walls behind me, but from where I was sitting I would’ve had to clamber over the entire rest of the audience and ask them to unlock the door for me. Briefly entertained the notion of feigning a medical issue.

For their next number, they mixed it up a bit, reaching for what I had thought were a pair of toy plastic chickens. But apparently these toy chickens had holes that one can blow through to produce noise, and that was enough to qualify them as musical instruments.

They wrapped that one up. “This next piece is titled–“

At this point about four members of the audience got up from their seats and headed for the door. Escape. I sprang from my seat and headed out with them. Once outside we shared a knowing look and a chuckle. “Freedom!” quipped one of the women who’d made for the exit.

That chicken burger I ate at 9:45pm at a cheap hole-in-the-wall restaurant was the best meal I had in Amsterdam.

Best pan-handlers

Tuesday was my first full day to explore Amsterdam. I had heard that Amsterdammian pancakes (Amsterdammish? Amsterdamic?) are worth sampling, and indeed that’s correct.

(Heh, “pan-handlers”, get it? Pancakes?)

From there Tuesday turned into museum-and-art-gallery day; conveniently, there’s a cluster of both in one particular part of town.

There’s a tunnel that runs through a museum in Amsterdam where the acoustics are fantastic. A street performer was singing an opera on my way in, and on the way out someone had taken her place and was playing the violin. After my experience on Monday evening, this was especially lovely.

Favorite nocturnal activity

I booked passage on a night-time canal cruise. Unfortunately the guide was in the form of recorded audio played over tinny earbuds, so I eschewed that and just enjoyed the views. It was fun people-watching through open windows.

Best breakfast in Amsterdam

Wednesday morning was spent in the business district south of the city center. It was surprising how urban Amsterdam became after only a few minutes on the train.

I hadn’t eaten before I left and spotted a breakfast place across the way. Had a delicious omelet.

The reason why I was in the business district in the first place was to check out the Google office there. It was cozy, occupying only a few floors in a high-rise.

Made it in time for lunch, but I was still full from that breakfast. I realized though that my meals over the last few days had been pretty devoid of greens, so I scarfed down some veggies before making my exit.

Tastiest meal in Amsterdam

That honor would have to go to the Indonesian restaurant I ate at on Wednesday, my final evening in Amsterdam. Got a tip from Marco that one really must eat Indonesian food while in Amsterdam. So I saved it for Wednesday, my fancy night out. On my first day in town I’d done a bit of Googling looking for performances to attend and found a Beethoven concert Wednesday evening.

All my prior meals had been basically “what looks good nearby”, whereas this restaurant was the kind to take a reservation. It was also only a 10-minute walk from the concert hall, so, groovy.

I was resting in a grassy park on Wednesday afternoon when it was time to head back – I wanted to change out of my walking-around clothes for the concert, which meant a pit-stop at the hotel. I started heading to a metro station and was on a lovely street, when I realized I was heading in the exact opposite direction. Backtracked and booked it to the metro station, the hotel, the tram line, and the restaurant. I was running behind schedule, and wasn’t able to relax until the roasted prawns arrived and I knew I’d have plenty of time to eat before having to leave for the concert.

I left the restaurant 20 minutes before showtime. Half-way to the concert hall, I double-checked the start time and realized it started 45 minutes later than I’d thought. I needn’t have rushed at all earlier and I had a full hour to lolly-gag. Perfect. The restaurant and concert hall were in the same area as a number of museums and a wide grassy park.

I saw someone eating grapes and got a hankering. Google Maps told me there was a grocery store right beneath my feet. Found the entrance, bought some fruit – regular berries, along a type of smaller berries I’d never seen before.

Both fruits were delicious but I knew I couldn’t finish it all. ‘Wouldn’t it be nice if there were a homeless person nearby I could give the rest of this to.’ Not five minutes later the old man sitting on the bench next to me wandered over, identified himself as homeless, and kindly asked if he could have some of my food. Cool.

Given that I had booked tickets only three days prior to the actual show-time, the seats I’d managed to get weren’t the best. Third row from the front, third seat from the right. The kind where you’d naturally want to angle yourself to the left to avoid straining your neck. Which is what I had planned on doing, until Vernon Dursley sat down next to me. I was now angling myself in the opposite direction and straining my neck, all the while realizing that I don’t actually like Beethoven that much.

The performance after the intermission was nicer: the music got better after they moved on to other composers, and the couple sitting to my right decided to leave for whatever reason, so I was able to shift to their spot and sit much more comfortably for the rest of the show.

On the way back I could have caught a tram, but I was thinking that my feet hadn’t quite been punished enough on this trip. But really I just wanted to do one last late-night walk through the city.

Most expensive hour of sleep

On Thursday morning I had a train ticket reservation to bring me from Amsterdam to Antwerp. I had scheduled it for 7:30am, figuring that I’d still be jet-lagged and naturally waking up at like 4:30am, which is how things were last time I was in Europe. To my consternation I had evidently adjusted better this time around, and woke up about three minutes before the train was due to depart. I could guess from prior experience with European transit staff that I’d receive no sympathy, so I just booked a new one-way ticket for €70. Ouch.

Most wooden-est bikes

After arriving in Antwerp I contemplated checking out the nearby zoo, but my card was randomly declined, so I went off to the nearest commercial center. Spotted some pretty nifty bikes.

From there I visited a small arboretum, an art gallery, and a cathedral.

Most disturbing museum exhibit

Next up I headed to Antwerp’s most well-known museum, Museum aan de Stroom (“Museum on the River”). This was the best one of the trip, with ten floors of interesting exhibits.

There was an exhibit that featured models of giant baby faces that used to be carted around in parades. I forget why. Was kind of busy making sure they weren’t going to eat me.

But that’s not the most disturbing exhibit. That distinction goes to a series of illustrations of contemporary “speculative design projects” examining how we might feed an ever-growing population in the future. A couple examples:

• What if cannibalism were moral?
• What if we could just shrink all the humans? Say, to the size of a chicken.

And then there’s “algaculture”, which proposes a future wherein “humans are enhanced with algae living inside new bodily organs. By allowing us to be semi-photosynthetic, we become plant-like by gaining food from light.”

On the way to dinner I found myself in a Hasidic Jewish quarter, and it was very interesting seeing so many in their characteristically uniform garb. Passed some young children playing, who all had the traditional sidecurls as well. The scene contrasted interestingly with the horrible things that happened to these people in the 1940s in this part of the world.

Best Google office

Friday was my laundry day, followed by catching a train to Brussels. Google’s office was a good walk away, so I set that as my target and meandered roughly towards it. Walked through some amazing parks, large and small. Got hit by some nasty weather and just powered through, no umbrella or anything. Finally made it to Google and the vibe was arresting, being right next to one of those aforementioned amazing parks.

Friendliest concertgoers

Next up after Google was a train back to Antwerp to attend the event I was there for in the first place – that concert by Sofi Tukker.

On the way I stopped by a hole-in-the-wall burger place for some quick food. Turns out they only accept cash or bank cards, no Visa. When I explained my situation the cashier just wrote their bank info on a piece of paper and told me to try and pay via my bank. I told him it probably will not be possible but he just shrugged it off, with an “as long as you try.” Real nice folks. And the burger was delicious.

While the opening act was playing, I struck up a conversation with someone standing next to me. He and his friends had driven in for the concert from near Dusseldorf, Germany. I spent the rest of the show hanging with them.

Leonard, on the left, was single-minded in his determination to find “the afterparty”. I graciously turned down their imploration to join them on a night on the town, as I had already overslept one train on this trip and wasn’t looking to derail my voyage to Sweden the next day.

Best duck

There’s the duck I saw while wandering around The Hague that looked relatively fierce for a bird.

And then there’s the duck I ate in a French cafe in Brussels while waiting out the torrential downpour outside.

This meal is why I qualified “Tastiest meal in Amsterdam” above; it was that good, best of the trip so far.

Best dog

This is a close tie between an anonymous dog I spotted in a park near the museums in Amsterdam, having the time of his life; and Rhapsody, the dog I met during a hailstorm while cowering under the entrance to a chocolate shop in Brussels, whose owner extends her well wishes to Scout.

Best birds

There was a moment when I was looking out the train window on the way to The Hague when I spotted four green parakeet-looking birds soaring alongside us. Reminded me of this scene from a childhood movie.

Fanciest hotel

In Amsterdam I stayed at the Grand Hotel Amrâth, and it lived up to its name. It featured an old-timey elevator that reinforced to me that just because something is fancy does not mean that I want to actually use it every day. It was a pain to use each day because it was so slow-moving, and I didn’t find out until my final evening that there had been a separate normal elevator this whole time. Near that elevator I saw they still had a paternoster, though it was for show only. These things would slowly move up and down continuously in a loop, and you just needed to be nimble enough to hop on and off at the right spot. A placard explained that the name “paternoster” comes from “Our Father”, the first words of the Lord’s Prayer, as the elevator system resembles rosary beads.

Coolest button in a hotel

While relaxing in the pool at my hotel in Amsterdam, I noticed a small black oval affixed to the wall. The label above it read “yetstream sensor”. Curious. I put my hand on it and was immediately blown backwards by the strongest water jet I’d ever experienced in a pool. Clearly meant to swim against for exercise. Was fun.

Best sign

There were a few that gave me a chuckle.

Coolest statues

Least flattering lighting on a mannequin

Most reverent Catholic church

I attended two Catholic churches; one was a cathedral in Antwerp, and the other was some random smaller church in Amsterdam (though still incredibly old and grand by American standards). The cathedral was massive and fairly commercialized, with a cafe and gift shop installed within. The smaller church had free admittance, with only a donation bin to pay for candles to light. It also had much nicer stained glass windows.

There was one neat occurrence as I was exiting the smaller church. I had noticed someone my age had come in and made the sign of the cross several times, and knelt in prayer. We left around the same time; he didn’t stay long. I noticed he was a street courier of some kind. Just came in and reverently prayed, walked out and donned his bluetooth headphones, and was gradually lost in the sea of people.

Most cathartic experience

I’m skipping ahead a bit to an episode from the Sweden leg of the trip. Sunday morning I grabbed breakfast at the hotel and then caught public transit off to church. Having looked at this area only via Google Maps, I was surprised at how well-connected everything is by public transit, despite its being not nearly as dense as any of the other towns I’ve visited so far. Two buses and ten minutes’ walk and I was at the church. The weather was a bit overcast, not too chilly. It was nice walking past suburban Nordic neighborhoods.

Everyone was very kind and welcoming at church. I picked the right week to come, as we had some food afterwards.

I ate with an Indian and an American who were both here for work. The American recommended a hike to me, a beautiful lake with a nice cafe nearby. It would take an hour by bus to get there.

It was lightly raining when I set off on foot towards the bus stop. Before getting far I noticed a foot path leading off into a wooded area behind the church. Following it led me to an exposed rock face adorned with trees and moss. The wilderness area was vast, with foot paths of varying degrees of use that led between deep tree cover and open air. I was awestruck the entire time. The light patter of rain against the rocks and trees only enhanced the sublimity of the moment. Ended up wandering for an hour and a half; I really did not want to leave. Pictures are a poor approximation, but here’s a few anyways.

The rain was periodically interrupted by sunlight peeking through the cloud cover. I might have stayed longer, but the sky turned darker and it threatened to rain more heavily, so I begrudgingly skedaddled, in a scene reminiscent of this classic opener.

Thankfully it didn’t end up raining and I was able to catch a bus back into town to see a few more sights, before meeting up with fellow Googlers who had made it into town for the conference the following day.

Stay tuned for the gripping tale of how both myself and my luggage made it from Antwerp to Gothenburg.

This week can be summed up thusly:

• Two or three times this week, on the way to bed, I’ve stopped by the living room floor for a bit of a snoozer and slept there all night.
• On one occasion I woke up on the floor at ~4:45am, grumbled and got back in my living room chair and resumed coding until 12:30pm when I had to drive into the office for a meeting, then didn’t leave the office till ~10pm that evening.
• I let my kitchen run dry in the run-up to my D.C. trip last week, and I’ve been surviving off scraps since then. On Friday evening I literally had nothing left to eat and ended up making some popcorn, which I finished off Saturday morning, and didn’t eat anything else that day until 5pm.

So here’s to hoping next week is a bit more sane.

It’s a lonelier house this morning than it was yesterday. I’ve been hosting Moroni the cat for two months, and yesterday was the day his owner took him back. We had some adventures together, not the least being when he escaped from my house into the dark and rainy night and then came back and woke me up at 4:30am the next morning.

On the drive back I decided to let him roam around the inside of the car. He whined a bit but then was real calm, and eventually settled down into my lap for the drive – I’ve never been able to get him to sit there.

Here’s the kicker. On the way back I get a text from Hillary, Moroni’s owner. To paraphrase: “I forgot to mention, I’ve left the Church, it’s a cult, and the cat’s name is Maroon now. Thanks for taking care of him.”

So long Moroni, thanks for all the fish.

My trip to D.C. was great fun. I loved hanging with Hayden and Callie, seeing the art galleries, and finding my way around public transit. The conference was very productive. I’m not super in this group, but my colleague who I’m traveling with is. He volunteered me to give an impromptu presentation on post-quantum cryptography, and now I’m known as the guy with the awesome slide deck on hash-based signatures.

Proceeding further in reverse chronological order, turns out I am the Duck Whisperer. (He/she was just hungry and fearless, and we were eating lunch on the lake.)

Had an awesome time up at James & Karen’s place for a 5th-of-July BBQ. I really wish I could find a picture I took the first time they invited me out, back in 2017 or so. It’s fun seeing their kids grow up.

The actual 4th of July was something else. I decided to go into Gasworks Park, as did half the city. The traffic getting there was crazy, but the traffic getting out was unreal. I should’ve brought a book or something because it took literally two hours to get back home, normally takes 20 minutes.

I attended a wedding of a couple of good friends. They were both recent converts, and actually hit it off after attending a General Conference viewing at my place.

Now, I haven’t attended that many weddings. Plenty of receptions, but not the ceremonies. So when I see the event starts at 4pm, I think, ok, I’ll plan on getting there around 4:15 or 4:30. As I’m getting ready to walk out the door I check the invite for any details on parking. “Guests may arrive at 3:30. The ceremony will start around 4 o’clock.” Shooooot.

I broke many a speed limit and arrived at around 4:10. The ceremony was in full swing out on the lawn at the golf club, with the bishop in the middle of his remarks. I sheepishly walked up, thankfully to the back of the guests, though I’m sure I showed up in some of the photographer’s shots. Made it in time for the reading of the vows.

Caught up with some old friends, including some sister missionaries I used to help out as ward mission leader. Great times.

(Had some fun in the Tesla afterwards.)

Other miscellaneous happenings include a hike and outdoor movie night.

Went indoor rock climbing with a friend. She taught me how to belay – you’re not supposed to do that unless you’re an actual instructor, but she was a good teacher and I passed off a short test at the end of the visit, so now I have my “belay license”.

Went on a weekend outing to do a service project at a church-owned ranch, and afterwards stopped by a wallaby ranch.

Whew, that pretty much sums up the month-and-a-half backlog of happenings. Looking forward to hosting mom and dad for a few days next week!