Really Playing for Pizza: On the road again...

It's back - the Jump Picture! Christie is pumped here to be entering her home and native land of Canadia.

And they're off.

Jason and Christie's 2010 European Adventure (abbreviated from here on out as JC2K10EA) officially kicked off on Friday as we pulled out of our parking structure in Tacoma, Washington, USA at officially 9:02 am Pacific Standard time. Ahead of us lied thousands of miles, a handful of countries, and numerous once-in-a-lifetime experiences -- but first, a day and a half of travel to get there. This is the gritty part of being a traveler, for despite my love of the open road, I must break positological tradition and admit that getting to Europe is not all poppies and strudel.

Happy to have reached the train station in Manchester.

For us, this road required some fancy footwork as an easy direct connection from Seattle to Bordeaux wasn't available for less than the GDP of Andorra. Therefore, we made a four hour drive north to Vancouver to catch our flight to England, filled with it's own intricacies of a border crossing, dropping a car at a nondescript downtown location, praying that it would still be there upon our return, catching a train to the airport, and braving an airport line-up that harkened back to 1982. All of this went fairly according to plan, except the aforementioned line at Thomas Cook Airlines. Doing things "The Old Fashioned Way" might work for Smith Barney in the financial world and does provide interesting material for commercials, but this is not exactly so in the travel biz. Despite arriving at the airport nearly 3 hours before our flight, this English charter company still required an old school face to face meeting, and so no quick electronic check-in kiosks. It seemed everyone - including the 400 odd English bound passengers - knew to expect this and thus arrived at the airport last Thursday to catch this flight. I do want to go on record that my beautiful wife did tell me this, and two stress-filled hours later we were finally checked in and racing to the gate just moments before take-off. The good news is that this delay meant we were not sitting together and therefore I wouldn't need to hear about it the first three hours of the flight, the bad news is that we had the joy of deciding between Middle Seat Next to Crying Baby and Middle Seat That Doesn't Recline.

Street performers come in the soccer variety in the city that first gave us Beckham, Christiano Ronaldo, and Wayne Rooney. Ironically, Thomas Cook stands quietly in the background.

Upon arrival into Manchester, we had a six hour layover before our next flight to Bordeaux. We quickly dropped off our bags inside the airport and hopped on the train for a fifteen-minute train ride into town. The plan was nothing other than walking aimlessly through the city center, and I was curious to see the town that is home to one of the world's top soccer clubs, Manchester United. There was a Saturday market on, and the city buzzed with people looking through various shops and flower-filled stands.

The colors in this picture are a little to close to the Puyallup Vikings.

Yes, I can take pictures of flowers.

Travel guru Rick Steves advocates traveling like a temporary local. This means ditching your typical American attitudes and hang-ups, and making it a point to try new things and experience culture through the eyes of those that live there. This had me a little worried as I surveyed the folks filling the Manchester Piccadilly Station, who either were quite unfortunately dressed or were auditioning for the role of a Jesse James mistress. The over/under on tattoos per person hovered around 15. I know dressing "euro" is a buzz-word among hip Americans, but perhaps those had never seen the average 17 year old Manchesterite. Yes, we were no longer in Kansas.

Great buildings lead to...

... great squares and people watching galore.

Eventually we made our way down into the heart of town where modern gave way to historic and suddenly there were sunny squares filled with people. This was British culture we were looking for. We decided to cure our jet-lag with some time at Sinclair's Oyster Bar, an historic watering hole dating back to the first Gentleman's Club in Manchester, founded in the 18th century. There was fascinating people watching here! (Note -- be sure to ask before trying a local brew as it might be served warm!)

If it's England than it must be time for a pint.

Happy travels.

We spent the rest of the afternoon admiring the old buildings and people watching, which somehow never gets old in this part of the world.

Look this way!

Cool texture.

A little help here?

Manchester city square

On a sightseeing scale, Manchester was pleasant enough but not worthy of a special stop on any itinerary. Perhaps we're a little jaded having been to Europe consistently over the past few years, but I think the true joy in Europe is found in the small villages or in the few great large cities (Rome, Prague, Berlin, etc.) Four hours in the core was much more than enough, and we hurried back to the airport for our connection to France.

I do want to make the note to fellow Chelsea supporters that I did not go to Old Trafford while in town. Go Blues!