The lack of elevated spots in Denmark has some people reaching for sub-orbital flight. This one-person capsule was recently on display at our work.

In celebration of the newly elected socialist President François Hollande the French were cruising the Champs-Élysées. The number of Moroccan and Algerian flags almost lead us to believe we were witnessing the northern extension of the Arab Spring. The Arc de Triomphe looming in the background served as a reminder of where we were. The Gendarmerie swiftly squelched riotous moods in the crowd. 

With our heads still buzzing from Argentinian jazz courtesy of Lalo Zanelli and the Ombu Quintet (awesome work on the Soprano Sax) and our stomachs stretched from late night Kebabs (En Paris? Quelle horreur!) endless choices await. One thing is clear, the day must commence with a bird bath of milked down espresso in which to drown a jam slathered croissant.

We've had several days of blue sky. In a row.

You can drive to Mandø at low tide. Just be sure to check the tables so you don't get washed away by the sea during your 3 mile drive through the marshlands. If you don't know when the waters will return, the hotel owner will tell you how much time you have before you need to leave. Consider subtracting an hour from his suggestion.

You might find flocks of birds sweeping the sky for no decernable purpose other than the joy of painting smoke in the air. All joined in one huge organism that turns shapes from bizarre to strange and colors from black to white to brown. A woosh like a Tour de France peleton passing you by makes you think of the collective calories burnt by these tiny stunt pilots.

They look like sand pipers but their beaks are bent, Stanley should know more.

Leigh might find the roads a bit nausea inducing.

The route info was straight-forward, it was just a little tricky to find the pub that had the collection or to even find the base of the climb. We skipped this one.