But then I took a little side trip (S.Hrg.112-54)

For my last trip to see TJ in Uzbekistan, we visited Kazakhstan. During my previous two visits to Central Asia, we exhausted most of the sights in Tashkent and along the Silk Road. I never made it to the main attraction of Samarkand, but I felt I had my fill of beige minarets and blue domes, so I easily agreed with TJ's suggestion to go to Almaty. 

After my flight from London landed, I basically picked up my baggage and TJ, then we boarded the plane to the former Kazakh capital (Astana took over in 1997). After dropping off our stuff at our vacation apartment, we started wandering around the city. We stopped at William Lawson's The 13 Bar to get some snacks and our bearings (left). Before moving on, TJ chatted up a kilt-wearing employee of the Scottish-themed bar to get some sight-seeing suggestions (right).

It was already evening, so our grand tour would have to wait until the next day. In the meantime, we headed to a spot high on TJ's agenda: Bar Shtab, a locals gathering place known for its broad selection of beers (top left) and smoked fish (top right). We sampled both along with another common beer snack, chechil, or smoked string cheese (bottom left). Tasty as they both were, we were still hungry, so we capped off the night with dinner at Georgian restaurant Daredzhani, including national dish khinkali (bottom right).

After a long day of flying and eating, it was time for some fresh air. After a quick breakfast on the go, we hopped a bus to a stop near Medeu skating rink, so we could ride a cable car (top left). As we soared over the Alatau mountains (top right), we passed next to the skating rink, which just a few weeks earlier was a venue for the college-level competition Winter Universiade. On the day we cruised by, it was playing host to a motocross race -- on ice (bottom).

At the high end of the cable car is Shymbulak ski resort (top left), which was quite busy due to recent snowfall. Some slopes were even closed due to dangerous conditions, but plenty of people, especially kids, were taking advantage of the bunny slopes (top right). TJ and I aren't really avid skiers, so we didn't hit the slopes ourselves, but we did enjoy a warm-up beverage in the Chalet restaurant (bottom). 

After we made it back to town, by way of a very crowded bus ride, we did our own walking tour of Almaty's tourist attractions, starting with Zelyony bazaar, the place to go for produce (left). And in case you are a connoisseur of kazy, there is a wide selection of horse sausage to choose from as well (right).

A few blocks away, birds found their feast via fair-feather friends next to Zenkov Cathedral (top). You can't tell from its intricate architecture, but the building is one of the oldest wooden cathedrals in the world, constructed without the use of any nails (bottom left). Another structure in the same park recognizes a different type of amazing feat. Panfilov Park Memorial bears the names of 28 soldiers, said to be from Almaty and Bishkek, who resisted an hours-long onslaught by German tanks in November 1941 (bottom right). A movie made about "Panfilov's 28 Guardsmen" led to accusations that the entire story was invented as part of Soviet propaganda efforts.   

Central Asia seems to have a knack for overdoing its attempts at authenticity. Almaty wasn't quite as bad as Tashkent, but nonetheless, we found ourselves in a couple of places trying very hard but not so successfully to be British pubs. Line Brew, where we eventually ate dinner, seemed to be going for a Bavarian beer hall theme (left) that didn't really match the overpriced steaks on its menu (right). 

We didn't want to take any chances that I would miss my flight back to London, so we returned to Tashkent with a day and a half to spare. During an outing to find a plov pan, we took a few coffee breaks, starting at Antract cafe, where I had a savory meat pie with my fancy cappuccino (left). Later, when I realized I needed something sweet for balance, I ordered a piece of chocolate cake and a honey-infused coffee at Black Bear (right).  

 

Perhaps a little too bold after obtaining the plov pan, we decided to go to dinner at Nam Dae Mun, a sushi restaurant (top left). We braved one roll in this doubly-landlocked country, but both of us ordered back-up dishes, including shrimp noodles for me (top right). There were no immediate indications of food poisoning, so we finished the night with some big beers at Brasserie (bottom left). We were still feeling fine the next day, so our last stop before my long flight was at Evos to fill up on lavash, the best burrito one can get this side of the Caspian Sea (bottom right). 

She's got her own girls' weekend (DCPD-201600672)

In England, I got so used to touring solo that I almost forgot how much fun it is to travel with a group. I was quickly reminded when I was asked to join a girls' weekend in Bath, where we stayed in a rowhouse with a view of the Mendip Hills in the distance (top). The town's name and claim to fame come from the Roman Baths right downtown (bottom left). They attract a lot of tourists, but the streets were crowded not for submersion in history but for immersion in the annual Christmas Market, which features plenty of craft stalls and cozy chalets (bottom right).

 

It's a good place to get into the holiday spirit beyond the consumer aspect of buying gifts. Around every corner is a band (top left) or a choir (top right) sharing Christmas carols. I'm not much of a church person myself, but I still enjoyed singing along with the crowd during a short community service at Bath Abbey (bottom).

Quite a few months later, a friend and I took a road trip to York, another Roman city, this one known for its protection instead of its plumbing. People come from far and wide to see its city walls, so to find reasonably-priced dog-friendly accommodation, we had to look outside of town, to the Fauconberg Arms (top). Sadly, we never got to mingle in the pub as we quickly checked in to our doll-house room (bottom left), so we could go explore the city, much to Sage's chagrin (bottom right).

Thanks to a great recommendation, we parked in a perfect lot just beyond the walls. We walked through York Museum Gardens on our way to downtown. On the grounds is St. Mary's Abbey, whose ruins are impressive even in comparison to the city's complete cathedral (left). Down the hill next to the River Ouse sits an outbuilding that the abbey used as a guesthouse or warehouse; now, The Hospitium can be hired out for private events, including weddings (right).

Our first official stop was lunch at Lamb and Lion Inn, whose beer garden is overlooked by the City Walls. We waved to the passers-by as we enjoyed some pints from York Brewery (top left). We never actually got around to walking the walls. We also didn't hike to the top of Clifford's Tower, the sole remnants of the city's castle (top right). And we didn't even climb the towers of the York Minster to enjoy the view (bottom).

 

Instead, we continued to wander around the city, oftentimes stopping for refreshment. On the roof deck of The Habit, we got downright touristy by taking a selfie with the cathedral in the background (top left). Then we mingled with a lot of tourists and taxidermy at The House of Trembling Madness (top right). Both were right around the corner from The Shambles, an area of narrow streets with enchanting buildings at wonky angles. Behind them is a daily market that had lots of treats on offer (bottom), but we opted for Mr. P's Curious Tavern for dinner.

The next morning, during a walk with Sage, I got to see the wonders of Coxwold, which bills itself as one of the prettiest villages in Yorkshire. The town's church, St. Michael's, is recognized for its octagonal tower and its regular services for cyclists by cyclists (left). If I were riding in the Yorkshire Moors around the town (right), I might end up pleading for god's help on some of the inclines.

 

I enjoyed the scenery so much that I took Sage on a fairly long walk. Turns out, I didn't need to because he had plenty of room to roam at Fountains Abbey (top left). The Benedictine monastery founded in the 12th century is remarkably well-preserved, mostly due to its location in a wind-protected valley (top right). In the 16th century, the abbey and surrounding land was bought by a private citizen, who turned it into an estate with a hall, mill, and deer park that are now part of the National Trust (bottom).

Exercised three times per week including long bike rides (09-3405 - Saunders v. Astrue)

When I found out that TJ and I wouldn't be on home leave together, I decided to sign up for the Great Ohio Bicycle Adventure, an event I had wanted to participate in since I was kid. Problem is, I wasn't a kid anymore, and if I was going to ride the required average 50 miles per day, I was going to need to get in shape. My fitness level was pretty high after training for a half-marathon, but still, I needed some butt conditioning, if you catch my drift. My training regimen provided a good excuse for me to schedule a weekend trip to the Cotswolds, where I could find a variety of long "hills and headwinds" rides. 

So I booked a room at a B&B in Shipton under Wychwood, which seemed to be a good base for loop rides located conveniently close to a train station. I left work early to catch my train, but didn't find out until one stop away from my destination that my bike couldn't get off at the close train station, so I ended up going one more stop and doing a short training ride -- with my backpack -- to get to the Wychwood Inn (top left). I wonder if my hosts, who generously allowed me to store my bike inside, questioned whether my sweaty, disheveled self matched the flowery, orderly room they gave me (top right). Although the rooms were modern, the inn was old, revealing wood beams prevalent in the region (bottom left). The restaurant below was a gastropub, so I began my weekend trip with a locavore meal, another feature the area is known for (bottom right).

 

 

The Cotswolds are very bike-friendly, with various organizations promoting cycle routes. For my first day, I decided to combine parts of route 3 and route 6 from the Cotswolds Conservation Board. The overall loop consisted of about 40 miles, so I felt entitled to order the full English at breakfast before I set off (left). The first town on my route, Charlbury, was just waking up and experiencing some showers when I passed through, so I pushed on through the countryside (right).

Burford, on the other hand, was bustling with activity, which was not a surprise, considering it is one of the main gateways to the Cotswolds, right off a major highway. I found a cozy pub, The Angel, on a side street (top left), where I refueled with a pasta lunch (top right). As I headed out of town, I followed the River Windrush, which gives its name to the Windrush Way, a popular and well-marked walking trail (bottom left). Although I traced my route on a map, it was quite comforting to have so many road signs reassuring me that I was heading in the right direction to get home (bottom right).

After freshening up, I decided to spend the evening in a nearby town within walking distance, Milton under Wychwood (top left). I enjoyed a pint and a few pages of Cider with Rosie, a memoir of a Cotswolds childhood, in the beer garden of The Hare (top right). When the sun went down and a chill came in, I moved inside to sample the pub's farm-to-table fare. I opted for fish stuffed with seasonal vegetables (middle left), followed by a treacle tart, also known as the best dessert ever (middle right). Belly full, I called it an early night, so I could rest up for another ride the next day (bottom). 

The plan for my second ride, a combination of route 7 and route 4, was a bit shorter, considering I would need to catch a train back to London in late afternoon. That morning, I broke my fast with some salmon and scrambled eggs on toast (left). Then I set out to Bourton on the Water, another popular Cotswolds base due to the fact that its downtown business district clusters right along the river (right). 

After passing through many lovely fields (top), my next stop, Moreton in Marsh, was a bit of a disappointment. The market town is inhabited more by locals than tourists. I didn't even get to peruse the market because it is held on Tuesdays. So that meant the highlight was The Bell Inn, which claims to have been J.R.R. Tolkien's inspiration for an inn in The Lord of the Rings (bottom left). I was making good time, so I didn't stop for lunch, but I did stop for a drink at the Horse & Groom in Upper Oddington, which had an aesthetically pleasing but entirely unnecessary fire burning in its hearth (bottom right).

I made it back to my B&B in plenty of time to pick up my stuff then head over to Kingham, the not-so-close town with the nearest train station, for lunch. I wasn't dressed very spiffily, but they didn't seem to mind at the Michelin Star-winning Wild Rabbit (top), perhaps because I found a discreet seat in the bar area, where I late-lunched on some pig-cheek croquettes (bottom left). It was really difficult to not "accidentally" miss my train; thankfully, on the way back home, I had a lingering reminder of my uplifting weekend (bottom right).