tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-145541202024-03-13T20:29:23.019-07:00Kate McVaugh's RamblesIndie Travel WriterUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger248125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14554120.post-70884859974296315332021-05-16T04:12:00.000-07:002021-05-16T04:12:20.800-07:00Naples, Florida<p> <span style="font-family: arial;">Only pictures for now. They might just be enough.</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1IyX1z2-Sbg/YKD8Ilc0itI/AAAAAAAABks/0uvK9RZ0FhM9wigN8LkXsacBWEXIVra9ACLcBGAsYHQ/s1901/IMG_0063.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1268" data-original-width="1901" height="426" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1IyX1z2-Sbg/YKD8Ilc0itI/AAAAAAAABks/0uvK9RZ0FhM9wigN8LkXsacBWEXIVra9ACLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h426/IMG_0063.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5V-rpFdOZLQ/YKD8aVlwMDI/AAAAAAAABk0/Gm4soApxoVchuDboEjvG2rms4GbrvBnkgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1426/IMG_0058.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="951" data-original-width="1426" height="426" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5V-rpFdOZLQ/YKD8aVlwMDI/AAAAAAAABk0/Gm4soApxoVchuDboEjvG2rms4GbrvBnkgCLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h426/IMG_0058.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-njYmnZkebgc/YKD8m_-SxOI/AAAAAAAABk4/wRRCNCQixZAEPF98CmQPMvOaZHh91pMDwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1426/IMG_0068.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="951" data-original-width="1426" height="426" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-njYmnZkebgc/YKD8m_-SxOI/AAAAAAAABk4/wRRCNCQixZAEPF98CmQPMvOaZHh91pMDwCLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h426/IMG_0068.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mt-WWMWjL8k/YKD885tir0I/AAAAAAAABlE/Uqx4OoZw1I8qGjy5KJL77JycftGVKi20ACLcBGAsYHQ/s1426/IMG_0088.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="951" data-original-width="1426" height="426" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mt-WWMWjL8k/YKD885tir0I/AAAAAAAABlE/Uqx4OoZw1I8qGjy5KJL77JycftGVKi20ACLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h426/IMG_0088.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/--FHzvBhwqIo/YKD9JdeT4XI/AAAAAAAABlI/41FHbv33COkogDWi9CZ382aWvNr01MR5QCLcBGAsYHQ/s1426/IMG_0095.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="951" data-original-width="1426" height="426" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/--FHzvBhwqIo/YKD9JdeT4XI/AAAAAAAABlI/41FHbv33COkogDWi9CZ382aWvNr01MR5QCLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h426/IMG_0095.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Mu4XaDBOrtE/YKD9T9ifX9I/AAAAAAAABlQ/8CDihhwRr54SOeNaNgX8qCfgcBdxuYpewCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_0114.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1365" data-original-width="2048" height="426" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Mu4XaDBOrtE/YKD9T9ifX9I/AAAAAAAABlQ/8CDihhwRr54SOeNaNgX8qCfgcBdxuYpewCLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h426/IMG_0114.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UjOgZ24Co30/YKD958UdjsI/AAAAAAAABlY/gc-OvYkIIwIg6Qfq_chZ_jiBSMc7VCKsgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1426/IMG_0008%2B%25281%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="951" data-original-width="1426" height="426" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UjOgZ24Co30/YKD958UdjsI/AAAAAAAABlY/gc-OvYkIIwIg6Qfq_chZ_jiBSMc7VCKsgCLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h426/IMG_0008%2B%25281%2529.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-family: arial;"><br /></span><p></p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14554120.post-65152821033744712572018-10-10T10:41:00.000-07:002018-10-10T10:41:44.167-07:00The Blue Angles - Fleet Week SF<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-shfmefc92Uc/W74tSHM_EcI/AAAAAAAABAI/d_moAoX9d7I4o4Z3CamHLpELVWSpvhX4wCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_0428%2B%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; clear: left; color: #0066cc; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; orphans: 2; text-align: justify; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="951" data-original-width="1426" height="266" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-shfmefc92Uc/W74tSHM_EcI/AAAAAAAABAI/d_moAoX9d7I4o4Z3CamHLpELVWSpvhX4wCLcBGAs/s400/IMG_0428%2B%25282%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flying through the Golden Gate</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">October in San Francisco means
clear skies and warm days. We generally get ripped off during the real summer
months of June through August. This summer seemed even worse than most. I’m not
sure I saw the sun more than a few hours a day – if at all – in August. But
then came October, and with it the Blue Angles.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There is no more spectacular
place to watch those aeronautical stuntmen than over the San Francisco Bay and
in and out of the surrounding city and hills. When it is as hot and clear as it
was this past weekend, all the better. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px; text-align: justify;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Xer-21dstFo/W74sS61VL1I/AAAAAAAAA_8/Tad8cALm2nMmwM6vxjZEROCnDG7nmzY9ACLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_0324.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; clear: right; color: #0066cc; float: right; font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="951" data-original-width="1426" height="265" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Xer-21dstFo/W74sS61VL1I/AAAAAAAAA_8/Tad8cALm2nMmwM6vxjZEROCnDG7nmzY9ACLcBGAs/s400/IMG_0324.JPG" width="400" /></a><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Xer-21dstFo/W74sS61VL1I/AAAAAAAAA_8/Tad8cALm2nMmwM6vxjZEROCnDG7nmzY9ACLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_0324.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a>The last, and only time I ever saw
the Blue Angles up-close<span style="color: red; margin: 0px;"> </span>was about thirty years
ago. At the time, the Alameda Naval Air Station was still up and running, and
that’s where the boys parked those beautiful blue and gold jets. I was lucky
enough to be in the tower one year when they cleared the F/A 18’s for take-off,
and watched in awe as they launched into action over the San Francisco Bay and skyline.
Even luckier, I went to the show with Navy friends who got me onto the
restricted area where they coordinate the show. </div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
</span>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I haven’t always been in the Bay
Area for Fleet Week and the years that I was, just never got around to making
the trip over across the bay. Who honestly wants to deal with a million people
cramming into the city to view the air spectacle? I’ve tried to watch it from the
East Bay, where it is possible to see the tiny specs performing maneuvers. But
it lacks the thrill of having your body rumbled from the vibrations, and your
heart skip a beat when the ear-shattering sound of a plane sneaks up from
behind you. <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ng4hgx-upwI/W74uq7U8waI/AAAAAAAABAU/v_G3nG9tgoIRKlfCjg-J1wZt_Q1VVUzIwCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_0265.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="951" data-original-width="1426" height="266" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ng4hgx-upwI/W74uq7U8waI/AAAAAAAABAU/v_G3nG9tgoIRKlfCjg-J1wZt_Q1VVUzIwCLcBGAs/s400/IMG_0265.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Patriot Jet Team</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Of the three days the Angles were
to perform, Sunday was to be the hottest. I made my plan, packed water and
camera, and set off on BART for the short journey under the bay. I got onto a
fairly empty train that picked up a few more people until we arrived at the
transfer station. From there on in, it was sardine travel. Rather hellish, hot,
with nowhere to get a secure grip. But if those families with their little ones
could survive the short trip, so could I. <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Popping out from the underground
station on to Market Street turned out to be quite a surprise. It was hot.
Well, San Francisco hot, but perfect for me. I walked down to the Ferry
Building that sits on the bay, stopped in to buy a cup of coffee, and set off
down The Embarcadero, on my way towards Fisherman’s Warf. It’s a bit of a walk,
but I was early for the Blue Angles show and also wanted to scope out possible viewing
areas. Normally, I would have taken one of the classic electric cars that San
Francisco has purchased form around the world, refurbished, and put into use,
but not today. <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-777109gEEUg/W74vWk0BEWI/AAAAAAAABAc/SWL9AwF57TEp3lVGv9ZnT7PAiSBPrWQBACLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_0293.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="951" data-original-width="1426" height="266" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-777109gEEUg/W74vWk0BEWI/AAAAAAAABAc/SWL9AwF57TEp3lVGv9ZnT7PAiSBPrWQBACLcBGAs/s400/IMG_0293.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Team Oracle</span> </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As I strolled along the wide
boulevard, I could see an earlier act plying its trade above the City. A red
biplane plane flew straight up, stalled, then spiraled down before the pilot
kicked the plane back into an ascent. Young and old alike stopped to gaze up at
the death-defying acts circling above our heads.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Past all the Piers that now serve
as a variety of business besides the shipping trades, I meandered on until I
got to the old part of Fisherman’s Warf; the part that I remember as a child. I
noticed that the crowds had increased. If I walked much further, I’d end up at
Marina Green where it would be the most crowded.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I ducked down a few alleyways I
had never been on before, and eventually found myself on a well, reconstructed
pier, with a restaurant on one side. Surely, I must be in an off-limits zone,
but I saw no sign, and no one stopped me. I rounded the corner and found myself
at the back of the restaurant and smack-dab on the bay itself. There was even a
bit of shade which, at that point, I desperately needed.<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vakyxpP42-o/W74z90Yn0AI/AAAAAAAABBc/EXMUSAst9OwIFdC4SLi31KEozk-6SCBgQCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_0305%2B-%2BCopy%2B%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="670" data-original-width="912" height="293" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vakyxpP42-o/W74z90Yn0AI/AAAAAAAABBc/EXMUSAst9OwIFdC4SLi31KEozk-6SCBgQCLcBGAs/s400/IMG_0305%2B-%2BCopy%2B%25282%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">United 777</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A few others were there. One local
family told me they had known exactly where to go and had mapped it out in
advance. The other folks I talked to had, like me, stumbled upon this primo
venue.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I got cool in the shade, pulled
out the camera with the long-ish lens, drank a bottle of water, and got ready.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gFzLUFTxhAQ/W7400Cv7T3I/AAAAAAAABBw/9vgoTDPmL9EtvUrRlsG7uACrQ7e1zK90wCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_0392%2B-%2BCopy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="951" data-original-width="1426" height="266" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gFzLUFTxhAQ/W7400Cv7T3I/AAAAAAAABBw/9vgoTDPmL9EtvUrRlsG7uACrQ7e1zK90wCLcBGAs/s400/IMG_0392%2B-%2BCopy.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">First up came the Patriots Jet
Team, a civilian-owned, aerobatic jet team, in their shiny black jets and colorful
exhaust trails. <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Then it was time for Team Oracle’s
red biplane to loop up and down and mesmerize the crowd. <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">If anyone had told me that I would
enjoy the sight of a massive Triple-7 over the bay, I would have laughed. And I
would have been wrong. There was something quite special about United’s Boeing 777,
which seemed to glide across the bay and perform a delicate dance in the sky. I
swear I couldn’t even hear it, which seems odd. Perhaps because it was in sharp
contrast to the Patriots Jets.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MsRxkpUQWxw/W74yb1mtStI/AAAAAAAABBI/FtyAxDOosusOpib89LLjnQ1WXXYq8xaaACLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_0360.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="652" data-original-width="978" height="266" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MsRxkpUQWxw/W74yb1mtStI/AAAAAAAABBI/FtyAxDOosusOpib89LLjnQ1WXXYq8xaaACLcBGAs/s400/IMG_0360.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></div>
<br />
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Next up came Fat Albert, the Blue
Angles C-130 transport plane, and everyone knew the Big Show was about to
begin.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">First you hear them, then you see
them; Blue Angles speeding low across the bay and shooting up into the sky. Just
as quickly they disappear out of sight. You search the skies when suddenly one
streaks across the bay, barely above the waterline. And just when you think you
have an idea of their next move and where to point the camera, they trick you
again. You’re left laughing and jumping up and down with the sheer excitement and
thrill of it all. <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LZ-C0C3qN8A/W74y3DWk-9I/AAAAAAAABBQ/EL4tveW2Id40rRevKnU3bNDe0Ll_IuCVACLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_0431%2B-%2BCopy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="951" data-original-width="1426" height="266" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-LZ-C0C3qN8A/W74y3DWk-9I/AAAAAAAABBQ/EL4tveW2Id40rRevKnU3bNDe0Ll_IuCVACLcBGAs/s400/IMG_0431%2B-%2BCopy.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For about forty minutes, almost
everything stops in San Francisco, and all eyes are on the jets. The Blue
Angles fly in and out of the city, not just above they bay, and I would love to
be up on the rooftop of a tall building when the sweep through. Maybe next
year.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It had been a fantastic day and I
didn’t even mind the sardine-travel home. Everyone was smiling and happy. We
need more days like this!</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MBJp9wb5Jkc/W742cdO0v9I/AAAAAAAABCI/ZeJzarEQmGU3dTR2wCEQ6a5BpOk_kIqBACLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_0380.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8qQIc7WVPUA/W742xxL2PXI/AAAAAAAABCQ/z3w8jgYCv98_1terZqStMSOWlfLABJZ6gCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_0426.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="951" data-original-width="1426" height="213" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8qQIc7WVPUA/W742xxL2PXI/AAAAAAAABCQ/z3w8jgYCv98_1terZqStMSOWlfLABJZ6gCLcBGAs/s320/IMG_0426.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">SFPD keeping us all safe</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</a></div>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MBJp9wb5Jkc/W742cdO0v9I/AAAAAAAABCI/ZeJzarEQmGU3dTR2wCEQ6a5BpOk_kIqBACLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_0380.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1426" data-original-width="951" height="640" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-MBJp9wb5Jkc/W742cdO0v9I/AAAAAAAABCI/ZeJzarEQmGU3dTR2wCEQ6a5BpOk_kIqBACLcBGAs/s640/IMG_0380.JPG" width="424" /></a></div>
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14554120.post-45289785561803485962018-07-24T09:02:00.000-07:002018-07-24T09:02:59.720-07:00The National Railway Museum - York<br />
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FOrTudX0p_w/W1c36SjngoI/AAAAAAAAA84/zK7ooTK8-Es3jrqfl4awkw10P8Gc6CWiACLcBGAs/s1600/train%2B3.2%2B%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FOrTudX0p_w/W1c36SjngoI/AAAAAAAAA84/zK7ooTK8-Es3jrqfl4awkw10P8Gc6CWiACLcBGAs/s400/train%2B3.2%2B%25282%2529.JPG" width="266" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Trains are in my blood. My granddad and great granddad drove
coal trains in Pennsylvania. My dad, for a summer or two, worked as a fireman
shoveling coal into stem engines. There’s something about the all that gleaming
metal and chugging and clacking that sets my mind to thinking about jumping on
a freight train and leaving all my cares behind.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">When I found out that York had one of the largest Railway
Museums in the world, I penciled in a date on my calendar.<span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;"> Link:</span> </span><a href="https://www.railwaymuseum.org.uk/">National Railway Museum</a></span></div>
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<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“Home to the iconic locomotives and as unrivaled collection of
engineering firsts we celebrate the past, present, and future of innovation on
the railways. We’re home to over 200 years of history and a million fascinating
railway objects.”</span></i></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">It is situated on grounds that were once part of the York
Railway Station, which creates quite and alluring atmosphere. <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>The various halls make use of the tracks and
buildings that served to transport people and goods, store engines, and move
trains, for around 100 years.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The Station Hall was the first area of my visit. Built in
1870, it served as York’s main goods station until the 1960’s. I strolled along
the concrete platforms, past station clocks, lamp posts, displays of luggage, and
numerous gleaming engines and carriages. The middle of the central platform is
now a café where you can sip coffee and get a bite to eat, all the while
surrounded by locomotive history. </span></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-htsy2tm-OpU/W1c8FB12RCI/AAAAAAAAA9Q/lMy1c-fceLUbhUQEimzIQ3Y_u4FaJzkJwCLcBGAs/s1600/medium_NRM_115_79%255B1%255D.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="576" data-original-width="730" height="252" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-htsy2tm-OpU/W1c8FB12RCI/AAAAAAAAA9Q/lMy1c-fceLUbhUQEimzIQ3Y_u4FaJzkJwCLcBGAs/s320/medium_NRM_115_79%255B1%255D.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">image: National Railway Museum</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Queen Victoria’s Saloon Car rested along one set of tracks
opposite a number of other Royal Carriages. I peered into the luxurious blue
velvet and gold appointed car, marveling at the intricate details and mentally
comparing it to the train that had taken me up to York. Just a tad different. I
watched two men delicately apply paint to the outer carriage and asked them
about the restoration efforts. They happily told me about the work they were
doing and what had already been done to the carriage that had been built in
1869. They added additional insights such as the Queen’s Car had been the first
in the world with both electricity and an indoor toilet. However, it turned out
that the Queen did not trust indoor plumbing and would make restroom stops at
stations along the way. And although the train ran at quite a good clip, the
Queen felt this was not good for the health. It ran at what she considered to
be an acceptable, much slower, speed. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Along with the royal carriages, service trains are on
display. The postal carriage caught my</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5igzNZOxZa8/W1c8qZpEn7I/AAAAAAAAA9Y/yhbUZDgzcwslyMShXcPgCnawnMAdLmf6QCLcBGAs/s1600/train%2B35%2B%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5igzNZOxZa8/W1c8qZpEn7I/AAAAAAAAA9Y/yhbUZDgzcwslyMShXcPgCnawnMAdLmf6QCLcBGAs/s320/train%2B35%2B%25282%2529.JPG" width="213" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> eye and, as luck would have it, was one
of the ones you could step into. Inside is a moving post office, with pigeon
hole shelves in which to sort mail as the train roared along the tracks. A grainy
black and white movie on an end wall showed how the workers dropped off and
picked up mail bags, all without ever stopping. A system of bags and nets and
boxes did the work. Even after watching the film, I have no idea how they
managed to do that without loosing mail or an arm or two.</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Another interactive display is found in the eerie Ambulance
Train, built for transportation of soldiers in the First World War. </span></div>
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<div align="center" style="line-height: 16.5pt; margin-bottom: 7.5pt; margin-left: 0in; margin-right: 0in; margin-top: 0in; text-align: center;">
<span style="color: #1a1a1a; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>“Mass
warfare meant massive casualties.</i></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>Railway companies had to fit the facilities of a
hospital into the confines of a train.</i></span></div>
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<span style="color: #1a1a1a; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>Ambulance
trains were up to a third of a mile long, and included wards, pharmacies,
emergency operating rooms, kitchens and staff accommodation.”</i></span><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: xx-small;"> National Railway Museum</span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span><span style="font-size: xx-small;"></span><br />
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pDIF0-Bimbw/W1c-egUEe6I/AAAAAAAAA94/7Gco9W4bLxETpPcZvAu7yVcOzUmCMQwzACLcBGAs/s1600/train%2B51.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1067" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pDIF0-Bimbw/W1c-egUEe6I/AAAAAAAAA94/7Gco9W4bLxETpPcZvAu7yVcOzUmCMQwzACLcBGAs/s320/train%2B51.JPG" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hospital Train</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I walked into the car and nearly jumped when I saw the
holographic nurse walk into a treatment room and go about gathering supplies.
As with many of the displays, posters with detailed information stood next to
the car. Although I did not have time to carefully read all the details about
this part of history that I had never before heard of, I was glad to find it
online. <span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif; font-size: x-small;">Link: </span><a href="http://firstworldwar.nrm.org.uk/the-exhibition/">Hospital Trains WWI UK</a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Engine Shed number 4, built in1877, is now home to The Great
Hall. (I would call it a roundhouse, but maybe we use a different term in the
US.) I didn’t count how many engines are on display, but there are a lot.
Everything from really old engines to the Japanese Bullet Train. I especially
loved the Mallard, and the Duchess of Hamilton – all art deco shaped and
painted. Possibly I had never been that close to engines that large, because I
was totally astonished at their size. Some of the wheels are taller than me. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I arrived in time to see the Turntable Demonstration and
watched as an engine slowly moved around from one side of the massive turntable
to the other. <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HZYYEtzwLv4/W1dD6QKpPbI/AAAAAAAAA-Y/PMHi_NZqIyQPo7uOQFxsazUy5mCShKmWACLcBGAs/s1600/train%2B52.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="951" data-original-width="1426" height="266" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HZYYEtzwLv4/W1dD6QKpPbI/AAAAAAAAA-Y/PMHi_NZqIyQPo7uOQFxsazUy5mCShKmWACLcBGAs/s400/train%2B52.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Turntable</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Throughout every day, there are various events and
demonstrations. A few of the items listed in the daily guide were: Tour: The
Royal Carriages; Talk: The Japanese Bullet Train; Storytelling. And the one I
missed and most want to partake in: Tour of the Collections Store.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">The North Shed is an enormous warehouse-sized area, houses
over 10,000 objects connected to railway history. I saw signs, and stained-glass
windows, and tea cups, and a million other items that I could only guess about
their origin. There simply wasn’t enough time to explore the entire museum and
also go to all the talks and tours. Once again, I wished I were closer so that
I could go back to the museum. <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yYHxa4T9ef4/W1dIawk1-CI/AAAAAAAAA-w/kqlPs5ZuoSQVWOTyKqcyFtR1WP5DW0LyQCLcBGAs/s1600/train%2B67.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1067" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yYHxa4T9ef4/W1dIawk1-CI/AAAAAAAAA-w/kqlPs5ZuoSQVWOTyKqcyFtR1WP5DW0LyQCLcBGAs/s400/train%2B67.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">North Shed</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">This had to be one of the best museums I’ve ever been to. I
spent four or five hours and there was so much more to see and do. Thankfully,
a lot of their materials are on their beautiful website where the photos are
much better than mine. </span></div>
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<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1Hvm0r3Fjqw/W1dKc8V2P6I/AAAAAAAAA_A/KslLU-gMY3QTOPqiu94MWh0XVSojVwFqQCLcBGAs/s1600/train%2B64.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="951" data-original-width="1426" height="213" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1Hvm0r3Fjqw/W1dKc8V2P6I/AAAAAAAAA_A/KslLU-gMY3QTOPqiu94MWh0XVSojVwFqQCLcBGAs/s320/train%2B64.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ext6nQNhU6s/W1dKlABxK8I/AAAAAAAAA_E/hi1ZFmIXXM8xBJ6JHrqSSPlmPzKRJDotwCLcBGAs/s1600/train%2B80.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; color: #0066cc; font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-left: 16px; margin-right: 16px; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><img border="0" data-original-height="951" data-original-width="1426" height="133" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ext6nQNhU6s/W1dKlABxK8I/AAAAAAAAA_E/hi1ZFmIXXM8xBJ6JHrqSSPlmPzKRJDotwCLcBGAs/s200/train%2B80.JPG" width="200" /></a>Workshop</td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Duchess of Hamilton</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9LTO88SkDLU/W1dKq_ZwNkI/AAAAAAAAA_M/b-GCw3cv2Psct5qW2chGk7b3nR-88GC0QCLcBGAs/s1600/train%2B82%2B%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="951" data-original-width="1426" height="266" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9LTO88SkDLU/W1dKq_ZwNkI/AAAAAAAAA_M/b-GCw3cv2Psct5qW2chGk7b3nR-88GC0QCLcBGAs/s400/train%2B82%2B%25282%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Engine Shed 4</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yAfhZCheopc/W1dKXxtiqHI/AAAAAAAAA-8/nEskyNC-weoW1AdpY8H8D4j-044sn88UACLcBGAs/s1600/train%2B62.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1426" data-original-width="951" height="400" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-yAfhZCheopc/W1dKXxtiqHI/AAAAAAAAA-8/nEskyNC-weoW1AdpY8H8D4j-044sn88UACLcBGAs/s400/train%2B62.JPG" width="265" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Mallard</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14554120.post-39918562482270637652018-06-27T05:56:00.000-07:002018-06-27T06:53:45.468-07:00The North York Moors & Whitby<br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span>rarely take paid tours of anywhere. In fact I may never
have taken one before my tour of the North York Moors, Whitby on the coast, and
beautiful little villages in between. What a perfect day!</span></div>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iVGwVTjcszk/WzN692RROkI/AAAAAAAAA5k/3ffasPefUS8jjpmnp7UuPsUncOnqTRoVwCEwYBhgL/s1600/IMG_0095%2B%25281%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="951" data-original-width="1426" height="266" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iVGwVTjcszk/WzN692RROkI/AAAAAAAAA5k/3ffasPefUS8jjpmnp7UuPsUncOnqTRoVwCEwYBhgL/s400/IMG_0095%2B%25281%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">It helped that the whole of the UK is in the middle of a British
heatwave. Skies are clear and blue, the temps are lovely, and everyone is
smiling. Add to that a spacious comfy mini-van, with only six other people, and
a top-notch driver/tour guide. I can’t think of a better scenario for a perfect
day.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Mark, our tour guide and driver par excellence, <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>loaded our little group in the Bob Holiday
van. (That’s BOB as in Best of Britain, not Bob’s).<span style="margin: 0px;"> <a href="https://www.bobholidays.com/">BOB Holidays</a></span> As we wound our way out of the city and into
the country, Mark filled us in on the surrounding history and pointed out
various sites of interest. Prior to the trip, I only knew that Whitby was a coastal
town and that the moors were out in the country.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">The North York Moors National Park encompasses over 500
square miles of rolling hills and dales. Created in 1952, it also contains all
the small villages that have existed in its boundaries for centuries. How lovely
it would be to say that you live inside a national park! Even better, there are
rules set up to ensure whatever existed there prior to its inception, remains.
There are no fast-food restaurants, or chain stores, or shopping malls; simply
lovely countryside and quint villages that takes one’s breath away. </span></div>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VgCzrFUvLnA/WzN8othyEDI/AAAAAAAAA5w/WbbyVszt8jwXT-Sspq3-PKLpsnHNWOeUQCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_0100.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="951" data-original-width="1426" height="213" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VgCzrFUvLnA/WzN8othyEDI/AAAAAAAAA5w/WbbyVszt8jwXT-Sspq3-PKLpsnHNWOeUQCLcBGAs/s320/IMG_0100.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">It always happens when I have been surrounded by city noise
and people and a bit of chaos. I forget that another world exists. Driving
along the two-lane country roads while gazing out onto the vast expanses of
green rolling hills, it begins to sink in. The first time we stepped out of the
van and I inhaled that glorious fresh air and heard only the sounds of nature, I
once again questioned what it is I like about cities. This was heaven.</span></div>
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c8Vpp67Ob1E/WzN_CdSntDI/AAAAAAAAA6s/6Rs0Ji6z3_UL4JsyfE0L0baQFqCuGtn_gCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_0191%2B%25281%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="951" data-original-width="1426" height="133" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c8Vpp67Ob1E/WzN_CdSntDI/AAAAAAAAA6s/6Rs0Ji6z3_UL4JsyfE0L0baQFqCuGtn_gCLcBGAs/s200/IMG_0191%2B%25281%2529.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">The Moors are renowned for their bright purple fields of
heather which are just beginning to bloom. In two weeks the color will stretch as
far as the eye can see. What a spectacular sight that would be. But as Mark
explained, at that time the roads will be packed with cars and families on their
summer holidays out to experience the heather in its full glory. We had the
hills and dales basically to ourselves which is a trade-off I was happy to
make. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">And then there are the sheep happily grazing and resting in
the fields everywhere we traveled, not a fence in sight. Up here in the moors,
the sheep have free rein of the land. The farmers leave them to roam untethered
year round. During lambing season, about two months ago, the farmers are up to
check on the moms several times a day. And when it’s sheering time, they are
rounded up and brought back to the farm. Only if there is a severe storm, are they
are brought down off the hills in the winter. </span><br />
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pEChGf_uagY/WzOE9tzU2gI/AAAAAAAAA8c/HHMUDU0sz8Yq4vI_92fEHI9iKpQL5PYcACEwYBhgL/s1600/20180626_101350.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-pEChGf_uagY/WzOE9tzU2gI/AAAAAAAAA8c/HHMUDU0sz8Yq4vI_92fEHI9iKpQL5PYcACEwYBhgL/s320/20180626_101350.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">I wondered how it was possible to get them all back to
their respective farms. As with all my non-stop questions, Mark had the answer.
(Actually, the whole sheep thing had been part of his planned talk.) Turns out
sheep never stray more than six or seven miles from home. And they tend to stay
in groups. Each animal has a red, green or blue stripe painted on its wool to
designate its owner. Even with sheep dogs, it must be quite a task to collect
them all. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Next up was the market town of Helmsley. What I would give
to live a few months in Hemsley! At least on a bright and sunny day. I was most
taken by the stone cottages and even more so by the flower boxes. Surely I could
replicate those back in California. It is one of the first things I will
attempt when I return.</span></div>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hni9NmP4n00/WzN_0tp9TQI/AAAAAAAAA68/XxPKA2O4wasUR8RXh5Q6leqFMIyfaI-BQCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_0109%2B%25281%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1068" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-hni9NmP4n00/WzN_0tp9TQI/AAAAAAAAA68/XxPKA2O4wasUR8RXh5Q6leqFMIyfaI-BQCLcBGAs/s400/IMG_0109%2B%25281%2529.JPG" width="266" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">From there we descended back down the mountain, out of the National
Park, and to the fishing village and seaside resort of Whitby. Aside from my normal
longing to gaze out onto the sea, I wanted to walk around the ancient ruins of
Whitby Abbey. I believe the first monastery on the site dates from the mid-600’s.
The gothic ruins date to 1225. <a href="http://www.english-heritage.org.uk/visit/places/whitby-abbey/">Whitby Abbey</a></span></div>
<span style="background-color: yellow;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">In 1890, Bram Stoker paid a visit to Whitby, sat on a bench
overlooking the port and across to he Abbey high on the hill. It was there that
the he got his inspiration to write Dracula. I could easily see how that occurred,
especially when I first arrived up on the hill with the sea mist swirling around
the spooky spires. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">No time to waste – this was a tour after all, I had had to
get down the 199 steps and into town, grab my fish and chips, and be back at
the bus pick-up in two hours. (provided I actually found the bus pick-up spot.)
I had no time to spend reading about the history or going through the lovely
museum. </span></div>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2tXlRrbswEw/WzOBgArRsrI/AAAAAAAAA7k/KcMpbE56PpcVVAV46yBPjHSH-f8oHMYIwCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_0106%2B%25281%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="color: #b00000;"></span><img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2tXlRrbswEw/WzOBgArRsrI/AAAAAAAAA7k/KcMpbE56PpcVVAV46yBPjHSH-f8oHMYIwCLcBGAs/s400/IMG_0106%2B%25281%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Mark had warned us, no less than three times, about the 199
steps down to the town. Lucky for us, he dropped us off at the top. I don’t
know if I would have attempted the ascent. But 199 steps down, when you have
less than perfect knees, can be a little intimidating. Turns out I had nothing
to fear. These were not Mayan ruin steps. Easy going, handrails, and magnificent
views. I simply followed behind a group of folks at least 10 years older than
me. I wasn’t about to complain.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Whitby is lovely, but I really wish I could have walked the
streets at 6AM. It was noon and packed with people like me, there to take it
all in. But never mind; I was in England, I was in a fishing village, and I was
going to eat fish and chips. </span></div>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EZp9PZz17j4/WzODCAg9mhI/AAAAAAAAA70/7xv085Do4dQ_J94TZkqtouJuM0g_Bl2oACLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_0139%2B%25281%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1068" data-original-width="1600" height="266" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-EZp9PZz17j4/WzODCAg9mhI/AAAAAAAAA70/7xv085Do4dQ_J94TZkqtouJuM0g_Bl2oACLcBGAs/s400/IMG_0139%2B%25281%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">There are several famous shops along the waterfront and
they all had lines out the door. I do not wait in line to buy food. So I popped
in a few doors down to Terry’s, (no line), and grabbed an order. The owner warned me about the aggressive seagulls and
not to walk with an open food container. Mark had also warned us. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">At this point I still had my bulky camera slung around my
neck, small bag across my chest, backpack on back, sun visor on arm, and clutching
my box of fish & chips. I wove in and out of the crowds, with a sharp eye
out for an available seat and lurking seagulls. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Eventually I came to some ancient stone thing – not a
proper seat, but that’s where others sat. An older, local woman seated next to
me warned about the seagulls who would snatch your meal right out of your hand.
</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">At this point, I normally would have stowed my camera and done
something else with all my dangling objects, but that would entail putting my
food carton down. The seagull at my feet served as a reminder to not make such
a foolish attempt. So I hunched over, put my face into the carton, and ate a
few bites. I came up for air and that darn seagull now took a step towards me,
looking for a way to get a snack. I finally had enough of playing chicken with
Mr. Seagull and got up to find another spot. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">I eventually did, but will never again attempt a meal
totally encumbered by belongings and fear of a seagull snatching. </span></div>
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<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-l5nvv04Ql6s/WzOCh6CDekI/AAAAAAAAA7w/zyyJ6A3L-RoM1cpWjuBE0RcsBH-a62I_QCEwYBhgL/s1600/IMG_0151%2B%25281%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="951" data-original-width="1426" height="266" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-l5nvv04Ql6s/WzOCh6CDekI/AAAAAAAAA7w/zyyJ6A3L-RoM1cpWjuBE0RcsBH-a62I_QCEwYBhgL/s400/IMG_0151%2B%25281%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Our next stop took us to the village of Goathland. The name
of the town might not ring a bell, but say <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Hogsmeade
Station,</i> and everyone will know what you’re talking about. The Harry Potter
folks filmed the kids leaving for Hogwarts at the Goathland Railway Station.
The village itself featured in the long-running, (1992-2010), British police
drama, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Heartbeat. </i>In the series, it
is know as Aidensfield. I’d never heard of the series, but now will see if I can
find it. </span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1OM0zlivBrQ/WzOD7sIRP_I/AAAAAAAAA8A/qsX_mpGfpzU6cr6hD6eQR2-o4OE9uPH_wCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_0168%2B%25281%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="951" data-original-width="1350" height="140" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1OM0zlivBrQ/WzOD7sIRP_I/AAAAAAAAA8A/qsX_mpGfpzU6cr6hD6eQR2-o4OE9uPH_wCLcBGAs/s200/IMG_0168%2B%25281%2529.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">We had reached our final stop and it was time to head back
towards York. The drive back took us through one-lane, two-way roads, and over
the moors with one final chance to breath in the glorious air and let our
senses become saturated with nature. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">I really do need to go back to the wide open, quiet spaces.
It’s only when I come back from such a day that I realize how loud a city
really is. All that background noise that one tends to ignore is suddenly amplified,
and I feel like my head will explode with all the pandemonium. I’m staying in
for today. And maybe searching for a home in the moors.</span></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-n-7id08urzA/WzOEkn5bz9I/AAAAAAAAA8I/beWc-FihgtYNoWs8KvTUqCJU4KSiKaHfwCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_0102%2B%25281%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1068" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-n-7id08urzA/WzOEkn5bz9I/AAAAAAAAA8I/beWc-FihgtYNoWs8KvTUqCJU4KSiKaHfwCLcBGAs/s320/IMG_0102%2B%25281%2529.JPG" width="213" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Note: my links aren't loading. bobholidays.com</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"> Whitby Abbey: google it</span><br />
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14554120.post-38171044302746238772018-06-25T12:53:00.000-07:002018-06-25T12:53:02.655-07:00Roman York<br />
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/--rXh7K4ALjs/WzFB-NwYNLI/AAAAAAAAA4A/HL3W9KgzwVwlaHDOkdNaFG1MdKFwG7YpwCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_0253.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="951" data-original-width="1426" height="266" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/--rXh7K4ALjs/WzFB-NwYNLI/AAAAAAAAA4A/HL3W9KgzwVwlaHDOkdNaFG1MdKFwG7YpwCLcBGAs/s400/IMG_0253.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Medieval is nice. Vikings are nice. Gothic is cool. But
I’ll take Romans over all of them any day of the week. I can’t tell you why Romans
speak to me more than many other great civilizations and periods in history. Maybe
it’s the togas. Maybe the Colosseum. Honestly, who wouldn’t love a culture that
had invented indoor plumbing and bath houses when much of the world was still
using the local streams? </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Eboracum, as the Romans called York, was founded in 71 CE,
on land situated between the Rivers Ouse and Foss. The Ninth Legion did the
heavy lifting, and York eventually became the capital of Britannia Inferior of
the Roman Empire. The boys ruled the land until around 400 CE. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Over the weekend, I was fortunate enough to go on a walking
tour “Round the Roman Fortress”, with the renowned archeologist Professor Peter
Addyman. He’s been digging things up here in York and writing about it since
the early 70’s. The walk had been organized by the York Civic Trust. <a href="https://yorkcivictrust.co.uk/">York Civic Trust<span style="color: #b00000;"> </span></a>(along with about twenty other different
walks all lead by specialists.) </span></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UCoYpjaGrvw/WzFCkLIXsJI/AAAAAAAAA4I/FBylTGbummEHZtEcKdH2_yak43INRRFZACLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_0262.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="951" data-original-width="1426" height="266" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UCoYpjaGrvw/WzFCkLIXsJI/AAAAAAAAA4I/FBylTGbummEHZtEcKdH2_yak43INRRFZACLcBGAs/s400/IMG_0262.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Our group was set to meet in St Samson’s Square. I had
studied my York map for two whole days before the walk. Simple: enter the
walled city of York through Monkgate Bar, walk a few blocks down Goodramgate, veer
right at King’s Square onto Church Street, which leads you right to said square.
Possibly a ten minute walk. It took me a bit longer, but at least I only had to
ask for directions one time.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">With our group of about fifteen interested folks, we
gathered around Professor Addyman. He told us we were, at that very moment, standing
on top of part of the Roman Bathhouse. He pointed off in the distance and asked
us to imagine the size of a bathhouse that could serve 5000 men. It’s times
like these that I long for x-ray vision. An entire Roman garrison that housed
5000 men, lay below our feet. It boggles the mind to think about the treasures
and history right under your own two feet. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">At one point I asked Professor Addyman if he had the desire
to simply start digging down to all the Roman-ness that lay beneath. Of course
he did. If I felt the frustration in not being able to look at it all, I can
just imagine what someone whose life’s work had revolved around antiquity felt
like.</span></div>
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<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XhIiys19WEE/WzFDboRu4lI/AAAAAAAAA4Y/XcOFYWZEy-wOInQQmccXwtprJeaaOYhhgCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_0340.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1426" data-original-width="951" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XhIiys19WEE/WzFDboRu4lI/AAAAAAAAA4Y/XcOFYWZEy-wOInQQmccXwtprJeaaOYhhgCLcBGAs/s400/IMG_0340.JPG" width="266" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">We then took off and followed the Professor across the
square, down tiny streets, and in and out of the increasing mass of visitors
enjoying the sights. I thought of taking out my camera to document our
footsteps, but I did not want all the people in the shots. The plan was to go
back the following day, in the early morning, and take pictures. I did that,
but was not quite able to find all the bits we saw.</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">What I did find, were the markings Professor Addyman had
shown us on the street that indicated Roman walls. This was thanks to diligent
archeologists who worked with the city to ensure everyone knew where the
Fortress once stood. Actually, still stands. How did they figure it out? After
all, after the Romans came the Anglo-Saxons, followed by the Vikings, then came
Medieval times, and so on until we get to the present day tourist spot. That’s
a whole lot of years of buildings, and garbage piled one on top of another. How
they <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">do</i> find ancient things usually
happens when the builders come in.</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Everywhere you dig deep enough in York, you’re bound to
find something other than dirt and rocks. And if you happen to be renovating a
shop, or excavating for a parking lot and run into a mysterious whatever, the
experts are called in. That’s one way they have found parts of Roman walls and
buildings. </span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">We stopped in front of shops where the professor had been
called in during renovations. He showed us photos of what was found. In one
café, they have installed a large section of thick Plexiglas on the floor so
that you can sip coffee and gaze down onto remains of Roman structures.<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gHwZICEl_ao/WzFEIqqD5qI/AAAAAAAAA4g/GKB1Nk0Ncb4ko-4ZeUsf8e4nouBUHGCzQCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_0247.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1426" data-original-width="951" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gHwZICEl_ao/WzFEIqqD5qI/AAAAAAAAA4g/GKB1Nk0Ncb4ko-4ZeUsf8e4nouBUHGCzQCLcBGAs/s400/IMG_0247.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roman road</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></div>
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<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">On another street, where all the buildings are connected to
one another, he pointed out that one building was sinking slightly to it’s
right, while the adjoining one sunk left. That is because it is directly on top
of a Roman wall. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Several times her pointed out a slight slope in a street, that
led to a flattened area. Roman walls again. Roman concrete does not sink. <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">On either side Monkgate Bar, (one of the entrances to the
walled city of York that still stands), one can climb up stone steps and walk
the wall. Down at street level, there is a secret, locked plywood door next to
the steps. The professor had the key and led us in to a narrow patch of
overgrown thistles and grass. What we now stood in front of was the longest
standing exposed Roman wall in the country. (if I make historical mistakes, it’s
because I did not take notes….unlike a fellow adventurer who wrote down
everything in a small notebook.) And down at the bottom of this wall was the actual
stamp of the Roman journeyman who had help build it a few thousand years before.
</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;"><div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
The Minster, the massive Medieval cathedral, sits atop the
Roman Legion’s headquarters. It was in the courtyard in front that Constantine
was proclaimed emperor in 306 CE. It is marked by a rather dashing bronze sculpture
of the emperor, for which the sculptor may have taken a bit of artistic license.
Professor Addyman related the story of when he saw the artist’s model for the
sculpture. He noted that the sword was incorrect; that Roman swords did not
have the cross-piece guard on the hilt. He assured the artist that Roman<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uZe8kAepUJI/WzFEmKW1-dI/AAAAAAAAA48/wSE3-8sdYas1OFhmJLDJc4GZNg49IJKFACEwYBhgL/s1600/IMG_0364.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: transparent; clear: right; color: #0066cc; float: right; font-family: &quot; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; margin-bottom: 16px; margin-left: 16px; orphans: 2; text-align: center; text-decoration: underline; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"></a><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uZe8kAepUJI/WzFEmKW1-dI/AAAAAAAAA48/wSE3-8sdYas1OFhmJLDJc4GZNg49IJKFACEwYBhgL/s1600/IMG_0364.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a> swords
only employed a round ball at the gripped end. All the same, it is quite
lovely. </div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uZe8kAepUJI/WzFEmKW1-dI/AAAAAAAAA48/wSE3-8sdYas1OFhmJLDJc4GZNg49IJKFACEwYBhgL/s1600/IMG_0364.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1426" data-original-width="951" height="400" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uZe8kAepUJI/WzFEmKW1-dI/AAAAAAAAA48/wSE3-8sdYas1OFhmJLDJc4GZNg49IJKFACEwYBhgL/s400/IMG_0364.JPG" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Constantine the Great</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;"><br /></span>
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "Arial",sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">It truly was a fabulous walk. And again I asked myself why I
had not gone into archeology. I suppose I might never have been able to decide
which culture I would want to explore every day for the rest of my life. Would
it be the Romans? Or maybe the Egyptians? Very possibly the Mayans. </span></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gEZ3YkdW1tQ/WzFE7-1bnYI/AAAAAAAAA5A/2LhQAfszw_g5hT3CXrDPjUSNecKJOnQcwCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_0366.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="color: #b00000;"></span><br /></a></div>
<u></u><br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14554120.post-76713813201911575652018-06-21T08:23:00.000-07:002018-06-21T11:52:46.376-07:00Summer Solstice in York<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-t_7NidFwoUU/WyvAjXCFEhI/AAAAAAAAA3A/YU2ClXhFqBwfcLEYSyBun9lheOSvYbqUQCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_0214.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="951" data-original-width="1426" height="266" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-t_7NidFwoUU/WyvAjXCFEhI/AAAAAAAAA3A/YU2ClXhFqBwfcLEYSyBun9lheOSvYbqUQCLcBGAs/s400/IMG_0214.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">The plan was to get out of the house at 4AM to document Summer
Solstice 2018. Why? Because I can do it here. Never before have I been in a
location where the first rays of sun are apparent at 3-something AM.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">I am a morning person. I get up with the sun and the birds.
Perfect mornings for me begin at 5:30 AM. That happens for a few months of the year
in Northern California. And then it slowly descends into the hades of late fall
and Daylight Savings Time. You can imagine how thrilled I was when the sun woke
me up at 4AM. The problem is, I never get enough sleep.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">It also doesn’t get dark-dark until after 10:30PM. Five
hours of sleep is not what my body needs. Then again, I tell myself, I don’t
have to be at work, don’t have any appointments to make, and if I get a little
spacey from lack of slumber, who cares?</span></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GfTJUBhkfBg/WyvBhnPhe7I/AAAAAAAAA3c/nT9C0kELQ98R4Gb6jdDqBeXLebt2mwNlwCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_0170.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1333" data-original-width="888" height="400" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GfTJUBhkfBg/WyvBhnPhe7I/AAAAAAAAA3c/nT9C0kELQ98R4Gb6jdDqBeXLebt2mwNlwCLcBGAs/s400/IMG_0170.JPG" width="266" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">But I do wonder if I would ever be able to adjust to minimal
night-time. I had always thought that the folks up in the polar region had the
best of it; nearly 24-hours of sunlight in the summer. I do well in bright sun,
really well. The same cannot be said for grey skies and diminished hours of
sunlight. I might be able to go to sleep at the correct hour – after all, it
would be equivalent to taking an afternoon nap. It’s the early morning sun that
would not allow me to stay in bed. I grew up hearing <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">rise and shine</i> as the early morning tinges of daylight crept though
the window. I feel like a sloth if I get up by the time the sun is bright in
the sky; not that I ever do that.</span></div>
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<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_K2UPt8ZXg/WyvAzKKyMOI/AAAAAAAAA3E/X3hxCkigxdkrfrAaK93CZmC3X9uBNdWcgCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_0191.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="951" data-original-width="1426" height="266" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-b_K2UPt8ZXg/WyvAzKKyMOI/AAAAAAAAA3E/X3hxCkigxdkrfrAaK93CZmC3X9uBNdWcgCLcBGAs/s400/IMG_0191.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">One has to remember that all this glorious daylight will be
supplanted by an equal number of days of gloom and darkness. However little winter
daylight one gets in California, it’s nothing compared to what they get in
England. I won’t bother going into the climate differences and the other
reasons this would not be a long-term country-of-choice. For now, it’s all
about sunshine and ancient history.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">All kids in America grow up reading about ancient civilizations,
but it remains a completely abstract idea. If you are on the west coast, a one-hundred
year old building is old. Find a coin from 1902 and you’re thrilled. I ran
across an old beer can buried in the dirt a few months ago and actually saved
it. And then you come to a place like York. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hhnLJv5RDwI/WyvBBopqHTI/AAAAAAAAA3M/Hs2EE7AH6Ws0oVFHpfrLRG4zO6DipDiMQCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_0173.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="951" data-original-width="1426" height="266" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hhnLJv5RDwI/WyvBBopqHTI/AAAAAAAAA3M/Hs2EE7AH6Ws0oVFHpfrLRG4zO6DipDiMQCLcBGAs/s400/IMG_0173.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">I am not equipped to write about the history just yet, if
ever. All the bits about the city’s 2000 year history I have taken in over the
past week have become a cauldron of historical data swirling around in my head.
And that’s just fine with me. I know that York had Romans, and Saxons, and
Vikings, and Tudors, and this church and that church, and conquerors, and tradesmen.
I can’t remember if I have heard anything about witches, but I’d bet they
figure in here at some point in time.</span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Often, when I am out walking, I come to a dead stop and gaze
at the buildings and the street. I’ll touch an ancient Roman pillar and marvel that
it had been carved centuries in the past. Or stare up in disbelief at the York Minster’s
Great East Window – the largest medieval stained glass in the country. <span style="margin: 0px;"> </span>It is totally incomprehensible that it could
have been erected in the 15<sup>th</sup> century. </span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-a2FEitFCpZ8/WyvBQzlEfzI/AAAAAAAAA3Q/ie_JpOa2o7w3lJjpUNRHbbzdD0CFghsXwCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_0146.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1426" data-original-width="951" height="320" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-a2FEitFCpZ8/WyvBQzlEfzI/AAAAAAAAA3Q/ie_JpOa2o7w3lJjpUNRHbbzdD0CFghsXwCLcBGAs/s320/IMG_0146.JPG" width="212" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">As usual, I get lost every single day wandering through the
twisty turn-y streets that encompass the center of York. Possibly, if I paid more
attention to where I was walking, I might get my bearings. But I am constantly
distracted by the quaint buildings and cobblestone streets, and imagining the
lives that have passed along these same routes for centuries. </span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 10.66px;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; line-height: 107%; margin: 0px;">Tonight I will be up until at least 11PM. I don’t like to
miss an hour of the solstice. Maybe tomorrow I will be able to stay in bed
until 6 in the morning, but I doubt it. Why waste sunlight when you don’t have
to?</span></div>
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<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14554120.post-76430717410880700602017-04-07T21:28:00.001-07:002017-04-07T21:28:33.155-07:00No One Told Me About the Sex-Tourism in The DR<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8vKAWLKLXqM/WOhO6sFBvHI/AAAAAAAAApE/lYTqNmQ50xoEOjgL5uh4KrXoU7e-DFpqwCLcB/s1600/IMG_0535.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8vKAWLKLXqM/WOhO6sFBvHI/AAAAAAAAApE/lYTqNmQ50xoEOjgL5uh4KrXoU7e-DFpqwCLcB/s400/IMG_0535.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My trip to the Dominican Republic last
November had been in the planning stages for several years. It was in the Caribbean,
they spoke Spanish, and there was that huge baseball connection. What could be
better? </span><span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span></span><br />
<br />
<div style="margin: 8px 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I’d also been paying close attention to all
those find-a-home-abroad TV shows. Folks shopping for vacation homes in Punta
Cana, Terranas, and Sosúa, gushed about everything the DR had to offer. And although
I knew that ex-pat vacation destinations would not be for me, my research indicated
that there were plenty of beach areas that would be just as lovely.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 8px 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> I'd roughly planned for two weeks in the capitol; two weeks in Boca Chica
checking out baseball academies and exploring a quaint beach town; and then two
more weeks further down the road in Juan Dolio for a more relaxing end to my
trip. </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Somehow,
I managed to miss the caveat about sex-tourism in all three of those places. </span></div>
<div style="margin: 8px 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> On
my strolls around the Colonial Zone of Santo Domingo, I did notice the requisite
old foreign geezers with their young local babes. That was nothing new; go to a
country where people make very little money and it’s a common phenomenon. My
first real hint that prostitution in the DR may operate by a different standard
than in other countries I knew, occurred at my hotel in the capitol.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 8px 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> It
was the beginning of November and the big influx of tourists would not arrive for
another month. My accommodation was in a large, budget hotel, owned by an
ex-pat and his Dominican wife. The owner and staff, many of whom were family,
were lovely. At the time, there were only three other solo guests and two,
older European couples. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> One
afternoon I noticed one of the male guests sitting in the lounge with a young local
woman I had never seen before. Prior to this, the man had always been by
himself, reading books or checking his email in the common area. I thought
nothing of it until two hours later when I saw him and the woman walk out of
his room. She left the hotel and he stayed. I never saw her again and the man
returned to his solitary pursuits. </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Qd9KWg8iWPM/WOhPm5UMhcI/AAAAAAAAApM/r3LiGIZOYt44AYIIqnF3Kx_W5s2zkyeTQCLcB/s1600/IMG_0357.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Qd9KWg8iWPM/WOhPm5UMhcI/AAAAAAAAApM/r3LiGIZOYt44AYIIqnF3Kx_W5s2zkyeTQCLcB/s400/IMG_0357.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial";"></span><span style="font-family: "arial";"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> How
could a respectable hotel allow hookers in the rooms? I had never seen anything
like it in all my travels. In fact, one usually sees big signs stating </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">No one other than paying guests allowed in
rooms.</span></i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> It concerned me, but I let it go. Anyway, I’d be heading down the
road in a few days.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial";"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> I already wrote about my horrible experience in the first hotel I had booked in
Boca Chica, which had to do with filth and a shady locale. I stayed a whole
five minutes before going to look for somewhere else. And when I found that
somewhere else, I thought it was perfect. The lovely owner, a middle-aged
European woman, showed me a beautiful, very reasonably priced room, and I
breathed a sigh of relief. I headed back to the rat-hole to retrieve my
belongings.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial";"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> When
I returned with my bags, it was hard not to miss the obese 70-year-old German
man in speedos sitting at a table with a young Dominican woman. By the next
day, it was clear that she was his local girlfriend and living with him at the
hotel. I wasn’t overly concerned; these things happen.</span><br />
<div style="margin: 8px 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> It
was during my second day there that I realized something was seriously amiss. Young
working girls, accompanied by their handler, were let in through the front,
locked gate. They then sat at a table, scrolling through their phone apps,
while business was conducted between pimp and hotel customer. The chosen girl
would then go up with the man to his room and reappear an hour later.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 8px 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> It
wasn’t like the owner didn’t know about this. She was the one to buzz in the
working girls. She was the one who checked their ID’s. She was the one who
greeted the pimp like an old friend. And I am sure she was the one getting a
kickback from the transactions. </span></div>
<div style="margin: 8px 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> As
it was a small hotel, I could see a good part of the entire property from my
room where I generally kept the door open during the day for ventilation. I
watched the comings and goings of the men in the hotel. And they were all men.
No women; no families. Among them were several other fat, old Germans in Speedos,
and a group of three French men who were in Boca Chica on business. The French
guys left each morning at 7am and returned 10 or 12 hours later. Two appeared
to be in their 50’s and the third in his 30’s. I imagined they might be
engineers working on a local project. Well, I thought, at least </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">they</span></i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> aren’t buying hookers.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PCizItNHjr4/WOhQT-O042I/AAAAAAAAApU/OiQ7vwqVVlIX2l_CsNFMu9qEy2sBm23twCLcB/s1600/IMG_0508.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PCizItNHjr4/WOhQT-O042I/AAAAAAAAApU/OiQ7vwqVVlIX2l_CsNFMu9qEy2sBm23twCLcB/s400/IMG_0508.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></div>
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 8px 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> The
following day, the youngest French man came home with a working girl. In fact,
it was a different one every night. One afternoon the man, the girl-of-the-day,
and the pimp walked past my room where I was sitting in the doorway. The pimp said
hello and I walked inside and left them to exchange money in front of my
window.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 8px 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> At
least the older French men were behaving decently; or so I thought. Late one
evening, all three returned to the hotel with a girl in tow. The ladies moved
right into their respective rooms, there for the long haul. </span></div>
<div style="margin: 8px 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Another
time, I watched as one of fat German’s in speedos sat at a table, two ladies
seated on either side. The women ignored him and kept their eyes glued to their
phones. The German kept trying to talk to them, but they would not respond.
Granted, he did not speak Spanish and they spoke neither German nor English,
but there was no attempt at communication on the women’s part. Several minutes
later the owner walked by and the German looked up at her. </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">I don’t know which one to choose, </span></i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">he said, as if deciding on a
bottle of wine. </span></div>
<div style="margin: 8px 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> It
was clearly apparent that I was living in a bordello and I needed to get out. Across
the street was another budget hotel that I had read about before leaving the
States. It had good reviews on TripAdvisor and other sites. I do remember that
the reviews had been written by families and couples, and not just men. It was
worth a look. Although the rooms were not nearly as spotless and fresh as where
I was staying, and they did cost a few dollars more a night, I decided it might
be the best answer if I wanted to get away from the constant sex trade going on
outside my room.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 8px 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> After
looking at several rooms, I sat down to talk to the manager. I calmly explained
that I was staying at the hotel across the way and that I was having trouble
accepting the to and fro of the working girls. The manager seemed shocked that
prostitutes were allowed to walk into my hotel. He assured me that their gate
was always locked and no hookers could come in.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4PYeF5_o0Xw/WOhQ1t2FdtI/AAAAAAAAApY/ac0WXoFoFtErHllvj7UC_X6xEd6k8QjhwCLcB/s1600/IMG_0389.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4PYeF5_o0Xw/WOhQ1t2FdtI/AAAAAAAAApY/ac0WXoFoFtErHllvj7UC_X6xEd6k8QjhwCLcB/s400/IMG_0389.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></div>
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 8px 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Just
to make absolutely sure we were really on the same page I rephrased the
question: </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“No prostitutes are allowed in
the hotel, right?” </span></i><span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">He responded that
none could walk in off the street, but </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“if
a client wants to bring a woman back to his room, that’s perfectly fine.”</span></i></div>
<div style="margin: 8px 0px; text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="margin: 8px 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> I
then quietly and calmly began to explain that poor young women should not be
exploited, that in a few years most would be hooked on drugs, dead, or
whatever, and that it was a horrible situation.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 8px 0px; text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="margin: 8px 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> His
response? </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“That’s your opinion.”</span><span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span></span></i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">My response of </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“It is not my opinion, it’s a fact,” </span></i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">only got a shoulder shrug. Before
leaving I asked about the place one block up that I thought was another hotel. Turns
out, that one was an actual brothel. </span></div>
<div style="margin: 8px 0px; text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="margin: 8px 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Although
I had wanted to stay in Boca Chica and visit more baseball academies, I had
reached my limit. The next day I headed down to Juan Dolio and booked into the
hippie hotel.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 8px 0px; text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="margin: 8px 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Like
the other place I had stayed in Santo Domingo, it had only a few guests. I got
a real deal on my little run-down room and kitchenette. It felt like a place I
could stay for the remainder of my trip. There were five other similar rooms
along the one side of the hotel and only one was occupied by a Canadian man who
had been coming to the hotel for nearly twenty years. He would be there for six
months and told me what a great place it was and that soon all the other rooms
would be filled by returning guests to sit out the European and North American
winter. </span><span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span></span></div>
<div style="margin: 8px 0px; text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="margin: 8px 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> The
man was pleasant enough and told me about how this time he had finally met an
honest girlfriend. Over the next week I learned that he would arrive every
year, find someone to fill his days, and then get a new someone the following
season. He would be drunk most days and would often arrive back at the hotel,
nearly carrying in his drunken girlfriend. She had three kids and the man
provided for the family, buying food and other items. It seemed a little more
tolerable to me than the nightly prostitutes, but it was still exploitation. </span></div>
<div style="margin: 8px 0px; text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="margin: 8px 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> I
had hoped that at least the little town of Juan Dolio would offer a pleasant
retreat. The problem was, it was even smaller than Boca Chica; just a few short
blocks of restaurants and hotels, running along the beach. At least I was able
to stroll on the beach in the early hours of the day. </span></div>
<div style="margin: 8px 0px; text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="margin: 8px 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Walking
along the shoreline in the morning, it was not hard to imagine what went on in
the afternoons and evenings. Scores of workers combed the beach raking up
mountains of trash; empty booze bottles, food containers, diapers, and much
more. It might have lessened their work load had there been garbage cans
anywhere on the beach. </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_MS1FShkdh0/WOhSBqkmg7I/AAAAAAAAApo/JhWvMI3ncsIhPq8ljjwyyqc5-PjgHhc9QCLcB/s1600/IMG_0318.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_MS1FShkdh0/WOhSBqkmg7I/AAAAAAAAApo/JhWvMI3ncsIhPq8ljjwyyqc5-PjgHhc9QCLcB/s400/IMG_0318.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></div>
</div>
<div style="margin: 8px 0px; text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="margin: 8px 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> One
morning I stopped by a coffee shop and got into a conversation with the owner, a
woman who had spent her teenage years in Los Angeles. She told me that the sex
worker situation had not been nearly as bad just a few years back. I mentioned
the hotel in Boca Chica, the European owner, and the daily prostitute situation.
She agreed that it was a sorry state of affairs, but also said that there was
nothing that an owner could do about it. I glanced over at a man with a woman eating
breakfast. He was in his early forties, obese, talking non-stop about his life
in California, all the money he had, and what he could do for her. She smiled
demurely, not understanding much of what he said.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 8px 0px; text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="margin: 8px 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Although
I thought I could stay in Juan Dolio at the hippie hotel for the rest of my
trip, I had reached my limit of watching drunken men and their purchased
companions. I even tried to find a way to change my flight home, but was unable
to do so. Whatever the situation, I needed cash, which meant grabbing a </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">gua gua </span></i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">down to New Juan Dolio – a few
kilometers away, where there was a bank. </span></div>
<div style="margin: 8px 0px; text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="margin: 8px 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> When
I exited the mini-van, I walked in from the main road and the first thing I noticed
was a small supermarket. This had been another problem in Old Juan Dolio; there was
only a tiny mini-mart. I went in, bought a few things, and asked about
economical hotels in the area. I might as well see if it might be better here.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 8px 0px; text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="margin: 8px 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> Just
around the bend, the road ran along a wide boulevard. Several massive
hotel/vacation rental condos ran along the beach side and blocked most of the
view to the sea. Three blocks farther along the road, and on the other side,
was the hotel the supermarket lady had suggested. I walked in. </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HbFs40sPXH8/WOhTXsbEayI/AAAAAAAAAp0/dSjcIPpJLAEs_-wbspl8XX0WvUlI-MeowCLcB/s1600/IMG_0268.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HbFs40sPXH8/WOhTXsbEayI/AAAAAAAAAp0/dSjcIPpJLAEs_-wbspl8XX0WvUlI-MeowCLcB/s400/IMG_0268.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></div>
</div>
<div style="margin: 8px 0px; text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="margin: 8px 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> It
appeared to be quite pleasant and extended from the street all the way back to
the street behind it. There were two, narrow, four story buildings in the
front, and a beautifully landscaped pool and lounge area. Beyond that lay a
line of small cottages. I asked about rooms and rates and was shown to a
wonderful room on the third floor. From there, I could even glimpse a small
spec of the ocean from between the condos across the way. I negotiated a great
price for my final two weeks in the DR. </span></div>
<div style="margin: 8px 0px; text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="margin: 8px 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> I
thought my only objection to the hotel was the booming music they played by the
pool from early morning until late at night. Since I wasn’t up to lying out by
the swimming hole, it only proved to be a hassle when I tried to get internet
connection. (once again, there was no internet in the rooms.) It was then that I
noticed the lady at the pool bar who looked to be a working girl. But the staff
and owner greeted her like she was an old friend, or possibly an employee on a
break. Once more, my first impression was correct. The hotel apparently employed
its own good-time girl.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 8px 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> It
soon became apparent that prostitution was one of the activities provided by
the hotel. Only at the end of my stay did I find out that the main security man
at the front entrance was also the purveyor of young ladies.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 8px 0px; text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="margin: 8px 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> I
wondered how the foreign men knew about the women for hire. I certainly hadn’t
seen any sort of mention in Lonely Planet or elsewhere, and there were no signs
up around the hotels. Yet within an hour of any man being at any hotel, I’d see
them with a working girl.</span></div>
<div style="margin: 8px 0px; text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="margin: 8px 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> More
confusing were the families and church groups that booked into this hotel. They
didn’t seem to be bothered that little kids were swimming right next to tourists
engaged in a lot of groping with rented women.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WMkAoP1lKyc/WOhlhvOdi3I/AAAAAAAAAqM/WEyZCdgE36oLE6VCIt0TOz72vvi3uPosQCLcB/s1600/IMG_0472.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WMkAoP1lKyc/WOhlhvOdi3I/AAAAAAAAAqM/WEyZCdgE36oLE6VCIt0TOz72vvi3uPosQCLcB/s400/IMG_0472.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></div>
</div>
<div style="margin: 8px 0px; text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="margin: 8px 0px; text-align: justify;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> When
I got back to California, I re-checked all the travel sites I had read before
leaving. I did find some bottom-of-the-page mentions of prostitution, but not
much. One review on TripAdvisor for a hotel I had passed stated, </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">“…if you don’t mind a little prostitution,
this is good for a family…”</span><span style="margin: 0px;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"> </span></span></i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">And a
recent episode of </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">House Hunters International</span></i><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">,
featured a couple looking for a condo in Sosúa, which is the sex-tourism
capitol of the northern coast. The narrator actually said, </span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>“This condo is just steps from the bustling center of Sosúa’s
nightlife.” </i>One quick internet check is all one needs to see what type of nightlife is on offer.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"> I wanted so much to love the Dominican Republic. It is beautiful and the people are wonderful. But, at least for me, I was unable to ignore or escape the constant reminder of young women being exploited by foreign men. </span></div>
<div style="margin: 8px 0px; text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="margin: 8px 0px; text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin: 8px 0px; text-align: justify;">
</div>
<div style="margin: 8px 0px; text-align: justify;">
</div>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14554120.post-34617610407105068752016-12-10T15:58:00.001-08:002016-12-10T15:58:28.275-08:00The Cigar Factory<br />
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Although purchasing cigars was on my list of things to do
in the DR, I found myself running out of time, stuck in a mini-hamlet, and
having no idea where to go or what to buy.</span><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Mcn9pOS2Uc8/WExZtH3PvHI/AAAAAAAABU4/iOpKYMiZD2YEfZuxWJwzlu4rLkcZbcyUgCLcB/s1600/IMG_0516%2B-%2BCopy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Mcn9pOS2Uc8/WExZtH3PvHI/AAAAAAAABU4/iOpKYMiZD2YEfZuxWJwzlu4rLkcZbcyUgCLcB/s400/IMG_0516%2B-%2BCopy.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sr, Rodriguez & flying fingers</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="text-align: left;">
</div>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">In my trips to Mexico, it had been easy enough to find
cigar vendors and wade through the various sales pitches until I found a
seemingly reputable, knowledgeable source. Maybe if I had still been in the
capitol,I could have done that in the DR. But I wasn’t. Fortunately for me, I
found a fellow traveler who seemed well acquainted with the local product. He
would accompany me to San Pedro de Macoris. </span></div>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-j_04UeCWUNI/WExbRhVoNbI/AAAAAAAABVI/5BTZ_T8vl3oqaMMbo7CCaKDoQtu3-GB7gCLcB/s1600/IMG_0522%2B%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="297" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-j_04UeCWUNI/WExbRhVoNbI/AAAAAAAABVI/5BTZ_T8vl3oqaMMbo7CCaKDoQtu3-GB7gCLcB/s400/IMG_0522%2B%25282%2529.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Where they make them</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The city of San Pedro is known </span><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">for the large number of MLB
players who hail from the area. For me, it was also that elusive city where the
</span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">big things</span></i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> happened. In Boca Chica
and Juan Dolio I would ask about a larger market, </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">you have to go to San Pedro. </span></i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What about a post office? </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In San Pedro. </span></i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Is there
anywhere I can get a light bulb, </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">only in San Pedro. </span></i></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-j_04UeCWUNI/WExbRhVoNbI/AAAAAAAABVI/5BTZ_T8vl3oqaMMbo7CCaKDoQtu3-GB7gCLcB/s1600/IMG_0522%2B%25282%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><span style="font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Driving into town, I realized that I probably should have
hopped on a </span><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">gua gua, (mini-bus)</span></i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">, and
made a visit at an earlier date. It was a real city that one could explore. We
drove past a beautiful old church and streets lined with old architecture; just the type of place I like to mosey around in. Then again, I wasn’t
sure if that was something I should do on my own. Since arriving, locals had
made a point of telling me not to walk around any area other than the
designated tourist spots. Whether or not that was really the case, for the
first time in my life I did very little exploring.</span></span></div>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7tFv8KetuUQ/WExbcv4rHpI/AAAAAAAABVM/HAxLE4-YYK48yENYqQ8d_u-gtIt3CMTXACLcB/s1600/IMG_0523.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7tFv8KetuUQ/WExbcv4rHpI/AAAAAAAABVM/HAxLE4-YYK48yENYqQ8d_u-gtIt3CMTXACLcB/s320/IMG_0523.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">The Doña Dorada Cigar factory has been in business for 101
years., and is still family owned and operated. I believe there is a larger factory elsewhere, but the one in downtown
San Pedro was more than enough to give one a very well-informed lesson on how
the cigars are made.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;">Sr. Elpidio Rodríguez, great-grandson of the founder, greeted
me at the door and soon returned to making cigars. I tried to keep up with his
flying hands as he whipped a stogie into shape, walked it over to a press, put
the final wrap on a different cigar, and most likely did ten other things that
I couldn’t keep up with. (note the blurred pictures…. I did not move; that was
rapid-fire-cigar rolling.) I asked about the individual tobacco leaves and he explained that they must age four years before they can be used. That still does not make sense to me, even though I asked him twice to make sure I had heard him correctly.</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pq0V8Vnk2NE/WExbNiTXHfI/AAAAAAAABVE/ldA02SJnDZsvuZuZn_SE9BSjoobUjuCDgCLcB/s1600/IMG_0514.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pq0V8Vnk2NE/WExbNiTXHfI/AAAAAAAABVE/ldA02SJnDZsvuZuZn_SE9BSjoobUjuCDgCLcB/s320/IMG_0514.JPG" width="213" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It was evident that the cigar making equipment was 101 years old. Wooden work stations, wooden cigar forms and drying racks. The presses were of steel, but appeared equally antique. After watching Sr. Rodriguez work, I wondered how automated cigar rolling could ever compete with what he was doing. </span><br />
<br />
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kjI8Euxi64Q/WExbFNbm6aI/AAAAAAAABVA/xo5wY3v6ulMz-fGLboUYdfjboOxM1pu4gCLcB/s1600/IMG_0512.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kjI8Euxi64Q/WExbFNbm6aI/AAAAAAAABVA/xo5wY3v6ulMz-fGLboUYdfjboOxM1pu4gCLcB/s320/IMG_0512.JPG" width="320" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When he had finished off his work, he led me to the room with shelves of cigars, sorted into various sizes. I asked about the differences between sizes. Did they taste differently? He explained that there were only two flavors; strong and suave. The different sizes were a matter of preference. Did I want ones the size of cigarettes, or the Winston Churchill big boys? Considering these were going to large men, I chose the Churchills'. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Suddenly, it was time to go. I could have stayed another hour talking to Sr. Rodriguez, but my ride back to Juan Dolio was ready to go and I know I'd never find my way back to the bus stop.</span><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-99DFfx9zDEo/WExdhZdRWRI/AAAAAAAABVc/lh8hEZUe6BoB_vKp2Nu-q1r4_KMSqQhIACLcB/s1600/IMG_0527.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-99DFfx9zDEo/WExdhZdRWRI/AAAAAAAABVc/lh8hEZUe6BoB_vKp2Nu-q1r4_KMSqQhIACLcB/s400/IMG_0527.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The final product</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-99DFfx9zDEo/WExdhZdRWRI/AAAAAAAABVc/lh8hEZUe6BoB_vKp2Nu-q1r4_KMSqQhIACLcB/s1600/IMG_0527.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-99DFfx9zDEo/WExdhZdRWRI/AAAAAAAABVc/lh8hEZUe6BoB_vKp2Nu-q1r4_KMSqQhIACLcB/s1600/IMG_0527.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I never did get back to explore San Pedro, but it is something I should have done. Maybe next time. </span></div>
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-99DFfx9zDEo/WExdhZdRWRI/AAAAAAAABVc/lh8hEZUe6BoB_vKp2Nu-q1r4_KMSqQhIACLcB/s1600/IMG_0527.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 12.0pt; line-height: 107%;"><br /></span>
<b></b><i></i><u></u><sub></sub><sup></sup><strike></strike>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14554120.post-40532070787012021412016-11-30T16:35:00.000-08:002016-11-30T16:35:27.650-08:00I'm back!!! will post soon Just got my travel blog back after loosing it the day after I got to the DR.
Challenging trip,to say the least.
Thank you Mishka at blogger!
I'm typing on a tiny phone so this is all for now.
Kate Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14554120.post-5637148333536980972016-10-24T17:37:00.001-07:002016-10-24T17:48:46.669-07:00Once Again on the Road<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif";"></span> </div>
<div style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WiUWArzK52A/WA6lejkxFeI/AAAAAAAAAgc/vu9zSF_D4_EuWakiBoecVbPvDdFvADSzQCLcB/s1600/DR%2B1%2B013%2B-%2BCopy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WiUWArzK52A/WA6lejkxFeI/AAAAAAAAAgc/vu9zSF_D4_EuWakiBoecVbPvDdFvADSzQCLcB/s400/DR%2B1%2B013%2B-%2BCopy.JPG" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif";">I
was beginning to wonder if I had lost my travel mojo; that innate ability to jump
on a plane, fly to a never-before-been-to country, and hit the ground running. The
night before I left for The Dominican Republic, I sat on the couch, looked at
my over-stuffed suitcase, and seriously questioned just what the heck I was
doing. It’s not like I recently won the lottery or sold a thousand books – although
I did just have highest sales month ever, so what was I doing flying off to an
island in the Caribbean?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif";">By
the time the airport shuttle picked me up all my doubts were forgotten. But
then there was the journey itself. Even though the total flight time was a mere
nine hours, I swear this trip was nearly as bad as flying all the way to South
East Asia. The actual time on the plane was nowhere near as horrendous, but the
after effects were absolutely worse. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif";">First
there was the woman who shared the airport shuttle who, for some reason,
thought that drenching herself in patchouli oil was what one did before flying
on a jam-packed airplane. As soon as she popped in the van, I through my scarf
over my nose and the driver rolled down both windows, which he kept open on the
freeway and over the bridge. I survived without getting a migraine, but I wondered
what would happen to all her fellow passengers on the flight over to London.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NW7AcKHZ75A/WA6lXofedJI/AAAAAAAAAgY/gylsPVl3BMEXzu5OFO5HrB7k2VCgRjdrACLcB/s1600/DR%2B1%2B004%2B-%2BCopy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-NW7AcKHZ75A/WA6lXofedJI/AAAAAAAAAgY/gylsPVl3BMEXzu5OFO5HrB7k2VCgRjdrACLcB/s400/DR%2B1%2B004%2B-%2BCopy.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif";">Then
there was the security screening. When did it become such a nightmare? Two
years ago, they searched and scanned and questioned as much as they do now, but
I don’t remember it taking that long. This time, it took about an hour and a
half, filing through a never ending loop-d-loop line. Stupidly, I dumped my
water at the beginning of the line because a sign told me to. An hour into the
wait, I started to fell dehydrated, claustrophobic, dizzy-ish, and wondered if
passing out would speed up the process. I honestly don’t know if I will be able
to tolerate that again. Maybe check in at 2am and crash out in the waiting room
overnight.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif";">The
flight from San Francisco to Mexico City, a mere four hours, was especially
comfortable because I had three seats all to myself. It was an uneventful
flight, and since I had never been to Mexico City, I loved looking down on the millions
of sparkling nighttime lights that went on and on and on. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif";">We
were about two minutes from touchdown when suddenly the engines roared and the
plane shot straight up in the air at quite a steep angle. No one panicked, and I
assumed we weren’t being hijacked because that would have happened at altitude.
But when the plane finally leveled out, and it felt like we were on our way to
Cuba, I questioned my original assumption. The pilot eventually came on and
explained that some other plane had been parked in our runway. How close a call
that was, or who was in error, I’ll never know, but I did enjoy this new
experience.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif";">Once
through Mexican customs and back into the waiting lounge for another three
hours until my next flight, I realized I needed to eat something more than the
soggy croissant with Velveeta I’d been fed on the way down from SFO. It was
when I was traipsing through the Mexico City airport, trying to find food that
cost less than $15, when it struck me that I was hauling around way too much
weight. </span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif";"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vN6nNgrbD8E/WA6onY4QHvI/AAAAAAAAAgo/Fvv04mdDT-wMrtRMr8dtjBaJRU6oCJq8wCLcB/s1600/DR%2B1%2B009%2B-%2BCopy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vN6nNgrbD8E/WA6onY4QHvI/AAAAAAAAAgo/Fvv04mdDT-wMrtRMr8dtjBaJRU6oCJq8wCLcB/s400/DR%2B1%2B009%2B-%2BCopy.JPG" width="400" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif";">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif";">When
the heck was it that I decided that a roll-on carryon was not the way to go,
and had opted for a laptop backpack? It’s not like I am getting any younger,
and it’s not like my funky knee is getting any better, yet here I was burdened with
15 extra pounds in backpack weight and 5 more in my purse. (Which makes me
sound like a real wimp. I can easily carry 20 extra pounds, but parts of my
body strongly object.) <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Added to that, I had
spent the previous two days working in the garden and hauling stuff around. My
knee was a wreck. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif";">Trying
my best to ignore all that, I grabbed a reasonably priced cheese sandwich at
Starbucks and headed over to wait for my plane. As someone who needlessly
worries about being at the wrong gate, I checked with knowledgeable personnel
several times. On the final check, I was told that no, my flight was not
leaving at Gate 58, but at Gate 71, at a completely different wing. I took off
for said gate, walking like a 92 year-old, and swearing a blue-streak inside my
head every time my right foot hit the ground. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif";">I
finally got there and grabbed a seat. And then the lady directly behind me
started hacking loudly. Germ-a-phobe that I am, I got up and found another
spot. But then the guy across from me appeared to have a fatal disease. He had
a washcloth over his mouth and was coughing and sneezing and blowing his nose, sweating
profusely, and looked like he should have been hospitalized. This musical
chairs game went on several more times before I finally just stood at the
entrance to the gate. It appeared that fully one-third of my fellow passengers
were not at all well. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif";">By
now, I was seriously limping and guess I look old enough that no one questions
if I ask to pre-board. (of course, I always go on after the babies and
wheelchairs.) Once settled in, I waited for the other passengers to board. I nervously
watched as the deathly ill man strode down the aisle and sat in the seat in front
of me. Great. Four hours with the bubonic plague within spitting distance. But
no one was next to me and the seats behind were empty, so I was able to move
back one row….until the sick guy moved into my original seat. I wrapped my
scarf around my nose and hoped my generally excellent immune system was up to
the task of fighting off airborne bacteria. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif";">I
won’t bother mentioning the seven drunken 40-something-year-olds because they
finally stopped hooting and hollering and fell asleep. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif";">It
was 6am when I got off the plane and headed into the Santo Domingo airport. A
few steps inside, and I realized I was really in my beloved tropics. I stood
still, closed my eyes, and breathed in that wonderful humid air…even if it was
tinged with a bit of jet fuel. Customs was a snap, and then it was outside to
get a taxi. A lovely drive into town, with my own personal tour guide. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif";">Back
in the good old days, when I had even less money and there was no internet, I’d
get a ride into town and start looking for cheap digs. This time, after much research,
I booked a place online. It was double what I am usually willing to pay, but I wanted
to be in the Colonial Zone and not worry about a thing for a few days. It
turned out to be nice enough and the people here are great, but even if I had
all the money in the world, two days would be enough. Sometime after taking a shower
and trying to get some sleep, (which was not something I had done much of in
the previous day or two), I started to once again question what the heck was I doing
here.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif";">I
went out for a walk in a sleep-deprived, food-deprived state, and immediately saw
why everyone loves this country and the colonial zone, which I will write more
about at a later date. But I basically felt like crap. I’d gone without sleep
and food before and there was only a three hour time difference. What was up? I
bought some horrible food at a restaurant, but had a lovely chat with the
waiters. I then went back to the hotel and tried to search for other hotels so
that I could visit them today.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2UyxIFk84jg/WA6pK9_9moI/AAAAAAAAAgs/mGj1TDO2nJEKwGZH_-xObcECEAbLA5rzgCLcB/s1600/DR%2B1%2B007%2B-%2BCopy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2UyxIFk84jg/WA6pK9_9moI/AAAAAAAAAgs/mGj1TDO2nJEKwGZH_-xObcECEAbLA5rzgCLcB/s400/DR%2B1%2B007%2B-%2BCopy.JPG" width="266" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif";">Oopps….the
internet connection does not work in my room. Between sitting on the floor in
the outside hall, and checking with hotel names I had jotted down before
leaving, and then trying to find them on a teeny-tiny map, I was set to explore
come morning.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif";">I
woke up today feeling fairly refreshed, ate breakfast, packed up my list and
went in search of housing. It turns out my travel mojo hadn’t left me. I not
only found a great place, I found a fantastic place! It’s like it fell out of
the sky for me. It may have been a 24-hour delay, but I still have it in me to
hit the ground at a fast pace. Thank goodness! I was seriously starting to
worry. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif";">The
Spanish is also starting to kick in. Blabbermouth Kate says hi to everyone she
passes and comments on their cute kids; which really doesn’t do much for
fluency. However, can’t-tell-left-from-right Kate constantly gets turned around
and needs to ask for directions. I’ve talked to dozens of policemen and army
guys and waiters, who very kindly and slowly, tell me which way to go. I
sometimes get sidetracked, and then just ask another lovely local. Today when I
got twisted around, (and for the life of me, I have no idea how I did so because
I swear I was on the same street the whole time), I stopped in front of some
official building. I said to the young military man, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Can you help me? I’m lost again. </i>To which he replied, <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">You </i>were <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">lost, now you’re not! </i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
might have reserved that comment had he seen me five minutes later asking for
directions again. If I just had a map, none of this would be quite so bad.<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"> </i><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif";">The
stars are aligning and this is set to be one wonderful adventure!</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif";">(Better
pictures, with more explanations to come. need to get this up before I loose the connection again)</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif";">Kate<o:p></o:p></span></div>
</div>
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14554120.post-42640371767144242622014-07-15T14:34:00.000-07:002014-07-15T14:34:23.408-07:00Casa del Puente<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eSt9IAjelos/U8Wamlx2wxI/AAAAAAAABSw/xZdW2YO0Hhc/s1600/10+july+pv+037.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-eSt9IAjelos/U8Wamlx2wxI/AAAAAAAABSw/xZdW2YO0Hhc/s1600/10+july+pv+037.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View of Casa del Puente from the bridge</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">On the banks of the Rio Cuale, in the middle of Old Town
Puerto Vallarta, sits the most wonderful little hotel.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.casadelpuente.com/" target="_blank">Casa del Puente</a> is not a typical hotel, but rather three spacious, fully equipped apartments. Recently, I was fortunate enough to stay there
in the one bedroom apartment.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KRsr0r7hVKs/U8WaSmVSBFI/AAAAAAAABSg/UAqZ5PUPLlI/s1600/10+july+pv+012+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KRsr0r7hVKs/U8WaSmVSBFI/AAAAAAAABSg/UAqZ5PUPLlI/s1600/10+july+pv+012+-+Copy.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Living area - 1 bedroom apt</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Upon arrival, my host Maria ushered me in to what I thought
was the hotel reception area, only to find out it was actually my apartment. It
is massive. The large living area is boarded on one side by a bank of windows
looking out over the Rio Cuale. Built in seating areas, bedecked with colorful cushions,
encircle the main room. Mexican furniture and decorative pieces adorn the entire
area. The open kitchen on the left has everything you need to prepare a meal. How
lovely it is to cut up fresh tropical fruit while gazing out at the trees along
the river and the hills beyond. </span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KlCCGJzIlGs/U8WbEqPHDsI/AAAAAAAABTY/g4JlU53jYc0/s1600/11+July+PV+003+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KlCCGJzIlGs/U8WbEqPHDsI/AAAAAAAABTY/g4JlU53jYc0/s1600/11+July+PV+003+-+Copy.JPG" height="320" width="212" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">River view</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FenY1Kk93nw/U8Wanl22aFI/AAAAAAAABS4/dtimxq19uV8/s1600/9+July+PV+016+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FenY1Kk93nw/U8Wanl22aFI/AAAAAAAABS4/dtimxq19uV8/s1600/9+July+PV+016+-+Copy.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Reading partner by the window</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Az3wLxiPblU/U8Waa3u3qbI/AAAAAAAABSo/-tjp5QilCU8/s1600/10+july+pv+013+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Az3wLxiPblU/U8Waa3u3qbI/AAAAAAAABSo/-tjp5QilCU8/s1600/10+july+pv+013+-+Copy.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The only problem I had with such a wonderful space, is that
I could never decide where I should stretch out to read. I usually ended up on
the built-in bench that ran along the windows, which enabled me to check on the
wildlife. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Three steps up from the living area is the bedroom and
bathroom. I went to sleep every night listening to the sounds of the rushing
river, and every day sat in a chair by the window watching the iguanas in the
trees and the egrets standing on rocks in the river. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5A3HRV-aGxE/U8Wasvo9JFI/AAAAAAAABTI/asGFf68Tp6Q/s1600/9+July+PV+021.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5A3HRV-aGxE/U8Wasvo9JFI/AAAAAAAABTI/asGFf68Tp6Q/s1600/9+July+PV+021.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New apt upstairs</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There is a two bedroom apartment on the left, nestled in
foliage and tranquility. Upstairs is the newest edition; a beautifully
appointed apartment. As with the others, there are outside areas with chairs
and tables. The view to the mountains is even better up top.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The location couldn’t be more perfect; everything is within
walking distance - shops, restaurants, the beach, and bus stops.</span></div>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_sxaNx9Ayz8/U8WanmPohHI/AAAAAAAABS8/N1VmB0MF-cM/s1600/10+july+pv+019+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_sxaNx9Ayz8/U8WanmPohHI/AAAAAAAABS8/N1VmB0MF-cM/s1600/10+july+pv+019+-+Copy.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Balcony view</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In Casa del Puente you know you are in Mexico and feel like
you are staying with friends. I look forward to my next visit to Puerto
Vallarta and the beautiful little Hotel on the Bridge.</span><br />
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Contact Maria:</span></o:p></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NiohbFLkExQ/U8Waw1B39RI/AAAAAAAABTQ/G2bHxoHD4V8/s1600/9+July+PV+029.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-NiohbFLkExQ/U8Waw1B39RI/AAAAAAAABTQ/G2bHxoHD4V8/s1600/9+July+PV+029.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Upstairs apt deck</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<div style="background-color: whitesmoke; font-family: Tahoma, Arial, Helvetica; font-size: 11px;">
Phone: 011 52 (322) 22-20749<br />From the US, Call: (415) 513-5313<br />Toll Free: (888) 666-9540<br />Email: <a href="http://www.casadelpuente.com/casadelpuente@yahoo.com" style="color: #003366; text-decoration: none;">casadelpuente@yahoo.com</a></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14554120.post-20583080566967276542014-07-14T12:38:00.000-07:002014-07-14T12:38:19.295-07:00After Thoughts<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sVqsxYn5Hlk/U8QrPArJWLI/AAAAAAAABRg/cIfgo4y0JjI/s1600/iguanas+PV+7+july+2014+103+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-sVqsxYn5Hlk/U8QrPArJWLI/AAAAAAAABRg/cIfgo4y0JjI/s1600/iguanas+PV+7+july+2014+103+-+Copy.JPG" height="499" width="640" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I'm back home.They say there is a heat wave today. I'm not hot....... It's very hard to believe that a few days ago I was really in Puerto Vallarta. Why is it that when you are in one country, the other seems to not really exist? I've always found this to be one of the oddest feelings when going from one place to another. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A few more pictures of that land that right now seems like a distant memory:</span><br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qYOruNB-Ls8/U8QrZHkQgEI/AAAAAAAABRo/pr2aZgteFRc/s1600/PV+7+july+2014+006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qYOruNB-Ls8/U8QrZHkQgEI/AAAAAAAABRo/pr2aZgteFRc/s1600/PV+7+july+2014+006.JPG" height="425" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There are three pelicans resting in these trees.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FvcY1yS7q-Y/U8Qrgwxm7DI/AAAAAAAABR4/uEHl1MYjjgE/s1600/PV+7+july+2014+029.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FvcY1yS7q-Y/U8Qrgwxm7DI/AAAAAAAABR4/uEHl1MYjjgE/s1600/PV+7+july+2014+029.JPG" height="320" width="213" /></a></div>
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YRYdr0tnjvM/U8Qrcw4IWRI/AAAAAAAABRw/jrWqgwBhev0/s1600/PV+7+july+2014+027.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YRYdr0tnjvM/U8Qrcw4IWRI/AAAAAAAABRw/jrWqgwBhev0/s1600/PV+7+july+2014+027.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I don't usually take pictures of food, but this little cafe was such an unexpected, delicious find, that I couldn't resist. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, Times New Roman, serif;"><i><b>Mi Cafe Deli, Francisco Madero #505, Old Town, PV</b></i></span><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3jI9nud-Te4/U8Qrl0H8TSI/AAAAAAAABSA/YVF1s1AMtuU/s1600/PV+7+july+2014+030.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><i><b><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3jI9nud-Te4/U8Qrl0H8TSI/AAAAAAAABSA/YVF1s1AMtuU/s1600/PV+7+july+2014+030.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></b></i></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I realized I had not been posting pictures of the streets or the sea. Maybe it's because posted so many of them four years ago, and my brain was telling me I didn't need to put up any more. </span><br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4zhbBQbAj-E/U8Qrznd5LZI/AAAAAAAABSI/jM8s_M0o_e0/s1600/10+july+pv+010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-4zhbBQbAj-E/U8Qrznd5LZI/AAAAAAAABSI/jM8s_M0o_e0/s1600/10+july+pv+010.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I can always look at another photo of the beach. </span><br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1VCelzPb-GU/U8Qr4VIqrDI/AAAAAAAABSQ/p5Hqagv-APA/s1600/8+july+PV+001+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-1VCelzPb-GU/U8Qr4VIqrDI/AAAAAAAABSQ/p5Hqagv-APA/s1600/8+july+PV+001+-+Copy.JPG" height="640" width="425" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">This <i>garrobo </i>lizard climbed up to this resting spot below my window for three days in a row. He always looked a little wary, whereas the iguanas didn't pay much attention to me. </span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14554120.post-65596938120291932712014-07-10T18:39:00.000-07:002014-07-10T18:39:15.152-07:00Time to Leave<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Bj226Tp70Kw/U78-Hag93RI/AAAAAAAABQU/1moun-sclMU/s1600/9+July+PV+037+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Bj226Tp70Kw/U78-Hag93RI/AAAAAAAABQU/1moun-sclMU/s1600/9+July+PV+037+-+Copy.JPG" height="425" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It’s hard to believe that it is already my last night here. My
body has just reached the <i>I’m on vacation</i>
setting, and now it’s over. My Spanish needs another week to get into top form –
I understand almost everything, but the responding part is a little on the slow
side. I find myself halting mid-sentence a little too often for my liking. Not
that anyone in Mexico ever cares if I trip over words or blurt something out in
a completely different language. The first few days I was here, I found myself
mentally constructing a sentence I would need starting with “I”. I ran through <i>eu, toi, ani, </i>before I finally got to <i>yo.</i> The brain is a funny thing; it
searches for a different language and grabs whatever is available, be it
Portuguese, Vietnamese, or Hebrew. I am sure words in all those languages have
entered into my conversations here. </span></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RGQPCaT7Tmg/U78-LjRvP3I/AAAAAAAABQc/mJyjlxZFuks/s1600/9+July+PV+015+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RGQPCaT7Tmg/U78-LjRvP3I/AAAAAAAABQc/mJyjlxZFuks/s1600/9+July+PV+015+-+Copy.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I was hoping to get a lot of writing done seeing as how I
have a book and a novella in the works, but that didn’t happen. However, I know
I will be returning to California with a relaxed mind and body, ready to jump
on those projects. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I didn’t take all the beach walks that are my norm, or get
back to the Vallarta Botanical Gardens, or go see how Elizabeth Taylor’s house
is doing after I heard it had been renovated. And that’s ok. I did walk a lot, said
hello to shopkeepers I had met four years ago, and even ran into a cat I had
met last time I was here. (He lives in one of those shops.)</span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-707o03r5MkY/U78-jWtmQKI/AAAAAAAABQs/f8Dj-4ZYkrA/s1600/iguanas+PV+7+july+2014+003+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-707o03r5MkY/U78-jWtmQKI/AAAAAAAABQs/f8Dj-4ZYkrA/s1600/iguanas+PV+7+july+2014+003+-+Copy.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A highlight of this trip was getting two adjustments by the
best chiropractor I have ever known. <a href="http://drlennysugerman.com/" target="_blank">Dr. Lenny Sugerman</a> is <i>so </i>much more than just a chiro. He is thorough and gentle, and
takes as much time as needed to evaluate, and then work on your body. It’s
depressing to know that I have not been able to find someone even close to his
ability in my area. It’s not like I can fly to Puerto Vallarta every month or
so for an adjustment. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Another fantastic outcome of my short visit was all those
close encounters with the iguanas. One was right on the outside ledge of my
window the other day. As I mentioned previously, their eyes are <i>so </i>human that I just <i>know </i>they can understand me. And when I
try to talk to them, I swear they can understand me – that is until I realize I
am most likely scaring the crap out of the poor guys, and I back away. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Right now I’m trying to get my body to memorize what it
feels like to feel warm like a lizard in hopes that I might be able to recreate
the feeling when I get back into the cold fog that awaits me tomorrow night.</span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9ARDHBpsKBg/U78_MKySwJI/AAAAAAAABQ0/8lt-0TuTAd4/s1600/9+July+PV+041.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-9ARDHBpsKBg/U78_MKySwJI/AAAAAAAABQ0/8lt-0TuTAd4/s1600/9+July+PV+041.JPG" height="425" width="640" /></a><o:p><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></o:p></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14554120.post-24441931100691228982014-07-09T10:48:00.000-07:002014-07-09T10:48:42.310-07:00A Walk on the Beach<div class="MsoNormal">
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qRO6HAiR0Xs/U7198bko-hI/AAAAAAAABPo/133QRhX57-Q/s1600/9+july+PV+046+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qRO6HAiR0Xs/U7198bko-hI/AAAAAAAABPo/133QRhX57-Q/s1600/9+july+PV+046+-+Copy.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I've been in Puerto Vallarta for over a week and only have a
few days left, yet today was the first day I went for a walk on the beach. My
general routine when living in close proximity to the ocean, is to take an
early morning walk every single day. It hasn't worked out that way until today.
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Strolling along the sand, gazing up at the sea birds, and
watching the sun rise has to be the best tonic for anything at ails a body. It’s a
combination of the rhythm of the waves along the shore, the smell of salty sea
air, and the ability to forget that civilization even exists. One with nature. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I love watching the pelicans swoop in for a fresh fish
breakfast. They seem to stay in groups and hover around wherever there are
schools of fish, or fisherman with bait. There are also these large, black
birds that take head-first dives into the water to scoop up a meal. It is
thrilling to watch.</span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c6WHv-Pdgok/U71-Bp1SrlI/AAAAAAAABPw/uFkLhmlgdKE/s1600/9+july+PV+071+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-c6WHv-Pdgok/U71-Bp1SrlI/AAAAAAAABPw/uFkLhmlgdKE/s1600/9+july+PV+071+-+Copy.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A few old guys were out fishing with nets and rods. I’d
guess they were of retirement age, but am fairly sure that fishing had been
their livelihood. One doesn’t learn how to repair a fishing net, or throw one
out onto the sea, if it is just a hobby.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Sitting in the sand on the shore, warm sun and blue skies
above, you might never know that last night another tropical thunderstorm
rolled through the city. It was wonderful! Maybe if you were outside and
dodging lightning bolts it would be a different story. But being inside looking
out through a bank of windows at the wind bending the palm trees and the sound
of torrential rain, is simply magnificent. It’s also nice knowing that the
storm will pass through quickly, the skies will dry up, and in morning it will
be sunny again. </span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IzF0Ux-vO5Y/U719ov7kixI/AAAAAAAABPg/JTrv3sUM-qM/s1600/9+july+PV+002.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-IzF0Ux-vO5Y/U719ov7kixI/AAAAAAAABPg/JTrv3sUM-qM/s1600/9+july+PV+002.JPG" height="213" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Still trying to make use of every last minute I have here,
the day is already planned. In a few hours I’ll head down to the beach café to
watch Argentina x Holland in the World Cup semi-final. After yesterday’s disastrous
game between Brazil and Germany, I’m hoping this will be more of an exciting,
close match. </span></div>
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-e6fQjSuBHLA/U71-E0GSeDI/AAAAAAAABP4/rKxuBLeOwmI/s1600/9+july+PV+054+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-e6fQjSuBHLA/U71-E0GSeDI/AAAAAAAABP4/rKxuBLeOwmI/s1600/9+july+PV+054+-+Copy.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I would always have come back down to Puerto Vallarta, but I
especially did so at this time to watch the World Cup in a Latin country where
I thought it would be great fun. It’s not </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">as big of an event as I thought it
would be. A few days I wanted to simply watch the games on the TV here, but
they were not broadcast. As far as I can figure out, the World Cup is not shown
on basic, Mexican TV stations. A step up to cable gives you CNN, (and not CNN
International), and periodic news stations from New York, but no World Cup. A
step up from that – (maybe satellite?) and you get Sky Sports, which has the
World Cup contract. This is very strange. Granted, this is the first that the
World Cup has been shown extensively in the US – even broadcasting games on
regular networks.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But even in 1982, pre-cable/satellite, I was able to watch
the games on a Spanish language network, even if it was a little fuzzy. I’ve never heard of another country that did
not broadcast the Cup on stations that were available to everyone. All is well,
though – I have gotten my fill of games both watching in the US and here. I’m
already planning where I’ll be for the 2018 World Cup.</span><br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14554120.post-40288029486696263802014-07-04T07:03:00.000-07:002014-07-04T07:03:04.832-07:00The Sun Came Out and The Iguanas Came Down<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cQX51TAkwrA/U7ax562TqcI/AAAAAAAABPA/-EZA5Sg4ncg/s1600/Iguanas+PV+2+July+2014+023+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cQX51TAkwrA/U7ax562TqcI/AAAAAAAABPA/-EZA5Sg4ncg/s1600/Iguanas+PV+2+July+2014+023+-+Copy.JPG" height="425" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yesterday afternoon I saw blue skies for the first time
since landing in Puerto Vallarta five days ago. For someone who lives by/and
for the laws of the sun, it was certainly a welcome sight.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The first, tiniest speck of sunlight in the early morning
sky is why I get out of bed. My brain functions best in bright sunlight and my
body only works to its fullest when it’s hot. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I have often wondered if I might be part
lizard. Perhaps that is why I so adore iguanas and their relatives.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-E8WK7W0_g5c/U7axzB5rZ4I/AAAAAAAABOw/tpDXW8mVOFs/s1600/Iguanas+PV+2+July+2014+004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-E8WK7W0_g5c/U7axzB5rZ4I/AAAAAAAABOw/tpDXW8mVOFs/s1600/Iguanas+PV+2+July+2014+004.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Puerto Vallarta is filled with beautiful iguanas that don’t
seem to be bothered by the traffic below or the houses next door to their trees.
One only needs to look up in the trees that run along the Rio Cuale, right in
the center of town, to catch a glimpse of these magnificent creatures. If I search hard enough, (they are good at camouflage),
I can usually see at least one in the tree outside my window. The best time to
see them is when they slowly make their way down the tree to head for the river
and get a drink of water.</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3zqgiFMo97o/U7ax4e1RPtI/AAAAAAAABO4/gTyP1FAbOIA/s1600/Iguanas+PV+2+July+2014+011+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-3zqgiFMo97o/U7ax4e1RPtI/AAAAAAAABO4/gTyP1FAbOIA/s1600/Iguanas+PV+2+July+2014+011+-+Copy.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I've seen yellow iguanas and green iguanas and a few bright
green lizards of a different variety. I think one of them may have been about 5
feet long from head to tail. Although I have seen many, my camera does not have
very much of a zoom on it and the photographs I took only are good if I enlarge
them on my computer. What I needed was a close encounter with an iguana.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PDVtuLMuTkY/U7ayNgP-OdI/AAAAAAAABPQ/JEYZG8Tqybo/s1600/Iguanas+PV+2+July+2014+036+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PDVtuLMuTkY/U7ayNgP-OdI/AAAAAAAABPQ/JEYZG8Tqybo/s1600/Iguanas+PV+2+July+2014+036+-+Copy.JPG" height="400" width="266" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My friend is at the very top of the tree.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I remembered from the last time I was here that the trees next
to one of the small bridges crossing the Rio Cuale had been a good place to
spot the critters. I walked along the small street running along the river and
was about to go up the steps to the bridge when I noticed a woman looking up in
the trees. I followed her line of vision and saw a big iguana on the move. And
then I saw another. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Quickly, I pulled out my camera and started taking pictures.
They were still too far up in the tree, but they were moving around, not just
sunning themselves. Then I noticed the biggest guy was on the move
down the tree, right in front of me. What a stroke of luck! He was going for a
drink of water just when I got there. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I talked to him all the way down and told him what a
beautiful iguana he was. The good thing about iguana wildlife photography is
that they move very slowly - it gives one time to focus and reposition to get
the best angle. When my buddy got about eye level with me he stopped, turned
his head, and stared at me. I like to think he was saying hello.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I then went up to the bridge and found another one at the
very top of a tree, drinking in the sun. They, like me, were very thankful for
the clear blue skies. I took more pictures, but he really was too far away.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pZNGaDKuT-M/U7ayD-rnS7I/AAAAAAAABPI/L93P7s_bgXA/s1600/Iguanas+PV+2+July+2014+024+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pZNGaDKuT-M/U7ayD-rnS7I/AAAAAAAABPI/L93P7s_bgXA/s1600/Iguanas+PV+2+July+2014+024+-+Copy.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It wasn't until I got home and looked at the photos I had
taken, that I realized that iguanas have people eyes. It was quite a shock. I
now do know that I am part lizard – the proof is in the eyes.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14554120.post-31153888933855323082014-07-01T19:15:00.000-07:002014-07-12T15:52:18.366-07:00USA x Belgium<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_XdBtcQDqiA/U7No80niW8I/AAAAAAAABOY/6UvfGtqejh4/s1600/USA+vs+Bel+2014+FIFA+006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_XdBtcQDqiA/U7No80niW8I/AAAAAAAABOY/6UvfGtqejh4/s1600/USA+vs+Bel+2014+FIFA+006.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I actually made it to a Latin American country to watch the
World Cup. Even though the plan for the past four years had been to go to
Brazil, Mexico was not a bad alternative. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">With the USA x Belgium match starting at 3:00 PM Puerto
Vallarta time, I set out early enough to give myself time to cruise the </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Malecon</i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> in search of an exciting venue to
view the game.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It wasn’t long before I noticed that there did not seem to
be much in the way of crazy soccer fans on the streets or in the bars I passed.
I assumed that since Mexico was now out of it all, the interest in the <i>mundial </i>might have lessened. But I did
expect to see American fans, even though it is low tourist season here. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Once I reached the end of the rows of restaurants and bars
along the </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Malecon</i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">, and not finding
anything that looked even close to a hopping-mad football fest, I decided to
head back to a bar I’d passed earlier. </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Murphy’s
Irish Pub; </i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">they </span><i style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">had</i><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> to be watching
the game there. Looking up from below at the second story establishment, I didn’t
see too many folks inside, but thought I saw a TV with what looked to be a
game. I checked my watch – the game had already started – so headed up the
narrow staircase to find what awaited me.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The game was indeed playing on several large and small
screens. Right at the front, just inside the balcony, sat a group of six young American
women, eyes glued to the TV set. Wow – has the world changed! I felt so proud
that a group of gals would come out to watch a football match. I said hello and
grabbed a table behind them.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Murphy’s was by no means packed, but there was a decent
enough crowd comprised of families and small groups of men. I ordered a glass of
tonic water and tuned my brain into the game along with my compatriots. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Having watched all the previous matches in the company of
myself, I truly enjoyed being able to whoop out loud along with the rest of the
patrons – or in some cases, let out a loud <i>ooooohhhh!
</i>It really is much more fun to be part of a crowd when watching a sporting
event.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FyrmAA0tu-k/U8G75X4RPxI/AAAAAAAABRQ/xQnX4Hm1Lk0/s1600/8+july+PV+004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-FyrmAA0tu-k/U8G75X4RPxI/AAAAAAAABRQ/xQnX4Hm1Lk0/s1600/8+july+PV+004.JPG" height="265" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We all know how the game ended, but I must say that those
last few minutes were a joy to watch, with the entire pub cheering on Team
USA. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I do feel a bit disappointed in the less-than-crazy World
Cup atmosphere that I’ve found here. I was thinking back to several World Cups
ago when I was living in Kuala Lumpur. It was the best time ever! Maybe it was
because the games were on in the late afternoon and evening, and all the bars
and restaurants were packed for every game. And it’s not like Malaysia was even
in the World Cup. For the final, my friends and I had to book a table in a
make-shift, outdoor club, right next to the Twin Towers. It was total sports
fan nirvana. </span></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">World Cup apparent-lack-of-enthusiasm aside, it’s still
fantastic to be in Puerto Vallarta, drinking in the heat, breathing in the humidity,
and spending by days in happiness.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14554120.post-27546236350330483002014-06-30T18:04:00.000-07:002014-07-12T15:48:49.204-07:00Back in Puerto Vallarta<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-a7-j4JPISlc/U8G6dxMwJiI/AAAAAAAABRE/6USsAFt_CgA/s1600/8+july+PV+006+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-a7-j4JPISlc/U8G6dxMwJiI/AAAAAAAABRE/6USsAFt_CgA/s1600/8+july+PV+006+-+Copy.JPG" height="640" width="425" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial;">It’s been way too long, but I have finally made it back
outside the confines of California and right into the heat of the tropics.
Within minutes of arriving, I felt a huge rush of joy. I suppose it’s the
combination of the climate - hot and muggy; the people – Mexican; and the grand
adventure of it all.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Since the minute I stepped off the plane and asked the guy
at the gate who won the Mexico/Netherlands match, it’s been a non-stop
adventure of little bits of happiness, one after another. My Spanish is good
enough to engage anyone in a conversation and believe me, I talk to everyone.
Sometimes I stop and marvel at how this once, painfully shy little girl, turned
into such a conversationalist. I chatted with the taxi driver who hopes to do a
chef’s course. I talked to the gentleman selling crafts, the proceeds of which
will go to help various charitable organizations. There were conversations with
the folks at the produce market to make sure the tropical fruits I was buying
were ready to eat. And the man on the park bench, five month old kitten at his
side, who told me the kitty belonged to no one and I was welcome to take it
home. </span><span style="font-family: Arial;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JnnlZVRO9hg/U7NOGVYpFhI/AAAAAAAABOI/86ZKKQp-P0c/s1600/PV+30+June+2014+019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JnnlZVRO9hg/U7NOGVYpFhI/AAAAAAAABOI/86ZKKQp-P0c/s1600/PV+30+June+2014+019.JPG" height="266" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I should back up and say that hearing the results of the
World Cup match, in which Mexico lost, is not on the list of things to be happy
about. One of the main reasons I am here is because I couldn’t bear watching
another World Cup in the US. Having said that, I must say that I am thrilled to
see the excitement that is ringing around Team USA and the World Cup 2014 in
general. However, it’s never quite as crazy and wonderful as it is in the rest
of the world. Now that Mexico is out of the running, I don’t know how the rest
of the Cup will be commemorated, but I will find out. </span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">It’s been four years since I was last in Puerto Vallarta and
I’m interested to see what has changed and what has stayed the same. I easily
found the produce market, the grilled chicken market, and the fresh tortilla
factory. Sadly, the local, family owned Rizo supermarket is no longer around.
There are plenty of mini-marts nearby where I can get yogurt and juice, and
fresh fruits and vegetables are just up the street, but I really wish Rizo were
there.</span><br />
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BDaLHJdLI5w/U7NNdBMpaqI/AAAAAAAABN8/tx-hK4zmrLk/s1600/PV+30+June+2014+011.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BDaLHJdLI5w/U7NNdBMpaqI/AAAAAAAABN8/tx-hK4zmrLk/s1600/PV+30+June+2014+011.JPG" height="212" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I had heard that the Malecon, the walkway along the
beautiful Bay of Banderas, had been partly closed to traffic. That sounded like
a fantastic idea, and today I was up early to take a walk along its length in
the grey, morning light. I have no idea why, but it just felt wrong. All along
the Malecon there are beautiful brass sculptures. I especially love the alien-creature
looking ones. I have no idea why the lack of street, that is now a walkway,
should change the feel of the artwork. Perhaps it is because there had been a
one or two foot drop down to the street from the Malecon, and now it is all
filled in. I felt like the sculptures couldn’t breathe. </span><span style="font-family: Arial;"> </span><span style="font-family: Arial;">Maybe it was the lack of sunshine. Maybe I
just have to get used to it. Maybe I’ll figure out why it doesn’t look right.</span><br />
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8NEbq3zqF-Q/U7NOFs5g1qI/AAAAAAAABOA/uO21wiLLHdc/s1600/PV+30+June+2014+007.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8NEbq3zqF-Q/U7NOFs5g1qI/AAAAAAAABOA/uO21wiLLHdc/s1600/PV+30+June+2014+007.JPG" height="305" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial;">Right now I am listening to birds chirp in the trees outside
my windows. The geckos in my room are quiet for the moment, but they’ve been
talking to me since I arrived. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’ve seen
white herons and iguanas, and a squirrel that has a monkey tail. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I’m keeping my eye out for parrots.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial;">The smell of all those delicious fresh fruits – guava,
passion fruit, pineapple and others, are beckoning me to dig in. Life is definitely
good!</span><br />
<br />
<div style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14554120.post-20169727233419235902013-09-25T15:19:00.000-07:002013-09-25T15:19:04.785-07:00America's Cup Final
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IG7i7kJGe60/UkNdpvF0XfI/AAAAAAAABJ8/9gRRc6Mq0N8/s1600/America's+Cup+final+036+-+Copy+(2).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IG7i7kJGe60/UkNdpvF0XfI/AAAAAAAABJ8/9gRRc6Mq0N8/s400/America's+Cup+final+036+-+Copy+(2).JPG" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial;">Living in the San Francisco Bay Area, of course I was aware
that the America’s Cup was taking place in town. But that was about it. I’ve
always loved anything associated with the ocean and spent years fantasizing
about traveling around the world on a boat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But that lifestyle was not something that was ever in the budget. Also,
I have always felt that yacht racing was a bit of a snooty sport and only for
the really rich. Nevertheless, none of those anti-yachting sentiments mattered
when I heard that Team America had come back from an 8 to 1 deficit to tie
Team New Zealand, and it was down to a final race.</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">This afternoon, soon before the race started, I drove over
to a lookout area in the Berkeley hills. One can always see the bay, provided
that there is no fog, and the day was beautiful. I had no idea if I would
actually be able to see the race boats from such a distance, and was quite
surprised at their visibility even without my telephoto lens.</span></div>
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-79QqImx2C1Y/UkNf8YUJudI/AAAAAAAABKU/ewiOxRk2Xsw/s1600/America's+Cup+final+033+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-79QqImx2C1Y/UkNf8YUJudI/AAAAAAAABKU/ewiOxRk2Xsw/s400/America's+Cup+final+033+-+Copy.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Teams USA & New Zealand, Alcatraz, Golden Gate Bridge</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">A few other people had gathered on the hill to watch the
event. One man had downloaded and app that broadcast the tack-by-tack play.
Another woman, who obviously knew a lot about the sport, held binoculars up and
gave us more detailed updates about what the boats were doing. We could all
easily see the difference between the red and black sails, and I mistakenly
told everyone that the red one was team USA. (Something in my mind assumed that
New Zealand would always be <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">all black</i>.)
But since I didn’t really know what the boats were doing other then sailing
back and forth, it didn’t much matter to me. </span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">When the man with the Cup app left, another woman, there
with her two kids, logged on to twitter and gave us the updates. For about half
an hour, our little group watched and commented on the race. What a lovely
little outing!</span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">I honestly didn’t care who won. And since Team America seems
to be made up of quite a few men who didn’t have American accents, it seemed to
matter even less. What I did love was standing in the warm sun, talking to a
small group of people I’d never met in my life, and watching a world event on
the San Francisco Bay. Simply outstanding!</span><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kfc-8Vx2nTs/UkNexS41_WI/AAAAAAAABKI/gEFHbgbmbxQ/s1600/America's+Cup+final+024+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="265" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-kfc-8Vx2nTs/UkNexS41_WI/AAAAAAAABKI/gEFHbgbmbxQ/s400/America's+Cup+final+024+-+Copy.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The new span of the Bay Bridge. Race is off to the right.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Arial;"> </span></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<o:p><span style="font-family: Arial;"> </span></o:p></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14554120.post-16502131953529753772012-12-08T17:30:00.000-08:002012-12-08T17:30:29.095-08:00Goodbye Lonely Planet
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">Almost exactly three years ago, after writing and posting my
travel stories for several years, I came across an item on LonelyPlanet.com
stating they were looking for travel bloggers. At the time I was in Puerto
Vallarta writing a daily column and quickly sent out an email to LP. A few days
later, I was one of the new, “Lonely Planet Featured Bloggers”. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What a thrill that was! Even though my first
three years of living in Vietnam had been prior to the start of the LP
Blogsherpa program, now a much wider audience would have direct access to all those
stories and others to come.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 10pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;">An email the other day informed all the Blogsherpa writers
that sometime in December the program would be eliminated and our posts will
disappear from the pages of LP.com. Now all those lovely tales from writers
traveling and living in places far and near will no longer be available with
just a click on a Lonely Planet destination page.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">My story about <strong>Building a Boat in Mui Ne</strong>, won’t be found on the Vietnam pages.</span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-szdh2eJoNiE/UMPghCOt4PI/AAAAAAAABI4/xHG60jsKoeA/s1600/MN+Boat+021.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="425" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-szdh2eJoNiE/UMPghCOt4PI/AAAAAAAABI4/xHG60jsKoeA/s640/MN+Boat+021.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">The one about the <strong>Puerto Vallarta Botanical Garden</strong> will also
disappear. </span></div>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wbrKjh3mcvU/UMPkn4k4lYI/AAAAAAAABJI/vwUq4BKmPig/s1600/Kat++7-17+mayo+088.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="480" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wbrKjh3mcvU/UMPkn4k4lYI/AAAAAAAABJI/vwUq4BKmPig/s640/Kat++7-17+mayo+088.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">There are the stories from <strong>Hoi An.</strong></span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MloSkd5-0lE/UMPmDJ74gGI/AAAAAAAABJQ/V_vj6LHd4CU/s1600/Hoi+An+one+13+feb+2011+062.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-MloSkd5-0lE/UMPmDJ74gGI/AAAAAAAABJQ/V_vj6LHd4CU/s400/Hoi+An+one+13+feb+2011+062.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">And <strong>Ho Chi Minh City.</strong></span></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-o4m6TA4HuYI/UMPnDD2PO0I/AAAAAAAABJc/z8ThHz_-MDA/s1600/Museum+19+Jan+2011+023.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-o4m6TA4HuYI/UMPnDD2PO0I/AAAAAAAABJc/z8ThHz_-MDA/s400/Museum+19+Jan+2011+023.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Arial;"> And the one about the <strong>Golden Gate Bridge</strong> turning 75 this year.</span></o:p></div>
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VzWNy6-PRrk/UMPn34clD-I/AAAAAAAABJk/s22KIxESlkU/s1600/Golden+Gate+Bridge+024+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-VzWNy6-PRrk/UMPn34clD-I/AAAAAAAABJk/s22KIxESlkU/s400/Golden+Gate+Bridge+024+-+Copy.JPG" width="266" /></a></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Arial;">I will miss my LP readers and miss the oportunity to share my stories with such a large audience.</span></o:p></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Arial;">Happy travel to all.</span></o:p></div>
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<o:p><span style="font-family: Arial;">Kate</span></o:p></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14554120.post-48357415473064934012012-05-10T11:15:00.000-07:002012-05-10T11:15:14.025-07:00The Golden Gate at 75<br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-02sALW60XAU/T6wCtgrNBRI/AAAAAAAABII/HMhM-3LSQpU/s1600/Golden+Gate+Bridge+024+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" dba="true" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-02sALW60XAU/T6wCtgrNBRI/AAAAAAAABII/HMhM-3LSQpU/s400/Golden+Gate+Bridge+024+-+Copy.JPG" width="266" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I grew up directly across the bay from the Golden Gate Bridge. On most days I could look out and see its vibrant orange towers spanning the entrance to the bay, yet I had never stepped foot on its hallowed concrete and metal. May 27th will mark the 75th anniversary of that glorious feat of engineering. The other day, not wanting to fight the massive crowds that are sure to be there for the celebration, I decided that it would be a good time to visit.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The weather was un-San Franciscanly hot; I knew that temps would hit close to 80 degrees. It rarely gets that warm in the middle of the summer, let alone in the spring. Accordingly, I set out in my lightest summer clothing. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Getting to San Francisco is a quick trip under the bay on BART, (our subway), but finding the right bus to get from downtown to the bridge was quite a task. I trekked up and down Market Street and then over to the Ferry Building in hopes of finding the correct bus stop. I had found bus route numbers on the internet, but where they stopped remained a mystery to me and everyone else I asked. By that time I found the correct corner, (30 or 40 minutes later), it was hot enough that I was actually getting a bit sweaty; rather unheard of in San Francisco, but very welcome.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The bus ride out to the bridge is not for the fainthearted. Going on Golden Gate Transit was supposedly faster than on the Muni bus lines, but I have my doubts. Yes, it took me to the bridge, but the driver had to take time to explain the bus options to every person, (mostly tourists), who got on. <em>If you want to continue your trip to Sausalito, pay more now, then after you cross the bridge, take the ferry back.</em> Or <em>if you want to wait for Muni, it’s a dollar cheaper.</em> I do applaud his willingness to help people out, but it added a ton of time to the trip. One would think that in San Francisco there should be a quick, downtown-to-Golden Gate shuttle, especially since they encourage you to use public transportation. </span><br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iGk08S_GyJo/T6wDHVkCaYI/AAAAAAAABIQ/1ZInUGLLKco/s1600/Golden+Gate+Bridge+001+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" dba="true" height="425" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-iGk08S_GyJo/T6wDHVkCaYI/AAAAAAAABIQ/1ZInUGLLKco/s640/Golden+Gate+Bridge+001+-+Copy.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And although it took forever for the bus to get to the bridge, and I was wondering why in the heck I had thought this would be a good idea, all bad thoughts were quickly forgotten as soon as I gazed onto that magnificent structure. It truly is breathtaking. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">How wonderful! The Golden Gate Bridge on a splendid day! But then I stepped off the bus and swore; it was freezing! It doesn’t matter how many weather reports one checks, it will always be cold on the bridge with that wind blowing in from the ocean. Then again, that meant that there was no cloud cover and I had picture perfect views of the bridge.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Stepping onto the walkway I tried to avoid the bicycles flying by on my left. I shivered and knew I had keep my head down, battle the chill and get to the first tower of the bridge before stopping, in hopes that I would find shelter from the frigid gusts. Wind whipped through my thin cotton shirt and I gave up on trying to wear the hat I had brought. Once at the first bridge tower, I moved into a protected section and again felt the glorious heat of the day. </span><br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OqgiGsMINA8/T6wD4Ig5glI/AAAAAAAABIY/Crgtdoga2aU/s1600/Golden+Gate+Bridge+041.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" dba="true" height="266" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-OqgiGsMINA8/T6wD4Ig5glI/AAAAAAAABIY/Crgtdoga2aU/s400/Golden+Gate+Bridge+041.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It really was a magnificent day and I thought about the men who had built this structure when the weather was never this good and the winds were often much stronger. How did they do it? And that was back in 1937! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">What really struck me was that the width of this great structure appeared so small when you are actually standing on it. I could have leaned out and touched cars going by; there just isn’t that much space between the walkway and road. And if there’d even been a small break in the traffic, I am sure I could have run across to the other side. And speaking of safety issues, there aren’t any suicide barriers on the bridge. It wouldn’t be difficult to take a swan dive into the waters below. </span><br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_BkruAKhsiA/T6wEvQnfUkI/AAAAAAAABIg/sJnrCu32-wY/s1600/Golden+Gate+Bridge+045.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" dba="true" height="266" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_BkruAKhsiA/T6wEvQnfUkI/AAAAAAAABIg/sJnrCu32-wY/s400/Golden+Gate+Bridge+045.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Although the bridge is only 1.7 miles, this was not the day I would walk the entire length. It had taken too long to get there and although I could practically see my house as I stood on the bridge and looked over to the east bay hills, I knew it would be an arduous return trip. That and a bum knee sealed the deal as I trudged back to try and find a bus stop. Again, there was no clear indication of how to return to the city center so I just followed other tourists and/or flagged down a passing bus. I seriously considered hitch-hiking but just at that point the correct bus pulled up.</span><br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UtqYzxWDY7I/T6wFBsrfToI/AAAAAAAABIo/hH1hi5ohYq8/s1600/Golden+Gate+Bridge+017+-+Copy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" dba="true" height="424" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UtqYzxWDY7I/T6wFBsrfToI/AAAAAAAABIo/hH1hi5ohYq8/s640/Golden+Gate+Bridge+017+-+Copy.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">From where I am now sitting in my living room, I can almost see the Golden Gate. (If just a few trees were cut down, I could see it.) Now when I look at it I see it in a different, eye-level perspective, and recall what it felt like to walk her mighty span. It took me a few years to get there and I am so glad I finally did it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Kate</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br /></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14554120.post-3144005859685372792012-03-07T16:29:00.000-08:002012-03-07T16:29:38.688-08:00Why Can't I Sell My Books?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ygHIDWzJF8I/T1f9NLahbRI/AAAAAAAABIA/nhlffLJNaws/s1600/merry-go-round+021.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ygHIDWzJF8I/T1f9NLahbRI/AAAAAAAABIA/nhlffLJNaws/s400/merry-go-round+021.JPG" width="400" yda="true" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Why can’t I sell any of my books? They’re original, interesting, people like them, and I get great reviews. But I can’t seem to get my writing noticed. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I don’t need to be on the New York Times Best-Sellers list. I don’t need to become fabulously wealthy. I just need about $1000 a month. I really don’t think I am expecting too much.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Ever since I was a little kid, I’ve had stories running around in my head. All the ordinary places and situations I’d encounter seemed like they could have had a much more interesting storyline. Nevertheless, it was only much later in life that I started to put down in words my alternative view of what could be. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">As much as I loved inventing people and placing them in whatever universe I chose, I knew writing could not be a career. I was a Flower Child of the 60’s; I needed to save the world. I became an educator, and that is how I have spent my life until about a year ago.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I did really love teaching and probably still do. But I can no longer tolerate all the negatives that go along with the profession. I just want to be happy, and writing makes me happier than anything in whole wide world. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My “professional” writing career started with the advent of the blog. Suddenly, I could tell stories about the people and places I encountered while working and traveling overseas. I added beautiful pictures onto a readymade template and <em>voila</em>, I was a published author. It was a joy to know that anyone in the world could read my words. Now that my name was out there, it gave me new hope that I could succeed as a novelist. I continued to work on my book projects.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My travel writing took a further leap forward when I became a Lonely Planet featured blogger. This lead to writing a few shoe reviews. And last fall I had an article published in a Vietnamese, English language magazine. Aside from a few pairs of shoes, I was not paid for my writing. Still, it made me happy.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I thought my dreams had been answered when print-on-demand, self-publishing, became a viable alternative to stacks of rejection letters. Finally, for a few hundred dollars, I could have copies of my murder mystery in book form, rather than as stack of photo-copied sheets. I eagerly awaited the arrival of the first batch of <em>Murder, Jaz, & Tel Aviv</em>, completely thrilled with my story, my cover, and the back blurb. I was sure I would be able to at least make back my investment. If everyone I knew in my life bought just one copy, and then told just one friend about it, I’d be on the road to a real career as a writer. That did not work out as planned.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Surely, my paranormal romance, <em>The Curse Breaker of Cairo</em>, would propel me into the ranks of self-employed author. This time there were even more ways to market myself. Following the advice of other independent authors, I joined twitter, (not that I really get it), and I contacted numerous paranormal romance sites. I sent out a bunch of books to folks who were interested in reading and reviewing both of my works. I did a giveaway on GoodReads and was ecstatic when over 1000 people entered the contest. I eagerly sent out ten books to the winners and waited by my laptop to read their ratings and reviews. Out of all the many books I have given away over the past seven or eight months, only two people have written reviews. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’ve contacted local, independent bookstores and several agreed to take a few copies. I went by a Barnes and Noble and pitched my book to the head buyer. Although she was quite impressed with my product and was sure it would sell, they were not able to carry print-on-demand books. And last week I sat outside a coffee shop in a trendy neighborhood shopping area, box of books and sign by my side, hoping to get a few sales. Only one person even talked to me.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So what do I do world? I worry that my travel writing has fallen by the wayside since I have been stuck in the US for nearly a year. Then again, that shouldn’t bother me since it never did generate any money and really hasn’t furthered my writing career. In fact, more people are now accessing my blog for the photos than the writing. Should I switch to photography? I keep writing, of course, but soon that will not be enough. Working full time on stories and marketing sounds noble, but it doesn’t pay the bills.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I will try to continue to believe in the stories I invent and in my ability to carry readers away to a world outside of their own. I will persevere in my marketing tactics even if they often seem pointless. I will flood the universe with positive thoughts and visions of my books on shelves throughout the land. I haven’t yet given up.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Kate</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14554120.post-80771552484784333952011-07-12T09:58:00.000-07:002011-07-12T09:58:27.738-07:00Best Urban Park<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XF8U0FDaYUE/Thx7skeTfzI/AAAAAAAABHc/jo1ahBlunrs/s1600/Sunset+View+July+2011+053.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266px" m$="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XF8U0FDaYUE/Thx7skeTfzI/AAAAAAAABHc/jo1ahBlunrs/s400/Sunset+View+July+2011+053.JPG" width="400px" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It has to be the most beautiful urban park in the San Francisco bay area; Mountain View Cemetery, situated in Oakland California. </span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My days of cruising cemeteries in the US for the sheer macabre value of it all ended back in high school. I have visited ones overseas for their historical significance, but never saw much reason to drop by their more modern counterparts in the US. But when I had a third relative interred at the park, I took a more careful look.</span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">How could I have missed such a glorious setting with its 226 acres of winding roads, beautifully arranged tree lined streets and sparkling fountains? It is a landscaped wonder designed by Fredrick Law Olsen, (he of Central Park fame), and dates back to 1863.</span><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nqNSYdGGiRI/Thx7qeVUluI/AAAAAAAABHY/JYGpBkBkeR4/s1600/Sunset+View+July+2011+044.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266px" m$="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-nqNSYdGGiRI/Thx7qeVUluI/AAAAAAAABHY/JYGpBkBkeR4/s400/Sunset+View+July+2011+044.JPG" width="400px" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em>“Olmsted took a unique approach to Mountain View Cemetery. His park cemetery integrated the Parisian grand monuments and broad avenues. Olmsted also drew on a popular philosophy of the times, American Transcendentalism, to help shape his vision of the cemetery.” (mountainview cemetery.org)</em></span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">One honestly feels as if they were in some European grand garden, transported back to a time when it was only man and nature. Situated on rolling hills, with what feels like miles and miles of small roads branching off of the main, fountain lined artery, it is a perfect spot for communing with nature.</span><br />
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</span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">On any given day you will find joggers, ladies pushing strollers, people walking their dogs, artists sketching or painting, and even children from a local day care having a picnic. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Many famous Californians are buried there. Charles Crocker’s massive tomb sits on Millionaires row, which, but the way, is where I would like to build a small cottage. Walking by his final resting spot you’d think you were on a lovely, narrow city street, surrounded by greenery, where cars have been banned. In front of you lies a spectacular view of the San Francisco Bay. Looking either to the left or right, you see nothing but green rolling hills, trees, and your peacefully resting neighbors. </span><br />
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</span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Every time I go I find some place new to explore; some other bit of historical interest. There is the Civil War Veterans area, ringed by cannon balls of the era. There are beautiful chapels, amazingly elaborate crypts from a bygone era, and an overall peacefulness that belies the fact that you are actually in Oakland, CA.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It is easy to explore either with a map provided by Sunset View or just by turning up a road that looks interesting. (you can drive to most places, or park your car and walk.) Guided tours are offered twice a month.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">For me it has become a place to get away from the commotion of the city; a place to clear my head, drink in nature, and maybe even commune with some souls from the past. </span><br />
<a href="http://www.mountainviewcemetery.org/index.html">http://www.mountainviewcemetery.org/index.html</a><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Kate</span><br />
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</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14554120.post-39176275998531149272011-05-30T17:30:00.000-07:002011-05-30T17:30:12.202-07:00Where NOT to buy Cuban Cigars in Saigon<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lLpCO2oD9UI/TeQ1FoxKeiI/AAAAAAAABHI/HM0PALXTnkE/s1600/Mui+Ne+fish+E+sunsets+046.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266px" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lLpCO2oD9UI/TeQ1FoxKeiI/AAAAAAAABHI/HM0PALXTnkE/s400/Mui+Ne+fish+E+sunsets+046.JPG" t8="true" width="400px" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">My last night in Vietnam was to be coffee and Cuban cigars with a few friends. I’d heard that there was a top-scale stogie shop in District 1 in Ho Chi Minh City, and after some searching and a few phone calls, I’d located it.</span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><em><strong>Casa Habana Cigars</strong></em> is located on 41 Ha Ba Trung St, Dist 1, HCMC, just a block or so down from the Park Hyatt. Walking in I was very impressed; walls of glass windowed, temp controlled, cigar cabinets. This looked as good as the ones in Puerta Vallarta, Mexico.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I asked about Romeo and Juliet’s, knowing that they were what I had wanted to buy. They were out of number 4’s, so I looked at the number 2’s. I picked up a cigar and took a whiff; humm….not what I had remembered. I asked the manager about their packaging date, then turned the box over.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em><strong>Oh,</strong></em> I said<strong>,<em> these were packed in 2009, they’re two years old.</em></strong> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em><strong>But that’s what makes them so good,</strong></em> she replied.</span><br />
<em><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><strong>Huh?</strong></span></em><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em><strong>Yes, I have many customers who insist on aged cigars,</strong></em> she assured me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times;">.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I knew this was wrong. I knew they were way past their shelf life, but spent $18 a piece on two cigars. I have no idea why I believed her, especially after I had asked her who imported their cigars.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;"><em><strong>The owner makes trips to Cuba to buy all the cigars, but he isn’t Vietnamese, he’s American,</strong></em> she told me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Times;">.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I pointed out that this could not be possible since it was illegal for Americans to go to Cuba, let alone run an import/export deal with the country.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">She assured me that I was wrong; that this was a legitimate business venture.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">That evening we lit up the cigars and I kicked myself; they sucked. They were not the smooth, tasty Cubans I had sampled in Mexico. They were old, and not totally horrible, but certainly not worth $18. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In retrospect, I realized that I should have looked for a different brand and taken much more time in selecting my cigars. But the heat, humidity, and last day errands had gotten the better of me and thrown me off my usual cautious self when buying luxury items in places like Vietnam. However, that does not excuse a sleazy American from ripping people off and disseminating false information about Cuban cigars.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial;">.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Now I must wait for my next trip to Mexico where the cigar shops are run by honest folks.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;">Kate</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14554120.post-87776940025098960002011-05-14T03:34:00.000-07:002011-05-14T03:34:31.603-07:00Building a Boat<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CMKsf1OD4jg/TcKZojU7ORI/AAAAAAAABFc/XJJThU7V9qw/s1600/Boat+launch+031.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266px" j8="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CMKsf1OD4jg/TcKZojU7ORI/AAAAAAAABFc/XJJThU7V9qw/s400/Boat+launch+031.JPG" width="400px" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Every morning, since arriving in Mui Ne, I’ve walked along the beach and looked out at the lovely boats and thought that I really should find out where they are made and go see the builders in action.</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"> </span></div><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And then one morning, just two coconut-tree lots down from the hotel, I noticed some construction activity going on beneath the canopy of the palm trees. Although I had walked along that stretch of beach several times a day for over a month, this was the first time that I’d noticed something other than coconuts.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And much to my great pleasure, there stood a boat workshop! I walked over and said hello to the guys and expressed my delight in finding them. I asked if it would be ok to walk around and look at the work they were doing; no problem.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BzS4UVcT48g/TcKZYkH_n7I/AAAAAAAABFI/Z9zG_kg9fA0/s1600/MN+Boat+029.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266px" j8="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BzS4UVcT48g/TcKZYkH_n7I/AAAAAAAABFI/Z9zG_kg9fA0/s400/MN+Boat+029.JPG" width="400px" /></a><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It was absolutely amazing; a mini boatyard, out in the open, where they were building a beautiful, seafaring vessel with nothing more than very basic tools. I would need to document the work so asked if I could come back the following day with my camera.</span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Returning the next day, it was immediately obvious that the man in charge was a master craftsman. I watched in wonder as he and his crew worked on the boat with the minimum of power tools. They had a hand built-table saw and an electric drill and that’s about it. These were plugged into an electrical line that ran down a coconut tree and off to some unknown location. Everything else was done by hand.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I walked around the boat to get a better idea of the construction techniques. I watched as they bent the side boards to fit, marked them, removed them, and then lined the edges with drill holes. Into these they placed sharpened dowels which would be used to secure one plank to another on the sides of the boat. It took three people to achieve this next step; one to align the dowels/holes, another to hammer the top plank down with a large mallet, and the third to use other tools to insure a water-tight fit.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-o4q4di9QGRY/TcKZaG-Wz8I/AAAAAAAABFM/vX8uILYj8kA/s1600/MN+Boat+014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266px" j8="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-o4q4di9QGRY/TcKZaG-Wz8I/AAAAAAAABFM/vX8uILYj8kA/s400/MN+Boat+014.JPG" width="400px" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In the following days I would visit the guys to check on the progress and inquire about the launch date. Each time I was able to see another bit of incredible work. One day the boat was upside down as they sawed off large wooden plugs that are used to secure the inner cross pieces. After that, they painted the underside. Another day they had started to paint the interior and to build the removable inner planks that would cover the engine and hold. And finally, they told me that the boat would be launched the following day at 11am.</span></div><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Not wanting to miss an early launch, I arrived at 10am to see another boat with four or five men, pull up to the beach. I assumed they were there to collect the new boat and I was right. I looked over to the new boat and saw that they had just started to paint the eyes on the bow. How could they set it off in an hour with wet paint? </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1D_C2BFOMyI/TcKZk_rZJGI/AAAAAAAABFY/JuWB0mWK7QA/s1600/Boat+launch+041.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266px" j8="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1D_C2BFOMyI/TcKZk_rZJGI/AAAAAAAABFY/JuWB0mWK7QA/s400/Boat+launch+041.JPG" width="400px" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I asked again about the time it would hit the water. Altogether, three men looked up at the sun, gauged what time it now was and reconfirmed that it would be at 11:00. It wasn’t until several days later that I realized that whenever I had asked about time, they looked up to the sun, even if they wore watches. </span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">With that settled, I said hello to the new arrivals and my boat builders explained who I was. By this time, the master builder had left the final painting and engine hook-up to his crew and was involved in building another boat. I took a few more pictures and sort of tried to stay out of the way.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A couple of young teenage boys said <em>hello</em>, eager to practice their English. I asked why they weren’t in school and they assured me that they had afternoon classes and would soon be off. When they got bored with watching the workers, they ran off into the coconut grove to run around.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-F0BZeBTcdzU/TcKdCph1IcI/AAAAAAAABFo/g2PCwAa25LE/s1600/Boat+launch+010.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266px" j8="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-F0BZeBTcdzU/TcKdCph1IcI/AAAAAAAABFo/g2PCwAa25LE/s400/Boat+launch+010.JPG" width="400px" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The guys who had arrived on the boat wandered around and helped where needed. I brought out packets of cookies and they offered me tea. About that time I turned to check on the young ones only to see one of them starting to scale a four-story high coconut tree. I was concerned. I looked around. No one else was concerned. And actually at their age, 13 or 14, I would have been doing the same, being a tree-climbing enthusiast in my younger years. Except that trees in California had branches to help the ascent. I tried not to look figuring if he fell there were plenty of people around.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Not much later I heard the tree-climber call out to his friends below. I looked over but he was out of sight, somewhere up at the top. His friends kept busy arranging fallen palm fronds in a pile below the tree. He called out again, they stood back, and down came the first coconut. I never did see him come down but the next time I looked he was up another tree. This went on until they had a large pile of coconuts. They brought several over to the boat crew and then headed down the beach presumably to sell them to a restaurant or hotel.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">A woman arrived with baskets from the market. I said hello and found out that she was part of the new boat group. In these situations I never really know who are family and who are friends and it doesn’t matter. What I really love about the Vietnamese culture is that everyone works as a unit, things are done together, food is shared together. A whatever-is-mine-is-yours attitude. That, and the feeling of camaraderie in situations such as the one I was watching. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I found a log to sit on, camera at the ready should they suddenly make a dash to the sea with the boat. Soon the woman brought her baskets over to the bow of the boat where they were loaded onboard. At first I thought she had been to the market and would sail back with the new boat. But the baskets were filled with offerings that now were carefully arranged on the prow; small bowls of a sticky rice concoction and carefully assembled fruit. Another dish held small crabs, I think. On the ornamental piece at the very tip of the prow, one man placed flowers and incense. All this occurred while the finishing touches of attaching gas lines and checking the engine happened at the back of the boat. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Finally, it was done. One man stayed in the boat and tossed handfuls of rice around the inside and o to the ground around the boat.. Then everyone gathered, the offering foods were taken down, and they sat in a small circle and ate. They invited over but I felt it was a personal time for the group and did not want to intrude. </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SOe6CNnU9Gs/TcKZsgHZk3I/AAAAAAAABFg/WL5yXK0UDLc/s1600/Boat+launch+049.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266px" j8="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-SOe6CNnU9Gs/TcKZsgHZk3I/AAAAAAAABFg/WL5yXK0UDLc/s400/Boat+launch+049.JPG" width="400px" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And then it was time to load the boat onto the two-wheeled tow bar and haul it down to the water. I believe they said it weighed a ton. Some pulled and some pushed and others cleared the way. When they hit the small slope that led to the water they started to run. The new boat splashed into the sea. Some of the guys splashed water onto the sides of the boat while another dropped the rudder. </span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Three men remained in the boat, fired up the engine and were off, heading over to the port of Mui Ne. The guys from the other boat got in theirs and followed the new boat. The chief builder watched until it was almost out of sight, grinning, obviously pleased with his masterpiece. I high-fived him as he came up from the waters edge.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I wanted so much to tell them how special the experience had been for me; how fantastic they were at what they did, but I couldn’t. When I say I spoke to these folks it was in my very limited Vietnamese combined with a lot of sign language. I certainly didn’t have the language required, but I did have a bunch of great photographs. The next day I burned CD’s for both the builder and the new boat owners. I took them over to the coconut tree boat yard where they were gratefully received. </span><br />
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<div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It was one of those truly magical experiences.</span></div><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The next boat should be finished in about a week; I may just still be here when it makes its maiden voyage. </span><br />
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</span></div><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Kate</span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14554120.post-69669458426989935472011-05-08T21:41:00.000-07:002011-05-14T03:30:08.159-07:00Coconut Tree Trimming<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OHxVUlcOTXs/TcdxKCC-EyI/AAAAAAAABF8/y4M-y7hUjKs/s1600/MN%2Bcoconut%2Bcutting%2B001.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604572678447829794" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OHxVUlcOTXs/TcdxKCC-EyI/AAAAAAAABF8/y4M-y7hUjKs/s400/MN%2Bcoconut%2Bcutting%2B001.JPG" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 267px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 400px;" /></a><span style="font-family: arial;">Eating breakfast one morning, I watched as a guy drove in on his motorbike, one hand on the handlebars, the other gripping a 10 foot bamboo ladder. He parked his bike, took off his helmet and shirt, picked up the ladder he had placed on the ground, and walked towards the central part of the hotel. This looked interesting. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: arial;">.</span><span style="font-family: arial;">When I returned to my room I found out what was up; he and his buddy were there to trim the coconut palms. Often at 8:00 am it is already rather hot but that day was overcast and even threatening to drizzle. This boded well for the men about to undertake the trimming of thirty trees.<br />
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The men, shirtless and shoeless, with small machetes in hand, climbed up there ladders that they’d placed against the coconut trees. Reaching the top of the ladder, they looped a fabric band around their feet to prevent their feet from slipping and ensuring a type grip around the trunk. These were real men. <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rkMaEywOeaU/TckYDSztRNI/AAAAAAAABG4/UpCezOJgcko/s1600/MN%2Bcoconut%2Bcutting%2B112.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5605037656106681554" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rkMaEywOeaU/TckYDSztRNI/AAAAAAAABG4/UpCezOJgcko/s400/MN%2Bcoconut%2Bcutting%2B112.JPG" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 267px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
With feet securely in place, right hand both gripping the machete and hanging on to the tree, they placed their left palm against the middle of the tree and pushed off. While doing this they pulled their knees up, inching up the tree at an impressive speed.<br />
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<span style="font-family: arial;">Some of the taller trees must be about five stories high and quite narrow at the top. Looking at them now I wonder if they ever snap under the weight of the trimmers. I’d guess they probably would if these guys were any larger.<br />
. <a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-30U03_S5Xr8/TceMVlO6aXI/AAAAAAAABGE/-Sc2ih20J0Q/s1600/MN%2Bcoconut%2Bcutting%2B029.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5604602563685673330" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-30U03_S5Xr8/TceMVlO6aXI/AAAAAAAABGE/-Sc2ih20J0Q/s400/MN%2Bcoconut%2Bcutting%2B029.JPG" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 267px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
Once at the top of a tree, the workers got lost in the foliage. You’d hear a whack, and then palm fronds and coconuts at various stages of development would drop to the ground. The men worked opposite sides of the property. The young ladies who work here stayed well out of the way until a call came from the top of the tree and they’d hurry to gather and sweep things up.<br />
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I was out with my camera trying to get good pictures of the work which was none too easy what with branches flying down and trying not to shot into the light which is hard when your subject is directly above you.<br />
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The whole thirty trees were done in under four hours. I think it would take the rest of us four hours just to scale one coconut tree.<br />
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-a0fE0WzN34U/TckYXZ43KFI/AAAAAAAABHA/nQCG7vFF6ho/s1600/MN%2Bcoconut%2Bcutting%2B083.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5605038001604733010" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-a0fE0WzN34U/TckYXZ43KFI/AAAAAAAABHA/nQCG7vFF6ho/s400/MN%2Bcoconut%2Bcutting%2B083.JPG" style="cursor: hand; float: left; height: 267px; margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; width: 400px;" /></a><br />
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<span style="font-family: arial;">Kate</span></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com