London, episode 15. In which I attempt to pay the Bard.

Our Scottish adventure also included a much-needed visit to a local laundrette to refresh that favorite shirt of mine (among other necessities), so it was back in wardrobe (and photographic) rotation during our visit to the Palace of Holyroodhouse.

Mari and I have come up with a pretty basic formula for what to pack for one of our two or three week adventures; for me, it basically involves dividing the number of full days on the road by four and wearing that number of shirts twice before doing laundry halfway through the trip.

Travel Algebra anyone?

During our 20-day Olympics adventure that meant doing laundry on the 11th day after I had worn my 5 favorite shirts twice in successive rotation.

I won't get into any more (TMI) detail, but fresh undergarments are a daily must.

You be your own judge (and jury), of course, but I would much rather spend one morning or evening of a three-week trip at a local laundromat soaking up some local color than devote precious daily itinerary time to washing clothes in the compact confines of hotel bathrooms.

Back to the slightly more interesting story behind the Palace photo... Mari is a big fan of British royal history and (like her adventuresome husband) all things British, so we were thrilled to find ourselves a mere hop off of our hop-on-hop-off Edinburgh bus tour from the historic royal estate.

Home to British monarchy since its origins in the 12th century, Holyroodhouse was once home to a favorite of Mari's, Mary Queen of Scots. We could not pass up an opportunity for a visit which included an extensive tour inside several buildings including the ill-fated queen's personal apartments.

During a visit to Mount Vernon, just outside Washington, DC, I once experienced what could best be described as "a moment" when faced with George Washington's comfortably worn desk chair, still in position and on display in his study. More of a moment than even visiting his well-tended and stately tomb on the sprawling grounds just outside. This was personal. Walking through Queen Mary's chambers was much the same. So very personal and so relatable. History comes alive given this type of opportunity and I highly recommend a visit to the palace (and Mount Vernon, of course) should you find yourself in either vicinity.

The well-kept site has terrific planning information and photographs.

royalcollection.org.uk/visit/palace-of-holyroodhouse

Following our three days in Scotland, Mari and I enjoyed a lengthy (about 330 miles and seven hours) and very lushly scenic train ride through England to our final pre-Olympics stop, Stratford-upon-Avon.

I was a bit sad to have less than a full day (but a wondrously poetic night) to devote to such a significantly historic and scenic site, but we made the most of our limited time upon Avon with several scenic walks (main street pictured at right) and an exciting evening performance of a favorite play at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre, right on the River Avon.

A Bollywood reinterpretation of Much Ado About Nothing was just what I needed to remind me how powerful and universal Shakespeare's themes and clever dialogue still were hundreds of years after first wittily written.

It was indeed rewarding beyond compare to enjoy a performance so close to Shakespeare's ancestral home.

The next day was Sunday, our first full day at the Olympics.

Another train journey (about 90 miles) would finally deposit me and my beloved (don't forget our giant luggage with freshly-laundered favorites!) in London, leaving in our wake so much anticipation, so much excitement, and so many colorfully emotional memories that even my most revered Bard would hearken in trepidation to face the dauntless task of enveloping them in the subtle rhythms of his beloved iambic pentameter.

Whew!

When Mari and I first crossed the cavernous threshold of the ExCeL Centre that Sunday evening for the first of thirteen zealously and meticulously scheduled events, we were more than ready to shake the weeks' travel dust from our sensible trainers and settle into the final week of our Olympic-sized journey.

A midweek mini-break at our favorite country estate next time.

London, episode 14. In which we bolt for Olympic Stadium.

There's a story.

There's a few actually, but let's start with location. Aer Lingus had transported us (and all our luggage) safely across the Irish Sea to Edinburgh, Scotland (not to be confused with Mari's nearby hometown of Edinburg, Texas), for one last weekend adventure before heading to the Olympic Games.

On our first full day we headed out for what appeared to be a short walk up the hill to Edinburgh Castle. You know how that goes. A half mile looks easier planned than walked when you see it on a map, but it was pretty steep going uphill. We stopped about halfway for Mari's photo of the Olympic rings. I just happened to be in the way filming one of my favorite sites.

The colorful temporary advertising was a welcome surprise to us as we came closer and closer to our first day at the Olympic games, just a few days away now after so many years of excited expectation and so many days on the road.

We were thrilled to wake up at the historic Old Waverley Hotel (far left) the day after our arrival to find this spectacular view of the (Sir Walter) Scott Monument outside our window. The monument is on the edge of the beautifully lush Princes Street Gardens which we were happy to walk through on our way up to the castle.

Visit both websites to be sufficiently tempted with colorful photos and visitor information aplenty.

oldwaverley.co.uk

edinburghmuseums.org.uk/Venues/Scott-Monument.aspx

While touring the very touristy and consequently very popular 1000-year-old military stronghold, Mari and I were joined by hundreds of summer visitors; children especially were excited to explore the many rooms of the ancient castle while adults like us were thrilled to enjoy the surrounding views. That's probably not a rumbling from the dormant volcano upon which Edinburgh Castle sits, so you'd better have that checked at the Redcoat Cafe or the Tea Rooms. We were relieved to enjoy a good cuppa (yes, that's herbal iced tea for me) with all the (I won't say accoutrement, but I'm thinking it) gourmet goodies after a pretty full day's tour of the extensive sloping grounds and ancient buildings (not to mention that healthy hike up the hill).

Visit the fully fortified site to help plan your visit and for a calendar of activities.

edinburghcastle.gov.uk

Meanwhile, Mari and I would finally make it into Olympic Stadium for an incredible night of world-class athletics. We had tried to sneak into the stadium for a first-hand view and photograph of the Olympic flame earlier in the week, but only ticket-holders were allowed entry to the first of several security queues which await you at the Olympics.  

Fortunately, we would have our moment in the stadium and with the symbolically magical cauldron on a spectacular Thursday evening.

If you have attended a high school or college track meet, then you know to expect a wide variety of events happening at the same time all over the field and on the track. Such was our luck that midsummer evening with a wide variety of medal rounds in contention by athletes whose hard work, dedication, and dreams would finally coalesce in one perfect moment.

That Thursday we witnessed finals in Men's 200 and 800 meter races and the triple jump. There was also a very hard-fought final round of Women's javelin, and preliminary heats in several races and relays.

It was also the final evening of the Decathlon competition.

Mari and I had attended a variety of events in our first few days at the Games, but had yet to sing "The Star-Spangled Banner" in proud multitudinous (gleefully off-key) unison. We had been itching to hear those first few patriotic strains and we were not to be disappointed.

At left is my best zoom of Ashton Eaton (gold) and Trey Hardee (silver) after their successful completion of the 9th and 10th rounds of the Decathlon that evening. Thanks also to triple jump medalists, Christian Taylor (gold) and Will Claye (silver), for giving us another go at our national anthem.

Our first sighting of the Olympic flame and our first evening in Olympic stadium were the culmination of my own years of daydreams and more than a year of planning. I can only imagine what that evening represented to those amazing athletes and their supportive families, but I know first-hand what it represented to their fans "back home" because I was one of them, even abroad.

For a little while there that Thursday evening, we were all Jamaican, too. Witnessing teammates Usain Bolt (gold, of course), Yohan Blake (silver), and Warren Weir (bronze) sweep the 200 meter race was perhaps the most exciting 20 seconds for all of us assembled.

Not a single jump was attempted nor javelin thrown during those precious seconds when all at once 100,000 raucous individual fans from every corner of our pale blue dot held their collective breaths then released them in gloriously barbaric yawps* of encouragement followed by sensationally ecstatic joy.

*With eternal thanks

to my beloved Whitman.

The fastest man in the world was arguably cool as ever, casting his famous pose for an appreciative crowd then posing for my camera (along with a few thousand others in seating block 218) with his flag-draped teammates.

At the end of our overwhelmingly and patriotically exciting evening, Mari and I finally had the opportunity to pose for a photo with the Olympic flame. We are forever grateful to so many wonderfully welcoming world travelers willing to share a "Kodak moment" with us.

I take my favorite shirt out for a final Scottish spin (cycle) next time.