Let's see... where did I leave off? I never did see that Mike guy again (sorry, girls!), but the next day I said goodbye to Lahaina and Maui and made it to the airport on time for my puddle-jumper to Oahu, the original Hawaii-Five-O island with Honolulu and nearby Waikiki. My hotel was in Waikiki, a nice enough area of the city, with a great beach and lots of shops and such-- but all artificial. It's like Disneyworld goes Hawaiian, with ritzy hotels thrown in. Even the palm trees, which are real enough, are pruned so the coconuts won't drop on tourists' heads.
One night was plenty for me. I'll take the creaky old hotel in Maui any time.
The next day I had plenty of time to take a tour bus to Pearl Harbor and a drive-by tour of Honolulu. The memorial was very moving; I recommend it to everyone to see it some time. You've all seen the photos, but being there makes it real.
I wandered around until it was time for my overnight flight to Aukland, New Zealand. I don't know if it's just me, or the stars, or what, but this was the third time this trip that my flight was delayed for two hours! Also, after we finally got going, we had a scheduled refuel stop in Fiji, which was frustrating, as I'm going back there after my New Z tour. I wish I could have just stayed there a bit, then flown on. *Sigh* Airlines, ha? Wahdyagonnado?
So we fly into Aukland this morning after a fitful night's sleep, to put it mildly, and suddenly I'm awake. I have no idea what time it is back home, and in fact I lost a day crossing the International Date Line (Not that I mind, but why'd it have to be a saturday??)
On an aside note here, I think I've figured out why I love to travel: every time I arrive in a new place (even one I've been to before, like London), I get this "high" for a while, and simply must hit the streets and walk around. This is even if I've gotten NO sleep on the plane. Heck, I've had poor, exhausted girlfriends break up with me after trips because of that! (One cold, rainy day in Venice comes to mind--poor girl.) It wears off after a while, but for those few, brief glorious hours I feel excited and eager, like a kid at Christmas, as I set off to meander around a new town.
So once again, tired as I was, after finding my hostel (and cruddy room) I lit out to explore Aukland. It's a rather small, very walkable downtown, and I covered it in just a few of hours, with obligatory stops at a pub or two down at the harborfront (where I saw a sign that said "Heineken: Breakfast of Champions"), and a rest on a bench to feed some birds.
And know what? It's nothing much to write home about. They don't walk upside down or talk backwards or anything! Seriously, As I told Jen, if I had to compare, I'd say it's the Baltimore of the southern hemisphere. Decent waterfront, a ho-hum concrete town square, and the requisite tall tower all tourists must go up, presumably to see why they've come thousands of miles to get there. I skipped it, but as I have another day, maybe I'll do it tomorrow.
There are also some parks here that I haven't seen, and I have a nagging suspicion that my tourbook of N.Z (that I haven't read since I was home) might have a suggestion or two. But that will be grist for another day. Meanwhile, I've got a few more local beers to try.
P.S. In one Irish pub they had a sign on the wall which I copied:
AUTHENTIC IRISHMAN FOR HIRE
Storytelling and Singing
Dancing and Carrying On
Available All Hours
Experienced Drinking Companion
Now, does that sound like anyone you know?? I think I'll put it on my next business card.
P.P.S. Oh, and I seem to have, eh, misplaced my camera again, so sorry but I can't post any pictures until I recover it or get a new one. Sorry, C.A.!
Saturday, March 1, 2008
Flights of Fancy...
[This is another Bill Bryson moment I had on the plane last night; not a whole lot to do with my travels, so I apologize for the rambling.]
I passed a sign the other day that said, "The best things in life aren't things". So true. It's funny how you can spend a lot of money on stuff, yet enjoy the free moments in life far more. Even little ones that might happen every day, but you probably never stop to think about; sometimes if you pay a little attention, something special can happen...
One great thing about the beautiful weather in Hawaii is that it allows so many restaurants to be open-air, which, as anyone who knows me well can attest, I really like. I must have more Mediterranean DNA in me than my parents let on: I think I was meant to live in that kind of climate year-round. I can't imagine a heaven without a little taverna by an Aegean harbor, with a little old couple serving fresh Greek tomato salad, feta cheese and spinach pie. (And of course some island wine to go with it).
And one thing that comes with outdoor restaurants is-- birds!
Hawaii has its fair share of pigeons, but also some pretty white doves and asoorted other smaller brown things although, surpisingly enough, no seagulls-- it's true! Look it up; something to do with the lack of tides.
Now, I'll be the first to admit I'm actually not even sure that they were pigeons and doves, I just know they looked pretty much like that. In fact, as much as I like birds, I'm pretty much an idiot when it comes to identifying them. An average six year old knows more species of dinosaurs than I know avians. I can spot a chicken straight away, I can work out the basic body plan of a penguin, and I'm pretty sure about ostriches, but then they are pretty similar to emus, you know, so don't bet the ranch on my ornithological prowess.
Anyway, I always seem to attract a motley bunch of them while dining alfresco. I suppose the fact that I constantly drop crumbs could be a possible explanation.
It's not that I'm a particularly messy eater, at least not any more so than your average senile octogenarian; I sometimes drop crumbs on purpose. I've been feeding birds for a long time, but in Honolulu something quite special happened--twice. The first day, as I was haviing lunch in Tiki's, a nice open-air place near the beach, I started giving pieces of some quesadillas to a pretty mottled white and red pigeon, and happened to hold a crumb in my fingers and lower my hand for him to eat, but instead he hopped up onto my hand, cocked an eye at me, and pecked the food. When he was done he casually hopped down. I had to do it again; again he hopped up onto my hand and ate.
A few minutes later a waiter and waitress came by, and for some inspired reason I just held my empy hand out this time, and my little feathered friend flew right up onto it. The waitress gasped, and the waiter said, "I have never seen that happen before!" It was pretty cool. Heh, heh, little did they know I had given him the five-minute course in hand-hopping.
Then the next day I lunched at another place outside, and happened to get a free muffin with my fruit plate. I started tossing crumbs to the one pigeon nearby, and soon had a whole flock crawling over my shoes, complete with a huge "bully" pigeon who spent more time chasing the other birds away than he did eating, and all the while those tiny brown birds zoomed in and snatched crumbs up before their larger cousins could even react. I noticed one of them had three toes... that is, only one toe on one foot, and two on another. God knows what awful thing had happened to him to cause him to lose toes from both feet, but he was hopping around fine, and showed more courage than most... he even hopped up onto my table and found a few crumbs that had fallen off my plate. Cheeky little guy, you had to give him that!
But then I noticed one scruffy, older-looking pigeon who looked like he had gotten into some oil or something, his feathers looked thin and clumped, especially around the neck, but he was charging right in there with the rest of them, fighting for his share of crumbs. I wanted to get a closer look at him to see if anything was wrong, or maybe if something was stuck on his neck, so I just reached down and slowly scooped him up. I was amazed when he just sat calmly in my hand, not flapping or even trying to get away. We just looked at each other for a while. (He was probably thinking, "Ok, now where's my food?")
Now remember, this was a wild bird, almost certainly never touched by human hands before. Even dogs-- altough they've been bred to be docile for 20,000 generations-- when raised feral will simply never allow people to touch them. Yet this little bird, totally wild, trusted me enough to rest for a while in my hand. He (or she, I'm not sure; how can you tell?) eventually climbed out onto the table, walked to the edge, and flew off to another table to beg for more meals. I never could see anything wrong except for the oily feathers.
Later that day, reading about how America's giant farm factories treat chickens in Peter Singer's landmark book Animal Liberation, I was struck by the differences in their situations because of us: millions of chickens are forced to spend their short lives crowded together in hot, stifling, ammonia-reeking darkness, fear and misery, with less wire cage surface to live on than a quarter of your computer screen (it's true; look it up), and then there's old Scruffy Neck, calmly trusting me to lift him up to stare at me face to face, or brave little Three Toes, brazenly jumping onto my table for a snack. Sure, they have to scrounge for their food, but in the end, they get to fly away. There's really no comparison at all.
The wild ones may fight for food, but they won't have to fight for breathing space... something to consider next time you pick up a bucket at KFC-- one of the worst offenders, by the way.
In fact, it made me think: if I could perceive actual personalities and character in such a short time with the few I actually paid attention to, how many others have similar attributes that we'd rather not think about as we eat them?
Anyway, for what it's worth, I just thought I'd share. These are things I think about while flying over a dark ocean at night when I should be sleeping. Thanks for reading... and I hope you don't think I'm going daft!
I passed a sign the other day that said, "The best things in life aren't things". So true. It's funny how you can spend a lot of money on stuff, yet enjoy the free moments in life far more. Even little ones that might happen every day, but you probably never stop to think about; sometimes if you pay a little attention, something special can happen...
One great thing about the beautiful weather in Hawaii is that it allows so many restaurants to be open-air, which, as anyone who knows me well can attest, I really like. I must have more Mediterranean DNA in me than my parents let on: I think I was meant to live in that kind of climate year-round. I can't imagine a heaven without a little taverna by an Aegean harbor, with a little old couple serving fresh Greek tomato salad, feta cheese and spinach pie. (And of course some island wine to go with it).
And one thing that comes with outdoor restaurants is-- birds!
Hawaii has its fair share of pigeons, but also some pretty white doves and asoorted other smaller brown things although, surpisingly enough, no seagulls-- it's true! Look it up; something to do with the lack of tides.
Now, I'll be the first to admit I'm actually not even sure that they were pigeons and doves, I just know they looked pretty much like that. In fact, as much as I like birds, I'm pretty much an idiot when it comes to identifying them. An average six year old knows more species of dinosaurs than I know avians. I can spot a chicken straight away, I can work out the basic body plan of a penguin, and I'm pretty sure about ostriches, but then they are pretty similar to emus, you know, so don't bet the ranch on my ornithological prowess.
Anyway, I always seem to attract a motley bunch of them while dining alfresco. I suppose the fact that I constantly drop crumbs could be a possible explanation.
It's not that I'm a particularly messy eater, at least not any more so than your average senile octogenarian; I sometimes drop crumbs on purpose. I've been feeding birds for a long time, but in Honolulu something quite special happened--twice. The first day, as I was haviing lunch in Tiki's, a nice open-air place near the beach, I started giving pieces of some quesadillas to a pretty mottled white and red pigeon, and happened to hold a crumb in my fingers and lower my hand for him to eat, but instead he hopped up onto my hand, cocked an eye at me, and pecked the food. When he was done he casually hopped down. I had to do it again; again he hopped up onto my hand and ate.
A few minutes later a waiter and waitress came by, and for some inspired reason I just held my empy hand out this time, and my little feathered friend flew right up onto it. The waitress gasped, and the waiter said, "I have never seen that happen before!" It was pretty cool. Heh, heh, little did they know I had given him the five-minute course in hand-hopping.
Then the next day I lunched at another place outside, and happened to get a free muffin with my fruit plate. I started tossing crumbs to the one pigeon nearby, and soon had a whole flock crawling over my shoes, complete with a huge "bully" pigeon who spent more time chasing the other birds away than he did eating, and all the while those tiny brown birds zoomed in and snatched crumbs up before their larger cousins could even react. I noticed one of them had three toes... that is, only one toe on one foot, and two on another. God knows what awful thing had happened to him to cause him to lose toes from both feet, but he was hopping around fine, and showed more courage than most... he even hopped up onto my table and found a few crumbs that had fallen off my plate. Cheeky little guy, you had to give him that!
But then I noticed one scruffy, older-looking pigeon who looked like he had gotten into some oil or something, his feathers looked thin and clumped, especially around the neck, but he was charging right in there with the rest of them, fighting for his share of crumbs. I wanted to get a closer look at him to see if anything was wrong, or maybe if something was stuck on his neck, so I just reached down and slowly scooped him up. I was amazed when he just sat calmly in my hand, not flapping or even trying to get away. We just looked at each other for a while. (He was probably thinking, "Ok, now where's my food?")
Now remember, this was a wild bird, almost certainly never touched by human hands before. Even dogs-- altough they've been bred to be docile for 20,000 generations-- when raised feral will simply never allow people to touch them. Yet this little bird, totally wild, trusted me enough to rest for a while in my hand. He (or she, I'm not sure; how can you tell?) eventually climbed out onto the table, walked to the edge, and flew off to another table to beg for more meals. I never could see anything wrong except for the oily feathers.
Later that day, reading about how America's giant farm factories treat chickens in Peter Singer's landmark book Animal Liberation, I was struck by the differences in their situations because of us: millions of chickens are forced to spend their short lives crowded together in hot, stifling, ammonia-reeking darkness, fear and misery, with less wire cage surface to live on than a quarter of your computer screen (it's true; look it up), and then there's old Scruffy Neck, calmly trusting me to lift him up to stare at me face to face, or brave little Three Toes, brazenly jumping onto my table for a snack. Sure, they have to scrounge for their food, but in the end, they get to fly away. There's really no comparison at all.
The wild ones may fight for food, but they won't have to fight for breathing space... something to consider next time you pick up a bucket at KFC-- one of the worst offenders, by the way.
In fact, it made me think: if I could perceive actual personalities and character in such a short time with the few I actually paid attention to, how many others have similar attributes that we'd rather not think about as we eat them?
Anyway, for what it's worth, I just thought I'd share. These are things I think about while flying over a dark ocean at night when I should be sleeping. Thanks for reading... and I hope you don't think I'm going daft!
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Aloha from Maui
Now it's starting to get really interesting! I've always liked new and different places...well, Maui certainly is both!
In some ways it's almost Caribbean... the sunsets, the beaches, the beach towns are similar; they even have a radio station that plays all reggae, which seems strangely appropriate here. On the other hand, the Caribbean islands don't have many volcanoes, I don't think.
Hey Jim, remember when we were kids, we'd take a bunch of toys and stuff and throw a green blanket over them, making a pretend mountain-y landscape on which to place our little toy soldiers? That's what Maui looks like: the mountains are high, green, and rifted with deep valleys way unlike anything in the smooth, worn-down Appalachians.
I started out on a not-so-great note: I had to stay in a mediocre hotel near the airport without my luggage, due to a delayed flight, a hasty re-connection and a United ticket agent who didn't inform me of my choices. But it was no big deal as I always carry the important stuff in my knapsack that I take on board with me. And by the time I got into Maui (11pm local time, 1 a.m. San Fran) all I wanted to do was sleep anyway. The flight was pretty cool-- a nice couple with a sweet little baby sat in the two seats next to me, and after takeoff the flight attendant told them there was another empty section they could move to, so I got three seats to spread out in! Almost as good as your business-class, Betsy! (But no free beers, alas).
The next morning, after picking up my lost bag back at the airport with the help of a nice United lady, I drove around the island to the pretty town of Lahaina. Almost all the towns here are on the beach, including this one. It consists mainly of a waterfront street with lots of little shops, and a town square with the biggest banyan tree in the U.S.: it covers an entire acre of ground. It's pretty amazing, but I think most of the tourists here are too busy shopping to take much notice of it.
I'm in my favorite waterfront open-air restaurant now, Cheeseburger in Paradise, a two-story tiki-type casual place with great music, good food, and a fantastic view of the sunset. I recommend it to anyone who comes to Hawaii. Last night I had an interesting conversation with Mike, a Californian ski buff with movie-star looks who came to surf and enjoy the sun. Just think, ladies, a tall, tanned surfer with an MBA! He may meet me in Europe, so if any of you are interested, maybe you can meet us there. (He's supposed to come back here tonight, so if he does I'll try to take a picture of him for you girls.)
And the hotel, the Lahaina Inn, is a quaint old place that feels like you're staying in Granma's place, complete with creaky floors, old pictures on the walls, heavy dark wood everywhere except where it's flowery wallpaper, and even a funny "Grandma's house-like" smell. The room also had a ceiling fan worthy of a Humphrey Bogart movie.
Yesterday morning I met some park rangers buying 50-pound sacks of cat food in K-Mart who said they have a colony of cats at their animal preserve. Now, this intrigued me, as cats are natural enemies of the local birds and wildlife. I had to check this out. Unfortunately, thanks to my short-term memory, I immediately forgot the name of the park and the town it was near. And of course no local had any idea what I was talking about, so I drove all over the island checking out state parks and wildlife preserves. I never found the cats, but I did have fun exploring Maui!
And today was even better: I went out on a snorkel boat, but did more, I snuba'd! It's a setup where you have a 20-ft air hose attached to your snorkel, so you can spend all your time underwater. It was just like scuba, only without the cumbersome BCD and tank. The reef we went to wasn't anything to write home about; I suspect either pollution or tourist damage had lessened the beauty of it, but the water was clear and warm, and there were more fish that I saw in Caribbean dives, so I can't complain. And I had the bonus of meeting John, Hank and Sue on the boat, some locals who happened to be along for the ride for whale watching, and who gave me some great tips on future travels. Just about everyone I've met here has been to Pacifica (New Zealand, etc.) and/or Asia. I guess for them it's like us east-coasters going to Orlando.
So tomorrow I go to Oahu and Honolulu for my last night here, which should give me a chance to finally see Pearl Harbor for mylself, instead of just in the movies. More on that soon. Til then, I've gotta go back to my room and get my camera, in case surfer Mike shows up!
In some ways it's almost Caribbean... the sunsets, the beaches, the beach towns are similar; they even have a radio station that plays all reggae, which seems strangely appropriate here. On the other hand, the Caribbean islands don't have many volcanoes, I don't think.
Hey Jim, remember when we were kids, we'd take a bunch of toys and stuff and throw a green blanket over them, making a pretend mountain-y landscape on which to place our little toy soldiers? That's what Maui looks like: the mountains are high, green, and rifted with deep valleys way unlike anything in the smooth, worn-down Appalachians.
I started out on a not-so-great note: I had to stay in a mediocre hotel near the airport without my luggage, due to a delayed flight, a hasty re-connection and a United ticket agent who didn't inform me of my choices. But it was no big deal as I always carry the important stuff in my knapsack that I take on board with me. And by the time I got into Maui (11pm local time, 1 a.m. San Fran) all I wanted to do was sleep anyway. The flight was pretty cool-- a nice couple with a sweet little baby sat in the two seats next to me, and after takeoff the flight attendant told them there was another empty section they could move to, so I got three seats to spread out in! Almost as good as your business-class, Betsy! (But no free beers, alas).
The next morning, after picking up my lost bag back at the airport with the help of a nice United lady, I drove around the island to the pretty town of Lahaina. Almost all the towns here are on the beach, including this one. It consists mainly of a waterfront street with lots of little shops, and a town square with the biggest banyan tree in the U.S.: it covers an entire acre of ground. It's pretty amazing, but I think most of the tourists here are too busy shopping to take much notice of it.
I'm in my favorite waterfront open-air restaurant now, Cheeseburger in Paradise, a two-story tiki-type casual place with great music, good food, and a fantastic view of the sunset. I recommend it to anyone who comes to Hawaii. Last night I had an interesting conversation with Mike, a Californian ski buff with movie-star looks who came to surf and enjoy the sun. Just think, ladies, a tall, tanned surfer with an MBA! He may meet me in Europe, so if any of you are interested, maybe you can meet us there. (He's supposed to come back here tonight, so if he does I'll try to take a picture of him for you girls.)
And the hotel, the Lahaina Inn, is a quaint old place that feels like you're staying in Granma's place, complete with creaky floors, old pictures on the walls, heavy dark wood everywhere except where it's flowery wallpaper, and even a funny "Grandma's house-like" smell. The room also had a ceiling fan worthy of a Humphrey Bogart movie.
Yesterday morning I met some park rangers buying 50-pound sacks of cat food in K-Mart who said they have a colony of cats at their animal preserve. Now, this intrigued me, as cats are natural enemies of the local birds and wildlife. I had to check this out. Unfortunately, thanks to my short-term memory, I immediately forgot the name of the park and the town it was near. And of course no local had any idea what I was talking about, so I drove all over the island checking out state parks and wildlife preserves. I never found the cats, but I did have fun exploring Maui!
And today was even better: I went out on a snorkel boat, but did more, I snuba'd! It's a setup where you have a 20-ft air hose attached to your snorkel, so you can spend all your time underwater. It was just like scuba, only without the cumbersome BCD and tank. The reef we went to wasn't anything to write home about; I suspect either pollution or tourist damage had lessened the beauty of it, but the water was clear and warm, and there were more fish that I saw in Caribbean dives, so I can't complain. And I had the bonus of meeting John, Hank and Sue on the boat, some locals who happened to be along for the ride for whale watching, and who gave me some great tips on future travels. Just about everyone I've met here has been to Pacifica (New Zealand, etc.) and/or Asia. I guess for them it's like us east-coasters going to Orlando.
So tomorrow I go to Oahu and Honolulu for my last night here, which should give me a chance to finally see Pearl Harbor for mylself, instead of just in the movies. More on that soon. Til then, I've gotta go back to my room and get my camera, in case surfer Mike shows up!
San Francisco Treat
Well, I guess the rain had to catch up with me sooner or later-- and it did in San Francisco-- or at least some of the time. I met up with Bruce & Loree, and we walked around and ate in their Walnut Creek, as pretty a community as any normal person could afford to live in-- as opposed to, say, Carmel (more on that later).
The next day the rain started and never really let up, but we didn't let it stop us. We met up with Pam, Susie & Dale, some delightfully maladjusted friends of theirs down in Santa Cruz, a beach town south of San Fran, and joined in the fun at a Clam Chowder festival. The fun continues through the day as Bruce's crazy friends & I goofed around in the town, and stayed the night in a place "almost" by the sea, with a terrific view of the parking lot.
The next day it was still raining, but (minus the friends) we continued down the coast to check out Monterey and Carmel, both pretty t
owns, with Carmel winning on charm but painfully out of reach in price. A tiny bungalow a block from the shore was going for $3.2 million. Like I said, out of reach. But the town is adorable, with cute little alleyways hiding picture-perfect shops and cafes.
owns, with Carmel winning on charm but painfully out of reach in price. A tiny bungalow a block from the shore was going for $3.2 million. Like I said, out of reach. But the town is adorable, with cute little alleyways hiding picture-perfect shops and cafes.We concluded the day with a drive across the Golden Gate Bridge to get a stunning view of the city, whereupon Bruce & myself commemorated the moment 
with as much dignity and decorum as we could muster.
Then their dogs Tosca & Cisco, who had joined us for the entire weekend, had a quick run on the waterfront and it was time to go to Chuckie's for my final night on the mainland. I said my goodbyes, and met Chuck in his cute little downtown apartment. We had some dim sum in Chinatown (which is right down the block from his flat), served by an almost unintelligible Asian waitress (I'm still not quite sure exactly what we ate). The next day the weather was beautiful and
we went for a long walk down to the waterfront and all around the harbor, and then all too soon it was time to go.
with as much dignity and decorum as we could muster.Then their dogs Tosca & Cisco, who had joined us for the entire weekend, had a quick run on the waterfront and it was time to go to Chuckie's for my final night on the mainland. I said my goodbyes, and met Chuck in his cute little downtown apartment. We had some dim sum in Chinatown (which is right down the block from his flat), served by an almost unintelligible Asian waitress (I'm still not quite sure exactly what we ate). The next day the weather was beautiful and
we went for a long walk down to the waterfront and all around the harbor, and then all too soon it was time to go.Chuck graciously accompanied me to the airport, which was a good thing, as there was a delay in my flight. It's complicated, but thanks to Chuckie I found a direct flight to Maui which saved me a lot of time. So, thanks again, Chuck, Bruce & Loree, it was a memorable visit, and a good last look at mainland USA.
Next: Maui Wowee.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Come out to the Coast, we'll get together...
This is ridiculous. Does everyone out west have fabulous houses?? First there was Lisa Kelly's western chic place and C.A.'s historic house in Austin, then Char and Charlie's to-die-for flat (along with her daughter's) and Leslie & Bill's great, homey place, all situated in fantastic spots in Seattle. Then Becky & John out-do even them with an incredible, custom-designed showplace in the best suburb of Portland, complete with woods & creek in back. To top them off, Bruce & Loree let me stay in their totally redone adorable bungalow, with custom built cabinetry, granite countertops and large hot tub out back, in (of course) the best area near San Francisco, with stone and natural wood everything, and a garage-turned-studio that I'm in right now as I type.
Everyone's place has tasteful earth-tone colors, stunning woods, textured walls, stone tiles, beautiful fixtures and furniture, and of course great local artists hanging on their walls. And to think I was proud of my dinky little Tuscan kitchen! I'm starting to get over my doubts about selling the place.
Just another note on flying: it can be interesting who you sit with on a plane. Like the guy next to me departing from Dulles who whipped out a huge laptop and proceeded to watch "Predator", the ultimate guy movie (quote from Jesse Ventura: "I ain't got time to bleed") which happened to be close-captioned, so I watched most of it also while, pretending to read. Or the Scotsman who sat in front on the Austin-Denver flight who wore a green tam-o'-shanter tilted at a rakish angle, who when asked about it, said it was a "Royal Scottish Mounted Brigadoon Cannoneers cap with Mackenzie clan plaid backdrop" or something to that effect.
Or the couple who just joined me coming down here from Portland, who bickered with each other, moaned something about "sardines in a can", (referring to the tight quarters, I presume), and then didn't speak a word to each other the entire trip. Perhaps they'd been vacationing together a bit too much-- I'm a firm believer in spending a few hours apart from your travel partner. Heck, on my next honeymoon I'll probably hardly ever see the bride.
Well, that's it for now. Bruce is taking me to Santa Cruz where we'll stay at a beach house, then on to Monterey and Carmel-by-the-Sea tomorrow. I can't wait.
Everyone's place has tasteful earth-tone colors, stunning woods, textured walls, stone tiles, beautiful fixtures and furniture, and of course great local artists hanging on their walls. And to think I was proud of my dinky little Tuscan kitchen! I'm starting to get over my doubts about selling the place.
Just another note on flying: it can be interesting who you sit with on a plane. Like the guy next to me departing from Dulles who whipped out a huge laptop and proceeded to watch "Predator", the ultimate guy movie (quote from Jesse Ventura: "I ain't got time to bleed") which happened to be close-captioned, so I watched most of it also while, pretending to read. Or the Scotsman who sat in front on the Austin-Denver flight who wore a green tam-o'-shanter tilted at a rakish angle, who when asked about it, said it was a "Royal Scottish Mounted Brigadoon Cannoneers cap with Mackenzie clan plaid backdrop" or something to that effect.
Or the couple who just joined me coming down here from Portland, who bickered with each other, moaned something about "sardines in a can", (referring to the tight quarters, I presume), and then didn't speak a word to each other the entire trip. Perhaps they'd been vacationing together a bit too much-- I'm a firm believer in spending a few hours apart from your travel partner. Heck, on my next honeymoon I'll probably hardly ever see the bride.
Well, that's it for now. Bruce is taking me to Santa Cruz where we'll stay at a beach house, then on to Monterey and Carmel-by-the-Sea tomorrow. I can't wait.
Friday, February 22, 2008
Feeling Poorly in Portland
Hey, all. Wow, where do I start? I'm in Portland and staying with Becky & John, friends who went on the Rick Steves tour last fall. You should see their house-- it's like the kind you see in Better Homes. John's an architect and designed it. The middle picture above gives some idea of the layout, and Becky even painted cute Pooh quotes on the children's room wall.
The first night John & I ate at a really cool, old-fashioned kind of bar/restaurant that makes their own beers, called the Imbrie Farmhouse. Apparently two brothers, the McMinnemans, have spent the last 20 years buying old places like ranch houses and such and making kick-ass bars out of them. They're all over Oregon. Dan, why didn't we think of that??
The first night John & I ate at a really cool, old-fashioned kind of bar/restaurant that makes their own beers, called the Imbrie Farmhouse. Apparently two brothers, the McMinnemans, have spent the last 20 years buying old places like ranch houses and such and making kick-ass bars out of them. They're all over Oregon. Dan, why didn't we think of that??
Anyway, I had two days to check out Portland. Contrary to all predictions, the weather turned out quite lovely again-- that weather fairy is still with me. In spite of feeling yucky from a cold, I wandered down to the Willamette riverfront, (picture below on right) where they did it right: all along the river is a wide swath of grass and a biking path-- and nothing else. No noisy highways or huge developments, unlike some cities that I could name (that happen to be the Capital of the U.S.!)
I made my way back to the center of town (Pioneer Square) which is a
I made my way back to the center of town (Pioneer Square) which is a
perfect meeting place (middle picture with statue), and zig-zagged all across the area peeking into shops, stopping for tea, browsing in bookshops and generally just sightseeing. I would have done more but I started really feeling cruddy so I jumped on the wonderful MAX light rail train and limped back to Becky's.
Oh, remember how I couldn't fit my knapsack into the overhead on that first flight, and how it led to problems? This time, flying down from Seattle, I had it all planned out: I took my (rather large) bath kit out of it and put it under the seat, and the rest fit neatly above. Nice solution, huh? Not quite. You see, in all the excitement of flying right past both Mt. Ranier and Mt. St. Helens (this time for once I was able to switch seats to see them) I totally forgot the kit.
It wasn't until I was on the train, just pulling out of the airport that I remembered it. Fuming at my stupidity, I got off at the first stop and waited for another going back. Just as I got back to the United baggage desk a lady had it on the counter and was opening it to see if she could find out who it belonged to! I swear if I come back with my head it'll be a miracle.
Today, the second day, I was feeling even worse and in spite of yet another day of gorgeous weather, decided to stay in and rest. The rest of Portland will have to wait for another time. I did however make a lot of progress on the internet in booking future hotels/hostels.
I also arranged to volunteer at a sanctuary run by Betty Rowe, a 77 year old New Zealand woman who saved lots of wild goats, sheep and other animals on an island off the mainland. She singlehandedly fought stupid government attempts to eradicate the island of these rare Arapawa goats, because they were thought to be pests. Now they're being bred in England & the U.S. but if not for her they might be extinct. It'll be an honor to be able to work with her. I just wonder how I can put all this volunteering to use when I get back!
Next: The San Fran Plan
Oh, remember how I couldn't fit my knapsack into the overhead on that first flight, and how it led to problems? This time, flying down from Seattle, I had it all planned out: I took my (rather large) bath kit out of it and put it under the seat, and the rest fit neatly above. Nice solution, huh? Not quite. You see, in all the excitement of flying right past both Mt. Ranier and Mt. St. Helens (this time for once I was able to switch seats to see them) I totally forgot the kit.
It wasn't until I was on the train, just pulling out of the airport that I remembered it. Fuming at my stupidity, I got off at the first stop and waited for another going back. Just as I got back to the United baggage desk a lady had it on the counter and was opening it to see if she could find out who it belonged to! I swear if I come back with my head it'll be a miracle.
Today, the second day, I was feeling even worse and in spite of yet another day of gorgeous weather, decided to stay in and rest. The rest of Portland will have to wait for another time. I did however make a lot of progress on the internet in booking future hotels/hostels.
I also arranged to volunteer at a sanctuary run by Betty Rowe, a 77 year old New Zealand woman who saved lots of wild goats, sheep and other animals on an island off the mainland. She singlehandedly fought stupid government attempts to eradicate the island of these rare Arapawa goats, because they were thought to be pests. Now they're being bred in England & the U.S. but if not for her they might be extinct. It'll be an honor to be able to work with her. I just wonder how I can put all this volunteering to use when I get back!
Next: The San Fran Plan
Monday, February 18, 2008
See-attle
Well, it's my last night in Seattle, and it's been a great three days. I got to meet dozens and dozens of cousins, only a handful of whom I had met before, and it was a bit overwhelming. My Aunt Betty (Boop) celebrated her 90th birthday with a family reunion that was a brilliant success thanks to the hard work of (mostly) her children, along with a hilarious toast by son Joe, and a great slide-show of her life afterwords.
I stayed with cousins Leslie & Bill, and roomed with Chuckie, who helped me conspire to sneak their sweet but sexually confused fluff-ball of a dog Rascal into our (sort of) forbidden room, where she (yes, she) proceeded to, well-- engage in inappropriate romantic behavior for a female dog. In other words, my leg sure got lucky those nights. I have it on video, if anyone wants to see it.
I also went to a wonderful brunch with some people who were on my Rick Steves Europe tour last fall, hosted by Judy Harris in her house with an incredible view of Puget Sound. I also continued my Tradition of Forgetting Something by leaving my camera in another tour-mate Becky's car.
Today, my last day here, Chuck was supposed to take a slow train home to San Francisco, but (lucky for me) it was cancelled due to a mudslide somewhere on the tracks, and he stayed an extra day and gave me a great tour of downtown Seattle, later joined by Leslie & kids. Pike's Market was my favorite, with its fantastic assortment of fish stalls, fruit vendors, bric-a-brac stores, etc. One store consisted almost entirely of thousands of vintage salt & pepper shakers!
While here I've heard so many stories of my late brother John I feel like I've gotten to know him all over again. He was obviously much loved by all who knew him. I wish he were still here; it's a poorer world without him, and he is still sorely missed. Yet I think his spirit lives on in this beautiful city he loved.
So tomorrow it's on to Portland where I was lucky enough to be invited by Becky & husband John, to stay with them (and retrieve my camera).
I only hope I don't forget anything else.
I stayed with cousins Leslie & Bill, and roomed with Chuckie, who helped me conspire to sneak their sweet but sexually confused fluff-ball of a dog Rascal into our (sort of) forbidden room, where she (yes, she) proceeded to, well-- engage in inappropriate romantic behavior for a female dog. In other words, my leg sure got lucky those nights. I have it on video, if anyone wants to see it.
I also went to a wonderful brunch with some people who were on my Rick Steves Europe tour last fall, hosted by Judy Harris in her house with an incredible view of Puget Sound. I also continued my Tradition of Forgetting Something by leaving my camera in another tour-mate Becky's car.
Today, my last day here, Chuck was supposed to take a slow train home to San Francisco, but (lucky for me) it was cancelled due to a mudslide somewhere on the tracks, and he stayed an extra day and gave me a great tour of downtown Seattle, later joined by Leslie & kids. Pike's Market was my favorite, with its fantastic assortment of fish stalls, fruit vendors, bric-a-brac stores, etc. One store consisted almost entirely of thousands of vintage salt & pepper shakers!
While here I've heard so many stories of my late brother John I feel like I've gotten to know him all over again. He was obviously much loved by all who knew him. I wish he were still here; it's a poorer world without him, and he is still sorely missed. Yet I think his spirit lives on in this beautiful city he loved.
So tomorrow it's on to Portland where I was lucky enough to be invited by Becky & husband John, to stay with them (and retrieve my camera).
I only hope I don't forget anything else.
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