Day 9
We are nearing the conclusion of our trip. We lost an hour to French daylight savings time last night and couldn't get out the door before 11. After breakfast at a nearby boulangerie, I with my pain sportif and Clare with her pain au something, we walked along Canal St. Martin.
After walking breakfast, we discovered that Velobib, Velolib, the bikeshares wouldn't go for the chipless Americans. This was disappointing, though less so since it rained all day. We walked to Antoine & Lili with its cheery clothing and housewares and then pointed to 104, a Jen P. recommendation. We stopped along the way to snatch some quiche and then entered the warehouse, campus-looking cent quatre. I don't think we would have discovered this without the prompt, but it was enjoyable people-watching as promised. Youth abounded and much of that youth seemed to be practicing an art- dancing, singing, rehearsing a play. It was a neat space and we spent a good deal of time there. Clare returned for a nap and I returned for a refresher on where the heck we were now staying.
I then set my course to the Louvre. I was lost immediately, but followed signs to the Picasso museum, where I was scared off by the crowds. It's laughable now that I thought the crowds at the Louvre would be more manageable, but that was my plan. The Louvre was a Zoo-vre. I decided that milling about with thousands was not the afternoon I'd hoped so I made my exit on Rue de Rivoli. There a runner passed me. As I turned into the gardens, I realized that a run would be a fine thing to do. I wrapped my rain coat and sweatshirt around my waist, hiked up my new gray pants and began my jog.
I nearly left my hat behind, but jogged back to grab it from the ground. I circled the garden chasing other Louvre runners and then took to the streets with an eye on the Eiffel Tower. I jogged through a maze and past a host of people out for a Sunday in Paris. I made it past the tower when I was passed by a man in a semi-marathon Paris T-shirt. I gave chase for a while, but wore out quickly. I crossed a fine multi-purpose bridge- top for trains, bottom for cars, bikes, and pedestrians. I walked up a hill, down the street to the Arc de Triomphe then down the Champs Elysee's to the Metro.
For dinner it was Italian somewhere in the 11th. Tomorrow is the last full day. It may include a visit to Eiffel. It probably will include a patisserie. Au revoir.
Reflections on Day 10 more than a month later
It ended like the others with sleep, but before that there was the Eiffel Tower. We went at night and I eagerly waited in line to go up. The line was long, but manageable. I merrily headed to the elevator after the security check and then as we began the ascent I was gripped by fear. Do I have a fear of heights? Why yes, yes I do. I shakily made it out of the elevator and slowly regained a bit of comfort as we took in the sights of Paris at night. Then, we headed up to the top. I couldn't even look out on the way up this time. I could only stare up and let discomfort bubble inside of me. We exited the elevator into an enclosed area and I felt mostly ok. When we climbed the stairs to go outside 276 meters above the ground, my legs felt heavy. I gripped my backpack, now on my chest, and slowly made my way into the wind. The view hadn't changed much from the previous level and I again found some level of comfort in my discomfort. Then the hourly flashing lights threw me for a bit of a loop, but I was able to partly settle down again. We identified places we'd been and places we hadn't. We celebrated Clare's birthday with a macaroon and then we made our way back down. We found other Coloradans in our elevator and then took the stairs down the last part. My fear of heights remained, but self-talk got me through. It was a strange visit to the Eiffel Tower, but it was at the end of a filling day.
There had been hot and cold chocolate at Angelina's, strange taxidermy at Deyrolle, and more wandering to shops like Artazart and Laduree for last minute gifts and souvenirs. We revisited a few favorites, at least in memory, and again munched on a few delicious French treats. I'm sure there was more enjoyed but mostly forgotten. It was a successful vacation, though worries of bed bugs would remain for a week or two. We were ready to return home, but will want to return.
A bientot.
Showing posts with label vacation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label vacation. Show all posts
Monday, April 27, 2015
Thursday, April 23, 2015
Day 7, March 27 and 8, March 28
The night's sleep was rough but we made it last. After a slow start we grabbed Metro and headed to Notre Dame, took some pics, searched but failed to find pont zero, and then wandered over to Shakespeare and Co. It was an excellent bookstore, but we resisted making a purchase (this time). From there we cruised the Jardin du Luxembourg. It was nice to see flowers blooming. Ah, springtime in Paris or something to that effect. From there it was on to the Pantheon where Foucalt's pendulum isn't (due to construction) and a stop for snacking quiche.
Wander and eat. That was the theme of today. We cruised the 6th Arr., Clare's phone died, we got lost and hungry, stopped off for some samiches (unofficial French) at some famous guy's boulangerie. They were not amazing. Neither was my orange Fanta. Remind me to avoid that tomorrow. We headed back by the hunchback's house and on to ile St. Louis. We stopped at first Bertillion ice cream dealer we could find. It looked seedier than I remembered, but there was a line and then an angry French proprietor and then a relocated line and then delicious sweet ice cream. It turns out Bertillion has overtaken the ile with dealers at nearly every entrance. My pistache was excellent though. Clare liker her tiramisu to the tune of pretty good.
After ice cream, we headed home for an afternoon nap. Post-nap we cruised the Champs-Elysees, took a jog to the ? Arr and had dinner at a creperie L'Atlier. I had an ok galette (grammelet?), a tasty cider and a superb butter and sugar crepe. We then took a walk on the Seine, passed by the art projected on the Royal Palais and returned by Metro to our un peu maison. A bientot.
Day 8
Fully embracing this schedule, we didn't roll out until about 11 AM. We headed to some shops on Clare's list in the 3rd. I was desperate for a pain au chocolate, so we snagged one before going to Musee Carnavalet- gratuie- a museum of the history of Paris. I found the decimal clock to be particularly interesting. As part of the revolution the rebels(?) devised a system of time in increments of 10. The clockmakers had a fit. I need to do more research on this. I also especially enjoyed the paintings of Paris in the winter. Fighting museum fatigue, we had a 2 PM brunch at la boehme.It was tasty, especially my carrot ginger soup and our almond cake dessert. We hit a few more shops including for tea at Mrage a Freer's and BHV which was teaming with people. We took a brief rest by the Seine, but Clare needed more. She left me at Hotel de Ville where I waited about an hour in line to see the photoreporter Photo Magnum exhibit. There were about 15 photos for each decade or so in Paris. Many were of people, powerful portraits, but some were of events and a few had strong diagonals and use of dark and light that were just amazing. I couldn't even put my finger on what made a lot of the photos great.
I returned to the apartment and Clare dramatically announced that we needed to leave because of bed bugs. Apparently the last guest had bits. Air BnB refunded money and asked that we get a hotel. The host was very concerned and generous. We laundered some and got out of the 10th. Clare had expertly located a hotel in the 11th and we walked over. We've gone from a tiny apartment to a room about the size of our bedroom at home. I'm seeing the benefits of Air BnB more clearly now, but I'm hopeful I will like this bed and shower better. Maybe the bed bugs will be a false alarm too. One can hope.
We had a late dinner at Cafe Gaston. I had a Bramble French. It was gin-based. I've decided that gin tastes like old ladies. I had duck. Clare had lamb. She was quite pleased. We then sprung for another dessert with Tom and Donna (Parks & Rec) flair. It feels a bit like we the walls are closing in here at Motel de Matello, but I think I can make it work for 3 nights. Here's hoping.
P.S. Espresso at brunch; Giant colon tour with a translator before noon.
Wander and eat. That was the theme of today. We cruised the 6th Arr., Clare's phone died, we got lost and hungry, stopped off for some samiches (unofficial French) at some famous guy's boulangerie. They were not amazing. Neither was my orange Fanta. Remind me to avoid that tomorrow. We headed back by the hunchback's house and on to ile St. Louis. We stopped at first Bertillion ice cream dealer we could find. It looked seedier than I remembered, but there was a line and then an angry French proprietor and then a relocated line and then delicious sweet ice cream. It turns out Bertillion has overtaken the ile with dealers at nearly every entrance. My pistache was excellent though. Clare liker her tiramisu to the tune of pretty good.
After ice cream, we headed home for an afternoon nap. Post-nap we cruised the Champs-Elysees, took a jog to the ? Arr and had dinner at a creperie L'Atlier. I had an ok galette (grammelet?), a tasty cider and a superb butter and sugar crepe. We then took a walk on the Seine, passed by the art projected on the Royal Palais and returned by Metro to our un peu maison. A bientot.
Day 8
Fully embracing this schedule, we didn't roll out until about 11 AM. We headed to some shops on Clare's list in the 3rd. I was desperate for a pain au chocolate, so we snagged one before going to Musee Carnavalet- gratuie- a museum of the history of Paris. I found the decimal clock to be particularly interesting. As part of the revolution the rebels(?) devised a system of time in increments of 10. The clockmakers had a fit. I need to do more research on this. I also especially enjoyed the paintings of Paris in the winter. Fighting museum fatigue, we had a 2 PM brunch at la boehme.It was tasty, especially my carrot ginger soup and our almond cake dessert. We hit a few more shops including for tea at Mrage a Freer's and BHV which was teaming with people. We took a brief rest by the Seine, but Clare needed more. She left me at Hotel de Ville where I waited about an hour in line to see the photoreporter Photo Magnum exhibit. There were about 15 photos for each decade or so in Paris. Many were of people, powerful portraits, but some were of events and a few had strong diagonals and use of dark and light that were just amazing. I couldn't even put my finger on what made a lot of the photos great.
I returned to the apartment and Clare dramatically announced that we needed to leave because of bed bugs. Apparently the last guest had bits. Air BnB refunded money and asked that we get a hotel. The host was very concerned and generous. We laundered some and got out of the 10th. Clare had expertly located a hotel in the 11th and we walked over. We've gone from a tiny apartment to a room about the size of our bedroom at home. I'm seeing the benefits of Air BnB more clearly now, but I'm hopeful I will like this bed and shower better. Maybe the bed bugs will be a false alarm too. One can hope.
We had a late dinner at Cafe Gaston. I had a Bramble French. It was gin-based. I've decided that gin tastes like old ladies. I had duck. Clare had lamb. She was quite pleased. We then sprung for another dessert with Tom and Donna (Parks & Rec) flair. It feels a bit like we the walls are closing in here at Motel de Matello, but I think I can make it work for 3 nights. Here's hoping.
P.S. Espresso at brunch; Giant colon tour with a translator before noon.
Tuesday, April 21, 2015
Day 4 to Day 6- A metaphor for life?
Day 4: When Brian C. says, "Visit the Sex Museum," you visit the sex museum.
We started the day early biking in bike rush hour traffic and then standing for about an hour to get into the Anne Frank house. The line just kept growing while we waited. The house and the words from the diary are dramatic and powerful, but the crowd is sizable and at times made it hard to focus.
From Anne Frank, we wandered a bit and finally settled on some snacking croissants. We ate and walked, every bit an American, back to our bikes which we then rode confidently to the sex museum. The museum was as advertised, odd, amusing, and not terribly informative. My biggest takeaway was that not that much has changed, well, ever. We had lunch at the Pancake Bakery. It was something we could agree on. Clare tried poffertjes and I stuck with pannekoekn. Yum.
After lunch it was on to the red light district. It was about 2 PM on a Tuesday and the vibe was still odd. There were packs of men roaming the streets. The red-illuminated windows were lower and more prevalent than I'd expected. I found it odd that most of this took place in the shadow of a church. Clare started a short list of what women in the windows were doing, some smiled and flirted, many were texting, one was eating a banana, some seemed to avoid the windows and others just stood there. It was all very strange and left me with many questions. None I was prepared to ask.
From the district we returned to our bikes and tried to outrun the rain. We stopped in a cool screen printing shop and then went home to nap. We napped into the evening and had a night at our faux-home including Clare walloping me in a game of cribbage.
Tomorrow is it. I feel like there is so much still to do, although there's only a few things I really plan to do. A metaphor for life? my own lack of ambition? Perhaps Van Gogh will know.
Day 5/ March 25: I did not want to wake up today. I'm not sure what is going on, but I didn't get up until 9:45. We hopped on our bikes in some classic grey rainy Netherlands weather. We hightailed it to the Van Gogh museum and hardly had to wait in line. The museum was crowded, but well organized, yielding insight into Van Gogh's process and outlining his life. We had lunch at nearby Mem's (or Allen's if I'm reading the signs)- paninis and teas before walking around the neighborhood called Pip. We finished Pip off at FOAM, the photography museum.
The first exhibit was enjoyable, memories of flashbulbs, the photographer used large sections of black or white in his compositions. The other exhibits were interesting in theory. Post-FOAM, we shared a croquette at Holtkamp, said to be the best. It did not disappoint. It was like eating a delicious stew in a fried bowl.
We returned to our apartment, but all my sleep must have left me with energy. I wandered again through Westerpark, the gas works, and circled back through neighborhoods. I decided walking is good when you want to explore at a slow pace, but biking is good to cover more distance when your direction is clear(er). Clare will vouch for this since a bus nearly ran us off the road today. Our left turns need work, but I remained amazed of biking in Amsterdam.
I had takeaway shoarma for dinner. It wasn't as good as I remembered, but the place I remember seemed fancier. We leave tomorrow. I'd like to return to the Netherlands, but I'm not sure I need much longer in Amsterdam.
Day 6: We woke up early and took efficient public transit to Amsterdam Centraal. There we waited for our train to Brussels that was a train to Paris. Poof, we were in Brussels. We cruised by the Grand Palace, had some seafood at the recommended Nordeeze (not bbq). I had shrimp croquettes. They would have been amazing without the shrimp. Clare had fried mussels (in Brussels). She was pleased.
From there we pointed our peckers to Mannekin Pis, but were waylaid by waffles. We chose leige with Belgian chocolate. Ooh la la. I could have had waffles for days. Notice a theme?
We joined the hordes at Mannekin Pis. I knew it was small, but I still remember being considerably more amused at age 6. More amusing these days were the references- Mannekin Pils, Mannekin Bis(tro)and Mannekin Frites complete with peeing fry logo. The rain was falling and Clare elected to return to the station. I hated to wait so long for a train, so chose to wander Brussels. This didn't really pay off except I found a great playground with various levels and rooms. Also, I got lost several times. For a while I used bikeshare maps to navigate, but then had to turn to Clare's phone. It's good to get lost and have the heart racing now and again.
Poof, we're in Paris. Our studio apartment is small, but should be suitable here in 10 Arr. The traffic is loud now, but will hopefully settle. We've headed out to cruise the canal and discovered a wonderful bookstore, Artazart. I wanted several items that I will probably resist- pinhole cameras, satchels, and some neat design books. We then landed at a cafe, Cafe Marine and ordered drinks although we really wanted dinner.
I made a triumphant return to Pelforth Brune and then played the game of 'catch-the-waiter's-eye'. After losing a while, I found my confidence (in a Brune?). I asked about dinner, we ordered and ate delicious rabbit and then I asked for the check. Perhaps I made up for my bumbling in Amsterdam. My French isn't conversational, but my hunger was serious.
We started the day early biking in bike rush hour traffic and then standing for about an hour to get into the Anne Frank house. The line just kept growing while we waited. The house and the words from the diary are dramatic and powerful, but the crowd is sizable and at times made it hard to focus.
From Anne Frank, we wandered a bit and finally settled on some snacking croissants. We ate and walked, every bit an American, back to our bikes which we then rode confidently to the sex museum. The museum was as advertised, odd, amusing, and not terribly informative. My biggest takeaway was that not that much has changed, well, ever. We had lunch at the Pancake Bakery. It was something we could agree on. Clare tried poffertjes and I stuck with pannekoekn. Yum.
After lunch it was on to the red light district. It was about 2 PM on a Tuesday and the vibe was still odd. There were packs of men roaming the streets. The red-illuminated windows were lower and more prevalent than I'd expected. I found it odd that most of this took place in the shadow of a church. Clare started a short list of what women in the windows were doing, some smiled and flirted, many were texting, one was eating a banana, some seemed to avoid the windows and others just stood there. It was all very strange and left me with many questions. None I was prepared to ask.
From the district we returned to our bikes and tried to outrun the rain. We stopped in a cool screen printing shop and then went home to nap. We napped into the evening and had a night at our faux-home including Clare walloping me in a game of cribbage.
Tomorrow is it. I feel like there is so much still to do, although there's only a few things I really plan to do. A metaphor for life? my own lack of ambition? Perhaps Van Gogh will know.
Day 5/ March 25: I did not want to wake up today. I'm not sure what is going on, but I didn't get up until 9:45. We hopped on our bikes in some classic grey rainy Netherlands weather. We hightailed it to the Van Gogh museum and hardly had to wait in line. The museum was crowded, but well organized, yielding insight into Van Gogh's process and outlining his life. We had lunch at nearby Mem's (or Allen's if I'm reading the signs)- paninis and teas before walking around the neighborhood called Pip. We finished Pip off at FOAM, the photography museum.
The first exhibit was enjoyable, memories of flashbulbs, the photographer used large sections of black or white in his compositions. The other exhibits were interesting in theory. Post-FOAM, we shared a croquette at Holtkamp, said to be the best. It did not disappoint. It was like eating a delicious stew in a fried bowl.
We returned to our apartment, but all my sleep must have left me with energy. I wandered again through Westerpark, the gas works, and circled back through neighborhoods. I decided walking is good when you want to explore at a slow pace, but biking is good to cover more distance when your direction is clear(er). Clare will vouch for this since a bus nearly ran us off the road today. Our left turns need work, but I remained amazed of biking in Amsterdam.
I had takeaway shoarma for dinner. It wasn't as good as I remembered, but the place I remember seemed fancier. We leave tomorrow. I'd like to return to the Netherlands, but I'm not sure I need much longer in Amsterdam.
Day 6: We woke up early and took efficient public transit to Amsterdam Centraal. There we waited for our train to Brussels that was a train to Paris. Poof, we were in Brussels. We cruised by the Grand Palace, had some seafood at the recommended Nordeeze (not bbq). I had shrimp croquettes. They would have been amazing without the shrimp. Clare had fried mussels (in Brussels). She was pleased.
From there we pointed our peckers to Mannekin Pis, but were waylaid by waffles. We chose leige with Belgian chocolate. Ooh la la. I could have had waffles for days. Notice a theme?
We joined the hordes at Mannekin Pis. I knew it was small, but I still remember being considerably more amused at age 6. More amusing these days were the references- Mannekin Pils, Mannekin Bis(tro)and Mannekin Frites complete with peeing fry logo. The rain was falling and Clare elected to return to the station. I hated to wait so long for a train, so chose to wander Brussels. This didn't really pay off except I found a great playground with various levels and rooms. Also, I got lost several times. For a while I used bikeshare maps to navigate, but then had to turn to Clare's phone. It's good to get lost and have the heart racing now and again.
Poof, we're in Paris. Our studio apartment is small, but should be suitable here in 10 Arr. The traffic is loud now, but will hopefully settle. We've headed out to cruise the canal and discovered a wonderful bookstore, Artazart. I wanted several items that I will probably resist- pinhole cameras, satchels, and some neat design books. We then landed at a cafe, Cafe Marine and ordered drinks although we really wanted dinner.
I made a triumphant return to Pelforth Brune and then played the game of 'catch-the-waiter's-eye'. After losing a while, I found my confidence (in a Brune?). I asked about dinner, we ordered and ate delicious rabbit and then I asked for the check. Perhaps I made up for my bumbling in Amsterdam. My French isn't conversational, but my hunger was serious.
Tuesday, April 14, 2015
The Quinquennial Celebration- Spring- Day 1-3 - March 21-23
We flew from Denver to Iceland. The flight wasn't bad. I knocked out 3 movies: Birdman, Whiplash, Shawshank Redemption. They got better the closer I got to Iceland. We were in Iceland with the sunrise, but only had time for a pit stop before it was on to Amsterdam.
I struggled on that leg of the trip, but finally got a few winks. We arrived starving and tired; ate wraps and drank smoothies at an airport store and boarded a train to Central Station. After a little searching we then boarded a bus to our AirBnB apartment near Westerpark. It's a cute 2-room join on the third story. The bathroom is a closet, but there's plenty of room otherwise. We're getting comfortable.
Clare took a nap; I wandered a bit. Ask me about the Polyp Party. No, don't, it's a carnival ride shaped like an octopus. I returned for a short nap and then we headed to the old gasworks for dinner. Our first choice place was busy and we were too spent for inquiries, so we moved on to Pizza Pazzani. The meal tasted good in its averageness. We felt guilty about our lack of Dutch, although everyone has been very accommodating of our English. A few Dutch phrases have come to mind, but I lack the confidence to wield them. Perhaps sleep will help. Let's go find out.
Day 2- March 22
At about 3 AM it seemed that sleep might be used up, but this proved untrue. We finally got up at 8. After sprinkles for breakfast, we began a modified reverse walking tour of Jordaan. We passed the long lines of Anne Frank, popped in the Cheese Museum, window shopped and took photos of shudders, canals and bikes until lunch time at the Screaming Bean. After lunch we rode some trains out to Maarn where Jolieke and Pim met us at the station .Wis and Bart were still napping, but we soon scooped them up and all headed to the Amersfoort zoo. Pim learned to say "I want to show you the lions," but was otherwise unconvinced that we could not speak Dutch. We looked at animals, slid on slides, and rode the train. It was an enjoyable afternoon with good company and good catching up. We had pannenkoeken at Jagershuys. If I'd been there (and I suspect I had), like the zoo, it had probably been remodeled in the last 30 years.
J took us through Doorn and for a quick look at my old house. The yard had been re-done and it looked as though Theo was long gone (he is), but from the outside the house looked very much the same. It failed to stir many memories; a bit of badminton, a time locked in Becky's room, but I was still pleased to see it. We returned to Jolieke's for tea and then headed back to our temp home in Amsterdam. It will be good to see them all again in July when they visit the states. Almost 15 years without a visit, now 2 in 1 year. Life is funny.
Best Pim story: Pim gave us licorice and stroop wafels. J said Pim wanted to eat the licorice, but she was able to explain that we couldn't get it in the states. Pim now thinks that all his suitcases for their holiday should be filled with licorice. This seems pretty wise to me.
Day 3- March 23
I woke up dead today. If that wasn't jet lag, I don't know what is. Once Clare got me going, we headed to catch a boat- a canal boat. We toured the city by waterway, eventually stopping for club sandwiches at Homemade. We boated on back toward home. I took out one of the apartment bikes and set my course for Sloterpark disc golf. It took 3 trips around the block, but I finally found my way. At least until I got lost again. Despite my troubles, the bike ride was heaven. It's amazing that cars yield, that there are bike traffic jams, and that there are so many good bike paths. It's like a dream.
I had a tough time navigating the disc golf course, but managed to hand on to my disc and only skip 4 holes. There was no one on the course. No one. People stared at me in awe. They had no idea what I was doing. The course was ok, ignoring the difficult to follow layout, but narrow in a lot of places. I could have used a guide and some more familiar discs (not the Roc).
Once finished I headed home on the glorious bike paths and into bike rush hour. C made spaghetti and meatballs for dinner after a frits snack. We took an after dinner walk to get some Amsterdam-at-night photos. We capped off the evening with Stoelen, some sort of apple croissant-like treat. Tomorrow we're going to try to beat or brave the line at the Anne Frank Huis.
I struggled on that leg of the trip, but finally got a few winks. We arrived starving and tired; ate wraps and drank smoothies at an airport store and boarded a train to Central Station. After a little searching we then boarded a bus to our AirBnB apartment near Westerpark. It's a cute 2-room join on the third story. The bathroom is a closet, but there's plenty of room otherwise. We're getting comfortable.
Clare took a nap; I wandered a bit. Ask me about the Polyp Party. No, don't, it's a carnival ride shaped like an octopus. I returned for a short nap and then we headed to the old gasworks for dinner. Our first choice place was busy and we were too spent for inquiries, so we moved on to Pizza Pazzani. The meal tasted good in its averageness. We felt guilty about our lack of Dutch, although everyone has been very accommodating of our English. A few Dutch phrases have come to mind, but I lack the confidence to wield them. Perhaps sleep will help. Let's go find out.
Day 2- March 22
At about 3 AM it seemed that sleep might be used up, but this proved untrue. We finally got up at 8. After sprinkles for breakfast, we began a modified reverse walking tour of Jordaan. We passed the long lines of Anne Frank, popped in the Cheese Museum, window shopped and took photos of shudders, canals and bikes until lunch time at the Screaming Bean. After lunch we rode some trains out to Maarn where Jolieke and Pim met us at the station .Wis and Bart were still napping, but we soon scooped them up and all headed to the Amersfoort zoo. Pim learned to say "I want to show you the lions," but was otherwise unconvinced that we could not speak Dutch. We looked at animals, slid on slides, and rode the train. It was an enjoyable afternoon with good company and good catching up. We had pannenkoeken at Jagershuys. If I'd been there (and I suspect I had), like the zoo, it had probably been remodeled in the last 30 years.
J took us through Doorn and for a quick look at my old house. The yard had been re-done and it looked as though Theo was long gone (he is), but from the outside the house looked very much the same. It failed to stir many memories; a bit of badminton, a time locked in Becky's room, but I was still pleased to see it. We returned to Jolieke's for tea and then headed back to our temp home in Amsterdam. It will be good to see them all again in July when they visit the states. Almost 15 years without a visit, now 2 in 1 year. Life is funny.
Best Pim story: Pim gave us licorice and stroop wafels. J said Pim wanted to eat the licorice, but she was able to explain that we couldn't get it in the states. Pim now thinks that all his suitcases for their holiday should be filled with licorice. This seems pretty wise to me.
Day 3- March 23
I woke up dead today. If that wasn't jet lag, I don't know what is. Once Clare got me going, we headed to catch a boat- a canal boat. We toured the city by waterway, eventually stopping for club sandwiches at Homemade. We boated on back toward home. I took out one of the apartment bikes and set my course for Sloterpark disc golf. It took 3 trips around the block, but I finally found my way. At least until I got lost again. Despite my troubles, the bike ride was heaven. It's amazing that cars yield, that there are bike traffic jams, and that there are so many good bike paths. It's like a dream.
I had a tough time navigating the disc golf course, but managed to hand on to my disc and only skip 4 holes. There was no one on the course. No one. People stared at me in awe. They had no idea what I was doing. The course was ok, ignoring the difficult to follow layout, but narrow in a lot of places. I could have used a guide and some more familiar discs (not the Roc).
Once finished I headed home on the glorious bike paths and into bike rush hour. C made spaghetti and meatballs for dinner after a frits snack. We took an after dinner walk to get some Amsterdam-at-night photos. We capped off the evening with Stoelen, some sort of apple croissant-like treat. Tomorrow we're going to try to beat or brave the line at the Anne Frank Huis.
Sunday, September 14, 2014
August 21: Old Faithful and beyond
We woke up early and packed up a wet muddy tent and were off by 7:50. We stopped to admire the Grand Prismatic Springs, Black Sand Basin, and Excelsior Geyer (which actually erupted a bit) before catching Old Faithful under overcast skies. It wasn't ideal viewing for any of it, but there was something almost church-like in viewing Old Faithful with so many (100+?) others.
We then made our way out of Yellowstone, neglecting to stop for a bison with a lake behind him/her. Our only stops were the Haynes Old Photo Shop (awesome, if unfocused exhibit) and the Yellowstone sign for photos. We chose to press on to Cody for a late lunch. It's pretty in northwest Wyoming and Cody look like an Old West (and New West) town. We at at Rocky Mountain MoJoe, walked around town, and motored on. C did the bulk of the afternoon driving and after getting a little lost we arrived at our campground at Boulder Park.
The car seemed tired and the rain arrived on schedule, just as we did. Frustrated and bickering we set up the tent in the rain because I am tired of waiting for rain to stop. The inside got a little wet, but hopefully we can survive the night.
The rain stopped. I made a fire! C cooked spaghetti. The fire had a few fits and starts, but kindling appears to have been our previous downfall. It's going now. It cooked our banana boats and I'm sitting on a rock catching up on my journal. Night is falling, the creek is spraying off rocks and C is reading Tolstoy by the last of the daylight. She read me a passage that aptly compared marriage to boating. It isn't always easy or pretty, but I'm glad she's in my boat.
We then made our way out of Yellowstone, neglecting to stop for a bison with a lake behind him/her. Our only stops were the Haynes Old Photo Shop (awesome, if unfocused exhibit) and the Yellowstone sign for photos. We chose to press on to Cody for a late lunch. It's pretty in northwest Wyoming and Cody look like an Old West (and New West) town. We at at Rocky Mountain MoJoe, walked around town, and motored on. C did the bulk of the afternoon driving and after getting a little lost we arrived at our campground at Boulder Park.
The car seemed tired and the rain arrived on schedule, just as we did. Frustrated and bickering we set up the tent in the rain because I am tired of waiting for rain to stop. The inside got a little wet, but hopefully we can survive the night.
The rain stopped. I made a fire! C cooked spaghetti. The fire had a few fits and starts, but kindling appears to have been our previous downfall. It's going now. It cooked our banana boats and I'm sitting on a rock catching up on my journal. Night is falling, the creek is spraying off rocks and C is reading Tolstoy by the last of the daylight. She read me a passage that aptly compared marriage to boating. It isn't always easy or pretty, but I'm glad she's in my boat.
August 20: Big Horn Pass trail
Without watches, we got up and had our oatmeal on an overcast day. We went 20 feet behind our campsite and set out on the Big Horn Pass trail. I was packing bear spray was and was relieved to have it. The morning remained overcast and we were nearly along on the trail. It wound a mile or so through the woods before we crossed a creek. We elected to shed our boots and hunt for a shallow spot. The crossing was so cold and we were so slow from having to pick our way through the rocks of the creek bed that we decided to ford all future streams with boots on. We had several miles of fairly flat hiking in a rolling meadow. We felt comfortable that we'd see a bear coming. The clouds kept the heat away. Yellowstone was gorgeous from this vantage point. This was the way to enjoy it. We came to realize just how much New Zealand and Yellowstone/Teton have in common. Yellowstone wins on crowds.
We came to another creek and lost the trail. We wandered nervously in a group of trees, followed a false path and passed over a spot that looked like a large animal had recently rested in it. We picked our way around staying close to the creek when C spotted another group finding their way back to the trail. We abandoned our search and headed for where we'd seen the other group. They'd been on the right track and we reconnected with the trail. We soon passed the other group and they claimed GPS said we were 6 miles from the trailhead (5.5-ish from our starting spot). We couldn't confirm it, but didn't believe it. The trail was only 8.4 miles long. We re-entered woods and began to go up. We went about a mile when I discovered the freshest scat I'd seen. We decided that was as good a spot as any to turn around. We aren't sure it was bear, but it seems likely to me based on some of the other large droppings we saw.
We ate lunch with a view of what we think was Quadrant mountain. It was a good spot with a creek down the hill below and blue skies now framing our mountain view. We trekked back in the sunshine. I briefly abandoned landscape photography for butterfly and wildflower photos as we made our way back. Our last creek crossing was a wet one. Our boots haven't recovered a day later (good to know) although they've had very little opportunity to sit in the sun.
We broke our car embargo to return to Mammoth Hot Springs for a 3-buck shower, some elk watching and, of course, some ice cream. We returned to camp in the rain. We tried to wait it out, but eventually settled for Mexican crepes in the car (bananas, chocolate, peanut butter wrapped in a tortilla). I don't think it rained after dark, but the tent stayed wet. The night was warmer though. I didn't even need my stocking cap.
We came to another creek and lost the trail. We wandered nervously in a group of trees, followed a false path and passed over a spot that looked like a large animal had recently rested in it. We picked our way around staying close to the creek when C spotted another group finding their way back to the trail. We abandoned our search and headed for where we'd seen the other group. They'd been on the right track and we reconnected with the trail. We soon passed the other group and they claimed GPS said we were 6 miles from the trailhead (5.5-ish from our starting spot). We couldn't confirm it, but didn't believe it. The trail was only 8.4 miles long. We re-entered woods and began to go up. We went about a mile when I discovered the freshest scat I'd seen. We decided that was as good a spot as any to turn around. We aren't sure it was bear, but it seems likely to me based on some of the other large droppings we saw.
We ate lunch with a view of what we think was Quadrant mountain. It was a good spot with a creek down the hill below and blue skies now framing our mountain view. We trekked back in the sunshine. I briefly abandoned landscape photography for butterfly and wildflower photos as we made our way back. Our last creek crossing was a wet one. Our boots haven't recovered a day later (good to know) although they've had very little opportunity to sit in the sun.
We broke our car embargo to return to Mammoth Hot Springs for a 3-buck shower, some elk watching and, of course, some ice cream. We returned to camp in the rain. We tried to wait it out, but eventually settled for Mexican crepes in the car (bananas, chocolate, peanut butter wrapped in a tortilla). I don't think it rained after dark, but the tent stayed wet. The night was warmer though. I didn't even need my stocking cap.
August 19: Glamping
I had a rough time sleeping on the cot in the tee-pee as expected. Horses came around to eat the grass near the tents and I tried to lie still while they ate. It was nerve-wracking. One chose the grass just on the other side of the canvas from my cot. I could hear it well, but the shadow of the horse's head confirmed the crap out of it. I finally slid to the floor of the tee-pee to get some sleep. I got up once to go to the bathroom. I found no horses, but did enjoy a star-filled sky.
I didn't get my morning swim in, but had enjoyed a chilly jump in before the previous evening's bonfire. It was refreshingly coooold! Post-jump the mosquitoes feasted on my flesh. Their hunger meant we didn't last long at the bonfire. Instead we chose to play Clue in our tee-pee. C broke M's winning streak, though I was nipping at her heels.
We were at the West Yellowstone visitor's center by 8. I was first through the door and got some camping advice. Our initial destination was full, but we found a place to stay at Indian Creek. M headed home. We got the tent set up and headed out to take in a few more sites. Mammonth Hot Springs was curious. Wraith FAlls was disappointing, although we did kick off our shoes for a while to cool our feet in the stream and drink our blackberry-flavored drinks. Tower Falls was pretty, the petrified tree didn't seem scary at all, and Yellowstone fatigue has set in. It's too big. There's too much. All this driving is no way to enjoy a park. Tomorrow we'll try to do better.
In fact, we purchased liquid gold bear spray so we can really get out and see some wildlife. I'm scared to have it, but the Big Horn Pass trail seems too obscure not to take it on. We did some see more elk and got some good photos of them grazing and playing in "town" at Mammoth Springs. Now it's dinner time, but our luck has run out and the rains have arrived. Hopefully it won't last.
I didn't get my morning swim in, but had enjoyed a chilly jump in before the previous evening's bonfire. It was refreshingly coooold! Post-jump the mosquitoes feasted on my flesh. Their hunger meant we didn't last long at the bonfire. Instead we chose to play Clue in our tee-pee. C broke M's winning streak, though I was nipping at her heels.
We were at the West Yellowstone visitor's center by 8. I was first through the door and got some camping advice. Our initial destination was full, but we found a place to stay at Indian Creek. M headed home. We got the tent set up and headed out to take in a few more sites. Mammonth Hot Springs was curious. Wraith FAlls was disappointing, although we did kick off our shoes for a while to cool our feet in the stream and drink our blackberry-flavored drinks. Tower Falls was pretty, the petrified tree didn't seem scary at all, and Yellowstone fatigue has set in. It's too big. There's too much. All this driving is no way to enjoy a park. Tomorrow we'll try to do better.
In fact, we purchased liquid gold bear spray so we can really get out and see some wildlife. I'm scared to have it, but the Big Horn Pass trail seems too obscure not to take it on. We did some see more elk and got some good photos of them grazing and playing in "town" at Mammoth Springs. Now it's dinner time, but our luck has run out and the rains have arrived. Hopefully it won't last.
Wednesday, September 03, 2014
August 17 and 18: GTNP to Yellowstone
Today we had the full Jenny Lake experience. We hiked clockwise around the lake, snapping photos and heading toward the Hidden Falls and Inspiration Point. We were never alone, especially as we neared the falls. Others were regularly being shuttled across the lake to join in the fun. The falls was pretty, but not very memorable. Inspiration Point had an all-encompassing view of Jenny Lake and gave the name Jackson Hole considerable context. We stayed at the point for lunch and then hiked the long section around continuing in our clockwise direction. With some help from hikers headed the other way, I saw an eagle's nest among the burnt trees.
We searched for a spot to swim, but couldn't find one. We returned to camp, changed into our swimsuits and set out clockwise again in search of a remembered rock. After another mile, we'd searched enough and settled on a swimming spot that seemed passable. After some coaxing everyone got in. The water was cold, fed by glaciers, but it felt refreshing too. Having swum, hiked, and camped Jenny Lake, we finished the day with bratwurst and less than stellar pie-iron peach cobbler. The biscuits didn't seem to work so well. Still, warm peaches aren't all bad. We closed out the day with Crazy 8's and Egyptian Rat Screw. M bested us in both.
8/18- We woke up early, but weren't able to break camp until 8:30. We left Grand Teton behind and made our way to Yellowstone. Our stops were frequent. We hiked to a natural bridge that lacked self-confidence, but with enthusiasm, I say, "It's like a miniature of the natural bridges in Utah." I've never been to the Utah bridges and my enthusiasm rings false.
The Upper Falls were impressive and Artist's Point was a palette of rock colors with a backdrop of river and falls. As we drove along, the river was often just off the road and it snaked and charmed its way into my heart. I kept hoping I'd see a bear catching a fish, but only managed a deer and some elk. (Speaking of elk, I heard a call as I wrote this entry. I only heard ambulance sirens as I typed it.)
We stopped to see Mud Volcano and other gaseous earth bubblers. M craved egg salad sandwiches, so our lunch by the river surely disappointed. We stopped to view some lounging bison and continued to pick and choose our gaseous bubbling spots. Around 3:30 we left Yellowstone to head to our accommodations in Montana.
We're in a camp called Yellowstone under tarp, no I mean Yellowstone Under Canvas. It's glamping- glamorous camping; but although kind of fun and curious, it also seems like a scam. We're in a tee-pee, 3 cots with sleeping bag and foam. The view from the tee-pee is big sky, gorgeous, but no food is allowed in the camp; they'd like us to go to their restaurant. I think we'll return to town instead.
We had dinner at the slippery otter. The girls got IDed, but the bartender "had seen me there before". Guess my doppleganger is enjoying some sweet scenery.
I have high hopes for the bonfire and a morning swim. This place looks like it might be fun in a big group. It will be fun in a small group. I'm just a cheapskate who prefers the floor. The shower was great, the big tents look fancy with queen beds and stoves. It's good to confirm now and again that I'm a tent guy.
We searched for a spot to swim, but couldn't find one. We returned to camp, changed into our swimsuits and set out clockwise again in search of a remembered rock. After another mile, we'd searched enough and settled on a swimming spot that seemed passable. After some coaxing everyone got in. The water was cold, fed by glaciers, but it felt refreshing too. Having swum, hiked, and camped Jenny Lake, we finished the day with bratwurst and less than stellar pie-iron peach cobbler. The biscuits didn't seem to work so well. Still, warm peaches aren't all bad. We closed out the day with Crazy 8's and Egyptian Rat Screw. M bested us in both.
8/18- We woke up early, but weren't able to break camp until 8:30. We left Grand Teton behind and made our way to Yellowstone. Our stops were frequent. We hiked to a natural bridge that lacked self-confidence, but with enthusiasm, I say, "It's like a miniature of the natural bridges in Utah." I've never been to the Utah bridges and my enthusiasm rings false.
The Upper Falls were impressive and Artist's Point was a palette of rock colors with a backdrop of river and falls. As we drove along, the river was often just off the road and it snaked and charmed its way into my heart. I kept hoping I'd see a bear catching a fish, but only managed a deer and some elk. (Speaking of elk, I heard a call as I wrote this entry. I only heard ambulance sirens as I typed it.)
We stopped to see Mud Volcano and other gaseous earth bubblers. M craved egg salad sandwiches, so our lunch by the river surely disappointed. We stopped to view some lounging bison and continued to pick and choose our gaseous bubbling spots. Around 3:30 we left Yellowstone to head to our accommodations in Montana.
We're in a camp called Yellowstone under tarp, no I mean Yellowstone Under Canvas. It's glamping- glamorous camping; but although kind of fun and curious, it also seems like a scam. We're in a tee-pee, 3 cots with sleeping bag and foam. The view from the tee-pee is big sky, gorgeous, but no food is allowed in the camp; they'd like us to go to their restaurant. I think we'll return to town instead.
We had dinner at the slippery otter. The girls got IDed, but the bartender "had seen me there before". Guess my doppleganger is enjoying some sweet scenery.
I have high hopes for the bonfire and a morning swim. This place looks like it might be fun in a big group. It will be fun in a small group. I'm just a cheapskate who prefers the floor. The shower was great, the big tents look fancy with queen beds and stoves. It's good to confirm now and again that I'm a tent guy.
August 15-16: Grand Teton National Park
We left from Fort Collins, hostel de parents, at 8:22 AM. We were a caravan of 2, C and I in Tobias and M in her Honda. The day was mostly driving in Wyoming. At times it was scenic. M took most of the lead and guided us to Grand Teton National Park (GTNP). We stayed in an expensive cabin with a shower. Maybe I prefer camping because I end up sleeping on the floor anyway.
We carpooled to an overlook, Willow Flats, and snapped photos of Mount Moran and debated whether it was the Grand Teton or not. We then headed over to the Jackson lodge and had dinner at the Blue Heron (bar? grill?) which had 40-foot windows and a view of Mount Moran. We all had local beer, I had a brown ale from Idaho, and scarfed down dinner. We crashed early and began our Ben Franklin ways.
8/16- Early to rise, 5 AM, we made our way around Colter Bay in the darkness. M wanted sunrise photos and somehow talked C into getting up early. No one else was out. I think we were a little early and a little frightened that we might stumble across a bear. The beware of bears signs are everywhere and sunrise alone seemed like prime time to startle one.
We started snapping photos at the hint of first light and didn't stop, except to walk the trail to find a new spot, until the earth had spun well into morning. I got 3 good photos from the batch.
We checked out of the cabin and hustled over to the Jenny Lake campground with the news that it was not yet crazy. The most popular of the the park campgrounds, it is a tent-only, first-come first-serve area in the shadow of the Grand Teton (or perhaps a lesser known mountain which blocks the view of it). We circled the campground like vultures and settled on site 43. We can see the nipple through the trees. We claimed the site, but had to wait a couple hours for the current occupants to vacate. With a fear of site poachers provided by the campground host, we circled the nearby outlooks and began the early series of M jumping and yoga in front of mountain scenery. By about 11:30, we had our tents up on site and were headed to Jackson.
I had a vision of Jackson subs and the first lunch-appropriate restaurant we saw was a sub shop. Taking the vision seriously we scared down subs and made our plan. Our plan needed ice cream. Jackson was a smaller, fancier Gatlinburg. The Asian tourists were out in force. Although the town square had a small park framed by antler arches, the quirkiness was offset by luxury goods- fine art galleries, Svarski crysals, and Moo's ice cream. We could only luxuriate so much and each had a scoop from Moo's. We shopped a bit in other expensive, but less luxurious shops and then headed to the river with Teton Adventures Rafting Company.
We'd go 8 miles in our 14 person boat on the Snake River. M started off nervous, but quickly became a fan. There's something about rafting that makes me want to say yes. The guide Brenton asked for a paddle master- I volunteered. He asked if anyone wanted to ride the bull, up front with feet dangling- I volunteered. Later he asked if anyone wanted to run the boat- again, I volunteered. He used oars to guide the boat and I struggled to master the paddles and use them both, but I started to get it in the end. I missed my shot at some rapids. Next time. We bounced through some great rapids, including Big Kahuna after I'd returned to passenger duties.
We swam, we tried to ride a spinning raft. It was all kinds of fun. I was shivering a bit by the end, but happy. It had been a good day and the Snake River had been the highlight. We arrived back at our car later than expected and chose Merry Piglets, a Mexican restaurant, for sustenance rather than grocery shopping and dinner in the dark. It was tasty, especially the Spicy Jalapeno margarita. We crashed in the tents and woke up to the sound of the road, chipmunks, and that day's camp site vultures.
We carpooled to an overlook, Willow Flats, and snapped photos of Mount Moran and debated whether it was the Grand Teton or not. We then headed over to the Jackson lodge and had dinner at the Blue Heron (bar? grill?) which had 40-foot windows and a view of Mount Moran. We all had local beer, I had a brown ale from Idaho, and scarfed down dinner. We crashed early and began our Ben Franklin ways.
8/16- Early to rise, 5 AM, we made our way around Colter Bay in the darkness. M wanted sunrise photos and somehow talked C into getting up early. No one else was out. I think we were a little early and a little frightened that we might stumble across a bear. The beware of bears signs are everywhere and sunrise alone seemed like prime time to startle one.
We started snapping photos at the hint of first light and didn't stop, except to walk the trail to find a new spot, until the earth had spun well into morning. I got 3 good photos from the batch.
We checked out of the cabin and hustled over to the Jenny Lake campground with the news that it was not yet crazy. The most popular of the the park campgrounds, it is a tent-only, first-come first-serve area in the shadow of the Grand Teton (or perhaps a lesser known mountain which blocks the view of it). We circled the campground like vultures and settled on site 43. We can see the nipple through the trees. We claimed the site, but had to wait a couple hours for the current occupants to vacate. With a fear of site poachers provided by the campground host, we circled the nearby outlooks and began the early series of M jumping and yoga in front of mountain scenery. By about 11:30, we had our tents up on site and were headed to Jackson.
I had a vision of Jackson subs and the first lunch-appropriate restaurant we saw was a sub shop. Taking the vision seriously we scared down subs and made our plan. Our plan needed ice cream. Jackson was a smaller, fancier Gatlinburg. The Asian tourists were out in force. Although the town square had a small park framed by antler arches, the quirkiness was offset by luxury goods- fine art galleries, Svarski crysals, and Moo's ice cream. We could only luxuriate so much and each had a scoop from Moo's. We shopped a bit in other expensive, but less luxurious shops and then headed to the river with Teton Adventures Rafting Company.
We'd go 8 miles in our 14 person boat on the Snake River. M started off nervous, but quickly became a fan. There's something about rafting that makes me want to say yes. The guide Brenton asked for a paddle master- I volunteered. He asked if anyone wanted to ride the bull, up front with feet dangling- I volunteered. Later he asked if anyone wanted to run the boat- again, I volunteered. He used oars to guide the boat and I struggled to master the paddles and use them both, but I started to get it in the end. I missed my shot at some rapids. Next time. We bounced through some great rapids, including Big Kahuna after I'd returned to passenger duties.
We swam, we tried to ride a spinning raft. It was all kinds of fun. I was shivering a bit by the end, but happy. It had been a good day and the Snake River had been the highlight. We arrived back at our car later than expected and chose Merry Piglets, a Mexican restaurant, for sustenance rather than grocery shopping and dinner in the dark. It was tasty, especially the Spicy Jalapeno margarita. We crashed in the tents and woke up to the sound of the road, chipmunks, and that day's camp site vultures.
Tuesday, September 02, 2014
July 2014 in San Diego
A journal entry:
It is Thursday and vacation is nearly over, but I'm going to try to recount a few highlights. We're at the beach in front of Hotel Del Coranado, but that's not where the adventure starts. We started a little rocky as both C and I failed to factor in rain, Friday traffic, and checking baggage into our airport trip plans. We arrived to a long line at 6 for our 6:45 flight. We sent my stressed parents on ahead and we checked everyone's bags. The gate agent gave us stand by tickets and sent our luggage to Las Vegas. Flight delays meant that we made our original flight, but without our bags. They'd arrive at about 1:30 AM. Fortunately, the house near the sea was also near the airport.
The first day was a family beach day as second cousins, aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces, nephews, wives, husbands, etc. stayed quite a while at Mission Beach testing our sunscreen and letting the girls get adjusted to the ocean. They got a little braver every day. We got to see J and S for the second year in a row. They treated us to lunch at a beachside restaurant. It was great to see them.
Sunday we the beach again. This was La Jolla Beach and we brought out the boogie boards. Inside the house, the ants had attacked, but were mostly held at by spray, chalk, and complaints.
Monday most of the crowd hit sea World. C and I went to the Gaslamp Quarter. It's a night spots and we arrived well into the morning. I was very disappointed in the gas lamps and only mildly interested in our guidebook's walking tours. The most interesting aspect was that the area once well known for brothels now houses a Hooters, a Coyote Ugly, and several other mudflap-worthy establishments.
C and I napped the afternoon away and then she made lasagna for dinner. We are the pasta people. We got to meet all the Sea World souvenirs that night. All the second cousins seem to get on well and it's fun to be together.
Tuesday was Legoland. The others did well for back to back amusements. M dug the roller coaster. P is not so sure. My favorite part of Legoland was MiniLand. I spent a long time searching DC legos for familiar sites. The NYC subway was also pretty great. We closed the park down to Beck's delight. We then hit up In and Out Burger for a late supper. Kevin gave me tips on the secret menu so I had animal fries with my double-double and a shake. They were good, but I felt my arteries closing. P talked all the way home, but everyone else was asleep or practically there.
Wednesday was a quiet day at Ocean Beach, the closest beach to our house. The boogie boarding was really good, but the seaweed was thick. The F's came down from Newport Beach and took us out to the Venetian for dinner. We filled a banquet room and had a good family Italian meal with even better company. There was something special about catching up with distant family. I don't think T hears as well as he once did, but he remains quite jovial. I've always thought N was great and thoroughly enjoyed talking to her when J wasn't spinning his tales. Their son J seemed intimidated by the big crowd. I really enjoyed talking to JF. I can't explain what was so pleasing about the evening, but I didn't want it to end. Maybe that's why we played games until way too late that evening after the others left.
Everyone seemed tired on Thursday, but we returned to the beach and soldiered on. Vacation ended too quickly, but we had a great mini-FOG reunion.
It is Thursday and vacation is nearly over, but I'm going to try to recount a few highlights. We're at the beach in front of Hotel Del Coranado, but that's not where the adventure starts. We started a little rocky as both C and I failed to factor in rain, Friday traffic, and checking baggage into our airport trip plans. We arrived to a long line at 6 for our 6:45 flight. We sent my stressed parents on ahead and we checked everyone's bags. The gate agent gave us stand by tickets and sent our luggage to Las Vegas. Flight delays meant that we made our original flight, but without our bags. They'd arrive at about 1:30 AM. Fortunately, the house near the sea was also near the airport.
The first day was a family beach day as second cousins, aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces, nephews, wives, husbands, etc. stayed quite a while at Mission Beach testing our sunscreen and letting the girls get adjusted to the ocean. They got a little braver every day. We got to see J and S for the second year in a row. They treated us to lunch at a beachside restaurant. It was great to see them.
Sunday we the beach again. This was La Jolla Beach and we brought out the boogie boards. Inside the house, the ants had attacked, but were mostly held at by spray, chalk, and complaints.
Monday most of the crowd hit sea World. C and I went to the Gaslamp Quarter. It's a night spots and we arrived well into the morning. I was very disappointed in the gas lamps and only mildly interested in our guidebook's walking tours. The most interesting aspect was that the area once well known for brothels now houses a Hooters, a Coyote Ugly, and several other mudflap-worthy establishments.
C and I napped the afternoon away and then she made lasagna for dinner. We are the pasta people. We got to meet all the Sea World souvenirs that night. All the second cousins seem to get on well and it's fun to be together.
Tuesday was Legoland. The others did well for back to back amusements. M dug the roller coaster. P is not so sure. My favorite part of Legoland was MiniLand. I spent a long time searching DC legos for familiar sites. The NYC subway was also pretty great. We closed the park down to Beck's delight. We then hit up In and Out Burger for a late supper. Kevin gave me tips on the secret menu so I had animal fries with my double-double and a shake. They were good, but I felt my arteries closing. P talked all the way home, but everyone else was asleep or practically there.
Wednesday was a quiet day at Ocean Beach, the closest beach to our house. The boogie boarding was really good, but the seaweed was thick. The F's came down from Newport Beach and took us out to the Venetian for dinner. We filled a banquet room and had a good family Italian meal with even better company. There was something special about catching up with distant family. I don't think T hears as well as he once did, but he remains quite jovial. I've always thought N was great and thoroughly enjoyed talking to her when J wasn't spinning his tales. Their son J seemed intimidated by the big crowd. I really enjoyed talking to JF. I can't explain what was so pleasing about the evening, but I didn't want it to end. Maybe that's why we played games until way too late that evening after the others left.
Everyone seemed tired on Thursday, but we returned to the beach and soldiered on. Vacation ended too quickly, but we had a great mini-FOG reunion.
Monday, September 16, 2013
8/31/13 and 9/1/13+- West Van and other Vans
Saturday was spent in a drive to Vancouver that wouldn't seem to end. The border crossing took 45 minutes and the border patrol agent wanted to know why I hesitated at his question of whether anyone in the car had been arrested. I wasn't sure no one had. I don't enjoy border crossings much.
Vancouver traffic seemed bad as we made our way to West Vancouver (fondly called West Van by some t-shirt that I saw) and our gorgeous accommodations next door (possibly?) to Elvis Costello. We had drinks at Tuc where we met Matt and Sharyn coming home from their Alaskan cruise. It was fun to see them again so soon and swap stories from our trips. Matt joined us for sushi and then we set off in search of another round of drinks. West Van was practically shut down. We finally located a tap room and they were slammed after a nearby concert had just concluded. The hostess was very apologetic, but for drinks the speed of service was a-ok. I very much did not enjoy my Backhand of God stout.
9/1- Kirsten and I went out to collect breakfast supplies while the West Van crew slept. Bri would not call this "sleeping in" but at least she got a fine dose of Kirsten's breakfast burrito when she did rise. We headed into Vancouver, rented two tandems and a city bike and rode around Stanley Park. It was a nice counter-clockwise ride, but rather crowded. We did manage to stop at Vancouver's most visited tourist attraction, the totem poles (according to Daimon). After we turned in our bikes, we had a picnic in Stanley Park or at least at its edges. From there we headed back into the synergy of Vancouver.
Vancouver did have an interesting mix of industry, nature, and cosmopolitan city feel, but it didn't seem to capture our imagination and hearts the way it had for Carlton when he told us about it at the Sylvia Beach Hotel. That didn't stop us from repeating "synergy" all around "the couv". (Nobody calls it that as far as I know.) We hit the shops in a market on Granville Island. They were unique, but we weren't in a buying mood. I spotted in a keychain at one store advertising a neon sign exhibit at the MOV (Museum of Vancouver). We headed there next. It was tough to find, but 45 minutes before closing time, Clare and I took in interesting exhibits on neon signs, street photographers, and sex while the others napped outside.
The neon signs exhibit was all I'd hoped it would be, detailing the fight to keep Vancouver beautiful in 1974 and the tidbit that neon signs in Vancouver were maintained by the city (not the business) and so there were many well-preserved signs in the museum.
The best part of the sex exhibit was what wasn't there. In a glass case of vibrators spanning the decades, the 70s and 80s were missing. The sign said that like toy museums, relics from that era are hard to come by (no pun intended) because of the prevalent use of cheap plastics.
The Foncie exhibit on street photographers was an interesting slice of history. In a time before many personal cameras, Foncie was taking millions of candid photos and selling them to people on the streets. The exhibit said that for some people, this was their only photograph. The styles and smiles through the years were telling and amusing.
From the MOV, we headed to Chinatown for dim sum and bakery goods. The coconut bun melted in mouths and vaulted to the culinary (and even perhaps trip) highlight reels. We had a beer in Yaletown at either The Hooker Green or the New Oxford and closed down the night with a gelato. I think Daimon won this round of food vs. exercise, but when my foot is healthy, I hope to return and strike a blow in my favor.
9/2- The border crossing took seconds in the early morning and we had time for a cup of coffee at Fuel after dropping D & K off. From there, it's been airport adventure all the way. From La Bufadora to West Van- that's a long trip, but a good one.
Vancouver traffic seemed bad as we made our way to West Vancouver (fondly called West Van by some t-shirt that I saw) and our gorgeous accommodations next door (possibly?) to Elvis Costello. We had drinks at Tuc where we met Matt and Sharyn coming home from their Alaskan cruise. It was fun to see them again so soon and swap stories from our trips. Matt joined us for sushi and then we set off in search of another round of drinks. West Van was practically shut down. We finally located a tap room and they were slammed after a nearby concert had just concluded. The hostess was very apologetic, but for drinks the speed of service was a-ok. I very much did not enjoy my Backhand of God stout.
9/1- Kirsten and I went out to collect breakfast supplies while the West Van crew slept. Bri would not call this "sleeping in" but at least she got a fine dose of Kirsten's breakfast burrito when she did rise. We headed into Vancouver, rented two tandems and a city bike and rode around Stanley Park. It was a nice counter-clockwise ride, but rather crowded. We did manage to stop at Vancouver's most visited tourist attraction, the totem poles (according to Daimon). After we turned in our bikes, we had a picnic in Stanley Park or at least at its edges. From there we headed back into the synergy of Vancouver.
Vancouver did have an interesting mix of industry, nature, and cosmopolitan city feel, but it didn't seem to capture our imagination and hearts the way it had for Carlton when he told us about it at the Sylvia Beach Hotel. That didn't stop us from repeating "synergy" all around "the couv". (Nobody calls it that as far as I know.) We hit the shops in a market on Granville Island. They were unique, but we weren't in a buying mood. I spotted in a keychain at one store advertising a neon sign exhibit at the MOV (Museum of Vancouver). We headed there next. It was tough to find, but 45 minutes before closing time, Clare and I took in interesting exhibits on neon signs, street photographers, and sex while the others napped outside.
The neon signs exhibit was all I'd hoped it would be, detailing the fight to keep Vancouver beautiful in 1974 and the tidbit that neon signs in Vancouver were maintained by the city (not the business) and so there were many well-preserved signs in the museum.
The best part of the sex exhibit was what wasn't there. In a glass case of vibrators spanning the decades, the 70s and 80s were missing. The sign said that like toy museums, relics from that era are hard to come by (no pun intended) because of the prevalent use of cheap plastics.
The Foncie exhibit on street photographers was an interesting slice of history. In a time before many personal cameras, Foncie was taking millions of candid photos and selling them to people on the streets. The exhibit said that for some people, this was their only photograph. The styles and smiles through the years were telling and amusing.
From the MOV, we headed to Chinatown for dim sum and bakery goods. The coconut bun melted in mouths and vaulted to the culinary (and even perhaps trip) highlight reels. We had a beer in Yaletown at either The Hooker Green or the New Oxford and closed down the night with a gelato. I think Daimon won this round of food vs. exercise, but when my foot is healthy, I hope to return and strike a blow in my favor.
9/2- The border crossing took seconds in the early morning and we had time for a cup of coffee at Fuel after dropping D & K off. From there, it's been airport adventure all the way. From La Bufadora to West Van- that's a long trip, but a good one.
Saturday, September 14, 2013
8/29/13 and 8/30/13- Never say die!
P.Y. Post Yurt- We headed to nearby Astoria and popped by the Goonies house. The owner was in the yard and it was all kinds of awkward. We left quickly and went to the jailhouse from the opening scene which also houses the Oregon Film Museum. The OFM consists of some jail history, an incomplete list of films made in Oregon and a jail cell full of Goonies memorabilia. The highlight of the film museum was the opportunity to film five one minute movies with green screens. Our films included a scene from The Shining, a scene from Saved By The Bell, and an original commercial about yurts. In six weeks, we'll see how successful we were, but the takes and our memories were good.
We had lunch at the Wet Dog Cafe and then set our course for the World's Largest Frying Pan in Long Beach, Washington. It should have been an omen when we had to ask for directions a curiousity shop called Marshes'. They directed us across the street where we found what some are calling "the world's biggest disappointment." I think that's over stating it, but can't think of anything other than lunch in Sausalito that was more disappointing on this trip. It wasn't even a real frying pan! For shame. We drove on a while to Olympia, home of Clare's aunt and uncle. They treated us to an evening of delicious food and entertaining stories. Clare's Uncle John is a character, a man one can imagine takes no guff and wouldn't mind wrestling alligators. His stories whether about hunting or not, all seemed to concern animals. Clare and Bri both enjoyed the salmon he had caught the day before. Julie's lemon bars and strawberry rhubarb cobbler were only equaled by the quinoa salad she made for dinner. It was a good stop and we enjoyed the backyard views of the sound.
8/30- From Uncle John's we made our way to Daimon and Kirsten's in Seattle by 11 AM. We took Daimon's tour of Seattle including stops at Paseo for the "best sandwiches in town" (good and sloppy), the locks to watch a few salmon swimming up stream, the Fremont Troll (at our request) to see the sort of creatures that guard Seattle's bridges, a few great view points in the city, and to the Ballard neighborhood. There we made another Oprah Winfrey endorsed stop at Hot Cakes and indulged in molten lava cake. Daimon questioned the use of the term cake for the gooey chocolatey decadent treats.
After Ballard, we made our way to the University of Washington campus where we rented boats under the shadow of UW stadium and set sail (or paddled) for the rich homes of Seattle, the highways, and a glimpse of Mt. Rainer. The canoeing was quite a pleasant way to spend the afternoon. We rewarded ourselves with dinner at Skillet where I stuffed my face with a grilled cheese and a strawberry rhubarb shake. This was after a stop at a great dive bar called the Unicorn. I enjoyed two Deathly Porters and some deep fried snacks. No wonder my stomach hurts.
We had lunch at the Wet Dog Cafe and then set our course for the World's Largest Frying Pan in Long Beach, Washington. It should have been an omen when we had to ask for directions a curiousity shop called Marshes'. They directed us across the street where we found what some are calling "the world's biggest disappointment." I think that's over stating it, but can't think of anything other than lunch in Sausalito that was more disappointing on this trip. It wasn't even a real frying pan! For shame. We drove on a while to Olympia, home of Clare's aunt and uncle. They treated us to an evening of delicious food and entertaining stories. Clare's Uncle John is a character, a man one can imagine takes no guff and wouldn't mind wrestling alligators. His stories whether about hunting or not, all seemed to concern animals. Clare and Bri both enjoyed the salmon he had caught the day before. Julie's lemon bars and strawberry rhubarb cobbler were only equaled by the quinoa salad she made for dinner. It was a good stop and we enjoyed the backyard views of the sound.
8/30- From Uncle John's we made our way to Daimon and Kirsten's in Seattle by 11 AM. We took Daimon's tour of Seattle including stops at Paseo for the "best sandwiches in town" (good and sloppy), the locks to watch a few salmon swimming up stream, the Fremont Troll (at our request) to see the sort of creatures that guard Seattle's bridges, a few great view points in the city, and to the Ballard neighborhood. There we made another Oprah Winfrey endorsed stop at Hot Cakes and indulged in molten lava cake. Daimon questioned the use of the term cake for the gooey chocolatey decadent treats.
After Ballard, we made our way to the University of Washington campus where we rented boats under the shadow of UW stadium and set sail (or paddled) for the rich homes of Seattle, the highways, and a glimpse of Mt. Rainer. The canoeing was quite a pleasant way to spend the afternoon. We rewarded ourselves with dinner at Skillet where I stuffed my face with a grilled cheese and a strawberry rhubarb shake. This was after a stop at a great dive bar called the Unicorn. I enjoyed two Deathly Porters and some deep fried snacks. No wonder my stomach hurts.
Friday, September 13, 2013
8/28/13- In 2 parts
Morning- Goodbye Hemingway writing desk and Sylvia Beach hotel with your rooms full of kindred reading spirits. I'd like to escape the soft bed, but your floor was serviceable. I'd like to run from the smell of my boot, but it follows me like another traveling companion. I tried Bri's Febreze, but as another breeze blows through my toes, the noxious odor wafts into my nose. There's no escaping it; I can't write my way out of this one. I'll have to live with the smell or check the foot- ba-BA- BAAAA
Evening- The smell lives on as the day draws to a close. It did not abate at the delicious breakfast of pancakes, sausage and a collection of cakes. It did not abate in the walk to and through the industrial looking bayfront district. It didn't even abate in the car on the way to Otis. Actually, there it mingled with the dirty clothes and not-quite-dry tents to give our little Kia that lived in high school locker room smell. We stopped at the Devil's Punch Bowl, but he wasn't serving, so we had another walk on the beach and photo shoot. That's kind of our thing.
At Otis, we stopped at a diner of the same name. The was out the door, but we didn't wait long. The food was good. I had a Mexican omelette (2nd breakfast!) and hash browns. The homemade bread toast was amazing. I savored both slices, one of molasses bread and one of whole wheat. They were so good that later when I found crumbs in my teeth, I rejoiced a little bit because I had the chance to savor a little more.
The Tillamook cheese factory was a treat of conveyor belts, cheese, and ice cream. They have a million visitors and so were well prepared to serve us. I had a Tillamook Mudslide milkshake and enjoyed watching the cheese get packaged on the factory floor.
Next we landed in Seaside where the "boardwalk" is a "promenade" and the beat up touristy wares are hawked a street over. We stopped in a Carousel mall and visited a store called "Mostly Hats". The sales associate kindly asked if we were looking for anything. I said, "Hats, mostly." We didn't stay long in Seaside.
Tonight we're living it up in a Yurt. It's like being in a space shuttle with bunk beds. Dinner was cheese (Tillamook!) and crackers and three bottles of Oregon beer. No we're in our bunk bed readying our Yurt for the final frontier of sleep. The countdown won't begin until we've done a little more reading. P.S. It's raining. Point- Yurt.
8/26/13 and 8/27/13- Always north
We woke up late this morning and meandered through the woods marveling at more giants. We were in Eureka, CA soon after noon. We had lunch at the Cafe Nooner and then strolled through the cute downtown. From there we puttered six miles up the road to Arcata where we went to the cash only Cafe Mokka- a coffee shop/spa. Clare and I walked to the bank to get some cash by a route that took us through the town square. Clare said she could live in a place like Arcata, but then we smelled a hippie and she wasn't so sure.
We spent $10 for half an hour of hot tub time. I could see how it might be relaxing, but it was too warm a day to sit in a wooden hot tub, at least for my tastes. To prove my point, I promptly fell asleep when we got back in the car and set on sights on the Mystery Trees. We arrived after closing time, so the mystery remains. It looked a little cheesy, so I'm not sure we missed much in Klamath, CA. We pressed on to Oregon. We had dinner at our camp site in a park outside Brookings. Bri is anxiously stoking the fire, fueled by her success last night and the ever present hope of s'mores. The tension is palpable, or maybe that's the darkness. We'll turn in soon s'mores or no and make our way north again tomorrow.
8/27: I write tonight from the writing desk in the Hemingway room of the Sylvia Beach Hotel in Newport, Oregon. This seems to be a fantastic place for readers, made better if you're able to enjoy a dinner with those who have a gift of making engaging dinner conversation. I shall return to dinner, but first need to pick up where we left off last night. Bri expended dozens of matches, but eventually prevailed and made fire. We had s'mores and stayed up with the fire well into the starry Oregon night.
We awoke early, but moved slowly. We hiked down to the beach for our morning photoshoot and then drove out to a guidebook recommended vista point. That was also the point that Bri realized she'd forgotten her camera at camp. We turned back and as we pulled up to the campground Clare's phone rang to alert us of the quest we were already on. We collected the camera and headed back to the vista. We'd been promised stone arches, but although the view was lovely and the hike to the water interesting, there was nothing like an arch in view.
We drove on until we reached Coos Bay. There were no traces of Steve Prefontaine, but I hadn't expected any. We ate acceptable Mexican food in Coos Bay just off 101 and then pressed ahead to the Sand Dunes.
Failing to book a dune buggy, we decided to make our third hike of the day West toward the ocean. This one may have been the longest yet. It was no way to enjoy the sand dunes, but ti wasn't a bad way to enjoy the summer sun. We walked a mile out and grumbled a bit. When we finally reached the ocean and tested the water, I decided that such a long walk required a dramatic finish. I stripped down to my BVDs and tentatively dove into the quite cold sea. I felt alive and refreshed. All my cares (both my cares?) were washed away. Clare called it my version of the hot tub experience. We hiked back and arrived in Newport, Oregon a bit after 5:30. We were fortunate to get reservations to dinner. It was a fine dinner, at the Sylvia Beach House Table of Contents Restaurant, but the company at dinner made it truly wonderful. We played two truths and a lie and searched for the thread that tied us all together. We had some wonderful characters at our table and I feel quite inspired to have met them (and quite pleased with the company I keep too).
After dinner, Clare, Bri, and I played the game 10 days in Africa in the third floor library. We now retire to the Hemingway room, while Bri sleeps in the Alice Walker room. This whole place is filled with author-related paraphernalia and wonderful stories. Before dinner I sat on the balcony and read a short story, looking up to see the tide going out. I hate to leave so soon tomorrow. Oregon and this hotel will once again go back on my list of places that I need to spend more time.
We spent $10 for half an hour of hot tub time. I could see how it might be relaxing, but it was too warm a day to sit in a wooden hot tub, at least for my tastes. To prove my point, I promptly fell asleep when we got back in the car and set on sights on the Mystery Trees. We arrived after closing time, so the mystery remains. It looked a little cheesy, so I'm not sure we missed much in Klamath, CA. We pressed on to Oregon. We had dinner at our camp site in a park outside Brookings. Bri is anxiously stoking the fire, fueled by her success last night and the ever present hope of s'mores. The tension is palpable, or maybe that's the darkness. We'll turn in soon s'mores or no and make our way north again tomorrow.
8/27: I write tonight from the writing desk in the Hemingway room of the Sylvia Beach Hotel in Newport, Oregon. This seems to be a fantastic place for readers, made better if you're able to enjoy a dinner with those who have a gift of making engaging dinner conversation. I shall return to dinner, but first need to pick up where we left off last night. Bri expended dozens of matches, but eventually prevailed and made fire. We had s'mores and stayed up with the fire well into the starry Oregon night.
We awoke early, but moved slowly. We hiked down to the beach for our morning photoshoot and then drove out to a guidebook recommended vista point. That was also the point that Bri realized she'd forgotten her camera at camp. We turned back and as we pulled up to the campground Clare's phone rang to alert us of the quest we were already on. We collected the camera and headed back to the vista. We'd been promised stone arches, but although the view was lovely and the hike to the water interesting, there was nothing like an arch in view.
We drove on until we reached Coos Bay. There were no traces of Steve Prefontaine, but I hadn't expected any. We ate acceptable Mexican food in Coos Bay just off 101 and then pressed ahead to the Sand Dunes.
Failing to book a dune buggy, we decided to make our third hike of the day West toward the ocean. This one may have been the longest yet. It was no way to enjoy the sand dunes, but ti wasn't a bad way to enjoy the summer sun. We walked a mile out and grumbled a bit. When we finally reached the ocean and tested the water, I decided that such a long walk required a dramatic finish. I stripped down to my BVDs and tentatively dove into the quite cold sea. I felt alive and refreshed. All my cares (both my cares?) were washed away. Clare called it my version of the hot tub experience. We hiked back and arrived in Newport, Oregon a bit after 5:30. We were fortunate to get reservations to dinner. It was a fine dinner, at the Sylvia Beach House Table of Contents Restaurant, but the company at dinner made it truly wonderful. We played two truths and a lie and searched for the thread that tied us all together. We had some wonderful characters at our table and I feel quite inspired to have met them (and quite pleased with the company I keep too).
After dinner, Clare, Bri, and I played the game 10 days in Africa in the third floor library. We now retire to the Hemingway room, while Bri sleeps in the Alice Walker room. This whole place is filled with author-related paraphernalia and wonderful stories. Before dinner I sat on the balcony and read a short story, looking up to see the tide going out. I hate to leave so soon tomorrow. Oregon and this hotel will once again go back on my list of places that I need to spend more time.
Monday, September 09, 2013
8/25/13- From Pygmy to Giant
We woke up a little frustrated with toddler Darren and his family who lacked inside voices, but he did have us up early and on the road quickly. The jetboil was exhausted, but we had plans to hike. We couldn't find the visitor center, so instead chose the scenic "No Parking Anytime" trail to the sea. It actually worked out quite well. We stumbled on "Smooth Rock Beach" and delighted in discoveing starfish, sea anemones and the tubular seaweed. I slipped on a smooth rock, we made a few Planet of the Apes references and carried on unharmed and mildly amused.
We twisted and turned along the coast via iconic highway one, seat dancing and grinding to the sounds of early Britney Spears. Our first stop was Elk where the guide book had promised a "characterful" service station. The building didn't look 112 years old and the characters hadn't shown this Sunday morning. We continued on to the Pygmy Forest where we wereenchanted disappointed again. It was intellectually interesting knowing that the 5-foot trees that looked like saplings were 80 to 100 years old, but it was not very visually interesting. It looked like most any shrubbery might. We couldn't even figure out how to take an interesting picture. Clare surmised that the Pygmy Forest might be more interesting on the drive north to south after travelers had already seen the enormous redwoods on the Avenue of the Giants. (It sounded good, but I doubt it.)
We ate lunch on a beach, slightly less post-apocalyptic than the famous NZ beach. The birds weren't quite as predatory either, but they circled our picnic eagerly. The picnic was a success in that we were temporarily sated, but otherwise lacked much charm. We wound along the Pacific Coast and stopped in the small town of Mendocino (nicknamed "Spendocino" according to the guidebook) where we found all the cell service we'd been missing. Everyone placed calls to parents, even me. We stocked up on s'mores supplies, looked at a few shops and pointed the Soul north to Ft. Bragg.
At Ft. Bragg our stop of choice was the Cow Lick. It was another delicious stop. I'd put my black forest ice cream above Smitten. We were also able to obtain more jetboil fuel before our entrance into the Avenue of the Giants. Our first encounter with the giant redwoods was the Drive-Thru tree. Established in 1922, the roadside attraction was well worth the stop. I'm not sure why, but it was thrilling to fold down our mirrors and drive through a tree. It was fun to watch others drive through too.
We cruised on the avenue checking out giants until we arrived at Humboldt Redwoods State Park. We drove over to a grove and tried in the Eel river. Clare and Bri were successful, but between my silly broken sesamoid and the algae, I was more comfortable throwing rocks from the bank.
Back at camp, we successfully started a fire and cooked bratwurst over the flame. Magnifique! Bri was awarded a found junior ranger button for her efforts. The s'mores were a fine finish and we enjoyed the fire well into the night.
We twisted and turned along the coast via iconic highway one, seat dancing and grinding to the sounds of early Britney Spears. Our first stop was Elk where the guide book had promised a "characterful" service station. The building didn't look 112 years old and the characters hadn't shown this Sunday morning. We continued on to the Pygmy Forest where we were
We ate lunch on a beach, slightly less post-apocalyptic than the famous NZ beach. The birds weren't quite as predatory either, but they circled our picnic eagerly. The picnic was a success in that we were temporarily sated, but otherwise lacked much charm. We wound along the Pacific Coast and stopped in the small town of Mendocino (nicknamed "Spendocino" according to the guidebook) where we found all the cell service we'd been missing. Everyone placed calls to parents, even me. We stocked up on s'mores supplies, looked at a few shops and pointed the Soul north to Ft. Bragg.
At Ft. Bragg our stop of choice was the Cow Lick. It was another delicious stop. I'd put my black forest ice cream above Smitten. We were also able to obtain more jetboil fuel before our entrance into the Avenue of the Giants. Our first encounter with the giant redwoods was the Drive-Thru tree. Established in 1922, the roadside attraction was well worth the stop. I'm not sure why, but it was thrilling to fold down our mirrors and drive through a tree. It was fun to watch others drive through too.
We cruised on the avenue checking out giants until we arrived at Humboldt Redwoods State Park. We drove over to a grove and tried in the Eel river. Clare and Bri were successful, but between my silly broken sesamoid and the algae, I was more comfortable throwing rocks from the bank.
Back at camp, we successfully started a fire and cooked bratwurst over the flame. Magnifique! Bri was awarded a found junior ranger button for her efforts. The s'mores were a fine finish and we enjoyed the fire well into the night.
8/24/13- Land's End to Salt Point
The day got off to a slow start. Clare and I ran a few errands. It seems that the remains of the Occupy movement have set up shop at the Berkeley Post Office. Perhaps that's not so surprising. I strolled through the Berkeley farmer's market. These people seemed like farmer's market people.
We hiked at Land's End (after battling obnoxious SF traffic) with Bri, Yelena, and Natalia. The hike had great views of the Golden Gate Bridge and an interesting history as the site of Sutro baths where the 1900s rich-crowd hung out. Bri joined in the Kia Soul rolling adventure and after crossing the bridge for the third time in two days, we were on our excellent way. The first stop was a late lunch at The Shed of Flatbread in Mill Valley. From there we wound past Muir Woods and found highway one. The views were good and the road windy. We arrived to a full (and possibly- yes confirmed- loud) campground at the Salt Point State park. Bri was excited about her camping adventure. We'll see how that excitement holds tomorrow.
We hiked at Land's End (after battling obnoxious SF traffic) with Bri, Yelena, and Natalia. The hike had great views of the Golden Gate Bridge and an interesting history as the site of Sutro baths where the 1900s rich-crowd hung out. Bri joined in the Kia Soul rolling adventure and after crossing the bridge for the third time in two days, we were on our excellent way. The first stop was a late lunch at The Shed of Flatbread in Mill Valley. From there we wound past Muir Woods and found highway one. The views were good and the road windy. We arrived to a full (and possibly- yes confirmed- loud) campground at the Salt Point State park. Bri was excited about her camping adventure. We'll see how that excitement holds tomorrow.
8/22/13 and 8/23/13- Yahoo! and Full House
After a slow start and some car re-organization, we cruised the Santa Cruz boardwalk, rode the ferris wheel and split. We had a lunch date on the Yahoo! campus. Chris graciously let us partake in the lunch time chaos of Yahoo!. They give employees free meals and there was a farmer's market going on (as well as soccer and pool games). Clare said they should put in dorms, but Chris didn't seem too keen on that idea. I enjoyed my Indian dish and we were soon on our way to the "granny flat" just outside of Oakland. I wandered up Adeline toward Berkeley while Clare napped in our airbnb accommodations. We had dinner at Build, a fine pizza place that reminded us of Vapiano's (only better). I enjoyed an Organic Chocolate Stout from a local brewery. We walked the streets a bit, shared one shake with two straws at Burger Meister. Clare did not die from cuteness. Tonight, we shower. Tomorrow, San Francisco.
8/23- Clare greeted the morning with the battle cry, "Wake Up, San Francisco!" I asked her what had gotten into her and she informed me that our coming day was inspired by the hit TV show Full House. We considered trying to speak all day long in Full House catch phrases, but a la Joey Gladstone decided to "cut. it. out." instead. We took BART to MUNI, to a street car (not named Desire) to Fisherman's Wharf where we met traveling companion Bri and rented bikes. Clare wanted to ride an orange Public brand bike, so Bri and I rented a tandem.
The first hill proved a challenge as our chain came off three times. Fortunately, from there it was relatively smooth sailing. We headed toward the Golden Gate Bridge with hundreds of others. We stopped briefly and considered spending an hour bouncing on trampolines. Instead, we bounced on to the bridge with the masses. It was a little tight in places, but Bri and I managed to keep our balance and remain injury free. We zipped past Clare on the downhill into Sausalito.
A street performer offered us a spoken word poem about bikes if we'd give him three bicycle-related words. Bri chose chains and spoke and I chose velodrome. This seemed to cause some problem. To see how much, please refer to Bri's recording. We ate lunch at the least crowded joint, the Bridgeway Cafe and had a passable lunch. It's still the only complete meal disappointment to date. We also learned a valuable lesson about crowds and restaurants.
Clare and Bri took the ferry back to San Fran and I biked the orange bike back across the bridge and through the Presidio neighborhood (by mistake). After bikes, we walked up Lombard street and caught a cable car. (Note: I like how this sounds so simple and not at all like we waited 45 minutes in a line for a cable car that wasn't too crowded to ride.) I once again got to stand on the outside hanging on and was thrilled by what Clare is calling "the slowest roller coaster." There's something pretty special about hanging out of public transportation up and down the hills of San Francisco.
Turning to street car, we navigated our way to an ice cream shop called Smitten where the ice cream is made on the spot using a fancy machine called Brrr (not that fancy a name) that uses liquid nitrogen. The theory is that the extra cold and the lack of storage result in a creamier ice cream. It was good stuff, but not life-changing (or even my favorite on the trip). Clare and I power-walked up the hill to see the "painted ladies" houses at Alamo Square from the opening credits of Full House (and many other SF establishing shots). We then hurried to Oakland to meet Susan (of Hello. Susan. FARC/FIG fame). We crammed into a table (much to Susan's dismay) at a favorite Burmese restaurant of Susan's Burma Superstar. The food was top-notch (we were back on track). We all caught up on the last 11 (or 6) years and some of those items not on Facebook. After dinner Susan took us to the Pub in Albany. She promised a great relaxing place that almost felt like a neighbor's home. The Pub delivered. I'm extremely grateful to catch up with old friends and I can't even explain the joy I feel after the experience.
8/23- Clare greeted the morning with the battle cry, "Wake Up, San Francisco!" I asked her what had gotten into her and she informed me that our coming day was inspired by the hit TV show Full House. We considered trying to speak all day long in Full House catch phrases, but a la Joey Gladstone decided to "cut. it. out." instead. We took BART to MUNI, to a street car (not named Desire) to Fisherman's Wharf where we met traveling companion Bri and rented bikes. Clare wanted to ride an orange Public brand bike, so Bri and I rented a tandem.
The first hill proved a challenge as our chain came off three times. Fortunately, from there it was relatively smooth sailing. We headed toward the Golden Gate Bridge with hundreds of others. We stopped briefly and considered spending an hour bouncing on trampolines. Instead, we bounced on to the bridge with the masses. It was a little tight in places, but Bri and I managed to keep our balance and remain injury free. We zipped past Clare on the downhill into Sausalito.
A street performer offered us a spoken word poem about bikes if we'd give him three bicycle-related words. Bri chose chains and spoke and I chose velodrome. This seemed to cause some problem. To see how much, please refer to Bri's recording. We ate lunch at the least crowded joint, the Bridgeway Cafe and had a passable lunch. It's still the only complete meal disappointment to date. We also learned a valuable lesson about crowds and restaurants.
Clare and Bri took the ferry back to San Fran and I biked the orange bike back across the bridge and through the Presidio neighborhood (by mistake). After bikes, we walked up Lombard street and caught a cable car. (Note: I like how this sounds so simple and not at all like we waited 45 minutes in a line for a cable car that wasn't too crowded to ride.) I once again got to stand on the outside hanging on and was thrilled by what Clare is calling "the slowest roller coaster." There's something pretty special about hanging out of public transportation up and down the hills of San Francisco.
Turning to street car, we navigated our way to an ice cream shop called Smitten where the ice cream is made on the spot using a fancy machine called Brrr (not that fancy a name) that uses liquid nitrogen. The theory is that the extra cold and the lack of storage result in a creamier ice cream. It was good stuff, but not life-changing (or even my favorite on the trip). Clare and I power-walked up the hill to see the "painted ladies" houses at Alamo Square from the opening credits of Full House (and many other SF establishing shots). We then hurried to Oakland to meet Susan (of Hello. Susan. FARC/FIG fame). We crammed into a table (much to Susan's dismay) at a favorite Burmese restaurant of Susan's Burma Superstar. The food was top-notch (we were back on track). We all caught up on the last 11 (or 6) years and some of those items not on Facebook. After dinner Susan took us to the Pub in Albany. She promised a great relaxing place that almost felt like a neighbor's home. The Pub delivered. I'm extremely grateful to catch up with old friends and I can't even explain the joy I feel after the experience.
8/21/13- From Big Sur to Santa Cruz
We woke up to another overcast morning, hiked a bit to a waterfall and to the old lime kilns and then set off to Julia Pfieffer Burns State Park. After a short hike, we had a spectacular view of another waterfall and a gorgeous beach. It's no wonder the Browns built a house on the hill above the sea in the 40s. It seemed unfortunate that the state couldn't find a use for the house, but there was very little around.
We drove on to Monterey where a free sample of clam chowder and the promise of a window seat lured Clare into one of the many Fisherman's Wharf restaurants. Clare enjoyed an open-faced seafodd sandwich and I thought I sort of enjoyed beef ribs. My stomach hasn't been the same since. The window seat did give us a view of a dozen lounging seals, a few swimmers and a jelly fish puttering along.
From lunch, we headed north to a slough for some tandem kayaking. I was quite unnerved by the sea lion and sea otter heads popping out of the water on a regular basis. We saw dozens of swimming and sunning sea lions, sea otters, and/or seals. We saw countless birds as well, including a fleet of swooping pelicans. It took me most of an hour to calm down enough to enjoy the trip. I'm not sure where the irrational fear came from, but being on a tiny boat in a choppy sea (sort of) didn't help. I just felt so small and helpless.
We kept packing it in and next enjoyed the Mystery Spot. Clare remains skeptical, but I was fascinated by the incredible lean, and the ball and water going up hill. The tour guide's jokes were terrible and wonderful too. It was five dollars well spent.
Just outside Santa Cruz, we made camp at Henry Cowell Redwoods State Park. We were given a site with "a view" and mostly had enough daylight to enjoy the view of sky and trees. We managed to have a fire, although it took too long to start for it to be a fire for our chili. Fortunately, the jetboil took care of our heating needs. Celebrating our fire, we stayed up later than usual and then compounded that with my four minutes of luxury in the shower and Clare's hair washing in the sink. Oh what a night.
We drove on to Monterey where a free sample of clam chowder and the promise of a window seat lured Clare into one of the many Fisherman's Wharf restaurants. Clare enjoyed an open-faced seafodd sandwich and I thought I sort of enjoyed beef ribs. My stomach hasn't been the same since. The window seat did give us a view of a dozen lounging seals, a few swimmers and a jelly fish puttering along.
From lunch, we headed north to a slough for some tandem kayaking. I was quite unnerved by the sea lion and sea otter heads popping out of the water on a regular basis. We saw dozens of swimming and sunning sea lions, sea otters, and/or seals. We saw countless birds as well, including a fleet of swooping pelicans. It took me most of an hour to calm down enough to enjoy the trip. I'm not sure where the irrational fear came from, but being on a tiny boat in a choppy sea (sort of) didn't help. I just felt so small and helpless.
We kept packing it in and next enjoyed the Mystery Spot. Clare remains skeptical, but I was fascinated by the incredible lean, and the ball and water going up hill. The tour guide's jokes were terrible and wonderful too. It was five dollars well spent.
Just outside Santa Cruz, we made camp at Henry Cowell Redwoods State Park. We were given a site with "a view" and mostly had enough daylight to enjoy the view of sky and trees. We managed to have a fire, although it took too long to start for it to be a fire for our chili. Fortunately, the jetboil took care of our heating needs. Celebrating our fire, we stayed up later than usual and then compounded that with my four minutes of luxury in the shower and Clare's hair washing in the sink. Oh what a night.
Saturday, September 07, 2013
August 19, 20: Heading North
The adventures started early because Matt had to get to work. Our border crossings had been non-events until this point, but this one became a bit of an event as we got just a glimpse of some of the hassles that come from regular border crossings. The issue seemed to boil down to who could use the special plates and surely Clare and my presence didn't help. Matt waited patiently and after a 20-30 minute delay and a (fortunate?) shift change got us to San Diego transit and himself on the way.
We rode into Little Italy where we drank coffee, charged phones, and waited to rent our car. My KC Royals hat was again a conversation piece as the barista claimed to be Ewing Ka*uffman's grandson. I didn't know what to say when he told me that, so I chose, "Nice to meet you."
Rolling along in our Kia Soul, we set sail for Newport Beach. We stopped for REI fuel and Wal-Mart groceries and stopped again at a harbor for lunch after declining to pay $15 for a park entrance fee. We arrived just after two for what was supposed to be tea with Jean (my third cousin). By three, we'd had drinks and been then started into a full lunch. The lunch included fresh fruit, some persian items, and baklava for the road. Taghi, grandson Jay and son-in-law Juve' also kept us entertained. I wish we'd been able to stay longer, but we had to head out and battle LA traffic. It wasn't as bad as expected and we made it to Point Magu and camping on the beach before sunset. The wind was whipping our tent around and the tide was coming in, but all the noise drowned out the sounds of the highway. It was a noisy evening for sure. I awoke at two am and found the gibbous moon was nowhere to be seen, except for what looked like a continuous headlight around the bend on 101.
Clare woke up first the next morning and started breakfast. After cooking through the plastic lid of the jetboil, her cooking improved. We packed up camp and hit the road in fits and starts. Our first stop was Santa Barbara. I had a hankering for cinnamon rolls and we managed to find Recipes Bakery for a pair of delicious ones. After a stroll down the main drag and a stop in the old courthouse, we headed on to lunch at a Cal-Mex place recommend by Sunset magazine just outside of Santa Maria called Rancho Nipomo.
From there we visited the slightly disappointing location of the first motel. I wanted to make a joke about the pool since its remnants were still visible, but I still don't have one. We also had a few tastes of beer at the Central Coast brewery, both in SLO, San Luis Obispo.
We drove on from there to Nit Wit Ridge which is no longer open. Some had called it a poor man's Hearst Castle, but after visiting Hearst I wonder if it might have been more my speed. Hearst's "ranch" was an ostentatious art collection on a hill, way up on a hill. Our guide thought he was a legend, but I have to wonder if the guidebook's description of him as a meglomaniac might be more accurate. Something about the place really bugged me. Maybe the fact that it was only a part-time home.
We pushed on to Big Sur, arriving to our creekside campground just before dark. The creek was rushing by and we'd had dinner for the first time since the tacos in Tijuana. The dark clean-up was a little challenging, but now we're settled in for the night.
We rode into Little Italy where we drank coffee, charged phones, and waited to rent our car. My KC Royals hat was again a conversation piece as the barista claimed to be Ewing Ka*uffman's grandson. I didn't know what to say when he told me that, so I chose, "Nice to meet you."
Rolling along in our Kia Soul, we set sail for Newport Beach. We stopped for REI fuel and Wal-Mart groceries and stopped again at a harbor for lunch after declining to pay $15 for a park entrance fee. We arrived just after two for what was supposed to be tea with Jean (my third cousin). By three, we'd had drinks and been then started into a full lunch. The lunch included fresh fruit, some persian items, and baklava for the road. Taghi, grandson Jay and son-in-law Juve' also kept us entertained. I wish we'd been able to stay longer, but we had to head out and battle LA traffic. It wasn't as bad as expected and we made it to Point Magu and camping on the beach before sunset. The wind was whipping our tent around and the tide was coming in, but all the noise drowned out the sounds of the highway. It was a noisy evening for sure. I awoke at two am and found the gibbous moon was nowhere to be seen, except for what looked like a continuous headlight around the bend on 101.
Clare woke up first the next morning and started breakfast. After cooking through the plastic lid of the jetboil, her cooking improved. We packed up camp and hit the road in fits and starts. Our first stop was Santa Barbara. I had a hankering for cinnamon rolls and we managed to find Recipes Bakery for a pair of delicious ones. After a stroll down the main drag and a stop in the old courthouse, we headed on to lunch at a Cal-Mex place recommend by Sunset magazine just outside of Santa Maria called Rancho Nipomo.
From there we visited the slightly disappointing location of the first motel. I wanted to make a joke about the pool since its remnants were still visible, but I still don't have one. We also had a few tastes of beer at the Central Coast brewery, both in SLO, San Luis Obispo.
We drove on from there to Nit Wit Ridge which is no longer open. Some had called it a poor man's Hearst Castle, but after visiting Hearst I wonder if it might have been more my speed. Hearst's "ranch" was an ostentatious art collection on a hill, way up on a hill. Our guide thought he was a legend, but I have to wonder if the guidebook's description of him as a meglomaniac might be more accurate. Something about the place really bugged me. Maybe the fact that it was only a part-time home.
We pushed on to Big Sur, arriving to our creekside campground just before dark. The creek was rushing by and we'd had dinner for the first time since the tacos in Tijuana. The dark clean-up was a little challenging, but now we're settled in for the night.
Friday, September 06, 2013
Trip log: August 16, 17, 18
Matt H. picked us up at the San Diego airport and whisked us to Mexico. The border crossing was a cinch and we were on the sixth floor of a Tijuana apartment building in no time. After visiting with Sharyn and Matt, we headed to bed.
Saturday morning, after a B&B-worthy breakfast, Matt resumed aggressively driving us through Mexico down to La Bufadora a.ka. "The Blowhole". We were all "overwhelmed" by the many opportunities to purchase Mexican (and non-Mexican) souvenirs (T-shirt highlight: "Don't ask me for Sh*t" Ensenada, Mexico). The blowhole was popular, but we weren't able to see a hole, just water spraying up from the marine geyser.
From La Bufadora we headed to Mexican wine country. The valley was quite pretty and we ate outside at Deckman's. The four of us sat just a few yards from vineyard and outdoor kitchen under the shade of a sizable tree. We delighted in a white wine and the "three" courses of delicacies including tuna, oysters, scallops, quail, and pork. Every course was so good that even I downed the seafood. The vegetables were exquisitely charred on the grill. It was nearly perfect.
Since we'd driven the coast down, we cut through the mountains on the way home. As we drove through Tecate, I was struck by the border fence. It didn't feel right. I don't have the answers, but I recalled a quote regarding the mixed signals of the Statue of Liberty and a fence. Not only that, but the fence is on the side of a mountain. Couldn't someone give a little and put the hill clearly on one side or the other if the fence has to be there?
Late night dinner at El Franck's. I had nearly forgotten how delicious tacos in Mexico can be.
Sunday, we crossed into San Diego. Matt and Sharyn said that normal border crossings run 2-4 hours without a sentri pass. We were through in 20 minutes and on our way to the Hotel Del at Coronado Beach. The Del was a fine hotel, but Clare's descriptions of the days when a rail spur brought rich patrons to the doorstep were more compelling than any remaining architectural detail. We spent the afternoon on the beach. It was great to throw with Matt and lounge around.
We were joined on the beach by recent transplants Jeff and Sheri. Good times. For a late lunch, we made our way to Leroy's. My burger with bacon jam was excellent, the Downtown Brown beer was ok, but the dessert at Moo Time took the cake, well actually the ice cream. From lunch, we headed up to Soledad park where we had great views of San Diego. then we chilled with sea lions (or seals?) in La Jolla.
Matt and Sharyn were such wonderful gracious hosts and it was such a pleasure to begin our trip among friends. In some ways, it made the vacation feel more at home than home.
Saturday morning, after a B&B-worthy breakfast, Matt resumed aggressively driving us through Mexico down to La Bufadora a.ka. "The Blowhole". We were all "overwhelmed" by the many opportunities to purchase Mexican (and non-Mexican) souvenirs (T-shirt highlight: "Don't ask me for Sh*t" Ensenada, Mexico). The blowhole was popular, but we weren't able to see a hole, just water spraying up from the marine geyser.
From La Bufadora we headed to Mexican wine country. The valley was quite pretty and we ate outside at Deckman's. The four of us sat just a few yards from vineyard and outdoor kitchen under the shade of a sizable tree. We delighted in a white wine and the "three" courses of delicacies including tuna, oysters, scallops, quail, and pork. Every course was so good that even I downed the seafood. The vegetables were exquisitely charred on the grill. It was nearly perfect.
Since we'd driven the coast down, we cut through the mountains on the way home. As we drove through Tecate, I was struck by the border fence. It didn't feel right. I don't have the answers, but I recalled a quote regarding the mixed signals of the Statue of Liberty and a fence. Not only that, but the fence is on the side of a mountain. Couldn't someone give a little and put the hill clearly on one side or the other if the fence has to be there?
Late night dinner at El Franck's. I had nearly forgotten how delicious tacos in Mexico can be.
Sunday, we crossed into San Diego. Matt and Sharyn said that normal border crossings run 2-4 hours without a sentri pass. We were through in 20 minutes and on our way to the Hotel Del at Coronado Beach. The Del was a fine hotel, but Clare's descriptions of the days when a rail spur brought rich patrons to the doorstep were more compelling than any remaining architectural detail. We spent the afternoon on the beach. It was great to throw with Matt and lounge around.
We were joined on the beach by recent transplants Jeff and Sheri. Good times. For a late lunch, we made our way to Leroy's. My burger with bacon jam was excellent, the Downtown Brown beer was ok, but the dessert at Moo Time took the cake, well actually the ice cream. From lunch, we headed up to Soledad park where we had great views of San Diego. then we chilled with sea lions (or seals?) in La Jolla.
Matt and Sharyn were such wonderful gracious hosts and it was such a pleasure to begin our trip among friends. In some ways, it made the vacation feel more at home than home.
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